tagRomanceMaking Music

Making Music


Bold is youth when in its ignorance it steps out to put the world to rights, or achieve some end for which it is not yet fitted.

Thus I stepped forth boldly declaring I would write a musical stage show to be put on at our church by the church youth group.

I had never written a play and could not read a note of music but it was all in my head. Perhaps that was where it should have stayed until such time as I had learned the art of writing dialogue and music, maybe when I was in my thirties, or even never and certainly not at nineteen.

"It's easy," I affirmed before the gathered youth, "all shall be accomplished in short order." They, being but mere mortals gazed in what I thought was adoration at me; now I know they were really thinking, "If the bombastic idiot is prepared to undertake this arduous task and not call upon us to labour with him, then let him proceed."

Thus is came to pass that I set the insertion point racing across the computer screen as words poured forth. Undoubtedly, to my mind, the result was a masterpiece of adventure and romance based upon a cursory reading of Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud, penetrating, as I thought, to the dark depths of the human psyche.

The words came easily enough, or so I flattered myself, but then I came upon the stone of stumbling, namely, the music. Here I tripped and fell flat on my creative face. Yes, the words of the songs were there, and in my head they sang aloud, but how to get it out of my head in the form of sounds that others could hear?

This problem I was discussing with a group of post church service worshippers, including among them the church organist, a buxom, ebullient lady of some thirty years, large busted and bright of appearance, Halushka Smith by name, married to Stan Smith and having one female child, Marion, of some six years.

On hearing my difficulties Halushka said, "Daniel, I can help. Sing your songs to me and I shall write down the music. Come to my house on this day at this time, and together we shall make music."

Now here I must pause to expand on my description of Halushka, because, you must understand, there were many who yearned to make music, metaphorically speaking, with the desirable Halushka, all of them being of the male gender. As to the ladies of our congregation, their response to Halushka leaned more towards feelings of envy.

You see, not only was Halushka buxom of figure, standing some five feet six or seven inches in height and ample of bosom, but her cheerful round face, with dark sparkling eyes, pert nose and full lips, conveyed the not unwarranted impression of being attractive. Many, not excluding my self, envied husband Stan the happy nights of Halushka bonking we imagined he enjoyed.

Perhaps in my male concern with the female figure I have been remiss in not adding that she was a bloody good musician.

The offer to partner Halushka in the making of music set my heart pounding. Perchance we should be alone in intimate confabulation? Not, you understand that I anticipated a carnal outcome to such a meeting, but the mere fact that I was to be given a private audience by Queen Halushka would allow me to bask in the envy of my fellowmen.

So it was on the appointed day and time of the audience I arrived on the doorstep of the Smith abode, armed with pens, pencils, paper and the words of songs. On ringing the doorbell I was almost instantly admitted by the smiling and delicious Halushka.

She was clad in a most fetching loose garment of soft white cloth that had a taunting way of hanging in delightful folds from the nipple points of her breasts.

"Come in Daniel...come in...this way."

I was guided to a room in which stood an upright piano.

"Now, let's have a look at what you've got."

I handed her some sheets of paper with my songs set out upon them. Halushka stood scanning through them for a moment, then seated her self on the piano stool and put the papers on the music rest. I ensconced myself in an armchair and awaited developments.

Halushka had another look at the sheets, then setting all but one aside, took some manuscript from the top of the piano and said, "We'll work on this one. Now, you said you know the tune you want, so how does it go?"

I couldn't see which one she had selected so I said, "Which one is it?"

"The Spectre of Raspberry Lane."

"Ah, yes, it goes like this."

I hummed and whistled for a few seconds, and then Halushka said, "For goodness sake, Daniel, what are you doing right over there, come and sit beside me so we can work together, I won't eat you." I didn't know about her eating me, but I had a definite desire to consume her.

The piano stool was one of those bench types on which it is possible for two people to sit, just. I suppose they were designed for people wanting to play duets. I sat beside her and had the thrill of feeling her thigh pressed against mine. This detracted a little from the task at hand, and increased my desire to consume her, but I made the effort and concentrated.

