Letters Around Midnight (13 page)

I was stunned. I had thought all this time the drills and mechanical strictures were put there to shackle me, when all along, they had been there to free up my playing. It was true my fingers felt stronger, more energetic. My wrist didn't cramp up, my body was more balanced.

“But, all this technique and I still can't play right.”

“Because you haven't yet allowed your better technique to release your passion.”

The familiar frustration was back, but the heat in my knickers hadn't gone away. If anything the confrontation was intensifying it.

“Well, how do I do that?”

“I'm screwed if I know,” was all he said.

“You're this big tight ball of tension and no matter how much I tell you to relax, you won't”

“I am relaxed.” We were back to square one again after all this time. We stared mutely at each other, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak.

“Okay, look, play again.” He shook his head as he said it.

I sighed, settled myself in my chair, closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Okay, relax. Thoughts raced through my mind. Was it true? Had I only ever wanted to please my teacher and loved him in some sexless, romantic way? Did I hate the professor because he was old and didn't give me the praise my previous teacher did? All of a sudden, it hit me. Ben was right; but what could I do? I did the only thing I could do. I thought of Ben. Admittedly, he was good looking and he was making me feel hot. I fixed the image of Ben in my mind and began to undress him as I played.

Slowly at first, allowing the technique to develop the sound, I imagined caressing his neck. My fingers entwined in those big curls of his as my left hand caressed the strings on the fingerboard.

“Good, nice” Ben was saying. His feet padded out a rhythm on the floorboards as he walked, the peppery smell of his shower gel following him. In my mind, I edged the collar of his shirt away from the warmth of his neck and kissed his ears. The music swelled between us as I pulled more notes from the instrument between my legs.

“Yeah, that's good” Ben was speaking softly.

In my mind, my fingers caressed the small of his back and slipped back and forth under the waistband of his boxers as I drew notes from the strings with my bow. I did my best to relax more but there was a block somewhere and the music started to falter. His hands pressed down gently on my shoulders.

“You're still tense in your left shoulder” he said. In my mind, the linen shirt fell from his back and my arm slipped around his neck, pulling his taut body to me as I cupped his hard crotch with my hand.

“Here it is.”

There was relief in his voice. I opened my eyes, he was standing by my left shoulder.

“Look at your thumb,” he said

I craned my neck back. My thumbnail was a tell-tale white, showing that I was gripping too hard. Shit, I thought. How long had I been doing that? As I released the pressure, it flushed pink and the tension ebbed out of my shoulder and neck.

“Now play” he said. The notes grew richer, darker in tone. For the first time in over a year, I felt the unconstrained vibration between my thighs. My instrument was talking to me again.

“Hello” it said,

“I've missed you.”

My fantasy Ben came back to me. He was standing behind me, half-naked kissing my nape. I rubbed my neck against the scroll of my cello imagining it as Ben.

I continued to play, the music deepening and opening up inside me. The real Ben stood behind me. Gently, he pressed the palm of his hand on to the small of my back, making a slight adjustment in my posture. The last of the tension vanished sending the sound of the notes flowing through me and out of the cello. I was lost in a torrent of music. I couldn't have stopped it if I had wanted to. A whole year of frustrated effort and longing rushed headlong out of me.

“That's it” Ben was saying.

“Keep going.”

I felt the passion of the music through the technique. Completely enveloped by the sound and vibration of the music, my inner thighs were trembling. I found it difficult to hold the cello still between my legs and wanted to wrap them around it as if it were my lover, to feel its vibration deep inside me.

Ben was sitting in front of me, cross-legged on the floor, transfixed. My skirt had ridden up uncovering my thighs but I didn't care. He stood up. My pulse quickened. My fingers were flowing over the fingerboard freely, finding notes and nuances I had forgotten they knew.

The fantasy took over. I wanted Ben for real. The cello lay discarded as I rushed to him, flinging my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his. My hands ran over his body. We stopped to stare at each other. He looked down from my face to my cleavage, letting his hands fall to my blouse. He ripped it open, buttons scattering across the floor. I unhooked my bra, grabbed his hands and put them to my breasts, yearning for the coolness of his fingers. I eased down his joggers to let loose his long thin cock, stroking its silky heat as it throbbed in front of me. The musky sack of his balls felt hot and heavy in my hands. I stepped out of my skirt and knickers as we sank to the floor. The tip of his cock rubbed against my pussy as I straddled him, and pushed gently into me as I lowered myself down onto it. A man had never felt so good inside me.

I rode him with my hands on his chest, the head of his cock rubbing against my G spot. He was in so deep. I rode him as he stroked my stomach and the top of my pubes. And, in one ecstatic, headlong rush, I came, gulping in huge ragged gasps of air, screaming as my muscles tightened around his cock. Sobs of ecstasy caught in my throat as I tried to catch my breath, hoarse with the effort of panting. My sex let go wave after wave of tension. I was totally spent and fell forward to kiss him. It was his turn. I whispered in his ear,

“How do you want me?”

“On the chair” he said.

