Student Poses for Artist Pt. 02

Hello again.

Here is Part 2 which I hope you enjoy and are as kind as you were with my first naughty account; I do hope so.

Gx

Laura paused on the threshold, inhaling the now familiar scent of oil paint and turpentine that seeped from the studio's wooden floorboards. Behind her, Edinburgh's wind tugged at the hem of her coat, insistent as a hungry cat. Her body was tingling with anticipation, her mouth dry and her pussy.... well pleasantly moist with anticipation. 

"You're late," called a voice from within--husky, amused.   Professor Aldridge stood in front of the north-facing windows, his silhouette sharp against the diffused light. His hands moved absently over a palette knife, scraping dried cerulean from its blade. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind" he smirked.

Laura shrugged off her coat, letting it drape over the back of the sagging velvet armchair--the one with the cigarette burn on the armrest from God-knows-when. "Traffic on the Bridges," she said, kicking her shoes into the corner where they landed with a soft thud. Her bare toes flexed against the cold floorboards. "You know how it gets when the tourists realise summer is over and panic".

Professor Aldridge chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag already streaked with vermilion and ochre. Hamish Dunmore was of course there, Laura's mind flashed back to the last time they had all been together.  The old men toying, feeling, groping, fingering and shaving her...... her pussy twitched. "Hello, hen, lovely to see you again" bellowed Dunmore as he adjusted his glasses without looking up from his sketchbook. Laura caught the quick, assessing glance he gave her full body.

Crossing the room, she stopped at the draped screen in the corner, its faded floral pattern sun-bleached to ghosts of pink. "Same as last time?" she asked, already knowing the answer. The elderly expectant artists nodded, and she heard the clink of brushes being sorted into jars. Behind the screen, the air thick with the scent of starch from the freshly laundered drop cloth. Laura undressed swiftly, folding her sweater with more care than it deserved. The studio's chill prickled against her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and puckering the nipples on her firm breasts. She ran a hand over her stomach and pussy -- oh so smooth now, after the artists careful work last week, she liked it....... a lot.

When Laura stepped out, the two men were silent in that particular way of theirs: not awkward, but attentive, like the pause before a violin's next note. She stood for their delight and her own pleasure, naked for the two old men to drink in her flowing hair, magnificent breasts, smooth pussy and firm toned legs.

"Christ look at her," breathed Dunmore as his eyes darted all over her naked perfection like an aroused fly. Professor Aldridge cleared his throat. "The chaise," he said, gesturing to the worn piece near the window. "On your side, I think. Let the light catch the--" He waved a hand vaguely near his own collarbone.

Laura stretched out on the velvet, feeling it cool against her bare thigh. The radiator hummed behind her its heat uneven, leaving patches of warmth along her back. Dunmore shifted his stool slightly, adjusting the angle of his sketchbook. His pencil moved in quick, sure strokes, the sound a whisper against paper.

Just as Laura was settling into the sitting, quite unexpectedly the silence was broken. "We shaved her too close last time," Dunmore murmured, stepping back to squint at her. He reached out, thumb brushing just above her pubic bone. "See how the skin's still pink here? Like a rose petal". A bizarre critique of their prior shaving job was conveyed whilst tracing the lingering sensitivity of her skin with his gnarled thumb.

Professor Aldridge chuckled, "You're the one who insisted on the straight razor."

Laura exhaled, letting her head tilt back. The ceiling was cracked in a spiderweb pattern, the plaster yellowed with age. She remembered tracing those cracks with her eyes during the previous session, counting them to distract from the unfamiliar scrape of the blade. Now, the memory was almost comforting--routine settling into her bones like the studio's dust. Laura shifted slightly on the chaise, the velvet clinging to the sweat at the small of her back. She could still feel the ghost of their hands from last week--the artist's rough fingertips tracing the outer folds of her pussy with the same deliberate care he used to mix paints, Dunmore's  more methodical exploration that had somehow found the exact rhythm to make her thighs tremble. They had teased her to the edge so many times she had lost count, until her hips jerked uncontrollably and she had sobbed into her own arm, slick dripping down the chaise's edge. They had all 'tasted' her after that.

