A Creative Challenge

Tracey was late for the next session, so Amy and I started work without her. I left my old painting shirt on, just in case she eventually turned up, but that was starting to look very unlikely. We had finally come to the conclusion that Tracey didn't want to do any more nude modelling, even though it was a golden opportunity for her to get close to Amy with no clothes on, when in she walked.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "Do you still want me?"

"Of course", I replied, "we're glad you could make it."

She stood in the doorway, not quite sure what to do next. She didn't have Amy's easy confidence about being nude in front of strangers, and Amy sensed this. She had been lying on her back on the dais, but she quickly swung her feet to the floor and walked naked over to the doorway, taking Tracey by the hand and leading her into the studio.

"You can put your bag down, you know. We won't steal it", said Amy.

Tracey had been clutching the strap of her shoulder bag very tightly, but she smiled and put the bag down beside the dais. Without asking her permission, Amy undid the buttons of Tracey's coat, slipped it off her shoulders, and handed it to me. I put it on the coat rack near the door, while Amy undid Tracey's jeans. Tracey was now helping the undressing process and lifted her top up and over her head, tossing it behind her. When Amy squatted on her haunches to pull Tracey's jeans down to her ankles, Tracey slipped her hands inside her thong panties and pushed them down, too. Her pussy was now as bald as Amy's, and Amy whistled when she saw it.

"When did that happen, Trace? Nice looking job", she said appreciatively.

"That's why I'm late. It took longer than I thought it would."

"I would have helped you," said Amy, sounding a little disappointed. "That was the plan."

"I know, but I felt more comfortable doing it myself. It's a very personal thing to do, you know."

"Oh, I know," said Amy, "That's what makes it so much fun when someone else does it for you."

"Yeah, well. I wanted to do it on my own," said Tracey. "At least the first time."

"May I?" said Amy, not waiting for permission, but reaching out immediately and feeling the skin all round Tracey's pussy. At first it was obvious she was checking the smoothness of the shave, but her fingers lingered as she felt for stray hairs round the opening to Tracey's vagina, and when her middle finger disappeared and she murmured "Nice", it was no longer clear whether she was still referring to the quality of the shave, or the feel of what had just been shaved.

I cleared my throat, to get Amy's attention. "Are you two ready to do some work?"

Tracey had been engrossed in what Amy's fingers were doing, but jumped at the sound of my voice, like I had caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. Amy shot me a dirty look, to let me know that she didn't think I needed to be such a killjoy, then, for Tracey's benefit, tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Sure. What do you want us to do?"

"I think it would be nice to get the two of you lying down, entwined, all tangled up in each other so I can't see whose arms and legs are which. Can you do that?"

It took a minute or so to get some big cushions onto the dais, and to throw a brightly coloured piece of African fabric over the whole thing. I wanted them to get comfortable, because I thought that what I had asked for would be visually very interesting, and I was prepared to spend a bit of time trying to get a decent result from it.

I had imagined them cuddling somehow face to face, with their legs wrapped up and round each other's body, but when Tracey swung herself onto the dais, Amy walked round to the opposite side and laid herself down in the opposite direction, so her legs would be up and around Tracey's shoulders, and vice versa. OK, I thought, this could be even better.

Amy lifted Tracey's leg over her shoulder as she lay down, resting her head on the inner thigh of Tracey's lower leg, her face only about a foot away from the light pink pussy. She wrapped one of her legs over and around Tracey, whose hand was now resting on Amy's buttock, her trunk twisted and leaning back. Tracey's head and shoulders were a little further away from Amy's pussy, but she was still able to look straight at it, and it was still very accessible to her.

"That looks... interesting," I said, taking a piece of thick vine charcoal and quickly blocking out the main shapes the two young women made.

"It looks pretty good from here," said Amy, looking straight at Tracey's open crotch.

"The view's not bad from this end either," said Tracey, obviously starting to relax and lose what was left of her inhibitions.

I had a feeling that neither of them would be able to hold this pose for long, and I was right. It wasn't that it was awkward, on the contrary, they were both nestled in very comfortable positions over and around the big cushions. But I knew from what Amy had said about her preference for women that Tracey would surely be getting very turned on by the closeness of her naked friend, and I knew that Amy's bisexual curiosity and her love of exposing herself would be having a similar effect on her. It seemed that every time I made some marks with the charcoal, and then glanced up from the paper at my models, Amy's head looked like it was just a fraction closer to Tracey's pussy, and Tracey's hand looked like it was sliding slowly down Amy's ass crack towards Amy's. I quickly realised that it was not my imagination and the two models were not holding themselves as still as I wanted them to be. I tried to draw more rapidly while I still had a chance, but I would have had to be a lightning sketch artist to have captured the pose before it completely disintegrated. Within minutes, Amy's face was within a tongue's length from her friend's pink and glistening pussy, and she was breathing in deeply through her nose, savouring the scent of its slippery wetness.

"Hang on, Amy, I'm not finished drawing yet," I said.

"Sorry, Sam, your needs aren't my highest priority at the moment. And I think you should know that this cunt smells sinfully tasty."

"That's more than I needed to know, girl, I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Me too," said Amy, as she closed her eyes and moved her head the last few millimetres towards the source of the olfactory stimulation. Just before her open mouth locked itself onto Tracey's pubic mound, I caught a glimpse of Amy's pointed tongue sliding into the already wet vaginal opening.

Unable to do otherwise, Tracey's back arched and she pushed her hips towards Amy's mouth. She looked across at me, not wanting to hold back, but not sure what I would do or say next. She didn't know that I was expecting something just like this to happen when I put them close together, and although I really did want to draw them, I was more than happy to be an appreciative spectator for a while.

"Don't let me stop you, Tracey," I said, "but if it's all right with you, I'll just sit over here and politely wait till you're both done. Amy likes to have an audience."

