0 comments/ 19316 views/ 0 favorites Jane's Arpeggio By: Karyn Gardenia Nile absolutely could not believe the news his pompous boss was giving him. After spending his entire life in London, he was being relocated to the United States. What was worse- he was being relocated to the rural Midwest. Though the only place in the U.S. he had visited was New York City, he had seen pictures and films showing life in the Midwest, and the mere thought of being a part of it turned his stomach. "Palmquist, I have a very special position for you out there. It may seem like you're in a spot of trouble, but I promise you this is no punishment," the over-starched suit in front of him was saying. Whether or not it was meant to be a punishment was irrelevant. He was due to leave the country in three days. How could he kiss goodbye everything he loved in three days? Could he just quit and find another job? Probably... but did he want to?...probably not. So, in three days, 24-year-old Nile Palmquist had closed out all of his affairs in London, and was getting off a plane in Chicago's O'Hare airport. From there, he was given a stunning company car and directions to his new home in North Liberty, Iowa. Though he tried his best not to despair, the whole drive from Chicago to Center Point was spent in a dazed sort of retrospect for England. He even couldn't help but scoff at the idea of living in any place with the word Liberty in its name. On the bright side, after three weeks in his new rural Iowa residence, he was beginning to grow optimistic about his future. The apartment the company had moved him into was quite nice- better than the one he had been living in in London for the past three years. The street he lived on was nearly free of traffic for most of the day, and he could look out his window and see a row of gardens tended by various women in brightly colored sundresses and jogging suits. The branch of his company that he was working with was quartered in Coralville, which was hardly a city compared to London, but had everything he needed, really. When July rolled around, he thought he had best get a taste of the night life and stop hiding in his apartment each night. He chose a piano bar in a nearby city, for he absolutely adored the sound of a good pianist, and met several young women who shared his enthusiasm. None of them really appealed to him, though, in a potential relationship sense. Late in the evening, one of the pianists, a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties was seated next to Nile at the bar. After a bit of conversation, Nile had made up his mind that he, too, wanted to play the piano. The pianist suggested several teachers, to which Nile responded questioning which teacher the pianist had liked best. He took down a name and phone number which he immediately called the next day. He had his first lesson scheduled for after work the coming Monday. He wasn't sure on the customs for music lessons in America, so he dressed in light-weight dress pants and a pressed button-down shirt in pastel. On the way to his lesson, he stopped to pick up a beginner's lesson book and new pencils, and began searching the quaint neighborhood of the address he had written down. Part of him felt foolish for taking beginner's piano lessons at his age- he figured that his teacher had probably been playing for over thirty years and would laugh silently behind a polite smirk when he played a wrong note or had to ask too many questions. Approaching her door, he braced himself for humiliation that he hoped would eventually end in skill. The faint, distant music he heard through the door swelled in volume as the door was pulled open and a strikingly pretty face leaned around the edge of the opened door to welcome him inside graciously. Once inside, the girl stepped out from behind the door, and Nile couldn't help but notice at great length the prize body she was carrying around. She couldn't have been more than twenty. "I'm with a student right now," she told him with a smile, "but I'll be with you in just five. Go ahead and have a seat." He did. As she disappeared into a hallway, he could hear her praising the work of her other student. Until now, he had not even considered the possibility that he would be so attracted to his teacher. She had carefully styled chestnut hair that fell down in front of her flawless shoulders...visible in her off-the-shoulder sweater. Her waist was narrow and flared out into a set of full, perfectly crafted hips and a shape that any pair of pants would die to cling to. He felt almost guilty looking at a younger girl this way, knowing she was supposed to be an authority, in a way. When it was finally his turn, he passed the student he had heard playing on her way out. She was very young- Nile had her guessed at fifth or sixth grade- but she had been playing very well for her age. Nile whispered a "good show" to her as she walked past, which was met in response by a confused smile. Much to his surprise, the lesson started