I was still musing over the picture, wishing I was that woman, beautiful, desired, valued and lingered-over by an appreciative genius. If Charlie knew...so much about brushwork and vanishing points, why didn't he paint me and make me look as gorgeous as that?I didn't notice he'd moved on, no doubt to denigrate some other unsuspecting Master. A voice came over my shoulder. An English voice. Very gentle but the sort of voice that caressed you and made you feel you belonged. The words enveloped me.. “Let the feelings wash over you. Keep breathing, baby. It feels good, doesn’t it?”I try to take a deep breath before my lips release a whimpering reply, “Yes. Very good.”His fingers spread the oil all over my lips, gently squeezing me, sliding up and down from my clitoris to my puckered anus. I feel his fingers work each crevice of my lips.“Yes, yes, more, more,” my mind cries silently.Mark still holds my hand but is stretching his neck to watch Adam’s movement between my legs. No one has ever. More

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