Art for Anything

I woke up and it was dark, her smell on my face, her back against me. I couldn't remember much after the lights went out but my cock felt good and her smell felt better. I lay back trying to remember and figuring it was time to head out.

"You got some place to be?" She said sleepily, looking at me.

"I just thought I shouldn't overstay my welcome..." I felt foolish with one sock on and my penis flapping.

"After a night like that?" She barely got the words out, smiling. Asleep.

I thought twice and then reached for my other sock.

"But what about my car? Didn't you say you'd drive me to get it?" She patted the open sheet next to her and closed her eyes.

Fuck!

What was I doing? Not staying over on the first date...on principle? Fuck that. I wanted more of that thing she had. I stripped off my socks and laid back down next to her. I didn't have any better place to be except inside her.

"Mmmmm," She turned and wrapped herself around me. "I'll make it worth your while." And she fell asleep, snoring lightly in my ear.

"So," she said, looking at me over our mugs of coffee and toast, her breasts peeking out from a robe she'd thrown on. "What do you think? You up," she paused and stared through the table at my crotch, "for a little modeling?" She giggled and took a sip, her eyes like Sandra Bullock's wrinkling at me over the mug.

I smiled, staying silent.

"Oh, c'mon. You're not getting shy on me, right? After what we did last night?" Setting down her mug, the robe opened revealing most of her breasts. The dope had lingered, or maybe we had drunk more than I remembered. In any case, my head was cloudy and I just set my chin on my hands and stared at her. At her incredible face, her smile, her eyes and her beautiful breasts.

"You don't seem to mind staring at

me

," she teased, closing her robe just enough to hide her nipples. Those wonderful nipples I had been sucking on just minutes ago. I looked up at her, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. This was not a good place to negotiate from, and she clearly was in a negotiating mood.

"Oohh," her eyes narrowed and her expression darkened a little. "I get it. Hmmm..." She closed her robe and tied it up, sitting back and studying her mug of coffee. "You're that kind of asshole." She looked out the windows and mumbled how she sure knew how to pick 'em.

That stung. I wasn't holding out for anything in particular. I just didn't feel like caving at the first offer. I'd learned that much from my studies of various mating habits. Besides, she hadn't played her hand particularly well.

"You think I'm trying to

deal

here?" Her face had clouded and she was clearly getting angry. "You think I'm doing this like a business deal? Fuck. What's going on out there?" She motioned to the windows, but I knew what she was saying. "Has the whole world turned into one big fucking business deal?"

I shrugged and took a sip of coffee, hoping she'd settle down. I wasn't going to help by saying anything.

She fumed and closed her eyes, her lower lip quivering after a few moments and I couldn't believe those were tears spilling down her cheeks.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I was about to say something, apologize, anything, but she beat me to it.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to look at me, her eyes brimming. "I...fuck...I just get this way. I...anyway, you don't owe me anything. I had a fucking fantastic night. You go down like nobody I've had before." She giggled a little through her sobs, looking at her hands. "I mean it. I've never had anyone eat me like that."

"No. Wait." I stood up, my stiffening cock obvious. I had thrown on a shirt and it barely covered me, but I'm a sucker for a crying woman. My whole adult life, tears have always made me hard. Sick, maybe, but I've gotten over it. "I didn't mean anything by not answering." I walked over to her, stroking her hair. She leaned her head against my thigh, calming down.

"You got hard when I cried?" She pursed her lips and blew cold air on my shaft, watching my pubic hair ruffle.

I rubbed her head and reached for my coffee. "Anyway," I repeated, "I apologize for upsetting you. I'm honored, and flattered you'd want me to model for you, but I'm not ready to commit."

She laughed and I looked down to see if I'd missed something.

"You make it sound like I want you to marry me!" She pulled away and leaned against the table, her ear brushing against my glans. She batted my cock away with her hand and then, like a little kid, kept batting at it, watching it get stiffer as she played with it. "They are sooo weird, don't you think?" She looked up at me and gave it a kiss.

I smiled and sat back in my chair, letting the rollercoaster settle down before I took a chance and said anything to fire it up again.

