Chiaroscuro

He nodded and then got up to slip on his clothes. As he was leaving, he turned back towards me and planted a quick awkward little kiss on my lips and then scurried away, his face burning with a blush that I could see through the back of his head. I knew then that he had already made up his mind. He would be back and I would be waiting. The hapless little doe, all eyes and spindly legs, would wander back into the tiger's maw and then it would be all teeth and claw. I would eat him alive.

*****

It was late Sunday evening when my meal returned. The sky was dark with thunderclouds and a storm seemed to be in the offing. It had already begun to rain, a light dusting of it hanging like mist over the street. I love the colors of a brooding sky. My fingers were itching for my brush and palette. I had to rein in my hunger. There would be other times. Tonight was reserved for desire even more elemental.

He was wet ... fat droplets of water beading the skin of his overcoat, his hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes were as storm laden as the sky. They seemed as though they had been the battleground for some titanic struggle. It wasn't clear who or what had won.

Without a word, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards my bedroom. He quietly followed. His eyes were drawn to the easel in the middle, a white satin sheet draped over its face. It seemed alive ... to breathe. We stopped a few feet from the canvas. I stilled him with a gentle squeeze of my palm and then abandoned his wrist to remove the drape.

He stared at it wordlessly, at this image of himself in repose, his muscles soft, his body languid, still marked with the pearly white traces of his need. I stepped behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, the water on his overcoat dampening my t-shirt. I rested my chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"I worked all day and most of the night after you were gone. I finished it before I slept and then let you dry ... here, in this room, so you could watch over me as I slept. I wanted you to be the first thing I saw when I woke up."

He shivered.

"It's beautiful," he whispered. He sounded curiously distant, as though he were in a trance.

"I was planning to take a shower before you arrived," I said softly, "Would you like to join me?"

I knew the answer before his whispered yes. I knew that he had come here to give himself to me. I knew as I held his trembling body that he had tried not to ... and that he had failed.

I slipped the overcoat off his shoulders and let it drop, damp and heavy, onto the floor. Then I repeated the ritual of the day before, unfurling him, slowly exposing new swathes of bare skin to my eyes. Like the day before, he was quiet. He seemed unable to move, as though his body were weighed down ... like fruit soaked in wine ... content to be stripped naked.

I stepped away to run my eyes over his bare flesh and then crossed my arms over my body to grip the hem of my t-shirt. As it lifted away, it caught the soft peaks of my nipples, making my breasts wobble, and then it came off, tousling my hair. His eyes were drawn to the triangle of light that joined the liquid brown circles of my nipples and the upper rim of my navel. They were pierced with platinum rings, a tiny diamond set into each. They sparkled as my soft mounds rose and fell with my breath. I let his eyes linger on my torso for a moment before my fingers strayed to my jeans. I wasn't wearing panties. Tonight, they had seemed unnecessary. I had had a premonition that I wouldn't be wearing clothes for very long. I had been right.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice catching in his throat, his words echoing the ones I had spoken yesterday when I had seen naked for the first time.

His eyes drifted down my body to the tattoo on my bare mound. He knelt before me to look at it closely, at the angel curled up around the wedge where the lips of my pussy melt into each other to form a wrinkle of soft tender skin. She was asleep, her knees drawn up to her body, her wings folded softly behind her, her arms tucked under her face, which was framed by a halo of golden hair. She oozed innocence. Her breasts were firm and perky, her nipples stiff and elongated. Whatever dreams haunted her endless sleep, they seemed pleasant.

Lest he gain the impression that I was all angelic, I hastened to give him a glimpse of my darker side. I turned around and thrust my tight little derriere in his face. The artist had made the tattoo in my likeness. It nestled on my lower back above where my spine disappears into the cleavage of my tush.

In the tattoo, I'm a little she-devil, my skin a glowing red. My back is turned and I'm peering over my shoulder, a saucy grin on my face, the tiny little horns sprouting from my forehead glinting in the light. My tail curled and then disappeared into the dark shadow of my crease, pointing the way to the treasures concealed within. I believe that one can never be too careful with lovers. It always pays to show them exactly where to go.

He laughed and smacked my right cheek playfully. It already seemed to be working. That little smack was so full of promise.

