Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Asian

Hi everyone! Sorry it’s been so long! I only realised it had been literal years since I last published a story when a commenter (thanks Mountainman59!) made me aware of it. Trust me when I say that I haven’t stopped writing, I just never finish anything I write.

This story takes place during the Italian renaissance in a prosperous city-state where the ruler of the city manipulates an artist and his muse into enthusiastically consented sex.

That said, if you’re somehow unhorny enough to notice any historical mistakes I would love to hear it! I’m always a sucker for learning.

*****

One of her hands was buried between her legs. Digging deep into the wet spot, coating her fingers. Her other hand was on her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh and twisting her nipples. Her back arched up as her thumb found the sweet spot at the top of her slit and a wave of pleasure flooded her.

“Hold that pose!” The artist called from behind his sketches. She gasped. Holding the straining pose, balancing on the heels of her feet, dug into the heavy fabric that coated the couch she was spread out on. Her ass was lifted high from the couch and only held up by muscles she didn’t know she had.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She muttered, loud enough for the artist to hear. Shooting him a teasing look. Taking in his figure as he stood behind the raised table, which supported many different scraps of paper. Her fingers still trailed through her wet pubic hair and she dipped her fingers back in her vagina as she caught sight of his erect member, straining against the tight pants that were so in vogue. Her movements increased in tempo, despite of what he just said.

She couldn’t keep silent as she felt wave after wave of pleasure wash over her. The sound of her moans and of furious scribbling of charcoal on paper filled the room. “Matteo…” She looked at him with begging eyes. “Come here, come help.” He took a while to react, putting the charcoal to the paper for a few last strokes. She slowed her tempo down again, waiting for him. “Matteo…” She begged again, desperation in her voice. He finally put down the stalk.

“What do you need help with baby?” He asked, excitement thick in his voice.

She turned her head away from him. “Never mind.” She fucked herself deep with her fingers getting crazy close to the edge of blissfulness, when he suddenly grabbed her arm by the wrist, taking her hand away from her sweet spot. An affronted gasp escaped her lips but it soon turned into a satisfied moan as he kneeled beside her and sucked her fingers clean, one by one. “Come here.” She said, making room on the couch and straddling his lap as soon as he sat down.

One of her hands was on his shoulder, soft but precise, her thumb stroking the soft pits at the base of his neck. The other was wrapped around his dick, pumping slowly up and down. He held her face in his hands, planting frantic kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I wish I could capture this moment on paper.” He panted, his voice deep and rasping.

“Really?” She asked, more in control of her voice. “Because if I were and artist…” She raised herself up, positioning his dick at her entrance.

“Shit.” Desperation thick in his voice as his hands slid down to her ass.

“I’d like to capture…” She lowered herself down, filling herself with his warmth. “This.” She finished proudly, riding him slowly.

“You’d make a terrific artist.” He whispered into her neck, one hand digging in her hair and the other directing her tempo on her ass. “Hmmm” They shared a deep kiss before he suddenly picked her up and pushed her down on her back making sure he wouldn’t lose his place between her legs.

He gathered her wrists in one hand and held them above her head as his other hand roamed down her body, pausing at her exposed breast but then swiftly moving on down to help guide his penis back into her. He kept his hand low, providing a soft pressure on her clit which was aggravated by the rhythm he build up. Beneath him she squirmed, but only for show, only to feel that little bit of helplessness as he held her wrists tight.

The next moment she wrapped her legs around him, bucking her hips against his hand. As they increased in tempo, riding closer and closer to the peak, he switched the palm of his hand for his thumb. The specialized pressure rubbing past her clit with every well measured stroke. Moans turned into screams as they both reached climax.

He collapsed on top of her so they were a panting heap of people. Eventually she reached over to cover them with one of the cloths that were slung over the back of the couch. They laid there, basking in their shared warmth and the sunlight streaming in through one of the dusty windows.

“We have to go.” He finally said, although he didn’t initiate any movement. Beneath him she uttered a frustrated sound. Clasping her arms and legs around him.

“Not yet…” She pouted. He tucked some stray hairs behind her ear.

“I bahis şirketleri made an appointment I’ve got to keep.”

“I know.. But still… How important is that appointment really?”

