Chastity Chronicles Pt. 06

I was attracted to him through his art. I stood and arched my back to stretch and straighten it. I saw his eyes shoot to my chest. He was cute and talented. And sexy.

"Show me your best work."

He looked away. "I, ah..."

"Please."

"Miss, I cannot."

"Why? Is it not here?"

"No, it is here."

"Then why?"

"It is not appropriate, perhaps."

"Is it a nude?"

He nodded.

"Then I insist. Let me see it."

He hesitated and then made a decision. A smart decision. He knew I knew about art. I had been quizzing him the entire time. Asking him about colour choices, how he lights his canvass when he works, where his inspirations came from. He sensed I knew my business and I think this gave him the confidence to show me his prized work.

He pulled out a rather large canvass and then turned it around. It was a life-sized nude of a rather beautiful Spanish lady, sitting under a tree, with a Spanish countryside behind her. He had captured her perfectly. I couldn't help noticing that her figure was similar to mine. Her pose was natural and highlighted the female form in all its splendour. It was captivating. Then I saw the eyes and the expression on her face. They oozed pure sexuality. This was a woman in her prime and confident in her sex and desires. It spoke to me on levels I didn't know existed. It called out to me. Her presence in the painting was beyond physical. It was a masterpiece.

I fumbled for a seat and somehow found a stool to park my ass on.

It took me a while to find my voice, my eyes locked to the eyes in the painting.

"W-who was the model?"

"There was no model."

I looked at him then. He was watching me, fear and hope warring on his face. "No model? Then how...?"

"She is always in my dreams. This woman. Since I was thirteen."

"Have you shown this to anyone?"

"No. You are the first."

"It is a masterpiece, Miguel."

Miguel looked stunned. He started to say something and then stopped. I could see him thinking. "Thank you, miss. That is very kind."

It was something you said to a stranger who happened to like your work. Someone who didn't or couldn't recognise your talent. He felt my words meant little. He didn't realise who it was telling him this. "You don't know who I am, Miguel, do you?"

He frowned. "No, but you look familiar somehow."

I gestured at the magazines. "Grab one for me."

He hurried over and picked the top one off the stack. It was an older edition, but it would do. He started to hand it to me.

"Open it to the editorial page."

He opened it and looked and then his face snapped to mine and back to the magazine. "It cannot be!"

"It is. That's me. Now, I'll tell you again. This..." I gestured at his painting. "This is a masterpiece."

Now before you get all excited you should know what a masterpiece is. There are elements that must come together for something to be given that label. Aesthetics, technique, emotion, and originality, all must combine perfectly for this label to be applied. His work was a modern-day masterpiece, meaning it hadn't yet endured the test of time. I was sure it would. It deserved a place of honour in a museum. The world needed to see this. It was really that good.

Miguel sat hard on the floor looking up at me in wonder. I felt back in my element.

"Now I know why I came to Seville. It was to meet you." I beamed at him. "You and I are going to be the best of friends; I can already tell."

* * *

The week flew by. After I spoke to his parents about their son's talent, they were overwhelmed with excitement. I ate every day at their restaurant and worked from their home. I sent photos back home to the magazine and when Marcie saw the nude he had painted, she was all in. He would be front page for the next edition. I asked for the author from the Spanish piece to join me and she quickly agreed but would be a week out, as she was just finishing a new assignment in Singapore, of all places.

I met his professors from the university, and they were annoyed they hadn't been the one to discover him. He had been just another student to them. I gloated in private.

I spent hours in front of that nude. I couldn't tear my eyes from it. One evening he found me there. He approached quietly but I knew he was there. I always did. He stood beside me, and for the first time, he placed his hand on the small of my back. A thrill went through me.

"I understand now. You remind me of her. When you first came to the restaurant that night, I thought I knew you. Later I assumed it was the magazine picture. But later, I realised that wasn't true. It was you in my dreams last night, not her."

I turned toward him.

"See? The look you speak about in my painting? I have seen that look in my dreams almost my entire life. I had to see it for real, so I painted her. I started with that look and painted the rest of the woman around it. When I look at you, I see the same look. The look a man needs to see. I..."

