Portrait of Jeanne
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A Portrait From Life free porn video
The Mission District is my home. San Francisco has been where my family has lived for generations. We were here long before the Anglos came to California. I live and work in my loft studio. It's located just a few blocks form the Mission San Francisco de Asís, established in 1776. My work is my life. It's also how I make a living.
She came to me for a portrait. I did such work, but usually for Hispanic neighbors, or those who admired my ethnic paintings, both murals and more intimate works. These were intended to be hung in the home, by people who had the means to pay me and then brag that they had one of my pieces on their wall. I am Lorenzo, and I am an artist.
She was Asian. One could see that, but one did not inquire into another's ethnicity. It was not done, unless there was an intimacy, or friendship. This was San Francisco. All were welcome here and many Asians had made their homes here over the decades of our history. But she was lovely and sensual. That was absolutely clear to me. As an artist I could appreciate that.
She introduced herself as Gwendolyn. That was all. I didn't mind. I went by one name myself. Perhaps it was an affectation we both shared. Anyway, I knew who she was. Who didn't know the Lady Gwen? Her brothel, in Chinatown, was visited by many gentlemen of means, from around the world, when they stayed in our friendly city. I had heard that some gentlewomen stopped there on occasion, also.
"I've seen your work. I admire it. Most of your work seems to reflect your heritage. That's understandable, I should think. But I do like your technique. Would you be good enough to create a portrait of me?"
"Certainly. I'll paint for almost anyone who can afford me. You'd make a fine model. We could begin in about a week. I'm busy at the moment. Is that good for you, Gwendolyn?"
"Yes. Perfect. However, we must be clear about one thing. I'm not aware that you work with nudes. Would that be a problem? I need a portrait of me disrobed."
"I've done dozens of nudes. Most have gone to overseas markets. Some are in New York and Chicago. But they, admittedly, aren't my usual style. Personal portraits are seldom nudes. However, look at those few over in the corner. You may see how well I work from life, and with nudity."
She went over to the corner. I could see her smiling as she pulled back the coverings from several paintings. Presently, she returned to me, held out her hand, and we shook. We arranged our first sitting for the following Friday afternoon, when the light would be perfect.
The next week she arrived promptly. I pointed her to the screen, behind which she could undress, to prepare for the sitting. She just walked over to the couch I had in a darkened corner, disrobed, and placed her belongings on a cushion. She turned around and walked proudly to the silk and foam covered platform upon which I wanted her to pose.
She was tiny; only about five feet tall. And her breasts were round, like firm apples. She was clean shaven in the groin area, while the hair on her head was raven colored, straight, and bound up off of her shoulders. Such a pretty little thing. It was hard to believe she ran a brothel. And she was the major star at that place of business. Or so I had heard.
I was a professional. However, it was clear to me that she was going to be a temptation. I could feel my prick beginning to swell. That would not do. I needed to keep a clear head.
I had her get into the pose I wanted to try. It was necessary to guide her a little, with my hands, but she was a perfect sitter. Her flesh was soft and smooth, like satin, and so warm, almost hot. She glanced at my trousers, and smiled up at me. Then I stepped back and took a photo. I didn't work directly from pictures, but I would use it as a reference when doing some touch up painting. She began to hum softly.
It was a productive session. I was able to complete the preliminary drawing on my canvas. She was a perfect subject; never complaining, just posing still and lovely. When we had finished for the day I walked over to my sink to wash my hands. I heard her shifting on the platform. Glancing over I saw her sitting on the edge of it.
"We're through. You can get dressed now. I must say, this'll be an easy creation. You're just as you should be to get your portrait done from life."
She held her arms up, with her legs now spread apart. It was silly, but I felt compelled to approach her. Finally standing in front of her, she gently touched me. I grew longer, harder. Her touch was more forceful, gazing up into my eyes, smiling, rubbing my firmness. I believe I moaned.
She undid the strings holding my linen pants up, and pulled them down, exposing my stiff member. Her little hands wrapped around me, stroking, and tickling my nuts.
"This is alright, isn't it, Lorenzo? I thought I would show you how pleased I am to be posing for you."
"Mother of god, yes it's alright! No need to ask. My god, your hands, so tiny and so tight. Suck my cock, little whore!"
