A New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 03 Ch. 19

Gwen savored every sensation—the hands on her waist reminding her who was in charge while the cock sawing in and out of her confirmed that fact, the exquisite torment she was subjecting her clitoris to. She fucked back at the man behind her, hips rotating and flexing to get the most out of both what was inside her and buzzing madly against her, her climax building.

"Getting close?" Tim asked in between grunts, the tone of his voice teasing as if he might delay or even deny her that release. His thrusting grew more forceful as he realized she had the vibrator firmly trapped between her and the bed, grinding against both it and him at the same time.

"Uh—yes—uh—yesss—uh-close..."

"I want to hear you come," he grumbled, careful not to let his anticipation send him over the edge before he could witness the real thing. "I want to hear you lose control."

Gwen grit her teeth at the waves beginning to radiate from her sex. Not long now, she thought, as the inevitable drop off the cliff into space drew close. She was thankful Tim had chosen to drive himself down and pin her against the vibrator—her balance and muscle control was even now beginning to wane as the orgasm built. "Coming-now—I'm coming—now-ooohhhh," she groaned, the admission slipping from her despite all her years of tightly controlled displays of pleasure. "Oh God, I'm com—cominggg..." Her announcement trailed off as she momentarily stopped drawing breath, only to gasp on a sharp intake that was again held as another wave rolled across her. "Mm-mm-mmm-mmmmmmm," she muttered with each pulse, the last one sapping her remaining energy as it swept along. She was conscious of the man on top of her still buried deep inside, and with an effort pushed up enough to pull the mad buzzing clear of her clit.

"Good one," Tim grumbled, taking advantage of the change in position to resume a slow thrust.

"Mmmm," Gwen replied dreamily, her head still on the comforter. She was full of her husband, his hands back on her hips, feeling like she was his...he was now putting enough energy into each thrust to push her into the mattress and force a soft grunt.

Tim groaned as he slowly withdrew after a particularly deep push. "Gettin' close," he muttered, concentrating on the view of his cock splitting her upturned cunt with each thrust. "Get up. On your hands and knees."

Gwen languidly brought her body up off the comforter. "Like this?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Yup—uhh-like—uhh-that."

She wiggled her hips against the cock inside her. "Are you going to fill me up?"

Tim managed a chuckle through his exertion. "'Bout time I put some in your cunt, don't you think? Not sure how much I've got left, but you're getting it all."

"I want it. Deep inside me. Deep inside my cunt."

He gladly complied with her request a few violent thrusts later, giving one last lewd grunt along with his efforts to get as far up her as he could and deliver his load. He stuffed himself into her with each pulse, little shocks that were still powerful enough to make Gwen's tits shake. Tim slowly withdraw after he was done, enjoying the sight of his wet length reemerging from where it had been hidden.

No longer pinned, Gwen stood on weak legs and kissed her husband, then bent and gently kissed his shiny cockhead. "I'm glad to see she returned your tool in good working condition," she said with a smile.

"Our tool," Tim corrected, hugging her. "But I think you've got the magic to make it work no matter what."

Both Nelsons wore contented smiles the next morning, their employees none the wiser for what had put them there. Over the next few days, Gwen had few spare moments to consider how she been able to leave the weekend behind and again become her public self, the wife, mother, and business owner the world knew and the Lady urged her to be.

The phone call on Thursday roused the Slut from her nap. "Mrs. Nelson?"

The voice was quickly recognizable, and a wave of nervousness swept over her. So soon? She hadn't even been fitted for whatever wardrobe he had in mind. "Oh, hello Mr. Castigali—"

"Dan."

"Gwen. How are you?" The prospect of being asked to pose so suddenly, without any time for preparation, both thrilled and frightened her.

"I'm great. Listen, I know you're busy so I promise not to take too much of your time, but I have a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about, if that's alright."

"Of course. How can I help you?"

"Well, I've been looking at the test shots—they're great, by the way—and one of the things I noticed is that you and Dart really seem to have a...chemistry?"

Gwen smiled. "We're know each other's faults and quirks and are tolerant of them, if that's what you mean."

