2 comments/  5298 views/  2 favorites

Art for Anything Pt. 01

By: ElRoylk



I wasn't looking for anything, in particular; or anybody, for that matter. No long term relationship, not even a one night stand. I'd come by the party on a whim, bored to tears and facing Chinese take-out in front of the tube. But when Jerry pointed her out to me, I was intrigued and something clicked back in my reptilian brain. Cheri was tall, well proportioned and carried herself with an attractive self-confidence. Naturally, I was skeptical of any 3 second assessment from across the room, but my snap-judgments had been close enough in the past that I was willing to believe this one. Besides, something turned me on about her.

He made the introductions smoothly enough and I took the opportunity to chat with her over a drink while the party went on around us. I wasn't disappointed. She was clearly intelligent, had a great sense of humor (demonstrated by her continuing laughter at my jokes) and was unattached.

We agreed to have an official date the following week.

I had long stopped being nervous about dating. A devout bachelor, I wasn't too concerned about how I measured up, whether someone would like me, or what kind of impression I needed to make. I'm happy in my skin. I'm in good shape, I make a reasonable living, I'm not involved in anything illegal and I can hold my head up in terms of my interests. Life is pretty short, I figure, and it's all about being yourself and finding others who accept you for who you are.

So, when the night came around I hadn't fretted too much. In fact I had forgotten about it for much of the day until the reminder popped up on my phone. A little spasm wriggled through my spine at the prospect of having dinner with her. I didn't expect it to end in a glorious night of play between the sheets, but if it did, all the better. I hadn't had any for quite a while. At least a month anyway.

She was already at the restaurant when I got there, more stunning than I remembered. Brunette hair brushed straight down to the middle of her back, her brown eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her smile engaging and warm. She never took her eyes off me, even as I offered her the bouquet of flowers I had picked up on the way over.

"Hey, thanks!" She smelled the bouquet and found a spot for it on the table. A waiter came by asking if we'd like it in a vase. A first class place we'd picked—I like to eat and I like to eat well.

"I hope you haven't been here long?" I took off my jacket and sat down.

"Just got here."

"Well, I was a little delayed; I'm glad we could get together." I smiled and looked her back in the eyes. It was tough to keep from staring, or looking wolfish, but her face was so beautiful, so young with a depth of wisdom. I couldn't begin to estimate her age - she could have been 21 or 45 - it kept shifting. "So...have you had a chance to look at the menu? I understand the starts are really great."

We shifted into the mildly uncomfortable transition new friends encounter as they try and remember what it was that hooked them up in the first place. Thankfully she enjoyed as varied a diet as I did and was only too happy to explore some of the more provocative items on the menu. This led naturally into remembrances of prior meals, gossip about people who we didn't think matched our tastes, and anecdotes about our travels.

When I finally looked up, I realized we had spent almost two hours eating, finishing one bottle of wine and deciding our next steps.

"Would you care for dessert this evening?" The waiter had the dessert menus ready.

I looked over at Cheri, trying to gauge her appetite. "I always like to look," I said, non-committally. I was undecided. We could hang here for another half hour and then we'd be too full to do much of anything else. We could leave, go to a club, but then desserts there would be second-class at best. 

We scanned the menu for a few moments. "You know," she said looking up. "I'm not quite ready for dessert, even though these look fantastic. Did you say you had another thing in mind after dinner?"

"The Kit-Kat Klub. Yeah. The desserts are horrible there, but the drinks are okay. I understand there's an indie group playing tonight and I really like the dance floor—it has lots of room. Would you like to check it out?"

She nodded enthusiastically tipping back the remainder of her wine. I paid, we grabbed our stuff and left. As we had both driven, I suggested we could take one car and swing back later if she was amenable.

As I drove us across town I stole glances at her during our conversation. She smelled wonderful; a faint tinge of something floral or spice. Her profile was as attractive as anything. I looked at her breasts, not too large, not too small. They stood out in a beautiful mound, possibly pushed in a little and rounded by her bra, I couldn't tell in the light. She had worn a top that exposed her navel, a feature I always loved looking at. Her jeans were low cut, hip-huggers I guess, and seemed to fit her like a glove. I imagined what it would be like to run my fingers from her neck all the way to the crease at the top of her thighs.

"Did I spill something?" She looked down at herself and back at me.

I grinned. "Nope. You look absolutely fantastic. I was just staring."

She smiled back, not offended in the least and shifted a little to afford me a better view. Nothing conscious, nothing lascivious, just a little rearrangement of her body so I could see more of her. It didn't hurt.

We arrived at the club and my first suspicion it wasn't going to go well was how easy it was to find a parking spot. The Kit Kat Klub booked a wide range of bands, usually they were spectacular, but every once in a while they ended up stinkers. I really hoped we hadn't picked a bad night—I'd regret leaving the desserts back at the restaurant.

We entered the club and looked around. About half the tables were occupied. I checked my watch. By this time of night it should have been packed. I looked over at one of the servers.

"Is Credo playing tonight?"

"Yeah. No. They cancelled last minute. They sent a replacement band, though. But no-one's heard of 'em, so I guess it'll be a quiet night."

I shrugged, looked over at Cheri with raised eyebrows as if to ask if she wanted to take the chance.

"Sure, let's see what they're about. It won't cost us anything to hang for a few minutes."

We found a table near the dance floor, ordered a couple of drinks and were just getting started when the band kicked in.

It was like a wall of noise had slammed into us. Cheri had been in the middle of discussing some of her latest work when I couldn't make out a single sound. I looked at her wide eyed. She stopped mid-sentence trying to catch her breath and we both started laughing so hard it hurt. A jet engine. It felt like being inside a jet engine. The screech of the guitar, the drums, the bass "turned up to 11." I looked at her and without having to say a word, pulled out some cash, left it on the table and offered her a hand.

We were still giggling as we got back into my car. My ears were still ringing.

"That was perfectly awful," I said, turning on the motor. "Uhhh, I'm open to anything. There's another club we could try, or find a quiet place for dessert, or?"

"Why don't we head back to my place? I've got a couple of things we could heat up for dessert, if you're interested, or we could sip some aperitfs. I mean, unless you want to hear a band?"

I was only too happy to go back to her place. It sounded like a great plan.

"What about your car?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. You could drive me back there later, or we...I can get it in the morning."

The slip didn't go unnoticed but I didn't make a big deal of it. I assumed she was already pondering how the evening might end. Whatever worked for her. I'm easy.

"Tell me where to go," I said agreeably and pulled away.

I asked her to remind me how she knew Jerry, and she told me a little more about herself. She'd met him at a gallery opening—a friend of hers had a show there. She was an artist, she'd moved to the city after graduating art school awhile back. 

From her narrative I began to narrow in on her age. Probably about 28 unless she'd dropped off the planet for ten years after high school, at which point she'd be closer to 38. 28 was the most probable number. She entertained me with stories of the art student's life, living on cereal and fried eggs, scrimping to save every penny spent on materials.

She'd done okay, I figured. She was dressed nicely and had her own place. 

"And you?" She turned my question around.

"What?" I had to scan back to remember my train of thought. "Oh, yeah. Jerry. Jerry and I go way back - 30 years? Grade school. It's been an on again off again kind of thing." 

She laughed just about the right amount. "So, you two were lovers, then."

"Exactly. But we never seem to learn we're not each other's type."

"And...?"

"Sociologist. Technically a Social Biologist— they're completely different things, but it's just easier to say sociologist."

"Oh! Where do you teach?" She turned a little more toward me, her face opening up.

"Yeah...you'd be right assuming that. Can't stand teaching, actually. Don't know why I even went into the field. I do love research, but don't like academia. No, I work for a private research firm."

She waited, looking at me.

"BioDynamic Technologies?" I shrugged and looked at her. She wouldn't know it, so I wasn't sure what she was waiting for.

"What does a social biologist do in a 'private research firm?'" She said it slowly, as if I was a child. But her face had the most disarming smile, I couldn't resist laughing.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Usually, though, by the time I'm finished explaining what I do, people are asleep." I went into my short form; enough, I hoped, to satisfy her without getting into the insanely nerdly details. I'd use those later when it was time to call this thing off. If it even lasted that long.

I realized as I turned my attention back to my driving, I didn't know where I was. I had been concentrating on her life's story, listening to her directions in one ear, answering her questions, but I hadn't registered where we were. I looked around and figured we were in the industrial section near the river, not someplace I'd have thought we would end up.

"Uhhhm, you live around here?"

She smiled and nodded, pointing up ahead. "The Astor building," as if I should know what that meant.

"Yeah?"

"As in 'Astor Industries?' You know, the guys who brought you the superfund site we call the river?"

Okay. I got all that, but I still didn't understand what that had to do with where she lived. "And...you live in a chemical manufacturing plant?"

She laughed. I really liked her laugh. More importantly, I really liked she laughed at my jokes.

"Yeah, exactly. No, you dope. This is their warehousing building. It was converted to artists' lofts years ago. I got in on the ground floor. Well, not literally, third floor to be exact. All windows on the north side. It's a bitch to heat, but its fantastic light."

I pulled up to a dark multi-story brick building with wire glass windows and a chain-linked parking lot. The street was dark, unpopulated and equally unfriendly. Although I didn't see any creepsters lurking about, that's the point of these kinds of neighborhoods, isn't it. You can't see the bad guys for all of the shadows and deep pockets.

"You can pull up over there," she pointed to a caged garage door in the adjacent building. "Here, swipe this in the reader."

I took the card from her and swiped it on the reader in the driveway. As the door opened, I looked around to make sure no one was going to slip inside with us.

"I know," she said, smiling again. "It looks really scary, doesn't it? I've been living here two years and haven't ever heard of a problem." She knocked her head three times.

The reference wasn't lost on me. Knocking on wood. That she made a joke of her head being wooden was the first reference the entire evening to anything even close to self-deprecating. It made her even more human to me. At the same time, it revealed a shared understanding of superstition, and I wondered how deep-seated her beliefs were.

"You can park in my spot." The way she said it, I got the sense of a double entendre, and I wasn't sure whether to follow up on it or not. I chose to remain silent.

"So how does a starving artist afford to live in a place like this?" I asked it off-the-cuff. I was intrigued about her financial situation but didn't want to pry too soon.

"Oh," she replied equally casually, "it's easy when you're independently wealthy."

Either it was the alcohol, food, or maybe I was coming down with something, but I couldn't quite figure out whether she was serious or not. First the comment about the parking space, now this. Maybe my sense of humor wasn't up to the task.

"Okay, now you have me really curious. You want to say more?"

"Oh, it's not like that, or anything."


That was no answer at all. Not like what? "What?"

"Sorry, let me get my keys out." I gave her back the card and she fumbled in her bag for her key ring. She got out, headed for the garage foyer entrance and I followed, double-checking I'd locked the car.

"Anyway," she continued as we rode the elevator out of the garage, "I fell in love with a guy right out of college - another artist, and it didn't work out. He kind of struck it rich while we were married, his success went to his head, and he decided it would be better for him if he paid me off rather than continue to stay married to me." 

It must have happened awhile back because she didn't seem to have much emotion about the asshole's treatment of her. I probed a little more, hoping I wasn't getting too personal, although I was about to be let into her studio and I figured she had opened the door to getting personal. Besides, this is the interesting stuff, isn't it?

We crossed the main lobby to take the elevators up to the residence floors. I guess I expected more of an industrial-chic look to the interior design: raw concrete floors, unfinished walls, a cage-style industrial elevator. So I was a little surprised at the high end tile, granite on the wall and the mirror-finished stainless steel in the car. Maybe she really was independently wealthy. She pressed the 3rd floor button.

"Wow. You seem to have gotten past it okay..."

"Yeah, I'm a Scorpio. I don't let these things get under my skin. What it is, is. Yeah?"

I couldn't help stare at her. Her navel, the belly-button ring glinting gold in the elevator lighting, her flat stomach, her nicely shaped breasts. I really wanted to kiss her, and I probably should have, but her reference to Astrology knocked me off my rhythm.

I spend most of my working hours debunking myths, revealing scientific truths behind our clients' voodoo perceptions of their environment. Although I rarely have to contend with astrology I take pride in pointing out the foolishness of believing in the arrangement of stars as viewed from a speck of dust in the outer ring of an otherwise commonplace galaxy as having anything to do with the affairs of men. Or women.

I was about to say something to that effect, hoping it would come out as a smart-ass remark and not too offensive when she interrupted me.

"Not that I believe in any of that stuff. It's just something my girlfriend told me a long time ago. I'm sure no matter what sign I was she would have found some justification for how easily I let go of that guy. Hey, he's paid my way. Why would I want to stick around a guy who didn't get me? Right?"

I thought back to her early conversation. "So, you moved here after the breakup?" She still couldn't have been over 30. 

She turned to look at me as the elevator doors opened onto a blank door. She swiped her card on a reader and nodded. As she swung the door inward, a light cast a wonderful glow to her face, her expression both open and somehow mysterious. I think I fell a little bit in love with her that moment. I definitely wanted to kiss her. It was all I could do not to peel her top off and brush her breasts with my cheeks and lips.

The door opened onto her flat and I stopped at the threshold.

A single light mounted on a brick wall next to the elevator door lit a secretarial just inside. The same glow that had lit her face a moment ago cast a cone of light onto the floor. I looked up into an open darkness, the light reflected back by a mirror mounted what seemed like a football field away. I could see us framed, far away, silhouetted by the light from the elevator car.

I could barely make out several pieces of furniture from streetlight streaming in from a bank of windows. She was walking away and I followed her out of the car, closing the "front" door behind me. With a flip of a couple of switches, the room was bathed in a soft light from several sources, illuminating the sofas, side tables and rugs. I was surprised to see a wood burning stove off to one side, a beautiful animal rug splayed out in front of it. The image of her lying beneath me, naked as we made love was impossible to get out of my head.

"Let me have your jacket. Would you like a drink or should I heat up some bread pudding?"

I gave her my coat, continuing to look around. "No...I mean, I'd take a gin, neat, on the rocks. If you have some olives that would be great." There were paintings everywhere. On the walls, stacked in front of the walls, on an easel in a hallway I could see past the kitchen into which she had disappeared. It was wonderful stuff - deep impressionistic portraits of men, women, couples. Strong black brushstrokes created a dynamism that kept me staring. 

"Come on in." She called from the kitchen and I complied.

"Is that all your stuff?" I was a little incredulous. She was prolific.

"Not all of it, but yeah, most of that stuff out there is mine. I have some friends' work up as well. Artists I really respect. Much better than me actually."

She puttered around getting the drinks together, letting me watch her bend over, her jeans stretched tight against a beautiful ass, stretching to reach glasses, her top riding up to expose her ribs. I was looking forward to the drink.

"Might I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, sure! It's through there and to the left."

I took a long piss, eliminating most of the alcohol I'd drunk that evening, and considered my situation. I had no idea how the evening was going to end up, but I definitely wanted to see more of this woman, in every sense. I finished up, splashed cold water on my face and noticed how soft and plush the terry cloth guest towels were. She was brought up well, or had an excellent interior decorator. The whole setup was well thought out. Comfortable.