Ignorant of what was involved I had no idea how long the work would take. An hour later I was still humming, whistling and going "la...la," and Halushka was constantly erasing and rewriting the notes, all the time making suggestions like, "Try it this way," or "Try it that way." Her words reminded me of a girl friend I'd once had who liked to experiment.

After and hour and half we had arrived at what we thought was a satisfactory tune. She played while I sang it through, and I have to say it wasn't bad. Under Halushka's guidance I had a better tune than the one that had been in my head to start with.

As we progressed I noticed that Halushka's thigh pressed increasingly more firmly to mine, and she kept giving me what I can only describe as coquettish sideways glances, and I could occasionally feel her breast pushed against my arm. As she wrote down the notes her pink little tongue would flicker over her lips, and I became aware of a delicious female fragrance that seemed to emanate from her.

It was all very disturbing for a young and potent male, especially as I had been deprived of coitus for at least a fortnight. To explain, it was the long summer vacation, the institution where I was studying was closed, and my fellow student and sex partner had gone westward on a home visit. So far I had not succeeded in finding a replacement.

I hope that explains why, in close proximity to Halushka, I was finding it difficult to hide an erection and focus on music making at the same time. Both having as their basis the creative urge it's difficult to concentrate when both are present.

Halushka took another song from my collection entitled, "Rosemary's Night of Love," she said, "Daniel, this is a bit sexy for a church presentation don't you think?"

"It is a depiction of the soul's true flight on wings of spiritual love that must inevitably find its fulfilment in the physical union of man and woman and its ultimate creative outcome." I had just made that up and had no idea what it meant, but no matter, it didn't sound too bad.

Halushka looked at me oddly and murmured, "Oh really? Well, this is a bit more complicated than the other one, sweetheart, it could take a while; have you got the time?"

I noted with a thrill of excitement the use of the endearment, "Sweetheart."

Once more in my musical ignorance I had thought we'd have the whole lot done in a couple of hours; now I could see it was going to be a long time. "I'm on vacation," I explained, "so if you're available we can make it almost any time."

"Lovely," she murmured, "let's not do anymore today. We can relax for a while and have a cup of tea and you can tell me more about this show your writing. Come into the kitchen and talk to me."

While she made the tea I sat at the table and tried to explain to her the plot of my musical. To be perfectly honest, I thought of it as a musical then, but looking back, it was a sort of play with songs inserted.

The tea ready, Halushka said, "Let's go into the lounge and be comfortable, shall we."

In the lounge she seated herself on a divan and I went to sit in an armchair. Halushka protested, "Why are you sitting miles away from me again? Do I smell bad or are you still afraid that the wicked woman will devour you?"

I made my way to the divan and putting my teacup on the little table beside it, and saying boldly, "No, in fact you smell very nice," I sat. It was one of those very soft divans that seem to engulf you, and unprepared for its yielding upholstery I found myself flopping backwards to almost lie prone.

"That's right," said Halushka, "relax."

Taking her own advice she relaxed beside me and said, "So you think I smell nice, do you? What do I smell of?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that question acceptably. I wanted to say, "You smell sexy," but going for a less salacious reply I said, "You smell womanly."

"Mmm," she intoned, "that's just as well since I am a woman."

She had huddled up against me and I was having a struggle to cope with my hotting up emotions. Aware as I was that Halushka, whatever her attractions, was after all a respectable married woman with a child, and a church organist to boot, I had seen her as off limits however alluring she was.

The moment was saved when Halushka, seeming to resolve something in her own mind, sat up, and taking her cup began to drink her tea. I followed suit, and struggling out of the grasp of the divan, I took up my own cup.

Halushka became business like and said, "I think we'd better leave it for today. Marion will be home soon and I've got to get the evening meal to get ready."

"Where is Marion?" I asked.

"She's at her grandmother's place; some of her school friends live near my mother so she goes to play with them, and mother loves to have her."

We finished our tea and Halushka said, "What about tomorrow? We can make it earlier if you like, and work longer."

"Fine," I said, "what time."

