Serena and the Flutist

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(This story takes place shortly after the previous Serena story “A Night at the Symphony”. Some familiarity with Serena from the previous stories might help move the story along.)

I was absolutely right. She did fit right in my lap. I thought she would, so that wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise though was that she seemed to be a mighty aggressive woman who was both femme and barely five feet tall.

Her name was Nan. I had met her after a concert by the city’s Symphony Orchestra, where she occupied the position of first flute. I had enjoyed a solo performance she had done as well as meeting her after the concert and having a very pleasant chat. It was only after I got home that night that I discovered she had slipped me her name and phone number.

I had called and invited her to dinner at a favorite restaurant. She had accepted and we had met there as we lived on opposite ends of the city. For the occasion I had dressed up, well, for me anyway. The first time she had seen me I was wearing my tux. I didn’t go that far but I did wear nice slacks and a white men’s shirt and foreswore my usual sandals or work boots for black athletic shoes.

Nan looked like a little doll, good enough to eat. She wore a simple black skirt with a white blouse. Instead of heels she wore flats, showing that she felt just fine with her five foot nothing height. She was bare-legged and those legs were as cute and well-formed as I had thought they would be. I just hoped they would be long enough to wrap around my waist later.

We had a good time at dinner, and not just because I was thinking how I could position that small attractive body to best advantage. I like my women intelligent and full of conversation. Nan was both. We talked music, of course, something she loved in all forms, from the classical music she performed to Dixie-land jazz, early rock-and-roll and modern country. She poured forth her thoughts with a passion as only someone who loves an art form can. She also listened to my thoughts on my favorite music and accepted happily my repeated compliments on her skill with her flute.

From there the conversation ranged all over. We talked dance, the theatre, art, even politics. We barely paused for the food and a smiling young waitress finally left a full, and open, bottle of wine for us to refill our glasses from as the night went on. We closed the restaurant and kept talking even as the door locked behind us.

The night was warm and we were in no hurry. We had both taken cabs so there were no cars to worry about as we walked the old streets towards my shop/apartment. It took time, but it was well spent. Nan also had a keen appreciation of the Colonial architecture and the history behind the old part of the city.

Off and on during out walk, our hands brushed. Sometimes we walked close together, sometimes my sexy little date would almost dance ahead in her eagerness, and then lag behind to look intently at something. As much as I wanted to wrap her up in my arms, I was just enjoying her company too much to break the spell by any type of pass at all.

Once we arrived at my place Nan had to explore my shop. She darted from place to place, now looking at my metal sculptures, now studying my offerings of Sapphic poetry. She looked at me and said “This is WONDERFUL.” Her enthusiasm was infectious and without thinking I scooped her up in a tight hug and kissed her.

“Thank you.”

She kissed me back. “You’re welcome. Now, where’s this loft you’ve been telling me all about?”

Now I know when to lead the way upstairs, görükle escort since my loft is my living area and, more importantly, my bedroom. Once upstairs I poured us two glasses of wine, which we sipped as I gave her a quick tour. It didn’t take long. There was one moment of silence, which she broke before it could become awkward. Taking my wine glass from my hand, Nan, her eyes twinkling pushed me gently towards a chair near my bed and commanded me to sit.

As soon as I did, she hopped sideways into my lap. Her legs stretched and she kicked off her shoes. She took one last sip of wine, quickly leaned over and set the now empty glass beside the chair, holding on to me with her other hand on the back of my neck. Sitting back up, that hand pulled my face towards her and she kissed me. When my mouth opened to hers, she let the wine she held in her mouth trickle into mine. That wine was cool, and yet warm, and tasted of her and of fruit.

While we were kissing I felt her fingers at my shirt front. There was no doubt that she had done this before because it took her only moments to unfasten all the buttons right down to my slacks. Then her hands were pushing my shirt back off my shoulders and she broke off our kiss and lowered her mouth. Teeth took the top of my bra cup and insistently pulled it down until my breast came free. Then they shifted and a warm mouth slid over my nipple and then the rest of my orb.