"Let's sit in the study. It's much warmer."

I took the drink she proffered and followed her deeper into the loft to an incredibly cozy little wood-paneled room with a single sofa, an easel, a variety of lights and a book case. It was a windowless room and I realized, stepping back out and looking around, that it was built completely contained within the loft. It too exuded a sense of comfort. Relaxed, safe. Protected.

She sat on the couch and I joined her, setting my drink on the coffee table, looking around. The walls here were covered with sketches. Pencil sketches of a woman lounging. Her style was evident even in these rapid exercises - the broad brush stroke of the pencil, the simplicity of the outline. 

"Life-drawing class?" I thought I'd show I knew something about art.

"Sort of. I'm doing some sketching getting ready for a show I've got coming up. Doesn't she have a great body?"

I looked at each sketch. She had rendered the woman's breast with a simple arc, making a point to illustrate her nipples and areolas. Her pubic hair too was rendered. In fact, there was more effort taken to render those elements than the woman's fingers or toes.


Art for Anything Pt. 01



"Does she have prominent areolas and nipples?" I looked back at her with a smile. She looked at me seriously.

"You should see them! They're like...perfect! A beautiful proportion and even in this room, when she's just lying on this couch, they stand up. I secretly think she's aroused at modeling. You know many models do get off on exposing themselves."

"I didn't know that, actually. So, you've been working a lot on this upcoming show, eh?" The image of a gorgeous stiff nippled woman lying on the very couch I was sitting was having an effect on me.

"Yeah. She's such a great model, it's really been a lot of fun, but I'm not getting it for some reason. I've tried three separate sessions and I can't seem to get the thing I'm trying to capture." She stared at me, and I turned to look at her. 

I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. They were soft. And firm. She opened them slightly, inviting my tongue. I moved closer to her, my arm went to her shoulder pulling her into me even as I gently pushed my tongue against hers. We tongue wrestled for a few breaths. It always got a rise out of me and tonight was no different. I could feel my dick getting hard.

I wanted to go further with her and I hoped she felt the same way. Her hand moved to my arm, drifting down to my wrist and back again. All the while we kissed, breathing against each other's face. I moved my fingers down to her breasts, letting my thumb stroke where I thought a nipple would be. I wasn't disappointed. I felt the right one rising, coming up to greet my strokes. No bra, I realized and my dick swelled a little. So that's one mystery resolved. 

She broke away, pulling back slightly to look at me. Shit she was gorgeous. She didn't remove my hand from her nipple. I kept stroking her lightly, waiting for her to say something.

"What?" 

She was staring through me, distracted. She re-focused and then looked down at my crotch. "I think I've got it. I'm sorry. Wow. That was a great kiss!"

I agreed and suggested we do it again, My thumb maintained its insistent but gentle stimulation. I could see the other nipple raising its head for some attention, but I didn't want to stop stroking the first one.

"No. No. Hold on. Wait right here." She got up, gently holding my wrists and looking me in the face. "Actually, take a look at my sketches, see what you think." She waved vaguely at the stack of papers off to the side of the easel and left the room. "Finish your drink!" She called from the hall on her way out.

Confused, I did as she suggested, taking a swig from the drink and getting up to look at her work. My dick was pressed uncomfortably against my zipper; I reached in quickly to rearrange it. The sketches strewn about the room were quick exercises of the woman, her breasts and pubes highlighted as I'd seen with the others, but the ones in the stack were far more explicit. As I looked at them, I'd seen where Cheri had spent considerable effort rendering each nipple, a wrinkle of skin on the areola highlighted carefully. 

The woman's vagina was even more carefully detailed, the folds and ridges detailed to such an extent they practically jumped off the page. As I flipped through the stack, the drawings became even more explicit: the model fingering herself, a look of ecstasy on her face. It must have taken hours to draw some of these. Her vagina became a super graphic of sorts, pencil renderings with explicit reference to O'Keefe but without any apologies. These flowers were very much human. It wasn't porn; it was too well crafted, but I couldn't peel my eyes away. I began to feel warm and stiff in my jeans.

"What d'you think?" 

I looked up at her remark, not certain what to say. "Your pencil work is fantastic," I pointed to a particularly detailed rendering of the woman's clit, her finger raised, a small gap clearly evident. "How did you capture that?"

"I know. It was torture...for her," she said it with a kind of quiet wickedness. My dick gave a jump. "Here, look at these." She moved to a different stack and motioned for me to look. 

As I drew up next to her, she let her hand drift down to the front of my slacks, the bulge obvious, and lightly stroked me through the material. I turned to kiss her but she gave me only a light peck, nodding her head for me to look at the sketches.

These were different yet again. The woman was still the focus, but they weren't pencil. Ink, I figured, and the technique was more...expressive. The poses were not the ones I would have predicted: the woman, naked, vacuuming. Pulling a glass down from a shelf. Wiping a counter. Attention was still on her nipples and pubes, but now the curve of her ass and a shadow between her legs when she wasn't facing the canvas. 

Her hand pushed more firmly and I looked up. "She's...these...are incredible." I licked my lips and looked at her face. 

"Mmmm," she purred, leaning forward to kiss me. "You get high?" Her hand formed around my erection, gripping it through the layers of fabric. Before I could answer, she broke and turned away.

I lingered in the room, staring at the sketches, wanting nothing more than to strip her and fuck on the animal rug.

"C'mon!" She called from the other room. "We'll get back to those in a moment. I see they've had an effect..." She sounded far away, images of her crossing the vast room to her bedroom spurring me to move quickly.

"Where are you?" The outer room was empty, but I could see shadows moving in a doorway opposite from where I was standing.

A hand waved in the light. "Over here. If you liked those, you'll probably like these." I could hear a giggle and practically ran across the room. 

I didn't know what to expect, but I had hoped she was talking about her own nipples, perhaps sitting on her bed, holding them out for me. When I rounded the corner and looked in the room, she was indeed sitting on her bed, but she was still dressed, her hands reaching into a nightstand drawer.

"These?" I asked confused.

She looked up and smiled, nodding to yet another stack of canvases along the wall across from her bed. Her room was spacious, like the rest of the apartment, with several bureaus and...armoires I believe they are called. There was another door, leading to a bathroom, from what I could see, and yet another door, perhaps to a closet. I sat on the foot of her bed, reaching over to leaf through the drawings. I could hear a lighter behind me.

These had yet a darker tone to them - almost all black with highlights where she had rubbed away the pigment. They were remarkable: the woman was barely visible, just a hint of her pelvic bone and perhaps a shoulder emerging from the surface. But in spite of not seeing much detail, it was obvious she wasn't just lying down...

"Here," she said, her voice muffled. 

I turned to take the pipe and watched her watching me as I sucked in the smoke. It was good. Skunky with a rich vegetable nose. She closed her eyes and sat against the headboard, smoke streaming out of her nostrils. I handed the pipe back and turned to look again at the drawings.

The first couple were impenetrable - nothing but a white highlight of skin, a glimpse of cheek, but further into the stack, it became obvious: the woman was tied down, her limbs stretched out, her body contorted in some unnatural way. I could hear Cheri sucking on the pipe and felt the breeze as her hand passed it back to me. Without turning away, I took it and inhaled again. 

"What do you think?" The words flowing as she exhaled.

I shook my head, my second toke still filling my lungs, the pipe forgotten. I could feel the high whooshing over my forehead and flowing down my spine. The woman was stretched over the arms of the sofa, her hands tied above her, her legs pulled apart. In this, the last one in the stack, almost all of the blackness had been rubbed away, except between her legs and above her breasts. The woman's collarbone, neck and face were buried in the blackness.

"Fuckkkkk..." I breathed out the smoke.

"I know," she said, her hands coming around my ribs and moving to my belt. I could feel her leaning in against me, her lips against my ear lobe. "I know...right?" She had unzipped me, her fingers pulling my slacks and briefs. I lifted up, wanting nothing more than to free my hard on and feel her fingers against it. "I don't know what to do with them..." Her teeth nibbled my earlobe and her fingers wrapped around my cock, dry and warm, squeezing gently.

I turned to find her lips, to kiss her, but she pulled back a little, and I fell backwards onto the covers, my hands bumping against hers, spilling the pipe. "Shit!" I started, fearing I had dropped a cinder, but she didn't let me up, handing the pipe to me and brushing the ashes onto the floor. She pushed a lighter into my hands.

"Shh...shhh...just stay there." She practically jumped across the floor and picked up a pad and charcoal. "Don't move!" 

I pulled another hit from the bowl and watched as she moved her arm wildly across the page, imagining my cock emerging from the paper. I gave it a twitch for good measure and smiled, the smoke swirling above me like the high swirling around my brain.

"Fuck. Yes. Shit. Thank you!" 

I heard her pull the page from the pad and scratch some more, too stoned to even open my eyes. Whatever it was we were smoking, it was strong. I started to spread my legs, wanting to push my cock into the air.

"No! Wait! Hold on. In a moment. I almost have it. Fuck, this is what's been missing!"

I held still, eyes closed, breathing in and then breathing out, my arousal building. 

"Okay. Fuck. Thank you." She was standing next to me.

I looked up at the sketch, but I couldn't see much. The lighting was wrong. I was acutely aware of her standing between my legs, my cock naked and pulsing. I reached up to take it from her and tilted it into the light. I couldn't believe she had captured the image so quickly. She had rendered my cock with a few strokes of charcoal: its crown, implied but swollen, the way my shaft hooked to one side. She had caught it all - even my trousers crumpled around my feet with a minimum of effort. Amazing.

"Shit, Cheri. This is amazing." I could feel her hand lightly cupping my balls and I pulled the paper aside to look at her face. "But...umm, don't I need a release or something?" I can't stop being a geek, even in these circumstances.

She giggled and put both hands on me. "You definitely look like you need a release..." Her fingers began stroking me; the feeling was insane.

"Wait! Wait. Fuck. I'll cum if you keep doing that, and it'll make a mess." Mostly I was worried about her blankets and only a little about my shirt. She stopped, lightly holding her hands around me.

"So? You want to model for me?"

I was on a knife's edge. If she moved, if I breathed too hard, I would cum. The pot had hit hard, my spine was liquid. I just melted back into the bed and stopped, imagining what poses she would put me in, what she might have me doing with the other woman. Thinking that way wasn't helping, my cock pulsed against her fingers. I tried to think of the summary report I still had waiting on my desk for a recent client review. Anything but what she implied by her question.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Her fingers didn't move and I felt my arousal drop a notch. Enough for me to open my eyes and stare at her. 

"Shit," my voice croaked a little and I swallowed. I'd never felt anything quite as intense as being exposed this way— not just being held by a beautiful woman, who obviously had experience handling cocks— but being stripped to the minimum essence and exposed on the page as she had. I breathed and tried again. "Fuck, Cheri. You don't fuck around...Let me sit up."

I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off— it felt silly being half-naked on the edge of her bed—and stared at her navel. I reached up and slid her top up over her breasts, confirming she hadn't been wearing a bra. As I dragged it up, the fabric grazed the underside of her breasts, pulling them up slightly before letting them drop down.

She sighed, her hands drawing the top up and over her head as mine began loosening her denim. Her underwear was brief, a light shade of cranberry, leaving nothing hidden. I stared at the shadow of a triangle as she shimmied out of the jeans. Her bush matched her hair color, best I could tell. She waited for me to slip them off, breathing softly.

I resisted the urge, leaning forward to smell her, to move her legs apart slightly, before fully exposing her. I could hear her breathing catch; she hadn't expected me to wait. I had a few surprises in me; the smoke was fueling my imagination.

I leaned in further and inhaled deeply, her aroma only added to the alcohol and cannabis, intoxicating me. It was fresh, filled with those same herbs and spices and...lavender? I heard her moan a little and then her fingers slipped around the back of my head pulling me against her. My nose felt the bristles of her thatch through the sheer material of her panties. I breathed in again.

I liked eating pussy and from what I was smelling, I was going to like eating hers. I could still taste dinner and I wanted to complement the memory of that fine meal with her sauce. I brought my fingers up and pulled her underwear down, the fabric rubbing across my nose. I left them around her knees, trapping her legs and dipped my face a little to run my tongue across her slit.

She pulled me in harder, moaning louder. "Yessss, fuck, yessss...why didn't I think of this before?" 

I had no idea what she was saying, and I didn't care, concentrating on her amazing taste and smell. I let my tongue dive a little deeper, separating her outer lips to feel her tender inner leaves. The spicy, herbaceous aroma intensified. I flattened my tongue and pressed it as hard as I could to open her and squeeze her juices out. She rewarded me by pushing harder against my head.

But I knew it was useless to go much further in this position. I couldn't deep dive like this. As if reading my mind she came to the same conclusion.

She moved her hands to my ears and pulled my head away, pushing me back onto the bed. Smiling down at me, she straddled my ribs with her knees and slid them forward, past my head. Just before she buried my mouth with her beautiful pussy, I looked into her eyes.

"Why do you smell so fantastic?" 

"Glad you like it," she whispered and that was it for seeing, hearing or smelling anything else for a long, long time.



Art for Anything Pt. 02



I woke up and it was dark, her smell on my face, her back against me. I couldn't remember much after the lights went out but my cock felt good and her smell felt better. I lay back trying to remember and figuring it was time to head out. 

"You got some place to be?" She said sleepily, looking at me. 

"I just thought I shouldn't overstay my welcome..." I felt foolish with one sock on and my penis flapping. 

"After a night like that?" She barely got the words out, smiling. Asleep. 

I thought twice and then reached for my other sock. 

"But what about my car? Didn't you say you'd drive me to get it?" She patted the open sheet next to her and closed her eyes. 

Fuck! What was I doing? Not staying over on the first date...on principle? Fuck that. I wanted more of that thing she had. I stripped off my socks and laid back down next to her. I didn't have any better place to be except inside her. 

"Mmmmm," She turned and wrapped herself around me. "I'll make it worth your while." And she fell asleep, snoring lightly in my ear. 

"So," she said, looking at me over our mugs of coffee and toast, her breasts peeking out from a robe she'd thrown on. "What do you think? You up," she paused and stared through the table at my crotch, "for a little modeling?" She giggled and took a sip, her eyes like Sandra Bullock's wrinkling at me over the mug. 

I smiled, staying silent. 

"Oh, c'mon. You're not getting shy on me, right? After what we did last night?" Setting down her mug, the robe opened revealing most of her breasts. The dope had lingered, or maybe we had drunk more than I remembered. In any case, my head was cloudy and I just set my chin on my hands and stared at her. At her incredible face, her smile, her eyes and her beautiful breasts. 

"You don't seem to mind staring at me," she teased, closing her robe just enough to hide her nipples. Those wonderful nipples I had been sucking on just minutes ago. I looked up at her, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. This was not a good place to negotiate from, and she clearly was in a negotiating mood. 

