DoctoroMindbender

Sir? Now that was something Connor didn't hear outside the bedroom. Well. it was going to be like that then. "Hmmmm ..." he said, while stroking his chin. He was torn. The offer to draw her wasn't a come on, he really did find her fascinating, her body fascinating. But, he also desired to see her kneeling in front of him, covered in his cum - that had been so fun last time, and he knew how much more fun they could have now that they had time and space. For now, it was the former. Tonight there was plenty of time. He took his place behind his easel, choosing a piece of graphite. He knew almost know one working today used physical mediums, but he found working digitally so impersonal, lacking the visceral feel of the tools in his, physically touching the canvas. "Strike a dancer's pose, if you would. One you don't mind holding. Feel free to borrow any piece of furniture you need." He said.

Connor smiled back. It's amazing, how titillating the promise can be. Seeing her, dressed in red leather, he wants nothing more then to strip it off of her, but there is something to be said for the waiting, for the anticipation. "I don't know, it looks like I'm the one being given a tour ..." he said with a wry grin " ... and I'm completely overdressed to boot." As she spun back around, he pulled her close, kissing her on the lips, warm and soft, sultry with the promise of something more. Pulling away, he gestured with his arms "Behold, my domain." the sweeping gesture covering the open planned living areas. He pointed to a landscape, then a couple of live drawings, whose models are carefully posed to keep any taboo bits covered, if barely. They are competent work, and show a good sense of form, and emotion. "I painted those." He was out of practice, but his work still possessed a primal raw quality. "There's a balcony out back. It's a great view when the weather's nicer. My bedroom is the second door on the left. I hang my bolder pieces in there. Perhaps I'll show them to you later." He said with a wink.

Connor smiled, taking a moment to drink in Aurora's presence. The coat was a bold choice.He wondered what she had on underneath, if anything at all - given her boldness of their last encounter. His attire was, decidedly less bold, if also less formal then the Christmas party. His shirt was open at the first button, giving Aurora a peak of her chest underneath, wide legged khaki chino's cinched at the waist with a belt - cutting the figure of a mid-century painter, somewhere off the Spanish coast - still as frumpled as his poor suits, but he wore them well and cut a dashing figure. "Some of them are mine" he said "And some were gifts or trades from friends, people I've met along the way. Maybe I can play docent, give you the tour?" He wasn't an art collector. He never had the gut instincts for art speculation, and truthfully he found the entire exercise distasteful - reducing art to a bulk commodity. Of course, that was also an easy position to take when even with a good paying job he didn't have that kind of money! "How rude of me. Please, may I take your coat." He offered.

@Harmony Frost It was a big night, for both members of the Richards household. The open plan living room looked a little too open, with select pieces of furniture pushed to the side, in the cleared space stood an easel, along with a selection of art supplies. Connor hadn't done are professionally in years, but he still kept it up as a hobby, and some of his works adorned the walls of the apartment he shared with his daughter. Speaking of his daughter, she stood near the door, winter coat on, her backpack strapped on. "So, your model. Is it the woman I saw you with at the Christmas party" Sakura asked. Connor nodded "Yes, her name's Aurora." "No fair. You said I couldn't have any boys over" Sakura chided, jokingly. They both knew that wasn't true - Sakura was free to have any boys, girls or anybody else she wanted at the house. Despite the corporate suburban lifestyle, Connor still held the the principles of the free spirited artist of his youth, and was not so short sited to forget what it was like to be a teenager. "What about you?" he asked back "Expecting anybody special at Danielle's tonight?" Sakura blushed, and shook her head. Connor smiled "You will when you're ready. Don't fret too much about it." Much to Sakura's relief, the conversation was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. "That's Danielle's mother waiting outside" Sakura said, checking the text on her phone. "Love you. Don't be afraid to call if you get into any trouble." Connor called, as Sakura hurried her way into the hall. With that done, Connor took one last look over the room. His supplies were arranged, in place. A couple of bottles of wine sat on the small bar separating the kitchen from the dining room. Smooth jazz floated through his temporary studio.

