Message-ID: <53371asstr$1143634201@assm.asstr.org>
DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws;
  s=dk20050327; d=earthlink.net;
  b=YDgUYx+BH0lAOPzIMaO8Jpx1XNMgBm/ev5cw/iasBBq8+WtszyQYL4EDwhSFpOen;
  h=Received:Message-ID:X-Priority:Reply-To:X-Mailer:From:To:Subject:Date:MIME-Version:Content-Type:X-ELNK-Trace:X-Originating-IP;
Reply-To: chaucer48@earthlink.net
From: "chaucer48@earthlink.net" <chaucer48@earthlink.net>
Subject: {ASSM} "Cello" -- Geoff Chaucer
Lines: 305
Date: Wed, 29 Mar 2006 07:10:01 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



   The story below is a story of graphic sex between a young girl and an
older man.  The story contains masturbation, exhibitionism, and music.  If
you are offended by such a story please stop reading now.  I hold the
copyright on this story and my permission is needed to re-publish this
story.  It will be freely given but you must ask.









   CELLO by Geoff Chaucer

   My name is Linna Rush and I began playing the cello when I was just a
little girl.  I chose that instrument because of the wonderful shape of it
and the deep mellow tone, but there was an unlooked for benefit of it that
has kept me playing the cello for all these years.  The first day I sat
down, spread my legs and pulled the instrument between my knees I knew
there was something more special about it than I had before thought.  I
drew the bow across the strings and vibration of the tone radiated through
the silky wood and laquer of my cello to run up the insides of my thighs
like the gentle stroke of a lovers fingers.  I felt the tone's feathery
fingers slide up and beneath the elastic of my panties to stroke my still
hairless sex and, though I did not understand what was happening, I was as
hooked upon that feeling as any addict.

   Some children, when they began to take music lessons, do not want to
practice.  They must be driven to it by parents, but I was never such a
child.  I could hardly be kept from my cello.  I would practice for hours
at a time ceasing only when my panties were so wet I was afraid someone
would notice.  Then I would rush to the bathroom and, while still feeling
the effects of the music, stroke my finger up and down the slippery cleft
of my sex as though I were still bowing my cello until the explosion of
climax.  I had to be driven outside to play.  My mother and father were
delighted with my enthusiasm as was my teacher, Dr.  Sanger.  They were all
sure I would become a virtuoso since I was so dedicated to my instrument,
but Dr.  Sanger was more sure than my parents because he knew there was
more than just the music.

   One day after I had been playing under Dr.  Sanger's tutelage for a
couple of years I played a piece for him that he had assigned.  I was
twelve.  I played the piece with fire and passion and as the notes of it
built from slow and mellow to fast and piercing they drove into the center
of my loins, stroking my pussy and my newly sensitive breasts with electric
tongues.  The music was graven in my brain so I did not need to look at the
music sheet on the stand before me.  I closed my eyes and gave in to the
sensuality of the notes.  It was all I could do not to hunch my hips
forward as my cello made love to me, but as the piece drew to the end I
could not completely contain my passion; a tiny moan slipped from between
my lips.

   When the music was finished I opened my eyes to discover Dr.  Sanger's
eyes upon me with such intensity that I blushed.  Until that time I never
had really looked at my music teacher.  He had seemed ancient to me with
his shining white hair long enough to touch the collar of his shirt.  He
was always dressed in a suit and tie as though he had just come from a
concert.  He was very handsome in a patronly way.  Now his ocean blue eyes
bored into me and I felt their touch as though they too were music.

   He looked at me in silence for several moments "That was quite good
Linna," he said in his soft baritone.  "Though at the end you let the music
control you rather than the other way around.  You must be careful in
that."

   "Yes, Professor."

   After another moment of consideration he asked, "Do you ever practice
naked, Linna?"

   I was completely shocked by his question but the possibilities of it
began running through my mind like far away music.  "No, sir." I answered,
blushing again.  "My mother..."

   Sanger held up his hand.  "Yes, yes, of course.  It would be difficult
to explain if you were--interrupted." He thought a moment or two longer
then said, "I am forming a young people's string quartet.  Would you like
to join?"

   I did not hesitate even a second.  "Yes, sir."

   "Very well.  I will, of course, have to ask your parents but, as
talented and...passionate as you are about your music I am sure they will
agree."

