Forbidden Muse

"Ah, I see. Well, good thing we're both here, ready to work, eh?" She mused. "I brought something to work on if you don't need me to pose after a certain point. Speaking of, shall we get to it? Oh, it'll be just like old times!"

I nodded, smiling.

I had set up a stool and canvas on the far end of the room, putting some lamps around the futon so I'd be able to make out her features better.

She eased with such grace onto the graceless futon, crossing her legs and propping herself up onto the couch, chin coming to rest on the small knuckles of her hand.

"Remember your curiosity, darling, and your willingness to try new things," she said, her voice a little lower than it had been. If my whole body could blush, it did just then. I excused myself with an extended finger, washed my face with cold water in the sink, and poured myself a glass of wine.

"And now we come full circle," she joked.

"Right?" I found it in me to laugh. she had such a calming presence I couldn't find that trembling to remain for long. I looked through some of the outfits as she hung them from the open bathroom door.

"You pretty much thought of everything, Aunt Tamara," I said, impressed, "you've said you modeled before?"

"Oh yes, dear. I nude modeled in college. I know that sounds like a scandalous thing for your aunt to be doing, but it's not as sexy when someone is crying because they can't get the shading on your ass right after twenty minutes."

I laughed, and then snorted. She pointed at me with her lovely hands like "gotcha!" and began laughing along with me. She seemed to have such an awareness of what her body was doing, she kept the pose so well. Just like riding a bike, I suppose.

"Okay," I said, "hold that pose, here we go."

I outlined her features with pencil on the canvas. I wanted a few warm ups, so I stretched for a change, not least to make her think I knew what I was doing, and I set up my phone on a tripod to take reference photos of these poses to make sure that I had time to finish, I'd have more to do than I could accomplish in a night.

I took periodic sips of wine, as she held her pose with discipline and radiance. She knew just how to accentuate her body to make it interesting to paint, to create depth, to make noticeable the folds of her skin, and how gravity affected her, um, generous assets.

My paintbrush brushed against her, and I spent a long time on the metal clasp around her neck. white light made the gold dazzling against the muscles of her neck. I felt kind of dizzy even though I'd only had a single glass of wine. I primed all the canvases and made sure I had opened a window so that only wine went to our heads.

After I had the poses outlined and reference photos taken, I asked her to change outfits and poses. The next she had chosen was what she wore at the Christmas party, that cozy black turtleneck, which she fiddled with until it sat just right. It hugged her breasts in such a way that the fabric clearly cherished them. She sat professionally, as if for an 'about the author' photo.

Her second to last outfit was a sundress, almost exactly like the one in the picnic painting. I averted my gaze while she changed because it felt polite.

"It's okay Jessie, I'm not shy," she reassured me.

"I, I-- um, o-okay," I stammered. I still couldn't quite look at her, but I peeked.

She squinted at me then, perhaps detecting my tone, and tilted her head almost imperceptibly before moving on. Her sundress pose had her lying with her head on the pillow, arms framing her head and hair.

I could not deny I was glad she let me look at her, because it was painfully hard not to do so. I felt a tingling wetness growing between my legs. I felt so gross then, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. I hoped my t-shirt was baggy enough to hide the hardness of my nipples, but the swaying fabric became oddly distracting.

Everything in my skin just felt wrong.

"Shall we try the nude?" she asked, finally. "It's important to practice skin texture and skin-light interactions, I know that much about this program."

She gathered the mossy blanket and a pillow, placing the first in the corner of the couch and the second she placed under her knees, to prop up her calves, to create a fake kind of chaise lounge chair.

"What a great idea," I said, "you've been such a help tonight. I'm really... grateful, auntie. But yes, let's do that."

I noted the blue undertone of her skin. She had very, very large breasts. I mentally measured them with my hands and determined that I could get lost in there. five of me didn't have enough hands to cover her voluptuousness. They fell apart like pillowy clouds as she assumed a pose on her back that allowed for one sumptuous butt cheek to slip out. she held her curls in her hand and looked at me. Not just ahead, but at me. I tried not to notice this, but her wine-fired stare became difficult to ignore.

I started outlining, but remained fixated on her head. I erased it and redrew it a number of times. There had been something bugging me, however, about this pose. She wasn't quite angling her chin in a way that revealed her right eye, so I asked if I could come over.

