I was excited about the coming senior year. I did my dues in high school band. I was first a freshman trumpet player who thought he was hot shit but compared to the older students I was simply shitty and over the next three years I greatly improved so that I was indeed hot shit. Nathan would graduate this year so next school year I would take over first chair trumpet.

Oh, there would be tryouts to compete for first chair but I was the best. The younger players were where I was a few years ago. Evan was the only other senior trumpet player who was decent but he was only good enough to move up to my vacated chair. He was no threat to take first chair.

"I'm sitting right there," I told Mr. Brown, the band director, as I pointed at the seat Nathan's ass was in all school year long.

"You still have to win it," he said.

I knew he had to say that. He still had to hold the competition. Next year's juniors, sophomores, and freshmen would hope they were good enough to win the seat.

"I will. No problem. You know that, Mr. Brown."

"I was down at the middle school last week," Mr. Brown said. "There's a girl who's very good."

I smiled. I knew what he said without explicitly saying it. He implied, "Keep practicing over the summer." A freshman? No problem. And a girl? Preposterous. No competition to me whatsoever.

"I'm serious," he said. "Don't think first chair is automatically yours. She's that good."

I was in a funk all summer. I brooded over Mr. Brown's words. I kept telling myself he wasn't serious but it was obvious he was serious. I had competition for first chair.

Band practice began a month before school started. We needed to be ready for the first football game.

Most girls in band played the smaller instruments like the flute or the oboe or the piccolo. Heavy instruments were harder for the girls. There was the occasional girl in the drum corps or played the trombone, but overall the girls found those instruments unpopular. If a girl was involved, she most often preferred the flag team. Just march in front of the band and twirl your flag. Easy.

My enemy's name was Jessica. She had short brown hair that just covered her ears. She was short at about five feet tall. She was too thin with twigs for arms and twigs for legs. Jessica was a stick with tits. As for her tits, they looked small and very rounded. Yeah, I noticed her tits. So what? She was still my enemy. She was still my competition. I looked into her face. Her brown eyes looked focused. As a freshman, she would be one of the first to play in tryouts.

A freshman boy went first. He was almost competent but that was the best one could say about him. I was in his position once. I thought I was going to blow them away until I heard an older student play and then I knew I played like shit.

Jessica was up next. My eyes followed her as she walked to the front of the room with her horn. The girl had a little sway in her hips that girls get when they mature. Overall from this backside view of her, she looked more like a boy than a girl. Maybe she was a dyke. That would figure, wouldn't it?

I sent out evil thoughts her way. I mentally tried to make her stumble and then be laughed at. I tried to make her become too nervous. Nothing worked.

Jessica stood confidently. She put the trumpet to her lips and she played. She blew me away. She blew everyone away. She wasn't perfect. I heard a couple of misses but she was damn good. I needed to play awesome trumpet.

A sophomore and two juniors played before my friend and fellow senior Evan played. He played great. He made a big jump in his ability during the past junior year.

It was my turn now. I played wonderfully but then something happened. I knew I played wonderfully and as I started to feel triumphant I lost focus. I messed up at the end. I messed up badly.

I returned to my seat red in the face. Hopefully, it was enough to earn first chair.

The enemy came over. "You're really good," Jessica said. "I can't wait to learn from you."

"You're really good, too," I conceded.

"Thanks," she said. "I know we can learn a lot from each other."

"Sure," I said.

Go away! Don't be nice to me. You're my enemy. I don't want to be your friend. Don't be friendly to me. I might start to think you're okay.

I thought of the joke:

Q: How do trumpet players traditionally greet each other?

A: "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm better than you."

I was going to be better than her. I steeled up my disdain for Jessica.

Jessica won first chair. It wasn't a big surprise after the way I blew it at the end. Some bandmates expressed that they thought I was robbed or that Mr. Brown was unfair. I told them I was okay with it. I knew Jessica deserved it. I still hoped to change Mr. Brown's mind in the near future.

Tammy, a senior and a flute player, made sure she said to me, "Good! You deserve to still be second, you jerk!"

