Life With An Artist free porn video

Life With an Artist ? by: Ricky I was attended the first showing of a local artist's work in a small gallery and was greatly impressed with her work. Her portraits had a glowing quality that I admired greatly, with a fluidity that made them come alive. Several of the models were in attendance, and I played a little game of matching faces on the wall with faces in the room. While it wasn't hard to match one with the other, there was a subtle quality of the paintings that brought out the best in the person she portrayed The crowd was starting to thin out when I got a chance to talk to the Erica, the artist. She was a statuesque woman with a calmly assured attitude, long, red hair, green eyes and an impish smile hinting at the quirky sense of humor I saw in her paintings. She was animated as we discussed her art, and along the way I asked her how she chose her models. She grinned and said she just asked anyone who looked interesting and would I be willing to pose for her? I surprised myself by saying, "Yes", and the Friday evening I arrived at Erica's home. It was obvious she was no starving artist, she lived in a sprawling home in the suburbs. I had heard the stories of how a model has to be frozen place for hours at a time while the artist works. Could I do that? Did I want to have my image hanging on a gallery wall somewhere? Most importantly, would I have to take off my clothes in front on this sexy woman? I was pretty nervous when I rang her bell, but her calm attitude soon had me relaxed. Her home was furnished with superb and expensive taste, yet felt like a place where you could kick off your shoes and relax with a beer without feeling like a boor. She lead me into her studio, a huge room filled with one of the most varied collections of stuff this side of a garage sale, obviously props for her work. Her project had a Roman theme, so she handed me a plain, white tunic and sent me into her bedroom to change. Something strange happened then. Putting on the tunic brought back memories of my childhood explorations of my mother's clothes. I was about 10 when I developed a powerful interest in those forbidden garments only women could wear. I remembered those secret afternoons when I was home alone with my mother's dress flopping around me, shuffling along in her too big shoes. The interest didn't last long, and I had forgotten it until now. When I came out she proceeded to wrap me in yards and yards of material, draping a classic Roman Toga about my body. Feeling a bit foolish, I sat in front of a blank wall. She placed a wreath on my head and handed me a lyre. It was my turn to surprise her as I strummed it, winced and started to tune the instrument. I needn't have worried about holding a pose, she didn't work that way, when she learned I could play she was delighted and encouraged me to sing to her as she worked. For the next two hours I played, sang and talked as she plied her trade. We traded stories, told each other about family, friends, passions and pursuits. The talk slowly took a ribald turn and I found my singing turned bawdy. At last she pushed back her chair and invited me to look. I set down the lyre and went around the canvas. The form on the couch was recognizably me, but the pointed ears, subtle distortions and hoofed feet were a classic satyr. The voluptuous thigh that I was caressing showed just a hint of pubic hair and the massive erection at the crotch left no doubt of the satyr's intent. It was a picture that instantly fired my lust and without any hesitation I took her in my arms and kissed her with all the passion at my command. She responded enthusiastically and I felt my manhood rise under the toga. She felt it too, and we were soon in the bedroom. Her magnificent breasts were warm in my hands as she leaned against me. I weighed them in my hands as I played with her nipples under the silky fabric of her blouse. I felt her nipples rise beneath my fingers and quickly undid the clasp of her bra. With a swirl her skirt and panties lay on the floor and I lay her on the edge of the bed. I tossed aside my Roman wreath and made to take off the toga, but she stopped me, saying she liked seeing me in it. No problem for me, what the lady wants the lady gets. I knelt before her and began to play with the dense bush of hair that covered her crotch. It was a deeper, burnished copper than her long tresses, visibly damp and fragrant with her passion. Slowly I spread the thick curls, teasing as her sighs of pleasure encouraged me. When I touched the deep brown lips of her pussy she gave a sharp cry, so I slowly ran my finger along the furrow in her crotch, teasing and stroking her sensitive cunt lips. Her hips were slowly moving, trying to press her slit into my finger, but I just kept pinching her pretty pussy, blowing hot breath over her auburn curls, as she grew more and more excited. At last I spread her open, and gazed at the convoluted beauty of her dripping cunt. I lowered my face to her steaming crotch and gently slid my tongue along her moistness. By now she was