by Priya Grey
She’s back from the dead and back in my life.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her body is much more relaxed. The pleasure I brought her with my fingers has only intensified her desire. I can see her life force burning brightly in her eyes. She wants to fuck. I can sense it. The sexual tension, as it permeates my studio, is palpable.
I desperately want to be inside her – and to taste her mouth and cunt.
I want to ravish every inch of her body.
But I must restrain myself.
I have to finish painting her first.
Which is no easy task, especially when my cock is aching for her.
Especially when my heart and body want to embrace her in my arms and kiss her, then embark on a passionate dance of sexual expression.
I want to fuck you, Ashley, like you wouldn’t believe. I want to make love to you until I’m drained and exhausted. I want to fuck you until you’re truly satisfied and made complete.
But I can’t. Not yet. I have to paint you first.
An hour passes without me even noticing the time. I’m so lost in the act of creation, trying my best to express the inner beauty I see in the woman sitting before me. I feel like I’ve entered another realm of existence. I feel like the universe is communicating through me as I paint. I’m in the zone, just like an athlete gets in the zone. I’m riding the wave of inspiration that has sprung inside me. An inspiration that materialized the second Ashley re-entered my life.
After another hour of painting, I step back from the canvas, exhausted, and study my work. I glance at Ashley, who hasn’t moved a muscle the entire time. Her eyes are still fixated on me. I glance back at the canvas, at my clumsy attempt to capture her beauty.
I haven’t even come close.
My painting doesn’t do justice to the incredible woman sitting before me.
I adjust my crotch. My cock has remained hard for her this entire time.
As I look back at my painting, I realize it doesn’t capture everything I wanted. I’m not satisfied with my work, but then again, I never am.
But I’ve done all that I can right now. Any further painting might ruin what I’ve tried to express.
I breathe a sigh of sadness as I place my brush down. I have finished the painting, which means this memory is now over.
I glance at Rebecca, still sitting there, her blonde hair sparkling from the sunlight streaming through the large window behind her. She looks radiant. Alive.
“We’re finished,” I say out loud, a sadness creeping into my voice as I realize this memory is now truly over.
She scoots off the chair and quietly gets dressed. She then timidly walks toward me and the canvas. When she sees the painting, her jaw drops.
“Oh my God. That’s beautiful!” she declares.
“Thanks.”
“Do you mind if I take a picture?” she asks.
I’m jolted back to reality. The illusion is over.
Ashley never asked to take a picture, because her phone battery had died.
“Sure,” I shrug.
Rebecca quickly takes a picture of the painting. As she puts away her cell phone, she looks at me.
“You’re really an incredible artist,” she says.
“I just paint what I see,” I tell her.
“Well, what you want to see,” she replies, staring at the portrait again.
She glances at me with those brilliant deep-blue eyes that remind me so much of the woman I love.
“When do you want to see me again?”
“Next week,” I reply. “I’ll send you another script.”
She nods and smiles timidly. “Okay. I’ll see you next week.”
I watch as she leaves my studio, closing the door behind her. Then I turn and stare at the portrait again.
As I study the painting, I realize something is off. I thought I was painting Ashley, but on closer inspection, I notice that this painting is slightly different from the one I created years ago in this very same studio. There are more hints of red and purple in this painting. There’s also a softer tone to it, although it’s still very passionate. I also realize this portrait doesn’t contain the hints of sadness that the original painting I did of Ashley had.
That’s when I recognize the truth: Even though I thought I was painting Ashley, the person I captured on this canvas was Rebecca.
Chapter Sixteen
Rebecca
As I ride the subway home, my body begs for a release. I still can’t believe I sat naked, in front of him. But most importantly, I can’t believe I let him play with me like that! His touch felt so good. And the way he talked to me, made me feel so beautiful and attractive. I’ve never had a man make me feel that way – so wanted. My body responded, enjoying the new experience. As he softly rubbed my clit, and whispered those naughty things into my ear, I couldn’t believe how turned on I got!
My body was like an instrument expressing a long-hidden song under his masterful hand. But just as that song was about to reach its crescendo, he stopped! He returned to his painting! And I was left sitting there, exposed, starving for more of his attention.
When I finally get to my apartment and step through the door, I see Kristi standing in the kitchen having a cup of coffee.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You look a little flushed.”
I smirk and nod, trying to hide what I’m feeling. “I’m fine.”
Then I show her the picture I took of the painting. Kristi’s jaw drops, just like mine had. “This is amazing. You look amazing!”
Kristi had rehearsed the script with me, so she knew what was going to happen once we arrived at his painting studio. She cocks an eyebrow and looks at me mischievously.
“And was Mr. Jackson Miller as good with his hands in another areas?” she teases.
I nod vigorously, biting my lip.
Kristi shoots me a concerned look. “You look like you’re about to explode from all that pent-up sexual energy.”
“I am,” I blurt.