out completely free of humiliation. She had asked him about his experience...about where he lived and where he came from...and lastly about his reason for wanting to learn the piano. She seemed genuinely interested in his answers. When he had finished, he asked her what had made her want to learn the piano. She laughed in a way that nearly made him fall in love. Then she told him that her mother had been a piano teacher and had started teaching her when she was but three years old. "I've been playing for sixteen years," she offered, revealing her age. She was striking for 19. They did a few exercises from his piano book. She encouraged him without patronizing, and even told him he was a bright, quick learner. Watching her talented hands moving on the keys whenever she showed him anything was enough encouragement for him. Sometimes he would even ask her to repeat an example just so he could watch her slender fingers and carefully painted fingernails. Sitting close to her on the piano bench was pure bliss- he was close enough to smell her light, citrus perfume, but far enough that he could turn and still see those bare shoulders of hers beneath her dark, gently waving hair. He made a point to look directly into her eyes whenever she was talking to him, but sometimes his gaze wandered to her lips for a second or two as he appeared to consider her suggestions. The lesson was over almost as quickly as it had begun. That night, alone in his dark bedroom, he fought back a bit of his guilt and started touching himself under the sheets, imagining her talented hands on him that way. He didn't know why such thoughts were overpowering him. It was all he could think about all evening- her pink, filed fingernails and limber wrists, pleasing his extremities with a lyrical, intent touch. For weeks he awoke in the dark from vivid dreams of her, and had to fight himself nearly to tears not to let his eyes wander during his lessons. It was a rough battle that he gave in to each night in his bed, each morning during his shower, and sometimes.... sometimes in the car, in his own garage, after he had left her studio. On the first day of August, his battle became a losing one. She welcomed him to his seat on the bench wearing a form-fitting knit blouse in soft black. Her midrift was exposed, sending a chill through every stream of his blood. Her stomach was tight and flawless- her belly button practically jumping out at him above a low-riding waist line. Her skirt was denim and reached her knees, but there was no hiding the way it clung to the gentle curve of her ass and thighs. He would have paid out his savings for a chance to slide that skirt up and grip her tight 19-year-old ass in both hands. Somehow, he was able to sit on the bench, but shuddered with dread and embarassment when he felt himself growing hard in his khaki pants. She was going about her business, marking off his assignments in her notebook and making small talk about his work week. He tried to ignore her round breasts when she leaned down next to him to pick up a paperclip from a bowl on the piano. It was impossible. The black top she wore had a way of highlighting them- almost as if she were painted with a fine layer of black paint and her breasts were free to move around as they naturally chose. Her perfume was like incense- dizzying him as he tried to concentrate on her words. He shivered nervously when she sat beside him and her hip came in contact with his on the bench. The exercises he had played with his eyes closed the night before were now the only thing to steal his mind from the sexual goddess at his side. "Nile?" she asked, a gentle smile touching her full lips. "Could you play that one again, please? I noticed a few things, and I think you did too." He hadn't. He played it again, realizing he must have skipped over an entire section of the exercise. The second time, she was pleased. "Much better.. and thanks for playing it over. Sometimes I have to do that, myself." He didn't make the same mistake twice, though he did make several more before the lesson was done. He jumped when her home phone rang shrilly, and she placed one of her wonderful hands on his shoulder to calm him. "Just a second, okay?" She disappeared through the door, and his eyes instantly dropped to the swelling erection in his lap. It was so prominent, he couldn't believe she hadn't run out of the room screaming. Perhaps she was just that focused on her teaching. He didn't want to be thrown out forever. He could hear her honeyed voice drifting in from wherever the phone was. She kept the conversation short, saying she was in a lesson and she would get the order placed as soon as possible. When she came strolling back in, her smile seemed forced. "Thank you," she said abruptly, sitting down next to him, "for having the intiative to pick out your own book. It's a great help to me that you are so on top of things." He wanted to slap himself for the image that came to mind when she said that. Taking his silence