I always feel a bit lazy when I reblog but this site has a real beauty to it:
I hope they are cool about me reposting one of their many wonderful pictures.
I must thank Lauren for turning me on
to the site.
This one’s a dedication – you know who you are…
She loves it in England, so unlike her native Baltimore, she loves her university, loves the fact that the Brits call this quaint little town a ‘city’. She adores the courses she is studying and excels at them all, with the exception of Life Drawing, which she had not really wanted to do and it only bothers her as she has a painful crush on the tutor.
He asks if she needs any help, perhaps some extra sessions, on a one-to-one basis. Her heart skips a beat and she nods with a little more enthusiasm that she had perhaps wanted to. He books a model and they meet in the studio after classes the next day.
When the model does not turn up, they look at each other awkwardly. She knows what she wants to suggest but does not know how. Delight runs through her like a bubbling stream through a spring glade when he says “Well, I suppose I could pose for you. If that wouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No, that’d be fine.” she tries to say, the words escaping from her lips in a squeak. She sets up her easel as he undresses behind the screen and then reclines on the couch. Despite his years he has a great body, lean and well defined and he has a wonderful cock, and she tries not to stare at it too hard, her hand trembling as she tries to sketch.
After a few minutes, she thinks she can see it growing, getting longer and thicker, and when she looks again, it is. “Oh my God!” she thinks, “He’s getting an erection!” Her heart starts to pound on her ribs like an angry tiger trying to escape from a cage, a light sweat caresses her whole body and a fire begins to burn between her legs.
Within moments he is fully erect and, despite herself, she stares at it and then him. He blushes which she finds beautiful, drinking in his shame and thrilling to his naked vulnerability. He apologises and blushes deeper and she mutters something about it being fine, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a moment? So you can, er-” she says but before he can answer and before she can think about what she is doing, she walks over to him and takes him in her hand, feeling him pulse between her fingers. Kneeling down, she kisses the tip softly and then again, opening her mouth a little letting him feel the wetness of her lips, teasing him with the tip of her tongue enjoying the throbbing heat of it, taking a little more of him into her mouth with each stroke.
She lifts her skirt and pulls down her panties and kneels astride him. He smiles broadly and closes his eyes in bliss as she lowers herself onto him. He beckons for her to take off her t-shirt and she does, rising and falling onto him making sure she feels every inch of him, her hands running tenderly over his chest and belly. He takes her breasts in his hands, he has artist’s hands and they smell lightly of clay and paint. She rides him harder and faster, filling herself with him with every thrust of her frame and then she stops, smiles at his puzzled expression before, in two graceful leg swings, turns herself round so her back is to him. Leaning back so as to feel him hard against her g-spot she leans back, letting him drive into her.
He is hard, like wet steel and she throws back her head, her hair falling silkily across his face. “Fuck!” she cries, “Fuck! Yes!” He reaches round her, squeezes her nipples. “Harder!” she gasps, her breath heavy and fast, pleasure coursing through her veins like a frenzied pack of wild dogs charging through a forest. “Fuck! Yes!” She rubs at herself greedily feeling his hot, wet prick thrusting into her with the tips of her fingers letting him feel her nails, not enough to hurt but far more than just a tickle; he moans deliriously like a big old bear. She feels him start to cum and hears it in his breath and pleasure and she lifts herself off him and holds his thick, trembling member against herself and rubs her self up and down its whole length, feeling her own orgasm rising up in her like a mountain spring rushing, bubbling to the surface.
She watches, delighted, as he shoots thickly and stickily over her belly and breasts with more power and volume than most men half his age, and she delights as he kisses and bites at her back.
Her own orgasm is relentless and consumes her whole body, her eyes stinging with sheer physical pleasure, her mind drunk with the intensity of it, her soul shaken to its core, almost more than she can take, and afterwards she collapses back onto him heaplike , and he kisses her neck and shoulders gently and whispers sweet things in her ear but her mind is beyond words and his voice falls onto her like meaningless drops of rain on a hot night. “Fuck!” she whispers.
It has cost Laura a sizeable chunk of her student loan to bribe the model into not showing up. It was worth every penny, she thinks, unable to wipe the grin from her face.