"The Alternate-Shipper Challenge
Title: A Little Rhythm, A Little Passion.
Pen name: Lil Miss Golden Eyes
Existing work: N/A
Primary Players: Rosalie and Edward
Disclaimer: I do not own.
To see other entries in the contest, please visit the C2
Rosalie was in a bluesy kind of mood. When college had let out in May, the upcoming summer break had stretched out before her like an uncharted map, waiting only for her to explore and discover the secrets that lay ahead. But June had flitted by as quickly as a hummingbird on honeysuckle, and the long, lazy days of July had given way to the stifling August heat. Now, with only two days left before she was required to report back to classes, Rosalie was feeling pangs of regret as she mentally compared the list of things planned against the things accomplished during this, her last "free" summer before college life ended and working life began.
Thinking that the music would help her mood, Rosalie had retreated to her mother's parlor and the comfort of her old Chickering upright. Remembering her mom, and tapping out a little "Memphis Blues" on the worn, ivory keys, she thought it funny how she still thought of the parlor as belonging to her mother, but the 1925 upright piano as her own. The car accident that took her mother's life was three years past, but sometimes it still did not feel like it was real.
Her mother, Esme, had always been a bit on the independent side. Never married, Rosalie's mother and father had lived together for a couple of years. The commitment was never strong in the first place, but when Esme arrived home after work one evening, six months pregnant and working two jobs, to find the check-out woman from the health food store bent over the coffee table and the father of her unborn child pounding her from behind, she kicked his ass out for good. Rosalie had never met "the sperm donor" as Esme referred to her father, and her mother had never lived with another man. Of course, that didn't mean that there were not any men in Esme's life.
On the contrary, men (plural) were a huge part of Esme's life. Rosalie remembered the faces of dozens of short-lived visitors as her fingers wondered over the keys, absently conjuring Muddy Waters' "Hoochie Coochie Man" from the old console. Some of her recollections were of strong virile men, whose bodies were as hard as their language; somehow making Rosalie feel like an intruder in her own home. There were those who snuck timidly from her mother's bed, embarrassed or ashamed when Rosalie's eyes returned their glance as they stole out the back door with half their clothes in their hands. Still others, she remembered, had tried to include her in their early evening plans; asking her questions about school or joining her on the couch in front of the TV, before sending her to bed with the sounds of her mother's headboard smacking against the adjacent wall. It was an eclectic, revolving door of men that had at least one thing in common; none made the cut.
Rosalie had learned directly from her mother all of the principles that she still valued most. Through example, Esme had taught her daughter self-reliance, confidence and, most importantly, independence. Her mother had also inadvertently educated her daughter on many other life skills; how to juggle a social calendar that included several "dates" in one evening; the art of faking an orgasm when the sex was somehow less than one had hoped; the proper words that would convince a man that his cock was "the perfect size" for her body. Sex was not flaunted openly in front of her, but neither was it treated as dirty or wrong. Her mother could be crude, but always true to herself and honest with her daughter.
Esme had actually fed her rather healthy appetite for sex like one would go about eating food. Sometimes all she had needed was a snack, just enough to hold her over for a little while. A proper meal took a little thought and planning, and with the right person could be very pleasurable and filling. Occasionally, Esme could only be satisfied with a full-fledged feast, gorging herself until her exhausted body could barely walk down the hall. Rosalie mimicked her mother's love for sex at a young age, losing her virginity at sixteen and changing sexual partners like socks until she was almost through college.
Since the summer began, however, Rosalie had been completely celibate. She had tired of meaningless sex and, although she missed the frequent excitement and sexual release to which she had grown accustomed, she certainly didn't miss the loneliness of a one-night-stand. Although she had to deal with a recurrent horniness problem, Rosalie had decided that she would just have to be satisfied with honing her masturbation skills until something real came along.
So Rosalie let her fingers work their way through a few of her favorite blues tunes, lamenting the lost summer, and contemplating the year ahead. Her mother had left her the two-story house, enough money to start college, and a lifetime full of what her mother had called "the wisdom of an unpaid hooker." Rosalie loved the house; it was the only one she had ever lived in. She stretched the money, living at home during college and taking as many piano students as her schedule would allow. It was her mother's words, however, that she treasured most. Esme had a way of putting things that was part hand-on-your-shoulder, part punch-in-the-nose. Rosalie missed her.
Edward's relationship with the piano had begun at age eleven, and had long been a love-hate kind of thing. He loved the opportunity to go to his private lessons, getting him briefly out from under his parents' suffocating attention; but he hated piano. He had grown to love spending hours sitting so perilously close to Rosalie on the modest piano bench; yet he still hated piano. But whether it was maturity as he grew older, all of the necessary hours spent practicing, or just his basic desire to please her, somewhere along the way through his teenage years, Edward had come to truly enjoy his time at the piano.
Actually, when Edward took the time to reflect on it, his change in attitude for the piano had mirrored the change in how he felt about his piano teacher, Rosalie. His parents, the well-intentioned, over-involved yuppies that they were, had had to drag a reluctant Edward to his first full year of lessons. Once a week, he would refuse, beg or cry as his mother tried to convince him that learning to play an instrument was an essential component in his overall education. Not only did Edward think that the piano was "for girls and queers", like he had heard his Uncle Aro tell his father one night, but as an eleven-year-old boy, the last thing he wanted to do was to spend an hour and a half every week alone with a fourteen-year-old girl.
But as months turned into years and Edward began to breeze through his high school level courses, his attitude toward Rosalie and his time with her had made a gradual change. And as Edward's first crush grew from teenage cutie to co-ed beauty, so did his feelings grow; from tentative puppy love to hormone-raging lust to oh-my-God amazement at how strongly he felt for her.