Amy momentarily came up for air. "And you love nothing better than to watch, so don't you pretend otherwise, you hypocrite."

"Guilty as charged," I confessed, as Tracey smiled and shut her eyes, surrendering to the sensation of Amy's tongue on her clit.

"Omigod," said Tracey, "that is deep-fried heaven on a stick." With her mouth full, Amy could only grunt what seemed to be her agreement, and reached for the toy basket that these days was always somewhere on or near the dais.

Watching the two of them was pretty close to my idea of heaven, too. I don't know any heterosexual male or female who would want to watch two gay men fucking each other, because it just doesn't work aesthetically. It's not what men's bodies are supposed to do. On the other hand, there is something universally erotic about two women making out with each other.

Tracey may have felt very self-conscious in our studio at first, but as her sexual response systems kicked in she quickly seemed to become oblivious to me, and was totally focussed on what Amy was doing to her. Amy, on the other hand, was enjoying the sensation of being watched at least as much as she was enjoying the girl-girl sex, and even when her mouth was clamped over Tracey's smooth and slippery pubic area, she still kept looking up at me – eyes smiling – to make sure I was paying attention. Paying attention? I couldn't have prised my eyes away from the two of them with a crowbar.

Both of them were ready for the novelty of no-holds-barred sex with each other, and they came within a few minutes, first one, then the other. They took turns swapping mouth-tongue-finger-dildo orgasms for a while, then both of them came together, very loudly, clamping each other's head and shoulders in a thigh-vice. I was so engrossed in the new experience of watching Amy make love to someone other than me, pleased to be enjoying it and surprised to find that I was feeling more than a twinge of jealousy, that it took me a while to realize how explosively loud both of them had become. Amy's normal grunting and heavy breathing had become full-throated shouts, and Tracey was squealing like a very large suckling pig about to be slaughtered. By the time I had the presence of mind to think about shushing them down a bit so the neighbours wouldn't complain, they had come down the other side of their climaxes and the noises had tailed off to almost nothing.

The damage had been done, however. The doorbell rang about ten minutes after the last joint orgasm, while Tracey was looking for some tissues to mop up with and Amy was getting a couple of cold drinks from the kitchen fridge. I slipped some track pants on and went to find out who was at the door. It must have been a slow day at the precinct, because it was two policemen in uniform, responding to a complaint that someone was being hurt. I assured them that no violence had been occurring in my house, but they politely and firmly advised me that it would be in my own interests to invite them in to see for themselves. I wasn't about to stop them, and I figured they would have been trained to expect all kinds of unusual situations, so I was curious to see how they dealt with two flushed and sweating naked exhibitionists.

The door to the studio was open and I waved them in, following close behind. Tracey was leaning back on the dais, with one leg raised, wiping her groin with a tissue. I don't know who jumped the most, Tracey or the two cops, but the cops stepped back as if someone had punched them both at once, the big man banging back into the wall, the younger one almost treading on my bare toes. Tracey leapt off the bed, looking around her frantically trying to remember where her clothes had gone, while I squeezed past them into the room.

"It would be good if you would tell these officers that I haven't been beating you up," I said to Tracey.

"Where's my shirt, Sam?" she hissed, with her back to the door, trying to shield herself with a tissue.

"You seem to have us at a disadvantage," I said to the police officers, who were regaining their composure and trying to look officially unfazed, but both were having some difficulty giving any attention to anything but Tracey's bottom as she pulled on her t-shirt and untangled her pants.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we need to ask you if you are OK," said the younger of the two cops, "we have a report that someone was screaming in here."

Tracey was still trying to get dressed and get some dignity back, so she didn't reply right away, apart from muttering "Shit, shit, shit" to herself because she had started to put her pants on back to front.

"Can I help you?"

I used to think that the idea of the 'double-take' was invented by Warner Brothers for Loony Tunes and it only existed in comics and movie cartoons, but at the sound of Amy's voice coming from the doorway behind them, the two cops turned around and did another synchronised double-take. This time the older man backed into the dais which caught him behind the knees and made him sit down very suddenly and heavily. Amy was standing in the open door with her weight on one leg and her hands on her hips. Even a celibate priest would realise that her livid and inflamed pussy had been recently been fucked with some enthusiasm.

"Oh goody, are these our new playmates, Sam?" Amy asked me ingenuously.

"These are real police officers, Amy, I think you should be polite."

"Are they? They don't look real."

"They definitely are."

"Did you ask them to bring the handcuffs like you promised you would?"

"Amy, these are real policemen."

"Sure they are, Sam. Guys, the changing room's through here, if you want to go and get ready."

The older policeman stood up and stuck his thumbs in his belt. For a moment, I thought Amy had gone too far, but then he couldn't help smiling before he turned towards me trying to look a bit more serious.

"I think you should tell your lady friend that we're broadminded and we don't mind a joke, but that she shouldn't push her luck. OK?"

"Yes, officer," I said, trying to sound suitably contrite. The two policeman started to move towards the door. The older one nudged the younger one in the ribs to get him to tear his eyes away from Amy's very accessible body, and they both somewhat reluctantly left the room and headed for the front door. I made what was supposed to be a threatening expression and mouthed the word "Behave!" to Amy, but I could see from her expression that the devil was in her, as I followed the visitors into the hallway.

"I didn't see any whips, Tracey. Why didn't they bring the whips?" I heard Amy say loudly enough to be clearly heard in the hall. "No restraints, either." Tracey was fighting a losing battle with her giggles, when the older cop turned and spoke to me for the last time.

"Try to keep the noise down, sir, if you don't mind," he said to me in a quiet and friendly voice. Then even more quietly, he said "You lucky bastard," and left, shaking his head.