I stepped slowly around the Bergamot Station Gallery smitten and inspired by the sculpture and charcoals around me. The work strikes something deep within me. The compassion, energy and humanity leave my eyes sparkling with unshed tears. As I am experiencing this emotional response, I feel a frisson run up my back and neck. This force of energy pulls my attention from the work, and I turn my head to a man observing me, observing the artwork. Captivated, I look at him with my breath catching.
Six foot with sandy gold hair, warm green eyes and a strong build he drinks in my appearance.
My outfit is simple albeit flattering. I reach always for sexy and cute as my standard.
I had left my house with a little freshened makeup and a sundress that shows off my tan lines. I made it dressier with beautiful Italian sandals, but always first to go on is my signature scent Santal 33 by Le Labo.
My natural attractiveness isn’t really enhanced by too much artifice. I have long blonde hair, dark green eyes, beautiful skin, with high cheekbones and a bright welcoming smile. I’m 5’5″ with longish slim and tone legs while my narrow hips and waist accentuate my full and natural C cup breasts.
“It moves you,” he smiles at me questioningly. “I’m the artist,” he states.
“It really does,” I respond warily.
I move around to the next sculpture and run my hands along the worn and smooth wood, feeling and also sensing the iron strength beneath. The work resonated with the Alberto Giacometti’s Tall Man and Walking Man sculptures yet displayed the undulations of nature and environment working and weathering strong and resilient men and women.
The love of humanity and beauty is so obvious, my breath catches, and I move closer still. The man follows and walks to me. He glances at my hands now stroking the sculpture and he smiles again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I start to warm in spite of my soft sundress flowing loosely around me.
My glittering Italian sandals catch on the floor as I step back, tripping me. The Artist catches me before I fall, pulling me tightly into his arms. I feel the pulse of electricity between us as I straighten up and put my hands to his hard chest. He smells divine. Like leather, musk and man.
I look up, beneath my long dark eyelashes and see he is still smiling. I don’t really want to let go, but I step away. He holds my arms as I move, steadying me. I’m feeling a bit lightheaded and wait another moment before I move again, separating us.
His hands lower and he puts them in his jeans pockets. I notice he wears rough brown suede cowboy boots and I love how sexy they look on him. Unexpected, and charming at the same time. I move my eyes up and notice his jeans slightly tented in front. Hmmmm. He felt it too.
I raise my eyebrows when I look at his face.
“I’m Drew, and what a lovely way to meet you…?”, he states confidently.
“Michelle and I’m not usually so clumsy. Thank you for catching me.”
“Entirely my pleasure Michelle. Tell me something…those are spectacular … sandals… you’re wearing, are bursa escort they Italian?”, he asks playfully. But he is looking at my braless cleavage.
I smile at his playfulness and and lean forward a bit giving him a glimpse down the front of my dress.
“They are Italian,” I whisper moving closer to him. “Thank you for noticing,” I say impishly.
“I’m an artist, and I appreciate all kinds of beautiful things,” his eyes sparkle in response.
“Indeed, you do, as you’ve made a beautiful and strong statement with your work here,” I say.
I continue, smiling playfully, “And thank you for turning me on today with your sculptures and charcoals.” “I came specifically for inspiration today. I’m an amateur painter myself,” I finish.
Drew’s eyebrows scoot up and he smiles at my statement. He shifts around for a moment and looks like he might be at a loss for words, but he encourages me by responding.
“Let’s see about how else I can be of service to you today,” he states solemnly.
I laugh out loud at his roguish response.
“Were you a cowboy in a previous life,” I question. “You wear your boots with jeans so well,” I say.
“I am a cowboy of sorts. I have a ranch and studio in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and travel around to show my work,” he states.
“Oh! I sense we ought to have an evening drink together as I love good cowboy stories,” I say.
“How about you join me at the SoHo Beach House in Malibu? You can be my guest,” I offer. “But first, tell me you can dance, like all good cowboys,” I question.
He smiles broadly and brushes his hand to my waist and takes me into a slow spin leading me strongly with his body close. My cheeks flame with unmistakable passion at his lead. He releases me too soon, and I am stunned by this brief connection. The chemistry between us is scorching.
He reaches out to me again and brushes my hair behind my ears, touching my cheek gently as he pulls his hand away.
“Just entirely lovely,” he whispers.
I feel like I am panting as we leave the gallery and walk together to my car. I am driving since he is just visiting here. The traffic is light this afternoon and we bolt up Pacific Coast Highway easily listening to Bill Withers’ Lovely Day.
We chat comfortably, flirtatiously, getting to know one another. I regain my composure slowly. Up until he places his hand on my leg for emphasis while relating an exchange with a patron at the gallery. My pussy clenches at his touch. I’d be surprised if he couldn’t smell the pheromones emanating from me.
Arriving at SoHo in Malibu, we sit on the sofa with the fireplace behind us on the deck. The light from the later part of the day and the warmth of the fire is perfection. I remove my sandals and put my feet up on the pouf in front of us, showing off the tan lines on my feet from my flip flops.
“I just love tan lines on a pretty woman Michelle,” he smiles. I start to breathe a little harder and my heart is starting to thrum, much like my pussy. I wiggle into the sofa a little more, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, stroking bursa escort my arm and over the top of my breasts. We listen to the surf pounding and enjoy the quiet weeknight at the Soho House while Drew tells me funny stories about Jackson.
