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This is a sexual story copyrighted by me, Shon Richards, so
please don't make any money from it. I welcome, read and respond to all
e-mail at

This story is the second part in a non-continuous series. That
means each part can be read for it's own enjoyment. You can read part 7
first and then part 2 and not miss anything. It also means that this
story is self contained and it won't leave you hanging.

For more of this series and essays on the nature of creativity and
writing; please visit
"Vanessa and Me"
Part 2
By Shon Richards
"No fucking way," I said. Outside Vanessa's car was the meat
market that was downtown on a Friday night. college students stumbled
from bar to bar as they checked each other out. Normally I wouldn't
mind hanging out here laughing at the way people put on airs for each
other but tonight was a bit unusual. For one thing, I was wearing
tight jeans with a rip in the buttocks. I liked to watch the crowd,
not become the center of attention.

"Yes way," Vanessa quipped. "We're getting out, and we're
walking around the entire block." It didn't make me feel better that
Vanessa was dressed as trashy as I was. If anything, it made me feel
like she was going to draw even more attention to me.

My heart was pounding. The idea of stepping out among so many
good looking young people dressed as I was terrified me. I didn't
think of my self as an introvert, but this act of exhibitionism and
public humiliation was overwhelming.

"Why are we doing this again?" I asked.

"Because of my painting, remember?" Vanessa said as she opened
the car door. If I wanted to stay her apprentice, I had to follow her.
I replayed what I said about her painting in my mind and tried to
figure out what I did to deserve this.


I looked at Vanessa's painting and chuckled. She had a very
popular public figure giving the audience the finger. It was
blasphemous. It took the person's popularity and shoved it up the
viewer's ass.

"I love it," I said. "You'll never be able to sell it, and I'm
not even sure if its legal to do, but I love it."

Vanessa tossed a finished lollipop stick away. My full time
teacher in the Art of Creativity was lost in thought. Her long black
hair was swept behind her in a ponytail and she was wearing a white t-
shirt that clung to the black bra underneath. My sometimes lover was
wearing a pair of blue jeans that looked worn and comfortable like a
glove. My often chastiser and best critic sighed and reached in her
belt for her sunglasses.

"You have got a lack of guts," Vanessa said. "You are a creative

"Hey!" I said a little wounded. "I can be brave. This painting
is just a bit offensive is all."

"I never said I intended to sell it," Vanessa replied. "I had
the idea, and I took the time to make it. Wouldn't you write something
if you thought it was unique even if you were afraid of offending

"Sure," I said without much conviction. "I'm sure of it."

She shook her head as she slipped the sunglasses over her blue
eyes. "That's your problem, story Boy. You worry too much about your
audience. You think about what they might say or whether they will
like it. By all means, don't create crap but sometimes I think you
ignore your own inner muse for fear of what others will think of you."

"Of course I do," I said. "What writer or artist isn't

"I don't accept that," Vanessa said. Her sunglasses were like a
mirror and I didn't see the strength on my face that I saw on hers.

She turned around and headed for my bedroom. I followed her and
watched as she started to go through my dresser. Vanessa started
tossing out clothes. I watched quietly until she ripped a hole in one
of my shirts.

"Okay, you lost me," I said as she ripped a hole in my shorts.
"Why are you taking out your hostility on my clothes?"

Vanessa ignored me. I was used to this. My teacher had often
said that most people couldn't hear the teaching over the lecturing.
After a half hour of her gathering clothes, she tossed some of them
into a bag and handed me the rest.

"Get dressed, we're going out," she told me.

She left me in my bedroom as I looked at the clothes. There was
a pair of jeans that had a large tear under the buttocks. The tear was
most likely to show off the ridiculous pair of joke boxers I had
received as a gift. Silhouettes of nude women adorned the boxers like
you would see on the flaps of a truck. I checked the shirt she had
picked and laughed. It was a simple white shirt but she had ripped a
hole over the right nipple. Putting the shirt on, I found that it was
impossible to move the shirt to cover the whole.

"Is this a lesson in humiliation?" I said when I came out of the

The sight of Vanessa stopped me cold. She had traded in her t-
shirt for a red blouse that was only buttoned halfway. Her breasts
were pushing hard against her tight and very visible green bra. I
wondered if the bra was a size too small. She had a necklace dangling
low between her cleavage with a jade snake's head leering from her
breasts. Her long black hair was up in a topknot and her usual dark
sunglasses were missing. Her pants were as tight as mine and when she
spun around I saw she had the same tear in her buttocks.

"Where are we going? Street walking?" I joked.

Vanessa smiled. "How did you guess?"


Vanessa carried a large handbag with her as we walked around the
street. The crowds were amazingly thick with people but the way people
stared at us made me feel like I was on a raised dais awaiting
sacrifice. My mentor must have sensed my terror because she took my
hand in hers as we walked. It helped.

