Art Critic
6
Pushing at the Darkness
IT WASN’T AS EASY as they made it sound. I was anxious to the brink of panic. I’d never been alone with any girl other than Annette, Morgan, and Kendra. And Mavis. I kept reminding myself that I had painted a series of Mavis that was now gracing the covers of paperback books and half of those sessions had been just Mavis and me. Annette and Morgan were my lovers. Kendra was my best friend. Mavis was Mavis. I still didn’t know what our relationship was… would be. I liked Susan. She’d come to my defense freshman year when we encountered the bitch at school. We’d worked on a project that made both of us over $500 in Zen’s chatroom.
And I’d touched her. Intimately. We called it posing.
When Susan arrived, she was just as thrown by the fact that Morgan and Annette were gone. The girl who usually boldly entered the studio and stripped off all her clothes was suddenly shy and uncertain. I always liked Susan’s brassy attitude, but it softened with just the two of us. She looked around the room as if it was the first time she’d seen it. I didn’t really have time to set a scene before she got there. I had black sanded pastel paper on my easel. I was hoping that I’d capture whatever light and glow I saw in Susan against the black background. I wasn’t sure that I’d fill in any other details in black. Of course, when Susan saw the room and turned to look her question at me, there was nothing but black—no color at all.
“Where is everyone?”
“Shopping,” I said. “They thought we might enjoy being alone for a while.”
There was a sudden flare of brightness from Susan that was almost like a flashbulb going off. It left black balloons dancing before my eyes over the black on black surface of what I could see. Then it was gone.
We sat on stools, fully dressed, and talked for a few minutes to decide what kind of pose we’d like to do. I explained about what I saw and showed her a few of my more recent paintings, including the one I’d done of her from the memory of our last posing session. Then I showed her how it had developed to flashes of color.
“Is that why you’ve been wearing dark glasses for the past three months?” she asked. “I thought you were just putting on an artsy front.”
“They make it easier for me to just close my eyes and not see anything,” I said. “For a long time, I couldn’t bear to look at anyone.”
“What caused the change that now you can see color?”
“Mavis.”
“You’ve had a little thing for her ever since the first day she walked into our class when we were freshmen. She got you to see color?”
“It was in her eyes. It was a pretty intense experience.”
“What would you like to do with me?” she asked. There was another flash.
“I always like posing you with different drapes. We can move from setting to setting if something inspires us,” I said. She glanced over toward the daybed shoved against a wall. “Why don’t you get ready.”
“Okay.” She left the room. I heard the bathroom door close. Susan had always just stripped wherever she was. I just sat at the easel and waited. I’d talked to Susan more freely and easily than with anyone since the darkness began. I didn’t feel like I was risking my soul when I talked to her. She came out of the bathroom dressed in one of the robes we kept for models. I noticed she’d chosen the almost sheer silky one instead of the bulky terrycloth.
“Why don’t we start in a familiar place over by the window,” I suggested.
“Yeah. Um… Would you mind snapping a picture of each pose for me like Annette did that last time? So, I can see them later? It doesn’t really look like I’ll be able to show pictures of your sketches if they are all black like that.” She handed me her cell phone and I agreed. She walked over to the window and grabbed hold of one of the drapes. She wrapped it around herself and looked at me. She hadn’t removed the robe. It looked silly to me, even in black on black. I snapped a picture.
“Why don’t you reach your left hand up to take hold of the drape and wrap it around your wrist,” I suggested.
“Like this?” She got in a pretty good rendition of what I suggested. I snapped another picture. We worked like that for a few minutes. One good thing about having her left hand raised was that the robe slipped down her right shoulder. The lovely line of her neck was exposed and I moved closer to just get that part in the picture. After about five minutes of this, Susan unwrapped herself from the fabric and ran to me. She hugged herself to me with a shuddering sob.
“This isn’t working,” she said. “I’m just too uptight.”
“What would you like?” I asked.