"Seriously." She looked at me again, her forehead lowered a little so her eyes peered out from under her brows. God that was a sexy look. And she knew. And she knew I knew she was doing it on purpose.

I laughed. "I don't think you're serious about anything!" And I knew she had worked herself up into a lather just to lower my defenses. I'd seen professional wrestlers with less finesse than she had. "How do you know I'd even be able to get it up with whoever that model is? And besides that, that would be my cock on those paintings. Isn't that something to think about before I agree to anything?"

"And my cunt. So what?"

I paused and looked at her, confused. "What?" I blinked. "You're cunt...? I thought you said..."

"You didn't recognize these?" She opened her robe and presented her breasts, stretching her aerolas and nipples between the two fingers of each hand. I shook my head slightly, still not getting it.

"Just hold on." She got up and walked to a full-height cabinet behind us. Pulling out tripods and black bags and umbrellas, she leaned the gear against the wall. I was distracted by her amazing ass peeking out below the robe, not fully understanding what she was doing. Moments later she'd rigged the room into a small photo studio. I seriously think fewer than 60 seconds had passed and she had a camera on a tripod, an umbrella with lights and a black sheet hanging on the wall.

"C'mere." She nodded me over as she took off her robe.

If last night was weird, this morning was theater of the absurd. I watched my cock bob along as I made my way in front of her. She pulled my shirt off and ran her hands down my ribs, cupping my balls.

"You don't think you could get hard with this model?" The lights flashed and I blinked. She knelt down and the lights flashed again. I put my hands on her head and the lights flashed again. Her mouth on my cock. Again. She swallowed me. Again. I felt her fingers exploring between my legs. Flash. Pushing against my sphincter. Again.

I was hard and getting harder. She had me almost completely down her throat, her finger pressing into me and every heartbeat seemed to be timed with a flash of the light. I didn't know where to look: in the camera, at the umbrella, down at her head.

Her finger penetrated me and pushed harder, but my ass was dry and she couldn't get in. That didn't stop her from riding me and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. Flash. Into her throat. Flash. Her lips pulled on my crown. Flash. Down again and she held me, her fingers rolling my balls. I closed my eyes and felt the crème erupting out of me, the lights turning my eyelids red with every pulse of my cock.

She pulled off of me and sat back on her heels, letting me sag to the floor. Still the lights flashed. She pulled my head onto her lap and we stayed like that until my heartbeat returned to something familiar. And still the lights flashed. Her fingers played with my hair, stroking my ears. She didn't say anything.the whole time.

"Fuck," I whispered. "What the fuck was that?"

"That," she said softly, "wasn't so hard...I mean...difficult, was it?" She giggled a little and bent down to kiss me. "I mean, you could do that again, right?"

"But..." I waved my hand at the flashing lights. "What's all this about?"

"You busy this morning? You need to leave? Or do you want to hang around?" She lifted my head softly and scooted her legs out from under her, bending to stand up. The puns again.

I mentally scanned my calendar. I was supposed to work on some report or another, and I had something else in the evening. "Uhhh...what? No. I could hang out for a little." I looked at her curiously and rolled onto my knees to get up, hanging more down now than out.

The lights had stopped and I watched as she fiddled with the camera, taking it off its stand. She crossed the room to a small workstation on the opposite wall, the muscles rippling in her ass as hypnotizing as any pocketwatch. "Come on."

I walked over, suddenly self-conscious of being naked but for no apparent reason. The windows were 30 feet above the street, and there wasn't another building within 300 feet of hers. And, I realized, looking across at whatever buildings there were, nobody could see in as bright as the sun was. And it was Saturday for Christ's sake. Who was even out there? I stood behind her and watched as she rapidly created a contact sheet. Each frame popped up as she moved her cursor over it, like a jeweler's loop. She must have taken 300 pictures and in two minutes had them all up in front of us.

"What do you think?" She stopped to look up at me, my cock just inches from her nose. She blew up at it and giggled.

"I...shit, you went so fast. Yeah. That one for sure." She had moved back several squares.

"You like that one? With your cock almost visible in my throat? Really?" She looked back at me, concerned.

"Yeah?" I liked it. And I figured she was fucking with me.

