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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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WARNING!
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The Woman
by C. C. Ridley (auto480642@hushmail.com)
***
A mature woman's chance encounter with a famous artist
opens her up to new sexual adventures. There truly is
sex after sixty. (MF, rom, exh, oral)
***
Part 1
It all began with a yellow piece of Xerox paper lying
on a small table in an artist's gallery. The woman had
come on vacation to this southern Arizona city to get
away from the cold northern winter climate.
The gallery was like many that lined the streets of
major western towns, each one selling a special piece
of Native American art or some sort of western American
cowboy regalia. All was very expensive, but appealing
to the easterner's sense of what represented the
southwest. This one had some differences, which drew
the woman in. The gallery was larger than most and the
artist was internationally renowned for his work in
drawing, painting, design, sculpture, architecture, and
philosophy. He was in fact a renaissance man.
He had lived for many years in this town and was
considered their claim to fame. Now in his eighties, he
still had the energy and vitality of a much younger
man. As life was winding down, he still struggled to
create his vision of the future through his works and
writings. An immigrant from Italy, he came to the U.S.
with a classical art background and a doctorate in
architecture. He had made his home in the southwestern
desert for over fifty years.
The woman, a spry and shapely person of sixty, was
looking at many galleries that day. She was always on
the look out for just the right piece of pottery or the
textile to go in just the right corner of her large
house in the New York City area. Well to do and
extremely young looking for her age, her keen eye
caught notice of the gallery's sculptures and lead her
into the store. She knew art and what she liked. This
gave her a sense of authority and command whenever she
entered an art establishment. The sales clerk noticed
her right away.
As the woman walked slowly, around the paper caught her
notice. It was actually a large stack of yellow papers,
lying under a collection of discreetly enclosed nude
drawings of young women done by the artist himself.
Leafing through the collection, the woman examined the
fine details of the variety of nude bodies. All were
young, but drawn as real people, not idealized Playboy
models. The yellow papers fell to the ground. Quickly
closing the collection, she bent over and gathered the
papers. Written on them in bold black print, was a
request for women to model for the artist. What caught
her attention was the requirement that their age be
limited to between 21 and 41 years, no younger and
definitely no older!
The notice went on to explain that the artist was using
these drawings as a method to raise funds for his many
other artistic endeavors. They would be sold at his
yearly shows for about $2300 a piece. The model would
be entitled to one drawing as payment for her time and
the others would be sold. The note went on to say how
every previous show had been sold-out and that he was
now working on establishing a new collection. If the
young lady was interested, a phone number was provided
to call the artist directly and discreetly.
The woman returned to the drawings. The sketches were
classic poses, although not always discreet. The woman
was herself an artist, but of only amateur standing.
She sensed the power and sexuality of the nudes that
the artist was able to convey in these pictures. "He
definitely has talent", she thought.
The woman noticed her hands shaking as she held the
drawings. In the back of her mind anger was fomenting.
What was she thinking? Then it surfaced. "The arrogance
of this man to set an age limit on the women that were
to pose for him. He was to be the arbiter of beauty
using age as his criterion. What nonsense!"
Turning quickly, she walked boldly towards the clerk
waving one of the yellow papers in front of her as if
she had to push the air apart as she walked.
The bewildered clerk looked up and told the woman that
she must speak to the artist directly about this
matter. She was only a sales person and was not about
to get into a philosophical discussion with a customer.
She picked up the phone and within a moment had
arranged for him to come into the sales area in a few
minutes.
The woman, at first, was taken aback. She had no
intentions of challenging this famous person in his own
studio. She was here to shop not discuss beauty and
age, but her inner strength and confidence made her
stand her ground. She would wait and discuss and
challenge him if need be. She stretched her beautiful,
firm, tanned body to its full 5' 6" height and prepared
for combat.
Ten minutes passed. A handsome, trim, frail looking man
with twinkling blue eyes and a wry smile entered the
showroom from a back door. "Hello, I am the artist", he
said in a thick Italian accent. He reached out taking
the woman's right hand and shaking it firmly. It was a
surprisingly strong grip for an older man.
