The Nightly Symphony
Since childhood I have been fascinated by music and playing the piano is now my profession. Few know, but each of them has a personality. More than that, they have a soul. I know this because I could feel it once, on a trip I made to attend a concert.
It was evening, and I was staying in an old mansion not far from the city. The traditional post-show cocktail party seemed boring to me, and I returned earlier than my colleagues. In the main hall, just me, portraits of strangers, and a large grand piano, positioned facing the garden. Unwilling to sleep, I decided to play it a little.
I couldn't tell what time it was or what piece of Chopin I was playing at that moment when I felt that soft hand over mine, and next to me was a beautiful woman with long black hair who whispered in my ear,
"Keep playing", he would say as he stroked my chest with one hand and guided me through the notes with the other.
She leaned over to the piano and I could see her completely. Her bulky, uncovered breasts under the wool blouse that stretched to her thighs. Her long legs were showing and I noticed that she was wearing nothing else when she slid her hands into her groin and revealed her vagina. I wanted to get up and grab her at that moment, but she would signal for me to keep playing. Every note, every chord, seemed to resonate throughout her body, contributing to her ecstasy. I observed the effect of every change of tone, of every long or short sequence and repeated the most vigorous beats.
From the tuxedo I had worn earlier, all I had left were my pants, which became increasingly uncomfortable for my stiff and scarred limb under the fabric. It was then that she approached and lowered herself, opening my pants and revealing my erect penis like a harpsichord waiting for the symphony. I waited for the touch of her mouth, imagining the pleasure she would return to me, but her intention was different. She entered under my arms, resting on my lap, making me go around her other lips before taking me to the full fit. From there, she would repeat:
"Keep playing", he repeats as he grabs the back of her head.
She's the ruler. She controls every movement, the speed and intensity with which I penetrate her. I just perform her composition. I kiss her voraciously, begging her not to stop before the climax. Our bodies seem to reach the same frequency. Our breathing and heartbeat follow the rhythm of the music and increase. Cheerful, lively, presto. She moans over me, but I want to reach her highest notes. My muscles can no longer play. So finally I enjoy. And I enjoy. I enjoy inside her as I wrap her in my arms and or her breathing. Our eyes are closed. Our glued bodies vibrate with the reverberation of the last chord.
In the end, when I open my eyes, there's no one else there, just my tired body and my cunt scattered on the floor, and in one of the portraits I recognize her face: it was her, the former resident of the house, a talented pianist.
It was evening, and I was staying in an old mansion not far from the city. The traditional post-show cocktail party seemed boring to me, and I returned earlier than my colleagues. In the main hall, just me, portraits of strangers, and a large grand piano, positioned facing the garden. Unwilling to sleep, I decided to play it a little.
I couldn't tell what time it was or what piece of Chopin I was playing at that moment when I felt that soft hand over mine, and next to me was a beautiful woman with long black hair who whispered in my ear,
"Keep playing", he would say as he stroked my chest with one hand and guided me through the notes with the other.
She leaned over to the piano and I could see her completely. Her bulky, uncovered breasts under the wool blouse that stretched to her thighs. Her long legs were showing and I noticed that she was wearing nothing else when she slid her hands into her groin and revealed her vagina. I wanted to get up and grab her at that moment, but she would signal for me to keep playing. Every note, every chord, seemed to resonate throughout her body, contributing to her ecstasy. I observed the effect of every change of tone, of every long or short sequence and repeated the most vigorous beats.
From the tuxedo I had worn earlier, all I had left were my pants, which became increasingly uncomfortable for my stiff and scarred limb under the fabric. It was then that she approached and lowered herself, opening my pants and revealing my erect penis like a harpsichord waiting for the symphony. I waited for the touch of her mouth, imagining the pleasure she would return to me, but her intention was different. She entered under my arms, resting on my lap, making me go around her other lips before taking me to the full fit. From there, she would repeat:
"Keep playing", he repeats as he grabs the back of her head.
She's the ruler. She controls every movement, the speed and intensity with which I penetrate her. I just perform her composition. I kiss her voraciously, begging her not to stop before the climax. Our bodies seem to reach the same frequency. Our breathing and heartbeat follow the rhythm of the music and increase. Cheerful, lively, presto. She moans over me, but I want to reach her highest notes. My muscles can no longer play. So finally I enjoy. And I enjoy. I enjoy inside her as I wrap her in my arms and or her breathing. Our eyes are closed. Our glued bodies vibrate with the reverberation of the last chord.
In the end, when I open my eyes, there's no one else there, just my tired body and my cunt scattered on the floor, and in one of the portraits I recognize her face: it was her, the former resident of the house, a talented pianist.
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