Love's Distant Shore
Copyright 2006-2011 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults only.
Love's Distant Shore
"Two hours today. I hope you all made arrangements." Professor Warners had a way of speaking without looking at any of her forty students. "This is your mid-term practical, so remember that I'm looking at elements and naturalism…Not realism."
She loved theory and this wasn't my first exposure to it, or to the professor. I was in my second year at Princeton, working vaguely towards my bachelor's degree, and I tuned the woman out as I prepped my ground. We were doing charcoal, not my favorite medium as I was a painter, but I could live with it. Everyone had to take introductory drawing and I'd banked it for a rainy day, when I'd want a sleeper in my course load. Princeton had turned out to be a lot harder than I'd expected.
"I hope were not drawing a stupid plant," Linda said, preparing her easel next to mine. She was one of the friends I'd made at college and a pretty good sculptor, and decidedly unhappy about sketching for mid-terms. She'd put the class off for entirely different reasons.
"I doubt it." I smiled at her and she frowned.
"Don't look so happy," she snapped.
"What did I do?" I rolled my eyes. It wasn't my fault Linda couldn't draw.
"Our model today is Kurt, so let's behave ourselves," the professor said, opening the door to her office, which also served as a changing room. She paused, looking over her shoulder in our general direction. "And ladies…I'm talking to you."
There followed a smattering of laughter and whispered conversation. We'd all seen Kurt before and naturalism was wasted on him, in our collective opinion. Naturalism was usually used to improve a subject and Kurt…
I took an involuntary breath as he walked into the room, which was actually a very old and small lecture hall. It had been redone sometime in the past to be a more functional classroom environment. The oddly cone-shaped dimensions were retained however, and it drew attention to the pinnacle, to the footstool upon which Kurt was now sitting in his white bathrobe.
He ignored us and I wondered how he could be so comfortable as he slipped the garment from his broad shoulders. As freshman, we'd all gotten a taste of modeling at the professor's insistence. My turn had come, standing for my classmates and trying not to giggle nervously in the two-piece bathing suit I'd worn. The exercise had been intended to give us empathy for our models and I think it worked, at least for me. I didn't take them for granted, not after that, and I hadn't even gotten naked.
Kurt, on the other hand, was very naked as he sat there. Professor Warners posed him for us, contriving to hide and reveal those aspects in which her students were most interested, depending on where one was sitting. Most of the class was female, nineteen and twenty-year-old girls who were hardly mature in any real sense of the word. I felt it, the attraction for the man, and it was a purely physical thing. The desire was not uncontrollable, of course, but it was a little more than just seeing a handsome boy at the mall. This boy, this man, was beautiful and naked and sitting there just for me.
For two hours I would possess him and after that, when he was free to escape, Kurt would leave a portion of himself behind. I'd capture him on my paper and keep him forever. That was my goal and the only reason I could push all other thoughts from my mind. I didn't worry about my grade, nor look at my friends and classmates; I barely looked at my paper. There was Kurt and the light hitting his body and the shadows falling across his face and…
Between one heartbeat and the next, a lifetime can be lost.
"Time's up! Thank you very much, people." Professor Warners clapped her hands, prompting weak protests and groans as the exercise finished.
I blinked, wondering where the time had gone. My sketch was largely complete. I was happy enough with it, but I could have used another ten minutes maybe. Around me it seemed obvious that most of the class wanted much more time than that. I watched Kurt put his robe back on, smiling as he shared a few words with the professor. He looked past her for a moment, looking at us, and I thought I caught his eyes with mine, but they didn't linger or show any recognition.
Kurt's gaze swept over me and I looked down with a secret smile at the drawing I'd done. He was looking at me there. I'd stolen his eyes and they stared at me from the paper, warm and gentle and all mine. It hadn't been easy, getting his attention the way I had, but I was more than pleased with the result and I understood then the real definition of naturalism. The art of depicting subjects as they might exist. Kurt might look at me that way, I thought. Maybe, if I could just find a way.
"Is he here?" I asked, not bothering with hello.
"Kris! About time," Linda said with a smile, leaning close as I entered the kitchen through her back door.
I let her kiss my cheek impatiently. "You've started early," I observed, grinning as I could smell the alcohol on her breath.
"Three years ago!" She laughed. "As soon as I stepped off the bus."
Her small house was full of people, the kitchen full of girls specifically. Talking, smoking, blending margaritas. It was a typical Friday night at Linda's place, a house just off campus that she shared with two roommates. The Princeton art community was small, the real artists I should say because there were a lot of people around who weren't. Would-be artists and bohemians of all sorts, groupies even, and the amateur critics. They were largely intelligent and entertaining and a lot of fun, so none of us complained really. I'd found myself enjoying college immensely.
"So?" I demanded, returning to my immediate interest. "Is he here?"
"You asked…" Linda held me around the waist, speaking into my ear as we made our way through the small crowd, "…and I delivered, girlfriend."
"Really?" I felt a rush of nervous energy; beyond accepting her invitation, I had no idea what I was doing.
"You'll have to make your own introductions." She gave me a squeeze, pulling me towards the open doorway and I could see him, standing near a bookcase with two other men, talking and smiling, holding a bottle of beer.
Kurt was there.
"Shoot," I breathed. "Did he come with anyone?"
"God!" Linda shook her head. "Does it matter?"
"I need a drink," I decided, postponing my intentions. I felt tight all over.
"Uh-uh…Empty handed." My friend gave me a push into the room and a gay laugh. "Like the beggar you are!"
I gave her a dirty look, but I didn't know if I wanted her to give me another push or talk me out of it. I'd been trying to meet the guy for a month already, but not really trying, just wanting to try. I was good at wanting and I think I even enjoyed that. There's something noble about being alone and loving from a distance, or so I'd told myself and my friends, but of course they wouldn't tolerate that for long. Not Linda certainly. She was all about action, hands on, the way a good sculptor must be. I was a painter and so I merely observed and interpreted, but I could also be impulsive, impetuous, and often far too bold for my own good…Once I built up a little steam anyway.
And Kurt made me hot all over, inside and out.
"I was at that game; sat right behind third base…" one of the other men was saying.
