Liza

I am sitting at dinner with the most beautiful woman alive....

Liza. Photos by Eric Francis - Book of Blue.

I’m sitting at dinner with the most beautiful woman alive. It’s a Thursday night. The backdrop is ancient St. Gilles in Brussels. We’re in the garden dining area of a Japanese restaurant, set back from the street, tucked between two towering town houses. She’s about 33 years old and we have met about 20 minutes ago, though we knew one another online for a while.

As we sat there in the midsummer evening, she looked at me with her dreamy brown eyes, ready to say yes to something. Her soft porcelain features and flowing, rich brown hair emanated femininity. She had traveled from Australia, to Ireland, and then halfway across Europe to be photographed; to be in the Book of Blue. She had seen some of the photos and was drawn by the aspect of masturbating into a mirror.

Her warm, moist eyes peered listlessly into mine and I knew she could feel me respond to her. The resonance between us was easy to feel. Open and ambiguous and so sweet, her plan was to stay for a few days. By the end of dinner, all I wanted was her. And she’s brought herself here. She was not leaving me guessing about anything.

Next thing I remember, the restaurant had disappeared we were walking through those old stone streets, toting her carry-on and little suitcase. Then we were entering my studio, my creative sanctuary. The door clicked behind us, the space illuminated by the street lighting below. I looked at her, turning her toward me and squeezing her ribs a little friendly hug.

She reached her arms up around my neck as I leaned in and picked her up. We kissed, gently, passionately — gratefully. We were finally together. She was watery and wet as I sniffed her mouth and sipped and tasted her spit. After a few minutes, we paused.

“May I smell your pussy?”

First things first.

“How do you want me?”

Oh, how I love the sound of those words…

“Please, sit on the table.” She sat down on a big black slab in the middle of my studio and leaned back. I pulled over the nearest chair.

Her sweet petiteness hiked up her skirt, dropped her knees apart, and presented her sheer, soaked, bright green panties stretched over her plump little vulva. I leaned down and in and draw in the sweet air around her, clasping her hips. The perfect blend of sweaty-cunty on this just-right warm evening.

The scent of her sex soaked into my brain, nourishing me. She massaged my hair and scalp as my whole world rained and washed with delight. I think we both knew we would be taking pictures tomorrow rather than tonight.

She sat up for a moment.

“Please,” she said politely as she pulled her dress over her head, baring her breasts and belly, and then slipped out of her pretty knickers and dropped them in front of me. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and pushed them aside. Looking into her moist eyes, I said to her, “I’m thirsty.”

“I know,” she replied. “I’m here for you.”

She was — as if she had read my mind and planned the weekend. Well, she had read my writing and seen my photos.

What a privilege. For the next I don’t know how long, I held her waist, or held her magnificent hands, or held her thighs, and explored her sweet, dripping ocean with my mouth and tongue. Her vulva, subtle and tucked in at first, blossomed into my mouth, the approximate shape of a daffodil.

We seemed made for this experience of human perfection. Her orgasms came in waves. I would tease her and allow her to fill up, and then satisfy her, so that I could get a little gush of her delight every time she let go. I swallowed audibly and openly so she could hear her liquid go down my throat, into my body and soak into my cells.

What luxury…

I would have savored any way she might have tasted, just for the experience of receiving her. Her liquid was slippery and delicate and abundant; not too strong, womanly and fresh, more like lake water from a brook than seawater. Mostly, her was her, emanating from her pelvis. She had a long, delicate inner labia that invited me to tease and stretch her while sucking her into my lips.

After a while, I had to lick out her ass. I just had to, is all I can say.

She was that beautiful, that gentle, that female. Now splayed on my studio table, I started slowly and tested her out…yes she really wants it, she’s ready, and so I tasted, teased, swirled, nibbled and fucked her with my tongue. She masturbates while I do this and offered the singluar pleasure of feeling her asshole pulse around my tongue as she orgasmed.

We slipped into the cool cotton of my bed and seemed to kiss endlessly, bathed in one another’s scent, and finally slept in one another’s arms. The night passed quickly. In the morning the Rembrandt light of my studio streamd into the window. As I made breakfast, she played with herself in a big mirror.

She ate a little but what she really wanted is to show me her mirror masturbation. She knew that I was interested…very interested. I got my camera and begin to make pictures. It was not just her masturbation she wanted to reveal but how she related to herself, a kind of psychic bond she had with the being deep inside her.