whimpering in pleasure, and when I played my tongue over her engorged clit she started to moan with pleasure, the deep, full throated cries of an uninhibited woman in intense bliss. Suddenly I felt a gush and the sharp tang of her orgasm, but I wasn't going to stop now. My tongue kept lashing her exquisite nub as I brought one finger to the opening of her dripping slit. It slid in effortlessly and I began to probe for the sweet g-spot within. I soon found it and she came again, covering my hand with her juices as she cried out. As she came I inserted a second plunging deep into her love tunnel, her cunt juice flying as I filled her. She was crooning inarticulately and I felt like a machine pumping my digits into her eager twat, until at last she screamed once more and I felt her thighs close tightly on my hand as she came one more time. She clamped me inside her and I wiggled my fingers deep within her delicious hole while the waves washed over her. Again and again, as my hand was gripped by her powerful muscles as each wave of pleasure washed over her. When at last she was done, she grabbed me and pulled me on to the bed. She laid me flat on my back, pulled up the toga and impaled herself on my erection. Her smooth, powerful thighs flexed as she rode my manhood, raising herself effortlessly until I slid out of her dripping cunt and then driving herself once more onto my spike of flesh. I barely felt her weight on me as she rode my cock, pressing me into the bed and then rising once more to free my prick for a fraction of a second. I simply lay there and let her make love to me as I watched her glorious breasts fly up and down as she fucked me, doing nothing more than feel her surround my raging hard on until I began to fill her with jets of hot sperm. It was my turn to cry out now, and she kept milking my cock as I filled her with my juice. Inevitably I began to soften and she settled down around my deflating prick and held me inside her while I pumped my last, waning spurts of cum into her. She was grinning as she looked down on my spent body and began to caress my face as she crooned wordlessly, tracing her fingers over my cheeks and chin. We remained nearly motionless until at last I slipped out of her. As we cuddled in the afterglow, and I sheepishly told her about the childhood memories she had inadvertently brought to light. Even though we had known each other only a few hours, there was a feeling of trust like I have seldom known. We shared many of our childhood memories that night, until the next thing I knew it was morning and I was alone in the bed. Still wearing the disheveled tunic, I found Erica seated before the half finished painting from the night before. She was a lovely sight. Her tresses were wildly disarranged, she wore a ratty old bathrobe that left her statuesque legs exposed, a look of total concentration on her face. I watched in awe as she carefully brought life and depth to the canvas with swift, sure brush strokes. The background details surrounding the satyr were now clear, there was a full blown orgy going on where there had only been vague sketches the night before. The satyr somehow glowed with a carnal energy as he fondled the flesh before him and once again I felt my lust rise. At last she paused and set her brush down, becoming aware of my presence. For a moment her look reflected my own lustful thoughts, but she smiled ruefully and told me she had a session scheduled and the models would be arriving in an hour. We only had time for breakfast, but if I wanted to stay she had some ideas as to how we could spend our time afterward. The painting would have a Spanish theme, a mother and her daughters picnicking in an olive grove. Damned if she didn't have a couple of tree trunks in her jumble of props. She set them in front of a mural of a large hacienda, then removed several long black wigs, flouncy skirts and blouses from the costumer's boxes and hung them out. A few minutes later two of her subjects showed up, which was a problem since there were supposed to be three. A hurried phone conversation found the third model was sick and would not be able to make it. To say Erica was annoyed would be an understatement. The delay would cost her dearly in both time and money. Our eyes met and that wicked smile that had entranced me the night before she asked, "Care to relive your childhood again?" The two models, who looked impossibly young to me, were looking confused. I found my voice had gone on an extended vacation, possibly to Spain, it sure as hell wasn't in my body. In a blur that I prefer not to remember too clearly I was escorted to the bedroom, stripped, and in a role reversal I never could have imagined my lover stood behind me and was settling the same bra I had removed from her last night over me. It was a tight fit and I couldn't breathe too deeply as Erica let out the straps and filled the cups with underwear from her drawers. The blouse wouldn't zip up and it was a good thing it was an elastic skirt. My feet were stuffed in high heels and my head was engulfed in the long black