0 comments/ 6491 views/ 0 favorites The Music Room By: endthedream I followed him into the music room. The wall baffles made it look like the inside of an egg crate, and it was summer hot and roasted, and we were young, and had come here to make love. There was nothing for us but the territories of ourselves, and he turned to me and he smiled that slightly lopsided smile and I put my arms around him, and the ands in this sentence are not meant for bad construction or run on sentences, but because there was always an and between us and around up, and protecting us. We had met senior year in high school and now were almost through our university freshmen year. He locked the door and we both tested to be sure, and he lowered the shade on the window next to the piano, and we were together, because together was us, and we were oceans come together to small the world, as I put my hand in the small of his back and felt his wet shirt of yellow bay and his wet spine and I kissed him deeply, and he loved me, and there were only the hums of the a.c., deliciously cool, and the sounds distant and vague like steps up a mountain we never had to climb far away, and I loved him and was him and he loved me and was me, and I cupped the back of his golden head and I touched tongue to tongue with him and we pressed close together, and he was purest sexuality come with purest love, and we would never age or be sad, for all our lives were to be spent here in this piano room, and he would play for me, and I would kneel beside him and hold him round the middle, slight, he would be playing an etude on the keys and I would hold him softly as though he were the song, as though the music was coming through his bones and into mine. There were we, two, and we leaned against the egg crate wall and he touched me and it was like love, man, and it was the last crossing and the last change for us, as he squeezed my shoulders and said, "I want to be in you so far, I can be you. I want to turn the sadness off from you, from inside you." And I held him tenderly and kissed the peach fuzz on his pale cheeks. There were no imponderables in the equation that was we, equal as iron and as immutable, as only the young can be. And he put his hands to my jeans and put his hands backwards into my pockets and felt my groin and I groaned a bit, and demured a bit and was shy and ashamed, and he said, hey, don't worry, it's okay, and his body said it, and his eyes and I wanted to taste the freshness of him and the brightness of them. Once when I was young, there was someone, one of my mother's friends, who forced me on a hunting expedition, which I cried about, but was sent anyway. I remember the eyes of the animal he killed and now I ran into Joel's eyes and I wept for the cruelty of life and the cruelty of man and the longevity of our love. I knew he could do better. I knew he wanted more. I knew he did not want me at all. I knew there was going to be a lot of forgiving and it was going to be done on his part. He took my hand and was a ladder that lengthened me to the floor, and there was hardness in his voice, and we were a parabola around each other, magic circles enforced us, encased us, and protected us, and he whispered my name and made it sound like summer wind of a long childhood that was to last somehow forever, and I dreamed him and he dreamed me and I held his hands and kissed his fingers that were meant to play pianos, and my penis and my balls, and he was ever, and if someone is ever, then you stop doubting them, but I was not that crazy, as we lay on the cool nubby green carpeting in the gray room and we lay side by side and looked up at the gray ceiling and the gray light bulb in the center, and he said, I will not go anywhere, I will not have a life, I will not get into drugs or booze or make a girl pregnant, I will not get a good job after a lot of shit jobs I will not have a wife or children I will never know what it is the grow older and old, and his voice got faster and faster, whirling, with out punctuation, and I took my left hand and put it to his jeans zipper and hardened him as he loved me to do, and I unzipped him and took out his erect penis that jumped at the touch of my fingers not nimble as his, but good enough for him, and I put my head on his crotch and I played with his penis inches from my eyes, felt the sponginess of it, the firmness, the way it seemed to giggle when he moved it, and I looked momentarily at his face and he smiled, and we forgot what he had been saying. Or tried to. He was tall like God made him. And he believed in the future because the future was us and I would never grow away from him and miss him for the rest of my life and have failed friendship after failed friendship and would have failed job after failed job and never write stories of deepest rue or fall in love with movie boys who marred my heart when all the time there was the warm never to be concentric circle of Joel around it, and cry myself to sleep and wake with anger and suspicion and not be remembered for none of that was to happen and I put my mouth on Joel's cock and tipped it with my tongue, and I felt it shiver and it was like the whole thing was brand new every time. And he reached over and touched my crotch and I bent over and kissed him and I lay on top of him for a time, his naked penis against my closed in one, and there were country roads of red gravel in his eyes and something said tomorrow and there were the old fevers and the need to let the lighting bugs free after they had been kept in the Mason jar with holes in the lid enough on a summer's night, and I held him, and I did not want to be in a cell of such loneliness and pain that I was a scream in the silent air, and he held me and touched me and his left leg massaged my penis and it hardened and I knew he was not doing it specifically for me, to make me feel better, but it didn't matter. I didn't care why he was doing it. That it was happening was fast and far enough. We never fully were naked here in the music room, but waited till the dorm room for that, but it was exciting here, people