A Parisian Pussy Portrait

Entry 37

Paris, Day 3.

'Paris is everything and more.

I've always known this because of the postcards I've gotten from friends and family, as well as the pictures I've seen online and in movies.

The sights, the food, the energy, the men! Everything is great.

I've only been here for a couple of days, and I'm already wondering how I'll ever leave.

Yesterday was insane, and I mean insane in the best, most wildly unexpected way possible. I've been having an absolute blast with my friends. Paris really brings out the best (and most scandalous) in all of us.

We visited the Eiffel Tower, ate too many croissants (no regrets), and took in every bit of magic the city has to offer. We laughed, we drank, we made a scene at some little café where the waiter flirted with all three of us--classic Paris.

But the real adventure started last night.'

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I typed. Did I really want to reveal what happened the night before? It was the wildest and most risqué thing I'd ever done, and I didn't know if it would be right to put it out there.

I sipped my coffee and looked at the bustling street of Paris below me. I was sitting by the balcony and writing the entry, and yet I was asked the question: to reveal or not to reveal?

The entire point of my blog was how honest it was and how I got to connect to my subscribers, but was there ever such a thing as too much?

Shaking off the thoughts that seemed to cloud my head, I continued.

First off, your recommendations have been guiding us through Parisian life, and this one? It really took the cake. After reading all your messages, my friends and I couldn't resist checking out that underground Debauch Party you all mentioned --the one with the blindfolds and a lot of people and... well, you can imagine the rest.

This was a next-level Parisian adventure--a blindfold orgy. I've never been to an orgy, and the entire point of my blog is to try as many things as I possibly can. I told my friends about it, and they were down for the adventure.

It was everything I expected it to be and more.

I'd held a pretty biased view about orgy and how nasty it could get, but that view was debased completely.

It was completely hot and wild. Very liberating. There was something hot about not knowing who was touching you, not seeing any faces but just feeling. The anonymity was freeing in a way I hadn't expected. No judgments, no preconceived notions. Just raw, human connection.

Imagine being blindfolded and surrounded by multiple bodies who were kissing, sucking, teasing and fucking you. There was something so wild about not knowing whose hands were where, whose lips were kissing me, whose body was moving with mine.

If you know me, you'll know that I have always loved a good tease, but this was something else entirely. Hands were everywhere, mouths, cocks, and vibrators on every inch of my skin, and the sheer intensity of it had me losing track of time. Multiple partners, each one taking me in ways that left me breathless and aching for more. No names. No faces. Just bodies, heat, and pure desire.

I might have fucked my friends multiple times, and I wouldn't have known. That was how anonymous it was. The experience left me a bit... sore, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

And you might be wondering what we're doing today. Well, today is going to be a solo adventure for me. It's a special day in a much different way.

Quite a number of you recommended a nude gallery in the city, and honestly? I can't wait. I know you are all recommending things you're too chicken to do, but that's why this blog exists.

Being in my mid-30s, I've spent years battling with my body image--some days, I love what I see in the mirror. Other days, not so much. But after last night? I feel more alive, more powerful than ever before.

So, going to a gallery exhibition that celebrates the human body in all its raw, unapologetic glory feels like what I need today.

Maybe there might be another adventure in store for me. We'll just have to see.

Until then, à tout à l'heure!'

It was hard wearing heels on cobblestone streets, was what I said to myself as I walked through the streets of Paris. But there was no way I was going to let all the shoes I bought collect dust because the streets didn't agree with them.

I raised my phone and looked at the screen where the map app was open. I was trying to locate the Nude Gallery, which my subscribers recommended, and right now, it is proving hard to locate.

Parisians walked everywhere, so I didn't see the need to grab a taxi, and now I've been walking for the past twenty minutes.

I squinted at my phone screen, which was telling me to take a left into a dark alley,

Did the map want to get me killed?

I'd already sent an email asking for a more specific address and route, but my email hasn't been answered. The gallery exhibition was very exclusive, and I didn't have a phone number to call.

I huffed and followed the directions on the map, but not before sharing my live location with Sophie and Leah. I would want them to be the first to find me if I were beheaded in the streets of Paris.