"Of course, Jessie, make adjustments as you see fit. We're a team in this."

I crouched down, next to the futon, my heart hammering. My tongue stuck out one side of my mouth as I considered the framing. I scanned up and down her body to make sure that everything else was in order, and it was the closest thing to perfection I had ever witnessed. Her hands rested so delicately on her thighs.

My hand crossed the gap, and moved towards her chin. I grasped her softness between thumb and forefinger, and tilted her slightly to her left. Her eyes trained on my face, amused. But there was something else in that gaze. Her eyelids hooded, just slightly. if I hadn't been staring at her all night, I might have missed it. I did not, either, miss the gentle parting of her lips, as if something had gone unspoken this night for far too long, and the long exhale that marked its weight.

The pose seemed to click into place, and her eyes locked with mine, not just my face. I looked into her eyes, and a decade of time seemed to pass.

"You've grown so much, Jessie," she whispered, eyes glimmering. I have grown a lot. I leaned in a little closer, confirming the pose one last time. I was mere inches away from her face, and I could feel her breathing, a little harder than I might have expected. Our eyes danced across each other's faces, wine burning in our throats and hearts. I looked down to her lips. Those could have been a bit different too. not wanting to smudge her lipstick, I carefully thumbed her lower lip slightly more open.

Her perfect pink tongue revealed, I pulled my shaking hand away. I could feel a bead of sweat dripping down my forehead and my legs shook badly. Maintaining her grip on her hair that curled like the midnight wind, her other hand daubed that bead from my forehead, but her hand remained on my head, near my temple. I felt the tiniest sliver of movement in her finger curling inwards, as if to bring me closer.

I followed her, as I always had.

"I think I've almost got it," I whispered. My head was on fire.

"I think so too," she whispered back.

There came that curling again, this time her fingers dipping between the hairs that were held up in a messy bun. Beckon, beckon. Oh god, what was happening?

"There are some other things I'd like to teach you," she said. measured, "some things that I had to learn the hard way."

"I-", I said, coming to her call, "I think I know what you mean, auntie."

Before she could beckon me thrice, I dipped my mouth into the waters of her lips, no longer content to just follow. Her fingers released in shock, and she gave a startled "Mm!" She must have felt the shock of something she'd only written about, perhaps dreamt about, coming to fruition. As if realizing the same things I had, she curled her fingers back into my hair and pulled me deeper into her river, melting, sinking.

Our tongues danced something forbidden, a taste forsaken. I started to wonder, but the warmth and wetness of her lips dimmed my thoughts until only the gentle, wet sounds of our embracing remained. My heart leaped, something it had wanted for so long finally being allowed to express itself.

"Auntie..." I said.

"That's right," she said, licking her lips with a wicked smile.

"Should we stop?" I asked.

"Probably," she said as a matter of fact, "this is not something you return from."

"I don't want to, auntie," my voice nearly cracked into a sob, "I want you."

"And I want you."

So our mouths, pushing through voice after voice, from family, friends, authority figures, all telling us to stop, joined together as niece and aunt and lovers.

"Can, can I--" I started to ask before she said the magic words.

"Anything you want, darling. Any taste you'd have."

She added, "If you need to stop, tap me three times or say 'red.' I'm going to ask you how you're doing. Answer honestly," she said. No, she demanded. "For example--" she said, reaching down. I shut my eyes and waited for her to grab me, but I heard the sound of her fingers padding glass. She took an intentionally sloppy sip of wine, a trickle of it running down her chin.

"Would you like to clean this for me?"

"Yes, auntie, yes I, I-- would," I panted hard, though we'd only barely kissed. I secured my hair and grabbed the bottle from her, taking a swig myself. It seemed to hit me quite quickly. I leaned back down and dabbed my tongue over her chin.

"You can do better than that," she teased, "lap, don't daub."

"So says the smut authority," I whipped back.

She gasped.

"You...?"

"Since I was eighteen. I put it together earlier, but figured it'd be respectful to wait."

"Then show me what you've learned, dear student-admirer."

I started a little lower, just to the side of her neck. I traced it with the tip, and then, with increasing wetness, all the breadth of my tongue. Aunt Tamara groaned and her eyelids fluttered as I lapped up the line that so exquisitely traced her nape. I didn't leave a trace of wine behind.

