To be honest, as a Chinese, I never used to like the Japanese. In fact it would be closer to the truth to say I hated them. I think this has a lot to do with what happened to us in WWII, there was a lot of bad blood and horror stories of Japanese atrocities perpetrated against the Chinese populace. It was not until I was in Uni. that I began to see Japanese as they are now. Young Japanese not only not the manifestation of evil as they were fifty years ago, but Japanese ignorant of what even transpired in WWII, thanks to the rewriting of history by their government.
That’s all sociology of course. The short of it is that I made friends with a Japanese lady 4 years older than my 22 years. I first saw Hitomi when she was playing at a Uni. concert, and I was totally blown away. Looking at her from behind, lithe and wasp-waisted, and hearing her beautiful music, I knew that I wanted to know her as a friend at least. As it turned out I was even luckier. She heard that I was trying to relearn the piano and offered to tutor me every evening in her apartment.
Hitomi looked totally conservative, wearing glasses and a full dress complete with long flowing skirt. Her hair was long and black, almost as silky as our Asian women’s are. Her clothing were of the sort that tended to flatten out a prim lady’s curves, yet even under that exterior it was not difficult to make out the lovely shape of her ass and the hint of the globes on her chest. But her slender, tapered pianist’s fingers, moving as dexterously as they did across the keyboard over which she was mistress, were what was most seductive about her, and when we first shook hands, I was electrified at the feel of them.
It so happened that one evening, Hitomi was giving me tuition on a powerful piece I had never been able to get right. “No feeling!” she was complaining from time to time. “No expression when you play!” She was very helpful and enthusiastic as usual but that evening, I felt something I never had before. I guess that it must have been the perfume she was wearing that was sending very unacademic messages to my brain, which in turn were sending equally unacademic impulses to my cock. At one point, she leant over to guide my hands on the keyboard and I felt her boobs press against my back. Not knowing how to take it, I thought I would just try my luck and pushed back. To my surprise, Hitomi continued encircling my arms and pressing the keys on the piano. I could already feel my cock erecting and looking at those slender hands, I wondered if she could use them as delicately and expertly drumming on another organ. That lewd thought sent my cock all the way up as it tented and strained against my shorts. I was still playing but understandably it was getting off key real fast. In frustration, Hitomi, hands still around my shoulders, straddled me from behind, to better position my hands! It was amazing, her two thighs straddling my hips, her boobs against my back, and her fingers guiding mine, and I was still trying to render my music to completion!
I was still playing away when she seemed satisfied and removed her hands. I could remember actually thinking that perhaps the whole incident was perfectly innocent. That is, until her hands now encircled my waist, and then slid down smoothly to my crotch, touching the bulge on the front of my shorts. Then, with a speed and fluidity that surprised me, she had my erection out. The feeling of those slender, silky fingers caressing my penis were everything I’d ever dreamed and nearly caused me to shoot my load then and there, but she was stern.
“Put more feeling into your playing! I don’t want you to stop playing! Let your passion and emotion carry through!” I couldn’t believe that this whole thing was happening just for the purpose of my improvement. But I did know that if I stopped so would she. So on I played.
She stroked my penis expertly to the cadence of the piece with finesse and skill. When it was legato, she stroked softly, slowly, and gently. When it was allegro, she was lighter and quicker. A million things were going on in my mind, not least of which was the fact that I felt my masturbation rising to a crescendo in time to the piece. I began to moan but she spat “Shut up! Don’t spoil it!” The music reached a presto and she picked up her speed. It hit prestissimo and she rubbed frantically. I had never played so expressively in my life, and now, as the music was coming to an end, so was the build up in my stimulation . Finally, when the piece ended with a fortissimo, a final hard jerk from those delicate hands caused my sperm to spurt out in sharp, thick gouts, spewing onto the keyboard of her grand piano, and when she moved her hands to caress the head of my cock, onto those slender, tapering hands. I could hear Hitomi crying out in joy as her legs squeezed my hips on an off. I shot load after load in a climax I could not believe, and covered those beautiful pianist’s hands in a white mess of sticky goo. With a groan I collapsed over the keyboard, Hitomi slumping across my back, arms encircling and clutching my chest, and the wetness from her organ percolating through her skirt and the back of my pants.
As the discordant note of our crash onto the keyboard faded away, and as we both regained our breath, I felt Hitomi pull away from me. I turned around but she stopped me. “No. That was very beautiful playing, but now we must do it without looking. ” “H-How?” I managed to stammer. “Practice.” she smiled.
I knew that I could play the piano without looking (God knows I’ve tried that piece over and over again to know it well!) , but it was a force of habit that made me keep wanting to look down at the keyboard. Hitomi stood up and came around to sit next to me. Lifting her long skirt, she wiped the goo from the keyboard. But after that, she did not let it fall, instead hitching it up all the way to her hips. I gasped. She was not wearing panties, and that hairy bush stared up at me proudly and challengingly. “Get off.” I did so, and she began playing.
