Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When a heart broken woman turns to Brian for comfort, what can a kind man do? She needs to know he sees her beauty, in her tiny bikini, or out of it.
On the beach, a woman skipped a shell into the ocean. She threw awkwardly, like a girl, with enough force that she lurched a step or two, before recovering her balance. Her bright pink bikini top shivered as her breasts bounced. She held a handful of shells and was talking to the ocean. I was intrigued and tried to imagine what her story was.
She wore a broad straw hat and a gauzy skirt around her hips. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes. She had a necklace that glinted in the bright sunlight from between her breasts, and a streak of sand on her elbow. Working up my nerve, I approached her.
"Hello," I began, pausing as I wrestled with what I wanted to say. "I saw you walking on the beach."
She studied me from behind her dark sunglasses, lips pressed tightly. "You're the artist?" she finally asked.
The word artist stopped me. "I'm not really an artist," I mumbled. "I just draw."
"I've seen what you do," she continued. "You're really good."
Now I was frozen. The feel of the label of artist was too heavy for me to carry. My stomach churned around the thought of what an artist should be.
"Do you think you could draw me?" She was looking down, speaking to the beach, expecting to be rejected.
"That was why I came down here." I said, speaking even as I wrestled with the thought that maybe I was an artist, of sorts. "You're so pretty that I was hoping you would pose for me." I pointed up the hill to my house.
Her head came up and she nodded. Her one hand stroked the sheer fabric of her white skirt, her other hand swept dark strands of hair back over the top of her ear. She nodded absently once, and then again. Dropping her handful of shells, she walked up the beach to my little house. I was following her, studying the way her hips swayed under her wrap. Studying the shifting of her pink briefs through the white gauze of her skirt, I admired the flashes of sunlight that showed at the top of her tan thighs.
"In here?" she asked, as she stepped through the sliding doors. I grabbed my pad and charcoals and followed her. Inside, she had taken off her glasses and was surveying the clutter of my living room. I mumbled apologies and quickly threw clothes into the closet, straightening up.
She scanned the walls, admiring sheets I had tacked to the wall. My house had become my gallery because I liked to put up pictures and criticize mistakes. Some scenes had been drawn repeatedly, showing different attempts to capture some feeling. Nudes clustered on one wall. She paused to study them. I felt my face grow warm.
She took off her hat. Her face was closed and she nibbled on her lip nervously. "Where should I stand?"
I was struggling to get my pad set up and nodded to where she was standing.
She worked at her ponytail, getting her hair free. She rolled the elastic band over her wrist and shook her hair down. She had a thin face, with high cheekbones and fair skin. Her hair was darker close to her head, flowing to lighter blond near the ends. She opened her skirt and bent to fold it carefully on the couch. The she skinned off her pink briefs and dropped them on top of her skirt. Turning her back to me, she reached behind her back and I watched her fingers catch at the string tie. Pulling on the knot, she untied it. She ducked her head and lifted the string halter over her head, dropping her bra to the pile of clothes on the couch. She turned and faced me, completely naked.
I stared at her. Where her briefs had covered her hips and the soft mound of her pussy, her skin was lighter, showing her tan in contrast. Light golden hair had been groomed to lead down to her pussy. Her breasts were highlighted where the cups of her top had protected them. Her pink nipples lay flat against the fullness of her boobs. Somehow that gesture of privacy had given her more allure than this open pose. She stood less naked now, facing me, than when she had turned to undress.
"What?" she asked plaintively and began to cover herself with her hands. One arm crossed her breasts to cup her left breast. One hand wrapped protectively over and under her pussy. Her face turned down, looking with shame at the floor.
I shook my head. "I'm studying you." I said. "I'm trying to see you."
She wore her guarded look, which was not what I wanted to draw. "I'm naked," she said, "You can see all of me."
I shook my head. "Your skin is only on the outside. I want to see ... you. Put your hand in the air, and cock your hip to the side," I said. She obediently took a dancer's pose, that was too posed, too fake.
"What should I do with my other arm?" she asked, releasing her breasts and letting her arm trail awkwardly down her torso. Her breasts, dropping a little, rebounded with an alluring jiggle.
I shook my head, searching for a stance that would show off her body. "Let it rest on your hip, make a fist."
She took the pose. I grabbed my pad, and sat at my kitchen table, tentatively gesturing with the charcoal, trying to find the first lines of her body.
She remained in this exaggerated stance while I struggled to capture it on paper. She was too fake, too defiantly in my face. When I returned to her extended arm, I realized that it had drooped. She was struggling to remain still. Irritated, I ripped off the sheet and crumpled it.
