Inspector Lestrade and the Dropped Trapeze Artiste
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Jean The Artiste free porn video
By Roger with a nod to Nin and Mel ‘20
Chapter the First…A P L A Studio in Calais
In the northeast section of the city of Calais and very near the channel waters was a small colony where there lived many painters, writers and sculptors, including a particular artiste, our young, innocent Jean. The colony near Calais was known by the residents as La Petite Artiste or simply as LPA. It was a gay part of CalaIs whereat music and laughter were often heard as there were many small sidewalk cafes where artists and patrons would meet, dine, drink and tell stories. It was a happy place infused by the freedom that so often is found among artists yet too, a place with the torment that also proliferates, percolates and permeates those who practice in the sensitive fields of painting, sculpting, writing. In short, the frustrations common among artistes: the composer pulling out hairs in search of the precise notes; the writer getting blocked in search of his poignant phrases; the frustration of the poet’s poverty and such but these tears of artistes were unheard except in privacy… whispered among lovers in embrace as a part of their expressions, conjugations and related inspiring passions.
Our precocious Jean was newly located in LPA, an artiste without portfolio as it were, yet to establish himself but with, in his own mind, a great untapped talent in both the arts of paints and clays. In short, he was a Michaelangelo without proof. It warmed him to have such a vision of himself but the evidence to bolster was lacking. Sadly, as an artist, he was a talent in pretense only…awaiting that dream of a productive display to an admiring patron…a wealthy one preferred, of course. In his mind it was a simple question of supply and demand. Unfortunately, into his little studio by the undulating sea there was scant supply, and a dearth of demand except the merchant’s demands of bills to pay.
On top of all that, Jean’s cheap studio was at the water’s edge and habitually damp…he coveted dryness for his canvas, for his clays to set and his physical soreness that troubled his artist’s mind when he worked. He once lamented, to himself, that such issues never betroubled Michaelangelo. No!! and yet consoling himself with scarves, jackets and socks he kept warm enough only lacking in one important ingredient…a patron. As it happened one cold morning in the spring of that year…
His heart leapt on that early morning for there entered his studio a young woman of obvious means as indicated by her elegant ensemble. “Excuse me monsieur, “ she said. “Are you the artiste called Jean?” Jean stood, smiled, bowing. She looked at him and around his small studio and said: “How can you work in such dampness?” She was an attractive woman and had very much of what the French call “assiste” [demeanor or attitude or as the English might observe: pain in the assiste] but, thought our damp berobed Jean, she is a patron and entitled to her assiste! I will humor her even if she is an ass…..iste the last part slowly .
Thus endeth Chapter the First
Chapter the Second: A patron’s wishes
Jean ever polite and deferential even in his youth replied, agreeing, “Yes damp and my neck is often sore but I dress accordingly…what may I do for Madam?” She replied with a subdued: “It is Mademoiselle and I was interested in a sculpting.” Jean, properly and gently admonished, removed his warming scarf and offered “Mademoiselle” the couch and sat opposite her saying: “Of what?” She looked at him from his toes to his top, smiling with approval at what she saw…he was supple, nicely shaped, dark hair, sensual lips, flashing eyes reflective of the sea and otherwise concealed from neck down, and said “Well of me of course!” Jean was blushing at his stupidity and blurted put “Would you like some tea or a glass of wine?” She laughed at his reaction and the blushing. He was, she thought, an innocent but so handsome especially when he was blushing. She replied in a whispered feminine tone: “It’s early but damp. Maybe some wine will be warming for both of us.”
And thus young Jean, Michaelangelo in the borning, and his Venus borning but beclothed…up to his point in time…became acquainted…and warmed in his intimate studio with, if you please, Mademoiselle. Finally, two glasses in, Jean braved up and said: “With or without?” Mademoiselle smiled her beautiful smile responding: “Guess!” At which there was a mutual full-throated spontaneous ear-splitting communal laughter that filled the little studio, passed out the studio window into the streets of LP A, enriching passers-by who looked to the source of the hilarity evoking many smiles and feelings of good will.
