Kat 1 – The one where I get to be a French girl.

The One where I get to be a French girl!

It’s been a couple of weeks since Richard and I had our disagreement and I’m pleased to say that in that time my mum hasn’t got any worse. She hasn’t got any better either and she’s still experiencing bouts of nausea. Thankfully I’ve had my weekends free and aside from a pre-planned weekend break with Beth, I’ve been spending a lot of time with her and Alex and helped them keep on top of the housework. If you read the post containing my working schedule you might have noticed that I keep Monday mornings relatively free so I can take on any one off work like end-of tenancy cleans. It’s been quiet on that score of late which has given me more ‘mum’ time.  Alex has his hands full now, taking care of both her and the house. Literally overnight he has become her carer, and it’s a lot to take on, hence why it’s good that I can help. Jamie has mucked in too. He’s good like that. Thankfully he’s got a caring nature.

Other than helping my mum, I’ve been carrying on with my regular work as normal. As I said in my previous post, I’ve not been feeling horny much recently, which I guess is understandable. Having said that, the itch I had for a good seeing to the last time I saw Richard keeps rearing its head. Maybe it’s good that today, Tuesday, I have a pretty normal day. I clean Nick and Nikki’s in the morning followed by Phil and Penny’s in the afternoon, after which I finish my day at Kat’s.

This isn’t Kat, it’s a girl who’s image popped up on Twitter in a webcam ad collection- but it could be her doppelganger!

To say Kat is a looker is an understatement. That girl could turn heads in a room full of blind men. She just seems to ooze sex appeal and I felt it the first time I met her. I can tell you I’m more than a little envious – I feel as sexy as a Teletubby when she’s at home when I’m working, which is quite often. She works shifts as an A&E doctor at Leeds General. If I was one of her patients I’d be faking a slow recovery, just so I could stay longer and get more visits from her. Whereas I’m a size 10 to 12 in clothes, 10 up top and 12 from the waist down, she’s a straight size 8. I know because I’ve checked her clothes when she’s left them drying on the Minky.

What can I say…I’m inquisitive.

That’s just my way of rationalising my nosey nature.

Anyway, she’s a lithe size 8, brown hair, even darker brown eyes, and a Liv Tyler-esque, elfin face. Her breasts simply should not be allowed on such a slim frame. She’s a curvy C-cup.

Yes I checked her bra on the Minky too.

When she’s knocking about the house she’s usually in a tight t-shirt and jeggings, and unlike most size 8 girls with their somewhat non-existent bum cheeks, she’s got an absolute peach of a bottom.

If I’m giving the impression I’ve paid a lot of attention to her, well it’s right, I have. What can I say – I’m envy’s bitch.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she was a bitch, but she’s not, she’s totally adorable.

‘Have you forgotten your key Carla?’ She always asks as she lets me in.

            ‘No honey,’ I say. ‘You know I always knock. I always feel a bit rude letting myself into someone’s house when they’re in.’

‘Oh don’t worry about that – that’s why I gave you the key.

We’ve had that same conversation on so many occasions that I feel it might appear as though I don’t listen to her. So today I decide to let myself in.

‘Hi Kat,’ I say as I kick my shoes off in the hallway and slip into the flip flops I carry in my caddy. There’s no response, so I make my way into the kitchen and put the caddy on the breakfast bar. Usually when she’s not in she leaves a note on the bar with my money paper-clipped to it. Today there’s no note, or money. She must be in, somewhere.

Her house has an unusual layout in that there’s less floor space downstairs than there is on the upper floor. It’s got 3 storeys but the top two floors form part of an archway over the road outside her front door. The archway is completed by the house on the other side of the road, which I guess has a similar, but opposite layout to Kat’s. Downstairs the front door opens into a small hall with a WC and the staircase leading off it. Other than that there’s only an open-plan kitchen diner, which joins onto a small open-plan lounge. On the first floor there’s a massive bedroom and ensuite, a slightly smaller bedroom and ensuite, and another smaller bedroom which is used as an office. The third floor is a large attic room with an ensuite, but Kat uses it as an art studio. I’ve only ever been up there once on my initial meet and greet visit, after which she told me not to bother cleaning it.