for polite quiet, she went on to tell him that the young man who was supposed to have the next lesson slot had cancelled because he didn't have a book and couldn't find a proper one anywhere. "Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear me badmouth my other students.. I'm so sorry." Before he could stop himself, his hand fell on her thigh. "Don't worry about it," he said in his best comforting tone. It stung him that she really felt bad about something she had done, especially something so minor. She glanced down at the hand, and then back up at him, smiling a humored smile. Then, just as he had feared for weeks, her eyes caught on the bulge in his lap. "Oh.." she said, the surprise evident in her voice. "I'm sorry, I..." He wanted to die. No, what he really wanted was her open mouth just as it was, only on his throbbing erection. He wanted to die again for his thoughts. He pulled his hand from her thigh and stared at the keys, frozen. "I was afraid you'd notice that," he admitted, turning to watch an uneasy smile tilt the corners of her mouth upwards. "I'm the one who should be apologizing." She was still looking. Why couldn't she just look back up at the music and continue the lesson as if nothing had happened? At least then maybe he wouldn't be wishing death on himself every four seconds. "You must really love music," she joked, trying to lighten his horrified embarassment. He could feel himself sweating. He hoped the fear and disgust would make the erection go away. It didn't. "No..." he replied, feeling as if he had nothing to lose, "it's just you. I find it hard to sit next to you for a half an hour and not notice how breath-taking you are." She seemed to stop breathing, an ironic response to his compliment. She smiled bigger- a truly flattered smie she could not help. "That's very sweet, Nile....I'm glad you told me." It was the strangest thing she could have said. She wasn't freaking out, and she wasn't scolding him. She also wasn't acting awkward and making things worse. She seemed to be happy about it. He let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say. "Nile?" she asked, capturing him with her brown eyes. "You're the best beginner student I have... but I get the feeling you aren't much of a beginner when it comes to things like this." "Things like this?" he repeated, feeling himself swell bigger with her suggestion. She was actually LIKING it. The look on her face was one of priceless, ravenous interest in the erection in his lap. "Things like this," she repeated back once more, letting her hand settle on his bulge. He was nearly shaking with anticipation and the flood of fantasies he had indulged over the weeks he had known her. Now her hand was on him... she wanted it, just like him. He could have cried out in rapture. Instead, he placed his own hand over hers, filled with a strange new confidence. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he told her, looking straight into the eyes that had filled his hottest dreams, as her dream-self had looked up at him from her place on her knees in front of him. Her smile disappeared and was replaced by a contemplative, calculating expression. "So now that you're sitting in my studio, hard as a rock and unable to hide it..." she smiled a bit on the last part, knowing how embarassed he was, "why don't we do something about it?" He could have played a Bach fugue at her mere suggestion. Jane's Arpeggio Ch. 02 Nile had unintentionally skipped an entire section of his assigned exercise, and he didn't seem to notice. Still, Jane granted him the same privilege she granted all of her best students- the chance to claim that it was a silly mistake that would easily be remedied with another try. She had been there herself many times. It was easy to be tricked by the eyes, especially with so much on one's mind. Usually, when she was alone, playing through technical warm-ups she had done a million and one times, she let her mind wander down to the very edge of her fingertips where they brushed teasingly over the keys. There was something terribly intimate about the touch. The smooth surface of the ivory keys was like the white, marble-like skin on a sculpture. The black keys were something different- a place she reached further for- like something below the surface of the sculpture, pulsing with life. