It seemed that nothing I did helped wash away the sins of the last two hours of my life.

I tried to wash away my sexual transgression as I stood beneath the shower, the water rushing across my ultra-stimulated body. I could still feel him inside of me, pulsing and thrusting. "No!" I told myself as I stepped out to dry myself. I knew that no amount of scrubbing could erase the memory of what I had allowed to happen.

As I walked into the bedroom, there it sat. The bag that held the lingerie. Opening it, I leered as it poured onto the bed. I picked it up as if it were some sort of illicit item and held it to my body in front of the full-length mirror.

"He was right. It does make me look good." It was unsellable since the crotch had been between my legs soaking in the intimate moisture, and besides, it was legitimately paid for.

Bringing it up to my nose, I could still smell my arousal. I wondered if he was at home right now, remembering my fragrance from our coupling. Was he married as I was? Had he hurried to the shower to wash off any evidence that was still on him, as I did? At least I was able to swallow any evidence of my behavior. However, upon closer inspection, the blood still rushing through my nether regions made me appear engorged, as if my vagina were still begging for another round.

After debating, I decided that it would be too difficult to wear it for my husband, as it would only remind me of my infidelity that had purchased it. Instead, I hid it in my top panty drawer along with the business card and two thousand dollars, which the gentleman paid me for displaying my body during a personalized lingerie fitting that ended in him taking advantage of my excessively aroused lady parts.

That night, when my husband arrived home, he attributed my extra enthusiasm to my fifteen days of going sexless, knowing how hard it is for me to abstain from sex. If only he knew the truth behind my sudden burst of passion, he would be devastated. But I couldn't bear to break his heart with the painful reality of my betrayal. So I continued to keep my secret hidden, buried deep within me, hoping it would eventually fade away.

Months went by, and as I had hoped, the betrayal, along with the memory of how the man felt inside of me, faded. There was no sign from the stranger that I would ever see him again. Except for the card that was still in my lingerie drawer, which read, "Until my next purchase."

Do you ever get the feeling when everything is going smoothly that you should duck?  It was a feeling that lingered in the back of my mind, a sense of impending fate that I couldn't shake. Despite my best efforts to move on, the shadow of the stranger and his ominous words continued to haunt me. But I ignored it, choosing to focus on the present and the happiness I had found in my marriage.

Then the fateful words were spoken: "Sweetheart, I need to go out of town for another extended period of time."  I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, but I brushed it off as paranoia. After all, everything had been going so well lately.

"Until my next purchase" echoed in my mind.

I made sure my husband knew that he was the only man for me and that I got my fill of his manhood the night before he had to go. As I tried to bring him up again, he said, "Hun, you're going to wear me out. I'll need to sleep for a week before I can accomplish anything if you continue," he kidded.

I noticed the invitation the following day while looking through my boutique's mail. I'm embarrassed to admit that the blood flowing to my nipples and my entire genital area caused me to turn white. The recollection of being hunched over the chair, the sensation of him thrusting into me, and the taste of him on my lips and tongue all flashed back as if it were just yesterday.

It read, "On account of your beauty and unadulterated sensuality, I would adore having you visit my gallery as a guest and as the subject of artistic perfection. It would be an honor to take pictures of you and to paint you. You would make the walls of my gallery even more beautiful with you adorning them." 

The card with it was embossed in gold and signed, "Purveyor of Fine Arts," with his name, Neal. Well, at least I now had a name. I know I should have thrown it away. But for some reason I didn't.

Foolish decisions are made when sexual hunger takes control of a person's moral compass. Those who think with their sex organs are not limited to men. Many times I have had trouble concentrating on what I was doing since my sexual desire was so intense. Fortunately, I had a husband to take care of me. This time, he was gone for two solid weeks. I wasn't a sex addict, or at least I think not. I just enjoyed sex and always had him as my outlet, until now.

