An Adventure in the Life of Lisa Cornell
Chapter 1: The painter

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Group Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: The painter - The sexy and voluptuous Lisa Cornell has an appetite for sex matched only by her desire to show off her naked body as often and as lawfully as the law allows. Of course that makes Lisa the ultimate in one-night - and morning and afternoon and evenings for that matter - stands. That goes for every man she meets, with one exception, the man who shares this adventure with her.

I'm a big fan of old time movies. And in those times they would probably have given me the generous title of 'A Good Time Girl'. You know how it went. A girl would work the dance halls and a gentleman would pay a nominal fee — the old Doris Day song 'Ten Cents a Dance' comes to mind — to dance with the girl of his choice. And in many cases negotiations for extending the evenings entertainment at a substantially larger remuneration began just as soon as the dance finished often with some success. I must admit that 'Good Time Girl' sounds a lot better than the names they would call me now. These days sobriquets like whore and slut and bitch and dirty cunt roll off the tongues of some of the jealous women, AND some of the more small-minded men, pretty easily.

Why are the women jealous? Probably because I'll do things with their men that they won't. AND I'll take them on two or three at a time before I look around for others who don't mind sticking their dick into a sloppy cunt or an arse that's already been stretched by cocks that have gone before it. Of course I'll only fuck the willing ones with fat wallets, I mean I'm a pragmatist, the sort of person who knows where their real talents lie. Besides which I enjoy my work, and anyway it's hardly my fault if the wives or girlfriends can't keep them satisfied. And to be honest why the fuck wouldn't they want a piece of me once they've seen what I have to offer.

Now while I'm not vain and don't have 'Narcissus Complex' — you know, the guy from mythology that fell in love with his own reflection — nobody is ever going to accuse me of false modesty, I mean I'm not blind, I see how the men look at me when I walk past, even if I do dress to attract their attention. Let's face it 'mutton dressed s lamb' just wouldn't get the sort of stares I get. You know the sort of thing. Half thigh length mini skirts or hip hugging slacks or designer jeans slung low enough so that the G-strings I habitually wear are easily seen as is the beginning of the crack of my arse and crop tops that cling tightly to my tits and expose lots of stomach flesh. I'll even sometimes go without a bra but not often, after all gravity is going to take care of two of my best assets soon enough without me giving it a helping hand. All in all I guess I just like that I'm attractive enough to grab the attention of the opposite sex. Oh all right, AND some of my own.

What is it, you ask, that attracts all that attention? Well I have long black curly hair that falls to the middle of my back, baby blue come-to-bed eyes, long sexy legs — I'm five foot nine — and a 38DD-25-37 figure that needs some satisfying let me tell you. My nipples are so sensitive to the touch, especially from a tongue, that it sends messages straight to my cunt demanding that it gets itself fucked so that the rest of my ever horny body can join in the fun. And like I said before I'm a realist, so what my cunts demands my cunt gets, as does my mouth and very often my arse as well.

And then there is my wannabe boyfriend. I say wannabe because he's too shy to make the next move and because I don't know anything about him. Oh I know what you're going to ask. How do I know he wants to be my boyfriend? You mean apart from the fact that he always seems to be around when I'm doing the business — that business being fucking, as if you hadn't already guessed that — either in a bar or in a club or when I'm posing for photographers and painters, which is what I'm doing now, in the nude. Which brings me to the strange part about this picture I'm posing for, this job came up all of a sudden and the client apparently asked Mark Fontaine, that's this painter's name, to request me specifically. Sounds just a little suss if you ask me.

Not that that's all that's on my mind, I mean I'm eying off this painter while I'm posing and I've just this second come to the decision that if he doesn't make his move then I'm going to, chiefly because I've seen the bulge in his pants. I mean it certainly fills out the crotch of his slacks. Oh all right I'll admit it, the other reason I'm eying him off is because he's a handsome bastard and I fancy the fuck out of him and I am NOT, I repeat NOT, leaving this studio without tasting his cock and definitely not without having it fucking the shit out of my cunt.

"Hey keep still Lisa." It was the voice of the painter bringing me out of my daydream.

"Easy for you to say Mark, my arm has gone numb, and besides I'm getting bored."

