Creativity

Creativity. It's what fosters great art, great food, great architecture and...great sex.

New Year's Eve. The date that defines my soul every year. Is it the day I live for? Perhaps not, but I couldn't live without it. It's the day I see Lee. We meet at a cabin on the shore of Lake Superior. Lee picked the place. She loves the wall of windows facing the lake. She loves that there are no curtains. So many times we have made love in front of the windows, candles flickering, bodies intertwined. And every year is so different.

We sit and chat for awhile, sip champagne.

Except the year she showed up wearing a full length fur coat. I opened the door for her, she stepped in and slowly dropped it. Wearing nothing else, not a word was spoken. Not for an hour. When we were done, I took her face in my hands, smiled and said "hi". She looked at me with those emerald, green eyes, and kissed me again. Another hour of Lee. The amazing woman that every man wants, almost every man.

Why do we meet once a year? It's what life has handed us. If we could, every day would be New Year's Eve. But, instead, we have our one night. Except the year it snowed three feet. Two nights, two unforgettable nights. She wore fishnet stockings that year. I wore Armani Code. I know how musk drives her crazy. I love how it drives her crazy. The fishnets didn't survive. We did. Her hands against the cold glass, her back to me, legs spread. Oh, if anyone was out there, my what a sight to see. But, that is Lee, the exhibitionist. The one that has nothing to hide. The one that gives. The one I want to give to. One year, she wore a cheerleader's uniform on New Years. I did point out that most of the time they wear panties. She didn't think that was a good idea. I agreed. The Rose Bowl was never better. The fantasy of every man. Almost every man. She is my fantasy. 364 days a year, she is my fantasy. One day, she comes true. She never asks me what I want. She knows. She is creative. She is my inspiration.

Each year, we take turns choosing a theme. One year, she brought an X-rated DVD and we re-enacted all the scenes. Everyone of them except one. There was a threesome with two guys and a girl. She looked at me with that devilish grin of hers. My angel can be a devil at times. One of the few times I ever said no to her. She wasn't serious anyway. I knew that. I think I knew that.

Being a chef, I chose a food theme once. I made her a sexy, aphrodisiac meal with lobster, a whole artichoke slowly peeled and sensuously dipped in Béarnaise and pulled though her teeth, deep red, heart shaped beets with a drizzle of crème fraîche. I hate beets but they looked so good! Then for the dessert, she was the dessert. Her breasts were like two large, very large, scoops of ice cream with chocolate and toffee syrup slowly dripping down, a touch of whip cream to circle her hard nipples. Drops of cherry sauce down her stomach, a path to heaven. Then I feasted on the sweetness of the syrups and the sweetness of her.

An unforgettable night, as they all are.

Our sticky bodies needed a shower, so much better together. I do love what she can do with a bar of soap and her hands...

This year, it's my year to choose. I noticed that there will be a solar flare on New Year's which means, Northern Lights, Aurora Borealis or perhaps Areola Borealis. The theme I have chosen is colored lights. I have ultraviolet, black lights; ultraviolet body paint, a high-def video camera, and I will give my little imaginative exhibitionist all she can handle showing off what she is.

Now, with the paint and the lights to enhance the beauty, that only becomes more with each passing year, I will give her opportunity beyond what she has had before. There will be many people out, enjoying the Aurora Borealis this night, the weather in Duluth is forecast to be balmy for this time of year - what the locals call January Thaw, or nearly so. The camera will be icing on the cake. I will tri-pod the camera to catch every nuance of her, and her moves and my desperate lust that I never seem to quench no matter how often I have her.

The paints are ready, the brushes, soft and natural hair in varied sizes await only our ministrations. Bodies transformed into canvases for all on the street to see.

When her knock comes, I am startled from my reverie and hurry to open the door. She stands, with her hand on the rolling bag she brings that holds her treasures. Things she brings to lure, and tempt and tease me with. I finally remember to breathe and as I take in deeply a breath of her, she smiles and glides into the room over the lush carpet that muffles her heel steps.

The fur coat is sloughed off of her shoulders and carelessly discarded to the chair. She is mine, at long last once more and she turns to receive me.

