My lusciously rich beauty. My fabulous cocksucker kitten.
I secretly wondered if the museum now worked on displaying live and moving artwork. In that case, I would probably have walked up and touched the treasure. What parts? Well, I would’ve started with the knockers and slowly fumbled myself down to her ass. The crowning glory would then be trying out her damp snatch. Ah, artistic bliss. Ah, wet pussies.
The living artwork in question? More opulent than a 9 feet by 9 feet Rubens painting, more tranquil than a Monet, more exquisite than a William Turner and more crazy than a Jackson Pollock galaxy spread. Her beauty certainly outshone most artworks that I had seen in my days. And I had seen a lot of art in my young life.
At that point, though, when I saw her first in that art museum in Vienna, she was all new, all sexy, all cockraising and all flabbergasting.
I would’ve fucked her right there on the spot.
I had done quite a bit of tit examination in my day. Having chosen to specialize on baroque art was no coincidence: my love for buxom vixens really went into the extreme. I just loved big tits and round asses.
This time, I hit the jackpot.
Damn it, I told myself. I had come here to do some research for my thesis, study the details in Rubens paintings, take notes and map out a plan for my literary work. After all, my final exam was coming up and I needed to get plenty of material for my paper. Vienna’s Art Museum provided me with all I needed, including several experienced colleagues with inside information of all those fantastic baroque painting techniques and anecdotes as to who painted what in which of Rubens’ artworks? Snyder, Jordaens, Bruegel?
Rubens’ art was like sexual intercourse: a collaboration.
Well, I put my thesis on hold that spring day. My cock only cared about making itself comfortable inside its new home: her wet pussy.
I had to have her. It was as simple as that. I saw that woman and I was lost.
I wondered why the guards didn’t ask her to stand back and watch the paintings from afar. Her inspection of Rubens’ rather voluptuous and naked second wife Helene Fourment, wearing only a fur, bordered on the obsessively meticulous. Somehow, though, something told me that the guards had hard-ons as well, every male trouser in this room bulging like crazy. I could actually see them drooling.
Okay, I drooled, too. Her tight black skirt embraced her ass in a way that had my sperm factory working overtime. I really didn’t know where to look first: her ass, her boobs or her long flowing hair? It also really did not help that her skirt ended in stockings with patterns of flowers and butterflies, elegantly positioned silvery decorations squirted on the fabric. They reminded me of cumdrops or small droplets of flowing clit juice. It made me seriously wonder if her panties were as pink as her pussy. On the other hand, pussies never had the same color, but all of them tasted good.
I really did try to go back to the studying of the painting. I worked really, really hard at it, too. I even went to the length of actually turning away from the woman and going to another part of the museum just to spite myself. I mean, I couldn’t be gawking at her like a silly sophomore, could I? I mean, I was no teenager. I was close to my Master’s Degree in Art History. An art master with a hard-on? Okay, we men all have hard-ons, but during scientific research? Sexual research, maybe. Stranger things have happened.
No matter how hard I tried, though, and I did try hard, I constantly went back to where she stood. Every time that woman bent over to look at a painting, I swooned. I could see the buttcrack and it sung an aria by Mozart to me:
“Oh, art thou sweet, thou noble derriere. My rock of ages in her cleft so fair.”
It made me want to rip that skirt apart and stick my dick inside her wobbly ass, pumping her like a fucking rabbit, watching the buttcheeks bounce like two balls in unison.
It got stranger and stranger, actually. I kept finding reasons to follow her just so I could study the size of her boobs. As I said, my reputation as a boob-man became renowned even early in high school. My best friend found a couple of copies of Penthouse in my sock drawer in my room, a magazine filled to the brim with big, luscious jugs. We ended up wanking all night, telling my mom that we were working on a school project.
Anyway, after following this incredible woman for about an hour I decided that I really had to fuck her. I didn’t know how, but my cock would definitely land in her cunt eventually. Oh, how fantastic she looked when she studied those paintings, her breasts dangling down, her elegant black blouse hugging her tits like crazy. Those things had to be C-cups. D? Mmh, I dunno. Getting my hands on those lucious breasts would, in any case, be like dying and going to heaven.
