From the time I was seven years old, I played the piano. Until I went away to college, I had local piano teachers and went to their homes for lessons. When I entered high school, we moved across town, and as luck would have it, we moved next door to the best piano teacher in town. It wasn’t long before I was signed up to take weekly lessons from Mrs. Simmons. Carol was beautiful. In her early 40’s, she was a mature beauty. She had flowing brunette hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a smile that could warm any heart. She was petite, probably 5‘4“. She had perky breasts, always carefully hidden away behind a blouse and bra. Mind you, it never stopped me from fantasizing about her, but I never thought in my wildest dreams that I’d ever be able to cop a glance inside her blouse, much less gaze upon her beautiful body. She was, after all, a happily married woman. I often thought what a lucky guy Mr. Simmons was to have such an incredible lady for a wife. He was athletic, outgoing, but spent little time around home, working late often, and traveling several times a month. Mrs. Simmons dressed well, usually wearing a dress or slacks with a nice blouse when students called for piano lessons. Her perfume was sweet and clean smelling, like heaven. When she worked in the yard, she looked amazing in a ball cap, blouse and jeans. She was so nice, so sincere, so genuine, she seemed to me to be the All-American girl, grown up. I dreamed of marrying someone like her. From the time I first met her, I was smitten - dreaming about her. Week in and week out, I’d come over for piano lessons on Tuesday afternoons. For four years, until I went away to college, I continued to take lessons Mrs. Simmons. During those years, I got to know her well, as a student gets to know a teacher. She was kind, caring, and really looked out for the welfare of her students. I always practiced hard so I could impress her. I loved to hear her say, “Well done, Jimmy, you’ve practiced hard and it shows.” Just before I left for college, after my eighteenth birthday, I stopped by to say goodbye to Mrs. Simmons. She told me what a delight it had been to see me grow as a pianist over the years, and she said, “When you come back home for the summer, please come play for me and we can continue lessons until you go back to school.” During my first year at college I often thought of what it would be like to hold her, to press my lips against hers, and to lose myself in passion with her. Many a night when perusing Penthouse and Hustler I was fantasizing about her, dreaming about her firm body, longing for her as any young man longs for a forbidden woman. My first year of music school went quickly. But my love life had not yet gotten on track. You see, headed towards my sophomore year of college, I was still a virgin. And yes, I still fantasized about Mrs. Simmons. I was more excited to see her than my family when I came home for the summer. I saw her working in the yard when I came home in late May. I waved as I got out of the car, and to my surprise, she ran over to me, giddy like a schoolgirl, gave me a kiss on the cheek threw her arms around me. She was more stunning than I had remembered. I wondered how someone could age so gracefully. As she hugged me she pressed tight against me. I could feel her breasts up against my chest as she squeezed me. She let go of the embrace just as I felt my cock beginning to awaken within me. Seeming not to notice, she grabbed both of my hands and said, “I can’t wait to hear you play for me. Give me a half hour to clean up - I’ve been working in the yard all afternoon, I need to grab a quick shower. Meet me in thirty minutes - I want to hear you play.” With that she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, looked into my eyes, smiled, and ran toward her house. I hurried inside carrying a suitcase in front of me so nobody would see the now growing bulge in my pants. The next thirty minutes seemed an eternity. The thought that Mrs. Simmons was nude in her shower made me crazy with desire. I went to my bedroom and jacked off for a few minutes, but didn’t bring myself to climax. I knew I had to contain myself, after all, she was a happily married woman, and I had to play the piano for her. I practiced an etude, tucked my music folio under my arm and headed over to her house. I let myself in the back door of her house as I always did. Up the stairs, I went to the piano. There was a note on the piano. In the shower, warm up with some scales and I‘ll be right out, Carol. She always called herself Mrs. Simmons before, but I figured since I was nearly 19, she used her first name. It made me feel important. I started to warm up with some scales. When she heard me playing, she called from the bathroom. “Jimmy, is that you?” “Yes, Ma'am, I let myself in.” “Come on back,” she said, “I’m in the bedroom, I want you to tell me everything about college.” I figured she was clothed by now, and just drying her hair, so I went back towards her bedroom. When I got there, I saw her clean clothes neatly laid out on the bed. Blouse, pants, bra, and panties. I felt a twinge in my crotch as I realized she wasn’t dressed yet. She heard me enter the bedroom. “Back here in the bathroom, hun.” I walked in and saw her wearing a yellow towel. She was facing the large mirror above the sink. Our eyes met in the mirror. She had wrapped the towel around her and tucked in just under her right arm. Her shoulders and arms were exposed, the yellow towel covered everything from her breasts to her knees. I could see a hint of cleavage where the towel enveloped her breasts. I quickly looked away, dying to gawk, but at the same time, not wanting to get caught staring. As I turned my gaze away from the mirror, I caught her full side view. She was still looking in the mirror and picked up her hairbrush. The seam formed from wrapping the towel around her ran from just above her right