Saturday, November 22, 2008

"Alphabetically Yours" Candice

by Julius
Copyright 2005






That morning she had announced she was Candice, an artist's model.

This was their third little madness. The idea had been hers. When the mood and moment seemed right, this sweet maiden of his would announce her new name and profession. The day would then be given over to acting out an encounter. They would guide the 'where' and the 'how' using their imaginations or just let circumstances dictate. Go with the flow, as the expression has it.

Barry was a talented artist, or so people told him. It was a hobby, he wished it could be more. This latest scenario had a definite appeal for him.








They left the train and strolled together towards St.James' Park. Once there they parted company briefly, to become strangers, agreeing to meet again as if by chance.







One sketch in a hundred would draw itself. The pencil leading, his hand following. It was happening now, as easy as breathing. Her legs stretched, tight and long, as she threw pieces of bread for the ducks. Ankles, calves, thighs and that perfect ass appeared on the page, like a photo developing.

Silently he begged her to hold the pose while he shaded and added contour and line. Just his hand and his eyes moving.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. His heart did a little pitter-patter, he was crazy about this girl, this wife of his. She crossed the narrow path and stood in front of him, looking down.

"Is that me?" she asked, moving around the bench to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.

"It's very good," she added. Her long blonde hair tickled his ear and her perfume swirled around his head.

"Yes it's you, I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? No of course I don't mind, it's very flattering," she paused and he watched as her slim fingers reached to touch the paper, "should I pose some more?"

"I'd like it if you would," he said.

She moved back to the railings again and stood, with her bag of bread, tossing scraps. Barry's pencil flew and whispered. Beside his first sketch he began asecond. In this, the thin dress was gone and just the naked girl appeared. He took a blue pencil and added a tiny thong.

The bread gone, she turned and came back behind the bench again. She gave a delighted little squeal, "You've undressed me."

"I draw what I see in my mind sometimes," he said simply.

"You forgot my tattoo and I'm not wearing a thong,"

Barry closed his eyes, feeling her nearness, her breath on his neck. His cock, swollen already, stirred and stiffened in his pants.

"Could I sketch you from the front?"

She gestured around at the people walking in the park. "Promise not to take my dress off this time?"

He chuckled, "I promise."

She crossed once more to the lake's railings and turned to face him. She rested her hands on the iron loops of the fence and crossed her ankles. She was perfect.

The pencil seemed to move of its own accord. The pout of her lips, her breeze-tossed hair, the swell of her breasts ... God, but she was lovely. The light outlined her limbs through the thin dress, she appeared almost naked, despite his promise.

She shifted her weight and crossed her ankles the opposite way, cocking her other hip. The move was almost flirtatious. She smiled, "I'll have to go soon."

"Back to work?"

"Well not really, I've got this afternoon off. It's just ... ," her voice trailed off.

"Please stay a little longer," he gestured at his pad, "you're perfect somehow and this is going so well."

"Maybe a little longer then."

"What do I call you?"

"Candice," she gave a little laugh.

"I'm Barry."

He sketched, blissfully happy and Candice stood with a patience that delighted him.

He very much wanted to draw her in profile but she was beginning to fidget. "Come and sit down for a while, you must be getting tired."

She gave him a wry smile, "That's not the problem, this girl needs the 'ladies,' I'll be right back." She gestured across the park behind him.

"They're closed," he said as she pushed herself away from the railings, "there's a sign saying 'closed for repairs'." He loved this part of the game, steering the plot he called it.

"You're kidding!" she looked around, almost frantically, "there's nowhere else for miles."

He didn't know for sure if her need was real or not. But as always, it stirred him, the thought of her thighs clenching, the pressure behind her pretty pussy. His cock was now an insistent presence. "Come, sit down for a moment," he asked her again.

She sat carefully beside him, groaning softly. Her eyes found his and her hand slid under his sketch pad, finding his hardness.

He feigned surprise, "What are you doing?"

She gestured at the pad, "You sketched me nearly naked, I thought perhaps you found me attractive." She gave his cock a painful squeeze, "I think perhaps you do."

"You're very attractive and a wonderful model, but a model and her artist need to keep their relationship professional," he told her.

Her hand stayed on the bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry but I find myself attracted to you."

She removed her hand then and sat back. He watched as she began inching the dress upwards, exposing her knees. "I do model nude but I charge rather more."

She stopped until a couple with two children had passed. Then the hem resumed its upward progress. She parted her knees. "Do you prefer the undraped form?"

The hem was high on her thighs and his erection was a near-painful thing. "Most certainly, there's nothing more beautiful"

The dress moved a little more. She was naked under the dress. Sunlight glistened bronze on the exposed wisps of her bush.

