Page 32 of CurVy Forever
“You can. Just for fun.”
I shake my head slowly. “It’s not fun.”
“I let you do things to me I never thought I would. Last night, I let you and Donnie have complete control over my body. I was scared at the start, but then, I let it go. And I felt safe. Let me be your safe place. Let it go. I read that facing these things in a safe environment means you can—”
“Don’t push this, Vallie,” I snap my attention to her, and her love vanishes. Is that real? She looks like my piano teacher. Unhappy. Unimpressed. “Is that your real face?”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“You’re angry?”
“I’m not angry.” She lifts to her tiptoes and kisses my lips softly, but I don’t respond. The piano won’t let me kiss her. But she coaxes me with her tongue until I relent.
I kiss her back.
I kiss her in front of the piano.
I kiss her and look over her shoulder at my last mistress. The rich wooden curves and graceful lines flood my body with heat, with warm blood that rushes through pulsing veins.
I am so hard, it hurts.
“Vallie, Vallie, Vallie,” I say into her kiss and lift her to straddle me, supporting her soft round arse in both my hands.
She is not light.
Her weight is perfect.
Heavy enough for me to know I am holding a woman, but not too much that I can’t carry her over to the piano. I keep her between me and… it. Then I put her down on the keys.
Her arse bashes a strange melody as she compresses the keys, too many at once, too close, too quick, blunt, but it’s still beautiful, and I nearly blow my load.
Groaning, I whisper into her hair. “Quick.” Can’t overthink. Can’t let the voice in. I put her feet on the stool, and I spread her legs. “Show me your pussy.”
I lick my lips, as a tickling of notes soothes me. Widor’s fingers effortlessly sliding across the keys. I worship Vallie now. I drop to my knees for her.
“I’m getting my period soon,” she protests weakly.
“Soon? Baby, I don’t care if you have it now. Music is red. I am eating your pussy in front of my piano.” I push her knickers aside and lick her folds, for her. For me.
For us.
Her hands feed into my hair. “God, Tyler.”
Her silky juices are luxurious against my tongue, her pulsing flesh responsive and needy.
I love the taste of her.
I could lick her pussy and suck her clit all day, effortlessly navigating her folds and nerves just as Widor does the keys. The female orgasm is so similar to a beautiful composition, a subtle note, held for the right interval, bashed at the perfect place in sequence, then drawn out to a bold cascading of sounds. It’s beautiful.
She rocks as I eat her, her plump arse rolling, the keys beneath her singing in an odd sequence, a confusing register.
“That’s so good, Tyler,” she whimpers.
Her pussy flutters against my tongue.
She moans, and her lush, thick thighs squeeze around my face as she rides my tongue. “Such a good boy for me.”
At the sound of her praise, I hiss through my teeth and thrust my hips forward, fucking the air. So hard. Need to be inside her.