I went to a very expensive public school on the south coast of the UK. There were any number of extras, all available at hugely inflate prices,of course, but one of mine was learning the organ. Our chapel had a magnificent instrument, and to start with at least, it really was the music lessons I went for. If you have never played a church organ at full power you cannot appreciate how it makes one feel.
My tutor, a really horrid, crabby old bitch was replaced in my third term of learning with a very down to earth guy. He was, as you can I,whine in an all girls school, something of a rarity, and he was certainy good looking. Older than me of course, and by some 20 years, but male, nevertheless.
"We'll, you can't possible play in THAT!" Were his first words to me looking at the knee length, tight skirt I was wearing. "I'm afraid the organ has no respect of modesty. Some of the pieces you will learn this year require double footing and well, there is no delicate way to say this, you need to be able to open your legs." Those words shot through me and landed squarely on my clit which throbbed with indignation.
I was also, at that age, so,stuck up no privilege, that I also,resented him, effectively a college servant, talking to me in that way. But I was not going to be outdone. I silenced the pedal,organ, stood up and hitched my skirt right up and sat back down, feeling the cool,oak through my white cotton knickers. He was right though, some of the Herbert Howels pieces I was studying really did need one foot at one end and the other, well, at the other. I began to become aware of my own scent too, and as he was standing behind me looking over my shoulder at what I was doing, I suddenly realised that he must be able to as well.
One day, I was playing well, or so I thought, but in so,etching like frustration, he suddenly closed my music book. "what do you feel,when you play? Anything? Anything at all?" I didn't really understand, but he went on. "Close your eyes. Just play, anything, make it up as you go, and let me deal with the stops" I have always loved improvisation and I was highly skilled at it, even then. I started to play, and slowly he added stops until the huge chapel rebounded, with the might and majesty of a full organ complete with 32' pedals making the building shake. After I finished, he told me to keep y eyes shut. "Right. I want you to say a series on single words...don't think about it, just out words to how that made you feel.
"Powerful, majestic, er strong, ummmm"
"NO! Feeling, gut raw feeling....DO IT,"
"Angry, sexy, horny, wet, fuck...yes...FUCK"
"That's what it should feel like. No more sterile playing of the right notes. I want your would,my our very being,your sex in your playing. I want to feel your orgasms in the music. If I asked you what you wanted to do, right now, most in the world what would it be?"
Without even thinking I replied "I want to masturbate"
He led me around the gallery that surrounds the organ, to where there was a small armchair where the organist can sit during the long and boring sermons. "There you are. Come back round when your done"
He left me there went back to the console and started playing....so did I. I sat in that worn out old chair. Hooked my legs over the arms and rubbed out the most delicious orgasm ever, knowing I was in chapel, knowing he was there only made it bigger.
A week later and I was playing superbly, I was always a good technician. But now, my music had feeling too.
Over the next few weeks, we would have just a normal lesson, sometimes, we had to really because I needed to cum.
One time, I asked him to watch me. He never laid a finger on me, but oh how I wish he had. I would have given him my virginity a hundred times over in that organ loft. But, as I said, he did watch me at my request. I gave him my knickers and just said "watch me" I kept repeating that phrase until it got lost in the breathless approach to an orgasm.
I know he got hard, and I so hope he masturbated thinking of me, but he never touched me.
I really wish he had.