As the afternoon and evening unraveled, she would show me her self-given pleasure, and then invite me to clean up her cum. We shared an unusual transcendant freedom and celebrated our mutual existence. I sucked in her juices and made out with her pussy, her mouth and her asshole….as much as I wanted.

I fucked her with my fingers and she took them into her mouth and licked herself back. She was a true lesbian with herself. Then she would mirror masturbate again.

When it got dark we paused taking pictures and got back into bed and continued loving on one another; there are no night shots on any of the camera rolls. I don’t know what food we ate and I don’t remember if we ever left. We definitely made tea a few times. All I really remember is her and how I felt.

We were dreamy and exhausted in that delightful way when we got into bed Saturday night, drifting in and out of sleep. At some point we were awake in the dark summer silence. I asked her to get on top of me with her head to my feet…and press her vulva aginast my face. My head was supported by a pillow, so we had exactly the right angle.

I said to her, “Go for it, as hard as you want,” and she did. “Masturbate on my face.”

I clasped her hips and guided her toward me. She squished herself into me and pressed her soft, sweet pussy into my mouth. Guiding her hips and grunting with delight, I encouraged her to cut loose and do whatever felt good.

She did, surrendering self-control and setting herself free. I sippled and swallowed and nibbled her delicate flesh as she moaned quietly, intently, and together we let her orgasm happen. With one last push she released a little gush into me and into my mouth as I received her.

Then she turned back around, snuggled against me, and licked her juices off my face, and then kissed me deeply, endlessly, until we were asleep in one another’s arms.

We woke up Sunday morning. Fresh light and air came in through the windows and blue sheer curtains of my room.

In all that time I had not experienced orgasm. I had not overtly longed to fuck her, though suddenly the idea was extremely appealing. Her small frame, her sleepy gorgeous eyes and her total willingness to please, would have been the greatest joy to penetrate deeply and orgasm right into. I wanted her to see my face as we did this.

I wanted to experience the sight of her face when I was deep in my orgasm, surrendering to her, into her, to her love and her beauty.

She had another plan. She sat me on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor, pushed my legs open gently, and began to suck and lick my balls. It was clear what she wanted, or perhaps needed. I chose in that moment to surrender to her desire, which turned out to be something similar to what I had expressed with her all weekend.

Personally, I have no need to have my penis sucked. I can see the appeal to many men, who seem to need this more than anything; I’m not one of them. However, when a partner is into it, I go with their desire, and this is what happened.

Also, when I am around a woman I’m attracted to, my body makes a lot more semen; and I had been going down on Liza for days, filling up on her essence, and I knew that letting go and ejaculating were going to feel really good.

In this, I had her total involvement.

She knew what she was doing, and did it with love. She teased and edged me over a long time…half an hour, an hour, maybe more, I don’t know. She explored me, pleasured me, and entered her desire and her experience. Periodically we would stop and kiss deeply, languidly.

Then she pushed my knees up and teased my ass. Here again, she knew exactly what to do, and as she gave herself over to my pleasure, I relaxed and allowed it to happen and gradually offered to my surrender to her. In a few minutes she was tongue fucking me into utter eternal bliss. Every now and then she would gaze up at me with those magnificent eyes and her gaze would sink deep into me.

I have never experienced such simpatico. She played with my pleasure, stretching and teasing. Then she drew my penis into her mouth and invited me to fuck her.

“Hold my head and do it,” she said. I did, as she received me. She could take me deep into her mouth and throat, to my delight and amazement. Finally we paused. She knew I was dangling on the brink of not being able to hold back. My pelvis was full and I was spinning with sublime ecstasy.

She look at me and said:

“I want you to remember this. I want you to remember my face. OK?”

I nodded yes. I was not sure what she meant.

Then she cupped my balls, fingered my ass and fucked me with her mouth in a way she knew would soon result in my entire body having no other purpose than producing semen. Then it started to happen.

First my orgasm pulsed through me like some cosmic wave, and she seemed to hold me suspended for an eternity, stretching out time, setting me free. She embraced the tip of my penis snugly with her mouth. She flicked her tongue on the underside of my head and then, all at once, I was rippling into existence, crying out, having never felt or experienced such a thing. Each gush flooded her small mouth.

She did not swallow. Her mouth was filled with my enormous ejaculation. Then she looked up at me, deep into my eyes, and opened her mouth. This is what she wanted me to see, and acknowledge, and know, and remember…about her and about us.

This was her desire and her freedom.

She held my gaze for a long time, even as I looked into her small, overflowing mouth, my semen dripping out a little. She showed me her tongue; and then finally, she had to swallow, with her eyes open, penetrating my soul deeply, entering me forever.