And she did, following my bidding. Her tongue stretched out, licked off the pre-cum I was seeping, and then licked the length, from the hairy base up to the tip. Nipping it a little, then returning to running her tongue up and down, and then around my prick. My cock was wet, as her saliva dripped out of her mouth, and she began sucking the mushroom head.
Now I needed to fuck her mouth. I twisted my fingers into her silken hair, and pulled her in to force my cock down her throat. She took it all. Of course she did, the perfect whore. I was fucking her mouth like a pussy, and she was taking it all. Jesus, she could suck cock.
I was gentle, at first, but soon I needed to jam my prick roughly into her hot, drooling mouth, I started fucking it, as one of her hands was stroking her clit, faster and faster, while I fed her all of my cock. She slapped her slit and clit with her fingers, coming as I started jetting out my own spunk.
"Suck it all down, Gwen, suck my cock, ah shit, come for me Lady."
She was eagerly swallowing all I squirted into her open mouth, as her fingers were fucking her own pussy, dripping onto my wood floor. Naughty, nasty, and adorable. I was more than pleased. I stroked my prick, feeding her the last of my come.
She wiped her lips, licked her fingers, and smiled again. Her eyes were deep, and smoldering. She rose up, began dressing, and spoke to me, as I pulled my trousers back up.
"Lorenzo, this should be interesting. Yes, I will enjoy these sessions. Will you make me beautiful and seductive?"
"I can't help but do that, Lady. I will paint you from life, and you will be lovely, and sensual."
"Thank you, kind sir. Until next time." With that she glided out, her tiny body displaying a royal bearing.
Our agreement was to meet at my loft every Friday afternoon. Thus began my affair with the Lady Gwen.
I reached out to friends and was told more of her history. Apparently, she had been the youngest daughter in a wealthy family. She had attended Stanford University. However, in her last year she had been involved in a scandal. A close, male friend had died under suspicious circumstances. She had never been implicated in any way. But the rumors said that she had been abused by the young man.
It was hard to discover what the truth of the stories were. It didn't really matter. She had disappeared, leaving school and her family. After about a year she had emerged as the most sought after lady of the night in one of our local brothels. Within five years the madam of the establishment had left, Gwendolyn owned the house, and the ladies all worked for her. She still had select clients who paid well to remain in her favor.
It was clear that I had been allowed to taste of a rare fruit, so to speak. Until she returned the next Friday I would often look at her photograph. Then visualize what I would achieve on the canvas. And I would masturbate, remembering her. Wondering what would happen the next time.
"Hello, Lorenzo. Let's get started, shall we? Let me just get ready."
She was there, and I was happy. She doffed her clothing, and got into her pose. I adjusted her a bit and then I began, touching up the drawing I had made last week, and then starting to put some colors onto the canvas, looking at her as she smiled with her secretive lips. The session went very quickly. As she had done the previous week she hummed an odd tune. I couldn't place it.
I placed the covering over the painting, and gestured to her to get dressed. I washed up. I wondered if she would allow me another opportunity to enjoy her treasures, or if it had been one time only. Looking at her, still lounging on the mattress, I could see she was in no hurry to put on her things.
Starting to undo my linen trousers, I began strolling over to her. She smiled, and then shook her finger at me.
"No, no. I did you a kind favor last week. Now it's your turn, Lorenzo. You must please me. I know you want to. Every man wants to please the Lady Gwen. You agree? Of course you do. Come and taste me, Lorenzo."
"May I at least remove my clothing, Lady? May I do that?"
"We shall see, my friend. For now my lotus blossom wishes you to smell her perfumes, and taste her honeydew. Yes? Please do that for me my artist friend."
I had to do her bidding. I wanted her. And I needed her to want me, also. So I went on my knees, crawling across the silken platform, and dipped my face down. I smelled her musky, sweet odor. I wanted to taste her nectar. I could see it bedewing her labia. Her swollen lips, tempting me into her spell. I touched her with my tongue, and she sighed. I wanted more. I wanted to please her.
With a ravenous urge I began devouring her pussy. Her hands caressed my long, black locks as I licked her moist slit, and sucked in her tiny clitoris. Her moans were like music to me, and I fucked her with my tongue. I was erect in my trousers, but I couldn't please my own member. Not until she permitted. I understood that. So I continued pleasing her, rubbing her clit with a thumb as I found sensitive spots inside her with my other hand.