I figure I’d better see where she is and check if she wants anything in particular doing today. I run upstairs.

‘Kat, are you there?’


Her bedroom door is open but her ensuite door is closed.

‘Kat. It’s me, Carla, are you there?’

The ensuite door opens and Kat strides out, totally naked. ‘Hey,’ she says facing me. ‘How are you doing Carla?’

I don’t know where to look. ‘Oh, sorry,’ I blurt out. ‘Sorry Kat, I didn’t know where you were.’

Eye contact, keep eye contact.

I look her straight in the eyes.

‘Yeah, sorry. I was just having a quick shower. You’re a bit early aren’t you?’

‘I don’t think so,’ I say, looking at my wrist, which I suddenly realise is stupid because I’m not wearing a watch.

Back to the eyes.

‘I don’t know why I’m looking at my wrist,’ I say. ‘I haven’t worn a watch for years.’

She laughs. ‘Old habits I guess.’

Her breasts are so firm and pert, and as she laughs I find them totally mesmerising.

What a cow!

Envy has me as her bitch once more!

I always think it’s okay to envy-hate someone. It’s not that you actually hate them, quite the opposite. But because you admire someone so much it’s okay to lovingly hate them too.

Carla! Eyes! EYES!

But it’s too late. I’ve already taken in her flat stomach, the neat Brazilian hairline leading down to her shaven labia, and those legs.

I’d fucking kill for legs like those.

‘I’ll wait for you downstairs,’ I say turning to make a quick getaway.

‘Hang on, I’m coming down,’ she says grabbing a fleecy bathrobe.

Time seems to slow down as she thrusts an arm in and flings the rest of the robe round her back, catching it nonchalantly, slipping her other arm in before pulling it closed and tying the belt off. It all seems to happen like a slow motion montage in a film, and as I come out of my reverie she’s already reached me.

‘Come on then,’ she says putting her hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Coffee?’ She says when we get to the kitchen.

‘Oh, not at this time of day,’ I say. ‘I try to avoid caffeine drinks after three o’clock.’

‘Tea then?’

‘Yes please.’

She flounces round the kitchen gathering cups, tea bags and boiling the kettle.

‘Is there anything in particular you want doing today Kat?’

‘No not really,’ she says. ‘Except I’d be grateful if you would do the upstairs first.’

Kat knows I prefer to do the bathrooms last in order to minimise the risk of spreading toilet germs into other areas of the house.

‘Yes of course. Is there any particular reason?’

‘Well,’ she says. ‘I’ve got someone coming round at five to pose for me.’

‘Ah, I see,’ I say, not seeing at all.

‘I’d rather we couldn’t hear you while I work. It doesn’t bother me, but it might bother her if she hears you pottering about.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I say. Now I see.

‘I can bring your tea upstairs for you if you like?’

She knows I like to get on with my work.

‘That would be brilliant,’ I say. ‘I don’t normally like to do the vacuuming first, but considering it’s the noisiest part I’ll get that out of the way, then do the dusting then the bathrooms. Is that okay?’

‘That’s brilliant, you’re a sweetheart,’ she says flashing me a smile that looks like it escaped from a toothpaste advert.

‘It’s no problem, really,’ I say.

‘The spare rooms won’t need much attention – just a quick dust round as they haven’t been used.’

A little under an hour later and I’ve finished cleaning upstairs. I bring my gear and the empty teacup back down to the kitchen to find Kat sat on one of the breakfast bar stools looking forlorn. Beautiful, but forlorn. She’s sat sideways on to me with her legs crossed, her crossed leg clearly visible as the robe has fallen to the side.

‘Is everything ok?’ I ask.

‘My model just text me. She can’t make it tonight. She says she’s not feeling well and wouldn’t be able to sit still for long.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ I say. ‘Isn’t there anyone else you can call?’

‘No, not at this short notice.’ Her vibrant disposition has been exchanged for something more glum. ‘Unless…’

I give her a questioning look. ‘Unless?’

‘Carla… have you ever been a life model?’

I break into nervous laughter. ‘What? Me? Oh no, I don’t think so.’

‘Why not? Why not you?’ Her eyes are filled with hope and she’s obviously delighted with her idea.

