The Piano Lesson

THE PIANO LESSON
A Symphony in Two Parts

Bruce Morrison watched his wife from the landing through the gap left by the slightly ajar door to their bedroom. She was in one of her three different school uniforms, sitting-up on the bed with her head on a pillow against the backrest. She was sucking audibly on the lollipop in her left hand, one of those boiled-sweet affairs. Her red hair was plaited into pigtails which rested on the front of her white blouse, open about three buttons and her maroon and gold striped school tie askew. Her grey pleated skirt was up around her waist and her right hand was inside her white cotton knickers. She was playing with herself in a slightly distracted manner, seemingly more interested in the delights the lollipop had to offer.

Bruce unzipped his fly and began masturbating, leaning with one hand against the door frame for support. The narrow view afforded by the partially opened door made it impossible to see his wife in her entirety and he had to adjust his position every now and again to bring into view various parts of her body. This made his peeping-tom act all the more authentic and doubly exciting. One minute he was watching the ‘lolly’ bulge her cheeks and the next, her slender fingers curling inward and penetrating her soft, yielding underbelly. She continued the slow and deliberate, half-distracted masturbation. And now the insinuating hand began to up the tempo. Bruce could hear the sound of lolly-sucking, and another sound, which mimicked the first in a more clandestine way.

“Why don’t you come in and fuck me, Daddy? I’m nice and wet for you. You want to, don’t you? I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”

Breathing? Is that what she called it? Bruce Morrison was fairly gasping for air. Stirred by the eroticism of this carefully stage-managed ‘what-the-butler-saw scene,’ Tina’s hubby was already on the Sarson strokes by the time the lady-in-distress called him in.

He crashed through the doorway hoping to oblige her before he popped his cork. He leapt up onto the bed, cock at 45 degrees and angry red, knelt between his wife’s legs and started fumbling and yanking frantically at the elasticated waistband of her panties. But it was too late... far too late.

A long, looping arc of white jiz splashed up his young wife’s thighs and made a wet pearly pool on the bunched-up pleats of her skirt.

“Oh fuck!” he said. You got me so worked up beforehand. Sorry!”

“Oh, honestly, Brucie,” she replied, bonking him on the forehead with her sticky lollipop. “Look what you’ve done. Why can’t you ever time it right? I’ve only just ironed this skirt, you dirty bugger!” She pouted her lips, all sulky. “There’s some tissues on the side there. You’d better mop me up.”

Bruce and Tina Morrison had a special kind of relationship. She was half his age and possibly because of this he felt quite paternal toward his young bride. On the face of it they came across as a normal couple, apart from the age difference. But age difference in this relationship was just perfect for the life they wished to lead.

Tina had become quite accustomed to playing the little girl for her ‘daddy’ - as he liked her to call him - during their two year courtship. She had entered into marriage with Bruce with her eyes wide open. She knew the things he liked her to do when they were alone together. He loved Tina to dress as a girl of obvious school age. On special and even not-so-special occasions he had ‘treated’ her to various items of clothing, ‘props’ as he liked to call them, gradually building up a full wardrobe of young girls’ clothes, mainly school uniforms, blazers, pleated skirts, gymslips, ties and sashes, white cotton knickers, and heavier navy blue ones for her ‘games’ lessons; cardigans, white blouses, white knee-length socks, red and blue gingham dress for summer, a few hats and berets. As well as the ‘props’ Bruce had dreamed up a number of varying erotic scenarios which they both enjoyed acting out when the mood took them, which was often. It certainly beat television - any day of the week and between two consenting adults it was all perfectly legal and above board. It was also interesting, highly enjoyable (for both), and sometimes educational too.

Soon after they were married Bruce had encouraged Tina to see an orthodontist about having her slightly protruding front teeth corrected. Her parents had never pressed her about it, and so the errant ‘gnashers’ remained unchecked... until recently.

It took quite a few spankings to convince her of the merit of this, but finally she agreed to it and so now she wore braces to pull the top front teeth back into line. This of course added a very nice touch to the overall schoolgirl effect, the final detail that put the icing on the cake – wire braces - and when she smiled, wow... did his old boy stand to attention or what?