wig, then I was hustled to the studio. My fellow models lost their professional poise when introduced to their 'Mother', but soon they were having a great time. They both took it as a personal challenge to transform my ugly mug into something vaguely resembling the countenance of a Spanish matron. Shortly I found myself resting against a tree trunk, legs demurely folded, picnicking with my 'daughters'. Lord preserve the mother of those two vixens. If I thought the scene last night was erotic, those two made it seem like a sermon. "Why Mommy," said my 'daughter' in an elaborately innocent tone, "you are looking very satisfied this morning. Daddy must have done you right last night. It sounded like you were being split right open!" So, we were going to play a game here. Well I wasn't going to let these girls run a con on me! "Oh no Maria, that was Aunt Evita you heard. Daddy wasn't home last night. We had a lovely time but I'm afraid she did get rather loud, she always does when I lick her properly. You wouldn't believe how horny she gets when Uncle Raoul isn't around." I saw I had scored the first point, so I continued, "When your daddy is in the mood he can fuck like a man possessed, but sometimes it takes another woman to really please a woman. Besides, she tastes so much better than any man's cum. And besides, I just love it when she spreads my legs and takes that first, long lick across my pussy. She has such a long tongue, you know, it's almost like having a man." There was a strangled sound from behind the canvas, it seemed my words were having an effect there, too. My newly christened daughter was starting to recover by this time. "Surely no matter how good Aunt Evita may be licking your cunt she can't compare to a man. I would miss being able to take my boyfriend's lovely hard tool in my hands. I just love to play with it, it's so long and soft to touch, it just slides so smoothly through my fingers. I love to watch him as I play with the tip of his cock, he really goes wild when I squeeze him. There's no feeling like having his juice fountain up as I stroke his dick, when his lovely white cum dribbles down he gets so slippery, he coats my hands and I can squeeze so tight. I just love to watch him when I keep pumping his cock, his whole body shakes and he makes the funniest noises. I'm not sure I could give that up!" Whew! By the time she stopped speaking I had a hard on, that was mercifully concealed by my skirt. The sensation was unbelievable as my tumescent manhood rubbed the petticoats I wore. I moved to ease my aching member but that was a mistake. Not only did I rub my rigid cock once more against the soft, feminine fabric, but the pull of the too tight bra I wore reminded me of it's presence. I had never been more turned on in my life! "My daughter, where have I failed you! Haven't I taught you anything? You don't have to give up you boyfriend, no more than I would give up your father! But haven't you ever tasted your sister Rosita? You know she has no boyfriend and she would need you to make her happy." 'Rosita', who had been following our conversation with great interest, was suddenly overcome with one of the most guilty looks I have ever seen in my life. Looks like I had scored a second point in our little game. "Rosita, my child, am I wrong? Have you been letting some man spread your pretty little legs when you mamma wasn't looking? Do you know the pleasure of a man thrusting himself into your rosy little bush? Tell me, daughter, tell you mother all about it!" Guilt gave way to panic and then an unsuspected resolve. "No, mamma, I have never known a man, but Carlita has the most wonderful black dildo you have ever seen. You are so right, sometimes only a woman can satisfy me. Carlita knows just where to lick me, her tongue is so soft and warm when she kisses my clit. I get so wet when she eats me, I must run like the fountain in the courtyard. I especially love it when she sucks my clit and slowly puts her finger up my asshole. Her fingers are so long and slim and I have so much juice she can enter me with ease. Each time she slides up my chute she sucks hard on my clit and it is like an electric current running through me. She always makes me cum twice before she fucks me. She is so sexy when she straps that long black prick around her. Her breasts are very small, hardly bigger than a man's, and seeing that shiny dildo swinging from her hips makes me so hot! She lifts my legs and drives it deep into me all at once. It is heavenly, so big and fat that I feel myself gushing as she pumps in and out of my pussy. I have never known a man, but I am sure I shall enjoy a real cock when the time comes." If I had thought I was hard before, by the time she started in on that long black dildo I lost it. I shifted once again and the silky folds of the petticoats once again slid over my overstrained member and I came in my skirt. We were all so entranced as Rosita spoke that no one noticed but me. Surreptitiously I brought my hand to my lap and stroked my pulsing prick through the folds of my skirt, feeling my cum