Men had a tendency of looking at my exposed nipple and then
scowling. Quite a few of them looked at me with hostility, like I was
tempting them or playing a joke on them. I wanted to apologize to them
and try to explain that I wasn't hitting on them but of course that was
impossible. As we walked I squirmed under my inability to explain

The women were a different story. I got a few amused smiles when
they saw my nipple and I have to admit that my ego soared at such quiet
acceptance. Some women would scowl like the men did and that
helplessness would return. The worse was when a woman would laugh
mockingly and point. It was humiliating, like the woman disregarded my
bare skin as something to be laughed about.

I tried to see how people handled Vanessa and I was surprised how
similar it was to my own watchers. An equal number of men ogled her
open blouse as much as they laughed cruelly. Women were harsher for
their disapproval was often vocal with insults muttered in passing.
Through out it all Vanessa kept smiling.

As for our asses, I always felt like they were being stared at.
I never saw or heard anyone make a comment about out ripped buttocks
but the back of my neck was always tingling. It felt like I was being
studied and with every step I could feel the tear open a little wider
and I just knew that the people who walked behind us were watching us.
Part of me wanted to turn around and see if anyone was watching while
the other half of me didn't want to know. In a way it reminded me of
the fear I get when I send a story to a publisher. I rather not know
their reaction for fear of discovering rejection.

Once around the block we went and Vanessa guided us to a
convenience store. Only a college town would have a liquor store
located in the middle of a row of bars. I started to breathe easily
that we were done when Vanessa pulled out a bundle of clothes and
handed them to me.

"Change in the bathroom," Vanessa told me.

"Screw you," I said in laughing terror.

Her red sunglasses betrayed no emotion as she looked at me. I
was staring so intently at her mouth as I waited for her answer that I
didn't feel her hand press against my jeans. Her nimble fingers found
my manhood and slowly stroked it through the tight denim. Despite my
fears or maybe because of it, my cock surged against the confines of my

"Vanessa!" I admonished.

"Listen Story-Boy," Vanessa said. Her fingers tugged on my
growing manhood. "Aren't you the least bit curious where this is

I choked down a moan as her fingernails rubbed the tip of my
cock. Curiosity and sex are the best whips women ever created.
Without another word I grabbed the clothes she offered and stomped into
the restroom.

The best part about changing in a bathroom stall was that there
was no mirror to humiliate me. I should have known that this second
batch of clothes would have been worse but I had no idea. The shirt
was a black mesh tank top. The leather pants she gave me weren't mine.
I had to wonder where they came from for them to be in my size. For
contrast, Vanessa had given me a pair of white briefs. My erection had
refused to go down and against the tight leather it was visibly
outlined. If I looked tawdry before I looked like a male stripper now.

Vanessa was waiting for me as I stepped out of the bathroom. I
saw three guys staring at her from across the store and I laughed at
how intimidated they appeared. My teacher had exchanged all of her
clothes for a skin tight blue dress. It was made of spandex and clung
to her body like a second skin. The hem came halfway down her thighs
and black fishnet stockings covered the rest of her legs. She was
missing her sunglasses but she had put on electric blue eye shadow that
flared around her eyes.

"No fair," I complained. I pushed my chest forward to emphasize
the holes in my mesh shirt. "I'm showing far more skin than you!"

Vanessa snorted. She pinched a roll on her waist that the
spandex would never hide. "Do you know what it's like to wear spandex
when you're not anorexic? We are both exposed here, Story-Boy."

She had a point. "Then why the Hell are we embarrassing
ourselves?" I asked.

"The same reason you write and I paint," she said. Vanessa took
my hand and dragged me back into the streets. She ignored me when I
asked her to explain herself. I stopped asking when the terror of the
crowd washed over me.

I was wrong about my first walk around the block. That wasn't
humiliating it was simply embarrassing. Walking around men and women
wearing a mesh shirt and tight black leather was the proper definition
of humiliation. There was no hiding the overt sexuality of what I was
wearing. My growing erection didn't help matters. My cock was
emerging pulsing against my pants, throbbing indecently through my
tight clothes.

Vanessa held my hand tightly and dictated our pace. I felt bad
for her as I saw several women turn to their companions and hide their
mouths as their eyes looked at her. They were clearly discussing how
someone of Vanessa's age shouldn't be wearing such a dress and I
marveled at Vanessa's bravery for continuing to hold her head up high.
In fact, I saw a smile threatening to form on her lips. It was she who
was trying hard not to laugh at the crowd.

