Sketchbook

If my heart had nearly stopped when I found her little portrait of me downstairs, I now really thought I had risen to a higher plane. I lay open-mouthed at the first page -- a slightly updated version of that portrait. Almost identical in every detail, the only difference was that the face was slightly older.

The caption read, 'A little older, but still none-the-wiser... Angelfire at Forty. '

As with its earlier incarnation, it was utterly stunning and I gazed at it for minutes on end. Then I turned the page. It was five minutes to ten at night when I did so, and when I had examined every page it was three thirty in the morning. I had come six times and some of the things I saw almost blew my world apart.

Chapter 8: Sketchbook

By the time I was ten pages into the sketchbook, I knew I was going to be there for a very long time. At first, I considered taking it back home, but that was a disaster waiting to happen. Instead, I went down the Metcalfe's Corner and picked up half of the towels Anastacia had left for me. I took a roll of toilet paper from the downstairs ablutions -- I figured I would need a lot -- and my final port of call was her wash basket. Duly armed with the wherewithal to cover her bed, mop up my inevitable discharge and inhale her heady aromas, I set off back upstairs. Five minutes later, the bed was covered against anything I could throw at it, the sketchbook was propped on a mound of pillows and I had extricated her little blue vibe from the top drawer. I was sure I could find some use for it.

I flicked back to the beginning of the sketchbook, making sure I handled the delicate art paper with the utmost care. I gazed at her forty-year old portrait once more and began to finger myself through my shorts. They didn't last long and once I had removed them, my fingers were curling around my erection wishing that Anastacia was there to talk me through the amazing images in the book.

Each was individually numbered and I was delighted to find the first few were of Trix -- similar to those I had seen in the Erotica section of the gallery with her mounting various anonymous partners. One was clearly a woman, her thigh pressed between Trix's legs as the girl rode her. In the next, she was impaled on a large erection, buttocks thrusting towards what I could only, in my non-artists mind, think of as the 'camera' view. Her head was rocked back, mouth open, her hands on the shoulders of her partner.

I recalled her soft hands working on me, wishing mine felt as good as I gently stroked myself. Then things began to change. The images began to get more explicit -- firstly she was taking an erection in her mouth, her hand wrapped around the shaft. I felt a shudder go through me as I recalled the tiny kiss she had given me in the gallery and longed to feel her lips wrap around me. The next few images looked as if they should have been in an old-fashioned flick book as cum spurted from the erection and each successive picture showed her face, a mask of ecstasy, as the sticky mess first flew then coated her. The final 'frame', as I thought it to be, showed her gazing out of the page with a long dribble of cum hanging from her chin, her eyes alive and sparkling. It was so realistic that I almost expected her to smile at me and tell me how good it had been.

Instead, I balled a wad of toilet paper in my left hand and thrust into it hard, staring into her pencil-drawn face. I was used to being silent as I came, but I heard the words wrenched from my lips as I shot my load.

"Oh fuck, Trix you are amazing."

When I had recovered and stopped trembling, I made sure my hands were clean and went down to get myself another cider.

The sketchbook was like an Aladdin's Cave -- after the Trix portfolio, there were thirty or so drawings of other women getting it on together, which were a complete turn on, but I had no idea who they were. I felt the thickness of the forty or so pages I had already seen and gauged there must be at least a hundred more to view. That was fine -- Anastacia was in London and I had all night.

It was about page sixty or so that things really began to get freaky. It was the first page I had seen that wasn't a pencil drawing -- it was possibly watercolour, but I am no expert. All I know is that it blew my mind and altered my perspective on a lot of things.

It took me a while to realise who one of the subjects in the image was and once I was in no doubt, I lay shaking like a leaf for a very long time. There was no doubt that the woman lying on silken sheets was Isadora Napier-Jones. She was utterly unmistakeable -- her tattoos, piercings, her long dark hair hanging over one eye. She was fingering herself, her pussy gaping as she worked on herself. Her mouth was wide open, her lover leaning forward as she moved in to take the long, sinuous tongue that was being offered into her own mouth.

