The Pussy Opus

One night, I went over to the house of the man I was seeing. He is a professional pianist with slicked-back hair, strong biceps, and incredible hand dexterity. I loved it when he'd play me just like he plays his instrument.

We began in his living room, making out, pawing at each other, touching each other underneath our clothes. First came my shirt, then my bra. I pulled his sweater over his head, and he unbuttoned my jeans. I pulled off my pants and underwear. I was so wet that it dripped all the way down to my ankles. I pulled down his pants to reveal his already-hard cock. I leaned in to kiss him, and then he led me to the bedroom.

Laying back on the bed, he suggested we try 69ing. Before that day, I had agreed it might be fun, but when he asked in the moment, I became reluctant to try it. The thought of having my butt and vagina on display made me nervous. I'd never had a problem with a man's face in my vagina while lying on my back to be eaten out, but I felt much more self-conscious of positioning myself wide open at eye level rather than him positioning himself before my supine body.

In that moment, I recalled a scene in the Vagina Monologues where the speaker retells the account of a woman's dalliance with Bob, the vagina connoisseur. Bob loved to stare at vaginas. He looked at every nook and cranny and admired beauty in a place where most others just see a strange looking organ. His voyeurism made her cum without him ever touching her.

I realized I wanted the pianist to stare at my pussy like that. It would turn me on to display my own beautiful bits and folds to him, and holy shit, did it.

I worked up the courage to try this new experience. I crawled on my hands and knees over him. I curved my back, pushed my butt up in the air, and felt a cold breeze on my spread-apart pussy. My motion evoked an "Ohh!" from his lips, like a little boy discovering something cool that is super weird but even more fascinating. He said, "You have a beautiful pussy. I mean that." That turned me on even more.

The peacock fanning of my pussy in front of him made him eager to begin. I laid down on him so that my pussy was level with his face and so that his cock was right below my head. I bent my head to take his cock into my mouth. His skin was soft, and he was slippery and hard. I tongued it, gave it sloppy wet kisses, stuck it into my cheeks, flicked my tongue across the very tip of it, and held the shaft firmly with both hands, covering all the bases.

The height difference made it impossible to simultaneously pleasure each other orally, but that didn't deter him from using those long, nimble fingers on me. I felt him touch my ass, and I gasped. I felt his fingers softly tickle my pussy lips, and I began panting.

I then felt both hands touching me all over, in different places, with different motions all across my pussy. There was circular motion around my clitoris. He rubbed my inner labia between his fingers. One finger was inside me tugging at my vaginal walls, and the other tickled me with that come-hither motion that always sends shockwaves through me. The pianist's fingers flitted across my folds in symphonic splendor.

But it was hard to focus on titillating his cock as he finger painted all over the sexy canvas in front of his face. I let out a cyclical, ripple of giggling moans that turned to guttural, aching, thirsty groans, one right after the other. Suddenly, he rammed a finger inside me and made screeching connection with the G spot, and I let out a long, sustained moan.

I felt him stir beneath me. With surprise in his voice, he told me I was dripping all over him. I said, "Oh no, sorry!" but he said, "No, it's hot! And I love it when you moan like that." He then jammed another finger inside me hard against my G spot, and the guttural groans began again as my tongue action on his cock slowed down due to an inability to focus on anything other than the excitement building within me.

I was so consumed by the sensations that the head of his penis was barely inside my mouth. The only movement on it came from my labored breathing and the soundwaves of my moaning. It became far too much for me to focus on anything I was doing to him. I let his cock fall out of my mouth, my head fell to the bed to support the rest of my weight, and I let go of all control. And moaning loudly, I came, dripping all over his chest.

As I came, he worked his finger against that cat-tongue textured rough patch deep inside my vagina, in and out, in and out, and the sustained pressure overwhelmed me. I was uncontrolled, uncensored, undivided, unobstructed, and un-fucking-believably into it.

I was no longer woman, but animal, succumbed to the predator who preyed on my orgasm. He began new motion again with one hand while rubbing my legs all over with his other hand. I felt overstimulated but also basked in those icy hot waves of pleasure that travelled through my muscles. I felt the calm ripple through my thighs, down to my feet, and then up my ass, my back, my arms, my head.

It became too much, and I could barely breathe, so I slid off him gasping for air. I laid back into the puffy grey sheets like a starfish. My long, blonde hair fell all over my face and the bed, and I breathed deeply and whimpered and sighed in bliss. Once I caught my breath, I turned my body around on the bed and curled up next to him for warmth. I put my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around him. He said, "Look, you dripped all over the bed. That was so hot. It's so hot when you moan like that." I smiled, snuggled in closer, and thanked him for the opus he played on my pussy.