This story is intended for adults who can legally view it.  All rights are 
retained by the originating author, Beltorion at Beltorion@aol.com 

Portrait of a Lady
by Beltorion


  "So you really want me to pose for you?" you said.  Light and joking, but 
  seemingly with a touch of nervousness.
       
  "I'd love that." I said.
       
  "It's just I've never done anything like that before."
       
  "Well, I haven't either.  I mean, sketched a real person, in the flesh.  I mean, 
  yes, in an art class once, but not here, in my... studio."  I joked, looking around 
  the living room.
       
  "Well, it's nothing you haven't seen before.  Uh...are you going to keep the 
  drapes open?"
       
  "Well, the natural sunlight on your body would be nice.  Don't worry; I don't 
  think any of the neighbors can see.   Not in the daytime.  Probably."  I smiled 
  wickedly.
       
  "So should I just...strip?" You were delightfully shy, despite all the intimate 
  things we'd done in the bedroom before (and the kitchen... and the car...and that 
  cemetery), you were suddenly all demure.
       
  "Yes, please.  Disrobe, Madame." I said gallantly.   "I'd ask you to step behind 
  this screen, but..." I turned.  "Oh, I haven't got a screen.  Please, take your 
  clothes off!" I said, in a joking but commanding voice.  I sat back, arms folded, 
  a Cheshire cat grin on my face.
       
  Not in a striptease fashion, but dutifully, you unbuttoned your white blouse, 
  exposing a lacy white bra beneath.   You removed the shirt and put it over a 
  chair.  Then you kicked out of your shoes, and reached down and peeled off 
  your socks.  They went on the chair too.  Finally, you undid your skirt, and 
  peeled it off.  Red panties.
       
  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 
       
  I looked down at my crotch.  I was already getting hard, my erection poked at 
  my jeans, making a tent.  "Survey says...yes."
       
  You reached for your bra.  "Stop." I said.  "Allow me."
       

  I stood up, and walked to where you were standing.  Took your pretty face in 
  my hands, looked into your eyes, and then kissed you deeply on the lips.   Your 
  tongue darted into my mouth.
       
  "I love you." I said.
       
  "I bet you say that to all your models."
       
  I started kissing over your chin, down your neck, between your breasts.  My 
  hands cupped your breasts on the way down through your bra.  My mouth 
  continued down over your flat tummy.  I paused to toy with your belly button for 
  a minute, my hands holding onto your sides, just above the hips.  For a minute, I 
  French kissed your navel like it was your mouth, or your rosebud still covered 
  further down.  You sighed and ran your fingers through my hair. "Are you 
  checking for lint?" you giggled.
       
  I sank to my knees, and in the same motion, grasped your panties on either side 
  and whipped them down.  You gasped; you weren't expecting to be exposed so 
  suddenly.  You dutifully helped me, stepping out of each leg in turn.  I rose, and 
  my fingers traced up your legs, and then just ran lightly over your pussy.  Your 
  pubic hair, which had been shaved (by me!), was growing back now, but you had 
  a neatly groomed triangle.  My thumb just grazed your clit, almost intangibly; 
  just letting you know I hadn't forgotten it was there.
       
  I stood, and hands on your delightfully bare shoulders, swiveled you around.  I 
  undid your bra, and flung it and your panties to the chair.
  The bra overshot and fell behind it.   I kissed the back of your neck, enjoying 
  the scent of your hair.  Then my mouth ran over your shoulder blades, over the 
  muscles of your back, down your backbone, to the small of your back, which I 
  kissed in the same manner I had your belly button on the other side.  
  Synchronicity.   Then down over your ass cheeks. My hands rubbed circles 
  around them, and my mouth traced down your ass crack.  I knelt again, and 
  grasping your inner thighs, pushed apart. You got the idea and widened your 
  stance.   I licked down to your little puckered asshole, on my knees again.
       
