Gesso Pt 04

Gesso

Part 4

Note to Readers:

This series concerns the adventures of a friend of ours.

It's been embellished and fictionalized, partly by her as she told it, and partly by me.

I have her permission to repeat it.

You'll Want to Read Parts 1-3 to make any sense of this story.

Another note for anybody with a general tendency to panic:

this story, and Sonia's trip to China, occurs well before any news or fears of Corona virus had become known.

So don't panic!

*****

I have a lot to do. I rarely work on weekends, and certainly haven't this one. That always leaves me with a backup on Monday -- bills, emails, browsing over the sites of other artists I follow, and then getting down to my own ideas. My latest commission is still languishing in my mind. It was delivered to me as a fairly conventional "Little Mermaid" scene, a mermaid with flowing hair, sitting on a rock in a little bay, with gentle waves, gazing towards a setting or rising Sun.

I'm starting to have second thoughts. I look over my preliminary sketches and studies. I have waves, corals, rocks, female shoulders, but I just can't feel that scaly butt and fins. What if I just made her a nude woman instead? It's a little inconsistent, I think, that as much as I love spending my personal time nude, and I'm naked now as I sit at the computer staring at Inkscape, that I rarely feature nudes in my paintings. Most of my figures wear flowing gowns or classical draperies. Maybe it's a lack of confidence, I wonder.

I suddenly realize that I want to do nudes. I want to do lots of nudes, in different positions. I want to do male and female nudes, full frontal, graphically displayed. I want to draw lovingly detailed penises, vaginas, pussies, cocks. I want to paint erotica. Fuck that, I want to do hard-core pornography. I want to detail the faces of women in the throws of orgasm, heads thrown back, mouths open in shrieks of passion. I want to illustrate the fierce triumphant bellow of a man in mid-ejaculation, just before his roar turns to a sigh. How can I differentiate these expressions from those of pain and anguish? Is it all a matter of context, or is there some subtle clue that shows in the faces unique to the sexual experience? I need to see more orgasms. Keep my eyes open while I or my partner cums. Watch more porn. Not commercial porn, though. Those orgasms are largely if not almost entirely faked. I need someone to video my face while I cum. Jo might. I do a quick review of our Hippie Hollow video. She did. I had a couple of good orgasms while Carl was fucking me in that standing position. She got my face up close during both of them, and Carl's shaft pumping during his. Wonderful! I could use more, though. More angles. Even more faces. Maybe I could shoot her having an orgasm. Maybe we can catch our men in the act. There should be opportunities for study. It's a worthy cause, it's art!

Smiling, I go back to my current study. Erotica is for another commission, I need to figure out how to make this one work. And maybe I have. Maybe she can be a mermaid in spirit, she doesn't have to look like a Disney character. It's an idea that frees me. I work faster now, the composition starts to come together, the posture on the rock, the dual view of both the surface and the sea floor, the swimming fish, the octopus, the sweep of the lady's back and waist, the breeze just barely catching her hair.

I use Inkscape, Gimp, and Blender to put my ideas together, I want to construct a detailed 3-D rendering of what my mind is seeing before I translate to oil on canvas. It will take two or three more days, at least.

I'm in a zone now, and the time flies by. I almost miss lunch. With a grunt of minor exasperation, I throw on an old pair of shorts and a tight top, tie on my running shoes and grab a bottle of cold water out of the refrigerator. I have a course I take that's calculated to get me back home in half an hour. In this heat, that's about all anybody could endure. I am drenched and dripping when I get back, and I smell. I need a cool shower before I can do any more work, or even use my chair.

Refreshed and dry, I quickly put together a tuna sandwich and a glass of milk, and as I sit down to eat the phone rings. I immediately remember. "Hello?"

A very deep, melodic, very male, voice replies on the other end. "Tethys, my beautiful woman. I'm sorry for the delay, I fear I'm calling you too late."

"No," I assure him. "This is the perfect time."

"I wanted to make sure you were still available this afternoon, but I didn't want to assume too much. If you are, I'll have a surprise for you. But I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's good, you can come over as soon as you can, I just have to make sure I get to my workout this evening."

"No problem. W... I'll see you shortly, my love."

