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How I Learned the Oboe
I have small breasts and teensy nipples but with the right guy all he has to do is look at them and I cum.
Mr. Gibbons, the music teacher, with his frazzly beard and cute mustache was the right guy. He took me to a motel out by the airport. The Kozy Winks. It wasn't as seedy as you might think. We had a great view of the brick wall across the way, and about every five minutes the room roared and the walls shivered with jet planes taking off. But the bed was okay, with a firm mattress and a bedspread that looked almost clean.
Mr. Gibbons had some wine along, which we drank from the plastic cups in the bathroom. Actually there was only one plastic cup, but we shared. It was pretty good wine, not that I know a lot about wine, but it wasn't sickly sweet and it didn't taste like it had dirt in it. It tasted like Mr. Gibbons' tongue when we kissed. He was a good kisser, maybe because his instrument is the oboe. An oboe is like a clarinet except harder to play, according to Mr. Gibbons. "Are you hard to play?" I asked him, while fingering his cock through his trousers, and he said something like maybe we should find out. Then we kissed some more and had some more wine and then I unzipped him and sucked his cock. It was a nice cock, not too big and not too small, and I was starting to get wet thinking about what it would feel like in my pussy.
Part of me wanted to make Mr. Gibbons come in my mouth, but I wasn't sure if he'd be able to go again in time for me to be home for dinner. I was still thinking about it when Mr. Gibbons came in my mouth. Well that answers that I said to myself while trying to swallow as much as I could. And then I was thinking maybe cum would go better with white wine and then I thought maybe I wouldn't need dinner, ha ha.
"Darling girl," Mr. Gibbons kept saying, stroking my hair while I kept sucking him. "Darling girl." I liked that so I kept on sucking and after a while Mr. Gibbons' dick, which had gotten a little soft, stiffened up again.
"Would you like to fuck me now?" I asked him.
"Very much," he said, "but I think you took just about everything out of me."
I gave him a pretend frown, and he said, "Okay maybe we could try."
He lay back on the bed and I got on top of him and his dick went in easy, that's how wet I was. Sometimes I like it when there's a bit of resistance, but he felt good. I fucked him for a while, and it was nice. Whenever the airplanes weren't taking off I could hear the slurpy sounds of his cock in my cunt. I knew I couldn't come this way, or at least I never had before. "Do you think you could suck my tits while we did this?" I asked him.
Mr. Gibbons sat up, and with his dick still in me, he managed to put his lips around my nipple. "Yes, suck hard," I said, and I pulled his head against me, and I could feel his tongue on my nipple and then his teeth. That did it. His teeth and this trilling tongue. I probably screamed loud enough to drown out the airplanes. When it was over, Mr. Gibbons said, "Wow, if our wine glass was glass I'm sure you would have shattered it to a million pieces."
As it turned out, it wasn't completely over. He was still inside me, but I was pretty sure he'd dwindled, which meant he must have come again. I squeezed my cunt a couple of times, and he smiled and said wow again and then "Darling girl." I got off him and sure enough he was dwindled and all sticky, and I couldn't resist giving his dick a little kiss and then taking it in my mouth and tasting the mix of him and me. That got me hot, so I swiveled around and lowered my cunt over his face, still sucking his softened dick, and he licked me, my cunt and my clit. I almost was able to come from that, but in end I cheated and pinched my nipple and that did it. I came so hard I didn't care if I smothered him or screamed down the walls or shattered all the wine glasses in the world.
Afterwards his face was so sloppy, his beard and mustache a frothy mess. We agreed it was time for a shower, but it turned out the shower didn't work. Just the tiniest tease of a trickle, and ice cold.
"I can't go home like this," Mr. Gibbons said.
"Neither can I," I told him. "What are we going to do?"
"If it was raining we could go stand out in the rain," Mr. Gibbons said.
But it wasn't raining. The sun was shining, although getting close to setting. So Mr. Gibbons put on some clothes and went to the motel office to get us another room with a working shower. I didn't want to get my clothes all messy by putting them on, but I was too scaredy-cat to run naked to the new room, even though it was only three doors down. "You can wear my clothes and I'll make the run," Mr. Gibbons said. It turned out his shirt was long enough so that was all I needed, and he wore his pants, and we made it to the new room. No sooner had we closed the door than we started laughing. We laughed and then we kissed and then we undressed and his dick was just so sweet and adorable. This time Mr. Gibbons didn't come, but he knew how to make me come. Oh God did he know how to make me come. I'd never been so exhausted.
The shower worked, more or less. I let Mr. Gibbons wash me inside and out, even my tight little asshole, and I thought, maybe next time, if there is a next time, I'll let him fuck me there.
"My mother will kill me," I said, once I was all dry and dressed.
"My wife will kill me," Mr. Gibbons said.
"What should we do?" our looks said to each other.
"As long as we're at the airport, why don't we fly to Brazil?" Mr. Gibbons suggested.
"That would be okay," I said, "except I don't have a passport and I don't speak Brazilian."
"Portuguese," Mr. Gibbons said.
"I knew that," I told him.
"I guess we'll just have to face the music," Mr. Gibbons said.
"Very funny," I said.
"Or you could call your mom and tell her you're taking private oboe lessons."
As it turned out, a couple of years of three lessons a week after school and I actually got pretty good at it.
story and illustrations by Mat Twassel |