"Hi guys!" I interrupted, feeling rather small as all three of them were much taller than my five-foot-nothing.
"Hi there," one of them replied quickly, the one who'd watched me walking across the room.
"Hi…Hello…" Kurt and the last guy spoke a second later, and I had their attention now.
I'm not sure that I'm beautiful, that would depend on who you asked, but I'm attractive enough for most men to find interesting. Too short, in my opinion, but being small has its own appeal, and it made my breasts seem even larger than they were. I was showing them off too, wearing a tight sweater above a rather short pleated skirt, red and black respectively. The dangerous colors. My long blonde hair was loose and my face scrubbed pink with a little make-up, not much. I looked good and I knew it, and confidence was never my problem once my mind was made up.
"I'm Kris," I said, smiling at all of them and trying not to give too much away.
"Hi Kris." The first guy extended his hand and he was very interested. "I'm Dave…" he paused while I let his fingers touch mine. "This is Kurt and that's Steve."
"Hi Steve." I looked at him and he was the shy one, I thought, keeping his hands to himself, but smiling back at me.
"Did you pass the class?" Kurt asked, and he didn't offer me his hand either.
"I think so, yeah. I aced my practical anyway," I told him, feeling my heart leap and playing cool. He remembered me! "Thanks to you."
Kurt's two friends were curious now, looking to him for some explanation.
"Good. Warners told me you're her prize." He smiled and I thought him so wonderfully tall, over six feet easily, and broad shouldered and narrow waisted, and…yeah…His soft brown eyes, gentle and warm just like I remembered.
"She did?" I narrowed my eyes a little, not quite understanding why my teacher would say something like that to him.
"Can I get you something to drink, Kris?" Dave asked, and I nodded, smiling politely at him for a second, but all of my energy was focused on Kurt and they knew it.
"You know how they like to brag," Kurt explained. "She let me see your drawing."
"Oh." I reddened a little, but only because I had no idea he might have been this familiar with me. "What did you think of it?"
"Do my eyes really look like that?" he asked softly, and I felt the fluttering of wings in my stomach.
It was then, right then, that we made the connection. I don't know how it is for other people, if they can pick one second out of the millions shared and say, 'This is when we fell in love.' But we could, both of us, and I saw that recognition reflected in his eyes.
It was magic.
"So, you're an artist?" Steve said, and that seemed pretty funny, but don't ask me why.
"Yeah." I smiled, turning my head reluctantly and clearing my throat. "What do you guys do?"
"Here you go, Kris." Dave had come back, handing me a plastic cup with some margarita in it, cold and salty and extra strong, just the way Linda liked them.
"We're engineering students," Steve said. "Structural engineers, you know."
"Okay…Thanks." I smiled at Dave and took a small sip, feeling my mouth riot at the tequila. That one drink was going to last me the rest of the night probably. Two would put me on my butt.
"He wants to be an engineer," Kurt clarified. "I'm more interested in architecture."
"Hmmm…Bridges, or skyscrapers? Better condominiums?" I lifted my eyebrows playfully. "What turns you on?"
"Heh! Shopping malls." He grinned at me, taking a swallow of his beer.
"Sure, shopping malls," I said, teasing him with a doubtful smile.
"I want to design one where you can actually find a bathroom," he shrugged. "What do you want to do?"
"Me?" I brushed my hair back, buying a little time to decide. "I want to paint you."
"You can paint me!" Dave laughed and touched my hip, which was mildly annoying.
"Really?" Kurt ignored his friend.
"Yeah," I said, biting my bottom lip. "You want to see my studio?"
"Shoot..." Dave sighed and dropped his hand, taking a large swallow of beer to wash down that bitter pill.
"You have a studio?" Steve asked, not getting it, but Kurt did.
"Don't you think we should, uh…" Kurt was smiling, "…go on a date first? A studio seems awfully personal."
"Would you like to go out with me?" I asked, feeling like a little girl at a carnival.
"Yeah, I would," he replied. "Do you want my phone number?"
"Uh-huh," I nodded, looking up into his eyes. "But I don't have a pen."
"I've got one," Steve offered, and Dave laughed at him.
"There's one in my car," Kurt said.
"Can I borrow it?" I asked.
"I don't know," he sucked at his cheek. "I got it from my insurance company. It's kinda special."
"I'll be careful with it…" I licked my lips, "…I promise."
"As long as you're careful." Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess."
He held my hand and somewhere on our way towards the front door I lost my drink. Kurt lost his too and I felt radiant. There's no other word for it. Kurt held my fingers in his gentle hand, walking close behind me as we made our way out. I could feel his presence enveloping me, wrapping me up in a warmth I'd never known before.
"Are we on our first date yet?" I asked him as we stepped into the night, turning so I could face him.
"I think so," Kurt said, and he hadn't let me go at all. He put his other hand on my waist and I stepped closer, looking up at him, putting my hands on his shoulders.
"I don't do this," I told him, needing to explain suddenly, wanting his good opinion. "I don't pick up guys and bring them home."
"I know," he said gently.
We might have kissed then, and we wanted to, but we didn't. I let him go and Kurt released me, and we walked. I'd felt that initial rush, the urgency to do everything and all at once, and I'd resisted it. We had time enough to take it slow, to make it good. The anticipation felt wonderful and I wanted to draw it out, we both did, and that's how alike we truly were. Kurt could have had me anytime he wanted, and if I'd wanted to kiss him and touch him, the man wouldn't have stopped me. We'd come to an agreement though, a silent promise to wait until our desire became unbearable, and that feeling was like nothing else in the world.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" We were half a mile and twenty minutes past the party.
"Only between mothers and sons," Kurt replied.
"Oh." I had to think about that and then I laughed. "What?"
"Well, daughters too," he chuckled, "but, I'm a boy...so…Oh! No." He gave me a real laugh. "I don't have an Oedipus thing going. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." I stayed close to him, feeling Kurt's hand on my hip as we walked. The night had turned cool and I wore his jacket over my shoulders.
"I definitely believe in love at second sight though," he told me.
"Your mom's pretty important to you, huh?" I said, deciding to change the subject. Love frightened me and I'd brought it up to test myself as much as him. I'd known the man for half an hour.