‘It’s just not me,’ I say. ‘I’m not life model material.’

‘Oh my god Carla, you’re gorgeous. And if you’d seen some of the old wrinklies I’ve had model for me then you wouldn’t say that.’

‘Really?’ I say, feeling a little flattered that she asked. ‘No, no, I don’t think I could.’

‘Carla, as I said, you’re gorgeous. But it’s not about that. It’s about capturing the light, or the negative space, or the subtle hues, or the shapes – it all depends what I need to work on. You’d be doing me a massive favour, and we can start now, right now – you won’t have to finish cleaning down here, and I’ll also pay you what I was going to pay the model.’ There’s a pleading look in her eyes. ‘Please honey. It’s an easy fifty quid.’

I take a deep breath.

She can tell I’m considering it. ‘Why don’t you come upstairs and have a look at my other work,’ she says. ‘Come on, you don’t have to agree yet. Just come and have a look.’

The extra cash would come in handy.

I’ve turned a couple of jobs down recently so I could help my mum.

And, I am already here.

‘How long will it take?’ I ask.

‘Only a couple of hours,’ she says.

Twenty five quid an hour, that’s more than my cleaning rate.

‘I can’t sit still for that long… not for two hours.’

‘You won’t have to honey. You hold a pose for twenty minutes or so, then we’ll change. And it won’t be just sitting. You can stand too, which will get your circulation going again.’

She’ll see me naked. God, I’m a beast compared to her.

‘Is it cold up there?’

‘Oh lord no, I’ve had the heating on all day, I promise.’

Her little face is so hopeful, but I’m still in two minds.

‘Please, come and have a look for yourself.’

Fifty quid.

‘Okay, I’ll come and have a look.’

‘Oh goody, thank you Carla,’ she says taking my hand. ‘Come on.’

As she practically pulls me upstairs I know in my head that I’m probably going to do this. It doesn’t bother me being naked… well maybe it does a little, but only because she’s so damn perfect.

We’re up both flights of stairs and heading into her studio in what would have been a record time if this had been a race. She was true to her word, the studio is lovely and warm. Kat gives me time to take it all in.

The floor is a hard-wearing, laminate looking composite, which I guess makes it easy to clean. There’s a large rug in the middle of the room, on top of which is a comfy looking sofa covered with a fleecy, fuscia throw. I find the smell of paints and pastels quite pleasant, I guess because my mum always painted and I associate it with her. Dotted around the room are unframed canvases of various sizes, most of which have paintings of naked people on, and Kat was right, some of them clearly were ‘wrinklies.’ Others however were obviously not. Life models were clearly her thing as I couldn’t see pictures of anything else. And…it looked like she’d had some well hung guys in her studio too, either that or she’d used her artistic licence.

‘What do you think?’ She asks, her face itself a picture of hope.

As I said, I already knew I was probably going to say yes, even though being naked in front of someone as hot as Kat makes me feel massively insecure. ‘They’re wonderful,’ I say. ‘Incredible infact. You’re clearly good at this. Okay, so what do you want me to do?’

‘Oh Carla, you’re a fucking star,’ she says. ‘I can’t tell you how much you’ve made my day.’ Her face lights up and she looks even more beautiful than ever.

Damn her!

Seeing all the pictures of the other models triggers something inside me and whilst I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, a part of me really wants to see myself on one of her canvases.

Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.

Fucking Titanic!

Kat points to a large easel with what looks like a pad of A2 paper on it. ‘The way I like to work is to make a lot of quick sketches, a bit like a photographer taking lots of snaps, except my process is a lot slower. I do that until one of them makes me tingle.’ She laughs. ‘I can’t think of any other way to describe it than that,’ she says. ‘I literally get a tingling feeling all over my scalp when I’ve found the right one.’

I laugh. ‘That’s weird.’

As she speaks she waves her hands about as though she’s drawing. ‘I know, right. Anyway, as soon as I get the tingle I grab the pastels and start putting some colour on. Then I put it to one side so I come back to it later. If I can do that for several different poses it’s great, but mostly it’s just one or two.’

‘Okay. So, do you want to start straight away?’

‘I’m ready, if you are…’ she says and points to an innocuous, old school coat stand in the corner of the room for me to hang my clothes on.

