The Model, Chapter 1 (m/f, cons)

[Larry Mika]

This story is Copyright 1996, int...@xnet.com

Why? Because I don't want scum bags making money off my hard
work. Please feel free to e-mail me with comments, criticism, or
suggestions for Chapter 2. I wrote this in response to my new
girlfriend asking me to fax her a fantasy of mine. She was
expecting a one paragraph response, and I thought it deserved
more of an effort.

The Model

Chapter 1 - The Ad

Karen was more than a bit nervous when she picked up the phone.
She couldn't believe she was about to answer the ad in the back
of the local arts & culture weekly. It was Friday night, and she
had just picked it up at the train station on the way home.
Paying the rent was always a problem. Karen did well as a
graphics designer, but she liked to pamper herself, and usually
ended up a little short at the end of the month. This month was
worse than usual. With the click-clack of the wheels on the
track in the background, Karen distracted herself reading about
the local scene this weekend. A gallery opening, two new
underground plays, the same DJ's at the clubs. The personals
were always great. She stopped and laughed:

Submissive boy wanted by two dykes for our pleasure, no sexual
intercourse with us. We want you on your knees, we want your
butt and mouth. Be generous minded!

My god, she thought, who could be so kinky? Who could ask for
such a thing - not just ask, but advertise it! She didn't
realize that the wild can be masked by the demure; like a Fabrege
egg with its surprise hidden inside the ornamentation. She
certainly didn't see this in herself. She couldn't be so bold,
she was too shy. Not shy in the usual way, just in matters of
sex. Well, not even sex, intimate sex. Personal sex. Anything
that bares your heart, in the smallest of ways. To most, Karen
was one of the boldest women on the planet. She had a big mouth,
and wasn't afraid to use it. She was her own woman, sassy and
bitchy, not taking shit or presents from men. She wanted to be
the boss. The controller, not controllee. It was her way of
masking her inner shyness. She had a fear of finding someone she
truly loves, finding a soul mate, finding an equal. Why? Pride.

An only child, her parents showered her with both love and gifts,
she was materially and emotionally spoiled. She wanted to grow
up and make them proud of her. She wanted to be successful, and
have a lavish lifestyle. And she didn't want it handed to her on
a plate by a man. As a child, she never played with dolls, she
was a tomboy. She wanted to show everyone she could hold her own
against the men. She overcompensated. She bossed men around,
called the shots. When she hit her teen years and her figure
started to take shape, she was so beautiful that they soon caved
in to her. She got used to it. Roll over now! But it was all
just a cover-up, a facade. She could order a man to fuck her,
and she even came sometimes. But, she didn't even want to think
about asking for something more personal, or more bizarre, in
bed. Getting too close. Gotta keep some distance to keep
control.

Shocked (although she would never admit it), she flipped past the
wicked personals to the ads in the rear. "I've got to find a way
to make a hundred bucks quick," she thought. Then she read it.
She moved on. She turned to the next page, but something made
her turn back. She fixated on the ad.

Artist seeking young, slim brunette model, 5'4 to 5'6, pretty
face, but not the girl next door. Small breasts a big plus.
Must be comfortable with being photographed in the nude. No
Playboy types or pros. $100 for two hours work. Call Larry at
.......

Karen couldn't believe she was staring at the ad. "I've never
been photographed nude," she thought. Not even by boyfriends.
She would never allow that. "I couldn't!"
When the train reached her station, she stood up to leave, and
left the paper on the seat. About two steps from the door, she
went back to get it. On the walk to her apartment, she thought
about that ad. Up two flights of stairs. A hundred bucks in two
hours. Easy. All she had to do was slip off her clothes for a
little while. In front of a guy named Larry. What the hell kind
of name is Larry for ar artist? Maybe a comedian. They're all
fucked, she thought.

She walked to the phone, and put the receiver to her ear, keeping
her finger on the cradle button. The sound of the dial tone was
taboo. She closed her eyes and moved her finger. Dial tone.
Looking at the paper, she punched in the numbers. It rang three
times. She was ready to hang up when it was answered.