"Oohh," her eyes narrowed and her expression darkened a little. "I get it. Hmmm..." She closed her robe and tied it up, sitting back and studying her mug of coffee. "You're that kind of asshole." She looked out the windows and mumbled how she sure knew how to pick 'em. 

That stung. I wasn't holding out for anything in particular. I just didn't feel like caving at the first offer. I'd learned that much from my studies of various mating habits. Besides, she hadn't played her hand particularly well. 

"You think I'm trying to deal here?" Her face had clouded and she was clearly getting angry. "You think I'm doing this like a business deal? Fuck. What's going on out there?" She motioned to the windows, but I knew what she was saying. "Has the whole world turned into one big fucking business deal?" 

I shrugged and took a sip of coffee, hoping she'd settle down. I wasn't going to help by saying anything. 

She fumed and closed her eyes, her lower lip quivering after a few moments and I couldn't believe those were tears spilling down her cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I was about to say something, apologize, anything, but she beat me to it. 

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to look at me, her eyes brimming. "I...fuck...I just get this way. I...anyway, you don't owe me anything. I had a fucking fantastic night. You go down like nobody I've had before." She giggled a little through her sobs, looking at her hands. "I mean it. I've never had anyone eat me like that." 

"No. Wait." I stood up, my stiffening cock obvious. I had thrown on a shirt and it barely covered me, but I'm a sucker for a crying woman. My whole adult life, tears have always made me hard. Sick, maybe, but I've gotten over it. "I didn't mean anything by not answering." I walked over to her, stroking her hair. She leaned her head against my thigh, calming down. 

"You got hard when I cried?" She pursed her lips and blew cold air on my shaft, watching my pubic hair ruffle. 

I rubbed her head and reached for my coffee. "Anyway," I repeated, "I apologize for upsetting you. I'm honored, and flattered you'd want me to model for you, but I'm not ready to commit." 

She laughed and I looked down to see if I'd missed something. 

"You make it sound like I want you to marry me!" She pulled away and leaned against the table, her ear brushing against my glans. She batted my cock away with her hand and then, like a little kid, kept batting at it, watching it get stiffer as she played with it. "They are sooo weird, don't you think?" She looked up at me and gave it a kiss. 

I smiled and sat back in my chair, letting the rollercoaster settle down before I took a chance and said anything to fire it up again. 

"Seriously." She looked at me again, her forehead lowered a little so her eyes peered out from under her brows. God that was a sexy look. And she knew. And she knew I knew she was doing it on purpose. 

I laughed. "I don't think you're serious about anything!" And I knew she had worked herself up into a lather just to lower my defenses. I'd seen professional wrestlers with less finesse than she had. "How do you know I'd even be able to get it up with whoever that model is? And besides that, that would be my cock on those paintings. Isn't that something to think about before I agree to anything?" 

"And my cunt. So what?" 

I paused and looked at her, confused. "What?" I blinked. "You're cunt...? I thought you said..." 

"You didn't recognize these?" She opened her robe and presented her breasts, stretching her aerolas and nipples between the two fingers of each hand. I shook my head slightly, still not getting it. 

"Just hold on." She got up and walked to a full-height cabinet behind us. Pulling out tripods and black bags and umbrellas, she leaned the gear against the wall. I was distracted by her amazing ass peeking out below the robe, not fully understanding what she was doing. Moments later she'd rigged the room into a small photo studio. I seriously think fewer than 60 seconds had passed and she had a camera on a tripod, an umbrella with lights and a black sheet hanging on the wall. 

"C'mere." She nodded me over as she took off her robe. 

If last night was weird, this morning was theater of the absurd. I watched my cock bob along as I made my way in front of her. She pulled my shirt off and ran her hands down my ribs, cupping my balls. 

"You don't think you could get hard with this model?" The lights flashed and I blinked. She knelt down and the lights flashed again. I put my hands on her head and the lights flashed again. Her mouth on my cock. Again. She swallowed me. Again. I felt her fingers exploring between my legs. Flash. Pushing against my sphincter. Again. 

I was hard and getting harder. She had me almost completely down her throat, her finger pressing into me and every heartbeat seemed to be timed with a flash of the light. I didn't know where to look: in the camera, at the umbrella, down at her head. 

Her finger penetrated me and pushed harder, but my ass was dry and she couldn't get in. That didn't stop her from riding me and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. Flash. Into her throat. Flash. Her lips pulled on my crown. Flash. Down again and she held me, her fingers rolling my balls. I closed my eyes and felt the crème erupting out of me, the lights turning my eyelids red with every pulse of my cock. 

She pulled off of me and sat back on her heels, letting me sag to the floor. Still the lights flashed. She pulled my head onto her lap and we stayed like that until my heartbeat returned to something familiar. And still the lights flashed. Her fingers played with my hair, stroking my ears. She didn't say anything.the whole time. 

"Fuck," I whispered. "What the fuck was that?" 

"That," she said softly, "wasn't so hard...I mean...difficult, was it?" She giggled a little and bent down to kiss me. "I mean, you could do that again, right?" 

"But..." I waved my hand at the flashing lights. "What's all this about?" 

"You busy this morning? You need to leave? Or do you want to hang around?" She lifted my head softly and scooted her legs out from under her, bending to stand up. The puns again. 

I mentally scanned my calendar. I was supposed to work on some report or another, and I had something else in the evening. "Uhhh...what? No. I could hang out for a little." I looked at her curiously and rolled onto my knees to get up, hanging more down now than out. 

The lights had stopped and I watched as she fiddled with the camera, taking it off its stand. She crossed the room to a small workstation on the opposite wall, the muscles rippling in her ass as hypnotizing as any pocketwatch. "Come on." 

I walked over, suddenly self-conscious of being naked but for no apparent reason. The windows were 30 feet above the street, and there wasn't another building within 300 feet of hers. And, I realized, looking across at whatever buildings there were, nobody could see in as bright as the sun was. And it was Saturday for Christ's sake. Who was even out there? I stood behind her and watched as she rapidly created a contact sheet. Each frame popped up as she moved her cursor over it, like a jeweler's loop. She must have taken 300 pictures and in two minutes had them all up in front of us. 

"What do you think?" She stopped to look up at me, my cock just inches from her nose. She blew up at it and giggled. 

"I...shit, you went so fast. Yeah. That one for sure." She had moved back several squares. 

"You like that one? With your cock almost visible in my throat? Really?" She looked back at me, concerned. 

"Yeah?" I liked it. And I figured she was fucking with me. 

"Yeah. That one is really hot. But not for this show. We'll keep that as our own private memory. How about this one?" 

She had captured her blow job on an upstroke, her lips just barely separated from my angry member. I could see a gap of air between them and I remembered the painting that had caught my eye the night before, with the model's...her...fingers just a hair's breadth from her clit. I nodded and smiled. "That's hot," I said, my hand drifting down to her hair. "And it's definitely a pair with that other one." I pointed my elbow to her study. 

She looked up and smiled. "Yes. I think you've got it." She clicked a little bit and then turned to get up. "Now for the next bit of process." She turned to walk through a door I had thought was a bathroom or some other bedroom. "C'mon! Don't dawdle. You want to see how great art is made?" 

She said it self-deprecatingly, knowing that hair's breadth would mean the difference between art and porn. 

The doorway led to a small hallway with several rooms off of it. While the rest of the flat was open and airy, due to the expanse of windows along the exterior wall, this interior hall was close and dark; lit only by cool grey semi-circles cast from the open doorways on the left hand side. As I turned into it, Cheri was disappearing into the first door off the left, curiously the only doorway without light spilling from it. 

Following her in, I could barely see her darker silhouette against shadows of furniture: the windows had all been painted over, leaving only micro-specks of light pinpricking through. She cursed, stubbing her toe on something and then the room was aglow in a cool white light. It was pretty barren, with only a small workstation at the wall opposite the living room, where Cheri was seated. The light came from a fluorescent rectangle occupying a portion of the common wall with the living room. 

As my eyes adjusted to the room, she was out of the chair, taping a sheet of drawing paper to the glowing wall. Her movements were quick, practiced and I couldn't predict where she was going to go next. It was all made more complicated by how distracting the light was against her naked body. Although the glow lit the room with a dim ambient light, the closer she got to the wall, the brighter her body was lit. Her nipples and breasts glowed while her back and ass-cheeks were practically in the dark. When she turned, my eyes drifted down to between her legs, captivated by the dark patch of hair made even darker by the lighting. 

Weirdly, as she approached the rectangle her hands cast shadows, but not where I would have expected them; they landed near her knees when she was holding the paper up near her head. I looked up, tracing the light back to its source. I had thought at first glance the wall itself was glowing, but when I walked closer, a piercing glint reflected off the ceiling, revealing a projector built into a recess. 

"Clever," I commented, breaking her concentration. 

She looked up and smiled, not pausing for more than a second. "I know, right? It's not 'authentic,' in the sense I have all the time in the world to sketch the images, but for this subject matter it's been hard finding models..." She stopped and smiled, looking at my cock at half mast. "As you've already made clear..." Interesting, I observed mentally. I hadn't meant the approach was clever, but simply the gear. 

She turned back to her preparations, leaving me to stare at her amazing body. In spite of having spent nearly half a day with her naked, this was the first time I'd had a chance to see her completely, not hidden by sheets or furniture. But even here I was handicapped by the lighting. The contrast was...intriguing. She stopped again when she realized I was just standing and staring. "You can grab that chair. I won't be needing it." 

I sat in it backwards, my legs spread around the upright, my elbows leaning on the back supporting my chin. I was still a little cloudy and wished I'd had a drag on the pipe. Staring at her would be so much nicer with a little buzz on. Fuck it, I thought, it's only a few steps away. "I'll be back in a jif," I said, the chair creaking and rolling a little as I stood up. "I'm thinking of taking a hit on the pipe. It's in the bedroom, right?" 

She stopped briefly and pointed to the drawer in the workstation behind me. "There should be one in there," and went back to her work. 

All the better. 

I watched as she finished mounting the paper and then crossed the room to click at a keyboard on the desk behind me. Her aroma—a mixture of sweat, lavender and cum—brought me back to her sweet pussy, and my cock lifted again in response. She turned back to the wall, pulling a package of charcoal off the desk, and I stared at that amazing tight pair of ass cheeks. My eyes moved up her ribs, her breasts, barely visible, to her shoulders, her arms moving quickly, applying a coating of charcoal across the entire sheet. 

The image was the one we had just agreed on: her face, ¾ profile, my erection like an arrow, pointing to her lips and that small bit of gap between her lips and its head. It was definitely that gap that caught my eye. Even as she coated the paper, blackening it, the light between her lips and my cockhead still shined through. The pot shifted my vision as it hit my brain. I closed my eyes and remembered being on her bed the night before, the feeling of her pussy lips on my mouth, of how she dragged herself down my chest to finally envelope me in her thick warm velvety folds. Her mouth on mine, her tongue licking her juices from my lips, her constant purring and moaning. I could feel the chair, cold metal against the top of my cockhead and I jumped a little. 

She had finished coating the paper and had bent to pick up something from the floor, her body practically disappearing in the gloom except for the bones of her vertebrae where they traveled down her spine, highlighted by the glow of the projector. She looked like an alien, a dinosaur, a prehistoric cat. The memory of her pussy, milking me, sliding up and off of me until I begged her to let me back in. The memory made me hard. I set down the pipe and continued to stare at the artist at work. 

She had grabbed an eraser and was rapidly pulling off charcoal, starting with the air gap. Just a hint of her lips, just a crescent of my cockhead— the gap revealed the essence of the piece. She stood back and looked at me, her eyes unfocused. "I'll take some of that," she motioned to the pipe. I relit it and handed it to her, staring at the gold ring in her belly button, remembering it in my mouth as I tongued her navel, my fingers spreading her open, her moans echoing in my head. 

Then she was back at the wall, only her back revealed to me, that amazing curve of her butt as it moved away from her waist, the narrowing of her hips to her ankles. I licked my lips, needing something to drink. "I'm getting some juice. Need anything?" 

She shook her head, lost in her work. She had left the center of the piece and was lightly erasing elements at the periphery. I couldn't see what she was after but then, I was only seeing her, naked and working, and not the images in her head. 

I blinked reentering the living room adjusting again to the fantastic light from the window wall. Surprisingly, the loft was warm, especially as the windows all faced north and spring had only just begun. I grabbed a jug of apple juice from the fridge, filled a glass and stood at the window looking at the brutal urban landscape below. The smoke had substituted arousal for inhibition—being naked facing the street three floors up only seemed to make me hornier. Not that there was a soul in sight. Down the block a car crossed an intersection, a delivery truck's beeping reverse alarm just below. I sipped the juice, tracking the sweet coolness down to my stomach. It growled, reminding me we hadn't eaten anything substantive since the night before. 

I noticed her reflection on the glass approaching me before I heard her footsteps. Her hand, warm and soot covered, glided across my waist, her pinky finger brushing the top of my pubic hair, her thumb reaching into my navel. She pulled her body against my back, the stiffness of her nipples pushing into my shoulder blades and her wiry pubic hair against my ass. Her other hand drifted to hold onto my cock. 

"I get so fired up doing that part," she murmured into my ear. "I don't usually have someone to share it with." Her strokes became more insistent, pulling my cock away even as her other hand pressed me against her. It hurt and felt amazing at the same time. I was stiff again, feeling a little sore from all the attention I'd received. 

I put my hand on hers and leaned back into her, relishing her warmth and sensuality of it, the memories of her deep throating me, of her pussy pressed against my lips, of my cock buried deep in her. She kept pulling on me, my balls lightly slapping against my hips. 

"So," she said quietly, "you game?" 

I turned my head to look at her, my hands reaching up and over to hold her while I tried to plant a kiss. It was barely possible and interrupted her rhythm. "C'mon," I suggested, motioning to the couch. "Tell me more about it." 

She picked up the pipe from the coffee table, she must have laid it down on her way in, and lit it again. I was getting wrecked, but accepted it from her anyway, taking a deep draw. It was tasty. I let my head fall back on the couch back, watching the smoke jetting to the ceiling. Raw wood, sand blasted, if I knew my finishes. Exposed hardware. Exposed as we were. Weird. I closed my eyes. A thought that had been gnawing below my consciousness burbled up. 

"Wait," I said, looking at her face, her breasts and snatch in my periphery. My cock pulsed. "You 'don't usually have someone'...? How's that possible? You are so fucking amazingly gorgeous, and a fantastic lover. You don't have someone? Besides, don't you have a lot of friends...or ...contacts from art school? There have to be people...men who would gladly do this." 




Art for Anything Pt. 02



She shook her head, taking the pipe and inhaling deeply. "You'd think so," she said stifling her breath. She exhaled with a whoosh. "But, well, first of all, I didn't go to school here. I hardly know anyone who models. But more critically," she breathed normally, "who would want to do this?" She waved to our genitals and the art against the walls. 

I just shook my head, staring at the ceiling. Really? What red-blooded guy wouldn't do this? Okay, smart-guy, if you're so sure, why are you hesitating? I breathed for a bit, relishing the high and trying to find my way out of the maze of questions that kept popping up. "What are you talking about?" I couldn't help myself. "You are so fucking sexy. Shit any redblooded guy would gladly strip to get a piece of that!" 