"Aren't they always?" he asked. "I'm an only child. My dad was always working; always gone it seemed like."
"Me too," I said. "I mean, I don't have any brothers or sisters. My dad came home every night though, so…"
"Mine's a regional manager for Prudential. You know, the Rock?" He smiled. "So he travels a lot."
"I want a lot of kids," I told him. "I hated being by myself."
"Oh yeah?" Kurt gave me just the barest squeeze. "Me too. Like six or something."
"Six?" I giggled. "I was thinking like, four is a lot."
"Yeah, maybe, four's a good number too."
"Two boys and two girls," I sighed. "That would be good."
"What about five?" He teased me with a grin and I laughed.
We found a café still open, one of the all night places serving caffeine and sugar to college kids, and we sat down, having a little pie.
"Fruit pies are way better than cream pies, I think." I'd asked for a slice of cherry pie and it was sweet.
"Why's that?" Kurt asked around a bite of banana cream pie.
"Cause a pie oughta be baked," I decided. "It can't be a real pie if it doesn't go in the oven."
"Hmmm…" he thought for a second. "How about pumpkin pie, what's that?"
"That's a real pie," I said. "It's baked."
"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" he asked. "Christmas, all that good stuff?"
"Probably," I shrugged. "Not Thanksgiving, but Christmas and New Years, yeah."
"Me too," he nodded. "My birthday's the day after Christmas."
"Really?" I smiled at that. "Mine's the day before Christmas."
"Oh yeah?" He gave me a little look. "Nineteen eighty…What?"
"You first," I said, licking my fork slowly.
"Eighty-five," he told me, watching my tongue.
"Me too!" I giggled. "Seriously."
"I'm older than you," I realized.
"Heh…By two days? Does that count?"
"Of course it does," I said. "You're just a kid."
"Yeah, okay…And you're an older woman," Kurt chuckled. "You ever get weird presents?"
"Weird ones?" I narrowed my eyes.
"I used to get like one roller blade on Christmas day," Kurt explained. "And then I'd get the other one…"
"On your birthday?" I giggled. "Yeah! God, I thought that was just me!"
"Your parents did that too?" Kurt shook his head. "They still do it. One of my presents is always something that comes in two's…Cufflinks, or something like that."
"Yeah," I agreed, "My dad likes that. He gets me earrings usually and I have no idea how he gets two boxes for them, but he does."
"Dads have special powers."
"Yeah. They do." I smiled, sitting back a little. "You'd be a pretty good dad, I think."
"Think so?" Kurt kept his face straight. "Thanks."
"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked, and I felt so comfortable right then.
"Baseball?" I stared at him. "It's winter outside."
"No, not yet," he shrugged. "I love baseball. There's a bunch of us playing, just having fun."
"You want to come out?" Kurt asked. "We can have a little lunch, play some baseball, and then…I dunno, whatever you want to do."
"You want me to watch you play baseball in November?" I rolled my eyes.
"No! I want you to play," he said with a grin. "We need a second basemen."
"I don't even know where second base is!" I giggled. "No thanks."
"Awww…Tomorrow night then, will you have dinner with me?" Kurt leaned forward, fixing me with his smile.
"Yeah," I smiled back. "Dinner I can do."
He walked me to my dorm and it was surprisingly late. Time had just disappeared and it was hard saying goodnight to the man.
"Tomorrow you have to bring your own coat," Kurt teased me, and I felt a little bad because he must have been freezing.
"I will," I promised, shrugging his jacket off my shoulders and rubbing my arms.
"Okay." He looked down at me and we were quiet for a few seconds. "Goodnight, Kris."
"Goodnight." I licked my lips. "I had fun."
"Me too." He nodded and that was it. Our first date was ending and he didn't even try to kiss me, but it was in his eyes and that was better somehow.
"I'm gonna marry you," I said under my breath, walking away and letting him watch my pleated skirt until I went through the doors. I looked back at the last moment and only then because I had to, and Kurt hadn't moved an inch.
I was hopelessly in love.
"Hello?" I answered the phone after about a dozen rings; rather hoping whoever it was would give up before I made my way into the kitchen.
"Kris? Hi, this is Nancy Chambers," a woman said, and when I didn't reply immediately, "Amy's mother?"
"Oh, right. I'm sorry." I nodded into the phone. "Hi. What can I do for you?"
My first thought, naturally, was that Amy had told her mother how I'd had her model for me. That wouldn't have been terribly awful though. Artists had a lot of license with models, even teenage girls, and I doubted the girl's mother would have been too upset by that. From what I'd gathered, Amy had been modeling a long time and so Mom would be plenty experienced with the sometimes intimate necessities of artistic expression. I was even quite sure the contract specified Amy was available for nudes, with parental permission, which I'd had, so underwear wasn't a big deal.
The next thought, following a millisecond later, was much less encouraging. Amy might have told her mom about my personal portfolio, the one dedicated to my husband and his beautiful body. She'd seen every part of the man, front and back, in every possible situation. From sleeping on his stomach, to masturbating in the shower, Amy had gotten a real eyeful. This, I thought, was Mom calling to read me the riot act before she called Margie, or worse. I wasn't sure I could be in a lot of legal trouble; art was art. But still, after my experience with Kurt that morning, I wouldn't have been surprised at more bad news.
I braced myself, expecting the worst.
"We're just up the street, in the Village, and it looks like Amy's going to be finished here a lot earlier than we thought," Nancy explained quickly. "You mentioned that you wanted her to model for you again next Saturday, but since we're already here…"
"Oh!" I was actually surprised that I wasn't in trouble.
"…I thought I'd give you a call and see if you could use her today," the woman continued, but I'd already made up my mind.
"Yeah, absolutely," I agreed quickly. "I'd love to use her today."
"Great." Nancy was smiling, I could tell. "We'll have an early lunch and I'll bring her by about noon. Is that okay?"
"Perfect, yeah," I said, feeling my heart picking up speed.
"Alright, Kris, we'll see you then. Bye."
"Goodbye." I turned off the phone.
"What's perfect?" Kurt surprised me and I jumped slightly, then turned. I couldn't hide either my excitement or my guilt.
