Dutch Painting Ch. 02

Dutch Painting, A Second Chapter

(Continued from Dutch Painting, Ch. 01, a story that provides necessary context)

...She seemed to draw security from the artist. He nodded and she untied the belt to her robe. A moment's hesitation and she slipped it off to stand naked, nipples stiffened, lean and waxed and wonderful. She looked to the artist for instructions. He asked to half sit, half lean against a thigh-height column of doric design. This involved a boldly full frontal presentation of her pudenda to the room -- her slit clearly on display -- before settling into a position that, if not demure (her top of her lips were still visible) was the tamer edge of Playboy. The artist rose to suggest her twisting slightly to achieve the precise pose; his arm brushed her left breast as he did so.

He continued to marvel how her beauty had been augmented and refined with the passing of years. Her face -- was lovely, defined by angular and fresh Nordic lines rather than Hollywood standards -- was framed by a cascade of blonde hair; hair that tumbled past a graceful and long neck to well-presented shoulders. Her B cup breasts -- really a generous B such that, were she to add weight, would creep into the Cs -- were firm and set off by pert, tightly defined pink nipples. She was lean and athletic, but athlete's muscles were subtly masked by gentle curves of elegant femininity. Her softly swelling hips sat atop long legs. "I hate my bum" she would say, clearly wanting the tight circles of a stage ballerina. He would reassure her that her ass was a tremendous turn-on: perfect ovals quite proportionate to her. Her belly was taut and descended to two perfectly formed, hairless pussy lips. She had danced ballet when young and carried that poise and a grace of movement with her.

He basked in this when he was alone with her, when he photographed her, and when they were on (infrequent) holiday visits to nude beaches. "You like to watch me being watched" she would tease, but in fact she enjoyed the attention and their erotic tastes had achieved some sort of symbiosis. Yet strolling on a nude beach before unclothed admirers was far from posing on a platform centred amongst a score of art students studiously sketching out her form. His cock swelled as he absorbed the intense admiration and study she was generating. He pushed his chair back and surreptitiously took a few photos of the scene, as if to ensure that he could remember something so bold, so frankly unexpected.

She had been gazing fixedly at the wall above and to the left, clearly avoiding the eyes of the onlookers. He remarked her gaze dart towards him; they locked eyes for a moment and she gave him a sly smile as if to say "you are rather liking this, aren't you, you dog". Her nipples were pinkly erect -- though the room was not superheated -- and he discerned a slight reddening of her pussy lips. She glanced at him again, this time more conspiratorially. She presented a sly and lovely smile before returning her study of the mid-distance. After about twenty minutes he observed that her gaze softened and shortened, and she took in the students, occasionally making eye contact with them.

It was a ninety minute class divided by a short break. When the pause was announced she swiftly vanished to the changing room, casting a third sidelong smile at him. After the rest break of five minutes she returned in a more confident frame of mind: unknotting the robe she turned to present the perfect ovals and ostentatiously bent to lay the robe on a low stool, affording the students a hurried but more revealing flash of her ass and pussy that may have been necessary. His cock twitched in response and it remained half or full engorged for the balance of the class.

She had resumed both her pose and her surveying of the room. She stifled a laugh when she saw his glance -- evidently he was betraying his longing. She also avoided the quite direct smiles of a lanky, curly-haired boy.

"That would be time", said the artist and she stood, involuntarily stretching as she stood. Breasts rose, legs tightened, the lean flatness of her belly accentuating the view down to her bare pussy. Amidst a shuffling of paper and satchels, a pushing and scraping of chairs, she offered a taut loveliness to the room. More than one viewer paused to take that view in before she turned and slipped into the robe. She emerged from the changing area but hung back. Students began to drift out. Unsurprisingly there were three exploratory attempts to pick her up -- two men (curly boy not amongst them) and a pretty red-haired girl with freckles and a hipster fringe. He let the students trickle out and remained aloof, at the edge of the circle of chairs and easels, until she bade the artist an effusive farewell. He joined her and gave the artist a somewhat more restrained goodbye.

They made it to the stairwell before embracing - tongues probing - her hands impelling his under her shirt. He found her bra-less breasts and began to stroke both nipples.

