Mother Lover: The Beginning

It only made sense for my mother to give me piano lessons when the bug finally bit me. According to my dad, she was a young housewife who simply didn’t have enough responsibilities. He also thought she had too much time on her hands to spend all his money.

She definitely had something unique that would make any guy open his wallet, just because she blinked his way.

But that wasn’t the real reason I asked her for lessons. Fuck knows I could’ve used anyone I wanted, but I didn’t.

The fact is my mother was a brilliant pianist. Although, her career never saw the light of day, thanks to my father. As a very conventional and religious man, he made her give up her passions to take care of me. In return, he could do whatever he pleased as long as he kept the money rolling in.

If you ask my opinion, as I reflect on this particular time of my life, I think he wanted to cage her in.

As a very attractive woman much younger than him, he was constantly paranoid about their relationship. Yet, not even the biggest collection of gold bars and silver dollars could make him feel secure about my mother’s love.

And to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure she ever really felt anything for him.

Why she married him? Your guess is as good as mine.

But I do know what made her happy.

I did.

I made her light up when I walked into a room.

And I made her feel better when dad got into his many rages about not getting enough attention from the woman he so generously cared for.

She also loved playing that grand piano in one of the big empty rooms of our mansion. Much to the frustration of my father, she insisted the room only housed her piano. And for hours and hours she’d sit behind it, releasing whatever haunted her gorgeous mind.

Maybe it’s my fault everything happened the way it did.

Hell, I still blame myself even if…

I’m getting ahead of myself.

Ahead of the dark romantic story I finally have the courage to put down in words.

You see, my mother and I shared a special relationship.

A relationship my father would never have approved.

And it started with a black grand piano, vibrating inside one of those lost rooms I can still remember like I’m reliving it right now…

***

“You think you’re ready for your first public appearance, Mr. Pianist?” My mother asked as we finished up another lengthy lesson.

I was practicing for a recital, which I almost didn’t enter if it wasn’t for a specific girl in my class. She was participating too, and I needed every excuse to be around her. In this case, I wanted to impress her with my music skills.

“I think so.” I replied sheepishly.

“Well, you don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

Mom was right.

I wasn’t comfortable playing in front of a crowd. And no matter what I did, all I could picture was messing up in the middle of the piece I prepared my ass off for. I even had nightmares leading up to the big night.

“Come on. Let me hear it. What’s holding you back?” Mom came to sit down next to me in front of the piano.

“It’s nothing, I guess. But I keep thinking how I’ll flake out and react once I mess everything up.” I spill the beans.

“What? Why would you flake out? That’s what all the practicing is for, honey. By now, you know that piece so well you can play it in your sleep. Just try to feel it more than you think about it. Then you’ll be great.”

Mom always tried to look at the positive. She’d rather bet on good triumphing over evil, as supposed to being realistic, like me and dad.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself, darling. Trust me. It’s not worth it.”

“Then why does it feel like I should be pulling out of the recital?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re scared of succeeding. Because when you succeed, that girl will finally take notice, won’t she?” Mom read my mind like she was inside it.

“What are you talking about? There’s no girl.” I tried to cover up the gushing emotions that mostly evolved around out of control hormones.

But I didn’t know it back then.

I just knew I had this weird feeling in my stomach when I saw this girl. Almost the same feeling when I saw mom wearing something slightly revealing.

“You can deny it all you want. But I can tell when my only boy is distracted by the opposite sex.” Mom says with a sly smile and gets up again. “That’s why I’m going to help you get rid of that negative thinking before the recital. Now, start playing.”

“Mom, I’m not sure what-”

“Just play, darling. And don’t stop. No matter what I do. Okay?”

Without question, I started to play the piece I would be performing at the recital.

And after a few bars, she began to scream and shout in ways I’ve never heard before. Which threw me off so much I totally lost track and stopped playing, exactly what she told me to not do.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“I’m causing a distraction, silly. You’re supposed to ignore it and focus on the piece. So, start again.”