soak into the petticoat as I gushed. The bra around my chest was unbearable tight my breathing reached a crescendo, further driving my climax. No doubt about it, Rosita had evened the score and was ahead by one orgasm. I just hoped she had someone to go home to, because it was my turn to even the score, and I intended to add a point or two on the lady who started this whole thing.. "Oh, my daughter, you make you mamma proud! Such exploits for one so young! Perhaps you could let me borrow your toy the next time Aunt Evita is over, we have never been so adventurous. We have always kidded your Aunt Evita about the pretty red curls she got from her Irish mother (not a bad impromptu invention, that Irish mother), but they are nothing compared to the copper curls she has between her legs. Every time I see them I am aflame! When she knows we will be together her she becomes very wet, I can see the little drops of her moisture on her crotch, and her fragrance is only to be found in the most verdant orchards in Eden. I love to slowly spread her thick curls, brushing them apart to discover the dark lips of her pussy. When at last I can see them I play with them, she always begins to pump her hips as I stroke her slit, trying to bring my finger deeper, but I do not let her do that, not too soon anyway." There! A distinct moan from behind the canvas! My daughter's eyes were riveted on me as I spoke, "At last I spread her open, and gaze at the convoluted beauty of her dripping cunt. I lower my face to her steaming crotch and gently slide my tongue along her moistness. By now she is whimpering in pleasure, and when I play my tongue over her engorged clit she starts to moan with pleasure, the deep, full throated cries of an uninhibited woman in intense bliss. Suddenly I feel a gush and taste the sharp tang of her orgasm, but I will not stop now. My tongue keeps lashing her exquisite nub as I bring one finger to the opening of her dripping slit. It slides in effortlessly and I began to probe for the sweet spot within. I soon find it and she cums again, covering my hand with her juices as she cries out. I insert a second plunging deep into her love tunnel, her cunt juice flying as I fill her. She is crooning inarticulately and I feel like a machine pumping my digits into her eager twat, until at last she screams once more and I feel her thighs close tightly on my hand as she cums one more time. She clamps me inside her and I wiggle my fingers deep within her delicious hole while the waves wash over her. Again and again she grips my hand with her powerful muscles as each wave of pleasure washes over her. This is what you must have heard last night, my daughters." Game, set and match! I thought my prick had been permanently glued to my skirts by my cum, but as I recalled last night for my 'daughters' it had once again grown and burst the bonds of my lust's glue. Erica gave a little moan as I saw her widespread feet draw together beneath the canvas. The session was over and my daughters reluctantly changed to their own cloths. After what we had been through they didn't bother to leave the room, and if Erica hadn't been there I might have been tempted to drop my pose as 'mother'. Erica closed the door behind them and whirled around to face me. "You bastard! You utter bastard!" With one convulsive motion she dropped her paint spattered jeans, bent over the edge of a chair and shouted, "Fuck me! Fuck me now!" I lifted the folds of my cum encrusted skirt and let my boner spring free. With the high heel shoes I wore she was in the perfect position for my jolly roger to slip into her and I entered her in a single thrust. She was ready, more than ready and her drenched love tunnel received me with no resistance. I have never felt anything like it, my prick was as hard as it had ever been just minutes after creaming in my skirt, with each thrust the bra I wore grew tighter around my chest, the straps clutching my shoulders as I thrust deep onto Erica's saturated hole. I felt like Superman, or maybe Superwoman as I slammed into her again and again, my superdong still stiff after minutes of hard fucking. She came around me, gripping harder on my flailing tool as I continued pumping. I was alive with pleasure but showed no sign of cumming. With each thrust the hem of my skirt swirled around the backs of my ankles, the high heels leaving the floor and returning with an audible tap as I withdrew. I was breathing hard now, harder than the bra could take and it snapped, falling free and releasing the underwear that filled the cups. Something in me snapped, too and I blew my load deep into her, grunting and hollering as I felt the sperm rocket down my prick and burst forth deep within her wet, waiting hole. At last it was over, and my deflated member added a few more drips of cum to that which already soaked my skirt. A glance in the mirror showed the sweat running off my face, the makeup running with it and Erica collapsed under over the chair in front of me. With the last of our strength we crawled into the shower and cleaned up, then fell fast asleep