A Lesson From Mr. Schiller

I always made sure to paint my nails before my piano lessons, because I knew how it affected Mr. Schiller. He would watch my fingers perform the up-and-down motion of the scales and stretch for the arpeggios and exercises.

Once a week, for several years, he watched my fingers, all while his own sat folded in his lap, the hands of his silver watch counting the seconds.

Then, at the beginning of one lesson, he asked me how old I was. I smiled, because he knew. I was nineteen, and it was my first year in college. I had recently lost my virginity to a quiet boy who sat in the back of one of my classes. More than anything, the desperation with which the boy touched my body and sucked at my breasts made me aware of the power I had.

I knew that I had even more over Mr. Schiller. He had made it clear in off-hand comments that he felt inadequate now that I had gone to college. Soon I would find a better teacher than him.

"I'm nineteen," I said, making the tone of my voice an invitation.

I turned and looked out the window of his lesson room so that he would have a good view of me from behind. I was wearing tight jean shorts and a white shirt. He was able to see my pink bra-strap through the fabric. The bra, and my panties, matched the sandals I was wearing.

I heard his shoe scuff the floor. He was coming closer to me.

"It is a beautiful day outside," he said.

He was stalling.

"It is," I said, drawing out each short syllable. "I walked barefoot the whole way here, and the sun felt so good on my shoulders."

He took another step. I could feel his heat emanating from behind me. I could hear his breath. I wanted to push my ear against his chest to hear his heart beat. I wondered if I could make it burst just by kneeling.

I knew that I could make him cum just by rubbing my panties against his cock. Either that, or I would give him a heart attack. Regardless, he would never get inside of me. Anything else he wanted, he could have.

"I was wondering if you would like a different kind of lesson today," he said.

I turned around to face him. I made sure to hop as I spun so that my tits bounced slightly.

"What kind of lesson?" I asked.

He was taller than me, so I had to look up at him. The sun put a glare on his glasses, and I could see a bit of his chest because the top button of his shirt was undone. He was tall and tan, and did not look bad for a man his age. My stomach churned at the thought of what I was about to do for him, just as it had with the boy from class.

"Do you know how to give a blowjob?" He asked.

"No," I said, blinking and stammering a little to make it seem like I hadn't expected something like this.

"Would you like to learn?" He asked. "We still have nearly an hour until my next student comes in."

My nervousness turned to excitement. I felt myself blushing, and I knew he would think of me as shy.

"I would like that," I said, slowly. "A lot of the boys in my classes have been looking at me. So have some of my professors."

Mr. Schiller nodded at this. He said, "You have always been eye-catching. Come over to the bench, and I will show you how to do this."

I let him lead me by the hand over to the piano bench. He sat on it backwards so that he was facing me. I started to lower myself to my knees, but he waved a finger at me.

"Wait until he tells you to," he said. "It will make him feel better."

I stood back up. This time I was a little surprised. I had not expected Mr. Schiller to be even the slightest bit assertive.

"Get on your knees," he said.

I knelt on the cold linoleum floor. I folded my hands and placed them in my lap. Right in front of me, at eye level, was Mr. Schiller's crotch. He was wearing black slacks, and his cock was already bulging against the thin fabric. I wondered how long he was going to sit there just looking at me. My knees were already starting to feel sore from how hard the floor was.

"Take off my belt," he said.

I put my hands on his belt. Working the buckle was difficult. I had only slept with one boy, and he had worn sweatpants. When I fumbled the buckle a second time, Mr. Schiller reached down and pinched my ear between his fingers. I looked up at him, and with his other hand he pulled my head down into his crotch. The scent of his sex came thickly through the fabric, and it became difficult to breathe after a moment. He had a firm grip on the back of my head.

"I would expect more nimble fingers from a girl like you," he said. "Try again."

He let me up. I sucked in a breath of air and noticed that my eyes were watering. This time I got his belt off on the first try.

"Good. Now the zipper."

This came down easily. Now all that stood between me and his cock was a pair of gray boxer briefs. I could see the head and the shaft through his underwear.

