The Beauty of Music Ch. 02

This is the (I hope) much anticipated sequel to "The Beauty of Music", and there will be more to come. Lots of guitars out there to inspire me. Look forward to more Gibson, Fender, Rickenbacker, Ibanez, and more. As long as the rave reviews keep coming, you can expect more guitar-goodness. \m/

When we last left our beloved protagonist, Mike had finished a steamy first set with a stunningly well matured Gibson Goldtop Les Paul Classic. Monetary value was irrelevant once it got on its knees. Mike then left the shop, as the night shift had just ended. Without further ado, I give you Mike:

Mike shook himself back to awareness as he was blatantly cut off by a semi going at least 90 mph. Truckers were always in a hurry to go wait in the backups on 695, but this one was an asshole in a hurry. Mike realized that he had been going forty-five. On route 70, survival driving was eighty at least.

"Come on, Mike," he said to himself, "you just gotta make it home, and suppress that amazing hallucination with some alcohol. That'll fix everything."

Half a bottle of Jaegermeister later, and Mike still couldn't erase Paula the Goldtop from his woozy mind. He looked at the clock.

"6:30 already? Thanks, action movie marathon."

There were only three more hours until his shift started, so Mike decided to quickly prepare for work. He ate the last of the "homemade" takeout meal which he had been nursing for days, but the golden corn only reminded him of Paula. Mike then suited up in his usual button-down shirt and vest, and headed into work.

On the road to work, Mike's driving skills increased from the nervous wreck he had been before. He was beginning to come to 'what the hell' terms with this occurrence.

"If Paula wants me to try the other guitars, then I guess I have no right to deny her," said Mike, locking the store doors behind him as the other employees drifted back to their respective cars. "Paula," he said with a corny reverence, "I vow to carry on your will to fuck these other guitars, despite the fact that you are now inanimate."

Paula gave no comment from her pristine, playable prison.

"That's all the incentive I need to actually do this," Mike said as he moseyed towards the other models.

"Now the only tough decision is... Stratocaster, or Telecaster," Mike asked himself, considering all the possibilities and contrasts in his mind:

The Stratocaster is mainly a lead guitar, so she would probably want to take charge. Probably on top. I'm guessing somewhat petite, maybe short haired since she's lacking sustain. Also, she'd most likely be less curvy than Paula, due to her shallower tone and single pickups.

On the other hand, the Telecaster is more geared towards rhythm, so I'm gonna say she'd be more of an uke. This one is pretty worn, so in all probability she's a seasoned sexual veteran. Doesn't take much motion, but there's feeling behind every note. Does that mean she'll tease it out?

The decision coursed through Mike's brain, until he despaired, "I can't decide! I guess I could do both, If that's alright with...you?"

Mike ended his sentence dumbfounded, as he looked down at his noticeably empty hands. Where had the guitars gone? He instinctively turned behind him, seeing, basically, the two women he imagined. Mike decided to go the same course as the last beauty: chat them up.

"So," Mike gulped, suddenly nervous at the sight of not one but two musical beauties within reach, "what are your names?"

The two women stood silently, gave each other a telling glance, and proceeded to explain. First, the woman on the left, a petite brunette in jeans and a t shirt, wearing her hair short, her chin defiantly up and her arms crossed, stepped forward and said, "My name's Cassie S."

"Hello there," Mike responded sheepishly.

"Wait till I'm finished," spat Cassie, "and this piece of work is Cassie T," she said, motioning to the reserved woman behind her. Cassie T stood with her eyes averted, and her hands folded in front of her. Mike expected her to be somewhat of a catcher, but she seemed downright shy.

"While she may seem shy," S continued, "when you take her, T that is, out to play, she may surprise you. So, you ready?"

"Why so sudden," Mike asked.

"That long stay on the wall made me pretty stiff. I need to stretch... Everywhere. You look like you've caught the stiffness too," S joked, motioning to Mike's pants, which she proceeded to unzip and discard over her shoulder. T caught and handled his pants, while S tended to something more important...

