The Sculptress by Eva Hore

The Sculptress by Eva Hore is now available!


Julie’s depressed because her lover Bethany is overseas and has told her to get on with her life. But how can she, when all she wants is Bethany back?

To take her mind off Bethany, her flatmate Cynthia drags her along to meet a sculptress named Margaret. The artist’s raunchy nudes turn Julie on more than she would’ve thought. Then she’s introduced to Amanda, Margaret’s beautiful model, and her troubles are soon forgotten.

The attraction between Amanda and Julie is intense and immediate. Then Julie decides to try her hand at sketching, and Amanda agrees to model for her. But when Margaret leaves the two of them alone, they do more than sketching. It doesn’t take Amanda long to draw Julie in and forget about her broken heart.

What will happen when Margaret returns to find the two of them entwined together in a passionate pose of their own? Or when Cynthia returns with a little surprise of her own?

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It was hard to believe Margaret had sculpted him into something so realistic. The dimensions to her work and detail were outstanding.

“It’s fabulous,” I said, totally in awe of her as the doorbell rang. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Use the cloth. Close your eyes and let your mind see the picture by touch.”

I picked up the cloth and did as she suggested. It was such an erotic experience. I peeked to see her turn to answer the door and quickly slid my hands down his torso and then lower, fleetingly.

She ran downstairs, her ponytail bouncing as she did, and I heard her laughing with someone at the front door. It gave me a chance to examine the cock more thoroughly, his testicles, and then the shape and curve of his butt.

It was the closest I’d been to the real thing. Even though I was always eager to use a dildo, they didn’t have the proportions as realistic as this.

Voices rose as Margaret and her guest climbed the stairs. I quickly dropped the cloth, turning to see the most gorgeous redhead I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Normally, I don’t pay that much attention to women, but this one was dynamite. She was so sexy, dressed in a skintight pair of leather pants, leather vest, and jacket. She was absolutely gorgeous. I had trouble trying not to imagine what she looked like under her clothes.

I tried to guess her age. I figured she was somewhere near Margaret’s but couldn’t be sure. How did these older women look so good? I felt like a frump compared to them.

“This is Amanda,” Margaret said. “Amanda, this is Julie. I asked Amanda if it’s okay for you to participate in the sitting, and it’s cool with her. So what do you say we get started?”

“You sure you don’t mind starting a bit early?” Amanda asked, unzipping her jacket and placing it on the couch.

“Not at all. Julie, give me a hand with this table, will you?” Margaret asked.

Together, we placed a low table close to the window; Margaret telling me how it was the best height for lighting and balance. We draped a white sheet over it and scattered white cushions and pillows and a sheepskin rug over the top.

I turned to see what Amanda was doing and was shocked to see she was removing all of her clothing. She was down to her bra and panties, and I watched, fascinated, as she unclipped her bra, threw that on the couch, and then eased out of her panties.

Her back was to me, and as she bent over to pick up her shoes, I was rewarded with a perfect view of her bottom and a quick glimpse of her pussy. My heart missed a beat as my own pussy began to throb. I hadn’t realized she’d be posing nude.

She turned towards me, her beautiful pale skin without a blemish anywhere, visible for my scrutiny. She was definitely a natural redhead. Her small triangle of pubic hair, clipped short, was as red as the hair on her head. Her breasts were full with dark, erect nipples. They stood out like beacons against her white skin.

As she sauntered over towards us, I held my breath. I’d never seen a naked woman so at ease before. Well, not like that, a total stranger. I’d seen Cynthia and my sisters in different stages of undress, but never totally nude and certainly not in such close proximity.

Even Bethany had not been as comfortable being naked as Amanda. I felt a pang of guilt thinking of Bethany, but why should I? She was the one who left; she didn’t have to leave but did. I pushed her out of my mind and tried to concentrate on what was to happen next.

I just stood there, rooted to the spot, as Amanda climbed up on the table and made herself comfortable. She had her hair up, and with a quick flick, she discarded her clip. Her beautiful red hair cascaded down in curls to caress her back.

“What position do you want me in?” she asked of Margaret.

“How about you try out a few? See what feels comfortable.”

Amanda rolled about the table, stretching her arms and legs, flexing her muscles and moving her head from side to side, allowing her hair to caress her body.

“What about this?” she asked.

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