around, not knowing what we were doing, and cream and fun fairs and happy times and freedom like little kids with clouds passing over head, white clouds and whistle train sounds from far enough away not to make us afraid. He was white under his clothes, his fair skin could not take exposure to sun, and he was filled with the silence a farm boy has, that quiet unquestioned thing of him, to listen to animals and the land and the clock of the day and night and his own and to respect them and to know what they are saying in a soft silent way, and I loved him, and I rolled to the side and took his penis in my hand and it was a warm penis and it was my Joel's and he unzipped me and took out my penis that hardened more in his hand and we masturbated each other, and he put his soft fresh smelling breath in my face as he put his head in the crook of my neck. And he held me and as we were to come, we circled non wary and sucked each other off and I felt his thick sweet butter cum and he felt mine and we swallowed at the same time, and we were so gentle then and then after, and I loved him, if I haven't mentioned it before. There would be no bus trips away. There would be no acid experiments for him. There would be no nights of pain for either of us, and we would not be confronted with reality and our hair would always be shoulder length and our faces forever unlined and our bodies graceful lilacs, and the Joel penis and my penis were so very happy and still firing and still a squirt or two here and there and the balance had been tipped, and the naid would win again, because she had to, and when we had swallowed all there was, including those last drops meant to get boys in trouble when they masturbated at home or in the music room, and I held Joel inside and he held me inside, and I pulled up his sweaty yellow shirt and I kissed his nipples and he said into my ear that he would be with me forever and always and I tried to say the same, I tried my best, I truly did…and he pulled away from me and he looked at me perplexed..and his eyes said he didn't understand, for I always echoed that or usually said it first and sometimes lately he did not echo it. He pulled from my arms and I thought how horribly fragile we both were and everyone and everything was and he pulled from my arms and he touched his chin with his forefinger, an affectation he had had, he said, since early childhood, that meant confusion, that meant, somebody please help, that meant he had lost his way. And I pulled off him and zipped up and sadly turned from him and sat on the piano bench a few inches away, a few lifetimes, and Joel zipped up and he knelt at my legs and I looked at his eyes and he at mine and his I think were saying no, you need me, you can't run away, you can't treat me like this, you're not strong, you will not run away, and maybe not, maybe it was just don't go, but the eyes said something somewhere in all of that running through my rat wheel mind and my head was feverish and felt like it was coming off and I pushed away from him, gently, so he could lever his arm and hand to the floor and not fall over, and I looked at him, and there would be very few ands left for us, with us, maybe never for him, certainly never for me, and I'm thinking I'm mad, don't do this thing, but I kept picturing, dammit, those lightning bugs flying out of the Mason jar to the dark night sky pin holed with star lights, and I thought, it was not brave of me, or right of me, it was just me trying to get away from a conscience that was beginning to feel pretty dirty already when there was no need for it, and he could talk me out of it, it's what I wanted, just one word from him, but Joel my Joel turned from me and pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his hands, and he didn't say anything, and I thought turn to me, don't have to say a word, just turn to me and I will stay, and he turned to me right on cue as if he heard me-that meant we were—no that meant nothing at all—and his eyes looked like the eyes of that creature the man who took me hunting had killed, still alive but dying slowly and I turned from Joel. I TURNED FROM JOEL. And I fumbled with the flimsy lock of the door, I had never known it was so flimsy, anyone could have gotten in here with a little push, and I opened the door, hitting myself in the nose with it, me with the graceful exits, and Joel laughed and couldn't help it and I ran down the hall way of the Performing Arts Center and I ran all the way to our dorm and up those steps and I knew there were a million disappointments coming for Joel and I knew he would have it tough for a while, but he would weather it out. I on the other hand would remember and hope to come back to this place some day when the dance was finally for god's sake over and I packed up my stuff and when finished went to the main office to get a different dorm room, and I would see him on campus and in class and I would turn to him but it was too late, for he always turned from me and finally I got settled in making him a ghost even though we sat beside each other sometimes. I remembered Joel's penis luxuriating in my mouth, I remembered how his little buns flexed and reflexed as he went in and out of my mouth while sitting naked on my chest, smiling that little devilish smile of his, and how good it felt, my dick at his hips and feeling the warm and lying naked with him after and exploring and kissing everywhere and he taking my hand and placing it on his head and he began to suck me off….. And that's my story. I didn't do it for him. I did it for me. I did it because I could do nothing else. It tilted in that direction. I would be living on borrowed time with him. I knew it that day after sex in the music room. Sometimes I imagine I hear a piano being played and I remember the chamber music his parents always had on and how on Friday nights I was always the guest. His mom had this incredibly good home made soup and home made rolls so big and buttery I wanted to just live on forever. Sometimes Joel and I held hands under the table, while we listened to his