Story C - The Curator
by L. M. S. Black
"I noticed you looking at me." Said the robed Adonis as I packed up my sketch pad,
"Everybody was looking at you---you're a life model." I laughed, trying to sound self-assured although I was very confused as to why he'd singled me out. Flattered, but confused.
I was not a girlish twenty-something, in fact I was likely the oldest student in the class save for the professor and I came to class to learn, not be pretty. I most certainly thought I'd achieved that fairly well in my gypsy skirt, boots and over-sized t-shirt. My brown hair was in braids and I wore no makeup.
Yet here was this thirty-two year old with a body like a Greek god and face that should be on film staring me down through sultry green eyes and thick lashes.
"You were looking at me differently; and I like that."
I felt a heat spread across my cheeks; Initially I'd noticed how attractive he was when he'd disrobed and sat up on the model's platform, while trying not to stare too much at his equally impressive cock; but then I'd slipped into a fantasy, I couldn't help myself, and I'd excused it by making him an intellectual in my daydream so as not to only like him for his looks, I liked to believe I was a lot deeper than that. Apparently, he'd picked up on something.
Crap.
My hands were shaking as I ruthlessly jammed my pencil case into my bag. It kept getting hung up on a small pocket inside and my emotions were quickly narrowing towards a tantrum the more I fought with it.
And then he touched my hand, and gently coaxed the case from me, setting it carefully into place in my bag.
"You're shivering…how about some coffee to warm you up?" He hadn't released my hand, though I made no move to retrieve it. His own hands were soft and warm as he enveloped mine.
I glanced around the room and saw that it was now empty.
"Will you put some clothes on first?" I sighed and offered a wry smile, looking up at him from under my brow.
He grinned with perfect, straight white teeth, "I'll be right back."
Practicality would have told me to leave, go home, finish the paper due on Friday then go to bed; but I'd ceased being practical the moment I decided to leave the work-weary corporate world to pursue my passion for art, so I waited.
The Adonis came out from behind the dressing screen wearing blue-jeans and a grey-brown sweater that accentuated his wide shoulders and tapered waist. He was just as sexy in clothing as he was out of it and I began second- guessing my decision to stay put.
"Shall we?" he asked and picked up my denim jacket, holding it up to assist my arms thought the sleeves.
I acquiesced to the gesture, likely had I attempted to put on my jacket by myself at this point I would have gotten it on upside down at best.
"I don't even know your name," I reached for my large portfolio case but he'd gotten to it first and pulled the strap up over his shoulder.
"Michael." He offered me his hand and I instinctively grasped it, then almost wished I hadn't as he turned to interlace his fingers though mine. I felt a definite spark of something go through the point of contact and it ended up as a flutter in my chest.
Butterflies?? I was too old to be getting butterflies.
"I'm…"
"Elizabeth, I know." He squeezed my hand lightly and led me towards the exit.
This was just too surreal.
The October night air had taken on a definite chill and now I really was shivering, but most of it as a result of my warm companion, not in spite of him.
In a college town one can always find a multitude of coffee-houses open until long past midnight; I expected we'd each have a cup and either I'd become so bored of his narcissistic conversation I'd hail a cab or he'd spot an old girlfriend and meander on.
I hadn't expected him to be so smart, or our conversation to stretch on for over 2 hours with no end in sight. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, laughing appropriately and making me laugh. By the time the Café chased us out so they could close out their business day, I had forgotten that there was an age difference of nearly 10 years between us and that I looked like I'd dressed in the dark (which, in fact, I had). I felt so good being with Michael that I didn't want the evening to end, so I invited him up to my loft.
It wasn't until we got there that I realized just what a mess it was.
"Oh…I'm sorry…I'm really embarrassed," I walked around snatching up articles of clothing, books and loose sketches as Michael set down my portfolio just inside the door.
"Don't apologize, it looks fine." He said and crossed the room, placing his hands on my shoulders. He looked into my eyes for an extended few seconds, then leaned down and kissed me.
Reflexively my hands dropped the small collection of items.
Michael slid his hands from my shoulders to wrap his arms around me and his kiss became more passionate, probing. I accepted his tongue, tasting the sweetness from his latte like honey, and offered my own.
He finally released my mouth, hesitantly, and gave my bottom lip a small suck before he looked down into my eyes again. For a split second I wondered if he was just using me as an easy target for sex, but that made no sense, he could have any woman, and it was further dismissed when he smiled sheepishly and said,
"I hope I didn't come on too strong."
All I could muster was a head shake to the contrary.
Michael's hands slid down now to my bottom, not squeezing, just resting, but I felt the heat from his touch move through my backside and burn right into my loins. He pressed his soft lips to my neck, offering sweet kisses and small flicks of his tongue. I rocked, unsteadied by the sensations he was eliciting; it had been a long time since I'd had such intimate contact and I could honestly never remember anyone's touch ever having such an effect before.
The practical part of my nature still tried to maintain a foothold, "Michael…I can't possibly believe that you find me so alluring…"
He almost looked hurt, then he began to untwist my hair from the loose braids, "I'm sorry you can't believe it, because it's true."
"But…there are so many beautiful young girls…"
"Girls," He repeated and brushed through my hair with his long fingers, "You're a beautiful woman." Again, he kissed me and again I succumbed to him; I clutched his sweater for fear my weakening legs would give out and he swept me up, lifting me as though I were the weight of a child. He carried me to my sofa and sat down with me on his lap, his kiss continuing the entire time.
I could feel him getting hard against the back of my thigh and this time the butterflies I felt stirred up a flood of moisture between my legs. I was glad my skirt had so many layers or he would surely be feeling it by now. Michael's kiss changed into delicate flicks and swirls of his tongue on my lips and it was obvious he was trying to send a message to the lips below. It was getting through loud and clear.