I move gratefully into her outstretched arms and feel the heat of her buxom breasts press deeply into my heaving chest. Tears well in her eyes, giving me to know that I am so welcome here in her embrace and she has missed me too, so much. She holds me tightly, breathes in my scent at my neck and I feel a hot tear runnel its way down my neck to my collar. "Sweet man." She whispers against my neck and she holds me tightly, not wanting to release me to see her tears. I hold her then, let her have this moment to compose herself and regain herself.

I feel her body shudder. She shudders with anticipation with desire. She shudders with her tears. I know she is crying. She always does when we first touch. She cries for release, a year of anticipation. She cries for joy. She cries because she is a woman and knows I will treat her better than any man has ever done before. I never let her see my watery eyes though. Her strong, confident self melts into a loving, sexy goddess. Eager to please. Eager to be pleased. I know her secrets and she knows mine. We make secrets together. Our secrets are our true selves. Now smile for me Lee. Our time is short, let's not waste a minute. Let's make some secrets, in front of the windows for the entire world to see!

No one knows her as I do. She is, in her real life, away from me strong and confident and independent and things are always expected of her and she meets the challenges of her life with substance. Here with me though, she is someone, something else. I allow what she needs to be here, and she does so for me.

You may wonder what the matter is with me. Not caring myself if people, strangers, see her beautiful form enjoying what I give her. Why don't I balk at allowing the coitus in the window and little public displays of too much leg or lack of under things at dinners or movies or dances? Why? Because her heart's desire, is my only focus, one night and day of every year.

Now, with the paint and the lights to enhance the beauty, that only becomes more with each passing year, I will give her opportunity beyond what she has had before. There will be many people out, enjoying the Aurora Borealis this night, the weather in Duluth is forecast to be balmy for this time of year - what the locals call January Thaw, or nearly so. The camera will be icing on the cake. I will tri-pod the camera to catch every nuance of her, and her moves and my desperate lust that I never seem to quench no matter how often I have her.

Lee stands with her hands against the cold window, blindfolded, wearing nothing but my paint. She can sense my presence, smell my musk cologne. I move close to her. I step back to admire. The black lights are illuminating her beautiful body, and the colors. I can see the anticipation on her face. My palm grazes her hard nipples, just barely. They get even harder. Her hands still on the window, naked. Mine to explore. I start at the ankles and feel those toned legs. Each of them. A touch, a caress, a lick. My hands firmly caress her legs from the ankles to the top of her thighs. I run my tongue from the crack of her ass to her neck. Her stance becomes more pronounced. Legs spread, slightly bent, breasts waiting, ass quivering. I stand close behind her. She can feel my legs touching hers. She can feel my hands on her shoulders as they slowly move around to her breasts. To caress her nipples, to lift them, to feel their shape, to feel their power. I kiss her on the neck and push against her. She can feel my hard cock against her back. I lick her ear, she moans. I pinch her nipples, she moans. She bends over more, begging to be fucked. I take my cock in my hand and tease her clit. Just the tip in her. Then nothing. She squirms. She wiggles her ass, trying to get some cock. Not yet babe. I pinch her nipples a bit. I do love the way her tits bounce when I play with them. My cock is rock hard thinking of her. I guide my cock into her. Just half way. I stop. Pull out. Tease it a little more. Then I put the tip in, grab her by the shoulders and pull her hard down onto my cock.

Her breath catches sharply and I feel her tense all over. Her hands splay sharply against the glass on the window, and though I cannot see her face, only a reflection of her in the glass back to me, I see her expression. She is delighted and surprised. Why she is always surprised, amazes me. She should know this...feeling, this experience of me by now, but each year, each time, it appears as though this is the first time, she is ecstatic for me always. I am flattered and encouraged by her reaction.

I move for her, slowly, rhythmically and enticingly. I say for "her" and not myself, because from the time I begin planning the next year, it is ever about Lee.

She moans, loves this and the paint on her body is glowing wildly in this black light I have illuminated. What are the people in the streets seeing right now? I don't care, but she loves it. Loves knowing her show is playing down on the boulevard.

Finally I can take it no more, and I have to withdraw. I can't have this end to quickly.

