Wet Paint

“There’s something I want,” she said softly into my ear.

Lee on the Grandmother Land. Photo by Eric Francis.

In the first hour she knew me, at the top of a waterfall in New Paltz, Lee pulled her jeans around her knees, pulled up her shirt and masturbated as I watched and photographed her face. What a lovely introduction to her. Her face reminds me of sex every time I see a picture of her.

Later that evening, she held space as I knelt in front of a mirror. I masturbated as she described how she planned to fuck her boyfriend the next day, moaning under her breath as she spoke to me and stated her intentions.

I watched my eyes as I fucked my ass, as she kept me company and encouraged me to go deeper. Then soon I orgasmed into my palm, grunting with my face exposed, lapping myself up and smearing my wet hands on my face. We went to bed and cuddled each other all night like little kids, both wholly fulfilled in one another’s presence.

I didn’t see her again for more than eight months.

We corresponded a bit, though her life was complex, between school, taking care of her children and working as a teacher. Her existence seemed to be dominated by kids and Montesorri school stuff.

One day she wrote to me and said she was planning to come over, and soon enough she arrived, announcing herself by a quiet tap on the door. This seemed to be inherent in the nature of Blue Studio: the announcement that she was on her way.

I opened the door and she was standing there wearing a black lace dress and black patent leather pumps. She was tall, looking right into my eyes and then a bit downward, though demurely. Her curly dark hair swayed as she strode in on her long, elegant legs that took a long moment to reach the floor with each step.

We embraced and she seemed to snatch me closer for a moment, then let go.

She looked at my face and I looked at hers, seeing a women bred to have what used to be known as poise: a relaxed, attentive elegance. Her eyes did not seem to gaze but rather to search, drawing me toward her again.

Her body softened and opened as I hugged her gently, and then I felt her relax and melt. In a few moments our mouths embraced and sucked one another, first delicately and then aggressively.

Then the shoulder of her dress came down and I was sucking her nipple. My hands clung to her waist as she sat down on a big heavy bar stool and sighed with pleasure. Her shoes came off.

We moved onto my bed and embraced.

“There’s something I want,” she said softly into my ear.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to tie my legs open.”

She had lovely, long, strong legs, that curved from her thighs into a womanly ass that was a delight to see.

Then I imagined her legs pulled apart and restrained.

“Tie your legs open?”

I was just making sure.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.”

“I can do that.”

I let the pleasure of that image, and that idea, percolate through me. I kissed her and got up and got from my supply cabinet a roll of bright yellow Wet Paint tape that was leftover from a photo shoot a few years earlier.

Coming back to bed, I helped her slip out of her dress and bodice, and I clasped her wrists. I positioned her so that her hands were toward the heavy black bar stool she had just been sitting on. I tied her wrists together and then to the metal foot bar. I slid her body a bit further down away from the stool so that her arms and wrists were pulled tight.

“All good?” I asked.

She nodded and breathed deeply.

I kissed her mouth luxuriously. Then, gratuitously, I traveling across her belly in a series of kisses, I took advantage of the moment and inhaled a long, deep and sensuous sniff of her cunt. The scent and meaning of life.

I had no idea how she would smell though I was certain I would like it. I did. I sniffed her again deliciously, kissed the tuft of her hair, made out with her mouth a few moments, and went back to restraining her. By this time we both knew what this encounter would be about.

I bent her knee gently and wrapped the stretchy yellow tape around it, so that her knee was partly immobilized; then the other; and her knees dropped open. Once again I leaned into her vulva and drew in her scent. Not touching or tasting — teasing and hinting. Expressing my pleasure and approval.

One leg I tied to the other bar stool, and her other leg to a thick drain pipe that ran down the wall. She was splayed. Her face was sweet as she laid with her eyes closed and her head tipped to the side. Her vulva was beginning to blossom and her pussy was so wet moisture that it was beginning to collect in clear little beads.

“Is that adequate?” I asked her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I feel perfect.”

Her plump breasts were pulled taut, and her nipples stood erect. I sucked one, half-expecting milk to spray into my mouth. She had such a mama’s body from birthing three times. She moaned delightfully and with the feeling of gratitude as I sucked and wrapped my tongue and lips around her nipple and areola. Then the other, clasping her waist with my fingers.

Then I indulged myself in smelling her armpits, first one, then the other, then I licked them both, tasting her sweat with greedy thirst.

Once again I sniffed her cunt, now more obviously playing with the tension of her desire. Spread open like that, helpless and free, I knew what she hoped was coming.

Her knees were apart and her anatomy was plump and erect and inviting.

I sniffed again, and this time I moaned and let go of my restraint and in one gesture slipped my tongue into her vaginal opening as I kissed and delicately spread her vulva with my fingers. Then I fluffed out her inner labia, which grew more erect, and sucked her purple-brownish lips.

The pleasure flushed through both our bodies, and the embrace through our souls. From this moment there was no more tease. We engaged one another in the most elegant, thirst-filling, soul-touching cunnilingus. I stroked her belly and clasped her hips as I sucked and drank and drew her toward her inevitable orgasm.

Her fingers clasped my head and, stroking my hair, she expressed her pleasure.

Then I retreated and licked in a circle around the contours of her labia, and that rim of muscles around the vagina at the top of her thighs…and then once again proceeded to suck her until she moaned, and then I paused.

I have a deep love for licking a woman’s perineum, and then teasing her asshole. As I did, she pulled taut against her restraints, and breathed deeply and grunted. I painted her with the delicate brush of my tongue on her sensitive flesh as she held my head.

This was really my idea of a good time. I resumed making out with her cunt lips, and her clit, all while massaging her belly and playing with her fingers, until she let go with a little heave and a gush that I swallowed as her belly was contracting and relaxing through her climax.

I kissed her belly as she settled down to Earth. I felt her breathe and relax and, gradually, I drew my lips down, past the soft muff of her hair, which was collecting her scent copiously, and then I brought my tongue onto her clit lightly, feeling the perfect tension flow through her and then she growled and moaned as she came again, into and onto my mouth.

Somewhere in the midst of this I asked her if she had fucked recently. She said yes, that her boyfriend had fucked her three days earlier. She said that she was on her hands and knees when it happened and that he’d held her hips and thrust into her until he lost control.

Had he spilled himself into her, or did he use a condom?

She said that he let himself go into her body, filling her up.

That pushed my thirst again and I licked out the inner spaces of her cunt with my tongue stretched as long and deep as it would go.

Finally we were too exhausted to go on, and she was fully satisfied. I had my thirst filled like never before. I knelt beside her and moaned as I spurted semen onto her belly and breasts, her eyes gazing at the expression on my face as I did so, and then bathed in her…my face, my tongue, my mouth — she was my altar of self-embrace.

Then she asked me to cut her free, which I did with a large kitchen knife.

I squished what remained of the thick, warm fluid between our bodes as I hugged her and we fell asleep like that, soaked in our sweat and her juice and my semen.

A few weeks later she called me and said she was pregnant. I had sucked and drank from and smelled her pregnant pelvis and cunt, where her lover had ejaculated and she had received him. I had sucked her breasts that would soon be making milk.