After regaining at least some level of control, I felt compelled to at least contemplate visiting his exhibition to see what it was all about, and it didn't hurt that the lingerie that he had soiled me in, along with the $2000, still sat among my most intimate wear, unbeknownst to my husband.

For hours, I argued with myself. "You're a married woman, for god's sake, get ahold of yourself; nothing will happen, it's just an art exhibit."

That night, as I lay there in the bubble bath with my hands gliding over my body, I made the decision to check the studio out online. I found that it was not only legitimate but also one of the most prestigious and celebrated art galleries around, and that Neal was indeed the curator of the establishment. Finally, after convincing myself that I was just being a silly girl, I sent an R.S.V.P. to the number on the card.

In response, Neal answered back.

"I'm honored. You will be my special guest tonight. Expect me at your shop at 7 pm sharp. Wear something comfortable yet appropriate for an art expo; I'm certain nobody will be looking at the walls with you on my arm," was his reply.

Not wanting to hide my outing from my husband, I texted him, asking for advice.

"He's a customer who purchased some lingerie for a lady friend. He owns an art gallery and invited me to join him. He knows I'm married, but I don't want to go if you don't want me to." Of course I left out who he purchased the lingerie for and what he did with me while wearing it. Somehow that part was harder to communicate.

"That sounds like a fun time, and I know how much you enjoy art. I don't want you locked in your shop while I'm away. Go, have fun. I'm sure you already did your usual research,” my husband replied.

A box arrived a few hours before I was scheduled to be picked up. On the box was a message that read, "I know you have impeccable taste, but would you honor me with wearing an item that I have chosen to match your beauty?" He certainly knew how to talk to a girl. "He probably beds a lot of women talking like that," I thought. Then I laughed at my ridiculous statement, realizing that I was exhibit number one.

When the last customer left, I opened the box and held the dress up to my body. It was a white evening gown with a plunging neckline that showed the curves of my breasts on both sides, along with the cleavage. It also had a slit up the side that almost went as high as my buttocks. I was curiously amazed at how perfectly it fit my body.

True to his word, a black limousine pulled up to my store at precisely 7 pm, just as I was zipping the back of my dress. I was shaking as I locked the doors behind me. Hopefully I wasn't throwing myself into a den of wolves waiting to devour me, but I had to admit, the feeling of exhilaration was helped by the flow of blood surging through my veins, most of which ended up in the most inappropriate places.

Neal himself stood at the limo door, holding it for me. "My goodness, I didn't think you could look any better than the first time I saw you; I was wrong," he said as he kissed my cheek before helping me into the limousine.

As I stepped in and scooted over, I didn't expect another man to be sitting across from me. I was obviously startled as Neal introduced him. "Max, meet Kelly; she's the woman I told you about." I went white as a sheet, mortified that he had told him what we had done in the back of my boutique.

"Kelly, nice to meet you. Neal told me you owned a lingerie shop. That must be a very lucrative business. I always wonder if they do personalized fittings for special customers,” he said with a look as if he were trying to bait me. I chuckled nervously, trying to downplay the nature of my boutique. "It's just a small shop, nothing too fancy," I replied, hoping to shift the focus away from how Neal and I might have met. Max seemed tempted to dig deeper but thankfully didn't press further on the topic.

"Kelly, I would be honored if you accepted this necklace. It isn't as beautiful as you are, but you would make it look perfect," Neal said as he handed me a velvet box. "I couldn't possibly," I said as I picked up the exquisitely beautiful necklace.

"It's the least I could do after you helped me last time," he said as he winked, making me wonder if he was imagining me bent over the chair in my boutique. “Who knew a visit to your store could be so stress relieving?" he said, knowing that I would know exactly what he meant. I also had a gnawing feeling in my mind that I was his "escort" for the evening. However, I cautiously brushed off those thoughts and graciously accepted the gift, thanking him sincerely for his generosity.

We faced each other as he helped to fasten the necklace around my neck. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease about his intentions. "Beautiful," he said as he leaned forward, making me nervous at being so close, making my body shake and my panties moisten as the throbbing between my thighs became increasingly prominent.

