ALL OVER THE KEYS

I use to ride you well past the point of no return. I would bounce on that dick until you lost the ability to speak. I would caress your balls with my feet as I rode, fucking all the life out of you. You would buck and shake beneath me, spitting buckets of your warm jizz up into my syrupy cove.

Afterward, I liked to tiptoe down into your basement, buck fucking naked, and play your piano while you slept. There was something about the cold wood of the bench on my bare bottom, and the white of the ivory keys submitting to my every press, that soothed my soul like smoking a cigarette.

Sometimes when you came inside me like that, I would let it pour out of me right there onto the piano bench, and spill onto the floor as I relaxed my muscles into the chords, and forgot about what it all meant. 

You didn’t know it, but I always knew you were watching me, standing back there in the doorway behind me, your beefy pecker just hanging there, throbbing.

You would sneak up behind me and wrap my long brown hair around your shaft and balls as you stroked. You used to love the way it smelled. I would let you slide your cock against my neck, and massage the back of my head with it, while I practiced my fingering, trying to string together a melody.

Soon you’d sit next to me on the bench, and begin to play so beautifully it would often bring tears to my eyes. I was swept in among the notes, my head on your shoulder, my hand drifting across your lap, finding your engorged piston impossible to let go of.

As you blended the chords I rocked my grip up and down, jacking you off just the way you liked it.

Your mouth was open.

Your eyes were closed.

It wouldn’t be long before you would explode all over the keys.

Fuck.

I was going to have to sit on it.

If you think about it, it really was the only way.