A surprise? I can't begin to imagine what he has in mind. My concentration is toast now. There are a few small technical items I can work on that don't require creativity, and I start fiddling with those, but what I really want to do now is lie back and put up the video of Carl and me at Hippie Hollow. I push the thought aside, barely, and get back to my project.

It's about a half hour later when a knock comes at the door. The timing is right. No need to get dressed. It'll be fun to open the door in all my naked glory. I'm grinning with anticipation.

Normally in a tale like this it's inevitable that the protagonist will open the door only to find herself humiliated by some shocked stranger -- a pizza delivery, the apartment manager, or worst of all, a policeman. Well, this isn't a tale like that. In real life, people usually have a better idea of what's going on, and surprises are unusual. That's why they're tropes.

I fling the door open with a welcoming smile, positioning myself to be prominently visible through the doorway, I want him to be pleased by what he sees. It's not a trope. It's a tall, handsome man dressed in a white polo shirt and white pressed slacks, all contrasting beautifully with the blackest skin I've ever seen.

"Hello, Beautiful," he greets me in that deep, melodic, very manly voice. That voice. Of course, it's Henri, the chef and owner of

The Taino.

I see him the least often of all my men, he's very busy keeping the restaurant running and rarely takes time off, but he's here for me today. I'm always overjoyed to see him.

I step forward in my nakedness to embrace him on the doorstep, and that's when I see

her

.

"Oh my god!" I scream. "Sonia!" I change course in mid hug, leaving Henri's outstretched arms groping the air. I grab Sonia by the shoulders and jump up and down like a kid at Christmas.

"Aaaaw!" shrieks Sonia, and only then do I have the momentary return of my faculties. I grab them both and pull them inside, shutting the door quickly.

"Is this my surprise?" I direct the question to Henri, but I know that she is. I haven't seen Sonia since April, when she said she was going to China.

She sets her gaze on me. "You're looking good, girl! You've put a few more pounds on, and it really puts all the right curves in all the right places. You still working out with that Carl dude?"

I return the stare. As attracted as I am to Henri, usually overwhelmed by the pleasure of seeing him and kissing him and fucking him and listening to his voice, now all I see is Sonia. She is stunningly beautiful. She's wearing a white tennis dress with yellow trim, white socks and white tennis shoes. It's like she was interrupted on her way to the courts. She certainly hasn't worked up a sweat yet.

She's dark black, almost as dark as Henri, with smooth, luminous skin, high cheekbones, perfect lips, slightly Asian features, and very short curly hair that covers her perfectly round skull like a well-tended carpet. She's about my height, but a little heavier. It's not fat. She's a natural athlete, and is built like a cheerleader or a gymnast, which she was in college. Her smile immediately penetrates my soul. I love Sonia.

Henri stands a little bit apart, quietly waiting to be noticed. Finally he offers a shy wave of his hand and a small "Hello."

I catch my breath. "Ok, not another word, not a hug, nothing until everyone is as naked as I am. Get those clothes off. You know it's not even optional here."

"That's why I like you girl," Sonia laughs obediently, lifting her feet to remove her shoes and socks first. Out of respect for the fastidious appearance of their clothing, I show them where they can neatly hang their outfits. In a couple of minutes they are acceptably, and wonderfully nude. They are spectacular.

They look like they belong together, neither is a stranger to the gym. Both slender, athletic, muscular, with tight butts and bellies. Sonia has perfect breasts, about twice the size of mine, as full and firm as natural tits can be. Her nipples are slightly darker than the skin surrounding them, and maybe a touch redder, but the contrast is not great. Her shaved pussy has a beautiful, smooth, rounded mons that sweeps downward into a slightly larger than average clitoral hood, and labia that extend just far enough to be noticeable. Her legs are visibly muscled, and the crease between pussy and thigh is perfectly recessed with no overlap. I'm not attracted to most women, but it's impossible not to be awestruck by Sonia's perfection. She knows it, and uses it to her advantage. I won't begrudge her that.

Henri is lean and muscular, not with Carl's mass and thickness, but not the wiriness of a runner either. If he chose, I think he could be a tri-athlete. He's certainly welcome to be my Iron Man! He has sturdy shoulders, a nice chest over a slender waist. At an age when most men are starting to perfect their Dad bods, Henri is as trim and aesthetically pleasing as they come. It also doesn't hurt that his pubes and balls are shaved. Huge balls. They would look even bigger if they weren't hanging below such a huge cock. I've seen bigger, but only in a porn movie. Other than the size, it doesn't have any of the quirks that set Taylor and Carl apart. It's quite conventionally proportioned, a girth that matches its length, a foreskin that neatly covers the glans, and exposes it on cue when it's ready to rumble.

