by Ed Bemand
“Of course not, you’re so beautiful...”
“Don’t lie to me, I’ve seen what she looked like, before it happened.”
That hurt.
“I’m not paying you false compliments, otherwise I’d be saying that you’re a great artist and the most beautiful woman in the world. I’m not lying to you. You are beautiful.”
He wasn’t lying, she was so very beautiful to him, maybe even more so than Adrienne had ever been. Not that he didn’t still love Adrienne of course, he was just beginning to become detached enough to be able to understand who she had been, the things that he had been blind to before. A spoiled and beautiful young girl who was happy to use her cunt to get anything that she couldn’t with her looks alone. There was a purity in the way that he had painted her that managed to avoid showing the complications and ugliness that surrounded her beauty. If all that remained of her now was what he had shown of her, then it was a more favourable legacy than she really deserved.
In time her coaxing had led him to tell her more of his feelings for Adrienne. They had lain naked in bed together in the darkness as he talked. Despite the media coverage that Antoine had been subject to during his trial, the full details of what had happened were not revealed. What was known was that the artist had stolen her body and painted pictures of it was enough to cause many people to be morbidly interested in him.
“The passion you felt for her, that’s a very precious thing, not something that you see very often.”
“It wasn’t something that I was looking for. She was beautiful and I loved her.”
“And you didn’t stop loving her just because she was dead.”
“I think I loved her even more when she was dead. When she was alive she was moody and unpredictable and I know she was seeing other men. She died because she sucked a man’s cock while he was driving and he crashed the car into a river. How pure can that love be? When she was dead she was still and perfect and she didn’t need anyone but me.”
“Did you touch her after she died?”
“Of course. I embalmed her.”
“How did you do it?”
“I drained her body of fluid and replaced it with embalming fluid. Then I removed her organs and filled her with wadding.”
“You stuffed her?”
“It was all I could do to try and protect her.”
“Then you painted her.”
“Yes. It was just her and me for a while. Then they came and took her away from me. They burned her.”
Telling of Adrienne sent a surge of his love through him and Lucille’s fingers had found his erection in the dark. As he had completed his tale, talking of the passions that had driven him to commit the crimes and create the art that he was now famous for. By the time the police had come, it wasn’t even a memory he was painting. It was what he had made of her. His amateurish creation through incompetent efforts to preserve her had made her into something new. Adrienne had been his true work and they had burned her like rubbish.
“You loved her still, as she was.”
“More than ever.”
“You miss her touch, her cold skin against yours.”
“I do.”
She squeezed him hard and he moaned and shivered as her fingers milked every drop from him. For a second he was able to imagine that it was Adrienne’s hand touching him once again. It wasn’t his fault that it was Adrienne’s name that slipped as a whisper from his lips as he twitched and relaxed into la petit mort. Lucille touched her fingers to her lips, tasting his seed, the emissions of love that he still felt for a girl who had died years ago. It tasted perfect. Antoine fell asleep in her arms. Forgetful of who held him, only the contact of warm flesh surrounding him mattered.
The next morning he found her in the bathroom. She had taken fateful action while he had slumbered. She had neatly opened the veins in her wrists while she lay in the bath. The cessation of her life had turned the water red and left her soft flesh pallid. There was a note sat on the side. He started crying as he read it.
Dearest Antoine,
Your story touched me as being an expression of the greatest love, a love that I know you could not share with me as I was.
I can only hope that you can share it with me now.
Love,
Lucille
Under the note was a small package wrapped in brown paper. He slumped to the floor of the bathroom and struggled to unwrap it. Inside was a very old notebook, the parchment of its pages brittle with age and the ink faded to rusty brown. Written on the first page was a title in an elegant and flowing hand of a type seldom seen in these times.
On the preservation of mortal remains and the abeyance of fleshly decay by Dr. Simon LeConte
He had cried for hours but in time forced them back, blinking clarity back into his eyes. He knew what he had to do. What choice did he have? Lucille had given herself to him that he might create a work greater even than he had with Adrienne. He had to do better this time. He had to keep her perfect and beautiful. His love must sustain her. He didn’t want to chronicle her decay with paint daubed on canvas. He wanted to make her become the very art itself.
Thirteen: What Eric needed
It was late and Eric was tired. He was drunk and his cock felt sore. Michelle was already in bed when he got home. She was dozing next to him now.
Eric had been obliged to work late in the office for some trivial reason that had been represented as a life-threatening crisis. He felt tense afterwards and it hadn’t taken much persuasion to encourage him to stop at a bar in the city centre for a few beers. Beer had led to vodka which had led to everyone else going off in search of a curry but he hadn’t been hungry, not for food at least.
He stopped at a brothel on his way home. It wasn’t especially classy but past experience left him feeling that its pleasures were at least good value for money and it wasn’t like he needed to go somewhere expensive to get what he required. He picked a skinny girl with dark hair and a swarthy complexion. She wore heavy eye make-up and a gauzy negligee. Eric had picked her from the lined up offerings because she had seemed the most eager of the girls, though least bored would have been a fairer description.