"Yeah. That one is really hot. But not for this show. We'll keep that as our own private memory. How about this one?"

She had captured her blow job on an upstroke, her lips just barely separated from my angry member. I could see a gap of air between them and I remembered the painting that had caught my eye the night before, with the model's...her...fingers just a hair's breadth from her clit. I nodded and smiled. "That's hot," I said, my hand drifting down to her hair. "And it's definitely a pair with that other one." I pointed my elbow to her study.

She looked up and smiled. "Yes. I think you've got it." She clicked a little bit and then turned to get up. "Now for the next bit of process." She turned to walk through a door I had thought was a bathroom or some other bedroom. "C'mon! Don't dawdle. You want to see how great art is made?"

She said it self-deprecatingly, knowing that hair's breadth would mean the difference between art and porn.

The doorway led to a small hallway with several rooms off of it. While the rest of the flat was open and airy, due to the expanse of windows along the exterior wall, this interior hall was close and dark; lit only by cool grey semi-circles cast from the open doorways on the left hand side. As I turned into it, Cheri was disappearing into the first door off the left, curiously the only doorway without light spilling from it.

Following her in, I could barely see her darker silhouette against shadows of furniture: the windows had all been painted over, leaving only micro-specks of light pinpricking through. She cursed, stubbing her toe on something and then the room was aglow in a cool white light. It was pretty barren, with only a small workstation at the wall opposite the living room, where Cheri was seated. The light came from a fluorescent rectangle occupying a portion of the common wall with the living room.

As my eyes adjusted to the room, she was out of the chair, taping a sheet of drawing paper to the glowing wall. Her movements were quick, practiced and I couldn't predict where she was going to go next. It was all made more complicated by how distracting the light was against her naked body. Although the glow lit the room with a dim ambient light, the closer she got to the wall, the brighter her body was lit. Her nipples and breasts glowed while her back and ass-cheeks were practically in the dark. When she turned, my eyes drifted down to between her legs, captivated by the dark patch of hair made even darker by the lighting.

Weirdly, as she approached the rectangle her hands cast shadows, but not where I would have expected them; they landed near her knees when she was holding the paper up near her head. I looked up, tracing the light back to its source. I had thought at first glance the wall itself was glowing, but when I walked closer, a piercing glint reflected off the ceiling, revealing a projector built into a recess.

"Clever," I commented, breaking her concentration.

She looked up and smiled, not pausing for more than a second. "I know, right? It's not 'authentic,' in the sense I have all the time in the world to sketch the images, but for this subject matter it's been hard finding models..." She stopped and smiled, looking at my cock at half mast. "As you've already made clear..."

Interesting,

I observed mentally. I hadn't meant the approach was clever, but simply the gear.

She turned back to her preparations, leaving me to stare at her amazing body. In spite of having spent nearly half a day with her naked, this was the first time I'd had a chance to see her completely, not hidden by sheets or furniture. But even here I was handicapped by the lighting. The contrast was...intriguing. She stopped again when she realized I was just standing and staring. "You can grab that chair. I won't be needing it."

I sat in it backwards, my legs spread around the upright, my elbows leaning on the back supporting my chin. I was still a little cloudy and wished I'd had a drag on the pipe. Staring at her would be so much nicer with a little buzz on.

Fuck it

, I thought, it's only a few steps away. "I'll be back in a jif," I said, the chair creaking and rolling a little as I stood up. "I'm thinking of taking a hit on the pipe. It's in the bedroom, right?"

She stopped briefly and pointed to the drawer in the workstation behind me. "There should be one in there," and went back to her work.

All the better.

I watched as she finished mounting the paper and then crossed the room to click at a keyboard on the desk behind me. Her aroma—a mixture of sweat, lavender and cum—brought me back to her sweet pussy, and my cock lifted again in response. She turned back to the wall, pulling a package of charcoal off the desk, and I stared at that amazing tight pair of ass cheeks. My eyes moved up her ribs, her breasts, barely visible, to her shoulders, her arms moving quickly, applying a coating of charcoal across the entire sheet.

