My Thoughts Are Your Thoughts Ch 06

My Thoughts Are Your Thoughts 6

Disclaimer: Not

all

of the stories in this series feature my use of mind control. Sometimes, like any other guy I just get lucky. This is one such story.

My affair with Jody went on for about six months, and although there was always a combative element to our lovemaking, in the end we shared a great deal of mutual respect and affection. I think things may have taken a more serious turn if it had gone on much longer, but it was not to be. She had started sleeping over at my place occasionally, and she'd actually agreed to model for me too.

She confessed one night that even when she thought she hated me, she still loved my paintings, which was nice to know. She was a great model, and I produced some really nice paintings of her, but there came the time when she moved on. She came to me one day and told me she'd had an offer to work in a major gallery in Manchester, and not only that, but she'd been offered the chance to lecture one or two days a week at the local Art College. It was too great an opportunity for her to miss, and I agreed, so she went, and I missed her terribly for months afterwards.

My naughty nurse, Fiona Brown, helped console me through those bleak months, and I was most grateful for her company. Meanwhile I was painting away steadily, corporate portraits for the money, nudes for the glory, and landscapes for the bread and butter limited edition prints.

One day the phone rang, and a woman with a very refined voice introduced herself to me. Apparently, I'd painted her father for one of the major oil companies, and she wanted to commission me to paint her. So, I asked for details of what she required, and she wanted a nude for her bedroom. I asked her to come to my studio for a sitting, but she wanted me to paint her at her home.

Her own bedroom was to be the background of the picture, so on the day, I arrived at her place complete with sketchpads, pencils and my trusty camera. It was a huge place in the West End of the city - millionaire's row, but she answered the door herself and invited me in, offering tea, coffee, or something stronger, which I declined. I was anxious to get started.

She was maybe late thirties, yes, I know, another older woman, shoulder length dark hair, about five foot three inches tall, so quite petite, but well proportioned, with good legs. Her face was well made up, regular shaped features, with classic high cheekbones, and the loveliest pale blue eyes. I liked her instantly, and without any more delay, she led me upstairs to her bedroom. She was wearing a light, cotton, button through dress, and black high heel shoes.

'Shall I undress?' she asked me.

'Not just yet, we'd better decide where you want to pose first, which part of the room you want as background, I explained. She nodded, waiting for me to look around.

'I thought maybe a reclining nude, on the bed,' she suggested.

'Yes, that would be good, but I'll do a few different scenes, just to give you the choice,' I said, looking around. It was a huge room, so there was a choice of several locations, but I thought she had her mind set on the bed, and to make her more comfortable I agreed to start with that.

She went over to the bed, and I pulled a chair over, ready for when I had her posed and ready to sketch. She stood beside the bed, and I could see she was little nervous.

'Why don't you just unbutton your dress Mrs Colville,' I said, matter of factly, trying to make it sound as if it were an everyday occurrence, and it was, for me.

'Yes, OK, I'm a little nervous,' she said starting at the top buttons.

'So am I Mrs Colville,' I said, joking to help her relax. She smiled at me then.

'Please call me Angela,' she said, and she was Angela from that moment on. She continued to unbutton the dress, eventually reaching the last button just above her knees. The dress parted, she wore nothing underneath in preparation for posing, and she just pulled the dress back, and off her shoulders, placing it on a chair at the side of the bed. She had a great figure; firm boobs, not big, but nice, a flat stomach, so she obviously went to the gym, and she had really good legs.

Although petite, she was nicely in proportion, and very, very, attractive. I went over to the bed, set up the pillows for her to lie against and she got on the bed, making herself comfortable. Now that she was on the bed she looked totally relaxed. I noticed that she kept looking down at herself.

'Is there something wrong Angela?' I asked her. She looked embarrassed, so I didn't press her for an answer, but she told me anyway.

'I was just checking that nothing was on show,' she replied. I looked at her blankly. 'Oh god, how can I explain?' she said, obviously struggling for words, and then she just blurted it out quickly, 'I have very protruding and fleshy labia,' and blushed as she said it. 'I don't want it to be on show, I'm quite ashamed of it, it's not normal' she went on.

'Oh Angela,' I said sympathetically looking into her eyes, 'that's nothing to be ashamed of. I've seen lots of women naked, and believe me, there is no such things as abnormal.'