in the hunger woke us up. When Erica started whispering in my ear I almost had another story to tell you, but while I felt like Superman earlier three incredible intense orgasms left me feeling very mellow. She offered to take me out for a little present if I took her out for dinner, so we stopped by my place for some decent clothes and spend a couple of leisurely hours filling ourselves with Thai food. She was very mysterious about her surprise, just telling me to wait whenever I asked about it. Eventually we arrived at a small shop in an out of the way corner of town. The owner was a diminutive, blue haired woman of uncertain but advanced years. She looked like someone you would love to have for a grandmother, and greeted Erica as an old and treasured friend, bestowing a kiss on both cheeks as she pulled my lover down to her level. "So tell me, dear, what can I do for you today? Perhaps a nice new nightie for you young man to take off of you?" No beating around the bush for Grandma. "Not today, I think." My lovely replied. "She will be posing for me and I need to dress her for the part. Perhaps you could show us your breast forms so we can find something suitable." Grandma didn't even blink at this, she simply took us into a back room and opened a case filled with breast forms. Now I had never seen one in my entire life, but I was suddenly confronted with dozens and dozens of fake boobs (all right, she called them 'prostheses', but to me they were fake boobs), all neatly lined up in rows. There were simple cloth shapes, more elaborate rubber teardrops, silicone filled boobs that shimmered when you touched them, boobs with nipples, boobs with brown or red areola, boobs that glued in place, it was amazing. Grandma at last attracted my attention. "Did you bring along a bra of your own or can I find something for you?" My voice had left for Spain again. I mean, my grandma had never tried to put a bra on me. But my lover had, and she wanted to do it again! Erica answered for me, "I think you should find him something out of the ordinary, after all, this his very first bra and we want it be special." Grandma produced a tape measure, placed it here and there about my body, then bustled off, leaving us to look at the boobs together. Erica was having a grand time, pointing out the pros and cons of various boobs, asking me if I wanted to be a firm, matronly look or to let my bra wiggle and shimmy as I walked. I was starting to feel like Alice after she stepped through the looking glass. Hell, I was starting to dress like Alice, and I didn't mind a bit. In fact was really curious how one those fake boobs would feel. When Grandma returned she had several selections for me. "You have a bit more choice than most girls, dear, because you can choose your own cup size. I know that most men think that a very busty woman is attractive, but I think I would recommend no more than a B cup for you, at least at first." I took the B cup, of course. "Now just take off your shirt and we'll see how this looks on you. Do you want to try the red one or the pretty blue one first?." The blue one, of course, I took off my shirt and held out my arms. She slipped the bra straps over my hands and tightened it to my body. Grandma deftly hooked it in place and selected one of the shimmering, silicon filled forms from her display. "I do love helping a man learn how much fun it is to discover his feminine side. You're doing very well at this, dear." She slipped the forms into my bra and adjusted the straps so it hung properly. I could feel the weight of it pulling on my shoulders and the breast forms molded themselves to my body instantly, feeling very comfortable. "Yes, quite nice. You'll make a lovely woman with a little practice. Now, just what kind of look did you have in mind, Erica dear?" The two of them tossed ideas back and forth, Erica explaining the painting she wanted to create, Grandma refining the details of my clothing and me just sitting there letting it all flow by me. At last Grandma handed me a set of panties and instructed me to put them on while she was selecting my wardrobe. Erica enthusiastically aided me in removing my pants and settling the panties around my hips. She directed my attention to the full length mirror and there I was in bra, panties and sneakers. That did it, we both started laughing and even the unflappable Grandma had a smile on her face when she returned. "Erica dear, would you help your man with these, I fear I have some other customers to take care of." She bustled out and left us to cope by ourselves. The light blue, silken blouse had long, puffy sleeves and a wide ruffle down the front. I put it on and was amazed at how good it felt. The slippery fabric felt cool where it touched my skin, clinging slightly and then sliding. In the mirror I could see the lacework of the bra showing through the soft fabric draped across my newly acquired bosom. Erica wrapped a pale green skirt around me and tied it behind, as I faced the mirror. I felt her warm breasts press against my back as he whispered in my ear. "God, you