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This is a story of pure fiction, involving the sexual contact between a
minor female and an adult male.  If this subject offends you, close this
page NOW!  If you choose to read on you must be 18 years or older.  If you
are not LEAVE!!!
   The Musical Prodigy
   By Romany.
   (M/g oral)
   When I was 11, nearly 12, my mother decided I needed to learn a musical
instrument.  I think it was due to peer pressure from her friends whose
children were learning music.  I wasn't musical and despaired at the
thought of the discipline involved at a time when I was more interested in
makeup, clothes and of course boys were looming on the horizon.  Puberty
was not far off with the acquisition of my first training bra.
   I was sent to the school music hall at the start of the semester and to
my dismay, as I was a late entrant, handed a violin; the least favored
instrument by the class and all that was left of the school instrument
inventory.  I hated it.  Despite the continuous playing of pieces by world
renowned virtuosos before each class, I hated it with a passion.  All I
could muster was this dreadful squawking screech and the thing caused
cramps in my neck and left arm.  After five weeks the teacher cried enough
and I was dispatched back to the gym classes; the other option for
Wednesday afternoons at middle school.  I was no better at sport but happy
to be away from the crabby music teacher.
   My mother was crestfallen.  No Vanessa Mae prodigy here.  So not to be
deterred, she hooked me into private piano lessons.  I was introduced to
Mr. Robbins, the tutor, who looked very skeptical about me joining his
entourage of students.  He made the comment he had only one or two girls
and they were not very good.  The boys apparently shined.  However, if I
were to listen and follow his directions he would take me on.  He had a
sense of obligation as most of his students came through our church of
which my father was on the church council.
   I toiled away at the keyboard twice weekly and soon could muster basic
scales and the odd chord sequence, to his begrudging agreement.  But, like
the violin, I hated it.  My life took an interesting turn one day when I
turned up for practice in a pair of jeans and plain sweatshirt.  I had
quite short dark hair at that age.  I usually wore a dress or skirt as the
classes were generally after school and being a fashion queen (ha ha),
always tried to out-dress my girlfriends on a daily basis.  The sweatshirt
swamped what breasts were struggling to emerge and I was very much a pretty
boy in appearance.
   Mr.  Robbins stood in the cutaway of the grand piano and after a while I
realized he was staring at me, not listening or criticizing as he usually
did.  I was somewhat surprised by this and I flushed with a degree of
embarrassment.  He must have seen the glance and blush and he came around
beside me and sat on the form (big enough for a tutor and student).  He sat
and looked at me and then inexplicably he lightly brushed the back of his
knuckles across my jaw line and lightly stroked my face and under my chin.
I stopped; frozen, hands still on the keyboard, and looked straight ahead.
He continued to do this for what seemed like an eternity.  I felt
uncomfortable.  His hand was now wandering around the nape of my neck, over
my cheekbone and then he drew his fingers across my lips.  He did this a
few times then tarried at the lips and I felt one finger attempt to
insinuate itself into my mouth.  After a few seconds of pushing the finger
at my lips I relented and parted my lips as he slowly slid his middle
finger into my mouth.  It wasn't a gentle insertion and my mouth was dry
from a combination of fear and excitement at what he was doing and for why.
He pushed it in some more; to the second knuckle.  He uttered "suck".  The
first word he had spoken since sitting by me.  It came as a low command.  I
did as I was told and began sucking the finger.  He had me do this for some
minutes and occasionally he pulled the finger back and traced my bottom lip
then would reinsert it.  I was near tears due to this seemingly demeaning
situation but held my composure stoically.  My mind screamed this was wrong
but I did not know actually what was wrong about it.  I thought this was an
act with sexual overtones but in my naive mind, I did not quite know why.