When he gently gripped my hips and turned me around to face him again, his gaze was caught by the glint of metal in my cunt. I'm fortunate in the way I'm built. My clit is prominent, hidden in a thick fleshy sleeve and stands up from my pussy like a tiny peak, perfect for my pussy piercings -- a tiny platinum barbell set vertically along the length of my hood, one rounded head pillowed on my clit and a curved barbell set in the triangle where the top of my pussy runs into the root of my clit. The curve of the barbell was nestled between my clit and my pussy flesh forming a delicious little cradle for my sensitive nub.

During sex, the delicate sleeve of metal that hugs my clit makes it unbearably alive. Actually, it doesn't even take sex. Sometimes, all it takes is a fleeting touch or the feel of soft fabric rubbing against my crotch to make me double over with longing. There are days when I walk around in a state of semi arousal, my clit hard and throbbing, desperate for a few moments of solitude to rub myself to an explosive cum.

His forefinger touched the shiny metal delicately ... tentatively.

"That must have hurt," he breathed. His voice was different ... husky.

I drew a little closer until his nostrils dilated and his lungs filled with the scent of my desire.

"Yes, it hurt." I whispered, "But it was worth it. It made me very sensitive. I'm going to explode like a firecracker around your cock when you finally fuck my cunt."

He drew in a sharp breath and his shoulders trembled. He was melting and I knew he would soon be mine. I softly seized a fistful of his hair and drew him into the wet folds of my pussy. I let him savor the hot taste of me, draw in the musky scent of me before I peeled his face away. I wanted him to know what he could have if he was good ... very good.

I used my fist in his hair to pull him upright. When his body had straightened and his lips were poised a few inches from mine, I released his hair and ran my palms down the firm lines of his back to tenderly cup the tight cheeks of his bottom. I reveled in the play of muscle under his taut skin before pulling him forward to plaster my body against his. It felt so right, my soft yielding curves molding themselves to his firmer flesh, the hard throbbing pillar of his desire trapped in the heat between our writhing bodies.

I ground my hips in slow tight circles. I could feel his cock twitch and jump like a thing alive, inflamed by that delicious friction. Much more of this and I knew he would erupt like a geyser, spouting his cum into the soft cup of our joined flesh. That would be altogether too soon. When his hips began to mirror mine and churn without volition in ragged little circles, I pulled away. I arched my back, the diamonds sparkling at my nipples digging into his flesh, my hips now a few tantalizing inches from his raging erection.

"Oh, God..." he groaned, his body craving the stimulation that I had so cruelly denied.

"Too soon, my pet," I whispered.

I raised a hand to his neck and gently drew his lips down to meet mine. He surrendered his lips with a sigh and let me draw the sweet swollen flesh into my mouth. I sucked softly on his upper lip, running my tongue teasingly along its length. I did the same for the lower one before plunging my tongue into the wet grotto of his mouth. He shuddered. I held him in place with my hand and ravished his mouth, probing each delicious nook, sucking the wet frantic muscle of his tongue, drinking in the heady taste of him. He whimpered when I pulled away, reaching for my lips blindly. My baby wanted more. He was going to want more all night, though very soon he wasn't going to be sure precisely what he wanted more of. I was going to turn his mind into a sodden sponge soaked in lust.

*****

I led him into the bathroom, his rampant cock bouncing its eagerness to enter my body. My loft belonged to an age when bathrooms were larger than bedrooms. Mine was enormous. The black marble of the floor glittered against the soft cream of the walls. A marble platform ran along the length of one wall, a porcelain basin with massive brass spouts sunk into it. A deep alcove was set into another wall where an antique bathtub stood poised on brass claws that served for legs. The shower, which was set into the third wall, was divided from the rest of the room by a low marble step, which prevented water from flooding the rest of the room.

I gave the tub a lingering look, but decided against it. There would be other times for a leisurely soak. Today, I wanted to run his warm flesh through my soapy hands, to learn as a blind woman would the clean lines of his body. I led him into the shower and turned on the water to get us both wet. He jerked as the first spray of water hit him and then relaxed, letting the warmth wash over him.