So, accordingly, I had discreetly glanced over and see if the blouse had a cleavage. When I realized that it did, I tiptoed over to where she stood more than once just to sneak-peek into that wonderful oasis of mammary love and cockteasing bliss.
Long and sensually curved hair, her black locks gently falling across her gold necklace, spilling over those large round earrings. It made that precum pop out of my dick with a happy: “Hello, swallow me!”
I knew what those big earrings symbolized, as well: her love-holes. Sexy women always wore these round earrings to show men how willing they were to fuck. This girl had big round earrings, so I felt fucking lucky.
The lipstick made me feel like shoving my entire manhood onto her tongue and shooting my loud load onto her tonsils, giving her wet stomach the protein dose of its life.
While my testosterone battled with my brain about whether to leave the museum and go home or just study her buttcrack for the rest of the day, her phone rang. Everybody in the room looked up. It wasn’t as if nobody had noticed her. She was probably the most fantastic looking woman in the room, the country, the planet, the universe, whatever. Some chick in the museum, a dowdy looking things, even gave her boyfriend a dirty look for giving that fuckable lady a half-smile.
When the sexy woman’s phone rang, however, it gave that other chick a reason to think how much of a slut this girl actually was.
She didn’t care, did she?
Any man would’ve been unfaithful for Miss Perfect. She knew that.
When the girl threw her head to one side, letting that marvelous head of hers float and dangle and curve and sway, I melted. I think I came twice, actually, my sperm making little squirts in my Gucci underwear.
“Natalie Imrie here,” the woman chirped. Her accent sounded British. Hot damn, I told myself. I am in the hands of an English lass. She gave the caller a sexy laugh. “Oh, yes. Of course. Well, if you want to, sure. Where are you right now?”
This girl spoke with a posh London accent that had me want her even more.
I think I flied and went to Brazil when that woman, whom I had wanted to fuck for over an hour now, actually came and sat down on the couch next to me. Yes, I’ll admit it. I had my notepad and my pencil in my lap and I had written lots of gibberish in silly letters about the paintings I had been looking at, just so anyone wouldn’t think I was just here to study how incredible an ass that woman had.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said and smiled again, throwing me a shot of her Chopard perfume my way just by throwing one of her sexy arms onto the seat next to me. “I’ll go right ahead. No, no, that’s no problem. Well, I’ll see what happens, okay?”
Who was she talking to? Her boyfriend? An associate? Her father?
What was she going to do?
“Maybe you’ll get some good ideas. Yes, dear. I know who you mean.”
The small pause and the obviously sexy chatter by some man at the other end – and it obviously was a man – had me wondering what she was talking about. Was she going to be unfaithful? British girls, however, had the reputation of giving spectacular blowjobs.
“Bye,” the woman that I now knew to be Natalie Imrie told bid her caller farewell.
As if she had just been given a signal of some sort, Natalie Imrie with the fantastic jugs turned to me and looked me straight in the eye.
I grew red in the face at first, but then I got lost inside the color of her eyes. They were brown, but with an interesting quality that had me think of ember, the glowing, hot coal made of greatly heated wood. Her eyes glowed like a campfire on the night of a full moon, the moon being the seas of white round her ember iris in each eye. Actually, her gaze made me feel like a werewolf. Natalie looked like a kitten, her long eyelashes curved outwards with more black visible toward the edges of her eyes.
I stammered a quiet: “Hi there!”
“Hi,” Natalie sing-songed, making me tremble. “You American?”
I nodded, giggling, now feeling that I rushed steadily into the welcome parade of Natalie’s cunt. “Yes, I’m from Michigan, but I am studying art here in Vienna. I’m about half a year away from my Master’s Degree. What about you?”
Natalie arched her back, obviously giving me a closer look at those absolute incredible looking breasts. She knew it, too. “I work here.” She shrugged once, glancing over at me with a knowing glance. “I am already finished with my Master’s. I came here a year ago. My mum’s German, although I grew up in London. When I was offered a position here as an Art Director, I took the job. I have the best of both worlds.”