Her knees came together with an audible slap and she gasped and clutched at her groin. "Oh but I need to go," she hissed through clenched teeth, all her playfulness gone. She glanced left and right, "Hold me."

He slid his hand under her skirt, under her hands and cupped her.

"Tight," she said.

He gripped her. They'd often played like this but never in public. He glanced around nervously but they were alone.

"The artist is being a little familiar now don't you think?" she asked him.

He didn't know how badly she needed to go and didn't really care. His own need swept over him like a flood. He felt her heat, her moisture, the soft press of her curls in his palm. It would be only moments before someone came by and the moment would be gone. He slipped one, two fingers into her and she moaned.

He wanted her so very, very badly. His trapped cock seemed about to burst. He slid his fingers deeper into her. She was all heat and cream inside.

"Someone's coming!" she hissed.

They sat while three teenagers went by, all noise and strut. Her skirt was over her knees again, his pad covering his groin.

As soon as they were alone her hand was on him again. "My turn," she said, her voice gone husky. In moments it seemed, she had him unzipped and his rigid cock out from under his briefs. "That's very flattering," she said, her small hand wrapping around his shaft.

She withdrew her hand and slid it up, under her dress. When she grasped him again her hand was slick with her own juices.

"Now somebody really will be coming," she whispered as she began pumping him.

It took no time at all before he was sobbing towards release. His body struggled, reached climax and hegushed helplessly, time and again.

A woman was approaching with her dog and Candice' hand slipped away from him. He was acutely aware of his open pants and his exposed cock under the sketch pad.

The dachshund led its owner past them and Candice lifted the sketch pad She giggled, "Aren't you messy?"

"That's art," he countered, "you wouldn't understand."

She hastily tucked his cock away and zipped him up. "Now give me your arm and help me hobble to the 'ladies.'"

"Don't you want ... ?" he murmured.

"My pussy and I need two things right now. The first is a pee.

He helped her to her feet. She grimaced as she slowlystraightened.







When she finally emerged he asked, "And the second thing?"

For answer she took his hand and led him towards the bridge that crossed the lake. When they were half way across she asked him to help her up so she could sit on the balustrade. "A little more sketching perhaps?" she asked, wriggling her ass on the stonework.

He stood opposite her, pencil at the ready. Candice rested her hands on the stonework beside her and crossed her legs. A Japanese couple crossed between them, smiling and giving little, bowing nods.

When they were gone she uncrossed her legs and opened them. She was suddenly all thighs. Sunlight through the dress lit their junction. Barry's eyes met hers, she smiled and licked her lips. There was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.

His hand trembled as the pencil made its first few strokes. She spread her legs wider, as wide as the dress hem would allow. She was open, he could see the deep pinkness of her. His cock thickened.

It was difficult to imagine a more provocative pose.

He crossed to her and slid a hand up the inside of her thigh. Up, up till fingertips found wetness. His cock was rigid, despite it recent, happy madness.

"Shouldn't you be sketching?" she asked in a husky voice that made nonsense of her words.

He made a cock from three fingers and slid it slowly into her. She sobbed, she actually sobbed.

"Oh God! Barry! Stop!" she hissed the words.

A group of camera-bedecked tourists were approaching.

He retreated to his own side of the bridge and looked at her. Her legs were crossed again, her pose perfect but her face was flushed and her eyes were closed.

The fingers that held the pad glistened in the sunshine, glistened with Candice' juice. He made a pretence of drawing. The people passed. Smiles and 'Hellos' were exchanged.

Then they were gone and he crossed to her. Her legs opened to welcome him. She drew up the hem of the dress, "Kiss me, kiss me down here Barry."

He glanced round, no one on or near the bridge, he bent, his head between her thighs. Gently, oh sogently, he pressed his mouth into her pussy. Her soft thighs closed over his ears, he closed his eyes and left her to keep watch.

His tongue and lips explored her soft sweetness, her musky scent filled his nostrils. He felt her hands on the back of his head, her groin bucked against his mouth.

Suddenly her thighs tensed,.muscles and tendons straining. She was coming. She came. Sudden hot wetness filling his mouth.

Moments later she was frantically pushing him away. He surfaced and looked around. To his left, at the end ofthe bridge stood a policeman, his helmet making him very tall.

He saw the man grin and give a casual salute, turn and walk slowly away from them, along the side of the lake.

Barry looked at Candice and she looked back down at him. Her breasts were heaving and her face bore a deep blush. He helped her down and she clung to him.

"I'm so wet," she murmured.


He put his hand to his mouth, his beard, "Me too."

"Take me home lover, before we get arrested."

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