father, a teacher at our university, talk about his big dreams. And I miss them. I've spent a life time missing them. It was, Joel, who and what we were and our two years together, it was Joel and he was life and we would sometimes spend the entire university weekends together, naked in our room, and just feeling each other and sleeping with each other, his farm clock in his chest ticking toward morning when we would find in each other home, and for a little while, believed we had. So take care, Joel. I'll see you in the morning. Some morning. I'm not brave or noble certainly. Just a man in love. And sometimes for a man in love, stories are the best they can do. The Music Room Working in the Grammar School's basement music room was not exactly how I planned to spend my afternoon. But in the second practice room along, working away, is where I was at 4:45 p.m last Tuesday. I was so completely lost in my playing I didn't notice when he tapped on the long slender glass window. In a few minutes, I began to get the strangest feeling I was being watched, so I glanced around and my heart nearly jumped a beat at the sight of him leaning on the door, listening to me. I wasn't expecting him to get out of work so early; it was a nice surprise. His laughter is a pleasant sound after hours of endless concentration. That wicked smile he gives me as he enters the room every week makes me melt. He enters so quietly; I rarely hear him approach. He doesn't like to disturb my playing, but knows how I do love a very different kind of play. He knows I love his visits; I love that confidence in him.. if only because he is so bloody funny and makes me smile for no reason. His rough dark hair and sexy eyes play the largest part in making my stomach flutter & my lips ache for him constantly; that oh-too-familiar warm, wet sensation engulfing me every time I'm around him. We both know what we want; we have a language like no other lovers. I must have licked my lips subconsciously because when I got up to embrace him, he had a sly grin playing around on his lips when he whispered real low in my ear, "I believe I have a little something for those....your lips, I mean" He could feel my heat, could feel I was being driven wild solely by his voice & his loving grasp of my arms.. and yet, I swear he'd never have known how much I'd loved to feel a nice firm cock, throbbing under the pressure of my tongue as I'd lick pre-cum off a taught head. "How are you, darling? Got much practice done?" he questions me, but what catches my attention is his hand in front of my face, so close I could swear he was about to swat my little pink nose. "Yes" is about all I can think to mumble as my mind is still dabbling with thoughts of his enlarged cock pressing on my soft, moist lips while I lightly trace the smooth slit being exposed on the tip of the head. I decide I had better sit down on the stool again and offer him listen to a newly-learnt Russian Sonata. I feel so horny. It's best I play while he is talking to me so he won't notice my occasional glances at his crotch. I just can't help myself. I want to feel it at the back of my throat.. now, and feeling him standing so near is making my inner thighs tingle with anticipation. The hands in my mind are exploring my own flesh ruthlessly while I dream about him again. At school. We won't get caught, will we? His hands rest on my shoulders, and as he is leaning over to look into my face he asks, "Are you all right?" "Yes and no." He knows what I want, damn him. He whispers into my ear with a wry smile on his face, "Just tell me what's bothering you?" He presses on while he slowly begins to rub my shoulders, placing his thumbs just below my neck making soft lazy circles & causing me to let out a small moan. He squats down behind me on the piano stool, placing his right hand on my right leg about midway up my thigh; his fingers splayed so his index finger is less than 2 inches away from grazing the now wet area of my dark jeans. Not dark enough to miss the fact they're wet. "Oh baby, what do you want?" My cheeks are flushed as my whole pussy aches for his fingers to come close. I push my face into his shoulder and softly whisper it's him I want. His hand moving slowly between us, over my stomach, brushing lightly over my left arm as he reaches to push back my messy curly hair and turn my face to him. "You are so very sexy, it drives me crazy." His eyes fill with a sparkle as he turns to brush over my lips with his; just lightly and slow at first, until he feels me begin to return this kiss. My mind is in a whirl and my heart is racing as his tongue moves across my bottom lip, gently tugging into his mouth for a short but sensual session of sucking and licking. I make one last weak effort to push him away for fear we'll be caught by a passing teacher, but it's not what I want. I don't have the strength to resist him.. my whole body now in a magnetic force with his. And then I feel his cock is hard, pressing against his trousers, begging to be released as he pushes back against my thighs. A soft moan escapes my mouth between long, soft drawn-out kisses, each one out-performing the other. I squirm; however much I want this, we cannot chance what we may risk losing. It's so dangerous! But the more I feel his hands caressing my back and his fingertips trailing my spine, I just can't pull away. "Here" he whispered, holding his hand out for me to take and pulling me to my feet. My face meets his. He is leaning in to kiss me again, our tongues softly touching between his slightly parted lips. I trace his lower lip with my tongue; so slow I can feel his cock beginning to throb with a strong urgency. "Oh God I need you" he moans. I manage to gasp my affectionate lust back, my voice surprisingly deep & throaty. Suddenly, he drops to his knees, never looking away from my eyes as he unfastens the button on my tight blue jeans. He slowly unzips. He starts kissing every part of me now exposed by the V-shaped opening. Working his way back up my soft tummy, he stands up to slide his hands under my top, pulling it swiftly over my