Sperm Bank Artists

The mere sound of the door to the flat being closed behind her was sufficient stimulus to cause my cock to start to swell. The explanation was simple, I had learnt to associate this sound as a starter for fun, it indicated my roomie Catherine had left the flat to go to her work. It meant that I could sneak into her room and have a good rummage through her laundry basket and find myself some sticky bits and bobs to fuel my masturbatory fantasies.

Cath was a sexy lipstick lesbian that worked as front-of-house in a local gallery and always dressed appropriately in smart black business clothes and men's shoes which complemented her jet black hair and crimson red lipstick. I fancied her like crazy and longed for her to make me her sissy slave but I dare not say so. Blokes weren't really her thing.

Cath slept in her knickers and would change them after showering in the morning. Her white full-cut silky vintage nylon knickers that she would leave in the laundry basket were still sticky in the gusset. I loved to slip into such a pair of her soiled panties and feel their tacky cloth clinging to my balls. Meanwhile, I would exhale through the toes of her sweaty pantyhose using the warm, moist air to re-invigorate their aroma and soon I would be loudly calling Cath's name and some dirty submissive demand as I shot my lot into the toe of her hose.

This morning had been no different, except that I had fallen back to sleep for an hour glued into Cath's underwear and awoke when I heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. It had to be Cath who had returned for some reason or other so I jumped out of bed in panic to return her lingerie to her laundry basket before she twigged that they were missing. The shower was still running so I fled to her room and thrust her sexy stuff back into her laundry basket and sneaked back to my room.

Having already purged my balls before, my cock did not stir as it usually would on hearing the door close a second time but my curiosity did and so I pulled the net curtain aside from the window and looked down to the street to see if I could spot Cath on her way back to work. A black woman appeared from the door some moments later but despite my continued surveillance, Cath never appeared.

"Mystery," I thought to myself and thought nothing more of it.

That evening Cath was waiting in a city centre pub when a young and beautiful, statuesque black woman with shining ebony curly locks approached her table. Cath responded enthusiastically and stood and wrapped her arms around the new arrival and kissed her.

"Sleep well, Olivia?" Cath asked her companion.

"Like a log," replied Olivia.

"Did you bump into Mark?" asked Cath.

"Not exactly, but I did see him," Olivia told her pal.

Cath looked at her friend with a confused expression which prompted Olivia to say,

"He's a funny lad Cath!"

Cath was still confused so she asked her friend,

"How do you mean?"

"Well, as soon as you left this morning he appeared in your bedroom. I was almost buried by the duvet and in his eagerness, he failed to notice me there. He was in your laundry basket Cath and sometime later I heard him groaning and moaning your name. At that point I went to sneak a peek, his door was ajar and when I poked my nose around it he was lying face down on his bed wearing your silky knickers with his nose firmly buried in several pairs of your soiled pantyhose. He was huffing and puffing, sniffing and snorting. His arse was thrusting to and fro and it was while I was there that he must have ejaculated because he thrust a final time as he cried out, Make me shoot my sissy spunk in your sticky, stinky knickers, Mistress Catherine. Then he just lay there inert and I made a clean getaway back to your room."

"Mistress Catherine, really?" Cath sniggered, "Did he really say that?"

"Guides law, sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but I'm sure you need to know?"

"No worries said Cath. Mart and I have shared some intimacy. I know he plays with my panties, I don't mind, I'm fond of him, no skin of my back, it's the skin off my toes and pussy that he's after. He gazes endlessly at my stocking toes whenever I remove my shoes. We got really pissed one Friday night a while ago when he rubbed his erect shaft along the cleavage of my pantied arse until he shot his load right up the small of my back. I have to admit that it did turn me on rather. I lost a skimpy little lacy floral black nylon 'g' string that night so I know what he's like."

At the end of the evening when Olivia had returned from the toilet and the girls had stepped outside into the dimly lit street Olivia reached into her leather bag and removed a pair of panties and held them towards Cath,

"Cath would you mind putting these in your laundry basket, please. It really turns me on to think some guy will sniff my sweaty soiled knickers whilst busting his blood vessels, I love the notion, would you mind," Olivia asked timidly.