He reached over pulling a pair of towels from a pile left conveniently by management. One, he hands to Aurora, before beginning to wipe his own face. Sam smiled weakly, exhausted "I'd enjoy that" he replied.

He screamed out his pleasure, long thick ropes of cum pulsing from his cock, covering her waiting tits, and sending overzealous splash to her waiting mouth. Connor smiles, admiring his work, the last few stray drops of cum dripping down onto Aurora's stomach. He leaned down, taking one of her tits in his hands, squeezing it just enough to get a good seal with his mouth, as he leaned down sucking on her nipple, enjoying the taste of bare flesh mixing with his own cum. Finally, spent, he collapses beside Aurora. His breath was heavy, heart pounding on his chest, the color cherry blossoms rising across his chest and face, flush. If he were 10 years younger, he would fancy another go, but for now he is happy to bask in the post orgasmic bliss, sharing it with her. With the clarity of release, and the eye of an artist, he sees the dancer, the tight muscles beneath the softness of time, memories a body never forgets. "You should sit for me sometime." he offered, it's sincerity clear no hint of playful entendre no hidden meetings or agenda - just a wish to draw the woman before him. Though, if it led to another night like this, he would be content.

Connor was riding on the edge, feeling Aurora's orgasm take her, his whole body shuddering with hers, but he was experienced, prided himself on being considerate, even in the throws of passion he held back, at the precipice, even if it took all his self control to hold onto that moment of pleasure, the tension, to not give in to the release. Not yet. "Where ... ohh ... " Connor moaned "... where do you want ... my cuuumm..." Indeed, he wanted it inside of her, to feel the release surrounded by her warmth, but he also imagined her beautiful breasts covered in the proof of their love making, finishing the job her beautiful mouth had started.

Connor pulled her close, his fingers digging into her back, leaving a series of small red marks that tomorrow will be small purples bruises, marking the intensity of their sex. With her change in position, the new access, his hips moved faster, long strokes pushing his cock fully inside of her, the gentleness replaced by raw animal yerning and burning passion. He embraced her kiss fully, letting his tongue run over her lips, pushing into her mouth, a kiss as hungry and messy as their fucking.

Connor pulled her tight into the kiss, savoring the shared taste of their love making, feeling her breasts compress into his chest. He knew that his deep passionate kiss was making him as messy as she was, but there was something exciting about that. She pulled back, and he smiled warmly. “Now fuck me. Please,” He cradled her head in his hand, letting his thumb rub small circles behind her ear, where it connected to the side of her head. With the other he took her hand, guiding it towards his cock, softly wrapping it around his member. It is soft, yet hard, and warm. Together, they line it up with the entrance to Aurora's pussy, rubbing his cock against the lingering wetness from her last orgasm. Together, they slide it past her opening, inside of her. He thrusts, long and slow, gently pushing his manhood into her. He starts slow, steady, long thrusts. With his arms, soft but still strong he pulled her close, holding her body next to his, feeling them make contact as he fucks her. He gently moaned in her ear.

Connor feels the pressure on his head, as his hair is grabbed, happily letting himself be guided by her hands, his own squeezing her sides to steady himself against her thrusting. His tongue maintains it's fast, hungry pace, not relenting on her clit. The softness, and deliberate movements, replaced by a passionate fueled rhythm. He can feel Aurora's body start to tense, feel her flesh starting to tremble next to his. He moans gently into her sex, wanting nothing more then to bring her to the brink, past it, into the bliss of a white hot climax, to return the pleasure she had given him.