Even at nineteen, Edward didn't see Rosalie like he saw other girls. To him, she was a kind of princess; the piano stool was her throne and he was her loyal subject. While he occasionally had fantasies about some hot babe he saw in a magazine, secretly imagining having sex with her, his daydreams about Rosalie were not lustful. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive; quite the contrary. He was practically obsessed with her unbelievable body and had pictured her naked hundreds of times. Somehow, though, he couldn't envision sex with her. His Rosalie was, in his mind, above all that, sexy without being sexual.
As Edward's love for Rosalie had grown, so had his love for the piano. He sometimes found it difficult to express himself around other people (especially girls) and he had taken pleasure in finding his voice through his keyboard. Even though few people had heard him play, Edward had learned to use the piano like therapy, talking out his feelings with his fingers and, like medication shot into his veins, each time felt a calm and clarity settle over him. This gift of the piano was another reason that he felt so close to Rosalie and these feelings he had for her and piano were also what made it so hard to tell her that he couldn't continue his lessons.
One of the things that Rosalie had failed to accomplish this summer had been to convince Edward to continue his piano lessons. Even though she had sensed it was coming, Edward's announcement that his fall schedule was going to be too busy to allow for his weekly session had hit her hard.
Edward Masen had been her first piano student. Rosalie was only three years older than him and she was a little hesitant to take on a student so close to her own age. She felt confident in her knowledge of the piano and in her ability to teach the skills, but she was less secure with assuming a position of authority over him. So despite being only fourteen when Edward's lessons began, Rosalie tried hard to command respect as a teacher. From day one of his lessons, she had modified her behavior. She tried to play the role she thought an adult instructor would, and in doing so, created a version of herself that only Edward would ever see.
So in this way, Rosalie and Edward had kind of grown up together. There seemed, at the start, a huge difference from this shy fifth-grade boy and Rosalie, who as a ninth-grader, was already more mature and independent than many seniors in her school. Now, even though Edward had just graduated from high school and she was about to begin her senior year of college, the truth was that both of them would be college students in a week. Edward had just turned nineteen and she wouldn't be twenty-two for another month. The once huge difference didn't seem that big of a deal anymore.
She had actually expected Edward to quit his weekly lessons when the summer began. His involvement with a local swim team had become a bigger commitment than he had expected. Rosalie was glad to hear that he had found something that got him involved with others his age. He could be a little timid at times, and his home-school education had removed him from the usual high school social opportunities. She had long known that he was extremely intelligent, but until Edward found swimming, she had wondered if he would ever find something that could fill his life the way the piano had filled hers. She knew, after teaching him for over seven years, that while he was unquestionably talented, he did not have a passion for the piano.
It was a little less than a mile to Rosalie's house from his, and Edward often chose to walk instead of drive. Today, he really needed the time to get his head straight before seeing her. Last week he had told her that this evening would be his last lesson, blaming his upcoming college schedule for not being able to find the time for the piano, and while he was sure that his freshman year would be busy and difficult, it wasn't the real reason he was giving up the lessons. The true reason was that Edward was in love with Rosalie.
What had begun as a harmless crush had progressed into an all-encompassing obsession. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he couldn't concentrate. Edward was taking college credit courses at the local community college this summer and he had received a B- in his Music Theory class. Edward was a straight A student in his home school courses and his College Board scores had been so exceptional that he had been offered several academic scholarships; scholarships that could be taken away if he failed to maintain his previous high level of achievement. It would be different if there were any hope of Rosalie falling for him as well, but Edward knew that would never happen; he also knew that an unrequited love affair with Rosalie Hale was a distraction that he just couldn't afford.
Edward's piano playing was even more emotionless than ever. He was mechanically playing Bach's "Canon 1", a mentally and physically demanding piece, but no problem at all for him to play. Rosalie had never had a student that learned as quickly or completely as Edward. He could master the most difficult lesson in a quarter of the time it would take any other pupil, able to replay, by sight or sound, practically any music presented to him. There was no question that Edward knew the piano, he just didn't feel it.
"Maybe if we just take a break," Rosalie suggested. This lesson had started awkwardly and had gotten worse.
"Listen, Rosalie. Maybe I should just go," Edward said, barely looking at her.
She turned her head and tried to steal a peek at his rich, brown eyes, slightly hidden by a lock of his reddish hair. She had been thinking all week of something she could do or say to change his mind about stopping his lessons, and more importantly, their time together.
"I must not be a very good teacher," she said. "In all the years we have spent together, I have never been able to get you to play with any passion. I wish you could find a passion for your music the way you have for swimming."
"I'm not passionate for swimming. That's just something I do."
"Do you have a passion in your life? Tell me, Edward, what are you most passionate about?"
He looked over into her eyes, lowering them slowly to let them wash over her face, to her neck, and linger at her breasts, before coming to rest on his hands, sitting heavily on the white keys. As Rosalie watched his eyes sweep over her, she felt her heart jump a beat and she silently cursed herself for not being able to say what she was feeling.
Even though Rosalie liked very much the role she played with her dear piano student, there were times she felt stifled by it. And really, what good was this prim and proper act if it ended with her losing Edward. Maybe she needed to be bolder. Maybe he needed to be shocked into really seeing her. Maybe she was thinking too much. She decided to take a lesson from her mother and spoke quickly, without thinking.
"Let's do this, Edward," she said, deciding for the very first time to let her true personality shine for him to see. "If you can play a piece on the piano with some real feeling, something that truly moves me, then I'll show you my boobs."
"What!" Edward said, knowing he couldn't have heard her right.
"I said that if you can pour your heart into one song, even for a few bars, then I will let you see my boobs."
