The Last Lesson

This is the last time. The last time she will sit in this chair, rest the cello between her thighs and play for her instructor.

The instructor watches her tune the cello and start her scales just like she has done every week for the past 9 years. And every week, the same melody and the same outfit: the white blouse, blue button-down sweater, plaid skirt and knee-high socks of her school uniform. He watches her pull her skirt up past the middle of her thighs, watches the perfect alabaster white of her legs surround the chocolate burgundy of the cello, the waist length jet black straight hair fall over her shoulder and brush past the tiny points of her breasts pushing against her shirt. And he watches her eyes close and her mouth open. Breathing in concert with the music, her blade thin face is locked in an expression caught between concentration, creativity and passion. And he knows she is a woman, almost 19 and about to head to Europe.

The student isn't sure how to feel about this, her last lesson. Doesn't know how to communicate the thoughts in her head, the feelings in her loins. She never told him that late at night when her hand roams under the sheets and massages her slowly opening pussy lips, she only thinks of him. It's his dark salt and pepper hair she wants to grab onto as she pulls him in for a kiss, his naked chest she wants rubbing against her nipples, his cock she wants her mouth to spread around as it pushes to the back of her throat. And it's his eyes she wants to look into as her pussy squeezes his thrusting dick until his come releases, flooding her from the inside out. But there is no way to explain that, so she does what she has done for the last few years: remove her panties before the lesson, breathe deep to catch his musky scent and spread her skirt to let the the cold air, and deep vibrations of the cello tickle her exposed clit to electric attention.

And there is much he never told her. Never admitted it is her he thinks about at home when he grabs his swollen member and begins to stroke. It's her tiny apple ass he wants to caress as his hand pushes down her back and inside her panties, it's her thin, musician's fingers that he wants to feel around his cock. And it's her long dancer's legs he wants wrapped around his back as he drives deep inside her. And he knows there no time left to explain it all, to make his case.

She plays, lost in the music, and he roams around the room until he pauses directly behind her, right between her shoulder blades. He slowly moves forward until his thighs hit the back of her chair and then reaches over to gently grab her wrists. He is pretending to reposition her hands, correct her posture. But he knows there is no correction to be made, nothing she needs to learn.

He waits for her to offer a protest: a sarcastic quip or a tensing of her muscles letting him know he has pushed too far. But there is nothing. Only her hands moving over the cello and a strangely peaceful look on her face. He doesn't let go, keeps holding on, his thumbs stroking her forearms to the tempo of the music. He feels her pulse in the palm of his hands and looks down to realize her wrists aren't much thicker than the penis that's quickly swelling with anticipation in his jeans.

At first, his light grip confuses her, nervous her technique has regressed right before she heads to her residency. But she quickly realizes his grasp is not an instruction but an invitation. He doesn't correct but caresses, holding her wrists in a firmly gentle grasp confirms all her late-night desires and her head begins to spin. It's him advancing on her, the only person in her life that was never cruel but never weak. Always available but never intruding.

This lone beacon of masculinity in her turbulent world is now holding her hands in a tentative expression of affection. The realization makes her senses explode; her chest tightens and her stomach flutters. Her nipples swell and a warm current runs through her cervix at the promise of what could come next.

And as their hands dip low to the music, she feels the fly of his jeans brush against her hair, senses the heat behind the zipper. When the music allows, she sheepishly tosses her head back, scraping her neck against the fly of his jeans and is shocked by the hardness already pushing back behind the denim. She snaps forward, afraid she pushed too far, discovered something he considers forbidden. But his hands don't leave her wrists and she can't help but try again, tapping her head against the growing mass behind her. And every poke and retreat increases her desire, drawing her toward the magnetic force of his crotch. Finally, she leans back and stays there, pressing her flesh into his rock-hard bulge. She slides back and forth along the shaft, the end disappearing somewhere by his pockets, and can feel him slowly rocking his hips, pushing his hardness into the nape of her neck.