She looked at me for what I really felt to be three hours, although it probably just amounted to three seconds.
“What brought you here?”
Well, although I looked at her boobs all the time and not into her eyes while I spoke, I told her that I had painted since childhood, that my family had taken me on a trip to Vienna when I was a boy and that I finally decided to move here in order to study art.
When I looked up at Natalie, she glanced at me with that disarming look that had me screaming for sex. She started chuckling. Out of nowhere, she put her hand to her mouth and giggled in such a knowing way that I almost felt insulted.
“What?” I asked, feeling ashamed of myself and not knowing why.
“You,” she finally said, putting her one hand with its long red fingernails on my leg, “are so easy to see through. Mr. Transparent.”
My mouth twitched a bit. I now felt insecure. Was she toying with me?
I cleared my throat, feeling like someone just caught jerking off in a public place.
She shook her head. “What’s your name?”
“Okay, uhm, Kevin?”
“You have been following me around this museum for over an hour!”
She laughed even harder now, her boobs jumping up and down as she did. A couple of visitors looked her way as she did, probably thinking she was just a stupid slut and not the Director of the Vienna Art Museum.
“Uhm, Kevin, the moment I walked into the Rubens Room, you made me feel like a painting by Rubens,” she added provocatively. “I bet,” she added, leaning over to whisper in my ear, making me smell that Chopard perfume even more intensely, “that you have had lots of fantasies about me over the course of this hour. Me, naked, pouring honey over your cock and licking it off with my elegant lips …”
I started chuckling nervously.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Come on, uhm, Kevin,” Natalie whispered again, now touching my ear with red lips, “you wanna fuck me, don’t you?”
Her sultry gaze had me cum again.
Natalie continued: “I don’t know why I am doing this, but I might be willing to let you inspect my pussy a bit closer.”
She now put her hand on my lap and rubbed it gently.
“It’s shaved, you know.”
I giggled quietly and frantically, if such a thing is possible.
“Where do you want to fuck, Natalie? Here?”
I kept looking behind me, above me, to all sides, just to see if anyone overheard our conversation. Everyone seemed to be busy studying art, while I was studying Natalie’s C-cups. She shrugged.
“Let that be my concern. Fancy a shag, love?”
I giggled again and nodded, feeling like a little schoolboy.
Natalie stood up, shook her tits a bit, took my hand, looking like Venus. I literally felt like a school boy being pulled by his mom to art class. Natalie escorted me through the Monet rooms, the Rubens gallery, the Bruegel chamber, past the Van Eycks and Vermeers and Velasquez paintings of the Spanish Habsburg Infantas. When we arrived in a rather posh office with a large chandelier, Natalie closed the large white door and locked it.
Surrounded by silver trays and expensive art, I held a woman’s hand who had been just a wet dream a moment ago. Natalie still had not arrived where she wanted me to be, obviously. She escorted me into an even smaller room, equipped only with a bed-like couch, a nighttime table, a few books and a lamp.
She locked that door, as well, once we came in. I think I lost my nerve, because I started shaking. My legs shook, my hands shook and my shoulders shivered.
And I got the biggest hard-on of my life.
Natalie, who up until now had been amused by me, looked down on the growing bulge in my jeans and couldn’t stop groaning.
“Something for you.”
“Look promising,” she mused. “Is it already Christmas?”
She wrinkled her nose a bit, making her cheeks dimple, her tongue licking her lips.
Slowly, she took a few steps up toward me, her high heels shuffling against the carpet. As she dwindled down upon her knees, her ass swayed in a way that reminded me of a flowers swaying in the wind. Using her long nails as tools to unzip my pants, she made me feel like a lamb on the way to the slaughter. If that hadn’t been enough, she now pulled down the trousers all the way to the ground using only her mouth.
“Holy shit, uhm, Kevin,” she moaned. “It’s huge.”
“9,4 inches,” I said proudly. “24 centimeters.”
Natalie carefully opened her mouth and wrapped her elegant cocksucker lips around my shaft, making little squeaking noises and smacking her lips in the process.
