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Artistic License

By: turbotoon



I had just finished setting up my easel when I heard a knock coming from the front door of my studio loft. Upon opening it, I saw Jake standing there looking a little nervous. Jake being a close friend of mine agreed to model for a series of drawings I had been assigned to do. For the next three Saturdays he was at my mercy. 

"Ruth, I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Jake mutters as he removes his shirt, "can't we just stick to drawing the top half of me instead?" 

"Come on Jake, you can't back down on me now, besides you're already halfway there." Noticing his hesitance, I decided to help him along... I undid his khakis. Together with his boxers, I slid them down his legs. 

"See that wasn't so hard now was it?" Shaking his head, Jake hesitated in asking where I wanted him. I pointed to a bench draped with a silk sheet sitting on a large platform in the middle of the loft. "If you could lie across the bench with one arm behind your head and the other resting on your stomach that would be great." Jake walks towards the bench seeming restless and uneasy. 

"You know Ruth... I-I don't think I can do this." I knelt next him placing my hands on his knees. "Nonsense...you just need to relax...I know just the thing that will help, trust me..."

I begin to run my hands up his thighs spreading his legs so I can easily fit between them. Gently I begin to lick and kiss at his inner thigh. I could feel his dick growing against my cheek. Switching sides and continuing my work, I reach up and slowly massage his balls running them between my fingers. I start to move my tongue up his hip slowly heading toward the head of his cock. Taking just the head of his cock into my mouth, I began to run the tip of my tongue quickly over his opening tasting his precum as it drips out of him. Slowly as I moved done his shaft, I make strong circular motions with my lips massaging his entire length as it headed to the back of my throat. I made a small swallowing motion to put pressure on his cock as it rested in deep within me. Moving back up his dick I began to bob my head up and down his length flicking his shaft with my tongue on each movement. Starting at the base of his cock, I pressed my lips around him and moved slowly up his shaft attempting to milk him. Feeling his muscles begin to tense, I began to bob faster and pull his balls down slightly with my hand. "A-aahh!... I'm going to cum-mm! ..." Jakes explodes into my mouth emptying himself completely. Swallowing every last drop, I look up at him, lick my lips and smile. "See, no more tension."

Jake falls into position with ease, as I head back to my easel. For the next few moments, I begin to draw, measure proportions, and mark the scale of every inch of his body. When I finished the basic sketches, I told him he could take a break while I get my paints and such ready to continue. 

As I turn to prepare my supplies, I feel myself being pounced upon and begin to fall to the ground. "Now it's my turn to play..." Jake smirked as he removed the clothing from my body. Leaning in, he begins to run his tongue across my lips and then dives into a deep french kiss. He sucks on my tongue and then moves to nibble on my ear. Sliding the tip of his tongue in and out of my ear, he moves it down and begins to pay attention to my neck. "Now for the best part..."

Helping me to my feet, he takes a piece of string out of my supply drawer and ties my hands above my head to the top of my easel. He takes one of my paintbrushes off the table next to us and dips it into a cup of water. Beginning with my ears he moves the tip of the brush across my lips, along my neck, down past each nipple, and glances over my pussy. He follows this wet trail with his warm breath, which sends shivers down my body. Turning the brush over and using the wooden end he begins to flick at my clit. He then runs the handle of the brush down and begins pumping it into my tight pussy. Feeling the waves of warmth coming from my pussy, he decided to set the brush down and continue his torture with his hands. Sliding one hand down my stomach, he runs his fingertips across my slit, feeling the dripping warmth of my pussy. Using two fingers he begins to push through and slowly pump them in and out. Reaching his thumb up to my clit, he began to massage it in a circular motion and added another finger pushing it in deep. Jake begins pumping his fingers faster and harder as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth. As soon as my muscles begin to tense, and he feels that I am close to cumming, he stops dead in his tracks. Stepping back, he looks over me.

"A-ah...Jake... Stop this torture..." Jake laughs, "And what might my little artist want?"

"Your hard cock..." "And what would you like me to do with my hard solid cock?" "I want your cock in my hot wet pussy!"

"As you wish..."

Lifting my legs, he wraps them around his hips letting my dripping pussy rest on his solid dick. Instantly, I can feel him inside of me, slamming against my body. He grasps my hips and begins making deep hard thrusts into my tight pussy pulling me towards him. "...Harder..." I tried to lock my legs as tight as I could around him to brace myself as he pounds his dick into me. He thrusts get faster as he grabs my ass and tries to hold on. I can feel my muscles squeezing him as I get closer. "... Yes... Ja-ake! I'm cum-ming!!" The feel of my muscles tensing around his dick causes him to orgasm. "A-AAH.... Ru-utt-thh!!" My whole body becomes warm as he fills me with his hot juices. We both begin to pant from the workout.

After a few moments, I feel him soften as he withdraws from my throbbing pussy. Kneeling below me, he licks my pussy clean of our juices. 

Jake untied my arms. As I was let down, my knees seemed weak from the afternoon's activity, so Jake quickly caught me before I fell. We sat together on the floor as we regained composure. 

Looking at the clock on the wall, Jake realizes how late it was getting. "I have to be leaving...I'm due at work in 30 minutes." He helped me to my feet.

Jake begins to dress and gather all of his things. As I walk him to the door, he turns smiling, "You know... I now understand why all of your work is of naked guys." I began to laugh. "Well, what can I say, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

Artistic License



"May I sit here?" I looked up, jolted from my thoughts, into a set of emerald eyes. The man in front of me gave a small smile, a set of dimples appearing in a pale face, as he swept a hand through black curls. He was tall and slim, dressed in black, which with the colour of his hair, made the tone of his skin stand out all the more.

"Yeah sure, feel free." I motioned to the seat opposite. "I was just about to head off anyway." I returned his small smile with one of my own, picking up the book I was reading and retrieved my bag from under the table. To be honest, he looked interesting, so I lingered somewhat, hoping he would strike up a conversation. 

I looked through the windows of the small café that was my usual haunting on lonely Friday evenings and realised that it was already dark. The pale glow of a lonely streetlamp outside was showing a few people walking past but apart from that, it was peaceful and quiet. I caught my reflection in the glass, where pale skin and dark hair and eyes looked back at me.

"I think the term is 'Penny for them'? He asked, looking over the table at me, looking up from his book, concern on his face. "You look rather pale." 

"I'm fine," I looked up into his eyes challengingly "...and if we're going to bring up skin tone, so are you. It's unusual to find someone paler than me."

"My excuse is I don't see enough sun." he replied eyes lowering once more to his book, which I was interested to note was Bram Stoker's Dracula, which was what I had just put in my bag.

"Funny how two people, pale skinned, black haired, meet at night reading Dracula... I'd just started it," nodding at the book in his hands.

He looked up then and gave a smile, and I noticed aptly enough that his canines were slightly pronounced. "I believe the term would be gothic irony. I have read this book quite a few times, and it's a pretty good work of fiction."

"Vampires always have fascinated me, I think it's their..." I stopped myself then, realising I was about to say 'sexual nature' in front of a virtual stranger "....fangs, and other things..." I finished lamely.

"And their sexual natures?" he grinned, again showing those pronounced canines. They had to be the result of some pretty specific dental work...right? "Vampires are sensual creatures, the erotic scenarios the blood is spilled, the comparison between pleasure and pain, its part of why they're given a bad press, because human's fear what they make them feel."

I had to admit I was getting a little heated from what he was describing, so I thought I'd better leave before embarrassing myself.

"Anyway, it's nice to see another 'vamp' fan. Have a good night." I stood up, picking up my bag off the table. He looked up at me "My name is Marius by the way, I just flew in. It would be nice to have some friends here...if you want to meet up again."

Surprised by the invitation, it didn't occur to me to say no, that I just don't accept invites from random strangers I met in a Café, "Yeah sure. Same time next week?" I was just about to leave when he responded, "I'll see you next week then...Amy."

I left the café with only one thought on my mind ...Had I told him my name?

Next week, I found myself walking towards the café again, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea. Marius was stunning physically, seemed intelligent and polite but there was something about him that I couldn't put my finger on. It would be flattering if there was a romantic interest behind his...well...interest, but I doubted it. Figuring I would give him a second chance anyway, I was approaching this date with an open mind. 

I opened the door and wound my way around the tables to find myself a secluded table at the back, near a window, where I promptly sat and attempted to relax and look nonchalant for when he arrived. I wasn't looking into this as a romantic interest; I told myself firmly, he's not my type. To be honest, my recent type had been a bunch of arseholes, but that's just my bad luck. 

I saw him walk in before he saw me. I'd give him credit, the man was graceful for someone his size. Lithe and muscular, he walked almost like he was a large cat, with precise loping steps. His muscles stood out against the long black shirt he was wearing and his jeans where tight against his thighs.

I couldn't help but wonder... if a man who looked that impressive clothed...fortunately his voice interrupted before I could finish that thought.

"I didn't think you would come, if I were to be truthful with myself. I tend to find I'm somewhat forthright in making new acquaintances and I was scared I'd frightened you off."

"That's okay, I wasn't put off." I wasn't about to say it was flattering to his face.

He sat down opposite me, popped his bag under the table and grabbed his wallet, looking at me expectantly. "Would you like a drink? I'm not drinking, but I'd be happy to buy you one. Hot chocolate?"

"If you're offering...How'd you know I was a chocolate fan?" I asked shrewdly. He raised an eyebrow. "You're a woman." 

Fair enough, I thought to myself, man knows his endorphins.

I thought about that as I watched him making his way back to the counter; that he has made some surprisingly accurate assumptions about me, and in very little time of knowing me. It was kind of nice to find someone that paid attention to me that much and got me so quickly.