She looked at me alarmed and disgusted. "Oh. Is that what it is, a nice piece of meat." She pulled her labia apart and she pushed her pelvis up. "Like that? More of that?" 

It was my turn to look...not disgusted, it was kind of sexy actually, but...disappointed. "Okay. Hold on. Let me think." 

Her finger twisted in the loops of hair on my thigh sending little bursts up my spine. I draped my arm over her shoulders, my hand resting on the top of her breast. 

I had research assistants. The firm paid them. Having sex with them was strictly prohibited by company policy for obvious reasons. It not only got complicated, it risked exposure to the firm for harassment. Wasn't this a lot like that? I had no idea how artist's paid their models. 

"Okay, let's play this out for a minute, yeah?" I looked at her, waiting for her to turn her face from studying my thighs to look at me. "Let's say you had a model who fit the bill. What would he charge?" 

She shrugged, her finger snagging on my hairs. 

"Hey! Ouch!" 

"Sorry," she smiled coyly. "Shit, I don't know. 10 bucks an hour maybe. 20?" 

"I don't know Cheri. Let's say 20. It doesn't matter, because it's a business arrangement. He does what he's told, he gets paid. I'm sure you could find prostitutes or porn stars or whomever who could tell you what the going rates are, right?" 

She looked disgusted. 

"I'm not saying it's desirable, just that it's an easy problem to solve. Hire somebody to get erect and take their photograph. Right?" 

She shook her head slowly, eyes beginning to brim. "I couldn't...," she whispered. "How could I?" 

"Hmmm. Okay, so getting intimate with a prostitute for your art is too much. I can see that." 

She looked at me like I was a venomous snake. "It's not that at all! Well, it is that a little, I guess, but shit, Chris, don't you get it? That image in there, that's the real thing. I'm about to take your cock down my throat. Those lips, that head," she poked at my cock, "they're about to get together. It wouldn't be the same with some guy faking it for a paycheck." She pulled her arms across her ribs and sat back. 

I took the pipe and took another hit. No way I should have, but it was the closest thing to keeping me occupied. "But what about me?" I wasn't sure what I was saying. I was starting to have more than one-night-stand feelings for this woman, as crazy bat-shit as she might turn out to be. 

She looked at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for more. 

"Look. I...I'd like to see you again. But what if this," I waved around, "got in the way of this?" I waved at the two of our bodies so intimately entwined. 

She reached up and pressed her lips to mine. "You are so fucking fine," she whispered, her fingers moving to my dick. She kissed me again and pulled a couple of inches away, closing her eyes. She sat back, her hand still on my member, which obliged her by swelling again. 

I set down the pipe and wiped my face with both hands, trying to think. "Shit. I mean it. This has been one of the hottest dates I've ever been on. You are amazingly beautiful. You are making amazing art. You are independent, interesting, smart. Shit. I'd be an idiot not to want to see you again. But what if you weren't happy with the work I was doing in service of your art? What if my dick didn't stand up to meet your high standards?" 

She giggled, squeezing it to emphasize her complete confidence in my abilities. "You're an idiot. Let's just start with that. What are you saying, I should pay you for your services?" 

I hadn't said anything of the kind, but when she put it that way it made kinda sense. "Nooo...I'm not saying that exactly. But we should be clear about what is business and what is personal." 

"I can't separate my art so cleanly," she squeezed again forcing my pelvis to push into her hand. "You want a piece?" 

I wanted a piece alright and turned to let her know it. Pushing her shoulders down onto the couch I twisted around to lay on top of her, my lips against hers, my cock against her bristly hairs. "Damn right I want a piece. You got one?" I adjusted slightly feeling my head grazing her wet lips. She moved her hand, opening herself and guiding me in. 

"Mmm hmm...right there. It's yours. Take me. Hard." She shoved her cunt up around me, swallowing me in as smooth a motion as the couch allowed. 

My mind swirled in a cannabis fog, the velvet walls of her cunt squeezed me, milked at me, pulled me into her, her hands pulled my ass cheeks apart shoving me into her as deeply as she could. She pulled her knees out, pushing me a little away from the back of the couch, curling up to let me go deeper. 

"FUCK! ME!" She split herself open, one leg on the couch back, the other drifting off the edge. I could feel her pubic hairs rubbing against mine, my cock as deep as it could go. I tried to pull back but she kept me pinned with her hands. 

She moved her mouth to cover my lips and pushed her tongue into me, battering mine. We were locked together until she started to relax a little, letting me pull out slightly. I curved my back to pull out as far as I could, teasing her, letting my cockhead just dangle at her entrance. 

"No...NO. NO! Fuck ME!" She tried to pull me back in but I resisted, teasing her. Her eyes were open, begging me. "Is that what you want?! You want me to beg for it? Yeah???" 

I just smiled, noncommittally, waiting. That might be nice. I felt a little evil all of a sudden. 

"Okay, you fucking bastard. Okay. Fuck me. Please fuck me! Fuck me with that beautiful cock. That hard cock. Shove it into me as hard and deep as you can. I need you. I want you. I can't go another minute without your beautiful hard dick deep in me...aaagggghh!" 

I shoved it in...as hard as I could, until our bones hit. She grabbed my cheeks, pinching me harder, holding me tight insider her. I wasn't going to last much longer, in spite of all we'd done, but I wanted to hear her say it again. I pulled back, straining against her arms, my knees digging into the cushions. ½ inch by ½ inch until I was barely inside. 

"You fucker..." she whispered, her fingers pushing at my asshole. "Just fuck me. Shove it into me. Take me. Hard, hard as you can! Brutalize me. You want me? You want this piece of ass? Show me how much you want it. FUCK ME HARD! SHIITTTTT!" 

And I did as she asked. This time I went over the top, my sperm shooting into her when I bottomed out. I held inside her, pulsing my dick, feeling the walls of her pussy clamping down on me. I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. I collapsed onto her, her breasts squishing against me, her breath in my ear. 

"thank-you," she whispered on each exhale. "thank you...thank you...thank you." 

* - * - * - * 

"But seriously," I looked at her across the table, the waitress having left our orders moments before. "We need to figure this out. I can't just be a piece of meat to you. That's no more fair than if you hired a hustler. Look at it from my point of view." 

She looked around, alarmed for a moment we'd be overheard. It was a cute gesture, actually. All prim and business-like out in the real world, but a raw animal behind the safety of her doors. She took a bite and then a sip of juice. "You said you wanted a piece..." she left it unstated. 

"A piece? Of what? Of your show?" I shrugged. That might work. 

"No! I mean...oh...wait" Now she shrugged. "I hadn't meant that, but..." 

"Well, what were you talking about? That you're my fuck toy in exchange for services rendered?" 

She blushed and shssh'd me. Then she looked up under her brow, in that way, and nodded slightly. 

"Nice. I like that, but no. No. Once your show is over then what? It's sayonara? That doesn't sound right for either of us. Don't you think we should at least give this thing a chance?" 

"Which thing?" 

I stopped to think. "Well, both things: your show and...and..." I waved my fork around, "whatever this is we're starting to get into. That was some good shit up there," I pointed vaguely to her apartment, blocks away. "I don't want to fuck that up with some kind of business arrangement. Do you?" 

She blushed again and shook her head. "No. No. That was...that was in-fucking-credible." She said it quietly, embarrassed someone might hear. "No. I don't want to fuck that up." Her face did something, an expression that passed across it, almost too fast to notice. But I did. 

"What? What's going on." 

She blushed again and focused on her food, shaking her head. 

"What, Cheri? I'm not going to play games here. You're asking me to expose myself to who knows who and you owe me. What?" 

She looked up, frightened? Embarrassed? "I...wa...I wasn't quite truthful back there...when you asked me why I couldn't get a hundred guys to do this." She spoke into her plate, no louder than a whisper. "The part where I said I didn't know anyone?" She looked at me, like she was asking permission not to have say anymore. 

I didn't have the slightest clue what she was talking about. I mean, I knew when she was talking about, but not where she was leading. I shrugged, raised an eyebrow and stared at her. I began to wonder just how old she was. 

"That...wasn't completely true." She set down her fork and looked at me. "I...I...kinda burn bridges." Her face was pleading with me not to make her say more, but frankly I didn't hear enough to know what the fuck she was so worried about revealing. 

"Like, when you went psycho on me at the breakfast table, or that last time on the couch?" I may have leered a little bit. I was starting to feel a little big brotherish and that didn't feel right at all. 

Her face squeezed for a moment and I thought she was going to cry, but she just got annoyed. "Yeah. Psycho-bitch is one of the names I've got. That's one of the nice ones." She looked like she was ready to fight. 

I just shrugged and took another bite. She had nothing on me. I was twenty years...well, maybe 10 years her senior...I definitely was looking forward to slipping into that glove again, but if it came attached to too much baggage...well...I mentioned I'm a devout bachelor, yeah? 

"Fuck you." She turned back to her food, trying to get her emotions under control. Apparently she had some method; in a few bites she was back. "So, yeah. I'm a little unstable. Not too many folks can stick around. My shrink suggested I just come out with it as early as possible, clear the decks, make it easy for people to get out of the way if they don't want to deal with me." 

"How's that working out for you?" I said it as nicely as I could. Unstable could mean a lot of things. 

"You're my first. Couldn't find the right time to talk about it last night 'Hey, nice to meet you, I'm a little fucked up, are you thinking about the squid or the squab?', or this morning 'wait, let me pull your cock out of my throat I have to tell you I'm a little ziggy in the head'. Yeah, that wouldn't work. How's it feel now?" She was battling: between cringing and dukes ablazing. 

"Doesn't change what we did. That was still fucking fantastic. I hope it would be just as good the next time. You have a sweet, tight little ass, and I loved fucking you. I liked the way you deep throated me too, by the way. Am I in any danger?" If it was 'being honest time' I figured I join in. 

She was taken aback for a moment and then she choked on whatever she'd been eating, her face exploding into laughter. I reached up and slammed her back, even though I knew that's not what you're supposed to do. It didn't matter. She recovered her breath, only to break into giggles. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She gulped for breath. "I really wasn't expecting that." 

"So maybe your shrink's got something." I motioned to the waitress for a refill on the coffee. 

She paused, regaining her composure. "No. I'm 'not a danger to others,' if that's what you mean. And I'm clean. At least when I got tested last month. You?" 

It was a little late to discuss hygiene given how many fluids we'd exchanged, but I reassured her my last test came out clean. 

So," she started again. "You might be interested in this...this...gig?" 

"Which gig, again? The one where I get to fuck your brains out and shove my cock down your throat, or the one where I'm the subject of your art? I think it could go either way, but I'm having trouble figuring out how to do both, even though that's exactly what I think you're asking. Right?" 

She clouded over again, especially at how loud she thought I was talking, even though I too had dropped to a hissed whisper. It was almost comical. Making it weirder was how hard I was getting again. All I wanted was to drag her back to her place and drive into her again. 

"Look," she said quietly, but not so softly I had to strain. "The show has to be ready in six weeks. I figure I need about ten more pieces. It takes me, shit...I don't know...let's say about three days, average, to get the basic work done. Like the piece today. Those were just quick sketches. Studies. If I concentrated, I could probably whip that into a finished piece by mid-week. So, ten pieces, three days - that's a month. That leaves me a couple of weeks to spare, assuming I can keep up the pace. And then that part would be done. Over. But your part could be done in a few days...maybe...if we're...good." She licked her lips. Maybe it was just left over maple syrup, or maybe it was left over memories of my syrup. 

"You're saying, we'd be done with the art stuff in a few weeks, but you'd like to still see me? You'd still want to fuck me, even though we weren't doing art?" I wasn't sure if I was angry, surprised or just trying to nail the concept. I wasn't being harsh. 

She nodded, vulnerable. 

"So, I'm going to ask again, since I really don't know what the fuck to say: what's the right thing to do? I'm willing to be your model, okay? But we've got to work out the terms so neither of us gets hurt. Make sense?" 

She nodded, relief passing across her face even as she blushed again. 

"What?" 

She shook her head. "I...no, it was just a random thought. I can't." She looked around as if by explanation. 

"Fuck that. Nobody can hear us. What were you thinking?" I had a few ideas about terms, like taking a piece of her show, or having her paint me a piece, or any number of possibilities, but her behavior had piqued my curiosity. 

"I...I'm willing to..." She stopped, her face frozen, looking at me, shaking her head just slightly. 

"Cheri. Just tell me what you're thinking. Nobody's going to strike you down. After what we've done, you'd need to say something pretty surprising to raise any alarms. Just tell me." I reached over and grabbed her hands, rubbing the webbing between her thumb and forefingers. 

"I...I'd be willing to do," she dropped her voice to barely a whisper, "anything you asked me to." She looked down and then back up to see if I was still there. "Anything. I mean it." The last she said looking me straight in the eyes. 

I wasn't sure where that was going to go, but I kept it on deposit for the moment. I smiled, probably too widely, but enough to let her know I was intrigued. Something about her..."I'll have to think about that," I said, leaving her on the hook. "But before we go down that road, I need you to be very honest with me." I waited until I was sure she was listening. "Tell me exactly how old you are." 

She looked like a punctured balloon, all the tension in her face and shoulders just collapsed. "Is that all? I'm 26! Well, next week. Really?" She looked at me like I was a little crazy. "I tell you I'll do anything and all you want to know is how old I am?" 

I shook my head, keeping her attention, hiding my surprise at her revelation. I knew she was older than 21, art school, marriage, but only 26? She must not have been married long, or maybe while they were still in school. It didn't matter, but it did explain a little more about her behavior. "I didn't say that was what I expected of you. We'll need to discuss that later. And that isn't what I meant about terms. What you're willing to do I think goes into the personal fuck-toy column. When I was talking terms, I meant something more material. Like how much are you listing your paintings for?" 

She looked surprised, almost affronted for a moment and then smiled, her fingers curling into mine. "Personal fuck-toy column? Really? Hmmm, that sounds way more interesting than money." 

I squeezed her fingers and held them, tight. "I'm serious, Cheri. You want me to do this for you? It's got to be business. We'll sort out whatever it is you want to do for me, and believe me, when you say 'anything' you need to be very careful. I've got a few years on you. You can't begin to imagine what I might take 'anything' to mean." 

She looked a little frightened, glancing down at our hands, whether because of how hard I was gripping her fingers or the direction the conversation was going. "Okay. Okay. Shit. I was just fucking around." She didn't move her hands though. 

"So? How much?" 

"The gallery suggests about $1000." She shrugged, wriggling her fingers against my palms. That felt good. "It doesn't matter to me. If I sold all of them, it wouldn't be enough to live on." 

"How many did you say you needed in all?" 

She screwed up her lips, calculating. "They said twenty minimum, but if I felt like doing more, they could switch some out during the run. I've got about fifteen done, pretty much, but I'm not sure I'd use them all, especially after..." She stopped and looked down, her gaze boring a hole through the table. "After I got inspired last night." She giggled again and pulled her fingers free. "You ready to go?" 