Her pussy was leaking out juices, and I was humping the silken blanket with my hard prick. I was like a young man just realizing the pleasure I could get from rubbing my cock on the sheets in bed. I was going to make myself come by just feeling my prick fuck against my trouser fabric. And her pussy was coming for me.
I began shooting out my spunk in my pants, while she cried out with passion. I ate her labial honey and lusted for more. I would have to have more, soon. I needed more from my Lady. She came with her whole body quivering. Mother of god, she was so fucking fine. She sighed as she relaxed, and released my head.
"Quite good, Lorenzo. You will do fine, I can see that. Thank you, handsome sir. I need to be going now. Next time, yes?"
"Yes, please. Next time, Lady Gwen."
She dressed, taking her time, humming all the while. Then she waved at me and left. I took off my sticky trousers, and then stroked myself for another hour, lying on my bed and thinking of her.
From that point on, each Friday, we would do something that she wished to do. But only after I had painted her portrait, getting closer to finishing each week. Then I'd do whatever she'd allow to please her. Sometimes I would make a feast of her pussy. She liked the way I did that. She told me. Other times we would do more kinky things. She began bringing a riding crop with her.
Using the crop she would whip my naked ass, while I knelt on the floor. Perhaps she would allow me to stroke my hard cock. Perhaps not. I was always doing her bidding during these playtimes. While I painted I was the master. When that ended she became the Mistress. I was never happier than when I could come at her command. If she decided she was hungry she might taste my milk, but not often.
The portrait was almost complete. We were having our usual Friday sitting. I was putting final touches on the painting. She was humming.
"I think perhaps one more session will be all I need, Gwendolyn. Next week I should finish your portrait. Then it'll have to dry for a period, but you won't need to pose any further. I can't tell you how much I'll miss these times we've shared."
"I too am going to miss this, Lorenzo. You're a great artist. You're also a fine little pet. You've pleased me. I need to be pleased again, today. You're through with the painting for now? Good. Go take off your clothes my little man. I want you in the bathroom. Yes? Do it for Lady Gwen."
I was quick to follow her commands, as soon as I covered the picture. I doffed my huaraches, linen trousers, and the athletic shirt I wore. I never wore underwear anymore. I was naked and waiting for my Lady in the bathroom. She stepped in wearing nothing. She hadn't bothered to put on anything at all. Only her riding crop was in her little hand.
Her arm lashed out with the crop, slapping my hard cock. I had forgotten. I could not become erect until she allowed it. I winced and then forced myself to grow soft again. My Lady didn't like to hear me cry out. Unless she asked me to do so. It was all under her control.
"Get into the shower. Don't turn it on. Sit down and spread your legs. Mistress will be giving you a fine present of gold in a moment. Aren't you pleased, little man? Get hard for me now. Go ahead."
With my arms on my knees, I spread my legs apart, and my erection grew. I wanted to come for my Lady, if it pleased her. She stepped into the stall with me, and stood above me. Then her piss squirted out, and it splashed upon my cock. Mother of god, I almost came then, but I held it. She continued pissing on my crotch and over my chest. Some splashed upon my face. I didn't mind. I was pleasing Lady Gwen.
"Now jack off, little man. Jerk it for me. Eat my lotus while you make yourself come. I will allow you to come today, but make me come first."
I had leaned in to taste her pussy before I stroked my prick. Her labia were wet with piss, but I didn't care. I licked it clean, and then began licking the fluids as she started to come for me. I was jacking off faster now, and I knew she was coming. Her body was shaking, as she forced my face into her pussy. She was humping my face, fucking it with her pussy, as my tongue stayed inside her.
My cock was ready to come. I needed to shoot my spunk on the the shower floor. It came and I gasped and groaned. My Mistress noticed, and she released my head. I was coming, squirting over and over. I collapsed onto the shower stall floor and Lady Gwen stepped back and giggled. Then she turned the shower on.
We cleaned ourselves up, and she gave me a short kiss on the lips. Then she gathered herself, and departed until next week. I went into my bedroom, and fell into a deep sleep.