head. Reality's sinking in. Again, I begin to worry as I stand there in my open jeans and pretty black satin bra, wondering what I would do if someone came to the door. He brings his hand up to my face, brushes his fingers over my right cheek while he pulls me close again, his left hand cupped under my bottom. His lips are now tracing my ear and he's blowing gently on the lobe; it's driving me crazy.. the wetness begins to build between my thighs. That's just before he moves on to my neck using the same pattern of kissing, licking and blowing trying to bring me over the edge already with his touch. I tug his shirt over his head in a flurry of lust and run my hands down his hard chest, slowing down to twirl my fingers gently round his hairs. I caress him softly, making sure to take my time circling each nipple extra slow, and lean down to take a fast, light lick on each one. His hands reach for my shoulders and pull me in for a deep, passionate kiss. One that must have lasted a minute or so without breathing, or so it seemed. His cock was jabbing and throbbing beneath his trousers, against my stomach. I have to reach out and touch it! I'm drawing him physically closer as my hand rubs his crotch and my mouth draws him in closer to my body. He unfastens my bra and pushes me away just enough to let it fall to the ground. I am slow as I undress him the rest of the way, teasing him to near insanity, kissing his fantastic body whilst I uncover every inch. I take just a second to stop and lick the pre-cum from the slit of the cock I want to feel slide deep in my mouth making him rock, unsteady on his feet with pleasure. My right hand finds the head and I begin to rub his moisture softly while my left hand is tracing up his inner thigh and my tongue is making a trail from the place where his balls meet his cock all the way to the head, tasting more pre-cum. Giving me a light slap on my ass, pert & up in the air from bending over to go down on him, he starts to shove my jeans back and down, forcing me to stand and remove them while he watches me expose my smooth, half-shaven pussy. Kissing him one more time, our lips locked together, his finger slips in between my wet pussy lips, exploring and discovering my pulsating clit hiding amongst them. I grab his hand and pull it away to my face; I cannot bear the feeling, I am overwhelmingly sensitive. He instead slides his wet finger in my mouth and I taste my juices whilst licking it clean. I pull away and drop to my knees, returning to my work of sucking the thick shaft of manhood. Looking up into those beautiful, sexy dark eyes and moving my tongue once again to the head, I circle it, building up more saliva in the back of my throat.. just before I slip it a little way in my mouth. I am taking it in slowly, one lingering inch at a time until all eight inches are buried deep in my mouth. I can feel his breathing grow erratic as I place my hands on his hips, grasping them slightly, and take his cock in and out of my mouth, gradually picking up the pace. I start moving a bit faster and sucking harder while my right hand is stroking all along the bottom of his shaft. This brings him close. But I won't let that happen yet, I can control him like a puppy. His sexual torture fills me with vigour, and I only want to give him more. I slowed down before I let him drop from my mouth.. could feel his cock pulsating hard, the purple veins were prominent. I start to tease again, licking gently the head & then the full length of his cock until he could take no more and thrust his hands into my long brown hair moaning, "Do it! God, yes! Now! Please don't stop!" He slams it repeatedly into my mouth, fucking it hard and fast, over and over and just demands I take every inch he is slamming deep in my throat. I want more so I grab his ass & thrust his cock as far as it will go, deep-throating, pounding my mouth with it. I only needed to give him one more hard sucking while I stroked the rest of his shaft to get what I was craving. He grabbed my head as he silently screamed out.. exploding.. filling my mouth. He watched as his cum seeped out a little from the corner. I swallowed every last drop I could suck out of him and then licked him clean.. then slipped it slowly back in for one last long drawn-out suck, teasing with my tongue. Without a word, he pulled me up to stand for another kiss. With his hand, he swiped everything off the center of the desk in the corner of the room, sending my piano notes flying. He commanded me to sit on that table and spread my legs for him. I did as I was told and got myself in position with one foot on the table and the other on the edge of the piano, giving him perfect access to my already soaked pussy. Barely touching, he slowly began to trace my puffy, swollen pink lips with his fingers. His face was so close, I could feel his hot breath on it as he continued this torture, softly slipping a finger inside then quickly removing it before tracing the outer lips again. He's barely brushing over my clit now. I begin to moan low as he slides two fingers deep in my flesh, and this time he leaves them there not moving - just holding still. I knew he could feel pre-climax contractions.. he asked did I want him to suck on my pussy yet and I gasped, "Yes!" But I was to wait. I desperately wanted to talk softly to him, plead with him to lick, suck, nibble, bite & kiss my whole genitalia, but I couldn't focus when he brought his other hand up to rub my most sensitive spot. I was just getting into the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of my wetness, and as soon as his touch was directly turned to my clit, I cried out with immense pleasure / pain. He stopped suddenly.. I arched my back to read his face, but he told me lay back down and give him my hand, which I did right away. He slid a couple of his fingers in with his left hand and took my right hand in his and placed it on my little V of pubic hair. At first, I moved my own hand down to play around the clitoris in circles, teasing it with gentle flicks every so often. I'm feeling the sensations rise now. My fingers