“I really wanted to see her tits,” my artist wife had blurted out about naked pictures she had taken of our buxom redhead neighbor Karen. Jewel felt a little ashamed, and probably wouldn’t have told me except for the wine. She was gathering images to process and compose for one of her unusual portraits of our new friend.
I love my wife and don’t think of other women that way, at least when my neocortex is in charge. But my horny reptilian brain woke up when it heard Jewel say that. It turned out it wasn’t going to be easy to put it back to sleep
A few days later, when my wife showed me what she had created for our friend on her computer screen, there was no trace of nudity. Karen’s face glowed among the abstract shapes of contrasting colors. It conveyed vulnerability but strength, a hint of fear but a larger dose of defiance, uncertainty of success but determination to try.
“That is marvelous,” I said. Jewel was used to my approval, but this did seem special. “I’m not just being a good husband, I think you found something in Karen, and I bet she’s really going to like it.”
“You are a good husband,” she hugged me and stood on her toes to give me a quick kiss. “You know it turns out …” she paused, deciding if she really wanted to finish the sentence.
“It turns out she is naked.” She let that sink in. “That face is from one of the shots when I made her take her clothes off. I was trying to get behind her normal mask and I think it worked.”
“I wonder what Ethan will think of it,” I mused.
“He’s becoming harder to predict lately,” she frowned. I suspected she knew more than she let on. “He probably would prefer the original. Most husbands like to see nude pictures of their wives, don’t they?”
I was ready to equivocate, but really, men like naked pictures of pretty much any woman.
“Here, let me show you,” Jewel clicked a few times on her mouse and the screen was filled with a full-length picture of Karen with every part of her visible. She stared directly into the camera, her face matching the expression in the processed image, although in natural color. The effect was different, with her red hair framing her face and streaming down to her breasts, the ends tickling her large, rosy nipples. Her hands were on her forward thrust hips. Her feet, shoulder-width apart, supported her long legs as they rose to the glowing triangle of her bush.
Her skin had the luster of marble, and the shape of her torso would have inspired Michelangelo. The color of the luxurious locks that cascaded from her head varied from auburn in shadows to golden highlights with an amalgam of red shades between. Her fluffy patch of fur was more uniform, redder and lighter, and not dense enough to completely hide the pale skin beneath.
The air blown through my puckered lips was not a wolf whistle but a reflexive expression of admiration. “Not your usual style, but that would be a great art photograph by itself,” I said, surprised I didn’t feel more turned on by it. Maybe it was because I knew the model, or maybe because my wife was right there, or maybe because of the way Karen looked right at me, defying my natural response, daring me to treat her like a scrap of porn.
Jewel lingered on the picture as well before clicking to the next. “Some of these are more traditional,” she grinned, and slowly clicked through some more erotic pics, with playful and seductive poses, mixed in with clothed pictures in different outfits and some boudoir shots.
My cock reminded me that it was still working as she scrolled through the other images. Karen was definitely hot. “I would guess Ethan would prefer those,” I laughed. “But don’t sell him short. When he’s not drinking, he might be an aesthete.”
Jewel shook her head and removed the images from her screen.
As we expected, when we showed it to the couple, Karen loved Jewel’s image, so she made a beautiful print of it. Ethan was less impressed, but Jewel was ready with two headshots suitable for his desk at work. One showed Karen’s face in a casual, joyful smile; the other showed a more seductive look, safe for work but likely to make his coworkers jealous. There was no mention to Ethan of any nudity involved.
Jewel was busy with a big job over the next month. She had sold a set of images to a company that wanted them in its lobby, auditorium, boardroom, and meeting rooms. Producing, mounting, and hanging the works couldn’t be done in her home studio, so she had to go back to the loft space in the city. The long commute added to the stress of such a big project and the inevitable problems that came up. The final week, she spent several nights at the loft.
Karen had stopped by looking for Jewel a few times. “I thought maybe I could get her to take a coffee break,” she said. “I know she’s busy, but I miss her.”
“When does Ethan get back?” I asked. Jewel had mentioned that he was on a business trip, which was probably why Karen was feeling lonely, but my wife just couldn’t spare the time right now.
“Not until the end of next week,” she sighed, heading back to her house.