"I have to ask you about this notice", she said firmly,
waving the paper in front of him. "Yes, do you want to
model for me," he asked "No! It's not that at all", she
said somewhat flustered. "It's setting an age limit on
your models as if a woman is no longer beautiful after
40."
A heated discussion ensued. He explained that he only
paints beautiful woman and after forty, time has taken
its toll.
Again he said, "Do you want to model?" "But I am sixty
years old, far too old for your drawings," she replied.
"No", he said, "Do not lie. Do you want to model?"
The woman was caught up in the moment. "Yes, I'll model
for you!" "When?" "Now!" "Right now?" "Yes! Right now!"
She could see him stepping back, sizing her up, and
perhaps undressing her in his mind. "Come back in an
hour. I need to prepare my studio. Then, we will see if
you will be an acceptable model," he said with a
decisive tone.
With that he seemed to dismiss her. Turning quickly in
opposite directions the two of them took their leave.
He headed back to his studio in the rear and she headed
out the front door. Her head was spinning. What had she
gotten herself into? She was sixty years old. No man,
other than her husband, had seen her naked in thirty
years. Could she take the embarrassment of being sent
home as too ugly to be his model?
She found her husband sitting outside in the fresh
Arizona air. This was his preferred place as she
shopped the galleries. He looked up as she approached.
His face seemed puzzled as if he knew something strange
had just happened to his wife. She took a deep breath
and then related the whole incident. He had always
taken great pleasure in her happiness and her search
for adventure. He would gladly permit her to experience
life to it fullest as long as she shared the
experiences with him.
They returned to their hotel room. She showered
thoroughly; then peered at herself in the mirror.
Turning slowly, she apprised herself of her assets.
"Nice round breasts; bronzed skin; cute shape; full and
wild bush. Is this too much to show him? Trim it? No,
it's me let him see its beauty. My ass looks pretty
good. Damn!"
A giggle came out. She covered her face and gave the
mirror a little wink. As she left the bathroom, she
thought, "I think he will like me and if not it's his
loss. What to wear? Nothing of course! I'll be posing
naked, so wear nothing." To get to the studio she
slipped on a simple dress and a pair of sandals. She
felt sexy feeling her naked body against the dress.
Kissing her husband, she left the hotel.
The saleslady looked up as she entered. With no
expression on her face or in her voice she directed the
woman to a door to her left and behind her. The woman
pulled herself together took a deep breath and walked
into the small hallway knowing full well that the
saleswoman's eyes were following her through the
doorway.
She knocked on the studio door that was a few feet down
the hall. Shortly, the door opened revealing the same
old man with the twinkling eyes warmly welcoming her
into the room. He reached for her arm and firmly drew
her into the room, explaining to her that he had turned
up the heat so that she would be warm and comfortable
as he sketched her.
She looked around. To the left was a small kitchen with
a white table and chairs. The table decorations were in
a Mediterranean style. The cabinets and appliances were
also a stark simple white. In the background a stereo
played Verdi. To the right a simply furnished bedroom
could be seen through a doorway. It contained a large
bed covered with a fresh sheet, a fabric couch also,
covered with a sheet, and an easel with artists'
charcoals and pencils spread before a tall chair. The
chair and easel were positioned to give a complete view
of the couch and bed.
"I am glad you came back. I was not sure you would.
Would you like to change? There is a small bathroom
over to the right of the bed." The woman told him there
was no need, that she was naked under the dress. And
with that, she pulled the dress over her head and
dropped it on the bed.
She was sexually experienced, but remember, no man
other than her husband had seen her naked in over
thirty years. Of course, no artist with his discerning
eyes had ever seen her naked. She blushed at these
thoughts, and then put them out of her mind.
"Turn please slowly to the left." These words brought
her to the present. She followed his commands. Slowly
she turned every aspect of her body to his gaze.
Waiting for the verdict, "Put your clothes on and go
home!" It never came.
The artist looked at her mature beautiful bronze body.
Her dark unshaved bush and the full thick lips of her
vagina intrigued him. Her mons was so round and swelled
gently below her belly. "You are beautiful! Let's
begin," he said.
With that, he took her hand and led her to the couch.
