Confessions Of A Tuba Fetishist Ch 01

I knew the tuba was big. That's why I wanted to try blowing it. But now that I was standing in front of it, I realized just how massive it was. It was the world's largest tuba, though few people besides me knew that--or ever would. Right now, the big tuba was towering over me like a building. What ever made me think I could do it? Staring up at its giant brass bell, I didn't think I could summon the necessary lung power even if I was breathing normally, which at the moment I most definitely was not. I was so nervous that I was practically hyperventilating. My body was shaking. Looking down, I could see the tremor in the soft flesh of my breasts. The quivering of my thighs was a not-at-all-unpleasant sensation.

Not that I needed any help when it came to pleasant sensations. The thought of blowing any tuba got my juices flowing, and this one? My poor little cunt was soaked. A thought passed through my mind: Could a woman get so turned on and so wet that she died of dehydration? Another thought: Stop putting this off! Are you going to blow this thing or not?

I climbed up on the stepladder, one step, then two, then three, to bring the mouthpiece level with my face. It was huge, way bigger than the one on my own concert tuba, a big 6/4 BBb. I bought that tuba because it was the biggest one I could get, but it was a puny little baritone compared to this giant thing, and the mouthpiece was sized accordingly. It was jutting into my face demanding to be blown, just like my boyfriend liked to do when I dropped to my knees in front of him.

I looked around again to make sure I was alone. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. My thighs were wet with sweat and pussy juice, my boobs covered in a sheen of sweat and my nipples poking through my shirt like bullets. Could I really blow enough air into this thing to get a sound?

Time to find out.

I took a deep breath, inflating my lungs as big as they would go. My tits swelled in my shirt, and I heard a quiet ripping noise--dammit, I knew I should have taken off my bra! I put my lips to the big mouthpiece, which practically swallowed my entire mouth. I tightened my lips, let my cheeks inflate, and started to blow...

Wait... you probably want to know how I got here, right? Right?

I wanted to play the tuba for as long as I could remember, but because I went to school in a small town in the sticks, with no sports teams and no funding for arts programs (thank you, Republicans), I never got the chance to play in school. How jealous I was of the girls in other high schools who had a chance to blow those big sousaphones! They looked so cool, and I vowed that as soon as I could afford a tuba of my own, I'd buy one and learn to play it. The day after I turned 18, I moved to Los Angeles and I got the first job I could find, working in a prop house at one of the big movie studios. How fortuitous that would turn out to be!

I found the most amazing apartment, a little studio tucked behind a house in Topanga Canyon. I don't know why I even stopped to look at it, there was no way I could afford it, but I decided to go anyway. The old woman who owned the main house regarded me with suspicion, but when she asked how I planned to fill my spare time (presumably to see if I was planning to smoke pot and fuck boys in her quiet little corner of the world) and I told her I wanted to learn to the tuba, her face lit up and her whole attitude changed. Guess what musical instrument she used to play?

"Oh, I can't do it any more, dear. Too many years of those damn cigarettes. I quit smoking ages ago, but the damage was done. When I was in my twenties, I could blow my sousaphone all day, but I don't have the lung power for the big tubas any more. Sometimes I toot my little baritone, but it's just not the same." Then she gave me a knowing look, and said, "You know, for some of us, the tuba is more than just an instrument." I was going to ask her what she meant, but then she said, "I like you, dear," and offered such a huge break on the rent that I absolutely could not say no.

I brought my stuff over the next day and found a note on the door: "Welcome to your new home, dear. Go into the garage where you will find a housewarming present on the shelf to the right of the door. It's too heavy for an old woman like me to carry, though I used to take it everywhere. It's rather big for a beginner, but something tells me you are up to the challenge. I hope it will bring you as much pleasure as it brought me over the years, and of the same kind." The end of the note was peculiar, but I went out to the garage to check it out.

Most of the shelves were lined with neatly-lettered boxes, but I quickly saw what she was talking about--something big and tall and rounded and covered with a dustcloth, a note with my name in the same flowery handwriting taped to it. What could it be? My first guess was some sort of antique chair, but why would the old woman take a chair everywhere? Why would a chair be too big for a beginner? Beginner at what?

I pulled off the dustcloth, and it wasn't a chair--it was a tuba, one that looked very old and very, very big. No, not big--it was FUCKING HUGE. I'd seen plenty of tubas in music stores, and even handled a couple (though I never tried playing; up to this day I'm telling you about, I was a tuba-blowing virgin), and this was way, WAY the fuck bigger than any tuba I had ever seen. I later learned it was a 6/4 size contrabass tuba, among the biggest made. (Of course, as you freaks and pervs know, I would eventually blow a MUCH bigger tuba... but let's not get ahead of ourselves.) It was old and tarnished and had a couple of dents, and I fell in love with it immediately.