"Hello, this is Larry. Talk to me."
What a cocky son of a bitch, she thought. "Um, hi. My name is
Karen, and I saw your ad. Did you find a model yet?"
"I'm always looking for beauty." His voice was deep and strong.
Confident. Not a limp wristed art scene type.
"So, what do I have to do for $100. Is this some kind of a
scam?"
"No games. I am a painter, and I need a new model. I photograph
women instead of making them sit still for hours on end. Have
you been photographed before?"
"Not without my clothes on," Karen replied.
"Great. Are you nervous," Larry questioned.
"Very," she admitted, unusually. She hated being seen as
anything but brash.
"Even better. Tension is necessary for great art. So what do
you look like? Describe yourself."
"I'm 33 but look 23. I'm about 5'4, dark, straight brown hair,
thin but not anorexic."
"Tell me about your breasts."
"Well, they're sort of medium sized. Maybe a little less than
medium," she corrected herself. "Perky. My nipples get hard
easily. Absolutely no sagging. And they're real."
"Do you like your body?"
"Yes and no," she searched, not really wanting to tell the truth,
but somehow feeling like blurting it out anyway. She needed the
job, she couldn't afford to blow it. But, she hated to show
weakness.
"Explain." Direct. Confident. Cocky.
"I wish my breasts were a little bigger. Finding a bra that fits
well isn't easy, an A cup is way too tight, and a B usually
leaves a little extra room. I want them bigger to balance out my
figure."
"Are you bottom heavy," he questioned. It was like a slap in the
face.
"No! I have a nice ass, I'd just like to take some of it and
move it to the front." Fuck you, Mr. Artist. I'm just fine.
"Well, it looks like I'll have to concentrate on your breasts and
ass. Come to my studio at 7 tomorrow. Here's my address."

Karen took down Larry's address and agreed to come. She asked
him what she should wear, and he told her to just be herself.
"Be myself? What does that mean?" she thought, hanging up the
phone. She never considered doing something like this in the
first place. This was not her, not even a bit. She was still
thinking about it all as she fell asleep that night. Eight hours
of shitty sleep.

Saturday afternoon, Karen was having second thoughts. How could
she possibly take off her clothes in front of someone? She
really needed the money. Rent was due on Sunday. She had to do
it. As the time came to get ready, Karen decided to be a siren.
The only way she could get through this was to be someone else,
to be her "bold" persona. She couldn't let him see inside her,
and she couldn't show fear, or even unease. She put on just the
tiniest bit of makeup, she never used it and didn't need it. Her
skin was so soft and young looking, slapping anything on top of
it would just be a detraction. She put on a natural shade of lip
gloss. Be yourself. Yea, right. She chose a short black dress
that she bought for a social a few months ago. Wore it once. It
wasn't too racy or conservative - just right. She had a pair or
bikini cut white panties underneath. No lace. It didn't matter,
she figured.

She zipped up her dress, and looked in the mirror. She unzipped
her dress and removed her bra. No need for that, either. She
took a moment, just looking at her breasts. In a little while,
they would be bared for a stranger. It was the first feeling of
excitement that hit her. Se was a bit ashamed and confused. She
covered her breasts, then let the top of her dress down slowly
again. The brush of the fabric across her nipples made them
stand at attention. Or maybe it wasn't the physical rubbing at
all, maybe it was the thought of showing her breasts to a strange
man. She closed her eyes and lowered her dress to her navel. "I
can do this," she muttered. After what seemed like an eternity,
she opened her eyes and looked at herself, standing topless. The
corners of her pouting mouth turned up slightly, forming the
weakest of smiles. She pulled her top back up and fixed her
dress. "Well, this is it," she said aloud, as if looking for
support. There was none, just the bare walls of her apartment
reflecting her voice back to her.

The buzzer sounded to let her in the door. Number 302, she said
to herself. Up the stairs, lots of 粗m. The door was open, and
she let herself in. He walked around the corner, and Karen got
her first glimpse of the artist. He was handsome, about 6 foot,
muscular, hair as dark as hers. "Well, at least he's cute," she
thought to herself.