At first, I thought she was wearing a strap-on. I had seen enough videos to know what could happen between consenting women and it did it for me every time. Then I realised. Angelfire had drawn her as a hermaphrodite and the erection the girl straddling her was impaled upon was almost beyond my comprehension. I could see her pussy lips stretched as she sat on the massive girth. Izzy's eyes looked as if they were on fire.

There was something familiar about the girl but it took me a good few minutes to look past the fantasy make-over she had been given. To look past the elongated, elven type ears, the glowing yellow orbs of her eyes. There were tiny fangs in her wide-open mouth as she moved towards Izzy. There was a mass of brunette hair, an ornate and exquisite tattoo on her side and curling up from just above where Izzy's impossible appendage was almost tearing her in half, a long curling tail wound up across her back, a soft little tuft on the end acting as an exquisite full stop to this amazing scene.

I touched the face of this angel as she moved towards Izzy and murmured under my breath, "Oh fuck -- Beth!"

I was now in no doubt whatsoever that I was looking at a fantasy picture of Bethany Hamilton, the fiancée of the Amberdown Cricket Club captain Sam Atkins, riding the hermaphrodite form of Izzy Napier-Jones.

It was utterly breath-taking. In tiny script across the bottom right corner were the words, 'The Amberdown Rebellion. Izzy, you are amazing! Angelfire, xxx."

When I could stop shaking and turn the page there were three more similar images -- Bethany now taking the huge phallus in her mouth, her eyes blazing. Then Izzy arching off the bed as she shot a huge spurt of cum onto Beth's face and finally the two of them kissing, their faces glazed with Izzy's spoils.

I was utterly shocked -- I had heard that Beth had possibly been a wild-child before Sam, but did this prove it or was it just fantasy? I came a second time, this time with Anastacia's vibrator playing against my balls, my anus, the base of my erection. I lay on my back gazing into those incredible yellow eyes and almost shouted in triumph as I erupted across my own belly in a spurt that I thought Izzy's futanara would have been proud of.

It was only as I reappraised the images in a slightly less frenetic state that I saw more tiny words accompanying them. 'Thanks for the inspiration, Izzy. I've never met Beth, but I hope this brings it to life!"

Beneath, in a different hand was written, "Angelfire -- you rock my world. Utter perfection! Love, Izzy xxx."

Had I not initially been sure about Bethany being the subject matter of the previous pictures, there was no doubting her inclusion in the next three. In the first, she was leaning over a sofa, elbows on the back, hands on her chin. She was fully clothed with her dress hitched up around her waist, smiling at the artist as someone took her from behind. In the second, she was in a similar pose but reaching out with her left hand, gripping a large erection. The third showed her taking it in her mouth, her face alive with lust and pleasure. The caption on this one read, 'Brighton, July '16. Wish I was there!'

I had to pinch myself. Surely this couldn't really be her? She was utterly adorable and gorgeous and the thought of her doing the things she had been portrayed as doing made me envy Sam Atkins all the more.

The next few pages were again a mix of people I knew and some I didn't recognise. Josie and Izzy appeared frequently in all sorts of scenarios along with Trix and every page seemed to feature a scene from an orgy. In some, Trix seemed a lot younger -- her hair slightly different and her piercings seemed different. Maybe it was just artistic licence but I was a little puzzled.

Then there was a set of pictures purely of Josie. Angelfire had re-imagined some of the softcore images I had seen of her and turned them into something else altogether. I recognised the pictures of her smoking with her cigarette holder, but these were in a different league. She was shown blowing smoke onto huge erections, taking cum-shots on her lovely face and lying back puffing out clouds of smoke as male and female heads nuzzled between her open legs.

On the final image, there was a scrawled note. 'You must have been there! Thx for an amazing set, Angel. You are truly blessed -- Josie xxx.'

I spent another two hours going through the amazing portfolio, but despite there being some spectacular images, there was no-one else I recognised. I had hoped to see Tess Prior in just her cricket helmet and pads, or Sienna Redmond holding her huge bump as she was taken from behind. Maybe Leanne with cum dripping from her cute chin.

I felt almost bereft as I turned what was the final page to see a blank folio in front of me. I was almost exhausted, having come five times and seen things that I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams.

