Finding Picasso Ch. 09

Lysa and I are thrusting toward a mutual climax, her body suddenly feeling light and tight in my arms. Abruptly, Lysa's hips pause and she lifts her lips to my ear. "I think we're forgetting something," she whispers, nodding toward Emma, who is watching expectantly. "She really, really wants to watch you cum."

We are so close to the brink, it takes all my self-discipline to slowly pull out of Lysa. But when I see Emma's hungry eyes focused my cock with obvious fascination, a new surge of excitement jolts through me. I crawl along Emma's bed until I am directly between her naked, outstretched thighs. Resting on my knees, my cock is within inches of her beautiful lips and face as I begin stroking.

My shaft glistens with Lysa's secretions, and my fingers glide effortlessly with Emma's gleaming eyes following every move. Eventually, I notice the friction increasing, and not in a good way. As I pause for a moment, a look of curiosity crosses Emma's face. I reach down and carefully remove her hand from her vagina, then slide three fingers inside. Her eyes fly open in surprise and she emits a little squeal at the same time she instinctively lifts her hips to meet my exploring fingertips.

My thumb finds Emma's pouting little clit, and I press and tease it mercilessly while Emma whimpers and thrashes. When she seems at the edge of orgasm, my fingers come away wet and slippery. A moment later, we are masturbating again. My eyes fix on the growing expression of ecstasy written across Emma's lips and heavy lidded eyes which never stray from their focus on my cock. Emma's breath comes in short gasps causing her nubile breasts and swollen pink nipples to rise and fall with aroused abandon.

For some reason, watching Emma's soft, pillowy tits bounce and jiggle as her fingers play between her legs sends a series of spasms that began in my pecs, run down my stomach and abs, and end with my cock pulsing wildly. With a shy smile, Emma reaches out, takes my trembling cock in her wet fingers, and guides it between her labia.

She is hot and slippery and despite the tight grip of her vaginal wall, I glide inside in a single thrust as Emma exhales in a deep sigh. As happened during our wild night on the road to Berlin, Emma falls into a rhythm, her hips move in perfect synchronicity with my rapidly building urgency. And her fingertips are everywhere at once. Clawing at my butt cheeks. Playfully teasing my balls. Stroking the back of my neck. Swirling along the inside of my thighs.

"I'm going to cum," I try to warn her. I don't know if she understands or not, but she grabs my ass with both hands and forces my cock so deep inside it presses into her cervix.

Emma squeals and my cock seems to pull back into itself for an instant before the first explosion of cum spurts. Emma's eyes go wide with surprise and pleasure, her hips give one more forceful thrust, and her muscles contract on my cock in a series of powerful spasms that ripple down my cock, milking the the rest of my orgasm like a thousand tiny fingertips.

Emma's eyelids shut and she emits a deep moan that echoes from somewhere in the darkness where Lysa is watching — and masturbating. Emma pulls my lips to hers, and we fall into and an endless kiss, arms wrapped around each other and my tingling cock still buried to the hilt.

Sometime after sunrise, I wake in the middle of an intensely erotic dream. Although, it's not entirely a dream. I'm still in Emma's big pink bed. But Emma and Lysa huddle over my cock. Emma's fingers gently stroke the shaft, while Lysa rolls my balls between her fingertips. My hips, I realize, are softly thrusting in response to the girls' sensual massage.

"Finally," Lysa whispers. "I was afraid you'd cum in your sleep. Remember what you promised Emma?"

Actually, I didn't, or at least not until Lysa takes my fingers and wraps them around my cock as Emma looks down in fascination. The gleam of interest in her eyes is practically enough to make me cum.

I start slowly, rubbing up and down my shaft with long, languid strokes. Emma's eyes urge me on, and she makes a little "o" with her mouth, bringing it within inches of my cock tip. Soon my fingers are wrapped around the super-sensitive ridge along my cock head, the motion of my hand becomes a blur, and my hips lift and thrust toward the holy grail of Emma's waiting full, waiting lips.

After a final frenzy of jerking, I feel the first spurt rising through me. My eyes lock onto Emma as she watches my cock tip with devout attention. Something about Emma's combination of innocent sexual curiosity and the hungry glint in her eyes, tumbles me over the edge.

The first two explosions of cum rise into the air like a fountain and splatter back on my hands and legs. Then something warm and wet engulfs my cock as Emma lowers her mouth over me and I feel myself squirt between her tongue and the roof of her mouth until my spasms subside.