My mouth was watering. I didn't want to want him. This was supposed to be a game. I reached down and dug my nails into my thigh.

"Now pull it out."

I pulled his underwear down and his slacks fell too. His legs were thin and athletic. I was afraid to look up.

"Don't be shy now," he said.

I rose back up to his crotch. His cock was fully erect and glistening in the sunlight. I looked up and down the length of it and accidentally saw him smiling down at me.

"Now lick it from top to bottom," he said. "Make sure everything is wet."

I started with his balls. They were tight with anticipation. I didn't stop until his sweat was replaced with my saliva. Then I moved up the shaft, keeping my tongue pressed hard against it so that I could feel every vein. I ran my tongue around the rim of its head and his leg jerked.

I had to hold back a laugh.

"Am I doing good?" I asked.

"You're doing very good."

I moved my hand toward his cock, and he grabbed me by the wrist.

"Don't touch it. A girl like you should never touch it," he said. "You're an angel."

I couldn't help smiling at that. Mr. Schiller had always been a sweetheart. Maybe I would give him more than he had bargained for after all.

"Call me that again," I said, then I put his cock in my mouth, keeping my hands politely on my lap, just as he had asked.

I started bobbing my head up and down, and he kept muttering compliments to me under his breath. I tried to go deeper every time he said the word "Angel." He was making my cunt wet just by speaking.

"Angel, angel, angel," he said. "My God, you're an angel."

I kept going down. I was nearly at the base of his shaft. I tried to reach my tongue out to his balls, but I couldn't quite reach them. He flexed his cock, and that slight motion deep in my throat caused me to cough. He laughed at me.

"This is why it's important to practice," he said.

He gathered up my blonde hair in his hands and held it all in a ponytail for me. He started to control the tempo of the blowjob, pressing me down and pulling me back up. I tried to keep sucking, like I had been, but at that speed the sound was just sloppy. I focused on keeping my tongue flat, so that he had a direct path into my throat.

He was making me go faster. Each time he went deep in my throat, more saliva came up, and his cock became slick with it. I started to moan, more like a dog than an angel. I couldn't help it--my cunt was throbbing.

I heard him grunting up above, then he pushed me all the way down on his cock. My nose was in his pubic hair. He held me there firmly while I coughed twice more, each cough racking my whole body. My hands lifted up off my thighs, but I forced them back down.

He pulled me up and I heaved in a large breath. My eyes were watering. I wiped them with the back of my hand, then I smiled at him. I didn't want him to think I couldn't take it, but I wasn't going to tell him that he could be rougher. He would have to figure that out on his own.

But he wasn't smiling. He looked at me very seriously and stroked my face with his free hand.

"Angels don't choke," he said.

A shudder went through my body. I almost came a little, just from the tone of his voice.

I realized that during the blowjob I had let my posture fade. I took a deep breath and drew myself up to my "full height." Now I felt stronger, and he had a better view of my breasts. I took my hands, held flat on my thighs, and folded them in my lap. I looked him in the eye.

"They don't need to breathe, either," I said.

He kept the same, solemn face, but I saw his eyes light up. He pulled me back down, this time immediately to the base of his cock, without any warm up.

I didn't choke. He penetrated my throat faster and harder than the boy I had given my virginity to had fucked my pussy. The thought put a little flourish of anger in my stomach, and I closed my eyes. I focused on the way his cock felt brushing up against the walls of my throat. There was a burst of energy in my cunt each time he forced it all the way down, and I felt an orgasm building.

He pulled me up, and his cock fell out of my mouth. Long strands of saliva hung between it and my lips. He was staring at me. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes were watering. I knew he wanted me to say something, but I was breathing too heavily.

"Cum for your angel, Mr. Schiller," I said, the words flowing out desperately.

He forced me back down. Three more thrusts into my throat and he was cumming. I tried to swallow it quickly, but there was so much. I was gulping his semen as if it were air, and still some escaped. I felt it press out through my lips, then it slid down his cock.