I was about to return the sketchbook to where I had found it, when I noticed the corner of a folio sticking out of the book a few pages down from where I had finished.

I opened the book to the right place and once again, I was in no doubt as to who the subjects of the image were. My eyes were wide as I saw a wall of artwork depicted, a young man standing in front of it. His left hand was sliding down beneath a pair of wet-look leggings and the girl's hand was encircling the base of his erection. The image was cropped from just beneath their necks, but it was obvious to me that Trix's hand had just brought me off and the jet of cum was maybe a little more spectacular than I had managed a few weeks ago.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Not only did I now own an Angelfire original, but I was the co-subject of one of her Erotica series. In a daze I made sure as best I could that everything was back in its rightful place and staggered home to crash into bed.

I was barely aware of what I was doing the next day. I was tired and so many emotions were conflicting in my head. I felt guilt, excitement, bewilderment and arousal in equal measures as I began the business of planting borders and opening holes in the fences to allow hedgehogs to pass through the garden. Anastacia had loved the idea and she was hoping that foxes would use the space beneath the shed as a burrow. She was already planning on drawing fox cubs the following spring.

All day I kept thinking back to the incredible sights I had seen in her sketchbook. I had shut the connecting door but left it unlocked so I could pay another visit - I needed another session with that book and it took all my willpower not to take a break during the day. Once my work was done, I went home and showered and had some food. I then returned via Metcalfe's Corner, grabbed my towels and crept up the stairs.

It was a cloudy night and a little darker, so I didn't see it at first. It was only as I reached the top stair that I saw that something had changed. I couldn't recall a small table standing beside her bedroom door and alarm bells began to ring. As I approached it, a small light came on overhead, illuminating the table with a tight beam. Once again, my heart almost stopped as I realised I was looking at the sketchbook, this time open at a new page. Wondering what the hell was happening, I bent to look at the page and swallowed hard. The picture was in three parts, the first depicting a young man from behind. He was holding a pair of frilly panties to his nose and inhaling deeply. In the second, they were wrapped around his erection and in the final frame, a jet of cum was erupting from the end. In the background, long elegant fingers dug deep into a neatly trimmed black bush.

I barely had time to process what I was seeing and the import of it when I heard her voice from inside the room. "Good evening, Josh. Glad you could make it. Please come on in."

Like an automaton I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room. I could see an outline on the bed but little else.

Her voice came again. "We need to talk - please sit." I saw a vague impression of an arm pointing to something by the side of the bed. Carefully I manoeuvred myself around the room and sat on a wicker chair. As I did so, the bedside lights flickered on and I let out a little gasp.

She was lying naked. At least I assumed she was. She was propped up on a pile of pillows, her hair covering her ample breasts. Her legs were crossed but she didn't appear to be wearing panties. She was wearing the boots I had chosen as my favourites the previous night and, as suspected, they came way above her knees. I could now see the filigree tattoo up her left arm, partially obscured by her hair. There was a butterfly on her right hip and both arms had bangles on them almost from wrist to elbow. Her long, heavy necklaces hung down between her breasts, her cleavage a thing of wonder. She looked utterly sensational and I felt myself begin to harden and my breathing was ragged.

"Anything to say for yourself?" Her voice was nonchalant.

I hung my head, still stunned at what as unfolding. "Look, I'm... I'm... oh shit, I'm so s-sorry..."

She laughed. "Don't be! I set the bait and you took it. I enjoyed watching you. That second pop-shot was quite something - had me rubbing myself silly!"

Oh God, this was getting way too much. Had Anastacia Keltner just told me she had masturbated whilst watching me do the same thing? I looked around the room. "Watching me? But... how?" I seemed incapable of forming coherent sentences.

Again, that throaty laugh. "Strange; you found all my clothes, my boots, my little toy collection. You found my precious sketchbook but you failed to notice the cameras up in the corners of the room. I'll forgive you the one in the headboard here as it is very well hidden." I looked up and they were now so obvious, pointing down at the bed. I closed my eyes at my stupidity. She had set me up and I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I was about to respond when she went on.