turn me on, I can't believe it! I'm a professional! I never sleep with my models. How did you do this to me?" She reached around and cupped my ersatz breasts in her hands and weighed them in her palms. "And just why do I want to dress you up like this? For that matter, why did you let me do it?" I was trying to answer when Grandma came in and broke the mood. "Quite nice, dear, you dress up well. Now here are some stockings and a garter belt, they should be more comfortable for you than pantyhose. I know that when you shave you will feel ever so much more feminine! Such a shame you will have to change before you leave, but I hope you'll come to see me an a few weeks if you feel confident enough to visit." With that she kissed me and bustled off again. She was right, I really didn't want to take off the clothes, but Erica insisted we had other stops to make. I won't bore you with shopping for shoes (it's hard to find comfortable high heels in my larger size), jewelry, a nightgown and other things I had never needed before. The last stop was at an Adult Bookstore, but Erica would not let me come in with her. I had to wait for her to show me what she bought, and you will too. We shaved each other's legs in a steamy, fragrant tub of water, then played with each other as the hot shower rinsed us clean. She dried me in a big, fluffy towel and lathered me with moisturizer. Pouring a pool of pink liquid into her hand she lay me on the bed and slathered my semi erect cock with the lotion and proceeded to slide her slim, artistic fingers along the length of my member, stretching it out as she drew my manhood upward. In no time at all I was again hard, and she began to tease me, Her exquisite nails drew lines of ice along the underside of my prick, delicious tracks of joy that started me throbbing. She would play with my prick ever so gently until I started to sag, then clasping me firmly she rubbed my prick with animation until I was straining and leaping off the bed. As my ass began to lift from the bed she drew a lotion covered finger ever nearer to my back door. Another squirt of lotion and her finger slid in, and she was finger fucking my ass while she pumped my rod. Suddenly she stopped and reached for the mysterious bag from the bookstore. The wicked smile she wore when she was about to do something outrageous was back, and she took out a slim, black dildo. She arose and strapped it on saying, "Now, let's see if Rosita or Maria or whatever the hell you named her knows what she was talking about. Bend over, darling, I'm going to fuck you silly. Once again I was transported to my childhood, remembering a big jar of Vaseline and my older brother. We were horny teenagers and sometimes when our folks were gone we would try to fuck each other. I could see him kneeling before me and feel the gooey stuff on my hands as I rubbed it over his ass and onto my prick. I could feel myself stoking my adolescent cock, trying my hardest to get turned on enough by my brother to get it in his ass. It didn't always work for me, but he never had any problem. Once again I was twelve years old I could almost feel my brother's prick was sliding in and out of my ass as I bent over his bed. I had kind of liked the feeling, but hell, he was my brother. The cool lotion dripping on my behind brought me back to the present as she prepared my ass, then a cool feeling crept up the crack when the dildo edged foreword. I could feel the tight muscles of my asshole stretch as the head of that ebony boner advanced. She must have felt it too, for she relented a bit, then pressed forward once again, going deeper as I relaxed and began to enjoy it. At last I felt her thighs pressing my ass cheeks when she was completely buried in my rectum. We rested a bit, with her wiggling her lovely hips and playing with my cheeks, then slow she began to withdraw. Again, I felt the lotion hit my flesh and she pressed the black dildo into me again. This time she withdrew more quickly, then once again invaded my ass. This was a lot more fun than my brother's clumsy flailing, and from her comments she was sure enjoying being the one to fuck me. A warm glow began to flow through me and asshole began to tingle as I wiggled my butt to get the best effect from her dark dong as it plowed the furrows of my ass. At last she withdrew, unhooked the elastic and pushed me aside to lie on the bed, legs spread wide. I can take a hint , so I climbed abroad and started drilling her for all I was worth. We were both covered with oil so I slid effortlessly into her waiting tunnel. My prick must have cooled off hanging there as she fucked me, because she was hot as a furnace around me. She rose to meet my strokes and I drove my manhood home like the piston on an old locomotive. I swear there was steam pouring from my stack and I screamed like a whistle as I slammed into her again and again. She was beautiful, her breasts bouncing upward with my thrusts, her eyes closed in ecstasy. By now I knew the signs of her orgasm, and she tightened around me as she came. I pulled out and turned her around. Reaching