Nellie’s Sketchpad Ch. 04

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Curiosity is a powerful thing. I imagine her, Curiosity, as a beautiful woman, ethereal and transparent. She beckons men (and women, too, but mostly men, for some reason I think) with her curling finger. We follow her, those of us who hear her call. She smiles over her shoulder at us as she sheds her clothes, and we go with her, never minding our footsteps, keeping our gazes on the luxurious gossamer tresses that fall down her naked back, watching intently as she keeps leading, turning her head from time to time to tether us to her smile as we head who-knows-where.

Curiosity sat up nights with Gallileo by candlelight and urged him to gaze at the heavens through a telescope, and with DaVinci as she directed him to dissect bodies behind closed doors by a lamplight.

She’s led men to smash atoms, go to the moon and back, sail seas that might have ended in watery cliffs. She’s granted satisfaction. She’s killed cats.

Marco Polo followed her east, Columbus followed her west, she drew Stanley and Livingston into the jungle, Lewis and Clark into the Rockies. Henry Hudson followed her up the river that now bears his name, Amerigo Vespucci to the new world that bears his.

Cartier followed her up the St. Lawrence and founded Montreal, and the first Canadian Beaufaires followed him.

And she, Curiosity, has led people to strange beds, dismal hotel rooms, under bushes in the moonlight, onto the haystacks of secluded stables.

And now she’s tempting me, and she’s asking me about Janice’s body and how it looks when it’s naked and in the act of love. Are her nipples broad and flat with pea-sized pink-nubs, like I suppose? Or are they large and pouting with tan surfaces that cringe into wrinkles when a finger or a tongue touches them?

What do you think, Peter? Curiosity asks.

Is her pubic hair wild, or a trimmed triangle, or in a landing strip, or bare? Are the lips of her sex tight and understated or full, long, prone to being pulled in and out by a toy? Does she use a toy? A vibrator? Does she moan and shake when she has an orgasm, do her legs stiffen? Tell me, Curiosity, tell me.

Shhh, Curiosity says in a hollow, breathy, reverberating whisper. You’ll have to find out for yourself, Peter. Or just stay curious like me.

Curiosity has slipped herself into my psyche in the form of a fantasy of seeing Nellie, my Nellie, and Janice together. Perhaps that seductress, Curiosity, tucked it into my pocket at the party, when Nellie and I were asleep under the table.

The fantasy occurs involuntarily, at night when I sleep. It’s fleeting, a fading hint when I wake with only a dim idea of the contents of the dream, but I wake hard and slide Nellie’s hand onto my erection.

“Aren’t we a tiger this morning, then,” she purrs as she smiles and opens one eye.

“I was having a dream about you,” I say.

“Were you?” she asks coyly as she slowly slides her hand up and down on me through my pajama bottoms. The pressure on my shaft is just right. She knows me.

I lift her over and up on top of me, and she whoops and giggles at the suddenness. She jerks my pajama bottoms down, and she takes her nightgown off over her head. It’s rather plain, a short, thin white linen, but it’s my favorite.

“What was your…” her question falls into a gasp as I enter her “…your dream about?” she exhales.

“It was about you,” it feels so good inside her, anything but the truth is impossible, “and…another woman.”

“Mmm…naughty boy,” she grins and groans as she closes her eyes. She’s leaning back and working her hips to and fro in long, fluid movements.

Then Curiosity is on the bed with us. She’s lying on her side next to us, head propped on her hand, reclining, watching us, transparent curls falling along her forearm. Her voice is far away. Nellie doesn’t see or hear her; this is, after all, my Curiosity. Maybe Nellie has her own that I can’t see or hear.

Ask her, Peter, Curiosity says. You want to know, don’t you? You’ve wanted to find out since you saw those pictures on her computer, haven’t you? Isn’t Finding Out the most important thing?

So I ask.

“Have you ever…been with a woman?” I murmur up to Nellie. Her hips are moving back and forth slowly. My cock fills her, and she rubs her clit across the bare base of it. Her eyes are closed, and her chin is lifted.

“Yes,” she breathes. Her answer is quick, preoccupied.

“Was it good? Did you enjoy it?” I ask.

Nellie seems suddenly amused by these questions. Her movements on me stop, and she leans over me. Her face is right above mine, and her bemused smile is framed by platinum blonde hair falling around her face. She raises her eyebrows and nods in small movements, the gesture that sometimes accompanies a frank answer.