At our last sitting she posed for me naked one more time. I had few things to do to complete her portrait from life. It didn't take long. But I took my time. I did not want it to be over. I had added the lotus pods to the picture. They seemed fitting for her. Finally I put down my brushes, and looked at Gwendolyn. She smiled and rose up.
She beckoned to me. I went to her, and she began taking off my clothing. She had never done that before, except that very first time. Now I was nude, as she was nude.
"Lie down, my artist. Lie down and let me please you once more."
I did. I placed myself on the silk covering, with my erect cock in the air. Lady Gwen straddled me, and lowered her hairless pussy down, taking in my cock. Her vagina began to milk my prick. Jesus, I had never felt this before. I wanted to begin fucking her, but she knew me. She shook her finger, and she took over the fucking. She rose up on her taut, pretty legs, then lowered herself again. She began humming as she screwed my dick into her pussy.
She was humming "That Old Black Magic" and I recognized that she had always hummed it. I reached up and fondled her breasts. They were just as I always thought they would be. She leaned down, allowing me to suck her erect nipples. Ruby red and calling my lips to them. I sucked them and she trembled, then increased her fucking on my hard cock. She was getting closer.
It was all I had dreamed of. It was what I prayed for in the depths of the night. Her coming was releasing honey down around my hairy balls, and I shook as I erupted into her pussy. She felt it, and trembled with another come. We were coming together now, over and over.
Her body stiffened. She cried out. She jerked, and then almost fell over. I held her up and then gathered her down to my chest. I stroked her back, and kissed her neck. At last she got up, pulled her pussy away from my cock, and she went in to wash up. I just stayed there, feeling the glow spreading over my body.
"So, I'll have one of my people come by for the portrait. It'll look lovely over the mantel in our library at the house. You must stop by some time and see how it hangs there. I'm certain you'll be pleased with its display. I am off, my artist friend. Take care Lorenzo."
And she was off. Like that. Like always. But this was goodbye, surely. She was gone.
I got up and looked at my portrait of the Lady Gwen. Gwendolyn. Glowing with loveliness. The lotus pods there on the silk coverlet. The lotus is a symbol of purity to most Asians, of various religions and beliefs. It grows out of the mud, but retains it purity. These were lotus seed pods. The blooms were gone.
Lady Gwen was gone.
She came to me for a portrait. I did such work, but usually for Hispanic neighbors, or those who admired my ethnic paintings, both murals and more intimate works. These were intended to be hung in the home, by people who had the means to pay me and then brag that they had one of my pieces on their wall. I am Lorenzo, and I am an artist.
She was Asian. One could see that, but one did not inquire into another's ethnicity. It was not done, unless there was an intimacy, or friendship. This was San Francisco. All were welcome here and many Asians had made their homes here over the decades of our history. But she was lovely and sensual. That was absolutely clear to me. As an artist I could appreciate that.
She introduced herself as Gwendolyn. That was all. I didn't mind. I went by one name myself. Perhaps it was an affectation we both shared. Anyway, I knew who she was. Who didn't know the Lady Gwen? Her brothel, in Chinatown, was visited by many gentlemen of means, from around the world, when they stayed in our friendly city. I had heard that some gentlewomen stopped there on occasion, also.
"I've seen your work. I admire it. Most of your work seems to reflect your heritage. That's understandable, I should think. But I do like your technique. Would you be good enough to create a portrait of me?"
"Certainly. I'll paint for almost anyone who can afford me. You'd make a fine model. We could begin in about a week. I'm busy at the moment. Is that good for you, Gwendolyn?"
"Yes. Perfect. However, we must be clear about one thing. I'm not aware that you work with nudes. Would that be a problem? I need a portrait of me disrobed."
"I've done dozens of nudes. Most have gone to overseas markets. Some are in New York and Chicago. But they, admittedly, aren't my usual style. Personal portraits are seldom nudes. However, look at those few over in the corner. You may see how well I work from life, and with nudity."
She went over to the corner. I could see her smiling as she pulled back the coverings from several paintings. Presently, she returned to me, held out her hand, and we shook. We arranged our first sitting for the following Friday afternoon, when the light would be perfect.
The next week she arrived promptly. I pointed her to the screen, behind which she could undress, to prepare for the sitting. She just walked over to the couch I had in a darkened corner, disrobed, and placed her belongings on a cushion. She turned around and walked proudly to the silk and foam covered platform upon which I wanted her to pose.
