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The Handshake

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This story is loosely the second chapter of An Artist and Her Muse.

“Come on then, Nick.”

I flinched a little as my bare back pressed against the cool wall of the studio. Nick stood in front of me, a knowing smile on his handsome face. That smile told me that he knew what I wanted. My nakedness no doubt confirmed it for him.

The fact that our usual state of dress and undress was reversed wasn’t lost on me. In the time Nick had been my model, I’d studied, painted and admired every delicious inch of him. Since then, I’d had the distinct pleasure of getting to know his body much more intimately. Now I was the naked one and I felt strangely vulnerable. I wondered if perhaps he felt like that as my model. I hadn’t really thought about it before. When we worked, I tried to keep it as professional as possible; well, okay, not on the night we’d become lovers. It wasn’t that I was coy about my nakedness; I knew he enjoyed my body and thought me beautiful. It was just that it felt kind of unusual, but then so was our deal.

“Let’s do it, Nick.”

He offered his hand to me gallantly, grinning like a slightly anxious but happy schoolboy. I took it in mine and flashed him a smile. We’d talked about this and now I wanted to do it. We closed our deal, shaking hands firmly like skilled negotiators. At that moment I somehow felt that I deserved more than a simple handshake. Surely a kiss would be an appropriate if completely unbusinesslike way to seal the deal?

I held his hand gently, the contrast of his hand in mine made me smile. Mine, small, the fingers tapered and slim and paint stained by a stubborn redish pigment that had become ingrained in my skin and refused to budge no matter how much I scrubbed. His were tanned, thick fingered, the nails short and squared. In the short time that we’d know each other, I had grown to love his hands. I’d drawn and painted them many times. Nick had strong, capable hands, the kind that could build and make and mend things. Clever hands that could cook a gourmet meal, could gently stroke the hair away from my face, could grip my ass and hips in a tight embrace and pull me to him just so.

They were hands that could make the centre of the world, the juncture of his forefinger, the fleshy pad of his thumb and the exquisite pleasure pain of a sensitive nipple. He had the kind of hands that could hold me hard, leaving the palest mauve passion bruises on my skin and convince me that at that moment, I truly belonged to him.

Sometimes in a mellow mood he’d use those beautiful hands to gently cup my face, making me feel like a cherished child, while he bestowed chaste kisses to my forehead, eyelids, cheeks and the pulse in my neck. He’d make me weak with the tender pleasure of it. I’ll admit that chastity and anything remotely childlike were the furthest things from my mind as we stood there in the dimly lit studio, my heart beating fast, my head full of decidedly unchaste thoughts.

I stroked his warm, dry palm around my face, breathing in the scent of him, brushing his knuckles and fingers across my lips. I could feel the pulse at his wrist beating fast, his excitement evident in that tiny vital sign. He winced, flinching and uttering a little moan of pain and surprise as I bit the meaty pad at the base of his thumb, nibbling and sucking his flesh, trapping his hand hard against my mouth. His pain turned to pleasure as I wetly kissed the hurt away, working my tongue along the grooves between his fingers, probing into the soft cleft and creases where fingers met palm. A vision of his tongue between my legs sent an electric pulse through my body.

His hand still in mine, I placed the softest of kisses on his lips just lightly brushing against him, enjoying his warm breath and prolonging the moment when our tongues would make wet contact. Licking at the corners of his mouth, I trailed my tongue over the contours of his lips. He kissed me back firmly, slowly sucking my bottom lip into his mouth as if devouring me, making something inside me melt, turn to liquid, and slowly seep out of my body. As I pulled away, he smiled mischievously, a beautiful, naughty smile that travelled all the way up to his eyes.

“I like the way you do business Nick, I really canlı bahis do.”

My hands moved up to hold his beautifully muscled forearm. I grasped it possessively, then loosened my grip a little to thumb the tracery of blue veins and arteries that decorated the soft inner surface of his wrist. My fingers stroked the light brown curls and caressed all the way up to the curve of his bicep, seeking the baby- soft skin in the crook of his elbow. The combination of that soft, smooth skin and the inherent strength in that flesh made me swoon a little. It sounds so old fashioned but it’s how I reacted to the sight and feel of a strong masculine arm, Nick’s in particular.

“Lovely sweetman… just perfect.”

I pulled his arm towards me slightly, testing for resistance.

“Let it go loose, it’s mine now to do what I want with, that’s the arrangement, yes?”

He nodded his agreement quietly, letting his arm grow heavy in my hands theoretically transferring ownership and responsibility for it to me. I smiled my approval.

“Good, then we understand one another.”

Brushing his hand across my hard nipples would have been good and God knows I’d trembled at the smooth caressing touch of his hands on my thighs, but right now, at this very second, my want of him centred squarely between my thighs and wouldn’t be ignored.