I feel like I'm in the presence of sexual divinity. Henri's cock begins to acknowledge its surroundings, Sonia notices. "Mmmmm," she sighs as she takes it in one hand and pulls it towards her. Henri and Sonia do belong together. She told me some time ago that "Sex is my drug, and Henri is my favorite addiction." I see no evidence of a twelve-step program in progress.

"Well, come on in," I finally find my voice. As they emerge from the entry hall, now that there's room I give them both a full, deep embrace, Henri first, as I pull his cock from Sonia's hand. It twitches, and so do my own insides. The moisture begins to build early. Then Sonia. "I missed you so much," I breathe in her ear.

They get the quick tour, I show them the progress on my current project and a couple others that are still in the drying phase. Both of them are artists themselves, of a sort. Henri is, of course, a master chef. Sonia is his former student, but also a singer with a band, a songwriter, a poet, an actress, and a sometime nude artist's model. If anything, she's more of an exhibitionist than I am, but she does it with more flare. She's extremely erotic, completely and comfortably bisexual, and has a nonstop libido. She's every man's dream, in other words. Henri better appreciate her.

The couple makes all the appropriate noises of admiration and support for my work, then we head for the bedroom. I run for the kitchen first and bring out enough water to make it through the afternoon; I anticipate much sweating.

I'm in a dilemma to start with. I'd been anticipating with much excitement and inner moisture, the enjoyment of Henri's body, but now I'm torn. I want to fuck Henri, but I equally desperately want to make love to Sonia. Fortunately, Sonia is prepared, and takes charge. She's six years younger than me, but sexually she's as much a master as Henri is a chef. I don't know if she started late and is making up for lost time, or has been trained from an early age, but she's a natural. I'll have to ask her about her history sometime.

My only requirement is that I want the evening to end with Henri's cum in my pussy. Sonia's perfectly happy with that idea, as is Henri. "No problem, girl, I can have Henri anytime, this is a special event for you," she replies.

"Speaking of special events, I almost forgot." I add. "Henri, are you still on for tomorrow?"

"I certainly am, but I would like to change plans slightly and bring Sonia here along as my special guest."

I'm overjoyed. "I was just about to ask her to come with you! Sonia, I'd love for you to be here if you can arrange it."

"What are we planning here?" Sonia asks, with a little more uncertainty than I'd hoped.

"It's a get together with a few friends," I answer. "It'll be naked, and sexual, and Henri doesn't know it yet, but it will be part of my current commission. Carl and Taylor will both be here, and I can't wait for you to meet them!"

"That sounds interesting," Henri and Sonia both speak in unison, with their own unique, musical tones and timings. Their voices harmonize perfectly.

The conversation fades, replaced by sensual, delightful lovemaking. We began by pleasuring Henri, Sonia and I exchanging places from time to time, kissing, nibbling, sucking along that beautiful black cock, and smacking our lips and tongues along those huge, delicious shaved balls. Sonia lays on her back, and Henri enters her. She has no problems with his size, she's taken him hundreds of times. They fuck in that focused, familiar way that shows their knowledge of one another's bodies and responses, movements guaranteed to produce the most intensely pleasurable reactions. I station myself below them, between their legs, tonguing and sucking on the back of Henri's scrotum with each thrusting contraction of his pelvis, running my tongue up and down his smooth, slippery perineum as the urge takes me. My hands stretch forward around Henri's hips, barely able to reach Sonia's nipples, which I twist and knead as I can. She cums quickly, with a singsong moan that is especially lovely to my ears.

Henri is unlike Carl and Taylor. Neither of them have a lot of sexual experience other than me. Henri is a little older, tall, handsome successful, and classy through and through. He has women lined up to adore him, and over the years has accommodated his share. He loves women, loves pleasing them, loves allowing them to please him. He's learned, among his other skills, complete self control, almost in the sense of a tantric master. He can hold back his orgasms or release them almost at will. I've only had to signal when I want his cum, and as long as he agrees the time is right, he'll spurt it out for me -- in very large volumes. He's what I like to call a "cue-cummer."