"Hi, I'm here!" she said.
"I'm Larry. It's nice to meet you, Here. What an unusual name,"
he responded, trying to put her at ease with some humor.
Larry wasted no time with small talk. Karen was exactly the kind
of girl he wanted. Delicious. Exotic. He pointed to a spot on
the floor where she should stand.
"Have you ever modeled before?"
"No. Not at all."
To put her at ease, Larry explained that he would start taking a
few pictures of her in her dress, and a few close-ups of her
face. "Don't try to act like a fashion model, and don't smile,"
he advised.
"And then what do you want me to do?"
"Everything I say."
Karen nodded slowly in agreement, although she could feel an
involuntary twitching in her arms. She didn't like taking
orders. Not from anyone, particularly a man.
"You need to relax. If you're not comfortable, it will show. Of
course, uncomfortable can be sexy too."
Larry went to the fridge at pulled out a bottle of Cristal, Louis
Roderer's finest champagne. The only French champagne in a
crystal clear bottle. No need for green glass. A bold statement
in a wine. "OK, so he's got some taste," she thought. He
unwrapped the cellophane, and gently pulled the cork, being
careful not to pop it. "OK, so he really knows what he's doing
here," amending her mental note. Then, to her surprise, he
pulled out two small snifters, not champagne flutes or saucers.
"I've never seen anyone serve champagne in a snifter before,"
Karen remarked, taking her glass from him. Their hands brushed
briefly. It sent a river of adrenaline cascading down her spine.
She never felt this way before from just an innocent touch.
"It's better than a saucer. Concentrates the vapors, just like
with a fine cognac or armagnac."
She raised the glass to her nose and waved her hand over the top,
directing the evaporated spirit to her sinuses. It was strong,
and she rubbed her nose, trying to keep from sneezing and blowing
her cool. After all, she always had a decent bottle on ice at
home. Eliminate the necessities and live for the luxuries, that
was her motto.
"And bubbles," Larry added. "You can make them dance." He
placed his forefinger in his mouth, slowly pulling it out again.
A quick circle around it with the very tip of his tongue. He had
her full attention. He placed his finger on the rim of the
glass, and ran it around and around, establishing a rhythm. The
glass began to sing, an unearthly low hum. Disturbing in a way,
like an out of tune pipe organ. Millions of tiny bubbles formed
in the glass, and danced in patterns. He stopped and took a sip.
"Let's get started," he signaled. They finished their first
glass and poured another. She went and stood in the spot he
pointed out earlier.

Larry picked up his camera and adjusted a single, stark light.
He started photographing her face, from different angles. "Don't
smile," he kept having to say. After a few shots, he stepped
back to shoot more of her body. That slinky black dress.
Perfect. Karen could feel her nipples getting harder with every
click of the shutter. With every slight turn of her body. The
material dragged across her bare breasts. She could feel the
moment of truth arriving.

"OK, it's time to get a little more daring. Are you up for it?"
Larry questioned.
"Sure," she replied, trying to sound at ease. She wasn't. She
couldn't believe what she was about to bare. "I need a hand with
my zipper," she uttered quietly.
Larry stepped behind her, undid the little hook at the top of her
collar. He slowly pulled the zipper down. His left hand was
firmly on her waist. When her dress opened, Larry picked up his
glass, and dipped his finger into the sea of bubbles. He ran his
wet finger down her back, all the way to the bottom of the
zipper.
"I couldn't help myself, I hope you don't mind," he apologized.
She said nothing. She couldn't speak. She opened her mouth, but
nothing came out. Larry walked in front of her.
"Now pull your top down," he ordered.