'How many women have you seen naked James?' she asked me. I thought for a moment.

'About twenty or so women, all ages in the last year or so, and all shapes and sizes, and there is no such thing as, "abnormal." You're probably worried about nothing,' I finished, trying my best to reassure her. I could see her thinking, as I got myself ready to start.

'James,' she said, 'would you look at me there, just to reassure me I'm not abnormal?'

Sometimes life is very strange - here I was in the company of a beautiful naked woman who I'd never seen before, and she was asking me to visually examine her pussy as a

favour

to her.

'Yes OK,' I said, laying down my sketchpad and pencils. I went over to the bed and sat down on the edge. She smiled nervously at me, and I smiled back. She drew her knees up, and hesitated for a moment, then slowly spread her knees wide. She had a small, but full tuft of dark hair above her cunt lips, the labia and groin were cleanly shaven, exposing a truly magnificent set of lips. They were big, and very fleshy, quite dark

'Oh Angela,' I said. 'They're absolutely lovely, magnificent. What a great set of lips. There's nothing wrong with these beauties.' She positively glowed, smiling with relief.

'Are they, do you really like them?' she asked, eagerly, like a small child.

'Oh yes Angela, they're lovely, you should be proud of them, not ashamed. Would you do me a favour this time and pull them apart, just open them up a wee bit to make the most of them?' I suggested, so she did exactly that, hesitantly it has to be said, and now they looked even better. I could see the pinkness of her open pussy, and what's more, she was wet, very wet. The inside of her lips glittered in the light, and a dribble of whitish fluid oozed out from between the great lips.

'Angela, that looks even better now,' I said praising her again. 'Maybe we'd better get started with some sketches now though. Those lips are too much of a distraction for me.'

'What do you mean?' she asked me.

'No, no Angela, I've said too much already,' I said, picking up the sketchbook, ready to start.

'Oh James, please, you must tell me what you meant,' she pleaded.

'OK, but later. I want to get some work done first,' and so I made my initial sketches of her in the original pose, not with her legs open. After I had a few sketches of her on the bed, I also took a few photographs of her as well. Next, we moved to another part of the room, where I drew and photographed some more poses. We chatted all the time, and I found her an amusing and witty companion. Finally, I was set to do a last sketch, and I persuaded her to pose with her legs open, displaying her wonderful labia. She was easy to persuade, in fact very easy, I just said that she should open her legs and show me that great pussy, and although she hesitated for a millisecond, she opened her legs wide. Again, I made appreciative noises, and she fairly glowed with my praise.

'What did you mean earlier on when you said my pussy lips were too much of a distraction?' she asked me again.

'Surely it can't be too hard to work out Angela,' I explained. 'You're a beautiful woman, with a great body and great legs, and then you open those great legs, and there, nestled between, is one of the nicest pussies I've ever seen. What a temptation to any man. I love pussies like that, and as soon as I saw it, I wanted to play with it, suck it, lick it, and make it even wetter than it already was. She sat there, legs still open as I finished my sketches, and then took some photos of her and the magnificent pussy.

'Is it OK if I do a close-up Angela? I asked. 'I don't think I'll ever see another pussy as pretty as this one. She nodded, saying nothing, and I took some more shots, which were close-ups of her wet pussy. 'Pull those lips apart for me Angela,' I said, and she did so without protest. She was even wetter than before, the wetness and thick white juice pooling at the bottom of her pussy, spilling over into her bum.

'Oh Angela,' I said in admiration, 'you're so wet, incredibly wet.' She smiled and blushed a little.

'I'm glad you like it James,' she smiled. 'You're not just saying that do you really mean it?' Do you really like it?' she asked, desperately needing assurance.

'What can I say to convince you Angela?' I said. 'If you were lying on that bed right now, I'd spread those great legs of yours, go down on those fabulous lips and suck, lick and make love to you until you screamed.

'My husband never performs oral sex on me - he thinks I'm disgusting down there' she said quietly.

'The man's a fool,' was all I could say. She wandered over to the bedside, picked up her dress as if about to put it on, then changed her mind and sat down. As I finished packing my things away, she climbed further onto the great bed, lay down and opened her legs as wide as she could.