Well, anything went in private between two consenting adults, didn’t it? No harm in it, and Jesus, did she look convincing - especially without make-up, so that the little sprinkling of freckles on her nose showed through. She had lovely fresh, peachy skin, and apart from the odd freckle on her cheeks and the sweet little peppering on the bridge of her nose, her skin was blemish-free and clear, so clear in fact Bruce deemed it necessary to get Tina to create a few fake teenage spots for added realism. He could have taken her out dressed like it and people would have believed she was no older than twelve or thirteen, certainly no older than fourteen. Her virtually flat-chest and skinny legs gave her the look of a girl on the verge of puberty – no bra, but little budding cherubic mounds inside her white school blouse, pointy little nipples poking through the material saying: “Look, don’t forget us... we’re here too.” And a little white satin ribbon in her red hair; how fucking horny was that?

Of course this scenario may have been possible in public, but hardly appropriate. So when they were seen out together, Tina assumed her normal persona – that of a 22 year old woman. However, they would often converse and confide in the manner more befitting to a father and his beloved daughter. It was such fun... for both of them.

Classical music had always been a passion for Tina, and something of a fetish too. One of her favourite fantasies was of being punished by a strict piano teacher for neglecting her practice. Tina had had lessons when she was much younger, and could still play a few classical pieces, but without her own piano to practise on since she left home, she would probably be a little rusty in her playing if she took it up again now. She mentioned her desire to play the piano again to Bruce, little hints dropped in here and there, planting the seeds.

Then one rainy day Tina came home from work to find their spacious living room occupied by a nice little Yamaha ‘upright’ in a lovely walnut matt finish. She couldn’t believe it and squealed with delight as she sat down on the stool in front of it. The lid was already invitingly raised and she stretched her fingers and tried a few chords and arpeggios. The beautiful tone belied the instrument’s dimensions and could easily have done justice to a baby grand. It was a good one, no doubt about it. She was thrilled and got up to give Bruce a hug.

“Like it, baby-girl?”

“Like it..? I love it. The tone is inspiring, the weight of the keys is just right... I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something, pumpkin. You always do.”

Tina’s hand strayed downwards and moved lightly across her husband’s crotch. She picked at his zipper, teasingly, and looked all wide-eyed into his eyes. “Want me to dress up, Daddy?”

He smiled and tousled her hair. “Later. For now I’d just like to hear you play.”

“Oh, I’m way out of practice, Bruce. Don’t embarrass me.”

“You never lose it. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Bruce turned Tina by the shoulders so that she faced the piano again. “Go on!” He lifted her red tartan skirt, gave her bottom a playful but stinging slap across her white panties and a gently pushed her forward. “Play for me, pumpkin. Play for your daddy, there’s good girl.”

And she did. She sat at the piano, did a few finger stretches and loosening-up exercises and started into Moonlight Sonata. Despite some rustiness and hesitation, Tina played the piece reasonably well from memory. Her touch had not deserted her, but she definitely needed some practice and perhaps a little helpful tuition.

“See..? I knew you’d be fine. That was quite good, but I can hear that you need a bit of brushing-up, a bit of polish. But don’t worry, pumpkin, I have arranged for you to have lessons. You remember our conversation... your fantasy?”

"I thought there might be a catch, somehow.” She remembered her fantasy all right, but in real life? “I’m not sure I could cope with lessons after all these years, and all that time-consuming practice."

“What do you mean? You’re only a young girl, remember? Time is on your side. I thought you’d be right up for it.”

“Well, you get to a stage in life when you feel kind of past things like that, the discipline and dedication; it will be like being back at school.”

“I hope so.... that was the general idea. Remember, pumpkin... you may be 22 in biological age, but to me, you’re still only twelve.”

“Yes, but a fantasy is a fantasy. Sometimes reality can be disappointing. I’m sure I’d be far too nervous to cope with proper lessons now.”

“Well, I insist you have them. It’s the only condition I’m imposing. After all, you have a lovely instrument at your disposal. I’d really like you to get the best out of it... so you could at least show some gratitude.”

“I am grateful, I really am. Couldn’t I just practise what I know, get the pieces up to scratch? And maybe then I could buy some sheet music and learn some new ones.”

