Kincaid had suggested the night before that perhaps, in his absence, she would like to spend some time with his best friend, to which Michele readily agreed, even though she would have preferred that is was Kincaid who was taking her on the date, though, she thought, Luc was someone she really wanted to get to know better, especially since she had yet to experience making love to him. There was something in Luc's eyes that made her sense that somehow, despite his pleasant and cheerful demeanor to her, he also had a very dark side filled with both sadness and loneliness.
The plan was simply that Luc, the evening after Michele and the boys had spent their day at the museum, where a special Japaenese surprise was waiting, she would then meet up the next evening with Luc, who was to meet her at the residence of a woman called the Countess, dressed in his suit and tie. Kincaid had asked Luc to escort Michele, dressed in the sheerest of little black dresses that he had already delivered to the brothers apartment, on a date to an elegant restaurant. After dinner, and a showing of a new erotic theatre version of Mata Hari, Luc had arranged for the two of them to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where he hoped to show Michele more than just the lights of Paris...
After all their love making finally subsided, Michele could not help but remain awake as she contemplated what her future held, especially after she was told by her sister that Barry had been thrown in jail for being a Russian spy. When her sister had e-mailed her a lengthy news story that explained what type of information that her husband was selling to the Russians, Michele's reaction, to her surprise, was more of a feeling of relief rather than sadness. It was almost as if she had been provided the perfect excuse to escape her boring life and take up Kincaid's offer to remain with him, forever, in Paris. As she lay there sandwiched between her still semi-hard and sleeping young Indian lovers, Michele reflected back on all that had happened to her in just a few short days in Paris.
In a span of less than a week she had practically lived out nearly every sexual fantasy she had written about in her diaries. In fact, had it not been for Kincaid, she would not be laying next to two beautiful specimens of Indian manhood anticipating the morning love making that was sure to come, and which she could not wait to begin. Her only regret was that Kincaid had not been there with her to witness the love that his proteges had showered her with; however, she was sure that he was wishing that he was there with her, instead of flying to Chicago to find out more about her husband's arrest.
Eventually though Michele did fall asleep; however, it was not long before she felt the warm sun spreading across her nude body, the sensation of which caused her to lazily yawn and stretch, like a cat. However, even as the sun warmed the room, she procrastinated opening her eyes, as a contented smile inched its way onto her face as she felt the hot brown skin of her still sleeping lovers next to her. Meanwhile, outside Michele could here the birds singing in the trees, and the cars bustling in the street. She could also smell the summer blossoms' scent breezing through the open window. She then thought about coffee, but she could easily postpone that pleasure for a few more blissful lazy moments beneath the covers with her young lovers.
With her eyes still closed, and hearing the soft snoring of her lovers, both of whom had an arm draped over each one of her thighs, she ran a hand down her neck, onto her collarbone, and softly brushed her breast underneath Atikur's sweaty Dego T-shirt she had worn to bed. Her nipple responded to the familiar touch, stiffening under the cotton, as she felt a warm electric tingle running inside her, awakening her deep inside. She then smiled to herself, bringing her other hand down between her legs. At first she gently brushed the few whisps of hair still left on her pussy, pushing her thighs forward, as she imagined she was being teased by one of the brother's touch. She then let her legs part slightly, enjoying the moist heat emanating from her sex. It was if the soft lips were breathing in concert with the sighs released from her mouth and her sleeping lovers. Then, with a fingertip she traced the silky groove towards her clitoris, which was now swelled and pulsing in anticipation.
Rolling gently onto her side, and raising one leg, Michele brought her other hand down, reaching around her leg, and gently pushing a finger all the way into her twat. "Aah!" she gasped, enjoying feeling herself growing more wet. With the thumb and forefinger of the other hand she then very delicately squeezed her clitoris, softly rolling the sensitive flesh which was still a bit tender from the night before. As she pushed another, and then another, finger inside herself, Michele began sliding the skin around her clitoris back and forth, squeezing the shaft, gently masturbating the exquisite organ like a minuscule penis, as the three fingers deep in her matched the strokes, penetrating herself deep.
