This is a sexual story copyrighted by me, Shon Richards, so please don't make any money from it. I welcome, read and respond to all e-mail at shonrichardshsd@earthlink.net This story is the second part in a non-continuous series. That means each part can be read for it's own enjoyment. You can read part 7 first and then part 2 and not miss anything. It also means that this story is self contained and it won't leave you hanging. For more of this series and essays on the nature of creativity and writing; please visit /~ShonRichards/vanessa.html "Vanessa and Me" Part 4 By Shon Richards "There is a time and a place for everything," Vanessa told me. She dipped the brush into some red paint and fought back a yawn. "This happens to be my time to create." I looked at my watch skeptically. It was midnight and we had spent the day browsing flea markets for discarded personal paintings. Vanessa was intrigued by how much value people gave to often-terrible paintings just because family members created them. After spending hours in the hot sun, the last thing I thought she would do was paint. "How can this be your time to create?" I asked. "Aren't you exhausted?" Vanessa shrugged and rolled her lollipop in her mouth. "It's not a matter of being tired. This is my magic hour." "Magic hour?" I asked. "I know as a writer I do my best work when I write at the same time every day, is this the time you've set aside to paint?" Vanessa smiled. "And how did you pick that time? It's the most important moment of the day and I bet you set it up as the one hour that you have peace and quiet." I knew I was exhausted because I didn't hear what she said at first. The thick curls of her dark hair distracted me and I was remembering how they felt on my thighs last night. Vanessa repeated herself because she knew I hadn't been listening. That's one of the advantages of sleeping with your creativity tutor: she always knows when your libido is louder than the lessons. "Of course I picked the one hour that I could get some quiet," I said. "It trains me to write as soon as I sit down. It's like having a regular sleeping schedule or a consistent time to eat." Vanessa actually growled. "You equate being creative with biological functions. Haven't you ever considered that maybe being creative is something more metaphysical? There's a reason you can't teach writing or painting to just anyone. Some people are attuned to be creative and others will only be critics." "And what's the reason oh wise one?" I asked sarcastically. My mentor frowned. "I don't know. I do know that there's an hour of the day that a person is at their most creative. It's that hour where writer's block is non-existent. It's that hour where even if you don't paint right at that minute, you can think of amazing scenes that you can paint later. I don't know if it's a magical turning of the celestial spheres or if it's an internal rhythm based on hormones, but I know it exists. I know that this is my magic hour." "How do I find my magic hour?" I asked; not sure I believed everything. "Go to sleep and let me worry about that," Vanessa said. 3:00 am I was dreaming of pirates and mermaids when Vanessa pulled me from my dreams. She had my underwear rolled under my balls and was sucking on my cock. My manhood hardened in her mouth, lengthening against her flickering tongue. One hand cupped my balls, holding them gently as her lips sealed around me. The curls of her hair spilled over my thighs and stomach exactly as I imagined them earlier. "What's this?" I asked. Vanessa ignored me and continued to suck. I could feel her breasts pressed against my hips and I felt the hard point of one of her nipples. The moonlight peeked through a fold in the curtain and illuminated her body next to mine. She was completely nude and I ran my hands down her back to cup one of her buttocks. We lay there for a few quiet minutes. Vanessa sucked me gently and in silence as I relished the moment. My mind was sluggish and I thought that perhaps she was horny after a long night of painting. I didn't care. Her mouth embraced my cock with its wet heat and all was right with my world. I began to groan as my climax approached and Vanessa clutched the base of my cock in an iron grip. She withdrew her mouth and I shuddered as my orgasm was cheated from me. My heart pounded as Vanessa sat up and looked at me. A beam of moonlight fell on one side of her face. "Tell me a story about the flea market," Vanessa asked in the darkness. "What?" I said stupidly. She squeezed my cock and I groaned in urgency. "Tell me a story about the flea market," Vanessa repeated. "Once upon a time," I started. I paused as I tried to think of something. My mind was blank. All I could think about was her lips, her hair and how badly I wanted to climax between her lips. "Give me a minute," I stalled. "That's okay story-boy," Vanessa said and she released my cock. "This isn't your magic hour." She leaned down and kissed me as I moaned in disappointment. With my cock aching for release, Vanessa left. I would have relieved myself but something told me that it wouldn't be right. The next time she came; I would have her damn flea market story ready. 