"Phoebe on Sunday" (part 2 of 3)
series mf oral

The rays of the afternoon sun continued their slow traversal of the floor,
and the long minutes of enforced idleness began to work their inevitable
alchemy on my imagination. As I watched Phoebe paint, my imagination
superimposed her naked body on my retinas. I wondered if I would ever see
her that way again; I suddenly felt that this was unlikely, and a profound
sadness fell over me. I replayed the image of Phoebe in the shower again and
again, treasuring the memory of how she ran her soapy hands over her
breasts, her body...and once again I found myself becoming erect.

Phoebe continued with her work, but she could not have failed to notice
this. The peak in the sheet was, if anything, even larger than yesterday. I
realized that, unlike yesterday, I wasn't embarrassed this time; I wanted
Phoebe to notice my arousal.

Then, as if my desire was being telepathically transmitted, Phoebe's
concentration appeared to waver. She glanced at me-- probably just to check
a line or shadow--and stopped painting for a moment, the brush pausing in
midair. She was, umistakably, looking at the tentlike shape in the sheet
over my lap. The expression on her face became distracted, confused; I
wondered if she was offended. She took a deep breath, as if to calm herself,
and returned her attention to the canvas.

Her resolve did not last long. After less than a minute of work she stopped
again and looked at me; her substantial chest was heaving visibly. She said
nothing; time seemed to stop as she stood frozen in place for long moments.

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and put down her brush and palette.
"Okay, Scott, I think that's enough for today," she said breathlessly,
wiping her hands on a rag.

I stood up, awkwardly wrapping the sheet around me like a toga. I took a
step toward the Chinese screen, then stopped.

"Something wrong, Scott?" Phoebe asked as she busied herself with her tools.

"Do you mind if I look at your painting?" I asked hesitantly.

Phoebe stopped and looked at me, nonplussed. "Oh...uh...well, of course.
Certainly." She nervously pushed a strand of hair back with one hand and
stepped back from the canvas.

Clutching the sheet around me, I slowly walked to Phoebe's easel. I gasped
slightly when I saw the painting; even in its obviously unfinished state, it
was stunning. Phoebe had rendered my seemingly awkward pose with astonishing
grace; I appeared to be peacefully drowsing in some time-suspended world.
The image reminded me of an art book I had seen...what was it? A name
floated up from my memory: Pearlstein. Phoebe's treatment of my pose was
slightly reminiscent of Pearlstein's clinical renditions of slouching nudes,
but Phoebe had added softer elements of her own: warmth, gentleness, and a
dreamlike quality.

"It's...wonderful," I said, feeling inadequate to the task of describing
Phoebe's work.

"Thank you, Scott," Phoebe said, smiling. "I'm really glad you like it. Of
course it isn't even close to being finished, but you get the general idea."

"You made me look...I don't know, better than I am. Elegant, I guess."

"Oh, Scott," Phoebe said, "I didn't do that...you're beautiful." She reached
up and touched my cheek affectionately.

At the moment her fingers touched my face, I was lost. I took her hand in
mine (still holding the sheet around me with the other) and held it there
for a moment. Something seemed to be flowing into my body through Phoebe's
hand, elevating and changing me.

Phoebe looked at me, her eyes wide; her breathing quickened. Then she moved
her hand down from my face and held her palm against my chest. My heart was
hammering wildly.

I slid my free hand down Phoebe's arm and held her by the shoulder; then I
leaned over and kissed her. She was motionless for a moment; then she began
to return my kiss, her lips moving against mine first tentatively, then
passionately. I took my other hand away from the sheet and placed it on
Phoebe's waist. The sheet fell open in front of my body, but I no longer
cared.

Phoebe's hand, still on my chest, slid to my shoulder and pushed the sheet
slightly; it fell noiselessly to the floor. I stood naked before Phoebe.

I put my arms around Phoebe and clutched her to my body as we continued
kissing. Her huge body was so substantial, so real, that I almost groaned. I
could feel her enormous breasts and abdomen pressing pliantly against me;
her huge arms enveloped me. I moved my hands down her back to her buttocks;
felt through her denim cutoffs, they were like vast, impossibly smooth
pillows.

Suddenly Phoebe let go of me and stepped back. She smiled and took my hand,
and without a word she led me from the room.

We walked silently down the hallway, passing the bathroom where I had seen
her showering yesterday. I wondered if I would tell her of what I had seen;
someday, perhaps, but not now.

We entered a bedroom that was a bit darker than the other rooms; it was on
the shady side of the house, sheltered by a huge oak tree. The room
contained only a brass bed and a small dresser; oddly, there were no
paintings or other artwork displayed here. There was a full-length mirror on
a closet door, and I caught a glimpse of us: Phoebe in her paint-stained
shirt, and me naked, with my erect penis waving comically.

