Nocturne of Sin

"Ah... go easy, my husband is calling."

My cheeks flushed bright red as I grabbed the phone and accepted the video call.

On the other end, my husband, Trevor Chambers, stared intently and began rattling off a list of instructions. He was completely unaware that just out of view, a young man's head was busy nuzzling between my thighs.

My name was Adriana Browne, and I worked as a private piano tutor who would travel to students' homes. I was also a woman in my 30s, navigating the complexities of life and desire.

My husband, Trevor Chambers, was great in bed. Even so, his age was starting to catch up with his stamina. He could no longer satisfy me the way he used to, and there was a quiet emptiness and longing that lingered in me.

At first, the need only crept up on me at night. However, I gradually craved being intimate even during the day.

To cope with the constant, restless discomfort, I bought panties with a pearl-lined gusset. The friction as I walked provided some relief, but it was a frustratingly shallow substitute.

I knew this was far from a real solution. My body had been tuned to its peak sensitivity from the wild experiments of my youth with Trevor. The more it was teased, the more it demanded.

Being left so unsatisfied now was pure torture.

Then came Samson Pearce, one of my new students. He was a handsome college sophomore, about six feet tall, athletic, and full of the kind of restless energy that only youth could carry. He always scheduled our lessons right after his workout. I would arrive just as he was emerging from his home gym, shirtless.

The intoxicating smell of his sweat would hit me the moment I saw him, and I could not stop my thoughts from wandering. I imagined pinching his hardened nipples, pulling down his shorts, and riding him until I saw stars.

One day, I arrived for a lesson and found Samson in a foul mood. I leaned over him from behind, guiding his hands on the keys, but he was completely distracted and kept hitting the wrong notes.

To be honest, I was distracted, too.

Samson was shirtless, his bronze skin slick with sweat, and the heat rolling off his body was intoxicating. The scent of his sweat, mixed with that raw testosterone, went straight to my head.

As I bent over him, I had a perfect view of his pectoral muscles, still swollen and pumped with blood from his workout.

'I want to lick them so badly...'

Just as the thought popped into my head, a loud bang snapped me out of it.

Samson suddenly slammed his hands down on the keys with a jarring chord and stood up abruptly. Not only did I jump in surprise, but his solid back muscles also slammed right into my chest.

It did not hurt, though. Instead, a thrilling, electric tingle shot through me.

My mind was racing with desire, but I still managed to sound concerned. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

"Nothing, I just got dumped, and I'm not in the right headspace," he said, his tone surprisingly polite despite his anger.

He added, "Ms. Browne, why don't you take a break? I'm going to go back to the gym and hit the heavy bag for a bit to cool off. We can continue the lesson when I've calmed down. I'll pay you double for the extra time."

Of course, I agreed.

After he went back into the gym, I sat down in the seat he had been sitting in. Just thinking about our brief, accidental physical contact made my body heat up again.

I wondered what his ex-girlfriend was thinking, letting go of such a handsome man like him.

My mind drifted to the noticeable bulge in his shorts I had glimpsed earlier. It looked so big, definitely a size that could satisfy me.

I soon grew restless. Since no one else was in the mansion, I began to slowly rub my thighs together under the grand piano.

However, that was just a temporary solution, barely taking the edge off.

I pulled out my phone and texted Trevor.

[Honey, I want you.]

Trevor replied almost instantly.

[Honey, you're getting turned on during a tutoring session?]

I sent a reply.

[It's all your fault I'm like this.]

He must have gotten busy because he did not reply after that, leaving me painfully aroused and unsatisfied.

The powerful, guttural grunts coming from the gym finally broke my resolve. I grabbed my phone and slipped into the guest bathroom.

However, I discovered the door lock was broken and would not latch shut. For a moment, I hesitated about what I was planning to do.

However, I reasoned that this was the guest bathroom, and the family probably never used it.

Driven by a desperate, burning need, I gave in. I sat on the toilet and slowly pushed my skirt up my thighs.