A Simple Love Story

Theirs was a simple love story. She liked it simple.

They laughed, they loved one another; afterwards she would simply go. She had her own life, separate from him. She liked it that way. Richard was her lover, not her boyfriend.

His house was near the beach; large and well lit with plenty of room, lots of open floor space. Very Bauhaus. The architect had laid out a scheme of walls punctuated with arches and openings that captured large blocks of space and lent a certain ambiance, a sense of flight, to those within. She found this openness of space almost exhilarating. While at his place she rarely wore clothes, at the most perhaps panties. Occasionally she might put on a chemise, perhaps, or maybe just a t-shirt, nothing more. She loved to feel the air all about her skin, nothing but air. The openness of the architecture lent a certain thrill to the freedom of nudism.

Their love was simple, to the point. They didn’t talk much; only loved. They loved for the pure sex of it; their desire was immeasurable.

She loved his body, every supple ripple of his tall, lean, muscular frame, every square inch of his skin. He had the body of an Olympic champion, bronzed a deep nut brown; a combination of his beach lifestyle and his Mediterranean lineage. His golden blonde curls were cropped close, his gray eyes seemed shot with flecks of gold. He was an Adonis. When she was not with him she wanted to run her hands, her lips, her tongue over his brown skin, every minute of every day.

Upon arrival at his place, all too often her immediate instinct was to drop straight to her knees before a word was spoken, to part her lips, take him in her mouth and suck him off. She often succumbed to this impulse; it was her greeting. She loved his penis, long, thick and full; she estimated his length at ten inches, easy. She loved his balls, loved to fondle them as she ran her tongue and lips up and down his pole. She considered it a gift when his penis spurted in her mouth, her reward. She let him come on her face, in her mouth, all over her lips and tongue. She loved to taste him, to swallow his come. She considered his semen a tonic, an essential source of vitamins and protein.

For his part he loved everything about her; from head to tip-toe, she was absolutely beautiful. Silky, shiny, straight black hair cut into a shoulder-length pageboy, ice-blue eyes and high cheekbones that bespoke of Slavic, or perhaps Oriental heritage. Her body would have fascinated a Da Vinci or Rafael; although shorter than average woman of Europe or North America, her slender physique made her appear much taller than her actual height. The heels she often wore served to enhance this impression. The illusion did not stop there. While her breasts were by no means large, indeed they were probably smaller than what is considered average, with her petit build she seemed generously endowed. Her pert pair easily overfilled the cups of her brassieres; two well-rounded tops that offered a pleasant view. When freed of constraints they jutted straight out, firm and unyielding, capped by an amusing pair of little pink cones. She was narrow in the waist. The eye traveled naturally down her perfect hourglass shape to a pair of full hips and long, shapely legs. Her ass was round and tight. Her name was Naomi.

Naomi kept her nether hair shaved to a narrow strip of fur cropped severely close; she was completely bald from the clit on down. She liked the effect herpetit-coiffure had upon him. When undressed her crease was almost constantly visible; she knew this made him drool with desire, made him want to lick and suck at the petals of her pretty pink flower. Sometimes it felt like he had her on her back all night and all day with her legs held wide apart while he licked her pussy. Eyes closed in bliss, head tossing left and right; she could take hours of his mouth on her clit while with two fingers he gently fucked her wet hole, a little finger idly tickling her tight, puckered pink asshole.

They were very much in love.

* * *

His house was for the most part simple, empty but for the occasional bench or sideboard to alleviate the eye and provide furnishings for one to sit and engage in conversation. Here a faux Greek column supporting a large fern provided relief to the eye, there a large antique cabinet done in dark wood or a magnificently carved table silently spoke of the classic ages; in a wide hallway a sofa, modernistic and simple in leather and chrome yet comfortable enough, interrupted the bleakness. Tucked into an alcove upstairs in an oversized loft area was a sizeable living space filled with large, over-stuffed sofas and chairs, a thick and luxurious oriental carpet. Coffee tables, houseplants, assorted bric-a-brac decorated this niche; this was where they relaxed, a respite from the severe, simple nature of the rest of the house.