Michele envisioned her two sleeping lovers making morning love to her, with Atikur paying attention only to her clitoris, stroking it with his slender pianist's fingers, and kissing it, making love to it intimately, as Anjun made love to her from behind, recklessly, filling her with deep thrusts of his cock, roughly mauling her breasts with his hands. Michele then imagined Atikur toying with her clitoris, in between soft kisses and gentle licks, waxing lyrical about the organ of his affection: "My beautiful flowerbud, what a gorgeous morsel, like a delicious berry. A most precious pearl, a tiny bright gem..." after which his tongue began praising her most pleasurable organ in a more direct way, swirling around the cherished object. Meanwhile Anjun, bracing his hips, and pounding deep inside her, begins to speak, "Can you feel my hard cock? Deep in your cunt? You like that, don't you? You like me fucking you like a dog, huh? 'Cos you're a bitch in heat. Your pussy is soaking because you're so horny for my big hard dick. And you want to feel my hot cum spurting inside that horny wet cunt, don't you."
Lost in her erotic morning dream, Michele nodded to her imaginary lovers, stroking her clitoris faster, thrusting deeper into herself- into her cunt- with her fingers. She then rolled onto her front, raising her ass, with her cheek on the pillow, awakening both of her lovers. However, instead of joining in, both of her now awaken lovers turned to watch and stayed still, watching as Michele continued to pleasure herself, lost inside of her dream, as Anjun, in her mind, thrusted inside her, obscenely muttering into her ear, while Atikur, her other imaginary lover rearranged himself beneath her, with his head between her knees and his groin neatly position near her face.
In her fantasy, Atikur's mouth was now pressed to her sex, his tongue lapping at her clitoris. In this position, Michele realized, his view was a close-up of his brother's cock and balls pushing into her. But her sensitive imaginary lover was far to intent on her pleasure to let that deter him, so, while Anjun fucked her from behind, his long thick cock (by now she had let a fourth finger join in, stretching her vagina more) thrusted deeply, as she kissed Atikur's organ, which was smooth, brown, and swelling as her lips met it. The tip was engorged and scarlet as she ran her tongue tip over the moist eye. It then began pulsing as she started sucking (in reality on the finger of Anjun), pushing her hips against its owner's mouth, still delightfully churning her to orgasm, as deep in her cunt the rude thrusts of the enormous cock continued, growing more rapid.
"Do you want me to fill your slutty cunt with cream?" Anjun asked in the dream.
Michele simply nodded, her head bobbing vigorously on the other organ.
"I want you to beg me, you slut!" Anjun demanded, still pounding inside her.
Michele then lifted her head from Atikur's cock, while the attentive lover still fondly and delicately licked and sucked the pulsating bud.
"Please give me your cum!" Michele plead, surprising both of her now awake lovers, who were mesmerized at the sight of Michele's wet dream.
"I want you to fill my slutty pussy with your hot spunk. I want to feel your big long hard dick explode inside my hungry cunt! I want you to spurt your seed inside my snatch, and then over my ass! Please!"
With that said, Michele's thighs began shaking, her one hand deep inside her, the other furiously rubbing her clitoris, as her mouth filled with the finger of Anjun.
As Michele came, her imaginary lovers' did too, and, at least in her mind, she once again tasted the sweet mouthful erupting from the penis in her mouth, as Anjun shouted "Yeah! feel that, you slut! Can you feel my hot cum in your cunt?"
"Yes," she murmured, smiling, as she then turned over, opened her eyes, and saw above her the glistening real life cocks of Atikur and Anjun, both of which were ready to fuck Michele senseless for the next several hours in nearly every position imaginable. Eventually though, after breakfasting on the cum of her young lovers, Michele had tired and was ready for a shower, which she then shared with both Atikur and Anjun, after which they dressed. As Michele's sari was now nothing but tattered rags, the brothers called Maurice, who sent over a very simple outfit for Michele to wear which consisted of a one piece white sheer top and short skirt, as well as a pair of four inch stiletto heels. Finally, after the three of them made love one final time for the morning, this time switching places, as Anjun fucked Michele's pussy, while behind her Atikur pummeled her asshole, the three of them headed out the door and caught a taxi to a cafe for lunch.