I could feel my flesh swelling with the need to be touched. I stalled for a moment wondering if I could really go ahead with it, use him as I needed, selfishly, for my pleasure. I think he must have sensed my thoughts and my momentary uncertainty, but his words also spoke clearly of his own needs.

“Come on Ella, please. ” He nodded gently as he spoke and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

In my best schoolmarm voice I gently chided him, ” Patience is a virtue, Nick.”

I was the one, completely without virtue, when without any patience at all, I drew his hand over the curve of my soft belly and down, down to my wet cunt. I closed my hand on top of his to cup the velvety smooth mound of my warm pussy. Deep sighs escaped from my mouth as I pressed his fingers to the hot flesh, just wanting to feel his hand holding me there. I used my fingers to press his palm hard against me, sweeping it across my engorged clit.

“Ah Ell, how’d this lovely pussy get so wet?” He murmured in my ear, his breath playing deliciously on my neck, giving me goosebumps.

“Shush, you’re not supposed to speak, remember?” I held my fingers to his lips partly to silence him, partly to hide my twinge of embarrassment.

I felt my face colour at his words. Not that I could do anything about it, however much I felt myself to be in control. This is what he did to me. He could draw the very essence of me out of my flesh. I couldn’t deny or defy my body’s responses to him. It hadn’t helped that I’d spent the afternoon working at one of my paintings of him, totally distracted by the delightfully lurid images in my head of what pleasures the evening would bring.

The paintings were progressing well and I was pleased with them. To be honest I wasn’t too sure how my lust-fuelled approach was affecting my work. My output was certainly up and I was on track for the exhibition opening. In a way I felt the same way about those paintings as I did about him. I couldn’t bear to be away from them any length of time. Every deliberate stroke of my paint brush felt somehow reminiscent of his hands on my body and mine on his. The closer I studied them, the more I realised that my lust for him was beginning to reveal itself in my work.

Those sensuous canvases were beginning to shout of sex. Even the thick paint I used to form his body shape was becoming richer, creamier; the impasto had the appearance of very nearly being lickable. Every curve and curl, each muscle and every smooth expanse of skin seemed alive and ready to leap from the canvas.

Where once the passion in those paintings had been subtle, they now clearly spoke of desire and whispered of shared intimacies. I had known him with my body, felt him with my hands, seen him with much more than my eyes, and it showed. I wondered if other people would be able to tell. Surely, everyone would know? It’d be obvious to anyone who observed bahis siteleri those paintings, that we were lovers.

As the afternoon hours had crept by, the anticipation of Nick’s arrival had tugged insistently at my mind and body. It had taken all my self-discipline to stay focussed on my work. My efforts had been rewarded, for all I had to focus on now was pleasure.

Bending my knees just a fraction, I pushed his forearm lower, making him stoop forward a little, drawing him close. I wanted the tender skin of his wrist to press on my flesh. I spread my thighs and thrust my hips slowly forward and back, sliding my hot, wet pussy all the way along the inner surface of that beautiful arm of his, leaving a warm, moist trail as his skin slipped and rubbed between the spread lips. He groaned as he felt the heat of me. I could hear his breathing becoming heavy, matching my own.

The friction was good but somehow the rubbing wasn’t enough though. I needed more, something more precise, something more exact and I intended to have it. My clit ached to be stroked hard. The hot, aching emptiness that nagged like hunger needed satisfying. I turned Nick’s arm slightly, that wonderful strong arm that I’d taken possession of as my personal toy. I shifted until the bony rise of his wrist bumped repeatedly against my clit as I slid back and forth, the top of his thumb grazing gently against my ass, making me want him to press harder against that satiny skin. To push and probe and plunder me.

“Oh that’s good, that’s so fucking good, just perfect. You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect Ell, this hot pussy’s perfect…”

This time I placed my hand across his beautiful mouth to silence him, my eyes locked on his to ensure that he understood. His muffled moan of frustrated pleasure hummed against my palm, transmitting his desire directly into my skin.

Again I cupped his hand, this time with both of mine and brought his curling fingers to the wet, swollen lips of my vulva. I pressed against the hard heel of his palm, the rubbing making me stoop a little, making me bend towards him for balance, making my body buckle with the pleasure of it. I wriggled and squirmed against Nick’s hand, wanting to feel his fingers in me, sliding between the fleshy lips. I wanted him to feel the heat inside my body and the source of the wetness that his touch drew from me.

My moans were loud and my breathing heavy. The room seemed to grow warmer. Leaning my head back against the cool wall, I closed my eyes for a moment just wanting to concentrate on those heavenly sensations between my legs and the tension building low in my belly. Holding his forearm, my hands near his elbow, I pushed him back from me a little, making him take a step back. I wanted just the tips of his fingers to slide along the length of my cunt. Somehow I wanted to break the intimacy of his closeness, to remove the seductive proximity of his skin, to detach myself from the warmth of his breath, to render this purely carnal and for that, distance was required, however token.