I kissed him then. I so disparately needed him. He froze for a heartbeat and then we were joined at the mouth. Our lips pressed hard against one another. His tongue probed my mouth and found my equally hungry tongue. I needed this artist inside me. I was deeply attracted to a man who could paint with such talent and capture so perfectly what was in my soul. Desire and longing. The woman in the painting was me. I knew the moment I saw it.

I tore at his clothes and he at mine. We broke so he could throw tarps on the floor, and we collapsed on them. I always taught my students to be gentle and when to be rough and when to recognise the need and time for each one. Miguel wasn't my student. But he knew. As soon as we were free of our clothes, he drove his aching cock into me in one long thrust. He filled me perfectly. We rutted like animals, thrusting into one another with pure need for release. I clawed at his back, gripped his ass, and pulled him in harder and harder. His mouth found a nipple and he bit me hard, the pain and pleasure driving straight to where we were joined.

I came explosively, followed by him. He pumped his seed into me and cried out loudly. I was making strange and wonderful sounds. He never stopped pumping and I clung to him as weakness flooded my body. And still he thrust into me, his cum and my juices sounding wet in the loft. He kept thrusting and in moments my pleasure soared again. He was relentless and I felt awash in a sea of penetration and pleasure. I came again and bit his shoulder. I had never been fucked like this before. Miguel had waited his lifetime to fuck the woman of his dreams and for this moment, I was that woman. I couldn't be happier. I cried out his name and drowned in another orgasm. Three times in less than ten minutes!

His tempo sped up until he was jackhammering at my vagina. All semblance of technique were lost. He was claiming his pleasure from me, and I was his willing subject. I soon realised I was riding one long prolonged orgasm. His every thrust kept me flowing along it's pleasure. I was drowning in pleasure. Drowning!

When he came again, he shook violently all over. I held him in place and squeezed him tight against me, needing as much of his flesh against me as I could. He came long and hard, the longest I have ever seen a man orgasm. And then it was over, and he collapsed his full weight on me. I held him and stroked his sweaty back and ass. This beautiful artist was a wonder to me. I could fuck him forever.

He looked up then, pleasure still on his face, but he was alert and not fighting sleep. "You have completed me, Chastity. The woman of my dreams. Thank you."

I kissed him, at a complete loss for words. No man had ever touched me that deeply before. Even Ben. This man was a true Casanova. Women would do anything for him. I was no exception.

"Come to my B&B, tonight. I will give you anything you desire, Miguel. Okay?"

"Si, I would like that."

"That was wonderful. But we should clean up and get dressed before your mother catches us."

His eyes went round, and he looked around. Our clothes were everywhere.

"Good idea," he grinned at me.

We dressed and I said I would meet him later. He kissed me and held me tight, his hand on my ass, and his other hand finding a breast. It was a good hold and I melted against him and his mouth. He stood straight and then pushed me gently away. "Go, we save it for later."

I giggled and pulled away. He had me acting like a schoolgirl already. This young man had chutzpah.

I trotted down the stairs to the main floor of the residence. I froze when I saw Lena, his mother, sitting there. She glared at me.

"Go," was all she said.

In shame, I fled and back to my hotel. Damn all these cute boys and their possessive mothers...

* * *

We stopped trying to hide it. His mother never warmed up to me, and I understood. His father, however, was overjoyed and proud of his son. I suppose that's the stark difference between mothers and fathers when their sons are concerned. The opposite is true for daughters.

When I wasn't cataloguing Miguel's artwork and appraising their value, we were fucking in my room at the B&B.

He was drawn to anal like a fly to honey. He was a natural in bed. He pulled my hair at exactly the right times. He slapped my ass when I didn't even know I needed it. He played my body like a master pianist plays the piano. I was his plaything, and I accepted it gleefully.

He found a love for actually sitting on my face, facing my feet, so I could rim him, and he could play with my tits. I admit I kind of loved it, too. One thing that disappointed me, I could never kiss him after swallowing his cum. That was taboo for him.

He once ate out my ass and pussy for an hour. It was a glorious hour. He was attentive like that. He knew exactly how to get me off. Always one step ahead of my desires. It was magical and he was the best lover I had ever had. I told him that one night. Thankfully, Miguel didn't suffer from an overinflated ego.

