Whispers and Brush Strokes Ch. 02

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Freedom is contagious.
4.4k words
4.38
15.4k
1

Part 2 of the 6 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/17/2008
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I needed to be free from a false morality. I read a short story by a anonymous author. In the process of becoming a prisoner to myself, I was about to find freedom....at last.

*

I usually sleep naked. Last night, Julian got the message when I wore my panties to bed. "I have to go in early tomorrow anyway", he said before switching off the lamp.

I waited with dread to hear again of the stress he was under, preparing a case that was going to wind up in appeals court.

I said nothing. Julian said nothing as silent darkness enveloped all. He moved to his side, giving me his back. It struck me through that I did not care. I slowly drifted to sleep, all too aware of a simple truth- I loved my body, my job, my dog, and the memory of a plateau I desperately wanted to scale repeatedly.

I awoke the next morning to find a note on the pillow from Julian. "I still love you" it began. "I apologize for my tone last night. Hopefully, when I get home we can work through our differences and come to a mutually satisfactory understanding".

"Jesus", I said before wadding up the small piece of paper. I started to throw it, before a better idea came to me.

"You still love me", I said in a loud tone. "Hallelujah" I shouted, making my way to the bathroom.

"I am not one of your clients, Julian. I am not one of your cases."

I dropped his note in the toilet before lowering my panties to my ankles and seating myself. "Here is some mutually satisfactory understanding for you my love."

I got a perverse, early morning pleasure and a bit of levity as the pee flowed from me. I giggled at my own childishness. I was peeing on Julian's note.

On Fridays, I usually knocked off work at or shortly before lunchtime. This was my day to shop, think, remember, and dance if I damn well felt like it. Remembering that I had overslept and would not make it in until ten or after anyway, I let the hot water persuade me to blow off work altogether. Hannah, my friend and boss, would understand. She was aware of the fact that things had become somewhat strained between Julian and me.

I felt better after my shower. Today is my day, I thought. I will not think about the changes in Julian. After living together for nearly three years, I would not think of how he had changed. I would not think of how he now wanted marriage and children.

My mirrored image was partially surrounded by steam as I retrieved my toothbrush. I began to tingle. I closed my eyes, brushing my teeth rapidly as I wondered if I would ever get that story out of my mind. I moaned as I let the towel fall from my body.

With my eyes closed, I set the toothbrush on the counter. I allowed my lids to part then, taking in the sight of myself. White toothpaste ran from the corners of my mouth. How disgusting, how stupid I thought realizing that this, along with my wet pussy and hard nipples reminded me of that night. Yet, one glimpse at my body, one touch to my clit was all it took.

I rinsed the toothpaste away quickly, eager to touch myself, eager to taste my orgasm.

I recalled the story of his last orgasm then. I smiled, remembering how she had left the tight, wet jeans on her body, trapping his cum where she wanted it.

Wet still, and with my own taste weighing on my senses, I moved quickly to retrieve a pair of panties from the dresser drawer. My eyes closed. I was anxious for the ensuing stimulation as the silk touched the lips of my vagina. I have no idea why I retrieved one of Julian's dress shirts. Call it revenge. Call it Geneva being a bitch. It was as sophomoric as having peed on his note, but I needed to do it- I needed to wear his shirt.

With my hair and my pussy still wet, I moved arrogantly to the den. The book, a biography of Ayn Rand, was on the sofa where I had left it the night before. I sat down, took the book in my left hand, and then used the remote to switch on some music. "Twist in my Sobriety" was just beginning. Yet again, I was reminded of that night. Yet again, my body began to tingle as I set the book down and touched my breast beneath the open shirt.

My dog Merrick slogged his way sleepily into the room then. I moved to the floor to sit by my black lab as he licked my face. I laughed.

"You are the only man I have ever loved", I said. "You are my best friend, the only one who knows all my secrets."

I sat deeply in thought as Merrick rolled over. I rubbed his belly as Tanita Tikaram crooned. I found myself moments later as Ayn Rand stared at me from a book cover and "Smooth Operator" replaced the previous song.

My dog was aroused. I diminished my apprehensions as my hand moved, slowly at first, then more rapidly and with more determination. I stared across the room, a sense of anger welling up in me as I thought of the bullshit- a societal imposed, hypocritical, so-called morality. I hated it more as I thought of Julian going back on our agreement and trying to impose such upon me.

