Listen to me read the story

I never really thought that sex during a vacation could happen to me, but life is full of surprises.

“Are you sure that you want to go?” asked Mason. “You don’t want to reconsider and stay with me for the summer?”

“I’ve been studying the whole year. I need some time to relax in France,” I said.

“You gonna call me every day and miss me?”

I rolled my eyes with my back to him while packing. “Yes, Mason. I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t forget who bought you the plane ticket and sorted out your accommodation.”

How can I when you constantly keep reminding me? “I won’t.” Pity you won’t pay my student loan.

Mason dropped me off at the airport and smothered me with kisses so that everyone around can gawk at us. I cracked a smile before going through the terminal and turned to wave. He blew several kisses and gesticulated that I should call him. I nodded and turned around.

When the plane touched down in Paris, I felt like the torment drained from my mind and body. My shoulders felt lighter and smiling felt genuine. Drivers brisked their cars, and shoppers snapped their heads left and right, trying to decide which shop to enter. The sun illuminated the city and caused sweat to form on my hairline, but the gentle breeze brushed it away.

“Oh, wow,” I said, looking at a portrait an artist drew in front of me in the bustled square.

“You like?” he asked.

“It’s fantastic. That painting looks exactly like the photograph.”

“Thank you. I’m Jean,” he said and extended his hand.

“Adriana. Nice to meet you.”

“What a beautiful name to match your beautiful face.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “Thank you. That’s nice of you.”

“You are so beautiful that I would love nothing more than to do a portrait of you.”

“Thank you, but it looks expensive. I’m a student, so I don’t have the money.”

“No payment. I do it for free. It would be my honour.”

I smiled. “Oh, wow. I’m flattered.”

“I tell you what. Let me finish this portrait, and I take you for a cup of coffee to get to know your personality so that I can really capture it in the painting.”

“Sounds good.”

I stood next to Jean and watched him finish the painting. The intensity in his face revealed his concentration and passion for art. There was nothing sexier to me than a man who had tremendous passion. My heart raced as I thought about going for coffee with a stranger, but it was a mixture of excitement and anxiety. More excitement. I was on vacation after all, and what’s a vacation without a little spontaneous adventure?

“What are you studying?” asked Jean at the coffee shop.

“Design. I love it.”

“Oh, interesting.”

“That’s one of the reasons I chose France. It’s a fashion capital and because of the romance.”

“Oh, so you like romance? I thought somebody as beautiful as you would have a boyfriend.”

“I do.” I sighed.

“Are you not romantic with him?”

“If I were, he would be here with me.”

“What’s the matter?”

“He’s rich, so he buys me things and wants me to reward him by doing things his way. I like doing things my way and when I want to do them. He also expects me to be with him all the time.”

“He’s possessive?”


“Okay, I understand. You like freedom. You want to express yourself without any restrictions.”


“Perfect. Now, I know exactly what to bring out in your portrait.”

“Were you serious about doing it for free?”

“Absolutely. I suggest we go right now while the image of the portrait is fresh in my mind.”

“Go where?”

“To my apartment. That’s where I do some of my best work. It’s quiet and has plenty of space. You’ll feel comfortable.”


Jean opened the massive door of his apartment and walked in first. The wooden floor was rugged, and the creamy walls had an alcove and a fireplace. Portraits on stands were covered with sheets and surrounded the empty lounge. A chandelier suspended from the ceiling and candle wall lights completed the renaissance atmosphere.

Jean handed me a cup of coffee. “Why don’t you stand right there?” he said. “Look straight ahead, and you can sip the coffee if you want.”

He pulled a cover off a stand and drew. After fifteen minutes, he called me to look. My lips parted, and my eyes widened as I looked at the head portrait. “Oh, my God. That looks exactly like me.”

“You like?”

“I love it.”

“You want me to carry on and draw the rest of you?”


“Okay, go back and put the coffee down.” I obeyed. “Would you mind taking off that top?”