“Well, the apartment is all yours,” she informs me. “I just got called in last minute for a recording session. Whoever they hired before got sick. It’s some radio commercial for a new air purifier, or something like that. I forget. They’ll tell me when I get there. Anyway, I gotta run.”
Kristi finishes off her coffee, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and heads to the front door. Before leaving, she turns to me and says, “I think this is good for you, Rebecca. I always thought you needed to let your inner goddess out. Just don’t disturb the neighbors.” She flashes me a devilish smile and finally leaves.
The minute the door closes, I rush to my bedroom and throw myself on the bed. I hike down my jeans and slip my fingers under my panties. I vigorously start rubbing my clit as I picture Jackson standing close to me, saying all those dirty things. He’s so incredibly hot. And the fact that he’s such a talented artist only makes him even more attractive.
How did he know saying those things would get me so horny and wet?
Granted, he wasn’t exactly saying those dirty things to me. He was saying them to her. But right now, I want to believe he was saying those things to me, only me.
I’m a relatively conservative person when it comes to matters of sex, but his words really turned me on. And undoubtedly my body enjoyed everything he was saying and doing with his hand. My pussy didn’t want him to stop! And I’ve got to admit, neither did the rest of me!
But he did stop.
Just as I was approaching orgasm.
So now it’s up to me to finish the job. As I continue rubbing myself, I feel a warm wave wash over me. Then the muscles in my body begin to tense up. Since I’m home alone now, I let myself moan out loud, giving vocal expression to the joy rushing through my body. When the orgasm finally arrives, I can’t help but shriek with delight as I rock back and forth on the bed.
When I finally calm down, and catch my breath, I look around my tiny bedroom in disbelief. I’ve never experienced an orgasm like that on
my own, while masturbating. But then again, I’ve never had someone as attractive and handsome as him say things like that to me.
Lying in bed, I replay the events of the day over in my head – our encounter in the museum, our lunch date, then sitting exposed for him in the studio. Did all this really happen? It feels like some kind of strange dream.
Then I receive a notification on my phone.
Jackson has sent me the next memory he wants to relive. As I read through the script, my cheeks flush again with nervous excitement. If I thought what I experienced today was hot and adventurous, the next memory I’m going to reenact with him will be even naughtier…and riskier.
Chapter Seventeen
Jackson
The music is blasting in the club. The DJ is mixing some get-down-and-dirty hip-hop with hot Latin music. The dance floor is packed. And everywhere I look, bodies are grinding up against one and other. Everyone is having a good, sexy time.
But no one in this place is as lucky as I am. I’m with the hottest chick on the planet. And as I feel her warm skin pressed against mine, the scent of her perfume filtering through my nostrils, I have to remind myself we’re in a public place. I can’t really do what I want to do…to her.
So, instead, we just keep dancing. Her hot body grinding against mine. Ashley drapes her arms around my neck while I squeeze her ass. Slowly, she moves her hands over my chest and down my stomach. I can feel my cock coming to life, growing inside my pants.
Ashley looks so fucking hot in this tight black dress. It should be illegal. A man can’t control himself around a woman this attractive. All I want to do is rip off her dress and tug on her nipples with my lips. Then taste her sweet, juicy cunt. As I imagine all the possibilities, she seductively sways her body to the music. I pull her closer to me, whisper into her ear, “How does it feel to be the hottest woman in this club right now?”
She offers me a sexy smile, then whispers back, “It would feel a lot better if I was getting fucked by the hot guy in front of me.”
I give Ashley a surprised look. After I painted her portrait, Ashley said I had stirred her to life, awoken her sexual hunger. I guess she wasn’t kidding. The woman dancing with me now is in full control of her feminine power.
That’s what I love about Ashley. She knows how to make me feel like a man. She knows how to say just the right thing to get me excited, to get my testosterone flowing.
As I drink her with my eyes, savoring every inch of her body, Ashley sways back and forth. She turns seductively so I can appreciate her ample hips and incredible ass. When she faces me again, I realize the words she whispered to me weren’t just sexy banter. She really does want to get fucked. Reflected in her eyes, I can see the lust and desire boiling inside her. She leans forward and whispers, “I’m getting tired of dancing.”
“Do you want to go home?” I ask.
She shakes her head and shoots me a coy look. “Don’t be silly,” she says. “I thought we could find someplace in the back where you could give me what I need?”
She steps away from me, her eyes now reflecting my burning desire. She then turns and walks off the dance floor, briefly glancing over her shoulder to see if I’m following her.
Watching her seductively walk away, I realize something: Ashley not only makes me feel like a man, she makes me feel like a lion! Being with her, awakens the alpha in me. I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to possess her. I want her to beg me to never stop fucking her. Why? Because I want to give her the best orgasm of her life. I want to prove to her, every time that we’re together, how much of a stud I can be with my cock.
Speaking of cock, I can feel mine tugging at the inside of my pants. It wants to be inside her. I hungrily follow Ashley off the dance floor toward the back of the club.