I nodded, not finished with the conversation, but I figured we could keep talking on our way to my car. I called for the check and she insisted on splitting it. Shit, who was I to argue? I was just a researcher— she seemed to be independently wealthy. Crazy as a loon, but loaded and...horny. Horny as fuck all. 

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you." We were settling into my car, getting ready to drive her back to hers. "Why does your pussy smell so good? Like lavender or something. Lavender, right?" 

"Is that how we're going to talk from now on? 'How come your pussy smells so good?'" She shook her head, smiling at me. "It kinda turns me on. You need to be careful." 

I smiled and waited. "So?" 

"I'm glad you noticed..." 

"Noticed? How couldn't I notice? You smell fucking fantastic—as good after a fuck as when I went down on you. I've never smelled anything like it..." I almost said any cunt like it, but I've learned the hard way. Way too soon to fuck this one up. 

"Yes. Lavender and Rose Water. I drink a ton of it every day. At least a gallon. My ex taught me. He'd read about it somewhere and he really liked to eat pussy, so I got into the habit. I don't need to douche, that's for sure. You really like it?" She asked as if we were talking about a necklace. 

"Fuck yes. In fact..." I looked down between her legs, hopefully making it obvious. 




Art for Anything Pt. 02



"Here?" She hissed, looking around. We were in no-man's land, just on the edge of the industrial section and still several miles from her car. I pulled into an empty lot off from the road. 

"Here. You said 'anything,' right?" 

"Wait. You said you wanted to discuss terms. Is this part of the terms?" 

I shook my head. "Fuck toy column. Strip your jeans down so I can see, and smell, that sweet cunt of yours. You need to figure out terms. Since money doesn't mean much to you, you figure out what it's worth to have me stripped and exposed for the art world to see." I shrugged and killed the engine. 

"Here?" But she was already popping her belt and buttons, looking around as if we were in some crowded mall parking lot. 

I undid both of our seatbelts, reached over and pulled the handle on her seat back. She yelped in surprise just as she was shimmying her pants down. I opened my door. 

"What?" She tried to pull her pants up, but I was already around to her side, opening her door, exposing her to the cool air and nothing else. 

"Settle down. Relax. And spread 'em." I grinned, sliding her seat all the way back to give me more room between her legs. "I just need some space to get into you." 

She just started giggling, covering her face with her hands as I crouched in the foot well. I left the door open, it was facing away from the street—just a blank building nearby—and opened her legs wider. 

"I just needed to smell you, and maybe taste a little too, before we get together again." I leaned forward and inhaled that wonderful sweet spice, her lips were a little crunched. Wrinkled from pressing against her jeans. And dry. I gently peeled the thicker outer labia apart to look more carefully at her inner leaves. Her aroma filled my nostrils. 

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't believe you're doing this...we're doing this. Fuck." She was staring down at me, watching me study her, inspect her. 

I slipped a finger just inside her, feeling her moisten slightly, feeling her warmth. "Hmmm...nothing tastes better after scrambled eggs and bacon than a fresh, lavender tinged pussy." I leaned in, rubbing my nose on her clit, feeling her hairs against my cheek and let my tongue curl against her, teasing her open. "Fuck you taste so great. So fucking great." 

I slipped my hands under that wonderful ass and lifted her up slightly, spreading her open to give me clear access to her slippery insides. Pushing my tongue in, I slid it as far as I could, tasting her lubricants, her honey, that lavender smell filling my head. Her hands slid across my head to my neck, holding me there as I penetrated her in and out with my tongue. It was nothing compared to what I'd done to her with my cock, but I figured it would tease her a little. I was going to fire her up and leave her hanging. 

I felt her clit harden against my upper lip and I pressed against it, forcing a moan from her and more pressure from her hands. Her perfume was thick, filling the car. 

"God, Chris! God. God what the fuck. Fuck! Oh shit. FUCK!" 

She pressed my head hard against her, but that wasn't going to be enough to put her over the edge. She had a long ways to go, and I'd had my taste. My cock was hard, but I was willing to wait. Shit, I'd jack off later if I had to, but I wasn't going to give her any excuse to get her off. I pulled away, licking my lips and smiling up at her. 

"What? Whaa? Why are you stopping? What!?" She looked down at me in alarm as I extracted myself from the car, my bulge obvious. "Where are you going? You're not going to leave me like this!?" 

I rounded the front and got in. "Buckle up. You might want to pull your pants up." 

She looked at me, confused, anger building, even as she struggled to find the seat adjustment. She was spread open, exposed and definitely feeling a little degraded. "What the fuck, Chris? Why'd you stop?" 

She'd arranged her seat enough for me to start driving. 

"That turn you on?" I looked over at her. Her face was flushed and the car smelled wonderful. 

She looked at me like I was crazy and nodded. 

"Good. Me too. If I could get you to bottle that aroma, I'd spray it in here every day." 

She just stared ahead, a little confused. 

"You said, 'anything,' right? Well, start expecting 'anything.'" I might have imagined it, but she shivered a little as she pulled her pants up. Either way, I smiled.



Art for Anything Pt. 03



It started the next night. Even though it was Sunday, I agreed to come over and help her on another piece. We'd discussed terms and she landed on something that made sense to her. I didn't care one way or another, and she didn't care about the money, so she decided that for any piece in which any part of me was included, I would get 50%. I laughed when she walked me through it so carefully, and I could tell she was annoyed at my laughing, but I was satisfied. 

"Ten pieces, max." She assured me. "I can't wait to see you. How early can you come?" 

I could have come right after lunch, but I decided not to give in so easily. I was a little squeamish, actually, at being rendered on her canvases in spite of how abstract she made them. We agreed on 3:00. 

"Hmmm," she hummed into the phone. "The light will be perfect. Please try and make it by 3, sharp, okay?" 

I showed up at 2:50 and buzzed her apartment. I hadn't bothered to ask what I should wear, assuming I'd be out of whatever I had chosen, but I realized maybe not. 

"Hello?" 

"It's me. Hey - is my car going to be okay out here?" 

She giggled and assured me it'd be fine. 

I got in the elevator and pressed 3. I wondered why the car rose. I had forgotten to ask for a code or something. When I pushed opened the door, I saw her setting up tripods across the room. She was just a silhouette against the windows, but I could see she was at least dressed. My cock was already swelling at the thought she might be working naked. The whole thing was so kinky, I didn't know what to think of it. After finishing my report the night before, I could barely concentrate on anything else, jacking off a couple of times at the memory of what we'd done. 

"How does that elevator work?" My question died on my lips as I saw she actually was naked, at least from the waist down. She had a button down shirt on, why is anyone's guess though, as it was only buttoned in the middle, her breasts swinging lightly as I reached out to hug her. Her hands came down to my ass, pulling me close and pressing her lips against me. 

"Mmmmm," she purred again, rubbing my cheeks through my trousers. "What have you been thinking about?" She rubbed against the lump in my groin. 

"Nothing much. Nothing much on you at least." I slipped my hands over her breasts to feel those nipples, already hardening. 

"Ummm hmmm. That's nice." She pulled back. "What did you say?" 

I had to think. "The elevator? How come I could just press your floor and it came up? Couldn't anyone do that?" And then I remembered the inner door. "Never mind. Just being stupid." 

She kissed me again and slid her hands up to pull my shirt out, unbuttoning it. "I've been thinking non-stop about what I want from you. You need anything? Drink? Smoke?" She slipped my shirt off and worked on my belt. 

"I'm okay for now." I let her strip me, looking around the room. There were cameras on tripods everywhere I looked, but no umbrellas. 

She slipped my pants off and peeled my briefs down my hardening cock, stopping to kiss it as she pulled them down to my feet. 

"Mmmmm. Just as I remembered it." She knelt and slipped my pants, underwear and socks off, before raising her head up to plant kisses on my balls and my rapidly stiffening shaft. "I'd like to see you hard. As hard as possible. Any ideas how we can do that?" She kept kissing me, licking my head with her tongue, looking up at me. I could see her breasts behind the shirt. 

I shrugged. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of it." 

She shook her head. "Not nearly. I'm thinking you need something to stimulate you a little, maybe?" She kept fondling my balls, reaching her mouth around me. 

As she worked my cock down her throat, I couldn't imagine what else she could be thinking to stimulate me with. This was pretty much heaven. 

She pulled off with a pop, tears in her eyes from nearly gagging, but smiling ear to ear. Rising up, she rubbed against my body, planting kisses all along the way until she nibbled on my ear lobe. Trailing kisses against my cheek she pulled away.  

"I think you look hungry." She lowered her forehead and gave me "that" look, I shrugged, a little confused. "I think you need to eat a little pussy," she whispered in my ear. "Do you want a taste of my bearded clam?" 

I laughed at her kidding around, even as her fingers squeezed a gasp out of me. I nodded, behaving myself. 

"Mmmm...that would feel so nice," she kept kissing me, teasing me. "I'm starting to drip just remembering your tongue buried inside my hot cunt." She pulled back to look me in the eye. 

"Anytime, Cheri. I'll pearl dive into that fresh oyster anytime." 

She shook her head, bringing her forefinger to my lips. "You have to do me a small favor first, sweety." 

We were 'sweety' now? I smiled, waiting. My cock was hard. I pulsed it a little into her fingers. 

"That's sweet. I love when you swell up like that. But the thing is, I need you so much harder than you are. How can we get you harder?" 

"Sucking the juices from your little fig would probably do it, sweetbuns." I smiled looking at her. 

She giggled and gave me a squeeze before backing away. "Unnh unnn, not yet." She looked around, thinking. "I think I've got it. Can you kneel on the couch?" She peeled of her shirt. Shit those breasts were gorgeous. I might have got a little thicker staring at her. 

I shrugged, turned around and pressed into the cushions, waiting. She moved a few tripods around, positioning one camera within a foot of my erection. I just waited, mystified. 

"I'm going to stand in front of you and if you're a good boy, I'll let you lick me, but not until you do me that small favor." 

I just watched her as she stepped onto the seat cushions and turned to face me, her hands on my shoulders. Her pussy was just inches from my face. I reached out to lick her and was rewarded with a slap on my ear. 

"Hey! Ow. Shit!" I looked up to see her grinning evilly down at me, shaking her head slowly. 

"Not yet, little boy. You're going to be good, right? Do your sweet cunt a favor?" She rubbed me where the echoes of the slap had been. 

I nodded, playing along. "What do you need me to do?" 

"Nothing major. A small thing. Something you probably do all the time. But you have to get really really hard." 

I just shook my head. "I'm not a 19 year old, sweet cakes. I'm about as hard as a 40 year old can get when he's on his knees." 

She made a face and giggled. "Okay," she said with a little disappointment, "we'll see about how hard you can get another time. But now for that favor." She raised her eyebrows and opened her eyes wide, as if waiting for me to ask. 

"Okay," I said, laughing. "I'll bite. What is you want my luscious lavender cunt?" 

"I...want...you...to...jerk off." She said it slowly, holding my head up to look at her. 

That wasn't going to be a problem. I loved to jerk off. Jerking off while a beautiful woman watched was no biggee. "All you had to do was ask." I smiled and reached for my dick. 

She stared down as I pulled up and began stroking. "Mmmm mmmm. That is so fucking hot, Chris. So fucking hot. Yeah, pull on that cock. I want to see you cum all over my couch, okay? Spray it hard onto my couch and I'll let you bury your sweet mouth in my hot cunt." 

She kept murmuring sweet nothings watching me stroke harder and I was actually getting harder. I tried to look down but she pulled my face up to look at her, at her breasts, at her bush. 

"Tell me when you're close." She whispered, moving her hips back and forth. 

I saw her juices glinting in the light, her labia swelling between her legs. Her perfume was intoxicating, enticing me forward. But I resisted, not wanting to get slapped again. And then I was crossing the point of no return, my cum beginning to bubble up from my balls at the base of my shaft. 

"Here it comes, sweet cunt, here I cum!" 

As I felt it erupting, she pulled my mouth into her hot cunt, burying my nose in her aroma. I felt a small vibration as the jism hit the back of the couch and felt the rest dribbling onto my hand. She kept me pinned against her pussy, rubbing against me faster and faster until I heard her scream a little and she let down a gush of sweet spicy liquor. 

* - * - * - * 

"You want to do anything special?" She kissed me lightly, rolling my hair in her fingers. 

I shrugged. Smelling her on my face was good enough for now. "Wasn't that special enough?" 

She smiled, leaning in to a kiss. "You're right," she whispered. "I probably need to get to work." 

I thought about it for a second. "Wait. You had cameras going the whole time?" I looked around and counted at least six. "How are you going to figure out which shot?" 

She smiled and pointed her nose to the workstation. "That's the easy part. The hard part is whether there are any good ones at all." 

I didn't quite see the difference and looked at her, confused. 

"I'll know it when I see it, and I can scan 'em pretty quick. Should we look?" She untangled herself and practically leapt across the room. I just stared at that fantastic body; those legs, that ass and those incredible breasts. 

"Don't you have to do something with the cameras?" 

"Yeah, hold on." She fiddled with the mouse. "They were still running." Giggling. 

I watched over her shoulder as a screen of thumbnails appeared. She didn't even use the magnifying glass, moving through pages of them so fast there was no way she could see any details. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

"Time stamps," she pointed to the upper right corner. 

I saw a small odometer readout advancing as quickly as she paged. 4:30, 5:20, 6:00. She slowed and started to look more carefully, finally taking out the loop tool. 

"Mmmmm," she hummed again. "Isn't that just fucking amazing?" 

I saw her bush just inches from my mouth, my hand on my hard cock. She was holding my head. It was a pretty nice shot. And then it was gone. 

"No good?" 

"Oh. Yeah. That was fucking great. I'm going to go back to that one a lot. But not for the show." She smiled at me, licking her lips. I could just see her staring at the picture, shoving a dildo into her. My cock let me know it was there. 

She scanned the next set, looking at the view from the closeup camera. These showed my hand around my dick in the lower right corner of the frame: first down at the base, then near the top. Over and over again, until it caught me ejaculating, the crème flying out. 

"Shit." She looked at pictures on either side, back and forth, and sat back, slumping a little. 

"No good?" I rubbed her shoulders, staring at her breasts, her wide open beaver and the shot of my hand pumping sperm out of my cock. 

She shook her head. "Damn." She looked up at me and smiled a little. "Well it was fucking fun as hell, wasn't it?" The way she said it sounded like a quote from a movie or something. "An old saying in our house." She leaned her mouth over to kiss my fingers. "I'm going to have to figure something else out." 

After a while I realized she was lost in her process and had forgotten about the outside world. I went to the bathroom and when I came back she had disappeared. No doubt in the studio. I walked down the hall and peeked in to see her working away, oblivious. I didn't want to leave quite yet; it felt a little smarmy, the exact thing I was trying to avoid. I kept walking down the hall exploring the other rooms. There was another bathroom, nicely appointed but obviously unused, a small work-out gym with a running track, rower and weights, and two other rooms, one furnished as a bedroom, the other a study. The entire side of the loft was apparently a separate unit, including an exit door which opened onto a service hallway and stair. 

