She beamed serene at the vision of tropical flowers captured in sparkling watercolors, as well as elegant, richly toned oil paintings that portrayed a variety of intriguing subjects; many of them female and absolutely beautiful.
She stared in blatant admiration at images of classic icons that ranged from Queen Elizabeth I to Marilyn Monroe, from Audrey Hepburn to Hillary Clinton.
“He really does love all types of women,” she reflected, losing herself in his smooth, fluid techniques that seemed to bring out the beauty in every woman.
Her dreamy mood dissolved in a fire of anger as she saw an image that looked too familiar; and as she stared into the wide dark eyes and beheld the bronzed skin and too perfect mane of silken black hair that could belong only to Pia Samuelson, she felt a wave of rage and ire that threatened to overwhelm her.
“She’s not the enemy, baby.”
His smooth, soft voice acted like a soothing balm to calm her enflamed, fractured nerves.
Yet it did absolutely nothing to convince her as to the truth and validity of his words.
“How can you say that?” she asked, not yet turning to look at the man whose presence filled the room. “The man I love belongs to her.”
She took in her breath as a pair of warm, strong arms encircled her fully made waist and pulled her flush up against a firm muscled form; one both exciting and familiar to her heightened, inflamed senses.
“The man you love?” Emmanuel purred into her ear. “Would that be the one you married, or….”
Turning in the warm cocoon of his powerful muscled arms, Amanda looked her lover straight in the eyes and announced, “Emmanuel, our spouses are leaving us for each other. Greg gave me the news this morning. What are we going to do?”
Emmanuel shook his head.
“Women do themselves a disservice when they believe even half of everything that their husbands tell them,” he said with a chuckle, sweeping her up in comforting arms and holding her closer than close. “Let me assure you, my darling, that Pia is not in love with Greg. And, for that matter, I am no longer in love with Pia.”
Amanda pursed her lips.
“OK, so what exactly are you saying, Emmanuel?’” she snapped. “Greg insisted this morning that he was leaving me for your wife. But now you’re saying that—well at this point I’m not entirely sure as to what anyone is saying. Let me try and catch up,” she implored a grinning Emmanuel, adding as she ticked off her points on individual fingers, “My husband loves your wife. My husband doesn’t love me. You don’t love your wife. But you might just happen to love….”
The couple stared at one another for a long moment, the unspoken words hanging between them, as their joined breath seemed to suspend.
And when he kissed her, she exhaled.
Amanda thrilled as her lover claimed her lips in a hot, passionate kiss, his warm, moist lips massaging hers in a tender advance as he pulled her closer to him.
Her worries and anxieties seemed to evaporate when clasped in Emmanuel’s arms. And when he angled his head over hers to grace her with the perfect kiss, she couldn’t help but respond, plying his lips with hers as she reached up to caress the strands of his golden, heather soft hair.
Their hands and tongues united between them as they lost themselves in pleasure, kissing each other senseless as Emmanuel lead her over to a plush velvet couch that formed a centerpiece of his artist’s studio.
“If you have time today, love,” he whispered against her lips, adding as he settled her inflamed body at the center of the couch, “I would very much like to paint you.”
Amanda waggled her eyebrows.
“Interesting,” she purred, adding as she cupped his carved face in two tender hands, “Would you happen to have any of those tasty chocolate body paints on hand? Always have wanted to try those things.”
Emmanuel chuckled.
“No, you naughty girl,” he teased her, leaning upward to kiss her smiling lips before kneeling at her feet. “I meant that I’d like to paint you, as in committing your image to canvas. First, though, I have to do a little of what they call artist prep work.”
Amanda nodded.
“Well as it happens, I did take the rest of the day off at work, so I’m all yours,” she assured him, adding as she settled herself in the luxurious cushions of her apparent posing spot, “Just out of curiosity, though, just what sort of prep work did you have in mind?”