"I guess I do...you two are just connected. I don't see it that level that often, but I'm sure I saw it when I was out there, and the test shots back that up, at least to me. I know Mrs. Danning had a horse in mind for this, but I think I've convinced her that using yours would make for a more interesting portfolio. So, I was wondering if you would consider riding Dart for our shoot? We'd trailer him to the site, of course, and take care of stabling. He'd have his own personal groom and there's always a veterinarian on site, 24/7," he added quickly.

"Dart?" Gwen asked, the request surprising her. "I'm sure he's not up to Mrs. Danning's standards for bloodlines. He's just an average all-around horse."

"You're selling him short. He's got really good lines and there's this air of confidence about him. Usually comes from the rider, from what I've found...Mrs. Danning has seen a few of the test shots and agreed with what I'm seeing. What do you say?"

Which shots has she seen, Gwen wondered, remembering how she had stood naked in her living room while the young photographer circled her. "I, uhh, sure, I guess," she stammered, pulling herself back to the question at hand. "But I'd still like to supply my own groom?"

"Of course! And we can work out his transportation once we settle on a date for the shoot."

Gwen relaxed a bit at the news the exact time for her to pose—her and Dart, she thought happily—was still to be determined. "Oh, if we're doing it at Mrs. Danning's I can trailer him—that's no problem. I've done it plenty of times before." She paused. "Speaking of the date...any idea when?"

"Not yet," he admitted, but sooner than later. Speaking of which, the second thing I wanted to talk to you about...would it be too much to ask you to let your hair grow out until then?"

"Oh—is there something wrong with my hair?"

"No, no, nothing like that! It's just that I'm not sure what style I want for this yet, and it's easier to go from long to short than the other way around...we'll have a stylist at the shoot as part of the makeup routine, if that's alright." He paused before continuing, his tone less sure. "And if you could also, uhh, let the other hair grow out, too, your, uhh..." he dropped to a murmur, "pubic hair?"

"Is that really going to be important for these pictures?" Gwen asked, her voice rising a bit in alarm, agreeing to the Lady's demand for some sort of protest. "Will someone be able to tell what I—look like—down there?"

"It's won't be the focus, I promise you," the young man stammered, "We're not doing pornography, I swear! But you will be nude, and that IS part of the female body, and I noticed that you...trim pretty neatly, and if we want a more...natural...look, then it's easier if it's there to start with, right? I'm not sure how, uhh, natural, you are normally, but if you could just let it grow out a little, please?"

The last part sounded like a plea to Gwen, and she softened as the Slut laughed about the absurdity of discussing muff length with a stranger. "I'm not sure what's normal for natural, but I'll let my hair grow a bit...in both places." She quickly imagined the current tidy pony tail progressing down to her rear end, or the coarse bush that had been between her legs before Natalie took the scissors and razor to it...

"Great, thank you," Dan said, greatly relieved. "I understand you made your appointment to get fitted?" he said, mercifully changing the subject.

Word travels fast, Gwen thought. "I did. Saturday."

"That's what I understood. Wonderful. I think you'll look great in what we have picked out. Well, I won't take any more of your time. I promise to give you as much warning as possible before scheduling this—we know your time is valuable and certainly want to take your schedule into account."

"Thank you, Dan, I appreciate that. I'll look forward to your call."

"Really looking forward to having you and Dart pose."

She sat and thought after they had said their goodbyes, yet again reminded of the trip to Atlanta coming up. She hoped the fitting might answer some questions as to exactly how she was going to be posing—the possibility of a raunchy cowgirl, or worse, could not be discounted by the Lady—but had been debating another potential stop while they were in the city as well. She had wavered on her commitment to it, occasionally drawing up the bravado to go forward before backing down again in quieter times when doubts could surface. Her desire for a little adventure was again on the rise; she walked purposefully to the house to retrieve the ornate slip of paper with the phone number on it and dialed before common sense could return.

***

"So, anything I need to do for this weekend?" Tim asked, looking up from his plate at dinner that evening.

"No," Gwen said, shaking her head. ""I need to be at the tack shop at 11, but we have the rest of the day to ourselves. Can we leave here at 7?"