“Would… Maybe… Could you blindfold me like the last time we worked? Maybe then I wouldn’t be so self-conscious,” she said.
“Sure,” I answered. “Except… I think I left the blindfold in my dad’s car a couple months ago.”
“Why’d you have it there?”
“I was wearing it for several days to keep from seeing anything. I took it off when Dad gave me the shades on our way to school.” We looked at each other for a moment. “I have an idea.” I went over to the daybed and pulled off one of the long strips of fabric we’d used. It had a silky feel and was thin. I knew that she’d be able to see out of one layer, but I was getting inspired. I grabbed a pair of shears we used for cutting fabric and started at one end to cut a foot-wide strip from the tricot about six yards long. Susan looked on with interest.
“That’s a long blindfold,” she giggled.
“It’s all just drapery. Some of it will cover your eyes. Some of it will cover other parts. Maybe,” I said. She shuddered a little and I led her back to the window. She stood patiently while I found the center point of the strip and folded it several times. “Ready?” I asked from behind her. She nodded. I carefully positioned the fabric over her eyes and she helped adjust it so it was comfortable and held it in place while I struggled to get the long ends tied behind her head without snagging her hair. She stood patiently while I snapped another picture on her cell phone. Sometime today, I might actually paint.
“Now, my little Dolly,” I whispered from behind her left shoulder. “Maybe we can get some posing done.” She shuddered slightly.
“Yes, sir.”
I started out pulling the two loose ends forward around her waist and looping them together before pulling them between her legs and wrapping them around her ankles. This had the effect of parting the front of the robe below her waist, but the fabric kept her from being exposed.
“Are you… looking at my pussy, sir?”
“You never really know, do you?” I asked. I snapped another photo. “Think what it will be like to see how exposed or covered you were when you look at the photos. That’s a good Dolly. Stand very still while I adjust this tie.”
I unwrapped the fabric and this time brought it up beneath her arms and over the top of her breasts to tie it. I let the ends dangle down in front of her and pulled her robe off her shoulders. The fabric, of course, held it closed above her breasts, but my breath across her bare shoulders raised a fine line of goosebumps and caused her nipples to press out against the silk fabric of her robe. Susan’s breath deepened. She might not know exactly what was exposed, but she could feel her body’s response. I was receiving irregular bursts of heat and light from her, but they all seemed to light her silhouette and not illuminate any particular part of her body. I snapped another picture, then leaned close to her right ear to whisper.
“May I touch you, my little Dolly?” She drew a long shuddering breath and was almost inaudible when she responded.
“Yes. Please. Touch me. Anywhere.”
I untied the drape and her robe fell farther open. It still didn’t quite expose her breasts, but there was generous cleavage. She was surprised and jumped just a little when I touched her face to lift her chin slightly. I pulled the ends of the fabric under her chin and tied a bow. I looked at the composition and decided to cross the tails of the fabric on her breasts and bring them behind her. I snapped a picture, but something was missing. I moved behind Susan and pulled her arms back toward me. This had the effect of opening the robe fully above the belt in front. I pulled it down off her arms. As the silk glided across her sensitive nipples, she whimpered softly.
I wasn’t done surprising her, though. I pulled one of the strips of fabric that hung from the curtain rod and wrapped her arms together behind her.
“Um… Oh…” she said.
“What a good little Dolly,” I said. I pretended to adjust the fabric some more, just sliding it back and forth across her nipples. I was beginning to see some more prolonged flashes of color as I worked with the pose. But they didn’t focus on any one part of her body. It was almost like watching a pinball machine light up—a flash here and a flash there. Obviously, when I moved the fabric across her nipples, they lit up so brightly I could see them through the tricot.
I shifted some of my attention to the things I knew she enjoyed, based on having worked with her before. I swept my hands down her bare sides, pausing to measure her waist with my fingers. Wherever I touched her, a streak of glowing color followed my fingers. It disappeared as soon as I stopped touching her. I wondered how I was ever going to capture it on canvas.