It was a methodical fucking. She was on the clock and inclined to spin things out on the off-chance of getting another half-hour’s worth out of him, but he was there to get something and he didn’t intend to stay longer than he had already paid for. It wasn’t like he needed to worry about warming her up first anyway. She had already completed her own preparations with lubricant before Eric removed his trousers. Her hands and mouth were skilled enough to bring his cock to exquisite stiffness with just a few light touches. She unrolled the condom over his length. Its grip was unpleasantly tight against his swollen cock. With the condom in place she became more vigorous. She pumped his cock, smoothing the membrane down, then encircling it with her lips and sucking it into her mouth. She moved her fingers lower, squeezing his balls and using them to hold his cock at the angle she wanted to take him deeper. It was pleasurable but it wouldn’t be enough for him to cum. A blowjob with a condom just never seemed quite right.
After a few minutes Eric gestured for her to stop and change position. She crouched on her hands and knees, her hand reaching back between her thighs to receive him. She took hold of his cock and guided it into position. Enthusiastic noises fell unconvincingly from her lips as she pressed the head of his cock against her pussy. She pushed back against him with her hips to take him inside her. Her cunt felt cold but slippery enough for his cock to get deep inside her easily. Her grip was firm and pleasing. After a few slow, exploratory strokes his eagerness got the better of him and he succumbed to wild thrusting. She made it sound like he was doing a lot more to her than he was. He didn’t care. A poor façade wasn’t enough to put him off. The tension of the day had given way to the release of the evening and perhaps a little too much drink had made him crave this sensation. The exquisite grasp of a cunt along his shaft, the feeling of being enveloped
, the sweetness as the little involuntary jerks seemed to suck him deeper, tugging at his cock. Drink had also made him clumsy and he would later feel guilty about how rough he had been.
Eric came in fast, shallow twitches. Her fingers returned to the base of his shaft, kneading the last few drops from him into the condom. He was still stiff inside her and his cock didn’t want to leave her. She tried to pull away from him but he was too engorged.
“You’ve cum now.”
“Yes.”
“It still hard.”
“Yes.” He was breathing heavily. It hadn’t been a great climax but it was enough that the petite mort was upon him. He was barely even aware of his cock now. His failure to soften seemed to annoy her. She tugged on the ring at the bottom of the condom, stretching it and releasing it so that it snapped back against him painfully and made him gasp in surprise. It made him jump, but it wasn’t until she slapped her fingers none-too gently against his balls that his cock softened enough for her to pull free of him.
She kept a tight grip on the base of the condom, ensuring that none of his fluids escaped into her. She extricated herself from the coupling neatly.
Eric sat on the edge of the bed getting his breath back. He felt a little dazed but knew he couldn’t linger here for long. She had already adjusted her negligee to cover her as much as it could and was standing by the door. She told him to leave when he was ready and exited the room to wait for her next client.
The walk back to his house gave him time for his head to clear. It had been a hollow orgasm really, a shallow, fleeting sensation. It was a desire quelled, at least for a time. It wasn’t satisfied. He opened the door to his house gently. It was late. Hopefully she would already be asleep. That would make things much easier. He felt guilt at his casual infidelity. He made as little noise as he could as he moved around the house completing minor tasks and ablutions. Half the lights were off and enough drink lingered in him to make him clumsy but he made it to the bedroom without major incident.
The TV was still on in the bedroom. She had muttered and moved in the bed when he turned it off. She still seemed mostly asleep as he eased himself into the bed beside her. He stretched out and lay on his side, facing away from her. There was often a distance between them in bed lately. He considered his minor betrayals a side-effect of this rather than the cause. Absence of sex leads to frustration and desperation which were more likely to make the situation worse than actually lead to anything satisfying. Mostly he had been dealing with his needs with his own hand recently. She was probably angry at him for being so late home. He had warned her that he would have to work late, but she wouldn’t be naive enough to think that that was all that had kept him out until after midnight.
She rolled over to move closer to him, her breasts against his back, her face close to the ridge of his shoulder-blade. Her hand draped across his hip, the fingers dangling, the tips of her fingers lightly brushing his cock. The lubricant had been enough to open the whore but her grip had been tight and his thrusts clumsily enthusiastic enough that he felt chafed. He suppressed the startled sounds that threatened to escape him at the contact.
She was wearing a loose t-shirt that had ridden up in bed and he could feel her warmth against him. Eric reached behind him and his hand found the smooth naked flesh of her thigh. His time with the prostitute had drained him of crazed lust but he still wanted more. They hadn’t had sex enough lately. That was why he had done what he had. If he had thought that she would be available to him he wouldn’t have needed to do it.
It was hard to reach her but his fingers sought her flesh under the t shirt. They brushed the warmth of her sex. The fingers that had loosely touched his cock before started to grip him, touching the end, feeling the lingering traces of cum that remained from his earlier ejaculation. She pressed harder, smearing the cum that the whore had drawn from his balls over the head of his cock and summoning fresh juices.