When my hips fall back onto the bed, Emma is smiling ear-to-ear and wiping my last drops from her lips with the back of her hand while Lysa curls next to us in a girly giggle fit. I want to ask 'what's so funny?' But bite my tongue instead.

An hour later, Lysa and I kiss Emma goodbye and roll our bikes into the service elevator. Outside, the summer heat wave feels like cycling through a blast furnace as we pedal through Berlin's backstreets until we reach the road to Prague.

###

The route from Berlin to Prague is short.

At 350 km, it's about the same as New York to Boston. But it follows an insanely steep and twisting mountain road choked with early season tourist caravans and truck traffic.

We make an unplanned visit to an little village on the Bavaria-Czech border, where we camp in the forest, sleep until Noon, and spend the afternoon soaking off exhaust fumes and making love a cool mountain pond.

Lysa also fills me in on the first traumatic night with Emma.

It was pretty much as Emma explained. She was raised in sexually repressive atmosphere, attended religious schools, and rebelled as a college freshman by hanging out with Mia, a promiscuous, bi-sexual sophomore.

She'd been swept unknowingly, as we all had, into our spontaneous little orgy at the Bavarian Inn after our drunken evening at "The Hole," and had decided I was a better option than aggressive lesbian group sex.

She never expected to become infatuated.

But for a girl who'd only known a couple boyfriends, the reality of threesome with Lysa and I was too much at first. She was fine with it in the abstract, her body ached for it.

The real thing contradicted 18 years of religious indoctrination. When a hot fantasy with two strangers became a frightening reality, Emma suffered a classic anxiety attack. By that amazing last night, the three of us had become friends and lovers.

And so Lysa and I left Berlin with a deep affection, call it a perfect combination of friendship and lust, for Emma.

There would be no panic attack with Violet. That was certain.

Two days later we roll into Prague still in the grip of an unrelenting heat wave. Thinking of space, not air conditioning, I had reserved a real hotel room with a big bed, shower, and as it turns out, functioning AC.

I give us time to acclimate to Prague by setting a date to meet Violet for dinner in two days. Something tells me not to mention it to Lysa. It's the right move.

Freshly showered and relaxed, we hit pay dirt in the community center of a suburban Jewish Temple. The artist's name is a decidedly non-Semitic Melody Jones. She's a third year art school student who specializes in large canvases depicting scenes from the Torah.

A little derivative of Chagall, perhaps, but Melody paints with an unshakable confidence, and in a unique style that successfully combines mildly erotic nude angels with depictions of fierce Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and, of course, Noah, Abraham and their descendants.

Like Chagall, and Theo Tobaisse, her work transcends "Jewish art," making Biblical themes accessible to a universal audience. It's the kind of humanist take of tribal culture that aunt Bea would have adored.

Lysa tracks down Melody on Facebook. She's in the process of packing to return to Wales for the summer, but eagerly agrees to show us more of her paintings at the college art studio, where I make my iPad assisted pitch.

She's happy with the contract. What art student wouldn't be? And we settle on five canvases. Three from the exhibit that she would mail to New York, and two more she has in the studio, for €5,000. Lysa and I get them off via Ceska Posta just before the office closes. We then meet up with Melody for a celebratory evening at an English "travel" pub in Old Town.

The food is indifferent, the pints are endless, and by the time we stumble back to her dorm, I could almost see Melody debating internally whether to ask us up to her room.

I put a quick end to that, kissing her on the cheek and promising to do everything in my power to promote her work in the US. Lysa follows with a slightly more intimate hug and kiss and the two girls, who can't be more than a year apart, promise to stay in touch.

With another touchdown, this time a mature art student whom I'm confident will neither abandon her calling or style on a whim, I'm ready to relax and enjoy Prague.

We visit half a dozen galleries the next day, none air conditioned, but I make notes and take photos of work by several young artists who seem to on the verge of launching serious careers. After a second shower, we don freshly laundered clothes and grab the trolly into the center-city steam bath.

Violet is waiting at the bar, already surrounded by several single, and clearly unwelcome, males. And she is saving a seat next to her.

"Do you mind if my girlfriend sits here while we wait for our table?" I ask with a conspiratorial wink.

"Not at all," Violet says with a broad smile as she introduces herself to Lysa as "Victoria." I turn away to order a couple of beers. When I return, Violet and Lysa sit with their heads almost touching.