After Karen left, I called Jewel, mostly to find out what time she would be home. I was making duck for dinner as a surprise. I also told her about Karen.
“I’m really sorry, honey, but I have to stay here tonight,” she said. “I need to finish three panels, and there are more that I should start first thing in the morning.”
“Okay,” I tried not to sound disappointed about the dinner I had planned. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Actually, maybe there is something you could do. Why don’t you see if Karen wants to have whatever you’re making for dinner?” I was sure she didn’t know about the duck, so she probably thought it was just a run-of-the-mill meal. “It will make me feel a little less guilty for blowing her off the past few weeks.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. Seeing the pictures had sated my adolescent curiosity and Karen and I got along fine when the four of us were hanging out, so I said, “Alright, I’ll see if she’s interested.”
“I have to get back to work. I love you negligently,” she confessed.
“I love you supportively,” I forgave and encouraged her.
Karen agreed to come for dinner, and although things were a little odd at first, she warmed up with a glass of wine as I cooked the duck. “Do you always eat this fancy?” she asked.
“Mais oui, I learned to cook in Paree,” I affected a French accent and pronunciation. “Actually, no,” I admitted, “I was making something different for Jewel to take her mind off work for a bit.”
“You’re quite a guy,” Karen said, and I felt a tingle in the back of my neck. “Jewel paints a pretty picture of you as a husband.”
I hoped that attending to the stove hid the blush I felt.
We sat down to eat. The food turned out well and Karen was full of compliments. I was trying to change the subject when she did.
“Speaking of pretty pictures,” she said, “has Jewel done a portrait of you? Like she did of me?”
“She has often used me as a test subject as she tries out different techniques,” I explained. “But she doesn’t keep them. They’re not finished works.”
“Really?” she teased. “I thought artists always put their lovers in their work.” I noted her emphasis on “lovers,” perhaps suggesting Jewel might have one, but I chose not to take the bait. I also was not going to talk about the private portraits that my wife had indeed done of each and both of us. If Jewel didn’t choose to display them, I wasn’t going to reveal their existence.
“Or are you too shy to pose in the nude?” she continued. I hoped she wouldn’t figure out the real reason I looked surprised at her words. “You know, she had me take my clothes off.”
“I know that sometimes happens,” I told a half-truth. “That’s why I never disturb her if the studio door is locked. But I didn’t know you did. I don’t remember seeing anything in the finished portrait.”
“That’s the amazing thing your wife knew. That she could only get me to look like that if I was standing there with nothing on. Believe me; it took most of that bottle of wine to get me to do it.” Karen shook her head and sighed, “Ethan doesn’t get it. To him, you’re not really naked unless he can see something.”
Whether it was the wine or a thought that had been pent up too long, she continued. “You get it, don’t you?”
“I think I do,” I said, trying to make it not be about me. “I’ve learned a lot from Jewel, not only about art but definitely some things about how she approaches it.”
“Well, you are a lucky man and she is a lucky woman,” she said with more emotion than I expected.
“The good news is this project will wrap up this week, so we should get back to normal.” I was thinking it was time to get Karen home. “I’m sure Jewel will need to rest up this weekend, but why don’t the three of us have dinner early next week?”
Her face brightened. “That sounds great! What are you going to make? This dinner was terrific.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I was the gracious host. “It wouldn’t have been the same if I’d had to eat alone, and leftover duck is not good.”
I reached to open the front door for her and she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks again,” she said. She stood close, her body barely touching me, her lips no more than a neck bend away from mine.
In that moment, I knew I could have her. I knew that I wanted her. I looked into her eyes, at the face from the portrait, the face from the nude picture, and saw the strength and vulnerability and beauty I had seen.
I was trapped. To open the door I had to move closer to her, pressing against her soft warm curves. As I did, I felt her push back. That was the point in time when everything changed.
Or could have changed, but didn’t.
Was I too loyal or too timid, foolish or not foolish enough? I swung the door open. My hand reached towards Karen’s back and found the silky spray of her hair. I stroked its softness, like touching an angel’s wing. I dared not meet her eyes for fear of falling into them, so I cannot say what they showed.
“We’ll see you next week,” I called as she slowly walked away.