That fabulous sensation made me see stars. She licked my cock, gave me deep throat, sucked on my balls. She was ready to be a submissive whore, letting that game of hide-and-seek go and just become the cock sucking hooker that I knew she could be.
The helmet of my penis was now blue, all of the blood in my body pumping into my crotch. “Oh, ah shuhsst lovvve schucking your cockh,” she mused.
I banged my cock into her mouth, my big tasty cock dripping like crazy. I felt like flying, moaning and groaning in higher and higher tones.
With a thunderous plop and really sexy splash of a sound, it sounded like she had just finished a lollipop, she took out my long dick out of my mouth and wiped off her own saliva with an exclamation: “Show me how good a pussy licker you are, baby. Lick this sexy bimbo’s cunt like a good boy.”
I didn’t have to wait long in order to follow her dominating orders, my dick bobbing in its erect position like a flagpole in the wind.
In fact, Natalie Imrie stripped faster than I have ever seen a babe strip. Her boobs made my dick laugh, sing, holler, dance, squirt, love and cha-cha-cha all at once. I think I disappeared into that cleavage for an hour before moving down to drink me some pussy. I had the feeling that I buried my face deeper and deeper into her clit by the second. So deep, in fact, that I soon only saw her shaved pussy as pink as her knickers.
The sound I made was quite similar to the sound I made when I ate me some spare ribs: sloppy. There were liters of salty clitty juice in there and I was going to drink it all. I laughed to myself, aroused by this amazing sensation.
I heaved myself out of her crotch, my face dripping wet with cunt-liquid. When I thrust my prick into her cunt hole, Natalie sang, actually sang Gilda’s “Caro Nome” from Verdi’s “Rigoletto”. She seemed to ache with excitement, her grunting telling me that every part of her clit throbbing with pain, a pain that she actually enjoyed.
I withdrew my dick and stretched it out into the open air, jerking off like crazy, her insane gaze giving me the impression that’s she was in a sexual trance. Willingly, she crawled about on the couch toward my throbbing cock, looking like a seal, swirling around from her position on her back to a position under my dick, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue, making little squeaking and horny tones.
“Give me your cum,” she moaned, sticking out her tongue. “Come on, baby. Squirt on my face.”
My hand movements now accelerated, my face grimaced, my head bobbing, my dick even bigger and bluer than before. Finally, my cock erupted, a long string of cum skyrocketing into onto her tongue. The second portion shot onto her left cheek, the final dessert of this three course sperm-dinner landing on her nose. Every portion of her face was covered in cum. She licked it all off, swallowing every drop. A stunned silence now came over the room, our mutual copulation inspiring us. The office became our symbiosis, the restful oasis of a green acre that had appeared after the hot fire of lust of our burning desire.
Then, she laughed.
There she was, naked, full of sperm, shouting with laughter.
First, it felt cool. Then, I wondered what she was laughing at.
Laughing with me or at me?
“Man, uhm, Kevin, you were the best fuck of my life. Wait until my husband hears about this.”
It felt like I had been stuck with a pin, my cock almost immediately shrinking down to the size of a peanut.
Natalie sat up, rubbing her boobs as she did.
“That was the guy I talked to on my phone when I came and sat down next to you,” she began. “We go to lots of swinger clubs in our free time and keep looking for things to spice up our sex life with. He called me on my cellular and told me to try to get you to fuck me. It wasn’t hard, though. I think he got some good tips in how to fuck me well.”
“He saw me watching you.”
She caressed my cheek. “He’s a security guard here.”
Natalie raised her voice.
In a jiffy, a back door opened and another naked man wandered in, holding a camera.
In a thick Austrian accent, he said:
“Fantastic fuck, uhm, Kevin!”
Flabbergasted by this turn of events, I started laughing as well.
Not only was Natalie’s husband naked, his equally long cock raised, a film obviously now available on DVD for our mutual viewing pleasure. He had also brought something else with him from the back room: three naked ladies, one blonde, one brunette and one redhead, all of them with huge boobs, all of them ready to have themselves some dick.
I definitely knew that if I played my cards right, I could get a job here.
After all, I would have fucking nice colleagues.
Ah, my moonshine ember and her wonderful friends.