girlsonfilm33
Member
The grandeur of Rose’s suite enveloped Jack like a dream, its polished woodwork and satin upholstery gleaming in the soft light of 1912. The opulence was almost overwhelming, a world far removed from the rusted simplicity he knew. He set his sketchbook and drawing materials on the marble table, his fingers brushing the cool surface, grounding himself in this unfamiliar luxury.
Rose’s voice cut through the quiet, playful yet probing. “Will this light do? Don’t artists need good light?”
Jack, hiding his nerves behind a grin, adopted a mock French accent. “Zat is true; I am not used to working in such ‘orreeble conditions.” His eyes caught the paintings stacked against the wall, and he crouched beside them, awe flickering in his gaze. “Hey… Monet!”
He glanced at the artwork, his voice warm with admiration. “Isn’t he great… the use of color? I saw him once… through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny.”
Rose slipped into the adjoining walk-in wardrobe, her movements fluid, deliberate. Jack’s gaze followed her, drawn to the quiet confidence in her steps. She approached the safe, her fingers working the combination with practiced ease. He watched, fascinated, as much by her as by the act itself. “Cal insists on lugging this thing everywhere,” she said, her tone edged with defiance.
Jack leaned closer, his voice low. “Should I be expecting him anytime soon?”
“Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out,” she replied, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. A loud clunk echoed as the safe unlocked. Rose glanced up, her eyes meeting his in the mirror behind the safe, a fleeting spark passing between them. She opened the safe and withdrew a necklace, its blue gem catching the light like a captured star. Holding it out, she watched as Jack took it, his fingers brushing hers, igniting a subtle thrill.
“What is it? A sapphire?” he asked, his voice soft, almost reverent.
“A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of the Ocean,” she answered, her words heavy with meaning. Jack gazed at the gem, its weight symbolizing a world beyond his grasp. But her next words shifted the air, her smile daring and intimate. “I want you to draw me like your French girl. Wearing this.” A pause, her eyes locking with his. “Wearing only this.”
The words hung between them, charged with possibility. Jack’s breath caught, surprise mingling with a rush of desire as the room seemed to shrink to just the two of them.
In her bedroom, Rose stood before a mirror, her fingers delicately drawing the butterfly comb from her hair. With a gentle shake, her auburn locks cascaded free, framing her shoulders in a soft, untamed wave. The act was a quiet rebellion, her body humming with anticipation as she prepared to bare herself to him.
In the sitting room, Jack arranged his pencils with the precision of a surgeon, each one laid out like an instrument of creation. His sketchbook lay open, a blank canvas awaiting her. He looked up as Rose entered, her silk kimono catching the light, its fabric whispering promises of what lay beneath. She stopped before him, her presence commanding yet vulnerable.
“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a china doll,” she said, handing him a dime with playful authority. “As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.”
With a slow, deliberate motion, she parted the kimono, revealing the Heart of the Ocean nestled against her creamy breast. Her heart pounded, a rhythm Jack could almost feel across the room. The kimono slipped to the floor, pooling at her feet in a lyrical cascade, leaving her bare save for the necklace. Her vulnerability was a challenge, her gaze an invitation.
Jack’s breath hitched, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and nervous desire. Rose moved to the divan, settling into a pose that echoed the French girls of his sketches, but with a languid grace uniquely her own. “Tell me when it looks right to you,” she said, her voice low, teasing.
Jack swallowed hard, his voice unsteady. “Uh… just bend your left leg a little and… and lower your head. Eyes to me. That’s it.”
He began to sketch, but his pencil slipped from his fingers, clattering softly. Rose stifled a laugh, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. I can’t imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.”
Jack, sweating now, managed a weak smile. “He does landscapes.”
His eyes lifted over the edge of the sketchpad, meeting hers, and in that moment, the room pulsed with their shared energy. His strokes were sure, capturing the curve of her form, the radiance in her eyes, the necklace glinting against her skin. It was the best work he’d ever done, but the act of drawing felt secondary now. The air thickened, her pose no longer just a pose but a silent beckoning.
Rose’s gaze softened, her lips parting slightly as she shifted on the divan, the necklace sliding against her skin. Her eyes flicked downward, catching the unmistakable outline beneath Jack’s trousers. A sly smile curved her lips. “Well, Jack,” she murmured, her voice a velvet tease, “That bulge tells me you’re finding this pose more than just artistic.”