   Then I felt his hand on my right wrist (he was sitting on my right) and
he took it from the keyboard and down.  To my horror he placed it on his
penis which he must have removed from his flies while I was sucking finger
and staring straight ahead of mew.  The only penis I had ever seen was a
glimpse of my older brother's on bath night when we were small children and
bathed together.  It felt slightly spongy but the underlying feling was of
something big and very stiff.  I later learned the sponginess was the
foreskin.  He wrapped my hand around it deliberately and then motioned me
to stroke it.  He kept my hand trapped and showed me the rhythm he wanted;
all the while I had his finger in my mouth.  I had stopped sucking due to
the rising fear and excitement of what he was doing.  After a few minutes
of this, I started to relax with the feel of his penis and he muttered
"suck" again.  This time it was more a request than an order.  I resumed
tonguing his finger.
   After I had stroked him for what seemed like ages, he started to rise. I
took the opportunity of him moving to let his penis go.  He stood quickly
and straddled the form, a leg either side; one hip against the keyboard,
and he faced me.  He then took my hand and put it back on his penis;
forcefully as if in admonishment for letting my grip go.  He motioned the
rhythm again and I obeyed.  He had eased his finger out of my mouth and
turning his hand, I felt the pad of his thumb enter the lips.  I parted
them again and started to suck the shorter stub of his thumb.  This way his
fingers trailed my face and he could actually hold me.  He turned me more
to face him.  I was stricken.  For the first time I saw my small hand
wrapped around this enormous thing jutting from his trousers.  I stopped
sucking his thumb and I am sure my jaw sagged in amazement.  It was huge.
Angry red head and I could see veins just back from the cap.  The skin was
wrinkled above my hand as I pushed the foreskin back.  It was so thick that
my hand could not close fully around it while moving the skin up and down
to his coaxing rhythm.
   Emboldened by revealing it to me and having me stroke it, he now took
his thumb from my mouth and slid the hand behind my head...he paused then
quietly spoke again..."such a pretty boy", in a low, almost wistful tone.
And with that he urged my head towards him.  I balked and actually uttered
a feeble "no" but he was strong, I had a hand wrapped around him and there
was a certain feeling of excitement mingled with the fear I felt.  He was
able to bring it to my lips and when I clenched my teeth he cupped my jaw
and started to apply pressure to the side of my face with his fingers.  It
hurt and I reluctantly began to open my mouth to ease the discomfort the
pressure was causing me.  As my mouth opened, the bulbous head slid past my
lips.  He was in control and now he had the crown in my mouth and was
holding my head in both of his hands.
   For about 4 or 5 minutes he coached me with his hands and murmured
encouragements, barely audible.  I heard the word "boy" a number of times
in the words.  By now he had coaxed me into taking about a third into his
mouth and had me sucking.  He told me to swirl the tongue around the head.
Many times he pulled out and rubbed it against my chin, lips or cheek
smearing my own saliva and what I now know was the precum oozing from his
erection.  The ultimate subjugation, I think, when a man assaults a woman
this way.  Then he pushed it back in.  He had me take him with both my
hands holding the base as I pumped and sucked him.
   After awhile I realized it wasn't too difficult.  I used my hands a
little further up the shaft to stop him from pushing it to deep, and apart
from a dull ache in my jaw, it wasn't actually unpleasant.  I was also
becoming more bold as he was clearly now responding to my ministrations and
I felt some parity return to me; I was realizing I had gained some small
amount of control.  He was now making guttural noises and uttering "yes"
and "so nice" and groaning.  I knew that men impregnated women with their
penis but never actually knew about the taste of semen; or its smell or
consistency.  The penis was also for peeing and I wondered if it was the
same in context of a seminal ejaculation from the penis.  That worried me.
Would he be peeing in my mouth?  Was it dirty; or dangerous perhaps?
   He was now starting to get ragged in his breathing and he suddenly
pushed my hands away.  I felt him push in and I balked at the intrusion
deeper in my mouth.  He took his penis and held my head by grasping my hair
and I could see he was now stroking himself quickly.  His cock was further
in my mouth than before and it took some adjusting to this without gagging
or choking.  I tried to shake it out but he held me tightly and I simply
held onto his trouser front for dear life as he fucked and stroked his huge
cock into my mouth.  Then all of a sudden he groaned loudly and came; I
know now it dribbled in globs, not the classical spurts I had heard about
from my friends when we talked of such things in giggles and whispers.  He
wrung the globs out with loud groans each time and I saw his hand sort of
milk his cock.  The semen filled my mouth quickly and I tried to pull away
again.  He held me firm and some of it dribbled, overflowed out of my lips.