Here goes…

My heart starts pounding and with my back to Kat, I take a deep breath and start slipping out of my clothes. I can hear her behind me, getting herself ready – the easel dragging across the floor, the rustling of paper and the clattering of pencils being moved.

Here goes…

Another deep breath and I look over my shoulder. She’s watching me, smiling.

‘Ready when you are,’ she says.

I’d never noticed before but her smile is wonderful. She has beautiful, white, perfectly aligned teeth.


Okay, here goes…

My self talk isn’t helping my nerves, only action will do that now. Boldly I turn to face her and stride over to the sofa. ‘How do you want me?’

‘It’s up to you honey,’ she says. ‘Have you seen As Good As It Gets?’

I look surprised. ‘That comedy film with Jack Nicholson?’

‘That’s the one. Do you remember that scene where Simon is painting… I can’t remember the character’s name but he’s a bit rough, the guy that lets his mates in and they turn his flat over, beat up Simon and rob him… remember?’

‘Yeah, I remember that,’ I say.

‘Well Simon tells his model, whatever his name is, to be natural. He likes to try and capture something, real. I kind of want you to do the same. Just do what comes naturally. We can always do some fun poses later,’ she says with a big grin.

Taking my cue from Kat I plonk myself on the sofa. I sink heavily into the seat which was much softer than I anticipated, either that or I’m the weight of a small elephant. I prefer to think it’s the soft sofa seat.

‘Jesus,’ I say, catching sight of the rolls of belly fat round my waist. This sofa isn’t flattering at all.

Kat chuckles. ‘It is quite soft,’ she says. ‘That’s why I use it, so my models are comfortable.’

‘Very considerate of you,’ I say, trying to position myself so it doesn’t look like I’ve got several flesh coloured, cycle tyre inner tubes wrapped round my waist.

I finally settle into a more laid back position with my legs crossed at the ankle, one hand on my thigh and the other resting on the empty sofa cushion to my side. As I find my comfort level my eyes rest on one of Kat’s pictures just off to my side. It’s a man, sat in a similar position to me, clearly on the same sofa and clearly he was quite well equipped. It makes my mouth twitch into a smile.

‘Perfect,’ says Kat. ‘Stay right there.’

‘Like this?’ I say, not moving my body but turning my head to face her.

‘Yes, but turn your head back the way it was.’

I realise it was me noticing her picture and her model’s bedroom tackle that caught her attention, so I turn back and admire the picture again. Out of the corner of my eye I see and hear Kat dragging her easel into position, then I hear what sounds like chalk on paper.

‘I’m going to do a few charcoal sketches first,’ she says. ‘Just to get a feel for the lighting on your body. I find charcoal gets me in the right mood.’

Having little to no artistic talent I have no idea what she means. ‘Okay,’ I say, trying not to change position.

‘He’s pretty well endowed,’ I say.

‘Who is?’

‘The chap in the picture I’m looking at.’

‘Ah,’ she says with a giggle. ‘So that’s what caught your eye. You little minx.’

‘I might not be able to draw, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my own means of admiring good form.’

‘Really,’ she says in between strokes and swishes of charcoal on paper. ‘And do you have much experience?’

Her jocular, inquisitive tone makes me laugh. ‘I might have.’

It goes quiet between us and I sit in stillness for what seems like ages, but not in a bad way – if anything, quite the opposite. I find it both exhilarating and relaxing at the same time, just sitting there naked while Kat draws me. It’s thrilling because it’s me she’s looking at, and she’s taking how she sees me and transferring that into sketches on a piece of paper; sketches that may, or may not resemble me. I say may not only because I haven’t seen any of her other models, so whilst I’ve seen pictures of them I’ve actually no idea whether or not the pictures resemble the models.

‘Are you ready to change position?’ says Kat.

I look round, a little surprised. ‘Oh, yes, I can do. Have you done?’

‘Yes, I’m ready for a change. Hang on…’

She walked over to the picture I’d been looking at, pulled out another canvas from behind and placed it at the front.

‘Is that the same bloke?’ I asked.

‘It is indeed,’ she says. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Hell yes,’ I say, unable to hide my admiration. ‘I didn’t know you also did porn!’