He came back laden with my hot chocolate and took the seat opposite me. "So how was your week?" He carried on with a smile "Still reading Dracula?" 

"Attempting to..." I reply. "Trying to fit it around work really."

"What do you work in?"

"I'm an artist. I love to read, but it's a distraction from what pays the rent."

He smiled at that "Too true. It's never good to let your pleasures run your life, at least, not all of it." He looked into my eyes and smiled, and I was so caught up in his eyes I didn't realise he had carried on speaking.

"What area do you specialise in?"

I shook myself. "Erm...mainly illustrative work...but I'm trying to push into starting portraits as there's more money in it.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he seemed to contemplate that. 

"Did you need models? I have done it before in my time. They were mainly done by quite old fashioned artists, so I'd be interested to see a more modern perspective."

"You talk like you're about a decade older than you look!" I laugh "You must only be about 30, if younger"

"I age well."

"Yeah, I'd be happy to take you up on your offer, if you don't mind..." 

Actually, my previous model I'd been employing had to leave suddenly, so I was glad he'd volunteered. The previous model had also been the 'full frontal' life drawing experience, but I wasn't going to push Marius into that.

"When would you want me?"

Nice word choice there; my cheeks started to redden.

"I'm free Wednesday evening, about 8."

After exchanging addresses and numbers, I looked down at my watch and realised it was pushing 10. "I'd better go actually; I have an early start tomorrow. It was nice to meet you again, see you on Wednesday I guess."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it." He smiled at me as I stood up to put on my coat. 

From this angle I was tempted to kiss him but I resisted...I'd only met the guy twice...but he took that choice away from me and moved forward, putting his lips on mine in a sweet chaste kiss.

I left the café with the feel of his lips still on mine.

So the rest of the week came and went, and Wednesday arrived. 

It was coming close to 8 and I was double checking I had everything set up for when he arrived. A chaise had been placed in the centre of the room. I have a few props I'd have set up if this was a nude model, but I didn't want to scare him off. Maybe I'll just do a shoulder and head then round it off with conversation and wine. Nothing too fancy.

The doorbell rang, and the butterflies in my stomach began to fly. What was I doing? I barely know the man. But something inside me wanted to know him a lot more intimately.

I walked over and opened the front door. He stood bathed in the glow of my outside light, dressed in his usual black, and wordlessly handed over a bunch of red roses.

"Oh...You shouldn't have. They're beautiful." I motioned towards him, "Come in please, it's freezing out there."

He walked in, taking in my house. I knew I'd picked up a bargain when I bought it a couple years back. Set on two layers, it was open plan and I'd decorated in light creams and pale browns.

"Your house is lovely. Very peaceful." He wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Did you want a drink?" I asked from the doorway. "Red wine? Or juice?" 

"I'm fine, thank you. I don't tend to get that thirsty" He looked over at the chaise "You wish for me to sit there?"

I moved back into the room, and sat on my perch in front. 

"If you don't mind."

"Would you like me clothed or nude?"

My jaw dropped. I didn't think he'd want to get naked in front of a virtual stranger. I began to blush as I considered drawing those heavy muscles that I saw indicated under his shirt. Would I be able to keep my hands off him?!

"If you didn't mind doing it, I'm happy to pay you."

"There's no need for payment. I have no qualms about doing this."

With that he got up off the sofa and walked towards the chair. His hands reached first to the bottom of his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly, revealing his naked, carved muscles. Pulling the shirt off he placed it on the chair, looking at me looking at him. 

"Did you want me to stop?"

Not on your life, I thought to myself, but all I could do was shake my head at him. He carried on, next moving his hands towards the button and zip on his jeans, and easing them down revealed that he had firstly gone commando, and secondly that he was male perfection.

I looked at him, trying to hide the stunned expression that I was sure was resting on my face. In the lights aimed at him from across the room, his body seemed to glow. Pale and motionless as marble, the muscles in his arms and legs were lightly shadowed and going lower...Dear lord. His cock was as magnificent as the rest of him

He looked at me with an almost glittering awareness. He walked over to my coffee table and bent over pulling out a deep red apple from my fruit bowl, giving me an amazing view of his arse.

He made his way back over to the chaise and laid across it, opening his mouth as if to take a bite from the apple. This pose brought the heavy muscles of his chest and arms into sharp relief. 

"Do you wish to begin?"

I shook myself and began drawing, soon losing myself within the planes and valleys of his beautiful body. 

Concentrating on his lips, I could still feel that chaste kiss from before as I imagined him taking my face between his hands, kissing me, and moving those lips lower. His eyes seemed to darken then, as if he could sense my arousal. 

"What are you thinking about Amy? Isn't an artist meant to be impartial when doing life drawing?"

I didn't comment at that. I couldn't help it if I was frustrated.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I lied, adding "I'm only concentrating on your body to get all the angles right. You have highly defined muscles." That definitely wasn't a lie.

"I know what I have Amy. And if you think I was making you uncomfortable, I do believe it's quite the opposite." He looked downwards, raising eyebrow with an extremely wicked look.

I couldn't help myself. I looked down his body towards his cock, which was now proudly erect against his stomach. My sketch fell to the floor as my body heated. He drew up from the chaise, walking slowly towards me, the movements of his body drawing me in. 

"Do you wish to continue the sketch?" as he knelt before me, putting his hard body between my thighs. "Or do you wish to view me in a different capacity?"

Was I really going to do this? Was I going to have sex with this gorgeous man, who was practically a stranger to me? He started nuzzling my neck, which killed off any practical thought I was having. I wanted him. Damn the consequences.

He carried on, his lips caressing my neck, nibbling, biting, which was at that point I noticed more and more his pronounced canines. He made his way down, towards my breasts, which where pointed at the tips. His hand came up to cup and stroke me through my bra, making me groan.

He backed off then, standing up, looking at me with intent. "You've seen all of me now Amy and I wish to see more of you." his voice husky yet demanding. I stood, my hands making their way to entrances to my clothing, and at the will of his request, shuffled out of everything I was wearing. I stood opposite him, naked, staring into his eyes, which had darkened, and his cock twitched as he looked down at my body.

"Beautiful." His hands found their way to my nipples again, teasing and tweaking their pointed tips, making me push myself against him, his hard cock pushing between us. 

I asked him quietly "Did you want to go upstairs? It's not too comfortable down here."

His hands continued to travel over my body, around and cupping my arse. So quickly, before I could protest, he swept me up off my feet; arms under my body, carrying me upstairs onto the balcony that was my bedroom and laying me out on my bed.

"Spread yourself Amy. Touch yourself. I want to see your arousal."

Feeling brazen, unable to resist, I moved one hand up towards my breasts and one hand down towards my clit. When I felt how wet I was down there I moaned, arching up off the bed. 

Whilst one hand pinched and pulled the tight tips of my breasts, I circled my clit with the other, faster and faster, and looking up I could see Marius, with one hand gripped around his cock, looking down at me with an expression of hunger.

I closed my eyes, lost in sensation, feeling my wet clit and core under my hands. This felt so good, unaware of Marius's movements behind closed lids, but I knew I wouldn't be able to reach orgasm without...

"Bzzzz"

Eyes flying open, I realised he had found my vibrator in my bedside drawer. Eyes teasing, he stood, silver vibrator in one hand. 

He moved forward, moving cat-like towards me on the bed. He leaned over my body, between my thighs and pushed the vibe against my throbbing clit. 

"Oh god" 

I moaned against his mouth, which had taken ownership of mine. I rocked my body against his hand and the vibrator, feeling myself getting closer to orgasm. "Not just yet my sweet" he whispered in my ear as he moved the vibrator away. His hand came back to slowly stroke me, as the orgasm retreated and left me moaning and writhing impatiently under his hand. "I really want to feel you orgasm, pulsing around my cock. Don't you want to feel my cock in you?" 

He pushed the tip of his cock into my entrance, pulling out then sliding the wet tip against my clit. "Yes...Please...God yes." 

My hands moved down to grip him, noting how hard and thick he was in my grip, filling both my palms. Moving my hands slowly up and down his cock, I noted the skin's movement, the shiny wetness appearing at the tip. My mouth moved down to blow a heated breath across it and I heard with satisfaction him hissing through his teeth. 

I smiled up at him "You liked that?" This time it was him who was at a loss for words. I felt a certain surge of power as I moved my mouth back down and spoke, breathing on his cock "You'll love this even more."

I took his tip into my mouth and sucked, licking my tongue around the sensitive edges, swirling and moving it round until I heard his breathing gasp out and his hips began to thrust his cock deeper into my mouth. I felt his cock pulse and I moved back, licking my lips.

He moved up on me fiercely, trying to push me back against the mattress and I teasingly tried to crawl, to make him chase me. I was on my hands and knees when he grabbed my legs gently enough not to hurt, but enough to make me stop. 

I looked behind me to see him staring at me hotly, with my arse up in the air, with my core on full display. He groaned "I really want to fuck you like this." I moaned at his coarse words as his hands came up to stroke my clit from behind, and pushing two fingers into me till I began to rock against them, working myself against his hand. 

He kneeled behind me, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock. He began to push, his tremendous width spreading me until he was sheathed from tip to base. 

His cock felt hard and hot in me as he started to pump, gently at first, then harder, working me towards orgasm with every smack of his body against mine.

I felt him reach for something then the vibrator was pushed back against my clit. The combination of that and his cock sent me over the edge. I screamed his name and I felt him slowing, pulling out, turning me round so I was back against the bed, then pushing his hard cock back inside me.

"You felt so good, pulsing and wet around me. Now consider this my payment, my sweet Amy." He moved my hair off to the side, and when he began to nibble my neck I now realised what those teeth were for. I gave myself willingly, feeling his teeth move to my jugular. His hands found my nipples and he began to push into me again, harder than before. 