Tammy was a beautiful brunette. We went out once but only once. Tammy had first hand knowledge to the old question "What do trumpet players use for birth control?" with the answer being "Their personalities".

Tammy didn't like me. She thought I was arrogant and self-centered and egotistical. Personally, I couldn't see it.

I dated several girls. I'd even dated some girls twice. No girl ever wanted to go out with me beyond that. Yes, I was still a virgin. It was a condition I didn't want to be in but I had my trumpet music to soothe the desires of my loins. Some day, somewhere, some girl would sleep with me. I think.

"Hi!" happily said Jessica as she sat in first chair next to me. "I was surprised when Mr. Brown made me first chair because I have so much to learn. It's such a thrill."

She was much too excited for my taste. The girl needed valium to calm her down.

Jessica asked, "Are you going to tune up?"

Students warmed up to be ready for practice. Tune up? Bah! I was good.

"I'll just wait for practice," I answered condescendingly.

"Oh, okay," she trilled. "I guess you know all the music."

Stop it! I want to hate you, girl! Stop being so happy around me!

Jessica practiced as we waited for Mr. Brown to call us together for the formal band rehearsal.

I chatted with Evan.

"Hey, Evan! Did you notice all the new and pretty freshman girls on campus? It's too bad none of the pretty girls are in band. Can you believe it? So many new gorgeous girls in school but not a single one in this room."

I made sure I spoke loudly enough for Jessica to overhear. I described the girls I liked and made sure it was unlike the mousy, short-haired girl next to me. A true female was completely dissimilar from Jessica.

Mr. Brown started us with some songs we played year after year. The music was often unknown to the new band members but for someone like me, it was very familiar. I begrudgingly admitted to myself that Jessica was very adept at picking up the new music.

After practice while we put away our instruments, Jessica asked me, "I missed a few notes on 'Taking Care of Business'. Who does that song? Is that an old band like Smashing Pumpkins?"

"It's John Phillip Sousa," I said. Didn't this girl know her music?

"Sousa? It doesn't sound very march-y."

"It's Sousa," I insisted.

"Really?"

"Evan," I called over. I chose not to hide my disdain for her stupidity. "Who does 'Taking Care of Business'?"

"The Beatles," he said.

"Well, we're both wrong," I said.

"Who are the Beatles?" she asked.

"You haven't heard of Mick Jagger?" I asked incredulously. How could she be good if she didn't know anything about music? This was ridiculous. She was undeserving to be first chair with such ignorance.

Jessica shrugged.

"The Beatles are only the greatest rock band ever," I said trying to make her look as brainless as possible. "Jagger and Clapton and Benatar and Townsend and..." I drew a blank. "Hey, Evan? Who's the other Beatle?"

"Wayne Newton?" he replied with uncertainty.

I knew that was the right answer. "Yeah, Wayne Newton. The Beatles. What do you listen to?"

"I like classical," she said.

"You need to get a life and listen to real music," I suggested. I wanted to make her feel as low as possible, but she kept her happy attitude. What was wrong with this girl?

"Maybe I should come over to your place to hear some?" she said.

"Maybe you should!" I told her.

Jessica put her horn in its case. She headed off. She gave a big happy smile and said, "See you tomorrow."

When Jessica was gone, Evan said, "Dude! I thought you hated her. Why did you just invite her over to your home?"

"I didn't do that!" I said. What was he thinking?

"You just told her to come over to hear real music," said Evan.

Oh, shit! He was right. Certainly she wouldn't ever take me up on it, would she? No, of course not. Why worry about it?

By the end of the week, Jessica had the music down and she was evidently better than me and my three years of practice and familiarity with it. I was discouraged. I took every opportunity to pound on her for any little mistake no matter how small. She never criticized me back for my more frequent gaffes. I put her down for her skirts and tops and shoes. She always responded how handsome I looked today and that she liked how this certain shirt looked on me. She infuriated me! How could anyone be so oblivious? Even Evan said I was especially rough on her. She just said "Thank you" and tried to dress differently the next day.