I hear her whine, lightly, she is disappointed, but she knows why. I turn her, grab her by the bottom hard and pull her to me, crushing her beautiful breasts to the fur and sweat on my chest. My hand goes to the back of her lovely long neck and I begin to devour her mouth and I get lost. I pull the bind fold off. I need to see those eyes.

She's breathing hard through her nose, but her tongue is in play, and fully engaged with my own. Then she draws back a bit and takes my lower lip between her beautiful bright white teeth. This is a treat for her, she loves this nipping thing. She can never indulge this delight with her husband, I am the only one who will allow her this. I hold, stock still. I dare not move now, and she giggles through her teeth, into my mouth.

As she holds fast to my lip, her hands find first my manhood, and the other my bottom. She squeezes both simultaneously. I cannot help but smile, as impossible as that task is in this position, she loves the power she wields in this room every year. I would do anything for her, accept anything from her and indulge her as a treasured child regardless the request. As I ponder these things she releases me entirely and dances her way to the music player on the credenza at the other side of the room to change the music.

She puts on some country western band I do not know and pulls a chair to the center of the window and indicates for me to sit there. I do.

Her body paint is spectacular in this black light and she leans down to me, whispers at me "Club Rules Apply" she says "No Touching the Ladies." I realize then I am about to receive a lap dance. I place my hands obediently at my sides, holding the seat of the chair and I smile, anticipating.

As the song begins, she sways, closes her eyes and feels her music. The words of the song describe a man who has been wild his whole life and she smiles and eyes still closed, touches herself all over, melding the body paint into wilder color variations and shapes. "Sweet Annie" the words of the song wail, and she comes to me, straddling my lap and ridiculously hard, long cock, that aches for her heat once more.

She lowers her heat to me, rubbing tantalizingly up and down against my cock, she is wet now, slimy wet and I see in her face that my hardness is delighting her flower. I want to move my hips, but I know her rules from years past and there is a consequence for misbehavior in this chair. I squelch the urge and breathe deeply trying to be calm and be patient.

She lowers her weight onto my legs, brings her buxom breasts to my chest, holding firmly to my shoulders and she nibbles my ear, breathing there, and goose bumps form on my flesh, covering me. Her hands run down my arms, feeling for them and finding them. She giggles and retreats from me, leaving me desolate.

Dancing before me once more she hears and feels the crescendo of the song and her motions are stark and strong and her breasts bounce as she throws back her head and raises her arms with the finale'.

The music ends and silence fills the room except for our raspy breathing. The game is done, I am released I know, and I rise from my chair prison and grab her hard. It's my turn again. With my hands on either side of her hour glass waist she laughs outright and goes limp in my grasp.

"Bend over." I demand. She gasps, as I turn her quickly around and she drops her hands to the floor. "Spread your legs baby." I tell her. She complies and I take hold of my throbbing cock, half afraid I will let go too early, I pause, take a breath and just touch her wetness with the end. My urge is to plunge myself into her depths and release, but the evening is much too young for that.

Slowly, I indulge myself in her heat, the scent of her wetness rises to my nose and I drop my head back, close my eyes and inhale of her. "Oh BABY" I exclaim. As her body envelopes my hard on, I try to distract myself slightly, looking out the glass to see the walkers on the street. Several are looking up now. Has she seen the lookers yet? We are back from the glass a bit now, but still visible from the street it would seem.

I decide its time for a bit more of a show, so I begin to pound her a bit harder and she moans, her breasts swaying with my movements.

"Look!" she says, she's seen them, her voyeurs. "Yes, I see them." I tell her and give her a hard pump that makes her squeak with a bit of pain. "Be Nice!" she tells me. That's what she always says as warning to me that I'm too exuberant with my depth. She loves my girth, the thickness fills her she says, but she is not a fan of my length and I must always have a care that I don't try to bury myself, because she cannot comfortably accommodate all of me.

"My legs are getting weak." she tells me, so we move to the bed.

She's on the bed, on her hands and knees. I have painted her entire body with fluorescent paint. The black lights are on, the camera rolling. Beautiful art on her beautiful body. I spent hours painting her. Geometric forms. Organic forms. Words. All well thought out. All meticulously crafted. The paint I used is a grease paint. It doesn't dry. It smears. This is performance art. I am about to destroy everything I have created. I am about to smear the art. I am about to create new art. The art of love. The designs on her breasts will become smears. She will transfer them to me. The way she rubs them against my body. Streaks across my chest from her hard nipples.

