Play a serenade.

Would you really? I wonder. But it is romantic, so I won’t argue.

So, being a consummate musician, you finger your lute and compose a song on the spot, about the beauty of an elf you saw swimming in a river. It’s very flattering, and when you’re finished, I applaud, and you sketch me a little bow.

I ask you if you know the Ballad of Seven Autumns. And of course you do, because it makes all the young women sigh. Then I climb out of the river, and step up onto the grassy bank you’re watching me from. I’m wet and shining from head to toe, and not the least bit modest.

I ask you to sing the Ballad of Seven Autumns for me, all the way through, and I warn you that if you miss a note, I’ll stop.

“Stop what?” you ask.

I kneel down on the grass in front of you, reach under your lute, and unlace your trousers. I find that you are already hard for me, and I bring your cock out into the open air.

I ask whether you would mind hitching up your lute a little, and no, of course you don’t mind. Then I start to lean in, but I look up at you, and wait.

So you start to play. And as you sing the first stanza, I take you in my mouth.

You’re a fine musician, and as you play, I try to give you an equally compelling performance. I am slow and attentive and I caress you with my fingers, my lips, and my tongue. When you get through two choruses without a misstep, I take you deeper, more eagerly.

By the fifth verse, my head is bobbing forward and back, nice and steady. I’m keeping time with the music, and even you’re playing a little quicker now than you normally would, I don’t seem to object. You’re a little dizzy, and a little breathless, but you manage to keep control of yourself until you go into the chorus once more. The feel of my lips becomes your whole world, and your body is telling you that if you can get through one more verse, something wonderful is going to happen.

But some little unexpected motion of my tongue takes all of your strength away, and though you manage not to gasp, you strike a sour note on your lute, and I stop at once. I pause for a moment, with your cock in my warm mouth, and then I draw back, letting you slide out of my lips.

I look up at you, with a little mischief, and I tell you that it’s a shame, because I was looking forward to the end of the song.