I'm an artist.

Most of the work I do is commercial stuff; graphic art, magazines, displays, that kind of thing. I do still keep up with the "real" art, though, and recently had several of my pieces on display at the gallery a friend of mine, Jodi, works for (I'm sure she had something to do with it). I put a lot of passion into my work, and the subject matter tends to show it. This batch was a set of drawings and paintings dealing with violence and violent sex. Seeing as how I hadn't been getting any lately, I had sublimated the frustrations onto the canvas. All of the works were for sale, with the exception of one: Jacqueline's Fate. It had a certain personal value to me.

I went to the opening of the show to see who was interested in my work, and what the reaction of the patrons was to it's subject matter. Mostly I watched the people looking at Jacqueline's Fate. The rather realistic painting centered on a young woman with pale skin and short dark hair. Her body was muscular with smooth hips and full breasts, both partially covered by wisps of a silken scarf the color of dried blood. From around her neck, a noose of silken rope extended up and out of the frame, clutched by her shackled hands. The pose caused her back to arch, pushing out her chest, while her right knee thrust forward, pressing her thighs together, capturing the blood-red fabric between them. Behind her, blending with the shadows was an androgynous figure, faintly feminine, with a masculine power to it. The figure's left hand lay on Jacqueline's pale stomach, while it's right lay on her face, either in a caress or a violent grasp. Was the figure attacking her? Saving her? Fucking her? Gently savoring her pain or pleasure? Was it male or female? Was Jacqueline writhing in agony or pleasure? Orgasm or death? I wasn't going to tell.

I did the painting after breaking up with Jacqueline. She left me for another woman--which I accepted--but that woman was a man-hating bitch. At the end, she convinced Jacqueline that what I had done to her was rape, and not the love I knew it was. We had always played on the rough end of normal, and Jacqueline instigated as much as I did and, I'm forced to admit, won more often. Eventually, they split, but the damage was done.

I shook my self back to reality, and looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. Thinking about Jacqueline still hurt, and I always sank inside myself when she came to my mind. The dark mood of the exhibit didn't help any. As I turned back to my painting, I stopped in shock. Standing in front of the painting was a woman I had seen before. She was short, maybe 5'-4", but built muscular beneath the leather jacket and jeans. Her hair was cut fairly short and stylishly butch. coming to a point in the back, while shaved to fuzz along the sides. As she turned occasionally to look around the room, I caught sight of a plain white T-shirt beneath the jacket, and small pert breasts underneath that. She didn't need a bra, and took advantage of the fact. My eyes, however, kept returning to her ass. It was high and tight, running smoothly from her round hips to what I knew to be muscular legs hidden under the loose denim of her faded jeans. The way she stood-- shoulders down, back straight yet relaxed, hips slightly askew--showed that she had confidence and power, as well as an undeniably sensual and sexual presence. This was a woman who knew what she wanted, and got it. She was unbelievably beautiful, and she was Jacqueline's current girlfriend.

I didn't know what to do. I knew that she didn't know me personally, but wasn't sure if she might recognize me anyway. I had no idea what Jacqueline may have said about me. I only new about her from mutual friends of Jacqueline's, and the couple times I had seen them together in public. I had made sure not to be spotted by my ex, though.

She stopped glancing around the room, and fixed her gaze on the picture. She stood there for nearly five minutes, staring at the painting, and I stared at her. As I watched her, I noticed a change in the way she stood. Her breathing became deeper, her chest slowly swelling and releasing, she began to sway ever so slightly, and the fingers of her hand traced tight circles on the leg of her pants, sharp nails scratching across the tough fabric covering her thigh. She was getting aroused. By my painting! Did she recognize her lover in the painting? Was it something else?

Quickly, she stopped and looked around the room with a guilty subtlety, looking to see if anyone had notice her. At last her gaze stopped on me. I had not taken my eyes off of her the entire time, and now I found myself looking into hers. From this distance, they seemed entirely black--deep wells into which a man might fall forever. Except they weren't for any man.

