tagErotic CouplingsCamilla Ch. 031

Camilla Ch. 031

byMawrGorshin©

Carl finally finished that painting of Camilla in the nude, and he told his naked model she could get up, go over, and look at his picture of her. When she went over, she deliberately got as close to him as she could get; she got between him and the picture, and after he gently caressed her buttocks, she sat on his pointy lap.

She was amazed at the precision of his painting technique: it was almost like looking at a photograph, it was so realistic. "Wow," she sighed. "You are brilliant, Carl. I really admire you." She was rubbing her buttocks against that bulging phallus in his pants. "Are my pussy and asshole really that pretty?"

"Yes, they are," he panted. "I spared no effort in giving them all the glory they deserve."

"Oh, thank you," she said, turning around and hugging him.

Suddenly, he picked up the naked girl and put her on the table on all fours. She again let out tremulous cries of fear and arousal as he forcefully handled her. Her arse was pointed towards where he'd be drawing her; he spread her legs out wide, and pulled her hips back so her vagina and anus would be in clear view.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. "No," he said. "Don't look at me; look straight ahead of you." She did. "Good: now, don't move." He went to get a sketchbook and some charcoal, and started drawing her.

An hour of careful drawing had gone by; all she knew of what he was doing was the sound of the strokes of his charcoal on the paper. She knew he wanted her, and he must have known she wanted him. Whenever he grabbed her naked body, though, it was only to put her in a pose for art. Weren't they ever going to have sex?

Because her head was turned away from him, she had no way of knowing what part of her body he was looking at, right at that moment. She heard very light, short strokes: what part of her anatomy could he have been drawing? Wisps of pubic hair? The folds of her labia? The wrinkles on her anus? Not knowing was as exciting as knowing was for her: her imagination was going wild.

She had no mirror in front of her to see his facial expression. What was he thinking? Was he still excited? Was his penis still erect? She tried to control her excitement so the drawing wouldn't be interrupted by a need to clean her come away.

Finally, he said, "OK, I'm finished. You can get up." She got off the table and walked over to him; he was now sitting on a couch. "Do you wanna see the picture?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. He held the picture to the side so both of them could see. She put her knees on the couch, one between his legs, and pushed it against his bulging crotch. "Wow, are you ever talented," she said as she looked at the drawing. "I'm in awe of your genius, sir."

"Don't call me sir," he said, patting her gently on the behind. "I need a coffee."

"I'll make you one," she offered. She got up and went to the sink, by which there were coffee mugs, a kettle, and instant coffee.

"Oh, you don't have to, sweetie," he said. "I'll make it myself."

"But I want to make it for you," she insisted. "I like doing things for you. How do you like it?"

"Double double. Do you want to put your clothes on and take a break? You must be very tired." He was hoping she would get dressed, so it would be easier for him to fight the temptation to fuck her, which would waste valuable time.

"No, I'm fine," she said as she poured water from the sink into the kettle. "I like being naked for you. I can keep posing for you until six, when I have to go to Luvlee's, where I work." She plugged the kettle in and put some Nescafe in one of the mugs.

"You're a lap-dancer?" he asked. When she nodded, he said, "Well, that explains everything about you." She giggled.

In a few minutes, the water was ready, and she made his coffee for him. She walked over to him with the mug, grinning as she gave it to him.

"Thank you," he said as he took it with one hand and patted her on the behind with the other. "You don't have to be so servile, you know." He took a sip and put the mug on a small table by the couch.

"Oh, I like to be...for you, I mean," she said as she put her knees on the couch, between his legs. She pushed them against his erection. "I like obeying you." Putting her hands on the couch on either side of him, she had her breasts just inches from his thirsty face.

"Why do you like obeying me?" he asked, smiling and looking up in her eyes.

"Because men like obedient girls, and I want to please you."

"Why? I thought girls were sick of having to obey and please men."

"I like to because I admire you; to you a woman's services are due."

"Really?" he panted.

"Oh, yes," she sighed, turned around, and sat on his lap. "I wanna look at your picture again." She reached over and picked up the drawing, rubbing her behind against his erection, as if by accident. Looking at the drawing, and looking over at the painting of her on the easel, she said, "You're so amazing, sir--I mean, Carl."

He took another sip of his coffee, trying desperately to resist temptation. The following were the thoughts going on in his head. Sure, she's beautiful; sure, she wants me, too; but I'm old enough to be her father! Besides, if I fuck her, it'll ruin our working relationship, and waste time; I want to get a lot done today. I've only done two pictures: I was hoping to do four of five. Why did Belle have to get sick? With my sister posing, I never get horny, and I get a lot more done. Camilla, you're driving me wild!

