No pulling out, p.11
No Pulling Out, page 11
Susan’s brown eyes darted up and down the street. The city had come alive over the past hour, pedestrians emerging from their apartment buildings and setting out on foot for the nearest underground station. Some clutched steaming coffees in hand, thick scarves obscuring their faces. Others hurried along with earbuds plugged into their ears, tuning out the world. It was quite interesting to watch the city life pass her by.
Susan rubbed one of her wide-set eyes, stifling a yawn. She was a bit shorter than the average woman, capping out at 5’3”. She had a thin body, and was rather pale. Her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were a ruddy shade darker than the rest of her, the result of a slight sunburn. Her hair was light brown, with a few strands of blond, and her nose was small and rounded. She turned her head to scratch at her neck, revealing a small and simple tattoo of a triangle behind her right ear.
“Damn it, open already,” Susan muttered to herself. She turned and glared at the front door of the gallery, as if that would make its doors open for her faster. She could see the shadows of employees flickering beyond the glass as they walked back and forth, readying the lobby for its daily stream of visitors.
Finally, the front door clicked as it was unlocked. Susan strode forward eagerly and grasped the door handle, pushing it open. She stepped inside the heated gallery and let out a sigh of relief – she had been beginning to lose feeling in her toes, despite them being enclosed in thick padded boots.
“Welcome to the Gallery of Modern Art,” a peppy young woman said from behind the counter, beaming at Susan. “You’re right on time.”
“I know,” Susan said brusquely, frowning at her. “How much to get in?”
The young woman faltered, her smile dissolving into a thin-lipped grimace. “$10, please.”
“What a rip off,” Susan muttered, though her heart secretly leapt in excitement as she handed over the money. The woman was still frowning as she handed her back her ticket, and she didn’t bother to say thank you. Instead she rushed into the next room, where a large man was waiting with a security wand in hand. He waved the device all around, over Susan’s front and back and between her legs, before nodding and allowing her to pass.
At last, she was here. Susan had been waiting for this for three months, since she’d first found out about Akhtar’s gallery tour. It had seemed too good to be true. Akhtar and his paintings were such an inspiration to Susan, he had been the reason that she had wanted to start painting herself. She wasn’t the best at it, but she did enjoy it. It was a stress reliever, a good way to clear her mind at the end of a long day – and so she painted anyways, even if no one else wanted to see what she created.
She found a map of the gallery and practically ripped it open, peering down eagerly. There, on the third floor it was clearly marked: Latif Akhtar Portrait Exhibit. She looked up, eyes searching until she found a sign pointing to the nearest elevator. She hurried over to it and jabbed at the button, staring up at the glowing number above her head and tapping her foot impatiently.
Within minutes, she was stepping off onto the third floor. And there it was, stretched before her, a massive room full of Latif Akhtar’s real and actual paintings. They were absolute works of art, massive portrait paintings of everyday, normal people Akhtar had encountered in his life. Each one was a good six feet tall and four feet wide.
“Welcome.”
Susan turned, and stared. The real-life painter was standing there before her, smiling. The man was quite tall and burly, with dark skin and black hair. He stepped forward and held out his hand to shake, which Susan took tentatively.
“I’m a huge fan,” she blurted out. She had planned this moment out, imagined what it would be like and what she would say – but all of that fled her mind in this moment, and she rambled. “I love all of your work. I do painting myself, as a hobby. Just a hobby.”
“Really?” Akhtar smiled at her indulgently, inclining his head. “I’m flattered that you’re such a fan of my work.”
They spoke for a few minutes longer, before he suddenly made a strange offer. “Would you like to come see my studio? I love to show my process off to young, aspiring painters. I’d be more than happy to show you around. Perhaps do a painting of you, as well?”
Susan was star struck at this offer. She stared at Akhtar, completely and utterly floored, and after a moment managed to nod her head the smallest amount.
“I... I would be honored.”
They made the arrangements for that evening, and as Susan drove over to Akhtar’s house, she couldn’t stop the butterflies from forming in her tummy, images of the great man’s work swirling through her mind in glorious oil paint.
When she arrived at the grand old house, she strode up the long driveway to his front door, and taking a deep breath, bravely knocked three times.
Akhtar opened the door, and his warm friendly nature instantly put Susan at ease. “Hi, come on in. I was just upstairs in my studio, about to put brush to canvas,” he said jovially.
Susan followed the tall man along a long corridor, the walls adorned with magnificent works of art. They walked up a wide, red-carpeted staircase, and Susan followed him into a room. Akhtar shut the door behind them.
“This is my studio!” The artist said.
“It’s incredible,” said Susan, looking around at the easels and half-finished paintings. It was a dream come true for her to be here.
They sat down on the comfy sofa, and Akhtar opened a bottle of red and poured them both a glass. They sipped away, and he asked, “You’re not nervous about this, are you?”
Susan looked at the man, slightly baffled. “Nervous about what?”
“About posing nude for me,” Akhtar replied, completely straight-faced.