"So, Max, what is it you do?" I asked as I tried to refocus.

"I'm sorry, we didn't tell you, did we?" Neal said. “Max is my business partner.”

"We've known each other since we were barely out of diapers," Max admitted as they both laughed comfortably.

"After we show you around, I want Max to help you get comfortable posing for some photographs."

You would think that this fact would make me even more anxious, but instead, it made me feel better. I figured if there were two men with me, Neal would have to behave. Little did I know that it wasn't Neal I had to worry about.

We finally arrived at the studio, where both men gave me the grand tour. Some paintings were abstract, while others were normal paintings of various items, from landscapes to "Oh dear. Is that what I think it is?" I asked.

"A woman's vagina?" Max offered. “Some insist that it's just a flower, which, in a sense, it is, I suppose, the way it opens and closes to various stimuli. I'm afraid art doesn't just stop at a bowl of fruit. A woman's body is a marvel to see and to paint. Many people understand that the human body, when taken care of and depending on the century, is the most interesting art form. Most of us just don't display it on our living room walls," he commented.

As I marveled at the artwork, there were paintings of women holding phalluses and tongues licking breasts right along with the others. Some were more abstract than others, but it was pretty clear that this area was more geared toward the erotic.

"This is one I especially like,” Max pointed out. It was a woman holding the phallus with her mouth open as she looked up into the man's eyes. The woman's hunger was obvious; it was almost as if the onlooker could imagine her engulfing the man without even seeing it.

"Can I assume you are proud of this painting because it's from personal experience, Max?" I teased.

"Very good, Kelly," he laughed. "Additionally, I can guarantee that the woman's face in the photo is unrecognizable, as demonstrated by her own husband, who wishes he could purchase the portrait. If it wasn't for his wife, who is the actual model in the artwork, he would have woken every morning seeing the look of his wife's face in the throes of ecstasy with someone who gave her that look that you see."

"You mean…" I said in shock at finally realizing what was expected of me.

"If you are asking if we would like you to pose for some erotic pictures, then yes. But we are not implying that you must take any action at all. We would begin by photographing your beauty and proceed from there. You are in complete control and are free to follow or make your own request."

I could have been concerned at the suggestion, knowing that my body would be on full display and dangerously close to letting my sexual impulses take over. But I couldn't pretend that deep down, my body wanted to lose control. I was torn between my desire for gratification and my fear of objectification. Ultimately, I decided to take a chance and see where this could lead.

"I understand," I replied, feeling a sense of relief at the freedom to make my own decisions. "I appreciate your honesty."

"How about we retire to my studio?" Neal replied as he put his hand in the middle of my back and led me through the door into the next room. I followed his lead and entered the room where a Victorian couch sat. In front of it was a palette with paint and several brushes.

"Kelly," Neal started. "I chose the dress that you have honored me with wearing because I knew your body would make it look better than it has ever looked. If you feel comfortable, I would like to take some photographs of you so I can choose which would be best in a painting," Neal told me, making me feel comfortable with his professionalism.

Max assisted me as Neal took photos, adjusting the dress around my waist and breasts with no comments, but when he stood behind me and placed his hands on my hips to move me, his armor finally cracked. "My god, Kelly, your husband is a lucky man,” he said as he pulled my hips into his own, causing me to blush. 

"Kelly, lie down on the couch and look as if you are waiting for your lover to come for you." After a few minutes, Neal told me, "My love, you are the epitome of beauty and sensuality, but it’s time we change it up. Please, there is a robe behind the screen. Can you please remove the dress but leave the bra and panties on, which I am certain are the definition of sexy?"

Hesitantly, I did as asked before lying back on the couch. The robe was satin and didn't do much to cover my tush, so I was thankful that I was able to leave some clothes on.

"Max, pull her robe just off of her shoulder. That's good," Neal directed as he took pictures. I felt exposed and vulnerable, but I trusted Neal's vision for the shoot. As the camera clicked away, I focused on staying calm and confident.

