You wind your belt over my shoulder and under me, running between my breasts teasing each nipple with a little flick of the end of it. You wind it aro...nd me again, this time taking it around my neck, tightening it. You tug at the belt and lift me from the pillow. With one hand gripping the belt, you tug me a little arching me back. Your other hand finds my hip and you grind into me. You grab my ass and slowly work your way around the curve of my cheek with the tips of your fingers. You rub me. "Good girl. Now say that in paint." I felt almost bereft when her hand left me and she moved to another artist’s station. The brush in my hand seemed almost to be on fire and I found myself working faster than ever. The swell of her covered breast, the plateau of her stomach, the dress as it fell between Teri’s thighs – all of those I painted rapidly but carefully, attempting to compose the image so that everything drew the eye to the hint of her labia through the delicate silk. Isobel was. More

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