Jean opened his last bottle of wine. He was having such fun and thinking of some marketing at last; he also had visions of his patron au naturelle…maybe just a scarf to warm her neck. When to begin? Soon, they agreed, much to the pleasure of Jean and the grocer and butcher who were impatient, owed and overdue..
A parting after a modest advance for supplies, scheduling for the initial sketching early the following morning which dawned cold, grey and foggy…a day for scarves but which Jean, on awaking already had a stiffness as he got dressed. A stiffness everywhere in his body except where it was a sign of arousal of one’s sexual parts. His rather sizable part, admirable to some and compelling to others and to this point unused for any but disposal purposes…his wine and other fluid recycling spigot which he now carefully tucked in his pants and began sorting his supplies for the arrival of his patron, rubbing his neck all the while…it was dark and dank...damp, aching. Cramping?
Thus endeth Chapter the Second
Chapter the Third: The Patron Revealed
Mademoiselle arrived at the appointed time dressed in a full length beige fur coat, complementing her auburn hair which cascaded over one shoulder. Jean smiled and gestured toward the standing dressing screen in the corner of the studio. “Not even a ‘bon jour’ Jean?” she said. “Of course. Bon jour Mademoiselle. Pardon. What a lovely day...” She laughed saying…”A three ‘D’day! Dark, Dank and Damp. How’s your neck Jean…[pause]… and the rest of you? Sore?” Jean nodded, feeling his scarf, saying: “How shall I call you mademoiselle?” She smiled and playfully said: “How about just my name, Yvette?
Yvette walked to the screen slowly, even sensually as though in a seductive state of mind, brushing past, her fur coat touching Jean. He caught her perfume and inhaled…intoxicating…then…”Jean, dear, after posing maybe another glass of wine? We can get better acquainted. Maybe I can even inspire you to greatness or are you already great?” She was toying with Jean, who, up to that point in time was not used to being a toy or toyed with and saw Yvette as brusque and the precise definition of an assiste however he might pronounce the word. Yes. “Ass…iste.”
Yvette strolled to the front of the screen and not behind it. Jean was staring…charcoal and sketching pad motionless in his hands as though transfixed by her odorous perfume, the movement of her body beneath the fur coat…her buttocks, her whole person concealed and yet…open and alive in just the hint of her body enwrapped. She stopped then outside the screen, shrugged her shoulders, her coat dropping suddenly, revealing all of herself, her completely nude body, to the staring artiste…the spellbound Jean. Behold! He beheld. What a splendid specimen…Jean thought to himself…look at that…that…ASS! Where her slender thighs joined with her shapely bottom cheeks creating the alluring provocative rounded triangle of feminine flesh…Jean was tingling…his eyes flashing at the sight of her. Jean was a very polite young man but he couldn’t help himself. He went weak all over…dizzy even and inhaled. He was intoxicated and dropped his sketch pad. Yvette turned, and laughed quietly, presenting her full frontal: Venus now full born. Mission accomplished.
She had inspired her young innocent. He smiled at her, blushing again, uncontrollably. Yvette was ready to pose for Jean the inspired artiste, who she had, we are to learn, carefully ***********ed upon inquiry as the most unassuming and innocent young artiste in LPA…also, if truth be told, her personally ***********ed vulnerable prey. Yvette was about to ply her craft…the youthful seductress in full erotic vigor provoking nature’s sensual instincts in the inviting form of artiste Jean. Yvette was a patron, Yes! A patron of the sensual/erotic arts. Jean was her canvas on which to sketch things sexual.