I pulled another drape around her, looping it so it hung like a skirt from her waist with one side exposed all the way up to where it was tied.
“All covered up,” I whispered to her. This time I had moved in front of her and leaned in to her ear, allowing my chest to graze back and forth across her sensitive breasts. “I think we can dispense with the robe now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Please, undress me, sir.” She trembled as I reached beneath the drapery skirt I’d created and found the belt for the robe that held it closed at her waist. I pulled to see how far down on her hips I could move it and succeeded in getting the knot positioned right against her pubic mound. There I worked slowly and intentionally at getting the knot undone, holding the robe in position after it fell loose. Instead of letting it fall, I held it and moved it slowly down her legs until it puddled around her ankles. I felt a drip against the back of my hand and realized how turned on Susan had become. I moved back up the inside of her legs, brushing slightly against her wet pussy before I circled her hips and stroked back to the floor. I reminded myself to take another picture with her phone.
I turned my focus from her legs to her torso and reached around her to release her arms from their bondage. This pressed her tightly against me.
“Sir. It would be more comfortable if you removed your belt. If you don’t mind.” I certainly didn’t mind. Somewhere during this process I’d become uncomfortably hard and needed to adjust myself in my trousers. “And your shirt,” Susan whispered. Yes. That would be good. I pulled off my shirt. It was tempting to just strip completely, but we hadn’t reached that part of our relationship. Not yet.
“Now we are going to add to your pretty bowtie,” I said. I pulled the ends of the blindfold strip that I’d crossed over her breasts and behind her. The tips of her nipples came into view and flared against the blackness. I boldly cupped her breasts in my hands, pretending to rub away marks left by the fabric and by the bra I knew she never wore. “I think instead of hiding these, we should show them off. Maybe even frame them,” I said. I took the loose ends of the fabric and tied a large bow. I took her left hand and looped the bow over her wrist and slid it up her arm. I placed her hand against my chest so the loop wouldn’t fall off. Then I repeated the action with the right side. I slowly tightened the ends of the bow until her upper arms were pulled against the side of her breasts and the loops framed them. “So pretty,” I said. I bent to softly kiss each nipple. Susan had several gasping breaths and I could begin to smell her scent. As I looked at them, the sudden flare of light from her nipples slowly died down as her breathing returned to normal.
I passed the ends of the fabric behind her back and stepped around to tie another big floppy bow. This I passed over her wrists and slid up to her elbow where I tightened it behind her back. She began to push at the bindings a little and I ran my hands down her arms and around to caress her breasts in front.
“What a good Dolly,” I whispered in her ear. “She has such pretty new jewelry to be wrapped up in. She looks good enough to eat.” My hands continued down her torso until I encountered the edge of the fabric skirt I had draped. “And she smells delicious,” I added.
“Please,” she said as I moved to the front and took more pictures.
“Please what, my little Dolly?” I asked as I pulled the last of the tails around her waist and tied another bow. I slipped her wrists through this and tightened it until her hands were loosely bound in front of her. Her little tests of the bonds assured her that she could get free if she really wanted to, so she relaxed. She didn’t really want to be free.
“Please, eat me,” she whispered. Mmm. My cock twitched in my pants as I knelt in front of her. I stroked her legs beneath the fabric, front and back, outside and inside, feeling her heat building. I untied the fabric skirt and let it hang loosely about her hips. I quickly stood and snapped another picture as most of the drape slid to the floor. Her hands, tied in front of her, framed her slit instead of hiding it. I stepped up to her and placed a soft kiss on her lips then held her lightly to me. I was sure her bound hands could feel my hardness pressed against her.
“I will take care of you, my little Dolly. Be patient and I will take care of you.” She nodded and placed a little kiss on my chest. When I stepped beside her and scooped her up in my arms, hot spots flared and subsided all across her body. I quickly tried to remember each of them thinking these must be erogenous zones that tripped when she was excited.