He can't believe how stiff his cock is inside his jeans. He's not used to this and feels slight jabs of pain as his prick contorts itself looking for space in the confines of his pants. But he doesn't stop. Keeps rocking and looking down at her face, her eyes still closed, a red blush entering her cheeks. Her head seems so small against his groin. Everything about her seems smaller now - porcelain and fragile.

It's the girl that shared too much. Talked of a father she didn't know, a grandmother forced to raise her and bon vivant artist of a mother who would drop in unannounced, always with a different man. He remembers when she confided the only motherly act she ever received was getting birth control pills at 13, the mother wrongly thinking her daughter would be just like her. She was run through the mill but never broken. This perfect example of feminine strength is now caressing his crotch with her long hair. And it makes the tingling in his balls send shivers up his spine.

To her, his penis seems so much more powerful, serious even, then the few schoolmate peckers she has felt and kissed in her seven minutes of heaven sessions at school parties. This one is consuming her, obliterating every other thought in her body. She drops the bow and lets the cello slide to the floor. One hand reaches back and grabs his ass to push him even closer while the other gropes by his front pocket, trying to find the end of his manhood.

She can't believe the strength he is exuding. She always knew it was there, even when he confided his deepest disappointments. His multiple near misses to make a living creating, not teaching, music. His nagging fear that if he left any legacy at all, it would be of potential not met. She never believed it. Always knew he was the greatest man in her life but now the relentless energy and pressure of his manliness against her skin eclipses her previous thoughts, making her dizzy with desire.

She suddenly feels his hands grasp her head, stroking her face and guiding her to move with his swaying hips. She follows and feels a finger caress her lips. She sucks in the finger, curls her tongue around his knuckles. His salty, stinging, taste sends her pussy juices streaking down her ass, soaking into her skirt.

He moves the finger around her mouth, the tightness of her lips creating a suction that makes him moan. He watches her hand work its way to the base of his shaft, cup his balls through his jeans and then begin to fumble with his zipper. He knows she will never work the zipper free, so in a spasm of lustful abandon, he undoes his belt and whips his pants and boxers to the floor, freeing his cock to spring out and bounce against her cheek. For a second, he stares at it in amazement. He has never seen it like this, so hard and throbbing. It twitches against her ear, each ridge and vein swollen past anything he can remember, the shaft even thickening past the width of its purple head. Both of her hands come up to grab for it, more pawing than stroking and he realizes how much of this is new to her.

He bends over her and begins to unbutton her blouse. He looks down at her plain cotton bra and slides a hand inside each cup. The breasts are small, not even a hand-full but unbelievably firm. He squeezes and lets them bounce back to their gravity defying shape. He moves to her nipples, hoping to tease them erect but he finds the areolas already puffed out to full engorgement, swelling in fleshy cones protruding well past the width of his thumbs. It's all too much and he pulls his cock back, afraid he'll spew his cum, shooting it over her shoulder, peppering her legs and the abandoned cello on the floor.

She won't let the cock go, though, grasping it with both hands over her shoulder. Her thumb probes the tip and spreads pre-cum down the shaft. Her fingers push the swollen urethra, thicker than her pinky, in and out like a springy rubber hose. She runs both hands up and down his boner, squeezing and stretching his skin over the engorged shaft. When she grips it tight her thumb can't reach her fingers. She has no idea how this can fit in her vagina, how she could receive a penis so massive and strong where barely a finger has entered before. But that doesn't stop the craving in her pussy as she lifts her feet and places them next to her ass on the chair, spreading her knees and stretching her virgin vulva wide, waiting to be taken.

He sighs and watches her hands explore his penis. Her fingers tickle and probe, like a blind person exploring the contours of a face. He can't believe it is his cock in those hands. The hands of the girl who never took him for granted, who would confidently linger to talk after the lessons. The one who would look at him with a mixture of interest and possibility. The only female in years who seemed to think he was worth something despite the shabby studio and used car in the driveway. And now she sits in front of him, his penis dancing in her hands and her legs splayed open, the whites of her thighs completely exposed except for a 3-inch strip of hiked up skirt covering her crotch.