Edward couldn't help but shift his gaze downward, staring incredulously at the simple cotton blouse that covered Rosalie's breasts. His face felt suddenly hot and breathing was a bit more difficult. When he realized he was ogling her, he sheepishly turned away. He had no idea what to do next.
"Come on, Eddie. I know you can do it," she said encouragingly. She placed her hands on his and pushed them into the keys, sounding a tangle of notes that broke him out of his trance. "Just try," she pleaded.
Edward looked over at Rosalie's slightly animated face, taking in her clear complexion and full lips. As usual, she wore little makeup; a small line to highlight her bright blue eyes, maybe a touch of color on her high cheekbones. Her mischievous smile hinted of something more, making him feel a little uncomfortable. He dared another quick glance at the soft curve of her breasts and, after a releasing a deep breath, he tried to play.
Edward's hands were damp as she placed them on the keys. She had expected him to be shocked by what she had proposed, but what she hadn't fully expected was the effect it would have on her. Countless guys had seen her boobs. Sure, it had been a few horny months since she had been with anyone, but now she felt like a virgin schoolgirl as her heart was racing like mad in anticipation of Edward's reaction.
He finally started to play. It was so awful Rosalie almost laughed. She had made the shy boy so nervous that his hands were shaking. He couldn't have played chopsticks with any accuracy.
"Stop," she said quietly. Edward seemed afraid to look at her and she wondered if she might have shocked him too much. What if he didn't like the real her? What if he didn't like either of her? She had such strong feelings for him that she wasn't sure she could take his rejection.
Rosalie contemplated the situation and thought that she could save it if she really wanted to. She could spin it somehow to make it all seem silly. She could say, "Just trying to see if you were listening" or "Now, did that shock you enough to get you to focus on your playing?" or "Just kidding." The truth was, though, that deep down inside, she wanted him to see the true Rosalie. As fun as this seven-year playacting had been, she truly needed for this young man to know who she really was.
She turned to face him and said, "Put your hands down and look here." As Edward turned on the bench, Rosalie brought her hands to the top of her blouse and started to unbutton.
Edward turned, thinking, "Oh my God, she's really going to do it." Her fingers moved slowly, removing each button down to her waist. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. The opening in her shirt was slight, allowing only the smallest of glimpses past the thin baby blue fabric and giving him a hint of white lace against tanned flesh. Parting her blouse, she brought both hands to her center-clasp bra and unhooked it, holding it closed for several seconds. His mouth was dry and his thoughts were scrambled. Edward felt the crotch of his jeans becoming uncomfortable as he watched his princess release her bra.
He could hardly believe that he was actually seeing Rosalie Hale's perfect breasts. She made no move to open her blouse further and Edward would have to be satisfied with peeking through the small part in her shirt, revealing two pert mounds, each ending in a precise, pink nipple.
The size of her breasts was certainly not a surprise, having stolen every opportunity to covertly study all aspects of Rosalie's stunning curves. He saw that he had been correct in imagining that her breasts were not huge or small, rather slightly more than a handful… Oh my, at the thought of his hand, full of Rosalie's unbelievable bare breasts, he started to hyperventilate.
"Edward, I'm sorry," she said, bringing him back to reality. "Maybe this was a mistake. I don't want to…I can cover up if you want."
"No!" he replied quickly. He wanted to look at her breasts for days. He wanted to build a shrine to them; start a new religion with Rosalie's perfect breasts at the center of the worship. "I'm just…it's just that…Oh, I just never thought…Oh Rose, you are so beautiful."
After a slight pause, Rosalie said, "I seem to have made you a little nervous."
Edward brought his eyes up to meet hers and admitted for the first time, "Rose, you always make me a little nervous,"
She looked away and he wondered if he had said too much. She spoke next in a calming voice, "Edward, close your eyes."
"Edward, close your eyes," she said. When he looked back to her exposed breasts, she quickly added, "They'll still be here when you open them again. I promise."
Now that his eyes were closed, Rosalie directed him to place his hands on the keys. "I want you to try to focus on my voice. I know this will be hard, but I need you to put the vision of my boobs out of your mind."
Edward said, "You've got to be kidding!"
"Shush, just listen. I want you to focus on how looking at them made you feel." Seeing him relax a bit, Rosalie continued, "Feel your heart pounding. Feel it in your chest and in your stomach. Feel the blood flow from your head and feel it coursing through your cock." Edward tensed at her use of the word "cock". "Put your hands on the keys," she told him. "Remember. Feel. Play."
After a moment or two, Edward struck a few tentative notes; no melody, no rhythm. Then slowly a pattern emerged and then…pure magic.
"…I need you to put the vision of my boobs out of your mind," Rosalie said.
Never, in his entire life, would Edward ever lose the image of Rosalie's stunning breasts. "You've got to be kidding!" he said, almost opening his eyes to marvel at the partially naked beauty.
Rosalie had other plans, however, and he had always wanted to please her. She told him to concentrate on how seeing her nude breasts made him feel. Well, shit, he wasn't even sure he could pinpoint a feeling. He was astonished, excited, and horny. He felt adoration, infatuation and love. Where did one emotion stop and another begin? Damn, did she actually mention his cock? Then she commanded him to play.
Piano was the last thing on Edward's mind, but he tried to focus and pour all of his emotions into his hands. He knew he could say things through this instrument that he would never be able to say with words. As he hit random notes, a single emotion emerged from the jumbled collection; desire. He wanted her so badly. He craved her smell, her touch, her voice. He tried to align his thoughts and let only desire fill him and when his indiscriminate pecking became concise, and when the rhythm of the bluesy melody matched the beat of his heart, Edward finally found his voice.