"Kelly, allow Max to pull the sash so the robe falls open." Max did so, making the heat of my body rise even more as more of my flesh became exposed.

"Kelly, for the purpose of this shoot, Max is your lover; I want him to remove his shirt and lie behind you so you are spooning. Yes, perfect. Max, kiss her neck while you push the robe off of her shoulder even further. Yes, like that. Now push the straps of her bra down.” When he did so, I let out a short gasp.

“It’s okay, you're perfect,” Max whispered as he shifted behind me. He had apparently, along with his shirt, removed his pants, leaving only his shorts between himself and my moist panties. "I can feel your heat radiating against me," Max whispered as he pushed himself against my ass. “Maybe soon, you can show me exactly what you and Neal did in the back of your shop,” he said quietly as he kissed my bare shoulder. Unconsciously I gasped at his words and pushed my hips back, signaling to him more than I anticipated. “Mmm, I see you like that idea.”

Not wanting to break the momentum, and being completely under their spell, I melted as Max continued to nuzzle my neck. "Perfect. Kelly, lean back into his shoulder as if asking for a kiss," Neal directed. Neal's voice faded into the background as I lost myself in the moment, completely caught up in the scene. I knew what was coming next, and my body shuddered at the anticipation.

“Max, take Kelly's chin and bring her in for a passionate kiss, but slowly.” Max's warm breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine as I turned my head even more. The tension between us was evident, and in that moment, I knew that if he wanted to, he could have had me, right there in front of Neal. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and I couldn't wait to see where this unexpected connection would lead us as our lips dangled barely inches apart from each other.

Then Max's lips met mine, kissing me with pure need and passion as our hips pressed against one another out of an insatiable hunger. I grew even more reckless as we lost ourselves in the passion of the moment, completely consumed by the fire that flashed between us, leaving me craving more.

I should have pushed his hand away as I felt it move to the swells of my breast over the robe, but my mind was unable to comprehend the consequences of our actions in that heated moment. My body responded to his touch, betraying my rational thoughts as I allowed myself to be consumed by the desire that pulsed between us.

When I didn't stop him, I knew that I was making a choice to let go of my inhibitions and give in to the passion that was driving us both. The thrill of the forbidden only added to the excitement, making it impossible for me to resist his advances.

Inching his way inside of the neckline, I felt his fingers trace a path of desire along my skin, sending shivers down my spine as his fingers moved underneath the bra to the top swell before placing it into his palm with the nipple being captured in the webbing between his thumb and finger, eliciting yet another moan from my lips.

Somehow, Max had succeeded in removing his covering from his manhood, and I could feel his hardness move between the sparse material of my panties, sliding against the intimate passageway between my legs, caressing the tender flesh that yearned to be taken.

He only needed to push, and I would have enthusiastically accepted my fate. If it wasn't for Neal's voice, I would have assuredly succumbed to Max's advances without hesitation. The interruption was a welcome reminder of the consequences that would follow if I gave in to my desires.

"You're the model of perfection, Kelly. But we need to wrap it up for the evening. How about we pick you up tomorrow at the same time?" Neal suggested as I struggled to breathe and regain my composure.

"Neal is right; you are perfect for this," Max said as he freely ran his hand over my body. He then touched the wetness between my legs with a finger and added, "You had better get dressed before we do something we both can't resist." Then he kissed me again after rubbing my moisture into my open lips with that same finger.

Realizing that I was completely exposed above the waist, I quickly adjusted my robe and blushed, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of what might have happened.

The conversation in the limousine as they accompanied me home was light as we talked about the shoot as if what Max and I had almost followed through with was completely natural.

"You two make the perfect lovers; tomorrow we will see how perfect," was the last thing that was said before we said our goodnights.

"We'll pick you up at 7 pm just like today. Goodnight." And they were gone.