When we were both drenched, water rolling off our smooth bodies, I placed the scented soap in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, as though uncomprehending, then began to work his hands into a lather. I wanted to drown in that foam ... in the delicious prison of his hands. Faster ... come on ... touch me, my mind was screaming, but outwardly I was calm merely following with my eyes the sinuous movements of his fingers as they twisted in the bubbles now dripping to the floor in long lazy drops.

He took my hand in his and placed it on his shoulder. One hand encircled my wrist to hold me in place while the other began to travel over the smooth length of my arm. There was something almost worshipful in his careful tenderness and I felt my pussy melt in anticipation of what this night might hold. He smiled at me when he heard my soft whimper and then switched to my other arm. When he was done, he lowered my arm gently and then moved to kneel beside me.

He sat back, his buttocks resting on his heels and placed my left foot on his tightly muscled thigh. I applied some pressure with the sole of my foot, but his flesh would not give. His fingers drifted over my foot and then wandered upwards covering my shin and my calves and finally the softness of my thighs in creamy lather. The vision of him on his knees stroking me ... serving me ... was unbearably erotic and I felt my clit swell and heave against its delicate prison.

By the time he was finished with my other leg, my cunt was seething and the room was humid with the fragrance of my arousal. His nostrils flared as he worked his fingers softly along the junction where my thighs melted into my body, but he resisted the temptation to lean forward and bury his trembling lips in my blossoming flower. Hmmm ... my baby is learning patience, I thought.

He switched to my torso, but the little tease seemed to be learning his lessons too quickly. He ignored my breasts, which were now swollen and aching for attention and stepped behind me to softly knead the muscles of my neck and shoulders with his slick fingers. It felt wonderful. I hadn't realized how sore my muscles had become from yesterday's marathon session at the easel. My creative frenzy, my eagerness to freeze the erotic tableau of his passion on canvas had blinded me to my body and to the little aches and pains that signaled my need for rest. He was now working those little kinks out of my flesh, turning my muscles into liquid. I moaned.

He kissed the shell of my ear tenderly as his fingers tripped down my spine until one finger gently insinuated itself into the damp crease of my ass. I lifted one leg and placed my foot on the low stone wall to give him more room. He quickly took the hint and slid the knife edge of his hand along the length of my valley splitting me softly. He cupped the cheeks of my bottom in his palms and swirled them in tight little circles, massaging the sensitive flesh. As his hands completed each circle, my pussy lips were pressed together and then peeled apart.

And then one inquisitive finger began to run up and down the length of my crease, teasing my asshole with the faintest of caresses on each leg of its journey. I was now beside myself with lust. As my whimpers grew louder, more urgent, the finger paused and came softly to rest against my puckered little hole. I thrust back against it, my body signaling without words what it is that I sought. He held still for a few moments longer, allowing my hunger to build up and then thrust one soapy finger into my anus until I was fully impaled. I groaned at that delicious invasion, at that satisfying sense of fullness and then began to fuck myself on his digit. He raised his other hand to my throat and gently pulled my head back onto his shoulder as I buggered myself. God ..., I thought, what I wouldn't give for his thick fleshy cock to tear open my tight little hole and fuck me so deep I would feel it in my throat.

Before I could tip over into a mind rending orgasm, he gently withdrew his finger leaving a void that ached to be filled. He ignored my urgent pleas and circled my body to cup the soft mounds of my breasts. He kneaded the firm flesh, first delicately and then more forcefully while I thrust my tight little ass back into the hard length of his erection which was now nestled in my soapy crease. When my breasts were smothered in white, he gently gripped each nipple between a thumb and forefinger and squeezed. My nipples were already engorged with blood, gripping like a vice the rings that pierced my soft flesh. The gentle assault of his fingers was more than I could bear and I began to shake like a leaf.

He quickly relinquished my throbbing nipples and his fingers drifted lower over the planes of my stomach to softly cup my pussy flesh. He didn't stroke me or caress me or rub me or squeeze me. He just held me tenderly while my body heaved. He was evidently not planning to finish me anytime soon. He was driving me crazy, playing me like a puppet on a string. Well, that's a game two can play at, I decided.

I turned in the circle of his arms and pushed him gently against the tiled wall.