"Still thinking about last time hen?" Dunmore said with a knowing smirk, his voice closer now, his breath warm against her knee as he crouched beside the chaise. He did not wait for an answer, his thumb already brushing the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she wanted him. Laura swallowed, her pulse fluttering under her skin like a trapped moth.

Professor Aldridge put his sketchbook aside with a soft thump, the pencil rolling across its cover. "You said you'd never done that before, you know tasted  your pussy juice," he mused, adjusting his glasses. The lenses caught the window light, obscuring his eyes for a moment. "Interesting, how the body keeps secrets even from itself, did you enjoy tasting yourself Laura, 'cause we certainly did," he smirked. Dunmore hummed in agreement. Aldridge's hand joined Dunmore's as they began to stroke her thighs and caress her firm breasts. "Christ, look at those nipples, hard as pebbles on Portobello beach" said Dunmore, as his rather rough hands groped Laura's firm breasts.  Laura's gulped  when both sets of male fingers finally grazed her, feather-light, along the neat strip of bare skin they'd shaved smooth last session. "No stubble yet," Professor Aldridge observed, pressing two fingers flat against her mound as if checking for texture. "Good. Today we'll--". Laura closed her eyes luxuriating in the feel of the calloused, elderly hands upon her smooth skin. She could smell Aldridge's peppermint lozenge as his breathing increased with each stroke upon her naked form, 'how shameful, how wanton, how beautiful' she mused.

A knock at the studio door shattered the moment. The knock froze them all--Laura mid-breath, the artist's fingers still pressed possessively against her.  For a heartbeat, the only sound was the radiator's metallic groan. Then the Professor sighed, withdrawing his hand with a last, lingering drag of his thumb along Laura's inner thigh. "Bloody students," he muttered, standing. "They never read the 'Do Not Disturb' sign. The sign that he had placed earlier with shaking hands as he anticipated the feel of the willing young muse's body.

Laura curled onto her side instinctively, one arm crossing her chest as the elderly artist stalked to the door. Dunmore caught her eye and tossed her the folded drop cloth from his stool without a word. She draped it over her hips just as the door creaked open, revealing a flushed young man clutching a portfolio.

"Professor" the intruder began, then faltered as his gaze slid past the artist to where Laura lay, one naked, firm and proud breast on show. His Adam's apple bobbed.  Professor Aldridge cleared his throat pointedly, and the boy's ears turned scarlet. "Right. Sorry. I'll--later." The door clicked shut with more force than necessary. Dunmore instantly thought to himself 'Laura, young lad, posed together to represent lovers entwined in the throws of passion, maybe more that one male, hard and rampant as they encircled a naked Laura'. How quickly and instinctively his artistic and carnal minds melded to create such a scenario......... maybe something for the future..... oh yes he thought. Dunmore turned, rolling his shoulders like a cat shaking off rain. "Now then," he said, kneading the back of his neck. "Where were we?" His eyes dropped to Laura's bare shoulders and breasts and at the way the afternoon light gilded the sweat-damp hollow between her breasts.

Aldridge retrieved his pencil with a quiet scrape against the floorboards. "You were about to explain why my shading's off on her left hip," he said drily to his colleagues but his fingers were already loosening his collar, the first button slipping free. Laura watched the movement, remembering how those same fingers had circled her clit last time--slow, then relentless, until she came on his gnarled fingers.

The door flew open for a second time. "Get out and come back later, boy," Aldridge shouted  not unkindly, as he guided the stammering student back into the hallway with one broad hand. The door clicked shut, and he turned with an apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, Laura. University lads think 'private studio hours' means 'bring your bloody watercolours for a critique'." The truth being that the lad had been told by his friend to "get in there to see an amazing sight, she's nude, tits, feeling her up" was all that was needed to send the second boy 'accidentally ' barging in.

Dunmore snorted, flipping to a fresh page in his sketchbook. "He'll be back in twenty minutes with flowers or," he muttered, "worse, a poem." The corner of his mouth twitched when Laura laughed--a bright, unexpected sound that made the old artist pause mid-step. "You're not... unsettled?" he asked, uncharacteristically hesitant. His gaze flicked to the drop cloth draped over her hips, then away. Laura stretched, letting the fabric slip dangerously low. "Why? Because some undergrad saw me half naked?" She arched an eyebrow. "You forget--I am your muse, gents" she toyed "and am committed to your service" she said with a desire for their worn hands to return to her smooth body. She had enjoyed being displayed to the young lads as if she was a possession of the two men, their's to control, command and enjoy. If only she knew what Dunmore had in mind.