I felt compelled, as though my mind was secondary to my bodies needs, and I turned in his lap to straddle him, certain to position my clit over the generous mound in his pants. I began to grind my hips and Michael answered with a sharp intake of breath and his hands on my hips, pressing up to meet me on each of my downward movements. His hands glided up under my t-shirt as I finally shook off my coat and he cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing over the thin material that covered my nipples. Even this had me in near-ecstasy and I pulled my shirt off over my head to give him better access. I arched my back, lifting my breasts higher towards his face. The bra I wore was a sheer beige, and Michael sighed as he looked upon my dark areolas and hard nipples pressed nearly flat beneath the fabric. He replaced one of his hands with his lips and took the crest of my breast into his mouth; his tongue flicked at my nipple and sent small shocks right to my clit. I pressed my hands to the back of his head, feeling him eating at my breast the way he'd done to my mouth, and I anticipated his continued descent. I sought to encourage him by sliding from his lap to lie on the couch, one leg still across his thighs.
Michael didn't need much more encouragement than that. He kicked off his shoes and turned to kneel between my legs, then he lifted one and gently pulled off my boot, then my sock; thankfully, I'd perfumed my feet with a mint scrub this morning.
Michael caressed the top of my foot and watched my face, smiling as I giggled when he ran his fingernails gently along the sole. Then he brought my foot to his mouth and kissed it, and drew his tongue upwards to poke between my toes. I had never experienced such a sensation before, but the spaces between my toes seemed to have a direct link to my sex and I couldn't help but press my hands between my legs, bunching up my skirt as my cunt throbbed. Michael seemed to be enjoying the effect his ministrations had on me and now he took each toe between his lips, sucking on them individually as if each one had the suggestive potential to bring me to climax. I groaned and pressed harder the spot that was jealous of and responding to all of the attention my foot was receiving.
Michael lifted my other leg and repeated the process, but this time when he'd finished up on my baby toe he began to kiss his way towards my body, all the way down my leg.
When he got to my inner thigh, he pulled away and stood momentarily to shed his jeans and boxers and the sight of that beautiful cock hardened with arousal sent a fresh gush of anticipation to my panties.
He smiled at my obvious appreciation and reclaimed his position between my legs then he lifted each of my hands, kissing the knuckles in turn and setting them free to begin rolling up my skirt.
On a rare whim today, I'd chosen matching bra and panties, and Michael pressed his face to the translucent fabric that shimmered across the dark patch of hair covering my mons. He pressed his lips to the moist cotton panel below and exhaled a heated breath that warmed its way all the way through my core.
I lifted my legs for him as he tugged off my panties, and before they'd hit the floor Michael's face was again between my thighs and he began to dine on me far more voraciously than he had either my mouth or my breast.
His tongue was long, powerful and very skilled and he used it to just barely fuck me, then lap at the juices which flowed from my cunt.
He traveled up through the crevasse of sensitive flesh between my dewy folds and found the hard nub of my clit, flicking it lightly before pressing his lips to the area and sucking it into his mouth.
I gasped then let out a groan and he slipped two fingers inside of me, curling them upwards to press on a particularly sensitive spot I hadn't believed existed. The slick muscles clenched around him and I wanted more than just his fingers inside of me.
I wrapped my fingers through his hair and began to coax him upwards, he gave my clit a final kiss and flick of his tongue before he removed his fingers and brought his mouth to my own. The scent of my sex on his skin and taste in my mouth was a surprising aphrodisiac and I licked the moisture from his chin. Michael rose to his knees once more and reached behind me to grab one of the throw pillows, his cock brushed over my nipple, leaving a small drop of precum on my bra. I grasped the hardened flesh gently and began to slide my hand up and down its length. Michael sighed and closed his eyes; his cock throbbed in my palm. I moved my body just a bit lower so that I could take the head of it into my mouth. I was aware he was watching me as I fellated him and I gave him a show by taking his entire length into my mouth.
He shuddered through a soft groan but said, "Elizabeth, you'd better stop or I won't be able to fuck you now." The crude word from his lips sent a shiver of delight through me and an anticipatory throb through my cunt. I released him and he slid the pillow under my shoulders so that I now sat up slightly, my back raised from the seat. He grasped his cock in his hand, the purple head poised just outside of the entrance protected by my swollen labia.
"I want you to see too, see what incredible art we can make together." Michael purred and I watched as he began to press his cock into the recesses of my willing cunt, slowly; he drew it out a bit, so I could see my sap glistening on his shaft and my pussy throbbed around him from the intense visual and sexual stimulation. He watched himself sliding in and out of my slickness and it felt exquisite, but I needed more.
"Fuck me harder, Michael," I pleaded and brought my legs up to wrap around his waist. He leaned forward and looked deeply into my eyes, then thrust the full length of his cock into my anxious pussy. I pulled him in deeper with my legs with each down stroke, lifting my hips to meet him. His balls stimulated my perineum as they slapped hard against me and my cunt gripped and began to spasm with my imminent climax. I was nearly screaming with the intensity of each movement and finally he ground his hips into me and I felt his cock swell inside of me as he came with a cry, hot jets of his ejaculate burst inside of me and he shuddered from the aftershocks, his cock still throbbing inside.
Michael laid his head near mine and I wrapped my arms around him, trying to slow my breathing and wishing that this could last at least for the night. His cock remained nestled in my warmth.
Finally, Michael lifted his head and looked down into my face languidly.
"By the way, Elizabeth, I forgot to mention the initial reason I'd wanted to talk to you…" He smiled boyishly, "I'd like to offer you an exclusive opening for your work in my gallery…" I stared at him, speechless and he kissed me and gave a small thrust of his hips then added, "And I hope you'll offer me your own private opening exclusively."
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