Cath took the white silkies from her mate and put the crotch between her lips and printed the outline of her crimson red lips onto the crotch of the knickers. Cath held the knickers aloft to show Olivia her lip tease and pronounced,

"He won't be able to resist," they chuckled and the two women embraced and kissed profoundly before they went their own ways.

The following day Mark was back in Cath's room sitting by the open laundry basket surrounded by soiled silkies and pungent pantyhose. Olivia's panties with the saucy lip logo were in his hand, he was holding them to his nose and he was beating his length into a little black nylon ped sock which he had used to cap his cock-head.

By the time Cath returned that evening all was ship-shape again.

"Private view tonight mate, should be good, Tequila slush puppies on the menu. South-side of town, the old school, those two sisters I told you about," Cath informed me.

"Don't remember," I said.

"No matter, be there or be square, got a cab booked for eight p.m., you coming?"

"Second best offer I've had all day," I said without bothering to explain about the better offer I had had earlier that morning.

"I'll take that as a yes shall I," asked Cath and I nodded affirmatively.

Cath later appeared looking infinitely elegant in her usual work attire which she had now partnered with nude-toned pantyhose. I love the lighter shades of hose for their quality to visibly display all the signs and scuffs and soling of the toes that occupied them, details that are less obvious with the darker more obscure garments. I would be able to enjoy them the next time Cath left me at home alone.

Ownership is important. Cath drove me crazy. A pair of dainty, frothy, delicate panties are a sexy item even when displayed in a retail lingerie department but it's only when they have been chosen by a sexy woman, that they really become significant and worthy of infatuation. We are envious of their election, having been chosen to touch her sloppy gash and we wish to share such a privilege as best we can with a sniff here and a lick there.

I was wondering about the details of the panties that Cath was now wearing when we heard the horn of the cab below on the street.

The cab pulled up in front of an old school house. It was complete with an old-school clock and looking remarkably well preserved for a building dating from the thirties. I went round to the kerbside to open the door for Cath and was rewarded with a glimpse of her black panties sitting behind the lined gusset of her hose as the cleavage between her thighs broadened as she prepared to step out of the cab.

Cath and I walked together down the concrete path towards the open front doorway.

Inside the door was an unworldly petite beauty with infinitely long legs and a platinum blond bob of hair. The woman was sporting a retro parlour maids uniform and holding a silver salver crowded with loaded tumblers.

"Slush?" she proposed as we passed her and we turned towards the woman. Her smile was both tender and compelling and we gladly accepted her offer and thanked her.

"That's Fabiana," Cath said quietly to me as we walked away through the foyer. "Good sport, serving us when if fact she is one of the artists showing tonight, like that girl," Cath informed me although I wasn't quite sure what she was trying to tell me.

A large hand-painted arrow directed us through the foyer, down the corridor to the left and soon we arrived at the school hall in which the guests were mustering. A second lovely petite blond woman this time wearing a short chocolate brown cotton dress with white polka-dots and knitted woollen black patterned tights held a second silver salver high to advertise her wares.

"Slosh," she said smiling at us as we approached her but we were already sorted.

"That's Angelina," Cath informed me, "Fabiana's sister. Nice of her to serve given that she is also showing here tonight. I like that girl," Cath informed me.

"If it does lipstick and powder you'll have it Cath," I thought, "Can hardly blame you though, was that arse for real?"

I went to have a look at the exhibits.

Fabiana's paintings were conventional palette knife work, pretty floral canvasses, well executed, vivid colour, no pretense but joyful. The sculptural works on the floor standing plinths were obscene and unreal. Papier mache dildos and cock sleeves. Three ball, four ball, serpent cock-heads with delicate extending forked tongues and shafts so fat that they dwarfed their length. Finally, a piece entitled, 'Amedicational Cock Extender', a tube with a triangulate of labia arranged around one end and a greatly exaggerated bulbous cock head at the other with an extendable proboscis for tickling cervical tissue.

Suddenly I found myself facing the gappy smile of a stunning ebony woman in a bright red sleeveless pencil styled dress.

"Well?" she said and her smile broadened.

