Play on, give me excess of it...

I love music, and who can blame me? Music is the most powerful median in the world, and one of the most precious forms of art. I sing, and I dance, and I play... sometimes at the same time. And when I'm not engaged in wordsmithery or self-indulgence, you'll find music coming from the speakers attached to my computer. I love music, and it makes up a huge part of my life.

After putting my own band on hiatus for a while, 47 inducted me into his band. So I'm now the guitarist in a band, which - I suppose - is cool. And we rehearse on Sunday. In addition, Monday saw me return to the world of open mike, which - despite what I thought was initially dodgy sound balance - actually came out pretty well. So I've had a pretty musical week, all told. And of course I love the music in soft porn, and I bemoan the lack of music in hard porn. I even once masturbated for the length of a whole Barenaked Ladies album, constructing different sex scenes in my head for each song.

But this evening went a bit too far.

For years and years my mother has been in what could loosely be termed a folk band. She calls it "music group," which is probably closer to the truth. She plays the flute - badly - and the group has grown from the days it was a few descant recorders and me on my violin. People joined in, like my dad on guitar, and people changed instruments, with squeezeboxes, various wind instruments and percussion come and go. I left the group. But occasionally they meet up here, in the back lounge, which is directly under my room.

I was trying to masturbate this evening. I had sexy pictures involving hats to bolster my horniness, which had been building throughout the day. I knew my parents were downstairs, so I didn't need to be too careful. I locked my door anyway, and started exploring.

I was accompanied almost immediately by a crescendo of folk music from downstairs.

At least it wasn't as dischordant as it used to be. Nevertheless, it was slightly off-putting. I kept going though, because to be frank, I really needed an orgasm. I've done enough damage today, and needed to get a positive note in somewhere. And so did they, only they didn't seem to notice. But I was getting there... slowly but surely, I was becoming more and more aroused. The background music was becoming... well... background music.

I was almost at the point of orgasm when...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Can I come in?"
"The door's locked."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Can I help you?"
"We need some percussion instruments downstairs," pleaded my mother. "Your auntie just arrived and she doesn't have anything to play."
"I'll be down in a few minutes," I replied.
"There's cake down here," said my mother.
"I'll be there instantly," I said, fastening my trousers, grabbing a tambourine and heading downstairs. No orgasm was worth it, I reasoned, for the temporary respite of cake.