Rosalie listened, amazed, as Edward tapped out a blues riff that she had never heard before, but wrapped around her as familiar as an old comfortable sweater on a chilly fall day. The melody was repetitive, with subtle changes as the stanza rolled back, finding itself again. She was moved beyond words as the tune encompassed her entire body. Nothing in Edward's powerful song could be pinned to one style. She had no idea that Edward possessed this kind of talent.
Rosalie got up from the bench and stood behind him, placing her hands on his broad back. She closed her eyes and let her hands read the small tightenings of his muscular shoulders as his fingers moved purposely over the keys. His music was touching some unnamed emotion deep within her, teasing it to the surface. She lowered her body down to press her bare chest against his back, for the first time sensing the quiet humming accompaniment Edward added to his song.
Music had always moved Rosalie beyond anything else but she seldom mixed her passion for it with her sexual life. For her, sex was physical, music was emotional, and there was little merging of the two. But as she absorbed Edward's sexy blues melody and her sensitive nipples tingled with the vibrations from his guttural humming, she questioned why she had resisted this natural connection for so long.
Edward's song progressed through a long crescendo, slowly growing louder and picking up pace. Rosalie rocked against his back and felt the sexual animal in her rising to the surface; her hand moving almost subconsciously to massage her pussy through her tight denim jeans. Their rhythm became one; Rosalie with her arm wrapped around his chest, smashing her breasts into his broad back; Edward swaying to his own soulful tune, eyes still closed and seemingly in a world all his own. Rosalie's breathing quickened and she felt that familiar tremble of her approaching orgasm.
"Oh, God, Eddie…oh, God," Rosalie whispered in his ear.
Edward, responding to her raspy voice, beat heavier on the keys, striking out with commanding force as Rosalie continued to press the seam of her jeans into her clit. Raw and emotional, Edward's song and Rosalie seemed to be simultaneously building to a tremendous climax. Then, just as the reality dawned on her that she was hanging, half-naked on Edward's back while she masturbated, Rosalie's forceful orgasm hit. Edward continued to play, somehow accenting the notes to coincide with her convulsions as she experienced spasm after spasm. The power of the music still poured through her and seemed to carry her beyond the four walls of the parlor. She remained pressed tightly to his back as she rode her orgasm to the end, sweating and out of breath.
All of the love and desire Edward felt for Rosalie flowed from his fingers to the keys below. In the back of his mind, he could still picture her revealing her amazing breasts, made easier by the fact that he could feel her rubbing them against his back. What had happened to her? He had never seen her like this. His inability to picture his lovely princess having sex was fading quickly as the mental image of her grinding on his back filled his thoughts. His fervor was growing and he could feel his cramped hard-on fighting for space in his pants.
Edward broke the silence with a gruff whisper, "Oh, God, Eddie…oh, God,"
Oh, my God, was she going to have an orgasm? That didn't seem possible. In the few porn movies he had seen, the girl had an orgasm only when someone was stimulating her vagina. Edward wondered what in the world was going on behind him but he was afraid to look. Instead, he started rocking with her, feeling the ebb and flow of her body as it reacted with his emotional song. He felt her shudder and matched her rhythm; throwing his hands at the keys in a forceful style he had never attempted before. When he felt her finally relax and hang from his neck, Edward brought his song to a dramatic halt.
The silence filled the air as fully as Edward's blues piece had moments before. He wasn't sure what had just happened and he was a little too scared to find out. Filling the stillness, he slowly began pecking out a light Hound Dog Taylor tune he had been playing with for a few weeks. Rosalie let go of his back and sat heavily down beside him, facing away from the piano. Before long, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Edward continued to diddle with the simple tune.
"Eddie, do you have any idea what just happened?"
He stopped playing. Edward thought he knew what had happened but wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it so soon. His head was still spinning. "I think I'm still a little dazed," he admitted.
"That song - where did that come from? You've been playing on this old Chickering for years and I've never heard you play with such passion. That was amazing. I listen to and play the blues all the time. You were as good as anything I have ever heard."
Edward could barely think. The wonderful complement she had just paid to his piano skills barely registered in his mind. All he cared about was that Rosalie had finally heard him. He had finally told her how he felt about her and she had responded.
Well, now that he thought about it, he really hadn't told her anything. Through the piano he had communicated his emotions: desire, passion, longing. He still needed to say the words; and he needed to say them now. Edward turned and faced Rosalie, unintentionally catching a peek of her naked breasts through her open shirt. He forced himself to pull his eyes upward and focus on her intoxicating eyes. Her face was still flushed but her breathing had settled.
Before he allowed time to talk himself out of it, he said, "It's you." Rosalie looked confused and he continued, "You asked earlier what I was passionate about. Well, it's you. I've been obsessing about you for years.
"I have never been able to really play in front of you," Edward continued. "I've always been afraid to release my emotions. You just can't understand…I never trusted that once I…That song! That song is how I feel about you."
Rosalie had a scared look on her face and Edward again knew that he had said too much. He started to get up but she put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him. Later, he would recall sitting there, wordlessly on that wooden bench, for hours. In reality, the longest minute of Edward's life ticked by.
"Edward," she said. "I'm not familiar with the emotions that I've been feeling this summer…feeling for such a long time…feeling right now; but if I had to put words to it, I'd say that I just may be in love with you."
When Rosalie stopped Edward from leaving, she wasn't sure what exactly she would say to him. She felt his toned arm through his thin t-shirt and decided to do what her mother would have done: just start a sentence and let your heart finish it. Her mother always said that "talking with your head was like fucking with your ass; you could fool yourself into believing that it felt just as good, but truth was, you knew you'd rather have it in your pussy." Yeah, Mom sure was colorful.