for the bottle of lotion I slathered her ass and inserted a finger into her back door. She sure as hell wasn't my horny brother and I had absolutely no problem keeping my dong from dangling. She was ready for me, so I put the tip of my hardened rod to her back door, then pressed foreword. I entered her slowly, as she had entered me, letting her get used to my peter. When she was ready I dribbled more oil on my rod and slid home. She was incredibly tight, squeezing me like a vice. Each stroke was exquisite, when I pulled back it was like the cum was being dragged from my cock. As she loosened up she rocked her hips backward to meet my thrusts, slapping her ass cheeks against me as I bottomed out in her back door. I felt that old, familiar feeling and buried my manhood in her delectable ass as I pumped forth my juice. One squirt. Two. A third rocket propelled pulse blew deep into her ass. I pressed myself into her and waited as each waning spasm tore down my boner, pushing past the constriction of her asshole around my cock, and dribbled a little more of my love juice into her ass. We lay there quietly for a time, then had another shower together. We talked quite a bit, laying there in the afterglow. I tried to tell her what it felt like when she dressed me up and she tried to tell me why it excited her so. Neither of us had really considered crossdressing a turn on until that day. We decided it didn't make any sense, but it felt right for us. When we arose I eagerly donned my new clothes. It was wonderful, so different from my usual clothes. Bras are wasted on women, they just hold up their tits and make them more comfortable. How utilitarian and boring. For a man, wearing a bra is an adventure, a forbidden pleasure. There is something comforting about the close embrace of elastic about your chest, giving you a passport into a world of feminine beauty denied most men. Each movement of you body pulls at some part of this marvelous garment, reminding you of its presence every few minutes, sending another thrill of illicit pleasure through the brain. Then there is the warmth of having breast forms nestle up to your chest, a pleasure denied to most women. Descending stairs becomes a voyage of enchantment, feeling the unaccustomed weight of your breast forms bounce and jiggle as you take each luxurious step. Then there is the other secret women hide from us naive men, shaving the legs. When I had worn the tunic over my normal, hairy legs it was no big deal. I was utterly unprepared for the wash of sensuality that engulfed me as the hem of my skirt first brushed against my shorn legs. The hair on my legs could have been a suit of armor, for all it shielded me from the pleasure of truly feeling my clothing. How a woman could walk down the street without driving herself to orgasm with freshly shaved legs shall remain forever a mystery, shrouded in the arcane lore of femininity. While you truly appreciate the feeling when wearing a skirt, for the next week I would be ambushed occasionally as my pants slid over my shaven legs and brought back a bit of the luscious sensuality I felt on Sunday. She didn't paint that day, for the rest of the weekend we snuggled close and watched movies, fed each other and just plain talked until there was nothing left to say. It was late Sunday when I put on the clothes I arrived in and went home. She firmly instructed me to get used to my new wardrobe and stay away until Friday. After all, she had two unfinished paintings waiting and didn't need any distractions. That was two years ago. I came back as soon as she let me and she painted me in that pretty blue blouse. I didn't know just how lucky I was then, most crossdressers have to use a camera, which reveals all the little imperfections that suggest you are not really a woman. An artist, on the other hand, can show you as she wishes, and eventually there were quite a few images of a large, attractive woman in a variety of poses. After a few months I moved in and set up my computer lab in a bedroom next to her studio. An unexpected bonus is that we were able to help each other find some corporate clients that we would never have found otherwise. Her paintings hang in the halls of several big firms and my programs run somewhere in the electronic bowels of those same buildings. As far as I know no one ever identified me as one of the women in those paintings. By the time we started to live together I had acquired quite a feminine wardrobe. I was surprised at how much fun it is to shop for clothes when they're for you feminine self. Since we both worked at home a great deal I was able to indulge myself and dress completely for days at a time. Sometimes I had to take the forms out of my bra and put a suit over it, but hell, by then my need to dress up wasn't quite so strong. I spent a lot of time on the internet at first, finding out I wasn't the only man who wanted to wear a dress, but other than an occasional late evening to visit Grandma, I never really had the nerve to try go out. Oddly enough, Erica began to favor skirts much more than