First period on Monday, Sherry saw me. “I heard that you had a wild weekend.”
“Who told you that?” I asked, innocently.
“Oh, a little birdie,” Sherry said, sweetly.
“June is looking like it will be a lovely month,” I said, dreamily.
Sherry blushed in response. I knew that the rumor mill was running at normal speed, which was faster than humanly possible.
I was happy. Operation Unsaint Jim was underway.
I ditched lunch and stayed in the music room. Mr. Proilet asked if I was working on a special project, and I nodded. He smiled at me, and asked me to lock up when I left.
I waited a few moments, but June didn’t arrive. I was disappointed, and decided to check out the practice rooms at the other end of the room. I hadn’t played a note the past weekend, and it couldn’t hurt to keep the fingers in shape.
There was a light on in one of the rooms when I opened the door. Inside, I found a totally naked cheerleader with chocolate-brown skin.
“June!” I exclaimed, surprised. “How long have you been here?”
“Since second period,” June answered. “I told your teacher that you left some music in one of the practice rooms. I’m not sure if he knows whether I left or not. I kept thinking that somebody would come in—I felt very naughty.”
“Practice rooms are usually used during fifth and sixth period during Music Theory classes.”
“I heard the band playing last period. I… I was playing with myself, knowing you were in the room. I reached a loud orgasm. I don’t think anybody heard me, but I felt very nasty!”
I wonder how much Mr. Proilet heard about last weekend. I knew that June’s name was mentioned, and Mr. Proilet, one of the younger teachers, seemed to be pretty much attuned to what the kids were saying.
I decided that there were worse things to worry about than what Mr. Proilet thought. After all, he cut me quite a lot of slack, and if he heard my name linked with June, and knew that June was inside the practice room, then it was obvious that he let me alone in the music room, so I knew he wasn’t going to try to bust me.
Still, I felt the wickedness that June described.
I pulled my pants down, and sat on the piano bench. I signaled June to come over, and she was surprised when I lifted her up and placed her on my lap. My cock was sticking up between her legs.
June looked down between her legs. “It’s as if I have my own penis!”
“Well, it’s yours only temporary. I’ve become attached to it.”
June laughed, but continued staring. “It’s like… weird!”
I moved my hands to cup June’s breasts and I felt her body shiver at my touch.
I kissed June’s ears, and then moved my hands from her breasts to the ivory keys in front of her.
This was one of my fantasies, although I never played it out with Kristen.
My hands played the opening chords that was the introduction to Elton John’s ”Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road.”
I softly sung the song lyrics in June’s ear as I accompanied myself on piano. I could feel June grinding her crotch against my pubic hair, and I could feel her excitement start to build as I caressed her body with my arms as I continued to play the song and sing in her ear.
When the song was complete, I resumed kissing June’s ear.
“That’s a lovely song, but it’s also sad song, isn’t it?” June asked.
“Yes,” I said, having progressed to licking inside June’s ear.
“What’s it about?” June asked.
“A guy is leaving his rich mistress. However, some of the words are vague, and it could also be that he’s leaving his male lover. Looking at it another way, it’s also a song of escape.”
“Ooh, a nasty song!” June said, her wiggling on my crotch getting more pronounced.
My fingers were back on June’s breasts. Her nipples were about as hard as I ever felt them. I sighed as I remembered the feel of slippery soap over those nipples. Kristen was to blame for this particular fondness I now had.
June’s orgasm wasn’t very loud, nor was it very big. However, June seemed quite content when it finished washing over her.
“How do you do it?” June asked, breathlessly.
“I just do what comes naturally,” I said.
“On four occasions, I’ve been with you. I’ve received eight orgasms. And each time, it’s been different. You lick me, you rub my body, you touch me between my legs, you have me hump your cock. How do you do it?”
“You inspire me to new heights, June.”
“That can’t be it,” June said.
“You do, June. How do you do it? You enter a practice room and remove all your clothes. You wait two periods, not knowing if anybody will look in before I do.”
“I couldn’t have done it if last weekend hadn’t happened.”
I laughed. “I didn’t do anything, June. You are doing it yourself. I’m just hanging on for the ride!”
June rotated herself on my lap so that she was facing me with my cock aligned with the crack on her ass. She moved her legs until they were wrapped around my hips. Her arms pulled her body close to mine. Her nipples rubbed into my breasts. “Kiss me, Jim!”
I did. June started grinding against me once more. It took about ten minutes, but she reached another pleasant orgasm.
“I like it this way,” June said. “Archy and I never did it that way.”
“Archy never had a nasty girl in bed with him.”
“Yeah. Cunt Whore is pretty nasty, huh?” June teased.
The clock in the practice room showed me there was still some more time. I once again started to play a song, but when June realized what I was doing, she rotated around again so she could “participate.”
I played a song that I only tried to play a few times. I liked the song when it was a hit, and did an arrangement for piano for it, but there was never any inspiration for me to actually perform it—until today.
I sang the song softly, using the piano only to play arpeggios, the way that the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band played the song on acoustic guitars.
June didn’t say a word during the song. I knew that it affected her, but she didn’t say anything. Her grinding was minimal during that song, which surprised me.
When the song ended, June still said nothing at all, but turned around, hugged me, and cried.
I hadn’t expected this reaction from her. I hugged her back, confused.
After a very long kiss, June broke it off and looked at me.
“I have another request for you, Oogie.”
“Yes?”
“On the day that we get married, could you play that song for Archy and me? I would love that song to be our wedding song.”
“It’s not a romantic song, June,” I pointed out.