“Yes. Yes I did.”

For me, insecurity creeps in.

“More than me?”

She casino siteleri tilts her head to the side and grins at me. Then she puts her fingertip to my lips and shakes her head no in small shakes.

“No, no, no, love, no. I never loved any of them like I love you.”

Any of them? Them, as in more than one? I think to myself. Curiosity makes an O with her lips and smiles. She raises her chin and eyebrows, and lowers her eyelids.

Nellie’s hips slowly grind again, and I lift up to tongue her nipples and the pink flesh of them puckers and crinkles. She’s slowly pushing herself into me, into the base of my cock, I can feel the rubbery pebble of her clit pressing into me. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open, her forward strokes are quick and jabbing. Her tits are swaying, quivering. I’m bucking now, lifting my hips to her, pushing up against her pushing down against me, pushing up into one last movement that spills me into her and then I’m still except for that part of me inside her, spewing and pulsating.

I press my pubis into her, I know she’s close now, and I want to stay inside of her even if I’m soft and spent. I want her to cum with my cock inside her this time, not dripping me onto my lips or my fingers or my tongue. Her head pitches forward, platinum-blonde hair recoiling, a toss of the head, another, another, another, braces bared in her grimace, and then she’s on my chest, our bare chests rising and falling together. My soft cock slips out of her with my seed.

The sound of distant traffic floats through our bedroom window, traffic a block over on Queen’s Gate.

We lay there in the Saturday morning light, her head on my chest, her finger drawing hearts on my stomach in the puddle of me that’s leaked out of her.

“Tell me about your dream,” she says as she suddenly rises up onto her elbows. “Who was I with?”

I’m totally relaxed. Lying is impossible.


“Ooh, really. Janice, is it, then?” She seems pleased somehow. “What were we doing?”

“You know, the usual.”

“The usual?” Nellie asks playfully.

“Kissing, licking, sucking.”

“What do you think her tits look like, her nipples, I mean?” Nellie asks. She’s stroking the inside of my thigh, right by my balls. My sack is slick with the juices from our fucking.

“I imagine them round and flat and wide with little nubs on them.”

“Mmm,” Nellie whispers. “I do too.”

“You do?” I turn my head down to ask.

“Girls think about these things, too. We’re curious, too. What else? Do I eat her pussy?”


“Do I lick her clit, like this, perhaps?” Nellie licks my nipples as if they’re clits. Her tongue flicks them, and my wet cock twitches.

“Mmm,” I close my eyes. “Yes.”

“Does she cum on my face?”

“Yes,” I moan.

“And then does she suck my nipples and eat my pussy?”

“Mm-hmm,” my answer is little more than a breath. I’m hard again, and I swing on top of her.

“Does she put a toy in me? A dildo, like this?” she says as she guides my cock into her.

I groan, and Nellie continues.

“Does she stroke me with it? Does it go in and out of my pussy, like now?”

I give her a breathless yes.

“Lick my nipples, Peetie. Show me how she would lick my clit.”

I take Nellie’s nipple in my mouth. It’s hard, about the same size as her clit. I tease it and suck it like I would do her clit. Like Janice would do her clit.

“I’m so close, Peetie, so close to cumming on her tongue…”

I erupt into Nellie’s pussy when she wraps her arms around my neck tightly, burying her face into my shoulder, pushing a muffled cry into it. I feel her pussy squeeze my cock, both pulsating, one against the other.

I fall to her side, and she drapes herself over my side. She lays there with her ear to my heart, drawing things on my stomach until at last she looks up at the clock.

“Yoga in an hour, Peetie. Let’s get moving, love.”

Looking back, that was the moment.

Nellie can be like the whispy-tailed genie that floats out of a bottle with crossed arms and a turban:

Oh master, your wish is my command.

Once when we were eating in a French restaurant, I commented how much I liked the coq-au-vin. The next week, Nellie made it for me, as a surprise, and it was just as good or better. I spent a minute or two longer than usual looking at a shirt and tie at Harrod’s. I found it wrapped up for me the next day. A magazine left folded over to an advertisement leads to new shoes, an offhand comment leads to tickets to the theater.

She’ll do anything to show her love for me. I would do it for her, too, if I were as thoughtful and creative. Men just aren’t made that way and frankly it sucks for both of us. I wish I were.

The next Saturday we wake early to a text on Nellie’s phone.

“Who canlı casino is it so early?” I say with one eye open.

