Adoration of the Vagi Pt. 03

This is the third part of a series exploring an artist delighting in the female form. The story includes lesbian sex. For those who last long enough there will also be some incest, but that is all ... yet to come.

Everyone engaged in sexual activity in this story is at least 18 years old.

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Steve, an artist, advertised for models to be part of a project. They have been offered $2000 for a two hour session. When they respond they find out that the artist wants to take photos of their pussies for an artistic project. Grace, Steve's wife is fully supportive and involved. Susan was the first one to respond and after the photo shoot the three of them ended up in bed together. Grace became the second model. The third is about to step into the scene.

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Sparkles.

When she saw the advert, Gwen was immediately interested. For the past ten years she had been 'on the game'. A prostitute. Some people had much nastier labels and names for her and what she did. She liked to think that what she offered was a kind of therapy. Helping guys who either had trouble getting women, trouble getting it up, or trouble dealing with frigid wives or girlfriends who thought that a quickie once a fortnight was enough.

It hadn't been an easy life though. There had been a lot of nastier guys. Those who liked it rough and even a couple of times she had been beaten up so badly she had ended up in hospital. Bastards. There had been the drugs and booze to help her keep going. What the hell. She could afford them and she only 'used' occasionally. Some day soon she would get herself 'clean', whatever that really meant. She had almost enough set aside so that she could go live wherever she wanted and not have to work again, on her back or in any other way.

Perhaps that time was coming soon. Even though she was only 29 this hard life had left her feeling at least a decade older. Some mornings when she looked in the mirror she felt that was how she looked too. Five years ago she had no problem getting $500 an hour from clients but now the most she knew she could expect was the 'industry' standard of a measly $200 for an hour of pampering some limp dick and telling him how wonderful he was. She had chosen the name 'Sparkles' because it sounded fun. Also who would think that they would pay money for a 'fun time' with someone called Gwen! So she was 'Sparkles' and these days that was the only name she used.

Her family found out what she was doing when she had her 21st party and lots of her colleagues came along to help celebrate. It was a fun night but, apart from the occasional tense phone call, she had no contact with her parents or her brother after that. He was a self-righteous, sanctimonious, two-faced prick though. He damned her for what he did but that night of her 21st she saw him getting a number from her friend Candy. When she checked up later Candy admitted that she had done a trick for him, but she wasn't eager for a repeat. He had been rough and getting his cock stiff had taken all her considerable charms and experience. Not someone she would be happy to see again. Too much effort and too much possible danger. Bastard.

So the idea of $2000 for two hours of letting some guy take photos of her pussy and probably also feel her up. That was a no brainer. Easy money for her. Sparkles sent in the initial reply and when she saw what she was asked to provide she laughed. "He wants a pussy pic to set this going." She said to herself. "Fine. Here you go." She sent several photos just to show how enthusiastic she was.

"Grace, come look at this" called Steve. "You remember we had that response from a woman who called herself 'Sparkles'. She is ready to take the next step. See what she sent through though!" They stood together at the computer and looked at each of the five photos which appeared attached to the email reply. The first couple were fairly standard close ups of her pussy. The rest though included a huge bright pink dildo, at least 12 inches long, and in each photo it was inserted further and further until it was completely swallowed up inside her.

"Ouch!" said Grace. "I like your very adequate 7 inches, my dear. I am not sure I could or would ever want anything like THAT inside me!!"

"So do we book her in?" he asked? "She seems a bit full on and could be trouble perhaps."

"Why are you hesitating?" asked Grace. "You wanted diversity and to cover all the age decades. She fits the bill. Her pussy certainly has a different look to mine or Susan's." (Grace had agreed to be the model for the 40s decade and Susan, who appeared in the first two parts of this story, was in her 30s.)

"She says she is only 29 but ... I am not sure how to say this without being rude, but her pussy looks a bit ... battered. Do you see what I mean?"