"Did you notice?" Lysa asks, looking up at me from her seat. "Victoria has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"More beautiful than Lilli?" I ask, referring to Lysa's gorgeous old sister. Lysa throws a painful roundhouse punch straight to my shoulder, catching me by surprise.

Violet lifts her eyebrows, as if to say something along the lines of, 'looks as if you've got a handful there, Big Guy."

"Sore subject," I tell Violet, rubbing my shoulder.

"Are you hikers?" Violet asks with an appraising, and intensely flirtatious look. "You are both so tan... and fit."

Lysa is wearing her little black dress with no bra, and possibly no panties either. 'Fit' doesn't begin to describe it.

"Close," Lyla replies. "We just biked from Frankfurt by way of Berlin."

With that, Violet places her fingertips on Lysa's knee and whispers something in her ear. Both girls look at me for a moment, then giggle at the inside joke, whatever it is. Lysa follows up by whispering to Violet, and the laughter grows louder and more conspiratorial. Lysa and Violet are two peas in a pod, just as imagined. The chemistry between them is everything I thought it would be. And then some!

For the next 15 minutes, I talk football with an American student, while the girls flirt openly and sensually with big smiles, little touches, and long looks into each other's eyes. When the table is ready, I invite Violet to join us. She quickly accepts and the server leads us to a quiet nook in the back where there's only one other table with what seems to be two student couples out on a date.

I suggest Violet and Lysa sit together on the banquette, while I take a chair on Lysa's right. Other than the server, the only person in the pub with a view of Lysa and Violet is a girl at the other table who wears her hair in a blond bun with wire-rim glasses and a tie-dye t-shirt. I can't see her feet, but I'd bet $50 she's wearing Birkenstocks.

Lysa and Violet are so absorbed in each other, I order for everyone, starting with beef tripe braised in onions and smoked paprika, followed by peppered chicken and rice in a sweet paprika cream sauce.

Violet is licking a bit of cream sauce off her lips with the tip of her tongue when I reach behind Lysa and slip my hand under her butt until my fingertips are at the entrance to her sex. She responds with a jolt of surprise, but then wiggles her hips, grinding her soft pussy lips against fingers.

As Lysa and Violet continue their flirtation, I gently stroke Lysa's outer labia through the thin fabric of her dress. When I turn to look for our server, I see the tie-dye girl with glasses and bun looking directly under our table to where I am fingering Lysa. When she realizes I've seen her, she lifts her eyes to mine and flashes an unmistakable smile of approval.

The desert is strawberry dumplings in a cream cheese wrap with melted butter. I manage to eat it with my left hand, while my right has found Lysa's clit. With each bite, Lysa lets out a little groan of satisfaction. But not so little that Violet doesn't know exactly what's going on.

Following the next bite of strawberry dumpling, Lysa's eyes close and I feel the movement of another hand caressing her thigh. A moment later, Lysa's dress rides up her to waist. No question about it. She's not wearing panties. I've barely found her naked clit, when Violet's fingers give my hand a friendly squeeze, then dip inside Lysa's vagina.

I can't help but looking over my shoulder at tie-dye girl's reaction. She's wide-eyed and smiling. And she's apparently alerted the other girl at the table, who sneaks glimpses while the guys remain oblivious, talking to each other.

So far, Lysa is also oblivious too, at least to our growing audience. She cuts a piece of dumpling, takes it between her teeth, then passes it to Violet's mouth, who accepts the dumpling, and then pulls Lysa into a full-mouth kiss. It seems like a good time to intensify the pressure on Lysa's clit, which I take up a notch. I can tell from the movement of her fingers that Violet does the same. Lysa's cheeks and throat are blushing red, and her breath comes in labored gasps.

"I think she's close," Violet says softly. I nod in agreement and glance sideways at tie-dye girl. My view under her table is blocked, but from the movement of her right arm, she's obviously masturbating too.

Lysa bites down on her knuckles as her body goes into spasm, her shoulders lurching left and then right in a tell-tale giveaway of a powerful orgasm. Then her head topples onto Violet's shoulder and the two melt into a very long, deep kiss that is finally interrupted by the server who arrives with steaming cups of expresso.

I thought perhaps the sex play was finished, but the feeling of a small hand on my zipper signals that Lysa has other ideas. After my cock stops bouncing up and down in appreciation of being released from confinement, Lysa goes to work with long feathery strokes.