Gracing her question with a devilish, white-toothed grin, Emmanuel knelt worshipful at her feet as he told her, “I’ve always found, love, that a woman is at her most beautiful when she has just climaxed.” He paused here, adding in a soft, alluring purr, “So with your permission, I would very much like to make you come, several times in fact, before I paint your portrait.”
Aroused and enflamed by this salacious suggestion, Amanda nodded her consent as Emmanuel took her feet in his agile hands and freed them from their confining pumps; leaning downward to lick and suckle her toes and rub her tired pads.
Her contented sigh evolved into a gasp as he kissed and licked his way up her sturdy legs; those magic hands massaging her fleshy thighs as he surged upward between them—bending his golden head to capture the border of her soft cotton panties between his flawless teeth and drag them down her legs, leaving them in a cottony mass beside her feet.
“Relax, my baby,” he whispered, rubbing her full hips in smooth, hypnotizing movements before returning to the source of her ultimate pleasure. “Just let me take care of you.”
Bowing his worshipful head low above her femininity, he opened her tender folds with a resounding lick and fixed his moist, full lips onto the surface of her clit; suckling her throbbing nub as shards of pure, erotic ecstasy spiraled upward throughout her entire body.
She moaned outright as he leaned his head inward and shifted it from side to side, gracing her with the intimate kiss as his long, wet tongue flicked wild against her skin.
Reaching down to stroke his long, silken strands with tender, loving hands, she thrust her buxom hips forward to intensify the wild wave of sensation that coursed her from head to toe; a feeling that intensified and ignited as—with a last resounding lick—he sent her hurdling across the bounds of an intense, incredible orgasm.
Biting her lip hard, she threw her head back and let loose with a sharp cry as ecstasy overcame her; searing her from head to toe with a wave of incredible, satiating feeling as her heart pounded in her ears.
Her body still pulsated moments later, as her ardent lover joined her on the couch; sweeping her up in adoring arms as he once again engaged her lips in a firm, heated kiss.
Their tongues, arms and legs entangled once again as they collapsed in the cushiony depths of their own private trysting place; stripping each other’s clothes off in swift, frantic moves as he ravished her mouth in the most meaningful, passionate of kisses.
Losing themselves in both the softness of the couch and the tenderness of each other’s arms, the couple’s hips and thighs locked between them as they merged as one.
“It’s so much easier with you,” she whispered against his lips, drawing back to outline his flawless, sculpted features as she stared deep into his azure eyes. “It’s so much better.”
She took in her breath as he caught her hands in his; leaning forward to sear her lips in a fierce, binding kiss as he answered, “Don’t you see it yet, Bella? It’s better and easier because it is intended. You and I were meant to come together…. And if you need more proof of this, then do allow me to state my case—the best way I know how, baby.”
With this sexy declaration he covered her body with his, sweeping her up into passionate arms as their lips again collided in a timeless kiss. His sumptuous hands, meanwhile, canvassed and caressed her buxom breasts, her rounded stomach, her fleshy hips and thighs; soon replacing his fingers with his long, wet tongue as he licked her nipples to erect points and laved the skin of her breasts.
Wrapping her arms around his planed sturdy back and hoist
ing her fully made hips against his, she invited him inward as she threw her head back and wound her fingers in his lustrous hair.
Surely there’d never been a more perfect man than the one she held in her arms; the man who now plunged his long, hard shaft to the depths of her soaking wet pussy.
Their hips immediately claimed an easy rhythm as their bodies writhed together, their only music the pattern of their soft moans and ragged breathing as he continued to probe and penetrate her.
Sinking contented in his arms, Amanda bowed her head to lick his perfect pecs; her hungry tongue swirling his rock hard nipples as her hands teased the surface of his ripped abs before touching the base of his engorged cock.
Her every touch flared like fireworks across the surface of his flawless torso, causing him to writhe and growl like an animal unleashed as he surrendered himself to her, fully and totally.