It turned out it wasn’t that long. The installation was to be completed on Friday, and the client wanted to have a small unveiling reception. Jewel had stayed in the loft Thursday night, so I was to bring her the clothes she wanted for the evening. I donned my best suit and called before I left to be sure I had everything she wanted.
“I was just about to call you,” she said. “Can you bring Karen with you? She had said she was interested in seeing what I have been doing, so I called her a few minutes ago and asked if she wanted to come. Of course, she said yes, and she could be ready by five o’clock. I figured it would be easiest for you to bring her since you know where the loft is.”
I went over the list of things I was bringing: dress, bra, panties, stockings, shoes, purse, hair products, makeup, etc. It seemed like the list got longer every time we went over it.
“Okay,” I closed, “I’ll see you soon. I love you reassuringly.”
“I love you frazzledly,” she replied, hanging up.
I packed up everything. I threw in a few extra shoes, stockings and undergarments just in case. I brought a few extra ties for myself in case I clashed with the artwork.
Karen was ready as promised when I pulled into her driveway at five on the dot. She wore a traditional little black dress. The only thing that kept you from staring at her long legs was the scoop neck that had you staring at her cleavage.
She was fussing with her hair and makeup as I drove, which kept us from reexamining the end of our dinner earlier in the week. Maybe I was making too much of it.
We got to the loft, where my exhausted but happy wife had just stepped out of the shower. Karen wanted to help her get ready, so I stayed out of the way. In no time, Jewel emerged.
Although she prefers to be casual, she can definitely go classy when she wants to. The plum dress she had chosen set off her chestnut hair and pale skin tone. Despite the knee length and the business-appropriate neckline, the color and sheen of the fabric, as well as the coordinated jewelry and purse, said this is the artist.
Jewel was in her element, schmoozing with the client, explaining the pieces as she led us around. Karen was a real fangirl, and Jewel didn’t seem to mind. They both had champagne. I was driving, so I just took a few sips at the toast and carried a full glass around with me.
Karen rode in the back on the way home. She carried most of the conversation because Jewel was tired. When we dropped her off, Karen opened Jewel’s door and leaned in to give her a hug that was a little awkward because of the seat belt. My eyes were drawn to see if the little black dress would manage to keep her breasts from spilling out, so I did notice that Karen kissed my wife on the cheek as well and, to my surprise, Jewel reciprocated.
Whether it was an automatic response to the situation or a degree of familiarity I hadn’t noticed before, I couldn’t tell.
I got Jewel home, out of her expensive dress and shoes, and into bed. She was half-asleep as I removed her makeup as best I could. She hated getting it on the pillowcases and waking up looking smeared.
In the morning, I wasn’t sure how late my wife would want to sleep, so I slipped out of bed without disturbing her. I made coffee, and maybe the smell roused her because I heard her in the bathroom, probably restoring her face to its natural freshness.
She joined me for coffee and a Danish. As she finished, she said, “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Use all the hot water you want,” I said, being thick. She usually likes her privacy when she’s bathing, so I missed her suggestive tone.
“I’ll need someone to wash my back,” she said, waking me up.
“Yes, ma’am!” I said. The look on her face at my use of that word was worth the poke in the ribs she gave me.
We lathered each other’s backs in the warm spray and did our fronts as well. I reached around from behind to wash her breasts, fingering her slippery nipples. Using my large hand as a washcloth and my soapy hairy chest as a loofah on her back, I cleaned her body, teasing her belly button with my pinkie finger, shampooing her neat lower curls. I soaped the crack of her ass but resisted the temptation to probe the opening. I didn’t want to make her jump and slip in the shower, causing us both to fall into a bruised pile—again!
Jewel washed my back, my chest, and my cock and balls, better than I would have. We passed the hand-held shower head back and forth until we were both squeaky clean. We dried each other off and she did that thing women do with a towel around their wet hair.
I headed towards the closet, but she took my hand and pulled me to the bed. She lay back and patted the mattress next to her. “I’ve missed you this week and you’ve been so helpful during this project,” she said.
We don’t treat sex as a reward, so I knew that wasn’t how she meant it. “I’ve missed you, too,” I agreed, “but I didn’t know how tired you’d be after the past week.”
