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Anonymous
Aaah! I request girls playing the piano. :3
>> Anonymous
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>> Anonymous
Fuck, I was just reminded of an anime I watched a long time ago that had this girl that could play the piano expertly. I think she was the sister of one of the characters. Utena comes to mind but I don't think that's it.

Now it's going to bug me >_<
>> Anonymous
Rather, the show I think it's from is Revolutionary Girl Utena. I can't remember the piano playing character's name.
>> Anonymous
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>> Anonymous
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>> VZ
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>> VZ
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>> Anonymous
>>276013

sauce please.
>> Anonymous
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They're not exactly playing the traditional way, but...
>> Anonymous
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"Yes?"
"Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please, do keep playing."

Her hands resumed their little ballet over the ivories, but this time the melody was not so assured. I could hear the thoughts in her head, could hear them in every note.

Who is this man? Why is he just standing there? What does he want? Should I call a teacher? Oh no, what time is it now, are any still around? Should I just wait for him to go away?

This was my fetish.

And her appearance was so well maintained. Not a speck of lint or pilling on her blazer. Hair that long and not a single tangle. Her hands reminded me of the way a spider perched on a wall is not very frightening. Not very sexy. Until it starts moving its eight legs in time.

And she did that thing, of course. That thing they all did. The little nod of the head as she fingered a chord right, reassuring it, putting it to bed.

It'd be almost a shame. That those extraordinary pale hands would soon be clasped over her mouth in horror. That her appearance, hourly in the upkeep, so prized by her and no doubt by others, would have to be disgraced so. My medical condition would see to –

"Was there something you wanted?"
"Sorry? No, nothing. You play so well. Don't stop."

She soldiered on, resuming at the wrong place in the music, bringing only anxiety to a piece that asked none. Abruptly her foot shuddered on the pedals and caused an unbearable discordance. As I looked for what had unsettled her, I saw she was not watching the music.

She was watching me. Reflected. In the gleaming black of the piano. And that meant I could see her right back. Startled that I could stand behind her and still make eye contact, she looked away. With nothing left to hide from me, her playing became worse than ever.

And my penis became a rod of steel.

Mere feet from her head, I whipped it out and throttled it like a wild animal. In turn her eyes grew large with terror –
>> Anonymous
"Ah - !"
"Don't. Stop."

She closed her eyes in a grimace but it was no good. The thwacking of palm on pubic mound was like a hideous clapping in time to her music from an audience of cock. The music itself became a mess. It was a lie. A tranquil piece played by someone who wanted to scream and run and weep.

It never took very long. The pressure in my prostate swelled and bulged. My hand accelerated to a furious blur, the clapping an entire crowd's applause all by itself. I could feel the surge coming, I could feel its thousands upon thousands of little legs –

"UUUUUNGGRRHHH"

She turned around just in time to receive right in the face the black mass that cannoned out of my cock. After the first salvo I squirted a few hundred more of them onto her clothes as well, down the front into her bra, in both sleeves, down the back of her neck. Naturally they all began wriggling and crawling all over her skin. She wiped a dozen or so from her face onto her hand, and stared uncomprehending at the impossible sight. First she stared, as they all did, at the giant pincers. Then she stared at the bugs they belonged to. Then she just stared.

Earwigs.

He just came earwigs.
>> Anonymous
I panted as I watched her, recovering my breath. Her face was still half-covered in black, crawling pincers. I always liked watching the reaction. Sometimes if they did something cute before passing out I could as much as halve my refractory period.

When she finally moved she brushed some more of them off her face. Where once was painstakingly applied makeup there now was earwigs. Where once was beauty, now was earwigs.

"My ...

Her movements were slow and post-traumatic as she gazed in the piano at her own reflection, and the reflection of like a thousand earwigs. My penis stirred, yearning for a comeback special.

"My f..."

She stroked her face with a finger. Earwigs hopped out of her right nostril and onto the finger. She began ... laughing?

"My ... FETISH"

and thats how i met ur mother lmao
>> Anonymous
This copypasta is a year old but still win. I don't think /c/ approves, though.
>> Anonymous
hahahah oh wow