Grace looked more closely and she could see that there appeared to be some scars around the tops of Sparkles' legs and even in a couple of places on her lips. "You wanted diversity, as I said. Why not get her to come in. If it doesn't seem right when she is here or you decide that the photos will not work then we can find someone else for that decade."

"Ok" said Steve. He was glad that they were working through this together. In so many ways this project had been more than he was expecting.

The next week Sparkles turned up on time for the arranged appointment. "In my business time is money and punctuality is important" she explained. As they had with Susan they sat on the couches in the corner of the large studio to complete the initial forms. The rest of the space had a small bathroom, a single bed against the wall (not often used) and a large area for Steve to indulge whatever creative project was his focus at the time. For this one there was a large platform, which looked like a huge bed, set in the middle of the room. Lights and cameras were there ready for the recording.

Grace and Steve were bemused when Sparkles started laughing part way through the forms. "What is wrong?" Grace asked.

"Hey, I get all the stuff about having kids and other things. It was the question about how many times I might have had sex that got to me."

"Why is that? If it is too difficult just give approximately. It is just to set the scene really."

Sparkles smirked at him. "Did I tell you my profession?"

"No, I don't think so" said Grace. "That didn't seem to be an important question to ask."

"Well it is in my case friends. I am a hooker. A prostitute. I have been on the game for ten years and I have lost count of the number of times I have been banged." She said all this with a smile, yet Grace could see that there was actually some sadness underneath her bravado. The bold 'front' seemed to be covering a deep inner exhaustion. At least that was how it seemed to her. "So," continued Sparkles, "does it matter that this here pussy has been VERY well used?" The way she asked the question seemed to support the thoughts Grace had been having.

"No, no, of course not." Stuttered Steve. "This is a project to record and look at ... pussies ... across lots of ages and differences. I had been thinking that the diversity would come from colour and age but you certainly both qualify and you will add to what we are doing. ... Are you still happy to go ahead."

"Sure" said Sparkles. "For $2000 bucks I am up for it."

"Good" said Grace. "Just finish the forms, sign the last one and initial the other pages and then we can get started. We will ask you to have a shower first though."

"That is fine," said Sparkles with a grin, "I usually ask the same of my clients. And believe me some of them sure need it!"

While Sparkles had her shower Steve set up the cameras and prepared the lights. When Susan had been at this stage he had felt aroused but this time he had little trouble being professional and staying focussed. It wasn't that Sparkles was a prostitute. It was that she did seem to have a weariness about her which was almost depressing, especially as she was only 29! They had checked her age, asking to see a driver's license. 29, nearly 30, but she looked much older than her years.

Despite having been told where the robes were kept Sparkles strode out from the bathroom naked. Her breasts were large and as she came closer Steve suspected that they had been 'enhanced', not that it mattered. That was entirely her business but it also helped to dampen any arousal in him. She was slim, but in a way that suggested more illness than fitness. Steve wondered if she did drugs and if she did hoped that she had not brought any onto the premises!!

Grace met her as she approached and directed her to the platform. "Please hop up here, shuffle to the edge, put your feet resting on these soft supports then spread your legs wide."

"Fine by me. Feels like a day at the office" she joked. Once in position Sparkles peered through her wide open legs at Steve as he positioned the camera and asked "Hey handsome. After this is done do you want a fuck? ... That is included in the price for you ... but for 75 the wife can watch!" Sparkles lay back laughing at her 'Pretty Woman' inspired joke. She had always wanted to find the right occasion to throw that one in there.

Her laughter turned to racking coughs though and she needed a couple of minutes to recover. "Too many fags," she explained. Grace and Steve were happy for the distraction which had avoided having to give any response to the question.

"Just lie there and try to be as still as possible." Steve focussed on recording the pussy in front of him. The scars which he had glimpsed in the preparation photos were more obvious now. With a twinge of compassion he wondered what sort of bastards this woman had endured to leave her with scars on her pussy.