Outside, the student's footsteps retreated down the creaking staircase, uneven as a drunkard's. Laura watched Aldridge's shoulders rise and fall with a slow breath before he turned back to her--his expression unreadable in the slanting light.

"Christ," Dunmore muttered, flipping his sketchbook closed with one hand while the other fumbled for his glasses, pushed up into his hair. "Remember when we could work in peace?" His tone was light, but his thumb rubbed at a smudged corner of the page with unusual focus.

Laura let the drop cloth slide further down her thighs, enjoying the way Dunmore's gaze caught on the movement before jerking back to his sketchbook. "I don't mind," she said, rolling onto her stomach. The chaise's velvet kissed her bare skin, warm where the radiator's heat had seeped into the fabric. "Unless you two were planning something particularly depraved before we were interrupted." She propped her chin on her hands, grinning when they both choked." And, even then they both seemed very nice" she teased.

Aldridge took a step towards the naked 'muse', wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Depraved," he repeated, mock-offended, but his eyes darkened as they travelled the length of her flushed perfection. "We're professionals, Laura. This is strictly academic." His voice dropped on the last word, rich with irony.

Dunmore snorted, tossing his pencil onto the floor. It rolled toward Laura, stopping just beyond her toe. "Academic," he echoed dryly. "Is that what we're calling it now?" He leaned back on his stool smirking, the wood creaking under his weight. His shirt gaped where he'd undone the top buttons earlier, revealing a sliver of collarbone that Laura had not noticed before--pale against his otherwise sun-warmed skin. Laura watched Dunmore circle her like a predator, his shadow elongating across the floorboards as he moved between the windows.

"Academic," Laura repeated, stretching the word until it frayed at the edges. She arched her back slightly, letting her breasts rise up, intentionally so on display and wanton. "Then, perhaps, you should lecture me, professor."

Aldridge's laugh was a low rumble as he crouched beside the chaise, his paint-stained fingers hovering just above her hip. "Lesson one," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the crease where thigh met pelvis. "The female body remembers." His touch skirted higher, avoiding the place she ached for him most. "Even when the mind hesitates."

Dunmore stood watching his old friend and colleague toy with the naked girl. He did not approach--not yet--but Laura could see the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt. "You're overcomplicating it," he said, though his voice had gone rough. He pushed his glasses up his nose with one knuckle. "She's already wet. look."

Laura exhaled sharply as Dunmore's fingers finally dipped between her thighs, sliding through her slickness with a soft, faint yet obscene sound. "Christ," he muttered, holding his glistening fingertips to the light. "Like last time." His other hand settled on her breast, calloused palm scraping her nipple into a tight peak. "D'you think she'll come faster today? Or should we make her wait longer?"

Professor Aldridge moved, stepping behind the chaise to loom over Laura's shoulder. His breath warmed the nape of her neck as he leaned down. "Test her," he suggested as he grabbed both of Laura's breasts "See how much she can take before she begs."

Laura arched as Dunmore's fingers circled her clit--slow at first, teasingly light. His other hand kneaded her firm thigh. Up top Aldridge, with practised ease, thumb rolling her nipple in time with each slow stroke between her legs.

"Still so responsive," Dunmore mused, watching her hips jerk against his touch. "Even after last week." His fingers sped up briefly, then slowed again when Laura whimpered. "Ah-ah. Not yet lass" he chuckled, shifting position to crouch between her thighs, to better observe what was there. He blew lightly on her glistening folds, making Laura shudder. The slight breeze, warm like a summer's day. "Remember how you came last time?" he asked, spreading her wider with two fingers. "All over my hand, then the chaise?" His tongue flicked out--once, twice--just grazing her clit. "I want to see it again, it is so delightful".

Laura's gasp echoed off the high ceilings as Aldridge's teeth closed gently on her shoulder. He soothed the bite with his tongue while Dunmore laved slow, deliberate strokes between her thighs. The dual sensations--wet heat below, sharp pleasure above--sent sparks skittering along her nerves. She twisted her fingers in the chaise's velvet, fabric bunching under her grip.

