Dutch Painting, A Second Chapter
(Continued from Dutch Painting, Ch. 01, a story that provides necessary context)
...She seemed to draw security from the artist. He nodded and she untied the belt to her robe. A moment's hesitation and she slipped it off to stand naked, nipples stiffened, lean and waxed and wonderful. She looked to the artist for instructions. He asked to half sit, half lean against a thigh-height column of doric design. This involved a boldly full frontal presentation of her pudenda to the room -- her slit clearly on display -- before settling into a position that, if not demure (her top of her lips were still visible) was the tamer edge of Playboy. The artist rose to suggest her twisting slightly to achieve the precise pose; his arm brushed her left breast as he did so.
He continued to marvel how her beauty had been augmented and refined with the passing of years. Her face -- was lovely, defined by angular and fresh Nordic lines rather than Hollywood standards -- was framed by a cascade of blonde hair; hair that tumbled past a graceful and long neck to well-presented shoulders. Her B cup breasts -- really a generous B such that, were she to add weight, would creep into the Cs -- were firm and set off by pert, tightly defined pink nipples. She was lean and athletic, but athlete's muscles were subtly masked by gentle curves of elegant femininity. Her softly swelling hips sat atop long legs. "I hate my bum" she would say, clearly wanting the tight circles of a stage ballerina. He would reassure her that her ass was a tremendous turn-on: perfect ovals quite proportionate to her. Her belly was taut and descended to two perfectly formed, hairless pussy lips. She had danced ballet when young and carried that poise and a grace of movement with her.
He basked in this when he was alone with her, when he photographed her, and when they were on (infrequent) holiday visits to nude beaches. "You like to watch me being watched" she would tease, but in fact she enjoyed the attention and their erotic tastes had achieved some sort of symbiosis. Yet strolling on a nude beach before unclothed admirers was far from posing on a platform centred amongst a score of art students studiously sketching out her form. His cock swelled as he absorbed the intense admiration and study she was generating. He pushed his chair back and surreptitiously took a few photos of the scene, as if to ensure that he could remember something so bold, so frankly unexpected.
She had been gazing fixedly at the wall above and to the left, clearly avoiding the eyes of the onlookers. He remarked her gaze dart towards him; they locked eyes for a moment and she gave him a sly smile as if to say "you are rather liking this, aren't you, you dog". Her nipples were pinkly erect -- though the room was not superheated -- and he discerned a slight reddening of her pussy lips. She glanced at him again, this time more conspiratorially. She presented a sly and lovely smile before returning her study of the mid-distance. After about twenty minutes he observed that her gaze softened and shortened, and she took in the students, occasionally making eye contact with them.
It was a ninety minute class divided by a short break. When the pause was announced she swiftly vanished to the changing room, casting a third sidelong smile at him. After the rest break of five minutes she returned in a more confident frame of mind: unknotting the robe she turned to present the perfect ovals and ostentatiously bent to lay the robe on a low stool, affording the students a hurried but more revealing flash of her ass and pussy that may have been necessary. His cock twitched in response and it remained half or full engorged for the balance of the class.
She had resumed both her pose and her surveying of the room. She stifled a laugh when she saw his glance -- evidently he was betraying his longing. She also avoided the quite direct smiles of a lanky, curly-haired boy.
"That would be time", said the artist and she stood, involuntarily stretching as she stood. Breasts rose, legs tightened, the lean flatness of her belly accentuating the view down to her bare pussy. Amidst a shuffling of paper and satchels, a pushing and scraping of chairs, she offered a taut loveliness to the room. More than one viewer paused to take that view in before she turned and slipped into the robe. She emerged from the changing area but hung back. Students began to drift out. Unsurprisingly there were three exploratory attempts to pick her up -- two men (curly boy not amongst them) and a pretty red-haired girl with freckles and a hipster fringe. He let the students trickle out and remained aloof, at the edge of the circle of chairs and easels, until she bade the artist an effusive farewell. He joined her and gave the artist a somewhat more restrained goodbye.
They made it to the stairwell before embracing - tongues probing - her hands impelling his under her shirt. He found her bra-less breasts and began to stroke both nipples.
"That was..." he began.