cross over the spot like an expert, tracing and caressing in all the right places, while he watches intently on what brings me most joy. Together, we almost brought me over the edge.. and then he stopped my hand and pushed it away. Once again I can feel his breath on me there, making me arch my back and raise hips high off the table, hip bones pointing out towards him, stomach stretched flat.. the warm, wet epicentre between my legs trying to reach his lips again. But he gently placed his hand on my torso and pushed me down. One at a time he took my legs and placed them over his shoulders, stretching them far apart as he inched his mouth closer, kissing my thighs until finally, he ran his tongue hard over, deep enough for it to penetrate me as well, driving me up off of the desk and physically thrusting my wetness right in his face. After drawing back & slowly at first, he is licking and teasing my clit with small circles and gently sucking it.. then suddenly returning to slam pussy with fingers so deep I am panting and moaning, convinced this may be the end of me if I don't release myself soon. Needing more now, the pleasure is near unbearable. He is torturing me with his tongue, letting it dance everywhere. There is no longer rhythm or stratagy.. he comes close, but not too close.. is working his two fingers in and out, drawing me closer and closer to the edge of the desk, rocking to meet his thrusts. I let out a loud moan as he dives into my pussy, sliding his tongue in with his fingers as well and then back to my clit, sucking and licking.. harder and faster. His face is soaked in me. I wildly run my fingers through his hair and pull him even further towards my swollen lips, fucking his face harder and harder, needing my release that I can feel building up in waves. Pounding me still with his fingers, he buries his face one final time, licking and sucking my entire outer sexual organs until I reach my limits and cry out, enough for him to clamp a hot hand over my face. This sort of domination from him turns me on, and this climax seemed to last for eternity because of it.My hot cum was sticking to his fingers and inside his mouth. As soon as he was done lapping up the juices, he brought his fingers up and shared them with me. The juices I had soaked his flesh with, seconds before. One at a time, I help suck them clean before pulling him down hard on top to kiss me. He helps me up, never taking his lips away from mine, deeply enjoying the taste of my kiss shared with orgasmic flow. I try reach for his cock, I can see it's erect again. But suddenly, he turns me around and bends me over the table.. it's not large enough to fully lie-down on, but his hand is already finding my pussy from behind, exploring for only a minute. And then I feel the head of his cock pressing down against my over-sensitive labia. I open up a little, but only enough for him to push in the head. I feel him working himself in and out, driving me mad, until he finally gives me the ultimate pleasure & buries the full length of his shaft inside me. He grabs a hold of my hips and begins to fuck me fast and hard from behind, making me moan louder and louder. I love this position.. I can't seem to keep a hold on even trying to be quiet anymore. He slows for a second while he grabs my shoulders, and uses his foot to guide me to close my legs close together, making an extremely tight fit. Then he obeys my command and fucks me harder and oh so much deeper, sliding his cock out and slamming it hard in again; it hits my cervix nearly every time. I gasp furiously, hardly able to talk to him at all. I plead for more as he starts to dig his nails into my back - it's what I want - he is fucking me so hard. Is rocking his cock in and out, faster and harder with each thrust when I constantly feel like I can't take anymore. But it's a drug, I am lost in the rhythm and the sensation. I have the voice for screaming my own sexual obscenities and yet can't find it to tell him to lessen the pace. Shouting, moaning, and almost collapsing to the table in a fit of delirium, I feel my pussy contract as I control the muscles.. I feel it tightening around him, and he lets go. He's completely driven over the edge, having pumped his hot climax deep inside me; our cum mixed, drizzling down our legs. He leans into me, whimpering in a state of satisfaction & utter bliss that he loves me, over and over again, holding me, kissing my back in every place he left nail marks. And I faintly hear him asking me something but couldn't make out what as he collapsed down on top of me.. and I started to fade off to sleep. He turns me around and lifts my chin to kiss me softly on the lips. "No, baby, we need to get dressed. Come on, you have your lesson in half an hour." The Music Room Jack O'Connor sighed, rubbing his temples, paying no heed to the streaks of grey he knew were there. It had been a long day. Sometimes it was just impossible to get his students to concentrate, or take in a single word of what he was saying. Sure, granted, there were always going to be kids without the slightest interest in musical theory, who wouldn't know a crotchet from a quaver if he served it up to them flambéed, sliced and soaked in whiskey. He could deal with them, knowing they made up about half the class. He was their jailor and they his inmates, and both parties knew their roles- they would stay disciplined, and he wouldn't burden their limited minds with too much work or knowledge. Then there were the average kids, those willing to learn and with the ability to be taught. He had good and bad days with them. Some days he would play them a Beethoven sonata, and watch them trying to hide stirrings of enjoyment. He would smile then, loving his job. Other days, he may as well have been speaking Japanese as he tried to describe the difference between the Baroque period and the High Classical style of Handel. He knew, being teenagers, they had other things on their minds. Lastly, there was the handful of kids with a genuine talent for music. No more than one or two in each class. These were Jack's pride