Chapter Eighteen
Rebecca
I’m nervous as I hold his hand and lead him toward the back of the club. Can I really perform the next part of the script? Ashley’s so much more confident than I am. She’s bold and adventurous, especially when it comes to sex. I’m nothing like her in that regard.
But when Jackson and I were on the dance floor – his body pressed against mine, his hands on my hips then caressing my bottom – I felt something strange start to happen. I began to feel more comfortable in the role I was playing, more at ease with the woman I was pretending to be. The lines I had to deliver came to me more naturally. And as I wrapped my arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear the naughty things I wanted, I felt strangely comfortable in my own skin.
I guess when you’re dancing with someone as strikingly handsome as him, it’s hard not to feel a rush of sexual energy. But what I have to do next will be taking this performance to a whole new level.
I’m suddenly anxious. Can I really do what’s asked of me? Part of me wants to cancel the arrangement we have. But there’s another part of me, speaking to me with a voice that I never knew I had, that wants to keep going.
Deep down, in the dark recesses of my soul, I always wanted to be someone like her – someone adventurous, bold; someone whose comfortable in her body and knows how to enjoy it.
Just like Ashley discovered the power of her sexuality when Jackson painted her portrait, I too am finding a change taking place inside me. It’s like there’s a naughty part of me that I never knew existed. And the more time I spend pretending to be Ashley, the more confident that side of me becomes.
When we finally arrive at the unisex bathroom, that strange sense of calm I felt on the dance floor returns.
I want to move forward. I want to test the boundaries of who I thought I was.
My next lines of dialogue fall naturally from my lips. They don’t sound like something scripted for me to recite.
“I need to get fucked, Jackson. I need you to fuck me hard. I’ve wanted this ever since you painted me in your studio. Let’s see if you’re as good with your cock as you are with your hands.”
My words had their desired effect. I can see the lust emanating from him.
As I push open the bathroom door, I’m shocked to see several people mingling around. This is like no other bathroom I have been in. There are men and women talking and laughing. Then I notice a few people snorting lines of coke off the bathroom counter.
According to the script, I’m supposed to find an empty stall. I swallow, as a nervous tension quickly rises inside me.
I’m about to become someone I never imagined.
And I’m about to do something in public I never had the courage to even fantasize about.
The last bathroom stall is available.
Jackson and I step inside.
He closes the door behind him.
I can hear the other people in the bathroom talking above the music blasting from the dance floor. Jackson and I exchange a heated look as I prepare myself for what comes next. This is the part when I truly cross a line. This is the part when I stop being me and transform into her.
I take a deep breath, realizing the only way to move forward and continue with the scene is to just plunge in.
I shove Jackson against the wall and begin kissing him passionately. My hands run down his broad chest and over his flat stomach, ripping open his shirt. One of the buttons from his shirt flies off. For a split second, I almost apologize. But then I realize Ashley never apologized. She just took what she wanted. And she wanted him.
I do too.
I run my hands over his imposing chest and flat stomach. If I didn’t know Jackson was a world-famous artist, I would’ve thought he was a model. He’s that handsome and physically fit.
“I need you inside me,” I breathe into his ear. I fumble with his belt and finally slide it off his pants. I then unzip his fly and reach for his stiff cock. I tug on his member. As it grows larger in my hand, I can’t help but be impressed by his girth. I’ve never been with a man so large, so blessed.
I wonder what it’s going to feel like to have such a massive cock inside me.
But Jackson
has other plans.
“Not so fast beautiful,” he whispers. He gently pushes me back, away from him. He kisses me and I savor his tongue inside my mouth.
“I want to taste you first,” he says in a low growl.
He drops to his knees. I look down. He’s staring at me with intense desire and lust. His hands slowly glide up my legs and lift the hem of my tight black dress over my hips. He presses his nose against the fabric of my panties and sniffs. “You smell wonderful,” he says looking up at me. “And I bet you taste even better.”
He glides my panties down my hips until they drop to my ankles. He presses his mouth against my sex and begins licking me. The sensation of his tongue against my throbbing clit is instantaneous. I lean my head back against the stall wall and press his head forward, urging him on. My body begs for more of his touch. I’m so enjoying the sensation of his mouth between my legs, that for a brief moment, I forget that I am actually an actress playing a role.
As Jackson holds onto my waist and makes love to my pussy with his mouth, I utter my next line of dialogue. “I love your mouth, Jackson. But now I really, and I mean really, need your cock.”
Jackson gives my clit a tender kiss and then slowly gets back on his feet. When our eyes meet, he crushes my mouth with another long passionate kiss.
“If my cock is what you want,” he growls. “That’s what you’re gonna get.”
Jackson reaches down and lifts my legs so they wrap around his waist. As he stares deep into my eyes, I feel the head of his cock press against my swollen entrance. He then eases himself forward and fills me.
I gasp. He’s so big.
But I want every inch.
As he slowly pushes all of him inside me, he leans forward and kisses me again.
“You feel good,” he breathes heavily.