"Edward, I'm not familiar with the emotions that I've been feeling this summer…feeling for such a long time… feeling right now; but if I had to put words to it, I'd say that I just may be in love with you." There… she said it.
He met her eyes and seemed to take her all in. A tear rolled down his cheek and Rosalie stared in wonderment at this strong, sensitive young man. He was so… not selfconscious. He sat perfectly still, drinking in her entire body with his eyes, resting them on the gap in her open top. She straightened up and allowed her blouse to part completely, given him an unobstructed view of her naked chest.
This was a position with which she was extremely familiar. Rosalie knew all too well the power her generous breastage could have over a horny man. Men were so predictable. Like a hound dog catching a whiff of a bitch in heat, they would pant, paw and mount. Sometimes they were housebroken enough to pretend to care about her needs, her orgasm. Mostly, however, the sight of her tits alone would have them thinking only with the little head, and it became her job to slow things down.
Edward, though, seemed frozen. His face held an expression of… God, what was it? Reverence? Awe? Rapture? She wasn't sure. Rosalie was about to help her shy student by bringing his hands up to fondle her breasts, when he cleared his throat to speak. This is so sweet, she thought. He's actually going to ask for permission to grope her.
Surprising her once again, Edward said with a shaky voice, "Could I kiss you?"
Rosalie was stunned. She was so used to being lusted after for her willing body. That this boy, who had obviously had little previous experience with a half-naked woman, was willing to pass on an opportunity to fondle her for a chance to give her a kiss; well, it just blew her away. Unexpectedly, she felt a tear sliding down her own face as she tilted her head to meet Edward's lips.
His lips were as soft as his manner, delicately brushing against her own. Rosalie's heart fluttered as she felt his finger touch her cheek, brushing away the lone tear. Their tongues touched tentatively and she could feel his heartbeat as she placed her hand on his solid chest. Edward captured her bottom lip and gently caressed it between his own.
Edward was kissing her with a maddening gentleness and the slower his pace, the faster her motor ran. Rosalie had not known how passionate and erotic a real, meaningful kiss could be. She raised her hands to his head and ran her hands through his thick, bronze hair, ardently pulling his lips into hers. She felt drugged; slipping in and out of the reality of the moment as their tongues danced perfectly together like they had been partners for years. Then the most loving kiss of her entire life entered a new plane when she felt Edward's deft fingers brush against the bottom her sensitive breast.
Edward knew that if he died right now, he would die a happy man. He was kissing Rosalie Hale. And even more amazingly, she was kissing him back. An ache caught in his chest and he felt tense and relaxed all at the same time. Her reaction to his lips made him brave and his hand moved to her face, on to her neck, and then in his boldest move yet, to her striking breast. Her flesh was pillow-soft and yet firm under his touch. He handled her breast like a delicate flower and nearly pulled away when his finger lightly brushed her stiff nipple. Rosalie's quick intake of air, though, filled him with confidence and before long his lips had slid to her neck as he softly stroked her breasts.
Rosalie's hand had found its way under his shirt and ran from his chest to his stomach. Her touch was like fire on his skin. The pants he was wearing were becoming increasingly uncomfortable as his dick became stone-hard under the fabric. Edward moved slightly on the piano bench, trying to make a room-adjusting shift, when suddenly, he felt Rosalie's hand on his crotch.
Rosalie revelled in the bonfire of feelings Edward was stoking. She had no idea that her emotions could add so much to her physical response. Despite cumming earlier, she could feel her pussy tingling as his tongue sucked on her neck and he tweaked her supersensitive nipples. She was reminded, however, just how inexperienced Edward was when her hand swept over the bulge in his pants and his whole body stiffened as rigid as his cock.
Untangling herself from his shirt, Rosalie straddled the piano bench to face him. Edward, have you ever…has anyone ever…" She let her hand finish the sentence, placing it firmly on his growing erection.
"Oh…" was his whispered response.
Rosalie spread her hand out and allowed her fingers to trace the outline of his steel-hard dick through his pants. Edward was trying to control his breathing, hands now by his side, gripping the hard wooden bench. Unsnapping his pants, and knowing that she was probably the first girl to ever seduce him, made her hot beyond words.
The sound of Edward's zipper was like a crack of thunder in an otherwise calm sky. As Rosalie peeled the opening wider, she was rewarded with the brief-covered impression of a rather healthy male member. Uncovering a man's dick was always a surprise to her; sort of like opening a birthday present. You could never tell for sure from the attractive wrapping what was inside the package. Rosalie brought her lips up and pressed them to Edward's as her fingers continued to leave little hints of her touch across the length of his shaft.
Keeping her tongue in his mouth, Rosalie took both hands to the top of his black boxer-briefs and pulled them down as far as his pants would allow, freeing Edward's hard dick. She leaned back to look at his cock; "beautiful" was the only word that entered her mind when she saw it for the first time. Straight and tall, just like his stature, his cock was perhaps slightly longer than average. Thin, with an engorged purple head, it stood up like an arrow; a large drop of clear liquid leaking from the end.
Rosalie had always been aroused by the sight of a man's hard cock; especially when she knew that she was the cause of the hardness. With a delicate touch, she used the tip of finger to swirl the pre-cum around on the head of his cock, hearing Edward sigh with pleasure. Once the top was glistening, she traced a finger all the way down the sensitive underside to the base and over his balls. Even though she had barely touched him, Edward responded at once.
"Ah…Rose…I'm gonna…I might…" he stammered, barely able to speak.
"It's alright, Eddie," she said, looking into his eyes. "I want to be holding you when you do."
