The Next Day At Work

The next day, Holly texted Matt at work, asking if he could talk. He could.

Holly: Remember my friend from college, Karen Montaque?
Matt: I remember her name. I never actually met her. She transferred before you and I started dating.
Holly: Oh, yeah, that's right. We've kept in touch, though. But we've never really gotten together. She runs in a way different circle than ours. She is an artiste' and all of that.
Matt: So why this sudden stumble down memory lane?
Holly: Well, she is in a bit of a bind. Her male model had to go out of town and she's trying to get together a showing. There are a couple of painting she needs to finish. Since she happens to know that you don't mind walking around nude . . .
Matt: And how does she just 'happen' to know? Did you 'happen' to tell her?
Holly: Maybe. . . So, are you interested?
Matt: Maybe.

Riding in a cab to the address in the city that Holly had given him over the phone, he tried to remember what this Karen looked like. He was certain that Holly must have shown him a picture of her at some point, but he couldn't recall.

He certainly was not expecting the busty, long-haired blonde with the low-cut knit dress that opened the door on the third-floor walk-up.

"Matt?" she asked, extending her right hand. "But of course you are. No man in a suit would be in this building at this time of day. Or any time of day for that matter. I know it's rather seedy, but it has good lighting. Would you like a glass of wine? And the rent is cheap. My apartment across town is about three times what I'm paying for this studio. Now Holly told you this would be a nude modeling session, right? Of course she did. She's the one who told me about your newfound freedom. Oh, go ahead. Take off your clothes so that we can get started. Would you like a glass of wine? How is Holly, by the way. She and I really need to do lunch sometime. I just always seem to be so busy."

As Matt peeled off his clothes, he wondered if the woman ever paused to breathe. But her prattling did cease when he stepped out of his boxers.

"Oh, nice," she commented, stepping over to him. "May I?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grasped his cock. "I need you to be erect," she looked up at him, explaining why she was fondling his privates. Once she had him sufficiently aroused, she directed him to assume the pose that she wanted. When she sat down at the easel, her ceaseless flood of words stopped. Karen was all business, concentrating on the canvas and paint. Her obsession with her work caused her to be rather careless of how she sat. Matt had a clear view up her skirt, her legs spread wide and her black panties on display.

Which was a good thing.

Karen wanted him hard during the session, and from time-to-time she would come over to squeeze and position his cock. Making it stand just so.

"Oops!" she gasped one time, when her squeezing caused a drop of pre-cum to ooze out of the slit at the end. She delicately dabbed the clear, sticky liquid away with the tip of her middle finger. "Sorry about that," she apologized for some reason and resumed her seat at the easel.

It was almost two hours later when Matt's cellphone beeped with a text message. "Don't move!" she shouted. She wanted him to stay in the exact pose he was in. Running over to his pile of discarded clothing, Karen's boobs bounced pleasantly in the low-cut knit dress. When she handed the phone to him, he read the text and said, "It's Holly. She wants to know when I'll be home."

"I'll call her," Karen replied, fishing her own cellphone out of her over-sized purse.

"Hello, Holly? It's Karen," the busty blonde spoke into her phone. "Can you spare him for about another thirty minutes? I'm almost done with this painting." There was a pause as Holly replied. Then Karen said, "Oh, yes, he's a real dish. And such a lovely cock!" Again she was silent as Holly spoke. "I know . . . I know . . . You were very specific about that. . . I won't . . . I won't . . . But listen," she looked over at Matt's crotch. "He's been leaking quite a bit, should I finish him off before . . . Alright. Alright. Jeez! You make it sound like his cum is liquid platinum! . . . Yes, love you, too. Bye."

"Sorry, Matt," she said as she returned to her seat at the easel, "I'm going to have to send you home with a set of blue balls."

She dabbed a couple of splotches onto the canvas and slowly shook her head, muttering to herself, "Damn! I'd like to have that thing inside me right about now."