Interlude: Artistic Impressions

"God, you've got a crust forming in your hair," she complains. I put the pen aside and seat myself in a better position so that she can easily access my belly and loins. Her touch is firm yet yielding as she pays special attention to my prick and balls, making sure the suds from the cloth cover every area where the syrup had spread. Once it looks like a can of whipped cream ruptured in my lap, she takes my hand and leads me back to the bathroom with a hop and a skip.

She takes the time to fill the sink, dips the cloth in the steaming water, and applies it to my stomach. She leaves it there for a few moments so the warm water softens the stiffening syrup and dissipates the suds and she diligently wipes away every last trace of goo from my chest, belly, and groin. For a moment, she stands there until she tosses the cloth aside and rummages through my toiletries until she finds my shaving brush, cream, and razor.

I begin to move out of the bathroom as a mischievous smile washes across her face – she is filling a small ceramic bowl I keep on the corner of the sink with shaving cream and I am trying to get the hell out of there. Before I can make it past the threshold, she has me by the balls.

"Where d'you think you're going?" she asks with determined authority.

"Away from you and that razor."

"Scared?"

"Uhh... yeah!" She gives me a condescending role of her eyes and deftly opens the straight razor with a skilled flick of her thumb. "You shouldn't worry. I used to be a hair dresser."

" I bet you had a license to mutilate unsuspecting hair."

"Ha. Ha. I'm laughing my ass off inside, you're so funny. No; I just thought that since you got to write on me, I ought to be allowed to do the same – I just need to ready my canvas."

"Will you be using a conventional pen?"

"Nope..."

I smile and nod my head to give her all the permission she needs. She starts by emptying the sink and filling it with steaming water; then, she dips the brush into the water before mixing it in the bowl with the cream until she is satisfied with the foamy consistency. Next, she comes right up to me and stares deeply into my eyes while she makes series of spiraling motions with the brush from the tip of my shoulders to the line of my pubic. It feels like a thousand warm fingers dancing through my chest hair, tickling my sensitive nipples while spreading a blanketing layer of creamy warmth over my flesh. Finished with the brush, she rinses it in the sink and picks up the razor. Her strokes are long and broad, removing and initial layer of hair, and then she goes over her path to clear any prickly underbrush. I am mesmerized by the grace of her gestures as she exposes flesh covered with hair since my early teens.

I absentmindedly reach up and squeeze one of her breasts but cease once I spy her reproachful glare. It turns to a smile as she shakes the blade in the water and continues her exposé of my chest and belly. Once completed, she reaches over my shoulder, assuring contact between our chests, and picks up a small towel. She takes her time to wipe up the excess cream and water. Her fingers linger over the definition of my muscles; she presses hard into my flesh as if to count the fibers that comprise each muscle group. She pays extra attention to my abdomen as it triggers an extra twitch from my cock. Once erect, she surrounds it with the towel to sponge away any runoff that might have escaped the shave.

"Well, that should give me enough room," she smiles as she walks her fingers up my chest to my chin.

"This..." I murmur as I touch myself, "is peculiar. I've never been one to shave my body – the air feels... new. It's like I've come out of hiding and might feel the pressure of light."

"Don't get to used to it."

"Why?"

"Well, once this exercise is over, you're letting it grow back. I like it too much to let you remove it permanently."

"Oh... as you wish, my muse."

"Your what?"

"Muses: daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, sources of all inspiration."

"Oh... So that's where the word's from. I thought it sounded Greek. And beautiful."

"It is. You are."

We both smile as she grasps my shaft and leads me back to the living room. She pauses by the table and picks up the berry ink, then leads me to the mattress. Sitting us down, she leans me back and positions herself so her thighs are on each side of my head. Carefully, she parts her legs and slides forward until she straddles my face. Wetness runs from her cunt and down her legs – I lap at it here and there while I hear her open the ink bottle.

"You'll have to help me here," she says as her breathing becomes more labored. "I've never really written poetry before."