Finally exploding in one another’s arms, the couple’s bodies reverberated together as Emmanuel surged forth to Amanda’s very core; his slithering, sweat glistened cock making a final advance to reach deep inside her and touch her soul.
They clung to one another as their eyes flew open to lock in a binding, timeless gaze that seemed to bespeak their love; their beings exploding in an incredible, soul felt orgasm.
Moments later the couple kissed, this time soft and easy as they collapsed exhausted in one another’s arms.
“I love you, Amanda,” Emmanuel gasped out, running his fingers through her soft chestnut hair as his soft azure gaze served to devour every plane of her plump, fair skinned face; his eyes adoring a visage that most overlooked, gazing upon her as though she had the face of Venus and a body he wanted to love forever.
“I love you, Emmanuel,” she answered, pulling his planed, muscled body closer than close as she asked with a shrug, “So we love each other. Grand and great! Now how do we get ourselves out of this downright cockamamie, effed up situation?”
Emmanuel guffawed outright.
“I do adore your manner of speech, my darling,” he whispered, adding as he rained her flushed face with endless adoring kisses, “Just as I adore everything about you. I must ask, however, as to why you see this amazing experience as—how did you say it? —Cockamamie?” he finished on a confused note that brought a smile to his lover’s face.
“Well I meant cockamamie in only the best, most positive, very sensitive sense possible,” she assured him with an awkward grin, adding in a far more serious tone, “You must admit, though, that—even as star crossed, misbegotten lovers go, we are pretty blasted messed up—in some ways, at least. We are both in love and married, as nature intended, but not to each other. See the problem here, dude?”
Emmanuel smiled.
“Well the way things look on my end, babe, the problem is solved. Pia and I have agreed that we’re no longer in love and are going to commence with divorce proceedings, as soon as possible. And until then, this studio you see here will double as my home.” He paused here, adding as he pinned her with a meaningful gaze, “And, if you so prefer, it could be your home as well.”
Amanda smiled.
“I think I’d like that very much, as a matter of fact,” she told him, adding as her grin dissolved, “I might have more of a problem with the idea of Pia taking my place in my old home, with my children.”
She started as her lover met these words with a loud, sharp guffaw.
“As the kids today would say, my love, no worries,” he assured her, waving away her concerns with a dismissive wave. “Pia hates kids; and, truth be told, she doesn’t like your husband very much more. He was a challenge for her, a fling; in addition, she and I genuinely thought that we were doing you a favor by involving the two of you in our play sessions. We honestly thought that we’d be swinging partners for you and Greg, nothing more.”
Amanda nodded.
“That’s what we thought too, at first,” she admitted, adding as she stared deep into his eyes, “but then, or so it seems, we both fell in love with our playmates.”
A smiling Emmanuel pulled her to him; wrapping his arms around her in a close protective clench as he revealed, “Well as far as Greg is concerned, that is most unfortunate. Pia is about to break his heart.” He paused here, adding with a pointed look in her direction, “And if and when he comes crawling back to you, Amanda, what do you plan to tell him?”
Kissing away his concerned frown, Amanda rested her head on his bulging shoulder as she assured him, “Just one word, baby. Goodbye.”
Emmanuel started.
“Are you sure about that, baby?” he pressed her, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “You and he do have a family together, after all.”
Amanda bit her lip.
“I know. And believe me, I plan to do everything in my power to protect my kids, to keep them happy and grounded through this difficult time,” she assured him, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “I can’t help but to believe, though, that my husband and I have been staying together for too long because of our kids. We haven’t slept together in ages, and I think we can pretty much agree that the spark isn’t there anymore. This is why we decided to ‘double date’ in the first place. And as you now know, he was more than willing to throw me over for the first woman that I gave him permission to be with—after one night he was ready to run.” She paused here, adding in a thoughtful tone, “As a matter of fact, I do believe that it was Greg’s strong desire for Pia that drove him to suggest our little arrangement in the first place.”