I walked down the staircase leading into the alley, putting one foot in front of each other tentatively. My hand reached for the pepper spray in my bag, which I'd carried for situations like this.

As an American woman flying to Paris, I'd done my research and was well aware of the surge in theft going on in the country. Carrying around a pepper spray was as safe as I could keep myself.

I walked down for what felt like an eternity, the map leading me deeper and deeper into the alley. I was about to turn around and head back to the villa when the automatic voice announced to me that I'd arrived.

I stared at the huge metal door in front of me, not knowing what to do. I knew it was exclusive, but I didn't think it was this level of exclusive.

Sucking in a deep breath, I gave the door a knock. There was a huge pause, and when I was certain that I was at the wrong place, I was about to wrap away when I heard a sharp metallic clang. A slot on the door slid open.

A pair of dark eyes peeked out, surveying me, silently asking if I really belonged there.

"Quel est le mot de passe?" The voice asked in French.

"Pardon," I said to the eyes as they frowned at my English. The French really had a vendetta against Americans. I couldn't blame them, though. Everyone had a vendetta against Americans.

"What's the password?" the voice asked, deep and thick with a French accent.

"Um, yes!"

I quickly opened up the confirmation email I'd been sent and scanned it, looking for what my password was.

"The password is Plaisir," I said confidently, knowing in my heart of hearts that I'd butchered the French.

"It's Plaisir," the eyes corrected. He didn't seem to like me.

Then the slot closed with another sharp clang before y the metal door creaked open, revealing a man behind. He was dressed from head to toe, which I hadn't fully expected.

"Welcome," he said to me, stepping aside.

I walked into the huge and gorgeous building that seemed completely different from the entrance. It truly was an exclusive spot.

"Changing room!" He pointed at a room with dark red velvet curtains, which served as a door.

I nodded and stepped into the room. Clothes were properly folded on top of one another in the room, and some of them were arranged on racks.

This was very different from anything I was used to, but I decided to keep an open mind. There was no artwork in the room, only a single sign that read: Your Body is Art in different languages.

Okay, cool.

I began by taking off my cardigan and then my skirt and shoes. Slowly, I took off my underwear and put on the socks that had been placed there for me. Walking around naked only with socks felt so weird.

I stepped out of the room, my cheeks heating up as I walked into the gallery filled with very naked people. No one seemed to pay any special attention to me as they all admired the artwork.

I walked around slowly, my socked feet pressing on the floor as I looked around at the artwork lining the walls. I paused for a moment, taking some of them in, but there was one theme that all the artworks had.

Nudity.

But it was showing nudity in its most glorious form. It fully resonated with everything I'd experienced these past few weeks, and I loved it.

I slowly wandered into the next room, where a woman stood near a sculpture, gazing at it with a small, curious smile on her lips.

The first thing I noticed was her gorgeous black hair cascading down her back in waves. Her body was curvy but also strong, and she looked extremely confident in her own skin.

God, what I would give to be like this.

She caught my eyes and smiled--a soft, inviting smile that seemed to invite me in.

I stepped closer to her and faced the painting she was looking at. I tilted my head to the side, trying to take in the colors and brush strokes.

"You don't understand it?" she asked, that same smile on her face.

I shook my head.

"What do you see?" She was looking at me now, and I realized just how gorgeous she was. My eyes dropped to her chest before I could stop it as I took in her very perky and pink nipples. "My eyes are up here," she teased, causing my entire face to turn red.

"Uh, I don't really know what I see."

"Look again," she said.

Her French accent was very thick and sexy, and I could barely concentrate because I wanted to know what her nipple would feel like in my mouth.

I shook my head and focused on the painting.

"Uh, it looks violent?" I squinted. "Like the two lovers are fighting."

She giggled.

"They're having rough sex. It can be violent in a sensual way. Like the sex couples have when they are angry with one another."

"Oh," I let out, finally understanding what she meant. "It's very risqué."

She smiled. "You do not look like someone who minded."

"Oh, I don't. I just--"

Before I could finish, she stretched out her hand to me. "I'm Celine."

"Ashley," I responded, taking her hand in mine.

