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My Music Teacher

Posted by: Age: 27 Posted on: 0 comments
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Nothing like the grip of a music teacher!


When I was nine, I started taking piano lessons. My music teacher was Chinese, and though I didn't see it then, she had an amazing body. She was in her early thirties when I started, and I think newly married. I remember her coming to my house to give me lessons, and she'd wear the shortest mini skirts ever. Of course, I paid no attention then (silly me)!

I played the piano for about eight years. I became sexually active around 15, and it was then that I started to notice my music teacher as more than just a teacher. She started to become the object of my sexual fantasies. In fact, I still remember having my first orgasm while masturbating and think of my music teacher.

Anyway, the truth was that I never liked playing the piano. The pieces I had to play were dull, classical stuff. It was a real drag. My only consolation to the classes was of course, my sexy music teacher. By the way, when the piano classes were conducted, I'd sit on the piano stool, and she'd sit next to me on a separate chair, very close to me. My parents were usually not around, as they'd normally be at work (classes were after school, at my house in the afternoons).

However, it wasn't always a walk in the park where my music teacher was concerned. Every other week, I'd get a lecture for not practicing. She'd be next to me, lecturing me, and I'd just sigh, and tilt my head down. Once in a while, she'd jab me in the side with her finger, and sometimes, give me a gentle tap on my butt. She was never harsh, but she was firm. I'd never ever forget the one faithful day when she gave me more than just a lecture.

It was the usual routine, I was getting another lecture for not practicing. I just tilted my head down, as usual. She was going on and on, and then she suddenly stopped. Then she started caressing my thigh. I normally wore a t-shirt and shorts at home.

'I don't like to keep having to tell you to do your work,' she said, still running her hand on my thigh. I was 16 at the time, and was very hairy. I remember nodding my head, and then she commented on how hairy my legs were. The conversation changed, and then she asked me if I was hairy 'over there', pointing to my crotch. I kind of nodded, not knowing what was really going on.

'Take it off! I want to see!' she said. I couldn't believe what she was saying! I turned to look at her, and she had this partial smile on her face. I didn't know what to do, what to expect.

'Take it off!' she said again, this time with a slightly firmer tone, and I reluctantly complied, and pulled my shorts down to knee level.

'Your underwear as well!' she said, and I reluctantly pulled that down too, to reveal a really limp cock.

'My...you are hairy she said', and then proceeded to gently caress my limp little member. I really couldn't believe that this was really going on. My cock was limp, but it began to stir and really grow with every touch of my music teacher's fingers. Eventually I got quite hard, and she began to slowly stroke me!

I will never forget those firm fingers of hers! It was a really firm grip. It was almost like a squeeze.

Anyway she continued to stroke me, and I felt paralyzed, unable to do anything. I just sat still, savoring each and every moment. Once in a while, I'd glance at her breasts, which would jiggle each time she stroked me. They looked so tempting, so inviting. I wanted to touch them, but somehow I didn't dare.

I was already oozing with precum, and was about to cum. I told her I was about to explode, when she suddenly stopped! I was surprised. All I could do was to just look at her, pathetically, and I suppose with a look in my eyes as if to say 'why did you stop'.

'If I finish you off, will you promise to practice your piano harder?' I remember her saying, and I remember nodding my head furiously. She just smiled, and continued to stroke me with that firm hand of hers. Eventually I came, and shot a big load all over her hand, and a little on the piano keys.

She got up, and told me to clean up, while she went over to the bathroom and washed her hands. I did, after she was done, and she left after that. I cleaned up the piano, still wondering if it all really happened.

Anyway, I practiced a little harder after that, but not much changed. I still sucked, and still got a lecture from my dissatisfied music teacher once in a while. I never got a handjob ever again, and we never mentioned in either. It was weird. Eventually, once I started college, I had to quit, as I hardly had time to practice anymore. On her last day, we hugged, I thanked her for everything, and that was it. I never saw her again. I still think of that fateful day, and jack off often just thinking of that whole event.

No one has given me a handjob like her. I guess a pianist's hands are...umm...different....



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