I started to pick up up the tuba and something fell out from beneath the bell. It was a big bag of balloons ("Tuftex 17 inch", the bag said), with another note in the now-familiar handwriting: "It takes strong lungs to blow this tuba, and I should know, I spent many happy years doing so. These balloons will help you develop the lung power you need. Blow one up until it pops every morning and another one every evening. Like your new tuba, they are very big and need a lot of air, but I think you can manage, and I am sure you will really enjoy it. Don't worry about the noise, I'm hard of hearing. Welcome home."

I ran to the main house and almost knocked my new landlady over with a hug.

"Have you ever blown a wind instrument, dear?" she asked. I told her I hadn't.

"It's easy. Take a really deep breath, put your lips tight together, then blow as hard as you can, buzzing your lips. A big tuba like that takes a lot of air, but you look like you're a fit girl. Oh, and you'll need this. I bought it years ago and never used it." She handed me a little box. Inside was a silver mouthpiece, bright and clean and, like the tuba itself, much bigger than I expected. She took the mouthpiece from the box, held it up to her lips, took a deep breath, and blew, her cheeks puffing up like balloons. (I though of the Big Bad Wolf: "My, what big cheeks you have!" "All the better to blow my tuba with, dear!") The mouthpiece made a farty buzzing sound that made me laugh.

"It sounds much better with a tuba attached," she said. "You try."

I put the mouthpiece to my lips, inhaled through my nose, blew, and got the same raspberry sound, which made me burst out laughing again.

"Good job, you got it on the first try!" she said. "I knew you could do it. The looser your lips are, the lower the note you'll blow. Now, off you go, dear. Go try your new tuba. When you figure it out, maybe I'll come watch."

I hauled the giant bass horn from the garage back to my little apartment. It weighed a ton, and the doubt set in: Could I really blow a horn this big? I wondered if perhaps I should try blowing a couple of the balloons up first. No, fuck that. I'd waited years to try the tuba, and I wasn't going to wait any longer!

Having no idea how to hold a tuba, I hoisted it up into my lap and turned it around so the tube that goes to the mouthpiece (which I later learned was called a lead pipe) was pointing towards my face. I had wondered if I might be too small for this giant tuba, but the pipe was level with my face, and I slid the mouthpiece into it. I took a breath and, for the first time in my life, after almost years of anticipation, blew into the tuba.

What came out was a sad little fizzy noise, barely audible.

Fzzzzzt.

Maybe I hadn't blown enough air into the tuba? I took another breath and blew harder, this time letting my cheeks puff out a little. The tuba responded with a little squeak, like an unenthusiastic fart.

Squeeeee!!

It was a noise, perhaps one that could be considered music in some distant universe, but it wasn't what I thought a tuba should sound like. Clearly this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I noticed that my inner thighs felt wet. I figured it was the sweat from carrying this heavy tuba. And wasn't it a little warm in here? I realized I still hadn't figured out how the air conditioner worked.

Blow as hard as you can--that's what my landlady told me. Well, she would know. I took the deepest breath I could, buried my face in the big mouthpiece. put my lips tightly together, puffed out my cheeks, and blew harder than I had ever blown before.

What came out of the tuba was a real-live musical note--long, low and melodious.

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMP!!!!!!!!!

That was a surprise. But the real surprise was what happened to me.

I'd had plenty of experience with boys; what else is there to do in a small town? I'd had my share of experiences, some good, some not-so-great, and some mind-blowing--but nothing, I tell you, nothing like what I was feeling now. That wasn't sweat between my thighs--I mean, it was, I was breaking out in sweat all over, and felt light-headed from blowing so hard--but like the Cardi B song goes, my pussy feel like a lake.

Was that from... the tuba?

I took another deep breath and emptied it into the tuba.

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMPPPPP!!!

This time I could feel the vibration of the tuba through my skin, and it sent a new wave of pleasure through my body. Quickly I filled my lungs again, remembered what my landlady said about loosening my lips to get a lower note. I blew again, harder and faster this time, lips looser, which made my cheeks puff out even bigger.

BWWWOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM--AGHHHH!!!!!!!!

The last part was me, crying out with the orgasm that shook my body.

What the fuck???

I set the tuba down--it was all I could do not to drop it--and raced to the bathroom, where I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was covered in a sheen of sweat. My cheeks were bright red, whether from the effort of blowing the tuba or puffing out bigger than they had ever been before, I did not know.

Did I just... did I just have an orgasm from... from blowing a tuba?

Blowing the tuba made me cum????

What the fuck was wrong with me?