  "Don't try anything funny." I murmured.   Then I tilted my head backwards, 
  like I was doing the limbo between your legs, licked that delightful area between 
  your asshole and your pussy, and continued on.
  You looked down to see my eyes looking up at you. My mouth, out of sight, 
  licked your pussy.  You tousled my hair.  "Good work, houseboy." you said.  "If 
  you keep this up, you're not going to get much sketching done, I'm going to fuck 
  your brains out right here on the living room carpet."   I grinned and scooted 
  backwards through your legs, then stood up.   Almost perfunctorily, I kissed one 
  nipple, my other hand grasping the other breast, kneading it and squeezing your 
  nipple.  Then
  I reversed sides.   Finally I rose again and kissed your mouth again.
       
  "I had to get a feel for the material."   I took your hand and led you over to the 
  couch.
       
  "Ooooh, you're such a tease!" you groaned.
       
  "Good things come to she who waits.  Now, be a good little subject."   I 
  positioned you on the couch, and you docilely let me guide your legs and arms, 
  like a flesh mannequin.  I positioned your extremities at different angles, tilted 
  your head to one side, stood back, then gently grasping your head, made a 
  slight adjustment.
       
  I finalized you laying back, one knee bent, the other leg straight out against it.   
  At that angle just a hint of your stripe of public hair could be seen, and your 
  pussy was covered.  You were tilted back, breasts perkily exposed, one arm 
  rested on the back of the couch, the other on the side of the couch, the way one 
  would sit in a bathtub.
  Your eyes looked straight at me.
       
  "There.  Hold that pose."
       
  "What if I have to go to the bathroom?"
       
  "Tough.  Hold still.  And don't worry.  I don't think the neighbors could see you 
  from here.  Of course, that scene earlier might have been interesting.  Hey, 
  what's that kid doing up in that tree with the binoculars?"
        
  You smiled, but refused to take the bait, didn't even swivel your head.
      
  I went to the kitchen, and dragged a chair into the center of the room, then got 
  my sketchpad and pencil.  I sat down, and flipped to a blank page.
       
  "I can't believe you got me all worked up and now expect me to sit stock still 
  here." you complained.
       
  "Silence!" I raised a thumb, doing the artist shtick, measuring for perspective.
       
  "I've got a place you could put that," you said with a seductive smile.  You 
  moved your hand to scratch an itch at your side.
       
  "If you keep moving, I'm going to do a sketch entitled, "portrait of a beauty 
  tied up completely immobile with scarves."
       
  "Promises, promises."
       
  "And I'll have to gag that pretty little mouth and tart tongue of yours with 
  something.  A cloth.   A ball.  Or your panties.  Or... something nearer and 
  dearer to me." I looked down meaningfully at the woody proudly shaping my 
  jeans.
       
  You stuck your tongue out at me.
       
  "Hey, don't point that thing at me unless you're prepared to use it."
       
  You stuck it out again, more suggestively this time.  "Shouldn't you be naked 
  too?" you said innocently.
       
  I continued to sketch. "Don't distract the artist at work."
       
  "Some artist." you scoffed.  "You haven't even cut off your ear for me yet."
       
  We continued in a sexy, companionable silence for a few minutes now, as I got 
  to work.  My pencil did broad lines across the page.
       
  "I feel like I'm on the TITANIC." you said.
       
  "You're a lot more Kate Winslet than I'm Leonardo." I replied.

  "But, if you play your cards right, I'll hit you with an ice cube later and then you 
  can go down on something."
      
  You stuck your tongue out again.  "Hey, aren't I supposed to be wearing a big 
  jewel between my boobs?"
       
  "Only if you have a rich asshole fiancée you haven't told me about.  Stop 
  fidgeting!"
       
  Silence for awhile, except for my pencil strokes.
       
  "Am I boring you?  Do you want the TV on or something?" I said considerately.
       
  "No, but some music would be nice."
       
  I got up and fumbled through some CD's. "Celine Dion, Celine Dion.  Nope, 
  don't have it.   I put in a Beethoven CD instead.
       