Dunmore hummed against her clit, the vibration making Laura jerk. "Easy," he murmured, lifting his head just enough to speak. His stubble scraped her inner thighs as he turned to Aldridge "Pass me the--yes, that one." Aldridge handed him a narrow paintbrush, its bristles stiff as if aroused by its anticipated journey. Dunmore ran the handle along Laura's slit, gathering her wetness before pressing it slowly inside. "There we are. Just like mixing colours."

Laura whimpered as the brush rotated inside her, the wooden shaft dragging against sensitive walls. Dunmore twisted it experimentally, his free hand pinching her clit in rhythmic pulses. "Look at that," he murmured to Alridge "See how she flutters. How her entrance closes?" He withdrew the brush halfway, then pushed it back in with deliberate slowness. "Like she is  trying to keep hold of it. Oh she's loving it. Look at that pussy Alridge it's gorgeous "

Aldridge abandoned his perch behind her, circling to face Laura. His pupils were blown wide behind his glasses as he watched Dunmore work the brush in and out of her now squelching young pussy. When he spoke, his voice was rougher than she'd ever heard it. "Let me." He took the brush from Dunmore, replacing it with two fingers that curled upward instantly, finding that sweet spot with terrifying beautiful accuracy.

Dunmore did not protest, shifting his attention to Laura's breasts instead. He took a nipple between his teeth, worrying it just shy of pain while his hand squeezed the other in counterpoint. Between her legs, Aldridge added a third finger, stretching her obscenely around the intrusion. "You're taking it so well," he murmured, thumb circling her clit in tight little spirals. "Just like last time. Maybe better."

Laura's thighs trembled violently as the dual assault continued--Aldridge's fingers pistoning inside her while Dunmore sucked bruises along her collarbone. The coil in her belly tightened unbearably, heat pooling low and urgent. She arched off the chaise with a broken cry when Aldridge crooked his fingers just right, his thumb pressing hard against her clit.

"Wait--" the elderly artist ordered, suddenly pulling away. Laura sobbed in protest, her hot, swollen pussy clenching around empty air. He grinned down at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not yet. Turn over."

Dunmore helped roll her onto her stomach, his  hands lingering on her hips. The chaise's velvet scraped her nipples raw as she settled onto her elbows, her firm bum lifted instinctively. High in the air, her smooth thighs so well parted. Behind her, fabric rustled--the artist undoing his trousers, perhaps, or Dunmore shrugging out of his shirt. She did not dare look back.

Cool air kissed her exposed, moist folds a moment before something warm and wet dragged through her slit. Aldridge's tongue, broad and insistent, licking into her like he meant to memorise her taste. His face coming under and into the join of her thighs. Laura buried her face in the chaise's cushion as he lapped at her with slow, deliberate strokes, his stubble scraping the tender skin of her inner thighs.

Dunmore's hands settled on her shoulders, pressing them down firmly. "Stay," he murmured, though she had not moved. His thumbs kneaded the tense muscles along her spine while the artist's tongue circled her clit with maddening precision. Laura's hips jerked uncontrollably, chasing the pleasure, the pleasure of the old professor's tongue. All at once the tongue was suddenly withdrawn and Aldridge smacked a buttock, it barely quivered, being so firm, taut and round. He kneaded both buttocks then gave them each a stinging slap. Laura cried out in pain and ecstasy.  Again the tonge, this time fully inserted into her dripping hot vagina. Might she catch it, squeez it, hold it, fuck it?

Aldridge pulled away with a wet sound. "Look at her," he told Dunmore, spreading her open with both thumbs. "See how she's dripping? Just like last week, the wee hussy" A finger slid back  inside her warm wet pussy, then two, curling upward. "And then there is this magnificent arse......" His other hand palmed her buttocks, squeezing, opening her buttocks wide to show his friend her anus, puckered and proud" Still pink from where he spanked her"

Dunmore lifted her up, his hands drifting lower to cup Laura's breasts. He pinched her nipples sharply making her gasp. "She likes remembering," he observed, rolling the stiff peaks between his fingers. "How much wetter is she getting when we remind her?" he asked Aldridge.