Karen closed her eyes and obeyed. God, she hated that word.
"Obey," no way, not me. But she did anyway. She opened her
eyes, and saw him admiring her breasts, bared for the world to
see. He smiled and picked up the camera. Turn left, turn right,
bend over a little more. Stop smiling! Karen was losing her
nervousness, becoming more comfortable showing off in front of
him. She stopped and drank the rest of her glass in two gulps.
She picked up the bottle and poured another. Her dress fell
lower and lower with every photo. Every turn caused it to lose
its grip on her waist. When it stopped moving, Karen slid her
hand behind her back and gave it a little help. She hoped he
didn't notice. She was starting to get aroused. He dress made
the final slip, losing its grip on her hips, and draping to the
floor. She stepped out of it.

"Now sit down," Larry directed. He made her arch her back, and
twist to show the gentle curves of her breasts. More photos.
Each reverberation of the shutter click added a dew drop of
moistness between her legs. Her panties were starting to swim in
a sea of passion water. Without prompting, Karen slipped her
panties off. She looked up at Larry, and for the first time,
noticed a growing, moving swelling in his pants. He was erect.
Karen couldn't imagine what she was doing. She was completely
bare, naked in front of a stranger she just met. That wasn't
like her. She was a good girl. Strong in character. Not
submissive, not a follower. Her next thought scared her. She
wanted to suck his cock. Unbelievable! Not touch him, or share
a tender kiss first, just to unbutton his pants and slide his man
meat in and out of her mouth.

Larry took more photos of her in a variety of positions. He
stopped to change film. Karen continued to drink the
effervescent nectar in her snifter. It was going directly to her
head. They took more pictures with the new roll. Karen was
definitely, unarguably wet.

"Now it's time to show more of your ass," Larry stated. Karen
was nervous about her ass. Always had been. But, she kind of
liked being told what to do. Usually, she bossed her men around.
She wasn't used to taking orders. Larry made her lay down and
twist in different ways to show off her ass more. She was trying
to avoid it, and Larry could sense it.

"Roll over and stick you ass in the air," he commanded.
She couldn't believe that was the kind of photo he wanted. None
of the nudes in his studio were pornographic, they were quite
tasteful. But, she did as she was told. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw his hand put the camera down on the table.

"What are you going to.... Ohhhhhhh"
He violated the model-photographer no touch rule. His hands were
massaging her ass, running up to her hips, her waist, and back
down again. Down the crack of her pretty behind, between her
legs. Karen spread her legs very slightly. His hand found the
space that formed. The side of his finger brushed against a very
moist area. He didn't linger, pulling his hand back out, and
standing up.

"We're going to do something different now. I want your whole
body to shine in the light. I hope you don't mind a little oil."
By then, she would have covered herself with Saudi Arabian heavy
crude just to get the chance to suck his throbbing prong.
"Sounds great," she said, trying hard not to lose composure.

He pulled out a silver mylar sheet, like a plastic drop cloth for
painting, but silver. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a
bottle of extra virgin olive oil. How ironic. "Do you have any
more champagne?" Karen yelled. The distinctive pop a few seconds
later answered her question. Larry walked out and handed her the
oil. They shared another glass of the mind numbing elixir.
Larry picked the camera from the table, and started shooting as
Karen oiled her body. She started with her breasts, and worked
downwards. She thought she was soaking in it.

"No, no, no," Larry chided. "I want you really covered. Stand
up."
The silvery plastic crinkled under her feet. "Close your eyes,"
he advised. She did. What happened next, she couldn't imagine
in her wildest fantasies. He took the bottle and poured in over
her head. She squeaked, but obeyed. He ran his hands through her
hair, making sure it was completely saturated. He rubbed the oil
all over her, touching her breasts for the first time. Karen was
ready to jump out of her skin. "He's touching me!" was the only
thing she could think. Larry covered her from head to toe. He
commanded her to lie down. He rubbed the oil between her toes
and fingers, between her legs. He could smell, through the heavy
scent of the oil, that she was wet. That warm, slightly musty
smell of damp pussy filled his nostrils. He breathed it in like
fresh air after a rainstorm.

Larry stood up and wiped his hands clean. Karen wished the
massage would last longer.
"I liked that," she admitted.
"I know," he answered. Cocky bastard.