  "Oh, that's nice." you said.
       
  "I was torn between that and ZZ TOP. 'She's got legs, she knows how to use 
  them'"
       
  "Liar!  You don't even have that CD!"
       
  Silence again as I sketched, this time for another ten minutes.  You close your 
  eyes and listen to the music.
       
  You opened your eyes.  "Houseboy.  I'm thirsty."

  I growled.  "As you wish. " You started to get up.  "No, stay put!" I went to the 
  kitchen.  "Wine?"
       
  "No, it'll make me sleepy sitting here, and I'll lose my poise. I mean pose. 
  Something with caffeine."
       
  I brought the glass, tinkling with ice cubes.  You started to reach for it.   "No, 
  don't move" I said.   I brought the glass to your lips, and tilted carefully.   You 
  drank down greedily, swallowing noisily, your throat pulsing to the swallows.   
  You smiled.  "This is kind of nice, houseboy.  Thank you."
       
  When you were done, I fished one of the ice cubes out.  "Still don't move" I 
  ordered.   I ran it over your forehead, down your nose, to your lips.  You opened 
  your pretty little rosebud mouth and kissed it.  Then your eyes widened as I ran 
  it over your nipples, then down your belly, pushing it against your navel where 
  I'd explored with my tongue earlier.  Then down one leg, where I traced your 
  calve, a tiny bit plump like a chicken drumstick, then followed as your leg 
  tapered off, delightful curves down to your ankle.  I grasped your foot, holding it 
  immobile, and traced the ice cube along the sole of your foot, then your toes.  
  You bit your lip and tried to stifle a giggle. You were holding yourself rigid, 
  immobile, and straining with an effort not to move.   I traced the other foot. 
  Then up your leg again.  I put the remaining sliver into my mouth and sucked on 
  it until it melted.  Then I fished a fresh ice cube out of the glass.
       
  "Here comes the iceberg."   With one hand I pushed on either side of your 
  pussy, spreading your lips.  "Open wide."  You continued to hold your body 
  tense, trying not to move.   I put the ice cube into your pussy, and then let go my 
  spreading hand. The folds of your pussy, lewdly opened, closed on the ice 
  cube.   You made a noise I can only describe as a peep.  "You know, they say 
  that only 1/10th of an iceberg is above the waterline."
       
  You gritted your teeth. "You are so wicked."
       
  I ran a finger along your pussy, where it clenched the cube.  "Oh,
  I'm sure at 98.6 degrees; it won't last long in there.  In fact," I traced along the 
  outside of your pussy, "I think you might be a little hotter in there.  Feels like 
  maybe you're running a fever."
      
  You spoke in a staccato fashion, obviously trying not to react to things 
  happening down below.  "You..are...going...to...get...yours!"
       
  "I'm hoping to get mine right after this session."  I grinned and returned to my 
  chair and the sketchbook.
       
  It was delightful to watch you for the next few minutes, biting your lip, 
  scrunching up your eyes, but keeping yourself immobile (I made a mental note 
  to try this with a scoop of ice cream sometime, in or on your pussy, and then I'd 
  lick it out of you.  Fast enough that it didn't melt completely, slow enough not to 
  get one of those ice cream headaches.   I hate those!).  Finally, after a few 
  minutes, you relaxed.   In fact, lay back with a look of relief, and a deep sigh. I 
  stood up, and walked over to inspect you.   A sheen of water ran from your 
  pussy.  I brushed it up with my fingertips, and brought it to my lips.   Water, with 
  just the slightest hint of your inner taste.  You were looking really turned on, 
  your eyes dilated, your face that subtle change when I'm close to ringing your 
  bell.
       
  I rattled the cup of ice suggestively, and you shook your head.  "Please, no 
  more!"   I set the cup down and returned to my chair and my sketch.
       
  "You had better fuck me senseless after you finish that drawing" you said.
       
  "Count on it.  Ooo, I love it when you talk dirty to me."
       
