Theirs was a simple love story. She liked it simple.
They laughed, they loved one another; afterwards she would simply go. She had her own life, separate from him. She liked it that way. Richard was her lover, not her boyfriend.
His house was near the beach; large and well lit with plenty of room, lots of open floor space. Very Bauhaus. The architect had laid out a scheme of walls punctuated with arches and openings that captured large blocks of space and lent a certain ambiance, a sense of flight, to those within. She found this openness of space almost exhilarating. While at his place she rarely wore clothes, at the most perhaps panties. Occasionally she might put on a chemise, perhaps, or maybe just a t-shirt, nothing more. She loved to feel the air all about her skin, nothing but air. The openness of the architecture lent a certain thrill to the freedom of nudism.
Their love was simple, to the point. They didn’t talk much; only loved. They loved for the pure sex of it; their desire was immeasurable.
She loved his body, every supple ripple of his tall, lean, muscular frame, every square inch of his skin. He had the body of an Olympic champion, bronzed a deep nut brown; a combination of his beach lifestyle and his Mediterranean lineage. His golden blonde curls were cropped close, his gray eyes seemed shot with flecks of gold. He was an Adonis. When she was not with him she wanted to run her hands, her lips, her tongue over his brown skin, every minute of every day.
Upon arrival at his place, all too often her immediate instinct was to drop straight to her knees before a word was spoken, to part her lips, take him in her mouth and suck him off. She often succumbed to this impulse; it was her greeting. She loved his penis, long, thick and full; she estimated his length at ten inches, easy. She loved his balls, loved to fondle them as she ran her tongue and lips up and down his pole. She considered it a gift when his penis spurted in her mouth, her reward. She let him come on her face, in her mouth, all over her lips and tongue. She loved to taste him, to swallow his come. She considered his semen a tonic, an essential source of vitamins and protein.
For his part he loved everything about her; from head to tip-toe, she was absolutely beautiful. Silky, shiny, straight black hair cut into a shoulder-length pageboy, ice-blue eyes and high cheekbones that bespoke of Slavic, or perhaps Oriental heritage. Her body would have fascinated a Da Vinci or Rafael; although shorter than average woman of Europe or North America, her slender physique made her appear much taller than her actual height. The heels she often wore served to enhance this impression. The illusion did not stop there. While her breasts were by no means large, indeed they were probably smaller than what is considered average, with her petit build she seemed generously endowed. Her pert pair easily overfilled the cups of her brassieres; two well-rounded tops that offered a pleasant view. When freed of constraints they jutted straight out, firm and unyielding, capped by an amusing pair of little pink cones. She was narrow in the waist. The eye traveled naturally down her perfect hourglass shape to a pair of full hips and long, shapely legs. Her ass was round and tight. Her name was Naomi.
Naomi kept her nether hair shaved to a narrow strip of fur cropped severely close; she was completely bald from the clit on down. She liked the effect her
petit-coiffure
had upon him. When undressed her crease was almost constantly visible; she knew this made him drool with desire, made him want to lick and suck at the petals of her pretty pink flower. Sometimes it felt like he had her on her back all night and all day with her legs held wide apart while he licked her pussy. Eyes closed in bliss, head tossing left and right; she could take hours of his mouth on her clit while with two fingers he gently fucked her wet hole, a little finger idly tickling her tight, puckered pink asshole.
They were very much in love.
* * *
His house was for the most part simple, empty but for the occasional bench or sideboard to alleviate the eye and provide furnishings for one to sit and engage in conversation. Here a faux Greek column supporting a large fern provided relief to the eye, there a large antique cabinet done in dark wood or a magnificently carved table silently spoke of the classic ages; in a wide hallway a sofa, modernistic and simple in leather and chrome yet comfortable enough, interrupted the bleakness. Tucked into an alcove upstairs in an oversized loft area was a sizeable living space filled with large, over-stuffed sofas and chairs, a thick and luxurious oriental carpet. Coffee tables, houseplants, assorted bric-a-brac decorated this niche; this was where they relaxed, a respite from the severe, simple nature of the rest of the house.
The western side of the house was a long sunroom with a continuous window running the length of it. The only furniture in this deck-like area was long upholstered bench built into the wall beneath the sun windows, and a ping-pong table. It surprised her how strenuous the game could be. They always played in the nude, of course. She especially loved this. She found playing in the nude to be a certain thrill in itself; feeling the fresh air about her sweat-soaked body was quite refreshing.
Being on the company of one’s partner while in the bedroom or the bath is one thing. To be
sans-robes
at the nude beach, or lounging around in the sun is another. But to be stark naked while swinging a ping-pong paddle and chasing the little white ball was beyond erotic; the sensation was downright arousing. Whenever they played she seemed to have such an awareness of her pussy. It was as if her entire being was focused upon her sex. As they played she always became very wet, her clitoris became quite swollen. The game usually ended in a serious lovemaking session. She seemed to have her strongest orgasms leaning way back on the bench with her ass in the air, her ankles on his shoulders as he plunged his long, hard cock in and out of her soaking wet hole. With her eyes squeezed shut she would come in waves as they fucked, her juices squirting out of her wet pussy. Then he would come and what seemed like gallons of sticky stuff would coat her insides and join with her juices, splashing her ass cheeks, his hips, running down his thighs, the crack of her ass.
* * *
The art that hung on the wide, white walls was his own; large canvases portraying heroic men and women, all nude, engaged in all manner of struggle and work. His art, unlike his living space, was busy and detailed with vivid colors. The lifelike figures were portrayed against sweeping landscapes and skies that featured tumultuous clouds, thunderstorms, a few rays of sun barely managing to break through to illuminate the action. His paintings brought to mind the works of the great masters of another era; Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Titian. When one regarded these epic scenes suddenly the stark simplicity of the house all made sense. Nothing could compete with his art, nothing should. To crowd the rooms with meaningless brick-a-brac would detract from the sheer power of his paintings.
With time she came to realize that their lovemaking was actually a continuation of the creative force displayed on the walls around her. Like all things in his life, their love affair itself was expressed as a work of art. When she came to understand this it made only perfect sense and she felt deeply honored to be a part of his artistic expression. It was the greatest compliment. When he introduced the video camera into their lovemaking ritual it seemed nothing more than a natural extension of this artistic expression.
His filming was a step beyond his painting, quite different – almost abstract, suited to the medium. He would film certain parts of her body at very close-up range. One clip he did zoomed in to only her mouth, lips painted bright, bright red, as she licked an ice cream cone. Viewing it later she found the images of her lips parting while her tongue lapped at the soft, white ice cream surprisingly erotic.
Another film – entitled simply “I Love ...” – featured a close up of her naked pussy, nothing else, as her fingers dallied upon herself. He had her stroke herself slowly, while saying in a breathy voice, “