I seated her on the daybed and knelt before her to untie her wrists, kissing each wrist just below her palm and watching the color burst through the blackness of my vision. I reached behind her to loosen the bow that held her elbows back and she pressed her chest against my face. Her nipples glowed to life as I kissed each of them. I kissed and lightly tongued the inside of her elbows as I loosened the bow across her breasts, freeing her arms. She moaned as I lingered over the sensitive flesh and I could see the tracery of stimulation from wrist to elbow to breast as if I were tracing the pathways of her nerves.
This was very different than my experience drawing and painting Kendra, Mavis, Annette, or Morgan. In my black on black world, each glowed consistently. Their faces were now always illuminated when I looked at them. Mavis’s eyes were sharpened in the glow. Annette’s heart was as obvious to me as her face. Kendra’s hands were luminous blue-green. And Morgan, my dear sister and lover, my le Fay glowed brightly from her sex nearly all the time.
Susan didn’t have a consistent glow. I was reminded of Morgan’s early readings of her aura when she modeled three years ago. Susan became aroused, but it wasn’t directed and specific. She was aroused by the circumstances, not by me. As a result, when the stimulation faded, so did her glow. I tested this further by planting small kisses either side of her navel, on the inside of her thighs, which she parted willingly, the back of her knee, the arch of her foot. And each time I triggered one of those hotspots, I triggered another increase in the flow emanating from her pussy. I went back to the long tails of the bow beneath her chin and began wrapping down her left arm, looping back to secure the fabric at her wrist. Being sure to kiss the spot just at the joint of her shoulder and again at her elbow and wrist, I stretched her arm out so I could wrap the end of the fabric to the bedpost. I repeated the process with her right arm so they were stretched out to either side as she sat on the edge of the bed. There I paused to snap a few pictures on her phone and watch as the hotspots flickered across her body like fireflies in the night.
I kissed her softly again and she opened her mouth, offering her tongue for me to taste. I didn’t press forward, but we sampled each other for several minutes. She whimpered slightly as she tested her bonds to see if she could reach me and embrace, but they would not move in that direction. She could rest her hands down on the bed, but not close her arms in front of her.
“I will take care of you,” I whispered again as I trailed little kisses from her ear down to the hollow of her neck. “I will always take care of you.” The whine she let out made me think she might have had an orgasm without moving. I knew the sheet between her legs was wet.
I quickly sheared off two more strips of the tricot and tied them to each end of the bed. I pulled Susan’s left leg out farther and peppered her inner thigh and the back of her knee with kisses. She was so caught up in the sensations firing through her body that she didn’t notice I was wrapping the fabric around her leg from her ankle to above her knee. Before she fully comprehended it, she was caught up in the sensations of me kissing the right thigh and running one hand over her tummy while the other busily wrapped the fabric around her right ankle and up her leg. The light flashes I was seeing were zipping across her body so rapidly now that they almost blended together. Susan was panting with desire. I stepped back to quickly snap a picture and then knelt between her legs.
I had never done what I was about to do to anyone other than Annette and Morgan. And they had never been tied, spread open and waiting for me. I tossed pillows behind Susan’s back so she could lean back if she got tired of sitting upright, but the girl was quivering so much in anticipation that she was almost rigid. I leaned in and licked her smooth slit. She jumped almost straight up in the air with an exclamation so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear. I wondered absently if Mom and Dad had returned yet from their errands or if Annette and Morgan were back from shopping.
Neither Annette nor Morgan shaved their pubic hair more than to trim it into a bikini and keep it off their labia. Susan was fully bare. She had once told me that Zen didn’t like hair in her mouth. It was certainly a new experience for me. She must have shaved that morning because there was no roughness of stubble against my tongue. She was dripping thick white fluid from her pink lips. Yes! I could see the colors clearly! The entire region around where I was licking was flushed against her normally pale skin. A hundred shades of red and pink differentiated the lips from the vestibule from the clitoris. It was beautiful.