I’ve never done that before. What the hell? I took off my top and stood in front of him in my bra. He carried on drawing and called me ten minutes later to look again. I smiled and shook my head. It amazed me how he managed to capture my body shape perfectly and to get the lighting just right.

“Would you mind taking off your pants?”

Something about Jean’s apartment and his professionalism made me feel comfortable and pushed my comfort zone. I stood in my g-string and bra in front of him so that he could complete the portrait. He finished twenty minutes later.

“That is incredible,” I said, looking at the complete portrait.

“I think it’s okay.”

“What are you talking about? It’s amazing.”

“Remember, I said to you that you want freedom and to express yourself without any restrictions?”

“Yes, I do.”

“This is almost there, but not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that for you to feel full freedom, you have to let go of everything that doesn’t show you completely.”

“You saying you want me to pose completely naked?”

“That’s the image I had in my mind back at the coffee shop. You’ll see. It will be a masterpiece.”

Hearing the word masterpiece made me smile because I was the subject. I’ve come this far. Why stop now? I unclipped my bra and pulled off my g-string. A smile appeared on Jean’s face as he peeked over the portrait.

He finished and showed it to me. My perky breasts were perfectly shaped, and my little bush drew even more attention downstairs.

“You are a masterpiece,” said Jean.

My eyes sparkled as I kept looking at it. Jean raked my hair to tuck it behind my ear and expose my neck. Our eyes locked, and the attraction between us sucked us in. His lips crashed into mine, and our tongues swirled in each other’s mouths. Jean scooped me into his arms and carried me to his bedroom.

He lay me on the bed and kissed my neck before lowering his lips to my breasts. He sucked my nipples and left a trail of kisses to my stomach. I opened my legs as his chin brushed my pubes. Jean rubbed my clit, then licked it.

“Oh, God. That feels so good,” I said.

He stood in front of the bed and clutched my legs to pull me closer to the edge. After pulling down his jocks, Jean tapped his dick on my pubes and slid it down to my pussy. My eyes closed as he put the head in and hooked my heels onto his shoulders.

“Yes!” I shrieked. I opened my eyes and saw Jean’s wrinkled forehead and clenched teeth as he thrust harder. “Oh, God. Yes. That’s it. Give it to me.”

He squeezed my tits and carried on banging me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and my mouth parched.

“Turn over,” said Jean.

I got into the doggy style position. He stuck his dick in me and then grabbed my arms and pulled them back. When he grabbed my hair and tugged it, the corners of my eyes wrinkled, and my face flushed.

Jean spanked my ass, then grabbed my hips before thrusting harder. I had never been that wet before. He slowed down and ran his hand up my back, then down and dipped his thumb into my ass.

He put his hand over my stomach and lay me beside him to spoon me. His other hand squeezed my tit as his lips brushed my neck.

Jean bit my earlobe and ran his hand down my leg before sliding his hand in between my legs to tickle my pubes. His groans revealed that he enjoyed it.

“Oh, my God. I’m gonna cum,” said Jean.

I lay on my back and watched him wince as his load splattered on my chest and stomach. A few drops landed on my pubes.

Jean walked me to the door and hugged me. “I’ll call you,” he said.

He did, three days later. “Can you come over to my place?” he asked.

I was convinced he wanted more sex, so you won’t hear me complain. I wore a coat and nothing underneath, hoping that he would paint me again and have his way with me afterwards.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said in the lounge. “I hope you won’t be mad. That portrait I did of you, I put in on sale on an online auction.”

“What? Other people saw it?”

“Yes. It went viral on social media, and some rich guy bought it.”

“For how much?”

“The highest bid was fifty thousand euros. To make it up to you, I’ll share half with you.”

“Fifty thousand euros?”


“Wow, With twenty-five thousand euros, I’ll be only a few thousand dollars short of paying my student loan.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Not when that much money is concerned. Just out of curiosity, who bought it?”

Jean logged onto his banking profile. “A guy called Mason Logan.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, my God. What are the chances? He must’ve seen the portrait and didn’t want anybody else to have a piece of me, so he bought it. I knew that I’d get him to pay my student loan one way or another. High five.”


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