Date: Tue, 8 Nov 2005 16:56:04 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: "Love in a Minor Key"

			    LOVE IN A MINOR KEY
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM
 
     I was skipping along the edge of the banister, my ruler in hand,
hitting the balusters like the pickets of a fence,
click-click-click-click-click-click. Mom hated when I did that, and so did
my nanny, and so did the upstairs maid. But I didn't care, because I had a
concert to perform in a couple of hours and Mom wouldn't dare upset me
before a concert, and neither would my nanny and neither would the upstairs
maid, because I was special and I was a genius, everyone said so, so I
could do this if I wanted to, and nobody could stop me, not even Herr
Schteuper.
     "Herr Schteuper, Herr Schteuper, what a dumb name." I sang as I got to
the end of the landing. Now there was a long, curved staircase. I would
have slid down the banister, but that would have messed up my silk
tuxedo. Silly, nasty thing they made me wear, but if I got it dirty, I'd be
punished after the concert was over. I could do anything that wouldn't get
me punished afterward.
     Like singing my song. "Herr Schteuper, Herr Schteuper, what a dumb
name!" I sang again as I climbed down the staircase. The salon was at the
bottom. We had a large salon, and that was where our concert would be held
in a couple of hours.
     Herr Schteuper was waiting for me in the salon. Like me, he was
dressed in a silk tuxedo, shiny black, and so was his slicked-back hair
just like mine, and he was seated at the piano working on something,
probably his symphony. He'd been working on that, a little at a time, since
before he'd come to live with us and teach me how to play music. Or rather,
how to play music his way. I already knew how to play.
     They call me a genius, Mom said I was just like Mozart. I sat down at
the family piano when I was four and started hitting the keys. I noticed
how the different notes were made, and according to Mom, I was soon playing
a song she would play for me, note for note, no mistakes, right at the very
beginning. They call it a gift...but for me, it had been the beginning of a
lot of stuff that wasn't any fun at all. Including Herr Schteuper,
pronounced SHTOO-purr.
     Herr Schteuper had been hired by my mother to teach me proper music,
how to read it and how to play it. I didn't see why anybody needed all
those funny squiggles on a piece of paper, all you had to do was listen to
someone play the music and you could know which keys to hit, and the piano
didn't care how you hit the key, long as you hit it at the right time, it
would give out that note, clear as it could be. Why couldn't I just do what
I'd been doing, punch them with my first fingers one after the other.
     So Herr Schteuper was teaching me how to play music his way. I had
learned how to play it now, and tonight was to be my first concerto. Herr
Schteuper was still marveling at how I'd learned to read music and play the
piano in just two months, but I didn't understand that. It was easy,
anybody could do it.
     But he kept at me to keep practicing and improving and I had gotten
bored with it lately. I'd give Mom her concert, just so she could be proud
of me, then I wasn't going to play the piano any more! I hadn't told
anybody my plan yet, but it was why I was so happy.
     Herr Schteuper didn't see me walk up behind him. He was busy putting
his marks on the paper. I looked over his shoulder and then after a while,
I said, "You can't do that."
     "What?" he said, jerked out of his intent study of his music.
     "You can't do that." I said again. "You try to play that music, you
can't do it."
     "Can't...can't what?" he said, stuttering. "But the music is
beautiful!"
     "It's all wrong." I said. "Here, let me show you."
     I got onto the piano bench alongside him and put my hands on the
keyboard. "Watch this." I tried to play what he'd written down. Reaching
from the F sharp to the A so quickly as he needed was just impossible, you
hit the A wrong and it made a "clunk" sound instead. "You see?" I said to
him.
     He tried it for himself, smiled and shook his head. "You are a genius,
my dear Franz, but you are a boy still. You can't reach these notes because
your hands are too small." He made the same sounds himself, and hit the "A"
key easily. "You can see that when you are grown you will be able to play
my music."
     I got interested. "Let me try again." I tried and still got the
"clunk" sound from the A key. But I saw a part of the problem. "I'm too low
down. I need to sit up higher to play the music."
     "Yes, maybe so." Herr Schteuper said. "Let's find you something to sit
on, then...."
     "How about your lap?" I suggested.
     Herr Schteuper was looking around, but there really wasn't anything
else for me to sit on to raise me up. "Very well, my young maestro, you may
sit in my lap." Understand that this was not an affectionate relationship
we had, though we had a sensible regard for each other as you have seen (my
libelous semi-song to the contrary), so I got into his lap. I couldn't sit
across his legs like you normally do, for he needed to work the foot pedals
for some of the notes, so I was seated with my legs on the outside of both
of his, straddling him, as he sat as far back on the bench as he could and
still work the pedals.
     I could and did now reach from F sharp to A and once I did that once
or twice, I grinned and began to play his melody from the beginning. It had
a lot of alternating high and low notes, the opposite ends of the piano,
and while I could play it, from my precarious perch atop his legs. I was
weaving back and forth, wriggling upon his lap, my backbone pressed against
his stomach.