and joy, the main reason why he came to school every morning to teach. One in particular, Catlyn White, an 18 year old senior who played the piano, showed great promise. He'd seen her play before in school recitals, and had been impressed by her technical skill. She was also by far and away the top of her class, and had been since Year 7. She had been distracted today though, for some reason. She had barely written anything down in the whole hour of class, and when he asked her a simple question about chord progression she had blinked and stuttered, fudging the answer. The school where Jack worked was barely five minutes drive from his home, and when he walked in the front door he was still musing about Catlyn. He would have to ask her tomorrow if anything was wrong if she didn't perk up to her usual, brilliant self. He dumped his jacket on the arm of a chair in his living room and, with the desperation of a drowning man grasping at an overhanging branch, poured himself a large glass of Malbec. He sighed with pleasure, drinking deeply, glad he'd had the foresight to ship home a crate of wine when he was in Argentina over the summer. Sometimes he felt as strong and fit as a much younger man, helped by the regular workouts which kept his body toned and tight. He'd taken to running recently on top of his usual gym routine. This had trimmed him down somewhat, showing his rippling muscles and core when he took his shirt off. Other times, he felt the weight of every day of his 52 years. Today was one of those times. He trudged upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, flicking out the light as he did so. He didn't bother changing out of his clothes, he simply didn't have the energy. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. *** At lunch the next day, Jack was feeling considerably better. He´d had an entertaining morning with his Year 7 class, letting them get their recorders out for the first time that year. Mayhem had ensued, of course, but it was a circus kind of mayhem, and he´d enjoyed it thoroughly, bellowing at them to follow the music in front of them as they totally ignored him. They had seemed to be trying to outdo each other as to who could make the most noise, blowing hard into the little instruments as if they were bugles. He'd had a ball. He shared a joke with Greg Stevens, the History teacher and one of his close friends, as he pulled out the lunch he'd packed himself that morning. A lot of the other male teachers had their wives pack their lunches; hell, Greg's wife even showed up at the school some days with a hot lunch she'd cooked specially for him. Jack, however, not being married, had to deal with whatever he could forage in the morning. Biting into a cheese and tomato sandwich, he thought ahead to his classes in the afternoon. He had Catlyn's Year 12s next. He remembered her preoccupation the previous day, and resolved to see if she behaved the same today. With anyone else he wouldn't have given it a second thought, but Catlyn was so bright and full of energy that yesterday had been totally out of character. He munched his sandwich thoughtfully, and then pulled a staff newspaper towards him. He'd see her soon enough. *** Well, at least she's not distracted today, Jack thought to himself, a little bewildered at the turn of events. Catlyn had been practically bursting out of her seat in the front row since he walked into the room. She'd rattled off answers at lightning speed to every question he asked the class, without even raising her hand. Even the other kids were looking at her sideways; they all knew she was brilliant, but this was almost like showing off, which was most unlike her. She was usually quiet and reserved, answering questions only when called upon directly. After about 20 minutes of discussion, he set them a rather difficult exercise involving plagal cadences, and sat down at his desk at the front of the room. He estimated that it would take them most of the rest of the period, and so he started idly leafing through a music dictionary. Within minutes though, he felt a prickling sensation on his forehead, and looked up at the class. The other students were all working, bent over their desks in silence, but Catlyn was staring at him directly from the front row. When he met her eyes she dropped her gaze, seeming embarrassed, and picked up her pen. Jack turned back to reading, but within seconds he felt the same sensation. He looked up again, and sure enough, Catlyn was looking at him once more. She smiled slightly, and turned back to her page. She was really very beautiful, he thought idly. She had long brown hair that fell in waves onto her shoulders, dark brown eyes and curved red lips. She seemed to be wearing more makeup today than was usual, with a hint of eyeshadow, which was forbidden by the school. It offset nicely her creamy skin, which looked incredibly soft. He followed the curve of her neckline down to her chest, where he could see her young breasts pressed tightly against the school blouse. From what he could see, they were very shapely; not too big, maybe B´s or C´s, but nice and round. He shook himself mentally. That was inappropriate, and totally unlike him. He tried to concentrate on the dictionary, wondering what was wrong with him. He hadn't been laid in a while, not since...when was the last time? Jack gasped internally as he realized it had been at least four months, since the Christmas barbeque Greg had thrown over the summer. He needed to start dating again, and fast, if this was were his sexual urges were going to express themselves. He looked up again at Catlyn, shocked to see that she was staring at him once more, as if she was reading his thoughts. She didn't look away this time, and he almost blushed guiltily, but managed to control himself. "Any problems, Catlyn?" he asked her, frowning slightly. "No, Mr O´Connor, " she replied, her lips twitching in a half-smile. "Just thinking." "Well, get on with it, you´ve only got about 20 minutes to finish" he said somewhat brusquely, looking down again. He managed to keep from looking at her for