Nocturne of Sin
Chilly Autumn
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.