By now, she has her hand job technique perfectly attuned to my sensitivity, and can get me off in about 90 seconds, if that's what she wants. Apparently, tonight it is not. Her soft, languid strokes get me close, but then she slows to crawl and lets Violet take over, teasing my clock head with her fingertips and long, painted nails. Each time I get close, and Lysa takes over and backs off. I'm left gasping for air with the feeling that Lysa and Violet have me, literally, in the palms of their hands.

Tie-Dye Girl is still watching, even more intently, biting her lip and rubbing herself off under the table while the two guys with her make loud, semi-drunken conversation in Italian. When I catch her eye, Tie-Dye Girl gives me a dreamy smile that makes me realize that with her glasses off and hair down, she'd be a very pretty girl.

The server arrives to ask if we want anything more, and Lysa purposely begins pumping my cock at full speed ahead. Somehow I mutter for him to bring the check without splattering cum all over my pants. An unspoken conversation takes place between Lysa and Violet, which results in Lysa tucking my cock back into my briefs and zipping me up.

"I asked Victoria to spend the night with us," Lysa tells me. "She thinks you might want to save your ammunition for later."

"Yeah. Whatever!" I hiss. It's a logical suggestion, of course. But I also knew that Lysa is enjoying the opportunity to inflict a little sexual frustration on me. As the girls whisper to each other, I and glance at Tie-Dye Girl, whose eyes are closed and cheeks turning cherry red. As I watch, her arm goes still, but her shoulders begin twitching just like Lysa's had been a few minutes earlier. When she opens her eyes, she looks right into mine, and mouths what I'm pretty sure are the words, "grazie per l'orgasmo."

"Was that girl talking to you?" Lysa asked, her tone just a little sharp.

"I think she said, 'Meet me behind the restaurant in 10 minutes," I quip.

"Well, you're little charade is over," she says very seriously. I thought she was somehow talking about the meaningful looks that Tie-Dye Girl and I had been exchanging.

"When did you figure it out?" I ask Lysa, a bit apprehensively.

"The moment I looked into her eyes," Lysa said. "And saw they were violet."

Violet looks at me and shrugs, "We gave it the old college try, didn't we Jason? Anyway, even if the prank was a fail, it's still the best dinner a I've had all summer."

"I agree!" Lysa exclaims, giving me a peck on the cheek.

***

We hopped on a trolley back to the hotel. A maid had turned down the AC to a crawl while we were at dinner, but Violet announces it's still an oasis compared to her dorm room. And there are Czech chocolates on the pillows. Magically, Violet pulls two pints of beer from her purse.

"Did Jason tell you about our flight from New York?" Violet asks.

"In arousing detail," Lysa replies with a sexy smile.

"I promised Jason the full-service menu if he could get to Prague," she continues. "Is that OK?"

"Of course, if you save a little something for me," Lysa teases.

"Mmmm... no problem there. I liked Jason's little Nordic beauties, but you, Lysa, are the real thing. I hope he appreciates what he has."

"Jason is appreciating it more and more every day. We've only been on the road a little more than a week, but there are already stories to tell," I add.

I encourage Lysa to tell Violet about our adventures. Lysa is a natural story-teller and I'm eager to hear things from her perspective.

"Wait a second," Violet interrupts when Lysa gets to the Vogel Schule. "I knew Jason was a collector, but he never mentioned a gallery in Glouchester."

"Superstitious. It's still under construction. And won't open until the tourists leave and the serious collectors come our in the Fall."

"Cool. I want to hear more about it later," she says turning back to Lysa.

We drink, and talk and laugh until well past midnight. The conversation is sometimes nuanced with double-entendres, as well as a frank discussion of what each of us prefers sexually.

"Girls are so soft and touchable," Lysa admits. Then glancing my way she adds, "But nothing gets me off like the hard cock of sensitive lover."

"A talented tongue gets it done for me every time," Violet interjects. "Guess I'm more of a clitoral girl. Rub me the right, and the earth starts shaking. What about you, Jason?"

"The only hard cock I'm familiar with is my own," I say, perhaps more defensively than I intend.

"You don't mess with other guys?" Violet asks.

"I grew up in Western Pennsylvania football culture. That sort of thing was frowned on."

"But not now," Lysa points out. "He was preaching to my big sister that pleasure is the road to enlightenment. But he won't explore gay pleasure himself. Doesn't that sound a little hypocritical?"