He laughed. “You’ll be the downfall of me.” He kissed her nose.

“Or the making.” She kissed him back. He laughed again.

“Come on let’s go.” He said, finally getting up.

She remained a little longer on the couch, missing his weight above her. “Fine.” She got up as well, flaunting her ass as she gathered together the various garments that she’d discarded during posing. In passing he reached over and grabbed her ass, giving it a good jiggle. She turned around for a kiss, but then got back to putting the many layers of dress on.

They walked arm in arm to the church even though her long, loose hair made it obvious that they weren’t married. It was a big city, who would really care? Everyone was minding their own business here, the streets were full of traders, farmers, ladies, gentlemen, thieves and whores. In a city like this, most meetings were scheduled in the church, a place which everyone knew how to find. And, above all, cleaner and cooler then the streets outside.

“I’ll go find that guy, meet you by the door?”

“Yeah alright, I’m at Maria, I owe her some prayers.” She laughed and waved as they parted.

He found her later, after he was done, still kneeling in front of the Maria statue. Hands clasped and eyes closed, deep in prayer. He stopped there, leaning against a pillar, watching her mutter the Latin words. After a while he noticed he wasn’t the only one watching. Behind her a figure appeared, standing still, eyes trained on her back. She was a vision, he admitted to himself. The way her long hair streamed down her back, catching the light through the stained glass windows. And even though her dress was old, the rosy colour had only gotten deeper. Her frame was curvy and the corset she wore only emphasized her hourglass waist. Her skirts pooled around her knees.

She looked beautiful, it was clear why she would draw more eyes than just his. When his eyes met with those of his fellow voyeur they shared a nod. She seemed done with praying, gathering her skirts to rise. When she looked up and saw him standing there she smiled. Rising in one smooth motion, with a straight back. But she stumbled and before he knew it she fell back to the ground. Her body limp.

“ANNA!” He jumped forward, and wasn’t the only one. The man between the pillars moved to catch her too. He caught her just before her head hit the stone slabs. “Anna!” She didn’t react, she didn’t appear to be breathing. The other man reached around tearing at her bodice, the buttons gave up easily and revealed the corset below.

Matteo caught on and with scrambling hands undid the ribbon where she’d knotted it. Together they ripped the two halves of the corset apart. The moment she got room she took a deep breath. Gasping for air, her chest heaving. He grabbed her head, lifting it a little of the ground. “Anna.”

“Matteo.” She was smiling again. Although her breath was still uneven. “I think the incense got to my head a little there.”

“I think something very different happened…” He said, eyeing the offending corset with disdain. She just laughed his comment off, rising of the ground with the help of the offered hands of the two gentlemen.

“You should thank this man too.” He said, gesturing to the man who had been his helping hand. “He was the one who had the clarity of mind to check your corset.” Although, was ‘check’ the right word for it? The way he had ripped into her clothes… The front of her dress was in tatters.

She seemed to notice now too, although the promiscious look she shot him just before she closed the two broken ends of her bodice back together in a false show of modesty betrayed that she had been aware a little longer.

“Messere.” She said, for he was obviously higher in rank than her, as she offered him her hand, and curtsied.

“Signora,” He said, as he bowed low to kiss her hand.

As the man lingered a little longer in that position, looking op at her with a seductive kind of humor in his eyes, Matteo decided to intervene.

“Messere, this is Anna Belezana, and my name is Matteo Da Noale.”

“Ah,” The man reacted, righting himself once again. “It seems I have forgotten my manners already, my name is Lorenzo di Parmacie.”

Immediately the mood turned, the Parmacie were a powerful family, rulers of the city in fact. Was it okay to laugh so relaxed with this man? One word from him and they’d all be hanged. Especially since Anna and Matteo didn’t exactly live pious lives. Anna regrouped first.

“Well thank you Lorenzo, for saving my life. Too bad my dress couldn’t be saved as well.” She smiled a charming smile, but Matteo was strongly wondering whether it was possible to just charm your way out of trouble.

“A pity indeed…” Lorenzo slowly eyed the entire garment. “You must let me make it up to bahis firmaları you, I shall buy you a brand new dress.” Matteo’s mouth sunk open, it appeared Anna could charm her way out of trouble.