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what life was pulsing in the unseen depths of Nile Palmquist. While he played this exercise a second time, correcting his mistake, she watched his eyes. Though they scanned the music carefully this time, there was still a hint of something else there, as if he was watching with one eye and wandering through another world and checking out the scenery with the other. She wondered what it would take to be that scenery. As the next few minutes turned quickly by, he seemed to grow uneasy. She assumed it was because he was embarassed about his mistakes. That kind of thing generally lead to more of the same- it was a beginning musician's curse. She tried to counter away his unease with an encouraging voice and a gentle demeanor while she walked him through some easy ways to avoid the strain of his nervousness. During one such crucial moment, she was interrupted mid-sentence by the telephone in the other room. She thought of ignoring it, and nearly kicked herself for almost being unprofessional. It was hard enough for a 19-year-old piano teacher to be taken seriously without acting like a silly school girl. The phone call ended up being good news and bad news, but the good was truly good when the bad was simply a mild annoyance. She would have a half-hour's break today in exchange for one of her younger students whining about not being able to locate a proper book. A few minutes later, while she was telling Nile about the call, she started to wonder if maybe her kind, unwavering patience was one of the things Nile was truly captivated by. Her complaints about annoying students couldn't be winning her any points. He shocked her with a hand on her thigh. Not only was it placed there, high on her leg and near her very core, but it had an intent, possessive grip to it that nearly made her shudder. It surprised her. The man had hardly let himself be caught looking at her for the last few weeks, and now he was touching her in a way that made her think inappropriate thoughts she could not deny. She wished she had been wearing pants- then he might have been able to circle her leg with his fingers a bit more, bringing him even closer to her center. As if her forbidden thoughts were multiplying into hallucinations, her eyes caught on his lap, where his light dress pants seemed to be bulging in one particular place of importance. At first she was sure it was her imagination, lost in wishful thinking. She couldn't look away. It wasn't until she started rambling apologies that she knew what she was seeing was the real thing. He had a full-blown erection, and it was all because of her. His hand on her leg had completed it. The air seemed to crackle with the tension and need between them. Just as she was losing herself in that great torrent of need, he pulled his hand from her thigh and looked away from her, breaking the moment in two. "I was afraid you'd notice that," he finally admitted. "I'm the one who should be apologizing." She felt herself smiling, despite her anxiety. She fought it back a little, waiting. As it turned out, there was no good in fighting the smile. His desire was honest and open now- there was nothing that could hide it from her, and he had no choice but to accept it for himself. Whatever secret he had was laid out in front of him just like the keys he was so intensely staring at. She wondered if there would ever be a better time for her to do the same with hers. "I find it hard to sit next to you for a half an hour and not notice how breath-taking you are," he told her, dropping his defenses and meeting her eyes in one move. She couldn't think of anything to do other than thank him, and if nothing else, it seemed to stir his confidence back to a less mortifying level. She wanted to raise it even further- to make him feel like he was a man worthy of the erection in his own lap. She turned to him, leaning close and looking straight into his frantically darting eyes. "You're the best beginner student I have," she said truthfully, "... but I get the feeling you aren't much of a beginner when it comes to things like this." She felt him shiver lightly on the bench next to her, stirred by her comment. She pulled his shiver forward to its full intensity by letting her hand creep across his thigh and onto his obvious erection. His eyes pressed closed as he inhaled with the instant pleasure of the contact. His hand fell atop her own and he gripped it, pushing her palm against his bulge in a softly tamed aggression. "You're gorgeous," he said, seeming to think that explained everything. He wasn't prepared for the cutting response she would then deliver, and she knew it. She let a thoughtful, interested look claim her face as she felt him growing harder still beneath her hand. "Let's do something about it," she said, being sure to hold his lusting eyes still in their gaze. His mouth fell open a little, and her moment of opportunity was taken. She leaned in, collecting his bottom lip between hers and moving upward into a teasing kiss. He had mint on his breath, as if he had always wanted to be prepared for this very possibility. She let her hands slide up his chest, feeling the shape of the muscles she had hoped were there, and gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him more forcefully against her on the bench. This was the move that seemed to break his paralysis. His hands slid around her lower back, returning her forceful pull. One of his hands slid up to take ahold of her face, turning her head to allow the kiss to mature into something more passionate. His other hand ended up on her thigh again, massaging with the rhythm of their closeness. She