"We can," he agreed. "So what do you want to do with the rest of our weekend in the big city?"

"Anything you want," Gwen said slowly, "although there's one thing—you don't have to if you don't want to," she added hurriedly.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Well..." she looked down at her food, pretending to concentrate on cutting her chicken, "I was hoping we could get you measured for something."

Tim laughed. "Measured for what? Does this place sell high end mechanics overalls, too?"

"Not there, somewhere else...remember when I modeled with Natalie over there?"

He grinned. "How could I forget? Wish I coulda been there."

Gwen pressed on. "I got a gift certificate along with the check they sent me for doing that, and I was hoping I could redeem it..."

"A gift certificate from the place you modeled for?" he asked, the smile on his face turning to surprise as he began to guess at whatever he was being measured for was coming from there.

"Uh-huh. They make this...product...it's a reproduction of...you, using a 3d printer, very lifelike from what I'm told. Natalie has one of Adam..." she trailed off after the rush of words, aware she was babbling.

"You mean of my..." his eyes shifted down meaningfully to stare through the table at his lap. Eyes wide, Gwen nodded. "Really? A replica of my...dick...like the ones you have in your drawer?" Another urgent nod. "I'm flattered, but wouldn't you want something more like one of those? I don't really compare too well to them."

"I don't want another one of those, I want one of you," Gwen said firmly. "Yours is my favorite and it might be nice if it was portable when I can't have the real thing."

"Wait, measure? How do they do that?" Tim asked, suddenly growing suspicious.

Gwen had been curious as well, and while hesitant to ask when she had called to make the appointment, did so anyways. "There are a couple of ways. We can do it at home—they send us a kit where we make a resin mold of your penis and send it back to them. They said it's not as accurate as the other way, but good for men who might be a little shy."

"Huh. And what's the other way? And what does being shy have to do with it?"

"They have a scanner at the shop—"

"Like the one in our office?" Tim stifled a nervous laugh at the thought of his junk sandwiched between the copier lid and the glass below.

"No, not like that. 3D, remember? This uses lasers-"

"Lasers?"

"Not dangerous ones, ones like the measurement lasers you guys use at job sites. She said you have to stay still in order for it to be accurate, but it only takes a few minutes."

"Which is where the shy part comes in. I'm guessing this wouldn't be in total privacy, and I'd be hanging out there for the world to see?"

"You seemed be okay hanging out at the lake last weekend," she said with a smile. "That's why I thought this might be a good way to do it. They have a private room set aside for this, so it wouldn't be the whole world. It would just be you, me, and the person running the scanner."

"And I'm guessin' I need to get hard and stay hard for this," he said with a knowing smile. "Might not be so easy if I can't move and give it some attention, or whoever's running the scanner laughs at it..."

"Why would they do that?" Gwen replied. "It's beautiful. I'll be there, maybe I can help when you have to stay still."

"He does stand up for you every time," Tim said with a laugh. "What the hell. I can give it a try, if you want."

"Thank you," Gwen said, hugging him. "I promise I'll make it worth your time after."

"Counting on it. How about before, too?" His hand pushed its way down the back of her jeans, cupping her ass.

"Maybe we should wait until after you get measured," she said with a smile, gently disengaging herself from him while gently running her hand up his crotch. "It might make it easier to keep him focused if he's ready to go?"

"Awww, hell," Tim said with a good-natured groan. "You didn't tell me I was gonna get cut off."

"Not cut off, just...primed. Think you can hold out until Saturday? I promise I'll take good care of you after."

"Guess that means I can't take care of myself, either?"

"If you can wait, I'll do it for you...after."

The self-imposed celibacy was hard on Gwen as well, and lurid fantasies frequently came to mind as she lay in bed that night and sat at her desk the next day. The thought of being on the beach, spread wide for those young men alternated with particularly lewd poses for Dan's camera. Her resolve to share her husband's deprivation was sorely tested and she frequently resisted the urge to reach for the things in her nightstand. Tomorrow, she promised herself, once we're alone, tomorrow...