She was tiny; only about five feet tall. And her breasts were round, like firm apples. She was clean shaven in the groin area, while the hair on her head was raven colored, straight, and bound up off of her shoulders. Such a pretty little thing. It was hard to believe she ran a brothel. And she was the major star at that place of business. Or so I had heard.
I was a professional. However, it was clear to me that she was going to be a temptation. I could feel my prick beginning to swell. That would not do. I needed to keep a clear head.
I had her get into the pose I wanted to try. It was necessary to guide her a little, with my hands, but she was a perfect sitter. Her flesh was soft and smooth, like satin, and so warm, almost hot. She glanced at my trousers, and smiled up at me. Then I stepped back and took a photo. I didn't work directly from pictures, but I would use it as a reference when doing some touch up painting. She began to hum softly.
It was a productive session. I was able to complete the preliminary drawing on my canvas. She was a perfect subject; never complaining, just posing still and lovely. When we had finished for the day I walked over to my sink to wash my hands. I heard her shifting on the platform. Glancing over I saw her sitting on the edge of it.
"We're through. You can get dressed now. I must say, this'll be an easy creation. You're just as you should be to get your portrait done from life."
She held her arms up, with her legs now spread apart. It was silly, but I felt compelled to approach her. Finally standing in front of her, she gently touched me. I grew longer, harder. Her touch was more forceful, gazing up into my eyes, smiling, rubbing my firmness. I believe I moaned.
She undid the strings holding my linen pants up, and pulled them down, exposing my stiff member. Her little hands wrapped around me, stroking, and tickling my nuts.
"This is alright, isn't it, Lorenzo? I thought I would show you how pleased I am to be posing for you."
"Mother of god, yes it's alright! No need to ask. My god, your hands, so tiny and so tight. Suck my cock, little whore!"
And she did, following my bidding. Her tongue stretched out, licked off the pre-cum I was seeping, and then licked the length, from the hairy base up to the tip. Nipping it a little, then returning to running her tongue up and down, and then around my prick. My cock was wet, as her saliva dripped out of her mouth, and she began sucking the mushroom head.
Now I needed to fuck her mouth. I twisted my fingers into her silken hair, and pulled her in to force my cock down her throat. She took it all. Of course she did, the perfect whore. I was fucking her mouth like a pussy, and she was taking it all. Jesus, she could suck cock.
I was gentle, at first, but soon I needed to jam my prick roughly into her hot, drooling mouth, I started fucking it, as one of her hands was stroking her clit, faster and faster, while I fed her all of my cock. She slapped her slit and clit with her fingers, coming as I started jetting out my own spunk.
"Suck it all down, Gwen, suck my cock, ah shit, come for me Lady."
She was eagerly swallowing all I squirted into her open mouth, as her fingers were fucking her own pussy, dripping onto my wood floor. Naughty, nasty, and adorable. I was more than pleased. I stroked my prick, feeding her the last of my come.
She wiped her lips, licked her fingers, and smiled again. Her eyes were deep, and smoldering. She rose up, began dressing, and spoke to me, as I pulled my trousers back up.
"Lorenzo, this should be interesting. Yes, I will enjoy these sessions. Will you make me beautiful and seductive?"
"I can't help but do that, Lady. I will paint you from life, and you will be lovely, and sensual."
"Thank you, kind sir. Until next time." With that she glided out, her tiny body displaying a royal bearing.
Our agreement was to meet at my loft every Friday afternoon. Thus began my affair with the Lady Gwen.
I reached out to friends and was told more of her history. Apparently, she had been the youngest daughter in a wealthy family. She had attended Stanford University. However, in her last year she had been involved in a scandal. A close, male friend had died under suspicious circumstances. She had never been implicated in any way. But the rumors said that she had been abused by the young man.
It was hard to discover what the truth of the stories were. It didn't really matter. She had disappeared, leaving school and her family. After about a year she had emerged as the most sought after lady of the night in one of our local brothels. Within five years the madam of the establishment had left, Gwendolyn owned the house, and the ladies all worked for her. She still had select clients who paid well to remain in her favor.