And it is that patch of plaid that consumes his attention. He reaches down and under the skirt, preparing to work around her panties to reach her womanhood. But there is no clothing, just a pair of swollen and wet outer pussy lips protecting an unbelievably thin slit of vagina. He moves his hand around, soaking in her juices and probing her opening. He can feel her lips pulse and twitch, but he is afraid to penetrate her slit, afraid it will be too much too soon. So he massages her vulva in slow circles, sensing her loins relaxing their grip with every cycle until his finger taps the tiny button of her clit. He stands over her, his hands roaming under her school uniform, and watches her gasp with every pinch of her nipple and convulse with each tweak of her clit.

She has never felt anything like this before. The few boys that have poked under her panties before this did so in a fit of nervous curiosity, making her squirm more than moan. Even her own fingers seem clinical next to these. Her pussy is burning, pouring her juices into his palm. He roams across her vulva, pressuring her clit, so firm and self assured that she wants to relent, let him carry her to places she as never experienced before. But she has thought about this moment for too long, dreamed of too many scenarios to submit just yet. She catches her breath, breaks free from his grasp and jumps up and around, kneeling on the chair facing him. She looks up to his face and smiles.

The jump startles him. Has him wondering if his gropes scared her off. Then, For the 1st time, he glances into her eyes. They are alive - full of eagerness, adventure and sex as her lips curl back and open slightly. He gets a glimpse of her tongue as she bights down on her lower lip before diving towards his stomach. She kisses his abs, running her tongue towards his rib cage. He feels her hands trace their way under his shirt to pinch his nipples. He pulls his shirt off and stands there completely naked. She looks up again, rubs her hands up his back down to his ass and then descends on his cock.

She has practiced and planned for this moment, fantasizing that she would provide him the blowjob of his life. But this is not a frozen hot dog smuggled into her bedroom or a boy's pecker she nibbled on as he instantly shot his cum all over her lips and up her nose. This cock spreads her jaw to the max, pushing her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. The mushroom head fills her cheek to cheek but she pushes down further, determined prove her worth. The salty mustiness filling her nose is intoxicating but the mass of flesh pushing past her uvula and down her throat is too much, She gags and coughs him out, sticky deep-throat drool stringing from her mouth to its head and down her chin. She regroups, licks down to the balls and back up, jams the dick down her throat only to gag again. Her eyes tear and spit bubbles form in the corners of her lips but she won't let go of what she has desired for so long.

Finally, a pair of hands reaches under her ribs and effortlessly lifts her until she is standing on the chair.

She looks down and sees his entire naked body in one view. His curly dark hair touched with gray frames a thin face with a sharp, strong chin. His naked torso is a strong but not muscular. She studies the patch of hair on his chest recede to a line as it traces down his stomach to a thick tangle of pubic hair. And under that juts out the cock she somehow thought she could swallow. It seems even larger from this angle, like a tree stump in a field and for the first time she is scared. Scared that there is too much man in front of her. Scared he will demand more than she capable of offering. But then he lightly grasps her elbows and gives a gentle smile. And her stomach somersaults all over again.

With her on the chair he is staring straight into her chest, which is still covered by her sweater and half buttoned blouse. He looks down and sees her skirt has fallen back into the normal position and realizes he is the only naked one in the room. He gazes into her compliant eyes as he unbuttons her blouse from the bottom until it swings open. He pulls the shirt and sweater from her shoulders and unsnaps her bra which falls to the ground. She barely moves, submissively shifting her body as he reaches behind and unzips the skirt which lands at a pile on her feet.

He stares at her on the chair, nude but for her knee socks. She is even more petite in that position. Her shoulders angle out below her long neck. Her breasts so taught her puffy nipples, flushed cherry red against her China doll white skin, seem to point up as much as out. His fingers trace along the ridges of her rib cage down to her stomach where his hands completely surround her waist. Below are a set of thin feminine hips, skin stretching over pelvic bones. And between that and her impossibly long legs sits a thin tuft of black hair pointing to that moist slit of her sex. All of it is so thin and delicate and innocent he is not sure what to do next. His dick pulses and his balls throb but he is not sure he deserves what is finally standing naked in front of him. Not sure if he has the sexual knowledge to deliver what she deserves. His mind retreats and contemplates the best way to reverse these last few minutes until he feels her lips forcing his mouth open, her tongue, tasting sweet but musty with the lingering scent of his cock, searching for his.