I was both disappointed and thankful that Neal put a stop to what we were doing. For the rest of the night, all I could think about was, what if he hadn't stopped us? Max could have easily completed his conquest if he so desired. Would Max be imbedded inside of me right now? Or would Neal be taking his turn? Maybe Neal was reprimanding him right now for taking it too far and violating my trust. Or, maybe they were talking about the next night and how they would take me completely.

I was ashamed that none of the options that I could think of involved me putting a stop to any further advances. In bed, I tortured myself by not allowing any self-pleasure, refusing to allow the thoughts of another man, besides my husband, to bring me to the precipice of satisfaction. I knew I had crossed a line, but the temptation lingered, taunting me to satisfy my urges.

The following day was brutal because of my lack of sleep. I was so tired that I nearly called off that evening's events, knowing that I would again be in Max's arms.

When I slid into the limo that evening, Max leaned over to kiss me, and I automatically returned it as if it were anything but normal. I tried to sit in the seat on Neal's side, but he told me, "No, sit with Max; he is your lover, remember?"

Surprised, I quickly remembered that Neal wanted us to act as if we were lovers so he could capture the look on my face. I wasn't prepared for what was to come as Max had me sit right next to him, hip to hip with his arm around me as if we were a couple. Eventually, as we rode, I started to get used to the awkwardness of the sitting arrangement and started to feel more at ease. I had to hand it to the guys; they certainly knew how to make a girl feel comfortable in an awkward setting.

The drive had taken 30 minutes the night before, but there must have been an accident ahead because traffic was so dense that the driver informed us that it would be almost an hour to travel to the studio. I later had to wonder if the detour we "had to take" was actually by design for my conquest.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night, Kelly?"

"It was unexpected, so it was strange," I told him hesitantly, "but I guess it was alright—I mean, to get into the mood for the painting, that is.”

"Exactly, very good for you to recognize it for what it was."

"Did the intimacy bother you? The lust in your eyes is certainly going to be memorable."

He acknowledged my embarrassment at his question and assured me that "your natural sensuality is a rare trait. It's a wonder you don't have suitors daily."

"I'm a married woman now; I'm afraid those tides have sailed," I said with a tinge of nostalgia.

"That's nonsense; most men simply don't dare approach you," he remarked. "I'm sure you have men who cry in their beer practically every night because they know they can't have you."

"That's nice to say, I think," I said as we laughed. "I'm embarrassed to say that I got out of hand last night. I don't know what came over me."

"Your passion helps me see what I will paint; therefore, it is essential to get into the mindset. I can shoot plenty of photos of you hugging, kissing, and touching as you did last night, so please be understanding. But what I can't convey is the expression of unadulterated hunger and desire that you seem to convey without even trying. I have to see it in order to paint it with the feeling you have when you're, well, when you're so aroused, there's just no other way to put it; I hope you don't mind me saying."

"No, I think I do understand. My entire business structure is built around the passion and, dare I say, lust of others. So I do understand the visual of it all. But what are you going to ask of me tonight?"

"That, my dear, is up to you. What I do suggest is that you and my business partner, Max, start getting into the mood." He smiled and laughed. "I feel like this conversation is making him more and more frustrated every minute."

Looking at Max, he smiled and put his arms around me, bringing his lips close to mine. I pulled away for a moment as I let Neal's words sink in. I then leaned in for a kiss, and the sparks flew.

As we continued to kiss, the tension between us grew stronger, and I knew that there was no turning back now. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the passion, fully embracing the moment. As the kiss deepened, I felt a surge of desire and passion unlike anything I had ever experienced before. In that moment, I knew that Max would have me completely.

The sound of my dress unzipping and the cool air hitting my chest as it slid limply from my bodice gave me the impression that I was dreaming. As Max's hands caressed my mounds of flesh and his lips pressed into my neck, I gazed at Neal with lustful eyes.

"Nothing we have done, or are about to do, will ever reach another person's ears or eyes, at least that they know about," Neal told me, fully aware of what was going to happen. “Unless you tell him, not even your spouse will be aware of the identity of that passionate woman hanging in my gallery."