It had been too long since he had stroked her pussy, spent time leisurely exploring her gradually teasing her folds open and raising the juices of passion. It wasn’t easy having the self control to spend long enough on her pussy to make it open fully, so that she could be truly ready for him and the penetration would be as good as it could be. His lust had so often got the better of him, making him rush, making him push inside her too soon so that she was stretched uncomfortably by his entry. He was always so horny he couldn’t help but want to fuck her quickly, but his haste meant that her own pleasures would be spoiled by discomfort at his eagerness. If only he had been able to fuck her often enough that he felt able to relax to not have to rush their pleasure. They never seemed to get the chance. Those few occasions in recent times when her pussy had opened for him he was too frantic and hungry.
Eric was still dazed and tired. He wasn’t really seeking anything now, he just wanted to feel her against his fingers. He stroked her skin, seeking the neat patch of hair above her pussy. He found her other hand and she closed it over his, guiding him between her legs. She was already wet, he could feel it all around her pussy. She must have been touching herself before he came in. He knew she owned a vibrator and they hadn’t played with it together for a long time. Maybe she had been using it.
He ran his fingers through the silky moisture, tracing the lines of her folds. He loved the way that her pussy felt when she was aroused. The flesh would be hot and swollen and wet, her pussy felt like it could swallow him whole. Usually these days when he touched it he found it cold and closed to him.
Eric’s fingertip slipped easily between her lips and she made a soft sound. The position that they were in made it awkward for him to push deeper so he had to content himself with softer caresses. He had missed the feeling of her warm sex against his hand.
Her idle and almost accidental touch of his cock was replaced by more active movements and they were easily bringing his cock to full, swollen life. The trace of cum that had lingered on the tip was now lost in the fresh juices she was stirring. He still felt a little sore from before but he couldn’t imagine asking her to stop.
Neither of them had said a word since he had come in. It was probably for the best. Conversation would have turned into argument all too easily. It never seemed to take much for that to happen these days. He wasn’t even angry at her, really. He just felt frustrated, by the lack of good sex and by work and all of the other dull necessities of life.
Eric wrapped his arms around her as he moved them both, as gently as he could. She didn’t help him but she gave no resistance. His one arm become trapped beneath her as she settled. His front was pressed against her back. His hardening cock was caught between them. She could feel it pressing against the back of her thighs.
Time passed as he slowly reacquainted himself with her pussy. It was easier to focus when he didn’t have to feel distracted by stimulation of his cock. The room was dark but for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside diffused through the heavy curtains. He closed his eyes and focused on his fingertips. Within a few minutes her breath was coming quickly.
She shuddered as the climax consumed her. He held her close as she rode it for long moments. When she was spent he slowly released his hold on her pussy. He kept her in his arms. Her eyes were still closed. Neither of them had said a word. He touched his fingers to his lips, relishing the taste of her. He held her as they drifted off to sleep, feeling satisfied for the first time in too long.
Fourteen: Tough times for Jessica
After finding himself making the admission to Julian that he was more girl than boy, Lewis found it tough to resist Julian’s demands. He felt like he would give him anything, do whatever he asked of him. Lewis felt more complete than he had ever felt. In the moments when Julian was inside him, Lewis felt beautiful, like he was close to becoming who and what he was supposed to be. He stayed the night in Julian’s bed. His body felt sore and used, the roughness of Julian’s touch had only made it seem better at the time and the afterglow made the pain feel like an expression of
love.
When Lewis was getting ready to leave the next morning, Julian gave him a bag containing several pairs of silk panties.
“I want you to wear these every day from now on.”
“That’s silly.”
“I mean it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
How could he say no and refuse such a lovely gift?
When he reached his home he rushed to his room to examine Julian’s gift more closely. He wanted to see them, touch them, feel them against his skin. He lived with his parents still and he ignored his mother as he passed her in the kitchen. He had told them he was going out and would be late the night before and she knew that he hadn’t come home at all. He went out drinking with his friends often enough that his failure to get home hadn’t been a cause for great concern. He hadn’t removed all traces of the make-up and she had thought that he looked different but couldn’t decide why. His furtive and evasive behaviour had led her to assume that he had been with a girl. Inwardly she was pleased. She had been hoping he would find a nice girl for a long time. She was sure he would grow up and turn out alright. All he needed was a bit of a push.
In his room with the door shut behind him he put the bag down on his bed and examined the contents. It was a dozen pairs of silk panties in different colours and styles. They looked very feminine. He brushed the fabric with his finger. It felt smooth and soft and cold. It was enough to make his cock harden.
He had to be at a lecture in an hour and a half. He went and had a shower, cleaning the sweat and smells of the night before from his body. He probed experimentally at his anus with a finger. He winced at the pain that he provoked but it wasn’t enough to deter him from pushing deeper.
Back in his room he laid the panties out on the bed and looked at them. He chose a simple red pair. They felt tight against his crotch and he stared at himself in the mirror, his slim, hairless, boyish body naked but for a flash of red that restricted his swelling cock. Just wearing the panties made him feel sexier than he ever had trying to be a man.