I squirmed, even as those nimble fingers plucked my bra from my other breast and commenced to roll, tease and even lightly pinch my other nipple. It had been a long time since anyone had paid such rapt attention to my breasts and I was reveling in it. Her mouth caressed my skin and her tongue matched her fingers in bringing my nipples to a hardness that I had not felt in ages.

I don’t know why when I have sex that almost always I provide all the fore-play. Perhaps its a butch thing, perhaps its a need to be in control. Whatever it is, the petite woman in my lap was changing my views. She darted back and forth from one breast to the over. She would plunge her face between them, then slide her head down so she could lick under them and even kiss the top of my tummy. Then she was pushing my breasts together so she could go back and forth from one dark chocolate nipple to the other. She licked, she kissed, I even felt her teeth scraping my nubbins.

I was enjoying the attention so much I grunted in protest when she stopped her treatment of my breasts and kissed lower. “Stand up please,” she whispered, as she slid completely off my lap to kneel in front of the chair. I smiled. Now that was something I was familiar with and felt right back at home doing. I stood and smiled down at the petite body in front of me as she unfastened my belt and unzipped my slacks.

Normally that’s as far as I like to be undressed. I like the sight of just the shaft of my strapon sticking out. I’m not a guy and don’t want to be, but somehow is so very exciting. Most of my lovers like it that way too. But not Nan. She drew my slacks down my legs, leaned over further to untie my shoes and help me off with them, my socks and then my slacks.

Not only did she strip me but somehow she found the time to shed all of her own clothes while she did it. It was amazing. I looked down at her. She was even cuter nude than dressed. Of course I rather prefer my women that way when all is said and done. Her breasts together were barely a handful for me but they stood firm and the pink nipples that tipped them stood out proudly. Her tummy was a bit soft and eskort bayan her hips padded just a little. I liked that too. Her bottom was rounded and I caught a glimpse of a neatly trimmed triangle of black hair marking her pussy.

I was just about to reach down and capture the back of her head to guide her already open mouth to the head of my strapon when she REALLY surprised me. Now tonight I had worn one of my older models rather than the new strapless one that fit inside me. I hadn’t wanted to overpower her. I know, I know, just because she was short didn’t mean she wasn’t woman enough to handle anything I could throw at her. But I think its best to err on the side of caution.

Well it didn’t matter anyway. Those incredibly nimble fingers undid the straps and before I could protest she was tossing the harness and its attached dildo onto the chair we had just vacated. Then her hands were on my hips and she leaned forward and her mouth closed onto my pussy.

If it had been a long time since someone had paid that much attention to my breasts, it had been an eternity since someone had gone down on me. And if the very vaguely recalled last time that had happened provided even half the pleasure my little flutist’s tongue and lips were giving me now, then why in the world had I stopped? I stifled a moan and then thought “Why?” and let it out. God she was good.

Her tongue danced all over my carefully shaved pussy, sliding over and along the folds of my lips. She darted here and there, now teasing my slit, now licking the inside of my thighs. Her hands held my hips and her face was pressed tightly against me. She rained kisses on my pussy, then used her tongue to caress me.

When her tongue tip finally entered me I thought I was going to have my first orgasm right then and there. How could such a petite woman reach so deeply inside of me in one swift motion? It felt like her tongue was a foot long. Then it began to rasp in and out of me and I couldn’t help it. I pushed the back of her head deeper between my legs and came.

Nan never slowed down. She did tighten her mouth on me and the suction she produced in swallowing my juices made me think she would give an awesome blow job if I ever got at her with my strapon. But right then I didn’t care if I ever used one again. I hoped the feeling would pass though.

Two thoughts were not passing. They were connected. The first was that I had no idea what muscular control a woman who plays a wind instrument had over her lips and tongue. And that didn’t even cover her lung capacity, which she was demonstrating by holding me open with her tongue and blowing her breath up inside me, as well as over my already throbbing clit. This went on and on, until I thought I wouldn’t need to breathe on my own anymore.

