The Guitar Lesson

The Guitar Lesson

Peter was a music major at the local college when we saw him play at a little pub on the West End. He played acoustic covers and a few ballads he had written himself. When he took a break after Time In A Bottle, I excused myself from the table and bought him a beer.

I took a seat at the bar next to him, I introduce myself, “Hi, I am Gloria.”

He licked his lips before pulling his eyes from my exposed cleavage.

“Peter. Thank you for the beer,” he said. “Are you and your friends enjoying the show?”

“You’re fantastic. I always wanted to learn to play guitar.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“When the kids were younger, there was never enough time.”

“What’s stopping you now?”

I laughed, putting my hand on his arm. “I’m way too old to learn.”

“Nonsense, first you’re never too old to learn, and you are not old.”

“That is sweet of you to say Peter, but I am old enough to be your mother.” Stoking his forearm.

“Age is just a number.”

With one last long look at my heavy breasts, “Listen, I have to get back on stage, but take my card. If you are serious about wanting to play the guitar, I can teach you. First lesson is free, no obligations.”

This was going to be easier than I imagined.

I watched from the bar for another few minutes before returning to the table. Sandy blond hair cut short, matched his beard. Strong biceps beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. Tight jeans showed off his thick cock. I decided Peter would suit my needs.

The teachers I work with would have been shocked if they knew what I was planning. In their minds, I was just an uptight vice principal who had no interest in being their friend outside of work. It’s not that I disliked them, I just felt the need to keep my distance, lest they learn my secret.

Conservative blazers and long skirts were my standard work wear. I was careful to maintain my reputation as a prim and proper member of the faculty. The staff would be aghast if they discovered the true me — a little slut, hungry to be used by strange young men.

After waiting a week, I called and planned to meet Peter the following afternoon. When I arrived at his off-campus apartment, he was barefoot; and wore tight jeans and a Blind Melon T-shirt.

I had dressed in skin-tight jeans and a snug aqua sweater which highlighted my eyes. My heart was racing. First encounters always made me nervous, but he seemed safe enough.

“Come on in. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?”

I looked around the apartment. By college student standards, it was neat and clean. “I don’t suppose you have any wine?”

“I am afraid not. Just beer and water.”

“A beer will be fine. Do you have a roommate?”

He picked up a guitar, “He’s in class until 6:00, he won’t be interrupt us.”

Peter strummed a few bars, “I thought we would start with Brown-Eyed Girl. It’s a fun song to play. Are you good with that?”

Taking a deep breath, “I have a confession to make. I didn’t come here to learn guitar.”

He looked at me, confusion in his eyes. Obviously, I would just have to come right out and tell him.

“I find you very sexy. My God, I can’t believe I am doing this.” Feigning embarrassment, “I came here hoping you would sleep with me.”

“I know,” his voice void of surprise. “I just needed to be sure. To hear you say it. Would you like to move to the bed room?”

“Not yet. Come here and kiss me.”

His embrace was strong, excitement pressed against me, but he did not rush. Our first kiss was tentative. I parted my lips, allowing his tongue room to explore. Emboldened, hands moved over my ass. Lips blazed hot against my neck. A hand at the small of my back sent shivers up and down my spine. Wetness seeped from my slit.

“Use me any way you would like.” I whisper, “Treat me like the whore I am.”

He let out a low growl and squeezed my butt cheeks firmly. He took a step back and pulled my sweater over my head. Braless; he watched as my heavy tits bounced before settling in place. Peter stood there breathless, his eyes focusing on my pierced nipples. Then he was on me, sucking, pinching, biting. The pain was exquisite. Heat bloomed across my loins.

“Suck my cock,” he said.

On my knees, I unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. Like myself, he forewent underwear. I had to tug to free his cock from the tight cloth. Not as long as my husband’s, it was much thicker with a fat head.

My hungry mouth engulfed him. A hand at the back of my head pushed my nose against his pelvic bone. Musky heat filled my nostrils, the taste of pre-cum sweet on my tongue. He fucked my mouth as if it were his favorite pussy. Hands held the sides of my head tight. The sound of my gagging every time his thick cock hit the back of my throat only made him fuck my mouth harder.

Then he stopped. With a finger and thumb wrapped tight around his shaft, he pulled out. “Can’t get to carried away. I want to fuck you in that sweet ass of yours.”

I let out an excited moan at the thought of his wide dick filling my favorite hole. “As long as you don’t cum in me. Cum on my back,” I told him.

On the way to his bedroom, we shed the rest of our clothes. I was on all fours, and Peter took his place behind me. His mouth found my dripping pussy. I let out a long moan and arched my back as his tongue burrowed its way in my wet hole. The sound of him lapping my juices filled the room.

Peter sucking and nibbling at my inflamed lips put me on the edge. When he sucked my swollen clit, all sense of time stopped. My hands gripped at the sheets as orgasm overtook me. I let out a loud, “Fuck, yes.”

“I want your cock in my ass. I need it. Fuck me.”

Fingers traced the slick line of my slit, before painting my asshole with cum. Unlike most young men, Peter showed great restraint, taking his time. Anticipation made me shiver.

Lips kissed and nipped across the contours of my cheeks before finding their way to my pucker. I almost came again when this slender tongue pushed its way into my tunnel. I urged him to go deeper, arching my back,

Instead, he withdrew and I let out a little whimper. A finger soon replaced his tongue, and I cried out in pleasure. After adding a second finger, Peter moved in and out. His fingers drove deeper as he picked up the pace. On every inward stroke, a knuckle grazed my clit. My eyes scrunched tight. I came hard on his hand.

Not waiting for me to recover, Peter moved to his knees, using my pussy juices to wet his dick. The head of of his cock was soon pressing in me. I gave out a yelp when his wide head passed through my sphincter. The pain passed, and I was soon awash in ecstasy.

It was what I needed. What I craved. There is no greater sensation than to have my ass stretched by a stiff cock.

I heard the crack of his hand across my ass before I felt the sting. One hand in a viselike grip on my shoulder held me in place as he administered another swat. “Is that what you like, little whore?” he asked.

“Yes. God yes.” His words arousing me as much as the pain.

Crack-he hit me again. I cried out, the pleasure far greater than the pain. I knew I would have trouble sitting later, but in the moment I did not care.

Peter shifted his hands to my breasts, twisting my nipples, took the pain to an exquisite level. I bit down on a pillow as orgasm ripped through my body. My walls contracting around Peter’s cock was more than he could stand. After several rapid thrusts, I felt him pull out.

His loud groans filled the air. The first spurt landed half way up my back. Five, maybe six additional shots of the hot liquid spewed on my stinging cheeks. I turned to face him. After I cleaned the last few drops from his beautiful cock, I used the bathroom to clean up and get dressed.

“Thank you for the lovely time, but I have to leave, I have plans this evening.” I said and Peter goodbye.

I called my husband to let him know I was on my way home. When I got there, I found him already in bed, his cock in hand. “Tell me everything,” he said.

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