She senses she caught him off guard and continues to pounce, enjoying chance to take lead. She didn't plan to rush ahead like this, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her chest into his, her breasts smashing against the solid flesh of his pecs. But when he looked at her, flush and tentative, she could tell by the softness in his eyes that his only concern was for her pleasure and she had to let him know this was where she needed to be. She continues to attack, pushing up against him, body on body and can feel his cock rub up between her closed thighs until it scrapes along her pubic hair, sending shockwaves through her belly and forcing her tongue further down his throat.

He is stunned by her tongue, it is so firm and long and wild as it bounces inside his mouth it seems disconnected from the shivering girl he had to soothe a moment ago. Now he can only follow and try to reciprocate until she releases her grip and pulls away. She pushes his head to her neck. He licks and nibbles at her smooth skin, nipping hard enough to leave a mark and elicit a moan. She's still hugging his head as he reaches her chest, his ear pressed against the breastbone feeling her light heartbeat quickly beating against his cheek. He pushes his head back and and engulfs her breast with his mouth, rolling her swollen acorn nipple with his tongue. She squirms and arches her back as he attacks her other tit and grabs her ass, each round cheek easily fitting in his hands, her butt muscles quivering in his palms with every pull on her nipples.

His mouth has turned her nipples into lightening rods, sending jolts of electricity through her chest and down her spine, ending with an unbearable tingling between her pussy and asshole. She wraps a leg around his torso and throws her weight against him, knowing he can easily bear it. Her hands slide over the muscles in his back to his thin hips and grab his cock once again, rubbing its head against her vulva. One more time, she fights the urge to finally completely surrender, to cede herself to him. She leaps, jumping off the chair and guides him by his dick, sitting him down. Spreading his knees, she squats in front him and places a gentle kiss just under the head of his cock.

Her mouth pulls in the purple tip, her tongue flicking pre-cum from his pulsing vein. She moves slowly now, nibbling every bump, licking every ridge. Understands now it's not her technique that melts his eyes, but her desire. Her desire to stand here naked and open before him, ready to share herself like she has never been shared before. Her mouth devotes itself to his cock like she has devoted herself to him since her breasts blossomed and her loins first learned to ache. She sucks in more of the shaft. Her eyes water but she slowly begins to rock back and forth, letting his mass slide along her tongue and cheeks. Her hands massaging the base and lifting his balls. She feels his thighs flex and then relax. She glances up, her mouth still full of his manhood, and sees a look of pure bliss on his face.

It suddenly hits him, who's perched between his legs with his middle-aged pecker lodged between her lips. The girl whose precocious talent first made him take notice. Whose sideways smile and sly ability to see though his teaching techniques made him smile right back, even if he shouldn't. And then as she bloomed into the full flower of womanhood it was the swing of her hips as she left the studio, the flexing of her calves as she kept tempo to the music that made him pine for this day, knowing this was all he ever needed.

And now his penis, rock hard and swelling to point of bursting is coddled by her mouth and hands. He slowly moves his hips to her rhythm careful to not push too hard and caresses her spine with the back of his finger nails. She let's out a muffled purr and he wonders how long this perfection can last.

She answers by releasing his cock with a wet and sloppy plop and gives him that devilish smile he first saw 9 years ago. She lunges for his balls, taking one testicle and then the other in her mouth, rolling them with her tongue sucking them to the back of her throat. She drops them, gives him another wicked grin and, pushing his balls against his dick, starts licking his taint. The sensation is a bomb to his system, a series of laser charges pulsing through his groin and prostate that only increase as she darts and slashes around his exposed asshole. It is all too much, the reality of the situation crossing lines that never entered his most forbidden fantasies and he fights to regain control.