It felt more calloused than I would have thought. Just then, my eyes trailed to the bottom right side of the painting where the artist's name was, and I saw it: Celine Duval.

"By any chance, did you paint this?"

She smiled wider, her gaze trailing over me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. "Yes, I did. I'm an artist."

"Ah." The whole explanation made sense now.

"I like to dabble in sensuality and sexuality type of paintings, mostly related to the female body."

"I saw a lot of paintings with your ban on it," I said excitedly.

She laughed softly. "It's my exhibition. I feature other artists, but my own paintings are the centerpiece."

I felt a blush rise from my cheeks to the tips of my ears. I'd not done any bit of research on the art and artists, and now I probably look like a fool.

"I see."

"I have more pieces upstairs if you'd like to take a look."

"Sure," I said immediately.

An incredibly hot French woman was inviting me up to see more of her paintings. Of course, I was going to say yes.

"My art is a bit more personal. Are you sure you'll be okay with it?" Celine asked as we made our way up the stairs.

I could barely concentrate because she was walking in front of me, and I could see the folds of her pink pussy staring back at me as she moved. I'd never fully explored with a woman, apart from the night of the orgy, but just seeing her naked made my body tingle with need.

I wanted to know what she tasted like. Was that weird? Maybe I was actually bisexual or just curious.

"Uh, yeah, I am," I said, finally finding my voice.

When we reached the top, she pushed open a door that revealed a huge studio space. The room smelled faintly of paint and floral perfume: two very different scents, but they seemed to work perfectly well together.

There were canvases hanging everywhere. Some were on the wall, on the floor, on top of tables, and on every other surface, and some were even stacked in corners.

"You painted all of these?" I gasped, looking at the paintings that were on display.

They were very raunchy but also very gorgeous too. This wasn't the kind of art you'd see in a typical gallery. No, this was something raw. Erotic. Beautiful in a way that made my skin tingle just looking at it.

It wasn't hard for me to know what the painting meant. Most of them were paintings of nude women. I could see the curves of the buttocks, the arch of the neck, the press of two bodies together.

Some of the pieces were bold and bright, others more muted, but they all shared that same theme: sex. Passion.

"Wow, you're so talented," I let out.

Celine eyed me. "Are you sure you're not just saying that?"

"I'm obviously not," I giggled. "So what are they about?" I asked as I walked around, taking in the paintings.

"I use the human body as my canvas. Mostly the bodies of women. Sometimes I paint them, sometimes they paint themselves. Sometimes, we paint each other." Her eyes held mine, and I understood what she meant by that.

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "And you... you're the artist behind all of this?"

She nodded, her smile slow and deliberate. "Yes. And I'd like you to be a part of it."

"You want to... paint me?"

She walked toward me, her voice dropping a couple of octaves and becoming more sexual. "More than that. I want us to create something raw.

"What does it entail?" I asked.

She stepped closer again, her hand reaching out to caress my cheek. "It's simple. We both cover ourselves in paint, and our bodies become the brush strokes. We move, we touch, and we explore each other, and as we do, the paint transfers into the canvas."

I hesitated for a bit, and she must have sensed it because she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered. "You don't have to decide right now. But I think you'll love it."

"I'll do it," I said before I could second guess myself.

Paris was all about having fun, and I wanted to have as much fun as possible.

Slowly, Celine closed the distance between us as her finger trailed a path down to my thigh. "Open," she commanded, and I did as I was told.

Her fingers flicked over the folds of my pussy, touching and taking in my wetness.

"You're so wet. You always wanted me to fuck you, right?"

I swallowed, feeling shy.

"You were walking in front of me..." I trailed off with a gasp as she put in the tip of her index finger.

"And you were watching my buttocks. Watching it move, or were you imagining rubbing your wet pussy against mine? We're both clean-shaven, so the feeling would be immaculate."

I moaned, grinding my hip against the tip of her finger like the greedy slut I was. I wanted more.

"Wow," Celine started, loving what she was doing to me. "I did not take you as the needy type, mon chérie."

She pushed her fingers deeper into me, making me gasp.

"More, please," I begged.

I needed her to start moving her fingers inside me unless I was so close to going insane with need. Instead, Celine just chuckled.