This afternoon I want him to hold back until he's fucked Sonia thoroughly, and then me just as completely. We're not done with Sonia yet, and they switch positions. Sonia climbs over Henri's prone form and turns on his cock to face me. Now I get the full access, I can lick and massage her clit as she bounces up and down, and taste her abundant juices flowing down his shaft to his scrotum. And what a taste it is! Between the sensations from Henri and me, she cums quickly again, and then once more. Henri is breathing deeply, and smiling, but he shows no sign of an immanent orgasm. The man has amazing control.

It's my turn. Suddenly I'm on my back, staring at the ceiling, and feeling two tongues ministering to my vulva. Henri's coming in from my left, and Sonia from the right. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell the difference between them. Henri's tongue is long, broad, and massive, his breath heavy, every lick forceful and masculine. Sonia has a more delicate tongue, smoother in texture, tapering at the tip, the stereotypical "sharp-tongued woman." Her breaths are softer, shallower, and more frequent. The combination, is exquisite, either one alone would be superb. I can tell when they meet in the middle of my cunt and exchange a kiss between themselves before continuing on me. It's Henri's fingers I feel on my nipples, while Sonia strokes my belly and massages the zone around, over, and above my mons. I'm glad I'm not like Henri. There's no need for me to hold back. I don't. My orgasm is loud and long, and very energetic, as I writhe around their mouths.

I come down slowly, and then out of the blue a thought hits me. "Sonia, you haven't told me about your trip to China!"

Sonia and Henri both laugh in surprise. "You always free associate after an orgasm?" giggles Sonia.

"No, maybe, but it was rude of me not to ask you earlier."

"Well, I'll tell you all about it later, but it was fun. We visited like ten cities, had big crowds, got good reviews, and made a buck or two. And I got me some Chinese dick! Not that great, really, I'm spoiled by Henri here. And I had to have them wrap up, of course. No bareback with all those strangers. But they don't see too many black women, and they really got excited about me, so it was nice on my ego!"

"Ok, I have no more requests. You may do with me as you will," I sigh dreamily, and they respond by treating me like the rag doll I feel I've become. They pose me, reposition me, stroke me, caress me, lick me, kiss me, in every conceivable place, and some I might never have thought of. I think I have at least three more orgasms before I see Henri's smiling face loom above mine, and feel the push of that monster cock invading my surrendering pussy. Sonia keeps up the patter of dirty talk for all of us.

"Come on man, fuck that white slut! Show her your black fucking power! Let her feel a real man inside her. Push it deep! Pound that pretty pink cunt! Make me proud! Give her the magic of your cock! Make her your fucking slave!

"Baby, does it feel good? You like my Henri's cock? You like being fucked by my man? You like it deep? You like it big? Oooh, yeah, baby you're so wet! Show Henri what you like! Cum for me! Cum for Henri!"

I do. Then Sonia does what I wanted her to do, but had been too breathless to ask. She crawls up my body and straddles my face, turning to face Henri. The talking comes to a halt as she places her hands on Henri's shoulders and they lock lips, while she lowers herself onto my face and receives the pent-up desire of my tongue. She tastes so good, her juices are as intoxicating as the best wine, worthy of being served at

The Taino.

There's a delicate yet earthy bouquet to her leakage, and it flows abundantly. The pace picks up, Sonia's clit flashes up and down over my lower lip, Henri's strokes come faster, and my heart is about to explode with desire. I'm ready for Henri's hot jolt of semen, and he instinctively understands. A few more deep thrusts, and I feel pulse after pulse of thick warmth filling me to overflowing. I can't hold back, nor do I want to. Sonia is caught in the general passion, and the three of us moan, groan, scream, laugh, and for anyone listening, it might as well have been singing.

A few deep gasps later, and Henri's still half-hard cock pulls out of me with the distinct sound of suction. Sonia is on it almost immediately, licking and sucking all the sticky remains of the orgasms. She leaves nothing, not even the little folds under the base of the scrotum. I'm envious, I want to participate, but I'm still too drained to move. With Henri serviced, she then begins to go down on me, but I block the opening with my fingers.