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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Slice of Cheesecake #4: Danny
by Ze Orange Yeah (luvbunneh@aol.com)
***
At one time I was the lover of a talented artist...
flattering, but true. To be the muse of someone like
that is almost like being Venus de Milo... how could a
woman NOT love that sort of attention? (MF, rom, fant)
***
At one time I lived with an artist. He wasn't just any
artist, but a fabulous, semi-famous artist, the kind
that every woman wants until she's got him and then she
realizes what a womanizing whore he really is, and how
much she really doesn't need an artist that bad. He was
a painter, a brilliant one too, who worked mostly with
oils, acrylics, and the occasional pastel... he worked
with vibrant reds, bright blues, and blacks, his
paintings looked like something that just slithered out
of hell on the shoulders of a pale, luminous, gorgeous,
sensual, red-headed sex goddess, filled with strange,
abstract monsters and nude, delicious women.
Of course I loved his work, when with an artist one
must love his work as much or more than you love him,
because if you don't, you're screwed. You won't last
ten minutes unless you adore his work. Many painters
(At least all that I know) are egotistical freaks who
demand eternal attention and flattery, and will
basically go spastic unless they receive the attention
they crave.
Well, Danny was fabulous, gorgeous, divine; pale skin
that didn't look sallow or pasty, dark brown, almost
black, curls graced his head, a roman profile with a
big nose, full, sensual, uber-kissable lips, and a pair
of the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered...
dark green eyes that could just strip you down and
caress you without him ever laying a hand on you. Danny
could see everything; what you were, what you wanted to
be, the way you see yourself, the way the world
perceives you, and then the way he sees you... what he
really thought you were.
If he loved you, even if he was nothing more than
infatuated with you (I came to the conclusion early on
that he would never love anybody more than he loved
himself, and I was right. He left me for himself
without even a phone call.).
When Dan would paint you, or do sketches, drawings,
even doodlings of you, you felt like a goddess, like
the reason the world was created, and while he was
loving you, you were the world, the reason for living,
for art, music, for the flowing wine (or tequila and
Southern Comfort on our part), for the shining sun, the
glowing moon... you were his everything, and you felt
good. And when he left you, you felt the world crash
down around your ears for fifteen minutes, and then you
realized, slowly and dazedly, that he was nothing...
that you never loved him any more than he loved you.
That's the way he worked.
We had moved in together when his lease had run out...
in other words, a girl kicked his ass to the curb and
he wanted me and I was more than willing to share the
rent, and at the time that we moved in together we were
just friends. Danny, however, always knows how to fix
that, if only for his own self-preservation.
One night when there had been a little drinking, he had
wooed and won me, and I had woken up with a nasty
headache and something like three different nude
sketches of me, plus an entire roll of film shot for
later use on paintings and stuff. I was in awe of him
and his artistic talent... but not with his dirty
laundry and his complete lack of cleanliness when it
came to picking up his mess. But I did it; I ignored
his lack of cooperation and just placating him. Hey,
it's what I was raised to do.
At the time I had been living in Chicago, trying to get
my writing career off the ground while living in a not-
so-snazzy loft apartment in one of the lesser areas in
town, and I was working part time at two different
bars. One night I came home absolutely exhausted and
just ready to take a shower and wash all the sweat and
liquor off my skin and just sleep, but y'know, as
usual, some people occasionally have alternative plans.
When I came in I thought he might be in bed early,
which is a rarity for Danny, but hey, y'never know with
some people, so I came in quietly. While my back was
still turned towards the door locking the door, he came
up behind me, slipping his hands around my waist and
pressing himself against my body from behind; his chest
against my shoulders, his groin against my bum, his
thighs against mine, and those hands, his beautiful,
eternally paint-stained hands, untucking my uniform
blouse from my skirt.
He leaned against me and whispered, "Take it off for
me," and then walked away, and even though it was dark
everywhere but by the door where we always left on the
lava-lamp, I knew he had gone and sat down.
I heard the CD player kick on and my oldies mix kick
on... Fats Domino, "Blueberry Hill". I smiled, and
turned to face him, pretending to ignore him. If he
wanted a show, I'd give him a show. I unbuttoned the
blouse slowly, agonizingly slowly for him cus I knew
that Danny's an impatient person... to take your time
with something like undressing would torture him, make
him sweat and make him want what's inside... and that's
what I wanted.
I slipped the black and white striped blouse off my
shoulders and let it slide to the floor, stood there in
my black brassiere and my black, fitted skirt, tulip
shoes still on. I reached back slowly, letting my
fingers slide across my waist and then let my hands
linger across my hips and bum before I unzipped the
skirt, and slid it down my thighs, then let it drop
around my ankles before I stepped out of it.
There I stood in all my pale, luminescent glory, in my
garter belt, thigh highs, black push-up bra, and black
boy-thong panties, looking both wholesome and naughty,
like a woman who could eat a man up and spit him back
out again. Oh, wait... that is what I am *wink*.