"Dripping " was the one word reply. It was a clinical, succinct appraisal of Laura's arousal.

Aldridge chuckled, withdrawing his fingers with a slick sound. He dragged them through her folds, gathering wetness before circling her clit in slow, torturous spirals. "Should we make her come like this first? Or--" His free hand slapped her bum lightly, the sting blooming across her skin. "Save it for later?"

Laura whimpered into the velvet, her thighs trembling. Dunmore bent over her, his lips brushing her ear. "Tell us," he whispered, his breath hot. "How do you want it?" His teeth closed on her earlobe as Aldridge's fingers plunged back inside her, twisting cruelly.

"Both," Laura gasped, arching her back. "Please--" The word dissolved into a moan as Dunmore pinched her nipples hard while Aldridge sucked her clit into his humming mouth. The dual sensations sent white heat lancing through her, her body tightening like a coiled spring.

Aldridge cruelly pulled back just as she teetered on the edge. "Not yet," he chided, wiping his mouth. His fingers continued moving inside her at a glacial pace. "Turn her over, Dunmore. I want to see her face when she breaks."

Hands rolled her onto her back, the chaise's velvet scraping her oversensitive skin. Dunmore leant over her his old penis clearly straining against his tweed slacks as he leaned down further to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue penetrating just as his colleague had to her lower 'mouth'. Might both tongues be in her at the same time? Aldridge positioned himself yet again between her legs, his fingers never stopping their relentless rhythm.

"Watch," the artist shout to Dunmore, pressing two fingers deep as his thumb circled her clit. Laura's hips jerked off the chaise, her back arching sharply. The old academic chuckled darkly. "See how her cunt flutters? Like it's trying to keep me inside." He curled his fingers upward, dragging against that sweet spot with each stroke.

Dunmore had broken the kiss to watch, had withdrawn his tongue, his breath coming fast. He did not simply watch, rather his hand slipped down Laura's body to replace Adidge's fingers, his longer digits reaching even deeper. "Christ," he muttered when Laura's hot internal muscles clenched around him. "She's soaking and she's close."

Aldridge leaned back in, leaving the smooth, sopping pussy to Dunmore and licking a broad stripe up her quivering body before sucking a nipple between his teeth. Laura screamed, her fingers tearing at the chaise's fabric as pleasure detonated through her. Dunmore kept pumping his fingers inside her, prolonging the convulsions until tears streaked her temples.

The surprise on their all their faces was something of shock and none more so than on Laura's, when she had squirted. It had been almost as shocking as the sensation itself--a hot, helpless burst that left her gasping and the drop cloth beneath her soaked. She had never squirted before, never knew she could. " Oh FUCK!!" she screamed" You dirty old fuckers" When the last tremor subsided, Dunmore sat back on his heels, wiping his glistening chin. "Good girl," he murmured, watching her chest heave. " Good lassie. Now let's see if we can make you do that again."

His old didgits re-entered Laura's glistening, so engorged, so sensitive pussy, dipping in, mixing 'a fine juice', then he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth with deliberate slowness. His tongue flicked out to taste her, eyes locked on Laura's as he sucked his fingers. "Sweet," he observed. "Sweeter than last time."

Aldridge chuckled, running a possessive hand up Laura's inner thigh. "We'll have her dripping down the chaise legs by tea-time." His thumb found her clit again, rubbing tight circles that made her jerk. "Look the wee hussy is already twitching for more."

Laura gasped when Dunmore got up and pinched her nipples hard, the sharp pain blossoming into pleasure as he rolled the stiff peaks between his fingers. "Sensitive here," he noted clinically, though his breathing had gone ragged. He bent to take one in his mouth, sucking hard while his free hand continued tormenting the other.

Aldridge watched them for a moment before reaching  for the discarded paintbrush. He trailed the bristles along Laura's slit, gathering her wetness before pressing the wooden handle inside again. "Remember this?" he asked, rotating it slowly. "How it felt when we fucked you with it?"

Laura moaned, her walls clenching around the intrusion. Dunmore released her nipple with a wet pop, shifting to kneel beside her head. " We should fuck you hard, you wee hussy....... but nah no now..... when you want a big hard cock so much in that tight wee pussy of yours" he whispered in her ear toying with her, knowing she would willingly do as the old men wished.