Knowing I had been caught, I silently admitted I had been watching, and left the next move up to her. Wiping her hand on her pants leg, she walked slowly up to me and extended it. "You must be the artist." "Indigo" I offered, taking her hand "Interesting name. Shannon" Her hand was strong with smooth skin on the back, slightly rougher on the palm. They were hands that worked. She let her fingers subtly caress mine as she drew her hand back. "You were watching me." It was neither a question nor an accusation, simply a statement of fact. "You were looking into my mind," I gestured to the canvas behind her, "I was only looking at your form." "Somehow I think you saw more than that." I made no attempt to reply. She was right and we both new it. "I want it." It took me a second to understand what she meant. "That one is not for sale." "I want to see it hanging at the head of my bed. It'll be the perfect compliment to the rest of the decor." "Hmmm." My eyebrows raised. "And what will your girlfriend say to that?" "What makes you think I would have a girlfriend?" I let a touch of smile cross my lips. "You're too attractive to be straight, and to confident to be single. Forbidden fruit twice over." "Only want what you can't have, hmmm?" She glanced back at the painting, then returned her eyes to mine. "She'll like it as much as I do." "Forbidden fruit." She lightly bit her bottom lip, letting it slip slow back out into an evil, yet seductive smile. "At the risk of sounding cliché, I have an offer that I think will change your mind." "An offer I can't refuse, Hmmm?" "Something like that." "And what might that be?" "Two thousand dollars and seven hours." "Seven hours?" I had once offered the same to Jacqueline. She had left before she used it. Again my thoughts began to race. The sight of Shannon in front of me held me in the real world though--if this WAS the real world. She reached over the small table beside me and picked up one of my business cards the gallery had placed there for the patrons. She looked at it briefly, apparently reading the address and phone, then looked back to me. "Saturday night. About 10? You have the painting, and I'll have money...and the watch." She gestured a kiss towards me and walked out of the room, without waiting for a reply. I simply stood there.

The show ended on that Thursday, and I let the gallery take care of packing up the paintings--with the exception of Jacqueline's Fate. I took that home myself. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I thought I should be prepared either way.

I spent most of Saturday flipping from impatience to panic. What was I getting into. Would I really go through with this? Would she? Was this some sort of trick on Jacqueline's part? I wanted a drink something fierce, but I wanted a clear head just in case. Finally I just sat an stared at the painting.

When the doorbell rang, it startled me. I had decided that whatever else happened, I was going to take Shannon's offer at face value. I walked to the door and opened it. Shannon stood there, dressed the same as she had been in the gallery. I felt the blood rush from my head for a second, swell in my pants. If this was for real, I was going to enjoy every moment of it.

"I have the watch. Do you have the painting?" "I do. But I haven't agreed to sell. Forbidden fruit."

She placed her left hand on my chest, and drawing close, kissed lightly, powerfully on my lips. With the gentlest of pressure, she pushed me from in her way. I stepped aside and let her in.

She walked past me into the loft apartment and let her jacket slide off her shoulders, throwing it onto a nearby chair. After closing and locking the door, I walked up behind her, placing my hands on her shoulders, feeling the muscles and smooth skin beneath. I had agreed, and she knew it.

She turned around and put her arms around my neck. "Hmmm. The clock is started." With that, she drew my mouth to hers, and kissed me. Her kisses were strong. Her tongue wound its way through my mouth, delving deep into me, caressing my own tongue, first gently, the violently. I felt her chest pressing against mine, her nipples two hard points even though the fabric of our shirts. I let my hands follow down her back to her tight ass, caressing it through her pants, feeling its firmness, its shape. I would have her there tonight. I had to.

My hands came up slightly and grasped the fabric of her shirt pulling it out from her pants. They worked up under the thin white fabric to her strong back. I could feel the muscles move beneath the smooth soft flesh. I could feel the texture of small scars breaking up the smoothness. Scars the size and shape of fingernails. My own back had those scars. Jacqueline was still aggressive, it would seem.

Slowly I worked the shirt higher, until I broke our kiss to pull it over her head. Her small breasts stood out firm and round, the nipples, surrounded by the barest ring of the dark aureole, were hard and erect. I let the shirt drop to the floor and ran my fingers across those breasts. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, pushing them tighter to my hand. I kissed her hard and quick several more times, as my hands clenched and teased her lovely chest, then I stepped back abruptly. She snapped open her eyes and looked at me, not saying a word. "Remove the rest."