"You're a paid model, gorgeous; you don't have any choice in the matter. And anyway the man I'm painting your picture for is very well off. And that's not all; there is apparently a great likeness between you and his late wife. So if you could possibly manage to keep still I would very much appreciate it."

His eyes moved down to where I knew the sheet had moved uncovering my cunt. He had insisted it remain covered as requested by the man who had engaged him and as I had hoped he would do Mark moved towards the couch on which I lay. Picking up an apple from a handy bowl of fruit he held it out to me. "You have to put up with it; I mean you shouldn't find it too much of a hardship considering how much you are being paid." He adjusted the sheet until it was covering up what I very much wanted to be on display and handed me the apple. "Here hold this."

I couldn't help it I giggled. "Oh I've got an urge to hold something," and I made sure that he saw my gaze linger on the bulge in his pants, "but it definitely aint no fucking apple," and I reached out and cupped the hard length of his cock in my right hand as I looked up into his brown eyes. "If you let me have a little taste of your lovely cock," I licked my top lip, "I promise to behave."

"Listen," he said as he continued to watch me stroke his hard cock through his tight pants, "work first play later."

I wasn't about to be denied though. One touch was enough for me. I unbuckled his belt, undid the button of his pants, lowered the zipper and carefully pushed both his pants and his underwear down over the hard length of his cock revealing what looked to be 9-magnificent-inches of hot cock flesh.

"What ... What are you doing? We'll never get this painting finished like this," he said even as he pushed both garments to the floor and stepped out of them.

"Your client can wait." I took his cock in my right hand and slowly and sensually stroked it. "I'm far too worked up to pose for another hour like that without getting a taste of something this delicious." And I kissed its very tip.

Taking the head of his hard throbbing cock between my lips I found a way to run my tongue around it as I suckled gently while cupping his testes in my left hand.

"Mmm!" he cried as he seemingly acceded to the inevitable. "You really are very good at this. I mean I know we shouldn't but what man could refuse such pleasure from a woman with a beauty as unsurpassable as yours." He smiled finally. "Besides, it could be that I'm doing you a favour by helping you quench your seemingly insatiable appetite for sex."

Of course with the head of his thick cock forcing my lips wide apart I was unable to respond to his compliments so I smiled instead and did what any self-respecting slut would do, I gently squeezed his balls and slurped a little as I took another couple of inches of his cock between my already stretched lips.

"Ohh, oohhh yeesss," he cried. "OH YES, YEESSS," he cried as he reached down and took a tit in each hand, "So good, so very, very good."

I used my mouth as cunt on the three inches of cock I had so far managed to cram into my mouth and on every in and out stroke I used my tongue to follow the path of my lips as I mouth-fucked his cock. I continued to work on his balls in my left hand while maintaining a light grip on the remaining six inches of his shaft with my right.

"Lisa my love, you are a true artiste in the art of fellatio," Mark said with entirely too much eloquence for my liking, now call me a slut or call me common if you like but I just as soon he just told me I'm a good cocksucker. And then blow me down if he doesn't let go with another mouthful. "Your mouth and lips and tongue are as much the tools of your trade as the brushes and paints are mine. While the canvas is my platform, the place where my talents as a painter are best displayed so the naked male body and the penis in its most virile form are yours."

It was a compliment, of course it was. But it's like I said before I'm not guilty of false modesty. I'm a good cocksucker and what is more there has never been a cock I couldn't deep throat, and even though this one is the biggest one yet I certainly didn't plan on Mark being my first failure. But first things first, I had another place for his cock, laying back on the couch I had been posing on in my reclined position I spread my legs and used the first two fingers of my right hand to spread my outer labia and flash him my pink bits and the inner entrance to my cunt.

Finally I looked up into his eyes as he stood over me wearing just his blue smock with his magnificent erection pointing outwards and upwards from a forest of jet black pubic hair. "Fuck me Mark," I whispered sensually as I continued to hold my cunt lips open for him, "fuck my cunt with your lovely cock." And just as I finished the sentence the head of his cock pushed past my outer and inner lips and into my pussy.