Knowing that he wouldn't last long, Rosalie moved her hand to cup his sac, kneading his balls gently while planting soft kisses on his chest. She didn't want to stroke him yet. Even though it was obvious that she could have him coming at any moment, she wanted this to last as long as possible. Rosalie flicked her tongue across his nipple while continuing to pull on his nuts and Edward moaned quietly, taking increasingly short breaths. His dick stuck straight up from his body, so hard it looked as though it must be painful.
She admired his beautiful staff for a moment, watching it twitch slightly with each beat of his pulse. Rosalie released his scrotum and made her hand into a ball. Placing the pinky-side of her fist on the tip of his cock, she forced her hand down onto his long shaft. Edward involuntarily thrust his rod upward into her hand and she continued to squeeze all the way to the base, clutching him tight and watching as his entire dick turned purple and looked like it would bust. More of the clear fluid was now running down the length of his cock and Edward whispered, "Oh, Rose…I'm a…I'm going to…"
As much as she wanted this to last, Edward's body had other plans. Despite the fact that she had only given his cock one true stroke, she knew that he couldn't hold off any longer. She once again grabbed his balls, pulling his sac downward. Then, using the pre-cum to lubricate her hand, Rosalie started pumping from head to base and back up again.
When Rosalie pulled his shorts down, it marked the first time a girl had ever seen his penis. Edward's stomach was so full of butterflies that he almost felt sick. He also felt a little embarrassed to be exposed and hard in front of her, but then her hand touched him, and he didn't care anymore. Electricity flashed through his body and his penis ached, it was so incredibly hard.
It was so different having someone else's hand touching his penis. Sort of like how you could push your fingers into your side for hours and never laugh once; but when it was someone else's fingers, the tickle was impossible to ignore and your body responded all on its own. It was like that now with Rosalie's hand on his cock. Familiar, and yet totally different, his response was intensified and completely out of his control.
Of course, Edward had masturbated before, so he knew that continued stroking of his penis would cause him to come. Rosalie, however, had barely touched him at all when he first felt that inevitable response and he didn't know what to do. He was aroused having her see his erect penis and the touch of her hand on him was indescribable; but coming in front of her, coming while she had his penis in her hand; he was mortified. What should he do? Should he stop her? Should he tell her what was going to happen?
He tried to tell her, "Ah…Rose…I'm gonna…I might…" but she stopped him with a response that he couldn't believe.
"It's alright, Eddie," Rosalie said. "I want to be holding you when you do."
He again felt some embarrassment about doing all of this in front of her, but somehow the embarrassment made him that much more excited. Was that normal? Should his discomfort itself be making him more aroused?
Rosalie continued to manipulate his dick and Edward gave up thinking all together. He felt himself thrusting into her palm and knew that he would only last a few seconds more. He tried again to warn her.
"Oh, Rose…I'm a…I'm going to…"
Then everything became a blur in his mind. Edward felt drunk; aware of all the sounds, all of the contact, all of the pleasure, but somehow removed, like he was watching it happen to someone else. He could feel Rosalie's grip on his balls, her hand slipping up and down the length of his cock, the building muscle spasms that seemed to come from deep in his groin, and yet his world was altered. Only in some parallel universe could Rosalie Hale be masturbating him on a piano bench. Then, like a slap in the face, he started to cum.
Edward's shaft jerked in her hand as he continued his tight grip on the piano bench. They shared breathless whispers as she brought her lips to his ear.
"Come for me, Edward."
"Oh God, oh God."
"I love the feel of your cock in my hand."
"Oh Eddie, I'm getting hot watching you come."
Clear liquid escaped from his penis, landing on the ivory keys of Rosalie's prized piano, turning her on with the sight. His dick had stopped jerking and had lost much of its hardness, drooping slightly from the opening in his pants. Rosalie fell back to the bench, allowing him to get his breath and she tried to catch his eyes. Edward was staring down at his semi-hard cock and the mess his cum had made.
"That was totally incredible," she said, hoping to relieve his obvious embarrassment. Then, totally forgetting who she was talking to, she said, "Damn, that was so hot my pussy is dripping."
Edward noticed her devilish grin and she told him how incredible the experience was. Wow, Rosalie was amazing. Before he could relax though, she said something about her hot, dripping pussy. Edward wasn't used to hearing any girl talk like that, much less Rosalie. It made him feel uncomfortable, but in a turned-on kind of way.
"Rose, oh my God…what did you just…I just…you made me…on your piano! Rose, you're so…you're…the things you say. I thought you were…I don't know what to say." Edward had just come harder than he thought possible. His penis was still flopping out of his pants. He couldn't take his eyes off of the opening in Rosalie's shirt.. Now, she was talking about her how hot he made her pussy. Had an alien taken over her body? Was she on drugs?
"Who are you?" Edward asked.
Rosalie looked like she had been punched. She said, "I didn't mean to disappoint you."
"Oh, God, no," Edward was quick to say. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "You have shocked me in every way imaginable today; but all in a good way, you've go to believe me. You just don't know…I mean, what you did…what I just did…I've never been with a girl before. Somewhere in the back of my head, I guess I always dreamed that you would be the first; but I never let myself think…I just never thought that you could see me like that. And I had no idea that you were…you know…that you were the kind of…Oh, I'm saying this all wrong."
Rosalie gave him a wicked little smile and said, "I did love watching you come."
"There you go! I didn't even know you thought about those kinds of things; much less did them. And I'm not used to talking to a girl about…stuff. But the things you say; they make me…I get all…"
"Hard," Rosalie finished for him, glancing down at his cock as she watched it start to grow stiff again.
"Yeah, your words, your voice, your body, your touch; they all make me hard," he had never talked so openly about sex with anyone.