"Uh, I'm getting a model." I tried to smile. "Amy, the girl in the picture? That was her mom."
"I see." He pursed his lips, staring at me for a few seconds before opening the refrigerator for some bottled water.
He was a little red and damp with sweat, his t-shirt stained and clinging to his body. Kurt's shorts, which weren't really tight, were clinging to him as well. I felt a rush of heat as I watched him move, staring at his ass when he turned and bent over at the waist. I wanted Kurt again, which seemed ridiculous somehow, like I was becoming a nymphomaniac or something. I'd practically raped him coming through the front door the previous evening, and last night we'd made love after hitting a few clubs uptown. Now, here I was standing in the kitchen, seeing him fresh from a long run through the park, and all I could think about was being taken by the man on our kitchen table.
Kurt wasn't going to be in much of a mood for that though, I didn't think, not after telling him that the girl I wanted him to molest was coming over. That was his opinion and I knew it. I should have been happy to find out that my husband wasn't interested in fourteen-year-old girls, or any other girls for that matter. He loved and wanted me. I should have felt relieved and confident and encouraged by that knowledge, but I wasn't. The fantasy that I'd kept buried for a year, or perhaps longer than that since I'd become aware of it, was spoiling it for us. I wanted more than a husband to love me, or I needed Kurt to express his love in some other way, in a way that seemed completely at odds with the very definition of love. It was a paradox and it was eating away at me inside.
"She called me," I said defensively. "I wasn't looking for her."
"But it's perfect, right?" Kurt drank some water.
"You'll get to meet Amy," I said, nodding in agreement because I could never lie to him.
"I think I'll go to the office," he said, and he was trying to spite me, which made me angry as he knew it would.
"Kurt, please…" I pushed my anger aside, moving close to him and putting my arms around the man I loved. "Just do this one thing, for me? I just want you to meet her, that's all. Try it and if I'm wrong…"
"If you're wrong?" Kurt looked down at me and reluctantly put his hand on the back of my head, hugging me to his chest. He did love me, more than anything else in the world, and he wanted to understand.
"…I'll see it. I'll know it." I could smell his sweat, the humid musk of his body, and my nipples hardened against him. "It's just a fantasy, that's all. We don't actually have to do anything."
"Then why do this?" he asked reasonably. "If you don't have to, then why…"
"I don't know." I kissed him through his t-shirt, sliding my hands down to his hard chiseled ass, feeling his muscles even there. "I just need it, please? Meet her for me. Let me see you together. That's all."
"Kris, Kris, Kris…" he sighed softly. "I love you so much."
"Do this for me, Kurt." I kissed him again, sliding down his body slowly. I kissed his stomach, running my hands down the back of his thighs, sinking to my knees in front of him. "Make me happy…Try it for me…"
He was semi-hard already and I mouthed Kurt's cock through the cotton of his shorts, pressing my face against him and filling my senses with my husband's growing arousal. Giving him sex wasn't going to bribe Kurt into anything, I had no illusions about that. I'd always appreciated the fact that he wasn't some mindless guy who'd do anything for an orgasm. I loved his self-control and discipline. Kurt thought with his mind and felt with his heart, unlike a few guys I'd known who were so centered around their dicks it was amazing they could get out of bed in the morning.
I was doing this as much for me as for him, and there wasn't any trade to be made. Kurt would do as I asked only if he wanted to, only if he thought it was the best thing for both of us, or failing that, if he felt the desire to see me happy. That's what love is, by Kurt's definition; love is when another person's happiness is more important than your own. He'd told me that and I'd responded that love is when someone's happiness is essential to your own. We'd explored the differences together over a long weekend at a bed and breakfast in Martha's Vineyard and all we'd settled upon was that we were hopelessly in love with each other.
I was afraid to examine myself to see if I was betraying that.
"Mmmm…" Kurt smiled down at me, leaning against the refrigerator as I tugged at his shorts, and then his jock, which he always wore when exercising. I guess his big cock and healthy balls, and they were generous like the rest of him, needed the support. I didn't mind at all. He looked amazingly sexy in a tight, white jock strap, the ribbed pouch filled with the bulge of my husband's cock. Seeing him like that was always intensely erotic for me.
His penis sprang free, not completely hard yet, but almost, standing out from his body and curving downward. It was sticky with sweat, like the rest of his body, and the smell of his recent exercise was like an aphrodisiac. The rich, heady musk of his body after a workout was a scent I wanted to bathe in. I could taste him on my tongue and I loved Kurt's cock in a purely selfish, animal way. He was large and hot and heavy, surprisingly so, and Kurt's penis looked like it belonged in one of the few porn movies I'd seen. I could barely get my fingers around it, and even with both hands holding him, there was more to hold in my mouth.
I opened wide, catching the smooth head of my husband's cock between my lips and lifting to straighten that thick shaft. I gave him head often as foreplay and he enjoyed it a lot, but only rarely had he ever finished in my mouth. It wasn't because I didn't want him to, but only because we so often ended up making love. That was what we enjoyed most, both of us, and oral sex was just to get us ready. I was in a mood for him now though, and I think Kurt sensed this and reciprocated my desires. I wanted to please him, to taste his orgasm while I knelt fully clothed on the kitchen floor. It was submissive, there's no other word, and I wanted that feeling. I wanted my husband towering above me, strong and unwashed and watching as I worshipped his manhood.
I took the head and more, sucking gently as I worked my tongue around the glans, ticking beneath it and then laving the whole as best I could. I was filled with him, my small mouth overwhelmed as he continued to grow larger. I was squeezing and stroking him with both hands, sliding his velvet soft skin over the hardening muscle beneath. I worked to control my breathing and resisted the occasional urge to cough or gag as his cock would touch the back of my mouth. I kept my lips tightly stretched around him, bobbing my head back and forth slowly. I gave him the best blowjob I knew how, bringing a hand to cup his heavy sperm-filled balls. I massaged them carefully, rolling his precious orbs in my delicate fingers.
