Zoey and Me Ch. 08

Beth suddenly stopped, turned bright red and looked up at me with a shocked look on her face. "Shit, I'm sorry!" she gasped.

"Keep going," I said, riding Kong harder and faster than ever. I abandoned my tits and rubbed my clit. "Dammit, say something, anything," I begged.

"Fuck?" Beth said without drawing. "Fuck it. Fuck it good?" It wasn't the same but it was too late for me and my body. My moment had arrived and I came. The moment my climax began, Beth's passion as an artist returned. She hurriedly began drawing and talking. "Yes, come for me. Come hard for me, Katie. Come all over that fucking fuck stick in your pussy. Come and keep coming for me you dirty little slut."

I was shaking from the intensity of my orgasm, my legs were quivering but I didn't want to pull away or change my position because Beth was still drawing. I couldn't touch my clit. Every stroke I made up and down that stupid toy was exquisite torture for me. I grabbed at one of my nipples, pinching, pulling and squeezing it harder than ever. The sharp sting of my fingers reminded me of how Sam had bit at my nipples with such knowing skill. I moaned, desperate to stop yet unwilling to interfere with Beth's artistic quest. I know she kept talking, to me, to her drawing, to herself? None of it matter because I could barely hear her words. I heard swear words. I heard her saying "fuck" and "slut" and "bitch" over and over as if she had Tourette syndrome. I heard her saying "pussy," "tit," "titties" and "nipples." Along with "cock" and "dildo" and "fuck stick."

It sounded as if she had multiple story threads going on at the same time. In one thread I was doing exactly what I was doing, I was playing with Kong in front of her and enjoying an orgasm. In another she was apparently making love to me or wishing she could. In still another thread she mentioned Zoey, Sam and Lindsey, as if they were luckier than her because they each had a chance to make love to me while she didn't.

I don't know how much longer I held my pose. Part of me feels as if I stayed kneeling with that big toy inside of me for another twenty minutes before I gave up. Another part of me thinks that only a few seconds had passed before I couldn't take it anymore. I remember how my legs were quivering, how I was abusing my nipple and how I fought to hold my position. I couldn't do it. I collapsed on my bed, pulled the damning toy from my pussy and laid clutching myself as my fingers rubbed at my aching clit. I remember climaxing again with a smaller orgasm that felt like an echo of the orgasm I had just experienced. Was it an echo or an extension of it? None of it seemed to matter as much as the warm feeling of joy and happiness I felt.

Beth's voice had gotten softer. I saw her lips moving for a bit before she held them tightly closed in a thin strip. Finally she stopped and looked at me as if she was leaving a fugue-like state. She was breathing heavy and I saw a bead of sweat on her forehead. "Wow, that was intense," she said, holding her sketchpad at the edge of her knees and making small adjustments with her pencil. She shook her head like a sleepy person fending off sleep in class might do. She took another deep breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I purred. In truth? I felt heavenly. "How about you? It looked as if you got lost for a while."

"It felt like, too," she said, squirming as she looked at her drawing. "I don't think I need to do that again." I asked what she meant. "Talk like that while I'm in front of a model. I said bad things, didn't I?"

"You said hot things," I said, giving her a warm smile as I watched her. It slowly dawned on me that Beth wasn't sure what she had said. I asked her.

"Not really," she said, looking away from me as if she was ashamed.

I sat up and scooted to the edge of my bed. I held out my hand for her sketchpad. "Show me," I said.

"It's not done," she said, holding it closer to her chest.

"I don't care," I said, hoping I wasn't violating some unspoken arrangement between a model and her artist. She had shown me her other drawings, so I didn't feel wrong asking to see this one, too. She passed the pad to me and I fell speechless for a moment as I stared at her work. Again, there was no mistaking that it was me. She had captured my face with near photo-like realism and I looked as if I was having an orgasm. My eyes were tightly shut, my head was tilted back and it looked as if she had captured me in the middle of an orgasmic contraction. I saw my fingers around the base of Kong and how I was gripping my nipple so tightly. As I remembered my orgasm, I wasn't holding my nipple as I came, I was rubbing my clit because I had needed the extra stroke. My guess was that she had already captured my hand on my chest and left it there as she made the other adjustments. The final thought I had was how complete this drawing looked compared to the first one she had shown me. If I looked closely, I could still see the stick figure wearing balloons of her beginning, but deeper, darker lines stood out defining the real drawing.

Instead of handing her back the sketchpad, I stood up, crossed to her and kissed her on the lips.

"It's beautiful," I said and I felt a tear in the corner of my eye. I caressed the side of her face and kissed her again. "You're beautiful," I said because she had to be a beautiful person to hold on to a gift as strong as her drawing skill. I gave her back her pad, stood behind her and leaned over her shoulder as she considered it again. "You were making love to me as you drew that, weren't you?"

"Yes," she admitted in a quiet voice. "I'm always making love to models when I draw."

I slipped my hand over her shoulder and inside her peasant shirt top. My hand cupped her breast as I asked, "Only when you draw?" She put her hand on top of mine but didn't pull my hand away. Instead, she held it there as my fingers found her nipple. I don't know if I made her nipple hard or if it was like that before my fingers found it. It didn't matter.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking backwards and up at me. I kissed her lips.

"Are you?" I asked hoping she wouldn't say "no." She reached over shoulder and caressed my chest.

"Can we eat first?" she asked, still holding my hand against her tit and caressing my nipple with her other hand. I blinked, surprised. "I'm really hungry," she said and I started laughing as I realized she was serious. "I so sorry, but I skipped breakfast this morning and, well, you know how things are on weekends at the cafeteria." Still laughing, I glanced at my clock as saw it was nearly twelve-thirty. We had half an hour before the cafeteria would close until four.

"Deal," I said and I kissed her again. When I felt her tongue against my lips, I was sure she wasn't going to renege on our deal.