Body Wisdom & Uncompromising Portraits

by Lizbeth Dusseau

Kurt threatened to run off nearly twice a day, but generally I’d do the running off, hiding in the attic, which is what I called the upstairs because it seemed more romantic. On this day however, I was hiding in my sheltered cove on the beach, loving every ray of sun that was warming my naked skin.

  “Why should I do that, let you use me?” I asked him.

  “Because I’m horny,” he said.

  “Can I keep my antique hall tree in the hall?” I asked, hoping to blackmail another piece of my stuff into his Spartan surroundings.

  “No,” he said.

  “How about the stereo cabinet?” I asked.

  “I already have one,” He said.

  “Two bricks and a board?” I protested.

  “You want to make love or not?”

  “I don’t know,” I told him. I sat up on my blanket, looked up at him longingly and then grabbed his hand to pull him to the sand with me. And with an impish feeling suddenly bursting through me, I exchanged places with him—rising myself, while he was going down to the ground. Before he knew what was happening, I dashed quickly from the beach to the house, naked as a Jaybird, running at full speed with my rear end jiggling for his eyes. I was in the attic in seconds, panting out of breath.

  Staring out the window I watched Kurt appear from the hiding place, look up to the house, and then slowly make his way back up the sandy stairs to the porch, where he disappeared from my sight.

  Laying back on the bed, I looked at the headboard and foot board seeing the soft leather straps we used nights before still tied there where we’d left them. It may have been the attic but the room was going to be my “dungeon.”

  I had my eyes closed when he entered but I could tell by the way I was tingling between my legs that it was Kurt. I could also tell by the way when he straddled by torso, and leaned over to bind my wrists, that it was his long loose hair caressing me everywhere. It was fresh washed, still a little wet and smelling like some herbal shampoo that I’d brought into his house.

  He didn’t have to bind me, because I didn’t want to move. I wanted to be taken, effortlessly made love to with my limbs captive, my body captive, and especially my sex captive to whatever whim he had in mind. Just being in the same vicinity, the same room, the same space with him when we were thinking sex was enough to have my cunt juicing, enough to make my nipples tighten in anticipation of his fingers pinching them until I squealed. It was enough to make the thirst on my lips unquenchable, until his lips pressed against mine.

  Kurt bound me anyway. While keeping the leather straps around my wrists and ankles loose enough to be comfortable, I could still feel the definitive way he yanked the end tight to the bedpost, securing me beyond my ability to release myself. At all four corners, it was the same ritual, before he continued on with other things, before any kiss, any breath upon my skin, any tiny caress that might fan the bright burning flames of arousal. It was only his hair that teased me.

  Once he was finished, I felt his tongue first on my navel. He’d never started there before. He was staying away from my lips, deliberately. Moving from my navel, he licked my tender underarms and I was squealing wildly, starting to thrash about the bed, as much as I could in bondage. I wasn’t going anywhere, so he kept licking me there.

  “Please touch my cunt!” I begged him.

  “Huuuummmmm.” That was the extent of his verbal reply. He continued torturing my underarms, and the backs of my arms, and my sides, where it was sidesplitting laughter amid my shrieks.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” I was wailing.

  He came up for air, but didn’t stop, though he did move on to my nipples and breasts, and I knew there’d be a round red hickey on each white mound of flesh when I finally opened my eyes again.

  I practically orgasmed the second two fingers pushed into my pussy and anus. The simultaneous assault had me thrashing again. He subdued me with his other hand claiming one breast, and his mouth at my clitoris taking me some place further than I’d gone before. I was reaching for it, and he kept taking me further out in some stratosphere of feeling. And then, finally falling back into myself, Kurt was right in middle riding me hard, descending on me, with his movement making me soar again until he couldn’t delay my crescendo, and the finale ripped through me.

  I don’t remember his orgasm as much as knowing it happened, and that he was collapsed at my side, acting as exhausted as I felt.

  “Kurt, hon,” I said, after a few minutes of after lovemaking silence.