"That was..." he began.

"Fucking hot." She finished. "Did you like it?" her hands descended below his belt to find the rigid outline of the answer 'yes'.

They were pulled up by the slam of a door and practically ran out of the building into the night.

A slight mist was in the air and she huddled against him, hand stroking his thigh as he looked for the light of a taxi. Her hand was straying onto his crotch when one drove into view.

Huddled together in the back, their lips sought each other as the knock of diesel acceleration provided a low soundtrack. They kissed. Hand wandered oblivious to the driver as their bodies declared a hungry urgency.

"Take off your clothes" were his first words in the hotel room, and she did as she was asked. She stood before him naked. "Play with yourself as I undress."

That done he bent her over the arm of the sofa and spread her legs with his foot. He positioned his rigid cock at the entrance of her pussy. There was no foreplay -- she was practically dripping -- and he drove his length in fully. Grabbing her hips he pried her legs a little wider to adjust the angle and began to fuck her. His cock emerged from its first thrust slick and glistening. Left hand rose to twine her hair in a ponytail and his right fingers traced the line of hip and back. He increased his pace and she leaned more directly onto the sofa back. Her ass cheeks parted and her rosebud was now on view. Wetting a thumb he placed it on her pucker, she half-turned and nodded. He forced it past her ring; her pussy canal began to tighten. He pulsed his cock on the in-thrusts, once, twice, three times. Her tits swayed forward with each push forwards. His balls began to tighten and the sound of them slapping into her increased in intensity. Her hand strayed to her pussy and -- as he further increased his pace and she massaged her clit horizontally -- she came with a shudder. He pulled out cock and thumb and exploded over her ass and lower back in three bursts.

They paused in place for a moment.

"How was that?"

"We ought to do this more often". Her head rose, hair brushed aside, and she smiled conspiratorially at him.

"Would you mind?"

He released her hip and walked to the washroom, returning with tissue to remove the puddled sperm.

"Success?" She smiled and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

"How so?"

"Did I surprise you? Did it arouse you? Was that good?" a gentle teasing poke. She ran her hands over his flanks and his lean belly. "You look good for middle age, you know." He kissed her, slowly, appreciatively.

He replied to questions with a question. "What do you think?" He smiled.

He poured two whiskies as she flopped naked on the duvet. She watched him cross the room as she toyed with an apple from the bowl housekeeping had placed -- oddly - by the bed.

"In the mood for a game of temptation?" and her face was a mixture of lust and boldness. She twirled the apple and tossed it in the air.

"All about Eve, are we?" She was reclining on her side, a posture that accentuated her svelte lines.

She gave a low, almost gin and cigarettes laugh. "I think this effort to keep some excitement in our lives is working rather well, so I'll present a fantasy. You guess if it is one I have and then admit -- truthfully now -- if it is one you also. Guess right and we will do it, oh, within two months."

"And the point of this is what precisely?" His voice betrayed genuine surprise.

"Darling, intellectualise all you like, but your cock is betraying you." And it was. Even as he looked down it was regaining a certain swelling.

He climbed onto the bed and presented her the drink he had poured.

A deep sip and then she began.

"Would we like to go to a strip bar where I wear very little?"

"Be more precise." He countered.

"We go. I wear something revealing. We have a dancer dance for us."

He thought for a moment. "Yes we would. I don't think you'd be ready to strip, though I think tonight broke your fear of an adverse audience reaction. By the way, how many contact details did you give out to your admirers?'

"Be quiet" but she was smiling, appreciation the public acknowledgement of her desirability to a student audience half her age.

"You know they probably thought you were 32..." he said, softly stroking her leg with his outstretched foot.

"... and assumed you were my father." Laughter. She continued. "At any rate, yes."

"Would you strip on stage?"

She paused. "I think I would certainly go without bra and knickers and let the dancer have a peek."

"And...?"

"We'll see. Yes, we'll do that soon." His cock swelled more. She watched it approvingly and continued: "You keep that lovely shaft of yours right there where I can see it. Your little-headed lie detector... So a second fantasy, then."

She let a pause hang in the air. Her foot toyed with his.

"We bring a woman in and you watch us before you fuck both of us."

