Chapter 5: Modelling - The Second Session

It was nine o'clock in the morning and I was sitting at the table in alcove off the kitchen dressed in a hot pink dressing gown, keeping me company was a delightful middle-aged man from two doors down who had recently lost his wife after a ten year battle with cancer. And yes, in case you're asking he did spend the night, and no, we didn't have sex, fuck or make love if you prefer, I'm not that insensitive. I was just a warm naked body for him to cuddle up to, and yes he does know about my job and the men in my life, I mean how could he not having seen men come and go at all times of the day and night. But he didn't judge or think any less of me for the sort of life I led just like I didn't judge him for refusing to even acknowledge their son when he didn't return for his mother's funeral. It seemed the fact that the son — he was a doctor — was working with a medical team in the poorest regions of Central Africa at the time didn't count for a whole helluva lot, but who am I to judge.

I finished off my coffee and turned to Brendan — his name was Brendan Parker — as I stood up. "It's time to go Brendan," I indicated the clock on the wall to my left, "I have an appointment."

He smiled. "Who's the lucky man this time?"

"He's that painter from yesterday that I told you about, the man called Mark."

Brendan liked to drink coffee with me in the mornings and for some reason — probably because he's a guy and guys for some curious reason love to listen to women telling dirty stories — liked to live vicariously through me, which prompted me to tell him about my adventures in as salacious detail as possible. I guess what also made it better for him was that my tales were true.

"You are going to fuck him again?"

I giggled lecherously as I stood up. "You bet I am, only this time I'm not waiting and neither is my poor little pussy."

He looked me up and down as he too stood up. "Of course you do know that you don't have to wait, don't you?"

I picked up his coffee mug when I picked up my own and placed them in the dishwasher with the rest of the week's dishes that wouldn't get washed until it was full. Have to conserve water you know. Standing back up I turned to face him. "Oh Brendan, you know the time will come for us, but Christine (his late wife) hasn't been gone that long and I just can't. I'm really sorry." I indicated the clock again. "Besides I have to shower and dress if I'm going to make it to the studio in time."

"Fair enough. But if I can't fuck you yet can I watch you shower and dress?"

I thought about it, but not for long. After all what harm could it do. Taking my gown off to reveal my nudity I held it in the crook of my left arm while I took Brendan's left hand in my right and led him to my bedroom and en-suite. Ten minutes later I was showered and fifteen slow minutes after that I was dressed in a skirt, T-shirt and bra with white runners and a pair of matching ankle socks. I decided against panties much to Brendan's approval, not that I did it for him; no I did it to make it easy for Mark Fontaine to get at my cunt.

Locking up my apartment I walked Brendan down to his and allowed him to slide his hand under my skirt for a quick feel of my bottom before I made my way to the studio. And like I said before Mark was definitely going to fuck me first up this time, spending the night naked with Brendan and having him watch me shower and dress and then touch me up outside his door had me as wet and horny as a slut like me could get.

When Mark let me into the studio I walked over to where the floor to ceiling window that covered two thirds of the wall facing out onto the main street and began to undress. Now I've already told you that I'm not exactly averse to being naked and the centre of attention which is why I'm standing by the window.

"Lisa," said Mark reacting just the way I expected him to, "don't stand by the window naked, you know how busy the street below gets. They will be able to see you."

As if I didn't already know that. "Why is it illegal?" I was pretending to be obtuse, I mean I'm not an idiot I know all about the indecency laws I mean you have to in my line of work, especially when sex is as much a hobby as a profession.

"You know it is Lisa, now please move away from the window, you'll get us both into trouble."

I turned my back to him and stood full frontal at the window, arms at my side and legs spread giving anyone who chose to look up a perfect view of my charms. And let's face it anyone could because the street was fairly crowded. "Who says?"

"The police, they tend to frown on public displays of nudity, especially at a little after 10am on a Saturday morning."

I looked at Mark over my shoulder and with as serious expression as I could manage, said, "Okay I will step away, but on one condition."

OF course knowing me he was immediately suspicious, still he asked the question. "Okay, now I know that you're probably setting me up but I will ask what condition would make you come away from the window."

I looked down, saw that my display had already attracted plenty of attention, mostly from men but also from several disgusted women and a couple of seemingly very amused teenage girls and I turned to give them a view of my naked bottom. "That we have sex first. You know, I'll blow you and then you can fuck me and then when we're done I promise I'll behave and be the perfect model."

I watched him smile and hold out his arms. "After yesterday and especially after what Mr. Stewart said, how could I not want to make love to you, how could I not want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock?"

"Hmmm, that sounds like a plan." I moved from the window, took the required steps to be standing in front of Mark and wrapped my arms around his neck as pressed my lips against his in a passionate kiss that soon had our tongues fencing.

Holding the kiss I removed my arms from his neck and dropped my hands to his shirt which I began to unbutton as I kissed my way to his chest. And as I moved down button by button I followed each unbuttoning with a kiss, and when I saw them I pressed my lips against his nipples and suckled on them while I finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulled it out of the waistband of his pants, off his body and dropped it on the floor.

Oh my but he was in good shape. Now don't get me wrong, naked men are all good, especially one part of them if you get my drift, but there are degrees of good and you'd better believe me when I tell you that Mark Fontaine was right up there. Unfortunately he was only up there on a physical level, someone I knew could satisfy any itch I had that needed scratching, there wasn't and could never be any love there. But why should I care? His beautiful cock would be a good fit for my cunt and my hungry mouth and that's what counted, right.

As I undid the button of his pants and lowered the zipper another thought occurred to me. Rowan was the equal of Mark physically, he was only a couple of inches shorter and his cock was just as beautiful, but unlike Mark or any of the other men who had fucked me he wasn't just another erect penis. No, Rowan Stewart was someone who was starting to do things to me that no man had ever done before, but like I said before things would have to change.

When I had his pants and boxers — I would have preferred briefs but hey that's me — down by his ankles I quickly removed his shoes and socks before taking off his pants and boxers one leg at a time. And of course now that he was naked I did what any self-respecting slut who was on her knees staring into the eye of a 9-inch fully erect penis would do, I gave him a blowjob just way most men like it. Now most of you men out there know what I'm talking about don't you. And by the way that's one of them rhetorical questions.

Mark didn't let me down either; he wrapped his hands in my black hair and jammed my mouth on and off his cock forcing me — yeah I know, like I needed a lot of forcing — to take more and more of his cock on every stroke. "You want it my pretty little slut, then you shall have it," and suddenly his cock was penetrating my throat and I was kissing the sweet curls of his pubic hair. What bliss.