Elsewhere, in Chicago, Kincaid was arriving on the red eye flight from New York for an early morning meeting with his friend from the FBI who was leading the espionage investigation of Michele's now detained husband. The news about Barry's treason was the top headline for the last few days, especially in Chicago where such arrests are extremely rare. According to Kincaid's friend, who knew Kincaid, not as Kincaid the spy, but rather as Didier Ulysse the freelance reporter, the case against Barry was open and shut. Despite the claims by Barry of a French conspiracy to kidnap his wife, and then to frame him for spying, so as to remove him from the picture, so that his wife could be raped at the hands of strange men and women, there was no proof to backup his bizarre claims. When Kincaid met with the Special Agent in Charge, the SAC, in the early morning for breakfast, he told his friend, whom he had met during an investigation of industrial espionage in Paris, that what was most puzzling about the case was that Barry's wife, had seemingly disappeared in France; however, thanks to a trace from Barry's telephone records many months ago, as well a search of Michele's e-mail, the FBI believed that some of the claims of a French conspiracy were true, especially since there was nothing to connect Barry or Michele to the Russians.
Kincaid had somehow expected this revelation, but not this early in the investigation. He then asked the SAC, off the record, what his gut feeling was regarding the claims that this man "Kincaid" was somehow responsible for Michele's disappearance. It was at this point that the SAC revealed to Kincaid, how much the U.S. intelligence services knew about his secret life. The SAC said that Kincaid was France's most well known master hacker and spy, and that, through a variety of classified means, the CIA in Paris had been monitoring his movements in Paris for many years, but had yet to take a picture of him or his associate Luc. According to the CIA, the SAC said, Kincaid and Luc were too valuable of an asset to them, rather than the opposite, as Kincaid was one of the few foreign spies willing to take the risks that most American ones would refuse to do.
It was at this time that the SAC asked, with a knowing smile, just how much information 'Didier' would be willing to give the FBI, regarding Michele's current whereabouts, in exchange for the continued protection of Kincaid and Luc's espionage activities. He then informed 'Didier' that it was best for Michele to remain as a fugitive in France, rather than return home to likely aiding an abetting charges; however, as a favor he at least wanted an opportunity for the Paris FBI liaison to at least question Michele, in Paris, sometime today, after which, he promised, that Kincaid's CIA file, which he had personal possession of, would be 'accidently' destroyed. The SAC had long realized that Kincaid was a valuable asset to the Western nations in their battle against Eastern Asia's growing economic dominance. It was then that 'Didier' informed the SAC that all arrangements to interview Michele could be made through a woman the world knew simply as the Countess of Yorkshire, the now former Princess Marilyn, whose husband, the late Duke of Yorkshire, only recently died, leaving her to return to France where she was now the curator of the Paris Museum of Oriental Arts.
As he headed toward downtown Chicago, on the Blue Line train that headed in to the heart of the city, Kincaid remained in shock at the revelation, of what he had long suspected, that his identity as a spy was known by his adversaries. However, based upon the fact that he had been able to travel in and out of America freely, with his false passport, it was clear that the Americans found his worth as a spy more valuable than that of a prisoner, for he could, especially after all that he had done to lure Michele to Paris, have easily been held as the prime suspect in her 'kidnap.' Yet, as he exited the train, Kincaid could not help but admire the fact that the Americans felt his skills and movements were worthy of surveillance, and that, if they were good at that their jobs, then they would have quickly realized just how much she was enjoying her decadent filled vacation.
Finally, as he got on the elevator, to his fellow Frenchman's legal office, Kincaid decided not to announce his return to Paris so soon, for he needed to get word to his DGSE bosses that, as a result of the Motorola data heist, that the CIA likely had agents on the scene whom were now monitoring all of Luc and Michele's movements, all of whom would need to be quietly eliminated. In the mean time, Kincaid would have his friend quietly draw up and file divorce papers for Michele, thus eliminating a need for her to ever return to America, where, if she did, she would be quickly arrested and branded a traitor, just like her poor Barry.
