The Secret Life of Artists Ch. 04

He touched my clit as though it were a butterfly and a wave of pleasure washed through me. I moaned and felt a finger slip inside me. I was weak and he held me tightly while his hips rocked his hard cock between us. A perfect rhythmic touch and his finger pushing deeper sent shock waves through my body. I mewed long and low as the tension left my body like the snap of a rubber band and I was riding the crests of rolling orgasms.

I was like a ragdoll in his arms, and he tenderly dried me and wrapped me in a big fluffy towel. He did the same and wrapped it around his waist. He picked me up and walked through the studio as though I was no weight in his arms. He lowered me to the mattress platform in the middle of the studio that was hidden from the windows by the flowing backdrops. He followed me down and propped himself on his elbow next to me.

His eyes raked over me as he untwisted the towel, exposing my nakedness to his view. I'm fifty-three, certainly not like the twenty and thirty-somethings he usually has in his bed. For the first time in a long time, I was shy about showing my body.

He sensed that. "You're beautiful, Shania. I know you were worried about our age difference, but you must know now that it means nothing. You mean a lot to me... And before you resist, I knew it the first day I walked in your door here. It's not some love my therapist kind of bs."

He trailed a finger around my breast. The closer he got to my nipple, the more it ached for his touch, his mouth. I tried to think. To reply to that. I knew I should and everything sailed away when his hot breath and tip of his tongue touched my nipple.

I arched, wanting more. My tits were so sensitive and craved attention. "You like this?" he murmured and I felt his smile. "Your breasts have been driving me crazy. I dreamed about seeing them. Touching them. Their softness in my mouth."

His words ratcheted me quickly towards the peak. "Yessss, oh yes. Please," I begged. "I need your mouth. Your hands." My words came out on a breath, and I don't know if I said them, or breathed them.

"Oh god, Shania." He took my nipple between his teeth and tugged. I held his head to my breast so he wouldn't stop. He squeezed and sucked rhythmically, and my body followed, undulating and needy. He kneaded my other breast and pinched my nipple. A low involuntary moan came out. My hips rocked. I was out of control.

I pushed him on his back. "I need you," I said as though in explanation. I straddled his cock, raised and held it at my entrance.

His cock was black velvet against my cotton white pussy lips. I lowered while watching his cock disappear in me, and feeling it stretching the walls of my cunt. I dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and ground down. The pulse of his cock, the heat, the scent of our sex, our rasping breath all intensified my arousal. His hands were on my hips, sliding up and taking my tits into his hands. He read my body too and knew what to do. Each pinch and pull of my nipple made it longer and was like a bolt of lightning to my pussy.

I looked down and raised to see his cock was shiny and wet with our juices. He pushed up fast and hard and began bucking. Our bodies slammed together. I leaned forward, grabbed his shoulders, and rode his driving cock. His face contorted and drove deep. The hard pulses in the tightness of my cunt took me higher with him and the walls of the studio echoed our lewd sounds. His heat flooded me.

I collapsed on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. "Ohhhh, Shania," he rasped and I mewed in return, still catching my breath.

I knew I could no longer be his art therapist, but in this case, the trade-off was much better. He could be in my bed as well as at my loom. I would make sure he got the therapy he needed... From someone else.

~ the end ~