She opened the door and it was clear she’d forgotten about our lesson. She wore nothing but a light blue flannel, the top two buttons undone. My eyes slowly wandered from her thighs, up to her neck, and finally to her lips. There was just the faintest hint of a smile there.
“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about our lesson. Come in, and we’ll get started.”
As she walked away, I couldn’t help but stare at her ass swaying beneath the flannel. She moved with purpose, like she was strutting down a runway. She turned to ask if I’d been practicing. Was she teasing me? Why wasn’t she rushing to get dressed?
While I answered, she headed to the kitchen and reached for a glass from the top shelf. The flannel lifted just enough to confirm my suspicion—she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Did she know what she was doing? Was this deliberate?
Then she turned to me.
“You can get started. I’ll be out in a sec.”
As she walked away again, I could feel myself growing harder. All I wanted was to rip off that flannel and taste every inch of her. But this was real life, I reminded myself. Not some fantasy. Maybe this was just an innocent mistake.
I sat down at the piano, trying to distract myself from the images in my head. The silence between us was deafening.
“I don’t see any sheet music,” I called out.
“Sorry it’s in here with me. I’ll bring it out.”
When she returned, not only had she not gotten dressed—she’d unbuttoned the flannel even more. It draped over her perfectly, as if it had been made for her. The soft fabric hugged her curves, barely covering her nipples.
“Sorry, this is so inappropriate. I was in the middle of changing. Here’s the music you’ll be learning today.”
She had to know. Was she inviting me to take her? To enjoy her body? I took the sheet and placed it on the stand as she walked away again. What was this game?
I played a few keys. They sounded off.
“Something’s wrong with the piano. Want to take a look?” I called.
“Coming,” she replied.
My mind raced. Would she be dressed? Would she be naked? My cock throbbed in my pants.
She returned still in the flannel—but now it hung off her shoulders, sleeves falling toward her elbows. Her collarbone, exposed, was begging to be kissed. She leaned over the piano to press a key.
**Ding.**
“Sorry,” she said with a wry smile. “I can see I’ve made you a bit excited.”
“It’s okay. You should take it as a compliment.”
She laughed, then locked eyes with me.
“It’s going to be hard for you to concentrate on your lesson… with *that*.”
I knew I had her.
“Are you suggesting I take care of it?” I asked, surprising myself with the confidence in my voice.
“Do whatever it is you need to do.”
I stood and stepped behind her, placing my hands on her waist and letting them explore her body. Her neck was calling for my lips. She let out a soft moan, pressing her ass back against me to feel just how hard I was for her.
Words weren’t needed. Only actions.
I cupped her breasts, playing with her nipples as I pressed against her pussy. She was already soaked. I lifted the flannel, exposing her perfect ass, then freed myself from my pants. I rubbed my tip against her inner thighs, teasing her, feeling her warmth, her wetness. She bent over the piano and whispered:
“Slip it in.”
I entered her. She moaned—satisfaction, relief, need. I thrust deep and slow, savoring each movement. She gasped with every stroke, craving more. But I wanted her to *beg*.
She had started this. But now, I was in control.
“Please,” she whimpered.
I began to thrust faster, harder. The room filled with our moans, the sound of skin, and the accidental notes her hands pressed into the piano:
**Ding. Ding.**
I lifted her, laying her on her back atop the piano.
**Ding.**
I wrapped my hand around her throat, tightening and loosening in rhythm with each thrust. Then I felt her body begin to tremble.
“I’m so close,” she gasped.
“You’re making me cum,” she moaned with a smile.
Her body shook harder.
“I’m going to fucking cum for you!” she screamed.
We came together.
Silence.
Then finally—
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**Ding.**