five whole minutes as the class beavered away. By the time he did look up again, she was fixed on her work. Checking to see that no one had any problems with the task, he then looked back at her. She really was beautiful, he thought. But she was so young, and a student no less! He needed to control those kinds of thoughts. It was a struggle, however. He glanced down at her legs, which were smooth and bare. In a few weeks all the girls would be wearing stockings as autumn became cooler, but at the moment summer's warmth was still lingering on, and bare legs were everywhere. She was very close, in the front row, no more than three meters away from his desk. He almost felt as if he could feel the heat from her skin. She shifted slightly in her seat, and Jack caught himself, quickly looking around the class to see if anyone else was looking at him. All the other students were quiet though, absorbed in the maddening difficulty of the plagal cadence. Catlyn didn't look up either. Jack returned to examining her legs, and had to stifle a gasp. They were no longer pressed tightly together, but spread slightly. He could clearly see up her skirt, and make out a flash of red panties. With a tingle in his groin, he felt himself growing hard. His balls felt suddenly very heavy, and soon he had a sizeable bulge in his pants Control yourself, he snapped internally. This is a student, and you DEFINITELY shouldn't be looking at her like that. You know how much trouble teachers can get into these days at the merest hint of such allegations. With a jolt, Jack noticed that Catlyn was looking at him again, but not at his eyes. Her gaze was focused on his groin. Her eyes were wide as she saw him stiffening, and her mouth was open slightly. She licked her lips, and Jack felt goosebumps run up along his spine. Their eyes met, and Catlyn smiled. Jack blushed and furiously looked away, shifting uncomfortably under his desk. He managed to keep his attention on the dictionary in front of him for a further ten minutes, but then couldn't resist. He looked up again, and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Catlyn´s legs were wide open now. He could clearly see her red panties, which were trimmed in lace and not at all what a good schoolgirl should be wearing. His cock strained against his pants, and he began to sweat. She looked so sweet sitting there, at once innocent and deeply sexual, her young legs inviting him, beckoning to him. He knew it had to be intentional, he'd never seen a girl in a skirt sit like that in class. She was spreading her legs for him, wanting him to look, daring him to look. He was so hard now it was painful. He could have almost reached out and touched her if he wanted, sliding his up hand up her skirt and into her panties. He wondered what her 18 year old pussy would feel like, whether she was wet for him. Whether she knew how much she was turning him on. "Okay okay, that's enough," Jack announced to the class, his voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, angry at himself. "You can finish the rest for homework." He noted the sighs of gratitude as the class began to pack up. Just then, the bell rang, and he had to struggle to make himself heard. "Don't forget, tomorrow we've got a double period and a composition test. Study ALL the cadences tonight, and you'll be fine. It won't be too hard, I promise". A few of the students laughed. Mr O'Connor's Year 12 tests were renowned throughout the school as being monstrously difficult, a fact he prided himself on. Jack didn't dare get up as they left the room, knowing his hard package would still be obvious. Catlyn was last to leave. The classroom was empty as she reached the door, and she turned back, as if she'd forgotten something. Their eyes met once more, and she grinned in an overtly seductive manner. "See you tomorrow, Mr O´Connor" she whispered huskily, and slipped out of the room. *** "Alright, you're all old enough to know the drill," Jack announced as he marched into the room, a stack of papers in his arms. "I want absolute silence. You'll have one hour and twenty minutes to finish the test. Answer every question, there's no dodging or easy way out." Jack paused, smirking at his students. "Though I'm sure you've all been studying so hard that that won't matter." A few of the students chuckled half-heartedly. Jack started to hand out the papers, walking around the room as quickly as he could. As he reached the front row, he noticed Catlyn sitting in the same seat as yesterday. She didn't meet his eyes as he handed her her paper, and didn't say thank you. Most unlike her, Jack thought nervously. He thought he could make out the ghost of a smile playing around her sensuously curved lips. He turned to face the class. "Begin", he snapped, and sat down at his desk. He had also brought with him a stack of exam papers from his Year 10 class that needed marking, and planned to take advantage of the next two periods to do just that. Jack busied himself with his work for around ten minutes, trying to sink deep into the silence that enveloped the class. He loved giving tests. He loved the sound of the student's pens scratching away, and the look of concentration on each and every face, mixed with desperation for some, triumph for others. As he worked, however, he increasingly found unwanted thoughts slipping into the silence in his head. Unwanted images. A pair of red panties, and two curved young legs. He shook his head distractedly, as if trying to shoo away a fly. The thoughts came again, more insistent this time, and he gripped his pen hard as he tried to concentrate on Sarah Dobinson's essay on the Brandenburg Concertos. She'd made some small factual errors, but it seemed as if she'd actually listened to the works and had a decent understanding of the devices used in their construction... Suddenly, like a bursting bubble, his mind threw up a perfectly clear image of Catlyn, bending over his desk with her legs spread. He almost gasped aloud, it was so strong. Slowly, he raised his gaze to her desk, a then felt a cold frisson of nerves run up his