"Relax," I said. "This isn't working." She slumped, and shook her hand trying to work blood back into her fingers.
"I'm sorry, but that was hard.," she said., "My fingers were going to sleep."
I got up from the table and circled her, studying the curves of her body. She had lovely breasts, almost too full to stand out from her body, and yet firm enough to point her nipples directly away from her chest. Her stomach was nearly flat, swelling gently below her navel. It flowed into a swelling over her pubic bone. I was again drawn to the light gold hair that had been trimmed short and into a narrow strip, leading down to her dark cleft.
"Stand with your hands behind your back," I suggested. She did, and I felt we were almost right. "Elbows back," I said, and touched her elbow, guiding it back so that she opened her chest, pushing her breasts out proudly. Her skin was soft and warm over firmer muscles. I wanted to grab her breasts and rock my palm over them, bring her nipples to hard attention. She brought up her chin, coming to parade rest. She looked me in the eye, defying me to see anything but her boobs.
"No, look down... ," I said, "And cock one foot outward."
She tried the stance, not getting it right. I dropped to my knees, and took her foot in my hand, moving her stance more open. I could sense the warmth of her body near my face. I wanted to plunge into her pussy that was now hanging between her open thighs. Instead I rolled back to my feet. I studied her and then grabbed my pad. I began to sketch rapidly. When standing with my pad was too hard, I told her to take a break, and darted out to retrieve my easel. "Get a drink from the fridge," I threw over my shoulder. When I was set up again, she was sprawled on the couch, wine cooler in hand, thighs thrown open, the picture of ease.
"Don't move," I yelled, startling her. "This is it. This is you. Don't move!" I tore off the page with my initial sketch, letting it fall to the ground. Touching the charcoal to the page, I studied her for a long moment and then began to draw. I had to capture this moment. As the charcoal scraped paper, she murmured, "Do you mind if I talk?"
"No, go ahead," I said absentmindedly. "Just don't change position."
"I was supposed to come down here with Jim," she began, speaking through her stiff lips. "He called the day before we were supposed to leave. He said we needed some time apart. I had the tickets, reservations. They were non-refundable. And I had vacation scheduled. He left me hanging. This was supposed to be our vacation. I didn't know what to do. So I came down here by myself."
I struggled with the muscles of her inner thigh. She had one knee up, the other extended down the couch. I always struggled to capture the lines of a pussy. Seeing one subtly spread by her sprawled thighs tore me between lust and art.
"I don't know why he did it. Rachel, my girlfriend, said he had another woman. I lost sixteen pounds so I would look good in this suit! I went to aerobics for him! Anyway, I had to take the trip. Even if I was going by myself, I deserved it. He doesn't know what he's missing. I would have rocked his world. Instead, I'm collecting shells on the beach. I hope she's a fat cow."
I was carefully picking out the folds in the pile of clothing under her leg, bringing out the white cups of her bra as it dangled over the edge of my sofa.
I stepped back from the easel. I had captured much of her. A lot of shading was still needed, but I had caught the lines of her body, the swelling fullness of her breasts. I had conquered the intricate folds of her pussy, keeping it in proportion to the rest of her. Looking at her, and comparing her to the drawing, I was pleased.
"Do you want another drink?" I asked.
She nodded, and started to get up. "No, don't move. I'll get it." I popped the top of another wine cooler, and traded it for the empty in her hand.
She continued, "He's not a great looking guy, you know. He has funny ears that stick out a little and his face is too round for his eyes and mouth. But he was sweet. We'd go out on his boat, and he'd make all sorts of different drinks. We'd get drunk with his friends and spend the night rocking on the water.
"He hung out with other guys who owned boats. They had certain bars they all went to. Everybody was sleeping with someone else. Married guys would show up with girls and we knew they had left their wives at home."
I was shading. Mid-tones were done, the deeper tones set the mood of reflection. Highlights picked out her nose, her cheekbone, the top of one breast, and the cup of her bra.
"Are you done?" she asked, looking up. "Can I move?"
I nodded, continuing to look. I would touch charcoal to the page occasionally.
She came up on her toes, arching her back, throwing out her breasts to the world. She was studying me out of the corner of her eye even as she stretched. When she had finished, she looked at me, cocking one eyebrow. Challenging me because I was staring at her. I didn't look away.
"Can I see?" she asked. She came around to look at the paper. Her hand rested on my arm, her fingers warm.
"Is that me?" she asked, wonderingly. "You are an artist. A very good one."
"I'm not really an artist," I said. "I moved to Costa Rica after my partners forced me to accept a buyout of my Internet company. I used to be a cube dweller."
