A is for Artist

The gallery is full. It has been full for some time, tickets for the exhibition have been unavailable for pre-booking and this is a very popular artist. Everyone here is eager to view his display. It is clearly a high class event, the women are all wearing evening dresses and the men are in dinner jackets. The walls are hung with numerous paintings, though only a few of the guests are viewing them. Most are talking amongst themselves, the buzz of conversation filling the room. Waitresses mingle among the crowd with trays of champagne and nibbles. They are as elegantly dressed as the guests, all wearing long, sensual white gowns, the upper half little more than two lengths of material barely wide enough to cover each breast that runs from shoulder to waist. The outfits leave the sides of the upper body, the neck, chest, belly and navel, and the middle of the back, exposed on all the waitresses wearing them.

"Have you seen any of his other exhibitions?" one young woman asks, directing her question to a somewhat older woman standing next to her.

"I haven't," she replies, taking a sip from her champagne. "But a friend of mine has. She recommended him to me, she says his work is so beautiful."

"I hear he's bringing a new model tonight," someone else comments. "She's only nineteen. Hasn't worked with him before." The conversation continues for a few moments, then the lights slowly begin to dim and a hush descends across the room. A floodlight comes on illuminating a raised dais midway along the length of the back wall.

The sound of footsteps emerges from the far side of the room, and the crowd turns to look. A man of about fifty, also dressed in dinner jacket, balding with a neatly trimmed goatee beard, has entered the gallery. He is escorting a young woman, her hand loosely clasped in his. The girl is completely naked. Her long blonde hair obscures her nipples and much of her breasts, but the rest of her body is clearly visible. There are gasps from some of the guests as the couple begin to cross the room, the crowd parting to let them through, and there is applause as they ascend the platform. The pair turn and face their audience, the artist taking a brief bow. He raises a hand and with a finger gently brushes the hair of his model away from her breasts exposing her nipples, each point proudly protruding from areola swollen and puffy. Along with the tip of her clitoris slightly peeking out from it's hiding place, this indicates to the crowd that the girl is already somewhat aroused by her public nakedness. Coming to stand behind his model, the artist delicately strokes the soft tenderness of her breasts, circling but not quite touching each nipple. Her throat moves as she swallows and there are gasps from the audience as her clitoris emerges further from the protection of it's hood. The tip of a finger reaches a nipple and the young woman moans softly. When the finger is joined be the thumb and the artist begins to stimulate her teat between the two, the moans are no longer soft. As the artist's right hand continues to play with one breast, his other moves slowly up her body, from her hip to her belly and up to her left breast. He now begins to stimulate the nipple there in the same way he is doing the other. The teenager closes her eyes and tips back her head, her moans coming constantly now.

"Are you going to come?" he murmurs in her ear, loud enough for most of the crowd to hear and she nods. "Good girl," he tells her. "Come for me. Come now." Her belly twitches once, twice, three times and she groans loudly, then her pussy begins to glisten in the bright glare of the spotlight.

"Oh my God!" a woman's voice exclaims from the audience. "He gave her an orgasm just from playing with her breasts!" Applause and cheering breaks out among the crowd. The artist smiles and looks down into the face of his model, still clasping her breasts in his hands. She looks up at him and smiles back, breathing heavily as she recovers from her climax. He leans closer and finds her lips with his mouth, briefly exploring her with his tongue. Before she has completely recovered one hand is moving once more, from her breast down the middle of her body to her special place. His fingers brush through the strip of fur adorning her mound and find the pearl at the apex of her cleft. She begins to moan again as he makes slow circles around and over her button. Mouth open and breathing heavily she looks out across the crowd of spectators staring at her in awe. Some of the faces looking back at her bear similar expressions as her own and she wonders if there are possibly others in the room receiving pleasure akin to hers, either at their own hand or that of a companion. She is confident none of them will end the night in anywhere near the same ecstasy as her. She knows full well the remarkable talents of the artist, has only agreed to participate in this intimate display because she knows that her final release will be more intense and exquisite than anything she has ever felt before.

The artist is rapidly diddling the teenager's clitoris now, and it is all she can do to remain on her feet. Her breasts are heaving as she pants and groans, but this sexual expert knows just how to work her so she remains on the edge of climax, only tipping her over the edge when he is ready.

"Please," she whimpers. "Release me."

"You want to come? Again?" the artist asks. She nods, vigorously. "Should I make her come?" he asks the crowd. There are cheers and shouts of agreement. The artist stops rubbing the girl's clit and begins tapping on it rapidly as if making out Morse code. His model screws up her eyes and opens her mouth wide in a silent scream. Then he suddenly stops tapping, pressing hard into her precious pearl, and the scream is no longer silent. The teenager shrieks and the artists finger glistens with the proof of her orgasm. There are a few cries from the audience as if others have reached similar peaks, though these are obscured by further applause. But this is still not the end of the exhibition. The best is yet to come.

The artist runs his wet finger gently up and down the length of his model's smooth, slippery slot, her breathing still heavy from her last orgasm. He massages the plump labia, squeezing and pinching them together, coating his hand in the sweet, creamy juices of her pleasure. She moans and whimpers as he plays with her, skilfully working her body as he might work a clay sculpture. Initially nervous at the prospect of experiencing sexual pleasure in front of an audience, the watching crowd now only enhances her arousal. When the artist finally slides between her slick cunny lips and into her soaking wet pussy she emits a loud groan and almost collapses to her knees. He steadies her with his free hand as he begins to probe the exquisite depths of her heavenly hole. She is like liquid silk, not a virgin but still maintaining the tightness of youth, and he relishes the way her juicy cunt seems to suck on his fingers each time he pulls out for his next thrust. And he is thrusting now. Since first penetrating her he has been gradually increasing speed and he is now frantically fucking her, groaning a little himself at the exhaustion. The position of his fingers means he is pressing and rubbing against that special place that some women are unable to find, the evidence of which is clear in the young woman's expression and the sounds she is making. The look of beautiful agony on her face is far greater than it has been throughout the entire experience, and her cries are their loudest yet. Her body twists and gyrates as he plunges into her over and over, fucking her again and again. One or two of the women in the crowd who were discreetly masturbating earlier are now being a little less subtle about their own activities, openly rubbing at themselves through their dresses. The model also notices a few of the men with hands moving around in their pockets. The girl's G spot is swollen and pulsating, and she knows her end is near. With the palm of his free hand the artist presses down on her lower belly, just above her pudenda, increasing the pressure on her spot and intensifying the sensations within her body even more. If she could scream louder she would, but she has no more left to give.

"Let me come!" she shrieks.

"Will you squirt?" he demands. "Will you release a beautiful fountain for us?" She nods frantically.

"Yes! Yes!" she screams. "Please, just let me come!" And she does. To the accompaniment of murmurs and gasps of amazement from the crowd, the beautiful young woman releases a long gush of sweet liquid from her cunt. It sprays upwards before descending into the edge of the crowd. Another jet shoots forth, and some of the spectators hold out a cupped hand to catch some of the drops. They toy with it with a finger, and some of them even dip the tip of their tongue in it. Those that do seem to like it. She's sprayed three times now, but she doesn't stop. Those who've tasted her step a little closer and raise their heads allowing some of the drops to land on their face. Finally the ejaculations begin to recede, and eventually they stop altogether. As the young woman pants and gasps the crowd begin to cheer and applaud, showing their grateful appreciation of the artistic beauty of the female orgasm.