He adjusted her position so that her vagina was the
focal point of the pose. As he moved around her he
explained that classically trained Italian painters
viewed the nude woman as an object to be worshiped and
especially the womb as the focus of human procreation.
He went on to explain how his nudes project provided
needed income for his other artistic endeavors. They
sold for between $2000 and $3000. Every show was a
sell-out. "Just think, your pictures will be hanging in
places all over the world."
As he sketched her, the woman sat wondering what she
was supposed to be doing. She decided to sit still and
wait for instructions. The artist was very focused
behind the easel. He studied every aspect of her form.
She realized that no one would know her body better
than this man when he was finished. At regular
intervals, he would stop and come over to her.
He asked her if she was comfortable. He would touch her
hands and feet asking if she were cold. He would gently
touch her shoulders or thighs asking if she were too
tense. She responded with a few words to reassure him
that she was fine.
Her thoughts turned to the reality of being seen as a
beautiful woman by his sensitive artistic eyes. Her
feelings became sensual. His eyes caressed her body
with a softness that only an older man could express.
She relished the attention.
Finished with the first pose, he asked her to assume
another one on the bed. He helped her up and placed her
on her back, hair tossed back and legs pulled up spread
wide facing the artist easel. "Please push your vagina
up and towards me", he requested. She did as she was
told. Her pussy was now in his full view. His eyes
relished the sight, as he sketched the woman and her
open womb.
She realized her sensual pleasure was turning to sexual
pleasure. She felt the warmth of her pussy's wetness
forming and rising to the open lips of her vagina. She
became worried that he could sense what was happening.
He might become excited and change this moment from one
of posing to a sexual attack. The woman resisted these
thoughts, forcing her mind not to go there. Instead,
she focused on letting him feast on her beauty.
"Please one more pose," a voice that seemed distant
said. "Yes, yes of course, "she said.
He took her hand and helped her off the bed. This time
she felt a tingle in her hand as she noticed the warmth
and energy in his.
This time I want you on the bed kneeling on all fours
with your buttocks facing me." The woman thought this
would be too revealing. No man had ever looked directly
at her ass before. But she was too warm and tired and
even comfortable to protest. His gentle touch gave her
confidence that this would be o.k. He helped to steady
her on the bed.
He adjusted her position not worrying where his hands
moved. He drew his hand down her spine to shape her
back. The touching had such a powerful effect on her
that she let out a little gasp and released a flow of
cream from her pussy. It appeared to her that he was
unaware of her reaction.
She held the pose as he walked back to his easel.
Several times she could hear him moving around near
her, but could not see him. She felt his closeness. She
knew he could smell and see her wetness and sex. He
said, "May I touch you? I want to adjust you slightly."
At that instant, she jumped as she felt his hands brush
her pubic hair and gently part her outer lips.
"I' m sorry," he said. With that he walked back and
began to draw. She knew his hands had to have some of
her cream clinging to them.
She continued to hold the pose—her beautiful round ass
in his face and her wet pussy lips suspended below.
When he was done, he came over and helped her off the
bed. He apologized again for the unexpected touch. She
assured him that it was very pleasurable, but just
unexpected. The woman went into the toilet and
carefully cleaned the wetness from between her legs.
She had no underwear and did not want to leave a line
on her dress.
She returned to the room and saw the artist in the
kitchen poring over the sketches. He looked up and
said, "I must work on them some more. He told her to
come back tomorrow and pick up one of the drawings as a
reward for posing. The woman explained to him that she
had little time, because she would be leaving for home
in a few days. He seemed not to comprehend.
"You must come back. When you become pregnant, I want
you to come and pose for me. You would make a beautiful
Madonna. I want to draw you again and again!" The woman
was surprised by his animated speech.
She laughed, "How can I become pregnant, I' m sixty
years old!"
Again, he could not comprehend that she was not a young
woman. Silence filled the room for what seemed like
minutes. He stood looking at her with his twinkling
blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, he reached for her
hands. Holding them gently in his and looking deeply in
her eyes he said, "I want to make two more sketches of
you. I want you to come back tomorrow for two more
poses. I want you to come early and stay for lunch.