Moments later, a feeling of guilty levity came over me as Merrick whimpered. My eyes closed and I bit my bottom lip as his cum went everywhere. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I saw the embarrassment in my baby's eyes. He was not ready to forgive and forget- particularly after I laughed.

It was early afternoon as I moved from shop window to shop window. I smiled at my reflection in the glass, happily remembering that the following day was the monthly meeting of my psychology discussion group silently, I wondered why a discussion of philosophy was referred to as a "psychology group". I didn't really care. I just laughed, remembering that the following day we were to discuss narcissism.

A few hours later, with bags full of things I didn't need, and a few I didn't even want, I strolled leisurely to the V.O. Club, a quaint little place owned by a couple I had befriended over the years. Doug was a great guy. His wife, April, was now something of a soul mate to me. She had that rare combination of inner and outer beauty. She was a simple person who I knew possessed the intellect to be anything she wanted to be. Yet she seemed content to be Doug's wife and help run their small business.

I entered the club and set the bags down beside a bar chair. The lunch crowd was gone. A lone patron sat at the far end of the bar, seemingly staring into a void. A sweaty drink was in front of him and a cigarette burned in the ashtray slightly to his right. He was handsome but haggard. His black hair was salted gray, but he did not appear to be old.

"Where is April?" I called to him.

"She'll be right back."

"Are you okay?"

His eyes met me then. Even from the distance, I could tell that they were the deepest blue.

"Never batter", he said gruffly.

"Is that why your clothes look like they just came out of the dryer? I that why you appear so thoughtful?"

"Do I know you?"

I shrugged. "Don't think so. But your hair is pretty and I love your eyes."

He stared at me before taking a sip of his drink, and then raised the glass silently.

April appeared then. She moved quickly around the bar to give me a hug. As usual, I was struck with her goofy smile, her high energy, and the perky look of her breasts, hidden beneath a blue golf shirt and a bra. We both giggled as our lips smacked.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked with silly determination.

A sigh accompanied my smile. "I have been busy, working and fighting with Julian."

"Oh no" she responded. "What happened?"

"He wants babies and is pondering the idea of marriage."

April laughed. "With you? Is he on crack?"

"Hey!"

She laughed again. "You know what I mean."

"Who is that guy at the other end of the bar?"

April sat down beside me. "His name is Milan", she whispered.

"What is his story?'

"He is bored I think."

"Why?"

"He has more money than the governments of a shit load of countries combined. He's done it all and seen it all."

"No one has done and seen it all."

"Wanna' bet?"

"How old is he?"

"Milam", she called loudly. "Geneva wants to know how old you are."

My head went down and I felt my face blush. "April!" I said.

Milam did not respond.

"I think he is like 42", April offered.

"What is his story?"

"He went to the University of Oregon, where he met the love of his life, a girl named Cecilia. Through her, he was employed to handle the finances and affairs of a multi millionaire named Craig Daniels. He made a lot of money doing that, and when Mister Daniels died, he left everything to Milam."

"What happened to Cecilia?"

"She left him, or he left her. Something happened. Why are you so interested?"

"I don't know. He just caught my eye when I came in."

"Not hard", April said. "Since he was the only person in here."

I watched then as Milam stood to leave. He moved closer as he approached the door. He was slender, tall, mysterious, confident, and disturbed. I found him so attractive. I became envious as he kissed April's hand.

"Thank you", he said to her.

With his suit as wrinkled as the shirt, he smiled at me then. "Nice to meet you", he said.

April smacked my leg playfully as Milam exited. "I think somebody wants to fuck Milam!"

"While you psycho analyze me, do you suppose I could get a drink?"

"The usual?"

"Yes."

"One margarita, coming up" she said.

"What does he do now?"

"Milam? He writes."

"No way! Why didn't you tell him I am an editor?"

April's laughter was louder than the roar of the blender. "He doesn't write for magazines. He self publishes, mostly underground I think."

"Must be good stuff. What the hell could be called underground these days?"

The blender stopped.

"Well, he writes weird stuff."

I laughed. "What could be called weird these days?"