"That is simple to explain," he said, as he slowly thrust into my pussy.

"Then explain."

"I have been making love to you my entire life. Every night I would dream of you. I would pleasure you. I would wake, covered in my cum, with a smile on my face. You see? I have always known you. It is you who is catching up."

I fell in love with him at that moment. Thankfully, I never expressed it.

The next day the author showed up. I had never met her, but knew her work, and I had seen an old photo of her. She was twenty-nine, gorgeous, white, with big perfect tits, and a firm gorgeous ass. Her smile lit up a room. Her personality was beautiful. When she walked into the restaurant all eyes followed her. Including Miguel's.

They hit it off right away. Two days later, I was a muse from the past.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

Unfortunately, I liked her. I couldn't be mad at her. What Miguel and I had was a private secret affair. There relationship was completely open and celebrated and worst of all, Lena adored her. I think it was just to spite me.

It became all business for me. I worked closely with the author, who shall forever remain nameless and be forgotten in the annals of time, and together we wrote an excellent article for the magazine. She was smitten with Miguel and not knowing I had slept at least two dozen times with him and was probably still digesting his cum, she confided in me just how wonderful a lover he was. I acted surprised.

When everything was done, I had a last meal in the restaurant. The family was there and toasted me and thanked me for what I was doing for their son. Meanwhile, Miguel had his arm around the author and had the good graces to not look me in the eye.

I went back to the B&B, packed my meagre bag, and caught the flight back to the continental United States. The next day I arrived back at my condominium and looked out over the frozen expanse, right back where I started. Just two weeks later.

I had accomplished nothing for myself. Just more heartache.

Then I realised the date. It was February 14th, Valentine's Day.

My birthday.

I was forty-one.

I found a bottle of scotch someone had given me, probably Adam at Christmas, and sat looking out the window drinking it until the pain went away.

* * *

The next edition of the magazine was an international sensation. The author and I were celebrated for the excellent article we had written, but my success faded when news of the romance between the author and Miguel came out. My job was done and there was nothing to do for it. I stared at the photo on the cover that showed Miguel standing beside his masterpiece. Dammit, I still loved the kid.

Ben stopped by when I reached out to him to let him know I was back and safe. He showed up with some cheeseburgers and fries from a great place in town. We sat on the couch and devoured them. I had so missed a delicious cheeseburger. We slipped easily into the way we once were. Talking freely, asking questions, laughing at our own stupid jokes no one else would laugh to.

We were comfortable. We stayed out of the bedroom. Ben sensed I needed space, but he was right where I needed him, being a good friend. And he was. He showed a maturity beyond his years with me for those first two months I was back. We spent a lot of time together. Seeing movies. Watching baseball on television (yes, I love baseball, blame my dad and being a Navy brat), and talking smack about celebrities.

Slowly my heart healed. Ben, again showing amazing strength, arrived at my door with Sean and Priscilla. She was making waves in the art world and had discovered a few new talents. After a ton of awkwardness, I broke down and apologised over and over for my behaviour. They forgave me and said they understood. They apologised, too, saying what they had done was hurtful. We parted friends but the damage was done. We could never return to the way it had been. I had damaged it beyond repair. I would have to live with that.

Adam came to see me one day soon after. I sat him down and gave him a drink of the scotch he had gifted me. He sipped it and said nothing. I waited.

"How was Spain? Ben said you went there for a week or two?"

"Two weeks. I found a new artist. His work is amazing. He was on the cover of the magazine."

"I saw. Congrats. I suppose it's a big deal in your circles?"

"You might say that. They're calling him the find of the decade. They are already comparing him to some of the greatest."

"Is he?"

"Oh, yes. He is."

"Did you figure things out over there?"

"Honestly, no. I made things worse for myself."

"You seem okay now, why's that?"

I didn't know, but he was right. I was feeling much better. More at peace.

"I don't think I know," I said, surprised by the honesty in my voice.

"I do."

I blinked at him.

"It's Ben. He grounds you."

