My favorite artist / Daddy /
"Listening to you," — after a short wait, she continued the silence with her soft, captivating, as many say, voice — "listening to you you you you you..."
"Hello," — I heard, and an unfamiliar, gentle, but serious voice continued — "I can make you happy, I am your future beloved man! Only yours and forever!"
Strangely and surprisingly, I blurted out:
"Hooray, finally, I've been thinking about you constantly," — suddenly realizing I was saying the wrong thing, I stopped myself and continued — "Sorry, it just slipped out, well... very nice, who are you? Where from? And how do you even know my number..."
"Let's start with the last questions," — the voice was pleasant — "the number, to be honest — it's a matter of chance and dialed at random for luck... I'm from Moscow myself, I live in the Southwest... My name is Volodya and," — after a short pause, he continued — "I so want to just fall in love like this... head over heels... to love and definitely forever!!!"
"I'm Tanya," — I answered him — "and imagine, your thoughts about Love, it's as if you read mine... nice... How old are you? What do you do?"
"I'll be 56 soon, shall we use 'you'? It brings people closer faster.."
"56," — I interrupted him, "Volodya... I'm 29 and what a shame, such a huge difference... and is it worth continuing the acquaintance..."
"Sad and a pity," — he answered quietly — "such a pleasant little voice, gentle... as if my own... SAD..."
"Let's remain friends, the world is small and who knows who will help you tomorrow and what will happen in general.."
"If possible, I'll write to you on WhatsApp, maybe I'll be needed... I'm an artist..."
"Okay," — I answered, intrigued that he was a creative person... such people always attracted me with completely different thoughts and a different attitude towards everything than everyone else... "write, I'll definitely answer when I have time..."
"All the best to you, to you, and... be sure to find Love!"
Afterwards, I thought, it's been a long time since I touched creativity, romance in life... even the theater, strangely enough, when there were men, we never went... I attended concerts, museums precisely when I was alone... Apparently, they weren't the right men... And here's an artist... and how sad... a 27-year difference... interesting, who is he and how does he live..."
Messages before bed came one after another, I promised to look at them and reply tomorrow..
"I, Tanya, am not a Muscovite and not rich, but... honest and decent, educated, faithful and reliable, caring, and I also don't drink or smoke, although I'm not against it... with a sense of humor... a creative person — a poet, an artist, and not only in soul, although it doesn't bring much money... I work as a florist in a flower shop... I am convinced: To live is to definitely Love!"
I read and reread message after message and it became even sadder... Thoughts swirled and it became sadder and sadder: "As if he's my man, but why are you so old... and lives modestly and I feel sorry for him... After all, my Dad is five years younger... Why is everything so wrong in life..."
Volodya sent his poems, videos in the following days, said that at home, it's like a mini exhibition — he makes panels from natural materials and all the walls are covered with them... Suddenly, this became a bit interesting.
"Why not visit sometime and take a look," — I thought — "in a friendly way, see what and how the artist creates, especially since he promised to paint a portrait from a photo and he offered."
"I invite you to visit, anytime you decide, I'll drop everything for you," — he said affirmatively and we decided on these weekends, I'll come...
He kissed my hand when we met, smiling... he was tall, slender, a short beard with a mustache gave him nobility and dignity suited him, but... all white — gray-haired and that aged him a lot, I initially thought he was even older... But an artist, a talented artist, I think, should look like that, it's as if written on his face... In the apartment, a bit of a mess, but I think it's still decent compared to many men when they are alone... And most importantly, truly, all the walls are covered in his works and portraits painted by his hand... I spent about half an hour looking with interest at everything hanging on the walls... We chatted about creativity, about everything and about love, about life... He offered wine, having warned in advance that he would have juice himself... He hasn't drunk or smoked for about 10 years and on principle, he never will again...
An hour later, opening my eyes, I saw Vladimir lying on the other side and watching TV, which was talking quietly quietly..
"Sorry," — I said in a small voice — "I fell asleep, sorry, maybe I should go home... I'm not used to sleeping in clothes..."
"Tanyush, don't talk nonsense," — he answered — "it's already midnight, go to the bathroom, wash up, take off your clothes... I'll give you my long t-shirt and rest, my sweet girl..."
And somehow I melted from his tender, affectionate voice and went to the bathroom...
I woke up in complete darkness... from pleasure... At first, the thought flashed that it was in a dream, but... getting used to the darkness and not seeing Vladimir next to me, on the other side of the bed, as I saw when falling asleep... suddenly I realized, already receiving pleasure and anticipating happiness, orgasm... I was even afraid to move... not to push away and argue... no no... I was afraid to scare him off, how pleasant it was for me... and I quietly came..... He slowly rose and whispered in my ear:
"Sorry, I couldn't restrain myself, but I tried to make it better only for you..."
"It was pleasant for me, thank you, Volodya," — I answered just as barely audibly — "it was good, I'll sleep better," — and I started smiling, and he continued:
"Then allow me more... the same thing only..." now he smiled — "I'll try to give you such cunnilingus that you'll always remember me and desire a repeat... and come for it again..."
"Intrigued," — now I want that too," — I answered him and again spread my legs in anticipation...
Volodya, without rushing, licked my breasts, gently biting and sucking, licked all around, my whole stomach and already approaching my pussy, I was ready to explode, which happened as soon as he touched it with his tongue... And he continued, hearing my moans and rapid breathing... it was enough for him to insert two fingers, find what was needed, sucking on the clitoris and... I'm flying again and, unable to restrain myself, I screamed, immediately covering my mouth with my hand...
We lay silently for a bit... silently feeling and understanding each other and he was again between my legs... my pussy as if itself reached out to him and he worked wonders with it and his tongue... I almost lost consciousness from the high I was getting...
"Volodya, you're super," — I told him during another rest time — "didn't expect it... honestly... it's super, I don't even remember offhand when it was so good from a tongue..."
"I love her," — he suddenly said — "she's mine... rightfully mine and I will love her madly..."
"I didn't understand you," — suddenly not realizing what he was talking about, I said.
"I love your pussy now," — he blurted out and we both laughed...
I don't remember how many rounds there were, how many times he went down and got up during the night... definitely more than 13 orgasms and he then said — "That's my favorite number!" — but we fell asleep already towards morning, when the sun was already slipping through the curtains and we were no longer shy, although he, unlike me, was always in his underwear...
Volodya didn't ask for sex or a blowjob, as many men do in return for gratitude for their work... He was maximally tender and affectionate...
"Will you be my Daddy?" — I said jokingly to him when I woke up.
"I can't stand that word, I am ready to be Your Artist, Volodya," — he said firmly — "but not Daddy, I don't even have anything to support you with.."
We agreed that I would come once or twice a week, as strongly as I wanted, but without any obligations... Warning in advance...
And I left with the thoughts: "Volodya, of course, is old for me, but... I was flying when he gave me cunnilingus and how he did it... you still have to search for that... And why not come by occasionally, receiving loving, insane pleasure... And whatever happens, now I have a personal artist!" I thought, smiled, and somehow felt warm and good from all these thoughts... If anything, I'll proudly tell my friends:
"I have my own, beloved Artist!!!"