Far across the Atlantic Ocean, after finishing their meal and coffee at the small cafe, Michele's attentive lovers told her that they want to nurture her artistic side and suggested that they visit again the Paris Institute of Oriental Arts, where a friend of theirs had arranged a special tour, for this day was not a holiday and the museum was likely to be particularly empty this morning. Once at the museum, the boys noted that, because of a lack of funding, the museum had, at best, a skeleton crew of guards on duty, and as a result, they were assured to have the entire museum to themselves. For about the next hour, Michele and her young lovers wandered around the empty museum, kissing and fondling each one of them, carefree in her revealing outfit, and feeling more than a little naughty in the knowledge that nothing else was below her skirt other her high-heels.
The boys eventually guided Michele to a collection of old Japanese masters first, taking care to make sure that they spent plenty of time silently strolling and casually examining all of the many details and features of the ancient woodblocks. As Michele sat on a marble bench, lost in the detail of one of paintings, she sensed for the first time an absence, for as she looked around she realized that she was was alone. Her sensation of being alone however, was suddenly interrupted by the sound of feet somewhere in the hall as she called out to the boys, but saw no one. Wondering where her young lovers were, and sensing they were toying with her, Michele continued to walk on as the footsteps followed, yet never once could she see their owner. Michele's heart soon began to beat faster as she found herself among the a collection of gray marble and clay male statues. At this point Michele sat down on a marble bench, brushing up against one of the marble statues, and called out again to Anjun and Atikur; however, this time she heard no footsteps. Yet, despite the silence and darkness of the room, she definitely felt the presence of someone else.
Leaning back, Michele's muttered "Probably one of the guards," when suddenly the remaining lights went dim, leaving only the sun to illuminate the dark room, as she felt and saw a pair of soft clay hands suddenly upon her shoulders as a masculine voice then whispered in her ear, "Don't look around."
Suddenly scared at the realization of what was to come, Michele obeyed as the hands began to wander down her arms and on to her breasts; then inside her top where the soft clay hands found her nipples ripe and firm to the touch. Wondering who it was behind her now, Michele started to turn in protest, but then stopped when she felt a tongue enter her ear first, which then traveled quickly down to her neck, the sensation of which made her relax and lean back into the strong clay arms behind her. Because of the darkness in the corner where she was sitting, Michele has no idea who (or what, for that matter) was doing this to her, yet she realized that she wanted it all to continue, especially considering that her pussy was again hungry for cock after looking at all of the nude paintings and male statues.
Closing her eyes and losing herself in the moment, the living statue behind her unsnapped the buttons in front of her top and took her full breasts neatly into his cold hands, cupping their undersides while his fingers continued to play with the nipples. Michele soon realized, as she savored the cold clay skin of her mystery lover, that she had spread her legs as her pussy and breasts now begin to tingle with anticipation of what was sure to come, as she reached her arms up, back and around a bald clay head, guiding its owner's clay lips around her neck, her shoulders and arms. As she began to squirm on the bench, Michele's short skirt rode up her hips, exposing her now-glistening cunt to all of those other male statues. Looking at the staues, all of whom had realistic eyes, Michele could not help but wonder to herself if the lifeless men were all staring at the pink wet spot between her legs.
Soon the strong cold clay hands found her wet spot, which then began to pull her wet pussy lips apart and plunge its cold clay fingers inside, the suddeness of which caused Michele to moan as her hips began to writhe at the cold and hot sensations she was now feeling between her legs, the sensation of which caused shivers all around her body. Yet, despite the chilled air of the museum, beads of perspiration were now dripping down Michele's forehead, face, breasts, all of which were destined to soon mingle with the juices between her legs as she propped her feet on the edge of the marble bench, closed her eyes and then opened her legs wide to the exploration of those strong cold clay fingers. Upon opening her eyes, Michele looked up and saw a handsome, flawlessly muscular, naked, and gray clay skinned bald man staring into her eyes, the sight of which caused her to bury her tongue in his warm human mouth, as he responded in kind with a deep, soulful kiss as only two strangers in absolute lust could understand.
