Body Wisdom & Uncompromising Portraits

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  One night as she was leaving, as abruptly as she’d left every other night, Tomas followed her out, several paces behind, and just as she reached her car, he called out to her.

  Sydney whipped around hearing her name on his lips. She hadn’t remembered him ever saying it. In fact, he had said so little, she wasn’t altogether sure it was Tomas calling to her. “Yes?” she said, as she watched him make up the remaining several feet between them.

  “I was wondering. . . .” he said.

  “Yes?” She was afraid of his question, but looking forward to it at the same time.

  “Would you like to join me tonight?”

  “Join you?” she asked.

  “At my apartment. I’m sure you’re also having trouble not completing what we begin every day.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.”

  “So?”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll take out my frustrations with my trusty vibrator. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

  He looked at her oddly. “May I ask why?” he asked.

  “Frankly, Tomas, you look so much like my husband, at least your body does, that I’d feel really strange.”

  He chuckled. “What irony,” he said. “I thought you were separated from your husband?”

  “We are, but there’s still a lot of feeling there, a lot of unresolved feeling, and I don’t want to complicate it. This whole arrangement has already complicated it more than you know.”

  “It just seemed so natural,” he said.

  “I know, but not tonight.” She was having trouble rejecting him. There was nothing but sex to gain, and that might be good or bad, though she really had little doubt that he’d be a terrific lover, just from the energy of his body.

  Oh, and she did know that body well, including places that were especially sensitive. The poses were cursory tentative explorations that lovers make. And the two models knowledge of each other was quite extensive, even though they were not lovers. But Sydney couldn’t respond to him, it seemed so emotionless, as if the only thing involved would be bodies and physical heat and sexual lust. She knew nothing of Tomas, much less of him than Malcolm, and with Malcolm she’d always believed that there was some real emotional longing involved.

  Back in her apartment, the vibrator worked well. Sydney found it a useful ritual to lie back in bed, turn on the thick gently vibrating implement, pleasing herself with it plunged deeply into her already sopping cunt. Her fingers manipulated her clitoris that was sore and tender and willing to explode with just a little manipulation. Yet, she took more time that just mere minutes to get herself off. The longer the sensations lingered, the longer they pleasantly moved through her thighs, and through her belly, and even jolted her ass end. The more delicious the climax, the happier she was. For a long half hour she satisfied herself, as much as being fully satisfied could be accomplished without the help of a real erection.

  And which erection was it that she wanted? she wondered every night. Gabriel’s? Malcolm’s? Tomas’s? Her mind would flit from man to man, and she was still never certain which one moved her more, which one had the greater appeal, which one, if any of them could hold her heart. Ah, Gabriel still had the lead in that race. In spite of his judgments, in spite of his anger and passionate rejection of her, she loved him, especially when she remembered all the tenderness that had once been between them.

  Now, however, Sydney could imagine the other two moving into that place in her heart. It seemed easier sometimes to assume that her relationship with Gabriel was too far over the edge for possible repair. Starting fresh with either of the other compelling handsome men had its advantages and its lures.

  On the fifth day of the “Sydney/Tomas” series of sketches, Malcolm wanted them in the morning, so he could catch them in a different light. Sydney thought this session would be easier without the shadows of evening to cast their erotic aura, as if those shadows swiftly moved them into the natural sensuality of the night, and the danger there. She thought she’d conquered the evening, had mastered the techniques to thwart the surges of desire that would rise. Morning would be a breeze, compared to that.

  When Sydney arrived at the studio a little early, Malcolm was there alone, in the midst of moving sketches from easel to easel, his critical eye making decisions on each picture as he moved from one to the next.

  “You having problems with this?” he asked, as he put the sketches away, and walked toward her. She was putting her bag and shoes away on a shelf.

  “No,” she answered. “Why would you think that?”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious. You’ve been avoiding being with me since Tomas appeared. Perhaps you’d rather have him?”

  “What do you expect, Malcolm, the way you pose us? Don’t you suppose I get horny, all this hands on thighs on hips, on cunt posing?”

  “Certainly, that’s why it surprises me that you haven’t wanted to make love.”

  I have wanted to make love. But then, Tomas hangs around, and I’ve been tired, and somehow it just hasn’t seemed right.”

  “I see. I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “And I’ve missed you too.”

  They were about to kiss, and likely would have made love, but Tomas chose that moment to step through the studio door, and the little spell that had been cast, rapidly faded. Sydney was aware of the change immediately, when she realized that her desire for Tomas was instantly kindled again.

  “Syd, on the couch, lie back for me, will you darling?” Malcolm said, not wasting any time.

  “On my back?”

  “Yes, your arms over your head, like I might tie you down.”

  “You going to do that too?” she asked lightly.

  “Ooo yes, I’d like that, but that’s personal,” he said, smiling.

  “And this is not?” she queried sassily.

  “You keep acting bratty, and I’ll make it very personal.”