I wrapped my thighs around him, and pulled on his arse, wanting more, needing it harder. On the pinnacle of my release I heard him growl and his teeth were at my neck, biting and sucking. I exploded into the most powerful orgasm, as I felt his cock pushing into me hard and exploding too, driving each other to an amazing release. 

I felt his tongue lap at the punctures, and felt his eyes on mine. "You were wonderful." My vision blurred, and when I woke up it was daylight. I thought he'd left without saying goodbye, but when I went to downstairs he'd placed the sketchbook in full view of the stairs. He'd written "You'll see me again; you're too sweet to miss." Next to it was an apple with a bite take out of it, the pronounced canines just visible in the teeth marks.



Artistic License



I tore off one of the phone number slips from the bulletin board post and figured I would at least give it a try. Just the kind of job I was looking for, high pay (for a college kid at least), and didn't sound like a lot of work. I had never been an artist's model, or even really knew what that entailed. I was an engineering student. 

The next day I called the number. It was answered by an older lady (I am in college, 30 is older), we talked for a little, she mostly asked me about my build and if I had ever modeled before. I told her no I had not, and that I was tall, not muscular, but still fit and thin. We set up a time for me to come to her studio that coming weekend.

Her studio was actually part of her apartment in the downtown area. I found the building and climbed the stairs to a common entrance. I rang her apartment number and in a few seconds heard her voice again asking who it was. Shortly I heard the lock on the door buzz, and I let myself in.

The building was older and had kind of an industrial look. She was on one of the upper floors. I found the elevator and stepped inside. When I exited, I was in a dimly lit hallway with a high ceiling and brick walls. I found my barrings and headed down the hallway looking for her apartment number.

Found, I knocked on the door. I could hear her moving around inside and after a minute she opened the door. Her name was Dana, and she was on the shorter side. Five foot one maybe, reddish hair (though I guessed it wasn't her natural color) and in her late 30's or early 40's probably. She was attractive and petite, but it was difficult to determine the shape of her body. She had on a man's white button down shirt, that just kind of hung off her shoulders and draped over her breasts. What she had on beyond that I couldn't tell.

She let me into the apartment. It was fairly good size. It had a large open area, with living and eating areas, a kitchen and a place where she did her painting and drawing. I looked around trying to take it all in. She had several paintings leaning against a wall in one area. On a table she had what appeared to be several pencil drawings. There was also a small platform with a rug on it.

She showed me around the room, and we ended up at the table with the drawings. Some of the drawings were still rough sketches and others had been refined with color. Getting a better look at them now, I could see that most were of a young attractive black woman, with shoulder length hair and small loose curls. She was also nude in most of the drawings. I was beginning realize what this modeling job was going to entail.

We talked a little more, she asked me about my classes, what I was majoring in, where I was from. Then she got down to business.

"Are you comfortable posing nude?" she asked.

I explained that it was something I had never done before. (Hell, I had only be naked in front of a small number of girls before.) I was a little nervous about it, but I needed the money, and was willing to give it a try.

She had me walk over and stand on the small platform with the rug on it. Not far way she had a chair and drawing board set up. At first she had me stay clothed while she did a quick sketch. After about five minutes she had me take my shirt off, and change the pose. This continued with me taking off more clothing and changing positions while she made quick sketches until it reached the point where I was completely nude.

For another 30 minutes she drew me in the nude, periodically having me change position. We talked some, but for the most part she focused on her drawing. The she put down her drawing board and walked over to the side of small platform.

As she walked over, I turned to face her. She told me to remain in my pose, facing away from her. She told me that she liked the shape of my legs and muscular calves. She began to run her fingers up the back of my calf and thigh. This caught me off guard, causing me to stutter as I responded to a question. 

She continued to talk with me about the modeling and whether or not I was enjoying it. As she did, her hand began to explore more of me. She ran it further up the back of my thigh, until she squeezed one of my butt cheeks. Switching hands she became more adventurous, running it up the side and front of my thigh.

It was starting to be all I could take. I was definitely getting aroused, and could feel myself growing. I was hoping she wouldn't notice. It was too late though, she noticed.

"Does my touching you make you uncomfortable?" she asked.

I tried to squeak out a "No", but nothing really came out, so I just slightly shook my head.

"I like the men in my pictures to have a full appearance, but not rock hard. If you know what I mean," she said.

With that she cupped my balls, then began to tug at them. 

"Sometimes, it just won't go down on its own though. You have to relieve it first. Then you have that nice full look after effect," she smiled up at me as she said this and started to stroke me.

I could feel myself starting to breath faster, and still could not say anything. Her strokes became faster, and focusing attention on the head of my cock. With her other hand, she reached between my legs from behind and squeezed my balls again. 

I put my hand on her shoulder for balance as I felt myself getting close. With a grunt I released a stream cum. I could hear it hit the platform below me. I looked down and it was coating her hand as she continued to pump me to completion. 

I gained my composure and she released me from her grip. I couldn't believe it, a woman twice my age had just made me cum. She walked over to a cabinet where she had some towels and clean my cum from her hand. She then walked back to her drawing board and sat down as if nothing had happened.

"There, that's the full look I wanted," she said.

She finished the sketch and then told me we were done for the day. I stepped off the platform and put my clothes on. I was a little confused about what had just happened. Nothing more was said about the act that had taken place.

She paid me and asked if I would like to model again. The whole thing was a bit of shock to my system, but the money was good. She was also very attractive and interesting to be around and I was very curious if things might go further. I told her yes and we set a time for the next weekend to get together again.

Next Weekend...

I was running late when I got there and stressing out about that. I rang her apartment to be let in. This time she didn't even ask who it was over the speaker, the next thing I heard was the buzzing of the lock as it released.

I walked through the door and headed for the stairs. I made it to her floor and found the right door. Dana answered and let me. We exchanged pleasantries. When I turned around there standing at the table was the young black woman from the drawings before. 

She had a surprised then concerned look on her face. Which I am sure I did also. Thinking about how the episode had gone the previous week, I was unsure about having yet someone else involved. 

Dana introduced us, her name was Karyn. She seemed shy and I was no different. Dana tried to put us at ease though. She talked about wanting to draw us together in different poses, at some point we would both be naked and were we OK with that. 

Karyn was a little hesitant at first. Then after she appeared to eye me up, she said she was good with. So was I, I was about to pass up the money.

Dana had us both stand on the platform while she settled herself in with her drawing board and pencils. She was wearing the same white button down shirt she had been before. Even though she was twice my age, she was a sexy woman. The white shirt just made her even more.

I stood behind Karyn on the platform. She was about 5'6". Petite, small breasts and trim hips. She was wearing a floral button down shirt, and a loose skirt that went down just past her knees. She was very sexy, and I was excited and nervous about being naked with her.

Dana had us go through a few of poses, me standing behind Karyn as she removed her shirt and then bra. In some of the poses I had my hands on her back or shoulders as I looked over the top of her. 

Dana was always careful to position us such that I wasn't actually touching Karyn's skin, just her shirt. The first pose Dana drew had Karyn's shirt partially unbuttoned and showing part of her black lacy bra. Next her shirt was fully open, and a nipple peeking out from the cup. Last her shirt was off, and bra unfastened as she slid it down her arms away from her body.

I was excited for the removal of Karyn's bra and to see the small firm breasts it had held. There was a hint of tan line from a bikini top and small dark brown nipples at attention. 

Next it was my turn. We stopped in the middle of Karyn helping me to remove my t-shirt. She too was instructed not to touch me directly though. This was the first time I really got to look into Karyn's face. It became a some what awkward position and we tried to avoid eye contact after the first few moments. 

Dana finished her quick sketch and the t-shirt was removed the rest of the way. I wasn't done yet though. Dana instructed Karyn to start removing my jeans for the next pose. Karyn seemed a little unsure of this at first, but then knelt in front of me and reached out to start unbuttoning my jeans. 

As she fumbled with the first one, I could feel myself starting to get hard. I watched her unfastened the rest and tried to keep my erection under control. When the buttons were finished, Karyn looked at Dana as if looking for further instruction or permission, I couldn't tell which.

Dana nodded her head, and Karyn tugged my jeans off my hips. My cock flopped out of my jeans, and Karyn reacted by snapping her head back as if slightly startled. Dana told her to stop and hold that pose. We stayed in that position for over five minutes, Karyn's face inches from my cock. I was trying not to imagine her taking me in her mouth.

Dana finished, and we switched up again. I removed my jeans, and this time it was my turn to kneel at Karyn's side. I held up the waistband on the back of her skirt and Karyn held the front as I pulled down on the zipper past her hip to the top of her thigh . 

When I released the waistband, the back part of skirt dropped down, partially revealing her black lace panties covering only a portion of a nicely shaped ass. We held this position while Dana made her sketch. I had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss the exposed cheek.

Dana finished and suggested we move over to a sofa in another area of the apartment. Karyn removed her skirt and the panties. Dana positioned us for her next sketch. Karyn laid back on the sofa. Her hips at the edge, her legs spread, one foot on the floor, the other on the couch. I knelt on the floor and leaned in between her thighs. I still wasn't allowed to touch her though. 

I had never been up close with a black woman like this, and I was intrigued. She was shaved excepted for a patch of pubes above her opening. The skin around her opening was much darker than the rest. I wanted to dive in and taste her, but I knew I wasn't going to be allowed to. I was beginning to feel like I was going to burst.

Dana completed another quick sketch. Now it was time for me to lay on the floor on my back. Karyn straddled me, kneeling over my waist. Her hips about a foot above mine and her arm resting on the couch. It was obvious to everyone in the room that I was aroused. Karyn smiled at the sight of it.