The school days passed into October. Jessica showed no problems playing during football halftime or in the stands during the games. She was fantastic.

To put it simply, Jessica was a disgrace to the trumpet player image. She was nice to everyone. She was sweet and kind. She never thought a flute player or a trombonist were beneath her. Everybody loved her. Worse yet, she was never competitive with the other trumpet players. Evan and I had an uneasy friendship. We tolerated each other. We both wanted to be the best, but there can only be one person who is the best. Jessica simply was the best without demonstrating a personality willing to step on other people on her way up. That was so wrong. She brought complete shame to her musical instrument of choice.

Mr. Brown introduced new music. I liked one of the songs. It was the theme song to Spiderman. I showed my superior knowledge to Jessica again. I knew the bass player for the Beatles, Pat Benatar, did the movie score. I knew Mr. Benatar did lots of movie scores.

Once again Jessica was a quick study of the new music. Once again she proved Mr. Brown right when he made her first chair.

I loved Saturdays. I had the house to myself. Both my Dad and Mom worked, my older brother was away at college, and my older sister lived with her boyfriend. I spent all day playing video games, listening to music, and surfing the net. I didn't hang out with friends. I was a trumpet player.

The doorbell rang around 2 PM. I considered ignoring it but I was in the kitchen anyway getting myself a snack. I peeked out the window because if it was a salesman he could ring until hell froze over.

It wasn't a salesman but hell froze over. It was Jessica. My enemy! What in frozen hell was she doing at my house?

I opened the door. She stood in a logoed white sweatshirt and navy blue sweat pants. A small hairclip was on the top of the right side of her head to keep her bangs out of her eyes.

"Hi!" she said excitedly with her big stupid happy smile.

"Hi," I said cautiously and tried to portray a little snootiness.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Uh ... sure," I said before thinking to ask why.

I stepped out of the way so Jessica could enter. She plopped herself down on the couch in the front room. I sat down on the edge of the recliner chair. I felt anxiety as I tried to figure out why she was here.

Jessica said, "Thank you for being so nice and so kind to me. Your support and help has made my first year in high school band a smooth transition. It's great to have a guy like you right next to me."

I breathed in deeply as my mind raced and raged. Why didn't she pay attention? I insulted her and put her down at every chance. Most of the band knew about my comments. Evan certainly heard my statements.

Her kind words created a first instinct to be nice back to her. Fortunately I got control of my nature. In the privacy of my house, I decided to dig hard at her.

"I noticed right away, Jessica, that you're pretty green and very stupid," I started. "Someone in the band has to keep you out of trouble. How did you get to be first chair anyway? Are you giving Mr. Brown blowjobs? Are you taking his cum down your throat?"

From the look at her red angry face I knew she heard me this time.

I shook my head and said, "No. I bet you prefer him to splash it all over your face."

Jessica weakly stood. Her body trembled and tears formed in her eyes.

At last! Maybe this was the start to driving her out of band!

"So you came over to just say what a great guy I was?" I asked. "I already know what a great guy I am."

"No! You ... you..." she fumbled for words. "You jerk! I just came over to hear your music. You said I could come over and listen to what you called 'real music'."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Let's listen to my stereo."

I stood and headed toward my bedroom. I love my superior feeling.

"Come on!" I called out. "Who knows when Mr. Brown might want to add a Pearl Jam song to our music? You want to be ready."

Jessica nodded agreement and followed me into my room. Despite my degrading insults, music was too important to her to leave.

I popped Nickelback in the CD player. As Jessica listened attentively, I studied her. I never noticed before that her eyes were so green. I liked the color because the shade looked exotic. Her hair was shorter than I preferred but she generally kept it attractive. I gazed slowly down while I made sure she stayed unaware that I looked her over. Her tits weren't big but they looked larger than they were because of her thin body. That appealed to me. I briefly imagined what her tits looked like.

I scowled at myself when I felt my cock respond. Why was I getting turned on by my hated enemy? That was ridiculous.