   "Yes sir."





   Dr.  Sanger's studio was in an old ten story art deco building down
town. The professor greeted my mother and I at the door of his studio
dressed as he was usually dressed, in his suit and tie.

   "The others are not here yet," he said to my mother, "but they should be
soon.  If you would like to come in and wait..." he stepped aside to let us
pass into the studio.

   "That's all right, Professor," my mother said.  "I have an dental
appointment in a few moments so I believe I will go on now.  Will I have
time to do a little shopping before you are finished today?"

   "Oh yes.  This will be a fairly short meeting, but it will still be a
couple of hours.  Take your time."

   My mother smiled, kissed me on the top of my head and said, "Play well
dear, and do everything Dr.  Sanger tells you to do."

   "Yes ma'am, I will," I said and lugged my cello case past the professor
and into the studio.

   Mother said good bye and left.  The professor closed the door and said,
" Unpack and sit down there," he pointed to a semi-circle of plush
orchestra chairs.  "I will be back in a moment."

   "Dr.  Sanger, should I--" but I hesitated to go on.  I had worn what I
considered my prettiest dress.  It was a midi length yellow cotton with
tiny orange flowers printed on it.  Beneath it I had worn my best panties
and bra, but they were simple white cotton and, even as I put them on, I
had wished that they were satin or lace.

   The professor ran his ocean blue eyes over me and seemed to understand
what I had not said.

   "Linna, I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do, but
if you wish to take off your clothes please do so."

   "But the others--"

   "There will be no others today, Linna," he said, and smiled.

   "Yes sir."

   He nodded and went out through another door.

   I looked around the studio.  It was a smallish loft space carpeted with
a thick Persian rug and flooded with light from three large cathedral
windows.  These were covered with sheer curtains so that those inside could
see out but those outside could not see in.  A salon style upright piano
was against one wall and several stringed insturments in various stands
were around the room.  There was a large book case tight jammed with music.
The room was redolent with the aroma of manuscript paper, bow rosin and
well mellowed wooden instruments.

   In front of the book case the semi-circle of chairs was set up.  I first
unpacked my cello and placed it in a stand beside one of the chairs then,
with a shiver of anticipation, took off my shoes and socks, unbuttoned the
front of my dress, and let if fall in a sunlit yellow puddle around my
feet. The room was warm but I shivered again and looked up toward the other
wall.  There was a large mirror as in a dance studio opposite where I stood
and in it I saw myself--twelve years old with long red-blond hair, an oval
face lightly dusted with angel kiss freckles and body beginning to blossom
into womanhood--standing in white cotton panties and bra.  My legs were
long and coltish; my figure was not filled out though my hips were
beginning to broaden; my breasts, which would never be large, were filling
out my soft little girl bra and I could see my erect nipples poking against
the thin material.  After a moment of looking at my reflection I reached
back, unhooked my bra and let it slide forward off my shoulders and down my
arms to land in the sunny puddle at my feet.  I stepped away from my dress
and pushed it away with my foot, then put my hands down the sides of my
panties, slid them down and stepped out of them.  The sunlight reflected
from the few pubic hairs upon my mons du Venus.  They did not conceal or
obscure the cleft between my legs and I could see a damp shininess already
beginning between the lips.  I drew in a shuddering breath and turned to
sit down in the chair beside my cello.  I took the instrument, opened my
legs and brought it between them, then picked up my bow and drew it across
the strings.  The tone tongues flicked themselves up the insides of my
thighs and my already damp sex became damper still.  The instrument was
still perfectly tuned so I placed my fingers upon the neck and began to
draw forth the slow deep tones of the piece I had played for Dr.  Sanger
before.  I did not try to control my desire or my reaction this time.  I
hunched my hips forward and let the music flow over my pussy like warm
thick honey.  The vibration of it was a sensual wave that grew and lapped
higher like a rising ocean tide.  It washed first over my loins but then
spread up over my breasts and on until I felt as though the waves had risen
over my head.  I was drenched by it, and gasped for air, almost drowning in
the warm sea of pleasure.

   I had been playing with my eyes closed but something, some sound or
change of the light caused me to open them.  Dr.  Sanger stood in the
doorway now dressed in a silk dressing gown.  I stopped playing instantly
and looked away from him, blushing all over.