Uncontrollably I flexed, trying to get some relief. My cock stood almost straight up, then made a sound as it came back down and smacked my stomach. Karyn couldn't control her amusement and let out a laugh. 

"You better sit down on that thing and keep it under control," Dana said to Karyn.

Karyn looked at her, unsure at at first. She slowly lowered her hips down on to me. My cock pressing against her sex. She repositioned herself and in the process ground her clit against my cock. Her lips parted against its length. Her eyes closed and she let out a small grunt of pleasure.

I could feel her juices on me now and my cock began to throb. I needed some relief badly. I could feel Karyn rocking her hips ever so slightly. Seems she was in need of relief too.

I looked over at Dana, she put her drawing board down and was looking at us intently. A hand moved up to her breast and she was slowly toying with a nipple. 

"It would be a shame to waste a nice hard on like that Karyn," Dana said.

Karyn let out a sigh of agreement, and she started to grind against me more deliberately. She rubbed her clit against the length of my cock. Her wetness soaking me and making a sound every time she changed direction. 

I finally broke the no contact rule and placed my hands on her hips. I pulled myself against her and matched her motion as we ground against one another, each looking for relief.

I heard some thing hit the floor and turned toward the sound. Dana had taken off her shirt and dropped it on the floor. She stood there naked. Her body was great. Her breasts were full and still fairly firm. She had the curves of a mature woman, and they looked great on her. 

She walked over and knelt on the floor beside us. Reaching out, she cupped one of Karyn's small breasts and then pinched the nipple. Karyn let out a groan, pressing down hard against me. Dana's other hand went up Karyn's back and into her hair. She turned Karyn's head and kissed her hard. Karyn showed no resistance, lost in the vibrations from her clit.

I couldn't believe it, two beautiful woman making out in front of me, while one ground away on top of me. The intensity was getting to Karyn. She lifted herself up and reached between her legs for my cock. She pointed it at her opening and then plunged herself down on it.

She was incredibly tight, but I immediately slid in up to the root. Her insides were burning and she quickened her motions. Hips moving in an almost circular motion as she continued to grind her clit against me. 

I could tell she was getting close, she broke the kiss with Dana and leaned over me. Her face buried in my neck, all of her attention was now focused on achieving her orgasm. My hands moved from her hips to her ass and I slammed into her. 

Finally Karyn let out a series of grunts and gasps and slowed her rocking on top of me. I moved my hand up her back and found her hair, holding her tight as the intensity inside her subsided. I was ready for my own release though, and kept up slow strokes in and out of her.

Dana didn't allow Karyn to be finished though. Gently she pulled Karyn off of me and rolled her onto her back next to me. She motioned for me to get on top. I positioned myself between Karyn's legs, and she brought her knees up as I slid inside. 

I could feel Karyn's heels pressing against my ass as I quickly found my rhythm. I knew I couldn't last long. Soon my face was pressed against hers, and I transitioned to quick short thrusts.

"Don't cum inside me," Karyn whispered in my ear as she realized I was getting close.

A few more strokes and I pulled out. It was now my turn to grind against her. I rubbed the length of my cock against her pelvic bone and tuft of hair. Soon I could feel the cum shooting from me and shook as I tried to support myself above her.

I pulled myself up off of her, and rested back on my heels. We both looked at the contrast of my cum against her body and began to laugh.

Lost in each other, we had forgotten about Dana. She smiled as we laughed, then got up and returned with a towel to clean off the strands and puddles of pearly white from Karyn's stomach.

"It's my turn now!" Dana announced once everything was clean.

She laid back on to the couch in a position similar to the one Karyn was in earlier. I positioned myself between her legs and began to kiss the inside of her thighs. Her skin was soft and smooth. I worked my way up to the folds between her legs. She was shaved and her lips swollen with anticipation of my tongue. 

I kissed her, drawing her lips into my mouth and sucking on them. My tongue parted her folds and explored her entrance. I found her clit and circled it with my tongue. I looked up to see her response. She smiled, and placed her hand on the back of my head encouraging me to continue. 

Karyn had joined in and was sucking on one of Dana's light brown nipples. Dana was lifting her hips in rhythm with me sucking on her clit. I could hear her moaning, and her hand was pulling me tighter into her. 

The sounds of Dana's satisfaction became loader and she wrapped her legs around my back. I could barely breath as I continued to suck her clit. Finally she came and released my head from the grip of her thighs so I could breath again. I tried to lean back, but evidently she wasn't done with me yet. She pulled my head back into her and raised her hips to present that nub to my mouth again.

I had never had a woman so responsive to me going down her. Her excitement made me hungry for her again. I inserted a finger into her, pumped in and out of her wetness. It was sloppy by this point, and I could hear it as I went in and out of her. 

She didn't last very long this time and again my head was squeezed between her thighs as she bucked her hips and I tugged at her clit with my mouth.

Finally she relaxed completely, and I was allowed to breath again. I smile at Karyn who smiled back as she continued to caress Dana's breasts and nipples.

When Dana fully recovered, I saw her hand reach out and start to caress up and down the back of Karyn's thigh. Her hand reached between Karyn's legs from behind.

"I think Karyn could use another go," Dana said indicating for me to lie back down on the floor and looking at Karyn for a response.

Karyn nodded with a smile. I laid back down on the floor, expecting Karyn to ride my cock again. Instead, she positioned herself over my face as she balanced herself against the sofa. She reach between her legs with her other hand to offer me the pink inside. I couldn't wait. My greedy tongue tasted her, then I drew her clit into my mouth. She ground her hips against my mouth, but she was careful not to smoother me. 

I couldn't see her, but I could feel Dana's hand start to stroke my cock and balls. Soon, I felt her mouth on me. She took me deep in her mouth and Karyn continued to search for release against my tongue. 

Dana's focus switched to my balls, sucking them into her mouth while her hand stroked me. My balls were beginning to boil and I was loosing my rhythm on Karyn's clit.

"Not just yet. You need to finish Karyn first," I heard Dana say.

She reduced the intensity on my cock, allowing me to come back from the edge. I was eager to finish off Karyn now so I could get relief myself. I focused on Karyn again, my hands finding her ass and pulling her clit into my mouth. She collapse onto her hands over me, begging me to finish her off. Finally she reached her climax. For a brief time she rocked back and forth on her hands and knees until it fully escaped her body. 

Dana gave Karyn a light slap on the ass, indicating that it was her turn again. Karyn moved off me. 

Dana was now on her back, legs spread and knees pulled toward her chest. I wasted no time getting inside of her. Her legs were pulled up so far, I felt like I was drilling straight down into her. She was soaked and her walls clenched around my cock. The top of the head rubbing against the topside of her pussy. I was taking long strokes and she was getting more vocal with each stroke. I felt her begin to spasm around me as I moved in and out. It was like she was tugging at me with her hand. 

She relaxed and lowered her hips some. I needed my own release, and increased my rhythm. I could feel my balls slapping against her ass. As I got close I looked up and saw Karyn intently watching us. Her hand was between her legs and I could see the pink of her insides. That was enough to send me over the edge. 




Artistic License



I gave Dana several hard thrusts as I pumped my cum into her. I collapsed onto Dana, and felt her legs come up and tighten around me as the spasms subsided. 

I finally pulled myself from Dana and collapsed onto the floor next to her. Karyn was sitting cross legged close by. We all kind of laughed and joked about what had just happened. I was pretty sure that was Dana's plan all along though. 

We soon dressed. Dana showed us the rough sketches she had made during the evening and promised to invite us back once she had been able to refine them more. 

As I walked home that night I couldn't believe it was real. I had just experienced two women very different from anyone I had ever been with and I couldn't wait to experience them again.



Artistic License Ch. 01



The young woman in front of me was sitting ... no ... perching, on the chaise longue, the swags of a richly red robe loosely draped about her hips, her long, slim legs artfully positioned for maximum visual benefit and minimum exposure of her pudenda. Stunningly pretty, with thick black wavy hair in a sensuous cascade over her shoulders, her full breasts simply demanded attention. I had taken the photographs I needed and was now doing the preliminary sketches for the portrait her husband had requested. Francesca; 28 and in the prime of her beauty, married to a city slicker with a full portfolio of brains and a paperclip of charm ... and a filing cabinet of cash.

The door to my studio opened. I looked round at the unexpected noise, pausing mid-curve of the 4H (my drawing career started with a T-square and a drawing board in an engineering works, and I still couldn't sketch with anything softer) my brows rising in quizzical surprise. The sudden entrant was my daughter Kate. I quickly glanced back at Francesca -- a trooper! -- didn't budge, didn't scream, didn't hurriedly don the richly red robe, just turned her head and stared at Kate in a sublimely cool, appraising way. Not a hint of expression.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realise you ... um ... were ... um ... working ... sorry ..."

I turned back to Kate.

"Yes, it's what I do ... in my studio ... I'm an artist."

She stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide, looking at Francesca, rabbit-like, as if mesmerised by Francesca's magnificent headlights, a slight pink flushing her face.

"Er, yes, sorry ... " this directed at Francesca "but I've got the tickets for Les Miserables ... thought I'd let you know. Sorry. Should have knocked ..."

"Yes, well, thank you Kate, I'll be finished in about an hour."

"Ok, bye ... " again, this directed at Francesca "Sorry."

She turned and left quickly.

"She's hot."

I turned back to Francesca "Pardon?"

"She's hot. Who is she?"

I was momentarily taken aback. "Oh, that's my son's wife. Kate."

"Lucky guy. Have you painted her like this?"

I laughed. "No! Of course not!"

"Why not? She's gorgeous."

I thought for a moment. "Well, yes, she is, but it wouldn't really be appropriate, would it. I don't think Joe would be very happy."