And as if Rosalie had not surprised him enough in the last hour, she then stood up in front of him and started to unbutton her jeans. Edward looked to her crotch as she hooked her thumbs under the edge of her denims and pulled them down past her hips, letting them drop to her ankles. She stepped out of her pants and stood before him in what he could only assume was a G-string; barely enough fabric to cover her…her…
After removing her pants, Rosalie reached down to pull Edward's t-shirt over his head. Then she wrapped her hand around his slender hard-on, pulling him to his feet. Letting him go, she helped his pants and boxers to the ground and stood back to admire his toned swimmer's body.
Rosalie could tell that he was a bit self-conscious standing naked in front of her, but he had a body to be proud of. He was tall and tight. His skin was defined in a sleek kind of way; not chiselled, more like stones at the bottom of a creek that were hard, but glossy smooth from their time in the water. He had a small tan line surrounding his hips from the tiny Speedo he wore when he competed and his bronze body made his stark white cock appear bolder, like highlighting a word on a page, and her eyes were drawn to his stone-hard prick.
Rosalie's blouse and bra were barely hanging on her shoulders and so she removed them, standing in front of Edward in only her skimpy underwear. Hoping to give him a little show, she turned her back on him, bent over the piano, and slowly peeled the tight G-string down her legs. She impulsively placed her hands on the cum-stained keys and playfully tapped out a little "I'm in the Mood" from John Lee Hooker. She felt him reach out to touch her ass and she smiled at his boldness. The touch of music put her in an aggressive frame of mind and she stopped playing hastily and turned to face him.
She gave him her best wicked smile, pressing her naked body tightly to his and hugging him close. Edward's erection poked up between them and she reached around behind him to sink her hands into his taut ass. Testing the dirty-talk waters, Rosalie began kissing his neck, mumbling as her kisses trailed downward.
"I want your cock in my mouth. I want to suck your big, hard cock. Just thinking about sucking you makes me wet." She had worked her mouth across his sleek chest, down to his ribbed stomach and when Edward reached for the piano to keep his feet, she knew her filthy chatter was having the proper effect.
Edward watched her naked ass as Rosalie bent over the piano, marvelling at this wonderful spectacle. He was surprised to see a small butterfly tattoo in the dip above her butt crack and as she sashayed slowly back and forth and he was mesmerized; hypnotized. He recognized the John Lee Hooker number and smiled at her mischievous choice of song. He hesitated before finally placing his hands on her body, his penis rock-hard again and only inches away.
Rosalie suddenly stopped playing and turned around to pull their bodies together, but not before Edward got a quick glimpse of her carefully trimmed pussy. A small line of hair disappeared between her legs and he wondered if every girl looked as sweet and fragile down there.
She reached around and grabbed his ass and so he felt it was okay to do the same. It felt so awesome just to hold her. Her head fit neatly under his chin and as they snuggled, he detected the slight peachy scent of her shampoo. Her skin was impossibly soft and he felt her breath on his neck as she kissed her was down to his chest. Edward was just starting to get comfortable with the idea of being naked with her when Rosalie again cranked up the heat.
"I want your cock in my mouth. I want to suck your big, hard cock. Just thinking about sucking you makes me wet."
Edward felt his knees go weak and he groped for the piano to keep from collapsing. Never feeling comfortable talking with girls, he had not imagined that mere words could have such an effect on him. Rosalie had kissed her way down the front of his body and was soon squatting below him; eye level with his…his…his cock.
Placing her hands on his hips, Rosalie snaked her tongue forward and touched it to his cock. He shuddered, not believing that his heavenly piano instructor was about to take him into her mouth. Her tongue teased up and down his shaft, licking him like an ice cream cone as his cock bounced with her pressure. Still struggling to stand, Edward finally lost the battle when he looked down to see Rosalie with his hardness resting between her lips.
"Rosalie, oh good God," Edward stuttered, one new incredible experience following another until his head spun.
Edward couldn't believe he was this hard again so soon after coming. His hips were involuntarily pushing forward as Rosalie sucked on his scrotum. She had him out of his mind again and he heard himself say, "I want you…I want you to…Oh, God Rose, I want you to suck me!"
"Suck what, Eddie?" she teased.
"You know what I…Oh God, Rose," he said, responding as her tongue moved under his balls and neared his anus. He had no idea that girls really did this type of thing.
"So what is it you wanted me to do again?"
Full of embarrassment but too horny to care, Edward said, "Suck my cock, okay? Oh God, Rose! I really want you to suck my cock."
Even though Rosalie was truly enjoying giving Edward the blowjob, she didn't want him to come for a second time before she got to feel him inside her. She was careful to take breaks from her sucking to lick and kiss his shaft. She took each of his balls into her mouth, twirling her tongue around them while slowly jacking him.
When Rosalie stopped to get to her feet, Edward's face showed his disappointment and confusion. When she then stepped a leg over his to straddle his stiff dick, his eyes almost popped out of his head.
Rosalie wasn't sure if this position was going to work; but it was Edward who seemed to have a plan. Before she brought her opening down onto him, he swung his leg over the bench so he had one leg on each side. He then allowed Rosalie the chance to do the same, facing him, and bringing her directly down onto his lap.
Her pussy was so wet that Edward had no trouble sliding in. Rosalie had masturbated often over the past three months, but it had been a long summer without sex. Extremely hot and ready for another orgasm, she bounced rapidly up and down on his dick. She couldn't get enough of his hardness. With him still inside her, he put his hands on her hips and held her still. She wondered what she had done wrong.
"Close your eyes," he said, softly but with conviction. Rosalie was puzzled - and horny - but followed his directions and closed her eyes. "Now, I want you to focus on my voice," Edward said and she kept her eyes shut as a smile crept to her face.