Jack’s lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and desire. “Can’t help what a muse like you does to a man,” he shot back, his tone low, playful, but edged with heat.
As she shifted again, Rose deliberately parted her thighs, just enough to reveal herself fully to him. The soft light bathed her, illuminating the delicate contours of her pussy lips, glistening faintly with her own arousal, an unabashed invitation that held Jack’s gaze captive. Her breasts, framed by the Heart of the Ocean, responded to the charged air, her nipples tightening into firm, rosy peaks, the skin around them puckering slightly as they hardened under his stare. Jack’s breath hitched, his eyes tracing the undeniable signs of her desire. “Must be cold in here,” he said, his voice husky, a teasing glint in his eyes as he met her gaze.
Rose’s smile widened, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Cold? Maybe I just need someone to warm me up, Jack.” Her words hung like a challenge, her eyes daring him to close the distance.
Jack set the sketchbook aside, his movements slow and deliberate, as if drawn by an invisible thread. He crossed the room, kneeling before her, his hands hovering, uncertain yet craving. Her breath quickened, the Heart of the Ocean rising and falling with her chest. Their eyes locked, and the distance between them dissolved.
Jack’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his face as he paused, his pencil hovering over the sketchpad. The air, already thick with desire, seemed to tighten further. Rose tilted her head, her brows knitting with concern, the Heart of the Ocean glinting against her skin. “What’s wrong, Jack?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.
He locked eyes with her, his gaze intense, almost predatory. “That pose is good, Rose,” he said, his voice low, deliberate, “but we could make it so much better.”
Her lips curved into a teasing smile, her pulse quickening. “Better? How’s that?” she asked, her tone daring him to voice the thought burning behind his eyes.
Jack leaned forward slightly, his smirk barely concealing the hunger in his stare. “Open your legs wider,” he said, the words direct and unapologetic, sending a jolt through her core.
Rose let out a throaty chuckle, her cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and arousal. “Now you’ll have me blushing, Jack!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You really want me to spread my legs wider?”
“I do,” he replied, his voice a husky plea, his gaze unwavering. “Please, Rose.”
She held his stare, her breath hitching as she considered the audacity of his request. A wicked grin spread across her face. “But then you’ll see my cunt in all its glory, Jack. Is that what you’re after?” she purred, her words a provocative challenge.
Jack nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Show me,” he said, his voice rough with want, his cock visibly straining against the fabric of his trousers, a testament to his desire.
Rose paused, her heart pounding, savoring the power she held in that moment. Then, with a deliberate slowness, she parted her thighs further, revealing her hairy pussy to the soft light, its dark curls framing her glistening lips. She tilted her hips slightly, ensuring he saw every detail. “Is that better?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper, her eyes locked on his.
Jack’s breath caught, his cock twitching against his pants, the bulge now unmistakable. He nodded, his eyes drinking her in. “That’s good,” he said, his voice strained, “but I need one more thing.”
Rose laughed, a rich, incredulous sound that filled the room. “One more thing?” she echoed, arching a brow. “Isn’t this enough, Jack? What else could you possibly want?”
His smirk returned, bolder now, laced with a quiet confidence. “I want you to spread your pussy lips,” he said, his words deliberate, “hold them open for me, Rose, so I can see your pink wetness.”
A flush crept up her neck, her body betraying her with a pulse of pleasure that shot straight to her core. She shook her head, half in disbelief, but the heat in her belly urged her on. Without a word, she reached down, her fingers trembling slightly as they grazed her skin. She parted her pussy lips, tentative at first, then wider, exposing the slick, pink flesh within.
“Like this?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his.
Jack nodded, his gaze fixed on her, his breath shallow. “Perfect,” he rasped, “just like that.”
Rose closed her eyes, a shiver running through her as she felt a bead of her own moisture trickle from her pussy, sliding down the crack of her arse, a warm, intimate trail that made her acutely aware of her vulnerability.