Larry clicked away as Karen tossed around on the oily plastic.
She put her hand between her legs. She wasn't thinking was she
was doing. Larry stopped, sat sown and watched.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, sitting up.
"Keep going," he said.
She was turning a little red. She never touched herself in front
of a man before. Not even her old boyfriends. Her hand slid
back between her legs. She couldn't look at him. Just couldn't.
"Look at me."
She looked up, stared into his eyes. A smile broke on her face.
The shy, "good" girl Karen was masturbating in front of a man she
just met. Who could believe it? She couldn't. He could. Karen
lowered her body again and continued, exploring the crevasses of
her vulva. After a few minutes of self pleasure, she stopped.
She didn't want to come alone.

"Show me your cock"
He stood up and removed his clothing, piece by piece. His boxers
looked like a circus tent. He slipped them off, revealing a
large, hard, fun pole. Not the largest she'd ever seen, but much
bigger than most of her old boyfriends. "Come here."

He walked across the slippery sheet. She sat up and took his
love pump into her mouth, all the way. She slid it in and out,
rubbing her tongue against the sensitive part and the underside
of its purplish bulging head. She didn't want him to come in her
mouth. She only let someone do that once, and was a bit afraid
about doing it again. That was about as kinky as she ever got.
Larry laid down with her and they shared their first kiss.
Sparks flew. It was like arc welding two large sections of pipe
together. Their mouths were joined as one, their tongues probing
each other. The oil was starting to get all over him. They slid
around together on the plastic, she grabbed his cock and started
pumping him, like she was trying to draw water from a campground
well.

"I can't believe I sucked your cock," she whispered. "I'm pretty
shy about these things."
"Well, your shyness about things is going to end today. " He
rubbed her breasts. She stuck out her chest, pushing back
against his hands. He pulled his hands away, and she pulled him
close.
"Are you ashamed of your breasts?"
"No, they're just a little small."
"They're perfect. Show them off for me." He pulled away.
"Stick out your chest."
She complied, shaking them back and forth, as if she were a
dancer wearing tassels.
"Good. How do you feel now?"
"OK, I guess. I'm a little shy about this. I know that sounds
hard to believe, but I am. Showing off my body, my breasts.
It's not the kind of thing I do."
"You've been hiding your ass from me all day," he said, ignoring
her. "Turn over."
"No."
"Yes!" he exclaimed, flipping her upside down. "Just lay there
and let me look at your ass."
"It's too big."
"Have you ever shown off your ass to boyfriends?"
"No. Never."
"You've never used your ass for pleasure?"
"No!"

Larry didn't say another word. He started kissing the back of
her neck, sliding his oily cock between her velvet cheeks. He
worked slowly, sliding his tongue down her back. He was sucking
the small of her back, not just kissing, but pulling a vacuum,
leaving the smallest of teeth marks. His hands were rubbing her
butt cheeks in wide, slow circles. The spiral massaged narrowed,
with each revolution moving closer in to the center. His hands
moved into the crevice of her ass, where no one ever touched her
before. Deeper into her crack, until only one hand would fit.
He was now kissing her left ass cheek and rubbing the entire
length of her most private area with his right hand. The back
and forth strokes were getting shorter, focussing on one area. A
place she had never been touched before. She never though she
would let someone touch her like that.

She started to tense up. Karen was both nervous and excited
about what he might do. A tingling was racing through her veins.
She was hoping he would do it. "Please, closer. Move your
finger closer. Right there, yes. Rub me there." Karen didn't
know if she said it or thought it. Larry didn't say anything.
She couldn't be sure. Would he? Yes. His finger rubbed her
asshole, running little circles around it. Karen moaned. That
he heard, she was sure. He oiled up his finger and probed her,
just a little bit. He gently slid the tip of his index finger in
and out. Her new found love orifice tensed around his finger as
he slid it deeper with each violation of her most taboo part.
"Finger fuck my asshole," she said. This time there was no
doubt. He heard it and chuckled softly. Cocky bastard, how can
I let him do this?