I couldn't stop my leering eyes. I scanned lower and wondered what her pussy was like. I would love to see any girl's pussy. I was so lonely for female companionship. I'd love to have any girlfriend! I didn't have to do anything physical with her. Just to sit together with a girl and talk would be great.

I excused myself to the restroom. I stood in front of the toilet and slowly stroked my cock. I fantasized about Jessica on her knees joyfully sucking my cock. I recognized the strangeness of the thought. It was more reasonable for me to imagine holding her head so tight that she couldn't back away as I angrily and forcefully shoved my cock in and out of her scrawny throat until I gagged her with a load of cum. Today in my mind, Jessica liked me and willingly sucked me off until I came and she eagerly swallowed it all down.

I returned to my bedroom. Coldplay was now on. Jessica had changed the CD while I was gone.

"What took you so long to masturbate?" she said accusingly.

I froze. How did she know?

Jessica then laughed and gently threw a CD jewel case at my feet.

"Which one do you like?" she asked.

I exhaled a big breathe of relief. Jessica was only teasing. For a second I thought she knew. I looked down. It was my Pussycat Dolls CD. Jessica found it looking for something else to put in the stereo.

"Ha-ha," I said once I calmed down from my fright.

"Do you like girls that look like this?" she asked.

"Well ... yes."

"Hmmph."

"Too bad you don't have a good body."

"Do you think I should dress like that?"

"No. You're too chicken. You're nice and safe and boring."

"Boring? You're the one who is boring. This band doesn't sound much different than the first one. It's the same band under two different names. You should get the nickel back you paid for this music. Let's put the Pussycat Dolls in."

I changed out the CD and pressed play.

"Don't tell me you like this?" she said soon.

"I do."

"It's just because it's a bunch of beautiful girls. It has to be," she insisted.

Maybe she was right but I wasn't going to admit that. "They're good."

"Where's your Beatles CD?" Jessica asked.

"I don't have one."

"You said they're the greatest rock band ever."

"Not to me. I like them but I don't want to listen to them that much."

Jessica laughed a little too hard for my taste.

I punched stop on the CD player. I was tired of my music being made fun of. Jessica picked up the Pussycats Dolls jewel case and shook her head with a big smile.

"I bet their tit sizes are bigger than their IQs," she said.

"At least they have tits!" Enough was enough.

"I have tits."

I could tell I struck a nerve. It was my turn to laugh a little too hard. I chortled out, "Does your body know?"

"What's with guys and tits?"

"I like them." I wasn't going to back down from that truth plus I had her on the defensive and I was going to milk it for all its worth. No pun intended between "milk" and "tits"

"I should go now," she said as she stood.

"Left your tits at home, huh?" I said with another dig.

She stared at me. I could see she was shaken again.

I continued. "All the girls I've heard of who play trumpet have small tits. Maybe if you give it up your tits will grow. Your tits don't like all the exercise."

"That's not true," she said soft-spoken.

"You're right because you don't have tits at all. How lonely you must be."

A tear trickled down her cheek.

Yes! I struck pay dirt.

Jessica turned without saying a word and left.

I hoped now she would realize how much I disliked her. I had finally penetrated her happy patience.

Several of the guys were around Jessica when I came into the band room on Monday. When I threaded my way through the people into my seat I discovered why. Jessica's blouse looked like something out of the Renaissance days. The light blue top had puffed sleeves that extended all the way down her arms. Lace encircled the cuffs with matching lace bordering her neckline. The neckline was what had the boys' attention and it immediately received my attention. Jessica's blouse was a bodice and corset. Her tits were pushed up and looked larger than they were. Not that I'd seen her tits before but I knew this made them look bigger. Jessica's tits looked wonderful!

"Places!" called out Mr. Brown. The boys reluctantly returned to their chairs. I noticed Mr. Brown's eyes briefly scan over Jessica's "attributes". He had more control than us boys and turned his eyes away.

"What's with this?" I whispered to Jessica.

"I'm just showing you what true beauty looks like," she answered smugly.

"You're showing a lot more than beauty."

"Isn't this more attractive than one of your Pussycat Dolls?"