  You grinned.  You talked slowly, annunciated each word.  "I am going to...pin 
  you to the carpet, and impale myself on your cock.  I'm going to ride it til you 
  make me come.   Then I'm going to push you back and suck your prick like 
  there's no tomorrow.  Til you shoot a hot load of cum in my hot little mouth.  
  Then you're gonna eat my pussy til I scream.  Then you're gonna fuck me 
  doggy style."
       
  I'd gone from pleasant erection to serious wood.  I continued to sketch more 
  feverishly.  "Woof!" I said meaningfully.
       
  Another ten minutes went by.  "You had better finish up.  I'm so horny I'm 
  about to come over there and jump you.  Plus, uh, I'm starting to have to feel 
  the need to go to the bathroom."
       
  "Hold that thought, almost done. Five more minutes"
       
  You groaned.  "Hurry!"
       
  I continued sketching fast.   Moments past.  "Are we there yet?" you said 
  plaintively.
       
  "One more minute...and then....some quick photos.  In case I need some detail 
  for later revisions."
       
  "Hey, you never said anything about photos."   You considered the idea.
        
  "Don't worry, I'm not placing them on the Internet.   Just an artist's aid.   Well, 
  I might whack off to them next time you're out of town."  I grinned.    I grabbed 
  the camera, and took a half dozen flash photos.  From different vantage points.   
  You got into the spirit of it, smiling seductively, flashing your eyes.     Making 
  love to the camera.  I played fashion photographer.  "Yeah baby, that's great, 
  oh, give it to me!"  Flash. Flash.  Flash.
       
  I smiled. "Hmmm, this gives me an idea for something else we should do 
  sometime."
        
  "Are you done?  Can I get up now?" you begged.  I nodded, and you were up in 
  a flash, your delightful body zipping by in a blur as you sprinted for the 
  bathroom.
         
  Ten minutes or so later you emerged, now demurely wrapped in a towel.   After 
  exposing yourself to me for the last hour, I thought it was cute you were being 
  coy now.
        
  You went and looked at the sketchbook.   "This!  This is what took you an 
  hour?!  That's it?!"
         
  "Hey, c'mon, this is just a rough first sketch!" I said defensively.  "And I'm 
  learning.  And you know I'm not great at faces. Yet.  Besides, it's so difficult to 
  capture the beauty of your visage."
      
  You smiled despite yourself.  "But I've seen your other sketches.
  They're...uh...more...uh...better."
       
  "Yeah, but those are usually my second or third revision.  Those were done 
  over several hours, painstakingly."  I gestured at the sketchbook.  "This'll get 
  better, wait and see."  I felt like I was defending my work before an art critic.
       
  You must have seen my injured look.  You smiled, and walking up to me, 
  wrapped your arms around me.  I kissed you, and with little urging the towel fell 
  to the floor.  You stood there, fully nude, clinging to my body, which was still 
  fully clothed.  Your head rested on my shoulder.  I ran my nose through your 
  hair.  I looked up to glance out the window, seeing if any neighbors were in 
  sight. Seemingly not.
       
  My arms around you, my hands played down your back and fondled your ass, as 
  you tilted your head up and our lips met, tongues dueling.
      
  "What was that you wanted to do to me once we finished with the sketch?"
       
  You kissed along my jaw line, to my ear, nibbled on my earlobe, and then put 
  your mouth close to my ear. "You'll see" you said through a warm breath.
        
  You sank down to your knees, on the carpet, urging me down with you.  Your 
  eyes were shiny with unbridled lust.  You fumbled for my belt, and almost in the 
  blink of an eye had opened my slacks, and pulled my erection from my boxers.  
  One hand fondled it, while another started unbuttoning my shirt.
       
  "What are you doing with your clothes still on?   Lay back on the carpet, 
  houseboy!" you commanded.
                    
  The End

  --
  If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author.  Your comments 
  are their only payment.  Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is 
  copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

  beltorion@aol.com