before we met. Perhaps it was because I was there to appreciate her now, or maybe my bustling about the house in my flowers and frills made her want to join me. In any case, our lovemaking took on new and unexpected dimensions. Eventually, Erica had enough material for another show and it was duly scheduled. She was determined this would be my public debut in my feminine persona. I let Grandma indulge her creativity as she created a suitably flamboyant outfit for my unknowing public. It was a yellow silk pantsuit (my first, I really liked skirts), complemented by a red scarf around my enhanced waist that matched the stones in my necklace and pierced ears. I jangled with bracelets and publicly wore the engagement ring Erica had given me when she proposed for the first time. Erica had been gently helping me to develop the mannerisms that went with the clothes, like sitting properly, slowing my abrupt, masculine walk and learning to shut up and listen when someone else spoke. I practiced keeping my voice a bit higher than usual when I did speak and Erica started teaching me how to use makeup, something we had passed up within the confines of the house. The big day came at last and I left the house in full daylight and full drag. Reminding me this was an artistic crowd with liberal attitudes was useless. I was scared silly and couldn't wait to walk about in public in the vibrant outfit Grandma had created. It couldn't have gone better. I can't say I was really surprised that some of our friends had realized I was the woman Erica painted so often. It was fun to watch as an acquaintance made the connection and a startled look flashed across their face. I was hugged and congratulated many times that evening, by friend and stranger alike. The gallery was jammed and the festivities were at their height when Erica took me by the hand and led me to a back room. She was glowing with pride and satisfaction from the reaction to her work. She was glowing with something else, to: lust. Her hands reached down and stroked my cock through the yellow silk of my pantsuit. I responded to her urgent fondling in seconds. Dropping the shimmering fabric about my knees, I peeled the panties away and released my engorged member from its prison. I felt the straps of my garters pull as I sat on the office chair. She threw her panties next to mine as I raised her skirt. Slowly she lowered herself upon me as I leaned back and I adjusted the upholstered marvel that held us. "Oh yes!" she groaned as she engulfed my raging rod. "I can't help it, I need you in me so bad. Damn, you're beautiful! I want you to fill me with your cum. I want you to watch your boobs bounce while I ride your cock. Don't move, let me ride you, let me feel you slide in and out of me." With each breath she bounced up and down my aching pole as I floated in the chair. "Don't mess you makeup, let me fuck you Let me feel you deep inside me You're so big in me, so fucking big and fat and filling. Don't move, oh please don't move, let me do it to you." Her hair was breaking free strand by strand, enveloping her head in a nimbus of red magic. I could feel the love juices dripping out of her and slowly trickling down my balls and into my ass. Each time she bottomed out on me her breasts flew upward with the force of her landing. She was breathing hard but kept up a stream of talk. "Don't you like it when I ride you? Remember that first night, when I fucked you while you wore the tunic? I couldn't believe how full your prick felt in me. I can't believe it now, you must have stolen it from a bull. We're going to smell like whores when I'm, done with you. You're going to be soaked in my juice and I'm going to be dripping your sperm all evening into my panties. God, I'd like to leave them off and let it drip on the floor and then tell everyone where it came from. Are you ready to cum? Tell me you're ready to cum because I just about there. I want to feel you squirt in me when I cum. Now! Now!" I felt her clamp down on my pecker like a vice as she came, two more strokes and I fulfilled her wishes. My sperm, which had been pooling in me, was ready for it's journey and I bid it Bon Voyage as my muscles contracted and sprayed it forth where it immediately hit the enveloping walls of her love tunnel. She was so tight around me that I have no idea how it could have gotten out of my rod, but spew it did and I unloaded like I have seldom done before. She rested on me for a minute, then rose and we dressed. She fixed her hair, we made quick repairs to our makeup and once again joined the people in the gallery. She was right, we did smell like whores for the rest of the evening, but either no one noticed or we have some very polite friends. Oh, yeah. The next time you're shopping, check out the olive oil in the market. There's one brand with an idyllic scene of a mother picnicking with her daughters in an olive grove. The oil works very well when spread on a long, black dildo and strapped to a charming artist who knows how to use the tools of her trade. It stands up to the heat without smoking, too.