He had my attention when he mentioned double bass. It has always been an instrument that I adore. It has that je ne sais quoi about it. He told me that his double bass was the best in the world. It was a Giovani Battista Rogeri of outstanding quality and workmanship, made out of two-hundred-year-old wood that gave it a thicker, deeper and richer tone. The deep tones of his voice and the way he described it, made it sound erotic and sexy. It was like he was an extension of his own instrument. But then, aren’t men always like that?

Michael was a renowned and excellent bass player and the fact that he was suave and sophisticated and downright handsome with it added to my interest, but what got my full attention was what he told me he could do with it and he did it with such panache, whispering in my ear whenever he wanted to imply his intentions and speaking normally otherwise.

I didn’t believe him for one minute, but he stood there in his black tuxedo, sipping champagne and nibbling at the hors d’oeuvres while telling me about the sexual ability of a double bass, not any double bass--his double bass. There were plenty of influential people within easy earshot and I couldn’t help but smile.

In the end, I started giggling to preserve a sense of decorum but I was totally mesmerised by his words. I so much wanted to try out what he was suggesting and within twenty minutes of our meeting, I left him in no doubt that I was interested.

We left the party at eight o’clock and took a cab back to The Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue; more champagne followed us to the room.

I saw the double bass stand tall in the corner of the room. The torn and battered leather of the case looked like it had been around the world a few times. In fact, it had, probably more times than I had masturbated.

He immediately opened the case and extracted the double bass from it. He positioned it in front of me and played a few jazz riffs before spinning it around and playing a few more, always smiling, feeling the music rather than just playing it. I watched in awe at the way he played.

Suddenly, he stopped. His hand came down on the strings and the sound drifted away like magic.

“Champagne,” he said.

Michael rested the bass against the furniture and proceeded to open the bottle that was placed on the table. We clinked glasses and he toasted to my orgasmic success. I bit my lip not really knowing whether it would be a success or not. He seemed to think it would be and I wasn’t about to burst his bubble. At that point in time, I had not even decided whether I was going to go ahead with it or not.

“Come,” said Michael, “sit here on the chaise lounge, right on the edge.”

I did as I was told and I looked demurely into his dark brown eyes.

He positioned the edge of the double bass between my legs and started to play. The dulcet tones, the richness, all resonated deep within me. I took a sip of champagne and closed my eyes, savouring every note that he played.

“Wrap your legs around it,” he told me.

I looked up at him and lifted one leg to do just that when his hand rested on my shoulder to stop me.

“You have to take your knickers off first. It won’t be the same otherwise.”

I let out a sigh and bit my lip at his lurid suggestion. I moved my legs to one side of his instrument and lifted them to the ceiling. I leaned back against the chaise lounge and slipped my fingers into my knickers, and pulled them down over my thighs, down over my legs and left them dangling on the end of my feet. I lifted my legs up to Michael and smiled. He took my knickers and before depositing them on the floor, raised them to his nose. I lifted my dress until it was wrapped around my waist and repositioned myself either side of his double bass.

He had me slither my faint blonde pubes up to the centre edge of the bass and told me to wrap my legs around it. I was to push myself as close to the frame as I could until my clit met with the edge of the back side of the bass. He then told me to open my lips and push forward a little further. The wood was surprisingly cold and it excited me as I nestled my lips upon it. I must have looked a sight with my suspenders pulled taught over my thighs, my dress hiked up around my waist, my breasts heaving with expectation. I leaned back once more and lifted my bum off the lounger, rubbing my pussy against the smooth wood of the bass’ C bout. I felt like my body was electrified, I felt horny and I looked up at him not knowing what to expect, yet expectant.

I announced my intentions to Michael when my tongue extended erotically from between my lips. I didn’t think for one minute that what he told me would actually work, but here I was, playing out a fantasy of mine and allowing him to feast his eyes on my exposed body and depraved mind.

