Deviant Behavior

@aphrodisiak.fr

March 31, 2010

In the city that doesn’t sleep it is not uncommon to have meetings at all hours. When The Artist invited me to his studio at 11PM to discuss work projects, I didn’t think twice.

I stood on the stoop of his 5-story brownstone wearing grey mary jane 6” high heeled shoes with white ankle socks and my wild coyote fur coat with the giant hood pulled up to block the wind from whipping my face. He opened the door and looked me over, his perfect smile widening.

We began in the kitchen with a glass of wine before the grand tour; he took me one-by-one through each room, which had been expertly designed. When midnight rolled around we were deep in conversation about his work, specifically the overtly deviant sexual undertones. We sat on the low sofa in the living room, he reached over and brushed my leg as he placed his glass on the table. His eyes wandered down my smooth legs stopping at my feet; I think the schoolgirl socks were a turn on.

As we made it to the top floor it was obvious we could barely contain ourselves. A beautiful bench faced a mirror and I sat down, legs crossed waiting for him to join me. He placed his hand on the back of my shoulder and kissed me. He was rough, pulling me towards him, grabbing my breasts and my ass.

The look on his face was one of pure domination. He wanted to tear me apart and I could not wait. He threw me onto his bed and bent me over, grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge. He sunk his teeth into my ass cheek and I moaned, then without warning he was deep inside me.

He was so big and hard it made me scream with pleasure. I grabbed his wrist and forced him onto the bed. I dragged my nails down his chest as I tasted myself on him. Straddling him I teased him, rubbing him against me to feel just how wet I was until he couldn’t stand it and grabbed me, forcing me down onto him.

After hours of pleasure we both lay there breathless and exhausted. There was an incredible painting that hung on the wall. I had commented that it was one of my favorites he had done. When we finally caught our breath he walked over to the painting and took it down off the wall. “I want you to have this,” he said as he handed it to me.

We made our way back down stairs and I felt satisfied in more ways than one. Not only had I finally conquered The Artist, but I could now display him on my wall for everyone to see.