I returned to the last room remembering it had a couch and a television and settled in. She had something like 600 channels, and I quickly found one with pretty high quality Swedish porn. I lost track of time watching very white people in all manner of undress and engagement. 

"Hey," she said, walking in. "What are you watching?" She made a face, shaking her head. "I'm not enough for you?" 

She was covered in charcoal, her arms and face smeared with black. I shut off the TV and invited her to join me. 

"No," she said, exhausted. "I need to take a shower. Join me?" 

I didn't need a second invitation, swinging myself up to take her hand and follow along beside her. 

We traipsed across the living space back toward her bedroom. I realized I'd never been in her bathroom - I'd used the one outside her den and the one across the apartment. I shook my head as I realized how well off she really was. Four bathrooms. Christ. 

Until she flipped on the light and I got a look at her personal bathing environment. That's how it seemed to me. Calling it a bathroom was like calling her loft a studio apartment. Off to the right was a private toilet room. Facing the door, traveling practically the full length was a counter with two sinks and a mirror to the ceiling. I stared at the two of us - she, gorgeous in spite of, or maybe enhanced by, the charcoal covering her light brown skin, and me, the middle-aged researcher with an okay body, pecs beginning to shrink, losing a little definition in the abs. It reminded me of how long I'd gone without working out. Across from the sinks was a glassed in shower with two heads and a small bench. 

"What the fuhhh..." I exhaled. 

She smiled, turning right and sitting on the toilet. "I know, right? Too extravagant?" The sound of piss hitting water. 

I turned to look at the shower. "Who am I to judge? Extravagant? Is it comfortable?" I opened one of the sliding doors and began adjusting the water. 

Moments later we were soaping each other down, my fingers sliding into every crevice. 

"I know it's way too personal a question, but I've got to know - how much did the guy settle with you for?" 

She looked up from her careful washing of my balls and blinked, smiling. "I don't give a shit. It's not too personal, but I'm not sure I remember exactly. I have a guy helping me manage it. He said something about living off the interest only." She shrugged and knelt down to work her fingers between my legs. "5 million? 2? I can't remember. I only look at the monthly payment to make sure my bank account is okay." 

$2 million? 5? She can't remember? I moaned as her fingers pushed against my asshole, my cock pumping up against her nose. 

She stopped suddenly. "Shit! I think I've got it. Fuck. You...you're my muse!" She stood up, hugging me tight to her, pressing my cock against her wet fur. Her nipples were hard, pressing into my chest. 

I had no idea what she was talking about, but it felt just fine the way it was, even better pressing my lips against hers. Her hands rubbed from my ass up to my shoulders until we pulled apart. 

"You hungry?" She looked too innocent. 

"Want me to eat you out?" I thought I was being clever. 

She giggled, slapping my butt. "No. I mean, of course! But that's not what I meant. I meant, seriously, it's been hours since you got here. Let's get dressed and get some dinner." 

I couldn't keep track of where her thoughts kept leading us, but I didn't have any reason not to. Join her for dinner, that is. 

"I just need one small favor..." 

Here it comes, I thought. But I couldn't predict what it could possibly be. 

"You have to promise me not to pee until we get back to the apartment." She handed me a towel and started to dry off. "Okay? Promise?" 

Of course as soon as she suggested I couldn't take a piss I began feeling the need. I nodded my head, drying off. 

Throwing clothes on, we almost made it to the door when she stopped. 

"Shit. Hold on. Wait. Come with me." She raced back to the kitchen me in tow. "I need my rose water. Can't risk losing my trademark aroma, eh?" She pulled a gallon jug from the fridge and poured a glass, then reached for another and filled it. "Maybe you should get into the habit...come to think of it. Might make your jism even more tasty than it already is." 

I took the glass and tried to down it as quickly as she was hers. It was cool and refreshing with a strong floral perfume. 

"Okay. Let's get out of here." 

Dinner was unremarkable but tasty. A local joint with fresh food. Cheri insisted I have a pint of their micro-brew, and then a second. Since we were walking, I didn't care, but I was a little suspicious. She picked up the tab. "It's the least I can do." The unstated reason being she was making three times my income and didn't work for it. 

In the elevator she came on to me again, unbuttoning my shirt and stripping it off, peeling her top off to match. By the time we'd entered her place, she had one shoe on and her pants dangling from her ankle. "C'mon! I've got an idea." 

I had an idea too: take a royal piss. My bladder felt like a small football. "Hey, Cheri?" I had dumped my clothes in the middle of the floor. "When can I go to the bathroom?" 

She giggled, grabbing a tripod and some other equipment. "Not yet! No! Come with me!" She darted down the hall by the studio (as I had begun to call it). I followed her, seeing the light turn on in the bathroom I'd peeked into earlier. "C'mon!" She shouted from the room. "You want to relieve yourself, you better get in here!" 

I followed her in. She was halfway through positioning the tripod and camera facing a regular bathtub/shower unit; she'd dragged the curtain off to the side. "Get in," she motioned to the tub. 

I had no idea where this was going, but I did as I was told. The whole scene was having a pleasant effect on my cock, surprising given how much I really had to pee. Standing there, I watched as she set up a bounce light and then practically hopped in the shower behind me. 

"Mmmm," she cooed in my ear, her fingers wrapping around my balls and base of my cock. "This is so fucking nice." She rubbed her pubic hair against my ass and pressed her breasts into my back. 

"I can't complain," I said, relaxing back against her, feeling my cock stiffen in spite of my extended bladder. "Although, it would feel a ton better if I could let some of this piss out." I smiled. 

"I know. Thank you for doing this." As if to torment me, she ran her fingers up to my pubic hair, pressing against the mound there. "Mmmm. You really do have to go, don't you." 

"Yes! Fuck!" I laughed. "What are you doing? I'm going to just piss all over your hand if you keep that up." But I wasn't sure I would be able to, with the erection she'd given me. 

"You are so fucking sexy," she said quietly, moving her hand between her pussy and my ass cheeks. I could feel her fingering herself. "Do you think you could get harder?" 

Again with getting harder. If she wasn't such a fucking turn-on, I'd wonder. "I have no idea. Once again, I'm standing up and this time, I'm full of piss." Before I could finish, she turned her hand around and pushed her finger against my ass. 

"Spread your legs a little. I'm going in." 

I felt her fingertip against my sphincter and then she was in. Unlike before when she didn't have enough lubrication, this time she'd succeeded in burying herself up to her second knuckle before I clinched. That didn't matter, she achieved the desired effect: my cock stood straight and at attention. 

"Feel good?" She whispered and kissed my ear. 

"Hmm mm," I nodded, trying to open myself to let her in deeper. 

"Try peeing now." She had pushed her finger in deeper and was nudging my prostate. 

The feeling was insane. There was no way I could piss with this erection, but her pulsing against my gland made me want to go. Hard. She brought her other hand around and pressed it against my bladder. 

"C'mon, my puppy, piss for your pussy." She whispered playfully, pushing against me in both directions. 




Art for Anything Pt. 03



I looked down and saw a stream of yellow erupt out of me, then stop as my systems clamped down. She pressed and another stream jetted out, slowing to a dribble. And another, longer, my cock beginning to flag, until I finally was able to let the urine flow into a long arc, my cock at half mast. She kept massaging me, pushing my bladder on the outside, my prostate on the inside, until I had finished. I clamped down, pushing more out, and then I was really done. I hated the smell, but not enough to do anything about it. 

"That was fucking amazing," she breathed, pulling her finger from me. "Fucking. Amazing." 

It felt fantastic to be emptied, but I could tell she was thinking about something else. And then it hit me. "You...you weren't happy with the shots this afternoon...and..." I waived at the setup and the remaining yellow stream going down the drain. "You think it's going to work?" 

"I dunno! Let's find out!" She jumped out of the tub, washed her hands in the sink and grabbed the camera. I ran a little water in the shower to clean it and by the time I joined her she was already tagging a few photos. 

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" She hovered over one and I had to admire her skill. The image looked as if I was cumning in jets, my cock hard and proud, the stream separated from the glans with a drop and a small gap of air. 

I watched for a little while longer as she scanned through the rest of the shots and then looked at the time. "Hey," I said gently, breaking her from her concentration. "I gotta go soon and I can see where you're heading, so..." 

She looked up at me, glassy eyed and smiling distantly. "Thank you." She leaned in and kissed me, her hands coming up to push me against her. "Thank you so fucking much." 

I flashed a smile and slight nod before turning away. I could just as easily have beelined to the back room and hooked up with those Swedes, but I had to work for my paycheck. It was time I headed back to my place. 

"When do you want to get together?" I was not comfortable yet with the arrangement. Were we getting together so she could fill her quota or because we liked to fuck? 

She paused, distracted by the contact sheet on her screen. 

I retrieved my clothes strewn in a trail from the elevator, and when she still hadn't answered, I asked again. "Hey. Cheri. Spice Cunt!" 

She looked up at that one, annoyed and then giggling. "I like that. Much better than psycho-bitch." 

"When?" I waived my hands around. 

She looked me in the face. "Anytime you want, puppy dog. I'm here for the duration." 

I nodded and slipped on my socks. "Okay. I'll call you after I figure out what my week looks like. But you call me if you need me here sooner than later." 

She licked her lips, staring down at my crotch. "As far as I'm concerned, you shouldn't leave at all." She said it with a slight smile, but I felt a touch of menace. It made me pulse a little. 

"Okay. That sounded good enough to make me need to leave." I got up. "I'll call you." And I left before I listened to the little voice begging me to jump her.



Art for Anything Pt. 04



"Hey." I was eating lunch around the corner from my office. Unlikely anybody I worked with would be here in spite of its location. The food was too "ethnic" for most of my associates. 

"Hi." She dragged it out with a small purr. I could imagine her standing nude in the middle of her apartment, between painting and vacuuming. My cock twitched. 

"This an okay time to talk?" 

A moment's hesitation. "Yeah. Sure! Everything okay?" Concern. Was I backing out? 

"Everything's fucking fantastic. I'm imagining you standing naked in the middle of your apartment, the vacuum just next to you..." 

She interrupted me by laughing. "Nice," she giggled. "But not close. I'm at the grocery store," and then in a whisper, "and perfectly dressed..." 

"Too bad. I'll keep my image for now. But your reality definitely would be easier on my cock." 

Another giggle and a shhhshh. 

"Anyway, I've looked at my calendar. Tomorrow late afternoon I can make it, if that works for you." 

A pause. "Hold on...I've got an appointment until 4. Any time after 4:15, 4:30. I'll be home." 

"Perfect. I'll see you at 5." 

"Yummm. I'll be ready ..You know, I've already got three good candidates from just the past couple of sessions. I've decided to do a symmetrical mirroring thing..." 

She said a bunch more, but though I had an appreciation for art, I'd never had a lot of theory. She sounded like a critic, rattling off names and notions. I started laughing. 

"You know," I interrupted her. "All of that sounded like English to me, but I couldn't tell you a single sentence you just said." 

She stopped and laughed. 

"All I know is you seem to have a strong direction in mind, and that is the important thing. " I paused. "I've been noodling on how I might help." 

She inhaled. "Help?" She breathed. "You've been amazing. I couldn't have asked for anything more. You're my muse!" 

"About that," I interrupted. "Let's talk about 'anything.'" 

She stopped, even her breathing was inaudible. 

"Fuck." She whispered, her public persona embarrassed again. I liked the dichotomy. She whispered, hesitating, "What do you mean? Shit." She was quietly hissing into the phone. "I can't talk about that here." 

My cock twitched again. I had been thinking about all the ways in which she would make good on her promise. "Ahh...yeah. No. It's fuck-toy column, time. As I recall, that isn't your department. I have some ideas I'd like you to photograph." 

She breathed heavily. 

"I think it's time to start putting some deposits in that column tomorrow night, don't you?" 

More breathing. "Maybe," she whispered. 

"Hmmm...you said you can't separate your art from business, right?" 

Nothing. 

"You want to start doing 'anything,' tomorrow night. Is that what I'm hearing?" I was getting interested in pushing this particular envelope. It was her art. She was the director, producer and talent. Except for me and my particular contributions. I had been musing the whole weekend and an idea had begun to emerge like one of her charcoal images; just a hint here or there, but I was getting a sense of something. Something I needed to make happen. Anything. 

"Maybe," she said quietly. 

"I think I'm getting it. I think you are ready to do anything to make your show a success...Right?" 

"Yes," quietly like she had her hand over the phone. I could see her in the grocery store, terrified someone could hear her conversation even though it was completely innocent from her side. I smiled, a little wickedly. Anything. 

"So, here's what I'm thinking would be cool to do tomorrow when I get there at 5PM." I spoke quietly and slowly, painting my fantasy of what I wanted to happen. It wasn't terribly original, but I was pretty hard by the time I had finished offering her the details. "Where are you standing right now?" 

"What?" The transition had caught her off guard. "Produce. I've been standing in the produce section listening to this. Everyone must think I'm insane!" Again a whisper. 

"Can anyone hear me? Am I on speaker phone?" I laughed, taking a bite from my lunch. 

"No. Idiot. Of course not!" She was annoyed at herself as much as at my laughing at her. 

"Tell me exactly what you're going to do for tomorrow night." 

"Shit." She barely said it. "No, Chris. I can't. Not here. I'll call you when I get back to my place." A little bit of a whine. "Please." 

"Anything?" 

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She cursed exhaling softly. Over the next several minutes she repeated my instructions, redoing them when I corrected her. I imagined her standing in front of the carrots or cucumbers as if she was talking to them. 

"Is this making you very very wet? Is there a distinct aroma of lavender near you?" I took a sip of water, feeling my hard on pressing uncomfortably against my slacks. Blue balls for me tonight if I didn't take care of it back at the office. 

"Yes, goddamn it." 

"Tell me exactly." 

"Fuck you. Fuck you Chris." Venomous but only a whisper. "I'm soaking wet. My panties are soaking wet from leaking thinking about what you're asking me to do tomorrow night. There. Is that 'anything?'" 

I smiled." Almost." 

"I've got to get out of here, Chris. What?" I could see her looking around as if on a stage. 

A thought had struck me as I imagined where she was standing. "Are the cucumbers nearby?" 

A pause and an exhale. "Yes." A single word, but already I could tell she was connecting the dots. 

"Go find the largest diameter and longest cucumber you can. Tell me when you have it in your hands." 

Cursing and breathing as she moved to a different case. She set the phone into her cart and a few moments later picked it up. "Okay. I've got it. I know where you're heading with this, Chris. Just let me go home. Please." 

"Tell me exactly what we're going to do with that tomorrow night." I sat back, finished with my meal, signaling the server. 

Between cursing and calling me nasty names, she described a delicious scene involving her and the cucumber. Delicious, but different from my fantasy. 

"That was nice," I commended her, laughing. "Not what's going to happen, by the way, at least tomorrow night. But I definitely want to see you do that another time. Promise?" 