I stared at April's breasts again as she set the drink down and leaned on the bar.

"He interviews people, but it has to be a unique experience. Like...the feeling you had while on safari. You were hunting elephant, but a lion charged you. How did you feel right before you shot it? You were an abused or neglected child. What were your innermost thoughts and feelings while locked in the closet at age eight? When you were fourteen, you let your sixteen year old brother fuck your brains out- weird shit like that."

I felt April's eyes burning through me as I took the first sip.

"And you, Miss Geneva", she continued. "Don't have any stories that even come close", she said playfully.

"Oh, you think not?"

"Try me."

"Did you ever wonder if you're really human? If maybe you are just a cold bitch not really meant for this world?"

"At least once a month. Try again."

I took another drink. "Did you ever jack a dog off?"

Her face contorted. "No."

"I did. This morning."

"Your dog?" She giggled. "You jacked off Merrick?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have no idea."

She moved to get a glass of club soda. "Okay, I don't have your education; but I am confident that no one can masturbate a male dog and have no clue as to why."

"It just happened."

"How did it feel?"

"I had no regrets; but I think Merrick was a bit embarrassed."

"Did it turn you on?"

I shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it."

April leaned on the bar again, the combination of her eyes, her breasts, and her voice turning me on now.

"And you think that would be good enough to gain Milam's interest?"

"Probably not. A woman jacking off a male dog is just the stuff of internet porn, right?"

"You tell me."

"From what you have told me, Milam is not so much into the story itself as he is into the sensations, the feelings and thoughts of the subjects, right?"

She moved closer. "Why don't you ask him?"

"I read a story- a true story- that has stayed with me. I dream about it now at least twice a week. This morning, I had an orgasm just thinking about it. I was brushing my teeth."

April moved her face close to mine. "Did you touch yourself?"

A chill came over me. "Yes."

"Will you tell me the story?"

Before I could answer, April's lips met mine. My mind went blank as it was overtaken by metaphysical. A familiar wetness between my legs reminded me that I had always wanted April to kiss me; but I was no lesbian. I was not even bisexual. I still had orgasms remembering the story of Alexandra and Michael and that night eight years ago. I was now fascinated with a young old man named Milam. I wanted to fuck him first and then get to know him.

These thoughts moved to the back of my mind as I moaned. My tongue now explored hers.

I was turned on beyond description. My eyes remained closed as she moved my hair behind my left ear. "Will you tell me the story?" she whispered. "I want to know what gives you orgasms."

"Where is Doug?"

"He will be in at four."

"What time is it?"

Doug entered a few minutes later. April and I headed for the door, laughing as he asked where we were off to.

"Girl talk", April said to Doug. "It is the important kind."

"Trouble in paradise?" Doug asked me.

"I said girl talk", she interjected. "Men are not allowed to ask questions."

All the way to April's house, I loved the fact that we just talked like old friends. I was still wet with a nervousness that recalled the story of Michael and the coastal house; but no third party, had there been anyone else in the car, would have ever guessed.

Once there, we talked about inane things until hours and a whole bottle of chardonnay had passed. She excused herself to the restroom then, returning in a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. I noted the outline of her vagina as she re-entered the room.

I told her the whole story of Michael and Alexandra, of my inner most desire to be a "party whore". I told her of how his whisper had turned me on. I told her how, since reading the story, I could scarcely brush my hair without becoming aroused. I told her of the songs.

As though she knew my soul, as though the gods had conspired, April moved across the room. I watched her ass moved as she walked. My mouth dropped as I heard the song "Love Can Sing".

I was speechless as she moved back to me. She leaned down then, her palms upon my thighs. I stared into her eyes just before she kissed me again. When the kiss ended, I noticed that she was wearing no bra.

April smiled before standing upright to remove her shirt. "You like them, don't you?"

"April, I..."

"Touch them", she whispered.

My hands moved instinctively to her small, perfectly shaped breasts. She sighed ever so slightly as I rubbed them. I, the woman who was not a lesbian- not even bisexual- then wanted nothing more than to take one of her breasts into my mouth; but April pulled away, interrupting my desires.

Topless, she led me to the hallway. She ripped my shirt off and began kissing me forcefully. I then felt the bra being peeled to my waist. She remembered every detail.