He started to play the bass. He struck a low note which reverberated throughout the room and he held it there until he slid his finger up the fretless fingerboard. I could hear the lovely tone of the initial note and all the other tones in between before it rested a whole octave above where it started. He held his finger on the fingerboard in a vibrato movement, occasionally plucking the string to give it more life.

The note hummed loudly, the air vibrated to a wondrous sound and I kid you not, my clit jumped and wriggled to the vibrations that were passed to it from the body of his double bass.

I looked at my pussy. I couldn’t believe the sensations. It was like a rampant rabbit had attacked my clitoris and wasn’t letting go. I pushed my pussy towards the double bass as Michael played another note. A different one this time and using the second string, but there it was again, as soon as the vibrato set in my pussy started pulsing and my clitoris electrified. He finished all four strings and I could see his mind working out a mental pattern of fingering.

For me, the second and third strings seemed to produce the biggest reaction in my clit. I started to push my clit against the wooden frame as soon as Michael hit that vibrato. It was such a glorious feeling.

Michael then looked at me and smiled. He started to play, low notes at first, rising slowly to the higher notes as his fingers slipped downwards. It was fair to say that he played my pussy as if it were a musical instrument and I could feel every note caress my sensitive little bud.

“You must tell me when you feel that crescendo?” he asked.

He started to play a certain sequence of notes. Notes that he had worked out from earlier and from watching me respond to the vibrations.  As he played, I started to clench my pussy on the instrument’s frame. When he was about a third of the way through his repertoire, he noticed me squirm and immediately went back and played the sequence in the middle to last third of his movement using the middle two strings and occasionally letting his finger strum on the deepest tone the instrument could make.

I can’t explain it, but the dual sensations of hearing him play and feeling the vibrations in my pussy at the same time, caused me to moan and groan out loud. I thought Michael would tell me to keep quiet but he just smiled at me and played with even more gusto.

It was my natural rhythm that was responding to those notes. My body was feeling and reverberating to the beautiful music he was playing. But it was the vibrations in my clit that were bringing me off.

I lifted my bum off the lounger and pushed my pussy a little further onto the instrument. I could see my juices flow down the side of the C bout. Some pooled in the bottom curve and some slipped over the edge and ran down the back of the double bass. I rubbed my pussy on the wooden edge as my juices slipped from me. I could feel myself respond quickly to the way he played, his hand moving over the fretboard faster and faster. The music was just titillating and it elevated me to a higher dimension.

The music was certainly hypnotic and I felt so many different emotions rise and fall before I started to pant out loud. I slid forward, my bum slipping off the edge of the lounger but I found that my pussy wouldn’t move any further. I started to wiggle my bottom. Michael played the same notes, but with his eyes closed; he didn’t know how close I was to climax.

I closed my eyes and suddenly the vibrations stepped up. My clit twitched, pulsed and seemed to suck the edge of the double bass into it.  Pussy juice suddenly erupted from me and covered the lower part of the instrument; soaking the precious wood and running over the saddle to pool on the carpet below.

I wanted to grab something but there was nothing to grab hold of. Normally, in this situation, it would be a man or woman’s head as I tried to push them further inside me, but this instrument was too precious to pull it towards me and Michael was too pre-occupied and engrossed in his playing to see that I was climaxing. Just like he said I would.

My pussy thrummed in tune to his double bass and I had to pull back from it to relieve the over-sensitive flesh. The whole experience was unbelievable, and if you had told me that it was possible, I would have laughed at you.

I looked up at Michael, panting for breath. He must have realised that I had finished because his playing slowed and he opened his eyes to look at me. He stepped to one side of his double bass and let it rest against his torso. Hugging it like a loving woman.

“So what do you get off on?” I asked him, not taking my eyes from the bulge in his pants.

 “Watching you cream over my double bass,” he replied.

My pussy twitched. It hadn’t had enough and there was something that interested it that was not too far away.

My pussy was going to get what it wanted; of that, there was no doubt.