Her look does not escape Connor, who is returning it in kind, letting his eyes trace up her body: The shape of her legs. Her pussy, left exposed in this position for their mutual enjoyment. Her stomach, the softness inviting. Her breasts, uncovered and free. And of course, her the beauty of her face. Connor kneels beside the couch. He brings his hands up to her sex. His fingers caress the delicate flesh, just outside her labia. Soft, delicate movements, the hands of an artist, moving the with the same deft touch they would to shape clay, or smudge charcoal. Nimble fingers part the way, exposing her inner most secrets to the artist eyes, allowing him to consider his canvas. He exhales, heavy and slow, the warm letting the puff of warm air surround her clit, now unprotected. Connor places several small kisses, and makes a few short exploratory licks, meeting Aurora's eyes to gauge her approval. Now, with more confidence, a vision of his art, he commits fully. Connor uses his tongue, applying it with the deftness of a brush applying thick layers of it's medium. Long, heavy strokes, wet and messy, letting the very tip of his tongue leave a flourish on each stroke, curling up against her clitoris. Finding his rhythm, he moves faster, lapping up Roe's juices, letting them flow down his lips.

Connor's body tenses all at once, before feeling the release, a hot pulsing climax. There was something that turned him on about watching a woman work his shaft with her own hand, so eager for the warm liquid that she pumps it into her own mouth. He breaths heavily, his heart still pumping in his chest, even as his manhood softens in her grasp, it's load expended. Connor bends down, and places a soft kiss on Roe's lips, enjoying the taste of her lips mixed with the lingering taste of his own cum. He smiles at her, gently touching her face as he does, his own face flush from the post orgasm rush of endorphins and dopamine "It was, Aurora. Please, let me return the favor."

Connor watches her work, waiting for his turn to return the favor, imagining the softness of her against his lips, the taste of her nectar. Noticing how sensitive her neck was before, he brushes against it again, caressing her with the back of his hand. Connor had always prided himself on being a giving partner, but the truth was he really did enjoy giving them pleasure. Soon though, even these thoughts are lost in the stroking of her tongue, and then the warm embrace of her mouth, as he feels the eagerness in her motions. Connor, driven by instinct rather then conscious thoughts, traces down the curve of her ear with the lightest of touches, bringing his fingers down to her ear lobes, rubbing small circles against the flesh. An intimate, tender gesture. Her speed increasing, he feels the longing within him grow, but something else, the tingling pleasure rising within. With his free hand, he supports the back of her neck, not forcing her closer or trying to control her movement. There is something exciting about loosing that control to the passions of another. He is completely subsumed, the heavy sounds of his breathing, and moaning mix with the noise of Aurora's hungry mouth upon him. Quiet, short grunts turning into long, loud moans, unconcerned about who might hear, voicing his approval. The heat of his loins, the the trembling of his body are unmistakable, as he struggles to stay on the precipice of climax, draw out those moments of rising pleasure just before climax. "I'm .... close ...." Connor moans out, not just as a warning or a promise, but offering her the choice of where she wants to receive his gift ...

Connor takes a moment to admire Aurora as the dress falls around her. He admires the shape of her breasts, they looks so soft warm and inviting. He takes in the curve of her hips, sultry, he already knew what they could do and the thought of more excites him. Connor could sit here, and look at that body for hours, but it is not to be. The soft touch of her lips on his cock, fill him with the initial rush of pleasure and adrenaline. He throws back his head, moaning his approval. Looking down, he meets her eyes, staring up from behind the trimmed row of pubic hair. The soft sucking on the head of his cock, send visible shutters through his body. With one hand, he gently brushes the hair from her face, letting his fingers graze the skin of her cheek. He sees that look in her eyes. He doesn't know what she's up to exactly, but Connor has never suffered from lack of bravery in the bedroom. He shoots back a mischievous half grin of his own, and nods his approval for what ever deviant things Aurora has planned.

Connor lips his lip, watching those nimble hands work, something hot about letting himself be stripped, while he gently lets his fingers ever so slightly part the lips of her sex, moving up in down in a slow steady rhythm. But, it was rude not to help. Kicking off his shoes, freshly scuffed from the night's activities, is easy enough. With his free hand reaches behind Aurora, begins to pull the zipper on her dress, his mind already imagining what she'll look like once he peels her out of her dancing dress. His shirt opens, revealing the chest beneath. The hardness and contours of his abs can be seen beneath the bit of softness that has begun to conceal them from too much easy living, and if Connor is being completely honest the onset of middle age. A small, trimmed line of hair works it's way down from his pecks, tracing a trail to the top of his pants, guiding Aurora to what lays beneath them.