"Let me tell you a short, sad story Josh. It may help explain how we come to be here in this slightly odd situation." She sounded wistful as she spoke and I let her finish her tale uninterrupted. "You see, many years ago, a very young girl moved to America to pursue her dream of being a great artist. She started to work as an intern for a much older woman and fell madly in love with her. The girl was younger than you - barely sixteen and she was infatuated with the woman. Eventually they slept together and it was wonderful for a short while. Then things began to change and soon the girl was nothing but a plaything for the woman and her friends. They introduced her to drugs, kept her semi-comatose much of the time and used and abused her unmercifully for the rest. She was nothing more than a sex-slave for almost six months. When she finally escaped - or they allowed her to - she couldn't be sure either way, it took her a long time to recover. She despised herself and began to self-harm and her drug addiction got very bad indeed. It took three years to sort herself out and she became a different person. Alison Thompson was effectively dead and Anastacia Keltner took her place."

She sighed. "I soon realised that men and women were drawn to me as I had been to the older woman. I vowed then that as far as I was able, I would allow those that were infatuated with me to have at least some release. Trix was one and there have been many others. Thanks to your curiosity, you are the latest."

She looked me straight in the eye. "I can make your fantasies reality, Josh. You can get up and walk out right of here now or you can come on a short, exquisite journey with me. I am offering you seven nights of bliss. Each night, you will see what is in store for you in my sketchbook. As you have seen the book outside, you know what awaits you tonight. Or you can go home and lose the chance forever. It is up to you."

She fell silent and I racked my brains as to how to respond. Once more I was elated, frightened and aroused. My voice sounded tiny. "Will you allow me to make love to you?"

Smiling, she raised one eyebrow. "Maybe. Who knows what the sketchbook will throw at us? I draw on a whim. Maybe I will let you fuck me, maybe I will watch you fuck Trix. One thing is sure - one of us will take your virginity. How many young men can say that a much older woman took their sweet little cherry? So, young Josh - will you stay or will you go?"

I couldn't believe this was happening and I was scared shitless, but there was no way I was leaving. I'd probably make an idiot of myself and come way too quick or be clumsy and useless, but I couldn't give up the chance she was giving me. I tried to sound bold but probably failed. "I will stay."

She nodded. "Excellent. In that case, Josh, I would like you to remove my panties for me."

My heart leapt as I recalled the sketchbook. "I'd love to, but you don't seem to be wearing any."

With a wicked grin, she moved for the first time since I had sat down. Languidly, she uncrossed her legs and slowly parted them until they were spread wide, giving me a first view of her pubic area. The hair was well trimmed and glossy, leaving what my friend Alex called, 'the important bits' in full view. I could see puffy pink lips beneath the hair and her clitoris was standing prominently. Smiling she dug her fingers deep inside herself and sighed. They came out wet and I could see something now protruding from between her pussy lips. "Ah there they are! Now if you'd be so kind..."

She swept her hair away from her breasts and I saw them in all their glory - large and round with big, puffy nipples. I wanted to suck and chew on them but I was drawn to the small piece of fabric hidden away in between her legs.

"Come on, don't be shy." She raised herself up off the bed, offering herself to me. "Teeth only!"

I felt myself being drawn towards her as if by an invisible hand. She reached out and put her hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down. I felt the soft skin of her inner thighs against my cheeks, the leather of her boots against my skin. I inhaled her aroma, this time fresh and inviting, not days old from the wash-basket. In a dream, I took hold of the tiny scrap between my teeth and pulled gently.

She moaned softly as I drew them out inch by inch. They were sopping wet and the smell was like an aphrodisiac. Finally I looked up at her with them dangling wetly down my chin. She took them from my mouth and said, "Stand."

I did as I was told. "You have seen the sketchbook. You know what to do." She handed the panties back to me and I held them to my face, loving the slick wetness against my skin. I inhaled, rubbed them around my face and sucked greedily on the gusset where the juices were thickest. As I did so, I felt long, slim fingers unzipping me. For a moment, I thought she was going to do the work, but that was not how she had sketched it. As she moved her hand away, I took my erection in my own hand and began to stroke it gently.