Thus endeth Chapter the Third
Chapter the Fourth. The Seduction
The naked Yvette, without modesty, approached Jean, asking “What is it you sketch? Me, obviously, but with what detail? My shoulders yes but my breasts and importantly my nipples…when I caress my body somewhere they go hard…so hard nipples in your sketch, Jean, or in their soft natural state? And do you sketch the rest of me with detail? The curls on my sex and the lines…the lines between which penises penetrate, enter and fuck Jean..those lines? Do you sketch them? You should try to be honest in your art I think. Don’t you? They are soft lines and delicate. Pleasure incarnate if done right. The proper stiff and slicked penis can slip itself between those lines and receive as good as it gives…properly given one never forgets. Some call it La Petite Mort LPM, like your village LPA except with an “M”” Jean could only mumble and stutter saying: “Of course. As you say,” knowing not how to respond or breathe. Yvette put her finger in her mouth and then between her legs.
“Well then,” she said, turned and walked to the model’s stand, stepping up, sitting in the little chair and waiting, smiling. Jean approached with his sketch pad. She said: “let me know what to do…arouse my breasts?…show the lines of my sex? You decide…whatever you suggest.” Mademoiselle was then mute watching Jean at work, sketching her details. She watched intently as his charcoal moved down the page…Without Jean’s asking she caressed her thighs…her nipples magically stiffened and stood forth with a kissable rosiness…she lifted them to her mouth, licking and sighing and looked directly into Jean’s eyes, smiling. He was blushing, embarrassed but smiled back. He thought how pretty she was and thought of licking her nipples but was shy and continued sketching.
His sketching moved further down. Her legs were crossed. He looked up at her as if indicating a silent remark…she knowingly uncrossed her legs for him. He looked in her eyes afraid to verbalize his request. She smiled again looked down between her thighs and opened herself to Jean, smiling and licking her lips the while . He looked as she opened herself…fixated. Among her auburn curls peeking out. was her sex line between the lines of which she had told him held great pleasure but that pleasure which he had yet to enjoy. He returned to his sketching but his mouth was watering and he adjusted the tightness in his pants. He drew carefully, looking at her sex again and again…the room was full of smiles.
Mademoiselle Yvette stared at Jean until he looked back, a steady fixed mutual stare. He paused, his sketch almost complete. She put her finger in her mouth, sucking, her tongue engulfing her finger which she traced on the line of her sex, repeating, staring into Jean’s watery eyes. Her sex was coloring to auburn like her hair. She and Jean inhaled deeply, drawing a dizzying daze in their eyes in the quiet room. He signed his name to the sketch. Putting it aside. A gull passed by the open window and they both shivered. The sketch was finished and he poured the wine he had purchased that morning. When Jean drank the wine, his mouth on the edge of the glass, he licked his lips, imagined caressing hers. He felt inspired, adjusting his pants again, his neck sore..
Thus endeth Chapter the Fourth
Chapter the Fifth; The dark arts
Jean and Mademoisille Yvette became close over the next week: her posing, him sketching, admiring each other and she toying with him. Jean would playfully respond to her provocations even once licking her nipples on demand and dreaming of so many other things. After all, one must be cautious of awakening the beast, loosening his pants and passions. Jean was an innocent, Yes! But an unusually built innocent who once aroused and released from confining fabric, his remarkable penis, as yet untested, would seek to slake its thirst for flesh. Yvette had heard the rumors in LPA, of Jean, his “nature’s generous endowment,” and her privates quivered when her imagination about Jean’s condition was unloosed.
However, Jean had yet to explore his passions or splendid endowment which remained a treasure, rumored, but buried in his pants…rising only by happenstance from time to time occasionally with his patron during sessions when she would caress the lines of her sex to a pouting auburn color before his bewitched eyes. When they stared at each other she seemed to be saying: “Don’t you want to caress my sex? Don’t you want to taste of my auburn lips and my nectar of lust?”
Somehow he was not aroused, demurred and simply admired the amazing coloration. Jean was an artiste and colors of every sort and source were his passion. She no longer had to stroke herself for the color to appear, It was the innocent Jean with the habitual sore neck who was arousing the patron by his reticence.. As if the more one resists the more desirable one becomes. The more resistance the more interesting. In denial may reside admission.