"Fucking hot." She finished. "Did you like it?" her hands descended below his belt to find the rigid outline of the answer 'yes'.
They were pulled up by the slam of a door and practically ran out of the building into the night.
A slight mist was in the air and she huddled against him, hand stroking his thigh as he looked for the light of a taxi. Her hand was straying onto his crotch when one drove into view.
Huddled together in the back, their lips sought each other as the knock of diesel acceleration provided a low soundtrack. They kissed. Hand wandered oblivious to the driver as their bodies declared a hungry urgency.
"Take off your clothes" were his first words in the hotel room, and she did as she was asked. She stood before him naked. "Play with yourself as I undress."
That done he bent her over the arm of the sofa and spread her legs with his foot. He positioned his rigid cock at the entrance of her pussy. There was no foreplay -- she was practically dripping -- and he drove his length in fully. Grabbing her hips he pried her legs a little wider to adjust the angle and began to fuck her. His cock emerged from its first thrust slick and glistening. Left hand rose to twine her hair in a ponytail and his right fingers traced the line of hip and back. He increased his pace and she leaned more directly onto the sofa back. Her ass cheeks parted and her rosebud was now on view. Wetting a thumb he placed it on her pucker, she half-turned and nodded. He forced it past her ring; her pussy canal began to tighten. He pulsed his cock on the in-thrusts, once, twice, three times. Her tits swayed forward with each push forwards. His balls began to tighten and the sound of them slapping into her increased in intensity. Her hand strayed to her pussy and -- as he further increased his pace and she massaged her clit horizontally -- she came with a shudder. He pulled out cock and thumb and exploded over her ass and lower back in three bursts.
They paused in place for a moment.
"How was that?"
"We ought to do this more often". Her head rose, hair brushed aside, and she smiled conspiratorially at him.
"Would you mind?"
He released her hip and walked to the washroom, returning with tissue to remove the puddled sperm.
"Success?" She smiled and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
"How so?"
"Did I surprise you? Did it arouse you? Was that good?" a gentle teasing poke. She ran her hands over his flanks and his lean belly. "You look good for middle age, you know." He kissed her, slowly, appreciatively.
He replied to questions with a question. "What do you think?" He smiled.
He poured two whiskies as she flopped naked on the duvet. She watched him cross the room as she toyed with an apple from the bowl housekeeping had placed -- oddly - by the bed.
"In the mood for a game of temptation?" and her face was a mixture of lust and boldness. She twirled the apple and tossed it in the air.
"All about Eve, are we?" She was reclining on her side, a posture that accentuated her svelte lines.
She gave a low, almost gin and cigarettes laugh. "I think this effort to keep some excitement in our lives is working rather well, so I'll present a fantasy. You guess if it is one I have and then admit -- truthfully now -- if it is one you also. Guess right and we will do it, oh, within two months."
"And the point of this is what precisely?" His voice betrayed genuine surprise.
"Darling, intellectualise all you like, but your cock is betraying you." And it was. Even as he looked down it was regaining a certain swelling.
He climbed onto the bed and presented her the drink he had poured.
A deep sip and then she began.
"Would we like to go to a strip bar where I wear very little?"
"Be more precise." He countered.
"We go. I wear something revealing. We have a dancer dance for us."
He thought for a moment. "Yes we would. I don't think you'd be ready to strip, though I think tonight broke your fear of an adverse audience reaction. By the way, how many contact details did you give out to your admirers?'
"Be quiet" but she was smiling, appreciation the public acknowledgement of her desirability to a student audience half her age.
"You know they probably thought you were 32..." he said, softly stroking her leg with his outstretched foot.
"... and assumed you were my father." Laughter. She continued. "At any rate, yes."
"Would you strip on stage?"
She paused. "I think I would certainly go without bra and knickers and let the dancer have a peek."
"And...?"
"We'll see. Yes, we'll do that soon." His cock swelled more. She watched it approvingly and continued: "You keep that lovely shaft of yours right there where I can see it. Your little-headed lie detector... So a second fantasy, then."
She let a pause hang in the air. Her foot toyed with his.
"We bring a woman in and you watch us before you fuck both of us."
He responded unthinkingly "another person brings a great many unknown quantities..."