breast down to her right knee. But right at the knee, the seam was beginning to unwrap a bit - about two inches, like a slit skirt, so I could see two inches up the side of her leg by her knee. I stared at her leg - entranced by the curve of the calf up to the knee, then quickly looked to the mirror again, hoping she wouldn’t notice my glance and become angry. I immediately felt my dick begin to harden in my jeans. Walking into the bedroom, my limp member had been hanging down, so with the rising of the soldier, I knew the bulge was going to become obvious. She was brushing her shoulder-length hair, which was wet from her shower. She put me at ease as I looked at her in the mirror again. “I hope you’re not uncomfortable to see me in a towel. It’s just been so long since we’ve talked, I couldn’t wait to catch up. You’re okay with me in a towel, right?” She continued brushing her hair. “Great!” I said, my voice cracking like a young teen. She laughed, “I guess so.” As she continued to brush her hair, it seemed that the towel unwrapped a little bit more with each stroke. Now, because the towel was slowly peeling away at the bottom, I could see about six inches above her knee. Another brush stroke, eight inches - now I could see her bare waist from the side. I thought, “Her towel is slowly unwrapping, it’s going to fall off.” I was terrified and exhilarated at the same time. All the while she was talking to me, but I wasn’t hearing a word. I was staring at her side. More movement, the towel kept creeping open on it’s way up her side. Soon the only thing holding it was the part she had tucked in under her arm. My cock was trying to stand at attention, but in its precarious position, it was making a huge lump in front of my jeans. I tried to cover the bulge nonchalantly with my hand so she wouldn’t notice. But it became clear that she was aware of the growing situation. She said, “You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said have you?” Just then she was putting a barrette in her hair, both arms extended behind her head. I fumbled for the words to say, and then in one glorious instant, it happened. With her arms up, the towel came loose and fell to the ground. I looked at the side view of her body, and then quickly shifted my gaze to the mirror. In the mirror, I got the full straight-on view. Damn, she was amazing! Her breasts were beautiful. She had half-dollar sized pink nipples that pointed upward. The breasts were small, not much more than a handful, but firm and perfect. She had a flat stomach, my eyes traveled downward - a very slight cuddly bulge at the waist, and my eyes feasted on her snatch. That brunette triangle was neatly trimmed with just enough hair below to cover the precious folds of her pussy lips. My dick was bursting at the seams, trying to stand upright but caught in my jeans at half-mast, bulging like a sausage, and straining to stand upright. As I stared intently at her pubic region, I could almost make out her clitoris through the hair. If I was seeing things right, she had a meaty pussy, clit and lips together making a wad of waiting delight. I was completely transfixed. It was the first time I had been with a naked woman in my life, and it was the woman of my wet dreams. I have no idea how long I stared, it seemed like time stood still as I drank in the beauty of the sight before me. Without thinking, I bent over a bit to reposition my cock. One swift move of my hand, and I repositioned it to where it was standing fully upward at attention, still harnessed inside jeans. Still gazing in the mirror, she turned and faced me. I turned and faced her. Our eyes met. I was afraid she’d be angry. But I’ll never forget the look on her face. She had that smile I’d seen so many times. Beaming. She broke the silence. “If we weren’t such good friends, I’d be really embarrassed right now.” Then she said, “But I’m sure you’ve seen lots of naked women in your life.” “No Ma’am,” I said, “Never. Well, I’ve seen lots of naked women in magazines. But I’ve never seen one in person.” She looked surprised. “Really? You’ve never seen a naked woman in person before?” “No Ma’am.” “A good looking guy like you?” “No Ma’am. Mrs. Simmons, please forgive me for staring, but I’ve dreamt about this moment for years.” I just couldn’t get enough of the sight. I ached to see every inch of her body. “Well, actually, I’m flattered, and kind of happy this happened. You see, Mr. Simmons doesn’t pay much attention to me anymore. He’s too busy traveling. In fact, he’s been out of town for a week and he just phoned today to say he’s going straight on to Denver and will be gone another week. I was so ready for him to be home tonight, and now I’ll be lonely for another week.” “How could he neglect you?” I asked incredulously, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Then she said something I’ll never forget as long as I live. “How would you like a different kind of lesson today?” She took my right hand with both of her hands and slowly moved it toward her left breast. I nodded. “You see,” she said, “those magazines show you what a breast looks like, but they don’t allow you to experience what a breast feels like.” She placed my hand on her left breast. I cupped it with my hand, and laid my thumb upon her now erect nipple. I just stared at my hand, using my thumb to slowly, gently circle her nipple as I cupped her breast with my hand. The nipple responded to my touch, and in that moment, I felt as though electricity was flowing through my body. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my dick was actually beginning to throb. And I was surprised when she, let out a low moan. She turned her back to the bathroom counter and jumped up to sit on it. I never lost position, still caressing her nipple with my thumb and leaning slightly forward to look directly at that beautifully shaped breast. Again she broke the silence. “What are you looking at?” she asked. I smiled and said sarcastically, “my thumb.” She put both hands behind my head and pulled my face towards hers. She leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “then you wanna suck your thumb?” I thought I was going to cream my jeans at that moment. That was all the invitation I needed. I cupped that breast with both hands, leaned forward and kissed her nipple. “Lick it” she said, leaning in. I was completely inexperienced, but she guided me. I flicked the tip of her nipple with my tongue, then gently took that nub between my teeth and pulled slightly back, putting pressure upon the nipple. She moaned, “Oh yes, nibble on my titties.” She leaned back against the mirror, and instinctively spread her legs. I pressed both breasts together and began to run my tongue back and forth from one orb to the other. I ran figure eights around her nipples with my tongue, stopping to gently circle the nipple at each pass. She was moving rhythmically with my tongue. From my vantage point, looking down, I could see her legs were spread, sitting on the counter. I’d seen many a pussy in a magazine, but I wondered what a real pussy felt like. I had to find out. I took my left hand from her breast and began to slowly move it down her right side. I focused the attention of my mouth on her left breast, but my left hand moved down her right side to the countertop. Then I traced the outside of her leg to the knee. I rounded the knee and began to slowly work my way up her inner thigh. The feel of her thigh sent shock waves through my body. So soft, so smooth, so … private. And yet she spread her legs farther apart, encouraging my movement toward that garden of delight. I moved my hand closer to her pussy, still tracing the inside of her leg. I reached the innermost part of her thigh and felt her pubic hair against the pinky of my left hand. She moaned. I moaned. I took my lips off of her breast and began to bend down to see that cunt that I had dreamed about so many times. I got on my knees bringing my eyes into a direct line of sight with her pussy. She scooted forward to the front of the countertop, bringing her wonderful snatch within inches of my face. And for the first time in my life, I smelled the fragrant aroma of a woman. It was intoxicating. Without having touched her pussy yet, her clitoris and lips were swollen and visibly moist. She spread her legs farther apart and placed her hands at the base of her inner thighs. Putting an index finger on either side of her pussy, she slowly spread them apart, causing her pussy lips to open to my gaze. I took my left hand from under hers, and with trembling movement, touched my index finger to her now engorged clit. With her holding her pussy open, I traced with my index finger around the clit, down the outside of her pussy wall, around to the other side and up to the clit again. Every part of my finger that had traced her pussy was now wet and I could see pussy juice beginning to seep from her pussy and heading towards the crack of her ass. I traced my finger around her wet snatch again wanting to feel that love juice on my finger. The feel of her wetness on my finger was not what I had expected. It was so much better. The pussy juice was hot, wet, and slick. I traced my finger, now facing upward from the crack of her ass to the base of her pussy. There was more than enough juice for one finger, so I put my index finger and middle finger together to explore the fine nectar. As both fingertips, drenched with love dew reached the base of her pussy, she clasped my hand with both of hers and with one swift move, shoved both fingers to the hilt inside her tunnel of love. She squealed, my fingers were in ecstasy, deep within her pussy. Slowly, she began to squeeze my fingers with the muscles of her pussy. Words cannot express the feeling of her warmth, wetness, and pulsating muscles against my fingers. Slowly I began to move my fingers in tandem in and out of her pussy. In and out, in and out. On one pass, I took my fingers completely out, a string of nectar following them out of her love box. My fingers were glistening with the juice. I massaged her clit, stuck the fingers in, massaged the clit, all the while staring at my fingers. The smell of her pussy was so delicious, I just had to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. As I massaged her clit, I looked up at her and said, “Aren‘t you going to ask what I‘m staring at?” She grinned. “What are you staring at?” “My fingers.” She hesitated. “Well?” I said in anticipation … She said, “My husband has never licked me down there. He hates the smell.” “What is wrong with that guy? You smell incredible, it’s the most amazing scent I’ve ever smelled.” “But it’s so wet,” she protested, “won’t that disgust you?” “That’s what’s making me so crazy! I wanna stick my tongue deep inside you and lick every drop. Please, Mrs. Simmons, invite me to feast on your pussy.” “Go …” she moaned. She was still holding her pussy open, so I began to lick her clit and dart my tongue inside her glistening snatch. In, out and around, in out, and around. The taste was incredible, like nothing I’ve ever dreamed. I put my whole mouth on her pussy and began to suck on her clit while lashing her with my tongue - slathering around the surface and into her pussy again. My fingers, still glistening with her slick juices found their way to her breast while I licked her cunt. I rubbed her slick pussy juices on her nipple and squeezed. “Oh my, Oh, Oh,” she screamed. Then she started to cum. She clasped her legs around my head, shouting, “don’t stop, don’t stop, lick me, suck me, don’t stop.” At that moment, my dick, still in my jeans, exploded. I came all over the inside of my briefs… Now speaking of brief, this story is far from it. I have much more to tell of this amazing day, but I’ll break at this point. If you want to hear the rest of my piano lesson, let me know with your comments ...