Jack’s pencil moved with a reverent precision, his eyes fixed on Rose’s exposed pussy as he sketched, lingering on every detail—the dark curls framing her glistening lips, the delicate folds catching the soft light. His strokes were slow and deliberate, capturing the intimate beauty of her form with an artist’s devotion.
The Heart of the Ocean gleamed against her chest, a silent counterpoint to the raw vulnerability she offered. He paused, his gaze softening as he traced the contours with his eyes. “Your vagina even looks like your name, Rose,” he murmured, his voice low, almost awed. “Those petals, and the small bud in the center.”
Rose’s breath hitched, a flush creeping up her throat. Emboldened by his words, she spread her pussy lips a little further, revealing more of her slick, pink flesh. The act sent a shiver through her, her pulse quickening under his stare. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, her voice a sultry tease, her eyes locked on his.
Jack’s lips curved into a hungry smile, his pencil stilling for a moment. “Like it?” he said, his tone rough with desire. “I want to bury my face in it.”
Rose let out a throaty chuckle, her head tilting as she feigned shock. “What do you mean? That sounds revolting!” she teased, though her eyes sparkled with curiosity, betraying the thrill his words sparked.
Jack’s gaze didn’t waver, his smile turning wicked as he resumed sketching. “Have you never had your fairest flower licked before?” he asked, his voice a velvet challenge, the pencil scratching softly against the paper.
Rose scoffed, her cheeks reddening, but her tone was playful, incredulous. “No. Why would I want that? How strange!” she said, shaking her head, though the idea lingered, stirring something deep within her.
Jack’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he added delicate lines to his sketch. “I recommend you try it,” he said, his voice low, suggestive. “Does that mean you’ve also never licked a gentleman’s penis? Or taken it in your mouth?”
Rose shook her head, her auburn hair shifting against her shoulders, her expression a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “You’re a strange one for even suggesting such a thing!” she exclaimed, her voice light but tinged with nervous excitement. “What benefit would that provide to anyone?”
Jack shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leaned closer, his sketchpad a thin barrier between them. “You have a lot to learn, Rose,” he said, his tone warm, inviting. “And I can be the person to teach you. Does the thought of such things not make you grow wet with anticipation? Or do you just wish for a hard length in your sweetest hole?”
Rose’s eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and vulnerability, her fingers still holding herself open, a bead of moisture glistening at her entrance. “It’s… alright,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost confessional. “But Cal does not do very much. A few thrusts, and he’s finished, emptying his seed onto my belly so I don’t get pregnant. I like it a little bit, but I can’t say it’s the best thing in the world.”
Jack shook his head, his chuckle rich with disbelief and a hint of pity. He set his pencil and sketchpad down on the floor. Rising to his feet, he stood before her, his cock still straining against his trousers.
Jack stood before Rose, his eyes holding a quiet question. “May I?” he asked, his voice low and steady.
Rose tilted her head, her brows knitting. “May you what?” she replied, her pussy still bare, catching the soft light.
Jack stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Do you trust me?” he asked, locking eyes with her, a spark passing between them.
Rose hesitated, her fingers grazing the divan. “I think I do,” she stuttered, her voice soft.
Jack smiled. “Good,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
Rose shut her eyes, her breaths quickening. Jack leaned in and kissed her lips softly. Rose smiled and kissed him back, their lips brushing gently. He kissed her neck, making her giggle. His lips moved to her breast, and she gasped as he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Her hands rose to stop him, but Jack spoke. “Remember, you trust me, right?” he asked, his voice calm.
Rose nodded. Jack added, “I’m not going to do anything you won’t like. I promise.”
She nodded and lowered her hands. Jack moved to her left nipple, licking and sucking it. Both nipples hardened, standing firm. His kisses trailed to her belly button, where he pushed his tongue in, making her giggle. Jack laughed too, the sound warm.
He licked down from her belly to her pussy, and Rose gasped, but he skipped it, licking the skin between her cunt and thigh, down one leg, then up the other side, stopping short, his breath teasing her skin.
“You do trust me, don’t you?” he asked again, his voice soft. Rose nodded, unable to speak, holding her breath. Jack leaned in and licked the side of her pussy, taking the thick lips into his mouth, swirling his tongue. He reached her clitoris and licked it, making Rose whimper.
He licked for a while, then pushed his tongue into her depths, tasting her sticky juices. Rose grabbed his hair, pulling him tight, her body arching.