The rest consisted of her sandals and pants, and what ever she might have on underneath. My guess was nothing, as the smoothness of her ass felt unbroken when I had it in my hands. She slipped the sandals off her feet effortlessly, while letting her hands caress her own chest and stomach, slowly working down to the front of her jeans. She popped the button with one quick motion and easily unzipped them. This was not to be a teasing dance, but a confident undressing. She knew what I wanted. She wanted it as well.

As she let the jeans fall around her ankles, I found I was mistaken in my guess. Under the jeans she wore a small black g-string, barely covering her mound. It was either shaved or well trimmed, as no hair showed on naked skin. She stepped lightly out of the jeans, and reached for the small piece of fabric that was all she wore. "No. Leave it for me. Do mine now."

I wore only old Levi's and a sweatshirt; sleeves pushed up, and feet bare. She placed her hands on my slim hips, and let them slide up under the sweatshirt feeling the flow of muscles as they widened from hips to shoulders. Her fingers slipped through the curls of hair on my chest and stomach, causing my skin to tense in anticipation.

At last she pulled the grey material over my head and down my arms, throwing it uncaringly to the side. She let her hands return to my chest and its covering of fine black hairs. Though thin, my body is well muscled from years of Tai-Chi. Slowly, her hands slipped downward again, to the waist of my pants. As they reached the top button of the worn 501's, a wicked smile came over her face, and the tenderness ended.

With a single swift motion, she yanked the 4 buttons open, revealing the thicker patch of hair behind. She pushed the jeans down easily past my thighs, leaving me to finish stepping out of them myself. I did this. I stood now in front of her, completely naked of clothing, though still covered by the complex array of tattoos which covered most of my body. All black, tribal, running up my legs, back and hips. They were my attempt to become my own art.

Shannon, however, paid little attention to the ink, instead she ran her hands over my chest, legs, and arms. As I looked down into her dark eyes, I grabbed her hands to my chest stopping her.

"Why?" I asked. She simply shook her head. A realization suddenly came to my mind. "Have you ever...?" She made no reaction, but I could see the answer in her eyes. "We should stop. I should stop." I started to pull away reluctantly, but she pulled my back.

"No. I want this." "Why?" "Curiosity. Power." She smiled, whether at the last or the next I didn't know. "Forbidden fruit." Her look became serious again. "I offered. You accepted." That was all she needed to say. Again a smile crossed her face, this time, however, it was tinted with an evil hue. Her fingers, still held loosely against my chest, clenched tightly, digging her nails into my skin. She pushed her head forward, teeth glinting, up under my chin, and sunk them into the tender flesh of my neck. The pain of the two attacks raced through me, and I gasped. This was pleasure. This was pain. As suddenly as she attacked, she pushed away, devilish smile still on her lips, perhaps a touch of blood--my blood, and walked to the futon across the large room. I watched her walk, the tight muscles of her thighs and ass holding my attention. After a short pause, I strode quickly after her, catching up just as she reached the low bed. She stopped without turning just as I came up behind her, causing me to press against her back. I was now fully erect, and my cock pressed against her spine, my balls resting at the top of her ass, the base pressing into her crack. I reached around and dug my fingers into her tight stomach, my teeth grazed along her neck, biting, kissing. I pushed my hands farther down, across the fronts of her thighs and around to the soft insides, staying away--for now--from her covered mound. My fingers caressed her thighs sensually as I continued to sink my teeth into her neck and shoulders. The contrast of the two sensations working against and with each other through her body.

Her breathing grew deeper, then hovered shallowly at the top of her breath, only to gasp deeply again. I let my hands caress more of her body--mostly gently, sometimes roughly--across her thighs, up along the smooth curve of her hips to the tensed muscles of her stomach and farther to her small breasts. I teased her nipples, fanning my fingers across them again and again. Sensing her reactions building, started my hands back down again.