'James, please show me your not just saying nice things to flatter me,' she said. I was over beside her in a flash, getting between her legs, my face close to her cunt.

'Ooh... Angela, you smell wonderful,' I said, pulling her lips apart. I licked all around her big juicy lips, teasing her, before pulling back her clitoris hood. She had a great clitoris too, and as I let my tongue circle it without touching it, her hips started heaving up and down. She was gasping for breath, and her cunt was oozing even more juices now. I stuck my tongue into the bottom of her pussy and spread the lubricating fluid up the centre of her lips, which parted as my tongue stroked upwards, then on to her clitoris. She moaned loudly and came almost immediately, her hands clenching and unclenching, holding onto great handfuls of the bedcovers as if she might otherwise fly away. She moaned and babbled as her orgasm swept over her, and I continued to lick and finger her pussy.

'I guess you meant it alright,' she gasped out. 'James, that was fucking marvellous, I've never felt as good as that before.' There were tears in her eyes as she said it. Sitting up, she kissed me, thanking me again and again. It was my turn to be embarrassed.

'Any time you need reassurance... 'I said, getting off the bed.

'Are you leaving already?' she said, sounding disappointed.

'Unfortunately, I have another appointment, which I can't get out of. Believe me Angela, I'm absolutely sick that I have to leave now, but I want you to come to my studio when the picture is ready, and maybe we can finish what we started,' I suggested hopefully.

'Oh... OK, how long will it take?' she asked.

'Don't worry Angela,' I told her, 'I'll work hard on getting it finished. I want to see you as soon as I can, because I want more of you, not just your gorgeous pussy.' She smiled at me then, and putting on the dress, she accompanied me down stairs and showed me out.

It was a couple of weeks before I contacted her again. You can't rush a painting, because when the paint is wet you have to stop and let it dry a bit, otherwise the colours can become a bit, 'muddy.' It takes time and patience.

'Oh, James, I thought you'd forgotten me,' she said when I called to tell her the painting was ready.

'Never Angela,' I protested. 'I've been working on your painting just as fast as I could, but it's ready now, so when can you come over to see it?' She was obviously eager to see the finished work and we arranged a time for that same afternoon. I was eager to see her too, and I knew if she was pleased with the picture that more than just, 'viewing,' was on the cards.

Around two o'clock, she knocked at the door, and I greeted her with an affectionate wee kiss, showing her into the studio. She looked all around, taking in the canvases stacked along one wall, the sketches, photographs and notes, pinned here there and everywhere, the table, with my palette, brushes and working paraphernalia. Studios have their own particular ambience, and a very distinctive smell of paint, oil, and more paint, what I call a, 'Windsor and Newton,' smell. Windsor and Newton are one of the best-known companies who manufacture artist's oil paints.

Her eyes finally came to rest on my easel, which was standing beside the large north-facing window with her painting on it waiting for her to view. At the moment it was covered, so she couldn't see it, but I took her hand and led her over. I could feel her trembling, whether with excitement or fear I wasn't quite sure, but I felt much the same way. It's always nerve wracking to show a client their portrait for the first time. I've never had it happen to me, but sometimes the client detests the painting on sight. Winston Churchill for instance, so hated the portrait of him by Gavin Sutherland that he left instructions to have it burned after his death. An artist puts a great deal of effort and dare I say it, love into a work, and he or she wants that work to be appreciated.

'I'm so nervous, I'm shaking,' she said.

'Me too, I want you to love it,' I declare. 'OK, let's do it I said, and leaving her standing, about six feet away from the canvas, I went over to the painting, and 'unveiled,' it. I was looking at her face carefully to see her reaction. Her eyes opened wider as she looked at it, always a good indicator, and then she started smiling, positively beaming.

'James, you're an absolute wizard,' she said. 'I can hardly believe that's me. I look... beautiful.' She covered her face with her hands, 'Oh god that sounds so vain, but it's the painting I'm talking about, not me,' she tried to explain.

'You

are

beautiful Angela,' I told her, 'don't you get it yet. That's

you

and you are beautiful. I paint what I see, and that's what I saw; a beautiful, serene, and sexy woman.' She turned and hugged me.