Madame DuBois was a fool. If he was still painting professionally, he'd of absolutely asked Aurora to sit for him. It had been almost a decade at this point, but he still might - he still painted though just as a hobby. Of course, he was married back then - not that it mattered. He and Yuriko, casting themselves as the adventurous libertine artistes, had always had an open marriage. Connor, feeling her wetness soaking into his pants, nodded, "That would be wonderful idea." Taking her hand, Connor led her through the crowd, briskly weaving their way to one of the private rooms, not wanting to loose their ... momentum. As soon as they had entered through the door way, Connor wrapped his arms around Aurora, pulling her close, wanting to feel the rising of her chest next to his as she breathed. He embraced her in a kiss, the hot passionate desire of a younger couple, passion enough to keep them warm even as the snow fell outside. He managed, somehow, to pull the door closed with his foot, slamming it with a soft thud. The door now secured, he brought his hand back up to the wetness between her legs, letting his fingers tease the outer lips of her labia.

Connor managed to not step on any toes, which if he was being honest, was a surprise. Connor helped support the weight of her leg, such is the give and take of life. But so is giving into temptation, when it has been freely offered. Connor pulled back the edge of her dress, just the extra inch he needed, letting his cock grind against her, separated by the soft texture of his suit pants and whatever undergarments she was wearing ... or not, their own bodies, pressed together obscuring his view. Connor whispered gently in her ear, still in his heavily accented French "Before I was an international man of mystery, I was a struggling art student from Sheffield with dreams of making it big in Paris." Connor, gently sucked on the lobe of her ear, answering the unspoken question, before it could be asked "After a while, trading landscapes for crash space loses it's je ne sais quoi. Did you always want to be a chef?" Connor traced small kisses down her neck, while he waited for her answer.

This took Connor back. He brought his hands low, loosely holding her hips. Aurora could feel the hardness of his manhood, even through the layers of cloth, as he returned the gesture, grinding back into her - his heart beating his chest, pressed into her. What he lacked in natural rhythm and skill he made up for in enthusiasm. Despite the slight softness that was starting to encroach on his midsection Connor was still in good shape, not an athlete but more then up to the task at hand. He knew she was a chef, so he took a chance she spoke the Lingua Franca - if not, well at least he knew he could whisper sweet nothings to her in an alien tongue later. "I used to be a monster in the Parisian discotechs" he answered back in French. He was fluent, even if he wasn't practicing it as much as he should, but his accent was hopeless.

Connor gave a warm, full belly laugh, usually he was the ones cracking bad jokes. He took a sip of the eggnog, letting the creamy liquid and flakes of nutmeg pass his lips. Considering his next move carefully, leaning in, "After that last dance we could retire to one of the booths ... maybe somewhere more private" he said, then leaning over he continued whispering in her ear "Or less private, if that's you prefer." He gently squeezed her thigh again, to punctuate his suggestion. Wanting to let the question hang in the air, leaving the answer to entice Aurora a while longer, he stood, offering his hand in a formal gesture, with a clearly exaggerated flourish for effect, that is not as suave as the alcohol in his veins led him to believe, but was still endearing in it's own way "May I have this dance?"

Connor was just happy that his daughter wasn't a deal breaker, it had been before. He suspected the subject of his ex-wife will come up, as it usually does when someone realizes he has a daughter. It isn't a big deal, but he was happy to dodge the question for the time being. Connor slid his hand farther, gently squeezing the inside of Aurora's thigh. Meeting her gaze, he answered "Well, it's past midnight and I haven't turned into a pumpkin, yet."