When I pulled my mouth away, swallowing spit and precum and drinking cool air, my husband sighed and smoothed the hair from my face. I kissed his cock, the length of him, letting his long shaft slide over my face wetly, trailing his juice across my flushed skin. I licked and kissed and nibbled at Kurt's flesh, working my way to the base and then pressing my lips and tongue against his balls. I continued to hold him with my left hand, gathering my soft hair in my fingers and wrapping it around my husband's penis. I sucked one of his balls into my mouth, washing it gently while I jerked him off in a golden pillow across my cheek and temple.
My right hand was between Kurt's muscular thighs, turned upward so I could feel his ass. I worked my fingers between his smooth, round cheeks. He was damp there, the crevice of his ass only sparsely covered with a few fine dark hairs, barely noticeable as I sucked his testes harder, bringing my fingers to his anus. I paused long enough to slide the middle finger into my mouth, sucking and wetting it with my saliva, and then I took his other testicle into my mouth while I worked that slick finger against my husband's asshole.
He enjoyed that sort of ass play while I gave him head and I loved every part of the man. I pushed my finger inside his ass slowly, coaxing him to relax with my muffled murmurs of loving devotion. I went back to his cock with my mouth as I pushed my middle finger inside his rectum to the second knuckle, sucking my husband's cock eagerly while he held my head in his hands. I could feel his asshole clenched hotly around my digit as I kept it there, not moving in or out, but more wiggling it gently, giving him a pleasurable sensation while I moved my mouth up and down on his cock rapidly.
I was taking more of him now, but by no means more than a few inches. He was simply too large for me to get much more than a quarter of that wonderful cock inside my mouth. Some woman someplace could probably deep throat a cock that sized, but it was ever beyond my skills, and so I had to content myself with sucking as much as I could and stroking the fat length of him I couldn't with my left hand. I think he liked that anyway, watching my engagement and wedding rings sliding back and forth over his ruddy muscle, seeing my grey-blue eyes staring up into his face as I loved him. My soft lips were pulled tight around his cock as Kurt began moving with me, unable to help himself now. He could feel his orgasm approaching and his fingers were strong in my hair, gripping me with increasing urgency as he fucked my face.
This was good for us; it had been too long since I'd just concentrated on making him happy. My body quivered inside and out. My pussy had become slick with frustration, clasping angrily at the emptiness inside and begging to be filled. I ignored that desperate want, shoved it aside as I stared into my husband's eyes, imploring him to cum for us. I wanted to feel his cock shooting into my mouth, filling me with his vigorous seed. I'd swallow him happily, drinking my husband's pleasure. He was breathing harder, his mouth open and his pink tongue working across his lips. He was close now and I pushed my finger deeper, ignoring the small discomfort in my wrist as it turned awkwardly. I wanted to reach his prostate, to find that soft part of him and make him feel good. His cockhead lunged repeatedly into my mouth, filling the kitchen with the loud, wet, and utterly sexy sound of our oral lovemaking.
Kurt groaned, his ass squeezing around my finger as he suddenly pulled my face hard against him. I did gag then, it was unavoidable, and a thick, warm flood of semen erupted into my mouth. It overfilled me completely, the cum spurting from the corners of my mouth as if a dam had burst. I fought the instinctive urge to pull back and I swallowed hard, again and again, feeling nothing but the overwhelming pleasure of my husband's ejaculate filling my tummy. I milked his cock with my hand, working to get as much of his cum into my mouth as possible. It was already a lot, too much even, as it spilled down my chin and dripped onto my heaving breasts and thighs.
I was stained with his essence, filled with Kurt's potent seed, and I had only the small regret that I hadn't taken him inside my perhaps fertile womb instead.
My husband pulled back slowly, still releasing his orgasm, but slower now. His cock throbbed in time with his heart, pulsing beneath my fingers, and I breathed cool air into my lungs. My mouth was coated with sperm, as was Kurt's cockhead, and I caught my breath quickly before setting to work cleaning us up with my tongue. I withdrew my finger from his ass slowly, slipping it between my bruised lips while he watched. I scooped up the drips and drops of his orgasm from my t-shirt and jeans, bringing the remnants to my lips as well. I wiped semen off the floor and ate it while Kurt stared at me, nodding his head and smiling at my uncharacteristic behavior.
"Are you still going to the office?" I breathed, kissing his thigh, stroking his skin as I stayed on my knees.
"I'll meet this girl," Kurt cleared his throat. "If that's what you really want."
"Yeah, I do," I said softly, feeling the excitement inside me stronger than ever. It was so difficult to remain there, to stay calm at my husband's feet.
We were quiet for a few minutes and it was odd, perhaps, that we'd be so comfortable like that, but we were. My husband half-clothed and me on my knees in the kitchen. Neither of us talking, or moving really, but just looking at each other. We'd never found silence uncomfortable and this moment was like so many others we'd shared, but different as well. Amy was there, like a ghost, and we were both thinking about her, but in very different ways I was sure.
"Do you like this?" There was another thought in my mind.
"What's that?" Kurt focused his eyes on mine.
"Nevermind." I shook my head and if he was going to pursue it, he changed his mind and let it go.
"I'd better get a shower," he sighed, stroking my hair.
"Do you want me to wash your back?" I gave him an impish look, turning my face so I could kiss his palm. "I'll let you wash mine."
"This really turns you on, doesn't it?" Kurt said, and he was smiling. Not teasing me, but genuinely surprised, I think.
"I told you it did." I held up my hands so he could take them and help me to my feet. "Does it turn you on?"
"You turn me on." He pulled me close enough so he could bend his lips to mine. "I don't need anything else."
"Mmmm…" I sighed as our kiss ended, licking my lips. "But you still haven't told me what you think about."
"Don't start that again!" Kurt chuckled. "Come on, let's get you wet. What time's this girl coming?"
"Too late," I giggled, already quite soaked as he led me by the hand. "Um, noon…She'll be here at noon."
"Just don't be disappointed, okay?" he said, giving me a close look over his shoulder, and I nodded.
"Hi!" Amy stood on my doorstep, smiling happily and all by herself this time.
"Hi." I smiled back at her. "Where's your mom?"
"Oh, I dunno. Getting her hair done or something." She wrinkled her nose and her hazel eyes were bright and cheerful. "She just dropped me off."
"Okay." I shrugged at that and let the fourteen-year-old in.