The western side of the house was a long sunroom with a continuous window running the length of it. The only furniture in this deck-like area was long upholstered bench built into the wall beneath the sun windows, and a ping-pong table. It surprised her how strenuous the game could be. They always played in the nude, of course. She especially loved this. She found playing in the nude to be a certain thrill in itself; feeling the fresh air about her sweat-soaked body was quite refreshing.

Being on the company of one’s partner while in the bedroom or the bath is one thing. To besans-robes at the nude beach, or lounging around in the sun is another. But to be stark naked while swinging a ping-pong paddle and chasing the little white ball was beyond erotic; the sensation was downright arousing. Whenever they played she seemed to have such an awareness of her pussy. It was as if her entire being was focused upon her sex. As they played she always became very wet, her clitoris became quite swollen. The game usually ended in a serious lovemaking session. She seemed to have her strongest orgasms leaning way back on the bench with her ass in the air, her ankles on his shoulders as he plunged his long, hard cock in and out of her soaking wet hole. With her eyes squeezed shut she would come in waves as they fucked, her juices squirting out of her wet pussy. Then he would come and what seemed like gallons of sticky stuff would coat her insides and join with her juices, splashing her ass cheeks, his hips, running down his thighs, the crack of her ass.

* * *

The art that hung on the wide, white walls was his own; large canvases portraying heroic men and women, all nude, engaged in all manner of struggle and work. His art, unlike his living space, was busy and detailed with vivid colors. The lifelike figures were portrayed against sweeping landscapes and skies that featured tumultuous clouds, thunderstorms, a few rays of sun barely managing to break through to illuminate the action. His paintings brought to mind the works of the great masters of another era; Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Titian. When one regarded these epic scenes suddenly the stark simplicity of the house all made sense. Nothing could compete with his art, nothing should. To crowd the rooms with meaningless brick-a-brac would detract from the sheer power of his paintings.

With time she came to realize that their lovemaking was actually a continuation of the creative force displayed on the walls around her. Like all things in his life, their love affair itself was expressed as a work of art. When she came to understand this it made only perfect sense and she felt deeply honored to be a part of his artistic expression. It was the greatest compliment. When he introduced the video camera into their lovemaking ritual it seemed nothing more than a natural extension of this artistic expression.

His filming was a step beyond his painting, quite different – almost abstract, suited to the medium. He would film certain parts of her body at very close-up range. One clip he did zoomed in to only her mouth, lips painted bright, bright red, as she licked an ice cream cone. Viewing it later she found the images of her lips parting while her tongue lapped at the soft, white ice cream surprisingly erotic.

Another film – entitled simply “I Love ...” – featured a close up of her naked pussy, nothing else, as her fingers dallied upon herself. He had her stroke herself slowly, while saying in a breathy voice, “Cock . . . . . . I lovecock . . .

. . . I needcock . . . . . . I wantcock . . . . . . I lovecock . . . . . . I want to be fucked . . . . . . bycock . . . . . . my pussy needscock . . .” etcetera, etcetera, shamelessly masturbating all the while until she brought herself to a squirting wet orgasm.

It was curiously exciting to lie on her back, naked, in a well-lit room with her legs wide apart, exposing herself to the camera just inches from her pussylips as she finger-fucked herself. Her orgasm was very strong; as she diddled her clit the first wave hit and a thin stream of fluid spurted out and splashed off the camera lens. It was possibly the single most erotic experience of her life.

* * *

She was a healthy young woman, and it delighted her to enjoy an interesting and sophisticated love life. Naomi found it showed in the way she carried herself; her daring sexual lifestyle seemed to lend her a certain something, a type of composure, self-confidence perhaps, that drove the men around her absolutely nuts. As she went about her day she could not help but be aware of the effect she had on men. Once, while going through a rack of clothes in a boutique, she glanced down, by chance, to the shop assistant’s midsection. There was a prominent bulge in the young man’s trousers. When she quickly looked up and met his eyes they both blushed a deep red.