"Well, what?" I replied in an intentionally rude manner smiling. "I'm Mark," I said and held out a hand. I received a kiss to the cheek instead and as she withdrew she said,

"I'm Olivia. Well, what do you think about my work then?"

"Oh, it's yours," and I confessed that it was really fun and inevitably exciting.

"That all?" said Olivia and at that moment Cath came out of the throng towards us saying,

"So you've met then, Olivia, Mark. Mark, Olivia."

I left the two women to converse and I went to look at the stuff hanging in the corridor. Glass plates with black and white negative images of what appeared to be portraits of men incognito, dressed and decorated with lingerie. Each glass plate was buried within a mount that consisted of pantyhose twisted like a rope and coiled. Some of the pantyhose appeared to have panties trapped inside them. I recollected the Tracy Emin unmade bed theme and I saw that they were the work of Angelina Brown.

I would have been delighted to own one of her pieces just to be able to deconstruct it because I sensed her own lingerie formed a part. I was already really curious about the naughty little panties that clung around her beautiful bubble-butt.

Olivia raised herself on her heels and hovered above her mate's ear and whispered, "Did he find them?"

"He definitely poked around in there, no way he would have resisted them, I think you can assume that he has had a good sniff of your delicious little cunny," Cath informed her unable to hide her excitement. "No sign of any stains though must have shot his lot elsewhere," she added.

Behind me, in the corridor, I heard the sound of heels clipping the parquet floor and as the sound came closer I waited to behold their owner. Fabiana had discarded the maid's costume. She wore a pair of black open-toed heels with a bow mounted behind her toes. Her perfectly formed firm legs were sheathed in skin coloured hose which disappeared beneath a royal blue long sleeved knee length dress. I imagined myself ripping the seam of her hose and displacing the gusset of her sheer lacy panties in preparation for thrusting deep inside her sloppy pussy.

When I awoke in the morning I saw Fabiana in her blue dress and I finished myself off visualising her at my knees tugging at my shaft wrapped in her naughty panties, she swallowed the puddle of jizz that I deposited on her outstretched tongue. Fabiana was my only recollection of the previous evening. The slush puppies had kicked in and everything had become a blur.

I was cooking a fry-up later that morning when Cath entered the kitchen.

"Big day Monday week then Mark," she said.

I had no idea what she was talking about and continued cracking my eggs.

"Big day Monday week then Mark," she repeated and when I still failed to respond she continued, "You don't remember do you?"

"Remember what?" I enquired.

"Well, when I finally located you just before I left last night you were sharing a spliff with Angelina Brown in the bike shed at the side of the building. She asked you if you were interested in being their gallery technician and invited you a week Monday to learn more. Did you snog her in the bike sheds too, Mark?" Anyway, you'll be glad to know you accepted the appointment. You were virtually drooling you mucky bugger," Cath informed me.

I began that particular Monday morning with a nice wank. I had bound the shaft of my cock and separated my balls with a leg taken from a pair of Cath's discarded hose. I was wearing her silky vintage white bloomers and a pair of white suspender tights which were a novelty amongst her stuff. The fragrance of the white nylon ped socks that I had also borrowed was so intense and overwhelming that I got carried away and accidentally shot my mess into her knickers. I had to wash them and dry them with Cath's hairdryer before returning them to the laundry basket in good time to leave for my appointment at the old school gallery.

It was drizzling steadily as I cycled towards the south of the city, I passed the municipal baths and the zoo and soon arrived at the front of the building. I pushed my bicycle down the path and headed towards the bicycle shed at the side of the building.

I stopped in my tracks when I discovered that the shed was being used as a shelter for drying a plethora of pantyhose. They were pegged at the waistband with the legs hanging down and included two pairs of pale pink shimmering full foot dance tights among the other natural shades, the lingerie was probably Fabianas. I parked my bike below the dance tights, the damp toes of the hose clinging to me as I did so. Walking to the front door of the building I pressed the porcelain button and soon the door was opened.

My gaze drifted upward from the lacy floral white nylon ped socks, up beyond pretty tanned knees and thighs, beyond the denim cut-offs, beyond the darling little buds of the petite breasts hidden behind a white 'T' shirt and to the aromatic cloud of smoke from which Angelina's confident, smiling face eventually appeared.