   "No Linna, don't stop," he asked with a tone of entreaty.  "Play!  Let
me hear more!  The music is divine and you are so beautiful!  Play!"

   I drew a deep, shuddering breath and began to draw my bow across the
strings once more, but this time I did not close my eyes.  There was such a
feel of imminence in the air that I had to see what was about to happen.

   As I played Dr.  Sanger came forward and stopped directly in front of
me. "I promise I will not harm you Linna," he said, and a moment later he
untied the sash of his dressing gown and slid it off his shoulders.  I
stopped playing for a moment but began again without direction.  He was
naked beneath the gown and I could not help but notice that his manhood was
erect and jutting out from a mass of gray-white curls.  I had never seen a
man naked before, much less one whose penis was engorged.  It seemed huge;
as long and thick as a rolling pin with an even larger red-purple helmet
shaped knob on the end.  I was both frightened and wanton; apprehensive and
embarrassed by my desire to touch it.  I tore my eyes away and looked at
the rest of the man before me.

   I had always thought of Dr.  Sanger as ancient, but looking at his
nakedness; though he was older than my father, his body seemed younger. 
His chest was broad and well shaped, and his stomach was flat but not
ridged like those muscled men I had seen in magazines.  There was a small
nest of gray curls upon his chest that ran in a sparse line down his flat
belly to connect with his pubic curls.

   The welling damp between my legs that had begun with anticipation and
increased with the beginnings of the music now increased until I could feel
it leaking from me, but I did not stop drawing the bow back and forth
across my cello.

   Professor Sanger shaped the fingers of his right hand into a circle and
began to slowly stroke the circled fingers down his erection from empurpled
tip to the updrawn sack of his testes.  A crystle clear drop of liquid
leaked from the tiny mouth in the center of his manhood and it grew with
each slow stroke.  I could feel my own wetness increase as I watched that
luscious drop grow and grow until it dripped down under its own weight
leaving a silvery thread stretching down.  The spider silk filament broke,
releasing the drop to fall to the carpet before me.  I could not stop the
moan of wonder and anticipation from rising.

   "Oh yes, Linna," Dr.  Sanger said.  "Oh yes.  Feel the notes.  Fell the
vibrations.  Play louder.  Stronger."

   I did as he told me and as I increased the strokes of my bow he
increased the speed of his stroking fingers.  He never took his blue eyes
away from me, never closed them or even blinked.  I could feel his stare
carressing me from my cheek, down my throat, over my breasts, down my
stomach and to my sex.  It was as though his gaze was the carress of his
hand.

   After a few moments the tension could not be sustained any longer and I
saw the clenching jerking spasms begin behind his testes.  They radiated
out through his whole body.  A second later the first eruption of his
seminal fluid burst forth with such force it splatted against the ebony
tail piece of my cello.  My eyes never left his sex as spasm after spasm of
silvery fluid jetted from it and suddenly spasms of clenching climax
radiated from the middle of my body with such bone shaking power that I
could no longer continue drawing my bow across the strings of my cello.

   After a few moments of recovery the professor stooped, picked up his
dressing gown and put it on again.  From the pocket of the gown he drew a
wad of tissue then knelt down and carefully wiped his fluid from my cello.
When he was finished and while still on his knees he looked up into my eyes
and smiled.  "I am glad you were able to climax Linna.  It is wonderful
when the music is so powerful.  When we have more time I will show you the
power of the human voice."

   "Oh Dr.  Sanger, please, please show me now.  I still..."

   "No sweet Linna, not now.  Your mother will be back soon.  Now you must
go to the shower and wash away the delicious smell of your excitement and
get dressed.  We will do this again, but not today."

   I began to protest but he reached up and put his finger over my lips. 
"Trust me sweet Linna."

   I kissed his finger and nodded.



   After my shower I got dressed again and when I came out Dr.  Sanger was
again dressed in his usual suit and tie.  He handed me a stack of music. 
"You must learn these, Linna.  You will find that they are
quite--stimulating.  Now you must sit down and play until your mother
comes. Needless to say, the rehearsal went well and they others are gone
already.  The music exchanged between you and I must remain ours alone.  Do
you understand?"

   " Yes sir."

   "Good.  I believe you have a long and passionate carreer ahead of you,
Linna.  Practice makes perfect."

   THE END







   chaucer48@earthlink.net EarthLink Revolves Around You.



	
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+