"Nine-thirty; Marion will be gone to her grandmother's by then and we can work uninterrupted, in fact, why don't you stay for lunch then we can work on in the afternoon?"

"Nearly a whole day with Halushka, wonderful, but I'll have to keep my emotions in check though," I thought.

As I left a car drew up and out got a lady who was an older image of Halushka, followed by Marion, a younger image of Halushka. I was briefly introduced to the lady as, "My friend Daniel; we're writing some music together."

"Good," said the lady, who had been introduced as 'My mother Marlene'," "It'll take your mind off..." I caught a glance flitting between the two women and Marlene didn't finish her sentence.

I wandered home both pleased and frustrated; pleased because we had at least got one song completed, and frustrated because Halushka's disturbing presence and manner had got me so worked up. For all my disturbance, I was delighted to be going to her place next day for a long session.

That night in bed thoughts of Halushka's nearness, the pressure of her thigh against mine, her breast against my arm, the brief huddling on the divan and her tantalising fragrance haunted me, and I had to relieve myself by hand.

Next morning I was promptly on her doorstep. When she opened the door I saw that the loose flowing dress of the day before had gone, to be replaced by a white cotton skirt and a loose top that not only behaved like the dress, hanging from the points of her breasts, but was somewhat translucent. It was a "Now you see it; now you don't see it," arrangement, in that I could see the shadow of her breasts beneath the thin cloth.

Typical male, in the past I had wondered if that lusty bosom collapsed when released from those female restraints. Now I need wonder no more; those generous mammary glands were unbridled and swinging free, and were just as engaging as they had appeared to be when less visible.

This time I needed no invitation to sit beside her at the piano though how the hell I was going to concentrate on the task I didn't know. Halushka didn't seem to notice my anguish and looking a trifle stern she got down to work. I battled to try and recall the tune I'd wanted, but Halushka's thigh, the shadowy sight of her breasts and her fragrance kept intervening.

We worked for about an hour, at the end of which Halushka said, "Daniel, you don't seem to have your mind on the job, it's off somewhere else. Let's take a break and see if we can't get you back on track."

It was tea making again and at one stage Halushka stood staring at me intently, then she said very softly, "I know what your problem is Daniel, you want a little loving."

She drew close to me and I stammered, "W-w-what do you mean?"

"It's no use pretending, Daniel, I could see soon after you arrived yesterday what you wanted."

If I was astounded by the bluntness of her declaration, I was even more astounded by what she said next.

Calmly and coolly with a smile on her face she said, "I like a bit of loving too, Daniel."

We might have entered into a philosophical discussion at that point on the definition of "Love," but Halushka settled the matter by coming to me, putting her arms round me, pressing her body close and kissing me with warm moist lips and a flickering tongue.

"Mmm, that was nice," she murmured in an alluring voice, "You certainly need some loving."

She took one of my hands and slipped it up under her top to place it on her breast. I felt its warm mountainous firmness as she pressed my fingers over it. She kissed me again, this time pushing her tongue into my mouth and began to rotate her hips against me.

I felt her pull down the zip of my shorts and taking my penis into her hand she said, almost as if inviting me to have another cup of tea, "Yes, you're definitely ready for some love."

I was at a loss to know what to do next since Halushka's calm, smiling and deliberate approach was unlike anything I'd experienced before. My previous experiences had all involved such tedious discussions as, "Shall we?" "Shan't we?" "You do love me don't you?" "You'll still respect me afterwards?"

The electric kettle boiled and as if disappointed at being ignored, clicked itself off. I was boiling too and Halushka was tugging overheated Daniel into the lounge, there to gently urge him onto the divan, while she divested herself of top, skirt and panties. I write this in the third person because it was almost as if this was happening to someone else.

I looked at her, feasting my eyes on her large, firm naked breasts, and seeing the dark line of short and curly pubic hair that beginning at her plump mons ended just above the cleft of her vulva.

She gently pushed me so I lay on my back and then proceed to remove my shorts and shirt.

"My God," I thought, "she's planned all this."

She bent over me and holding one of her breasts she placed its rosy nipple against my mouth, running it back and forth over my lips. There was no question about what was wanted, so I took the nipple into my mouth to suckle it.