“Well, I am worn out but I’m also horny,” she confessed with a sly grin. “So I’m going to make you do all the work, and then I’m going to fall asleep until noon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and got another elbow in the ribs.
I leaned over to kiss her upturned face as I stroked her cheek and neck. Her brown eyes surrendered to me. My hand wandered from her neck to her thighs, fingers following her contours, five points of pressure, sometimes in unison, sometimes in harmony.
I rolled over her, my knees between her thighs, my arms suspending me over her. I bent to kiss her breasts, my lips surrounding a tawny nipple. I lowered myself to put some weight on her. Her hands lightly caressed my head as I moved to address her other nipple.
My mouth gave way to my fingers as I kissed and nibbled my way down her body. Her hands urged me on and my lips soon grazed her furry spot. Jewel spread her legs in anticipation, and I slid farther down the bed. Taking her ass cheeks in my hands, I looked at the feast spread before me.
Her shaved outer lips gave me smooth territory to kiss and lick. I didn’t need the arrowhead of her remaining pubes to point me toward her clit. I would get there soon enough. I first teased her inner thighs before using my pursed lips to massage her pussy. Her soft moan begged for more attention.
I lightly licked the protruding lips, enjoying their fresh clean taste. Then my tongue parted them, discovering the richer flavor and aroma of the liquid forming there. I love all the cuisines of my wife’s body and how they vary based on her mood and situation. It always seemed like this one, this day, was special.
I slurped her nectar hungrily. My wide tongue lapped it up, seeking it in every fold and wrinkle of her pussy, knowing that the more I consumed, the more there was to consume. I glanced up, thinking to move a hand from her buttocks to her breasts, but I saw her own fingers lazily dancing across them so I focused on what was in front of me.
Her inner lips, the color of a café latte when cold, had darkened and reddened to a pinot noir. I nibbled and licked, deliberately avoiding the opening as I moved higher. I wanted her desperate to be filled soon enough.
“Oh, yes!” she cried as my lips surrounded the spot. I pressed firmly, my tongue lapping. There would be no delay. Her hands found my head but I needed no guidance at this point. My consistent flutter showed her she could trust me to finish what I had started.
Her glutes tensed in my hands. She took a deep breath and still held it when I felt her go rigid. My mouth continued its work as small shudders rippled through her body until she finally exhaled in a sigh that was music to my ears.
My wife drew her knees up and spread herself wide. I knew what she wanted, and I was ready to give it to her. My dick had been making dents in the mattress as I ate her pussy, and it was ready to go to work.
Moving up her body on my arms and knees, my cock found its way and sank home even before Jewel could reach to guide it. We were both more than ready. I paused for a moment at maximum depth, letting the heat of her swollen tissue engulf my cock. As I retreated for the next stroke, her tight channel strove to prevent my departure, the suction demanding my return. Each withdrawal made me need to drive deeper, harder, and faster.
Jewel looked up at me, her face wanting to share the pleasure that still echoed in her. “Fuck me,” she said, the pervasive phrase that she rarely used rang in my ears.
“Fuck me,” she commanded, pulling my weight on top of her. With my arms no longer supporting me, I reached down to grab her ass, pounding into her with a ferocity I didn’t know I had.
“Yes,” she moaned, “yes, yes, yes, yes.” She urged me on with each thrust.
“Yes, yes, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” she cried. The way her voice rose revealed her own surprise at reaching another orgasm so soon. Even if I hadn’t heard her words I was past the point of no return, and my cock shot pulse after pulse deep inside her.
I collapsed on top of her, buried to the hilt. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, and our bodies throbbed together in post-orgasmic stupor.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but when I recovered my senses, I rolled to the side. Jewel didn’t want to release me, but I wanted to take my weight off her and at least let her lower her legs.
“Awwww,” she whined as my shrinking dick slipped out of her, but with legs intertwined, it was happily trapped between our glowing bodies. Pulling a sheet up over us, I gently kissed and stroked her face as she closed her eyes.
“I love you inextricably,” she sighed.
“I love you interdependently,” I breathed warmly against her ear and neck.
I dared not move as I watched her fall asleep in my arms. Soon I also nodded off. At some point, she turned on her side and we spooned as we slept away the rest of the morning.