Susan’s heart began to flutter. She hadn’t agreed to this. Sure, she had briefly entertained the idea of posing for one of his paintings, but this was the first time he had mentioned her taking off her clothes. But she couldn’t deny the arousal that coursed through her, and nor did she want to.
Suddenly, Akhtar looked even more serious, almost stern. “Take off your clothes. Now.” He ordered.
As soon as he had said the words, Susan felt her panties getting damp. This was going to happen. She couldn’t leave now.
Akhtar made the first move, leaning in and tenderly kissing her on the side of the neck. It felt strange to Susan at first, being kissed by her idol that she had admired for so long. Their hands reached out and caressed each other’s bodies, gently touching and roaming. Before she knew it, their tops were off and there they sat, Akhtar bare-chested and Susan in her bra, her upper body looking remarkably skinny compared to the artist’s beefy torso.
Akhtar unhooked her bra. His mouth went down and began to suck on Susan’s erect nipples, gently nibbling and playfully biting each one in turn, as she felt frustrated need burn deeply from within her. When he was done, she returned the favor by lightly squeezing his chest, knocking the big pecs from side to side, making them wobble and flex.
Akhtar’s hand reached down and undid Susan’s jeans, which along with her knickers, were pulled down and discarded onto the rug. Susan parted her legs. His hand keenly touched her pussy, his soft fingers expertly working her as his thumb flicked over her clit. He outstretched his middle two fingers and proceeded to tease her pussy, stroking her button as he did so.
She was more turned-on than she ever had been in her life, and she moaned softly while her tight snatch was being tenderly fingered. Akhtar undid his own jeans and pulled them down along with his silky boxers, which were thrown on top of Susan’s knickers to make a heap on the floor. He sat back on the couch and let the young woman feast her eyes on his huge cock and balls, which throbbed in the soft lighting. His sack looked heavy and full, and Susan keenly reached down to cup them in her hand, whilst her other wrapped around his thick girth. She couldn’t believe she had her hand around such a monumental cock, and she worked her slim wrist up and down the length speedily, it being so thick that she had to jack him half-handed.
Susan rubbed her thumb over Akhtar’s cock head, making sure to apply the perfect amount of pressure to the pulsating tip. Akhtar stood up, and she was able to take in the full sight of his naked body for the first time.
His body was hulking and muscular, his thick thighs rippling and flexing. He gave her a cheeky smirk, and his huge cock sprung up in the air, angry and ready. His massive balls hung below, and looked as full as humanly possible, about ready to burst.
Susan gazed at him in awe, all her inhibitions gone. She dropped to her knees like a hungry college slut, and crawled to where Akhtar stood. She spiritedly sucked on his cock head, so big that she could barely fit her lips on it. She sucked away, before intuitively licking down the length of his shaft to his ridiculously full balls. She worked her way up and down the shaft, using her soft lips to wank him with her mouth, getting the wide length shiny and wet. She traced her tongue round and round the ridge of the head, before focusing her attention to the slit and trying to lick up as much of the pre-cum as she could. The raw, musky taste of it was having an incredible effect on her, and she sucked it down and gulped hard. She continued to suckle on the big dick, opening her mouth as wide as she could to allow the throbbing beast all the way into her throat, almost gagging on it. This was the first cock she’d had in her mouth since college, and she soon realized that she’d been missing out. She closed her lips and vacuumed her cheeks in, bobbing her head up and down like a BobbleHead toy, sucking on it as best she could.
Susan stuck out her tongue, as the artist wanked himself vigorously over her face, longing to release the pre-cum from his pent-up balls. She flicked her tongue over the shiny helmet, and Akhtar drizzled his pre-cum, sticky ribbons trickling all over her face, painting her with luke-warm snail-trails.
Now fully taking charge, the artist motioned for the young woman to get on the couch. There they lay, head to toe, Akhtar on the bottom with Susan clambering on top to create a 69. They promptly licked at each other, lapping and swallowing. As Akhtar tongue-probed her tight pink hole, Susan was struggling with the man’s massive cock, which slid right into her mouth, making her choke and splutter. She slid the dick in and out of her mouth, while he flicked his tongue over her clit. The sensation of the artist’s tongue on her nub whilst sucking on the massive dick was almost too much for Susan to take, and she almost came right there and then.
Akhtar withdrew his tongue from her aching pussy, and as Susan’s climax simmered she buried her face deep into the artist’s sack, panting and kissing him intimately. She dismounted and heard him say, “I’m going to pump you deep.”
Akhtar got up. It was time. There the artist stood, a vision of true power. Susan watched as his big prick seesawed up and down, totally throbbing.
She got on her hands and knees on the couch, and pushed her perfect ass in the direction of the artist. Akhtar stood to the side of her, and helped her in arching her back, encouraging her to stick out her ass. He gave her twin globes a hearty slap, his manly hand making a big clap as he smacked it down forcefully. “Get ready, girl!”