Drew’s eyes light up while making me laugh and entertaining me. He is a charming rogue storyteller. His hand strokes up along the back of my neck after he pushes my hair to one side. I purr under his talented fingers.
I sit up a little straighter when I hear one of my favorite songs playing. Stay High by Brittany Howard. Drew stands up and reaches his hand down to me instinctively knowing to take me into his arms to dance. The soulful melody transports us to where we feel we are alone.
The lighting, the music, the mood is perfect. Drew holds me close as he leads our bodies, undulating with time to the music. His hand strokes up and down my back, barely grazing my bottom once. I am quivering with anticipation and desire. I wouldn’t be able to stand on my own. His strong hands are holding me up.
I see him looking down at me and I raise my face to him expectantly, wanting to be kissed. But he just teases me by brushing his slight growth of beard along my cheek. I push my cheek to him for a kiss, and as he leans down to give me one, I turn my head rapidly to steal a kiss. He lights up with a delighted smile.
“You are a little thief, beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.
“I’m also an explorer. Let’s bring the blanket and go down to walk on the beach for a few minutes,” I smile.
Drew shakes his head in mirth. He removes his boots and socks, leaving them under the sofa on the deck. His feet look masculine and groomed. I sigh to myself as he places his hand gently at my lower back as we go down the stairs to the sand.
As soon as we get down to the sand, he takes my shoulders and turns me gently to face him. He leans in slowly brushing his lips against mine softly. I am aching with desire, my panties damp, and my heart thrumming. His hands glide down the smooth skin of my arms to my hips. He pulls at my dress, bringing me closer to him to kiss me more deeply now. With his hands on my hips he reaches behind me to hold onto and gently squeeze me. I moan into his mouth as we continue to kiss one another.
I think my panties would catch fire if they weren’t so damp right now. The chemistry between us is burning. We stop for a moment and look one another in the eyes. The sensual merging at our mouths is magic. I can’t wait to feel more of this witchcraft. His tongue dances across and bites my lower lip gently.
“Your lips, your kisses are art,” he murmurs passionately.
I feel his hands explore my body, reaching up to brush along my hard nipples, and then holding my breasts, worshiping them with need. He then brushes both the straps of my dress off my shoulders at once.
“Oh, this is so good,” he says taking a step back and letting my dress fall into the sand. I reach to his belt buckle and pull it open quickly, yearning to feel him in my hands and not through his jeans.
His bursa eskort jeans come off and he is commando underneath. I hold his magnificent thick cock in my hands, stroking him firmly like I did his sculpture. He is smooth and warm to my touch, well groomed. There is so much I want to do with him as he holds onto the sides of my wet panties and slides them down my legs to lay abandoned with my dress and inhibitions.
He rests his hands on my hips and then slides his fingers into my hairless wet pussy. I climb into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. He manhandles my bottom and pulls me apart. I reach between us for his cock. Gliding the glistening tip of his cock through my wet I slide down onto him moaning loudly as I do.
“Yessss, so good, so deep, ” I pant.
“Your pussy is so hot and tight, it feels like heaven, I can’t get enough, this won’t be enough, I can tell already,” he continues our passionate exchange.
My arms are wrapped around his neck as I kiss his neck, around and below his ears. I stroke the back of his neck and into his hairline, running my nails up through his hair. He moans as he continues to piston in and out of me. His legs, back and bottom tense with energy.
“I want to taste you so badly, I’m aching to feel your lips blossom beneath my tongue,” he pants.
“Let me down now to taste us together,” I respond.
He lets me slide down off of his body so that I can take him in my mouth while I straddle over his mouth. The blanket is beneath us, shielding us from the contrasting cool sand. I mewl as he grasps my hips and pulls me down onto his face.
I open my mouth and struggle to take him all the way in. I lick up one side and down the other tasting him and myself mingled together. My pussy clenches as he uses 2 fingers on my cunt while he worships my clit with his tongue in tiny circles, quickening me to my first wet orgasm. I shudder over him, and drip into his mouth the juice he produced.
I arch my back in response to the orgasm and pull slightly away, my pussy sensitive to his sensual tongue. I turn around and continue to lick and suck his cock on my knees in front of him, gazing in his eyes with adoration and lust. I nurture his cock and balls ferociously, tightening my lips around him while sheathing my teeth against scraping.
He pants he is about to come when I climb up on him to ride him hard. I am glistening with sweat, my tan glowing in the waning moon and starlight. I undulate over him with my hands on his firm chest. He takes my hips pulling and pushing me, grinding me on him. I move my hands to my clit to orgasm again, this time with him.
I cry up into the sky, arching my back while he holds my breasts, pinching my hardened and sensitive nipples. He drives his hips up hard onto me, grinding into my pussy. His pleasure is exquisite to share.
Drew cries out as he comes, spraying my insides with himself. I am undone and spent. We hold onto one another panting. Our hearts pounding and our damp bodies sticking to one another. I can feel him smile before I lean up to look at him.
“That was OUR art to share with one another,” he states with assurance. I warm to the idea that we shared something so sublime as to warrant its connection to a piercing statement of truth. I reflect on our chemistry and passion together and agree with a nod and a smile.