But she’s in the bathroom already. I hear the rushing water of the shower, and then I hear her brushing her teeth. She emerges from the bathroom in her lovely naked trot, small, lovely tits jiggling.

“I have a surprise for you, it’s a little risqué, a little over the top, but I hope you like it,” she says as she slips her red kimono over her naked body. “In about fifteen minutes. A surprise,” she repeats.

“What kind of surprise?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” she says.

I get up to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I return, I find that she’s made the bed and put her hair up in a ponytail.

“What is it?” I wonder out loud again. I think, what can she be having delivered? A new suit? Shoes? Do they deliver that kind of thing? Breakfast? I am hungry, after all.

“Just keep quiet,” she says as she pushes me in the closet and closes the doors on me. They have a louvered top, so I can see when she goes to answer the doorbell.

“Tell me, what is it?” I ask through the slats.

“Shhh,” she says as the doorbell rings, and I hear her hop-step onto the stairs and patter down them.

Then I hear a woman’s voice and heavier footsteps up the stairs.

“Pete won’t be home for another half hour at least,” Nellie says. “But we’ll have to be quick about it.”

She leads someone into the bedroom.

It’s Janice.

“Not a word to anyone about this,” Nellie says, “I love him more than anything, I just have certain needs.”

I didn’t catch Janice’s response. Maybe it was a gesture. Maybe she didn’t have one.

At first it was very uncomfortable, being there, watching them. I wanted to burst out of the closet before anything happened, to save us all from embarrassment, though I knew it was probably too late for all that. But then Curiosity appeared in the closet with me.

Shhh, Peter. Keep quiet. It’s important to find out, and you’re about to. Finding Out is so very important, isn’t it? The most important thing, I always say.

Nellie and Janice pause for a moment and then embrace. Nellie holds up Janice’s chin and kisses her, a kiss that makes a smacking sound. Their eyes are closed, but Nellie opens hers and looks at the closet doors and winks.

Nellie’s red kimono falls smoothly over her naked body to the floor as she hurriedly lifts Janice’s beige cashmere jumper up and over her head. Janice looks down at her hands as they scoop up Nellie’s tits in between the thumbs and index fingers. She puts her lips to Nellie’s nipples. Nellie pauses to sigh, but then undoes Janice’s bra. Large tits spill out of the cups.

Your first guess was correct, Peter, Curiosity says as she peeks through the slats with me. Broad, flat areolas with small nubs. They’re very lovely, aren’t they? Aren’t you glad you finally know?

I am. It is good to know. But I want to know more.

Nellie palms Janice’s mound, and this time it’s Janice who sighs. She recovers to kick off her shoes, low heels, and then she pushes her blue jeans and knickers down together.

Yes, a plush black bush.

Nellie’s hand is on it and her fingers are under it, under Janice, who steps apart to allow more access to her pussy. She kisses Nellie’s vine-and-bird tattoo.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you there,” Janice says. I can barely hear her. She moves around to Nellie’s front and licks and sucks the pert nipples on her small tits. I can hear the smacking sounds.

Nellie takes Janice’s hand. They move to the bed and sit side by side, kissing and stroking, hands and lips roving over each other’s bodies, legs parting. Janice kisses Nellie’s neck, and Nellie smiles at me, or really, at the closet doors.

Janice straightens up and pushes Nellie back on the bed. When Janice bends over, I get a momentary glimpse of her black bush framing a set of swollen pink lips. I can only imagine how turned on she is. I know how turned on I am.

Janice gets on her knees and puts her head between Nellie’s legs. I get an idea of her movements on Nellie’s pussy. Janice’s head tilts up and down, and Nellie moans behind closed eyes. Janice shakes her head side to side, and Nellie gasps and drapes her heels on Janice’s pale back and runs her fingers through Janice’s wavy black hair.

Nellie opens her eyes in mid-ecstasy and mouths a kiss to me and the closet doors. Then she closes her eyes again and lifts her chin to the ceiling. Janice’s hands reach up to palm Nellie’s small breasts, nipples being pulled and stretched through the Vs of Janice’s fingers.

Nellie pushes Janice’s head into her pussy so hard that Janice can’t move it side to side as well. Nellie squints with an open mouth and then tosses her head rhythmically over and over, blonde hair shaking, tossing, as she kaçak casino grunts with each wave of her orgasm.

