The Third Date 01: Clueless of Cotham - Sex Stories

The Third Date 01: Clueless of Cotham

... Meeting my need, instead of the gentle fade, I added my own extra crescendo, increasing the tempo, my breath coming in gasps now.

Unable to cope any more, I practically threw down the bow, pushed the cello away from me, and stroked my free hand up, up under my skirts.

I was soaking. Sliding my fingers gently inside me, I leaned the cello against the wall and brought my other hand into play, teasing my clit the way I'd pull a vibrato note.

I was so aroused, it took seconds before sparks went off behind my eyes and I shuddered to orgasm, my body spasming in ecstasy, my mouth releasing involuntary moans as I doubled at the waist.

Wow! That was fast! Even though I'd known at the back of my mind that this was my intent, I hadn't planned on getting off in the booth. I'd normally wind myself up, then take care of business in bed over 15 minutes or so. That had barely taken 15 seconds. What the hell had gotten into me?

I briefly felt guilty about masturbating in the booth - after all this was Nadine's workspace. Plus, I couldn't go back upstairs yet - I'd not been down here for 10 minutes and the girls would wonder why I was back up so soon.

Grabbing a tissue, I wiped my hands as best I could, then picked up my bow and cello again. I shook out my arms, and absent-mindedly started playing a scale while I reviewed my mental inventory of learned pieces, trying to decide what to play. As I did so, I found my mind drifting back to earlier in the evening, and watching ...

... Kate move through the Lounge with her long legs and graceful stride. I found the rhythm of my bow arm was attuning to my memory of her movements. I moved to a higher octave, imagining her handsome head twisting, her blue eyes flicking across the crowd, ever aware of the space around her. I found a major chord to capture her confidence, modulated it to mimic her laughter. Surprising myself with my subject choice, I decided to go with it, improvising some pizzicato to imitate her graceful steps as I pictured her dancing around tables. Remembering the way she'd listened, so intently, her eyes always on me, I brought the bow back, warming the mood with slow, deep passes. I got lost in the piece, letting my mind go blank and allowing my hands and fingers to guide me to phrases and movements that seemed logical and natural. It was how I liked to compose. A certain six note refrain repeatedly drew me back; coming out of my meditative state, I found I liked it. Taking a more conscious role in my playing, I repeated it, tinkered with it, trying it in different octaves, different tempos, shortening and lengthening the attack and delay of the notes, fiddling with the phrases. It was beautiful, hooky and memorable. A smile crept over me and found myself singing along with it, clear pure notes, then snapped them into harmony. It was a way to ensure I remembered it, though I was fairly certain muscle memory would do that too by now. I adjusted the tempo - quick, quick, glide, step, glide, ...