"Good girl," she cooed.

Well, that rewired something in my mind.

"G-good girl?" I asked.

"A very, very good girl," she said, guiding my mouth back down towards hers, as the sky met the ocean. I pulled away, just an inch.

"T-thank you, Auntie," I whispered. "May I j-join you up there?"

"I think that's required," she whispered into my ear, before guiding me up with her lips and the pads of her fingers. I landed on the futon, my ass sticking up between her legs. I noticed something shimmering against her thigh, and a wet spot on the futon.

"Auntie, you've made a mess of the futon already!" I teased her.

She laughed, caught, slightly embarrassed, hiding one eye into her hand, fingers splayed.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, darling?" she asked between light and breathy moans. "It's a shame that 'niece' isn't a very sexy word, but I could tell that you think 'Jessie' sounds good on my lips, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, Auntie. I like being a good girl for you, too."

She smiled a dreamy smile.

"If you continue to be good, I'll show you pleasures I'm certain you've never felt before."

"I'd like that, Auntie," I said. "C-can we kiss some more? You taste so good. Better than I could imagine."

"Is that something you've imagined, then, sweetheart?" she asked, and now I was the one caught.

"U-uh huh," I said, and that was all I could manage, thinking of the painting with her hand in mine. I couldn't bring myself to say for how long. I didn't even know. She's just... never been far from my mind.

Her one hand traced the shoulder left exposed by my oversized shirt, and her other cupped the bare skin of my lower back, offering gentle scratches that simultaneously pulled me more deeply into her lush mouth.

Something in my brain melted beneath the touch of this epitome of feminine grace.

Our tongues reached our inner cheeks and grazed over the roof grooves of our mouths. I followed her lead, if only because she knew a little bit more of what to do. I tasted the back of her tongue, and she mine, eliciting harmonious moans. We forgot to breathe, and pulled away, for just a moment, to catch our breath. I sat up, and took the whole of her in. She was so fucking gorgeous.

"You are so fucking gorgeous, Auntie," I said, cherishing her squirms whenever she was referred to as my aunt. She relished in the taboo of this union, and I was going to make her feel it.

"Thank you, darling," she grazed her fingers up my back and I shivered. She found the little black bandeau I had worn to keep my breasts in place. Her fingers danced at the entrance, as if daring me to ask for more. Her perfect, quirked eyebrow all but confirmed that.

"More Auntie," I begged, "please."

She traced around, under my rib cage, eliciting little shudders, before she managed to lift the bandeau up and off of me, fingers barely touching my breasts. Oh god.

"These are so cute," she mused, reaching up to hold them from below like her hands were a pedestal. "You've grown into quite the woman, my good little girl."

"Thank you," I blushed. "I'm sure you have much to teach me about being a woman."

"That I do, darling," she cooed, "that I do."

I felt a cool absence on the small of my back where her touch had been as she began to gently massage my breasts. She offered little scratches at their tops, just below my collarbone, teasing the pleasure that she might be convinced to visit upon my nipples.

"C-can you play with my nipples?" I asked after some moments of this, the ache in them only grew stronger.

"No. I'm showing you something, pay attention, dear."

"Yes, Auntie," I hissed obediently.

I paid very close attention as the nerves in my collarbones as they led into my breasts became one, a warm mess of sensation that had me begging for more. I bit the middle knuckle of my index finger, and slid a hand just underneath her breast, at her ribcage. Even there, pillowy soft flesh molded around my fingers. I noted the shadows that pooled there. I wanted to paint this.

"Can I take some pictures, Auntie?" I asked, mock innocence dancing in my voice. "For reference, of course."

She paused for a moment, the teasing on my breasts coming to a halt. I could see the doubt on her face returning, her eyes wrinkling with concern.

"Creating evidence," she said carefully, "is a dangerous thing, love."

"I know, Auntie," I replied. "I have a plan to keep it secret," I added, as I drew a finger down the length of her abdomen, drawing a shiver from her, and I could tell she lost her concern for a moment.

"And what is that, Jessie?" she asked, curiosity piquing in her voice.

I planted a kiss on her lips, hoping that some of that delicious midnight blue would come off on mine. As I pulled away, she came with me, to continue the kiss as long as she could.

