The Artist’s Muse
The air was heavy with anticipation as I stood in Clarke’s studio, the scent of oil paints and turpentine mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne. The room was a chaos of creativity—canvases leaning against the walls, paint-splattered easels, and a large window that flooded the space with golden afternoon light. Clarke stood before me, his youthful energy palpable, his deep green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. He was dressed in a simple white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his lean, muscular forearms, and dark jeans that hugged his frame perfectly. His lips curved into a smile that was both innocent and wicked, a smile that had haunted my dreams since our last encounter.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and husky, as if he were sharing a secret. His gaze drifted down my body, taking in the sheer black negligee I’d chosen for the occasion. It clung to my curves, leaving little to the imagination, and I felt a flush of heat spread across my skin under his scrutiny.
“Ready,” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. I’d agreed to pose nude for him, but it wasn’t just about the art. It was about him, about the way he made me feel—desired, alive, reckless. Our last encounter had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion and lust, but this felt different. This was about vulnerability, about baring not just my body, but my soul.
Clarke gestured to the center of the room, where a wooden platform had been set up, draped in soft velvet. “Step up here,” he instructed, his tone gentle yet commanding. I did as he asked, feeling the cool fabric beneath my feet. The studio was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rustle of Clarke’s movements as he adjusted his easel.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. I obeyed, slowly pivoting on my heels, the negligee sliding off my shoulders and pooling at my feet. I stood there, naked and exposed, the afternoon light caressing my skin. Clarke’s breath hitched, and I felt his eyes tracing every curve, every line of my body.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his scent intoxicating. “But I need you to be still. This is about capturing you, not just your body, but your essence.”
I nodded, my pulse pounding in my ears. He handed me a silk robe, and I slipped it on, the fabric soft against my skin. “For now,” he added with a mischievous grin. “But soon, you’ll be bare again.”
The next hour was a dance of poses and pauses. Clarke directed me with precision, his hands occasionally brushing against my skin as he adjusted my position. Each touch sent shivers down my spine, reigniting the flames of our previous encounter. I could feel his gaze on me, hungry yet respectful, as he worked feverishly, his brushstrokes bold and passionate.
“Lift your chin,” he instructed, stepping back to assess his work. “Yes, like that. You’re a goddess, Sharon. Every line, every curve—it’s perfection.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I felt myself relaxing into the pose, my body responding to his praise. The studio grew warmer, the air thick with unspoken desire. I could feel his eyes on me, not just as an artist, but as a man. The tension between us was electric, a current running through the room, connecting us in ways that went beyond the art.
“Enough for now,” Clarke finally said, setting his brush down. He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “I need a break. And I think you do too.”
He took my hand, leading me to a small couch in the corner of the studio. The robe slipped off my shoulders as we sat, and I felt his gaze on me once more, his desire undeniable. “Sharon,” he began, his voice soft, “I can’t stop thinking about you. About what we shared. And now, here you are, in my studio, my muse, my…”
He trailed off, his words catching in his throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a promise of what was to come. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. I could feel his hardness against my thigh, and a moan escaped my lips as I deepened the kiss, my hands tangling in his hair.
“Clarke,” I whispered, my voice breathless. “I want you. Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl of desire, he stood, lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my lips never leaving his as he carried me to the velvet-draped platform. He laid me down gently, his eyes dark with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his hands roaming over my body, tracing the curves he’d been painting just moments before. His lips followed, kissing a path down my neck, my collarbone, his tongue teasing my nipples until I was arching off the platform, moaning his name.
“Clarke, please,” I begged, my hands gripping his shoulders. “I need you.”
He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. “But I like that about you.”
With a swift motion, he shed his shirt, revealing his toned chest, his skin flushed with desire. He kissed me again, his hands moving to my hips, guiding me to the edge of the platform. “Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with need.
I did as he asked, my thighs falling open, exposing me to his hungry gaze. He knelt between my legs, his breath hot against my core as he leaned in, his tongue tracing a path up my thigh, teasingly close but not quite touching where I needed him most.
“Clarke,” I whimpered, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Don’t tease me.”
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated against my skin. “Teasing is half the fun,” he murmured, his lips finally brushing against my clit. I gasped, my body tensing as he sucked gently, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure washed over me. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he devoured me, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. I could feel my orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in my core, and I cried out his name as I came, my body shaking, my juices spilling onto his tongue.
“That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Come for me, Sharon. Let me taste you.”
He continued to lap at me, his mouth relentless, until I was a quivering mess, my breath coming in short gasps. “Clarke,” I panted, “I can’t take much more.”
He smiled against my skin, his lips trailing kisses up my stomach, my breasts, until he was hovering over me once more. “Good,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
He reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with swift, practiced motions. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and my mouth watered at the sight. He gripped it firmly, stroking it slowly as he watched me, his gaze intense, hungry.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you want my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Clarke. I need you.”
He didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nodded, my body aching for him, and he thrust forward, burying himself deep within me.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as he savored the sensation. “You’re so tight, so wet. Perfect.”
He began to move, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of me with ease. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, and I met him with equal fervor, my hips rising to meet his, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Harder,” I demanded, my voice desperate. “Fuck me harder, Clarke.”
He obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. The platform creaked beneath us, the velvet drapes tangling around our limbs as we moved in perfect sync. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles straining with the effort, and I could feel his sweat mingling with mine, our bodies slick and slippery.
“I’m close,” he warned, his voice hoarse. “Tell me where you want it.”
“Inside me,” I gasped, my body on the brink. “Fill me up, Clarke. I want to feel you come.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within me, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed, his groans of pleasure filling the studio. I cried out, my own orgasm crashing over me like a wave, my body convulsing around his, milking him for every last drop.
We lay there for a moment, our hearts pounding, our breaths slowly returning to normal. Clarke withdrew, his cock slipping out of me with a wet sucking sound, and I felt a pang of loss at the absence. He collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice laced with wonder. “You’re incredible.”
I smiled, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of our passion. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not so bad, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We lay there in comfortable silence, the studio bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Clarke’s hand rested on my hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles, and I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. This was more than just sex, more than just art. This was a connection, a bond that went beyond words.
“Sharon,” Clarke began, his voice serious, “I know this started as a professional arrangement, but… I feel something more. Something I can’t ignore.”
I turned to face him, my heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. “Me too,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I’ve never felt this way before. It’s… overwhelming.”
He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made my chest tighten. “Good. Because I don’t want this to end. Not after today.”
I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It doesn’t have to,” I whispered. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me tightly. “I don’t,” he said firmly. “I want more. More of you, more of this.”
I smiled, a sense of peace settling over me. “Then it’s a good thing I feel the same way.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the studio in a warm, golden light, we lay entwined, our bodies still humming with the echoes of our passion. Clarke’s hand rested on my stomach, his fingers tracing lazy patterns, and I felt a sense of belonging, of home, in his arms.
“What now?” I asked, my voice lazy, content.
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now? Now I finish that painting. But first…”
He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, his hands moving to my hips, pulling me closer. “First, I think we need a little more inspiration.”
And with that, our passionate affair continued, each moment more intense, more intimate than the last. What had started as a simple arrangement had blossomed into something deeper, something real. And as I lay in Clarke’s arms, the world outside fading away, I knew that this was just the beginning of our story.
The Handsome Young Neighbor
I couldn’t believe the thrill I felt as I watched Clarke, my young and handsome neighbor, stride across the lawn, his muscular body glistening with sweat from the summer heat. I had only recently moved to this quiet suburban neighborhood, and Clarke, with his bright smile and easygoing nature, had been a welcoming presence from the start. But today, as I observed his toned physique and the way his tight t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, I felt a different kind of warmth coursing through me.
I had just turned 37, and I was feeling more confident and adventurous than ever. My blonde hair fell in soft waves around my face, and I knew my blue eyes held a hint of mischief as I greeted Clarke with a smile. “Hey, Clarke, I’m so glad you could help me with this furniture pickup. I really appreciate it.”
Clarke, at 18, was a vision of youthful energy. His sun-kissed hair framed his striking features, and his green eyes sparkled with a playful light. “No problem, Ms. Sharon. Happy to lend a hand. Especially for a beautiful lady like yourself.” His flirty tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a tingling between my thighs that I hadn’t experienced in a while.
I needed to pick up a vintage dresser I had found on an online classifieds site. It was a rare find, and I was eager to add it to my bedroom, but it was too large and heavy for me to manage alone. Clarke’s pickup truck was the perfect solution, and I was more than happy to have him accompany me.
As we drove to the seller’s location, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Clarke’s strong hands on the steering wheel. His forearms were tanned and defined, and I imagined those hands running over my body, caressing every inch of my skin. I bit my lip, trying to focus on the road ahead, but my mind was already wandering to the possibilities that lay ahead.
The seller lived in a quaint neighborhood not far from ours. Clarke effortlessly lifted the heavy dresser onto his truck, his muscles flexing with each movement. I felt a surge of desire as I watched him work, his shirt rising to reveal a glimpse of his taut stomach.
“Wow, Clarke, you’re really strong,” I said, my voice husky with admiration. “I’m so grateful you’re helping me with this. It’s a real armful, isn’t it?” I couldn’t help but emphasize the word ‘armful,’ a subtle innuendo that made Clarke’s eyes widen with understanding.
“Yeah, it’s a heavy one,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. “But I’m happy to help. Anything for you, Ms. Sharon.” His words sent a jolt of excitement through me, and I knew I had to have him.