Her pussy lips were much smaller and narrower than those of either Susan or Grace. The inner lips actually seemed more like ridges of skin alongside her opening. And there too Steve could see signs of the damage caused by her hard life, even only ten years of that life. In the preparation photos Sparkles had shown herself being filled with a huge dildo but even now that she was 'empty' her pussy seemed to be more open and stretched than either of the other, older, woman. Even Grace, who had given birth to one child, was tighter than Sparkles.

The photographs all taken, Steve then moved to the next part of the project. "Is it ok if I touch you?" he asked.

Sparkles didn't bother even raising her head. "Do what you want. Fuck me now if you want. It's your $2000 bucks."

Steve set the video camera in place, positioning it carefully so that the position of Sparkles' pussy in the shot would be the same as the recordings he had made of Susan and Grace. That would be important for what he was planning to do with the videos.

Moving so that his shadow did not fall across her pussy, Steve began to rub his fingers gently across her lips and clitoris and to stroke her perineum. At first Sparkles seemed almost indifferent, professionally distant. Then, gradually, her body began to respond. Her pussy lips, small as they were, began to show signs of arousal. She began to look more pink and more moisture was evident. Steve could also tell from the smell wafting towards him that she was becoming aroused.

Finally, with an unavoidable shudder, Sparkles climaxed and Steve could see the muscles inside her contracting. It was not her climax which startled him though. It was the sound of Sparkles weeping. Grace rushed across and leant in, asking "Are you ok?"

Sparkles sobbed. "Yeah, I'm fine. It is just that ... what you did ... how you touched me ... no-one has touched me that nicely and gently for a long time." As the sobs continued Grace moved closer and simply placed her arms around the other woman.

Steve didn't know what to do or what to say and so he focussed on packing up the equipment. Once Sparkles was ready to stand though he realised that her experience of men had probably been so overwhelmingly bad that he should do something more. He wrapped his arms around her and said "Thank you. Thank you for being part of this. I hope you can find someone who will touch you the way you want and deserve."

The words seemed inadequate but it was all he could think of to say. Sparkles seemed too embarrassed at her tears to worry though. She took her money (she opted to be paid in cash) and left.

Grace and Steve were feeling deflated. Even a bit depressed. The fun of time with Susan seemed to be wiped away by the sadness of this session with Sparkles. They could not let that overwhelm them though because, perhaps unwisely, they had booked another model to come in the same day. If it had been possible to contact her and defer they would have, but this woman had no mobile phone and would already be on the way.

They cleaned up the studio and had time for a glass of wine (they needed something stronger than coffee!) before Gladys rang the bell to let them know she had arrived.

Gladys.

Gladys May Ruth Euphemia Sidkins had been born deep in the south of the US of A. She had grown up through a myriad of battles for equality. Not only the struggles to be recognised as a person of equal worth, being black. She had also struggled against the prejudice against her because she was female. Whites looked down on her because of the colour of her skin but she looked right back at them with disdain for their narrow minds. White AND black men looked down at her because of her gender and she looked right back at them with disdain for their ignorance and for the fear that prompted their attitude. Yes, fear. She realised that men's attitudes towards women were not usually because they felt superior. It was because they knew in their hearts that women were stronger and better and often smarter than they were, and if they, as men, didn't keep them under a heavy thumb then women would end up in control.

So Gladys was part of the movements for the emancipation of black people, as they were called. She sat in buses in the 'wrong' places. She went boldly into the stores and the restaurants and the other places marked 'whites only'. She was there in the crowd to hear Martin Luther King and wept for days when he was shot. She marched and when it was all over and the promised emancipation came she saw quickly that most of the achievements were not worth a pinch of shit. Some called her a misery guts and mocked her lack of hope but it would take the election of a black president to reveal how deep the prejudices still ran.

Gladys joined her sisters who also marched and argued and strove for emancipation of women from that tight male prison of narrowed minds. She celebrated the few freedoms they did gain but even in this she could see that men were persistently reluctant to allow glass ceilings to be shattered and doors truly to be opened to women.

