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Part 1 [church music] How great Thou art. How great Thou art. It was difficult to focus on the message this Sunday. As I sat in the pew I twitched and shuffled, as little as possible but the problem was there. Fortunately, I had planned for it, and through a baggy large sweater and some mental exercises I was able to keep it in check. It was the fault of the pianist. Not that she was thinking about it. (Or maybe she was?) She played the hymn, with skill, serenely, seeming to contemplate playing it perfectly. Which it was. Perfect. When she breathed, I noticed her intent gaze on the sheet music, and the swell of her large breasts underneath a conservative dress – a dark color, down to her calves, with heels not-too-tall. She was already tall with lots of dark hair you could get lost in. She had large, pretty eyes, and a little wetness on her lips. My swell swelled while her chest slightly heaved with each breath. I looked but never for too long. I did not linger. I was in church, after all. But it was only hours ago (maybe 6?) when the pianist, the piano teacher, MY piano teacher was carelessly banging the keys, the keyboard, and holding onto the fallboard. Because I had her, one knee on the bench, one foot on the floor, leaned towards the piano, her dark hair covering the keyboard. I was fucking her good from behind. I was fucking her how she needed to be fucked. And before she managed to close the keyboard, she was finding her balance on the keys, producing a chaotic sound. We were making a lot of sounds [church music] How great Thou art. How great Thou art. I had decided to take piano lessons. Mid-thirties, I was looking for a fulfillment and had tried several things – painting, and then I took up the guitar only to find myself straining and struggling with chord positions and cramped fingers. I thought maybe the piano might unlock some secret talent that had been laying there latent for my entire life, only now ready to make itself known. Maybe the piano is what I would be great at! She was a friend of a friend, actually a friend of an ex-girlfriend. We had seen each other on a number of occasions – birthday parties, weddings. I knew her as the church pianist and always remembered that because it seemed so unlikely. She was always dressed rather provocatively with plunging necklines that accentuated large, boner-inducing breasts. On several occasions I had seen her slightly intoxicated, smiling and flirting and (I always imagined) asking for my eyes to look at her... all of her everything. Which I imagined that too. I undressed her in my thoughts. I never undressed her the same way twice. It was almost a little private game of mine to position her in different ways and remove her clothing, sometimes nicely – unbuttoning, and carefully un-clasping, rolling off stockings, pulling down panties – and sometimes roughly – ripping stockings, freeing her breasts with a motion, greedily tearing dresses. This stopped with my first lesson. It was easy to undress her in my mind from a distance but I was not going to bring that to this setting – pupil and teacher perfect girl sex at the piano. I was an eager pupil and I really wanted to be able to learn the piano. So I wasnt interested in distractions. For weeks I dutifully attended my lesson with the church pianist. She had a grand piano and I would arrive at her house on Tuesday nights for my lesson. We would sit side-by-side on a wide piano bench and she would correct me as I struggled to learn some scales and simple songs. Hit the keys with the tips of your fingers. She was a good teacher and a pleasure to spend time with. While I might easily feel uncomfortable with my remedial musical knowledge and nascent skill, she was encouraging and nice and sometimes funny. We laughed through my embarrassment and generally had a good time. I began to have some basic facility with coed pics the piano keyboard. She was typically dressed in casual clothing. T-shirts and jeans, or comfortable pants and a top. Occasionally she wore a dress as she was attending some function after our lesson. The fabric always draped tight over her bosom. As it went from fall into the winter season, sometimes she wore sweaters (I have a thing for large breasts in sweaters). Her chest still caught my attention and I enjoyed being near her. Her hair smelled great and often brushed against me. She had a nice smile and large eyes. A nice body. But I would notice her attractive shape through her clothes, take a glance and then focus, and practice, not letting myself linger. Until one day. Typically she met me at the door with a smile and we would make it to the piano room through the living room. Today was different Im sorry, I meant to call you to cancel. Her hair was unbrushed and kinda wild and she was wearing a grey sweat suit. A pipe broke in the basement and it flooded with water. Ive been dealing with the plumbers and insurance all day and my basement is a mess and I havent had time to prepare for our lesson and I apologize for this. She made a motion with her arms referring to her appearance, her disheveled state. I took it as an invitation to look at her, to really look. She wasnt wearing a bra. Her full chest filled part of the sweatshirt and then it became baggy to her midsection and abruptly stopped. I could see a hint of her nipples against the fabric of the sweatshirt. She wasnt wearing shoes and her pants werent pulled neatly around her waist but had kinda slid off her hips a bit. You dont have to apologize for that. I decided to be pointed about referring to her beautiful self and reinforced that with my gaze looking over her. Its totally cool if we skip a lesson. But you seem distressed. Are the plumbers still here? No. They had left earlier. Maybe youd like some company, and some help relaxing? Seems like you need to take a deep breath. Over some objection I insisted we take a few breaths together. She had been talking at a quick pace and was clearly self-conscious about her clothing and appearance. However, her appearance was bringing me great pleasure. After standing in the doorway and slowly going through the breathing exercise that I had practically commanded her to do, we both smiled. She seemed a little calmer. Dont you feel better?, I said. Dont worry about the lesson. Its no big deal. But Ill hang out with you if you want to decompress some more. She led me to the kitchen. A glass of wine helps with that. she said and opened a bottle, offering me a glass. As we sat through one and then two glasses, we chatted about dealing with chaos and unexpected challenges in our lives. The more comfortable I got, the more my mental games came back to me. As we talked I undressed her. I mentally positioned her – in the chair she was sitting in, on the kitchen counter behind her, on the floor. On all fours with her butt up, I slid the stretchy, tight fabric over her ass. Or I ordered her to boob-drop, while sitting across from me, pulling the sweatshirt up quickly over her breasts, making them bounce. Or I had her reveal her large ones, while spreading her legs and outlining her pussy through the fabric. I imagined having her stand in the middle of the kitchen in her sweats, and I would take some large scissors, cutting the fabric off of her, leaving her naked, standing in the kitchen. I thought of all this while we chatted about this and that. You always undress me with your eyes. What?! I thought I was more subtle than this. It was an abrupt change to the topic of our conversation. I was taken aback. What? Thats not true. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your piano skills. as I looked at her chest. I know but you LIKE to imagine me naked. She was pretty tipsy now and I was grinning with guilt. You do have a beautiful body. I felt the blood rush to my groin. She had called me out and I was going with it. I like how you look at me. How you ... undress me. In a short while we had gone from teacher and pupil to friends, and maybe intimates, and I had a full-on rager of a boner. What happened next surprised me. Instinctively I grabbed her chair with one hand and pulled her and the chair towards me. It was forceful. More so than I intended. She was thrown into my arms. We kissed. It was sloppy. Perhaps equally as instinctive she reached down and ran her hand over my hard-on. Her fingers traced my cock through the fabric of my pants from my balls up to the tip and then pressed her palm down against me. It made her smile. I moaned and buried my face in her hair. We kissed for a long while. When we came up for air I was sitting in my chair and she was straddling me, grinding her pussy against me. I put a finger to her lips and held her, preventing her from moving. Its time for our piano lesson. I said. She looked at me with puzzlement. This time Im the teacher. edouardmanet