On the drive back, I felt the tension building between us. Clarke’s gaze kept flicking to me, his eyes lingering on my legs, which were crossed in a way that showcased my smooth thighs. I uncrossed them slowly, enjoying the way his breath hitched as he noticed.
“So, Clarke, you’ve been a huge help today,” I said, my voice low and sultry. “I’d like to show my appreciation. How about a massage when we get back? I know you must be sore from all that heavy lifting.”
Clarke’s eyes widened further, and I could see the bulge in his jeans growing. “A massage? That sounds amazing, Ms. Sharon. I’d love that.” His voice cracked slightly, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him.
Back at my place, we carried the dresser upstairs to my bedroom. The room was spacious, with soft lighting and a plush king-sized bed. Clarke set the dresser down gently, his eyes taking in the intimate surroundings.
“So, where do you want me to start with the massage?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless.
“Right here is fine,” I replied, gesturing to the bed. “Just take off your shirt and lie down. I’ll be right back with some oil.”
As I stepped out of the room, I heard Clarke’s belt buckle clink as he undressed. My heart raced as I prepared a sensual massage oil, adding a few drops of a special aphrodisiac blend I had purchased for occasions like this.
I re-entered the room, my eyes feasting on the sight of Clarke’s naked torso. His skin was golden and smooth, his chest broad and defined, with a light dusting of hair trailing down his flat stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, showcasing the impressive bulge beneath.
“Wow, Clarke, you have an incredible body,” I purred, my voice dripping with desire. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
I climbed onto the bed, straddling Clarke’s waist, and began to pour the warm oil onto his shoulders. My hands glided over his skin, kneading and massaging the tight muscles. I could feel his body relax under my touch, his breath coming in soft sighs.
“That feels amazing, Ms. Sharon,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. “You have magic hands.”
As I worked my way down his back, my fingers brushed against the waistband of his jeans. I could feel his hard length straining against the fabric, and I knew I had to taste him.
“Turn over, Clarke,” I whispered, my voice thick with need. “I want to see all of you.”
Clarke complied, rolling onto his back, his thick cock tenting his jeans. I couldn’t resist any longer. I leaned down and gently tugged his jeans and boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection.
“Oh my,” I breathed, my eyes taking in the sight of his thick, veined shaft. “You’re so big, Clarke. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
I took his length in my hand, stroking it gently, feeling the heat and hardness of his cock. Clarke let out a low groan, his hips arching off the bed. I leaned down and flicked my tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip.
“Fuck, Ms. Sharon,” he gasped, his hands gripping the bedsheets. “Your mouth feels so good.”
I took him deeper, sucking and swirling my tongue around his shaft, teasing the sensitive underside. Clarke’s hands found my hair, gently guiding my movements as I bobbed my head up and down, taking him to the back of my throat.
“Suck it, Ms. Sharon,” he panted, his voice hoarse with desire. “Suck my cock like the little slut you are.”
His words sent a shockwave of pleasure through me, and I moaned around his length, my pussy throbbing with need. I wanted to feel him inside me, to be filled by his youthful vigor.
I climbed off the bed, my eyes never leaving his rock-hard dick. “I want you, Clarke,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my body. “I want to feel you fuck me.”
Clarke sat up, his eyes dark with lust. “I want to fuck you too, Ms. Sharon. I’ve wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I straddled him, positioning his thick cock at my entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, I lowered myself onto his length, taking him deep inside me. Clarke’s eyes rolled back as he filled me, his hands gripping my hips to guide my movements.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice raw. “Ride my cock, Ms. Sharon. Show me how much you want it.”
I began to move, rising and falling on his shaft, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. Clarke’s hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through me.
“Yes, Clarke, yes!” I cried out, my body on fire. “Fuck me harder, please!”
Clarke flipped us over, his strong arms easily lifting my body. He positioned himself between my thighs and thrust into me with renewed vigor, his cock pounding into my wetness.
“You’re so wet, Ms. Sharon,” he grunted, his face contorted with pleasure. “I’m gonna make you come so hard.”
He reached between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he fucked me relentlessly. My body coiled tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable pitch.
“Oh God, Clarke, I’m gonna come!” I screamed, my body shaking as the orgasm ripped through me.
Clarke kept thrusting, his own release building. “Come on my cock, Ms. Sharon,” he growled. “Let me feel your pussy milk me dry.”
His words sent me over the edge again, and I came hard around his shaft, my pussy clenching and releasing in rhythmic pulses. Clarke followed soon after, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside me.
We lay entangled on the bed, our bodies glistening with sweat and satisfaction. Clarke’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and awe.
“That was incredible, Ms. Sharon,” he said, his voice soft. “I never imagined it would be like this.”