10:49 am Being an apprentice to Vanessa isn't all sex and creative theory. I spent the morning cleaning her art supplies. Vanessa took good care of her tools but only in the sense that she doesn't leave them on the floor. It was up to me to put her paints back on the shelves, to dry her brushes that were soaking in jars and to make the living room presentable again. It gave me time to think about what she said last night. I didn't quite buy the idea of magic time. To me, artists were people who trained and cultivated their talent. I didn't like the idea of being a slave to an hour of the day to get my best ideas. It made me feel helpless. As I worked, I thought of a story involving the flea market. The story was a comedy and it involved a ship in a bottle. If Vanessa was going to insist on this magic hour nonsense, I was going to come up with what she wanted as soon as possible. "Nice job," Vanessa said as she walked into the room. I turned to say thank you and my words died in my mouth. She wasn't dressed. Vanessa was older than me and her body wasn't young or perfect, but every movement of hers was always sexual and when she was nude, the over all affect was a powerful seduction. "Is this magic hour?" I asked. "We'll find out," Vanessa said. I stood as she walked up to me and I felt a thrill ride through my body as she embraced me. Her naked body next to my clothed body was a delightful contrast and I hugged her tight to me. Vanessa began to dance and I let her take the lead. Shirt to breasts pants to naked sex and bare legs to pants; we slow danced in the living room. Her arms were tight around me and I could feel every contour of her body. I wanted to strip and feel her skin next to mine but I knew better than to ask. As her hips moved against mine, I tried not to step on her bare feet with my shoes. I felt her teeth on my shoulder and I sighed. Vanessa bit down gently and I felt claimed. Her grinding became lewder until it was clear that her dancing was solely to arouse my cock. Shifting and twisting, her body squirmed next to mine until my knees began to curl with the desire to mount her. "Tell me a story," Vanessa finally asked. Before I could tell her about the flea market, she said "Tell me a fairy tale." My prepared story died in my mouth. As her hips continued to roll against mine, my mind blanked completely. Shifting gears to a fairy tale was beyond me in my heightened state of arousal. When Vanessa stopped dancing and walked away to get dressed, I knew that this wasn't my magic hour either. 2:30am We had a late lunch at a fast food place. Vanessa wanted to sit inside and admire the tacky decorations. She loved the way that fast food restaurants balance looking good with wanting people to buy the extra large fries. When we had finished our meals, I collected our trays to dispose of them. Vanessa stopped me by laying her hand on mine. Before I could ask her any questions, she pulled my head in for a kiss. There was salt on her lips and cherry soda on her tongue. Vanessa kissed me passionately as customers bustled around us. Her sunglasses pressed against my face but I didn't care. I gave in to the kiss; amazed at the desperate way she was devouring my mouth. It was a kiss that reminded me of high school groping and second dates. Her hand started on my face but moved down under the table to my crotch. I tried to pull away when she massaged my cock but her lips held onto mine. My resistance melted as her fingers rubbed through my jeans and coaxed my solid girth. She kissed my moans, sucking them down as her fingers tightened around the bulge in my pants. She broke the kiss and I knew what was going to happen next. "Give me a poem about this place," Vanessa asked. I closed my eyes and tried. Poems were never my strength but I nearly grunted with the effort I was pushing into it. All I could think about was the taste of cherry on her lips. When I opened my eyes, I saw the reflection of my face in her sunglasses. There was no need to admit defeat. Vanessa kissed my frown away and got up to put away our trays. It wasn't my magic hour. 7:22 PM "It doesn't make any sense," I told Vanessa as we sat on the couch. "I get ideas all day long. There's no one moment when I get my plots. If that was the case, I would have noticed it years ago." Vanessa laughed. "Would you have? Besides, you're distorting what I said. I didn't say that magic hour was the only time to get ideas. I only said that it was the best time to create. It was the best time to channel. I like to think of it as the time of the day when you are most attuned with whatever helps you create." She unzipped my pants and after the events of the last twenty- four hours, I didn't even ask. When she stood up to unzip her own pants, I pulled