Damn you Victor! I shot my husband of almost ten years an accusatory glance. Why did he have to mess this up for me? The worst part was; he was doing this in good faith, the sweetie. I mean, how many wives wouldn't want their husband to hire an artist to paint their portrait?
But, I wasn't just any wife. Portraits and other art I had solicited littered the house and bedroom already. These paintings were by artists I picked out. They were all slim, delicate, pretty boys I picked up from the art shows around town. It wasn't really cheating. They were just dalliances; only lasting as long enough for them to realize their potential. It wasn't sex. I thought of it as my contribution to the arts.
And this new artist, Thomas, was so sexy I could eat him up. His hair was a little shorter than I liked, but he kept it wild and unruly, which more than made up for its shortcomings in length. He was slim with dark eyes that seemed to drink in all the surroundings as if he were seeing everything for the first time. His skin was pale from spending too much time in the studio. His clothes and hands were marred by brilliant blues, oranges, and yellows. His fingers were long artist's fingers I yearned to feel on my body.
I should have been seducing him. Instead, I was sitting primly. Posing- while my husband watched from the corner of the room. I fumed and stewed, all the while wishing there were some way to get my husband out of the room so I could seduce this little pretty. Sitting there, I imagined half a dozen ways to do it. If my husband would go out for lunch, I would have given the young artist a blow job before he returned. I wanted much more than that of course, but the thought of it, of doing it under my husband's very own nose with an artist he selected, was making me wet.
I was so turned on, that my nipples were pressing out from the thin silk robe I was wrapped in. I had to hold my pose, so I couldn't move. I glanced at my husband out of the corner of my eye to see if he'd noticed. Oh God, he was staring right at them. Yeah, he'd noticed alright!
"You know Thomas," my husband said. "I think this pose you have her in, seems to be lacking something that's in the other paintings of my wife."
"I don't think so." Thomas glanced at the other pictures then back at his canvas. His look was haughty and dismissive. No artist wants to hear someone say their work is inferior.
Victor stood up and walked behind Thomas, looking at me over the young artist's shoulder. "Yes," he said. "I'm quite sure. Something's definitely missing."
What was going on? Did he know? Had this all been an elaborate ruse to expose my infidelity? I could feel my face growing warm as Victor came behind me and tilted my chin so that I stared into Thomas's gray eyes.
"Now arms up and run your fingers through your hair," Victor encouraged. "Great . . . keep them there. And only one last thing."
I couldn't believe what he did next! He moved in front of me, took my knee and placed my leg over the arm of the chair, fully exposing my sex to both he and the artist. My husband stood back, framed my body between his fingers and said, "Perfect. I think we've captured what was missing now. The 'I'm seducing the artist' look." To Thomas: "Don't you Thomas?"
I felt dizzy and my face was beyond warm, it was hot. There was only one explanation. He had found out. This was exactly the pose I used a few months ago with Pierre, the last artist I seduced. I was scared, mortified, and yet I was also wet. I took a deep breath, exhaled in an attempt to relax, steeling myself for whatever lay in store.
Victor stood behind Thomas, watching the young man paint. And Thomas, the poor kid was oblivious to our interaction. He should have suspected something was wrong . . . but all he cared about was the painting.
Victor stood there for a moment, started tsking, and then shook his head and muttering, "Something's still not right. The bottom of your robe should be open more."
I moved to reach down, but he stopped me. "No, honey, hold your pose. Thomas, be a good fellow and open the bottom of her robe a little more."
"But sir, I. . ." Thomas stuttered, clearly uncomfortable.
Victor took the brush from his hand and gave him a little push. "Be a good fellow now."
Thomas walked slowly. He was slightly stooped and the reason was quite obvious, judging by the bulge in his pants. Not touching me, he carefully pulled the bottom of the robe apart.
"That's great Thomas," Victor said. "But drape the upper part against her hips so it's a little more seductive and less obvious. This is going up on the wall, and I don't think I want the world to think my wife is a slut."
The part of the robe Victor was having him move, was inches from my crotch. Thomas tried, but the slick material of the robe kept sliding down. His trembling fingers weren't helping matters either.
"Having problems," Victor asked, causing Thomas and I to both jump. My husband had moved so quietly and quickly behind Thomas, that neither of us had been aware of his presence. "There's a trick to that you know."
Victor reached around Thomas, trapping the small framed young man within his huge arms. He delved his thick finger in my sex, causing me to gasp. Victor smiled and withdrew a wet finger from my sex. Drying his moistened finger on my pelvis, when he put the robe in place, it stayed. Thomas was doing his best not to look, his scared eyes darted around the room.
"You seem stressed Thomas," Victor asked, hiding the young artist shoulders beneath his palms. "Be a good fellow and stand up for me."
Thomas blushed and stood.
"Dear," Victor said. "Why don't you help Thomas relieve some stress? I know you know how."
I knew quite well, but I had no idea what kind of game my husband was playing at. He was clearly in charge of this, that much was certain. After undoing Thomas's pants, I pushed them and his underwear down to his knees. His balls had drawn up, so I pulled at them until they lay cradled in my hand. His beautiful smooth cock was hard and begging for my touch. I couldn't resist sticking my nose into his pubic hair and smelling his spicy scent, momentarily forgetting where I was and the situation with my husband.
"I'm much larger, you know . . ."
It was Victor whispering in my ear. He didn't sound mad . . . just curious. And it was obvious he knew of some of my prior dalliances. It was time to come clean.
"I know honey," I said. "But, just look at it. It's perfect." And it was. It was smooth and slender, and fit easily in my hand. Its purple plum shaped head was bared with no foreskin to protect it. It had a delightful curve. "It's so hard to take you in my mouth, and I can't take you all the way. But with this . . . it's just the perfect size. I can do anything with it I want. Watch. . ."
I took the plum shaped head between my lips and sucked, teasing the underside with my tongue. And then I grabbed two handfuls of Thomas's smooth tight buttocks, and then pushed him all the way in my mouth. The curly dark hair of his pubes tickled my nose and the head of his cock rested gently against the back of my throat. I could have sucked him all day. A living lollipop. I went up and down his shaft a few times and he grew harder in my mouth. When I popped it out of my mouth, it stood at attention like a good little soldier.
"See," I told Victor. "No way could I do that to yours."
Victor didn't look mad at all. Instead he looked amused by the whole thing. "I believe my wife loves your cock," he said to Thomas. "Are you enjoying your little blowjob?"
"Yes," Thomas replied, his voice husky and wavering.
"Yes, sir..." Victor said.
"Yes . . . sir," Thomas stammered.