We both laugh, but it’s not far from the truth. This time the man is in a full frontal position and he was clearly aroused.

‘How much artistic licence did you use?’ I ask with a grin.

‘Absolutely none,’ she says.



‘Jeez. He’s a big fella isn’t he…’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘And he knows how to use it.’

I pull my gaze away from to picture. She’s grinning like a Cheshire Kat and she tips me a cheeky wink.

‘So,’ she says. ‘Your next pose. How about adopting something you might do if he was actually stood in front of you…’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Why not… it might be fun,’ she says.

I’m still not sure and Kat seems to sense my hesitation. Clearly Kat has depths I didn’t realise she had.

‘Hang on,’ she says. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ With that she disappears out of the room and I hear her padding barefoot down the stairs. I find myself looking at the picture again. There’s not a lot of detail in the facial features, nevertheless he looks like he’s a good looking bloke with short, styled brown hair and possibly brown eyes. Judging by his musculature he looks like he’s someone who likes to look after himself, but it’s his penis that draws my eye more than his frame.

That looks like a good eight inches. And I mean good!

I find myself imagining what it would be like to have that in my mouth and I feel the excitement developing between my thighs. Subconsciously I start caressing the inside of my thigh, the soft, pale inner part just above halfway between my knee and my crotch. I love it when I’m sat next to a bloke I fancy and he puts his hand on my thigh and does that to me. It gets me so fucking aroused.

I’m so engrossed I don’t hear Kat as she enters the room carrying a couple of large wine glasses. ‘Fancy a drink?’ she asks. ‘To help you relax…’

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ I say, shuffling on the sofa, hoping she didn’t notice me getting carried away. I give the seat between my legs a quick glance.

Thank god! No wet marks.

She shuffles a few canvases around behind her revealing a small fridge, out of which she pulls two bottles.

‘Gin and tonic okay?’

‘Lovely,’ I say, impressed.

She glugs gin into the glasses, half filling each one and tops them up with tonic leaving little space at the top of the glass. She puts the bottles back in the fridge and takes out a little click-lock tub, from which she pops a couple of slices of lime in the glasses.

‘Smooth,’ I say.

She grins at me. ‘I like to be prepared,’ she says handing me a glass.

‘Thanks,’ I say and take a couple of large mouthfuls. ‘Wow, that’s strong.’

‘Well, it’ll kick in quicker.’

‘It sure will, I haven’t had much to eat today,’ I say, taking another swig. Almost immediately I feel the alcohol taking effect. My head feels a little light and my body starts to feel warm.

‘Right,’ I say, taking another mouthful and getting into the spirit of things. I plonk the glass down on the floor and lay myself out on the sofa. ‘As though he were actually stood in front of me you said…’

I’m feeling less self conscious now, nevertheless I still stretch myself out, arching my back so my stomach looks a little flatter. I lay on my side with my legs apart, my bottom leg straight, my other leg bent at the knee. I tuck a cushion behind my bent leg so that, without feeling strained, it can relax against the back of the sofa. I drape my torso over the rest of the couch, leaning on one arm positioned over the sofa arm, the other with my hand touching the inner thigh of my bent leg. Almost immediately I realise I won’t be able to hold this position for long. ‘Hang on,’ I say, quickly tucking another cushion underneath me to add support, and I get back into position. ‘That’s better.’ I then stare longingly at the well hung man in her picture and let my lips fall slightly apart.

‘Fucking hell,’ says Kat. ‘Carla that’s fantastic… you look so erotic.’
Moving only my eyes I look up at Kat, raise my eyebrows and give her a cheeky wink, then I’m back gazing at Mr Eight Inches.

Kat drags her easel round to she’s more face on to me, flips to a new page on her pad and starts drawing. I try to imagine what I must look like to her. I think it’s my slightly open mouth and my hand, poised on my thigh as though ready to pleasure myself that she must like.

The image in her picture starts my imagination running wild again. I imagine him stepping out of her picture and changing from being a drawing to being warm flesh and hot blood. He grows in height to about 6 foot and moves towards me, his beautiful erect penis moving towards my open mouth. I lick my lips, preparing myself to take him. He grasps his shaft and points the head between my lips and pushes gently forward so his engorged penis enters me. I wrap my mouth around his girth, running my tongue under his glans, flicking and teasing them with the tip. He moans.