Having not really used my fingers to stimulate her yet, I began to work my way inside her, spreading her copious fluids the entire length of her peach as my tongue circled the bud of her pleasure. As soon as my finger found the depth of her vagina, I used my other hand to work her lubrication into her tiny bottom hole.
Susan began screaming. Her legs were held spread by the fabric I’d wrapped around them but her whole body was twitching and spasming. I latched onto her clit with my lips and lashed it with my tongue. The volume of her screams crescendoed as her body stiffened, relaxed, went utterly rigid, and with a gasp went completely slack. I looked up and saw her slumped back against the pillows with her eyes closed and her head lolling to one side.
Incredible. Just beautiful. Her entire body glowed, with streamers of intensity shooting from hotspot to hotspot. Even the purple fabric I’d used to tie her glowed where it touched her skin. I grabbed the easel and my pastels after taking one more quick snap for her and began to paint. I wasn’t concerned that she was in distress as long as her body continued to glow and pulse with the vibrant colors I saw. I worked quickly, not knowing how much time I would have.
It was nearly twenty minutes before the glow began to fade and I could see her begin to return to this world. Sadly, to me that was a world of blackness and I would miss seeing her shining colors. I laid aside my drawing and pastels and began to unwrap the bindings. The last to be released were the bow under her chin and the blindfold. I swept my hands over her body to make sure there were no marks left by the loose fabric. I looked up as she opened her eyes.
This time, her face glowed and I could see her clearly like I could see my lovers and friends. It glowed with joy.
She pushed me back slightly and slid off the bed onto her knees. In seconds, my trousers were around my ankles and she’d taken my cock deep into her mouth. I’d been tumescent for over two hours as we played, posed, and painted. Still, she worked to give me sustained pleasure. When release came it was powerful enough to bring me to my knees in front of her. She pulled my naked body against hers and kissed me thoroughly.
“And I,” she whispered, “will take care of you.”
“Look at the purple!” Morgan exclaimed. She looked over at the scraps of fabric still lying on the daybed. “That is more than just an aura. It’s that fabric.”
“But her body just glows!” Annette gushed. “If I thought it was possible, I’d say the fabric was illuminated by her body. Morgan, have you ever seen an aura give off enough light to shine on something?” Morgan shook her head.
“I can sometimes see a person’s aura in a dark room. Yours and Pen’s at least. But it doesn’t shed light on anything else,” Morgan said. “Wow! That’s sort of like Pen being able to see details in black. I can see all the details of a person’s aura in the darkness, but it doesn’t even illuminate the person. It sort of stands on its own.”
“Lover,” Annette said to me. She hugged me and put her face against my chest and I could just feel her insecurity seeping into me. “Did you make love to her?”
“Um… No… Not exactly. I mean…”
“That glow came from an orgasm, didn’t it sweetheart?” my sister asked. I nodded.
“How long was she out? You must have had to work fast,” Annette said.
“Um… About twenty minutes.”
“Oh, my god! You gave her an orgasm that knocked her out for twenty minutes? Me next, please,” Annette said. “I hope she gave you something in return.” I nodded.
“Has my baby brother been sucked?” Morgan asked mischievously. I could feel the heat in my face. “Darling Pen, you’re glowing.”
“The idea of being tied—even wrapped loosely like that—makes me… horrified,” Annette said. “I have a whole different perspective on horror since I write it. It doesn’t turn me on. In fact, I can almost feel myself drying up when I think about it. I understand that everyone responds differently to different stimuli. I certainly have seen what it does to Susan. In fact… When we… you posed her for the online show, and that once here in the studio, I was turned on the whole time.”
“Sounds like you get off on being the dominant one,” Morgan said. “It’s like you are with Pen, wanting to be on top most of the time. I like to have him weighing me down and pounding into me.”
“But the two of us together…” Annette started.
“We have a different relationship completely. Equal.”
“I wonder if my control issues are what keep me from getting so excited that I pass out like that,” Annette mused. “My love, do you see the colors now?” I looked at Annette.