"I thought you looked pretty put together and a bit uptight when you came in, like such a good girl. But you're not, are you? You're not a good girl."

"I'm not a good girl," I moaned.

Celine pulled her finger away from my entrance, and with her eyes to mine, she brought them to her lips and licked them clean. I wanted her to keep finger fucking me, but it seemed like that was all I was getting for now.

"Do you want to get fucked before or after we fuck on the canvas?" she asked, catching me off guard.

"What?" I asked, blinking.

"Fucking without paint on our bodies first, or just fucking immediately with the paint. Normally, I like to ease my clients in."

"Uh, whichever one you prefer."

Celine smiled. "You're such a cute submissive, mon chérie. I love it. Alright then, we will fuck before to ease you in."

Why did the French always throw the word Fuck around so much?

Celine placed her hands on my chest, sliding them down to cradle my sensitive breasts. She rubbed them and squeezed, taking in the feel of my hard nipples.

"You're so beautiful," she said to me, playing with my breasts.

I walked closer to her as my lips found hers, and then we kissed, our lips moving in sync with each other. The kiss was rough and urgent, as if we'd been waiting all our lives to kiss each other. It was exactly what I needed, and I shivered as Celine's breasts pressed against mine.

The kiss made my toes curl as she pushed me backward toward a flag and a large table-like surface. Celine's hands skimmed my entire body, pressing and gripping my hips and squeezing my butt cheeks. It felt like she was leaving her mark on every inch of my skin.

The kiss was passionate, unrestrained, and utterly convincing. It didn't feel like we had just met each other a couple of minutes ago. Instead, it was like we'd known each other for years.

I laid back flat on the surface as Celine hovered on top of me. Her finger found its way back to my pussy, and she circled it continuously, and I moaned.

Soon, she slipped a finger in, fucking me with a curved finger and hitting my G-spot with every thrust.

"Do you like this? Being finger fucked?"

"Yes," I moaned.

"Well, too bad because it's time for you to eat me out."

Okay, this was a first, and I wasn't opposed to it.

The position switched, and suddenly, Celine was underneath, and I was on top. I took my position between her legs and lowered myself down so I was face-to-face with her very slick pussy.

"I know you're dying to taste me," Celine cooed as she held open her labia to give me more access to her pink flesh. "Allez-y, mon chérie."

I really wanted to taste her, and I couldn't wait to do it.

I sank between her legs and licked her wetness. It was sweet and tangy all at once, and I wanted to drown in it. I moaned as I licked and slurped her juices, my mouth and tongue moving from the folds of her pussy to her clit.

Celine was moaning loudly, too, which meant that I was doing something right. Dizzy with her scent, I kept drinking her in, pushing my entire face into her opening.

"Yes, mon chérie," Celine moaned.

I raised my head to look at her as I made eye contact with her while also lapping her juices.

"Fuck, Ashley. Use your fingers!" Celine instructed, and I did as I was told.

I pushed a finger into her, my mouth still pleasuring her as I fucked her with my finger. Then I slid another one, and another stretching her out as I finger fucked her.

Celine's moans filled the studio, making me go even faster and harder. I'd not pleased a lot of women before, and it seemed like I was a natural at this.

Celine angled her lips so I had better access and kept tongue and finger fucking her until her hips buckled underneath me, and she came on my face. I licked her clean immediately, taking in her juices as her body quaked.

"C'était incroyable," Celine moaned finally, and I knew that was a good thing.

She flipped me around and got on top now. "My turn," she said, her eyes shining.

Without warning, Celine penetrated me with her fingers, making me scream out loud. Her other hand played with my clit and my breast, alternating between them and sending a shock wave of pleasure flowing around me.

I writhed underneath her, trying to stretch out my orgasm for as long as possible. I couldn't come now. Not yet.

Her fingers continued to pump in and out of me, thrusting deeper with each stroke. I squirmed around, wishing to hold it in longer.

I rode Celine's fingers, moaning and in awe of how quickly my climax was coming. Just as she decided that she was actually approaching orgasm, Celine went still.

My eyes fluttered open. "Why did you stop?" I tried not to scream out in frustration.