     And as I moved, I felt something beneath me, first poking my bottom,
then sort of crawling up between my legs. You couldn't wear this sort of
silk tuxedo with any heavy undergarments, they would bunch up and show much
like a woman's pantyline, and for the same reason, for the pants were tight
as they could be, on purpose. They looked very fine upon me and Herr
Schteuper when we were on stage about to play, which is why my mother
bought them for us, but created the problem with underwear I mentioned. I
wore only a thin pair of briefs, but as I felt Herr Schteuper's movement
under me, I realized he was wearing less than that.
     And right in the middle of his second movement, I giggled and let go
of the piano keys, and reached down between his legs, completely forgetting
about his music in my discovery. "And what is this, Herr Schteuper?" I
asked.
     "It is nothing, my child." Herr Schteuper said. He was breathing kind
of funny. "You were moving on top of me, that is all. It is nothing."
     I had my hand now upon him, that thick warm shaft of flesh, I could
fee it like a banana or something, only warmer. "It doesn't feel like
nothing." I teased him.
     "Kinder--, child, it is not for you to touch like this." Herr
Schteuper said.
     "Why not?" I said. "Do you mind?"
     Herr Schteuper just sort of moaned and his legs spread out wider. This
put my own legs very wide apart, but now I could grip this extension of
Herr Schteuper easier. I felt it out, reaching along one leg inside the
soft silk, the thin silk, and now I realized what it was. "It's your
peter!" I said in wonder. "But it's so big...and why is it so hard?"
     "It is because of your movements as you play." Herr Schteuper
said. "And the feel of your hand and your body." He was panting now.
     "Then I should keep playing." I decided. And I let go of Herr
Schteuper and went back to playing, but now I was moving when I didn't even
have to, worming my butt around in his lap, and Herr Schteuper's hands were
at my waist, helping me stay in place despite my wiggles, moving upon him
as I played his melody.
     I reached the end of the second movement (he had only written three
and a bit of the fourth, out of who-knows-how-many), and I paused briefly
as you do in playing long compositions, and asked, "How was that?"
     "That was wonderful, as always, my Liebling." Herr Schteuper
said. "Now we make it better for the third movement."
     I was puzzled but he shifted me forward in his lap, and undid the
buttons of his tuxedo fly, and when he lifted me back into place, I found
his hard dong jutting up between my legs. "Play again, my little
love-child. Play it as you have done, with your vigor and your youth and
your joy."
     I did, moving as I had before, and this time, Herr Schteuper moved
himself, back and forth, rubbing his thick prod in and out of the space
between my legs. I got the idea and closed my legs together as much as I
could, and Herr Schteuper moaned and moved quicker, his dick was rubbing my
own little-boy peter inside my pants and I began to grunt a little myself.
     As I did, my movement of my hands upon the keyboard changed. Although
I knew Herr Schteuper didn't like me doing this to any musical work, I
began to improvise upon his melody. It seemed so easy then, to wriggle upon
his lap, feeling that sturdy hard rod of his thrusting up between my legs
and the feelings that pulsed from my own willy as he moved against me, it
was like I was turning our movements into the music, weaving it into the
music and letting it be part of everything.
     I reached the end of the third movement and stopped, panting. Herr
Schteuper was still moving. "End of the third movement." I gasped. "Oh,
Herr Schteuper, this feels so good! So good!"
     "Your pants, little one, your pants." Herr Schteuper said. "Remove
them. Remove them for the fourth movement, for me, my child."
     I got to my feet and eagerly fumbled at my buttons. I had to almost
skin the trousers off of me, but I did, and got them off one leg, before
Herr Schteuper gave a sort of growl I'd never heard from his always-gentle
voice and he pulled me back onto his lap.
     Now my bare legs were wrapped around his hot rod and he had my legs
between his instead of the other way around, he was thrusting between my
thighs and I again had the feel of his cock against mine, he was rubbing my
little prod and I could only groan. It felt so good, the heat of his body
against mine, I wanted more, I grabbed hold of the head as it was wiggled
above my legs, and I begged him, "More, Herr Schteuper, I want more,
please, more!"
     Herr Schteuper gasped and panted, said to me huskily, "Wet it for me,
my love-child, get it wet for me, so that I may give you more."
     I bent my head and I spewed a big glob of spit out of my lips and as
it drooped, I guided it carefully before letting it fall, and my aim was
good (I'd practiced off the balconies overlooking the garden many times, it
landed right on the cockhead, and I rubbed it on him. The warm goo of my
spit was slimy in my palm but it made my hand glide over his dick just like
it was butter. I added another glob and the slime became a sort of foamy
cream.
     "Enough." Herr Schteuper said and his hands cupped under my legs and
lifted me, this time bodily, upwards and I wondered what he wanted to
do. As his hands cupped under my knees, I was lowered again, this time my
buttocks were the lowest part of my body, and I wondered...then wondered no
longer as contact was made and I gasped! "Oh, Herr Schteuper!"