She was growing frustrated as her seduction of him was rejected and put in reverse. In his declination of her enticements he had sparked her imagination. No longer was it her focus to arouse his desire for her. It had become her aroused desire for him. Yvette desired the Jean of rumors. She decided to change course..to sneak up on Jean as it were. Her plan, un plan diabolique, was to offer succor to his habitually sore neck. To divert his attention from her to him, take his guard down, use a pretense, and to “accidentally” awaken his sexual ardor. Jean was possessed of an artist’s ardor…it only wanted to be nurtured.
Her scheme was this: in those times it came to pass that women dealing with their monthly discomforts and cramps would periodically visit doctors for relief of a new and different manner. The latest treatment combined relief and a wonderful relieving form of arousal. Its manner was almost embarrassing in its relief leaving the patient delirious…shaking. It was the good fortune of Mademoiselle Yvette that she visited such a medical person regularly in an area of Calais known for the dark and personal, not generally known, its particular female requirements. She was soon to visit there and bribe the physician’s head nurse for possession of one of the magical cramp-relieving medical instruments in question.
It was that time of periodic discomfort for Yvette; a necessary break from posing for Jean. She assumed a veil, a discreet carriage and traveled to the dark part of Calais incognito, entering the unmarked door without notice. There, as was usual on a monthly basis, were other veiled and anonymous women, nodding at each other, the occasional giggle as all knew what satisfying, ameliorating treatment awaited. In mere moments discomfort dissipated, in mere moments was an exhilaration of the spirits and the disappearance of cramps. It was a brisk if private and dark new medical business. Yvette waited, patiently. She would wait as long as it took.
In this office there were no names, no registration or history lists. Patients were dealt with anonymously through gestures, fingers pointed and nods. Soon enough a nurse nodded at Yvette. She followed along an aisle of private cubicles, drapes pulled shut, sounds of female groanings and grunting, she passed in the aisle another woman who smiled at her through her veil. Then she entered her cubicle. The nurse began to pull the drapes but Yvette took her hand…inside was a 1000 Franc note. The nurse looked at her shaking her head. Yvette handed her another note and the nurse pulled the drapes putting the notes in her pocket.
Soon the doctor appeared happily with his medical device, plugging it in. He lifted Yvette’s skirt, under which she was bare, along with the other women seeking treatment.It was easier, more direct without panties or petticoats The doctor gently smoothed her auburn hairs, traced the smooth line of her sex, smiling at her knowingly. He knew what pleasures would possess her soon and lingered. Yvette was an especially beautiful woman. She smiled back at his touching and her lips were turning auburn in anticipation. She looked forward to her visits and previously, before being fascinated with the conquest of Jean, had fucked the doctor. She couldn’t help herself from his caress, that touching one time. Now she was about Jean. He was a lusting discrete professional ***********ively enjoying his clientele and proudly endowed. His practice was busy but he had learned to live with it!
The doctor held his instrument and began the humming application on her private area, moving it gently along the auburn lips of her sex, at first touch startling to Yvette’s body as per usual and then it was Yvette groaning, lifting and grunting in a dizzy delight…all as usual, in concert with the pleased sounds of the girls in the other cubicles. After a while Yvette, having exhaustingly luxuriated in nature’s joy, dried herself, wiped the tears from her cheeks, lowered her skirt and veil and left. On her way out a nurse called: “Madam! You forgot your package,” handing the package to Yvette who put the treasured item in her full-sized handbag. She entered the awaiting carriage with a big smile on her face. Un plan diabolique was moving forward and was now fully energized. Modern medicine was wonderful she thought and smiled, shivering when she crossed her legs on the vibrating seat cushion bouncing from the carriage movements over the rough pavements of Calais.