Karen couldn't imagine herself letting a man do this to her, let
alone liking it. He told her to turn over again and lay on her
back. She did it immediately. He lowered his lips to her pussy
and started licking. The licking quickly became sucking. His
fingers probed her vaginal opening, which grew wide enough to fit
him as soon as he touched her. It was her body saying she was
ready to be fucked. Karen started to grind her pussy into his
face, pulling his hair to force his mouth tighter against her.
He pulled his fingers out of her, and moved one of them an inch
or so lower. She moaned as he violated her ass opening again.
He continued, using his mouth and finger to pleasure her. Before
she knew it, she was upside down again, with her ass up in the
air.

He pulled her back, making her ass rise higher. He parted her
cheeks with both hands, kissing her in the area where the gentle
crease starts, signaling the end of the back and the beginning of
something not to be seen in public. Every kiss moved lower and
lower. "You have a pretty little asshole," he said, parting her
cheeks wide. She didn't know how to respond. He kissed her.
She couldn't believe he did it. She went nuts. She hoped she
washed well that morning. He did it again, lingering slightly
longer. She loved the feel of his soft lips on her opening.

"I've never had my asshole kissed," she said.
"Do you like it?"
She waited to answer, afraid to confess. He kissed again.
"Yes."
He pulled himself up and rubbed his thunder rod between her butt
cheeks. He took the tip and pressed it against her opening.
"Oh my god," she said again. The tip of his cock entered her
ass. It was pleasure and pain mixed together as one. It was too
intense.
"I can't, it hurts too much. I'm sorry."
"It's OK," he said, sliding his prick into a much more welcome
place. He thrust in and out, taking her doggy style. She never
fucked that way before. She was a control freak, and before
today, never let a man tell her what to do. She was always on
top. Being taken like an animal in the wild was like pulling off
the veil she used to cover up her inner self. No one had done
it. No one had broken through and made her feel so vulnerable
before. She was totally submitting to a man, a strange man, for
the first time. And secretly liking it.

Karen could feel the whiplash of his balls against her clitoris.
It didn't take too many of those deep, violet strokes before she
came. She never came so fast and hard in her life. It was
amazing. Her head was spinning, and her body soon followed. She
was under him again, with her ankles on his solid, wide
shoulders. The tip of his lightning bolt was pressing the top of
her insides. Or maybe the bottom of her outsides. Impossible to
tell. She though she could feel him in her throat. Every
thrust, whether slow or fast. She could feel every bump, ridge,
and vein on his cock, as if it were a book in braille. A long,
cylindrical book being rammed into her pussy. A roll from the
devil's player piano.

"I want to make you come, I'll do anything you want."
"Anything?" he asked.
"Well, almost. I can't handle too much pain. Maybe a little
bit."

He pulled his cock from her fleshy sheath and rubbed it between
her breasts. She pushed them together a bit, trying to come up
with more cleavage. He grabbed her hands and pulled them away.

"I love your tits the way they are."
"They're not too small for you?"
"No way!"

Each stroke of his cock was like an electric shock to the
pleasure center of his brain. The oil made it great. Slipping
and sliding made his cock happy. It was his turn to go crazy.

"I want you in my mouth," she said. What made her say that?
Once again, she was out of control. Totally and completely. He
was quite willing to take her up on her offer. A few more
slippery strokes and he crept up toward her mouth. She closed
her eyes and opened wide. He paused.

"What?" She didn't know what he was about to do.
"You look so sexy with your mouth open, waiting to take my cock
inside."
She blushed again. Arrogant, but a fuck machine like she never
experienced before. He slid his cock into her warm, soft mouth.
Her tongue felt incredible. A few more gentle thrusts. She
loved the taste of olive oil and her own poontang. It wasn't
long before it took on a salty flavor also. Larry moaned forever
as his love juice squirt into her mouth. It felt great. Fucking
is wonderful, but coming in a woman's mouth is much more
pleasurable. Pussies don't have tongues. Karen swallowed
deliberately. One gulp, get it over. Wash it down with some
more champagne. He never suspected this wasn't part of her
normal repertoire.