"But you made me look so..." she struggled to find the word.
"So beautiful?" I offered.
She bit her lower lip and glanced down, lost in thought again.
My picture caught that internal moment when she had been talking about that stupid guy that canceled on her. I stood back.
"After I was forced to sell out," I said, filling in the awkward silence, "I took the money and left the US, bought a beach house and sulked. I started trotting up and down the beach, lost my cube pallor and potbelly. I worked up to a steady run over the sand every morning."
"Looks to me like the beach agrees with you," she said. Her fingertips pressed into my arm, judging muscles that I had worked hard to get.
"Thanks," I said, smiling at her. "Anyway, I swore off technology and looked for something completely different, drawing. I would take a big pad and charcoal, sit in the shade and grind out pictures of anything I saw. At first, I drew tropical plants, floating on white backgrounds, and then dark jungle scenes with leaves picked out in stark highlights. The beach was next, sweeping into the distance. I started indicating the bathers, lolling on the sand. Eventually, I started trying to capture human shapes. I drew women, mostly. They started out with enormous breasts and cartoon faces, but as I burned through pad after pad of paper, the shapes grew familiar."
I looked into her wide blue eyes, peering through them. Movement caught my eye and I looked past her. A sliver of light showed me a dark brown eye framed with perfectly shaped eye brow, a dramatic black line that extended to a tapered point and warm brown eye shadow. I recognized that eye instantly as Gabrielle. Her eye was fastened on us, weighing and assessing. I didn't care right now. I focused on the woman in front of me and my vision expanded to take her all in. I felt lust blow through me.
Her eyes widened., "What?" she asked.? She seemed confused or frightened by my direct stare.
I reached out and took each wrist in my hands, slowly pushing them behind her back.
"What?" she said, again. She looked uncertain, off balance.
I wrapped my arms around this naked woman, pulling her to me. She smelled of flowery shampoo and fruity wine coolers. Her lips were sweet with the wine. "I am holding a beautiful woman in my arms. What do you think."
"Oh," she breathed.
She pulled free from my hands to reach up to hold my head. She pushed her lips into mine. One hand wrapped around my back as she pulled us towards the couch. She kept kissing me while she opened my shorts and let them drop to my feet. She turned us around and shoved me down. Straddling my hips, she stroked my cock into hardness. She kissed me, pressing her firm breasts against my chest, while pulling and stroking my cock. When she sat up, she adjusted her hips to bring her warm pussy to me. The head of my cock pushed her pussy lips apart, slid along the fold of her pussy and into her vagina. When the head of my cock opened the mouth of her vagina, she sank down. I pushed through the warm, wet, slick folds of her interior.
She swirled her hips, moving my cock just a little. I skimmed my palms over her nipples. They were soft at first, and began to harden. Once they were erect, I continued to stroke them; feeling them swish against my palms, as her hips worked my cock. She began to bounce up and down, trying to get some in and out action going. I grabbed her back and forced her towards me. She presented her breasts to my mouth and I kissed her hard nipples, taking whole mouthfuls of her cool flesh.
I pulled her forward and she, braced her hands on my chest. Now she could slide back and forth, and her eyes took on a vacant look as her clit rubbed on the base of my cock, buried in her.
When I felt my balls getting tense, I grabbed her hips, holding her still. We hung unmoving as I fought the urge to come. When I could think straight, I pulled and pushed her hip, moving her to gently fuck. She joined in, pressing her pussy against me, rubbing her crotch on my cock.
I had to stop her again. Needing to again take a moment to keep from coming, I held her hips. This time she didn't want to stop. But I held her mercilessly still; until I was ready to keeping going, safe from the need to come.
When I released her hips, she groaned and began moving deliberately. She bent her head. With each stroke, she moved a little faster. Each time she bottomed out, pulled back, and dropped more quickly to press against me again. Her hair fell over her face and she curled against my chest, whining. Her hips shuddered and she stopped.
"Oh you are an artist," sShe cooed.
"I'm not done yet," I said. I grabbed her hips and urged her to keep going.
"I'm too tender, too sensitive," she complained. I was swollen inside her hot pussy. I could feel her resistance to going on, but I would not stop now. I pulled down and pushed her up, and she let out a shuddering gasp and then joined in. I knew she had much more than one orgasm in her, and I would see it.
She began to rock around my hard cock. She was trying to get me to come, to finish. She thought she had control.
