When I say down on the floor, my furniture comes tomorrow, I remembered the invitation. I looked at my watch and though that 4:30 pm was an ok time to go over there. You know, not to close to dinner time to feel imposing on peoples plans.I walked over to the yellow house and rang the doorbell. A faint “ding-dong” sounded. I waited for a minute and decided to ring it again.After another minute or so I pushed the door open and walked into the giant living room. All white marble tites and nice and cool. I was suddenly aware of my sweaty condition and was about to turn around and get a shower at home when Holly walked in.She changed her pink top into a net top with her tan nipples sticking through. She quickly put her hands over them but I had seen enough to make my jeans feel pretty tight.She has a ring on her left hand but not on her wedding finger I thought. But I was cautious, new to the area you never know what hot headed husband is gonna be storming in in the next couple of. Her eyes closed with intense feeling and I let my other hand take hold of thecandle. It was nothing to bring her to the shattering edges of orgasm. It was almostinescapable. Her body rocked with tension as the pleasure rose and rose. Itwas then that I raised the candle above her body, my hand still buried in thewarm cleft of her sex. I watched as the liquid heat fell from my hand, by myhand, splashing across the oil glistening marble of her breasts. Annette cried out as the heat seared her, but my movements inside her causedthe sensations from the heat to combine with the pleasure and I watched asshe moved to that place where pain and pleasure combine and become the same.My Painter had moved to her easel and was painting with a fury, letting thestrokes of the brush create what the eye saw. I continued to pour as Annette writhed and twisted under the straps. Andthen it happened. That one magical moment and I saw my Painter stop to stare.The flooding moment came and the look of agony.
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