My mental state at the moment was, let's say, less than rational or sensible, considering I could actually feel my pulse in my nipples and clitoris, which occasionally happens when I am having a mentally stimulating overdose of eroticism. My husband takes great pleasure in trying to get me to this level on occasion, but neither of these men was my husband.

"Allow yourself to open up, to indulge your passion." Neal said as he reached for the camera. I heard myself moan my surrender as I heard the camera humming. "Allow him to become your lover," I heard him say in the back of my mind.

Max laid me down onto the seat, moving his lips down my body and taking my dress with him as he went further south, past my neck to my breasts, where he paused to suck on the blood-engorged nubs. His tongue licked the areola, practically making me orgasm with just his tongue. I could feel the heat rising between us as his hands roamed over my body, igniting a fire within me that was only getting hotter. The sound of Neal's camera faded into the background as Max's touch consumed my senses completely.

Moving further past my stomach to below my bellybutton, my dress finally lay on the floor of the limousine. Lastly, my soaked panties were being pulled away from my vulva, which seemed to be embarrassingly engorged.

"Kelly, I know this is asking a lot, but could you please reach down to open your flower so the world can see the wetness of your arousal?" The request caught me off guard, but the desire to please overwhelmed any reservations I had. With trembling hands, I slowly complied, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of being so exposed. As I opened myself, I felt a surge of vulnerability mixed with anticipation as the moist, sticky sounds of spreading for him were both vulgar and intensely erotic.

Max, knowing that I was his for the taking, lifted his shirt off of his toned body and continued until his phallus finally appeared. Instinct took over as I wrapped my fingers around him, bringing the smooth skin of the head against my lips until my tongue came out, licking the fluid from the tip.  Max's hands tangled in my hair, urging me on as I continued to explore with my mouth. His breath hitched in response to me taking him deeper into my mouth, feeling the pulsing heat of him against my tongue.

As I concentrated on Max's hardness, I felt something moist and warm between my legs. Neal had halted his camera work and felt compelled to join us, licking my vagina and clitoris from bottom to top, making me almost scream in a sudden release of tension and frustration as he devoured my juices.

“You taste as delicious as you look," Neal whispered as he licked me to my first orgasm. I heard clothing being taken off and felt his weight being shifted. Suddenly I felt my vagina being pushed to the side as Neal moved into me with his hardness and didn't hesitate to bury himself into me until he couldn't go any further.

This was no longer about art; this was pure, unadulterated sex.  I could feel the sack of his balls slapping against my ass as he pounded into me while I continued to suck on Max's long, hard member as if it were a lifeline. I surrendered completely to the raw passion and desire consuming us, losing myself in the ecstasy of the encounter.

Wanting to take my intense passion even further, I moved away from Neal and straddled his partner, lining the intruder up and dropping myself onto him in one easy movement. Turning to Neal, who was now leaning against the back of the seat, I took him into my mouth and tasted my erotic elixir as I slid back and forth with the head of Max's phallus touching my insides at an intense pace known only to my husband, until now. 

Eventually, after experiencing an orgasm with Max's penetration, I removed myself from him to present my backside to Neal. As I changed positions and turned my hips upwards, presenting Neal with a very tempting target, he lined himself up to my upturned ass, grabbed my hips, and quickly entered me from behind. While Neal began his vigorous thrusting, I returned my mouth to Max, licking my juices from his shaft and trying my best to fit him as far into my mouth as I could.

We all went at it for several minutes until Neal finally had to speak: "I don't know if you are protected, my dear," he said strenuously, "but you need to make a decision quickly," he told me, in desperate need of release.

Turning to him with a glare of desperation in my eyes, I told him, "Don't you dare pull out of me this time." As Neal buried himself inside of my wet, convulsing cavern, Max started shooting his hot liquid onto my tongue, causing me to orgasm yet again as I frantically devoured every drop of Max's sperm.