The naked statue then moved to the other side of the bench and knelt in front of her, whereupon, without a word, he bent over and slides his warm tongue into her cunt, while at the same time he pulled her lips back to better suck her clit. As the statue feasted on her pussy, Michele placed her hands on his hard clay head in order to guide every wonderful stroke and movement, all of which immediately causes her drenched pussy to explode in a terrific orgasm, causing her to scream out, the sounds of which echod all throughout the museum and down to where both Atikur and Anjun were meeting with an Englishman in preparation for her second surprise. After convulsing for what seemed like minutes, Michele finally came to her senses and looked down at the statue, who was wearing a smile along with some of her love juices on his clay face.
Glancing down further, Michele saw the statue's large hairless cock, which was now presenting itself as ready for what Michele suspected would be truly a memorable fuck as she quickly looked around, as if expecting a guard to show up ("surely they must of heard me scream?"). She then looks back and found herself again staring at the stiff, swollen rock cock. Then, with a quick dart of her eyes upward, meeting the strangers' gaze, and then back down, she reached out and pulled his smooth and cold thick penis closer to her, rolling her tongue around the head, flicking the little crack and tasting his already thick precum.
Inching a little more to the edge of the bench, Michele then pulled his full length into her mouth (well, almost full length for it was a bit larger than she had expected) and begins moving her lips up and down the smooth rock shaft, cupping his rock balls in one hand and playing a number on his scrotum with the other. Wondering if the statue could actually feel her tongue and fingers, Michele glanced up and saw that his eyes were now closed and his head was tilted back slightly, seemingly enjoying her every stroke. By now the statue's large hands were on her shoulders as she bent forward, attempting to take ever more of him into her mouth and throat without cracking one of her teeth on the smooth hard surface of his cock.
Soon though, she literally felt his cock begin to swell further and pulse, as he then pulled his dick out of her mouth and reached out with both hands and pulled her to her feet, directing her to the Rodin statue that was on loan to the museum, whereupon he turned her around and bent her over so that her hands were on the pedestal, after which she felt him enter her pussy from the rear, filling up every inch of her cunt with his old clay cock, as she pushed then back to meet his thrusts.
His hands were now on Michele's hips, directing every stroke, deeper, deeper, deeper, as Michele, at the same time found herself pushing back hard against him, feeling the end of his cold cock against her insides, and loving every moment of it. As always happens though, Michele did not want any of it to stop but, all at once, the statue reached underneath to her clit and, stroking it, brought her to yet another climax – stronger than before. Then, as the last wave subsided, she felt him pull out and shoot his load all over her ass and legs, which he then gently rubbed into her now moist sweat covered skin.
Turning around Michele took her statues face into her hands and his tongue into her mouth and kisses him deeply, warmly, but then, without a word, the statue suddenly turned back, its cock still erect, and disappeared into the shadows and was gone. Speechless, Michele simply watched him go, when suddenly the lights of the museum come back on, as she heard the approaching sound of a tour group. Before the group could reach the spot where she was standing, Michele grabbed her dress from off the bench and put it back on just seconds before the tour group arrived, and then sat back down on the bench. After watching the tour group pass, Michele realized that an envelope had been dropped by a member of the tour group. Looking again at the Rodin, Michele then noticed that the envelope had her name on it, the contents of which simply said "follow the tour group." With a mischievious grin, Michele watched as the tour group turned a corner and headed toward a room marked "Special Exhibit." However, by the time Michele arrived at the exhibit, the tour group had seemingly disappeared.
Wondering briefly where the tour group had gone, Michele suddenly found herself lost in a huge painting that depicted maybe a dozen nude men and women cavorting in a Springtime glen. After several minutes, never realizing that there was someone watching her, she next stopped in front of a realistic sculpture of a nude man and woman in a deep embrace. Their polished granite surfaces reminded her of the passion she wished she could have continued sharing with her now disappeared statue lover, had they ever had a chance to be in such an embrace. Finally, Michele found herseld in front of a gigantic abstract painting that was filled with massive swirls of intense colors, when suddenly a voice whispered in her ear, "I'm not sure if this is what the artist had in mind, but the power of the painting is, for me, absolutely sensual and even erotic. The crimson reds and flesh colors evoke images in my minds eye of all sorts of body parts: open vulva... rounded buttocks... erect penises... rubbery nipples... wet lips and tongues."