I resumed sketching, moving to a couple of different angles to get alternative views of her. She really was magnificent.

Half an hour later I had finished. "Ok Francesca, I think I've got enough to go with -- thanks, you've been a very good model."

She stood, not bothering to put the robe on and stretched in a languid, almost feline display of her physical power, looking full at me as she did so. I smiled knowingly at her.

"Yes, you're hot and gorgeous too ... and you know it."

She grinned. "Yes I do! But thanks."

She walked over to stand beside me and look at my sketches as I flipped through them for her.

"That one."

I nodded in agreement. "Ok, but we have two more sessions, so we can explore some other settings and poses."

Up close she was stunning. Smooth, buffed skin, her slim body toned, and at five feet ten her legs were long, and athletic, leading to perfectly-proportioned hips and a pert, muscled bottom. A tiny V of short-trimmed hair pointed down to a neat vulva. Her breasts were full and firm, with small pink areolae and perky nipples. All-in-all, one hell of a package.

She disappeared to the small changing room as I began to clear up, and reappeared five minutes later dressed in her jeans, blouse and high-heeled boots, a small bag dangling from her shoulder.

"Ok, same time Thursday?" I asked.

"Sure. See you then."

"Can you bring some of your favourite lingerie, stockings, etc? Oh, and an evening gown or cocktail dress?"

"You asking me out for a date?" she asked, one eyebrow arched quizzically.

"No," I grinned at her " ... twenty years ago I would have, but no, it's just to get some other poses."

"Twenty years ago I'd have been eight ... that would have been really bad ... I'd have looked stupid in lingerie and stockings." She winked at me and turned to leave. "But I wouldn't have been married." She paused in the doorway, turned, fixed me with a devastating smile and said "Anyway, I'm disappointed you didn't."

With that, she left. I stood for a moment, staring at the door, then shook my head ruefully. 



Artistic License Ch. 02



I'm 49; an artist, photographer, owner and manager of a small ego. My studio is in the renovated barn of my inheritance: a rambling collection of farmhouse and associated buildings in rural Norfolk. The farm had been in my family's hands since the 1700s. My father had run it as a mixed arable and dairy concern and I had worked on it as only a farmer's child can until I went to college to study art, having found a skill and calling introduced and encouraged by my mother. 

Both my parents had passed on 15 years ago and left me the farm, which, at first, had been the last thing I had wanted. Three years at college, two years travelling the world, photographing, drawing, painting, growing an audience and a reputation, then getting married to Sophie, having a son, Joe, building a small but profitable freelance career in London… at 34 I was not best placed to come home to Norfolk and run a farm.

Arriving home after my mother's funeral, six months after my father's, Sophie and I had sat down in the lovely rambling house and thought about what to do. Loved the place. Just couldn't sell it. Loved the country. Running a farm would leave no time for art – which paid me well. Being an artist would leave no time for running a farm – which would pay me well, but would tie me to the same back-breaking grindstone of life that had worn my father down into an early grave.

So, we sold the farmland, splitting it evenly between the two neighbouring farms, retaining a couple of acres around the farmhouse. I used the money to renovate the large brick-built barn into a studio and offices and have a large, walled garden built around the back to grow vegetables and fruit, with a conservatory along the entire length of the back of the house. Sophie managed the landscaping of the rest to provide an oasis of beauty. I retained the two farmhands as full-time gardeners to work for Sophie in the gardens. They appreciated the change to regular hours on better pay and the gardens matured quickly to a stunning setting.

It worked.

I bought an Aston Martin. It worked … most of the time.

Joe grew up with everything a boy could want. He was bright, personable, relaxed, gregarious, athletic and the joy of our lives. And he had a dad with an Aston Martin.

Sophie was beautiful. I'd met her when she was in a group of models for a shoot I had done for an airline marketing brochure. Tall, lovely figure, a sense of humour so dry that Bond, James Bond would have drunk it shaken not stirred. I clicked, we clicked, we wed.

Seven years ago she had been driving down the motorway to London to see her parents when an articulated lorry had crossed the central reservation in front of her.

Joe and I had gone through a difficult time. Being a rural community we had few close friends. Most of my childhood friends had moved on in life away from Norfolk. The few friends Sophie and I had had were in London. Joe went to the school in the nearby town, but there was little or no community in the nearby village anymore. I struggled to cope through his teenage years – money was tight, as I couldn't do assignments away from home. We bumbled through.

I never managed, or really made any effort to meet other women with a view to a serious relationship. It just never seemed appropriate. I had brief bouts of fun sex with the occasional willing model, but these were always kept on a no-commitment basis. Joe had a fun time, certainly as he grew through his late teens, aware of the constant stream of lovelies that passed through the studio and farmhouse kitchen for lunch or the occasional dinner.

Joe did his GCSEs, A-levels and went off to Edinburgh to do civil engineering. He came home, helped out whilst searching for a job. On his first job he met Kate, the marketing assistant of the architect's office he was working with. Just like me and Sophie, it was love at first sight and they were married within six months.

Impoverished and unable to afford a property of their own, they moved in to the farmhouse with me. It was so large we easily converted it into two self-contained dwellings – them upstairs and me downstairs, with the large kitchen, dining room and conservatory being communal areas that I used and we all could attend when they wished. It generally worked out that I cooked and we ate when they came home and chilled together downstairs. I was happy. I was glad to have my son and his wife with me.

Kate is 26; smart, funny, full of life, athletic, and, despite being in marketing, she's thoughtful, unpretentious and interesting to talk to. She's also drop-dead gorgeous in a Raquel-Welch-is-the-girl-next-door way. Thick, wavy dark-brown hair, huge brown eyes, perfect nose, full lips, slim neck, broad, square shoulders, full boobs, slim waist, trim hips and long, lean legs. What on earth possessed Joe to marry her?

Despite her obvious flaws, we got on well.

Six months ago, Joe got a job in Dubai. A two-year contract paying silly money that would give him a deposit on a house and a partnership in his firm.

Having cleared up after Francesca left I locked up the barn and walked across the yard to the house. Kate was in the kitchen, unpacking the dishwasher as I came in and hooked the barn key in the keysafe. She turned sharply round to face me.

"Oh, Ben, look, I'm terribly sorry about interrupting you. So embarrassing – I can't think what your model must have thought." 

I smiled "Don't worry, she was fine. Actually, for someone who's not a professional model she was brilliant."

"She was stunning! What a body!" she paused, caught my quizzical look and shrugged "Well, she has. Who is she?"

I grabbed a pint glass from the dresser and ambled across to the pantry.

"Well, that's refreshing – you truly are the rarest of beings: a woman who can admit another woman is gorgeous without making a derogatory qualifier. Her husband is a city slicker who wants to have her portrait on their bedroom wall."

"Ah …" eyebrows arched " … 'her husband is …' … doesn't she have her own identity?"

Pouring myself a pint of home-brew from the current barrel I realised the crassness of my comment.

"Ouch. Yes, I suppose she does, but I know nothing about her other than she's Mrs Francesca Farr-Hopkins."

"Hmm. Despite the looks, she didn't look like an air-headed trophy wife."

"No, most definitely not."

"Anyway, as I was saying, I've got the tickets for Les Mis tomorrow, matinee, so we can go to the National Portrait Gallery and then have a meal afterwards – there's a nice little tapas restaurant near Goodge Street I've heard good things about – mummy loved it."

"Not planned this at all then?"

She looked nonplussed for a moment. "Silly man. I'm taking you to London … "

"I'm paying." I interrupted, sitting down at the large kitchen table.

" … and you're paying, so I want to ensure that you have a good time. You would not have liked my preferences."

"No, probably not. It would have involved noise … loud people … " my voice sank to a horrified whisper " … young wimmin in revealin' clothes … " I shuddered and took a swift pull from my ale.

"Exactly. So be grateful." She had struck a defiant, authoritarian pose; I couldn't help grinning.

"Will oi 'ave to wear me suit, m'am?"

"Just lose the wellies, farm-boy."

"Ok, Oi'm going fer a shower missus – be sure to 'ave me dinner ready when the Archers comes on."

Half an hour later, clean and relaxed after a shower and donning a clean shirt and trousers, I ambled into the kitchen, following a mouth-watering aroma along the corridor from my bedroom: mutton curry. Now I remembered why Joe had married her: she might just be a stunningly attractive and intelligent woman, but she was a good cook. The next most useless thing in the world after nipples on a man? A woman who can't cook. In the two years that she's been here Kate has taken her turn and done us proud. I offered up a silent vote for canonisation of Kate's parents. I am a good cook, thanks to my mother. Joe is a good cook thanks to me and Sophie.

It was dusk, a rosy evening sky casting the kitchen in pleasant gloom, just the worktop light pooling brightness across the small pile of chopped onions, tomatoes, cucumber and banana Kate had prepared for accompaniments to the curry. I helped myself to another pint of home-brew, selected The Song Remains The Same from the CD rack and slipped it into the Bose. … No Quarter … I turned it up … sat down, tilted the chair back and swung my feet up onto the table, closing my eyes and felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as the bass drone cut in after the first vocal verse. It still does it to me at 49.

I came too with a shock as I Kate tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hey sleepy – want to eat dinner?"

I looked at the clock – I had been asleep for half an hour, right through most of No Quarter and all of Stairway to Heaven. Getting old, and the home-brew's good, I thought.

Kate was wearing a short, clinging green dress that made it very apparent she wasn't wearing a bra. She's normally quite conservatively dressed when she comes down with Joe for dinner, so I was a little surprised – pleasantly so, of course. I watched her move about the kitchen as I laid the table. Hmm. Now, now, behave yourself. I uncorked a bottle of white wine as she served the curry, rice, mushrooms and aubergines in spicy tomato sauce and some lentils with coriander, cumin and lime juice. We sat down and tucked in.