I had nothing to say to that. It was something I would need to process for a long time. Because, if that were true... But it couldn't be... No. It can't be true.

"You doubt me? Fine. Think on it." He drowned his glass and stood up. Adam was a man of few words. Once he got it out, he was done. He didn't see any point in sticking around. I walked him to the door, my mind swirling with thoughts. "You take care of yourself, Chastity." He turned to leave and then stopped. "For what's it's worth, like is too short. You find someone that grounds you, makes you a better person, you hold on to that. Night, Chastity."

The door closed behind him.

* * *

I came home from Complete Foods one April day. Sean had been replaced by an ugly young man with no hygiene sense, ruining all my fun and I was in a grumpy mood. The Uber driver refused to carry my bags up to my apartment and I knew I was losing my touch.

As soon as I entered my condominium, I could smell food. And something burnt.

"Hello?" I called out.

Ben's head poked around the corner. His cheeks were bright red. "Oh, hi, Chastity. Um, welcome home?"

I was standing there with three plastic grocery bags per hand, each attempting to tear my fingers off. "What are you doing?"

There was no point in asking what he was doing in my condominium, he was always here, with keys and everything. I didn't know why he was here NOW and burning food in my kitchen.

"I was going to cook your dinner. As a surprise."

"Surprise for what?"

He scowled. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes. I come home, and you jump out and yell 'Surprise!" and my first question is, because it's not my birthday or anything, is what the actual fuck? See, you need a reason."

He scowled harder. "No, you don't. Sometimes the surprise is the surprise. Look, you're ruining this."

"Like you ruined whatever you're cooking?"

His head disappeared.

"Hey! You just left me with six bags of groceries!"

"You got them this far!"

"Some gentleman you are!"

His head reappeared and in a gruff voice, he said. "I am the batman!"

I laughed, the big goof.

I pried off my sneakers using my feet and walked around the corner, lugging the heavy bags. "At least turn on a fan or something!"

"It is on! It sucks!"

"Yes, that's what it does."

"No... goddammit Chastity, stop messing with me."

"Oh, my poor baby..." I stopped talking when I walked into my kitchen and dropped my bags at my feet. Ben was fussing with something on the stove. He was wearing shorts in April for some stupid reason, and they were way too tight. And the tee-shirt was definitely not his, and also too tight. He was wearing the clothes Petey had left here the day I made Ben wear them when I had brought him home and off the streets.

Those days all came flooding back. How Ben had thrived and found his feet. How he had been there for me whenever I asked, no questions asked. How when I was at my lowest, he had come running and told me what I needed to hear which had been the honest truth and not what I wanted to hear.

"Are you cosplaying?"

He glanced over at me. "What? No. I spilt some of that oil on my clothes, some of that expensive oil you buy, sorry. I don't know why you buy it. It tastes just like regular old olive oil but three times the cost. The oil spilled on the burner, too, hence the smell. Anyway, the only clothes I could find were..."

I hugged him hard from behind and squeezed him. This time I would never let him go. We would go through life with me hanging off his back like a remora. I would always take this... and I fumbled and reached for his cock... This! And hold on for dear life.

"Chastity? What are you doing?"

"Never letting go, you big stupid."

I felt him relax. He kind of sank into my hug. I felt him getting hard under my hand and I helped the big monster along. "Chastity. Don't. Please."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't go through that again. I keep losing you. Over and over and I don't know why!" His voice broke and I held him harder.

"I'm never letting go."

"So, you'll be like a big remora hanging off my back my entire life? How's that supposed to..."

"I love you, Ben."

"..."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice was small, too small.

"I love you more than anything, Ben. I'm never letting go."

"So, yes to the remora thing..."

"Ben, I'm serious!"

He forced himself around and I grudgingly let go of his cock. I looked down at it straining the fabric of the shorts. He has such a monster cock. I looked up and he was staring at me rather intensely.

"I'm serious. I can't go through this again with you. I-I'm not strong enough, Chast..." His voice broke hard and his chin quivered. "Don't do this to me again. Please?"

I had been so horrible to this wonderful man. I owed him everything. I looked into his eyes, hoping to capture the look that Miguel had found in his painting. "I love you, Ben. Forever and ever."