     "Easy, child, easy." Herr Schteuper crooned as his huge glans kissed
my little asshole with its wet bulb. "The pain will only a moment be, and
the love continue after will." And he kissed my ear as he lowered me yet
further, and his cockhead slipped into my ass.
     "Uuuuhhhh!" I moaned. "It hurts, it hurts!"
     "It is only for a moment it will hurt." Herr Schteuper promised
me. "Relax and in me trust, and the pain will pass."
     "Okay." I said and I tried to relax. The pain was less after a time
and as it did and I breathed a sigh of relief, Herr Schteuper pressed into
me further. "Nnngghh!" I grunted as he did that. "Oh, Herr Schteuper!"
     "Patience, my child." Herr Schteuper said. "Soon will it good feel,
soon." he promised me.
     Little by little, he worked himself deeper into me. Finally, when it
felt like I was being split in half, he said, "Now, my wunderkind, we shall
music make together, you and I. Play the fourth movement, and let the music
continue it for you. You can this do, I know it, I feel it, play and it
will come to you."
     With my little body impaled upon Herr Schteuper's prong, then, I
peered, my eyes blurry with tears, at the music. I saw it there, the notes,
like black stars upon a white sky, twinkling at me and in that bright
beauty, as Herr Schteuper made his first slight, tentative moves of his
cock into me, I began to play.
     It was like dancing with angels. The music was there, in our bodies,
in our movements, and that movement was reflecting itself into notes for
me, notes I could play upon the piano with its 77 keys, so many notes,
there was a note for every feeling, and it moved out of me and onto the
piano and from there into the air around us.
     I had never felt anything at all like this before. Something about his
shaft inside me was doing something to me I'd never felt before. It was
like...tingling and something like the warmth of a fire moving into me, and
something like the glory of the music, the best, most beautiful music ever,
and it was in me and on me and around me, and I was being fed more and more
of it, by the power of Herr Schteuper's cock moving in me.
     "Ah, my marvelous, marvelous student." He murmured to me
huskily. "Your music is better than mine ever was and could be. Do not
leave this wonderful gift behind, we shall find a way for you to play as a
child and still learn your music, but do not leave me."
     Lost in my rapture, a rapture born of the love and born of the music,
I gasped, "No, Herr Schteuper, I shall not leave, never, please, Herr
Schteuper, more, please, more!"
     "Play, mein kinder, play!" Herr Schteuper said, and I couldn't all of
a sudden, I could only hold on and my body was wracked by my pleasure, my
little climax making me shudder.
     With my music silenced, Herr Schteuper grabbed hold of me and moved me
as well as himself, there was no gentleness now, he was too caught up in
his pleasure to be gentle, and yet he didn't hurt me (he was right, the
pain was gone,only joy remained) and he thrust into my little body, gave
out a long grunting sound and then he held me so tight it hurt and his cock
burst upwards into me.
     Hot salty slimy goo spurted into my ass, and it burned and stung like
crazy, and his cock was so hard and hot, it nearly burned me, too. His
hands were gripping me tightly and he was groaning as his joy poured out of
him in liquid form into my bowels, and I shivered as he squirted, and I
felt the hot seed spilling out of me again and onto him once more, and
then, at last, finally, it was over and he was panting, me groaning on top
of him.
     After a time, he managed a smile and said, "Your movement was grand."
     "You were good, too." I said in return.
     He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Your fourth movement. The
music you were playing without my notes to guide you. Some very
extraordinary sounds." He sighed. "It is a shame you were not able to write
them down, so we could try to save them."
     I was puzzled by this. "But I remember them all, Herr Schteuper."
     "You do?"
     "I always remember all the music." I said. "Don't you?"
     He smiled and shook his head again, this time in wonder. "You have a
magnificent gift, my little wonder-child." he said. "You must nurture it
and it will one day be that you will give this gift to all mankind."
     "Yeah," I said, but I'd heard this sort of thing before.
     "You will not stop playing, then?" Herr Schteuper said.
     How did he know this? I hadn't told anyone of my plans yet. But he
knew, the way he always knew things, that I was planning to quit.
     I thought of a happy alternative. "I will keep playing." I said. "If
you will let me play sometimes."
     "Play not music?" He said.
     "Yeah." I said. "I like playing music, but I want to play other
games." And I put my hand down on his now-flaccid organ. "Especially games
like this."
     His smile returned, but as slowly as the clouds move in the sky. "My
little student, you and I have an agreement."
     "So can we play our new music at the concert tonight?" I asked him.
     "We shall see." he said, which I knew meant no, or at least not
yet. "There is much left to do. We must write the music down, you and I,
and give it a name."
     I pouted, then smiled, "We could call it the `Symphony of Love with
Herr Schteuper.'" I said.
     He shook his head. "Perhaps just `A Symphony of Love.'" he said in
compromise. Then he smiled. "Or perhaps, `Love in A Minor Key.'"

				  THE END
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