Aldridge worked the brush in and out while Laura moaned. "Faster," Dunmore instructed, The wooden shaft dragged against her sensitive walls, the slight ridge near the ferrule hitting that perfect spot with each thrust. She screamed allowed and gripped the chaise as her body bucked in an explosion of pleasure.

How many men had wished to at least kiss this gorgeous girl let alone have her strip, finger, lick, spank and grope her beautiful firm body they both wondered independently yet with some subconscious joint enterprise.

Alridge abandoned the brush to spread Laura's folds with both thumbs, his tongue flicking out to taste her sweet young juice. "Perfect," he muttered against her skin. His stubble  scraped her inner thighs as he settled in to devour her properly, his nose bumping her clit with each broad lick.

Aldridge, all at once sucked her clit into his mouth, all of it his fingers plunging back inside her.

" Do you want to fuck her Alridge " asked Dunmore. " Aye I do but you know the old boy no longer responds" replied Aldidge " If I may dear lady" he asked as he montioned to Laura's wet open and willing pussy.

"Oh yes " she called "Lick me you dirty fucker" She jerked as Aldridge hummed against her, the vibration making Laura's thighs quake. He withdrew his fingers to slap her clit lightly--once, twice--before returning to circling it with relentless precision.

Dunmore watched Aldridge work. "Look at her," he breathed. "See how her cunt kisses the air. Going to come again so soon, are ye lass?" It was Aldridge who answered, pinching Laura's clit between thumb and forefinger, twisting lightly, before "their girl" could say a word her back arched off the chaise with a shattered cry, her body convulsing around nothing.

What a thing to see, a girl gone so far, so aroused, just twisting and turning, arching her body at the slightest touch the sheer arousal so infectious. The scent of female arousal drawing the men to her willing body liken a mermaid calling a ship to dash against the rocks.

Dunmore chuckled darkly. "That's it," he murmured, fingers tightening in her hair. Aldridge smiled and kept rubbing her prolonging Laura"s aftershocks until tears leaked from the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes.

Dunmore stood up and began to unbutton his tweed slacks. Laura watched as a gnarled old cock sprung into being.

"Open yer mouth hen, I winnae last long" said Dunsmore.

Aldridge watched as Laura's beautiful young lips encircled his friends penis and how Dunmore took a stride further forward until his grey pubic hair touched her chin.

" Suck me you little.... you teasing little whore...... fuck.... swallow it" growled Dunmore. He couldn't and didn't last long as he felt Laura's tongue tickle his engorged penis as it exploded in her mouth.

Alridge watched as Laura's cheeks briefly expanded then she swallowed hard and gasped as Dunmore pulled out abruptly, his cock glistening with spit and come. He wiped it along her cheekbone possessively before turning to Aldridge " I couldn't last " he sighed" It was fucking bliss man". His cock began to recede.

Both men admired the beauty of her form as some octogenarian cum dribbled down her chin and dripped off. The beauty juxtaposed by the male seed, a thing of true natural beauty.

"Again?" Dunmore asked more to Aldridge than Laura whilst nodding toward her still-twitching thighs.

Aldridge sat back on his heels, wiping his chin. "Too predictable," he mused, tapping Laura's inner thigh thoughtfully. "Let's try..." His fingers trailed lower, pressing against her perineum with unexpected firmness. Laura jerked, a fresh moan bubbling up. "Ah. Sensitive here too."

Dunmore adjusted his glasses, leaning in curiously. "Internal stimulation?" He suggested as he pressed two fingers against Laura's lower belly, just above her pubic bone. "If we apply pressure--"

"--while stimulating the clitoris externally," Aldridge finished, already circling her swollen nub with his thumb. His other hand pressed firmly where Dunmore indicated, creating a delicious internal pressure that made Laura's toes curl. "There. Feel how she tightens?"

Laura whimpered, her hips lifting instinctively. The dual sensation--deep, insistent pressure inside, while the mature artist's thumb worked her clit in tight circles--sent sparks skittering up her spine. Dunmore watched raptly, his fingers now tracing the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.