"Polaroids," I whispered close to her ear. "I promise, I'll only keep them by my bedside, to keep me company when you're not here. No faces or tattoos, either."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, before making a satisfied hum.

"With those things in mind, that would be very, very sexy," she said, drawing a nail down my neck, which made my eyes roll back, just a little. I stood up, her hands clearly loath to let me go, as I retrieved my polaroid camera.

"If we're going to be perverts," I said, "we may as well relish in it. Don't you think so, Auntie?"

"Relish in it in a way only artists can," she mused. I returned to my right hand the site of her rib cage, just under the breast, and squished my hand into her yielding skin. Once I was satisfied with the lighting, I snapped a picture and put it in my shorts to let it develop.

"You are a nasty little thing, my dear," she beckoned me closer. "I'll be needing to see that once it's developed."

"How ever will we know it's done?" I asked, putting on my best mock innocence again.

"I have a few ideas," she said, cupping my ass in both hands as she brought me closer to her mouth. She bit my lip and suckled on it, and I moaned into her mouth. Her back arched as her lust grew, my perverted aunt pushed her niece's face into the nape of her neck, her fingers interlacing with my hair.

I kissed her slowly, leaving a trail of kisses down the line that her earlier wine-related order had followed. Each wetter and using a little more tongue than the last, I put what she had shown me about paying special attention to all parts of the breast to work. One hand moved from the pooling shadows to just underneath her breasts to their soft crescents.

She gasped, sensitive. From above, I kissed the gentle slopes of her breasts and from below, my fingers padded along the undersides of them. Her gentle moans, slowly raising in volume, led me on. I kissed the top of her other breast. I asked for some encouragement.

"Am I making you feel good, auntie?" I asked. There was a part of me that reveled in acting the goody-two shoes, revisiting that little child that just wanted to please her aunt. I could tell it brought auntie no small amount of pleasure that I did so.

"Yes," she breathed, "yes, you are, darling. You're a fast-- ah, learner."

My tongue slid out to tease the tops of her breasts, though I longed to taste her nipples, those little pink peaks at the tops of the clouds. She had smaller nipples than I expected, and they stood expectantly, begging for attention.

"Would auntie like me to lick her nipples?" I asked.

Auntie groaned.

"My sweet niece," she said, her burning stare sending me into a tizzy, "I would like little more."

I made a little "ahh!" noise as my mouth suddenly locked around her, causing her convulse a bit, gripping my head tighter and pulling me further into her softness. Were I not so interested in what would come next, I could have fallen asleep between her breasts for eternity.

"Oh god!" she moaned. She looked down at me, "You surprised me, darling."

I merely winked at her as my tongue rolled in slow circles around her nipple. My other finger traced lines all along her breast, and I could feel the goosebumps rising beneath my finger tips. I angled my fingers enough to press my fingertips into her, eliciting something that sounded a bit like a sigh, or a hiss. My thumb landed on her other nipple, and made small circles in line with my tongue.

"That feels so good, darling." she moaned. She bit down on her finger, using her arms to squeeze her breasts together so that I had easier access, and a better view. I took that moment to push my face into her breasts, rubbing my face back and forth in her breasts, until she grabbed me.

"Would you like me to smother you?" Auntie asked.

"Yes, please, auntie," I begged with glee. The feeling that this was wrong was present, but I increasingly cared less and less.

She grabbed me by the hair and shoulder and rolled me onto my back, quickly moving to pin my wrists with her hands. I still wore clothes, and the tip of that polaroid poked out from my shorts. Auntie scanned my body and saw it.

"Maybe," I suggested, "the photo will be done by the time you take my shirt off and smother me?" My voice tilted higher in pitch, and I am not ashamed to admit I stuck my lower lip out in a mock pout.

"You are going to be the death of me, little girl," auntie cooed. She reached under the folds of my shirt, and I helpfully lifted my arms over the edge of the couch so that she could get my shirt off. The bandeau still sort of hung loosely around my neck, and she deftly managed to remove both garments. In the process, she got caught on my hair tie and pulled my light brown hair free. As cooped up as it had been, it spilled out in waves. Auntie cupped it, as if the fine grains of beach sand, and let it sift through her kindly fingers.