I decided not to answer.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.

"Jessica!" called our Mr. Brown ruining my chance to respond. "Let's pay attention."

"Yes, Mr. Brown," she replied obediently.

I was surprised I did as well as I did during practice. My throbbing erection was a constant distraction since my eyes kept glancing at her tits. The sight fed the purple monster.

"Do you want to come over again, Saturday, to listen to music?" I asked as I tried to put my trumpet away. That's a hard task when you're looking elsewhere.

Jessica craned her head forward until she got my eye contact. She lifted her head and I followed her head up away from her tits. It was a challenge. Her tits were right there! How could I not look?

"No," she said.

"No?" I said sounding every bit the disappointed as I was.

"I and my tits were greatly offended last time."

"Uh ... I'm sorry. I can see you have great tits." I glanced at them and then looked back up at her face. "Uh ... I was wrong."

What was wrong with me? I apologized? When did I ever do that to anybody?

In a moment of clarity, I had a great idea. "What if you brought over some of your favorite music?"

"You want to hear mine?"

"I won't make fun of it," I quickly promised. "Maybe I can learn something."

"Okay," she said with a smile.

It was the first week I was ever happy to sit by her in band.

Jessica showed up at my house on Saturday at about 9:30. She carried a backpack that rattled with what sounded like jewel cases. In my bedroom, she confirmed my deduction by taking out a stack of over ten CDs. Some of the names I heard of like Mozart and Beethoven and Tsch ... I can't spell that name. Names like Delius I never heard before.

"We're going to listen to all of those?" I asked. As soon as I said it I knew my voice sounded too fearful. I wanted to sound interested but I didn't want to sit through all those CDs. It was hours and hours worth.

I discovered that one track on a Classical music CD often lasted as long as three or four songs on one of my CDs. Jessica played a track or two from several CDs for the next two hours. Some of the music was okay and even interesting but I couldn't see myself listening to it very often and certainly not owning any CDs let alone several.

We took a break for lunch.

We returned to my room to listen to more. Jessica popped in a Mozart CD. About five minutes into the music, I noticed something was wrong with Jessica. She looked pale and I could see perspiration on her. I became concerned about her health. Last week I hoped she would collapse and die but not today.

"Why are you squirming?" I spoke slowly. I didn't want to sound as if I was prying but if she was sick then I didn't know what to do and hoped she'd go home so her mother could take care of her.

Jessica blushed red.

"What?" I asked. Was it something embarrassing?

Jessica cast her eyes to the ground. She squeezed her legs together. I could hear her breathing now.

"Are you sick?"

She shook her head and looked up weakly into my face.

"What is it? I can tell something is wrong."

"It's ... it's ... it's this song."

"The song?" I was thoroughly confused. I wanted her to just tell me.

"The way it makes me feel."

"I don't understand."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

I just waited silently. I didn't know what to say or what to ask. I had no idea what was going on.

"I like to masturbate to this song," she said. "I do it all the time. Just hearing it makes me ... uh ... horny."

I was sure the bugged out expression of my eyes clearly communicated that I heard her.

She said, "Sorry to embarrass you."

"It's okay," I said with a loud exhale. "I masturbate too."

"But to pictures," she said. "I know I'm a little strange to do it to music."

"I guess I can understand," I said. I hadn't considered music masturbation before but now that I knew about it, it seemed at least plausible.

"During the soft part of the music I rub myself slowly and then the music builds and builds and I bring myself to orgasm at the crescendo."

"That's cool," I said.

"You really think so?" she asked.

"Sure. I think it's neat that music is so sexual to you."

"It sure is."

I reset the Mozart to the beginning and hit pause.

"Go ahead and do it," I said.

Jessica laughed, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You look like you badly need a release," I said. I could tell from the way she shifted on the floor. I didn't think it was because she needed to pee.

She bit her lip which confirmed my suspicion.

"Would you leave the room until I finish?" she asked.

"What if I masturbate at the same time?" I replied with my own question. The thought of a horny Jessica was too much for me. I wanted to see what it looked like when she masturbated to Mozart.