“Oh that isn’t necessary sir, after all, it fell for a noble cause…”

“Still” He insisted “I would love to do something to help… What do you do in your daily life Matteo?”

He asked suddenly, turning to Matteo. But again it was Anna who answered.

“He’s an artist.” She said, as her hands curled around his upper arm. He was surprised to find that she looked up at him with the most adoring eyes.

“And judging by your eyes, a good one I assume?” Lorenzo asked looking from Matteo to Anna and back.

“The very best.” She said, smiling a big dopey smile.

“That settles it then!” Lorenzo said. “I must see this art for myself, maybe you could even do my portrait?”

Matteo hesitated. But Anna took over immediately. “I think you would be the best judge of that. Why don’t you join us back to the studio? Matteo will show you his work.” After a moment of silence she added: “You won’t be disappointed.”

“All right,” Lorenzo said, smiling grandly. “Let’s go! Now! After this promise I can’t wait any longer.”

Mateo turned, not sure what had just happened. Had Anna really just convinced the actual ruler of the city, the most powerful man in the nearest vicinity, to look at his art? To consider him as a portrait painter?

On their way back to his studio Anna kept up conversation, expressing nothing but trust in him and his art as she hung on his arm and led Lorenzo into the poorer part of the city. Matteo couldn’t talk, too stricken with nerves to even follow along with their discussion.

When they entered the studio he was once again, and in a flash, reminded of the mess it was, he suddenly considered barring Lorenzo from entering at all, making him wait in their grubby entrance way.

But Anna had led him inside, he was a puppet on her arm, and Lorenzo had followed, still chatting amiably. Although the conversation did halt as he took in the studio. It was small, although there was good light. But the first thing he noticed was the sketches, objects and clothes that covered literally every surface, and some spaces that wouldn’t be considered a surface.

“Matteo has been working a lot on studies lately.” Anna said, gathering a few of the sketches he’d made in recent days and handing them to Lorenzo, who still hadn’t said anything. “He believes a true artist never stops drawing and painting, only through hard work can the craft be perfected.” Matteo suppressed a wince, as she repeated his words back at him, while the ruler of the city held his drawings in his hand. Suddenly every mistake in those sketches was painfully clear to Matteo. “If the gentlemen will excuse me, I have to go change.” She said, to Matteo’s ears she was painfully frank, but Lorenzo smiled as if that was the best thing he’d heard all day. She curtsied, and disappeared behind a screen.

Matteo felt sweat drip down his neck in anticipation of the conversation with Lorenzo he would now have to upkeep. But Lorenzo had turned away from him, first looking at the sketches in his hand and then wandering around the room. Matteo took his place on the stool behind his easel, the one place he could still feel a measure of comfortable as the man who really ruled over the city, traversed his small studio and living space.

Finally Lorenzo spoke, “This is yours?” He held up a small still live on canvas, not even a frame around it. Matteo hoped he wasn’t visibly turning red. Instead he finally spoke.

“Yes, it is a study of the local fruits, in a local glass bowl, I was intending to portray the riches of our city state.” In truth he’d made that to use the last of his paint before it would go bad and it was something he hoped to one day be able to trade to a vendor in exchange for those fruits depicted.

“It is… I can see you certainly have had a good education but it might need a bit more work.” Matteo bit his lip, he had hoped that Lorenzo somehow didn’t know anything about art and would have proclaimed him the next da Vinci. But he knew that what Lorenzo had said was spot on. The older man put the painting back down and proceeded through the room looking at the sketches that were strewn around. He paused near what might have been called the dining table, if anyone would find room to dine at it.

“I can see your actual talent really lies… elsewhere.” Lorenzo spoke carefully, and when Matteo looked up and he saw which drawing Lorenzo was holding, he blanched. It was a very fast sketch of Anna, naked on the couch, masturbating.

“Oh that’s really not…”

Lorenzo cut him off. “No I like it. It really shows… Movement.” Now it was time for Matteo to turn red. Because it did, it showed the frantic movements of her hand. And it was the last in a series, of her undressing on the couch, laying back, stroking her inner thigh, holding her breasts. kaçak bahis siteleri Lorenzo gathered a great number of them in his hands and took them over to Matteo, flicking through the pages as he walked.

