Road Trip 10

Admittedly, what I had just done was quite evil, stopping just as she was about to experience her first climax where her fingers hadn’t played both the main and the supporting parts. I stopped, just as she was about to climax under my treatment, leaving her panting and in disappointment. I even declared that I would follow her to make sure she wouldn’t have a solo flight to solve her problem. 

Of course, while it was evil, it was certainly not undeserved after all those secret nighttime visits that went quite a bit farther than what was acceptable, and that was putting in the mildest terms. After her actions, she deserved punishment, but since her misdemeanor was so enjoyable, I needed to make sure her punishment was just as fun. She might feel frustrated in the beginning, but there was a big pot of gold on the end of that particular grueling road. 

We returned to the RV silently, and I caught Anna looking at the bathroom with a great determination, no doubt thinking that it was the only place she could hide away from my gaze. But a gaze and a knowing smile from me were enough to dissuade her from that. With her shyness, it was impossible for her to actually do that when she actually knew that I was aware of what she had in mind. 

A rather stark contrast to her extreme actions on the times she thought that I wasn’t paying attention, but ultimately, it was a part of her charm. 

I sat on one of the chairs, once again doodling on my notebook, drawing various quick sketches, all of them using Anna in her provocative skirt as a material, though not all of the drawings included her while wearing all of her clothes. Some depicted her without the shirt, relying on her flimsy bra to cover her tits, while the others omitted the bra instead. One of them even omitted everything but the skirt, showing her desperately using her arms to cover her tits. 

I couldn’t wait to ask her to model for those exact poses. 

Meanwhile, she once again grabbed her book and tried to find an innocent pose to read, which was impossible to achieve with her current clothing. In the end, she found the solution by displaying a side-view to me, which made sure I wouldn’t get the full benefit of her skirt mishaps or her deep cleavage. That also meant I had a perfect angle to assess the exact level of hardness of her nipples, but ultimately, it was a good trade-off. 

However, things began to change after about half an hour of silence. As I watched from the corner of my eyes, I could almost see the real-time improvement of her self-confidence as she got used to the unfamiliar coverage —or lack of coverage— of her new clothes, her posture slowly changing. First, her shoulders lost their slouch, then her eyes finally moved away from the book, occasionally even looking at my way. 

The real change, however, came just after an hour, when she changed her position slightly, looking at me more directly. Her legs parted a bit, just enough to give me a glimpse of her wet core wrapped in the insufficient protection of her transparent panties, though the shadow of her skirt made sure that I could only get a fleeting glimpse of it. And from that angle, her cleavage looked perfect enough to feast. 

However, as much as I loved the physical aspects of the show, the thing that impressed me most was her blue eyes, burning with a frustrated challenge, daring me to ignore her. She even smiled in victory when our eyes met, unaware that she was giving me the perfect chance to counter-attack. 

“Don’t move, even a bit,” I warned her even as I stood up, and quickly grabbed my canvas and paints, much to her shocked gaze. “The lighting is perfect. I don’t want to miss it.” 

Just like that, her sense of challenge evaporated, leaving its place to panic, though her arousal didn’t move even a bit. “Raise your head just a bit,” I ordered as I dipped my brush in paint, letting it dance on the canvas quickly. I wasn’t being a perfectionist as I paint, not wanting to lose the heat of the moment. Twenty minutes with her heat still alive was much better than five hours and a stiff and bored model. I wanted to capture her emotions, her desire, her soul…

She followed my order and didn’t move, her face still frozen in that delicious mixture of fear and desire, while I stretched my abilities to the limit to immortalize her unique beauty, afraid of losing the moment. As much as I wanted to paint the rest of her beautiful body, I had to ignore that part, as based on the way our relationship was going, it wasn’t impossible to ask her to dress the same at a later date. 

No, I wanted to capture the light dancing in her beautiful blue eyes, the curve of her beautiful lips that communicated her youthful excitement, the blushed cheeks that indicated her quickened heartbeat. Even more, I wanted to draw her dreams of finally breaking through her restrictive cocoon to blossom into a confident woman that owned her body and her desires, and the poetic contrast it created at the moment, a mind ruled by fears and desires of her body… 

Even as I drew, a wave started to gather in the center of my chest, begging me to throw everything down and take a step forward, help her take the last step to freedom. My shaft hardened like never before, turning into true torture. 

If it wasn’t for the arrogance that drove me to perfection in anything I chose, from my chosen career to my obsessive need for bodily perfection, I would have followed my desires and pressed my body against hers. I could already imagine the way her legs would wrap my waist if I did so, our hands free to explore each other. Ultimately, however, I managed to hold back, and focused on my painting. 

Fifteen minutes of furious painting later, I finally talked. “Finished,” I said, letting out an exhausted breath, but my eyes were locked on the painting I had just created. I would have expected the dilemma I had been going through to distract me, resulting in a substandard painting, but it turned out to be the opposite. I had just created my most perfect painting. 

It wasn’t just lifelike, as being lifelike implied being photographic, perfect to every little detail, yet still and lifeless. The painting was different. It had many imperfections, from smudges to accidental touches, but they somehow aggregated to add a supernatural sense of reality to the painting, somehow helping it to ascend reality. 

“How’s it?” Anna asked, once again her shyness back as she stood up, unable to process my unusual reaction. 