He responded unthinkingly "another person brings a great many unknown quantities..."

"I think I have my answer, Mr reddened face and twitching cock."

"Would you?"

"Yes, I would like to try sex with another woman. I never have. I am genuinely curious and have been for years."

"And would you go ballistic if I had sex with her?"

"Once I would have said yes. Now I do not know.... " They looked at each other searchingly.

"And did you have any thoughts who would this woman be? Someone in mind? Order in?"

"Oh, to be discussed. Would I do it? Guess right and the game goes on."

He thought and nodded; a grin broke on her face. "Yes, I would, but only if you found a suitable candidate of whom I approved" she purred "Now on to fantasy three?"

He was viewing this more as the ventilation of fantasies than a planning exercise, or at least he thought that was it. "Alright" he said, and her eyes were sparkling with delight at the game. As she spoke, her foot grazed up his thigh, pale flesh on white sheets. "What if you filmed me in a porno?'

"We've tried that"

What about me in a porno having sex with another man?"

He gulped. "That is...not a good idea and.." he was nodding his head in dissent even as she was laughing at the perceptible rising of his cock.

She leaned forward and pressed a finger against his chest, kissing him.

"What about with the artist. You could film through the window of his studio... no one would see you. He is dying to fuck me."

"THAT is hardly a sensible idea" he retorted.

"Your response is coming from a brain being deprived of blood to fuel that erection.... And what is sensible? Dialling in a woman to provide you with a lesbian show before you get to have sex with her is alright and helping that lovely man, so admiring, so clearly sex-starved, is not?"

"You are mocking me. And we were talking about a threesome, which we are not here."

"Are you sure?" and her toe was caressing his largely erect cock, a red head pushing beyond the foreskin.

"What if I found a girl and you watched us?"

He stared at her, trying to read her. Seconds passed and then she said: "It would be a lot easier to visit a strip bar in this city than at home... Lord knows we might meet one of your friends there. And it is only half past eight. We could have light dinner and then go...".

-------

The lobby of the small hotel was deserted as they left. The door was swung open for them and they walked briskly down the street to a nearby Japanese restaurant.

She was wearing a short brown mini and a flimsy cream blouse undone to the sternum, her nipples clearly visible through the fabric. A demure wool overcoat sat demurely on top of this. Her heels clacked on the pavement.

They ate at the bar, touching and not talking of the next phase of the evening despite the palpable excitement. The sushi chef cast frequent glances at her breasts. She squeezed his hand when they bundled into the taxi to take them to the well-known strip bar situated in a neighbourhood at once louche and increasingly trendy.

They arrived, checked coats, paid the bouncer and found themselves in the middling back of the dimly lit main room. The bouncer eyed her tits and legs appraisingly. ("Like the attention?" he asked. "He is a gorilla!" she replied). The stage was perhaps twenty five feet ahead: a raised platform of light refracting off mirrors and brass. He ordered a pair of whiskies. A brunette with fake D cup tits was on stage in white platforms and a sparkly bikini, the top of which swiftly came off.

"So what do you make of the evening's entertainment, Sir?" she nodded at the stage.

"That seems a more interesting scene" he replied. A girl, with quite large natural breasts, largish brown nipples and an amply swelling ass and flowing blonde hair was on perched on a small, portable platform before four Japanese businessmen and a bottle of Yamazaki. They gazed covetously at the dancer as she swayed, teasingly stroking her flanks. She parted her legs as she sank to her heels on the little stand, looking them each in the eye. The Japanese businessmen were leaning forward, making jokey asides and guffawing. "That's enthusiasm."

"What about that" she asked, pointing at another brunette quite naked on a stool before a single man to their left. She was placing one foot on the table to better part her pussy lips for him. "He looks bored of life. And desperate."

"And them"

Another couple had a red-haired (bottle red) on a stool before them. She was swaying her ass at a delighted fifty-ish man and a bored and repelled-looking younger woman. The dancer was spreading her ass cheeks. "Date for a night? Second marriage for the money?"

A waitress came and they ordered a bottle of water and two more whiskies. She leaned back as he paid the waitress, smiling and revealing a considerable amount of inner thigh. No knickers... When she leaned forward the waitress had a clear view of cleavage and a hint of nipple.