  I’m not sure Kurt wasn’t dozing off.

  “What’s happening, Jess, wasn’t that enough?”

  “Enough yes, but my arms?” They were aching a little still tied, as were my feet.

  My distress woke him up, and he turned to his side.

  “I like you like this, you can’t run away from me this way.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one that goes running off,” I protested. I was getting nervous because he pushed off the bed and looked like he was going to get dressed and leave me there.

  “Kurt!” I whimpered loudly at him.

  He laughed and returned to me, hovering over my face, licking my lips and then slowly setting me free of the bonds.

  “Damn! The things you do to me,” I gasped, thinking I wanted to go right back into this wild body ecstasy again. He looked down at me with more warm smiles. “Someday will you take me here in the dark like this . . . . when it’s pitch black, and all I can hear is the sound of the ocean and you breathing.” I looked up at him just swimming in the fantasy.

  He snickered. “I was planning that for tomorrow, Jessie, but since you beat me to the idea . . . I guess I’ll have to do something else.”

  “Oh,” I groaned displeased.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to disappoint you.”

  “Maybe I should tie you up next,” I suggested playfully.

  “Not on your life,” he said, bristling. “What more could you possibly want? You’ve already got me tied to you?” He was smiling again.

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “How’s that? Tell me.”

  “Well, let’s see. I’m tied to your body.” He leaned in and kissed my navel. “And to your heart.” Moving up he kissed each breast. “And to this beach house with you in it.” He leaned in and planted a long deep wet kiss on my lips.

  His admissions were the kind of thing a maverick like Kurt hates to admit, so I said no more, letting all the kisses that followed speak for him.

  I could tell I had him captured, as captured as I was by him. With any luck at all, we just might keep this odd romance going. The body joy was too much to part with, I knew that now. And with a common wisdom of what really mattered, we could keep our wits about us, and enjoy this bliss the way it was meant to be enjoyed.

  Uncompromising Portraits

  Chapter One

  Sydney walked into the studio with her portfolio under her arm, ready to set up for class. The bustling day was giving way to a calming evening, as she pulled herself from the tedious frenzy of her job, and the cluttered undone things at home to paint for two peaceful glorious hours. Just walking into the art studio was donning another persona, the sensuous arty bohemian woman she wished she was more often.

  “Sydney!” Someone called her out of the blissful reverie, and she turned to Malcolm Eisley, her art instructor.

  “Yes.”

  “I was wondering, my dear, our model called me just a half hour ago. She’s sick, and is going to have to cancel tonight. Would you like to substitute for her?”

  Sydney’s eyes widen as Malcolm’s message registered on her brain. The startled expression of surprise quickly faded into a pleased smile. Model naked? It was a stunning suggestion, though the thought of it was not altogether unappealing.

  “Of course we’ll pay you,” he said. “The usual twenty-five.”

  “Sure,” she answered, surprising herself. Twenty five dollars was one night of tips at the Espresso Cafe.

  “Great!” Malco
lm said, pleased. He gave Sydney the once over with his eyes, certain he’d found the perfect replacement. “There’s a dressing room and a robe in the bathroom.”

  This was art, not sex, Sydney thought, but even so, she was tingling sexually all the way from her breasts to her toes.

  “No clothes,” she confirmed.

  “No clothes,” Malcolm repeated.

  She sighed softy, thinking of when she sunbathed on a nude beach or in her backyard. Somehow that was not so suggestive as this would be, here in the classroom, with people she knew. It was a strange, but very appealing intimacy between the artist and model. She’d already experienced it a number of times from the artist’s point of view.

  Sydney disrobed in the bathroom, putting her clothes in the closet, and grabbing the soft black rayon robe that was hanging there. When she returned to the room, it had filled with a dozen students setting up easels around the small platform where she would sit passively for two hours.