Just two more poses. My driver will pick you up at your
hotel."
With this plaintive repetition of "two more poses", the
woman was confused and intrigued. "What two poses do
you want?" she asked.
"I want to draw you lying on the bed and then I want to
make love to you and sketch you right afterwards," he
said quietly and tentatively.
"Can you, will you do this for me, with me?" The woman
was shocked. Yes, she knew that he had seen her change
from sensual to sexual, but this was too much.
He seemed to know what was going on in her head. "Don'
t answer me, now. Here is my private phone number.
Think about it. Call me tonight with your answer.
Besides, you must return to pick up your final
drawing." With that statement, he pulled her close and
gave her a gentle kiss on the lips.
The woman lingered then turned and left. As she walked
out she realized that her legs were wet with her own
cum. She hurried to the car and returned to the hotel.
Her head was spinning; her vagina was aching. All she
wanted was to get back and fuck her husband.
Conversation would follow.
An afternoon of furious love making ended with the two
of them sitting up in bed and talking softly about the
situation. The woman knew she could do it, knew she
would enjoy it, but how would it change her
relationship with her husband? Would the experience
open her up to too much desire? Her husband told her to
do what she felt was comfortable for her. He had always
trusted instincts. She had never failed to amaze him.
She picked up the phone and called. "It's me. I will be
your model, tomorrow." "Wonderful! My driver will pick
you at 11:00AM. It will be beautiful and the results
will be beautiful!" he said.
The woman and her husband barely slept that night.
Excitement and anxiety ran through the woman's body all
night. As the morning's first light entered their room,
the woman got up and thoroughly bathed, making sure no
traces of her husband's cum remained on her. She wanted
to be a virgin canvas for the artist. As she stood in
front of the mirror, she neatly trimmed her pussy
making sure her mons and outer lips protruded from the
forest of hair.
Knowing how much the artist had focused on them, she
wanted her lips to softly peek out. She decided not to
perfume her pussy or bottom, but to let the natural
sexual odors prevail. After all, he was a European from
the old school and would probably appreciate the
natural smells. She quickly dressed again without
underwear, but this time she took some panties to wear
home to prevent the wetness from staining her dress.
She kissed her husband and left quickly. As she walked
to the lobby, she realized that her legs were already
moist with her own honey. What a perfect surprise for
the artist.
The driver arrived on time and took her to the artist's
studio. She walked into the gallery heading straight
back to the studio. She needed no directions from the
clerk this time. Knocking lightly on the door, she
stood and waited. The artist opened the door. He was
freshly shaved and dressed in jeans and a denim shirt.
The classical music played in the background. She could
see that the table was set like a Mediterranean picnic.
White wine, olives, cheese and bread were laid out on
the table. There were two wine glasses waiting to be
filled.
He took her hand and with a gentle firmness led her
into the bedroom. "Please take off your clothes." The
woman noticed that the bed was not covered with a clean
sheet, as it was the day before. Rather the sheets and
blanket that the artist slept on had simply been pulled
back revealing the linens that he used. The intimacy of
this gesture aroused her.
She undressed and turned slowly towards the artist. She
put her right hand out. He took it in his and drew her
against himself, she naked, he fully clothed. They
kissed lightly. "I see you have cut your hair. Your
beautiful pouty lips have come out, today. It is a
wonderful touch, an artistic touch! I would like to
adjust your pose. Is it all right if I touch you?"
"Yes," she said almost in a dream like trance. She
waited for the electric shock of his touch to come. And
it did.
Over and over, again, she felt a jolt as he lifted her
legs, held her buttocks, spread her thighs wide, and
finally opened the outer lips of her pussy with his
warm delicate fingers. Her lips glistened beautifully
as if covered with warm dew. He inhaled deeply. She did
too, smelling his scent imbedded in the linens she was
lying on. Her sexual feelings were growing to an almost
uncontrollable level. "Are you comfortable?"
"Yes...yes," she said. With that, he began to sketch.
"Come we must have some lunch." The artist's words
interrupted her sexual trance. He helped her out of bed
and draped a fresh sheet over her. He then led her to
the table.