"The biggest mistake you can make is to try and write poetry," I mumble as my tongue darts across the cleft of her pussy. "Just live your emotions in the moment and let your hand guide itself. Once you get the flow, you can work on the form."

With that advice in mind, she lowers herself a bit closer to my face so I can let my tongue discover its new home. It's then I feel her moist finger press on my belly and she begins to write:

A stranger's lust for transcendent art Has awakened my heart And shown me a new start What nerve have I to enter this realm With an intimate stranger at my helm But he pressed his mouth to my palm And with a whisper my waters were calm So I have surrendered my body to his dream And soon I am ready to feel his cream For when his thoughts are words His lips can make me scream

As her fingers glide across my skin, I try to match her gestures with my tongue so she can better feel each word she has written. Whenever she pauses to change and start a new line, I push my tongue into her folds and fondle and pinch her breasts. But with the ever increasing flow of juice from her cunt, she tosses the ink aside and rests her sweat soaked body onto mine and proceeds to lap up the words she has just written. Each tongue stroke is accompanied by a firm tug on my cock.

"Fuck the words," she growls as I slip into her mouth for the second time of the evening. Unleashed, she kisses and licks my shaft like a madwoman while I strafe her cunt with bites and nibbles until we are both racked and churning.

"Fuck the words and the writing... Just fuck me!" she howls as she gets off me and positions herself on her back. Dedicated and focused, I climb between her legs press the head of my shaft on her cunt, but before I can breathe, she wraps her legs around me and I slip farther into her pussy than I could have imagined. It is a world of heat and moisture and tightness as she flexes her calf muscles and controls our fuck. Through her frenzied attack, I grab her tits and smother her mouth with mine with a mad kiss that she accepts wantonly. I slide down her neck and take a nipple and press hard enough to almost push it back into her breast. Her back arches violently and I fear for a moment she will snap my shaft in two and choke me as she forces more of her breast into my mouth. But I respond by pulling her head back by the hair and raising myself off my thighs – this lifts her off the bed and my cock sinks into her to its limit.

Temporarily paralyzed, I push my thumb against her clit while reaching over and placing a pillow beneath her ass. With this new angle, I place her knees on my shoulder and begin a slow rocking motion that pulls me almost completely out before I slowly sink back in.

"Kill me softly!" she exclaims as I take sweet time to stretch her cunt with each slow and languorous thrust. Holding her legs tightly, I begin to increase my cadence until her breasts bounce madly and my sweat runs down her legs; I take on of her toes into my mouth and then kiss her feet.

"My Muse! Muse!" I shout as my cock gorges and readies to erupt with my orgasm. But before I come, she raises her ass in order to slow my ascent.

"No! Come slowly and tell me a poem," she pleads. "I'm so near coming – I want to hear your beautiful words and feel your come as we both enjoy it."

My cock jerks as my orgasm tumbles back inside. But I smile. I can't resist her.

She moves onto all fours and I slips into her from behind. Her tightness is overwhelming as I admire the softness of her skin, that most precious of canvases.

"Gentle motions of lust call our names/While we cool passionate flames/I have come to desire my host/Though she stepped into my life a surreal ghost/I am but a servant to her desires/Those who deny Woman are liars/For me, my heart dies in her fires..."

"Ohhhh.... Fuck me now!!" She howls as my voice is replaced with lustful grunts.

My balls smack against her thighs as I fuck her ever faster. She responds in kind until we both rattle uncontrollably. Her cunt convulses; my cock erupts; we scream. We come. I jettison a stream of come deep across the innards of her cunt while she smashes her pelvis into mine in an attempt to fuse us like this forever.

"Oh god what a fuck," she whispers as she finally slides off my spent and slowly deflating member. She rolls over onto her back and watches me with sleepy eyes. "So what's next?"

"Well," I say as I lift her legs and rest them on my lap and massage her feet, "I'm kind of hoping you have some friends."

"What? Are you going kinky already?"

"It's not that. I just think I'll need more room for this novel I've always wanted to write."

She looks at me incredulously.

"Want a drink?" I ask...