Gasping with surprise, Michele turned around and was met with the gaze of a muscular, dark haired, older and handsome Englishman. The look the Englishman gave her hypnotized her mind, and, as she pulled her eyes away from the magnetic image toward his. Meeting her gaze the stranger then whispered to Michele, his eyes now firmly focused on her hard nipples and flushed look of her recent orgasm, her aura already giving off a sweet womanly scent.
"I can't help but to let my eyes travel down your body. You too have sex permeating your experience of this painting, for I can see the front of your blouse is tautly stretched over a pair of upthrusting and hard nipples. In staring at the result of your interest in the painting, I almost think I can almost smell the essence of your juices that are now flowing in your pussy." The comment of which Michele simply responded to with a blush.
Then, looking over Michele's shoulder, the stranger noted that the tour group had moved on, after which he said, "I've never been a particularly brave or up-front person with strangers, but here I am alone in Paris, next to a beautiful woman who does not know me, nor, do I suspect, will scold me for being so presumptuously brazen for what I am about to do."
With those words, the Englishman took a deep breath and moved quietly towards Michele, paying no mind to the dozens of art lovers who now suddenly appeared and wandered around the gallery behind them, as he sidled up silently beside her and turned his face toward hers, saying in a husky whisper "the painting is having the same effect on you that it is on me". And with that, Michele let her head turn slowly downward and stared at his tented crotch. When she looked back up, he had turned towards her as they stared into each other's eyes for what seems like hours. At that point, part of Michele wanted to run away as fast she could, but instead, she took his hand in hers, and with moist palms, started to lead him across the floor. Then, with a seemingly bewildered look, the Englishman started to ask a question, at which point Michele, taking control over the situation, reached over and put her finger over his lips to silence him, pressing the tip of her finger between his lips, and against his teeth. After a moment of resistance, his teeth opened, and she slid her finger in over his tongue and wormed it around slowly.
Taking control, the Englishman then took her hand and led her a short distance, until they were standing in front of the elevator. Getting in, the Englishman pressed the lowest button, which took them down to a dark vaulted hallway. To Michele it seemed as if they had gone back in time to the Middle Ages. But the Englishman knew his way around, having been an art student in Paris many years ago. In the dark, they shuffled down the hallway, and the Englisman opened a door into a huge storeroom, lit by bare bulbs way above their heads in the echo-filled arches overhead. The eerieness and mysterious of it all only served to make Michele's pussy tingle with excitement.
Taking contol again, just as they passed through the door into this room, Michele circled behind him and reached around to cup his crotch, quickly confirming that he had not lost his erection. A quick squeeze, and then she pushed him forward from behind, until finally they were standing in an area surrounded by erotic African paintings and Greek sculptures. Looking around the Englishman explained that this was where the museum stored away the masterpieces that were considered too libidinous to show to the public, but kept them on display for their own research.
Standing in awe and looking around the room, Michele felt her inhibitions disappear and dropped suddenly to her knees, the cold hard concrete creating a sharp contrast to the feelings coursing through her veins, and pulled open the button at the top of the Englishman's fly, then rapidly yanked down the zipper. Then, without wasting a moment, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his tight designer jockey shorts and pulled down his pants and shorts all at once. As his shorts fell, his cock thrusted up into the air, arching up toward the faraway ceiling, at which time Michele told him to step out of his loafers and pants, and then blew a stream of air onto his cockhead, which was fat with his hot blood engorging it.
Looking up, Michele tickled his balls, forcing him to spread his legs, as she saw that her new lover seemed to be in a trance as she pursed her lips over the tip of his cock and gently milked his balls. She then took one hand and pressed the tips of her fingers up behind his balls and pressed them upwards and forwards right in front of his asshole, while at the same time she sucked a dollop of precome up through his rigid cock, drooling it out onto her lips. The taste of the Englishman's precum was so salty and enticing that, when she drew her head away, a thin string of his precum stretched between her mouth and his throbbing cock. The Englishman's precum was clear and glistening, like a glass-blowers string of hot drawn glass. Suddenly, Michele thrust her head forward and sucked his cock in as far as she could stand and gave him a series of short, hard sucks that made his knees shake, after which she then pulled away.