They talked, ate and drank, slowly and leisurely. They
discussed art, sex, and love. At one point the sheet
slipped from her shoulders revealing her breasts. She
reached to pull the sheet back up, but he asked her not
to cover them. He wanted to see their beauty as they
dined. She obliged. As they stood exposed to the cooler
air, the nipples hardened. She felt so sensual and
sexy.
After the meal, the artist stood and came around the
table. He placed small gentle kisses over her neck,
shoulders, and face. She tingled with pleasure and
turned to face him. He cupped her breasts, one in each
hand and drew the nipples to his mouth. He caressed and
sucked each one making the nipples stand even firmer
than they had.
She felt her breath leave her. She had to gasp to catch
it again. She moaned slowly in rhythm with his
caresses. He drew her mouth to his and firmly kissed
her lips. The artist pulled her towards the bed. The
sheet fell away as she moved to the bedroom. The
wetness between her legs felt cool in the air.
He placed her gently on the bed. His hands caressed her
stomach her legs and bottom. Then they slowly and
deliberately entered her slick pussy. His fingers
explored her inner warmth. They felt the cream flow
over the soft inner folds. Catching some on his index
finger he glided his fingers out and over her engorged
clit. Gently he circled it from base to tip. The woman
cried with pleasure and trembled with emotion. Next,
she felt his tongue catch her clit and flick it. Over
and over again he did this until she had to force his
mouth away or risk losing all control.
Catching her breath, she reminded him that his pleasure
was also her pleasure. She asked him to stand. Reaching
out with trembling hands, she pulled his pants slowly
down his legs. As they moved past his shorts, the
strong outline of his penis was revealed behind the
material. A large wet stain spread on the front. For
the first time a soft cry came from him.
She sat up and quickly pulled his pants off. She could
clearly see his erection pressing urgently against the
jockey's. She stopped to gaze at his form. Yes, he was
slight and old, but still well formed. The silhouette
of the wiry young man remained.
She spread her legs wide as if to say I am yours, all
yours. He stood looking down at her as if in
reverential prayer. Leaning forward again, she pulled
his shorts down to his knees. His penis sprung out. It
was long, hard and uncircumcised. She thought of a
youthful lover from many years, ago. It seemed so
similar, just surrounded by gray hair.
The shape of the head fascinated her. She had not seen
many uncut ones. The tip was protruding from the
foreskin, waiting to be released from its grasp. The
head was so swollen and red. A drop of cum leaked out.
Below the penis laid the artist's huge balls. They hung
long and low. She reached for them. As she touched
them, they drew up smaller as if they wanted to be
gently nestled in her hand. She pulled them close to
her mouth.
She smelled his odor, the same one she smelled before
on the sheets. She caught the tip of his penis in her
mouth. She sucked the cream that clung to it enjoying
the intimacy of its taste. His scrotum continued to
contract as she followed the contours of the head with
her tongue. She withdrew it from her mouth and studied
its outline. It had become even larger.
The head had fully come out of the foreskin. Its
circumference was immense. The thought of this thick
cock entering sent waves of ecstasy through her. She
knew that any more sucking would end their love making
with an explosion of cum. This was not what she wanted.
She wanted to fully envelope this cock in her pussy.
She looked up at his face. His eyes were closed and his
mouth pursed. "Take me now. Fuck me, please!" she said
softly. His eyes opened. He moved towards her pulling
the rest of his clothes off. She took his cock and
guided it between her legs. He was on top of her now.
He seemed to be floating above her. With one hand she
put his penis inside and with the other she spread her
lips wide to make room for the massive head. Slowly and
easily he slipped in.
The wetness made the entry smooth. She was sure she
felt his foreskin catch on her inner lips drawing back
more of it to expose additional sensitive skin of his
shaft to the enveloping inner warmth of her liquid
inner walls. These thoughts made her shutter. The
thought of this powerful uncut penis thrilled her.
Never before had she experienced this.
His hands surrounded her buttocks. His fingers glided
across her cheeks and into the slit of her ass. The
index finger of his left hand, coated with the sweet
honey moving down from her pussy, found its mark at the
entrance to her tightened rectum. He gently circled the
hole until it relented and let him enter.