“Why don’t you come and take a look,” I answered. 

She did so, each step hesitant, afraid of what she would find as she failed to read my reaction. When she finally stepped next to me, however, she froze in shock, her blue eyes shimmering like sapphires. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. 

“You’re my muse,” I whispered, still overwhelmed with my own creation. It was the best I had ever done, and not just by a small margin. It literally existed at an elevated level, one I had never thought I could have reached this soon in my career. Certainly not during with a fifteen minutes painting. 

She smiled at my words. “Really-” she tried to say, but her words were cut short, because I silenced her with a searing kiss, my lips devouring hers aggressively. After inspiring me to this degree, she earned her reward. It wasn’t like the previous kiss we had shared, which was, despite all the naughty things it implied, ultimately tame and calm. This time, my lips launched a domineering assault.

Since it was a reward, the decent thing to do was to make sure it was a spectacular reward.  

And I did reward her, repeatedly…

Five minutes later, when I finally pulled back, Anna was panting hard, even though I hadn’t let my hands join the fray, just holding her waist softly. Her expression was numb, though that didn’t alarm me, as I recognized that numbness. It wasn’t an expression that came from a negative place. It only occurred when one’s mind was blanked with pleasure repeatedly, only to end up losing the sensitivity to anything for a fleeting moment, unable to force their brains to restart. 

Just like trying to remember a dream… 

“Nice painting,” she murmured, overwhelmed by the kiss, and admittedly, I wasn’t too far behind. I did enjoy the kiss, probably more than what was proper, but unlike her, I was able to hide the impact. She took a step back as she forced herself to breathe, trying to still her trembling legs. In her eyes, I could read the battle of her desire, her fear, and many other emotions flickering to join in. 

As much as I loved to see that expression on her face, I could also see that she was just a step away from collapsing, overwhelmed by the rush of unfamiliarity. So, I acted quickly to prevent that particular track. “Do you mind helping me to cook lunch?” I offered even as I pointed at the small sink and board that functioned as the kitchen. 

Far too small for two people to cook comfortably. 

Which, of course, was a nice bonus, as the possibility of such close physical contact was just erotic enough to pull her mind from the spiral she was about to disappear into. “I-” she started, but before she could continue, I grabbed her hand and led her toward the small section that we marked as the kitchen. “Would you mind dicing those,” I whispered as I passed a couple of tomatoes to her, making sure our fingers touched liberally. 

She started immediately, more than happy to have something to distract her from her current situation. When she bent over a bit to better grab the cutting board, however, her micro skirt moved up, revealing most of her ass, which was incredibly much considering her transparent panties weren’t up to the task of covering her modesty, not to mention her hips were wide enough to make the attempt rather challenging in the first place. 

Which immediately made me abandon my initial plans of letting her relax. After all, in life, some temptations were too hard to resist. Anna’s ass, clad in her transparent red panties, barely contained with a micro-skirt was one of those. As she reached, forgetting or ignoring her current mode of dress, my self-control frayed further. I took a step behind her while she washed the tomatoes and grabbed a knife, enjoying the way her hips danced whenever she leaned forward. Still, I needed to something more. 

The excuse presented itself in the way she was holding a knife. “Stop,” I called her even as I took the last step to dwindle the distance between us to nothing, locking her body between mine and the kitchen sink.

“W-what’s wrong,” she stammered, caught flatfooted by my sudden closeness. 

“You’re holding the knife wrong,” I said even as I took the knife off her hand, and displayed the proper way of handling it. “You need to use two fingers to pin the blade, and use a circular motion to slice up the tomatoes. Just pressing will bruise the tomatoes,” I explained, before leaning forward to show her by example. 

However, rather than focusing on my display, she whimpered helplessly, as she didn’t bother to change positions, meaning she was still locked with mine pressed behind her, my erection hard enough to be felt as I pressed against her almost-naked ass. “Got it?” I asked after finishing it with one tomato, and passed the knife to her, only for her to fail spectacularly. 

“Pay attention,” I admonished her, which she shyly accepted. “Let me show you properly,” I said as I grabbed her wrists and gently directing her to follow a soft, circular motion with the knife, while I also replicated the same with my hips, rubbing against her ass repeatedly. She whimpered helplessly as she tried to focus on my teachings, only to get right after three more explanations. “Next time, try to listen more carefully,” I said, punctuating it with a gentle pat to her ass before pulling back, once again leaving her on the edge, panting and gasping. 

“I understand,” she gasped, her voice worse than any siren call. I was tempted to bend her over the small dining table to take her right there, something she seemed to be extremely amenable. Somehow, I achieved a miracle, and stepped back. Not because of any moral complications or not desiring her, but purely because I was curious about how she would react once I went to ‘sleep’. 

After that, neither of us said anything of importance for the rest of the preparation. The rest of the day passed at a weird pace, somehow both too slow and too fast at the same time, though I enjoyed interrupting her attempts to have a private time several times. Normally, keeping someone under observation would have been a boring activity, but if the target of the observation was a shy voluptuous blonde in a skimpy skirt, her attention split between hiding her frustration and trying to resolve her arousal… 

Yeah, it was a fun day… 

Then, the evening arrived, and without saying anything, I pulled the curtains and undressed, waiting for her visit with closed eyes…