"I can stay until five, then she's picking me up," Amy said, looking around comfortably. She combed her hair back with her fingers, thick and wavy and almost auburn, tucking it behind her ears.
"Great, that's cool," I agreed. "Did you eat already?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She nodded and then kind of froze, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Hi," Kurt's voice came from the kitchen doorway.
"Hi," Amy breathed. The girl even blushed, her innocent face turned slightly pink, and she looked amazing like that.
"Kurt, this is Amy, the girl who modeled for me yesterday," I said, putting on a little act for her benefit, and then my husband's. "This is my husband, Kurt."
"Nice to meet you, Amy," he said gently. I'd briefly worried that he might try and turn the girl away immediately, but my husband wasn't like that. He wouldn't be rude or selfish, or punish her for my mistakes.
"Hi, yeah." She licked her lips and smiled. I knew she was remembering the paintings I'd shown her, the nudes of my husband, and they were fresh in her teenage mind.
"Hey, um, how about I do the two of you together?" I sucked my bottom lip and looked between Kurt and Amy. "For the Lolita thing, it'll be good."
"What's that?" Kurt smiled at me but I could tell he wasn't really happy with my idea. Meeting Amy was one thing, posing with the girl all afternoon…
"Really?" Amy's eyes grew large as she pulled her attention back to me.
"Yeah." I grinned at her and then turned pleading eyes on Kurt. "Come on, please? I haven't painted you in so long. It'll be fun."
"Oh!" He gave me a sarcastic smile. "Posing is fun now? When did that start?"
Amy giggled and she could hardly take her eyes off the man, and I took that as a good sign. Kurt gave her a smile, one of his real ones, and whatever my problems might be, it was hard for Kurt to blame the smiling young model as she stood there. It wasn't Amy's fault I was a little crazy and my husband knew it.
It took some work, a lot of silent begging and playful words on my part to convince him to pose with Amy, but ten minutes later I had them both in my studio. It had actually been a little easier than I would have expected and I wondered if Kurt had agreed only to please me, or because he found Amy interesting. I wanted to believe both reasons and as well as I knew my husband, Kurt had always retained some small ability to frustrate my complete understanding of him. His motives were hidden at times and that's part of the mystery of love, really. I liked being curious, as most women do.
"Okay. I want to do this nude, I think." I looked at Amy, who was wearing jeans today and a pink blouse. "Will that be okay for you?"
"You want me nude?" She blinked at me. "Or, um…"
"Nudes?" Kurt rolled his eyes and he was suspicious, naturally. If he had secrets from me, I was an open book for him.
"Both of you," I decided. "You can change in there, Amy, and Kurt can use the bedroom." I smiled at him. "You know where it is. I'll get Amy a robe."
"Uh, hold on, Kris…" He smiled at me for Amy's benefit, but was already shaking his head.
"What?" I frowned at him. "She's available for nudes, I checked, and you…Well, I've seen you naked before, dear."
"Amy hasn't," my husband pointed out. "And I'm not sure how she feels about being naked in front of a strange man."
"It's okay. I was naked all morning for Paul," she told us with a shrug and a giggle. "He's pretty strange."
"She's seen you naked too." I grinned at the look on my husband's face when I told him that. "I opened the wrong portfolio by accident yesterday."
"Oh!" Amy gave a little gasp and I think she'd rather that had stayed our little secret.
"The wrong portfolio?" Kurt tilted his head "What?"
"It's okay, we're all professionals here." I pushed him towards the bedroom. "I'll write you a check after were done, now go on. Don't be shy."
"This is a bad idea," he whispered.
"It's just art," I whispered back, kissing his cheek for good luck.
"She's just a kid. What are you doing?"
"If she's just a kid, then what's the problem?" I challenged him. "You're the one saying it doesn't matter, that nothing will happen, right? So prove it to me."
"Just show me," I insisted. "Or do you want to change your mind?"
"This isn't just about us," my husband resisted. "She's a person. She has feelings."
"She's a model and besides, you'll let her down easy. I know you."
"Nothing's going to happen."
"That's what you keep saying," I shrugged. "So prove it."
"It isn't going to work." Kurt finally smiled, shaking his head and walking away.
"You're not gonna be in trouble with him, are you?" Amy asked. She'd seen us talking, but I didn't think she'd heard anything.
"Trouble?" I giggled. "No, he just hasn't posed in front of anyone else since college. He's nervous."
"Because of me?" She laughed and stuck out her tongue as I led her into the adjoining room.
"Yeah." I smiled at her. "Boys are like that."
"He can't be as nervous as I am," she confessed, and started unbuttoning her blouse. "I've never posed with someone else, especially a man like that…I mean, you know…"
I grinned at her sheepish smile as the girl remembered Kurt was my husband. There was a robe hanging on the wall and I held it while Amy undressed. I took in her puffy breasts once more, those marvelous pink nipples so generous and pointing out from her smallish breasts wonderfully. The soft tummy she had with a just a touch of baby fat to accentuate her form, that magical shape a female possesses when she's neither a girl nor a woman, but something of both all at once. I found her breathtaking, much as I had the day before, and seeing her sex exposed as the girl removed her panties forced me to look away. Her immature pussy was small and sparsely covered with thin curling hair, brown and hiding nothing of her thin pink lips as they clung together, tucked safely away inside her delicate slit. It was a perfect pussy, sweet and innocent and lovely as the rest of her.
"Here you go." I held the robe open so Amy could slip it on and we emerged into my studio to find Kurt in his old blue bathrobe looking unsure of himself.
"This feels kinda weird," she whispered with giggle.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," I said softly, my good conscience finally asserting itself, but I really didn't want her to change her mind.
"No, I want to," she insisted, turning her head as Kurt watched us with a curious expression. "I really do."
"Where are we doing this?" he wondered, looking at Amy, smiling at her. It reassured the girl, I think, as Amy smiled back and lowered her eyes.
"Right over here, on the stool." I walked them towards the windows and the open doors leading to our balcony, pulling the stool where I wanted it.
"Both of us?" Kurt chuckled doubtfully; the stool wasn't overly large.