As Michele pulled away, the Englishman looked down at her in seeming disappointment; but, sensing his disappointment, she looked up and smiled broadly, her lips still wet with his precum, and then got off her knees and led him over to a large stone sculpture depicting two figures that were twice life size. The sculpture depicted a man sitting on a smooth stone, and a voluptuous woman seated on his lap, with her her back against his muscular chest, impaled on his cock. Actually, all one could see were his balls, but it took little imagination for Michele to picture his penis far up inside her belly, because her face was turned upward and she was obviously in the throes of ecstasy.
Now desperate for more cock, Michele pulls the Englishman's turtleneck up and over his head, and then told him to climb up onto the sculpture and seat himself on the woman's lap. The marble must have felt icy cold on the Brit's sweaty ass, for Michele could see him squirm as his cock bobbed around. As he finally settled into a comfortable position, Michele teased him with a striptease that was not in the least subtle. By now Michele was feeling so absolutely brazen and wild, and not the least bit guilty or bashful about it, loving the feeling of being so much in control. Not once has she given him any choice about what is happening, not that she thought that he would complain. Far from it.
Naked now, Michele caressed her breasts and pushed them up toward her face, so that she could just barely stretch out her tongue to flick at the tips of her nipples, which were now stimulated into blunt points like large pencil erasers. She then dropped her right hand down onto her cunt, and squated down, with her knees spread wide, watching him watch her, as she made long strokes up and down between the lips of her cunt. At the same time, Michele's right hand continued to milk at her breasts, pinching hard on her nipples, while simulatenously her head swung back and forth splashing her long dark hair around her shoulders.
Directly behind her, Michele was aware that there was another sculpture of a nude life size male, standing straight up and with a a full circumcised erection, the ridges of which, like her statue lover earlier, were polished yet textured. He was also made of glistening bronze. Without looking back, Michele shuffled her high heeled feet, gradually propelling herself backward until she could feel the cold hard metal phallus on her rear. She then leaned forward and grasped her knees as she ever so slowly let her weight shift backwards as the bronze cock of this ancient god gradually spread her labia and then penetrated up into her vagina. The extreme contrast of hot and cold again sent shivers up and down Michele's spine, as one hand reached down to stoke her clitoris as she savored the feel of the hard folds of skin and the raised veins on this Greek god's magnificent metallic cock.
When Michele looked up at the Englishman, his fist was around his hard cock, jacking himself off, the sight of which caused Michele to sternly command him to stop, so that he could save all of his juices for her. Although the Englishman seemed surprised by her determination, he nevertheless followed orders, as he placed his hands on the outside of his thighs, gripping the stone thighs of the woman he was seated upon. His cock now glistened from the precum that Michele had drawn out and onto his cock, while Michele made a few slow thrusts back and forth on the bronze cock, savoring the foreign feel, as the metal warmed and became slick with her watery juices. By now the smell of Michele's sex was all around her and the cold and barely lit room as she pulled herself off of the cock, and then leaned over to it and lapped up some of the wet coating, after which she sauntered over to the Englishman, climbed up the sculpture, facing away toward the silent god the that she has just finished fucking, straddled his legs and then finally dropped down all at once onto his cock.
To Michele the Englishman's cock seemed to be just as hard as the god-cock, but it certainly is not as cold. Thanks to her two prior fucks of the statues, the Englishman's cock slid easily into her without any real resistance. There is now no stopping Michele now, as she had now found her second wind, as from behind her the nameless stranger grasped her hips firmly as they worked together to lift and drop her, up and down, in and out, while in front of her, her breasts swung around wildly. Instead of trying to cup her breasts, Michele's hands were on her lover's knees for balance, as she looked down to see his beautiful wet cock revealing itself and then hiding away, again and again, as her swollen cunt lips tightly wrapped themselves around it, trying to pull him back in each time he pulled out. Below her Michele marveled at his hairy balls, which were now coated and mated with her dripping juices, while below his balls were the stone balls of the Greek god underneath all of this frenzied action, framed in a perfect contrast of the absolute stillness and Michele and the Englishman's coupling above.