‘That’s good baby,’ he says. He’s so hard I can feel his pulse as the blood rushes through his veins. He reaches forward, placing a hand gently but firmly at the back of my head, slowly thrusting himself further into my eager, moist mouth. I close my eyes and surrender to his control as he uses me to pleasure himself. I trace my fingertips down my thigh and between my legs. My labia are soaked with my arousal and I run my fingers gently between them, avoiding my clitoris… for now.

‘Oh baby, that looks so hot. Pleasure yourself for me,’ he says, and I do. I can hold back no more, my fingers reaching for my sensitive little bud. I tease it, tickling it with the tip of my index finger until I can’t hold back any longer and start really going for it. I roll onto my back, bending my other leg and let them both fall apart as I bring myself to orgasm. He re-positions himself, kneeling over me so he can fuck my mouth. My pubis area starts to throb as my orgasm builds and explodes. My fingers are soaking, covered in the juices of my excitement and I moan deeply and loudly.

‘Oh my fucking god!’ I blurt out.

‘Oh my fucking god indeed,’ says Kat.

Her voice brings me to my senses.

Oh shit!

I flush with embarrassment but I doubt it shows given I’m probably already red faced with arousal.

‘Shit, sorry Kat. I got a bit carried away there,’ I say. ‘It must have been the gin and an empty stomach. Shit. Sorry.’

‘Don’t you dare apologise,’ she says. ‘That was fucking amazing. No one has ever let themselves go like that in front of me before. Fucking amazing.’

It’s at that point I notice that she’s naked too, her bathrobe on the floor thrown on the fridge behind her. She’s still at her easel, drawing hand on the paper, but her other hand is clasped between her legs, as though she’s afraid something escapes from her.

‘It looks like I wasn’t the only one who got carried away,’ I say, hoping to deflect attention away from me. I sit up.

‘Carla, you are bloody wonderful. I was so turned that I had to hold onto myself, but also I didn’t want to miss capturing that moment.’

She puts her pencils on the easel and walks over to the sofa, sitting down next to me, her hand still between her thighs. For the first time I get to study her up close and I envy hate her all the more. Her breasts are so round and voluptuous that they almost look fake, but they move in a way that only real breasts do. Her legs are so lithe. I can’t imagine any bloke ever turning her down. She’s absolutely stunning.


‘Were you imagining giving Richard a blow job?’ She asks.

Hearing her say Richard gives me a start. ‘Richard?’

‘Yes, the guy in the picture. His name is Richard. Why, do you know him?’

‘No. No it’s not that. It’s just I know someone called Richard and…’ I don’t really know what to say next. ‘It’s just… well, he’s a customer of mine and when you said his name…’

She laughs. ‘You thought it might be him.’

‘Yes,’ I lie. I know exactly how big my Richard’s penis is. ‘That’s it. But clearly it’s not him.’

‘Okay. So, are you going to answer the question? Were you imagining giving him a blow job?’

‘Yes, I was,’ I say with a laugh. It seems stupid now somehow.

‘You must have one hell of an imagination,’ says Kat. ‘To get so engrossed like that. It was like he was here in the room with you.’

‘The drink, the lack of food,’ I say in an attempt to rationalise my losing control. Feeling like I could do with another drink I retrieve my glass from the floor and neck the remaining contents. It’s lovely and cold as it goes down my throat.



She looks a little sheepish. ‘I am so turned on right now.’

‘Really,’ I say, looking down at her hand, still clasped tight between her legs. ‘So am I, if I’m honest.’

‘I’ve never been with another girl,’ she says. ‘But I have always wondered what it might be like. Have you?’

‘Have I been with another girl?’ I say.


‘No.’ But like Kat, I have often wondered what it would be like.

I reach forward and gently take hold of her wrist and she lets me move her hand from between her legs. Her labia glisten with moisture.

Sheesh. She wasn’t kidding.