“I see you,” I said. “I see your face, your hands, and your love. Does that make sense? And Fay, too. Most of your clothing is thick and black.” I grabbed the purple cloth from the bed and just draped it over her like a veil. “I can see the purple, but I think it’s because you shine through it.” Annette pulled the fabric off her head and kissed me.
“So, there are long-lasting results. Oral sex isn’t too high a price to pay for that,” she said.
“Sort of. Susan faded. As long as she was at her peak and experiencing the flow of energy, I could see all of her. But when she came down, it mostly faded out. Except her face. Her face looked… joyful.”
“I can imagine,” Morgan snorted. “I wonder how long it will last until the endorphins wear off and she’s a blank again. As I look at this painting, I see a lot of what I saw in Susan the first time she posed. She got turned on by you, but her arousal wasn’t attached to you. It was inside her. She contained her aura; it didn’t connect to yours.”
“That won’t be the case with Mavis,” Annette said.
The next three weeks included a lot of debate, mostly between Annette and Morgan and sometimes with Les. It wasn’t a conflict exactly, but more a discussion on how Morgan could market something she couldn’t see. She could see the different textures and strokes on the canvas, but her eyes—or her brain—couldn’t extrapolate the subject. It turned out that Mom and Gramma agreed, even when Dad puzzled over it for a minute and said he thought it was remarkable. On the other hand, I gave one of the paintings to Morgan, Mom, and Gramma to touch. They could see it precisely with their fingers. We tested it on Annette’s parents and grandparents as well and they were enthused. All said it wasn’t exactly their taste, but they could certainly see the subject and thought I’d done an extremely credible job of rendering it. They just wouldn’t want that much black in their home. We had more jokes about braille art for blind people.
Morgan felt we needed another meeting with Dr. Lowenstein as soon as school started up again. I didn’t like the idea, but I’d sit there and not say anything. Or listen. Annette had spent most of Christmas week with a notepad in her hands, even though we had family and friends over periodically. She said she had a new story idea and she needed to work on the outline while it was fresh. She wouldn’t tell us about it until she felt she had enough of the concept down to be able to present it well.
Kendra returned at the end of the first week of January and was excited to see what I had painted. We told her the story of Susan posing and she wanted to do another study of her with Morgan interpreting the aura. It gave me an idea.
“My Lady, I saw a lot of flashes of color when I was posing Susan, but by the time I could get to my sketchpad, they’d subsided. I couldn’t stimulate her and draw at the same time,” I said. “It’s not that I objected to playing with her, but I’d like to paint her. I wonder if we could get the same results if you posed her.”
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Annette said. “I can tell because you had your whole presentation planned out so you could say it. Why do you think I could stimulate her?”
I had been thinking about it and planned out what I was going to say, even in response to this question. I pulled out my painting of Mavis, Annette, and Morgan we’d done the day of the silent orgy. All three women had glowed enough that I could capture their relationship. I loved that painting.
“I don’t want to just paint Susan,” I said. “I miss painting my lover. I thought perhaps that with Susan’s submission, you might take on the glow of dominance we talked about. I want to paint you.” Annette looked longingly into my eyes. I was so thankful to have the full spectrum of color and light that made up her face, but I agonized over seeing her whole body warm and vibrant rather than etched in black.
“Yes,” she said simply. “If Susan will agree.”
“Let me set it up,” Kendra suggested. “I’m pretty sure I can get her to agree.” I grinned and nodded to my friend.
“Kendra,” I whispered. She’d fallen asleep on Annette’s reading sofa while Annette was continuing to make notes on her new story. Even in mostly black on black, it was a cute scene. Annette petted her hair as Kendra leaned against her. When we first saw the scene, Morgan and I sat on the daybed and made out for a while. There was a contented glow around Kendra’s face and Annette’s hand. Morgan had whispered to me and I fetched Kendra’s Christmas present. Morgan sat on the arm of the sofa next to Annette as I knelt in front of her and whispered into her ear. “Kendra, my best friend. Are you where you can hear me?”