"I'm hanging up, Chris. You've had your fun. I think I've proven I'm open to 'anything.' I'll see you tomorrow." And she hung up. 

Getting out of the restaurant was a challenge. I had deflated by the time I walked back to my building, but I knew I'd be in bad shape if I didn't take care of myself. I stopped in the lobby bathroom and jacked off before going upstairs. No way I was going to sit half the day imagining the scene she described with the cucumber, or the ones she was going to do, without getting some relief. No longer aroused, I was able to finish the day without thinking about Tuesday night more than a few times every five minutes. 

* - * - * - * 

At 2pm the next day I called her. 

"Hey." 

"Hi!" Bright, clear, excited. She must be at her studio. 

"You home?" 

"Yep. What's up?" 

"About tonight." 

A pause. Was I cancelling. Had she fucked up by hanging up? "What?" Neutral but cautious. 

"When I get there. I want you sitting, facing the elevator, your legs spread open. Naked of course. And I want to walk in seeing you fucking yourself with that cucumber. Leave your door open from the moment you arrive home. Got it?" 

"Fuck Chris!" No whispering now. In the safety of her home her private persona was out in force. "And you're the one worried about the neighborhood! Anyone could press my floor and see me! No. No fucking way." 

She sounded pretty firm. I realized we needed a different dynamic. My insistence and her denial would only go so far. "You sound pretty convincing. The problem is, you said 'anything,' remember? So how do we know what that really means? I told you to be careful." 

"Chris. Be serious. I'm happy to spread open, buck naked facing the elevator shoving that monster up my cunt for your arrival, but I won't leave the door open the moment I arrive home. When you ring up, I'll open it and be in any position you ask." Her tone was definite. Even as she promised the most graphic details, she didn't waver. 

"Okay. Fair enough. For now. But we're going to need to figure out what 'anything' really means. You have a safeword?" 

Quiet. "Yes." 

Interesting. "And?" 

"Flare-dodge." 

"That doesn't sound like a real word." I was laughing. 

She giggled along with me, the mood shifting. "It isn't. It's a combo of two photographic terms I'd never use together." 

"Let's start with that, then. If I ask you to do 'anything' and you say 'flare-dodge,' I'll back off. Otherwise, I like to hear you beg." And I hung up. I figured what's good for the goose... 

Now time dragged on. I finished my afternoon meetings, cleaned out my inbox, posted a few blog entries and shut everything down. It was 4:34 and my cock was letting me know it was excited about the evening's proceedings. All I could imagine was her beautiful ass, stretched tight, her mouth clamped around...I had to stop before I couldn't walk to my car. 

"Howdy." I was five minutes late. 

"Come on up." Quiet, expectant and excited? 

The inner door was unlocked but closed. When I opened it, she was sitting 10 feet away, her legs spread as far apart as I could imagine (further than I would have managed), and both hands were pushing on the largest cucumber I'd ever seen, into her split open beaver. 

She looked up, a grimace on her face, her eyes moist, staring first at mine and then down at my crotch. She turned back to her labors. "I...fuck! I've only got a couple of inches in. Fuck this is huge!" She kept pushing, turning it slowly one way and then the other, her lips spreading out across it, turning with the green wrinkled skin. "FUCK!" It moved in visibly at least an inch and she stopped, gasping for air. "I don't know how much further I can push it in, Chris." 

I knelt down next to her, taking her face in my hands and kissing her eyes, her nose and then holding her lips against mine. She kept working the cucumber even as we kissed, her breathing labored. I pulled away, staring at her split wide open, her hands guiding it in. 

"Let me help," I offered, moving my fingers to her labia. Gently stretching her skin at the base of her lips, I tried to give her lips more slack. It seemed to work - the vegetable moved in another inch and then it seemed to just keep moving. Five, six, seven inches in, there was only enough left for her to hold onto with one hand. 

"FUCK. I've never felt this full in my life. Fuck.Fuck." She inhaled shallowly. "It's gotta be up against my cervix. I can't push it in any further." 

I moved my fingers onto her labia, stroking them lightly. They were pale, stretched across the green monster. Her clit was exposed, pushed out from its hood by the invader. "I'm going to taste it," I said, not giving her time to think. Diving down, I licked my way up the shaft, dancing my tongue around her stretched lips ending up lightly tapping on her clit. She moaned until the last part, when she swatted my head and cried out. 

"DON'T! That fucking hurts!" 

I looked up, smiling and turned back, placing my lips around the skin at the base of her clit not touching it. I sucked in, creating a vacuum. 

"OHHHHHH GOODDDDDD. FUCKK FUCKK CHRIS. YES! Fuck Fuck FUCK!" 

I reached my fingers down and guided her hand to start pulling it out and pushing it back in, knowing her juices would lubricate it. She moaned with each movement, first out, out, out until her lips closed and her clit retreated, and then, with a little assistance, back in, deep, deeper, firmly seating it even deeper than at first. In. Out. Slowly. My mouth never leaving her skin, the vacuum a constant stimulation. 

We kept at it for at least a minute. Maybe five. It's so hard to tell when you're lost in it. But I knew this was just the opening act and didn't want her to peak too soon. She was getting very close, that was obvious, as she tried to move the beast in and out of her as fast as she could. 

I pulled away with a little lick on her clit, forcing a yelp from her. "Okay. Okay. That's enough. Hold on." I held it inside her on the in-stroke, staring at her face, flushed with arousal, her eyes brimming, her mouth open. 

"Everything ready?" 

She nodded, pointing with her eyes. 

I looked around and realized she'd set up the camera and equipment exactly as we had discussed, with a few additions to capture her vegetable masturbation. There was a camera within an arm's distance I hadn't noticed, it's LED blinking slowly indicating it was still taking pictures. 

"Nice." I unfolded from the floor and stood up, peeling off my clothes. My cock sprung up, getting harder anticipating the next few minutes. I offered her my hand. "You ready for 'anything?'" 

She kept one hand on the cucumber, impaling herself with it as she brought her legs together, tucked her feet under her and rose to standing. Lithe, her body moved like a cat. Her breasts were glistening with small beads of sweat. She smelled fantastic. I rubbed my hand down her back to the top of her ass cheeks, letting it linger there, feeling the skin, her texture changing from fine hairs to completely smooth. 

She let go of my hand, pulling my head into a deep kiss, her tongue penetrating my lips. She tongue fucked me for several breaths and pulled away. "Thank you," she whispered, looking down at the cucumber and at my hard on. "I'm ready." 

The setup was against a long wall perpendicular to the elevator, several steps away. 

"Let's go." I held her hand as she waddled the short distance to the equipment, her other hand keeping the cucumber in place. It occurred to me it would fall out as soon as I took her hand away. "Do you have any panties handy?" I looked around as she glanced over to the couch. "Hold on." 

Returning with a pair of sheer thongs, I slipped them over her feet, pulling them up as high as the cucumber would let me. They barely stretched over the top of her cheeks, leaving a large air gap between her legs. It was obscene: her pubic hair surrounding the monster cucumber held in place, mostly, by a delicate pair of lingerie. I stepped back to make sure the cameras caught her degradation in full color. 

I took her hands and secured them to the cuffs she had attached to two cables, fed through eye hooks in the floor. Pulling on them from their source, she was forced to bend over at the waist, stretching her underwear further. She groaned as the cucumber pushed against her insides. 

I gently pushed her legs apart, slowly, not wanting the cucumber to pop out. I hadn't imagined the cucumber when we went over the scene in the grocery store; it was an extra, albeit a wonderful addition. Still, I was trying to figure out how long I could keep it and still go where I was hoping. I kept slowly spreading her legs, making a wide triangle with the floor, her back parallel and her hands pulled to the sides by the cuffs. She was low enough (and limber enough) to rest her hands on the floor supporting her weight. I tightened all the cables. She could only move her head up and down. 

"Ready?" 

"Uhh hnhh," she gasped, the cucumber still holding firm. 

"So," I said, going over what we had discussed. "This is real, right?" 

"Yeah." She breathed heavily. 

"Real and art. Right?" 

"Ummm hmmm." Grunted. 

"You need this to be real for the art to be real, right?" 

"Yes. Please. God. Yes. Just. Do. It." She was breathing heavily and I saw a small stain starting to grow where the cucumber was pressed against her underwear. I wiped her juices off if it and rubbed it against her upper lip. She moaned, closing her eyes. 

"How many?" 

She breathed in and then out, getting control of her voice. "20." 

I didn't think she was going to last 20. And then she would suffer a worse fate. Or maybe she wanted to suffer more. She's the artist. 

"20. Okay. After each, you do what?" 

She inhaled deeply. "I thank you, tell you the number and ask for another." 

"And if by some miracle you don't faint or cum before the 20th you get to take my cock down your throat, right?" 

"Umm hmmm. Yes. Chris. That's right. If I..." she paused to breathe, " don't climax before you're finished I get to feel your hot cum down my throat." 

"But, as I figure will be likely, given how close you are already, you do climax, what happens then?" 

She swallowed, closing her eyes. "You fuck me, hard, in my ass. Hard. Until you cum deep inside me." 

"When did you last take a shit?" I reached over and stroked her ass over the underwear and under it, my finger feeling her puckered hole. 

"I did an enema the moment I came home," she gasped. "I'm as clean as I'll ever be...OHHH" I pushed my finger into her asshole, feeling the lubrication she had thoughtfully put in. 

"Good thinking," I commended her, slipping my finger in deep enough to feel the cucumber through the separating muscle. I pulled it out, smelling a slightly medicinal and floral aroma, mixed with the smell of shit. I wiped that on her upper lip. Maybe it would let her last through a few more. 

"Let's get this party started, eh?" I moved to the sound system and turned on the song she had queued up and picked up the table tennis paddle resting near the equipment. As the bars to "Anything Goes" began playing I admired her handiwork. From the time we'd discussed it until now, she had been a very busy beaver. Maybe she already owned the thing, but I doubted it. It was a standard issue ping-pong paddle, with ½ inch holes drilled throughout. It made a very satisfying swooshing sound as I tried it. 

"Now, Cheri," I said soothingly and with a little concern. "I've never done this with you before, so you'll need to tell me if I'm being too gentle or too rough. Okay? Let's say the first few are for calibration, yeah?" 

She nodded. 

"And, please, I need you to look at me, eyes open, the entire time. This is what you want, right?" I was standing next to her facing her ass, a little off to the side so I could also see her face. She turned to look at me, her eyes glazed and open. 

"Okay." She whispered. 

I swooshed the paddle down onto her right cheek, enjoying a very pleasant thwacking sound. Her body shook and she cried out. 

"AHHH! Thank you, Chris! One. That was perfect. Another, please!" She kept her eyes on my erection, licking her lips. 

A second thwack! on her left cheek. Her ass was so tight it hardly jiggled at all. 

"Yes! Thank you, CHRIS! OHHH. Two! Another please!" 

After four more swats, I had covered both sides, top and bottom of her cheeks. They were glowing red where the paddle had connected, small white dots amidst the pinkish skin. She was crying, her head hanging down, unable to look at me. I knelt to inspect her panties: they were slick, the cucumber pulling out from the shaking. I pushed it in slowly until it stopped, pulling the panties up tight again. 

"How are you doing?" I backed up a little to lift her head and look at her. 

She nodded. Sniffling. "I'm fine..." she whimpered. 

I held her head up to my cock, indicating she should kiss it. She opened her lips and took in the head, swirling her tongue around it. I pulled her off with a pop. 

"14 more to go. You going to make it?" 

She nodded, inhaling. 

The next three were on both cheeks, starting at the top, then straight on and then on their underside, where it was tenderest. I couldn't tell what was wetter: her panties or the floor under her nose and mouth from snot, tears and drool. 

I adjusted the cucumber again, and gently moved my finger onto her clit. 

"NOOOOO! GOD NOOOO. FUCK FUCK FUCK. OH FUCK. STOP. THAT'S NOT FAIR!" She shook her head and tried to move, but she was held fast by the cabling. 




Art for Anything Pt. 04



"That wasn't fair, was it." I commented, enjoying her clit. It was stiffer than any I'd ever felt. "It's like a miniature cock," I murmured to her, rubbing her thighs to calm her down. "It's so wanting release. You want release, don't you Cheri? You can cum anytime." 

"You. Fuck." She moaned, moving her pelvis autonomically. "Just. Keep. Going." 

I stood back up and repeated the first sequence of six, convinced the next one would push her over the edge. Five left and she was exhausted, but more wired than anyone I'd ever seen. 

I adjusted my stance, and using one hand, pulled an ass cheek wide, exposing her wrinkled hole. 

"No, no no," she moaned, but it wasn't 'flare-dodge,' so I knew she wasn't serious. 

I brought the paddle down on her white skin, around her hole, hard, narrowly missing my fingers. Before she had finished asking for the next, I had pulled the other cheek aside and repeated the spanking. 

"OH GOD GOD GOD NOOOO NOOO, FUCKKKK!" She failed to thank me, her head hanging down, her arms crumpling under her. 

I watched the cucumber vibrating, starting to exit her cunt like a sausage from a machine. I reached down and slowly pushed it back into her, knowing she was beyond the point of no return. I slowly pushed it in and pulled it out, bringing her over the edge, watching as her cunt bubbled out thick cloudy liquid against the knobbly skin. 

"That's it, Cheri. That's it. Cum. Cum for me. Feel how wonderful it is. Know how wonderful it will be with my cock deep in your ass. That's a good girl. Fuck this monster cucumber for me. I bet it feels wonderful, doesn't it? Cumming with a monster cock in your wet cunt? I can't wait to fuck your ass. Hard. Just the way you want it. That's it sweet cunt. Let your juices come down. Mmmmm...beautiful." 

I kept masturbating her slowly until her ragged breathing calmed. She sobbed, thanking me and asking for another. 

I looked at my watch. 14 minutes since we'd started. 1000s of photographs. I only hoped at least one was good enough for her. 

"Just three more, Cheri. That was the deal." Even though she came, she was expected to take the full measure of her spanking. I quickly landed two on fresh skin at the top of her thighs and the final just at her waist where her ass met the small of her back. She was too numb to feel anything by then, and exhausted. 

"Okay," I said, soothingly, laying down the paddle. "It's time for me to have a little fun." As if the past 15 minutes hadn't been a gas. "Let me make you a little more...accessible," I said, knowing she had assumed I was going to say 'comfortable.' It was going to be more comfortable as well, though. 

I loosened her arm cables and moved her hands in front of her, resting her on her elbows. I slowly pulled the cucumber out of her cunt, forcing her to gasp and moan and slipped her panties down. 

"Now," I said, kneeling in front of her face. "Please look at me?" 

She looked up, her face red and blotchy, her eyes puffy from tears, her nose dribbling. 

"Open." 

She looked at me, dazed and frightened and opened her mouth as wide as she could. The cucumber was big, but not so big she couldn't take it deep into her mouth to the top of her throat. She breathed through her nose, and I imagined how it tasted, covered in her lavender-scented juices. 