Now the only physical connection between our two bodies was the insistent touch of his fingertips on my hot little clit. Even in the dim light, I could see that Nick’s eyes were glittering with excitement and want. His mouth fell open as he watched me pleasure myself with his fingers. He seemed enthralled, watching me intently, as if memorising the movements. I loved the idea of his eyes on me, privy to such an intimate act of self-pleasure, part of it, but at the same time, almost a voyeur. I wanted him to see.

“That’s it, just like that — that’s how I do it, just with one finger, ’round my clit, then across, mmm…scoop up some of the juice from there, ah huh, rub across and around, fuck yeah, make it slippery, press there on each side, just steady, oh yeah, that’s it, yeah.”

Clutching his arm, I used him like some kind of beautiful human fuck toy, used him to rub myself over and over, playing his fingertips firmly over my slippery pussyflesh until I could deny myself no longer.

“I want them in me. Right inside me.”

I didn’t just want them inside me, I wanted to feel those fingers, spread and stretch and fill me. Slowing to prolong the pleasure, I leaned bahis şirketleri forward to kiss his mouth, slipping my tongue between his teeth, wanting to enter him as his fingers penetrated me. With my lips pressed hard to Nick’s I reached down and pushed his thick fingers into my body. Ah…the heaven of easing that ache just the slightest. The familiar fullness of his fingers in my pussy calmed me for a moment but somehow, at the same time, made me hunger for him. He curled his fingers inside me in his clever, knowing way, pressing places that had me moaning, gasping and almost whimpering with delight. I was greedy and needy and he was my perfect toy — programmed to seek out my every pleasure zone.

“Mmmm, more…I want more.” I whispered urgently.

“Like this. Hold my whole pussy in your hand.” I ground hard against his wet hand as his fingers slid inside my body.

“Yeah like that, like that, put all your fingers in me, fill me up, yeah…”

“I want to fuck myself with your fingers…Nick, here.”

Nick nodded his frantic agreement. I saw him swallow hard as with his other arm, he braced himself, palm flat against the wall.

My hands clasped his muscular forearm, relishing the firmness of his hard flesh under my fingers. I loved the feel of that strong arm, the muscles taut and prominent. I loved the way it looked, lewdly pushing between my thighs like some giant cock. I pulled at his arm frantically thrusting my hips in hard little pushes that had his fingers pumping and sliding in the juicy wetness of me. His palm made obscene slapping sounds as it contacted with the wet flesh, bumping against my clit and making me moan and pant with the rough, hard, pleasure of it.

I could barely stand now. I was so close to coming, close to completely losing control. The only thing that existed was my finger-filled cunt. I leaned my head into his shoulder, my hips moved more wildly, insistently. With strong, solid thrusts, I fucked his hand hard and fast. I could smell the scent of me becoming stronger as I plunged his fingers more deeply into my pussy. My wetness spread all over Nick’s skin, anointing him, marking him with my perfume, making him part of me. I possessed his hand and his hand possessed me in a perfect union.

My moans and groans seemed to spur him on. His hand kept a hard steady rhythm, a rhythm that had his fingers drawing the wetness from me, every thrust making slick, moist sounds, taking me closer to the edge, taking me closer to that time when there’d be no possibility of stopping. That moment when the bittersweet ecstasy of just one more stroke would have me tipping over the edge. That euphoric moment when conscious thought would be lost and for a few moments in time all that would exist would be my body, carried off to some place where only pleasure existed and nothing else.

“Come on Ell, come for me. Do you like that, huh, like that, fast?”

“Yeah like that, like that, don’t stop, do it harder. Fuck! Do it hard.”

His hand thrust against my pussy, his fingers pushing into me, over and over, the pleasure pain of it sending jagged spikes of bliss into my body. I heard him moan as my hungry cunt consumed and clenched his hand, flooding him with juice as warm waves of exquisite pleasure spilt one after the other, tumbling and dripping from my body. I stilled my sweet Nick’s arm, gripping his wrist hard between my thighs, wanting to hold on to that divine moment, wanting to trap it there between my legs, wanting it to never stop.

I grew silent and still as each spasm of my hot, tight cunt squeezed his fingers wringing the last shudders of pleasure from me, until finally my breathing grew calm again. Resting my head back against the wall, my cheeks hot, I smiled as he grinned at me. My beautiful man whose desire it had been to play at being my sex toy, had worked his delightful magic. Eyes locked on mine, he slowly brought his hand and mine from between my thighs and placed a soft kiss on my palm before pulling me toward him. He kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure Nick, my pleasure.”

“Ah no, the pleasure was definitely mine.”

“Then it must be my turn to play sex toy.” I slid my hands into the waistband of his jeans, seeking him.

“I take it you’ve heard about the new, extra lifelike. Ell -a-matic, super, vibrating pussy?”

“I believe I have Ell,” he grinned a wicked smile, “But I sure would like to see it demonstrated.”

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