Her tranquil poise left her girlfriends in a continual state of inquisitiveness and speculation. After all, Richard was far from being an unknown; indeed, he enjoyed a certain degree of celebrity in the art world. Her circle of friends let it be known that they wished to have Naomi bring him along to their parties and outings; that they were a couple and she should be seen with him. But when, at get-togethers, her girlfriends asked about him, Naomi shyly demurred from commenting, wishing to keep what she and Richard had private and special. Of course, her remarks like, “oh, well, he’s mostly busy in his work,” “he’s a very private man, devoted to his work, you know; almost a recluse,” and “it’s a nice thing we have together,” only served to further fuel their curiosity.

Never in a million years would she let it be known the depths of wanton hedonism she and Richard explored together.

It was totally predictable that another girl be introduced into their experiments in film. Given the opportunity to choose, Naomi selected a young girl she knew, Pandora, an acquaintance from outside her circle of closer friends, of course. The young girl was a study in opposites; a fresh young girl, a simply delightful creature, all ribbons and white lace with a smile that reminded Naomi of a mischievous cherub. A mass of blonde curls framed a cherubic face that masked her truly decadent nature. As her name suggested, over time Pandora would prove to be a never-ending source of enigma and revelation.

Naomi knew the young girl from one of the businesses that provided a service to the firm she worked for. With the utmost care and delicacy that she cultivated a friendship, wondering all the while -exactly how DOES one seduce a woman? Being a woman it was all too easy for her to seduce a man; all the balls were in her court, to coin a phrase. Now she faced a dilemma in the game of love usually faced solely by men.

It was not that Naomi was completely inexperienced, but her few encounters with other women had been harmless events of her youth; occasions with girlfriends where a couple of drinks had led to experiments with kissing, caressing. Indeed, these incidents of innocent fondling and touching always seemed to end abruptly, before Naomi wished for it to cease. Yet while she had found such sessions pleasurable, Naomi hardly considered herself a lesbian. She liked sex with men, she liked cock; she felt that with women she merelyappreciated the beauty and gentle softness of the female body. This time it was different, however; now there was no doubt in Naomi’s mind. Pandora was a sexpot; Naomi wanted to make love to her. She wanted to go all the way.

That her ultimate goal was to find another woman for Richard’s film making efforts did not strike Naomi as being particularly cunning or devious. She would be honest and upfront about the whole thing. She liked Pandora and wanted to try it with her in bed. This was fair enough. Naomi quite honestly felt that what she wished to share was nothing less than wonderful pleasure, and hoped that Pandora would be willing and like-minded. With that in mind she decided approach the girl tentatively, the way she would with any prospective lover. After all, she had not yet even determined if the young woman went that way in the first place.

She would let Pandora know about Richard, about their thing together, minus a few of the more explicit details, of course. Then at some point she’d suggest that Richard sought women to model for him - true enough - in the nude, of course; this almost went without saying.It’s the twenty-first century, after all. Practically everybody’s taking their clothes off and posing in the buff nowadays. If it wasn’t Pandora’s thing, she frowned, oh well . . . Then she thought of posing with Pandora, flashed on the image of the two of them standing together in a well-lit room, bare naked, while Richard worked from the other side of a canvas or camera, and suddenly she felt tingly all over. Inspired, she set about to climb her ivory tower.

She started by suggesting to Pandora they investigate a sale at one of the better shops. It was the latest spring line; the gypsy-hippie chick look was perfectly suited to Pandora’s vivacious little body. Naomi couldn’t help but insist that the younger girl try some things on. A big-little sister theme was established in their budding friendship, and this suited Naomi. She genuinely liked dressing Pandora up; it was like playing with her very own life-size, living Barbie doll. Passing things off the rack to Pandora in the dressing booth allowed Naomi brief glimpses of Pandora’s body and her skimpy underthings. Her breasts were not particularly large, but in proportion to her small body they seemed quite ample. A scalloped demi-bra trimmed in white lace encased her generous globes; simple white string-bikini panties lay about the tanned skin of her hips, her tight ass. Naomi silently approved. When Pandora emerged from the booth dressed in the latest fashions, the young girl looked like she had just climbed out of bed. Naomi practically drooled over her.