I lift her hand towards me, turning her palm upwards, and I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma of her arousal. It smells sweet and just a little musky. I take her fingers in my mouth, one at a time, sucking each one in turn finishing off by licking her palm clean of her juices. I shuffle closer and run my tongue up the inside of her wrist into the pit of her elbow. I look up at into her eyes, eyes that are filled with lust.  Her mouth is slightly open and she’s nibbling her bottom lip. I lean in and kiss her. Her lips are warm and moist, and she’s a wonderful kisser.

She kisses like me.

I always think it’s important that when you kiss someone, they kiss like you – you fit each other like a jigsaw. There’s nothing worse than kissing someone who kisses like a washing machine, or someone who rams their tongue in.

Kat’s kiss is soft and tender. Her tongue slips gently into my mouth and probes mine, and she sucks it sweetly on the pull back. I gently bite her lip and she returns the compliment.

‘Wow’, she says. ‘You are so beautiful Carla. You know that, right?’

I blush and feel awkward.

‘It’s true,’ she says. ‘I always knew you’d make a great model, I just didn’t know how to bring it up with you. I’ve been dying to see you naked.’

‘Hmm. Did you set this up?’ I ask. ‘Today I mean. Did your model really cancel?’

Kat laughs. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I assure you it wasn’t a set up. It’s a happy happenstance.’

I give her a suspicious look.

‘Honestly!’ she says. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I believe you… I think.’

‘Carla,’ she says, and pauses. ‘Carla, as I say, I’ve never been with a woman before, and as much as I’d like to play with you a bit more, I don’t want to rush into anything.’

I nod in agreement.

‘I think I need a few days to process what’s happened between us today. Is that ok?’ she asks.

‘Oh Kat, that’s fine with me. I’m in a funny place at the moment anyway, especially with everything that’s been happening with my mum.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’

She poured us another G&T each, this time with a healthier proportion of tonic to gin then she slipped on her bathrobe and handed me a throw from the back of the sofa. I cover myself with it, sip my gin and tell her all about my mum’s recent strokes and the impact it’s had on our family. We talk for ages and it feels good to talk about it again; even more so to get another female perspective. Whilst it still makes my eyes fill up, it doesn’t quite have the same emotional hold on me and I manage to keep myself together this time.

‘Oh Carla, that’s awful. I can’t imagine what it would be like if anything like that happened to my own mother.’

Her natural sympathy and empathy warm my soul and I realise I haven’t felt this relaxed for ages. I also wonder how much the gin is helping with that feeling. After we’ve finished talking we sit for a few moments in silence.

‘Would you like to see the sketches I did?’ she asks.

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Hell, I’d almost forgotten you’d done them.’ I wrap the throw round me like a shawl, convinced I must look like a bedraggled old woman and I follow her to the easel. Her sketches are wonderful and somehow she’s managed to make me look, thoughtful, alluring and…beautiful, especially the first one where I was just sat on the sofa.

‘I can’t wait to finish working on them,’ she says. ‘I’ll be doing that after you’ve gone.’

‘I can’t wait to see them finished,’ I say.

‘Would you consider modelling for me again, sometime?’

‘Of course, I’d love to. But, maybe give me a little more warning next time.’

We both giggle like little girls.

‘Maybe next time I’ll get both you and Richard to pose for me together,’ says Kat. ‘Now that would be fun!’

I still can’t get over him also being called Richard.



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I have a whole series of erotic exploits, some from my past, but mostly current and always kinky. Naturally I'll have to be discreet and change names, nevertheless I'm sure if any of my partners recognise themselves they'll enjoy reliving our adventures together ;) xoxo

11 thoughts on “Kat 1 – The one where I get to be a French girl.

  1. Read this in the afternoon, but had to stop by under the proper account to leave a commendation! Lovely work, hon!


    1. Thank you Cat. It must have been weird having such a similar name 😉
      I know you probably do the same with your own work but I just read this back this morning and noticed areas that don’t flow as well as they could. Ah, the inner critic lol

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Hell yes, I do that all the time. But you know, Cat is not my real name. I don’t tell most people, but I like you. My name is Mae. Gotta keep editing, keep revising. (Sometimes I have trouble with that cuz from six on I’m drinking. My bipolar is claiming me these days. Kisses!)

        Liked by 1 person

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