S took out Mike's cock and began to stroke it vigorously from head to hilt. As she did so, she expertly slid up her shirt off her torso, only pausing the hand job for a split second to discard it. Next came her bra, which she also dealt with one handed. S slid it off onto her jerking arm, letting the strap guide it down onto her wrist.

S mashed the soft cups of her bra together with Mike's dick in between. The smooth satiny material felt so amazing with S's expert hand guiding it. "Ooh, you'd better stop that, S," Mike warned. "If you keep going, I'll finish too soon."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"Of course not. I've still gotta check the input."

"Good thing Paula warned me about your puns, " S retorted with a sigh, spreading her now bare legs to display a well trimmed mound, split by a soft pink cunt. "So stick it in already!"

Mike couldn't wait any longer. He could feel the heat of her box on him as he entered her abruptly, shoving himself in all the way to the hilt. S didn't seem at all shaken by the rude entry, who proceeded to push Mike onto his back and begin bobbing up and down on his hips.

S used her thin but powerful legs to pump herself up and down, her tight box gripping every inch of Mike. Her ass, smaller than Mike would have liked, still felt amazingly soft every time it contacted him. Within minutes, her hands clawed at his chest, and they both made their peace. S kept Mike's rod inside of her until it flopped out, seemingly useless.

"Well, I've had better," said S thanklessly, "but, on the other hand, you're pretty big for your age, and it's been a while since I've had to fight for the top. And, shit, an orgasm is an orgasm is an... well, you get where I'm going with this."

"Yeah, I gotcha," wheezed Mike, still out of breath from the sheer strain of being on the bottom, and from her hands pushing down on his chest during, "I'm gonna need a break though before I move on to T over--"

At that point, Mike was cut off to nothing more than an ecstatic, inscribable moan of pleasure, as T had silently come over, and taken Mike's dick into her warm, wet mouth. It was only now that Mike had taken notice of just how nice T was. She was about his age, despite his best guess, and had medium straight red hair. She was more on the small side, as was S, but her frame allowed for more noticeably curves. Mike just couldn't keep his eyes off them.

T took notice, reading him with her hazy green eyes, and popped his cock out of her mouth. She had been quietly observing, taking note of exactly what Mike's favorite things to do were, and now knew what she could do best for him.

"I've seen that you enjoy foreplay almost as actual sex. I can fulfill this need of yours," said T, sounding seductive and yet mechanical. "I believe that the thought of being so close to sex, and yet being denied it will serve to add to the stimulation."

T turned over, and scooted up nearer to Mike, reclining on his torso. Mike took notice, and began rubbing his shaft against T's engorged outer lips. Obviously, sucking him off had given her pleasure too. T decided to start the teasing now. She snared Mike's manhood in between her thighs, and began to squeeze.

Normally, Mike would have been in pain. Normally, however, Mike would not be making love to women spawned from guitars. T's juices had been flowing from watching S and Mike fucking, so her crotch and thighs were wet and slick. Mike started to thrust between her soft, wet, yielding flesh, relishing in the ecstasy.

"T, it's so soft and nice," Mike said with ever-shortening breaths, "It's like your legs were made for this!"

"Don't get too comfortable," said T, as she abruptly sealed her legs together even tighter, this time painfully tight against Mike.

"Ah! T, that's too tight! It hurts! Please, lighten up a....Aah!"

With that, Mike was driven over the edge, and shot his load in a high arching rope over T and himself, and hit S in a line across her nose.

"Well, that's enough for today, boy, although your cock still needs some discipline," S remarked, wiping the cum from her nose and cheeks, then savoring it's salty flavor with an erotic vigor. "We can't have you getting too tired, there's still a lot more guitars to be played in this shop," she said, as Mike suddenly realized he was still in the guitar shop.

As Mike finally recovered from his post-orgasm drowsiness, he looked up to see his guitar lovers returning into their original Fender forms, wobbling and eventually resting harmlessly on their wall pegs.

"So, who's next," wondered Mike, poring over the throngs of guitars still unused on the wall, pausing to look on his next lover.

Just which guitar will Mike's next lover be? I'll ask you, the readers to decide! So, please leave a comment with your picks for the next guitar. I always try my best to parallel the guitars into the women, so choose carefully! Also, please rate, too.