"Fascinating," Dunmore murmured, shifting to cradle Laura's head in his lap, next to his now lolling, spent penis. Some cum mixed saliva ran from his old cock onto her cheek. Laura felt this unseemly event and wondered if the soft 'thing' against her cheek would firm up again and re reapplied to her mouth.

Dumore's free hand wandered down to toy with her nipples--rolling one between thumb and forefinger while pinching the other sharply. "Three points of contact now. Look how her breathing changes."

The two old men so fascinated by Laura's sexual compliance and responses wondered if they could make such a beautiful girl cum again, or maybe more........ could they?

Aldridge increased the pressure slightly, his thumb moving faster. Laura's thighs trembled violently, her back arching off the chaise as pleasure coiled unbearably tight. "Wait--" the artist ordered, suddenly lightening his touch. Laura sobbed in protest, her body clenching around nothing. "Not yet. I want to see how long she can hover."

Dunmore chuckled darkly, it was an interesting proposition, would it all be better if the girl was restrained, tied down, restricted, unable so much as to rub her thighs together; were they to cease their manipulation for a short time and leave her hanging - hovering on the brink of orgasm, but not quite there? He twisted Laura's nipple sharply. "Cruel," he observed, though he did not stop. His other hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "You can take it, can't you? Our good, wee lassie." The endearment sent an unexpected pang through Laura's chest even as her body burned. " You can take more, you will take more" he nodded.

Aldridge hummed thoughtfully, dragging one finger through her slickness before returning to her clit with maddeningly light strokes. "Shall  we add another variable?" He reached for the discarded paintbrush again, trailing its bristles along Laura's inner thigh. "Temperature play, perhaps? The palette knife's been sitting in ice water..."

Laura's gulped as Dunmore abruptly released her nipples to cup both breasts, his thumbs flicking the stiff peaks in unison. The artist watched the way her flesh pebbled under his touch before nodding approvingly. "See how the areolae darken when you do that? Textbook vasocongestion." His fingers dipped lower, tracing the swollen lips of her beautiful pussy. "And here--look at this edema. She's engorged beautifully."

Dunmore's grip tightened fractionally, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Laura's breasts. "Fascinating," he echoed, though his voice had gone rough. His glasses slid down his nose as he bent closer, breath hot against her skin. "Tell me--" He nipped at her collarbone. "Does it ache yet? The wanting?"

Laura could only whimper, her hips jerking when Aldridge suddenly pressed the cold metal of tthe palette knife gainst her clit. The shock of temperature made her scream, her thighs snapping shut around his wrist instinctively. Aldridge playfully tutted, prying her legs back open with insistent hands.

Dunmore smiled - had Laira been tied there would have been none of those firm thighs snapping shut. None at all, there would have been no escaping their little experiment. The iced water and palette knife had been the subject of an excited, conspiratorial conversation over a fine malt some two evenings previously. It was not a spur of the moment, it had been a premeditated experiment on their subject and yes she should have been tied.

"None of that," Aldridge chided, dragging the chilled metal down her slit before circling her entrance  teasingly. "You'll take what we give you young Laura" He glanced up at Dunmore "Hold her still."

Dunmore obliged, pinning Laura's wrists above her head with one broad hand while with the other continued tormenting her nipples--twisting one while flicking the other rapidly with his thumbnail. The contrasting sensations made Laura writhe, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the old artist resumed his slow, methodical torture with the chilled metal.

"Watch this," the artist murmured, pressing the palette knife firmly against her clit while simultaneously sliding two fingers deep inside her. Laura's back arched violently, her cry strangled as the dual stimulation--icy precision outside, burning stretch within--sent white-hot pleasure lancing through her.

Dunmore's grip on her wrists tightened. "Remarkable," he breathed, watching the way Laura's muscles fluttered around the artist's fingers. His free hand drifted down to trace the quivering planes of her abdomen. "The involuntary contractions are more pronounced this way. Almost like--" His fingers pressed firmly just above her pubic bone, creating that delicious internal pressure again.

Laura moaned as the artist increased the rhythm of his fingers, curling them upward with each thrust while maintaining steady pressure with the cold metal. The coil in her belly tightened impossibly further, heat pooling low and urgent. She could feel her orgasm building--closer, closer--until the Aldridge suddenly stilled his movements entirely.