Once in the bedroom, April told me to stand still as she sat on the bed, bathed in bright light.

"Did his huge cock look anything like this?" she asked, just before opening her legs.

I looked longingly at the pinkish-red crescent of her wet pussy then. I watched as she retrieved a wooden brush from beneath the covers. She held it between her legs.

"Come here", she said.

"I can't", I responded on cue.

"Come here."

I moved to her pensively. I went to my knees. She held the bristled end to the brush to her pussy. The handle pointed to me invitingly. I dutifully sucked it, taking in April's feminine fragrance before moving to her lap.

I let the handle touch the lips of my vagina.

"Fuck it", April whispered.

I had no trepidations. I kissed her as our breasts touched, as I fucked the hairbrush. I was reliving the story until April took matters into her own hands. She moved me to my back, continuing to fuck me. Realizing now that this was not Michael, realizing what I was in fact doing, I begged her to stop. Like Michael in the story, she ignored me until I yelped with orgasm.

I groaned as she pulled the brush out of me. I laughed and started to speak, but she rolled me over. I wondered what was next until I felt her soaked pussy on the small of my back. This, in and of itself, nearly brought me back to the magical place.

I gyrated as, face down, she then began to brush my hair, slowly, softly, gently. I felt her perfect breasts on my back then. "The brush has your cum all over it", she whispered. "Is there anything else you would like to experience with Michael?"

I did not answer. I could not speak.

She lay on top of me then, turning my head just enough to kiss me. "Stay here", she said softly. "Do not move."

I was cold until she returned. I heard her presence behind me.

"Did you move?"

I did not answer. I could not speak.

I moaned loudly as I felt her finger touch my pussy. She knew... she all the right spots. She teased me. Each time is was about to cum, April would stop. She was torturing me. She was loving every second. I moaned loudly- too loudly for good taste- as her finger entered my vagina. I ached as though I might explode. My hips raised as a second finger entered and he fucked me again.

One more time...yet again, April stopped. She removed her fingers and rolled me over to my back. She placed her face between my legs. I felt only her breath and the hologram of her tongue. I wanted so for her to....god, how she was teasing me!

I gyrated again as baby kisses went over my pelvic bone and up my belly. She moved slowly, moving her lips towards my breasts, then stopped again. I watched, moaning, as she then took the brush, covered in my cum, and placed it into her mouth. Before I could contemplate, she moved quickly to lick my vagina. Her tongue had a gift all its own.

Then, she was kissing me. The sweetness of her mouth combined with my own juices to bring me close to orgasm yet again.

I finally came, only when April denied me- teasing me in a most cruel manner. She moved the beauty of her pussy over my face. I could feel the heat. I could almost taste the juices; yet, every time my lips or my tongue came close, she would pull up ever so slightly.

This went on for what seemed like hours, until she finally relented. I could not get enough as she forced the weight of the center of her being onto my face. She sounded like a very young girl- almost childlike- as she came in my mouth.

I moved my tongue into her pussy as I thought about Milam. I thought how wrong April had been. His sadness was not a result of having experienced too much....he wanted more, and so did I.

I held onto April, tasting her sweet lips as she caught her breath. Part of me wanted her to never move; but she did.

I thought I was spent until she began alternately placing her breasts against my lips, then sucking mine.

She then rolled me over again, onto my belly. I think my vagina opened then, anticipating her fingers. Perhaps she would use the brush on me again. Perhaps she was going to lick me from behind.

I waited. The sun had moved and the light was dim now. I heard faint, strange noises. I heard April.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

"Don't move. You wanted a story to tell Milam, right?"

"Is this it?"

"Not even close."

"What is your idea?"

"What if....instead of fucking Michael at the house on the coast...everything had happened the same way right after you watched him shoot a lion while on safari?"

"I don't believe in hurting animals."

"Do you believe in jacking them off?"

I then felt something like tepid liquid or gel, something like aloe lotion on my ass. April's hands began massaging my ass then.

"Animals" she whispered. "Tell me again about jacking off the dog."

Once again, I could not speak.

"Tell me how his cock felt in your hand. Lie to me again and tell me it just happened. Tell me how it was an accident. Tell me that you didn't enjoy it."

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