She stirred and her sleepy eyes flickered open to look into mine. It was a long flight from Boston and she’d arrived exhausted. I was a little surprised that she’d chosen to come to our house before going to her apartment shared with Les, but then found out Les was in LA with his father. Kendra smiled and lifted her lips to kiss me—a kiss that deepened even as Annette petted her hair and held her in her lap. Her glow warmed and she rubbed her face against Annette’s thigh.
“Your boyfriend is my best friend, Annette,” she whispered. “Thank you for letting us have that connection.”
“We love you, silly,” Annette said. “And we all have that connection. We’ll share it as deeply as you want.”
“Really?” Kendra said looking up at Annette and Morgan. “I’ve been worried that when we were… all together that time… I went too far. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to come back. To be so… close.”
“K, we’re all struggling to define our relationships in ways that make sense, and to get Pen back to where he is whole,” Morgan said. “You are an important part of what completes us. We’re not saying you have to be our lover, but if you were—even if it was just with Arthur—we’d be okay with that.”
“I love you three. You rescued me when you let me become your friend. And I loved the moments I shared with Arthur and Annette. I’ve had to have my fingers in… a lot of clay while I was remembering it.”
“Maybe you can teach us a little about getting our fingers in your clay,” Annette giggled. She softly caressed Kendra’s breast—just a trace. Kendra quivered.
“Um… We wanted to give you a present,” I said. “For Christmas.”
“You didn’t need to,” she said. “Your friendship…”
“That’s what this is about,” Morgan interrupted. “Our friendship. And our love.” I held the little box out to Kendra. She opened it to see the jasper stone and silver chain.
“It’s beautiful! You guys!” she lifted it from the box. “Put it on me! Please! Wait!” She’d started to hand the necklace to me when her fingers ran across the engraving. She looked at it closely and then reached up to touch Annette’s necklace. “It’s engraved with a heart, like yours! You love me!” She handed me the necklace, but before I could reach around her to fasten it, she pulled Annette into a kiss. This time, Annette’s hand did more than simply graze across Kendra’s breast. It rested there and Kendra pushed it more firmly into Annette’s hand. She sat up so she could reach Morgan, who nearly fell into Annette’s lap as the two girls kissed.
When the kiss broke, Kendra sat facing me and slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Though her breasts were slightly bigger than Morgan’s or Annette’s, Kendra never wore a bra. She reached out and tugged slightly at my shirt. Morgan got the message before I did. I was too stunned just seeing the flare of color—a blush, if you will—across Kendra’s breasts. Morgan lifted my shirt off.
“Now put the necklace on me,” Kendra whispered. “I don’t want anything to interfere with it. Or when I hug you.” Annette lifted Kendra’s hair and I reached to fasten the necklace behind Kendra’s neck. As soon as it clicked, Kendra leaned forward to kiss me, pressing herself against my chest. I let the kiss linger as long as she wanted, inviting and receiving her tongue in my mouth, reveling in the feel of her breasts. When the kiss ended, we became aware of Annette and Morgan, now also topless and kissing deeply. All three were clear to me. In some way, even their jewelry seemed to glow, the engraved hearts pulsing.
I scrambled back to get my sketchbook and colored pencils. Kendra smiled and leaned back in Annette’s lap again. The three girls relaxed naturally into a pose that was just filled with love. It took thirty minutes to capture the color and essence of their bodies, warm and glowing against each other.
As the four of us embraced, we shared more than the touch of our skin. We shared more than being lovers. We shared a deep and lasting commitment to our friendship. I didn’t know yet if Kendra would ever share our bed. In some ways, I doubted it, though she would be welcome if she did. She was also in a relationship with Les and I didn’t really want to get between them, no matter how sexy I found Kendra to be. But that was for her to work out.
I loved Kendra differently than I loved Annette and Morgan, but I knew that as my best friend, I loved her deeply.
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