"There, that's nice, isn't it darling?"

Her voice came from a long way off since she was sending me into space by masturbating me.

My sucking and her manipulation of my penis went on for some time until I was close to ejaculating. Halushka must have sensed I was about to come, and she laughed and said, "No, not yet my sweet," and her hand stopped massaging me.

"You said you liked my smell, so, my love, you're going to smell me properly."

Her vagina was over my face and being lowered to push against my mouth.

I heard her voice above me, "Now you can smell properly me and taste me as well."

Her outer lips were parted slightly and I could see the wet pink inner lips. Here was the opportunity to fulfil my desire, to consume her and I set about the task with relish. My tongue explored her inner lips and then entered her tunnel. She had a sweet musky aroma and she tasted of honey. From the copious amount of fluid that saturated my face it was clear she most definitely needed "loving."

After a few minutes of this delicious vaginal thraldom Halushka moved away to lie on her back and spreading her legs wide said, "Now love me nicely."

I came over and penetrated, feeling the soft, moist warmth of her vaginal canal clinging to my invading manhood. She waited until I was in to my full length, then I felt her vaginal muscle contract to grip my shaft like a clamp. I gave an ecstatic yell, and almost casually she asked, "Is that nice, darling?"

"Oh my God, yes." My positive response got its reward in a series of rhythmic grasps and releases that almost had me coming without my moving in her. Eventually she had mercy and I was released to begin my drawing back and thrusting into her.

I was struggling to hold back my ejaculation as Halushka, from being the dominant one in this essay into sexual union, seemed to become submissive, starting to make soft mewling noises that sounded like "Ohneeew...ohneeew..."

Suddenly she convulsed and screamed out, "Eeeeow, God...eeeeow," and she was clutching at me as she thrashed up and down.

That ended my orgasmic restraint; up pumped my semen, bursting from my urethra into her.

This brought more cries from her that sounded like the lament of a wounded animal, and I added my groans to her howling.

The last little spurt of semen ejected, I relaxed over her while she, now much quieter but still murmuring incomprehensibly, finished her orgasm.

If I had been surprised at the course of events thus far, I was further surprised when with my penis still in her vagina Halushka looked up at me and smiling asked, "Does that feel better, darling?"

I tried to play it as coolly as her saying, "Yes thank you, much better, and are you feeling better?"

"Mmm, yes, you've had some practice at this, haven't you, you naughty boy, and I'd thought I might be having a virgin. Never mind, it was very satisfactory, and we must try it again later. Now I think we ought to do some work...on the music I mean. We needn't be bothered to get dressed yet because there's no one to see us. Now just pull out of me...for a while at least."

I pulled out of her and she rose and slipped out of the room saying, "We don't want to do it again while I'm still full of you, do we? And we don't want sperm all over the piano stool." After a few moments I heard running water.

On her return she said, "You go and clean up, it's better to make a fresh start each time, don't you think?"

Mystified as I was by Halushka's approach to copulating and its aftermath, I must admit that our composing was inspired during the next hour, so it seems that a fulfilling creative act in one area has spins offs in others.

All went well, musically speaking until Halushka began to stroke my penis saying, "I think its loving time again, sweetie."

I must say she was not selfish since this time she returned the oral sex compliment by taking my penis into her mouth and letting me ejaculate into it. This too was a new experience for me – not the actual oral sex – because with other women they had always pulled away, leaving me to shoot my sperm into the air. I must say that Halushka seemed exceedingly expert in this stimulation of the male organ, sucking and licking her way down my length, until she drew from me an outburst of semen and commenced swallowing.

Halushka did not seem to expect me to do anything for her, and in the end, with a mouthful of my sperm, she once more left the room, to return a few minutes later, calm and smiling.

"Did you like that Daniel?"

"Er...yes thank you."

"Good; now I think we mustn't be too greedy so we can get on with some more work, then you'll have to go. We can't do anything tomorrow because I can't send Marion to my mother everyday, and also its shopping day; how about the next day at the same time?"

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