We embraced, standing next to the bed, and as we continued to kiss I began
to unbutton Phoebe's shirt. I moved back slightly as I reached the last of
the buttons and slid the shirt over her shoulders and arms. Phoebe's breasts
were as beautiful as I remembered, vast, round and pendulous with enormous
nipples. I leaned over awkwardly and kissed her right breast; Phoebe obliged
by placing her hand under it and lifting it slightly. I took the nipple into
my mouth; the entire breast pressed against my face, obliterating the world.
I heard Phoebe moan softly as I moved my tongue around her erect nipple.

I moved my hands to Phoebe's waist as I continued to lick and suck her
nipple. I found the waistband of her cutoffs and fumbled with the fastening
for a moment; the cutoffs were a bit too small, and tension of Phoebe's
bulging waist against the material made the process difficult. Realizing
that I could not do this blindly, I reluctantly took my mouth from Phoebe's
breast and knelt in front of her. She stroked my hair as I unfastened her
cutoffs and unzipped them.

I pulled the cutoffs to her knees, and they dropped to the floor; Phoebe
stepped out of them and kicked them away. She wore white cotton panties,
which reached just below the puckered pink markings where the material of
the cutoffs had pressed into her waist. I slid the panties down and dropped
them, and Phoebe stepped out of them as well.

I put my hands on Phoebe's buttocks and brought my face to her. I kissed her
gently on her pubic mound, feeling the gray pubic hairs against my lips,
inhaling the scent of her; I wanted to do more, but Phoebe's enormous thighs
made this impractical for the moment. I stood up.

Phoebe stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hips and thighs
spread out delightfully under her, and the roll of her belly obscured her
pubic hair. She was now eye-level with my erect penis. Phoebe leaned forward
a bit and took it in her hand, holding it by the base, and put the head in
her mouth. My vision blurred for a moment as I felt Phoebe's lips and tongue
on me. She did not suck, as I expected; instead she moved the head of my
penis laterally in her mouth, circling her tongue against the underside,
just under the head. I put my hands on Phoebe's hair and threw my head back.

I suddenly realized that I was about to climax, and abruptly pulled back; it
would be gratifying to come in Phoebe's mouth, but I wanted something more
for this first experience of her. I sat on the bed next to her, and we lay
back together.

I put my mouth on her right breast and let my left hand roam over her vast,
soft body. She took my penis in her hand and massaged it gently. I moved my
hand to her crotch, and she lifted her right leg a bit to provide access. I
stroked her pubic hair a bit, then ventured further. I parted the lips of
her vagina with my fingers; they were thick and full.

As we kissed, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, I slid two fingers
into Phoebe's vagina. Her muscles contracted around my fingers as I explored
the unimaginable softness within. I withdrew my fingers and moved up to her
clitoris; it was fully engorged and swimming in her secretions. I gently
circled a finger around it; Phoebe moaned softly. She brought another hand
to my crotch; with infinite gentleness she massaged my scrotum while
continuing to stroke my penis.

My desire seemed to grow exponentially at that moment; I repositioned myself
on my hands and knees and buried my face in Phoebe's ample bosom. Phoebe
rolled onto her back, and her breasts, belly and hips flattened and became
almost level. She continued to stroke my penis with both hands, but soon had
to release me; I moved down her body with deep kisses, allowing my face to
sink into the softness of her.

After only a brief stop at her navel, I finally arrived at her pubic hair,
which was now unobscured and fully visible. I kissed the hair gently, then
began probing with my tongue. Phoebe drew her legs up and spread them
slightly; her hips flanked my head like two immense marble columns. Her
hands stroked my head gently.

Once my tongue was between her lips, I circled her clitoris once and moved
lower. I pushed my tongue as far as I could into Phoebe's vagina and allowed
the taste of her to flow into my mouth like honey. I then continued moving
down, but the sheer bulk of Phoebe's buttocks was an obstacle. I reached in
and spread them slightly with my hands, then circled her anus lightly with
my tongue.

I began moving up again, dipping briefly into Phoebe's vagina again, then
arrived once more at her clitoris. I began tonguing it with determination,
moving first up and down, then in circles. Phoebe's breathing became ragged
and she gripped my head tightly.

Suddenly Phoebe gasped and gently pushed my head away from her crotch.
"Wait, Scott," she said softly. "Not yet..."

I moved back up parallel to her, and she brought herself to a sitting
position and gently nudged me onto my back. Phoebe kissed me, then moved
down to my penis and put her breasts around it.

This was unlike anything I had ever experienced; all of my previous sexual
experiences were with relatively small-breasted women who would have been
incapable of this gesture. Phoebe's breasts were so large that they
completely engulfed my penis. I arched my back and moved between them; the
head peeked out momentarily and Phoebe gently kissed the tip.