Her teaching tactics were never conventional, but they were effective. I remember improving relatively quickly for someone that got into music pretty late in life. And it was because of the unorthodox methods mom used with just about every lesson.

But this new strategy wasn’t something I saw coming.

Somehow I managed to put the disruptive sounds she made at the back of my mind, and I concentrated on the sheet of music in front of me. Mom kept getting louder, but I stuck to my guns.

I only took a moment to look up, which was when I saw a very proud smile across her lips.

Her method was working.

And no matter what she yelled or screamed, I didn’t stop.

Then mom decided to take the challenge up a notch by kicking off her pumps and climbing onto the piano. She wasn’t yelping distractions anymore, but she obviously wasn’t finished testing my ability to stay focused.

She pulled up her short white summer dress as she slid into my peripheral vision, exposing generous sections of her tanned inner-thighs. Then she slowly lowered her feet between my tensing arms, until her pink soft toes rested on my knees.

It wasn’t challenging enough getting to the right keys between mom’s legs, but every time I dared to look up, I couldn’t help catching glimpses of what looked like white lace underwear.

And just as I was about to lose my place in the song again, she motivated me to keep going.

“Are you going to let me distract you? Are you going to let me win? Because I really don’t want to, darling.” She said while leaning back on her hands, which pulled up her dress even further.

Determined to stay professional, I kept playing through the wrong notes I was hitting. And mom didn’t stop me either. She just gradually climbed higher up my thighs with those lucrative ankles I sometimes imagined worshipping.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but with mom’s painted toes so close to my crotch and her panties flashing like a siren, I had the biggest boner thumping inside my pants – another distraction I couldn’t really afford.

More importantly, I couldn’t let my mother know I was getting hard for her.

But it’s like she knew what was happening.

It’s like she saw right through me and all the dirty thoughts, and my awful playing wasn’t helping the situation. In fact, it was a dead giveaway that I stopped concentrating altogether.

“Remember, don’t stop playing.” She warned me to keep it together as she began to dismount the piano and straddled my lap instead.

She graciously pulled up her dress some more before she completely lowered herself, right onto the bulge I desperately wanted to keep hidden.

“Mom,” I wanted to ask if we could stop.

But she wasn’t having it.

“No, no, no. Keep playing, sweetie. No matter what, remember?”

I could smell the perfume from her naturally full breasts, which lightly heaved inches underneath my nose. She was tense, just like me. And the heat from her hands on my sides felt like getting touched by an angel.

Although, my attention was quickly drawn to the friction against my raging boner.

Mom was sensually grinding her silk-covered slit up and down my jean-covered rod, and the piece I was playing had changed course completely.

I was just pressing random keys on that grand piano because it seemed to keep mom going.

Regardless of how terrible it sounded, her rocking hips and burrowing pelvis filtered everything into a gorgeous melody.

And her grinding kept building with intensity. Like a brewing storm getting ready to unleash unholy amounts of rain and thunder.

Due to my inexperience, it didn’t take long for the most embarrassing moment throughout the whole lesson to surface. And even though I stopped playing the piano to warn mom of what was about to happen, she just threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into her loving breasts.

Then she started driving into me without reservation.

And the more I rattled filling my underwear with hot virgin sperm, the more mom buckled her hips to keep it coming.

She gasped with excitement every time she grinded out more of my seed, as if she could feel me throbbing – making me remember that moment in such detail, I can’t have sex without recalling something about her inside that memory.

Not even now.

But when the heat died down, there was clear regret lingering in the air.

She realized she went too far.

“Jesus, Ben, I’m so sorry.” She said with her hands covering her mouth.

Shame was written all over her face and shock filled her beautiful eyes as mom scrambled off my lap and ran out of the room.

She left me feeling dirty, confused, and dying for more…

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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/rcbeln/mother_lover_the_beginning