She reached, stretching back, and wrapped her arms around my head, pulling it towards her mouth as she twisted her neck to meet my kiss. As our lips met with furious passion, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. I felt her tense from head to toe, and her mouth sucked my tongue deep into her. She was nearing the verge of orgasm, and I had barely even begun. I continued to dig the nails of my left hand into her thighs, as I ran my other hand roughly against the silky fabric of her g-string. She began thrusting her hips against my hand, causing her ass to grip against my cock, her cheeks milking the sensitive base. Feeling her tension rise, and pacing it against my own, I finally slipped my hand under the thin fabric, and ran it against the smooth, sensitive skin, and short soft hairs. With a gasp she came. He hips locked forward, my own thrust tightly against her back, my one hand painfully gripping her inner thigh while the other worked against her moist lips and hooded clitoris. Her breathing stopped as the air rushed from her lungs. I felt the cheeks of her ass clench and unclench again and again, like lips against my member. I continued, rather than stopped, taking her past the point of pleasure almost to the point of pain, and then stopped suddenly, letting the sudden cessation of action take it's own toll upon her. She came crashing down from the wave of ecstasy she had been riding, again gasping deeply for the air she desperately needed. Without giving her a chance to recover, I laid Shannon down on the futon, and I on top of her. She spread her legs slightly to allow my hips to slide between them My stomach lay against the wet fabric of her g-string, and my face against her chest.

I once again let my hands run over her body, this time sensual, though still with strength. My mouth, too, began to explore her body. She became my center. All else faded from existence beside her. I looked upon her perfect from, felt the smoothness of her skin broken by the minute flaws brought about by accident or excessive passion. I smelled the spice aroma of her sex and her body, and tasted its flavor upon my tongue.

I took my time in this exploration. I had hours yet to enjoy her, and I was going to see that she pleased first. Minute by delicate minute I slid lower and lower upon her, getting to know her body, her reactions, her needs, until at last, my lips brushed against the tiny triangle of fabric that was all she wore. My fingers ventured beneath the elastic teasingly, followed shortly after by my mouth. A minute passed and I went no further, staying instead just beyond the edge of the prize. Two minutes. A third. Her hands pulled from within my hair and went to the string that held the fabric in place. This is what I had waited for. She raised her hips from the bed, and together we pulled the fabric from her mons. I slowly sat up, pulling the tiny piece of clothing towards me down her legs. Her thighs, then her calves, pressed together as I raised from between them , to let the g-string slide down. When at last it came completely off, I tossed it aside uncaringly. It has served it purpose, now it was useless.

She gently spread her legs again to let me between them. I place my lips against at the joint of her hip and began to slowly kiss my way toward the neatly-trimmed patch of hair. My fingers ran gently over the cleanly shaved labia, stroking in a flowing rhythm to match her deep easy breaths. I kissed the soft patch of hair, inhaling her musk, tasting the salt of her skin. I moved the scant inches to the smooth lips of her mons. This was heaven. As my mouth began, gently to explore her folds, my hands again ventured out across her body, stroking and caressing in a slow sensual rhythm which to contrast the viciousness of a few minutes ago.

My tongue pushed gently, yet insistently between the warm, swollen lips to the wet velvety insides of her. In and out, brushing along the sensitive folds, against her erect clit, ever so slightly; this was a slow tease, not a violent passion. For a second, I pull away to return my attention to the insides of her muscular thighs. A kiss, a bite, and back to the sweetness of her cunt. My hands stroke in slow rhythm from her hips to her arms, brushing lightly against the sides of her breast, my thumb reaching out to graze the nipple with it's rough calluses.

Easily, my mouth's gently ministrations grow more intense--no faster, no harder, simply more intense. The grip of my hands grows stronger against her skin. I take one breast in my hand and tease the hard nipple with a long rough finger, slow and hard, every movement deliberate and precise. Her hips begin to rise against my mouth in small circles; one hip rises, then the other, to fall again in the same order. The seconds slip by and the intensity grows. She is again rising on the wave of ecstasy. I continue to take it slow, remembering what Jacqueline had taught me. I was using the same style, the same techniques as Shannon's lover. Did she notice? Did she care?