'Oh James, I'll never be able to thank you enough. You've given me so much more confidence since our first meeting, and now my ego has gone through the roof just looking at this painting.'

'Thank me, mmm... I'm sure we'll think of something,' I said, a mock leer on my face. She smiled at me again, happiness in her eyes. I kissed her then, and she responded eagerly, her hands instantly reaching down to my belt, scrabbling to unfasten it. I walked her backwards the two or three yards to the large couch, not breaking contact for an instant, but in that brief moment she had her hand inside my underpants, touching and stroking my hard cock. She was hot and ready for it, no doubt at all. As the back of her legs hit the couch, she broke away sitting down, and lifting her dress; she let me see she had no panties on.

'I need you now, just put it in... now, please. I'm ready, I've been thinking about this all day... longer.' Her sense of urgency was contagious, and I just dropped my trousers, leaned over her for a moment as she spread her legs expectantly and lowered myself onto her. Her hand pulled and guided me into her, past the rubbery, fleshy lips, and into the hot inner depths of her core. She sighed loudly as I slid in without hindrance, her wetness easing my cock to its maximum penetration.

'Oh James, You can't imagine how I've longed for this moment. I've hardly thought of anything else for days,' she confessed. I kissed her then, hushing, but not silencing her, as I began to move inside. Now words were superfluous, the animal sounds of a sexy woman being fucked filled the air. It was fast, urgent and so, so exciting as my cock pumped into her, and she fucked me back frantically.

It couldn't last, and she came within minutes, pushing herself hard against me, crying, moaning, hands scratching at my back, cupping my bottom, trying to pull me further into her hungry cunt. We lay there afterwards, 'In the ruins of our pleasure,' as Jackson Browne once described it in a song, just holding each other.

'Thank you,' she whispered. 'That's what I needed; to be fucked, not made love to, just that raw, downright dirty passion. I haven't felt like that for a long time.'

'It really was my pleasure,' I whispered back, 'but I reserve the right to, "make love," to you sometime.'

'Promise?' she said.

'Promise,' I replied, reaching down between her legs and rubbing her pussy lips. They parted under my touch, and I stroked her, feeling her respond to my fingers, her pelvis moving sensually. 'Now seems like a good time,' I whispered, letting her know that she wasn't getting off with just a fast, but spectacularly enjoyable fuck.

'You can do anything to me you want,' she promised, closing her eyes, the better to enjoy my touch. I said nothing more, kissing her mouth, face and eyes, and I feasted on her breasts, which I'd shamelessly neglected until now. Her nipples grew big under my tongue - I sucked and nibbled them, little gentle bites, which she loved, whimpering, gasping for breath, as my hands and mouth pleasured her. She was remarkably responsive and started to come again.

My fingers moved in and out of her wetness, simulating the action of my cock just minutes before. She didn't hold back in any way, and this sophisticated, elegant and refined woman fucked my fingers without inhibition, arching up off the couch for more. She grabbed my hand with hers in a vice like grip, surprising me with her strength, and rubbed herself against me, pulling my fingers deeper into her hole.

'More,' she gasped out, 'more, fuck me, stuff my pussy.... aah... yes, yes, that's it.' Her hips went into overdrive as she worked herself against my hand, finally screaming my name out loud as her orgasm took hold. I lay there beside her as she recovered, her breathing slowly getting back to normal. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me, a sheepish sort of smile on her face.

'You're a bad influence on me James, she said. 'You've got me acting like some sex starved whore, and the funny thing is, I'm not the slightest bit worried or ashamed of it. What do you think of that?' she concluded.

'Angela, I'm touched. I think that's just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,' I said. She looked at me quizzically. 'What a lovely compliment,' I explained, 'being a bad influence on a cock hungry, sex starved, whore nymphomaniac.' She laughed out loud, and then looked at me more seriously.

'I have become a bit of a whore nymphomaniac, haven't I?' she said, scanning my face for reaction. I shook my head, and lightly kissed her lips.

'No, just a little bit more uninhibited. A sexy woman who I think has held herself in check for too long, and who has finally discovered that she

is

sexy, and desirable, and she is responsive to the right words and encouragement. This is the real you, you've always had this potential, it's just been repressed, and we've let the cat, or should I say the pussy, out of the bag.' She thought for a few moments, snuggling closer beside me.