was struck with a memory that brought an audible whimper to her lips, which were dancing lyrically with his: The day of his first lesson, she had walked to the foyer to answer the door, knowing it was her new student who was still too shy to just barge right in like she expected of her other students. When she had opened it, she had been amazed that the polite, sexy British voice she had spoken with on the phone belonged to not a middle-aged, graying fellow, but a young, strikingly handsome stallion who was well-dressed...and with good manners! This was not something any young piano teacher was prepared to run across on a random Monday afternoon. After she had finished with her lessons for the day, she had indulged in a long, calming bubble bath that had brought her memories of the day flooding through her. Of course, she had stopped on him- this curious, foreign man with the attractive accent. She had almost felt guilty after pleasuring herself for nearly a half hour with a student in mind... almost. Now he had his hands all over her, and was kissing her like they were already making love. She had a twinge of doubt that perhaps she was sitting there, making out with this truly captivating creature, simply because his foreign persona excited her. She barely knew the man! Still... "Jane," he said against her parted lips. "Nile," she responded, likewise, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. "I can't tell you how much I want you." "You can't?" she asked playfully, smiling, and favoring him with a quick peck on the cheek. She wanted to know more... to know what he was thinking and why he was thinking it. She wanted to know him. He smiled back. "I mean I don't know how to tell you. I can't describe it properly. I don't..." he stopped, realizing he was rambling. He shook his head in his own defeat of words. "Maybe the best way to describe it would be to say that you want me just as much as I want you..." she offered. "Besides..." she let her hand fall once again to the indicating factor of his desire on his body, "I can tell how much you want me by this. I want to know what you are thinking about." Reluctantly, he began to dispense information to his piano teacher. First, he told her about the nights he lay awake in bed, rubbing himself to an ecstasy before cumming into his own hand. Then, about the morning showers where he leaned into the hot spray of the water and looked down at his feet, imagining her on her knees with wet hair, sucking him to a similar ecstasy. Lastly... in the car as it sat parked in the garage after his lessons, when the memory of her was so fresh that his sense called out for release. "You fantasize about me having this in my mouth?" she asked softly, kneading his erection teasingly through his thin pants. "About me being on my knees, looking up at you and doing everything in my power to give you pleasure?" He could only nod, his eyes taking on the glossy look of a daydream. "God, Jane... just hearing you say it is making me see it." "Then stand up, Mozart," she teased, licking his earlobe ever so slightly. He shuddered with the feel of the tip of her tongue on him, knowing he would soon feel it elsewhere. He rose, and she turned on the bench so she was seated facing him. He stood in anticipation, trying to breath steadily as she unbuttoned his pants with one hand, smiling a knowing smile up at him. She could feel him right there, throbbing and begging to be let out, and she was about to grant it its wish. She couldnt wait to see what he had been saving for her. She paused, using the other hand to unzip his pants while she held his waistband. His boxers were soft against her hand, but what stood pushing beneath them was like a finely sculpted rock. It reminded her of the white marble that hid a black power beneath its surface... a statue of stone with life enough to throb and pulse and thrust. She wanted it in her mouth so badly she could almost taste it. His erection, now fully prominent, pushed against his boxers as she pulled his pants down to the floor and sat back up, looking up at him for one long, final moment before moving to her knees on the floor. She was going to enjoy this. She was going to make an art of it. Jane's Arpeggio Ch. 03 He couldn't believe how warm her breath was as she leaned in to pant teasingly against him through the thin material of his boxers. It was like her mouth was already on him, but it wasn't...not really. Soon, though, he could feel the gentle push of her lips as they brushed against him, moving upward. He let himself tighten a fistful of her hair gently in his right hand as he let himself shudder with anticipation. She was really making an art of this. Before fully realizing his movement, he was gripping the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down, exposing himself to her. Her eyes lit up in satisfaction as his stiff cock came out of hiding, and her warm right hand was immediately on it, her thumb and the inside of her first finger creating a