Mouth moist with her juices, lips softened and warm, I at last focused my attention on her clit. A slow stroke of the tongue, a warm gentle breath across its wetness. I felt her body tense in a shiver of pleasure. Again a gentle stroke and a breath. Again her body shivered from the gentle touches, and she rose higher on the wave. So close to the top, I eased back just the slightest, letting her remain at that place, so close, so painfully close, not finishing, not slipping back, until after seconds that must have felt like hours, I took the little finger of sensitive flesh into my mouth and sucked it hard against the rough wetness of my tongue, as my nails dug fiercely into the muscles of her back, thumbs in the nerves under her arms. She clenched violently, her entire body tensing instantly against me. I felt the nails of her hands dig themselves sharply into my neck and shoulder, pulling me to her, as though I could be pulled into her, whole. For 15 seconds, 20, 25, she clenched against me with every ounce of strength she could spare, until at last she let out a scream, thrusting her hips back away from me as her hands yanked my head away from her painfully sensitive cunt.

I relaxed even as she stayed tensed, and looked to her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and the jaw of her open mouth jutted forward. She held that way for several second more, waiting, I knew, for the sensations to fade away enough for her to gain control again. I waited patiently until with a violent shudder, she came down to Earth again. I smiled widely as she looked down at me, and crawled up to kiss her gently on the lips. She responded lightly, too worn out to do much more just then. I drew her to me, wanting to feel the heat of her body, the swell of her chest as the deep breaths worked through it, the brush and smell of her silken hair against my chest. I rolled gently to my back, with her on top, and felt the warm stickiness of blood on my neck where it touched the pillow: the product of her sharp nails.

For a long time we simply lay there, my hands absently stroking against the smoothness of her skin or through the softness of her hair. As my fingers touched upon a tight or knotted muscled, they would gently kneed it for a minute and then move on, returning later if need be. Finally, she raised her head and looked into my eyes. At first I saw a happy emptiness, which faded as she looked at me, to be replaced by a look of curiosity and disbelief. I knew the question that ran behind those eyes, and laughed silently, a large smile covering my face.

"I had an excellent teacher. A patient, passionate, beautiful teacher."

She said nothing, and instead just let her head hang relaxed for a second. She raised her head promptly, suddenly realizing something I had been aware of all along-- the pressure of my erect cock against her stomach. The feeling seemed to come as somewhat of a surprise to her, which I took as a compliment of sorts. If she could forget for a while that I was a man, I must have been doing something right. A twisted logic, I know, but an honest one.

She slid gently off to the side, and looked down at the as yet untouched piece of flesh. Her hand slid down to touch it, hesitantly, carefully. She brushed her fingers along its length, causing it to twitch. I heard a slight laugh escape her lips. A laugh of fascination, I hoped. She slid down the bed until her head lay on my hip. I watched as she ran her fingers along it, touching, pushing, feeling. I realized that she had probably never explored a man's body in this way before. She undoubtedly had performed this ritual with women, but never a man.

For several minutes, she simply touched and looked. I did nothing but watch her. At last she looked up at my face, knowing that her curious ministrations were causing me some amount of pleasurable discomfort. Holding the short length of me in her hand, she moved herself between my thighs, and looked again to my gaze, a question on her eyes.

"As you want." I whispered to her. She bit her lip as she had in the gallery, letting it slip teasingly from between her devilishly smiling teeth. "Please?"

She gently placed her lips on the tip, wetting them with the tiny drop of shiny liquid there. As she pulled back, her tongue darted out to taste the salty drop now on her lips. Apparently she didn't disapprove, because her lips returned to the soft head, again kissing it. She worked her way down the sensitive under side, and back again to the tip, pausing occasionally to wet her lips or look at the object of her attention. Once she looked back up to my face, smiling. She seemed to like knowing that I was watching her, yet letting her proceed at her own pace.

She teased me as I had teased her. Delicate kisses along the shaft, across the sensitive inside of my thighs and at the point they joined. Soon she grew bolder. Her tongue came out licking the underside, or lifting the stiff shaft to get at the top. After caressing all sides with the rough slickness of her warm tongue, she again kissed the spongy head. This time, though, she pressed forward, taking the tip into her mouth, and sucking gently on it before pulling back off. She repeated the process, this time taking slightly more inside her. Again and again she pulled back and pressed forward, each time taking a little bit more of me within her soft, sensuous mouth.