  “You haven’t seen bratty yet,” she said. She lay back on the couch as Malcolm described, her body like a feast, breasts falling against her chest, the slight swell of her navel heaving gently up and down with each breath, the lovely indentation of her abdomen, and then the mound, with the silken blonde hairs sticking up every which way, defying any attempt to tame them. There were goosebumps on her thighs that moved sumptuously before both men’s eyes, as they watched Sydney settle into place. Frozen, as if bound in a most enticing pose.

  “Lovely, darling,” Malcolm exclaimed, as if he was in awe. “Now Tomas, sit next to her at her hips, so that when you bend over you can kiss her below her breasts.”

  Tomas was as compliant as a lamb—with a wolf’s eyes. He was even more dazzling in the light of day. Once he’d disrobed, he took his seat, his familiar body appearing even more virile than she remembered it. His well-defined muscles, his thick thighs, and even his faint flaws, like a scar on his chest where he said he was cut in a knife fight, and a distinctive birthmark on his hip all added to the perfection.

  Tomas leaned over and kissed her lightly on her navel.

  “What are you doing?” Sydney laughed. “That tickles.”

  Tomas looked up and smirked. He leaned back, and kissed her again, and again.

  Sydney was giggling, her body jerking, her breasts swaying erotically.

  “You two want to get busy? I have sketches to do,” Malcolm said with irritation showing.

  “She’s aroused,” Tomas murmured, only so Sydney could hear, as his eyes connected with Sydney’s eyes.

  “What was that?” Malcolm asked.

  “She’s aroused,” Tomas said a little louder.

  “What does that have to do with it?” Sydney blurted out, between the kisses that Tomas continued to scatter on her tummy.

  “I’m enjoying this,” Tomas said.

  All the days they’d been together, he’d hardly uttered a word. Why now? In the morning, in broad daylight, in front of Malcolm.

  “Will you make him stop?” Sydney said, between gasps
for breath, as Tomas’s hand was parting her legs wider than they’d been, a finger running all along her inner thigh to her cunt, and then tickling the outer rim of soft fleshy folds.

  Sydney jerked away.

  “Will you two behave, you’re acting like kids,” Malcolm said, sounding very serious. Tomas stopped.

  It was difficult from that moment on to concentrate on the passive repose, to hold the artistic expression on her lips, and not think of Tomas continuing with his artful finger maneuvering along her thighs.

  And the jovial light in the man’s twinkling eyes never did fade. Every once in a while his lips kissed her belly again, and she jolted.

  “You two need a break,” Malcolm finally said, stepping away from the easel and walking forward. A least an hour of this tease had passed.

  Rather than rise as Tomas normally would, for a glass of juice, or the bathroom, or just to stretch his muscles, the model resumed the tease on Sydney’s body. Not satisfied with just the toying that made her giggle, he went beyond kisses, with hands stroking her thighs and midriff, and then cupping her breasts.

  “Tomas, please,” she murmured, though she wasn’t jumping up from the couch, and she wasn’t bringing her hands down. They remained fixed above her, as if she was tied there and couldn’t move.

  “You’re liking it, Sydney, why protest?” Malcolm interjected, suddenly much more interested in what the two models were cooking up.

  She stared from one man to the other, even while Tomas attentively played with her pussy. Voluntarily parting her legs wider still, his fingers were deep inside, and in and out giving her a decent fuck all by themselves.

  Malcolm sauntered toward the couch watching the show, enjoying every minute of the lusty battle of wills. In spite of all of Sydney’s objections, she wanted it as much as Tomas. It was a moment Malcolm knew would happen, eventually; and the very look of it pleased him. Dropping to his knees, Malcolm moved where Sydney’s immobile hands were pretending to be tied. He held them fast, stroking her arms, and advancing on the lips that had so often welcomed him.

  Two men, two diverse ends to her body, two welcoming mouths, her lips and cunt, welcoming two men. Eagerly.

  “Ah, ah ah ah . . . .. “ the sounds from her mouth died away, when Malcolm moved to kiss her.

  Tomas was erect; and the full, generous cock was welcomed by her pulsing cunt. Pushing her legs apart, he bent her knees, and his hands reached around to grasp her ass, as he plunged deeply into recesses that so far he’d only gazed at longingly.

  Watching Sydney’s body writhe in response to Tomas, Malcolm finally rose from the floor with his own erection growing. He stood over her face and leaned in, pressing himself toward Sydney’s lips, and found her mouth eager to please him too.

  They were using her shamelessly, but she couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t stop herself. Her body, overriding a mind that realized how indecent this was, moved happily giving to both men. She bucked her hips in reply to Tomas, as her mouth lapped at the purple cock head at her lips. Her hands remained above her head, still pretending they were tied. Maybe it helped her to think that this was an involuntary act of resignation, even when it was completely voluntary. Not a choice she’d consciously made as much as allowed, at first she was too appalled to protest, later she was so eagerly involved for her own body’s enjoyment that she didn’t want it to end.

  Tomas stopped short of orgasm inside her; pulling away, he dropped between her legs and played with her cunt until she was jerking orgasmically, even though he wouldn’t let her come so soon. Changing places, Malcolm turned Sydney over on hands and knees, and plowed into her backside, while Tomas reclined at the other end of the couch, under Sydney’s mouth.