They kissed for a while longer, then decided to move to the
shower and try to wash the residue away. The entire room smelled
like an orgy at an Italian restaurant. Larry turned on the
water, and adjusted the temperature. Luke warm. Cooler than
normal. He needed to be refreshed.

Karen picked up the soap. Purple. She held it to her nose,
freesia. "I love freesia," she thought. She always treated
herself to the best bath products. Too much self pampering was
impossible, even on a budget. They tried in vain to wash the oil
from their spent bodies. She in the shower would have been
great, but they were too worn out. It was also getting slippery
in the tub from all the oil. Don't want to fall!

Larry held her arm, her waist, every part of her. He wouldn't
let go. The soap ended up being a slippery toy, used not only
for lather, but for probing as well. They washed each others
bodies completely, twice. Every part. Karen shuddered as he ran
his soapy fingers up the crease of her behind again. Too much
pleasure. Too many new pleasures. "Christ, I'm a slut!", she
thought. "He completely had his way with me. I did everything
he said, and then some. I can't look at myself. What would my
girlfriends say? They would never respect me again, submitting
entirely to a man. And on our first date! Not even a date, our
first meeting. I wonder if he wants to see me again?" The
thoughts flashed through her mind. Spun through her mind. In
fact, everything was spinning a bit.

"I had so much champagne."
"Oh, but doesn't it feel good?" he said, reassuringly.
"Yes, but I need to step out for a minute. Don't look," she
cautioned, pulling back the curtain.
"What do you have to do?"
"What do you think? We had two bottles, you know."
"Say it." He grabbed her arm, stopping her from stepping out of
the tub.
"I have to pee."

He grabbed her hair, pulling her head backward. The kiss, long,
slow, deliberate. His right hand caressing her cheek, sliding
down to her breasts. Playing with her nipple. He turned his
hand around, pointing the fingers downwards. His left hand let
go of her hair, and slid to the small of her back. Still, the
kiss. His hand moved along to her lower abs, in perfect shape.
He pressed inwards. Karen could feel a warm trickle down her
leg, contrasted to the coolness of the water. She broke off the
kiss, "I'm sorry!"

"About what?" He knew, he felt the tiny spurt of warmth where
his leg touched hers. He pressed again. Another trickle, a
little bigger this time. The water beating down on them washed
away the fluid on her thighs. His hand moved further down,
cupping her womanhood, rubbing, massaging. He kissed her again.
She let out a little pleasure moan. Another little trickle. In
his hand. He continued to rub her, to kiss her. More fluid
poured out of her. It gave her great satisfaction, to empty
herself in front of him, on him. The water washed everything
away. She started to feel more in control, more like herself.
The warm sensation in his hand just aroused him more. The little
soldier was awaken by her golden reveille.

Karen dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth again.
"God, what a sucking machine," he thought. She pumped him like
she was stealing gasoline from a pickup in back of a redneck bar.
Her lips covered her teeth, forming a smooth chamber of joy for
his love rod. She switched back and forth between sucking and
using her hand. Her hand technique was great, too. She had a
firm grip, using just her thumb and index finger to encircle his
whack axe.

Karen let go and spun around. She dropped her hands to the tub
floor, water pelting her back and running down her face. She
turned her head to the side and took a small drink. "I want you
inside me again, in my ass. Do it! Do it now!"

She took enough orders today, now she was giving them. She was
letting him get a little to close, too personal. He made her
feel like no man ever had. Larry complied, dropping to his knees
behind her. He rubbed the soap in his hands to create some foam.
He applied the lovely floral lather to her behind, probing her
with his finger. He gave he another kiss down there. A little
too much soap in the mouth, he thought. He scooped water with
his hand to wash it off, and kissed her again.