I am not large, and only of average length. At this moment I was glad, as she was easily able to take all of me into her warm mouth, and gently stroke my length. Her hands caressed my hips and stomach, sometimes letting her nails rake gently across the flesh and hair. Like her, I keep my pubic hair trimmed short, but unlike her, the rest of me is also covered with a coat of fine black hairs. This, too, was new to her. Whether she liked it or not I couldn't tell. Perhaps it was simply a novelty.

Her attentions became more insistent, as did my pleasure. I knew that soon I would need release. I savored the moments until then. Whether her talent was natural or practiced, I didn't know, but I did know that she new exactly how to take me where she wanted me. Only one other woman I had know could do these things to me. Only one other.

I moved my hands to caress her arms as her own hands wrapped around my hips to play with my ass. Her nails ran along the crack, sending my hips thrusting forward, to her waiting mouth. As I felt the tension in my loins getting tighter, the pressure greater, she ran the nail of one finger teasingly along the rim of my anus. Touching, touching, teasing. I felt the pressure reaching its peak. "I'mm......." I began to whisper.

At that moment her lips clamped tight around my shaft, and her finger thrust forward into my tight ass. I clenched suddenly, and unable to hold any longer, let my come rush out into her warm and waiting mouth. My entire body shook as I felt the contractions through my loins. As my body began to relax, she thrust again with her finger, causing me to twitch again. A second time she did this, then let me relax.

She gently pulled her mouth from my still hard shaft, and cat-like, crawled up until she knelt with her head hanging above mine. That devilish smile returned to her face, and a dark gleam shone in her eye as she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine. I met her kiss, and opening my mouth to hers, tasted the warm saltiness of my own come as it trickled into my mouth. I paused for only a second, then pressed forward into the kiss, matching her passion, pulling her down on top of me in a tight embrace.

She broke from the kiss, and spread herself out across me, our breathing heavy and slow, the thudding of our racing hearts contending against each other for dominance in our ears. I reached over to the water bottle I keep near my bed and offered it to her. She took a long drink and handed it back. I took several swallows and placed it back on the floor.

Not having had enough of her, I began to caress her back, ass, and legs. The thin layer of sweat on her (and me) acted like a massage oil, letting my hands glide smoothly over her skin. She put her own hands behind my head, and buried her face in my chest. I concentrated the attention of my hands on her tight ass: feeling it, caressing it. I gasped it tightly in my grip, then gently brushed my fingers across it with only the barest of touches. Without moving its position, her body came alive, it tensed and relaxed, her breathing began coming in short ragged bursts, her hips slowly started rotating against my own.I moved my fingers down between her cheeks, gently brushing against the small brown knot hidden there. Her movements became more intense. I slipped one hand around to the moist lips of her mons, and wetted them with her juices. Drawing them tantalizingly back to the small knot of her anus, I pressed one thin finger against the opening. I relaxed the finger for a second, then pressed again--not trying to enter--not yet. I relaxed the finger once more, then press forward one last time, past the tight muscle and into her. Her head flew back and her mouth came open in a silent scream.

I gently worked my thin finger along the smooth walls of her rectum, while my other hand ran the length of her spine. She stayed, back arched, wet mons pressed against my hips, with the muscles of her ass tightly milking my finger. She brought her head forward and looked into my eyes.

"I want you there." This was not a request, this was not an offer. It was a command. One I would follow whether I wanted to or not. For my own part, I wanted to, but in those four words she had let it be known that she was in control of this situation. My silence was my agreement.

I slowly withdrew my hand from its velvety embrace, as she slid off me to the dark sheets. I reached into the small crate that serves at my nightstand, and took out a small bottle of scented oil. I had no idea of her experience in these matters, and either way, it was the polite thing to do. Of all the time politeness matters, sex is perhaps the most important. I had other plans for the oils as well.