"Afternoon, how are you? Thanks for coming," she said.

"Good and you?" I responded.

"Good, thanks. Come on, follow me, I just made some coffee," Angelina announced. My gaze switched routinely between her sexy lacy nylon soles and her divine derriere as I followed her through the foyer and to the right along a corridor until she pushed open a door displaying a mounted oak plaque. 'Headmistress' was written on it.

Angelina poured us coffee, handed me her spliff and then plonked her pretty legs on the desk such that her sexy lacy ped socks were directly between us. I marveled at the soiling of the cloth revealing the pattern of her tiny toes and the sole of her foot.

"Listen, Mark, your reputation goes before you. We know how useful you are. So sign that will you?" said Angelina pushing a pile of papers across her desktop towards me. There's a job description and a contract if you choose to join us. Take it away with you, give it a read. Make your mind up. You have the first refusal. Meanwhile, let's go take a look at the setup here, shall we?"

The school was rectangular in outline and arranged around a small lawned quadrangle. To the front were the offices and staff toilet overlooking the front garden. We turned the corridor, passed the laundry room and continued to the old matron's clinic. Angelina divulged that the laundry room also served for wet photographic processing and the old matron's clinic doubled as a laboratory and Olivia's studio. The matron's clinic was empty but the bicycle shelter full of hosiery dancing in the wind could be seen to the side of the school through the windows on opposite sides of the clinic. We turned yet again into a corridor where Angelina identified her living quarters in one of the old classrooms.

"We converted the original two school toilet blocks into modern bathrooms which Fabiana and I can access from our respective rooms," Angelina proudly informed me.

A well-stocked library separated her room from Fabianas at the other end of the corridor. The library overlooked the schoolyard with its large ornamental planters and through the windows, one could see that the playground wall had been completely decorated with colourful exotic and fantastic graffiti paintings. We turned the corridor again at Fabiana's quarters passing Angelina's gimp works on the walls of the corridor that led past the large school hall where the private view had been hosted some days before.

"We share the adjudication of the show so we all take turns in here on gallery opening days," Angelina mentioned.

She opened a single door and we entered into an anteroom behind the school stage.

"This would be your space Mark, it's principally used for storage, needs sorting out, but there's room for a workstation and benches. That door there leads to the stage," she said indicating with her hand. That's about it, Mark. Dad's got a few bob, he paid for the renovation of the place, cost a fortune," Angelina told me gleefully.

I had already decided to work there unless I found anything really objectionable in the contract. Three drop-dead gorgeous sexy women with kinky creative intentions and the possibility of indulging their knickers was an irresistible attraction. Minimum wage, maximum perks, that would do me.

"That's more or less it really, the rest of the details are in the paperwork. I've got stuff to do now Mark, have a poke around if you want to, both Olivia and Fabiana are in the building somewhere, so just knock before you enter," Angelina advised and walked towards her office.

I decided to take a look in the laundry room and check out the photo processing facilities. There was a washing machine, a small shower, a top of the range photographic enlarger, chemical flasks, a huge fibreglass sink, processing trays, a print washer and an extendable multi-stringed washing line stretched between opposing walls. I opened the door of the washing machine wishfully hoping there might be something special waiting in there for me but the cupboard was bare. I consoled myself with the notion that it would only be a matter of time before I got lucky if I was going to work there.

I walked to the library and sat down at one of the tables and began to scan the paperwork. I was being offered thirty-seven paid hours per week and at a rate that almost reflected my academic qualifications and the opportunity to otherwise use the facilities for my own art practice if I desired. The post would be provisional according to the outcome of my first month there.

"Pay me with perspiration," I thought as I signed the contract and I began to contemplate that on either side were the quarters of the two sisters. I enjoyed the perverse fantasy that on occasions both girls would probably be simultaneously fiddling with themselves in their respective quarters. What treasure I might find in either room if I ever had the chance to access them. My cock was stiffening as I rose from the desk and closed the library door behind me. I walked to the foyer and dropped the contract in the mailbox hanging on the back of the front door.