Not every great artist wields a brush.
Transcript: “Oh my god, baby, fuck you’re so tight! You are so beautiful, you know that? And you are without a doubt the best I’ve ever had!” the man bucking behind her exclaimed.
Fucker, that’s what you said to Jackie last week, Mark sneered silently. The sleazebag was using the same old sweet empty lines. The possibility of ever getting caught probably never even crossing his mind. But why would he? The seductive blonde siren on all fours in front of him looked nothing like the flirtatious and bewitching raven-haired beauty he’d enjoyed in his studio the week before, all thanks to Mark’s growing bodysuit collection, which was being funded, ironically, by Eduardo himself.
After crafting the first bodysuit and mask, a luscious little lithe brunette dream named Cindy, Mark had responded to Eduardo’s nude model posting as a ways of recouping the funds that’d gone into the suit. Their relationship had been strictly professional at first, even icy, until Mark had discovered he could make tenfold more than the already generous hourly rate, should Cindy serve as more than just a muse. It didn’t take long for Mark to make back the entire cost and then some, but Cindy was only just the beginning. Within a few weeks, most of Eduardo’s models were one and the same: from the spicy, voluptuous Latina with the deep, passion-filled eyes, to the sunflower blonde Czech that barely spoke a word of English, but proved that love was the universal language, Eduardo had never caught on to Mark’s scheme. And Mark was only getting better.
His latest creation, a slightly more mature, but no less captivating blonde bombshell he called Simone had completely mesmerized Eduardo with her confident swagger, intelligent repartee, and charming disposition—the perfect trifecta that had had Eduardo all twisted up like a knotted rope at her feet. It was just too much fun to make Eduardo fumble with his paint brush like an amateur.
“Ooh Eduardo, I love your big bad cock inside of me. I’ve never been fucked like this before!” Pleasing a man also included stroking his ego. It didn’t bother Simone to be telling a partial lie. Two after all, could play at that game and Simone’s low breathy voice could make even a PhD begin to believe that the Earth was flat. Eduardo would never realize it, but as an artist, Simone was his superior, weaving a web of seduction and painting a canvas of pleasure that one could only too easily become lost in. And while Eduardo thought of himself as the centerpiece, he was only the beginning of Simone’s first masterpiece: “Pleasure of the Goddess”, and she was just getting started.