“Yes, you definitely should do that. But this is not just about the music is it? It’s about fulfilling a fantasy of yours, of ours, because it appeals to me too. Now you may not want to do it for real, but what about me? Anyway, I think you’d benefit from some extracurricular professional tuition. It’s never too late to learn new things. I have found someone who will be really suitable for what I have in mind and have already arranged some lessons for you. So it’s not up for discussion."

“I love it when your forceful, Brucie. Okay, spill the beans... What’s he like?”

“It’s not a ‘he’.”

“What?”

“It’s not a ‘he’. I thought it only fair to go half and half on our shared fantasy. You see, when I fantasize about it I imagine the piano teacher is a lady of middle years. She has iron-grey hair either cut in a neat bob, or long hair tied in a tight bun, and half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose. She is buxom and slightly matronly, quite severe and austere in appearance in fact, but most of all... she is very, very strict and her teaching methods are always effective and success is assured.”

“That’s your fantasy, is it - a grey haired old lady with big tits and glasses? Doesn’t sound very inspiring?”

“She may not sound very inspiring, but I assure you the lady I have selected most definitely is. Her methods are proven. It took me a while to track her down, but now, finally I have procured her services.”

“She surely doesn’t look like you said though?”

“Down to the thick brown stockings and brown brogues, I’m very pleased to say. Oh yes, she is just perfect, just how I imagined her, created her in my mind – the strict, no-nonsense grandmother and her sweet little granddaughter. I get a hard-on just talking about it.”

“That’s kinky... Clever Daddy.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Well, I suppose, in some strange way... yes, I must admit, it does rather.”

“Good... then that’s settled. The lady in question has an impressive background. Not only is she a talented classical pianist who has performed in some of the best concert halls throughout Eastern Europe, mainly Russia and the Ukraine, she has also been employed as a governess in several eminent households, the Tsar’s residence in Moscow being one of them. She is very good with children, especially little girls, and most importantly, naughty little girls, just like you.”

“Brucie... you’re making me blush now.”

“She is very good at getting the best out of them, children that is, helping them realise their true potential. Your playing should improve rapidly.”

“How strict is she? What methods does she employ?”

“I’d rather let them speak for themselves. She did send me a rather nice set of photographs which will give you an idea.”

“What do you mean, Daddy?”

“They provide evidence of her skill in...”

“Spanking?”

“Yes... and also caning, pumpkin... or the rod as the lady in question likes to refer to it. The very eminent Emily Thresher is a firm believer in C.P. Some of those girls in the pictures... well, suffice to say that the pictures show the bottom warmings in their best possible light, and colour – mainly pinks, reds and purples. I downloaded them from her website.

“Such a beautiful array of eagerly proffered derrieres; some waiting for their turn to acquaint the cane, others already in the process, and others still bearing the tell-tale marks of a recently-given professionally sound thrashing. Delectable posteriors, flushed delicate shades of pink, some burning red from harsher punishments, and some nicely and precisely marked, striped and patterned. Oh yes, Miss Thresher is indeed a skilled practitioner of corporal punishment. She has caned as many as half-a-dozen girls in one sitting, simultaneously as well, quite a feat of stamina I think you’ll agree for a woman in her fifties.

“I have read several articles about her methods and I am convinced she will be perfect for us. As you know I’ve always fantasised about you and an older woman anyway, especially one who is prepared to administer strict discipline to get results.”

“An old er woman, yes... but not an old old woman.”

“There’s something about the age differential that makes it exciting. It’s a mouth-watering prospect.”

“And eye-watering by the sounds of it.”

“Let’s hope so pumpkin... let’s hope so. You can pop upstairs now and get changed for me. Put your red gingham on, white socks and the straw boater with the red tail ribbons, then come back and sit on my lap. Daddy wants you to read to him - Lolita. If you stumble over any of the words you know what will happen to your bottom, don’t you, pumpkin?”

“Yes Daddy... I’ll get a good sound spanking.”

“Yes, that’s right, but it might help for what’s likely to be in store for you. A little bit of conditioning and preparation will certainly not go amiss, my little princess.”