"This is good, Kate. Very good indeed." I tried not to stare at her chest, nearly getting caught as she looked up and smiled back me.

"Mm. Not bad, eh? Will Francesca be doing any more modelling?"

Slightly surprised by her continued interest in Francesca, I nodded "Yes, two more sessions – next Thursday and the one after."

"It's just that … well, I don't have any friends round here, and with Joe away I could do with someone to go shopping with, do girly things, you know." She seemed hesitant, uncertain as to how the conversation was going "And she did seem very nice."

"You could tell that from looking at her naked?"

"No!" She blushed, I grinned "No, you know what I mean."

"Give her a call – I'll give you the number, she lives in town somewhere."

She gave me a happy smile "Thanks. I know it seems a bit weird."

"Not at all. I know you must be getting bored being stuck here with your BOF father."

"Silly, you're not a BOF."

"After this curry I'll be a FOB – Farting Old Bore."

She snorted, almost loosing the spoonful of curry she was putting in her mouth. We finished up and cleared the stuff away, then I adjourned to the lounge and my favourite chair and switched on the tele. Five minutes later Kate came through from the kitchen, carrying two bowls. I couldn't help looking at her as she walked towards me, and she must have been aware as a little smile crept onto her face.

"Pineapple?"

She gave me my bowl and sank down onto the sofa across from me, pulling her legs up underneath her as she sat back. We spent the evening in comfortable near-silence watching A Knight's Tale.

"That was good." She smiled, stood up then stretched herself – my mind instantly flash-backed to the sight of the naked Francesca doing just the same earlier in the day – the dress pulled up her thighs and stretched over her full breasts. I was smiling at Kate as she opened her eyes and looked at me.

"What?"

"Nothing. You have a great figure Kate."

She blushed slightly, pulling the dress down, conscious of my gaze on her. "Thanks. Not as good as Francesca's though – she's lovely and tall."

I shrugged "Nonsense. If you weren't Joe's wife I'd be painting you."

She smiled, somewhat enigmatically, I thought, then picked up the two bowls and disappeared to the kitchen. She came back a couple of minutes later, walked straight across to me and leant over and kissed me on the forehead.

"Thank you very much for being so nice. I'm off to bed. Goodnight."

That night I masturbated for the first time for a week. Images of Francesca, imagining fucking her, then, unbidden, images of Kate … I came strongly picturing her as she had stretched in front of me in the lounge. Naughty.



Artistic License Ch. 03



On Friday I spent the first part of the morning on the phone to my agent, Diane, on the web ordering materials, researching exhibitions and news – generally admin time for "what next?"

By 11 I was done, and was nursing a large mug of coffee as I wandered out into the garden and had a chat with Ken and Steve, the gardeners. Early summer and the garden was looking beautiful, vegetables coming along and flowers blooming. Patrician duties done, I strolled back to the house and picked up the mail. Amongst all the usual crap was a letter addressed to Kate from Joe. He always wrote, once a week, never failed. Never email, despite his free access to it from his work in Dubai. Kate always read his letters out loud to me – I assume that she censored the 'personal' parts of them. It was so much more personal and intimate; the fact that he had taken the time to sit down and write – although he addressed the letters solely to her he had clearly written them for both of us (or at least the parts she read to me).

I made a sandwich for lunch, ate it with a glass of home-brew, watching the lunch-time news. Why are people so stupid? You often hear politicians braying 'Never underestimate the intelligence of 's public' ... the truth is quite the opposite: never underestimate their stupidity.

In the afternoon, I took a sketchpad and pencil and went back into the garden, and spent the afternoon drawing. Landscape, close-ups of plants, trees, insects. Bliss. At four, Ken and Steve finished, and we adjourned to the kitchen for the usual end-of-week sampling of my ale before they went home.

I began preparing dinner for me and Kate; beef salad. Her Friday arrival time was varied, dependent on the duration of the end-of-week pub visit with her colleagues. She wandered in at 7.30.

"Hi!" I heard her call speculatively from the kitchen – I was in my living-room watching the end of Question Of Sport, the remains of my meal on the coffee table, a glass of Rioja in my hand.

"Hello!" I called back, switching off the TV. She wandered through. "Good day?" I asked.

"Not bad, although Gordon was hitting on me big-time in the pub." She slumped onto the sofa across from me, kicking off her heels and swinging her legs up; giving me a delicious glimpse of slim thigh as she did so.

"The perils of being a beautiful woman. Wine?"

"No, I didn't, just ignored him as politely as I could ... oh ... ha ha ..." she laughed as she saw me wiggling my wine glass "Yes please."

I took my tray back to the kitchen and poured us both a glass of wine. When I got back to the living room Kate was lying flat on the sofa, her eyes closed as if asleep. I paused as I set the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, looking down at her. Hmm. She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her; she smiled, I tried not to look guilty by gesturing quickly to the wine.

"Your wine, m'am."

"Thanks." Still smiling as she swung her legs round and sat up, reaching for the glass. I returned to the kitchen and brought her supper through on a tray. She took it and tucked in hungrily.

"Thanks – this is good; I love your coleslaw and potato salad – the yoghurt gives it a nice tang."

We were silent as she ate – I put on a CD, Boccherini and Bach 'cello pieces. Finished, she put the tray on the table, sat back and rubbed and patted her belly in parody of a cartoon figure.

"Yum. Needed that."

"Good."

"Right, I'm going upstairs to change." With that she rose and took her tray back through to the kitchen.

The CD had just finished, and I was engrossed in my current book when she returned. She was wearing her long silk dressing gown, barefoot and with a freshly-scrubbed glow to her face. Her full breasts jiggled hypnotically as she walked, her nipples bulging the thin fabric in a most enticing way.

"Hi, is there any more of that wine?"

"Just a dribble – I'll open another."

I went to the kitchen and opened another bottle of the Burgundy. When I returned, she was sitting in her usual position on the sofa. The dressing gown had slipped off her left leg revealing a long, smooth thigh; she made no attempt to cover up, even when she caught me admiring it surreptitiously as I poured her wine.

"Thanks. Cheers."

I sat back down in my chair, picked up my sketch book and pencil and waved them at her.

"Mind if I sketch you?"

She smiled "No, I'd love that – I could send it to Joe."

She sat still, looking at me as I sketched. It took me half-an-hour.

"Ok. Come see."

She stood, and the lovely leg disappeared behind the silk. She came and stood beside me as I held the sketch book for her to see. She was silent for several seconds.

"Wow." She said quietly. "That's ... stunning."

"No, it's you who are stunning."

"Flatterer."

I looked up – she was bent over gazing intently at the sketch, her lips slightly parted and a faint flush lit up her perfect skin. I could smell the clean, delicately perfumed scent of her close beside me. She looked at me and smiled.

"Thanks – Joe will love it."

"I hope so. He's a very lucky man."

"Hmm. If only he were here to enjoy it."

I grinned up at her, and we shared a knowing look, then she shrugged. I tore the sheet out of the book and gave it to her and she walked back to the sofa.

"Right, I'm going to bed. What time do we have to go tomorrow?" I asked.

"The train's 11.15."

"Ok, good night."

"Good night. And thanks for the sketch."

I went to bed and slept like the dead.

The next morning we took the Aston to the station and caught the train to London. Kate was wearing a figure-hugging knee-length cream dress in a soft material, with a white linen jacket and cream high-heeled sandals. She looked stunning. When we arrived at the Queen's Theatre we just had time for a swift G&T and to order interval drinks. The show was brilliant. As we left the theatre, Kate turned to me.

"Ok, you know I said I was going to take you to the National Portrait Gallery?"

"Yes ..." I said hesitantly, sensing a 'Well ...' coming.

"Well ... I lied."

I assumed a gobsmacked look; she laughed and smacked me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, the actual plan is even better!"

I eyed her suspiciously. "What could be better?"

"Hogarth."

I stared back at her, nonplussed. After a few seconds of baffled silence she laughed.

"You're an artist! Didn't you know about the Hogarth exhibition at the Tate Modern?"

Damn! She'd got me! I'd somehow missed it; my favourite artist! What living in Norfolk does for you. I shuffled, embarrassed, held my hands together in front of me, knotting my fingers and looked down at the pavement in parody of a naughty boy caught bang to rights.

"No, miss." I muttered.

She doubled-up, laughing her infectious best.

"Oh you poor man! Good job I live in the 21st century!"

"Ouch." I muttered.

"Oh come on, stop being silly – I've got tickets so let's go."

We made our way to the Tate Modern and I spent three mouth-watering hours admiring the master's work. His portrait of George Arnold ... I almost drooled in envy at the painterly skill evident in the evocation of the stout 18th century merchant. As we came out of the gallery into the evening sunlight I turned to Kate and kissed her briefly on the cheek.

"Thank you Kate, that was wonderful – so thoughtful of you to do this for me."

She blushed slightly, then smiled broadly. "Not at all – you've been wonderful to me; just saying 'thanks'. Come on, let's go for dinner – I'm famished!"

"Hmm, yes, I'm a tad peckish too – could eat a whole-cow pie."

We made our way to the restaurant and enjoyed plate after plate of delicious tapas washed down with Rioja. Outside, now dark with a clear sky, it had chilled quickly and was now quite cool. As we made our way back to the tube station she hooked her arm in mine and pulled close, giving a little shiver.

"Brr. It's got cold; good job I wore this jacket."

"That can't keep you very warm - you haven't even buttoned it up."

"No, but it covers up my boobs."

I caught her meaning and laughed. "Chapel hat-pegs?"

"Oh yes."