"I want you to focus on how I make you feel," he continued, mirroring the conversation that coaxed the blues number from his hands. "Not how I make your pussy feel" – Rosalie smiled bigger at his use of the word "pussy" – "but focus on how you feel in your heart. Rosalie Hale, I have loved you for years. Sure it was puppy love at first, just a big crush, but it's so much more now."
She kept her eyes closed and concentrated on his voice, his words. He really did love her!
"There have been a lot of firsts for me today. And sometime later - I hope there's a later - I think I'm going to want to fuck you. But right now, this first time, I want to make love to you."
Rosalie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in an intimate hug. She felt loved and safe, things that had never entered her mind during any of her numerous fucks. His strong arms enveloped her and when she had centered herself on how much she loved this unbelievable boy, she said, "I think I'm ready to play, now."
They had started with their own individual rhythms; moving to a lone beat that each could hear, but couldn't share. Edward wanted something different for their first time. Edward wanted to feel her and taste her and smell her. Edward wanted to make love.
Before long, their solitary cadences began to merge and, like a beautiful duet, they found a song they both could play. Rosalie tapped out the high notes while Edward answered with the bass line. More and more frequently, they found themselves striking chords together, melting into a simple harmony that complemented each of them.
"…you are so beautiful…oh, that feels good…let me see your eyes…I love being inside you… you're amazing…I can't get enough of you…I love you."
Despite Edward's attempts to make this moment go on forever, his body was telling him that he wouldn't last much longer. Rosalie seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense his impending climax and reached her hand down where his flesh entered hers. Touching herself, she continued to rock up and down on his cock. Oh God, he thought, she's playing with herself, and Edward knew the moment was close.
"…you are so beautiful…oh, that feels good…let me see your eyes…I love being inside you… you're amazing…I can't get enough of you…I love you," he had said while kissing, caressing, nibbling, watching.
Rosalie embraced his words like a log fire on a snowy night, letting their warmth flow over her fill her with a yearning she had never before felt. She wanted him, she needed him. Edward, in one evening, had filled a gap in her soul she never knew existed; an absent piece to her puzzle that she had never noticed was missing.
The rhythm of their lovemaking changed subtly and Rosalie recognized the signs that Edward was giving. She quickly reached down to stroke herself, wanting desperately to come with him. The unintended effect of this was that Edward was becoming even more excited as he watched her rub her clit and saw the obvious orgasm build through her body.
"Easy, Eddie, I'm almost there."
She brought her mouth to his and she felt his body tense and his cock twitch inside her. She removed her hand and drove her swollen clit into the top of his spurting rod.
"Oh, yes…yes," Rosalie cried, as her body began to shake in her own delicious orgasm.
Rosalie hugged Edward tight and rode him hard, feeling his warm cum fill her. Each thrust of his cock brought her more intense pleasure and she sat upright on him, grinding her pussy all the way down to his balls. She pulled his head to her chest and ran her fingers through his hair.
Edward was simply repeating her name, "Oh, Rosalie…Rose…Oh God, Rose."
"Eddie," she answered breathlessly. "Eddie, I…Oh, Edward…I love you. I love you."
There were no words in his head, no music in his heart, to describe the emotions Edward felt as he came inside Rosalie. He was planting small kisses on her nipples, repeating her name and thinking about how perfect this moment was when he heard her say, "I love you, Edward. I love you."
"I love you, Rosalie. Oh, I love you so much."
After finally releasing each other, Rosalie went about gathering her discarded clothes; aimlessly picking up odd pieces like a tornado victim wondering glassy-eyed through the rubble after the storm. Everything seemed different, even the air in the small parlor seemed unfamiliar. She left the room for a moment, returning with a damp towel for Edward. She left him to clean himself up while she retreated to her bedroom to do the same.
Rosalie spent less than a minute pulling her hair back in a ponytail and splashing her face with some cold water. She didn't quite feel right putting the same clothes back on and, instead, slipped a thin silk robe over her naked body. It then took her several minutes to clear her head and feel prepared to return to Edward.
She knew that Edward had enjoyed their afternoon adventure, but would he look at her differently when she returned to the parlor? A question like that had never bothered her after a good hard fuck. Making love was different, though. When she finally summoned the courage to return to Edward, she did it hesitantly, without her normal self-assurance.
Edward just knew that Rosalie was back in her bedroom cursing herself for allowing this evening to happen. How could he think that a woman like her would want anything to do with him? She was obviously experienced sexually. It had been a long summer away from her college admirers. She was just horny and he was just a stiff cock; a virgin who knew nothing about what a real woman needed.
Rosalie had changed into a skimpy green robe that brought out the richness of her eyes. With her hair pulled back and her delicate neck exposed, she looked older, and yet more fragile at the same time. Edward started to sit down on the piano bench and then stopped suddenly, feeling uneasy after all that had happened on that wooden seat. But Rosalie came and sat down, facing the piano, and after a few moments he began to feel awkward just standing there. Before long, he sat down beside her in his usual spot.
He was still Edward, she told herself. She had known him for years. They were friends. Why should this be so difficult?
Rosalie sat beside him on the bench, both of them staring at the keys before them. Starting a sentence and letting her heart finish it, Rosalie brought her fingers to the keys, breaking the silence. She punched out a little tune in the upper octaves. Edward glanced over but didn't make any moves
"Willie Dixon, huh?" said Edward
"It felt right. So you recognized the song?"
"'I Just Want to Make Love to You'; good choice," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"I love you," Edward said, kissing the top of her head.
"I love you, too, Eddie."
Edward smiled and shook his head, moving his fingers to the ivories and hitting a base run to complement hers. They played together for a few more minutes; laughing and challenging, calling and responding. Eventually, their pace waned and they let the tune fade, leaving the ending unfinished.