She sat up and turned around. Grabbing his head like a play toy,
she kissed him and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He started
to do the same.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed. "Press your lips together as
hard as you can," she directed. This time, he was the one who
complied. She kissed him again, tensing up her tongue to make it
as hard as possible, forcing it in and out between his clenched
lips. After a few probes, she stopped and backed away. "Get the
idea?" She turned around and assumed her former position under
the deluge from the shower head.
This time, it was Larry who couldn't believe it. "Did she just
tell me to do what I think she did," he wondered. Well, it was
time to find out. He lowered his head, running his tongue gently
up and down her new found love spot. "Do it now!" she commanded
again.

Larry firmed up his tongue and slid it into Karen's asshole.
Just a little bit, as if testing for a response. The response
was immediate. Karen put her head onto the floor of the tub, and
reached behind her with both hands, grabbing him by the hair.
She pulled him into her ass. His tongue was no longer probing in
and out. It was in. She was loving it. Last night, she never
would have imagined doing this. Never. But, she was taking
control back from him, making him her fuck slave, and evening the
score. She clenched her ass tight, squeezing down on the tip of
his tongue. She did this rhythmically, as if trying to cut the
end of it off with her sphincter.

She let go of his hair and started to rub herself again. This
time, she didn't care about masturbating in front of him. How
could you possibly be embarrassed about that when a guy has his
tongue up your ass? She started to sway and buck, and didn't
notice that Larry extracted himself from the flesh-prison grip in
which she had held him. He inserted a finger, this time much
deeper than before. He worked it around in a circle, while
lathering her up again with the soap. He pulled his trusty digit
out of its place, and used it to force more lubrication inside
her.

Her asshole was becoming more relaxed, starting to release its
death grip. He inserted two fingers this time. She tensed up as
he forced them inside. She stopped rubbing herself for just a
second. This is what she wanted, what she asked for. But it
hurt a little. Could she take his cock? Would it be like when
she lost her virginity, a few minutes of pain followed by the
very first rush of new pleasure? "God, I hope I don't bleed like
that again," she thought. "No fun."

Larry stroked his tool to make it as hard as possible for the
task at hand, so to speak. He withdrew his fingers from her
orifice, trying to keep it spread open. He worked the tip of his
cock inside, and grabbing her waist, pushed with full force. His
pickax started to move. Karen tensed up, feeling his full size
as he forced his way past her outer muscles. Just a few inches
inside, the pain was growing. She rubbed harder. He started to
move in and out, being careful not to penetrate too far. The
pain subsided, and she let herself free. A new experience. She
stopped rubbing her pussy and scratched at the bottom of the tub,
as if looking for a handhold. She wanted to pull away, but she
wanted to push back at the same time. He fucked her in the ass,
and she started her squeezing again. If a woman's mouth is twice
as good as her pussy, her ass must be at least ten times better.
The clenching force is so great, it's like falling dick forward
into a milking machine. It wasn't long before he came inside her
ass. He gently pulled out, knowing this is the second most
painful time for a woman who likes anal pleasure. They stood up
and soaped themselves off. The water was causing their skin to
crinkle like a raisin. She turned the water off and stepped
outside, without kissing him. She just signaled approval of what
happened with a coy smile.
Finishing up, Karen dried herself off, some residue of the oil
remained. It would take a few days to completely wash clean. A
few days of memories about this evening at the photographer's.
She went to her purse and fished out a cigarette. Not just any
smoke, mind you, an exotic one. A Sherman. Not her usual
Dunhill Milds in the blue box, the official cigarette of her
majesty the queen. Very difficult to find in the city, it can be
identified from across a crowded room, with its colored body and
gold filter. She chose a red one. She also pulled out a blue,
and put both in her mouth. Larry came out and sat next to her.
She struck a wooden match, the kind used to light fine cigars.
She lit both and put the blue on in Larry's mouth. He didn't
back away. She didn't expect him to. They shared another glass
of champagne. A great after-sex combination of hedonistic
tastes. Like a Portago and Port, a Coronado and Cognac, the
Sherman and Champagne went well together. Karen took a long
drag, slowly blowing the smoke straight up in the air.

"So, do you do this with all your models?" she was dying to know.
"Right now I can't think of anyone but you."

End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Their First "Real" Date
Coming soon, I hope!