"Yeah she's mine" Connor smiled, unable to hide his pride, "and she's fourteen. I wouldn't worry, she was too busy depleting the buffet to notice anything else." The bartender laid a glass down on the bar. In it was thick, creamy eggnog, fortified with dark rum, dusted with nutmeg and garnished with a cinnamon stick - holiday decadence in a glass. Connor takes a sip, nodding approvingly, leaving a line of eggnog along his upper lip. "Although you didn’t seem to mind" .... Connor teased back "If I must, luv". Distracted, momentarily, he was caught off guard when Aurora went for his tie. But, he did not squander the opportunity, letting her pull him close, then leaning to cover the gap he placed a kiss upon her lips. He had meant it to be quick, but he couldn't help himself and lingered, passion simmering just beneath the surface. Holding the kiss, he let his free hand rest on Aurora's knee, his heart pounding waiting for her reaction.

Was that innuendo? Was she just hungry? Probably both, Connor decided. He didn't want to leave, for even a moment, in fact he wanted to go further but first there was something important to take care of. "I'll meet you at the bar. I need to check in with my wingwoman" Connor said, nodding towards a teenage girl parked in the corner over a now empty plate. She was clearly done for the night, but was not ready to admit it. Roe couldn't hear his conversation with Sakura, obviously, but his body language spoke volumes. He knelt down to her level, draping his suit jacket around her shoulders. It was clear that whatever his exact words were they were clearly loving and tender. Connor placed a paternal kiss on his daughter's forehead, and led her through the crowded hall, using his superior experience and size to cut a path through the crowd. He waved as Sakura disappeared into the lobby, then loosened his tie and waded back into the scrum, weaving his way back towards the bar. "Nog me, my good man" Connor called out to the bartender, sliding a folded bill across the bar "And one for yourself."

"Aye, luv. Maybe I can return the favor" Connor replied wryly. Choices. Choices. Connor had so many choice. He could move his hands up, touch the softness of her breasts. Or he could move his hand down, he had already thoroughly explored her shapely leg but there was something else he wanted, right between them, and with her dress riding up it would be so easy. Not yet, he needed to make sure she was okay with that first. Instead, he traced a slow trail up her belly, just to the spot where her cleavage ends, and the swell of her breasts rise from her chest. He cupped one of them, his thumb and forefinger feeling her nipple trying so to push itself free of her dress, rubbing it gently. Feeling her body tense under his touch, he knew that he had chosen wisely. He took the final step in, pressing her bodies to his, so that only a few thin layers of cloth separate them from each other. Connor wrapped an arm around Roe, taking her weight into his arms. They possess a gentleness, and the softness that comes with too much easy living, but they are still strong. He kissed her, a long lingering kiss, tender but with the passion that brings with a jolt like electricity. As he kissed her, he dipped her back dramatically ... they were supposed dancing after all.

It had been too long since Conner had let himself be this indulgent, and he was loving every moment of it. He took a moment to admire her ass, the shapeliness of it, the movement. But he didn't dare take longer, for he also saw it as an invitation. He took the final step, letting her grind against him. Feeling her against him, not seeing her pull away, he pushed a little more, gyrating his hips, trying to match her rhythm. He could feel the eyes upon him, but it didn't bother him. He was having enjoying himself. Roe was clearly enjoying her self, as far as Connor was concerned it was the people staring who had a problem. Connor gently laid a hand on her side, the spot where her hip meets with her side, and waited for her response.

Connor slammed back his last swallow of whiskey, and stole a glance at his daughter as he was dragged onto the dance floor. Sakura was face down, focused on the carefully arranged pyramid of food in front of her, playing a careful game Jinga created by her own hubris. Recent pop hits were not Connor's first choice, but he allowed himself to get lost in the beat, the rhythm of Roe's hips and her eyes. He casually popped the buttons on his jacket, freeing his hips to move with the music. His arms moved loosely, though not with the skill or grace, but made up for it with unbridled enthusiasm. Occasionally he shifted right, or left, with a little two-step of his own, a simple jig. Connor had no illusions about what he looked like, however he didn't care. He met Roe's gaze when offered, smiling back at her. He wondered, if just for a moment, whether this was winning her over or turning her off ... he dismissed the thought just as quickly, this was fun either way. The adrenaline rush of dancing, mixed with the whiskey warm in his stomach and the exhilaration of dancing with a pretty woman. A chuckle escaped his lips. He stepped in close, shimmying, his arms raised, locking his eyes with hers.