She drained her first glass and, caressing his knee, said "I'll be back" and then motioned towards the washroom. "Enjoy the show".

The Japanese men -- their dancer paid and gone - swiveled to watch her as she went by. One spoke to her and tried to grab at her arm; she dodged and carried on. Their eyes followed her.

Her surveyed the room. The lighting divided the room into pools of golden illumination separated by somewhat dim corridors of darkness. He watched the red-haired dancer before the couple -- man still enraptured and woman now simply bored -- and worried that this might have a similar effect for him.

Some short minutes later she emerged from one corridor of dim lighting and took a line towards him. Her path once again passed the table of Japanese. They had been drinking more heavily in the absence of a dancer.

A Japanese hand tugged at her mini as she walked by. She paused and allowed the boldest of the four to engage her in a conversation. He was leaning forward, evidently asking a question. When it elicited an odd look on her part -- half surprise -- the suited businessman repeated it, motioning to a billfold and the whisky on the table. The ne pointed at the stool set next to the table.

He studied the group: all open, expectant smile, hardly inscrutable - even at this distance. The smattering of other people in the room were either attentive to their own dancers or were lazily eying the show on stage. She bent down towards the four men in suits, her mouth starting to form the word "no". They pre-empted her with pleading and gesticulating, several bills being taken and folded, pressed towards her on the table. One pair of businessman hands rose almost in supplication. She smiled. A quick glance at him... or was it? He was curious.

Her mouth seemed to form the words "thank you". What happened to "no"?

One song ended and another began. They proffered a glass of whisky, which she accepted as she sat. One pointed at her tits, to general smiles and guffawing. She seemed to be sitting with her legs together, but the drunkest of the four bent to try and sneak a look up her skirt. The small, round platform to the right of the little table, fronting onto three of them, beckoned like a target. The boldest of the four motioned to it. Only two steps forward. She raised a foot, hesitatingly, and then somehow -- he felt a rush of blood -- she stood in her heels on the small platform. She swayed for a moment as she gathered her balance, smiling at them before closing her eyes in thought.

She reached behind, unzipping the mini and -- as she opened her eyes to take in the Japanese reaction- slipped it off in one fluid motion. It slid down her legs to gather around her feet. She stepped off the platform to gather the skirt before returning to her former position. Slowly she turned, bum peeking from beneath the flimsy shirt, and laid the skirt slowly on the spare chair behind.

Fingers reached up and she undid the buttons with agonizing care. One, two, then three. She turned and slipped the shirt off one shoulder then the other. A toss of the hair and a sidelong glance back -- away from him.

The shirt fell and puddled on the stool. A long and beautiful back was on display. She bent -- what a look at ass and pussy for them -- gathered it up and placed it on top of her skirt.

Returning to face them she ran her hands down her stomach and flanks in the manner of the dancer they had hired before her. Her hands strayed up, cupping her breasts, presenting her nipples to them.

It may have been the ventilation, but those pink nipples were stiff. The businessmen's eyes tracked her breasts as they shifted subtly with her movements. Their eyes applauded hungrily. A song ended and she started to step down, but a chorus of pleas and complaints erupted.

Their encouragements led her to rise again, her slit at eye level to them.

She stood and let hair swish over one shoulder then the other. Hips were cocked to one side and then the other. She parted her legs into a wider stance, slightly pushing her pelvis forward. The eyes of the four took in her waxed pussy, her labia fully on view: cries and happiness from the four men.

She traced a hand down her belly to her pussy lips, and then up again. Japanese smiles. She spread her legs wider for them and they devoured the sight of her. Her finger traced into her slit then she turned and, legs wide, bent to give them a view of pussy and ass, her left hand spreading a cheek to increase the view. As she bent the index finger of her left hand reached between her thighs to stroke the length of her ass and her slit.

She rose again and turned to face them. Would she? She began to squat, legs parted wide to reveal her inner pinkness to them. Her hands traced her inner thighs from knees inwards, drawing their attention to her pussy. He did not have a clear view, but one finger seemed to be tracing up and down her slit. Her face was that of a person transported to some other place, somewhere where lust ruled.