And then she’s still, just panting. She casts a sheepish smile to the closet door and blows an upward breath that lifts the blonde hair that’s fallen in her eyes.

Janice walks up on her knees. She settles her bush over Nellie’s face, and all I can see of Nellie is the angle of her jaw. Within Janice’s black carpet of hair, I can see the pink lips, shining and engorged as if they might burst.

Well, you were right, Peter, they really are rather long and full, Curiosity says. She’s side by side and looking with me through the slats. Such an intuitive boy you are.

Those swollen, pink lips pierce themselves on Nellie’s tongue, and Janice throws her head back. Long wavy black hair falls down her back, over the scattered moles on creamy skin. Nellie’s arms reach straight up, and her hands are cupping Janice’s rather large swaying tits, pinching the small specks of nipples on the broad pink areolas. Nellie’s hands switch to Janice’s arse, large and a little flabby, really, but at this point with Curiosity by my side, fascinating nonetheless.

Nellie spreads Janice’s cheeks so I can see her tongue work Janice’s pussy, so wet now I can see and hear it, wet, slopping sounds.

Suddenly, they stop. Nellie is holding her jaw.

“Sorry,” I hear her say to Janice.

Janice seems perturbed, and I want to call her a selfish bitch. Can’t you see she’s hurting? I want to tell her.

Instead Nellie turns Janice around on the bed into a sitting position and gets behind her so that Janice’s body is completely open to me. And to Curiosity, of course.

There you have it, Peter. Isn’t it worth everything, just to know?

Within the black tangle, Janice’s pussy is gaping pink, glistening moist, Nellie is sliding one finger up and down it, another in and out of it. Janice has her face pressed into the side of Nellie’s head. Nellie’s eyes are turned up to me, and she’s smiling at the closet doors. Her toned legs flank Janice’s bigger ones. Janice’s melon-like breasts hang, the nipples are large and round as if they’re two surprised pink eyes.

Janice puts one arm back around Nellie’s head and draws it forward. Nellie’s chin is resting on Janice’s collarbone, and she has two fingers going in and out of Janice now, and two fingers swirling over Janice’s clit, which is large and pink, like her pussy lips.

I can see it building, Janice’s breasts quaking, her thighs trembling like the start of an earthquake. Janice opens her mouth into a silent shout. She cringes, her legs straighten.

Right again, Peter, Curiosity whispers to me.

Janice pants and kisses the side of Nellie’s head. Her sex is moist and winking, collapsing and expanding around Nellie’s fingers. Janice kisses Nellie on the lips, but I notice that it’s only a dismissive peck from Nellie, less than what Janice wanted.

Nellie jumps up and off the bed from behind Janice and begins looking around the floor for Janice’s clothes.

“He’ll be home soon. Best you be getting on, then. Thank you, it was wonderful, and just what I needed,” Nellie says.

Janice stands and engages Nellie in a naked embrace, but Nellie only gives her a perfunctory hug back, the sort of hug you would give an old aunt. Then she breaks from it and practically begins dressing Janice.

She hands Janice her knickers and Janice steps into them and then shakes them up. Nellie hands Janice her bra and when Janice slides her arms in the straps, Nellie fastens it for her. Janice tries to give Nellie a kiss, but instead Nellie gives Janice her jeans and jumper, and then looks for Janice’s shoes.

When Janice is dressed, they kiss once more, a little more passionate this time, but still it’s a shorter version from the one Janice wants.

“He’ll be home any moment,” Nellie says to hurry Janice along.

I look for Curiosity, and I find myself alone in my closet.

Nellie slips on her kimono, red with an Asian print, and wraps the tie around her waist. The kimono barely covers her arse, and shows off her exquisite legs. She looks fantastic in it.

She walks Janice down the stairs and to the door, then returns and opens the closet door.

“Well?” She says with her finger hooked and hanging from her lower lip.

I’m still in pajama bottoms. Her finger feels the wet spot my arousal has left. She sheds her kimono again, and I shed my bottoms.

She sits in my lap and impales herself on me, her arms are around my neck as we cling together.

“How did you like it, love?” she gasps. “Did you like watching me fuck another woman?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes,” I groan. I can taste Janice on her lips.

We make love all morning, until we’re so sore we have to miss our Saturday exercise. As we lay again in the early afternoon light, she asks me, “Would you like to see it again? Would you like for me to perform for you again?”

My answer is yes, but a qualified one.

“It’s just…Janice,” I say. “I think she’s smitten with you.”

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