Five Fucks - Cover

Five Fucks

by Mat Twassel

Copyright© 2022 by Mat Twassel

Fiction Sex Story: Celine plays the piano as it's never been played before. Illustrated.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Illustrated   .

After a pleasant lunch with Celine’s parents at a little diner, Celine took me on a little tour of her hometown. Clearly it was struggling. Many of the shops were boarded up. Celine mentioned the closing of the factory on the hill had a strong adverse effect on the community. She paused in front of a pharmacy. The sign on the door said open. “I’d stop here for a candy bar on my way home from piano lessons,” she said. “If I’d played well, the chocolate would be a reward, and if I’d played badly, it would be a consolation.” I told her I couldn’t imagine she’d ever play badly. “Oh yes,” she admitted. “Sometimes I’d come out in tears. One time I was so despondent I shoplifted the candy bar. I felt very bad about that. I was sure Mr. Nickens, the pharmacist, was going to catch me. I hurried around the corner and gobbled up the candy without even tasting it. I was so sick with worry and guilt. A week later after my lesson I skipped going into the store. The next week was even worse. By then I knew I wouldn’t be caught, but I felt so bad. So the next week I gathered up all my courage. I went into the store and paid for a candy bar. But when Mr. Nickens turned away, I walked out of the store without taking the candy bar. Since then I’ve never had a chocolate bar.”

“Shall we go in now?” I asked. “I’ll buy you a chocolate bar as a reward.”

“Oh no. I’d just get fat and you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“You wouldn’t get fat. I’d fuck the fat off of you. Five fucks for every bar of chocolate.”

“That is tempting,” Celine said, but we were well down the block and then around the corner. She stopped in front of a shabby brick building. “This is where I had my piano lessons.”

Celine tried the door. I think she was surprised when it opened. We went in. We walked down a hallway to another door, and Celine tried it, and it opened too. We stepped into a large open room, empty except for an upright piano against one wall. “This was also a dance studio,” Celine explained. “Mrs. Weir gave dance lessons, and Mr. Weir taught piano.”

“Did you take dance, too?”

“I wanted to,” Celine said. “I can’t believe the piano is still here.”

We walked over to it. A booklet of music was open on the stand. “I know this piece,” Celine said. “I even played it at a recital. I was so nervous. I told Mr. Weir the week before that I didn’t want to play. I was just too nervous. He said I shouldn’t worry. He told me that what he used to do before public performances was to practice playing the piece naked.”

 
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