All of my friends told me I needed to visit this gallery. “The muse in the paintings looks just like you,” they all insisted. So I packed a bag and flew across the country…back home.
When I stepped into the gallery, it was just as everyone said. All the paintings, every last one resembled me. Not just resembled. They were perfect replicas of my face, my body, my aura. The mystery artist had captured my essence from early adulthood to my current middle-aged self.
As I make my way toward the back of the gallery, I hear shuffling. I clear my throat to make my presence known. And then, there you are…”I’m Fiona-” I start, but you interrupt me.
You rush to me and grab my hips as if they belong to a long-lost lover. You kiss me so passionately, so deeply. Your tongue desperately searches for mine. They dance and roll over each other when they finally meet. I playfully nibble your lip as your right hand slides from my hip and hovers just over my pussy on the outside of my skirt. Your left hand slides from my hip to my round, luscious ass. When you grab me, my skirt lifts a little, exposing my skin. Your greedy hand wants my flesh. You grab my exposed ass and smack it. This pushes me further into your other hand that finally meets my crotch.
My breathing has become quick and impatient. I moan and whimper as I suck on your bottom lip. My hands grip your back. I reach under your shirt and rake my long, sharp nails down your skin. You arch your back, pressing closer into me. I can’t take it anymore. And you notice.
You spin me around and force me against a wall. Our power knocks a painting down. You run your hand up my skirt and straight to my panties. They are sopping wet from my pussy’s anticipation. You push them out of your way and enter three fingers into me. Your thumb meets my clit and presses it like a button.
You’re so passionate, but it feels soft and sensual. It feels right. It’s almost as if we’ve done this many times before…perhaps in another lifetime.
You rest your head next to mine while you continue to pump your fingers in and out of me. Your fingers gently dance across my g-spot every time you enter me. And your thumb puts just the right amount of pressure on my throbbing clitoris when you pull out. You continue this process and breath me in. The scent of the coconut oil in my hair fills your nostrils, sending you to a deserted island where we melt together. Your breath on my neck is warm and inviting. I completely surrender to the ecstasy your putting me through. My curly hair tickles our faces as I whisper in your ear, “I’m going to cum.” I nibble your ear lobe as you pull your fingers out of me and start rubbing my clit. My toes tingles and my thighs feels hot as I finally release the pressure that has been building this entire time. I moan and shudder with such utter satisfaction.
We collapse together and slide down the wall, onto the floor. Dozens of iterations of me watch us. Your hand rests on my upper thigh, hiding under my mini-skirt. I grab your hand with both of mine. I slowly bring it to my mouth. I look deep into your eyes and slowly suck my juices from your fingers. One. By. One.
You grab my face and kiss me deeply. We share the taste of me on both our tongues. I leave satisfied that I visited.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/130aoxq/the_muse_f_2nd_person_pov