We caught a tube to Liverpool Street; it was standing-room only. We stood in the access area, facing each other, me with my back against the glass panel, Kate holding the rail above her head as we chatted about the day. At the next stop, three hugely fat old ladies pushed their way on and Kate was unceremoniously pushed against me; my hands automatically went to her waist to support her. We both looked at each other, eyes wide in expressions of mock alarm as we were squashed together. Her body was soft, her full breasts pressed against my chest and I'm sure she felt as emotionally uncomfortable as she did physically. Mixed feelings for me: awkward at having my daughter squashed against me, delight at having my daughter-in-law squashed against me. As the train bounced along, the inevitable happened ... panicked, I tried desperately to take my mind off the sensations of her body rubbing against mine, but, as every man knows, your cock has a mind of its own. There was simply nowhere to go; I physically couldn't move my hips back, and to even try to do so would have made the embarrassing nature of my situation even more apparent. There was also no way she could have not felt my erection against her belly, as her dress was very thin, soft and clinging ... which reminded me that I had not noticed a VPL ... which thought made things even worse.

"Er ... Kate ... terribly sorry about this ... " I muttered, trying not to look her in the face.

She giggled, put her mouth close to my ear and whispered "I'd have been upset if you hadn't."

God she was nice. A moment later she whispered in my ear again "Anyway, it's very impressive."

Mortified, I looked at her. She had a faint smile on her lips. The rest of the tube journey was a nightmare. At each stop some people would get off, momentarily easing the crush, but more would then pile on, restoring it. Kate made no attempt to move away from me, and the gentle rubbing of her belly against my hard-on as the train bounced and swayed kept it rock-hard. Then I realised I had another problem looming: when we got off the train I would have to walk along with a very obvious hard-on tenting the front of my light-weight trousers. Even as I thought this, Kate leant forward to whisper in my ear.

"I'll take off my jacket – you can carry it to cover up."

What a star!

Then "Hey, you could probably hang it on that thing." Followed by a throaty little chuckle.

My face must have been beetroot. At last we reached Liverpool Street, and as people poured off the train Kate whipped off her jacket and handed it to me as she turned and walked onto the platform. She immediately hooked her arm in mine and we made our way up to the mainline platforms. My cock quickly detumesced, and I handed back her jacket. We were lucky, a train for Norfolk was leaving in five minutes, and we found seats in First Class, which was largely empty. We sat opposite each other, and as we looked at each other she burst out laughing.

"Kate, I'm so sorry about that – please forgive me."

"Don't worry, it's fine! Very flattering in fact."

We reached our station an hour later and drove home. Both tired from the busy day, we were silent until we got into the farmhouse.

"Nightcap?" I asked her as we walked into the kitchen.

"Good idea, I could use a stiff one ..."

There was a nanosecond of silence and then she shrieked with laughter, clapping her hands. I stood looking at her with a wry grin on my face as she doubled up.

"Ha ha, very funny."

She quickly composed herself, looked at me, then, unable to contain her mirth, snorted into giggles again. I sighed and sauntered off to my living room. I poured two fingers of Talisker into two tumblers, added a dash of water to each and handed one to Kate as she came in.

"Thanks."

She stood in front of me, raised her glass and chinked it against mine.

"Cheers." I said "Thanks for a wonderful day Kate, it was nearly all wonderful."

Her mouth twitched briefly, but she retained control admirably, then sipped her malt before turning and sitting down on the large sofa. As I started to move to my chair she spoke.

"Don't go and sit over there in that lonely old armchair - come and sit with me."

Nodding, I sat down slightly apart from her. She turned, leaning back against the arm of the sofa and swung her legs up to rest her calves across my thighs.

"Can you take my shoes off please?" She said quietly.

"I'm not wearing your shoes." I smiled wanly at the old joke.

"Boom, boom." She intoned gravely.

I undid the small buckles holding the straps together and slipped the shoes off her feet, which, she being quite tall, were long and slim. She wiggled her toes.

"Could you rub my feet, they're killing me. Far too much walking in heels."

I looked at her, trying desperately not to look at the full swells of her breasts, her nipples clearly erect.

"I think I've got into enough trouble today as it is without giving you a foot rub."

She pouted, then shrugged. I took a good swig from my glass then leant back against the sofa and closed my eyes. After a few moments Kate waggled her legs against my thighs, breaking me from my reverie.

"Don't go to sleep! Talk to me."

"What about?"

"Anything."

Outwardly I smiled, but inwardly I groaned; why do women do this to us? At my age men are happy to sit in comfortable silence, drink their malt and doze off. Women want to talk.

"Did you call Francesca?"

"Yes, we're meeting for lunch tomorrow."

"That's nice. I can just imagine the phone conversation: 'Hello, is that Francesca? Hi, this is Kate – I saw you naked the other day so thought we could meet for lunch?'"

She giggled. "Actually it was a bit like that, except she said 'Sure, let's meet for lunch at Hamptons ... will you recognise me with my clothes on?'"

"Will you recognise her?"

"Of course I'll recognise her: she'll be the sun in the middle of the sunflowers."

"Yes, I can imagine she has that kind of effect. I'll phone Hamptons in the morning to tell them they'll be hosting a binary star."

She nudged me with a foot. "You say the nicest things!"

I smiled indulgently at her. "Only to the nicest people."

I finished my malt and leant forward to put my glass on the coffee table, which brought my groin against Kate's left foot. I sat back quickly; she seemed not to have noticed. She drained her own glass, swung her legs to the floor and stood up.

"Right, I'm off to bed."

"Me too in a minute. Good night."

She leant over me and kissed me briefly. I so wanted to put my hand behind her head and pull her into a passionate kiss. She turned and walked out to the kitchen. As she passed along the corridor she called back.

"No naughty dreams tonight!"

"Aaagghhhh!" I groaned loudly.

I could her laughter until she left the kitchen.



Artistic Licentious



I've been sitting on this one for a little while. I've been meaning to touch it up. Maybe if people like it I will. All participants are over 18 and fictitious.

...My name is Camille. I don't usually feel guilty for what I do. I don't now. It doesn't worry me, but it should. I feel the need to confess in some small way...

...My name is Audrey. I can't stand it any longer. I can't face my minister. Or sit opposite him in a confessional. But I have to confess to someone. And even if I lose my resolve and burn this note before anyone can read it, at least God will see it, and write down in the Book of Life that I repented. It started when I met a grad student named Camille...

...Do not mistake me. What I've done, I've done several times before, several times since and will several times again. Maybe I'm writing this because I'm bragging. So while I'm disclosing everything, I'll cop to that too, and start with the most sinister of my transgressions, which is also my favorite. Her name is Audrey...

...I was immediately enthralled with Camille. I was just a freshman in my first semester. I'd majored in acting...to get over my shyness. So enthralling me was easy. There's so much to see in art school, but Camille's image was designed to bait people like me. Confident and sure, she painted and did it her way, and if you didn't like it or didn't get it, you were stupid. And I let her lure me into begging to model for her...

...Audrey was a saint. I bet she thinks she still is, or wishes she still was and is trying desperately to be again. I met her during summer classes and and she had to be the only person at MICA who carried a bible around in one of those cover protectors. She wore crosses and didn't partake in vices and was in herself a blank canvas I needed to spill red all over...

...She looked at me like I was too fresh, too naive, couldn't possibly understand her work. Like I should still be playing with plastic dolls and watching Veggie Tales. But I didn't want to be that, and didn't want her to think I was that. So when a friend of hers passed us by and she asked this friend if she could stand in for a model who had cancelled on her...

...Audrey didn't even wait for her to finish. Before Danielle could tell me what I already knew, that she's always busy on Friday, Audrey blurted out that she was free, and fell all over herself to explain (again) that she was majoring in theatre. Her eyes were huge. So when I asked her to stand up and let me look her over...

...I nearly knocked over my chair. I did exactly what she asked from the very start, hoping, hoping, hoping she would choose me, interpret my image and immortalize me, finally pay attention to me and show that I was beautiful and visible and all the things I'd always wanted. My road to hell started with the sin of Pride, and no small amount of envy...

...I think I realized then and there as she voluntarily showed me her body that I wasn't an artist. Artists want a challenge. Audrey was a gimme. If you look threatening enough, and there's a fresh carcass lying equal distance between the two of you, even a grizzly bear will go after the easier prey. After killing you to make sure you don't get it, of course. Or because it can. What was I talking about? Oh, right, my point is, I'm not an artist, I'm a predator...

...I handed myself to her. I might have carried her home on my back if she'd asked. I almost did, but she had her own car. And that was it. I'd given myself over, just like that. I didn't even know her last name or anything more than her first name was probably Camille and she was a grad student and had stooped to giving me the time of day. I wasn't even listening when she told me she expected the very best models. And the most compliant. I just nodded and spluttered out promises...

...So fast forward to Friday morning. Wait, Friday? I met her on Tuesday...no, Wednesday. That's right, ashes on her forehead. So I didn't engage her beyond simply passing her once or twice on Thursday just to keep her on the edge of her seat, so on Friday she was nearly bursting with hope and joy and excitement and fear and all the things I wanted cooking inside her. She got there early and almost caught me making final preparations...

...Camille even looked frustrated that I was early at the old house. It just made me even more eager to please her and prove myself. It also made me blush even more. She invited/ordered me inside and I was at once hit with a wave of heat. She apologized for the air conditioning being broken...

...I'd turned up all three space heaters, and the radiator in my studio and chased my roommates out for the day long in advance. I'd told her she wouldn't be posing nude (this time), but she wouldn't be wearing very much, so she thought I turned up the heat to keep her from freezing. I just do that to help people out of their clothes, maybe take off a few of my own. My skirt and cami would be stifling before too much longer. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

...The living room was cozy. Tidy. Walls covered in silks and paintings, doorways sequestered off with bead curtains. Amazing that an artist of any kind lived here. An elaborate sound system glowed with blue lights in the corner...