The second thought, or realization perhaps, was that I was no longer in charge here. This tiny little alabaster-skinned woman was in total control of me. Scooting forward on her knees, she pushed against my hips and I walked backwards until I fell on the bed, my legs hanging over the edge.

And my butt. Fingers as short as their owner but also as strong gripped my ass cheeks and held me firmly. For just a moment I panicked. Surely she wasn’t going to attempt to… then my worries were swept away by a fresh assault by those marvelous lips and that incredible tongue.

I twisted and squirmed on the bed. This was the bed where I had taken many other women, but now I was the one being taken. And taken far away, as Nan’s tongue found my clit and played altıparmak escort it like it was an instrument itself. She rolled it, teased it, tapped it. Every touch, every caress of her tongue sent shivers right through me. I wanted to grab her head, force her into myself, but all I could do was hang on for the ride of my life.

It didn’t take long again. Those lips closed on my hard pearl, throbbing and feeling like it had grown to incredible proportions. That tongue lashed the tip and I was squealing. SQUEALING. The orgasm nearly blew my head off.

Before the waves could even begin to settle down I found out just how Nan planned on releasing herself. She almost sprang from her knees and in one swift movement fell on top of me, her petite body moving against mine. She kissed me and I tasted myself for the first time in ages. Her pussy ground on mine, her rock-like nipples dug into my full breasts.

That tiny part of my mind that remained detached wanted to protest, wanted to deny what was happening, and desperately wanted to watch. Still kissing the tasty lips crushed against mine, I managed to glance to one side just enough to catch a good view of us in the mirror.

God. It was everything I thought it would be, everything I almost feared it would be. There I was, the tall, well-built, muscular black butch being wildly girlfucked by a nearly tiny white woman. I couldn’t look away, especially when she reared up on her arms and began to slam that dark wet triangle against me as though she was trying to push herself inside me.

“Nan! Good GODDDDDDD!” Now I was screaming. I thought this was nearly the most perverse thing I had ever seen. Femme fucks butch. And I loved it. I never wanted it to end. I thrust up with my hips, nearly throwing Nan’s petite body in the air. But she always landed right back against me. I felt her juices flowing, running against me, mingling with mine and then my sexy musician was matching me cry for cry and falling down on top of me where we held each other through the shudders and spasms until our bodies finally relaxed and the two of us fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of singing from the kitchen area. I must say that what I consider to be my broad range of experience with other females has never included a morning serenade that consisted of the “Gualtier Maldè” aria from Verdi’s “Rigoletto”. So my flutist could sing, and in Italian too.

Those thoughts were swept aside by passions of the body. Not that kind of passion, although Nan appeared and looked delicious wearing nothing more than an old shirt of mine. Rather I was enticed by the aroma of bacon wafting from the stove and Nan’s declaration “Come and get it.” I sprang from the bed, pleased with the approving gaze my little date gave my nude body, snatched up yet another shirt and donned it as I padded to the table.

Yum. Bacon, eggs, biscuits dripping with butter and strawberry jam. I dug in. Nan matched me bite for bite. Where did she put all of it? In the midst of the meal, she proceeded to stun me again.

“We’re going shopping this morning. After you finish, get dressed while I do the dishes.”


“Clothes shopping.” Ignoring my dropped jaw, she went on blithely. “That tux is great, and I liked your outfit yesterday but you are going to have to dress up a bit occasionally and you don’t have anything in between formal and casual. So we’re going to get you something nice.”

I tried to argue. What was going on? Was this petite woman suddenly going to try to rearrange my comfortable life? And why was I going along with it? Because thirty minutes later we were dressed and headed out the door with my making a last ditch attempt to assert myself.

“You are NOT getting me in a dress and that’s FINAL!”

I hoped I was as confident as I sounded.

(The End)

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