I had been proud of my own rendering of the same piece just moments before, but Hitomi’s playing was light years ahead of mine. Her fingers danced and flitted everywhere, improvising and embellishing as she went. It was an amazing sight to behold, and the music flowed beautifully.
It was clear that Hitomi was on a high, and that her passion was infusing the music and vice versa. As she played, she began to cross and uncross her legs, massaging her own cunt and stimulating her clitoris. And then, I did something that was truly a mark of inspiration. I sank down on the floor, then edged around to the front to squeeze in between Hitomi’s legs and the body of the piano. I could just fit. My head was at the same level of her slit, and grabbing her knees, I spread her legs open and thrust my face into her mound.
She gave a gasp of surprise but never lost stride. She played harder and more expressively as I tongued her clit faster and faster. Her face was suffused with emotion, mostly joy and rapture, and she orgasmed several times as she neared the end. I gave it everything I could think to do. I licked, sucked, nibbled and rubbed her clitoris, her labia and her hole. I plunged my finger in and out as the music rose and fell. I varied the speed of my tongue and my fingers to the flow of the music just as she had done. I had my tongue on her clit and two fingers thrusting in and out of her vagina as she neared her finish. And finally, as she hit the last note, I corkscrewed one finger up her arsehole. She screamed. I felt a gush of her liquid all over my face, and she continued thrusting her hips back and forth as she climaxed one final time. Her groans were beautiful to hear, and her grunts sexy in the extreme, considering that this was a highly cultured, accomplished and educated lady who had lost control to my own virtuoso ministrations. Finally, she collapsed sideways on the bench, her breathing ragged and interspersed with sibilant moans.
I leant forward and, for the first time, kissed her on her lips. Her eyes flew open and she looked at me doe-eyed. She did not resist however and I encircled my arms around her and pulled her into sitting. We continued our kissing and mutual oral exploration. After five minutes of this, she broke away.
“Sit on the stool.” She said. I could not believe that she was going to go through the entire lesson still. I did as I was told though. She came around front and then said ,”Remove your clothes.” I did so in a hurry and sat back down. “I want you to just feel. There is just you, your passion and the music. Nothing else.” I sat there naked, arms poised over the keyboard and cock limp and wet, but not for long.
She began to strip. Hitomi first loosened her belt, then after unfastening a zipper at the back, she dropped her skirt. I began to breathe heavily. Her hip to waist proportion was everything I had dreamed. She then went to her blouse and slowly undid the buttons. As she did so, her breasts began to round out from the release of the pressure, and when they finally burst free, I gasped. She was braless, her breasts round and globular, comparatively sized with that of any Caucasian woman. I was mesmerised. She lifted her breasts with each hand, fingers delicately drumming and playing on and across her nipples until they were proud and hard, and then dropped them again.
And then, facing me, she said, ” I want you to give your best performance ever.” So saying, she lifted each leg, and then planted it over the seat, straddling either side of my own. My cock was bobbing and twitching and when she grasped it with her fair hands, it was as if an electric jolt jarred me from languescence. She half squatted, then brushed my glans against the folds of her dripping labia. Involuntarily my hands went up towards her bombs and began to massage them. They swelled with the influx of blood and her nipples became even harder and sharper. Then, going on tiptoe, she positioned the tip of my penis directly under her entrance and, with a sigh, sank down on my shaft. She began to pump my tool with her cuntal muscles, her eyes closed, and when she felt that my cock was at its hardest, she said, “Now. Play for me.” Looking directly into her eyes and not able to see the keys, I began to play.
It was the best rendition I have ever done that piece, even now included. I began playing and Hitomi moved gently, at first imperceptibly and then more obviously. She was obviously at one with the music, and as she bobbed up and down on my cock, I could feel myself getting caught up in the moment. I felt only a sense of euphoria and accomplishment as I played flawlessly. Her breathing grew more ragged, her face more flushed, and she began moaning. I could do nothing other than play on and try to thrust into her as best I could. Hitomi kept riding me, her movements becoming more frantic and desperate. She was like a conductor, working her magic and directing the music with her body instead of a baton. As she sped up her movements and began to groan, her boobs bounced and jiggled more and more. Looking at their fluid motion, I was hypnotised as my fingers continued with a mind of their own. As her passion mounted, and the playing progressed toward its final stages, she grabbed hold of her boobs and began to massage them as if pumping them for milk. She raised then up and instinctively I began to suck on first one, then the other. The nearer to the end I got, the harder I sucked. Finally, as I executed the final stroke, she began to cry out loud, and I could feel her juices forcing their way out. My own orgasm was at hand and as she twitched spasmodically on my cock, I encircled her waist, buried my face in her cleavage, and voiced my own orgasm into that valley as I felt jet after jet of cum spurt into her convulsing vagina.
As our mutual jerks and twitches subsided, we drifted off into sleep.
I have improved my playing since then. But I find that I still render my best performances behind closed doors and out of sight of my audience.