Emmanuel nodded.
“And all things considered,” he asked her, pulling her body closer still, “Are you glad you went through with said ‘little arrangement’?”
Again she answered him with a kiss; this time searing his lips with hers as she vowed, “More glad than I’ve ever been about anything, baby. I love you, so very much.”
10
Soon Amanda found herself alone at the center of Emmanuel’s couch, posed naked with a shy smile as her lover sketched her likeness; seeming to morph her into a rubenesque model through the prism of his artistic gift.
The two continued to talk and laugh during the course of their modeling session, sharing details of their lives and interests as Emmanuel’s ebullient brush continued to kiss and adorn his canvas.
Emmanuel pressed Amanda to tell him her true life’s passions; and when she revealed that she had a secret yen for writing poetry, he nothing short of demanded to hear one of her verses.
After a good bit of encouraging and out and out begging, Amanda recited a verse she’d composed a few years ago; a poem titled “Roses,” about a woman who finally has approached the prime of her life. A woman finally ready to bloom.
“Somehow that verse seems strangely autobiographical at this point,” she mused, sending a teasing wink in the artist’s direction as she added, “Dontcha think?”
Emmanuel grinned.
“Well what do you think?” he countered, shifting his easel to show her the results of their impromptu modeling session.
Amanda’s eyes flew wide as she beheld the vision of a beautiful, sensual woman; one whose ebullience easily rivaled those of the other models pictured on Emmanuel’s wall.
“Is that really me?” she asked him, voice barely above a whisper.
She smiled as her lover handed her the portrait, then sweeping its model up in his arms to gift her with a binding kiss.
“It is you,” he assured her, adding as he clutched her to him in a final embrace, “My rose.”
11
Finally tearing herself away from Emmanuel’s studio, Amanda went home with a heavy heart; not at all looking forward to the unanswered questions that would have to be resolved before she and her husband went their separate ways.
Who would get the house? How would they determine custody issues and divorce settlements? How would their two beloved kids, Emily and Jerrod, accept and deal with this whole situation? These were only some of the queries that plagued her mind as she pass
ed through the front door of their modest, suburban style ranch homestead.
Still she pasted on a smile as she prepared to greet her two elementary aged kids, who she thought would be waiting in the living or dining room—waiting to greet their mom, as per usual, before everyone sat down for a sure to be tense family dinner.
Her grin dissolved as her entrance was met with silence in the house; one that denoted an uncommon quiet and a rather eerie stillness.
“It’s never quiet around here,” she mused with a frown, thinking aloud just to fill the silence that threatened to overwhelm her. “What on earth is going on here?”
Suddenly a trickle of dread assailed and coursed the length of her stiffened spine. She quickened her steps as she trotted from room to room, her gaze searching in vain for the family that had to be here, somewhere.
“Unless, of course, Greg took them and left,” she mused, this time refraining from thinking aloud.
Indeed, she couldn’t bear to give voice to the thoughts that now ran rampant through her addled mind—and she could hardly bear to even think about the possibility of her husband taking her children.
“Greg!” she finally cried out, now desperate for answers as she stopped stock still at the center of the living room.
“I’m here, Baby,” she immediately recognized the smooth, deep voice that now flowed forth from their bedroom. “Come to me.”
Oh she came all right; she in fact stampeded into that blasted bedroom and opened her mouth wide—more than ready to give that no good sonofabitch husband of hers a piece of her mind -at least one, and very loudly expressed.
Her mouth snapped shut seconds later, as she saw a sight that nearly stopped her heart.
Her husband Greg was tied naked to their bed; his sturdy hands secured to their wooden bedpost with sleek scarves of smooth red silk.
For just a moment she allowed her gaze to run the length of his bronzed, lean muscled form; scanning and admiring his chiseled pecs, his washboard abs, his long, trim legs, as well as the long, hard cock that seemed to salute her arrival.
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