Naomi let their shopping excursion develop into an open-air lunch at the marina. It was a place she knew well, they served a perfectly scrumptious crabmeat salad that was to die for. In the sunshine by the water they washed down their meal with glasses of chilled Chardonnay. The wine soon took effect; there was laughter as they talked of the things they liked, of men, of romance. In a moment of shared laughter Pandora touched Naomi’s wrist, laid her hand over hers. The sunlight glinted off the blue-tinted wire-framed glasses Pandora peered over; her blonde hair was a golden aura about her adorable face. An airy scent of pure freshness floated off the pink skin at her neck, her shoulders, the curved tops of her copious cleavage. Naomi could practically taste her ripe breasts. It was a poignant moment.

Naomi glanced at Pandora’s hand. The young woman wore a silver ring on her thumb. She had noticed this type of ring on other women, and for the thousandth time wondered what this signified.Is it true this means she’s a lesbian? It was time to find out. Naomi turned her hand, palm up, allowing Pandora to hold her hand. Their fingers interlaced, the two women exchanged a knowing look, a smile, and suddenly all doubt was erased from Naomi’s mind.

The afternoon outing finally came to an end. They kissed lightly saying goodbye, held hands and looked longingly into one another’s eyes as passers-by made their way about them in the busy city street. Pandora was so cute and beautiful in her new outfit; form-fitting pre-faded jeans and a sheer peasant blouse that made her body simply scrumptious to look at. Naomi would see her again, would be with her soon. The pretty smile on Pandora’s face assured her that it would be so.

A Saturday date soon followed, spent dallying in shops, coffee at an outdoor café. She had Pandora over to her airy apartment and it wasn’t long until the girls were in each other’s arms, naked, kissing and licking for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.

The first film they made together again featured the ice cream cone. This time two tongues licked, two sets of lips slurped the white cream. The light scheme was bright; afternoon sunlight filtered through gauzy white curtains in a white room. The white of the vanilla ice cream reflected off the women’s white skin, emphasizing the redness of their lips and tongues. The film ended as their mouths worked their way up either side of the ice cream, found each other and engaged in a lingering play of tongue and lips that culminated in a long, slow, extended soul kiss. The ice cream was placed aside and the frame panned out to show the two women, gently holding one another, kissing slowly, lightly. The tips of their naked breasts barely touched, teasing their nipples to a delicious hardness. Pandora was quite touched at the gentle simplicity of it all. It was a lovely piece of cinematography. Simply lovely.

* * *

When Naomi and Richard were together it seemed they made love continually. She willingly played the role of love-slave, did anything he wanted; she wished to experience him in every and any way possible.

It was one afternoon after a particularly demanding session at the ping-pong table. They showered. She soaped his cock, stroked him to a rigid hardness as he slid the palms of his hands over her soapy tits. Rubbing their soapy bodies together, they kissed, then rinsed the soap off. His hard, hot cock lay up against the flat of her belly. The water was turned off and they exited the shower, toweled each other dry. She sat on the toilet before him and paid particular attention to his thick, solid, dick; took advantage of the opportunity to kiss and suck his swollen cockhead. As he stood over her she stroked him, nibbled his balls and rubbed the head of his cock all over her face. Pressing his cock to her cheek she looked up at him with big, puppy dog eyes and adopted a look that was intended to be half-adoring, half-pout. Then she simply said, “You can put your dick anywhere you want to on my body.”

He led her to the bedroom and lay her face down on the mattress.

She knew what was next; this was what she meant when she’d saidanywhere. He place pillows beneath her hips, raised her naked ass high in the air. She pressed her face against the pillows and felt him move onto the bed behind her. She felt him move her legs apart, part the cheeks of her ass, reach down to cup and stroke her pussy. She felt his face press against her crotch, felt his tongue enter her slit, hot and wet. His tongue felt good, wet and warm in her pussy. She spread her legs wider and gripped the pillow to her tits. When she felt his tongue lick her asshole her sphincter muscle tightened. She allowed herself to relax, while she enjoyed the feeling of his tongue in her ass, licking in little circular motions, around and around. He made her wet. Then she felt him move away. A cold lotion was applied; she arched, then made herself relax again, allowing him to lube her properly. When she felt the blunt end of his dick pressing against her asshole she involuntarily tightened again. Her body trembled quite uncontrollably; she couldn’t relax, her heartbeat raced and her breath came in short pants. She’d never been fucked in the ass before.