Neal continued hammering into me from behind as he grasped my hips, crying out as he deposited his seed into my womb, which was, until now, reserved only for my husband. As I felt Neal's warm release inside me, a sense of guilt washed over me for betraying my husband in such a way. But in that moment, all I could focus on was the overwhelming nirvana that consumed me, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

We were now simply a pile of sexually intoxicated adults hell-bent on our consumption of each other's flesh. The car was filled with the scent of sex and desire, our bodies tangled in a mess of limbs and sweat. The boundaries of morality blurred as we gave in to our primal urges, lost in the moment of pure ecstasy.

The silence was almost deafening as the guilt at what I had done started to sink in as I felt another man's semen slowly running down the cheeks of my ass. Only a few moments passed before Max, already hardening, climbed on top of me and pushed his manhood into my depths with the help of his partner's natural lubricant.

The sexual fervor had now dissipated as he slid into me slowly and leisurely, thrusting, rotating, and pulling out, only to push back into me again, taking in the intense pleasure of another man's wife who had surrendered to her overpowering lust. 

As Max enjoyed the tight, lubricated sheath between my legs, Neal sat next to me so I could lie on his stomach and take his hardness into my mouth. Several long minutes later, the speaker clicked on, "We will be arriving in fifteen minutes," then it clicked off as I wondered how much the driver had actually heard through the walls of the limousine.

The intensity level quickly became more urgent as they both sought to reach their peak before reaching our destination. My moans grew louder, mixing with the sound of the engine as the limousine sped towards its final destination.

"We need you to drive around the block once more, Tony," Neal told the driver. As he did, the guys were able to give me one more messy deposit from each as I screamed through an intense orgasm of my own. "That was incredible, Kelly. We should be able to focus on the painting now," Max teased. While the guys put themselves together, I quickly adjusted my disheveled clothing and tried to compose myself, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt as I prepared to face the outside world once again.

For the rest of that night, we mostly behaved ourselves, making a lot of progress in the artistic nature of what we were supposed to be doing. But, during the rest of the week, I would be picked up as the elegant, classy, sophisticated business owner who wanted to be painted on canvas, and I would be returned as the soiled, defiled woman who was in dire need of being filled to the brim with numerous loads of fertile ejaculate that Neal and Max could provide. Needless to say, I was out of control and wasn't able to regain that control until after the painting, along with others, was completed.

In my boutique today, a painting of a woman of intense passion, wearing a piece of lingerie that has probably sold more on its own than I could ever hope to with words alone, hangs on the wall between dressing rooms. Under the painting sits the very chair that I sat in as I was painted.

In the art gallery, behind a door marked "special permission required," there are walls with various paintings that are much more erotic than the general public is allowed to see, unless they have enough money, that is.

One painting is of a woman with the look of pure lust in her eyes as she kneels before a man's hard phallus, which she has in her hands as she eagerly consumes the abundant elixir that runs down the shaft of flesh.

Another portrait depicts the same woman, who is clearly in ecstasy, as a man kneels behind her, gripping the woman's hips during an obvious state of bliss for the man as he lunges into her depths.

Yet another shows a woman lying on her side on a Victorian couch with a man lying behind her, his hands caressing her swollen breasts while kissing her neck. Without even witnessing the act, the woman's expression conveys that the male is penetrating her from behind.

In the center of the display there is one more, larger than the rest and the most erotic of them all. The portrait, which does not pretend to conceal any details, shows the woman between two men who are devouring the woman's sexual being. One man is lying below the woman with her legs on each side of the man as the woman straddles him, while a second man is shown to be breaching her depths from behind her, somewhere she had never, until that moment, been breached before. The look on the woman's face is of both anxiousness and unrestrained hunger for what the two men have clearly accomplished.

All of the portraits have just one detail to acknowledge that the woman is the same in each. In them, the woman is wearing a diamond necklace. The same necklace that adorns the neck of the painting in my boutique for everyone to see. The same necklace that sits in my lingerie drawer at home hidden beneath some panties and a card that says, “Until my next purchase."