I smiled, my heart filled with a mix of pleasure and satisfaction. “Neither did I, Clarke. But I’m so glad it was.”
As I lay there, feeling his softening cock still nestled inside me, I knew this was just the beginning of a scorching hot adventure with my young, virile neighbor.
Volunteering At The Soup Kitchen, Finding Young Cock
This friend of mine is quite the do gooder, and she asked if I’d help her out at the soup kitchen on Christmas Eve. I said I guess I could spare a few hours. I was with my family the next day, but could help with their dinner shift. There was a very good looking college student there along with the rest of the volunteers. His parents were part of the ones that put it on, so of course he helped at it. The whole time I was there I couldn’t stop staring at him, fuck he was gorgeous!
I think he noticed me staring, since it didn’t take him long to make his way over to me, and he was not only cute, he was cheeky too! He stood next to me just a little too close and I wasn’t complaining at all. When the shift was over and we were finished for the night and everyone was fed and the kitchen cleaned up, he asked if he could offer me a ride home, I had come with my friend and I wanted to go with him, so I told her and she snickered and left and I went to his car with him.
As soon as we were on the road he said he knew I’d been watching him the whole night and he knew I wanted his young cock. I opened my mouth to speak but decided to just remain silent. He asked if he was wrong and I said no. He pulled up to my driveway and walked me to the door and when I opened the door he followed me in and pressed me against the door, pinning my wrists above my head and kissing me hard. I opened my mouth to let our tongues explore one another and I was already dripping wet in anticipation of his cock in me.
We walked to the bedroom, peeling off each other’s clothes as we walked and were soon falling onto the bed and our hands were all over each other. My legs opened and my already moist pussy lips opened eagerly for his young cock and soon plunged it inside of me and I could feel my juices squishing over his young, hard cock. I wrapped my legs around him pulled him as deep inside as I could get him. He was gliding against my clit with every thrust of his hot, hard cock, bringing me closer to cumming with every pump of his dick into me. We kissed and fucked with abandon and I loved that he was barely legal, the thrill of that never escaped me. It wasn’t long until I clenched around his young cock and came and milked his young balls as he shot his load into me, and we collapsed breathless. Volunteering indeed seemed to have its advantages!
Your Girlfriend’s Mom
Cougars and MILF’s have long held an appeal for most younger men. Not all guys are into that and it always surprises me that some would rather have someone their own age instead of someone more experienced or enthusiastic, but people like different things, so cougars aren’t for everyone. Many guys I’ve talked to over the years at one point of another had a real attraction to the mom of their girlfriend.
One even went so far as to say the orgasms he had while masturbating and fantasizing about his girlfriend’s mom were better than actually having sex with his girlfriend. I’m sure she’d have been thrilled to hear that. He’d fantasized for years about going over to his girlfriend’s house looking for her and finding her mom and her telling him the girlfriend was out, and of course she decided to entertain him while he waited. Or her finding him jerking off and deciding to help him and join.
How many guys were having these sorts of fantasies? A lot, I can’t even count the number of guys over the years that have confessed lusting after their wife’s mom, or even stealing her dirty panties and jerking off into them. The Graduate with Dustin Hoffman brought this scenario to life decades ago, and eve since long before that movie, young men have wanted the older, more experienced woman to show them the ropes, and what an appealing scenario it is! Not all women are lusting after the young guys, but some of us can’t wait to get our paws on them.
Masturbating In The Tub
Recently I had a couple of house guests over for the weekend. An old friend of mine and her teenage son. I hadn’t seen the young man in a few years and he was all grown up now, just graduated from high school a few weeks ago. I had my friend set up in the guest room, and he was on a pull out sofa bed in the living room. It was late and they were both asleep, or so I thought, and I wanted to have a nice relaxing bubble bath before I went to bed. My en suite bathroom isn’t close to the living room, so I didn’t think a thing of it when I was in the tub relaxing to do as I normally do in the tub and masturbate.
I love to lay back, eyes closed, before I let the tub fill with water, aim the faucet right on my clit. It’s usually a fairly fast orgasm , then I let the tub fill and enjoy the rest of my bath. I guess I was moaning a bit since I heard something and saw out of the corner of my eye the teenage boy standing in the bathroom door way that was open a bit. I whispered to come in and close the door. He looked so shocked! I told him to sit down on the toilet and we could visit while I had my bath. I continued to let the water pour over my clit and had an orgasm as he sat and watched me. I could see the tent in his boxer shorts and told him to touch himself.
He took out his young cock and started pumping it in his hand as he watched me get off with the warm water bubbling over my clit. I did cum pretty fast, and he wasn’t long after me and then we chatted as I bathed. It was a bit naughty and we didn’t do anything more, but it was fun to watch and be watched. I’m sure his mom wouldn’t have been too impressed, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