"Yeah," I said, pushing my excitement aside and going into full tilt artist mode. "I'm doing Lolita, so…Yeah. I want you, Kurt…Come here, you're going to sit like this…Take this off now, this leg…Up…this one down, turn…Hold on…"
I had my husband naked now, his robe fell to the floor and I kicked it away with my foot. The stool was comfortable enough with a padded leather cushion on the round seat. I had his legs slightly apart, his left foot on the floor, right foot on the lower rung of the stool, and now I needed Amy.
Kurt had been watching her mostly, but glancing down every so often to see how much or little of his manhood I was exposing. What she was doing, I had no idea, all my attention was on my husband and while I knew that whatever work I did with my two models had no practical value, I still wanted to do the best art I could. It became an obsession, like it always was, that part of my mind taking over and becoming detached and focused. It helped Kurt relax anyway, as my mood became more familiar, and he understood that much about me at least. I had a rather consuming passion for my art once I got started.
"Okay, now…Amy, let's take this off, and I want you to…Come here, Kurt. You have to hold her, take her by the hips and lift…Just put her down, there…Amy, put your legs around him, that's it…Not too close…Turn a little, how's that?"
There was a lot of giggling, and not just from Amy. Kurt was laughing lightly and as nervous as I'd ever seen him in my life. I grinned at the effect having a naked and gorgeous fourteen-year-old girl squirming in his lap was having on my husband. He'd told me that he had no interest in teenage girls, sexually or otherwise, but I couldn't imagine any man not going for Amy in a big way. She was a professional model for a reason and it wasn't just because of her looks, she had that extra…Something. You wanted to like her, to love her even, and compared with a lot of models I'd met, Amy's personality was as sweet and innocent as they came.
"Am I holding you too tight?" Kurt asked softly, and Amy shook her head.
"No, it's…nice." She could barely get the words out before Amy bit her bottom lip with some small pleasure.
I stepped back and I had Amy sitting on my husband's lap facing him, her legs spread around his waist as he held her. Kurt's hands were on her hips, or more properly almost on her ass, while she straddled his thighs. She had her hands on his shoulders and I moved them, putting Amy's right hand on his neck, and her left against his stomach. I had her leaning back slightly and then a little more, as much as was comfortable for them, accentuating the suggested sexual union and separating their hearts and minds as the two bodies diverged.
I made some adjustments, wanting my two lovers entwined from the waist down and Kurt's penis wasn't hard yet, but it was threatening. He was thinking about something. His mom, apple pie, baseball, anything other than Amy, because her barely mature sex was splayed and oh so vulnerable just inches above his cock. I made a note of it, my tummy roiling with butterflies, but my mind stayed focused and clear on the image I wanted, the story they were telling me with their pose. The contrast between the older man and the child, the closeness and distance, the way Kurt held Amy and she was pushing and pulling at him all at once.
He was giving me dirty looks and I knew my husband wanted to voice his concerns, probably give me a hard time about taking unfair advantage of the situation. If Kurt had known I intended to pose them this way, he never would have agreed. I think it was only Amy and her willingness to do what I asked that kept Kurt's frustrations in check. The girl didn't complain, or say much of anything, she just smiled and her body felt feverish everywhere I touched her. She could hardly breathe it seemed and if Kurt was fighting his growing arousal, Amy was surrendering to hers completely.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asked and Amy nodded, making a soft sound of agreement in her throat, but unable or unwilling to try speaking just then.
Amy's nipples were stiff now, not merely puffy, but swollen and hard. I reached between my two models, putting my right hand on the small of Amy's back and my left hand going to her left breast, brushing that nub of cherry flesh as I took her body and turned the girl slightly. It made her gasp and her wide eyes darted to my face as she held her breath against the pressure of my hands on her body.
"This is good." I swallowed hard and my own body was burning from within as I let her go and stepped back, taking in the two of them posed together as I'd only dared imagine. "Amy, I want you looking up a little more, into Kurt's eyes, okay? Open your mouth again, just a bit…Just that bottom lip, a little breathless, right?…And your hair, let me see…"
"Kris, maybe this isn't…" Kurt started, but I cut him off.
"Don't look at me," I chided him, now that I had Amy the way I wanted her. "I'm going to get most of your face. I want your eyes, okay? So look at her, but turn your head so I can see them…Follow him, Amy…Kurt, look at her and stop…There! Perfect…Don't! Move! I need some pictures first."
I used my Polaroid to empty a fresh film cartridge, laying two dozen photos to develop along my bench, and then allowed myself a contented sigh. If nothing else, I had pictures of my fantasy come to life and I closed my eyes for just a second, letting myself bathe in that success. This wasn't art, it was pornography, I thought. I had a teenage girl and a man nearly twice her age together, making love, my husband and this child, this fertile young woman who'd never known disappointment in her life. That was what I loved about her and him together; the promise, the potential, the future possibilities. I'd had that once and now it was gone. I was grown up and living with my past, living with who I was and my frustrated yearnings, but Amy…It was all ahead of her and that's what Kurt didn't understand.
"Okay, you guys can breathe and talk or whatever, just don't move too much. I'm gonna sketch for a bit and then we'll take a break. Are you guys okay like that? Comfortable?"
I turned on my little stereo, digging out some old David Bowie, the stuff from Berlin, Station to Station, just to give my ears something to do while my eyes and fingers worked. Kurt wasn't big on Bowie, and Amy had probably never heard of the guy, but they had their hands full anyway and it was my studio. My rules.
"I'm okay," Kurt agreed, and then he asked Amy: "How are you doing?"
"I'm, uh…fine." She nodded slightly and I could see her legs tighten as her butt shifted over my husband's thighs. His pubic hair must have been tickling her tiny pink clitoris, I thought, or maybe something else was teasing her by then. Amy just couldn't seem to sit still.
"You guys look good together," I said, getting comfortable in my old swivel chair, rocking back with a big sketchpad over my knees. "She's so pretty, isn't she, Kurt?"
"Yeah. She's very…pretty," my husband replied carefully, and they were staring into each other's eyes, they didn't have a choice now.
I watched his hands as they moved, just ever so slightly. He held Amy's soft round hips and ass, his large hands covering so much of her flushed skin. She looked tiny in his arms and I could see her own fingers on Kurt's neck, they were moving as well, nervously perhaps, stroking his muscles and feeling his strength.