It kept cumming. I started to scream, but the sound was muffled by all of the fluid. Still, he held me down. I wanted to reach up with my hands and pull myself free, but I kept them still. This was the finale, and I would not spoil it at the end.

Then he was finished. He let go of my hair and released a long groan. I came up for air and watched him while I calmed my breathing. He was leaned back against the piano with his eyes closed. I went back down to his cock and licked up the bits of cum that had overflowed.

I pressed my face against his thigh and smiled up at him.

"How long have you been teaching me, Mr. Schiller?"

"Three years," he said, still not looking down at me.

"Is that what three years worth of cum tastes like?" I asked him.

I had only meant to tease him a little, but he sat up sharply. I noticed that he had his cock in his hand, and that it was still hard.

"You think that's three years worth?" He asked.

He stood up. He grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me up as well, then bent me over against the piano. The keys were covered. I pressed my hands against the instrument and no sound came out.

I thought about asking him what he was doing, but I realized the innocent maiden act probably wouldn't fool him anymore. Instead I spread my legs and wiggled my hips for him.

He pulled my shorts down, panties and all. He pushed two fingers into my cunt and I gasped. With his other hand, he pressed my face against the piano. The surface was cold, but there was a warmth building where his fingers touched.

I saw his reflection in the piano. He was getting ready to fuck me.

I arched my back as he pressed into me.

"I am a sinner," he said.

I looked back at him over my shoulder. I was bouncing against him, our flesh slapping together. I bit my lower lip and rolled my eyes backward, partly to tease him, partly because I felt too much pleasure.

"Go to hell, for me," I said. "Damn you, damn you."

I didn't even realize I was shouting. It didn't matter, because his voice was rising as well.

"Forgive me," he said. "Forgive me."

"Damn you."

He gripped my hips and adjusted his angle. Suddenly he was thrusting further than he had before. My eyes bulged and my mouth opened. I thought he touched my womb with the head of his cock.

Then I began to laugh. A smile spread across my face, and I started pressing against him faster and harder. His balls were hitting my thighs and I felt his hairs press against the lips of my cunt with every thrust. I couldn't tell who was fucking who.

"Cum, Goddamn you! Cum!"

My rage released him, just as my submission had before. I felt his seed welling up inside of me. There was much more than I had expected, and I leaned over, pressing my head against the cold surface of the piano again.

We stood there like that for a while. My legs were sore from the position, and I kept sliding against him. Each time I was about to fall over, he righted me. Neither of us wanted his cock to fall out.

It was peaceful. I was soaked in sweat, and I could feel a bit of his cum trickling down my leg. I realized that the boy I had mistakenly given my virginity to had been erased. My body would never remember him.

I let out a long sigh, and Mr. Schiller began sliding gently against me. I looked at him over my shoulder.

"Mr. Schiller?"

"It's still not three years worth, my angel."

And he began to fuck me again. I remember little of his final orgasm. Each thrust of his sent a flash of light through my head. I had become blind with pleasure. A pressure was building in my cunt, and I knew I was going to make a mess of the room if he kept going.

I looked at the clock.

"Mr. Schiller, your next lesson's in five minutes."

"Mr. Schiller, I'm going to cum on the piano!"

"It's alright, angel."

My cunt was gushing. Every thrust became audible, and I began to moan in time with his movement. My fluids were running down my legs. I heard them hitting the floor. My cunt was so wet that there was no friction. At times it felt like nothing was there except for a burning heat.

Then he pulled out. I felt his cum dribbling on my ass, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry out. Before I could do either, he had pulled my panties and shorts back up. Beneath my clothes, I was completely wet. My shirt had become entirely see-through because of my sweat.

He put his hand on my face and turned me towards him. We locked eyes, then he told me to go.

Outside in the hall, a middle-aged woman and her young son were sitting on the bench, waiting for Mr. Schiller. The woman looked at me and her mouth dropped open.

"Mr. Schiller is running a little late," I said.

Then I walked out of the music hall, into the sunlight.