mine off. My erection was ready for her and when she mounted me, the slickness of her sex told me she was just as ready. Her knees settled around my hips and she swiveled her hips in a sinful manner. "But why the sex?" I asked after I moaned. "If you can think so close to orgasm, then what better proof of magic hour do you need?" Vanessa said. She leaned into me and we both moaned as our sexes merged. She lifted a breast to my face and I leaned my head to bite through her shirt to the hard nipple underneath. "Are you sure its not because you're just horny?" I asked. I nibbled on her nipple till her shirt was wet. "If a tutor can't get laid, what's the point?" Vanessa laughed. We stopped talking as our hips moved together. Being inside her was always magical in itself. The heat, the perfect fit and the shockwaves of pleasure were enough to inspire anyone. Her breathing sharpened and I could tell by the flushing of her face that she was about to climax. I held her hips and pulled her down onto me as I increased my pace. If you can't help your tutor climax, what was the point? "Fuck!" Vanessa cried out. I felt her sex vibrate with her spasms. My own manhood was ready but I knew that first I had to pass her test. Vanessa's eyes were glazed with bliss but she found her focus. "Tell me a story," she gasped. Our hips were perfectly still except for the after shocks of her clenching sex. "About what?" I said breathlessly. Reminded, Vanessa said "Tell me about seashells." I tried. With my cock submerged in her warm sex, I tried my damn best to think of something involving seashells. All I could think about was the ocean and how I wanted the rhythm of the seas to push our hips together so I could spill myself inside Vanessa. "I can't", I admitted. "It will come," Vanessa said gently as she started to rise. 6:05 I awoke sluggishly from a dream of cherries and nude dancers. My covers were pulled back and my dark haired mentor had spread my legs wantonly. I had no idea where my underwear had gone. The rising sun sent daggers of light into my bedroom revealing a topless Vanessa kneeling between my legs and stroking my manhood to life. My cock was fully erect before I was barely awake. "What time is it?" I asked, not remembering magic hour at all and wondering why she was doing this. "Shhh," Vanessa answered. She lowered her breasts over my cock and I moaned in pleasant surprise. Her breasts had been covered in some sort of lotion or oil and my manhood slipped easily between her heavy mounds. Vanessa cupped her breasts around my length and I shuddered as I pushed into the slippery flesh. I had no trouble remembering the magic hour now. Up and down she slid her slick breasts over my cock and I gripped the bed in ecstasy. There was almost no friction at all and what I could feel was the perfect softness of her tits. "Tell me a story," Vanessa whispered in the dawn's light. "Tell me a science fiction story." "On a lonely garbage ship in the middle of nowhere, the only crew member, a guy by the name of Harry, hears a distress cry," I began. It was ridiculously easy. As the sun flooded the bedroom with light, I told Vanessa a long tale about two distant ships relying on each other for company. It was more sentimental than I would have liked and there were some plot elements that were stolen from books I had read, but I was amazed by how easy it was to compose off the top of my head. Vanessa must have been impressed as well for she kept moving over my cock. As I told her more about the story, my mentor squeezed her abundant breasts over my manhood. My hips joined her rocking motion though my mind was more concerned with my story rather than the sex. Despite the hours of teasing and my urgent need to climax, the story was coming first. As I told her about the distress signal being just a ploy to have someone to talk to, Vanessa stroked my cock with her breasts. As the pilots engaged each other in desperate conversation, my manhood emerged and slipped back into her enfolding breasts. As the pilots fell in love, Vanessa poured lotion onto her chest to keep us slippery and slick. When the pilots sabotaged their ships to meet each other, Vanessa leaned into my crotch so that she her bosom was pressed flat against me. She rocked against me and trapped the heat our bodies were making. My cock was pulsing inside the oven of her soft breasts. When I ended the story with the pilots meeting, Vanessa moaned with happiness. The moan vibrated through her chest and my manhood responded in kind. With the story complete, my body found the satisfaction it craved and I erupted messily between her breasts. Vanessa continued to rock against me until every drop of me was expelled. The orgasm wasn't nearly as sweet as the pleasure of creating a story well told. Vanessa rose from the mess we had created and the morning sun lit up her already huge smile. There was pride in her eyes and I knew that pride was in mine as well. It was a magic hour.