The artist didn’t waste any more time. He was eager to plunge his cock deep, so he stood at the side of the couch as Susan backed her ass up. Her tight pussy looked so pink and inviting from behind, and he pressed his cock head up against her. Something deep inside Akhtar’s soul roared, and he drilled his rigid tool deep into her snug orifice, impaling her and making her yell at the top of her lungs. “Fuck yeah! That’s it. Screw me good and hard,” Susan begged, and Akhtar really went for it.
He thrust his hips back and forth rampantly, deliberately slapping his huge balls against Susan’s clit, causing the young woman to yelp with pleasure. The artist took great pride in watching his thick girth disappear into her folds, as his balls whacked her every time. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, pummeling her with intent and loving the sensation of her slick snatch gripping his shaft so tightly. He held onto her hips as he picked up speed, his muscular thighs rippling as he bucked his hips back and forth, spearing her viciously on his stick. Her moans and wails of pleasure were music to the artist’s ears, who didn’t let up for a second, relishing the sensations and living in the moment. “That’s a great sight,” acknowledged Akhtar.
Susan reached down and furiously worked her clit while he carried on penetrating, and it wasn’t long before she felt her climax begin to surface. She shrieked like an animal and squirted all over the place, quite possibly ruining the artist’s expensive-looking couch.
Akhtar withdrew from her aching hole, and Susan speedily spun round to take it in her mouth, keen to swallow her own juicy flavorings from the meaty shaft. “We’re not done yet,” he said.
“Ok,” said Susan, and got on all fours again, presenting her peachy ass to him, ready and waiting.
Akhtar stood by the side of the couch, whilst pushing Susan’s face into the couch cushions, forcing her to arch her back further. He got on his knees behind her, and nudged the tip of his cock up against her pussy once again. It was still tight, but the pre-cum on his helmet made things easier, and with one aggressive hip-thrust, the big man was able to penetrate her again, and slid all the way back inside.
She gasped loudly and thrashed her head back as Akhtar nailed her. He grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her head back firmly, whilst he put one foot up on the couch arm to get better leverage, clearly enjoying being balls deep in the fleshy young rump.
Susan glanced to the side and saw his huge chest flex as he pumped her, and she held onto the couch for dear life, the whole room seeming to shake and tremble. It was Akhtar’s turn to cum, and he reached down to cradle his own tightening nuts, as Susan felt the girth throb deep inside her.
The artist was at a point of no return, slamming away, and as Susan clenched her teeth, Akhtar gasped, “I only take young ladies bareback... and there’s no way I’m going to stop...”
The artist let out one final animalistic cry, his balls drawing up as he came. He shot jets of thick, milky seed deep inside Susan’s body, flooding her insides. His sperm swam speedily, impatient to reach their destination.
Susan turned around and sat down on the couch, opened her legs wide and looked down as the spooge dripped from her. Akhtar stood above her and milked the last drop of his semen onto her eager tongue, which she gulped down hurriedly, licking her lips.
“That was the best exhibition I’ve ever seen.” Said Susan. “You sure paint like a pro.”
“Yes, I’m pleased with my efforts. Today was one of my better efforts, in fact,” said Akhtar.
Susan felt great. Her adventure into discovering more about her favorite artist was complete, and at last she felt warm and full.
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MAKING THE TEAM
By
Tess West
W ith a heavy sigh Candice slouched into the battered red couch. The furniture in the common room of her dorm was always in a state of general disrepair, as it seemed the freshmen who made up the inhabitants of Hamil Hall did not like having nice things. She rested her bag on the floor beside her, and digging into it she pulled out her biology book with the intent of studying it. She spent barely five minutes reading it before slamming it closed in a huff. Angrily she tossed the book on the coffee table, where it landed with a surprisingly loud bang.
“Woah girl, everything alright?” Candice’s closest friend at the school, Erica, walked up with a concerned look on her face.
Candice grimaced. “No. I’m screwed. I got a call from my mom this morning. Dad got laid off yesterday, with no severance or anything. And Mom, she can’t pick up any more hours at the plant. So she said they wouldn’t be able to afford spring tuition. And unless Dad gets another job soon, the fall will be out too.”
“Damn, that blows. I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah,” Candice said, gesturing to her biology book. “It makes it hard to focus on something like finals. I mean, what’s the point if I won’t be able to come back. I can already see how it’ll happen. I’ll go back home and get a job to help out. One thing will lead to another, and I’ll never set foot in here again. I swear, my hometown is like a tar pit… you never get out.”
Erica reached out and grabbed Candice’s shoulder. “Look, you got out once, if the worst comes to the worst and you have to go home, you can do it again. But look, maybe you can find another way. Could be there are some scholarships you could apply for. Or maybe a job that will pay well enough - if you got on a payment plan with the school, you could work it out. Just got to stay positive, girl. Don’t give up yet. Definitely don’t give up on finals, you throw them out the window, may as well just stay at home and not bother coming back.”
Candice nodded reluctantly. “I know you’re right. And don’t worry, I’ll keep studying. It’s just a lot to process, you know? Especially this close to the end of the semester. Had this come earlier in, I would have had more options. It’s tough.”