“She is something of a… muse isn’t she?” His eyes sparkled with that same flirty amusement Matteo had seen before. He felt relieved that Lorenzo didn’t seem outraged at their obvious lust, their living together out of wedlock, their life that was sooner an homage to life than a preparation for death. He no longer felt he needed to blush, and when Lorenzo handed him the sketches he took them, rifling through them and seeing the images anew, they were some of his best work.

Meanwhile Lorenzo looked at the sketches Matteo had surrounded himself with, just an hour ago as he’d drawn Anna on the couch once again. This time she was masturbating before she’d taken the entirety of her dress off, the skirts hiked high and luscious on her thighs. He’d captured their cumbersome but elegant mass beautifully even in just a few strokes of his charcoal. As well as her face, blush spreading up to just below her eyes, which were dark and looking directly at the viewer.

Finally Matteo saw the older man lose some of his composure, as the frank stare, the clear look of wanting was transferred from Anna, to paper, to him. The older man blushed, but only a little. And then the real Anne re-entered the room, wearing what Matteo recognized as her best green dress, but which wouldn’t immediately translate to Lorenzo as such. Both men acted in unison, as they tipped the sketches they were looking at up so that from her point of view they weren’t visible. Anna definitely noticed something was going on but before she could comment on it Lorenzo spoke.

“I think I have seen enough.” He handed Matteo the sketches, patting him amiably on the arm. “My tailor has a gorgeous dress, in about your size signora. I will bring it back tonight for a fitting, and then we can discuss your services as well Matteo.”

“Back tonight?” Anna was obviously surprised he was already leaving, and had lost some of her composure.

“If it is no problem to you of course.” Lorenzo answered, with the polite air of someone who was accustomed to never being a problem in any space.

“Not a problem at all!” She smiled generously, obviously having shaken off her confusion. “We look forward to it.”

“So do I.” Lorenzo answered, exchanging a meaningful look with Matteo.

They said quick goodbyes and just like that, the most powerful man the both of them had ever met had left their studio.

“What am I going to do with an untailored dress?” Anna mused, as Matteo hid the sketches Lorenzo and him had looked at underneath a pile of studies of lemons. “Does he know that a lady can’t just wear anything a tailor makes? It needs to be fitted!”

“Perhaps he needed an excuse to be back.” Matteo supplied, wondering at the true purpose of Lorenzo’s proposed nightly visit.

“He could have just stayed!” She was pouting a little now, and he knew that she was worried that they’d been brushed off, that he had made excuses to leave and wasn’t coming back.

“He’s a busy man Anna.” Matteo walked over, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “He’ll be back.” He felt very confident in that regard.

—-

As the evening grew later they both got more and more nervous, what was Lorenzo planning? What if he wouldn’t hire them? What if he reported them to the church? What if he wouldn’t show up at all? Their anxieties were somewhat relieved when there was a curt knock on the door.

Matteo opened it for an excited Lorenzo, who walked into the studio immediately, carrying two large packets. Anna wanted to walk up to greet him but before she could he ran to the table and put the packets down.

“I know we have a lot to discuss this evening, but first!” He undid the string of the topmost packet. “Signora I believe I owe you a new dress.”

“You really don’t sir, the saving of my life is more than enough recompense!” Anna protested but Lorenzo was undisturbed at her protestations and soon the most beautiful dark blue coloured fabric came into view. For a moment Anna was stunned into silence, as she fabric shone in the candlelight.

“I really cannot accept this after all you’ve already done for me.” She said firmly, tearing her eyes away.

“Nonsense!” Lorenzo bowled over her protestations gleefully. “I can not stop thinking about how I ripped your dress this afternoon, you must help me assuage my guilt.” No actual guilt was audible in his voice though as he pushed the skirt of the dress into Anna’s hands. She was too stunned by his phrasing to protest. Instead, she turned to examine the clothes piece.

“I don’t have the undergarments for this!” Anna said, already blushing as she realised what she said. The skirt was larger and heavier than any she’d had before and none of her underdresses would be able to poof it out the way it was supposed to.

“No matter,” Lorenzo said, taking it out of her hands to show off the length of the fabric. “I will commision an underdress for it.” Anna knew that realistically, she could never wear something like this dress outside, but still…

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir