I live in Manhattan, in the heart of New York City. Well, almost the heart. I live on the Upper West Side, a fancy area, but I could only afford a small apartment there. Still, it costs a fortune each month in rent, but it's conveniently located, as it's near everything. Plus, I don't have to own a car. I can take the bus or the subway (or in a pinch, a taxi) to wherever I need to go. Perhaps most of all, I am near what's called the "music center," the district just north of Times Square, and a little west of Broadway, where there are hundreds of shops that cater to musicians and theatre people. It's where stores like Sam Ash, Tower Records, and G. Schirmer's are. In fact, for many years Schirmer's has been my favorite, publishing and selling so much great piano music. Plus, my apartment was a short train ride uptown to the Manhattan School of Music, up on 122nd Street. Lots of concerts, and a chance to mingle with the serious musicians.
Since childhood, I've enjoyed playing the piano, and took lessons, yet taught myself most of what I knew upon reaching adulthood. When I was in college, I thought briefly of applying for admission to Julliard, or maybe the Eastman School of Music up in Boston. (I decided I couldn't get into the Manhattan School of Music, so I didn't even give it a try.) Nevertheless, I decided to keep playing the piano not to become a virtuoso, but simply for the pleasure and joy it brought me. When I turned 30, I decided to sharpen my piano skills which had lay dormant in my 20s. I decided to hire a music teacher.
On the recommendation of a friend, I found Bob, a real prize of a teacher. Bob was an older man, he had taught piano in several conservatories in Europe. He was about 60 years of age. Maybe best of all, his studio was only a few blocks away from my apartment on 10th Avenue. When I first saw Bob I knew he was going to be right. Ah! A heavy, handsome older man. Actually, he was very heavy, with a fairly huge belly, and broad chest. However, the rest of him seemed to go well with his midsection. His full name was Dr. Roberto Moltissimi. He was born in Italy and came to New York around 1980. (Actually, he was named perfectly, for his last name translates to "lots" in English.) Bob had a Pavarotti-like beard, not too long or too short, and eyes that glistened. He dressed simply, in a white short-sleeve shirt and dark trousers. At our first meeting, when I saw his belly protrude, spreading open between buttons on his shirt, I knew I wanted to get to know him better.
Bob asked me to play something at our first meeting, just to show him what I knew. I sat at his Sohmer console in the practice room, and played a brief etude for him. Bob stood next to me, smiling broadly.
"You have a lovely touch, Giuseppe!" he beamed.
"Just one piece of advice," Bob added as he sat on the piano bench next to me. As he sat, I could smell his body, fragrant and masculine, and I instinctively moved closer to him. I felt the warmth from his body radiate out toward me, and was comforted by that warmth. Fortunately, I am not too large myself or else we could not fit on the bench together! I keep myself in good shape, and pride myself on being a 35-year-old with the body of a man ten years younger. It helps to work out in the gym, and to spend as much time outdoors as the city allows.
From my first piano lesson with Bob, I could tell there was some wonderful sexual energy between us. He would look at me as I played, and I saw his admiring glances with my peripheral vision. When I finished, he leaned toward me, and put his left arm around my back, and gave me a hug. "Bello!" he said, smiling broadly. (I wanted him to kiss me, but felt too shy to admit it.)
About a week later, after we had ended one of my piano lessons with a hug, and a kiss to my head, Bob stood up next to me, behind the piano bench. He was not a very tall man, about five feet eight. I turned around on the bench to sit facing him, and saw Bob move his huge belly toward me. I leaned forward, and kissed his belly through his shirt. I could not put my arms all the way around him, but I did hold him on his sides as I leaned forward. My lips found the spread buttons down by his huge belly, and I saw the hair showing itself upon his belly. Leaning forward, I unbuttoned one more button, revealing his belly button, which looked huge. I kissed him there, and he groaned with pleasure. Wow, his huge Italian belly was turning me on. I felt my cock harden as I moved my tongue into his belly button. Bob giggled, and obviously ticklish there, pulled back a bit.
As he pulled back, I noticed that he, too, was getting excited. Gently, I stroked the outside of his black slacks, feeling his sizable cock beneath the fabric. He threw his head back as I stroked, continuing to lick his beautiful belly. Bob unbuttoned his shirt, and removed it. He asked me to stand up. "I want to look at your legs, and that nice small butt!"
As I stood, he held me in his arms, and kissed my neck, and my chest. Slowly, Bob sat on the piano bench--we had changed places--as I stood before him. Bob stroked my blue jeans, and eagerly unzipped my pants. He pulled them down along with my underwear, and my cock sprung out, throbbing, and dripping with clear pre-cum. God, was I aroused from Bob's tongue on my neck, and his lips on my face! As I stood before him, he gently cupped my balls in his hand, and licked the tip of my cock, rubbing it in his hand as he moved it in and out of his mouth. I told Bob that I was going to cum, and he mumbled "Good. Cum in my throat!" He jammed my cock down his throat, and almost on cue, I exploded into his mouth, shooting my cum as he swallowed every drop.
