#WipItUp – Confidence and Technique

Welcome to Wip It Up – the chance to sample a work in progress or recently published book.

Another excerpt from my current WIP – now completed, but due for a polishing.

For previous samples from this book see here and here.

Callie and Stefan have spent the night together. It’s early and she needs to get up for work, except…. Stefan has other ideas.

***

I shook off his arm. “Sorry. Have to go.” I turned, swung my feet to the edge of the bed, ready to stand up.

Stefan’s arm returned, reaching under my flimsy t-shirt, he cupped a breast and pinned my back to his chest. “Shame. I think your technique could do with some exercise.”

My throat constricted. “My technique isn’t good enough for you? I seemed to recollect you struggled to resist my mediocre technique.” I shoved my bottom backwards into his groin. His penis moved. A pleasant sensation.

“You didn’t seem overly confident. We could definitely work on your confidence levels.” He wrapped a leg over mine.

I gyrated my butt, feeling him grow. “I’m not used to performing under such pressure.”

“It’s a matter of practice. The more you do it, the easier it becomes.” He pinched a nipple.

I groaned into my pillow. “Please, Stefan. Not now.”

“How about this weekend?” He squeezed harder.

I relented a little. “I’m not working.”

“That’s a promising start. I actually meant the whole weekend.”

I stopped grinding my bottom into him. “Friday?”

“To Sunday. Two days of intense, personal, tuition. I’m sure we can work on many skills.” He moved his hand down my belly, fondling my skin as he journeyed to my loins. Instinctively I flattened my stomach and held my breath, waiting for him to hit his target area.

I crushed my thighs together. “Like… what?” My voice betrayed me easily as it faltered.

He probed between my legs, driving them apart with his strong fingers. A multitude of goose bumps struck all over my feverish skin. He slid a digit down into my slit and held my sex in his sturdy hand. The heel of his palm pressed down on my mound. A wave of tingles erupted from my nub, rippling outwards.

“Your tonguing could be improved.”

“Tonguing,” I croaked.

“Mmmm. So could your breath control. Deep breaths are essential. I’m sure we can come up with exercises to help. Others too.”

“Others?” I groaned, writhing under his strokes.

“I wouldn’t want you to gag on your mouthpiece. Very unsightly.”

I clawed at the pillow, dragging it into my chest as if I’d grown talons. I hugged the pillow into a bundle. “My mouthpiece isn’t that big.”

“Yes, that might be a problem. You need to use something larger.” His erection, now nearly fully fledged, rocked in the cleft of my buttocks. “Then, there is your finger work. A strong grip, but you need to be nimble too. For example, assembling your instrument – if you twist too hard, you might damage what you’re screwing.”

“I’m used to an unoiled instrument. I could do with extra lubrication.”

“Good idea. Nothing like a smooth organ to play upon.”

His innuendos tipped me over the edge as his hand went from a playful tweaking to a serious rubbing. Then, his fine tuning hit a pinnacle. He pinched my clit. I came, biting on the pillowcase and his pinning leg stopped me from kicking him.

“Very good, Mausi. You are a good girl for suggesting so many ways we can improve your technique.”

I should have found his little lecture patronising, but he’d inflamed with me lust, not irritation. He released my throbbing clit and his leg slipped off, freeing me.

***

Now…. have they been referring to clarinet lessons or something else 🙂