"My turn," I whispered. He seemed reluctant to relinquish his grip on my body, but I wasn't brooking any rebellion. His body finally softened, surrendering to my fingers. My turn to kill him softly, I decided. My hands roamed restlessly over the lines of his body -- his arms, his legs, his shoulders, his back, the tight cheeks of his ass and the crease between. I held his eyes with mine as my finger rubbed delicately over his soft brown orifice, a shade darker than the rest of his flesh. He groaned. I knew he wanted me to do more, to softly thrust my finger into his anus as he had done for me. I also knew that he didn't dare ask.

"I know what you want, baby," I whispered, "but I'm not going to let you have it just yet. I'm going to take that sweet little hole, but later ... much later."

My finger withdrew and my hand reached between his legs to gently grip his soft silky pouch. It was hot and heavy as I kneaded it softly, making it slick and slippery.

"So full ..." I moaned, "Is that all for me, baby?"

When he didn't answer, I repeated, "Is that all for me?"

"Oh, God ... yes," he mumbled, "Only for you."

That moment of supplication was what I was waiting for. I released his balls to softly grip the shuddering length of his cock. He whimpered as my fingers encircled his silky flesh. I worked my fingers up and down, slowly bringing him to a boil. It didn't take very long before his legs began to tremble and his hips began to surge raggedly, trying to fuck his throbbing erection into the velvet circle of my soapy palm. He was panting.

"Your knees are buckling," I observed almost casually, "You can't stand up much longer, can you?"

He threw his head back against the tiled wall and groaned, but didn't protest when I placed one palm on his shoulder to push him to his knees on the marble floor. I went down with Aneez, then moved behind him to plaster my body against his back. Payback time.

"Your body is delicious," I whispered hotly in his ear as I continued to softly fist him, "Who was the first one to have it, hon? Who was the first woman you fucked?"

His body trembled, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Tell me," I persisted, "Confession time."

"Was she Egyptian?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Childhood friend?" I quizzed, "A cousin, maybe, who wanted to find out what its like to be fucked?"

My fingers were still busy playing him softly, steadily.

"My brother's girlfriend," he gasped.

"The little slut!" I laughed, " Did she sit at your table at home, darling, stealing little looks at you while she listened to your brother talk? The little bitch must have been wondering all the time what it must be like to fuck you."

He moaned as I continued to milk him.

"Tell me how it happened, Anees," I demanded, "Tell me everything."

I knew he would. Right then, he was my slave. His pleasure ... the promise of his release ... was trapped in my softly working fist.

"My family had gone away for the weekend to visit relatives in New Jersey. She turned up at the door asking for my brother. I told her he wasn't there, but she asked to come in. I let her. I was making tea for us in the kitchen. I didn't see her until I felt her arms around me."

"You didn't have tea, did you?"

"No," he whispered.

"Yeah ... you just had each other," I teased.

"I didn't mean to. But ... I just couldn't stop her. My body felt so heavy. It was like I was sleepwalking."

"Sleepfucking, you mean?" I giggled. He blushed beautifully. It was amazing. How can this man blush, I thought, when he is naked and I'm stroking his swollen cock with soap slick fingers?

"Where did you take her?" I asked, "Did you take her to your parents' bedroom? Did you fuck her in your parents' bed?"

"No ..." he gasped, "In mine."

"Probably wise," I ruminated, "with all her juices and your cum, the bed must have been a sodden mess by the time you were done."

He shivered deliciously in my arms at the image. My baby was getting turned on by his little confession. I reached between his legs with my other hand to cup his balls. They were crinkled, drawn up tight against his body. I didn't want him cumming too soon. I released his cock quickly, letting it bounce and jerk in front of him. He moaned at being thus abandoned.

"I don't want you cumming right now, my pet," I said firmly, "... not until you have told me your story, all of it."

I let him calm down a little, then palmed his cock again to resume my soft, slow stroking.

"Then what happened?"

"She seemed to be in a hurry," he moaned, "she ripped our clothes off, lay back on the bed and plunged my cock in her cunt. She was very wet."

"The hungry little whore," I exclaimed, "She must have been planning it for a long time. Her pussy must have been seething all day thinking about when she would get to have you."