This time her eyes expressed clearly that she heard me correctly. I noticed that she glanced down at my crotch.

"Just the thought of you masturbating to Mozart makes me horny," I said. "I need to release too."

"You want to look at me?"

"You're pretty."

"Since when?" she accused.

I took a deep breath. After tearing her beauty down last week, my words came out hollow.

What was coming over me? I felt remorse for my words. Remorse! I felt deep sadness and it wasn't the kind that inspired great music. It was sadness for my past behavior and disgust for my treatment of Jessica. I wiped tears from my eyes but they kept coming. Now it was even worse! I was this "tough guy" or more honestly tried to pretend to be one. I didn't want to cry.

"Jessica," I said. My voice cracked. "I am sorry for the way I've treated you all this time."

"I just thought you were jealous that I was first chair."

"I was. I wanted to hate you. I did hate you. I wanted to make you leave."

"What changed?"

"I don't know." I hung my head down and thought. I looked back at her and said, "I guess when I saw all the guys looking at you on Monday I was jealous. I realized I liked you."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh."

"I've always liked you," she said.

"You did? Even after the way I treated you?"

"You take your music seriously and you're handsome too."

"I am?"

"Yeah." She smiled at me.

I breathed in deeply. How did the embarrassment transfer from her to me? Plus now I had a major boner that begged for release.

"I'm going to masturbate," I declared. "You can watch me or you can join me but I need to do it."

Jessica watched as I stripped off my shirt and then started on my jeans. I slipped my pants off and then started with my briefs. Her eyes stared directly between my legs. I pulled my underwear off.

"It's huge!" she said in shock as she stared at my erection.

I was only 4 1/2 inches long when erect. I measured weekly with the hope it still grew. Her assessment of my size made me feel good.

I encircled my cock with my left hand and reach toward the CD player. "This song, right?"

"Wait!" she said quickly. "I need to cum too."

It was my turn to watch as she undressed. She pulled off her sweat shirt. I stared at her bra-encased tits. She stopped and looked embarrassed again.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," she said... "I guess we're friends now though."

I slowly nodded without taking my eyes off her chest.

Jessica took off her bra. My dick throbbed in response to the sight of her luscious tits. They were glorious!

"Why did you do that?" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"Your dick moved!"

"I can't control it. It's because I like your tits."

"So I have tits now, do I?"

"I saw on Monday," I answered. "I see today. You look beautiful."

She smiled shyly and then wiggled her shorts down. I noticed that she took her panties down at the same time.

"Wow!" I unintentionally said when I saw her pussy.

She opened her legs wider and said "Tada!"

My dick throbbed again. Her pussy glistened with lubrication.

"I guess you like what you see again?" she said.

I nodded definitively.

"Start the music," she said.

"What?"

She pointed at the stereo.

"Oh ... right!"

I pushed the button. The first strains of stringed instruments filled my room. I saw Jessica slowly and gently pull on her clit. I watched enraptured until I realized I needed to do something with myself. I slowly stroked my hand up and down my cock matching her tempo.

Jessica didn't alter her motion much during the first five minutes. Every now and then she rubbed her whole hand over her pussy. Twice she inserted her index finger inside herself. My eyes grew big and my dick throbbed hard each time she did that. I tried to keep my stroke slow but it became difficult to do.

The music transformed into soft and airy. Flutes led the way with other soft sounds following.

"This is where I start to get warmed up," Jessica said.

She smoothly rubbed back and forth over her clit. She looked more serious in her motion now. With her other hand, she ran fingers between her lips. I stayed at the same speed. Watching Jessica play with herself was too stimulating. It was hard to stay slow. I didn't want to cum too fast.

Jessica moaned. Her sound was so exciting that I had to rip my hand away from my cock so I didn't shoot right then.

The music slowly became fuller as instruments were added. I could hear the musical build up. Jessica gasped and moaned more often. The sight and sounds of her arousal caused me to grip my dick tightly and stroke. I became inevitably locked in for my orgasm.