  She was proud of herself being asked to pose. Perhaps it was a reflection of all the work she did at the gym to keep in shape; though the gym had done nothing to create the perfectly beautiful breasts that were luckily just the right amount, so she thought, and so did her husband, Gabriel. There were goosebumps the instant she sat down in the middle of the room and let the robe fall open around her. The two soft mounds rested against her chest, the nipples, chilling a bit in the night air, tightened just slightly into generous buds.

  Malcolm looked at her with an appreciative eye, as he pulled the robe completely away. He was pleased with the lovely naked woman he’d just uncovered, all the more pleased with his inspired choice. He was more than a little surprised that Sydney had agreed to this.

  For this session, Sydney would sit in the straight backed cloth covered chair. The thought of twelve pairs of eyes staring at her sent yet another shiver of erotic arousal through her. Gabriel would be the beneficiary tonight, she thought, as her mind and imagination warmed her body.

  “Thank you for doing this, Sydney, you’ll be as perfect as the model I planned,” Malcolm told her. His natural graciousness put her at ease.

  Malcolm Eisley was an amazing man. Somewhere in his forties, he had a flamboyant manner, and yet a gentility that was a testament to years spent in Europe studying art. For his age he was a most enticing man, with eyes that sparkled, a warm inviting smile, and a youthful exuberance to his compact body. He moved with such grace, it was hard not to be mesmerized by the charisma he shared with those around him.

  “Should I smile?” Sydney asked.

  “Look natural, comfortable, a little sensuous perhaps,” he suggested. “And remember, don’t be offended by the way you’re rendered, each artist will see something different in your body. Remember, we are experimenters.”

  Sydney thought of that, how she loved to draw with a live model as her subject, feeling the essence of the human spirit transmitted to her in its raw form. Her job was to give it life on canvas. There was a sensuousness about the whole endeavor that was in her blood. It was something that pervaded body, mind, emotions, and everything she was. To experience the beauty of the human body, and put it into a tangible form of art was as natural to her as breathing, as essential as eating food. She couldn’t really explain it, but now, to suddenly pose as the artist’s model, she felt as much the artist as the art itself.

  The exposure was not all that alarming after the first half hour. She was so delighted with the experience, she could have pranced about without a stitch, and not even care—though that possibility did not present itself. This was such a delicious state of freedom, she wanted to leave her clothes aside forever, and walk nude throughout her life. In this tiny place, this small sliver of time, she felt as unfettered as she’d ever been, and only wished it would go on forever.

  Two hours before the twelve pairs of eyes went by much faster that she expected it would. It seemed they were just getting started when it was time to end.

  Seeing Gabriel’s face in the doorway of the art room, just before ten o’clock, shocked her; as it pulled her back to the reality of her own life.

  As the class finished, and Malcolm dismissed the students after a brief lecture on form versus substance, Sydney dashed to the bathroom and quickly dressed.

  “What the hell are you doing!” Gabriel shouted in his loudest whisper as they walked out of the studio toward their car.

  “Malcolm’s model canceled,” Sydney said evenly. She was a little surprised by Gabriel’s reaction.

  “So you’re eager to step in?”

  “You’re upset?”

  “You’re damn right I am.”

  “That’s really sweet, but this is life drawing, it’s art, not sex,” she informed him. It was probably not a good idea to mention how sexually aroused she was. She’d even planned to begin a little oral sex in the car on the way home, but she opted for a more subdued approach.

  “Sydney, it’s you, naked, in front of a dozen people,” Gabriel replied angrily.

  She smirked at him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and a pat on his bottom as she climbed into the car.

  “I’m serious, Syd,” Gabe said, reading her amusement, as he climbed in the driver’s seat next to her.

  “It’s twenty five dollars,” she informed him.

  “Like a whore!” he snapped back.

  “That’s enough Gabe! It was nothing of the sort.”

  She was about to turn away from him, but decided on a better revenge. Putting her hand between his thighs, she began to rub him lightly. Then reaching in further, she felt his cock rising as she stroked him through his pants.

  “Stop it, Syd,” he said.