It was clear that I had been allowed to taste of a rare fruit, so to speak. Until she returned the next Friday I would often look at her photograph. Then visualize what I would achieve on the canvas. And I would masturbate, remembering her. Wondering what would happen the next time.
"Hello, Lorenzo. Let's get started, shall we? Let me just get ready."
She was there, and I was happy. She doffed her clothing, and got into her pose. I adjusted her a bit and then I began, touching up the drawing I had made last week, and then starting to put some colors onto the canvas, looking at her as she smiled with her secretive lips. The session went very quickly. As she had done the previous week she hummed an odd tune. I couldn't place it.
I placed the covering over the painting, and gestured to her to get dressed. I washed up. I wondered if she would allow me another opportunity to enjoy her treasures, or if it had been one time only. Looking at her, still lounging on the mattress, I could see she was in no hurry to put on her things.
Starting to undo my linen trousers, I began strolling over to her. She smiled, and then shook her finger at me.
"No, no. I did you a kind favor last week. Now it's your turn, Lorenzo. You must please me. I know you want to. Every man wants to please the Lady Gwen. You agree? Of course you do. Come and taste me, Lorenzo."
"May I at least remove my clothing, Lady? May I do that?"
"We shall see, my friend. For now my lotus blossom wishes you to smell her perfumes, and taste her honeydew. Yes? Please do that for me my artist friend."
I had to do her bidding. I wanted her. And I needed her to want me, also. So I went on my knees, crawling across the silken platform, and dipped my face down. I smelled her musky, sweet odor. I wanted to taste her nectar. I could see it bedewing her labia. Her swollen lips, tempting me into her spell. I touched her with my tongue, and she sighed. I wanted more. I wanted to please her.
With a ravenous urge I began devouring her pussy. Her hands caressed my long, black locks as I licked her moist slit, and sucked in her tiny clitoris. Her moans were like music to me, and I fucked her with my tongue. I was erect in my trousers, but I couldn't please my own member. Not until she permitted. I understood that. So I continued pleasing her, rubbing her clit with a thumb as I found sensitive spots inside her with my other hand.
Her pussy was leaking out juices, and I was humping the silken blanket with my hard prick. I was like a young man just realizing the pleasure I could get from rubbing my cock on the sheets in bed. I was going to make myself come by just feeling my prick fuck against my trouser fabric. And her pussy was coming for me.
I began shooting out my spunk in my pants, while she cried out with passion. I ate her labial honey and lusted for more. I would have to have more, soon. I needed more from my Lady. She came with her whole body quivering. Mother of god, she was so fucking fine. She sighed as she relaxed, and released my head.
"Quite good, Lorenzo. You will do fine, I can see that. Thank you, handsome sir. I need to be going now. Next time, yes?"
"Yes, please. Next time, Lady Gwen."
She dressed, taking her time, humming all the while. Then she waved at me and left. I took off my sticky trousers, and then stroked myself for another hour, lying on my bed and thinking of her.
From that point on, each Friday, we would do something that she wished to do. But only after I had painted her portrait, getting closer to finishing each week. Then I'd do whatever she'd allow to please her. Sometimes I would make a feast of her pussy. She liked the way I did that. She told me. Other times we would do more kinky things. She began bringing a riding crop with her.
Using the crop she would whip my naked ass, while I knelt on the floor. Perhaps she would allow me to stroke my hard cock. Perhaps not. I was always doing her bidding during these playtimes. While I painted I was the master. When that ended she became the Mistress. I was never happier than when I could come at her command. If she decided she was hungry she might taste my milk, but not often.
The portrait was almost complete. We were having our usual Friday sitting. I was putting final touches on the painting. She was humming.
"I think perhaps one more session will be all I need, Gwendolyn. Next week I should finish your portrait. Then it'll have to dry for a period, but you won't need to pose any further. I can't tell you how much I'll miss these times we've shared."
"I too am going to miss this, Lorenzo. You're a great artist. You're also a fine little pet. You've pleased me. I need to be pleased again, today. You're through with the painting for now? Good. Go take off your clothes my little man. I want you in the bathroom. Yes? Do it for Lady Gwen."