"I'm a little jealous," I said, standing back up. "We'll have to do that another time so I can have a taste." 

She grunted, her chin on the ground and the cucumber sticking out in front of her. 

I looked up at the side table and found the lube as had been directed. Coating my cock and her asshole with a generous amount, I spread her cheeks wide. "This is going to feel so good, isn't it Cheri?" I pushed my head in slowly until it was past her ring. "Beg me to fuck you hard. Beg me through the cucumber that you want me to fuck you with all my might into your tight ass." 

She screamed around the cucumber as I shoved in, pushing against me to let me know she wanted it. Even as I bottomed out, she shimmied against me, clamping down on my cock. I pushed my hands against her cheeks and pulled out, all the way out, and pushed in again, hard. There was no way I was going to last much longer. She screamed again, opening her lips. "YETHHHT!! FUCHHGH ME!!" 

Out. Waiting, Breathing. Listening to her beg me to fuck her. I reached down and felt that hard clit, hidden again beneath its skin, and gently pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. She screamed again, pushing her ass against me and I obliged, shoving all the way to the bottom. My dick would be red and sore the next day, I knew it, but an animal urgency had come over both of us, and I pulled out, pulling on her clit and pushed in again, this time feeling my cum exploding up from my balls. 

"I'm cumming, you sweet little piece of ass. I'm cumming deep into your sweet ass, you spice cunt!" 

She groaned and I felt her body tremble, hoping she was cumming again as I poured myself into her.



Art for Anything Pt. 05



"Chris!" 

I looked up from the hors d'oeuvres table, the din of glasses and conversations creating a little cocoon around me. 

"Jim! Dora! How great you could make it!" 

"Wouldn't have missed this," Jim grabbed me into a bear hug. "Jerry and the gang should have been here by now - have you seen anyone else?" 

I shook my head, smiling at Dora and kissing her on the cheek. "Been here most of the afternoon. It's gotten a little crazy though. They could be here...somewhere..." I waved vaguely at the jostling crowd of studio hoppers. Once a month the galleries show their new artists, hosted wine, a few hors d'oeuvres and depending on the weather (and who's showing what) a crowd. Cheri's opening had been well advertised. In spite of her protests about a lack of contacts in the city, or her perceived reputation, she had talent. The fans will excuse an artist her foibles if she has talent. 

"Shit, man," Jim said over a meatball, looking at the walls. "What the fuck is this?" 

Dora just rolled her eyes, plucked a few things from the table and looked at me kind of funny. "They're almost pornographic, don't you think?" 

I laughed. "Almost? Yeah. I'd say definitely. But only if you let your eyes go out of focus. I mean, they're just abstracts, right?" 

We were standing near the final version of my ejaculation, as Cheri and I had come to call it. It was barely recognizable as a cock, and the stream of droplets almost looked like separate circles splattered on the canvas. From across the room there was no doubt what it looked like, but in front of it, it became completely abstract. 

Dora looked at me and at the picture, shaking her head. Jim stood back and studied it, trying to see what Dora saw. 

"Hey bud," I grabbed his shoulder. "You're going to hurt yourself looking at it that way. Let me get you started on something a little easier." 

On our way to the "easy one," we passed by the one of Cheri masturbating. She had modified it, rendering the air gap between her finger and her clit as foreground, her body, whitespace. When Dora saw it she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth and then taking a sip of wine. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she said quietly. 

"You've got a great eye, Dora. Not too many people see it that way." 

"What? What way?" Jim was focusing on the crescent moon that was the air gap, still trying to make sense of the imagery. 

"C'mon. You'll get it with this one." There was a crowd around one of the larger canvases. It showed a figure, bent into an "L" shape, an enormous cock pushing down, or maybe it was a dildo. It clearly extended from the figure's crotch, but there wasn't a clue as to the figure's sex. Its ass cheeks looked like they had been recently spanked, like in the prior 10 micro-seconds - flattened slightly, distended - but no implement gave that impression. Just the shape of the cheeks. 

It wasn't romantic. It wasn't violent. It looked like a still life. The figure's relationship with the ground plane created geometric shapes that Cheri had enhanced. Still whitespace background, but competing with the human figure. The shapes flattened everything to the canvas, approaching abstract but still very figurative. I had learned a lot in the past several weeks. 

"Holllleeee shiiitttt," Jim drew out the curse. "Now that I understand. Look at the schlong on that guy!" 

Dora groaned and stole a glance at me again, mouthing the word, 'You?' 

I smiled and shook my head. I was happy to be able to tell the truth. "But I know the model," I said aloud. 

"Holy crap, dude. When do we meet this chick?" 

I led them over to a small cluster of critics and fans, bringing a fresh glass of champagne to Cheri. 

"Two new adoring fans, sweet." She knew my silent 'cunt' was out of respect for the context, but she blushed nonetheless. I have become quite attached to that blush. She took the wine and smiled a warm greeting to the newcomers, thanking them for coming. 

"It's...ummm...provocative?" Dora said, diplomatically. 

Cheri's smile widened. "Yes. Some are more than others. Have you had a chance to see them all?" At Dora's response, she continued. "Come on, then. Let's start at the beginning." Cheri threaded her arm into Dora's and the whole cluster moved through the crowd to the first piece near the door. 

* - * - * - * 

"I think that went pretty well, don't you?" 

There were only a handful of people left: the gallery owner, Cheri's agent, a friend... of somebody's, me and Cheri. She looked wiped out, staring at me with glazed eyes, nodding slightly. 

"Monique," I asked. "How'd it go?" 

"Except for a couple, everything's been purchased. Even the replacements. Best response I've seen in years. Amazing response. I feel like we could have priced them higher..." 

I leaned over and kissed Cheri on the top of the head. "You ready to go back to your place?" 

"I can't...at least...I don't think I can...Monique, Theresa...do you need help cleaning up?" 

"Hell no, girl. We've got it. Take off. You did your part. Great night. Great work! There may be some commissions out of this." Monique gave her a knowing look. Her agent knew her stuff. If she said there were commissions, then she must have had a few good conversations. She walked over and whispered for a few heartbeats in Cheri's ear. I watched her eyes get bigger and then she broke into a smile. 

"I'd have to ask my talent, Monique. It's not out of the question." Turning to me, she wrapped her arms around my neck. "I'm bushed." I leaned in and gave her a kiss, the smell of lavender wafting up. I pulled back, raising my eyebrows and she looked all innocent. "What?" 

I shook my head and whispered, "I was looking forward to getting a little bushed myself. You need it soft or hard tonight?" 

She shook her head and shivered a little. "Hard." She said. "I need it really hard." 

"So what was Monique whispering about?" I looked over to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep. We were only a few blocks from the studio. 

She grunted, giggling a little. "She had a couple of folks who wanted to see me making the paintings. 'They'll pay to watch,' Monique said. Can you fuckin' believe it? Who are those people?" 

"But it turned you on, didn't it? It did. I saw your reaction, and I smelled it. I can smell it now. You want somebody to watch you get fucked, or whipped, or taking a cock down your throat. Say it. You know it's true." It was our form of foreplay. Not exactly the same every time, but along those lines. I could smell her arousal building. 

"No," she said quietly. Her outside persona, even in the privacy of the car, couldn't admit it. But we both knew it was true. We'd talked about it incessantly for the past couple of weeks. How her art was a form of voyeurism; how she was making it abstract to make it presentable. But all those trappings only made the raw animal urges more apparent. The opening had been on fire. I saw at least three couples making out as if they were alone in their bedroom. Not to say they were all that obvious; the crowd was so thick they may as well have been (in their bedroom) for all anyone could see. Still, it was a hot show. 

I laughed. "Yeah. Right. Here's what's going to happen. Sometime soon. Monique is going to make you an offer, an offer so outlandishly outrageous you're going to practically hang up. A couple will commission you to do a piece, but they have to be there from start to finish. You'll set the terms and they'll comply." 

She moaned, closing her eyes and pressing her thighs together. She shook her head slightly, trying to get the image cleared away. 

"You'll greet them. Naked. You'll inform them they will remain off to the side and not make a sound. Observe. Any interruption and they'll forfeit their money. You'll shock them. Perhaps you'll give yourself an enema, making them watch, along with the clicking camera. What do you think? Sound about right so far?" 

She was squirming, making mewling sounds and trying to ignore me. I reached over and unbuttoned her top button. She tried to swat my hand away, but I got the second one undone, and then the third. 

"Naked. When I enter the garage, you'll be naked. Say it." 

"Nooooo," she whimpered. "I can't! No! What if the neighbors come home?" She looked over at me in terror, but I could tell she was considering it. She wanted to do it. She needed to. 

"'Hard,' you said. It's going to be very very hard tonight." I glanced down at my slacks, seeing her gaze follow mine. "We're almost home, Cheri. Tell me what you're going to do." 

"Fuck." She breathed out. "Fuck. I can't believe this." Whispering. "I'm going to strip naked and walk into my apartment without any clothes on." She shook her head and continued unbuttoning her top, pulling it out of her slacks. 

I approached the driveway and stopped on the street, just outside the glow of a streetlight, waiting. She shimmied out of her pants, taking off her shoes and putting them back on again. "I can't walk in the garage barefoot," she said softly. I nodded, waiting. Moments later she handed me her pile of clothes and sat, her face a mixture of fear, arousal and puzzlement. "Why am I doing this?" She said quietly, turning to me. 

I shrugged, moving the car into the garage and parked. "Because it's an immense turn-on for you. Because you need to let go of your inhibitions when you're not at home. Because you want me to dominate you. All sorts of reasons, no doubt. None of those probably." 

I got out and waited while she quickly exited the car, running to the lobby door to avoid being seen from the street. I took my time, folding her clothes, locking the car, finding the keys. 

"Chris!" Hissing again. "Come on! This isn't fair!!" 

I ambled over, unlocked the door and let her race to the elevator. We still had to cross over in the main lobby to the residence elevators. I smiled, waiting. "So, what will you say if Mr.Johnson is getting his mail late on a Friday night..." 

"Don't...stop. Just stop it. I'm freaking out here." She was hugging her arms across her breasts, exposing that wonderful brown bush. Freaking out maybe, but the smell of lavender and roses was a beautiful thing. 

Sadly, an uneventful crossing to the main elevators, which happened to be available and in we swept, her image reflected in the stainless steel. I leaned in, wrapped my free arm around her shoulder blades and pulled her into a kiss. 

"Hard," I said as we arrived at her floor. 

Now that we were 'safe,' she melted into her interior persona, relaxing her shoulders and walking as if she owned the place. "I need to pee." 

"I'll be there when you get out." Just a touch of menace. Hard. She shivered again and ran to the bedroom. 

The cabling was almost always set up, at least, I made sure to get it neatly out of the way so we wouldn't lose time threading it. I was undressed and very hard by the time she finished washing her hands and exited the bathroom. She walked over and knelt on the bed, taking the head harness and tightening it, as I clamped the leather cuffs on her wrists. 

"What are we going to do tonight, sweet cunt?" I gently laid her down on her stomach, draping her arms in a 'T.' 

"You're going to fuck me. Hard. As hard as you can." She spread her legs, letting me put the ankle cuffs on. 

"Why? Why hard tonight?" I wrapped the shoulder belts under each arm, tightening the cables to pull her close to the headboard. I tightened the wrist cables and her arms pulled back, straight against her body, her hands at her waist. Like this, she was strung like a bow, except her legs were still resting on the covers. Moments later, she was pulled taut, just on the covers, her head facing forward, her body open and waiting. 

"Why, spice cunt? Why hard tonight?" I got up on the bed in front of her, kneeling down so my cock was at her mouth. "Before I shove this deep into your throat, tell me why you deserve to be fucked, hard." 

"Because I'm a fraud. I'm a fake. I'm a poseur. I don't do art. That isn't ART! That's just bullshit! I'm a BULLSHITTER!" 

I had heard it before, and it scared me the first time, but as soon as I shoved my dick into her, I knew she would quiet down. I held her head and made her look up at me, her eyes straining. The head brace had her locked facing forward. "We're going to do things a little differently tonight, fuck-toy." 

She tried to shake her head, not understanding. I got off the bed, opened her toy drawer and pulled out her biggest dildo. Not as big as the cucumber, I had to shake my head in disbelief about that monster, but big enough. She couldn't see what I had, her eyes couldn't track that far over. I laid it between her legs and repositioned myself with my cock at her mouth. 

"Kiss it, and tell me what I'm going to do." I held it just a little too far from her lips. She strained forward, barely touching her lips to my head. 

"You're going to fuck my throat with that beautiful cock. As hard as you can, until you shoot your sweet sweet crème into me." 

"But you won't cum, my little sweet ass. You won't cum that way, will you." 

She shook her head slightly, trying to see my eyes. "No," she said quietly. Waiting. Not certain what I had in mind. 

"But you said you wanted it hard, so hard it will be." I leaned over, pushing my cock between her lips and shoved it slowly and continuously across her tongue, to the top of her throat and waited until she got her breath under control. In this position, her throat was stretched wide open, just the way she loved it, knowing my cock would be riding it hard and roughshod. 

I continued leaning over, my hands on the bed, my cock deep inside her throat, and bent down onto my elbows. Reaching under her legs, I picked up the dildo with one hand, using my other to start to play with her cunt lips. My head was just above her beautiful ass and I bent down to kiss her cheeks, pushing them apart to find her hole. 

So far it was gentle. Not hard. But that was going to change. She was breathing hard around my dick, her mouth wide, trying to get any amount of air into her lungs. I split open her cunt and slowly pushed the dildo into her, forcing her to moan and protest. 

"Here we go," I said calmly. "My cock is connected to this dildo. Out of your throat, deep into your cunt. Out of your cunt, deep into your throat. Now." I pushed with my knees and shoved my cock deep into her, pulling out with my hands. As she screamed around me, I pulled out and pushed in, hard forcing the breath out of her. "And again," I warned, shoving the other direction. I could actually keep this up for some time. I'd fucked her silly a few hours before the opening, so I wasn't going to be close, in spite of how fucking amazing this was. 

"FUGGHHH MEEEHARD!!" 

I smiled, grimly and kept moving like a machine, the two rods lubricated and moving into her tubes. 

"GAWEDDDDD YETHHHH GAWDDDYETHHH!" 

She was creaming all over the black latex, her liquid a translucent viscous coating. She was going over the top, and the thought of it pushed me harder. I planted my dick deep into her throat and held it there, listening to her pant and scream and try to move. Her lips were practically on my balls, and I imagined she could feel my sperm gathering steam and moving up my shaft. One heartbeat later and I jetted deep into her throat, shoving the dildo as far up into her as it could go. She arched her back and screamed around me, her muscles tightening into a single wired bundle as she went over the top a second time. 

I pulled out slowly, letting her catch her breath, but not letting her out of the cabling. "I can see you doing that while someone watches, right?" I looked at the cameras, clicking away silently, capturing everything we'd done. 

"nooo," she could barely say it. "nooooway." 

"Hmmm," I said, philosophically. "I think anything's possible..."