The Piano Teacher

I’d been getting piano lessons from Annabelle for a little over a year and my skills were improving slowly, but steadily. She gave lessons on the upright piano in the back bedroom of the little house where she lived alone.

Though Annabelle was almost twice my age of 24, she had quite a youthful playfulness to her. I always found her green and purple hair attractive and she always had something funny to add to our otherwise straight forward lessons.

Sometimes, she’d sit next to me on the small wooden bench at the piano and play the right hand as I practiced the left. One particular summer afternoon, I was in shorts and an old concert t-shirt and she was wearing a short sundress. The sweet smell of her vanilla scented perfume was intoxicating. I found the skin on skin contact of our thighs particularly sensual. She must have thought so too, as she playfully rested her left hand on my thigh.

I felt myself starting to grow in my shorts and hoped she wouldn’t notice. I focused on the sheet music and practiced the left hand as she played the melody. When I hit a wrong note, she gave my thigh a little squeeze.

“I think you’ve almost got it,” Annabelle said as she slid off the bench. “Why don’t you try both hands at once?” She moved to stand behind me, where I was sure she couldn’t see the erection in my shorts.

I played through the piece,...