  Whenever Malcolm played with her anymore, he always played with her ass, with his fingers, sometimes his cock; he had no plans to change his methods this time. A rich soft cream sitting in a convenient jar moistened her rear door, the penetration of his fingers gliding easily inside. Malcolm probed her there until he finally pulled out of her cunt and placed the head of his cock at her sphincter. A gentle shove and he moved inside her easily, producing savage pangs of pleasure, until she could get used to the bright burning feast of sensation. With her eyes closed she could see colors flashing in front of her. Brilliant green like a psychedelic masterpiece ignited for one split second, then disappeared as violet took its place, only to be replaced by a vivid blue.

  Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but Tomas’s demanding prick before her. With her subconscious will now fully in charge, she became the willing benefactor of both men’s pleasure, until both were joyfully releasing, Malcolm first, deep inside her ass with bright colors still playing before her, and Tomas, seconds later, as he bathed his modeling partner in hot wet cum.

  Finished, Malcolm pulled from her, rapped his limp cock against her ass, and then walked away.

  Sydney might have objected to his hasty retreat, except that Tomas turned her about again, and pulled her cunt to his face, his lips, teeth and tongue finishing what had been started in that musty fragrant place. He watched as she shivered, her pubis rising against his mouth asking for more. And letting the climax move through her, Sydney’s delicate cries were the only sounds around them until Malcolm spoke.

  “Stay there, let me sketch you,” he said.

  “No!” Sydney had the presence of mind to object.

  “Do as your told,” Malcolm countered her. “I’m paying for your body, I’ll use it anyway I want.” His completely sincere and humorless demand would not go unheeded; so for the next several minutes while the artist worked, Sydney remained, legs wide open, cunt well splayed, Tomas looking as if he was about to descend on her pussy again with a playful mouth.

  Only when Malcolm finally walked away from his the easel were Sydney and Tomas certain he was finished with scene. The artist’s sulking seemed like an odd way to end the ménage-a-trois, but regardless, he wasn’t talking much.

  “Are we done for the day?” Sydney asked.

  Malcolm turned watching Sydney sit up on the couch. She looked well screwed, disheveled, bleary eyed and tranquil. It couldn’t have been a better state of mind for his purposes. “No, take a break,” he said. “I have several more things in mind for the next couple of hours.” The artist went off to the kitchenette and made himself a sandwich, while Tomas and Sydney stared at each other, odd expressions of puzzlement on their faces, though there was nothing to say. Resigning themselves to several more hours of sexual repose, they got up to stretch their limbs and clean away any lingering traces of sex.

  Once they started again, Malcolm was as ruthless and cold as he’d ever been with his models. He insisted on one standing pose that had Sydney bend forward in Tomas’s arms. It was the most awkward and uncomfortable pose so far. But despite her protests, she remained flung over and red faced for at least twenty minutes while the artist worked. Other strange poses followed. It appeared that Malcolm was either testing his models or simply experimenting. In either case, they were exhausted with little more than another hour’s work.

  That day, Tomas left the studio first, leaving Sydney alone with the sullen Malcolm.

  “What the hell got into you?” Sydney asked, as she pulled her T-shirt over her head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t like him fucking me, did you?”

  “I had a great time,” he replied. “Got everything I wanted.” His upturned lip made the most devilish smirk on his lips.

  “And then you act like a regular prick ever since? You’re pissed. Admit it.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into things,” Malcolm replied.

  Sydney eyed him for some minutes, getting no admission of jealousy, so she shrugged him off. She was sure of what she was getting from the man, but was much too tired to argue. She finished getting dressed.

  “I am glad you finally came around, Syd,” Malcolm said as she was about to leave.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”


  “That’s probably what’s pissed me off the most,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Trying to take the high road, pretending you weren’t aroused by what’s been going on the last few days. It’s not like you, Sydney. You’re much too passionate a woman to deny your sexual urges.”

  “Deny my sexual urges? Is that what I’ve been doing?”

  “It’s obvious. You must have been leaving here so wet between the legs you could hardly wait to get home and plant a plastic prick in your cunt.”

  Sydney wasn’t going to admit he was right, she didn’t like his condescending tone.

  “It’s true, I’d be dead not to be aroused by the two of you. But I had no intention to fuck you both. Of course, I should have guessed that was what you were aiming for, with Tomas looking so much like Gabriel.”

  “I promise you, that wasn’t planned. Not overtly. But then, I don’t think it’s hurt anything either, has it? Not with the way you respond so nicely. Today should make the next few days even better.”

  “So screwing the two of you is just part of the project?”

  “In a manner of speaking, I suppose. You were much more compliant afterwards, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve been compliant all the way through this, Malcolm, and you know it. Though sometimes, I think it’s all an elaborate hoax, just to get Sydney fucking like a whore. All your poses, all the sexual positions that just miss being openly blatant. Even today, that little scene you concocted? Just like the prelude to real love.”

  “Now why would I be doing that?” Malcolm asked.

  “Perhaps, it’s all just in my twisted mind,” Sydney said. “But I don’t put it past you to be deliberately getting your kicks while you work on this project. I don’t doubt you’ll have some terrific paintings before it’s over, but your methods are hardly ‘above board’.”