Naomi's Journal No. 12 - Nils' New Painting - Cover

Naomi's Journal No. 12 - Nils' New Painting

by Naomi

Copyright© 2022 by Naomi

Fiction Sex Story: Naomi's discovers a new painting by Nils and meets the new model. Illustrated.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult   Consensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Group Sex   Illustrated   .

I decided I needed to see what Nils had been up to lately, so I took a little walk to his studio. I had the reward check and the car insurance check with me, so I made a quick stop at the bank and deposited them. Maybe I could buy a new car this time instead of a used car. I just have to make up my mind who I would like to take shopping with me. Probably not Nils: he’s too practically minded, probably want me to get something like a Saab. Borrrrrrring!

When I got there, he was putting the finishing touches on a new painting, one of a very lovely young lady with an orange. There was something familiar about the girl, but I couldn’t quite place it.

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“She’s lovely,” I said. “Is she a new model or something? And why an orange?”

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Nils looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, she’s a new model,” he replied. “As for the orange, well, I didn’t have an apple, and that might have been too cliché’. Too Adam and Eve-ish.”

“Good point,” I said, “and we all know where that led.” I giggled. “So, who is she, and do I get to meet her?”

I heard an “ahem” from behind me and there stood Nils’ new model, only dressed. She was about my age, but a little more robust than I. And, she seemed to be as minimally dressed as I: t-shirt, short skirt and sandals.

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“Oh,” I said. “You startled me a little. I’m Naomi.”

“I’m Ruth,” she said. “I like the orange better, too. I like oranges more than I like apples. I’m like my mother in that regard.”

“Actually,” Nils cut in, “you know Ruth’s parents. They’re Joe and Irma.”

“Really?” I squealed. “You’re Irma’s daughter? Your mom and dad took me in awhile ago after I had an accident. Your dad saved my life!”

Ruth looked down, shyly. “Yes,” she said, “they told me about it and how you squeezed poor Teddy until you fell asleep and then kicked him out of bed! How could you kick my poor teddy bear out of bed with you and my parents?!”

I must have turned several shades of red about then. I know I was sputtering in confusion. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Mom and Dad are a little hedonistic, and I’m just a plain, old, ordinary exhibitionist. Mom told me that Nils was quite the artist and she’s wanted a painting of me for a long time, so it all worked out.”

Nils cut in again. “Actually, I met Irma the last time they were at your place, and she told me about Ruth. I told her to send her over during some college break and I’d see what I could do. As soon as we started talking, she took off her clothes and we started in. She’s a lot like you, you know, and doesn’t wear much!”

I looked at Ruth and then at the painting. “I thought something in the painting was familiar,” I said. You look a lot like Irma, but I can see a lot of Joe in you, too.”

Ruth looked at her watch. “I think I need to be going. Mom’s going to wonder what happened to me.”

“Just tell her she got her wish,” said Nils. “I’ll send it along when it’s finished and dried.” He reached out to Ruth and hugged her. “When you get it, tell her the orange was my idea. She’ll get the meaning.” He hugged her and gave her a kiss.

“Yes,” I said and hugged her myself. She was just a little taller than me. “You give my love to your parents,” I added.

She surprised me with a big kiss and a tweak of my nipple. “Maybe I could spend a little more time here,” she said and then I got with the program and gave her a little tweak.

“Maybe you should,” I said and I led her to the bed in the corner of the studio. “I think we should get better acquainted and you can tell me in detail just what your parents told you about me and Teddy!”

We never really got to that part of the conversation. In fact, there was very little talking at all, just like when I was with Joe and Irma. I guess the orange doesn’t fall far from the tree. And she was just as delicious as Irma!

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