Jean has been my guitar student for the past year. She is thirty-five (+) years old and single (at least there is no ring on her finger). She is slim but well-built with long fingers and graceful movements. One cannot discern her age by her looks.

Jean is pretty but understated in her appearance. Most often, she wears casual clothing and sneakers. She wears glasses but always appears quietly attractive.

I don’t know where she works or anything about her private life. She does not share much about herself except for her taste in acoustic guitar music.

My first impression upon meeting her for the first lesson was that she had an affinity for music and the guitar. She has not disappointed me, and her progress as a guitarist has been steady, although she has not set the world on fire either. She has expressed an interest in eventually performing at an acoustic open mic night.

She plays an inexpensive but nice-sounding acoustic-electric guitar with a passive onboard sound system. She carries her guitar in a serviceable gig bag.

I am encouraged that she has learnt several songs well. She seems suited to singing, but we have not explored vocals, choosing to focus on first-position chords and scales through a number of simple finger exercises.

Lately, Jean has begun to seem distracted, and her progress on guitar has slowed somewhat.

I wonder what is on her mind: what has distracted her?

I let two lessons go by working at this distracted level before I asked outright, “Jean, what’s wrong? You seemed to have become less interested. Is it the material? My methods?”

Jean sighed and paused. “Maybe it’s this studio and the time restriction. Would you consider giving me private lessons in my home?”

I smiled and said, “Tell me when and where, and I’m there.”

The lesson time ended, and another student waited. She handed me a slip of paper as we said goodbye. “Call me,” is all she said. I felt great excitement at the possibility of a private lesson with Jean.

I waited a day and then called the number on the paper. She answered on the third ring. “Can you come tonight around 7?” I told her I’d be there and copied down the address. She said a breathless “thank you” and hung up.

I went through my day in a hurried fashion and took time in the afternoon to shower, and then gathered new materials for the longer lesson. I idly wondered, ‘Was this about guitar at all?’ I dismissed that thought and got ready to leave for Jean’s home.

I drove the half hour to her house, thinking through what I’d planned to teach her. I arrived, took out my guitar and walked to the front door. There was a note on the door that said, ‘Don’t knock, come in.’ ‘Strange’, I thought, but I turned the handle and walked in.

I saw no one but heard Jean strumming a guitar in the next room, so I walked around the corner, and what did I see?

Jean sat with her back to me. She was dressed in a filmy pink robe and was clearly bare beneath it. When she felt my presence, Jean stood and turned to me. “I didn’t know how to say anything to you in the studio, so I decided to invite you here. She took my guitar and laid it aside.

She stepped forward into my arms and held me close, saying nothing. She smelled wonderful, and her hair was down and flowing. Her body was warm against me, and her hands traced the material of my shirt. “Why don’t we take this off?” she said quietly. Without waiting for an answer, she unbuttoned my shirt.

“As you can see, I don’t want a guitar lesson right now.” She kissed my mouth, and her tongue teased my lips. I kissed her back, and my tongue beckoned her mouth to open. It did.

With my shirt removed, Jean wasted no time but unbuckled my belt and fumbled with the button of my jeans… I took over, and soon my pants were around my ankles.

Jean removed her robe and stood nude before me, looking at me for approval. I smiled and told her how beautiful she looked.

Both naked, we embraced as we explored each other with eager hands. She silently took my hand and led me to her bedroom. The house was dark except for candles lit here and there. The bedroom was aglow in candlelight.

We kissed again, and Jean was not shy. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it up and down. I palmed her lovely breasts and pinched her pink nipples. I felt her shiver.

She pushed me back on the bed and straddled my waist. She tossed back her hair and removed her glasses, setting them on the bedside table. She sure-handedly rubbed my cockhead between her silky wet pussy lips to gather wetness and then sat down impaling herself on me. Was this my shy guitar student?

She began to rock slowly back and forth on me and smiled. As if in answer to my thoughts, she said, “I have wanted to do this since the first lesson.”

She pressed her breasts to my chest and kissed me deeply; I took her ass in my hands and pulled her tightly to me. She trembled with her first orgasm and kept right on undulating softly on my hard rod deep inside her.

The heat rose quickly between us, and soon we thrashed on the bed, moaning and whispering dirty things to one another. She came again and fell back to the bed, her chest heaving and her body trembling.

I took the initiative and kissed and licked her shoulders, chest, breasts and down her stomach before assaulting her pubic mound with kisses and tongue. Jean bucked and pushed herself up to my mouth, hungry for all I could give her.

My mouth fastened to her pussy, and I sucked and polished her pearl until she came again.

We waited only a few minutes before we fucked again; this time doggie style. She looked back at me fiercely as I pounded her from behind.

Never have I felt so taken with a woman.

This went on deep into the night.

We would sleep a little, wake, and fuck again. I woke up once to find cowgirl Jean riding me for all she was worth. She came and giggled and spun around to face me. She had a look of triumph on her face. “I own you, cowboy!” she said, smiling.

“That you do,“ I said.

We rested in spooning fashion, our bodies curved together.

As I rose to dress, she watched me quietly. I said, 'When shall we do the next private lesson?'

Jean smiled broadly. “How about tomorrow night? I’ll make sure I practice.”