She continued giving him a free lap-dance, and he, drinking down more coffee, continued fighting his urges.

"Your penis must be huge, Carl," she said, looking back at him with wide open eyes and pursed lips.

He finished off the coffee in a quick gulp and put the mug on the table. Then he grabbed her, put her on the floor, and turned her around so she'd lie on her back. She screamed in delight and terror at his aggression.

"Are we going to do some more art?" she asked in a shaky voice. She was breathing twice as rapidly as her heart was speedily beating.

"In a way," he said as he unzipped his pants. "Art is expression, and I'm expressing myself." He pushed her legs up and opened them wide.

Her whole body was trembling with fear and excitement. Tears ran down her cheeks; her heart was pounding. She felt his phallus push, at first, against her anus. She was about to tell him about the anal lube in her purse when he realized his mistake, and aimed his large cock at her vagina. He started sliding it in. She screamed in ecstasy at its thickness.

As he continued sliding it inside her already dripping wet cunt, she screamed, "Oh, my God! Ahh!!" When the full length of his member went all the way in, leaving no nook or cranny untouched, she squealed in whistle register and showered his pubic hair and scrotum with her come. But the pumping was just beginning...

With each push he gave her, she shrieked a staccato note in whistle register and let out another squirt of come, all in rhythm to his every thrust. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, Camilla?" he asked in pants. "You wanted my big cock inside you, eh? Well, here it is!" He kept pushing it in, deeper and deeper, massaging her A-spot as no phallus had ever done before. The thickness of his shaft also ensured uninterrupted stimulation of her G-spot. She squealed and cried in alternating soprano and whistle voices, and her face was as saturated with her tears as their genital areas were with her come. The sweet tightness of her cunt was bringing him closer and closer to orgasm himself.

While they were busy pleasuring each other, neither noticed the red light flashing by the easel: a customer was in the store. The visitor heard the high-pitched squeals coming from the back, and he found the voice familiar. Curious, he opened the door to the studio a little. He saw the naked girl receiving Carl's cock. Her body looked familiar to him in recent memory, and seeing her dress lying on the floor a few feet away reinforced his suspicions as to who she was. Finally, hearing Carl sigh, "Oh, Camilla...Camilla..." confirmed her identity. Shocked and hurt, the visitor closed the door, but continued listening.

Carl was fondling Camilla's large breasts as he continued fucking her, more and more aggressively. Her high-pitched screams of pleasure were non-stop. Lacking a condom and not wanting to get her pregnant, he pulled his soaking wet cock out her waterfall of a pussy. She took his phallus in her hand and, holding it over her stomach, played with it, shaking it and tickling it. After this brief masturbation, he ejaculated all over her stomach. Her navel was a tiny cup of his come. He got off her and lay beside her, putting his spent member back in his pants and zipping them up. They lay there for several seconds, catching their breath.

She looked at him with awe in her eyes. "Oh, my lord and my master," she sighed. "That was the hottest fuck I've ever had--easily." Now looking in his eyes earnestly and passionately, she asked, "Did I please you?" An answer of no would have terrified her.

"Of course you did," he said in loud pants.

Still with utter conviction in her eyes, she said, "You can rape me like that anytime you want, sir--I mean, Carl."

"Rape?" he said with shock. "I thought you wanted it."

"Oh, yes: I wanted nothing other than that."

"Then it wasn't rape," he said, worried that she might involve the police.

"I like using the word 'rape': it makes it sound like a hotter fuck."

"Well, 'rape' makes me feel uncomfortable. Say 'ravish' instead, okay?"

"I'll do anything you want, Carl. Really, I'll let you rape me like that again, as many times as you like, if you want. I won't resist you at all, unless resisting you would please you more. I wanna be your naked sex slave."

"Don't be silly, Camilla. And dammit all, I just wasted valuable time. It's going to be difficult for me to concentrate if my model is my lover. It's 4 PM now: let's do one more picture, then I'll pay you and you can go to Luvlee's."

"I think I love you, Carl."

"Oh, fuck!" he said in annoyance at her dramatics, and got up and went back to his easel. "Let's do a standing pose of you this time." She got up and followed him.

The visitor was crying. He'd thought that his moment in bed with her, his first time, was special; he'd thought that he was special to her. Now he realized that she talked in that fawning way to lots of men, to flatter them, just to have sex with them. Baker walked out of the store with his head hanging low.

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byMawrGorshin© 2 comments/ 15203 views/ 2 favorites

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