Those were not the only prejudices Gladys faced though. From an early age she recognised that she was indifferent to the boys around her, but when she went skinny dipping in the creek with other girls or saw them showering or naked in the locker rooms after athletics at school, THEN her body felt all tingly and she got that strange ache develop in her lower body. Her Mama told her that she needed to find a nice boy and settle down, and 'what about Elmer, he is a lovely boy'. But she didn't let any of that pressure get to her. When she went to secretarial school and then began to be involved in the movements for change she could say to her Mama that she was too busy to bother with boys. Which was true. She was too busy with Mary.

Gladys and Mary met when they both started their studies together. Being a secretary was thought to be an appropriate occupation for women, even black women, but this place was at least already desegregated. Just as Gladys's skin was dark as night, Mary's was so white that it seemed like she had fallen in a tub of the whitewash used to paint those pretty picket fences in front of most houses. Gladys and Mary quickly became friends. Both the black girls and the white girls around them though that this was strange, not something they would do. Little did they know! Gladys and Mary were not only friends but they were lovers. Full on, every chance they could get, tongues lashing, scissoring their pussies together, exploring every way of tantalising each other's bodies and exploring each other in every way. Of course it started out slowly but by the time they were discovered they could not keep their hands off each other.

Of course, when they were discovered there were explosions. They had been together for a few years and everyone thought they were just friends. Until a rampaging white supremacist saw them grab a furtive kiss when they thought they were all alone one night walking home from a party. He found out who they were and he raised hell. Their friends were supportive, mostly. Their families disowned them. And the community was outraged. It was only when Mary disappeared and her mutilated body was found by the creek that Gladys decided to run. She was hated with undisguised venom. A black lesbian woman who had been in a relationship with a white woman! Lordy, what more could she have ticked on the boxes of the hate lists?!

At first she fled to Washington but they found her even there and began to make trouble. So she left the States and came to Australia. She found that the situations of prejudice here were little different to the States. In some ways better in some ways worse. She found a job and settled though. She found partners, but always discreetly and never for a long time. The painful memory of Mary's murder haunted her.

Now, at 84, she was beyond too much caring of what anyone thought of her. She was still fired up with thoughts of battles she could fight and when she saw that enigmatic advertisement she sent in a reply to find out what this was all about. The second set of information did not put her off at all. In her eyes this was not a way of further demeaning and objectifying women and their bodies but an act of liberation. 'Let the world see and celebrate vaginas!' she thought o herself. And now she was here to see what would happen.

Gladys stepped confidently into the studio, casting her eye over the sparse setting. "You don't show any of your work here, Mr Steve." It was more a question than a statement. She wanted to make sure that whatever happened she was in control.

"That is true, as you see. I find that having other works on these walls would be a distraction. Having the blank walls lets me focus on the project at hand. If you would like I can let you know where to find some examples of my work online or in a few galleries."

"No need. I checked you out already. You are a good artist with the camera. You have a good eye and I see you are not afraid to be controversial too. You stick it to the man when you want to."

Grace and Steve glanced at each other, but not with concern. Here was a feisty, confident woman who held her years well and held her convictions even better. Grace took the lead. "Come in. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. We have a few details to look through before we begin the session." Then she guided Gladys to a comfy couch and handed her a copy of the forms.

At several points while filling in the forms Gladys chuckled to herself, but she didn't ask questions or let them know what had amused her. After a short time she signed, initialled and handed back the fully completed information. Grace skimmed through to make sure that everything had been completed then, as she had with the previous models, she guided Gladys to the shower, indicated the towels and robe, then she and Steve sat and waited.

Gladys was tall. In the old measurements she just touched six foot. That had been another reason for short white heterosexual men to hate her. She had also remained slim throughout her life, managing to avoid the layers of increasing girth which may have resulted if she had stayed locked into the cuisine of the deep south for life. Exercising helped, which she still did every day. In fact she had walked the hour long journey here to the studio this day.