I grabbed my legs behind my knees, pulled them back almost to my tits and then spread my legs wide apart. He took the opportunity to lean forward then and with one quick and sudden thrust he had all 9-inches up my cunt. "OOH," I cried, "OOHHH FUCK, FUUCCCKKKK!" He had chosen that moment to bend his knees slightly so that his cock was thrusting up as well as in.

"Oh my," I cried as I felt the head of his cock brush my pleasure spot as he fucked me with it. "You ARE good. Oh yes Mark, FUCK ME FUUCCCKKKK MEE! Oh God keep going, don't stop I just love the feel of a big cock." And I did! To me there could only be one thing better than one cock, and that was more than one.

Soon he was ready to come and as much as I liked having my vagina filled with semen I had a different spot in mind for this load. "Pull out," I said, "I want you to fuck my tits and come in my mouth and all over my face. And when he pulled out, moved up, knelt either side of me and planted his magnificent erection between my breasts I squeezed them together capturing his cock between my twin beauties "Oh yes, YEESSS!" I cried. "Now make my face your canvas, cover it with your own special brand of oils.

"Oh my but you know how to talk to me you minx." And he started to slowly and rhythmically fuck his cock between my breasts pushing forward continuously so that its head touched my lips on every stroke.

"Oh YES, YEESSS, MMM, OH, OOHH, OOOHHH; Now Mark, NOW," I cried as I gave his cock one last lick, "spunk me, cover me with your cum. Oh do it Mark, DO IT!"

"Oh I'm doing it you little trollop, I'm doing it. I'm going to come."

And suddenly he WAS coming and I had to quickly close my eyes as he poured his hot spunk all over my face and into my open mouth just in case some went near my eyes. "Come all over me. God I love the taste of cum."

Finally his cum finished spurting and as I swallowed his semen and cleaned up every drop I could find with the index finger of my right hand before I licked it clean I lay back with a very self-satisfied grin on my face. "Oh fuck, that was so fucking good." And I was about to tell Mark that his cum was as tasty as any that had passed my lips when a voice from the doorway of his studio interrupted me.

"Good to see that you are giving the slut what she needs. I just hope that you don't lose sight of the commission I'm paying you for."

Mark could only reply with a slightly panicky, "Oh! I'm sorry Mr. Stewart I ... That is I..." He didn't finish.

As for me I simply couldn't believe who the man was who was standing there. He was my wannabe boyfriend, the man who seemed to forever be around when a man or men were enjoying the pleasure of my sexy body. If he was the one who had commissioned the painting then I began to understand his interest in my sexual pursuits.

"Please don't apologise Mr. Fontaine, I have no objection to a little sexual dalliance between the two of you as long as you finish the painting." He looked at me his expression a mixture of desire and fascination. "After all women like Miss Cornell have certain needs, needs that a single man," he smiled, "or, in the case of this insatiable young slut, woman, simply cannot satisfy. And I don't think it would be overstating matters to say that any man who has a desire to be in Miss. Cornell's life on a fairly consistent, or maybe even a reasonably permanent, basis would have to accept that." He turned to me and added, "Am I right?" as he looked me up and down taking particular notice of my spunk covered face.

I looked at him and smiled. "Of course you are Rowan, that's the slut's way, we just can't help ourselves." I indicated my face. "And we are such messy eaters and drinkers."

"We're done for the day anyway," said Fontaine handing me a cloth to wipe myself down with. He then walked to where his wallet was lying on a coffee table and threw some money down. "And here is your pay. I'll see you at the same time tomorrow."

"With pleasure," I said thinking of another modelling session and another chance at his 9-inches.

A couple of things were on my mind as I walked over to where my clothes were while my wannabe boyfriend and the painter chatted. The first was the attitude of my wannabe boyfriend whose name I now knew was Rowan Stewart. Why did he spend so much time watching me in the club where I worked as an exotic dancer — oh all right I'm a stripper but I'm a fucking good one — and why did he try to watch me when I did more than dance if he thought I was a slut? Did he have a thing for sluts, for women like me? And why did he specifically ask for Mark to hire me to pose for the picture. Was it because I looked like his late wife? And if that was the case was it because he wanted a permanent memory that meant more than a plain photo did? And lastly was it just a likeness between me and his late wife or was there another similarity that I didn't know about.

Shrugging my shoulders I wiped myself down properly, dressed quickly and was gone without looking back.

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