Still soft after the wonderful attention of her mouth, I needed a few moments again rise to the task ahead. She lay face down on the bed beside me. I placed one leg on either side of her hips and sat on the warm roundness of her ass. I poured an amount of the cool oil on her back and rubbed it in, kneading the muscles with slow powerful strokes, each one working toward the end effect. Over and over again I added the oil to her skin, moving slowly across her entire body, from her supple neck and square shoulders to her delicately sculpted ankles. Front and back, I massaged the fragrant oils into her. Her muscles relaxed even as they came alive again, filled with new energy yet supple and flexible.

Rolling her onto her stomach again, I began to concentrate my attention on her beautiful ass once more. My attention to her had also affected me, and I was again hard. She decided the time for warm up was though, and pushed herself back into a kneeling position, her knees pressed against her chest, hands out in front of her holding her shoulders up. This position spread her cheeks apart, giving me a view of the entrance I desired. She looked back at me across her shoulder with a look of command and sensuality. It was my order to begin.

I poured a few last drops of the oil on to her ass, letting the drip slowly down the crack to her knot, and another few upon my own hard shaft. Her look had told me this was no longer time to be gentle. She wanted it hard. The blood-lust was again in her veins.

I placed the tip of my cock against the small hole and prepared to press forward. Instead, she thrust herself back onto me with a single swift movement. A quiet scream caught in her throat as she gasped. I held for a second in her tight embrace until her breath came back to her, then slowly began to stroke back and forth into her ass. Her head again turned back to me, this time with a look of viciousness and pure sexuality gleaming darkly in her eyes. In a quiet, commanding voice she simply said, "Fuck me." Her legs extended out behind her, stretching tight to match her now out-stretched arms. I lay my self down on top of her, pressing the full length of my body against hers, and began to thrust violently into her.

Her fingers clenched into the sheets, pulling them from the bed. Her face, too was clenched, a look of pain or violent pleasure impressed upon it. Her ass kept rhythm with my thrusts, thrusting back against me with each stroke, as though trying to take me deeper than was possible. I reached one hand down beneath her stomach and thrust one long finger deep into her cunt, as my palm pressed and rubbed against her clit--her own movement producing much of the action.

As I felt myself reaching the peak, I could feel her doing so also. I began to pace myself, thrusting and holding before thrusting repeatedly again. I felt her clench suddenly in the throes of orgasm, her ass clenched tightly around my cock. I let her make all the movements, extending the feeling for her for as long as I could. My own orgasm was hovering just beyond. As she began to come down from the intensity of her reaction, she turned to me one last time and said quietly "do it."

At her command, I thrust a few more times, and let my load go into the warm tight tunnel of her ass.

I collapsed on top of her, and let my slowly softening penis pull itself from the welcome grip of her ass. My hands absently caressed her outstretched arms, and my lips her exposed neck and shoulder. After several minutes, I rolled of her small, tight form, thinking my weight would be getting uncomfortable for her. She curled up against me, letting her fingers explore my body as mine did hers. No sex in this action, just closeness.

"Thank you." I whispered as she looked into my eyes. She seemed slightly taken aback by this, but made no comment. I drew her to me, and felt her curl up and slip into sleep even as I did. Sometime before slipping from consciousness, I noticed the alarm clock. A single thought crossed my mind: "Still three hours left....."

*****

When I woke the next morning, she was gone, and so was the painting. Sitting on the easel was a plain white envelope which I opened to find 20 crisp $100 bills. "So that was it," I thought. "Only business."

Two weeks later I was having coffee with a friend when she brought up an interesting subject.

"Hey, did you hear about Jackie?" "No. I try to ignore that subject, most times." "Well, she broke up with her girlfriend." my heart stopped and fell to the pit of my stomach. My friend must have mistook my reaction for astonishment. "Yeah, 'bout a month ago. Seems her girlfriend caught her cheating." The realization of the date relieved my tension some. "I heard that her girlfriend went out an fucked some guy just to piss of Jackie. Fucked him and threw him back. Imagine his reaction when he found out she was a lesbian just doing him for spite. Poor guy."

"Yeah," I thought to myself. "Poor guy."