Since his grip on Michele's waist was obviously firm, she reached down with one hand and started fondling his balls, and with the other she went back to rubbing and pinching her nipples. The Englishman's balls were wonderfully sensitive, Michele discovered, because after only a few seconds of her treatment, he was already orgasming. As he started bucking around in ecstasy, Michele needed to reach above her to hold onto the head of the woman above them, pulling herself upward and holding her position as he thrusted upward several more times, and then fell backwards, his cock quickly slipping out.
Looking back, Michele saw the Englishman was dazed, but the action for her was far from over, as she had yet to experience her own orgasm. Now that she was firmly in control, Michele certainly was not going to leave that situation unremedied as she pulled him up and took up a new position on the sculpture, leaning her torso forward onto the granite woman's thigh, as her head rested just in front of the commingled crotch, with Michele's lips now almost within reach of the stone man's balls. Her rear was now positioned just over the woman's knee, as Michele ordered the Englishman to orally pleasure her. "Yes mistress," was all he said as the Englishman stood on the floor and found that his head was right at the level of Michele's cunt. As he stared at her swollen cunt and inhaled the strong aroma and musk of their juices, Michele squeezed her cunt muscles a couple of times, until she could feel his pearly semen slipping out and down onto the stone; however, unlike most times, she is now in no mood to wait, and ordered for him to get to work.
The Englishman's first few licks are hesitant, as Michele realized that he isn't as used to tasting a man's cum as she was, but it did not take him too long to get into the swing of it, as pretty soon he was lapping in long swipes that started on her clitoris and ended up all the way up to her navel. It was a dreamy feeling, but eventually Michele asked him to concentrate on her clitoris, which he did eagerly, as their combined juices continue to drip down onto his tongue and she felt two of his fingers push into her. From below and inside of her, Michele could hear squishing sounds as the Englishman's fingers probes around and in her, as she described to him exactly where her G spot was. Then, after a few attempts, the Englishman found Michele's magic spot, as she begged him to rub it firmly with a circular motion.
As he rubbed her G spot, Michele reached behind and pulled her ass cheeks apart so that he could now have total free access. With her ass cheeks spread wide, the Englishman's thumb lightly caresses her asshole. By now Michele's clitoris, cunt, and asshole are all being stimulated at once, as she added to this stimulation by massaging her breasts into the stone woman's thigh, while she hypnotically stared ahead into the joining of the inanimate woman's stone cunt with the Greek god's stone balls. As Michele stretched her tongue out to lick at the cold juncture between the two of them, from below the Englishman nibbled hard on her clitoris and sucked her labia up into his mouth, the sensation of which forced Michele to immediately go over the edge and into an incredible orgasm, squeezing down hard on her ass cheeks with her hands as wave after wave of pleasure release washed over her, even as his fingers continued to vibrate over her G spot.
As she came, Michele gulped in air between the electric pulses of each pounding wave, feeling the pleasure as her cunt clenched down on the fingers in her cunt, while at the same time she felt her asshole palpitating around the tip of his thumb. This time around Michele's orgasm lasts for so long, that she nearly fell off the statue, but was quickly caught by the strong hands of the Englishman who held her firm until finally her orgasmic tremors subsided and she was able to take a moment to get her wits about her.
Once she was sober again, Michele pushed the Englishman's face and hands away. She then gave him a deep kiss, sliding her tongue deep into his mouth, after which she quickly hopped down off the sculpture, and while he stood there in admiration as she slowly put on her clothes and listened to the Englishman tell her how beautiful she was. A few minutes later, after Michele and the Englishman, who was by now dressed, exchanged several more deep and soulful kisses as he escorted her to the elevator and told her to visit the exhibits on the second floor, after which he kissed her once more and walked away, exiting back through the door into the exhibit room. However, just before she stepped into the elevator, the Englishman whispered to her that she should look closely at all of the exhibits on the second floor, after which he stressed that she should definitly have some tea at the cafe. The Englishman then kissed Michele deeply one last time, and then suggested that with any luck they would meet again; however this time it would be his turn to be in control, the prophecy of which Michele sensed would be soon.
As the elevator door closed, Michele looked up to see a camera looking straight down on her. Knowing now, after two heated sexual interludes, that her Indian lovers and Kincaid had planned this little museum adventure, Michele could only guess what to expect on the second floor, which today featured a showing of androgenous artwork from an artist named "Eloise.'
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