"Not yet," he growled, withdrawing his fingers with a wet squelch. Laura whimpered at the loss, her body clenching around nothing - no fingers, no paintbrush, no penis. The artist ignored her, instead reaching for the jar of linseed oil on the nearby table. He dipped two fingers in, coating them thickly before returning to Laura's dripping cunt. "Temperature variation," he explained to Dunmore as he pressed one oil-slick digit against her tight virginal bum. "The body can't differentiate between hot and cold internally--only pressure."

The evidently experienced artist's oiled finger pressed inward with relentless precision, the unfamiliar stretch burning in a way that made Laura's toes curl against the chaise. Dunmore's grip on her wrists tightened as she tensed--not pulling away, just holding her steady while the artist worked her bottom open with slow, circular motions. "Breathe," Dunmore murmured against her temple, his own breath ragged. Laura obeyed, exhaling shakily as old Aldridge's finger slid deeper, the linseed oil creating an obscene slickness between her cheeks. His slippery, linseed oil coated old finger sliding easily past her anal sphincter.

"Now," the artist murmured, withdrawing his finger just enough to add a second alongside it. Laura gasped at the intrusion, her thighs trembling violently as he began scissoring them gently. The stretch bordered on painful, but when Aldridge's thumb found her clit again--rubbing tight, frantic circles--the discomfort melted into white-hot pleasure. "There we go," the old professor praised, watching her body adjust. The dual stimulation--inside and out--sent sparks skittering along Laura's nerves, her hips jerking uncontrollably.

Dunmore's lips curled against her shoulder. "Look at her," he breathed as Aldridge was increasing the pressure on her clit. "She's going to--" His words cut off as Laura's back arched sharply, her body clamping down around the artist's fingers. A guttural moan tore from her throat as pleasure crested violently--and then a hot gush of fluid spilled from Laura's clenched perfect pussy, splattering across the artist's wrist and the chaise's velvet with a sound like rain hitting pavement. The elderly academic froze momentarily, his dark eyes flicking from the glistening eruption to Laura's stunned face. "Christ, twice" he muttered, withdrawing his fingers slowly from her bottom. The fluid--clear and scentless--continued dripping from her in sporadic pulses, puddling beneath her hips.

Dunmore released Laura's wrists to also trace the wetness with curious fingers, bringing them to his lips with deliberate slowness. His tongue darted out--once, twice--before he grinned down at her. "Not urine," he announced, sounding absurdly pleased. "The Bartholin glands can secrete under extreme arousal, but this volume..." His thumb swiped through the glorious secretion again, painting Laura's inner thigh with it. "Fascinating."

Aldridge's fingers stilled against Laura's thigh, slick with her unexpected release. He studied the damp chaise with an expression caught between amusement and scientific curiosity. "Same time next week?" he asked casually, as if discussing a dental appointment rather than the aftermath of Laura's body betraying her in spectacular fashion.

Laura's breathing stopped--part shock, part residual pleasure still sparking along her nerves. The question hung between them, weighted with implications she could not quite parse through the post-orgasmic haze. Dunmore saved her from answering by pressing two fingers into her sodden smooth pussy, spreading the liquid across her trembling inner thighs with clinical detachment. "You'll need to account for this," he told the old art professor pushing his glasses up his nose with his free wrist. "The chaise upholstery won't survive repeated..."

Aldridge waved him off, rising to fetch a stained rag from his worktable. "She's hardly the first model to leave marks," he said dismissively, though his gaze lingered on the way Laura's hips jerked when Dunmore's fingers brushed her oversensitive clit. "Though none quite so..." He gestured vaguely at the glistening evidence. 

"Efficient?" Dunmore supplied, withdrawing his hand to examine the translucent fluid coating his fingers. He rubbed thumb against forefinger thoughtfully. "Less viscous than expected. Interesting." 

Laura covered her face with both hands, the reality of what just happened crashing over her like cold water. The old artist chuckled, tossing the rag onto her bare stomach. "None of that," he chided, nudging her knees wider when she instinctively tried to close them. "We're all adults here." His fingers trailed through the wetness still beading at her entrance. "Unless you'd prefer we cease?"

To be continued........... if Laura, Dunmore, Aldridge and especially you, my dear reader wish?