maddening pressure around the base. He shivered at what it would feel like when the contact finally came... In an instant, there it was. She had leaned in and taken the head of his cock between her lips. It was a teasing touch, for all he could feel was the soft texture of her lips...slightly damp from their passionate kissing..but she was withholding any contact to her tongue or the slick saliva he knew she had ready for him. He would have done anything for that hot wetness right that moment. Instead, she slipped her grip upward, circling her hand around the length and width of him, and moved her fingers softly, rhythmically, in a scale pattern. The ends of her slender fingers drummed against his hard flesh in a way he had never experienced. Suddenly, she looked up, right into his eyes, sinking lower on her knees, and without breaking the gaze, slid him back into her mouth. This time she let him sink into the wetness of her mouth, pressed against her tongue and into the opening of her throat, where she held him as she stared up. Now, it was entirely too much. "Jane," he said, gasping, and could say no more. She went to work on him- beginning slowly with subtle movements, and quickening into ravenous licks and dives- some of which would take every inch of him down into her throat. He had to grip the edge of the piano to stay on his feet. He knew he wouldnt be able to remain standing with treatment like this for long. Her hand moved down to his balls, where they played methodically, while her other hand slid up to his hip to find a grip. He felt a moan form deep in her throat, where he was currently dwelling. It buzzed against him in the sweetest kind of vibration. She really was enjoying this. He thought for a moment about her bare knees on the floor, and her chestnut hair. He thought about having her naked from the waist down and lain over his lap while he favored her with a series of careful, unharming slaps to her bare ass. He didn't know why these things came to him, only that they did, and had been for quite some time. Her left hand began to creep up his stomach, under his shirt. Idly, it began to undo the buttons holding it together. She continued to suck him, sliding him in and out of her mouth smoothly while she managed to release all but two of the buttons, which he got himself. He pulled his shirt down and off his shoulders, letting it land on the piano bench, at the same time noticing that her mouth had left him and she was rising. Both of her hands climbed up his stomach and then his chest, sliding over his shoulders and pulling her soft body right up against his mostly-naked form. Her bare stomach and knees pressed against his, and he had a chill as he imagined her under him, his body moving against hers while he fucked her. Her mouth was on his now, and he could taste himself on her...the soap he had used to bathe himself that morning, combined with the salty undertone of his building pleasure. "Jane," he repeated against her lips, equally as breathless as before, "you're amazing." She didn't respond, but instead took his cock in her hand, squeezing it slightly as she grazed her lips along his jawline. Her breasts against him were firm and round, and the fabric on them argued against his earlier observation that her shirt must be painted on. "I'm feeling a little overdressed," she finally said, giggling in her conspiracy. His fingers grasped the underside of her black sweater, pulling it up around her ribs as she continued grinding her hips against him. Her arms swept straight up, allowing him to pull the sweater off of her, exposing most of her breasts in a shockingly scandalous bra- a black lace number that did wonders for her perky cleavage, with narrow straps and transparent mesh in the holes in the lace. His hands instinctively went to her breasts, where he gripped one in each hand, feeling his cock jump in delight from below. Her sweet, girlish laugh moments before was still ringing in his ears, and her breasts were SO high and round. He could have exploded, really... but he didn't. She was unbuttoning her denim skirt and then unzipping it, and for the moment he forgot all about her wonderful breasts. She was exposing more and more of her stomach, then her hips, then as she let the skirt drop all the way to the floor, she took careful measure to step daintily out of it. She wasn't wearing a thing under it. He couldn't breathe. His hands circled her, running up the back of her thighs where he could do what he had earlier wished. Soon, his hands were full of her warm, curved ass, and he went ahead and squeezed her, pulling her back against him abruptly. He stretched his fingers around the curve of her buttocks so that the tips of them were buried very near her forbidden hollow. He could feel her wetness there like a red flag, waving at him to throw her down and fuck her until she cried. But, he didn't. He put a hand on her shoulder, urging her to sit on the piano bench. She did as she was directed. He dropped to his knees