“Oh, Jack!” Rose sighed, her voice trembling as she pressed her pussy against his mouth, chasing the heat of his tongue. Her nipples tightened into rock-hard peaks. Jack slurped and sucked on her clit, his lips and tongue working with relentless focus.
He slid a finger inside her slick cunt, and Rose gasped, her body jolting at the intrusion. Jack began finger-fucking her, his movements steady and deep, his mouth still latched onto her hard clit. Their eyes met—his gaze hungry, hers dazed with pleasure—and a shudder rippled through her.
Jack reached up, his free hand finding her breast, and pinched her nipple firmly. Rose bit her lip, a soft moan escaping as the sharp sensation sparked through her.
His wet fingers continued slipping in and out of her cunt, each thrust building the pressure inside her. Rose’s hips bucked, her breaths turning to sharp gasps as she felt a wave cresting within her—the first orgasm of her life. She yelped and pushed Jack away, her pussy suddenly too sensitive, pulsing with the aftershocks of her climax.
Rose pulled Jack up and plunged her tongue into his mouth, gripping him tightly. They kissed hard, Jack squeezing her tits. “I want to taste you,” Rose moaned, breathing heavily.
“Are you sure?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure, I’m sure. Give it to me,” Rose urged.
Jack stood, and Rose sat forward, stroking his hard cock. She leaned in, nervously licking the tip, tasting salty pre-cum, and they both laughed. She took the head into her mouth, unsure but eager. “That’s it, just like that,” Jack said, encouraging her. He guided her hand to his balls, and she stroked them gently, taking him deeper. Drool dripped from her lips as she slurped.
“Let me fuck you,” Jack whispered. “Do you want that?”
Rose nodded. “Yes, God, yes.”
Jack grinned, moved between her legs, and pushed himself into her wet cunt. Rose moaned and took a deep breath. “Is that okay?” Jack asked.
Rose nodded, eyes closed. Jack pushed deeper, feeling her clamp around him. He started softly, then built speed. “Oh God, oh God!” Rose moaned. Jack watched her floppy tits bounce, sweat pooling between them.
He pulled out, and Rose asked, “What’s wrong? Am I doing it wrong?”
Jack laughed. “You’re doing fine; I’m just switching positions. Turn over and get on your knees with your ass in the air.”
Rose nodded and did as he said.
Jack paused to admire the view, Rose’s big ass cheeks bent over right in front of him, her pussy dripping onto the divan. He pushed his thumb into her cunt, which made her gasp. He pulled it out again, then slipped his dick inside and started fucking her hard. He could see her breasts bouncing in the mirror, and he was loving it.
His balls slapped against her clit as he pounded into her, and she was squealing, “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me hard, fuck me like I’m one of your French whores, and fuck me like I’m a slut and you’re a rabid dog. I’m a dirty bitch and you’re a filthy mongrel!”
Jack was slightly taken aback by this foul-mouthed outbreak, but he didn’t let it put him off of his stride, and he ploughed into her as she demanded. After a while, Rose yelped and came hard, an orgasm shaking through her whole body. Jack, not wanting to get her pregnant, took his cock out just as he ejaculated, shooting his load over her back, some dribbling down her ass crack, but he used his thumb to wipe it away before it went to her vagina. He leaned down and licked her anus, just in case he never got the opportunity again.
Rose lay down and said, “That was fucking amazing, Jack. Thank you.”
Jack lay down beside her and said, “Don’t thank me for that. I did it for us.”
“Oh, Jack,” Rose smiled, “I want to be with you forever, and I want you to…”
Rose, now an old lady, looked at Brock Lovett, Lewis Bodine, Lizzy Calvert, and Bobby Buell as they sat looking to her as she recounted her tale. They were open-mouthed until Brock said, “Well? What did you say to him?”
Old Rose smiled and said, “I told him that I wanted to be with him forever, and I told him that I wanted him to fuck me in the arse next time, as I loved it so much when he licked the rim.”
Brock Lovett felt a little bit of sick come into his mouth as he stared into Rose’s twinkling eyes. He swallowed it down and said, “Uh, well… and do you remember what happened after the ship hit the iceberg?”