She was fully aware that he now possessed her pussy
with his cock and her ass with his finger. She felt him
deep within both openings. She could feel his penis and
finger thrusting from opposite sides. She felt
overwhelmed with pleasure and totally dominated by this
man.
His penis grew even larger filling her completely. He
felt a total pleasure and release. It was almost a
religious experience, his worship of the womb and his
reverence for the female form.
They came almost together. She first, with a long hard
moan of, "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me, fill me, you' re so
large, fill me!" He came soon after, with a sweet
memory of some long forgotten time. It was a physical
release, but also a deep emotional pleasure. Tears came
to his eyes. It was if he was giving up his life for
this act of total enveloping sex, "la petite mort".
She wanted him to lie quietly on top of her and feel
him slowly shrink away from her vagina. But he would
have none of this. "I can't! I can't! I must capture
your afterglow, your sexual essence, before it is
gone!" With that, he withdrew leaving her with a
swollen red empty space inside her pussy and her head.
She watched his penis come down dripping with a mixture
of their essences. He touched her gently. Becoming the
artist again, he adjusted her position. Standing before
his easel naked, he began to draw.
When he finished, he came over and smothered her with
kisses. He put his mouth directly on her pussy and
kissed it softly. This stirred her desires, again, but
she knew that she would have to return home if she
wanted more lovemaking.
He dressed and asked her if she needed the toilet.
After using the commode, she slipped on her panties,
stuffed them with paper and put on her dress. She
freshened her face and hair. Then, she returned to the
kitchen.
The artist was furiously working on the pictures.
Looking up smiling, he said, "This was so beautiful and
when I am finished with these, they will be, too. I
cannot thank you enough. You cannot know what feelings
I have. I wish you could stay." The woman thought so,
also, but knew it would not be possible. He got up and
walked to the counter to retrieve a large cylindrical
mailing tube. "Here is the sketch I chose for you from
yesterday's session. I hope you like it. You know it is
very valuable."
Handing it to her, he continued, "I could not sleep
last night thinking about you. So, I worked on
completing this drawing. None of my other sketches have
so much meaning imbedded in them. The others will be
sold at my next show and these (pointing to the ones he
just drew) that we just created together will sell for
much more!" He got up took her hand and walked her to
the door. He turned her face towards his and kissed her
deeply on the lips. Again like their first encounter,
they turned apart and left each other's presence.
The woman thanked the driver as he stopped at her hotel
and exited quickly. She hurried to her room hoping that
no signs of her early activities were showing on her
dress. It would take some time to sort out her thoughts
and feelings. Right now, all she wanted to do was
"fuck".
Her husband was ready. The room door sprung open as she
approached. Grabbing her, he covered her with kisses.
"Wait! Wait, I have to clean up. I am so wet; let me
clean up a little." He wouldn't let her. He wanted her
right then with the artist's cum in her pussy.
She slid in next to him and grabbed his cock. She
stroked it to full hardness in a manner of moments.
Letting go of it, she drew his head down to her pussy.
She held it there for a moment, so he could smell the
raw fresh sex and then buried his face in her. "Eat
me," she commanded. He obeyed her command and ate the
mixture of cream from her pussy until neither one could
wait any longer. She placed his cock deep inside her
while she licked the sex mixture from her earlier
encounter from his face.
They both shook violently as his first orgasm of the
day and her second one came and went. They lay still
for a long time, feeling each other's body slowly drift
into sleep. Her last thoughts were of the experiences
of the last two days. What had this series of events
awakened in her? What sensibilities had been sharpened?
What course of sexual expression had been set for her?
Was her life taking a new direction? She rolled away
from her husband. She could not wait to head north and
return home. There was a new sensual world waiting for
the Woman.
Author's note: A year later, the artist wrote the woman
to inform her that the latest show of his nudes was a
complete sell-out. All his pictures sold for over $2000
apiece, except the last two that he had created with
her. An unidentified buyer had purchased the pair for
$16000. The buyer told the artist that the sexual
tension in the first picture and its total release
caught in the second one captured his imagination. He
had to possess them both and to know the name of the
model.
To be continued?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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!
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Kristen's collection - Directory 45