quickly, on a mission. In a moment, he had her leaning back against the piano, her elbows craning back to rest on the keys. He heard two clusters of notes that rang with disonnance in the room- one low, and one high, as her body splayed out against the instrument. He went nearly blind with arousal and need, but could feel her legs parting, dangling over the sides of the bench as his fingers found her center. She was wetter than he had thought, and he wanted absolutely nothing more at that moment, with the terrible combination of notes hanging in the air, than to taste her. He pressed a single finger all the way into her, hearing her moan and feeling her tighten and wriggle on him. He pulled out, adding a second finger before returning into her. When he was satisfied with his examination, he gripped her thighs and favored her with a few deliberate licks of her young, bare pussy. Her taste was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but bury his face against her, losing himself in her scent and wetness. He pushed his tongue as far into her as he could manage, then nibbled on her gently while his hands massaged her inner thighs. He heard another cluster of notes as she shifted her elbows on the piano, letting out a series of delightfully sexy little whimpers. One of her legs was shaking slightly, and he could feel his cock pulsing severely between his own legs, its tension driving up into his gut. He felt her reach the edge and he knew it was time. His eyes watered and his body tensed as he felt her cumming on him the moment he slid his rock-hard erection into her. He knew she had been close, and he had wanted nothing more than to feel it not on his fingers or in his mouth, but on the erection she had given him. He wanted her to feel it and to recognize its significance and power. My GOD, but she was tight. The flood of her juices took away any last composure Nile had. He valued himself a gentleman, but here in this room, fucking a beautiful girl on a piano, feeling her dripping and melting all over his member, he totally lost all touch with that. His thrusting became harsh, directed, and intent. Her breasts were bouncing in her black bra, and he reached down to pull them free so he could watch their movement. The black lacey material bunched up beneath them, pushing them up even further past their perky level. He railed her like he had always dreamed. He filled her up like he had imagined many nights before. It was all just...pure bliss. She was looking up at him, her mouth open, and her voice was full of pleasure and need. She was getting what she deserved, and what he wanted so badly. Lost in his desire, he was brought back to reality as she tightened up, ready to cum again. Her voice raised in pitch, and miraculously matched the pitch on the piano she happened to shift to. He thrusted harder. In a moment, she was melting on him again, and he could pretend no longer. He, too, was going to lose it. She anticipated him. Before he could make any move, she had pushed him gently back with both hands, a good two and a half feet from the bench. She fell to her knees once more, brushing a whisp of her hair away from her face and tilting her head back to look up at him as she had before. He gripped his cock in his hand, his eyes never leaving her face, and covered her lips and tongue with his fiery cum. Some of it ran down the side of her chin and splashed across her breasts, where it gleamed in the overhead light. He was beyond breathless. Both of them panted and caught their breath for a long time before either spoke. The silence was broken when Nile looked at the clock, and saw that any moment now, Jane's next student would be arriving for her lesson. Jane looked too, and frowned in her girlish way. "Nile," she said, still frowning, "this isn't right." "What?" he asked, filled with a sudden dismay at her words. How could it have not been right? "You have two more exercises yet to play," she answered in a very convincing mock seriousness. He stood paralyzed for a moment, collecting the information, then smiled a little, catching himself on the bench as he almost keeled over. He pulled his boxers up into position, then tried to pull up his pants, stopping twice to fight light-headedness. He saw that she was dressing quickly and with great ease, and frowned back at her. "Is that really what you were thinking about the whole time?" he teased. "Actually," she said, tossing his shirt into his lap, "I was thinking about how overpaid I am. I think perhaps you should stop bringing your wallet with you to your lessons, young man." The clock fell into place on the half-hour, and the front door swung open, admitting a first grade girl who would moments later be scolded lightly by her mother for crossing the street alone. Nile passed the girl and her mother on the way out, grinning at the both of them. The little girl would come to know him in the coming weeks as Nile, the grown-up student who was sometimes a bit disheveled, but always smiling.