spine. She was looking straight at him. Piercing him with her gorgeous brown eyes. Catlyn smiled, and then flicked her gaze downwards, before bringing it back up to meet Jack's eyes. He knew what that meant. She was inviting to look again, just like yesterday. He didn't know how she could be so daring, or whether she knew how much trouble he would get in if she told anyone. Hell, if one of the other students happened to glance over at him and he was trying to look up her skirt...well, he'd be in the Principal's office by lunchtime, and home with his all things not long after. He couldn't not look, though. He wouldn't be a man if he didn't. This gorgeous 18 year old goddess wanted him to look at her crotch. No, at her pussy. There wasn't a straight man on Earth who would've been able to say no. Jack looked, and almost fainted. She wasn't wearing red panties today. She wasn't wearing any panties, in fact. Jack could clearly make out her pussy, nestled in the valley between her legs. It was shaved and smooth, with a small strip of hair where her cleft began. Jack felt himself getting hard immediately, and had to struggle to control his breathing so it didn't come in ragged gasps. He looked at Catlyn again, and saw that she was smiling seductively. His cock started throbbing as she mouthed "You like?" He checked to see all the other students were still absorbed and nodded, having trouble swallowing. Still smiling, Catlyn slipped a hand down between her legs. Jack's eyes widened as she started to rub her pussy slowly under the desk, sliding a finger between her lips. Jack could see everything, and could clearly make out a sheen of moisture on her finger as she stroked herself. He prayed no-one would look up, and whispered a silent prayer of thanks that he had made the test so maddeningly difficult. At least there would be no early finishers. Catlyn's lips were parted now, and she slowly inserted another figure into her pussy, spreading her legs so he could see. She closed her eyes, and rubbed her clit, shuddering as she did so. "Mr O'Connor?" A voice broke into his erotic trance. It felt like being woken from a deep sleep by a bucket of icy water. It was not pleasant. "What?" Jack barked, frightened and supremely irritated. "I...uh...". It was a student in the back row, Tristan Lawrence. "I just wanted to ask...." Jack sighed, getting up heavily, and went to answer the question. When he returned to his desk, he saw with disappointment that Catlyn's legs were closed, and she seemed to have started the exam. He felt a hot flush of bitterness...he wanted to see more of that sweet young pussy. "One hour to go", he announced, returning to his marking, trying desperately not to stare at Catlyn like a horny old man. *** When the bell sounded, the students heaved a sigh of relief and began to pack up. "Bring your papers up to me and leave them on a pile on my desk." Jack said, smiling at them. "Don't worry, we'll watch a movie tomorrow to give your poor little minds time to rest. What about West Side Story?" There was a collective groan. They'd watched West Side Story with him twice last year when they were studying musical theatre, and Jack had a feeling if he made them watch it again there would be a general mutiny. Jack laughed. "Okay okay, I'll bring something better". The students filed out of the room. Catlyn was the last to leave, dragging her feet as she approached his desk and set her paper on top of the sizeable pile already there. "Mr O´Connor..." she began. "Yes Catlyn?" Jack replied, not meeting her eyes, seeming fascinated with ensuring the papers were in a neat pile. "Listen, I've got my HSC performance pieces coming in a few months, and I've been practicing really hard for them" she said, sounding slightly breathless. "However, I find I get so bogged down in the detail that I can't step back and see how they're really shaping up. Could you listen to them some time and tell me what you think?" Jack sucked in a breath. To be alone with her, listening to her play...would he be able to control himself? He decided it was worth the risk. "Sure", he said, finally looking at her. "Have you got time this afternoon? I'm free around four. Can you come by here? The Yamaha we've got is quite good, considering how stretched the school budget seems to be." Jack pointed to the piano in the corner of the room, a black grand which looked reasonably new. As she looked over he snuck a quick glance at her chest. Her gorgeous teen tits pressed against her blouse, straining to break free from their confines. She didn't seem to be wearing a bra either today, and he could clearly her nipples against the fabric. "Great! I'll swing by then." said Catlyn, looking back at him. He quickly looked up at her face, but he knew by her smile he'd been too late. "Thanks so much, Mr O'Connor" she added, touching his arm briefly, and then practically skipped out of the room, casting back a last longing glance as she slipped through the door. Jack sighed, feeling nervous. Absentmindedly, he picked up her exam paper from the top of pile, wondering what he was going to do about her. He skimmed her answers, flicking from page to page. He frowned, and then began to laugh. He couldn't believe it- every single one was flawless. She'd almost got a perfect score, at the same time as she'd been fingering herself in front of her teacher. The last page of Catelyn´s page was blank. On it she had written- I've been a naughty girl, Mr O'Connor. I had trouble doing the test properly, I was so distracted thinking about your...oboe. Mr Stevens says you're really good with it. Could you show me how to use it when I come by later? Catlyn xox Jack fumed, breaking out into a cold sweat. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the paper, it would mean his job, his career, maybe even his liberty. He didn't play the oboe, and she fucking well knew that. He pulled out his cigarette lighter, and carefully set fire to the whole thing. As he watched it burn, he felt a hot flash of anger. Did she know what she was doing? Did she know what danger she was putting him in?