That was the lap dance. A lap dance from a lady with the best tits in the world. They drive me fucking crazy. On her hands and knees, I love to lift them. Feel their weight in my hands. Caress them. Pinch the hard nipples. I have no paint on me. By the end of the night, I will be covered. From her. Sweet, sensual, sexual, her. The red on her lips will be streaked on my cock. I love the way she sucks my cock. She makes love to it. I adjust the camera as she lies on the bed. Her body wide open, begging to be fucked. My cock twitches as I look at her. I zoom in on her wet pussy. This is where I want the camera. I want it to see me tease her clit with my cock. I want it to watch as I slowly give it to her. I want it to see her hands grab my ass and pull my cock into her. I want it to see me fuck her soft and fuck her hard. I want it to see her toned legs wrap around mine and fuck me back. Two people, making love. Two people fucking hard. She has me so hot. Her teasing. Her tits on me. Fuck this. This won't last long. But, its only the first fuck of the night. There will be more... many more, so, with that confidence in my mind I feel myself release, let go and I just revel in her.

She feels me spew my hot seaman in waves into her and I hear her low satisfied laugh as my own guttural grunts escape my throat. "God baby..." I say as I pull my over-sensitive cock from her heat.

She stares at me, and takes my hand, leading me off the bed and back in front of the huge window. She pulls up a desk chair and sits there. "Now, have a little taste of me." she demands.

My knees are weak and I am thankful for the chance to get off my feet. I kneel before her glorious long dancers legs and trimmed but not naked flower and I drown in that sea green gaze. She needs what I'm about to deliver. "Do you want me to dump what you gave me first?" she asks? "No." I tell her. She wants to have me do this now, not three minutes from now, not at my leisure, or to my comfort, but now, for her, as she is. I know this from many times before. She cannot ever feel that anything about her is repulsive to me, and it never is, or ever will be.

There have been years when she has come to me here and she was cycling. Bleeding lushly, and although she would rinse well beforehand, I still tasted and felt of the blood freely flowing that day. She is so sensitive then, was so delighted for my mouth on those occasions. She climaxed so wildly, vividly, screaming with her release and grabbing at my hair and arms.

I loved those times. I have never felt as gratified, as needed and desired by any woman ever in my long life as I did on those days when I gave her what she so desperately needed from me.

And now, as I kneel before this woman I adore to pleasure her for the first time tonight, I am more grateful than I can even express.

My hands lightly glide up from her ankles, smudging my art along their trail to her knees and then thighs and inner thighs, moving her legs slightly apart, and she raises her arms above her head, stretching, throwing her head back and closing her eyes in anticipation of what she is about to receive.

Just before I lower my head and eyes to her sweet wetness I see her turn her head to the window once more and open her eyes to see her audience, whomever they might be down on the boulevard. She loves my ministrations, but she loves her audience also.

I take a deep breath of her, blow out my hot exhalation onto her lips and kiss her inner thigh. She purrs. I lick her lightly, ever so lightly because the lighter I touch her here, the more she feels me. I tease her like this for just a little while, because she gets impatient with me if I tease too long and I don't want the angst to come.

When I feel her begin to moan and squirm, I intensify my efforts and lick her clit harder and faster, occasionally dipping my tongue deep into her and I taste my own salty fluids there. My hands wander north now, finding her beautiful full breasts and I know that she delights in the nipples on both being pinched as she climbs this peak. Had I three hands, I would use the third to fill her with fingers too, but alas, I must try to decide which she needs more. I am rewarded for my choice by her intensified moans as I pinch her firmly.

Her breath is coming quickly now, her sounds insistent. I know her so well, she's climbing quickly and I will push her hard over the edge of her precipice soon.

There. A breathless screech, then no breathing at all. Her thighs quiver, her hands on my shoulders dig in, and her whole body strains with the orgasm. Her head is back, eyes closed, I can't really see all that with my tongue still working hard but I know what she looks like, what she's doing, how she's feeling now.