...But I'll get to that. I brought her in and set right about taking her jacket and backpack and putting them somewhere she'd need to ask me for them to get them back. And then I showed her the outfit she'd be wearing. Totally innocent...

...She unwrapped the plastic and handed me a white unitard. I'd worn them before several times for dance. Taking some comfort in it, I turned it over in my hands as she led me to the bathroom, urging me to hurry up. She closed the door behind me...

...I tried not to make it too obvious that I was running across the room to where my easel was as I picked up my Macbook just in time to see her start pulling her shirt over her head. This wasn't the elaborate part. My iPhone was sitting there on the soap dish. FaceTime. She didn't even look. Grant money is fantastic...

...It wasn't until I'd taken off everything else and picked up and unfolded the white unitard that I realized it was starched. There was so much, it felt like it was made of canvas, not a thin layer of cotton...

...I'd positively soaked it in L-arginine. It's the main ingredient in all those orgasm gels and clitoral sensitizers you see at all the sex shops. You can buy it in powder form by the pound on the internet. She probably thought it was starched. She probably wasn't going to notice anything until she started sweating...

...I slipped into it. It felt strange on my skin. I'd started sweating with anxiety and the heat and it felt kind of sticky, but I emerged bravely from the bathroom showing as much courage, poise, and grace as possible. She was going to paint me. Right then it was all I wanted in the world...

...She looked almost totally lost. But she tried so hard. So adorable in her white skintight unitard, the legs coming a quarter of the way down her thighs. Not see through, not just yet. She held her clothes, folded with absolute precision, looking at me for guidance. I politely took them from her into the bedroom, putting them somewhere she couldn't get them back without help...

...When she came back, she directed me to sit on something. I'm not sure how to describe it, like an ottoman with a rounded top covered in a white sheet. She had me straddle it, and lean back, lacing my fingers into my hair. My knees didn't reach the ground, so my weight was between my legs, and I felt some kind of rubber or plastic ridge press against me...

...I would bet money she'd never seen a sybian machine before, so it didn't raise any red flags with her, and she climbed sweetly onto it. I'd set it up just high enough she had to take all the weight on her crotch. It wasn't a sybian machine in the strictest sense though...

...Camille told me she just needed some music to concentrate. She said something about WiFi as she turned on the stereo using her computer. Her sound system was quite impressive. It sounded like the music was coming from everywhere at once. It drowned out the cicadas outside, and vibrated the whole house. The thing I was sitting on vibrated too. I had no idea how I was going to concentrate on sitting still, let alone how she was going to concentrate on painting me...

...The thing she was sitting on started life as an ottoman at a garage sale. Taking a subwoofer pad and attaching it to the inside of another object isn't as hard as it sounds. If you're sitting on it, you get a nice buzz in time to the bass sections of the music. If you're not paying attention, or not very smart, you think it's the whole house doing it. After a few minutes, if you've never used a vibrator before, you stop paying attention to it. A few minutes after that, though, it starts to creep up on you, especially if you're covered in sensitizer...

...She sat on her bar stool, and started her work. It was exciting. I watched her movements so closely at first, observed her observing me, and knowing I inspired each touch of the brush to the canvas. After a while though, my mind started to wander, and I began to notice how much I was sweating...

...Patience is the key, which I already have from legitimately painting in the first place. She was too focused on the fact that I was finally immortalizing her unique snowflake to notice what was going on between her legs. So I painted away. The cue is the first time I have to ask the model to hold still...

...I'd barely moved, but she caught it and curtly asked me to resume my posture. I snapped back into place, and accepted a sip of water from a bottle she had sitting nearby. Not too much, so as not to send me to the bathroom, and she held the bottle out for me to drink, so as not to disturb my position. Then she switched the music to break the monotony...

...It was time to start laying it on. I selected a Two Steps From Hell radio station, big orchestra music with a full sound. The kind that wouldn't let up like the trance music would. Then I sat back down, and continued observing her. This arrangement is great, it allows me to stare at my subject almost constantly without arousing any suspicion. So I didn't miss it when her sweat started soaking through the white unitard. It would start getting transparent soon, and more of the chemical would start to dissolve...

...I was starting to get anxious. My skin was getting all warm. Maybe the music was too much, but I was starting to have trouble holding still. And the vibrating. The music must have been shaking the whole house to its foundations. And with my strangely-shaped seat in the middle of the floor, shaped as it was, it seemed to focus all the vibration on one place...

...Then I saw it. She squirmed. Before, she'd turned her head slightly out of absent-mindedness, but this was an actual movement of the hips. I already knew what she was feeling. A "weird" and "tickly" sensation "down there." She was trying to shift off the vibrating ridge, but I caught her right away...

...She ordered me back into place again. The seat was always vibrating, and it was starting to feel weird down there, sort of tickly. Like I couldn't hold still. I tried to find a more comfortable position for a while by sliding about two inches off to the left, but after catching me twice, she demanded to know what the problem was...

...Teaching a woman that orgasms are good is hard when they're Christian, unless you don't do it in words. Getting their body to believe it takes a lot less explaining, and after that a girl's physiology does the job for you. Anyone who does not believe orgasms are good has never had one. That leaves only one way to teach the body to like sex...

...I nervously explained that I was uncomfortable. She told me to shake my arms out. But it wasn't my arms, I wasn't even thinking about them. I told her the seat was bothering me. She told me the best way to deal with that was to press down against it, rather than trying to avoid it. She suggested I try that for a few minutes and see what happened...

...While I started turning the music up between each track...

...It was working, sort of. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it did cause a different sensation to contend with. It tickled more, and all over my body with an intensity I could barely endure. I experimented for a while, but soon realized it was actually a lot more unpleasant to try to take my weight off the ridge I was sitting on. So I pressed against it, and as a particularly strong bass sound rumbled in under me, tensed my whole body and tried to hold on...

...Soon I could see she was trying to hold still. Every muscle in her body was taut, and her breathing was becoming rapid. An orgasm is strange when you've never had one and don't know what it is. You're not that good at comprehending it yet, let alone hiding it. Soon her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were rolled back, and I gently reminded her to hold still as she started to...

...It was too much, I thought my head was going to explode. I pushed harder and harder and the feeling spread around, especially in my chest, until finally, my breath caught in my throat and my hips started twitching...

...she was cumming. I watched her head loll back and forth, her breasts thrust forward and her hips humping away at the vibration. I sat there and experienced her first orgasm with her, and when it looked like she was starting to cum down (get it?) I muted the music and explained to her that I really needed her to hold still, and if she could do that for me, it would be over in less than an hour. She nodded and stammered something, and it continued...

...I tried to hold still for Camille. But it kept happening. I didn't know what was going on. Maybe it was because I was nervous, and had too much adrenaline. Maybe I was dehydrated, or my skin was just sensitive from the heat, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep the tension down, and soon it overwhelmed me and she had to stop again...

...I liked to listen to her as she tried feverishly to explain. It tickles, I'm sorry, I can't help it, please, no, I can continue, just give me a moment, no, I'm ready, keep going. Then I'd tell her to make sure to press her weight down on it to keep it from vibrating as much, and then I turned the music back on and started her up again until she climaxed...

...When it got like that, I don't know, I couldn't stop myself, I had to push against the vibrating thing between my legs. My whole body demanded I press against it. The feeling was overwhelming, but trying to take my weight off of it was sheer torture. My whole body demanded I experience the vibrations. I had to ride it out to its conclusion, only to have to explain myself to Camille again why I was twitching and gasping like that...

...I could see everything by then, her sweat had soaked completely through the white microfiber. It looked more like a tan line than a piece of clothing now. I kept ordering her to look at me (when her eyes weren't closed in ecstasy) so she wouldn't see she was practically naked in my living room. She was starting to get better at having an orgasm without moving around too much...

...Which meant I didn't have to stop and beg for forgiveness anymore, but also meant that as soon as my body was finished having one outburst it was already well on its way to another...

...It was beautiful. The position I'd set her in looked ridiculous unless the model was depicted having an orgasm, which I was in the process of doing.. Straddling a musical sybian machine, fingers in sweat-soaked hair, eyes closed, mouth open, head thrown back. Thank god these paintings take so long. But our time was running short, so when one track ended, I skipped ahead to a very special one I'd mixed myself...

...It was like these bursts of full-body tickling feelings were getting better with practice. They were getting longer, coming faster, and topping out much higher. The room was starting to spin. When she fast-forwarded the music to a track that didn't even sound like music, just a low hum, my vision started to blur. I wondered what would happen if the feeling became too much, and got my answer after my vision cleared and I was lying on the floor...

...She'd passed out. I knew I had a keeper. I stroked her hair until her eyes focused on my face, plastered with a look of dramatic concern. If she'd had enough energy left to panic, she might have, but I consoled her that she didn't need to go to the hospital. Lots of pleasant giggling and laughing, lots of compliments. She just needed a massage...

...Tension. That's all she said it was. A kind that sometimes happened in women. She related it to the womb, and conception, and that since I was young and not having babies, my womb was getting antsy, and I was full of excess energy. That a good massage in the right place would calm me down, that that wonderful feeling of a vibrating massager or a pair of expert hands on my shoulders was nothing compared to the same in just the right places on a person who needed it...

...She bought all of it. When it came time to sell the part with nudity and intimate touching, I very comfortingly held her and said things about the whole affair being between "just us girls" and that way it was totally safe. I even got her to watch some videos on my laptop (thank you, thank you, thank you Hegre-Art.com)...

...Camille told me that there were a few more painting sessions to go, and that if I got a good "women's massage" beforehand, things would be easier. And that was it. That was how Camille got me to agree to sex.