Then I reached back and unclipped my hair, letting the
long, wild, red tendrils drift down around my
shoulders, and then I bent over gracefully and undid
the buckles around my ankles, loosing myself from my
shoes and then slipped them off. Then I walked slowly
over to him, picking up a short glass of bourbon that
was sitting on a table. I stood in front of him and
took a long drink, feeling his eyes all over my body,
the excitement that was more than building up inside of
him, and the way he wanted me.
I came up close to him, standing in front of him, not
having looked at him at all yet, and placed my foot on
the couch right between his legs... pretending to
concentrate on unsnapping the garter, and then sliding
the stocking down my leg and slipping it off. When I
repeated it with the other leg he groaned agonizingly
and I looked him straight in the eye as I slipped my
garter belt off. He licked his lips and moaned, low and
throaty, and I smiled wickedly at him.
He reached out and grabbed my thighs; pulled me to him,
my breasts pressed tight against his chest as he kissed
me... oh Danny always was the best kisser. His lips
played with mine as our tongues tangled, and I sucked
on his bottom lip, nibbled it and rubbed my nose
against his. He unsnapped my brassiere, freeing my
bosom, and he threw it to the side, and pushed down my
panties, making me stand up so that he could slip them
off. Then I straddled him again, wrapping my arms
around his neck kissing him harder and harder, and he
kissed my throat and caressed my body, from my throat
to my bottom, my thighs and my breasts, his hands
lingering in every crevice that he knew I enjoyed and
he would laugh, low and sensual, when I would moan and
sigh.
I slipped the t-shirt he was wearing over his head,
kissing his nipples and his collarbones, nibbling
gently at the edge of his armpit, and he pulled me
closer, ferocious and needy... greedy in his love. My
hips moved against him, and he reached to undo his
belt, and I moved his hands out of the way, sliding
down to the floor on my knees and unbuckling his pants.
I slid them down and off, and then kissed his thighs,
biting him gently behind his knees and slid my hands up
his thighs and teasingly licked the place right where
his thigh meets his groin. I slid my tongue over the
hard shaft of his cock while cradling his balls in my
hand, gently caressing them as I took all of him into
my mouth, sucking gently and massaging him with my
tongue.
He pulled me up to his lips, putting his finger under
my chin he lifted my face to his and kissed me, a long,
deep, hard, passionate kiss... the kind of kiss that
could make a girl melt from ungodly pleasure. He pulled
me close to him, with as much of my body touching his
as we could and I felt his hard, throbbing shaft
against my wet pussy as my hips gyrated and grinded
against his.
He slipped into me, my lips frozen against his as the
exquisite pleasure coursed through my body, his hard
cock deep inside of me. I rode him, pulling away from
him slowly only to crash back against him, his hands
pressed against my back, my head thrown back, the soft
groans that escaped his throat as I pushed against him,
deeper and deeper.
He cradled my face with his hands and kissed me,
sucking gently on my lower lip, and I felt him swelling
inside of me, hard and hot, pulsing in my wet pussy,
making my body quiver with pleasure. We thrust against
each other and I felt him getting bigger, hotter, and
harder, until he pulled away from me, panting as I
kissed him, almost begging for more.
Danny looked me straight in the eye and said, "Switch,"
which was plain English for me to switch positions. I
giggled as he got down on his knees on the floor in
front of me, pushing me down and kissing me, his
hardness right there at the mouth of my hot, hungry
pussy, tantalizing me in an ungodly way.
Finally he thrust deep inside of me, kneeling over me
and holding my hips up with his hands, my legs wrapped
around his waist. I put my hands above my head and
allowed my body to focus on his thrusting, the deep
pulse of him inside of me, and the more I focused, the
more I thought and the more my body became just a
vessel for pleasure, filled to the brim, almost ready
to overflow.
I cried out his name as the waves began to flow over
me, over and over and over, crashing into me and over
me, my body almost convulsing in his grasp as he thrust
into me, holding on to me and waiting until I was
almost done to cum with me.
When the waves began to crash over me until I was
thrashing in his grasp, he pumped into me, letting his
hot juices squirt deep inside of me while I almost
screamed with the pleasure he had given me.
When we had both been spent he lay on top of me, my
legs wrapped around his waist and his head on my bosom
while I caressed his neck and shoulders and played with
his hair.
"Do you know how much I love you?" he whispered.
"No. How much?" I smiled back.
"More than the sun and moon and the stars. You're my
muse, my goddess, my queen. You'll be my wife, won't
you?" he said in all seriousness.
"No, I won't," I laughed.
"Why not?" he pouted.
"Because... I'm not fool, and only a fool would tie
herself to you," I said, straight faced but satisfied.
He sighed and not long after we went to bed. Two weeks
later he moved out and into the apartment of German
model that was 6 ft, 2in, blonde, blue eyed and
practically perfect in every way. But y'know what? He
still paints red-heads constantly. In his newest
painting there was a tall, leggy red-head in nothing
but a pair of thigh-highs, a garter belt, boy-thongs,
and a black bra, not to mention the Mary-Jane high
heels. Flattering, but sad.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 32