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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Portrait of a Lady
by Beltorion (beltorion@aol.com)

***

It was delightful to watch you for the next few minutes, 
biting your lip, scrunching up your eyes, but keeping 
yourself immobile. I made a mental note to try this with 
a scoop of ice cream sometime, in or on your pussy, and 
then I'd lick it out of you. Fast enough that it didn't 
melt completely, slow enough not to get one of those ice 
cream headaches. (MF, exh, food, rom)

***

"So you really want me to pose for you?" you said. Light 
and joking, but seemingly with a touch of nervousness.

"I'd love that," I said.

"It's just I've never done anything like that before."

"Well, I haven't either. I mean, sketched a real person, 
in the flesh. I mean, yes, in an art class once, but not 
here, in my... studio." I joked, looking around the 
living room.

"Well, it's nothing you haven't seen before. Uh... are 
you going to keep the drapes open?"

"Well, the natural sunlight on your body would be nice. 
Don't worry, I don't think any of the neighbors can see. 
Not in the daytime. Probably." I smiled wickedly.

"So should I just... strip?" You were delightfully shy, 
despite all the intimate things we'd done in the bedroom 
before (and the kitchen... and the car... and that 
cemetery), you were suddenly all demure.

"Yes, please. Disrobe, madame," I said gallantly. "I'd 
ask you to step behind this screen, but..." I turned. 
"Oh, I haven't got a screen. Please, take your clothes 
off!" I said, in a joking but commanding voice. I sat 
back, arms folded, a Cheshire cat grin on my face.

Not in a striptease fashion, but dutifully, you 
unbuttoned your white blouse, exposing a lacy white bra 
beneath. You removed the shirt and put it over a chair. 
Then you kicked out of your shoes, and reached down and 
peeled off your socks. They went on the chair too. 
Finally, you undid your skirt, and peeled it off. Red 
panties.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

I looked down at my crotch. I was already getting hard, 
my erection poked at my jeans, making a tent. "Survey 
says... yes."

You reached for your bra. "Stop," I said. "Allow me."

I stood up, and walked to where you were standing. Took 
your pretty face in my hands, looked into your eyes, and 
then kissed you deeply on the lips. Your tongue darted 
into my mouth.

"I love you," I said.

"I bet you say that to all your models."

I started kissing over your chin, down your neck, 
between your breasts. My hands cupped your breasts on 
the way down through your bra. My mouth continued down 
over your flat tummy. I paused to toy with your belly 
button for a minute, my hands holding onto your sides, 
just above the hips.

For a minute, I french-kissed your navel like it was 
your mouth, or your rosebud still covered further down. 
You sighed and ran your fingers through my hair. "Are 
you checking for lint?" you giggled.

I sank to my knees, and in the same motion, grasped your 
panties on either side and whipped them down. You 
gasped; you weren't expecting to be exposed so suddenly. 
You dutifully helped me, stepping out of each leg in 
turn. I rose, and my fingers traced up your legs, and 
then just ran lightly over your pussy. Your pubic hair, 
which had been shaved (by me!), was growing back now, 
but you had a neatly groomed triangle. My thumb just 
grazed your clit, almost intangibly, just letting you 
know I hadn't forgotten it was there.

I stood, and hands on your delightfully bare shoulders, 
swiveled you around. I undid your bra, and flung it and 
your panties to the chair. The bra overshot and fell 
behind it. I kissed the back of your neck, enjoying the 
scent of your hair. Then my mouth ran over your 
shoulder-blades, over the muscles of your back, down 
your backbone, to the small of your back, which I kissed 
in the same manner I had your belly button on the other 
side. Synchronicity. Then down over your asscheeks. 

My hands rubbed circles around them, and my mouth traced 
down your ass crack. I knelt again, and grasping your 
inner thighs, pushed apart. You got the idea and widened 
your stance. I licked down to your little puckered 
asshole, on my knees again.

"Don't try anything funny." I murmured. Then I tilted my 
head backwards, like I was doing the limbo between your 
legs, licked that delightful area between your asshole 
and your pussy, and continued on. You looked down to see 
my eyes looking up at you. My mouth, out of sight, 
licked your pussy. You tousled my hair. "Good work, 
houseboy." you said. "If you keep this up, you're not 
going to get much sketching done, I'm going to fuck your 
brains out right here on the living room carpet." 

I grinned and scooted backwards through your legs, then 
stood up. Almost perfunctorily, I kissed one nipple, my 
other hand grasping the other breast, kneading it and 
squeezing your nipple. Then I reversed sides. Finally I 
rose again and kissed your mouth again.

"I had to get a feel for the material." I took your hand 
and led you over to the couch.

"Ooooh, you're such a tease!" you groaned.

"Good things come to those who wait. Now, be a good 
little subject." I positioned you on the couch, and you 
docilely let me guide your legs and arms, like a flesh 
mannequin. I positioned your extremities at different 
angles, tilted your head to one side, stood back, then 
gently grasping your head, made a slight adjustment.

I finalized you laying back, one knee bent, the other 
leg straight out against it. At that angle just a hint 
of your stripe of public hair could be seen, and your 
pussy was covered. You were tilted back, breasts perkily 
exposed, one arm rested on the back of the couch, the 
other on the side of the couch, the way one would sit in 
a bathtub. Your eyes looked straight at me.

"There. Hold that pose."

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"Tough. Hold still. And don't worry. I don't think the 
neighbors could see you from here. Of course, that scene 
earlier might have been interesting. Hey, what's that 
kid doing up in that tree with the binoculars?"

You smiled, but refused to take the bait, didn't even 
swivel your head.

I went to the kitchen, and dragged a chair into the 
center of the room, then got my sketchpad and pencil. I 
sat down, and flipped to a blank page.

"I can't believe you got me all worked up and now expect 
me to sit stock still here," you complained.

"Silence!" I raised a thumb, doing the artist shtick, 
measuring for perspective.

"I've got a place you could put that," you said with a 
seductive smile. You moved your hand to scratch an itch 
at your side.

"If you keep moving, I'm going to do a sketch entitled, 
"portrait of a beauty tied up completely immobile with 
scarves."

"Promises, promises."

"And I'll have to gag that pretty little mouth and tart 
tongue of yours with something. A cloth. A ball. Or your 
panties. Or... something nearer and dearer to me." I 
looked down meaningfully at the woody proudly shaping my 
jeans.

You stuck your tongue out at me.

"Hey, don't point that thing at me unless you're 
prepared to use it."

You stuck it out again, more suggestively this time. 
"Shouldn't you be naked too?" you said innocently.

I continued to sketch. "Don't distract the artist at 
work."

"Some artist." you scoffed. "You haven't even cut off 
your ear for me yet."

We continued in a sexy, companionable silence for a few 
minutes now, as I got to work. My pencil did broad lines 
across the page.

"I feel like I'm on the TITANIC," you said.

"You're a lot more Kate Winslet than I'm Leonardo," I 
replied. "But, if you play your cards right, I'll hit 
you with an ice cube later and then you can go down on 
something."

You stuck your tongue out again. "Hey, aren't I supposed 
to be wearing a big jewel between my boobs?"

"Only if you have a rich asshole fiancée you haven't 
told me about. Stop fidgeting!"

Silence for awhile, except for my pencil strokes.

"Am I boring you? Do you want the TV on or something?" I 
said considerately.

"No, but some music would be nice."

I got up and fumbled through some CD's. "Celine Dion, 
Celine Dion. Nope, don't have it. I put in a Beethoven 
CD instead.

"Oh, that's nice," you said.

"I was torn between that and ZZ TOP. 'She's got legs, 
she knows how to use them'"

"Liar! You don't even have that CD!"

Silence again as I sketched, this time for another ten 
minutes. You close your eyes and listen to the music.

You opened your eyes. "Houseboy. I'm thirsty," I 
growled. "As you wish." You started to get up. "No, stay 
put!" I went to the kitchen. "Wine?"

"No, it'll make me sleepy sitting here, and I'll lose my 
poise. I mean pose. Something with caffeine."

I brought the glass, tinkling with ice cubes. You 
started to reach for it. "No, don't move" I said. I 
brought the glass to your lips, and tilted carefully. 
You drank down greedily, swallowing noisily, your throat 
pulsing to the swallows. You smiled. "This is kind of 
nice, houseboy. Thank you."

When you were done, I fished one of the ice cubes out. 
"Still don't move" I ordered. I ran it over your 
forehead, down your nose, to your lips. You opened your 
pretty little rosebud mouth and kissed it. Then your 
eyes widened as I ran it over your nipples, then down 
your belly, pushing it against your navel where I'd 
explored with my tongue earlier. Then down one leg, 
where I traced your calve, a tiny bit plump like a 
chicken drumstick, then followed as your leg tapered 
off, delightful curves down to your ankle. 

I grasped your foot, holding it immobile, and traced the 
ice cube along the sole of your foot, then your toes. 
You bit your lip, and tried to stifle a giggle. You were 
holding yourself rigid, immobile, straining with an 
effort not to move. I traced the other foot. Then up 
your leg again. I put the remaining sliver into my mouth 
and sucked on it until it melted. Then I fished a fresh 
ice cube out of the glass.

"Here comes the iceberg." With one hand I pushed on 
either side of your pussy, spreading your lips. "Open 
wide." You continued to hold your body tense, trying not 
to move. I put the ice cube into your pussy, then let go 
my spreading hand. The folds of your pussy, lewdly 
opened, closed on the ice cube. You made a noise I can 
only describe as a peep."You know, they say that only 
1/10th of an iceberg is above the waterline."

You gritted your teeth. "You are so wicked."