"Give me those eyes, Kurt…No, look at her, but turn your head…Good," I nodded. "Now tell her she's beautiful, I want to see it…Go ahead…"
"You have to sell it." I clucked my tongue and giggled. "Go on, talk to her, Kurt. You guys aren't saying anything. It's okay, I like it when you relax, you know."
I watched as Kurt shifted slightly, his brow creased with a look of concentration I'd rarely seen from him. I pushed my chair slightly, just enough so that I could see the bottom of Amy's pert ass, each cheek perfectly round and pulled apart to reveal not only her pink anus, but her taut sex as well. With her legs spread wide, her vulva had no choice but to blossom around the length of hard cock pressing against it. Kurt's erection was trapped as it tried to stand upright and I swallowed hard at the sight of them joined, but without any penetration at all, really. Amy was riding the shaft as the smooth glans reached past her pussy and between her pale buttocks.
The vision struck me as both incredibly beautiful and wonderfully obscene.
I felt my cunt spasm and my stomach churned, knowing this girl, this young woman, was feeling Kurt's cock against her sex. Amy was a virgin, I reminded myself, she had to be. Her very first cock was caressing her most intimate, female place and all Kurt had to do was lift her a few precious inches. He could bring his mouth to those barely formed breasts while his cock surged upright to impale the girl completely. He would lower Amy slowly, carefully while she clung to him, and his turgid prick would part those thin lips and stretch her nether mouth wide, claiming her virginity and soon enough her fertile womb.
Amy was trembling, I realized. In her shoulders, that was the only place I could see it, and her knees maybe? Yeah, her thighs were shaking. She was scared to death, or stimulated beyond reason. Probably both of those and more, I decided. She was excited and confused, her body awakened for the first time in her life. I mean, really awakened, with a man's flesh against hers, a man's eyes looking into her heart and soul. And she was bravely looking back, growing up in silence and trying to understand those new feelings.
Kurt spoke to her, whispering, and I could see his lips move, the tip of his tongue every now and again between his sensual lips, and Amy would nod, or more often swallow thickly. The girl's breasts were rising and falling with some urgency now as she struggled to draw cool air into her body. Kurt's penis was wet, the tip glistening as clear precum appeared, the dew of his arousal pausing at the tip and then spilling down the dark glans to fall to the floor. He was moving, barely and I couldn't know if it was deliberate or just an unexpected reaction to the girl's nervous energy. They were struggling, both of them together, locked in their embrace and feigning indifference, but it was so obvious, their passion so completely revealed and if they were aware of me, of anything beyond each other, I could see nothing of it.
I sketched as quickly as I could, tearing away at my pad and loosing the images I'd captured so that they scattered on the hardwood floor around me. I was stealing the moment and in truth only portions of it. Their eyes and their hands on one page, the way Amy's legs wrapped around my husband's waist on another. I recorded her muscles growing tight as she pulled herself closer and Kurt was holding her, his fingers indenting the girl's excited flesh. Amy's skin turned white where his fingers dug deep, and she was florid everywhere else, ruddy with a passionate glow my pencils could not grasp.
I was wet, my sex running hot and humid between my thighs. My whole body seemed to quiver with electricity and only my hands and eyes remained steady. I was in a rush, pushing myself to finish before I might orgasm because it was so close now. A touch was all I needed, a whisper upon my clit and I would collapse completely, and my desperation was a mirror of theirs. Amy would burst with the slightest provocation now, if Kurt would only brush her lips with his, the girl would be lost completely. She was begging for it, pleading with her eyes and fingers and the measure of her sex against my husband's hungry cock. She was grinding, helpless to do otherwise, and the hand on his stomach weakened as she leaned forward, her resistance failing so that she could feel her lover's breath upon her face.
"Lets…" I cleared my throat, "…uh, take a break. You can…get up and…okay…"
I dropped my eyes as the two of them were startled into motion, Amy pushing herself back to her original position, Kurt turning his head to blink at me as if he'd forgotten I was there. They made guilty sounds, taking deep breaths and giggling softly, and then finally Kurt was lifting the girl, letting Amy untangle herself and I could see their reluctance as she gained her feet unsteadily. Amy stretched and looked away quickly as Kurt's erection slid out from beneath the girl. It sprang upward and slapped his belly and Kurt covered himself as best he could, turning and reaching for his robe while Amy's eyes returned to see him again and again.
I left them without a word, dropping my pad and going to the bathroom first with ideas of masturbation and release, but turning at the last moment. My heart was pounding and my lungs labored. I went to the kitchen sink, running cold water and splashing it on my face. This was what I'd wanted, what I'd asked for and received, and the moment proved too rich for my blood. I wanted my husband then. I wanted Kurt in my arms and in my bed and in my body. I'd seen all I needed to and my imagination was sated for the moment. The girl could go. Amy could leave us now, I thought, I wanted my husband back.
It was confusing now that I was away from them and I felt myself filled with guilt and even jealousy perhaps, some small portion of that dread emotion like a needle in my heart. I'd been right and Kurt had been wrong and I'd seen them together, my husband with that beautiful girl, wanting her and touching her and aroused only for her. My feelings were unjust and unreasonable while I washed my face and neck and down to the tops of my breasts. What had I expected to happen? What did I want to happen? I'd thought I'd known, but now…I just wanted Kurt back.
They were standing on the balcony, outside in the sunlight with their bathrobes tied loosely, leaning over the railing with their backs to me. Their bodies were close, their hips touching as they looked out and down. I heard Amy laughing and Kurt had his arm around her, behind her waist as he held the wrought iron and trapped the girl beside him. They looked as lovers, the man and the girl, and Amy's left foot was up, her toes digging at the marble tiles while her hips moved, only slightly, side to side as she rubbed against my husband. They were lovers now, or so nearly so that it didn't matter. They'd shared something new and different, something I'd never known with the man I was married to, and my heart stammered to see it, the excitement returning unbidden and perhaps unwanted.
I was of a mind to speak, to draw them away from each other and assert myself between them somehow. Instead, I sat down in my chair, closing my eyes for a long moment before picking up my pad and pencil, decided in my confusion to share the moment in the only way I could.