Ben sat on the chair, guiding me by my hips onto his lap the hair on his legs tickling the underside of my thighs. He brushed his lips across my nipples. Tingles shot up and down my spine as he let his hands roam free across my back, his fingers swirling in the dimples above my bum. Warm gusts from his mouth swept across my breasts. My chest flushed red as I arched my back to bring a nipple up to meet his lips. He took the breast in his hand and put it to his mouth. He pulled gasps from me as the urgency between my thighs began to build again. I bent my head forward, hungrily seeking his lips with mine, my hair cascading down over his face. Our tongues entwined. The slightest touch of his fingers on my skin elicited quivers of pleasure from between my legs. He pulled my hair gently backwards and ran his tongue up either side of my throat. Easing my hands down between us, I grasped his cock. It stood there eagerly, framed by curls of brown hair, his warm musk rising. He slipped his hand under my bum to gently massage the moist and swollen lips of my pussy. They were ready for him. I held his cock in one hand, the hard gristle of it pulsing in time with his heart. I smeared the pre-cum oozing out of its tip with my thumb and licked the salty slickness off it. I kissed him. His tongue sought out his own taste on my lips. I moaned deep in my throat.

“I want you,” he whispered in my ear as he guided his cock forward under me. I rose up slightly and eased myself back down as he slid into me, one delicious inch at a time. My whole body was alive with the thrill of him. My head fell backwards, as I continued to move slowly up and down on his shaft. His rhythm changed so I matched him, this time pushing my hips back and forth against him. He began to groan and pant with excitement, my nipples grew erect brushing against the taught frame of his chest. Our hips continued to grind against each other, his groans getting louder and with a final short jab of his hips, he shot his load up inside me. I ground down on his cock with my pussy, searching for the very root of it. The feeling of his hot jets inside me made me tingle with pleasure. We clung to each other, our bodies moist with sweat, his rigid cock twitching gently in its final throws of orgasm. Neither of us moved; neither of us spoke; we remained joined, allowing our breathing to gradually settle.

I opened my eyes. The room was still the same, but I had changed and for a moment, I revelled in the pure silence. How long we stayed there, I don't know but, eventually, he shrank out of me. We went upstairs to his bathroom and showered each other down, exploring each other's bodies all over again.

We are still seeing each other and Ben still gives me lessons. When the professor came back, he had the shock of his life. My playing had vastly improved. For the first time I realised how much he cared about me. He had done more for me than all of my previous teachers. He had needed to hold me back to move me forward. But my real teacher was Ben. He was the one who brought it all out of me.

 

***

 

“And he composed the piece you were playing before?”

“Yes”

“What's it called?”

“Emily.”

“Of course...Thanks for sharing.”

 

 

There are a great many visual pleasures for women. A man's smile, his bum; but like some men are drawn to women in nurses' outfits, French maids or for reasons known only unto one particular sub set of humanity, Nun's habits; some women find themselves irresistibly drawn to men in uniform.

I have to admit, I am not averse to a man in crisp livery either. There is something about a well dressed man; it takes me back to the days when my father was in the airforce and he would come home from the base in his blues. All the men looked so dashing, a hark back to a bygone era of romance and chivalry perhaps and so it's understandable why women go weak at the knees when confronted by a man in full dress.

Ros is a member of our social set. Average build, average height, cute freckles and always wears her hair in a loose ponytail. She is not particularly outgoing yet not particularly quiet. Your typical girl next door. The one who might end up sitting next to you at a girls' night out at any weekend party in a thousand pubs or a thousand clubs up and down the country. Whilst you might expect her to have the usual female fantasies and longings she is definitely not the girl you expect to get so drunk one night she blurts out her latest bedroom escapade to you whilst the other girls are concentrating on a stag night across the room.

So that is how one particular night I was rewarded for my ignorance of the goings on across the bar of young, attractive set of young men in very skimpy very tight fitting boxers with the following story. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I made to get it.

 

***

 

I have to admit I have a thing for a man in uniform. I don't care what kind of uniform it is: policeman, fireman, sailor; anything, they make a man look real hot.

I confided this to my boyfriend recently when I had had too much to drink and thought nothing more of it. One day I came back from work. It was dark when I let myself in. The heating had come on and the place was warm. Much warmer than usual. I thought it must have left it on all day. Steve wasn't back yet which was unusual. He's normally back by the time I get in with dinner on the go and a glass of wine on the side for me. I went in to the hall to take off my coat and was getting the dinner ready when there was a knock at our back door. I looked out of the kitchen window and by the security light from the garage I could see the silhouette of a policeman in our garden. I thought there must have been a break-in somewhere so I opened the door. I got the shock of my life, it was Steve all dressed up as a policeman. His uniform looked extremely authentic,

“Excuse me Madam,” he said

“We've had a report of someone acting suspiciously in the area,”

Of course I had to play along, he was trying so hard to keep a straight face. I immediately realised he had thoughts of a strictly unlawful nature on his mind and wanted some role play. I started to get turned on.

I let him in to the kitchen.

“So, officer” I said leaning back against the units,

“Someone been naughty?”

“Well, we've had a report” he said whipping out a note book,

“Of someone in the area, matching your description, dealing drugs.”

“Oh dear, we can't have that.”

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to search you.”

He put down his notebook and took out a pair off realistic looking handcuffs. I held my wrists out and he snapped them on and ratcheted them tight. The cold hard metal around my wrists and the constraint of being ‘cuffed was a turn on. I felt helpless. I obviously had to do what he said otherwise I risked being arrested. I began to tingle all over.

“Now then Madam, I'll have to search the immediate area where you were last seen” he made a show of opening a few cupboards and drawers.

“Have you been anywhere else since arriving home?”

“Um, the bedroom?” I said hopefully. I realised why the place was so damn hot. Steve must have been back early and had turned the heating up ready for sex play. There is nothing worse for hot sex than a cold house.

I was escorted upstairs. I was of course made to go up the stairs first and I have to say the officer did a thoroughly good job of giving my bum a steadying hand,