  “No,” she replied. She had her fingers at his zipper, drawing it down carefully. “My you dressed fast tonight.” He wasn’t wearing underwear, so she popped the hard cock out seeing the deep purple head as she went down on it with her mouth.

  “How am I suppose to drive?” he protested.

  “Carefully,” she purred, coming up for a breath. “This has never bothered you before,” she said before she went back to work, massaging the hard shaft with her lips. She ran her tongue over the head, just under the rim, and Gabriel pulled at her to stop.

  “You can have it all when we get home, but I can’t drive now,” he said. He would seem to have forgiven her. She agreed to stop, as long as she could stroke it slowly, while he drove the rest of the way home.

  In the driveway, she refused to let Gabriel out of the car, as her lovely head went down again on his erect penis. He ran his hand through the soft curls on her head, the close cropped mop of ash blonde hair looked rather lovely, the way it moved so sensuously in his lap.

  She used her hands and mouth on his throbbing penis, until he felt the explosion about to take over. A sudden raw surge, a wild gasp of pleasure, and when Sydney’s face appeared to him again, her mouth was bathed with his juice.

  “I bet my modeling made you horny,” she suggested, as she took a Kleenex to wipe away the cum.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re going to do it again,” Gabriel warned, the sexual mood quickly broken.

  “Don’t act so jealous,” Sydney said. “It doesn’t become you.”

  “You are my wife.”

  “I know, and I didn’t fuck a soul tonight. Maybe you should come watch next time. You might have a completely different feeling about it.”

  “Next time!” he said.

  “If there is one.”

  “You didn’t schedule something, did you?”

  “No, but if he asked again, I’d probably say “yes”.”

  “If he asks again, you say “no”!”

  The two argued about it all the way into the apartment, Gabriel slamming the back door behind them once they were inside, just to punctuate his anger.

  Sydney turned to see her husband’s Latin eyes gleaming. He was such a hot headed asshole sometimes, though maybe this was what made him such a hot lover. And it was the lover side of him she wanted most right t
hen. Getting him off didn’t do anything to alleviate the gnawing pain between her legs. Remembering her evening of sitting naked, watched intently by such appreciative eyes, there was suddenly a rush of feeling she couldn’t deny. She didn’t like the fact that she’d have to pacify him to get what she wanted, but she would.

  Sidling up to her husband, Sydney raised her lips to his. She ran her tongue against them, as she pushed her groin into his thigh.

  “I already came,” he reminded her, with a disinterested tone of voice, still nursing his righteous indignation.

  “Yes, but you can’t leave me hanging?”

  “Oh, yes I can,” he told her.

  “Don’t be upset, please, we’ll figure this out. What I really need is you right now.”

  Sydney pulled him toward the bedroom, walking backwards, looking into his deep brown eyes with her most seductive expression beckoning him on. He let her lead him into the bedroom, where she lay back on the bed and began pulling off her clothes.

  “It’s throbbing darling, please.” She crooked her finger at him, a pair of dancing hazel eyes led him closer to her.

  She was spread out and waiting, her pink cunt, just shaved below the tuft of silky hair above, glistened in the dim light that came in through the window.

  Gabriel teased her, as if he wasn’t going to help her out.

  “We can go on all night, Gabe,” she whispered to him.

  “You think you deserve it?” he asked her.

  “You had a pretty good time in the car didn’t you?” she reminded him. “Just think, there’s a lot more of that.”

  Gabriel hedged a moment more, then crawled up on the bed, and hovered over Sydney’s spread out legs. With a sassy smirk on his face, she knew he was going down between her thighs, and take care of the lush feelings that were waiting to be released. When his mouth descended, he surrounded the swollen bud, flicked is tongue about it, and then settled in with two fingers going inside the dark damp hole.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” the soft moans and whispers ascended into the air. Short gasps of breath gave way to a long ecstatic cry. She churned against his invading hands and tongue, then twisted away when the orgasm made her clit too sensitive to suck.