I arched my back, pushing up into her, taking her pussy from below. She whined, protesting my cock still sliding into her. I pressed up, lifting her butt so her whole weight was spreading her pussy lips across my dick. I dropped and rammed up into her, holding the arch of my back, rotating my hips in small circles to sweep her clit with the base of my cock. I dropped back, leaving the tip of my cock, just outside the mouth of her vagina.
"Oh, you're done," she began as. I arched my back, pushing my cock back through the mouth of her vagina and deep into her as I lifted her hips, spreading her pussy. I could feel the first squeeze of her pussy beginning to react, beginning to build towards another orgasm.
I wanted much more of that. I dropped back to the couch, pulling her hips to me.
"You can... ," she began before I swirled my hips, stirring my cock inside her, silencing her.
With her hips pressed down on mine, I could lunge up just a little, pushing to get deeper and deeper. I would pull back, just until I was almost out, and begin a series of quick short strokes that just popped my cock in and out of her. I counted twenty strokes and then with the next stroke drove deep into her, splaying her lips across my hips.
She groaned. She had given up trying to talk, trying to manage me. I had her now.
I pushed slowly into her, deeply, and I could feel her tummy tensing, feel her pussy squeezing my cock. I drew back, almost all of the way, and slowly pushed into her, pushing through the clenched pussy. I circled my hips, feeling her shivering with lust. I drew back and slowly fucked her pussy, fucking through her circling muscular cunt.
Her head bent again to my chest, and I could feel her tensing in another orgasm. This time she arched her back and sang, in a clear soprano note, one quivering note that broke into a series of wordless, stomach driven exclamations. I could feel her spasms around my cock, and fought the urge to come. I held her close, and still, letting the final urge to come retreat. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was moving silently. I glanced over to my window.
In the strip of light in that window, I could now see an arm. A woman's arm that ran down the side of a lush body. Her skirt was pulled up to her waist, and her hand, from the wrist down was covered by a white cotton panty. The crotch rocked as fingers scrubbed at a hidden pussy.
I fucked up into her sensitive vagina, pushing her through that sensitive time after her orgasm. Her body didn't relax this time, but kept on driving her hips to roll back, forcing her clit against my rigid cock, rocking her ass down to spear herself on my full length. She dropped faster on each thrust and whined when she surrounded my entire rigid cock.
She arched her back, lowering her tummy to rub on my pubic hair. I filled my hands with her breasts, leaving her to shove her clit against me. I pinched her nipples, rolling them between my fingertips, squeezing them harder and harder as she humped against me. When her whining reached a new higher note, I let go and grabbed her ass, shoving her harder against me. She growled in a deep note, and began twisting her hips from side to side and then thrusting. Twisting her hips, and thrusting, she growled into my chest.
Her fingers on my chest clenched, catching my skin. She arched her back and started humping quickly, greedy for her next orgasm.
I could feel the tension growing in my lower back, filling with cum. My cock was hard, feeling tight, and pressure was building, held back by some muscle between my legs. The image of my cock squeezed by her pussy filled my vision. I arched my back, slamming through her grip. The fullness in my cock became almost unbearable. I burrowed up into her pussy, shoving deep into a soft warm place above her squeezing walls.
I decided it was time for me to come. Pressure filled me, growing out of my back and pushing up towards my cock. She curled down against my chest, grunting as she rippled around my cock. I arched up under her, bouncing her ass into the air as I struggled to push my orgasm into her. I felt my cum opening my cock, expanding through the pitiful grip of her pussy and into her. I exploded, heaved up and exploded again, and again. Each explosion was a deep thrust that made her grunt. She was shivering around my cock.
We collapsed. She lay on me. My cock was still hard, still buried in her now soft pussy. She moaned into my chest, and her hips moved reflexively, mindlessly. She was trying to escape the intrusion of my cock into her, she wanted me to push her on.
Out of the corner of my eye, the form at the window slid into the dark. I knew I would have to talk to her later.
I closed my eyes, savoring the sweet weight of her pressed on my body. I felt her stir, grunted as she braced her weight on my chest, and sighed when she pulled off of me. I could hear her stirring around, flushing the toilet. I grumbled when she pulled her clothes from under my legs.
"Do you really think," she said, "I'm beautiful?"
"As a tropical sunset," I said. I was languid. A breeze from off the ocean blew over my naked body. Outside, the sun died another fiery death sinking into the Pacific.
She sobbed. "Why didn't he want me?"
"Pearls before swine," I quoted. "You caste pearls to a swine."
She sniveled some more, and then settled down.
I fell asleep before she decided what to do.
When I woke up, the room was dark. Night had fallen and she was gone. She had spent her vacation time and had to return to her life.
She left the drawing. They always leave the drawings. I don't know why. I never get a chance to ask them.