Thus endeth Chapter the Fifth
Chapter the sixth: un plan complete
Yvette was smiling at herself on entering Jean’s studio a few days later, fully refreshed, her handbag containing the black market medical device. Surreptitiously she had used it on herself…but just to get comfortable with its use she rationalized. Her skin was alive, her sex surely having already turned auburn for the occasion. She was blushing even in the damp studio as she exchanged bon jours with Jean.
“Jean. Is your neck sore as usual?” He nodded stiffly. “ I have something that will help and sooth some of your fine artistic talents before we get to work. Here, lie back in the chair by your lamp, lean back and close your eyes for a nice surprise”…Jean did as he was told, anxious for relief from his soreness and eager for Yvette’s surprise.
Sly and lascivious Yvette opened her hand bag, removed the device, plugged it into the socket next to the lamp and cautioned jean: “No matter what eyes closed. Right? Promise me?” Jean nodded, then he heard the humming but kept his eyes closed.
Yvette now, being delightedly experienced with its use, began to apply the device to the supine Jean. At the first touch, Jean jolted as did Yvette each time at first touching. Then Jean settled into the rhythmic application of the gentle Yvette, first along the sore taut muscles, sinews, of his neck…Jean now relaxing, almost purring to the ablutions. Feelings of release generated along his shoulders and down his arms as though his body was possessed, the humming sound, the undulations in his body, a soporific and yielded all to Yvette’s attentions. They had planned a full day of work and as it happened Jean had dressed accordingly wearing only a simple artist’s smock. Yvette, noticing, couldn’t believe how this good fortune had smiled on her plan diabolique …only loose buttons of his tunic separated her sight from and applying the device on what was rumored as large among Jean’s male friends who all bathed in the local public baths.
Yvette slowly expanded the scope of the device from Jean’s neck, down his arms, expanding here and there all the time her artist acquiesced to the expansion. She got bold and applied it to his outstretched bare legs. All he did was flex his legs, a relaxed smile blossoming, eyes still shut as promised. The moment had come…Yvette worked on his legs using one hand while with the other her fingers deftly unbuttoned the frock. With the final button the two flaps slid open exposing to Yvette for the first time his nakedness, his nether parts at rest.. Jean didn’t react to this. He was possessed with feelings, soothing vibrations, humming.
To say Yvette was astonished at what she beheld discredits the word…breathtaking…the sight took her breath momentarily. She moved her instrument over the muscles of his abdomen. Jean didn’t react but let his legs fall apart, exposing himself more fully. Yvette moved her instrument across and slowly down Jean’s thighs…on either side of his “endowment.” Jean’s hand moved to hers, jolting her, but petting her skin in consent and approval. She kept on with her attentions, feeling erotic emotions in her breathing, her face and breasts hot. She was filled with an animal’s desire for completion, to be taken. La plan diabolique!
She moved it along Jean’s legs and thighs ever closer to the quick of him still dormant. Then she saw it…small oozings from his penis, droplets on his legs, pulsings of his huge member. She moved her focus closer, the vibrating part of the device touching him lightly and he twitched, pulsed again, grew and kept growing with the steady application. She thought he moaned, his hand squeezed hers. Tight! He did moan now and was fully erect…she held him in her hand, petting him up and down, teasing the skin with her nails. His penis radiated heat in her hand. He was slick with himself. She felt her body in heat and stood, lifting her dress, straddling Jean and moving…she held him to her sex pulling him in between the lines…they were both hot and slick…his penis spread her, speared her, she lowered on him to her throat, both of them radiating heat, she flexed, lifted, flexed some more, gripped, came once, again and collapsed, still coupled, she reached and unplugged. Getting her breath, her face against Jean’s. His lips moved against her ear. He whispered in a hoarse voice, kissing her ear: “Thank you for the surprise. My neck is much better.” Then they chuckled, snuggled and slept. Gulls weaved carelessly outside the studio window. The lovers moist bodies still coupled. At rest. They would work another day. -->
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