I also swallowed some involuntarily and started to gag and cough and
splutter.  I finally shook free of him but he had finished anyway and I
coughed a lot out over his pants and it dribbled down my chin and onto my
sweat top.
   After we composed ourselves I sat there overcome by the experience and
started to sob.  He looked at the semen on his pants and started to scowl
until he realized I was sobbing.  Not crying or wailing, just sort of
convulsing and my eyes were quite dry.  It was the release, and relief of
the whole incident.  It was more of an emotional release than crying in
hurt or pain.  He looked frightened and run his thumb over my chin asking
if I was alright.  He realized there was a considerable amount of semen on
my face and also dark spots where it had already soaked into my sweatshirt
material.  He put his penis away and quickly zipped himself up.  He walked
to his desk and returned with a box of Kleenex and started to clean my
face. Then he told me to stay put and left the room (we had these lessons
in his house) and soon he returned with a moist facecloth and lanolin
soaked towelette.  He wiped my face and hands, which also had semen on
them, and made a few cursory dabs at the sweatshirt where the semen had
landed.  He was never going to clean that with the face cloth.
   It was about 15 minutes until the lesson end.  He sat on a chair and
looked at me for a minute.  Then he came over and started talking about how
I would make a good piano player if I practiced hard and pleased him.  I
was sitting on the form and he patted my arm and smiled as he talked to me.
He said that this was our secret and it would ensure I got all the tuition
I needed to pass the exams.  I nodded my agreement.  I knew what he meant
without him spelling it out.  I had thought about boys, penises and had a
rudimentary knowledge of sex in the form of preparation my mother had given
me for my period when it when it finally arrived.  And I knew about sexual
behavior including blowjobs.  But I had never really understood the
significance sexually despite my friends joking about it and other sexual
nuances they had gleaned from movies, books or older brothers and sisters.
Truthfully I was all appearance and no substance with my sexuality. 
Basically I was too young and closeted to really know about much.
   I did not realize until afterwards but in essence it did sit more
comfortably with me, now he had backed off me and I could study him and
reflect on what had happened.  Truthfully I wanted to see his penis again;
to hold it, and yes, to suck it at my instigation.  I wanted to understand
the power of his emotions when he came.  To handle it better.  I knew I
could.  The fear had dissipated quickly once I was settled at sucking him;
and then returned with the frantic nature of his ejaculation.  I realized
that.  That was all I had to contain.  To manage myself better when he
came. And I knew for a short time during the incident that I was in control
- without realizing it at first.  But I came to realize that I could be in
control to some extent, judging by the way he abandoned himself to what I
was inflicting on him.  I had what he wanted - what I could give.  And he
knew the consequence of disclosure.  After all, I was a minor.  He had
molested me.
   Eventually lesson time was up.  He looked at the sweat top once more and
the semen splashes were now not so visible, unless under real searching
scrutiny.  It was a charcoal color so hard to see from a normal distance or
personal space closeness, even when the drops were fresh.  He was satisfied
I looked just as I arrived, and bid me good evening.  I went outside and my
mother was in the car waiting.  She smiled and asked me how it went.  I
grinned at her and said I thought I was going to be just fine and Mr. 
Robbins had said I would probably pass.  On the drive home she noticed a
faint smile on my face.
   "Well you really must have hit it off with Mr.  Robbins.  I hear he is
somewhat of an ogre" she laughed.
   "No mom" I replied, "we boys get on just fine with him".  She laughed
and then a quizzical look came over her face as she digested my words.  I
smiled and looked straight ahead.  Practice on Friday.  I can't wait.  Wear
blue jeans and a sweatshirt and do my tomboy thing.  I would dress for the
lesson.
   The End
   (C) 2004 Romany.  Protected by copyright law.  Please do not copy, edit,
amend or post this on any website without the author's permission.
   
  
The Musical Prodigy