The image was the one we had just agreed on: her face, ¾ profile, my erection like an arrow, pointing to her lips and that small bit of gap between her lips and its head. It was definitely that gap that caught my eye. Even as she coated the paper, blackening it, the light between her lips and my cockhead still shined through. The pot shifted my vision as it hit my brain. I closed my eyes and remembered being on her bed the night before, the feeling of her pussy lips on my mouth, of how she dragged herself down my chest to finally envelope me in her thick warm velvety folds. Her mouth on mine, her tongue licking her juices from my lips, her constant purring and moaning. I could feel the chair, cold metal against the top of my cockhead and I jumped a little.

She had finished coating the paper and had bent to pick up something from the floor, her body practically disappearing in the gloom except for the bones of her vertebrae where they traveled down her spine, highlighted by the glow of the projector. She looked like an alien, a dinosaur, a prehistoric cat. The memory of her pussy, milking me, sliding up and off of me until I begged her to let me back in. The memory made me hard. I set down the pipe and continued to stare at the artist at work.

She had grabbed an eraser and was rapidly pulling off charcoal, starting with the air gap. Just a hint of her lips, just a crescent of my cockhead— the gap revealed the essence of the piece. She stood back and looked at me, her eyes unfocused. "I'll take some of that," she motioned to the pipe. I relit it and handed it to her, staring at the gold ring in her belly button, remembering it in my mouth as I tongued her navel, my fingers spreading her open, her moans echoing in my head.

Then she was back at the wall, only her back revealed to me, that amazing curve of her butt as it moved away from her waist, the narrowing of her hips to her ankles. I licked my lips, needing something to drink. "I'm getting some juice. Need anything?"

She shook her head, lost in her work. She had left the center of the piece and was lightly erasing elements at the periphery. I couldn't see what she was after but then, I was only seeing her, naked and working, and not the images in her head.

I blinked reentering the living room adjusting again to the fantastic light from the window wall. Surprisingly, the loft was warm, especially as the windows all faced north and spring had only just begun. I grabbed a jug of apple juice from the fridge, filled a glass and stood at the window looking at the brutal urban landscape below. The smoke had substituted arousal for inhibition—being naked facing the street three floors up only seemed to make me hornier. Not that there was a soul in sight. Down the block a car crossed an intersection, a delivery truck's beeping reverse alarm just below. I sipped the juice, tracking the sweet coolness down to my stomach. It growled, reminding me we hadn't eaten anything substantive since the night before.

I noticed her reflection on the glass approaching me before I heard her footsteps. Her hand, warm and soot covered, glided across my waist, her pinky finger brushing the top of my pubic hair, her thumb reaching into my navel. She pulled her body against my back, the stiffness of her nipples pushing into my shoulder blades and her wiry pubic hair against my ass. Her other hand drifted to hold onto my cock.

"I get so fired up doing that part," she murmured into my ear. "I don't usually have someone to share it with." Her strokes became more insistent, pulling my cock away even as her other hand pressed me against her. It hurt and felt amazing at the same time. I was stiff again, feeling a little sore from all the attention I'd received.

I put my hand on hers and leaned back into her, relishing her warmth and sensuality of it, the memories of her deep throating me, of her pussy pressed against my lips, of my cock buried deep in her. She kept pulling on me, my balls lightly slapping against my hips.

"So," she said quietly, "you game?"

I turned my head to look at her, my hands reaching up and over to hold her while I tried to plant a kiss. It was barely possible and interrupted her rhythm. "C'mon," I suggested, motioning to the couch. "Tell me more about it."

She picked up the pipe from the coffee table, she must have laid it down on her way in, and lit it again. I was getting wrecked, but accepted it from her anyway, taking a deep draw. It was tasty. I let my head fall back on the couch back, watching the smoke jetting to the ceiling. Raw wood, sand blasted, if I knew my finishes. Exposed hardware. Exposed as we were. Weird. I closed my eyes. A thought that had been gnawing below my consciousness burbled up.

"Wait," I said, looking at her face, her breasts and snatch in my periphery. My cock pulsed. "You 'don't usually have someone'...? How's that possible? You are so fucking amazingly gorgeous, and a fantastic lover. You don't have someone? Besides, don't you have a lot of friends...or ...contacts from art school? There have to be people...men who would gladly do this."