I ran a finger along your pussy, where it clenched the 
cube. "Oh, I'm sure at 98.6 degrees, it won't last long 
in there. In fact," I traced along the outside of your 
pussy, "I think you might be a little hotter in there. 
Feels like maybe you're running a fever."

You spoke in a staccato fashion, obviously trying not to 
react to things happening down below. "You..are... 
going... to... get... yours!"

"I'm hoping to get mine right after this session." I 
grinned and returned to my chair and the sketchbook.

It was delightful to watch you for the next few minutes, 
biting your lip, scrunching up your eyes, but keeping 
yourself immobile (I made a mental note to try this with 
a scoop of ice cream sometime, in or on your pussy, and 
then I'd lick it out of you. Fast enough that it didn't 
melt completely, slow enough not to get one of those ice 
cream headaches. I hate those!). 

Finally, after a few minutes, you relaxed. In fact, lay 
back with a look of relief, and a deep sigh. I stood up, 
and walked over to inspect you. A sheen of water ran 
from your pussy. I brushed it up with my fingertips, and 
brought it to my lips. Water, with just the slightest 
hint of your inner taste. You were looking really turned 
on, your eyes dilated, your face that subtle change when 
I'm close to ringing your bell.

I rattled the cup of ice suggestively, and you shook 
your head. "Please, no more!" I set the cup down and 
returned to my chair and my sketch.

"You had better fuck me senseless after you finish that 
drawing," you said.

"Count on it. Ooo, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

You grinned. You talked slowly, annunciated each word. 
"I am going to... pin you to the carpet, and impale 
myself on your cock. I'm going to ride it till you make 
me come. Then I'm going to push you back and suck your 
prick like there's no tomorrow. Till you shoot a hot 
load of cum in my hot little mouth. Then you're gonna 
eat my pussy till I scream. Then you're gonna fuck me 
doggy style."

I'd gone from pleasant erection to serious wood. I 
continued to sketch more feverishly. "Woof!" I said 
meaningfully.

Another ten minutes went by. "You had better finish up. 
I'm so horny I'm about to come over there and jump you. 
Plus, uh, I'm starting to have to feel the need to go to 
the bathroom."

"Hold that thought, almost done. Five more minutes."

You groaned, "Hurry!"

I continued sketching fast. Moments past. "Are we there 
yet?" you said plaintively.

"One more minute... and then... some quick photos. In 
case I need some detail for later revisions."

"Hey, you never said anything about photos." You 
considered the idea.

"Don't worry, I'm not placing them on the internet. Just 
an artist's aid. Well, I might wack-off to them next 
time you're out of town." I grinned. I grabbed the 
camera, and took a half dozen flash photos. From 
different vantage points. You got into the spirit of it, 
smiling seductively, flashing your eyes. Making love to 
the camera. I played fashion photographer. "Yeah baby, 
that's great, oh, give it to me!" Flash. Flash. Flash.

I smiled. "Hmmm, this gives me an idea for something 
else we should do some time."

"Are you done? Can I get up now?" you begged. I nodded, 
and you were up in a flash, your delightful body zipping 
by in a blur as you sprinted for the bathroom.

Ten minutes or so later you emerged, now demurely 
wrapped in a towel. After exposing yourself to me for 
the last hour, I thought it was cute you were being coy 
now.

You went and looked at the sketchbook. "This! This is 
what took you an hour?! That's it?!"

"Hey, c'mon, this is just a rough first sketch!" I said 
defensively. "And I'm learning. And you know I'm not 
great at faces. Yet. Besides, it's so difficult to 
capture the beauty of your visage."

You smiled despite yourself. "But I've seen your other 
sketches. They're... uh... more... uh... better."

"Yeah, but those are usually my second or third 
revision. Those were done over several hours, 
painstakingly." I gestured at the sketchbook. "This'll 
get better, wait and see." I felt like I was defending 
my work before an art critic.

You must have seen my injured look. You smiled, and 
walking up to me, wrapped your arms around me. I kissed 
you, and with little urging the towel fell to the floor. 
You stood there, fully nude, clinging to my body, which 
was still fully clothed. Your head rested on my 
shoulder. I ran my nose through your hair. I looked up 
to glance out the window, seeing if any neighbors were 
in sight. Seemingly not.

My arms around you, my hands played down your back and 
fondled your ass, as you tilted your head up and our 
lips met, tongues dueling.

"What was that you wanted to do to me once we finished 
with the sketch?"

You kissed along my jaw line, to my ear, nibbled on my 
earlobe, and then put your mouth close to my ear. 
"You'll see" you said through a warm breath.

You sank down to your knees, on the carpet, urging me 
down with you. Your eyes were shiny with unbridled lust. 
You fumbled for my belt, and almost in the blink of an 
eye had opened my slacks, and pulled my erection from my 
boxers. One hand fondled it, while another started 
unbuttoning my shirt.

"What are you doing with your clothes still on. Lay back 
on the carpet, houseboy!" you commanded.

The 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. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 70