I was quick to follow her commands, as soon as I covered the picture. I doffed my huaraches, linen trousers, and the athletic shirt I wore. I never wore underwear anymore. I was naked and waiting for my Lady in the bathroom. She stepped in wearing nothing. She hadn't bothered to put on anything at all. Only her riding crop was in her little hand.
Her arm lashed out with the crop, slapping my hard cock. I had forgotten. I could not become erect until she allowed it. I winced and then forced myself to grow soft again. My Lady didn't like to hear me cry out. Unless she asked me to do so. It was all under her control.
"Get into the shower. Don't turn it on. Sit down and spread your legs. Mistress will be giving you a fine present of gold in a moment. Aren't you pleased, little man? Get hard for me now. Go ahead."
With my arms on my knees, I spread my legs apart, and my erection grew. I wanted to come for my Lady, if it pleased her. She stepped into the stall with me, and stood above me. Then her piss squirted out, and it splashed upon my cock. Mother of god, I almost came then, but I held it. She continued pissing on my crotch and over my chest. Some splashed upon my face. I didn't mind. I was pleasing Lady Gwen.
"Now jack off, little man. Jerk it for me. Eat my lotus while you make yourself come. I will allow you to come today, but make me come first."
I had leaned in to taste her pussy before I stroked my prick. Her labia were wet with piss, but I didn't care. I licked it clean, and then began licking the fluids as she started to come for me. I was jacking off faster now, and I knew she was coming. Her body was shaking, as she forced my face into her pussy. She was humping my face, fucking it with her pussy, as my tongue stayed inside her.
My cock was ready to come. I needed to shoot my spunk on the the shower floor. It came and I gasped and groaned. My Mistress noticed, and she released my head. I was coming, squirting over and over. I collapsed onto the shower stall floor and Lady Gwen stepped back and giggled. Then she turned the shower on.
We cleaned ourselves up, and she gave me a short kiss on the lips. Then she gathered herself, and departed until next week. I went into my bedroom, and fell into a deep sleep.
At our last sitting she posed for me naked one more time. I had few things to do to complete her portrait from life. It didn't take long. But I took my time. I did not want it to be over. I had added the lotus pods to the picture. They seemed fitting for her. Finally I put down my brushes, and looked at Gwendolyn. She smiled and rose up.
She beckoned to me. I went to her, and she began taking off my clothing. She had never done that before, except that very first time. Now I was nude, as she was nude.
"Lie down, my artist. Lie down and let me please you once more."
I did. I placed myself on the silk covering, with my erect cock in the air. Lady Gwen straddled me, and lowered her hairless pussy down, taking in my cock. Her vagina began to milk my prick. Jesus, I had never felt this before. I wanted to begin fucking her, but she knew me. She shook her finger, and she took over the fucking. She rose up on her taut, pretty legs, then lowered herself again. She began humming as she screwed my dick into her pussy.
She was humming "That Old Black Magic" and I recognized that she had always hummed it. I reached up and fondled her breasts. They were just as I always thought they would be. She leaned down, allowing me to suck her erect nipples. Ruby red and calling my lips to them. I sucked them and she trembled, then increased her fucking on my hard cock. She was getting closer.
It was all I had dreamed of. It was what I prayed for in the depths of the night. Her coming was releasing honey down around my hairy balls, and I shook as I erupted into her pussy. She felt it, and trembled with another come. We were coming together now, over and over.
Her body stiffened. She cried out. She jerked, and then almost fell over. I held her up and then gathered her down to my chest. I stroked her back, and kissed her neck. At last she got up, pulled her pussy away from my cock, and she went in to wash up. I just stayed there, feeling the glow spreading over my body.
"So, I'll have one of my people come by for the portrait. It'll look lovely over the mantel in our library at the house. You must stop by some time and see how it hangs there. I'm certain you'll be pleased with its display. I am off, my artist friend. Take care Lorenzo."
And she was off. Like that. Like always. But this was goodbye, surely. She was gone.
I got up and looked at my portrait of the Lady Gwen. Gwendolyn. Glowing with loveliness. The lotus pods there on the silk coverlet. The lotus is a symbol of purity to most Asians, of various religions and beliefs. It grows out of the mud, but retains it purity. These were lotus seed pods. The blooms were gone.
Lady Gwen was gone.
Becky
- 28.12.2020
- 22
- 0
- Category:
- Interracial
