Carlos uses his imagination
Carlos sat in the familiar armchair in front of the windows in his studio. He and the chair had grown to resemble one another over the years — both comfortable in their forms, a bit disheveled by hard work, aging well. He was wearing light cotton shorts and an unbuttoned linen shirt, considering what to do about how horny he was feeling.
It started the night before, when Lena had showed him a few reference photos she’d taken of a new friend who had been sitting as a model for her lately. He recognized the young woman as a clerk at the food co-op, a recent arrival in town who seemed to be settling in comfortably. The photos were straightforward black and white nudes, captured with Lena’s characteristic warmth and showing facets of the woman’s long, curvaceous form. Lena had handed him the photos one by one, giving him a moment to take each in. “What do you think?” she had asked, referring ostensibly to the photographs themselves.
He was looking at a large breast in profile, capped by a smooth, pale peak of a nipple and bathed in the soft natural light of Lena’s studio. “Lovely.”
Later on, in bed, Lena had ridden him to an intense orgasm. He had cupped her bouncing breasts in his hands as she moaned his name, and came shortly after she did. These images danced in his imagination as he sat in the summer afternoon sunlight in his familiar armchair, but not only these.
Earlier that day, after a meeting with a fellow herbalist at the Wellness Center, Carlos had dropped by the food co-op on his bike for a few groceries. Having for the moment forgotten about Lena’s photographs, he was surprised to recognise his wife’s new friend when he stepped up to the register. The young woman smiled and greeting him, rang up his items and told him to say hello to Lena for her. As he rode home, he called to mind the shape of her breast in profile, the tone of her skin, the length and strength of her legs. The juxtaposition of her casual demeanor at work and the intimacy of these views fascinated him.
And there he sat in front of the window, an erection rising in his shorts. He let the images meld and swirl; his beautiful wife showed him nude photographs of an equally beautiful young woman who he then met by chance in town. The woman undressed behind the shoji screen and placed her folded clothes on the chair next to the door. She dropped her robe in front of Lena, who studied her naked body from all angles through the viewfinder. The shutter snapped. Lena’s nipples were visible through her well-worn oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. In bed she undid the buttons and straddled him, caressing his swelling length with a hand between her thighs. She was wet. The young woman asked if her poses were alright. They’re perfect honey. He slipped into her as she lowered her hips, cupped her firm breasts in his hands.
Carlos stood and took off his shorts and underwear and sat back down in the chair in front of the window looking out on the garden. His penis had grown again to a full erection, which he grasped as he closed his eyes. He could still feel the ache of last night’s activity. The woman was wearing a checkered western shirt with the top few buttons unsnapped. She bent to pull a paper bag from under the counter and her cleavage flashed before he looked away. The rest he could recall from the photographs — the soft slope of her breasts down from collarbone, their bottom-heavy splay, the exact shade and texture of her nipples. He was conflicted at what felt like an intrusion, but simultaneously aroused at Lena’s desire to share a peek with him.
He stroked the length of his erection, enjoying the warmth of sunlight on bare skin, giving in to the sensation of his hand gripping its girth. His wife’s breasts bounced as she rode him, still wearing over her shoulders the oxford shirt she liked to wear in the studio, through which her nipples were perpetually visible. Most models are more comfortable when I’m not overly dressed, she would say. Besides, it keeps me cool. She came hard around him, moaning his name, rocking hips so her clit rubbed against his pubic bone. He kissed her breasts and pulled out to come on her bottom and lower back.
In front of the windows in his studio looking out on the garden, sitting with legs spread in his familiar armchair, Carlos felt another orgasm approaching. He imagined the young woman dropping her robe as his wife opened her oxford shirt. The lovely contrast in the shape and size of their breasts, the smiles exchanged. The fair curve of her belly, a long leg held with pointed toes, Lena’s nipples stiffening at a breath of cool air. He moaned both their names under his breath and opened his eyes to watch a few hot spurts of semen drape themselves across his stomach.
Outside the window, the ivory blossoms of a late-blooming mulberry bobbed in a slight breeze. Beyond, Lena crossed from her studio to the kitchen.