That gave me something to think about. I watched the young
college kids as we passed by them. The creative part of my mind tried
to guess at the source of the blushes of the women whose eyes had
strayed to my crotch. I tried to guess the reasons for the angry
stares that men gave me. Were they homophobic or simply offended by

This didn't mean I was now suddenly transformed and fearless. My
face was still burning from my constant blushing. Occasionally a woman
would just stop in her tracks and bust out laughing and only Vanessa's
insistent pulling of my hand would keep me from running and hiding.
The difference was that I slowly understood that the reactions of
others were something I couldn't control but I could at least enjoy

A pretty Hispanic woman gave me a knowing smile that was free of
malice and full of appreciation. I clung to that one smile with my
memory as another group of college men made derogatory homosexual
comments after we passed them. It occurred to me that it was a lot
like reading reviews of my stories. It was the good reviews that
helped me weather the nasty critics.

I watched Vanessa as we walked and gave her my most appreciative
leer. She laughed and I think she knew what I was doing but the truth
was that it was easy to admire her. Her full breasts were straining
against the dress and the jiggling was easy to appreciate. I slipped
my hand around her waist and gave her a hugging squeeze.

"What was that for?" Vanessa asked.

"Because the dress shows off your hips," I said. "And watching
your hips I can tell you have a nicer sway than many of these young
girls will ever have."

Vanessa smiled brightly until we got back to the convenience
store. She reached into the purse and pulled out another set of
clothes. This bundle was even smaller than the last.

"I think I've learned my lesson," I tried.

Vanessa shook her head. "Not even close," she answered. "But
you're getting there. Just one more walk around and I'll give you your
graduation present."

I laughed. "I don't need bribes with you."

She leaned in close. Her eyes were alive and sultry under the
blue eye shadow. I could smell her scent of myrrh under the heavy
cloud of alcohol and smoke from the streets.

"This isn't a bribe I'm offering," Vanessa said. "I'm just going
to have to suck you after watching your sexy butt all night."

It was impossible to remove my shorts at first after the effect
Vanessa's words had on me. My erection seemed to be too big for the
bathroom stall I was changing in, but then that just might be my male

This last change of clothes was more pornographic than the last
but I was expecting it. I didn't hesitate to put on the loose sweat
shorts. No underwear was included and I knew that Vanessa wouldn't
want me to keep what I had. Although the sweat shorts were not as
revealing as the biker shorts, they offered no control of my solid
cock. My manhood pushed forward like a tent pole.

Of course there was no shirt. What was strange was that I didn't
mind. After a night of being self-conscious I was tired of being
embarrassed. If other people can't handle my near naked ass, screw

Vanessa was waiting for me but then she had less to put on than I
did. She had a black lycra bikini top and a matching thong. Her snake
necklace dangled between her full breasts but I barely saw it for the
treasures surrounding it. She had her sunglasses back on and I knew
she was hiding behind them but I didn't call her out on it. Revealing
ourselves was hard enough and I was grateful to her for showing me the
truth tonight.

"I get it," I said as we walked between a group that openly
laughed at us.

"You've said that before," Vanessa answered. We were arm in arm
and joined in spirit.

I smiled at a young woman who stared at my bulging shorts. "I
really get it now. Creating a story or a work of art takes courage.
Other people will laugh at it, they might love it or they might tear it
apart for their own enjoyment. You can keep your art inside where no
one can hurt it or you can throw it out there and take your chances."

"So why are we walking around dressed like this?" Vanessa asked
as a man made an obscene gesture towards her. As impressive as Vanessa
was jiggling inside her top, I felt his gesture to be a poor tribute.

"You're showing me that these fucks don't matter," I answered.
"Yeah, they can hurt our feelings but some people have enjoyed our
little walks. If someone were to be constructive and tell me that I
would look better with a few more sit-ups, I would take it as easily as
I would if someone told me my narrative was rambling. When the only
negative comments we get are rude insults, I just don't take it
seriously. You wanted me to walk around to see that the worse thing
that can happen to an artist is just words. It seems like a shame to
not create something that could be really great to someone just because
you're afraid of what rude people will say."

"About time you realized that," Vanessa said. She grabbed my arm
and pulled me into an alley. At first I thought she was just hiding
from the crowds until she pushed me up against a wall and knelt before

"What are you doing?" I asked as she pulled my shorts down. My
cock came out, swollen and hard. Vanessa rubbed her cheek against my
erection and I moaned. The tension of the night and the sight of her
all night had made me very sensitive and very much in need.

"Giving you your graduation present," Vanessa answered before
taking me into her mouth. With a single gulp her lips slid over my
cock and her mouth embraced my full length.

I gasped at the shock of pleasure. We were still in sight of the
street and I didn't care. Vanessa wouldn't stop anyway and it would
defeat the purpose of the lesson to complain about modesty now. People
continued to walk by only ten feet away from us as Vanessa sucked my
cock. My hands gripped her thick black hair as her head moved up and
down my manhood. The brick wall was harsh on my bare ass but I ignored
its abrasive touch like I would any critic.

Vanessa's tongue was a velvet compliment on my cock. Her breasts
pressed against my thighs and her hard nipples pressed through her
lycra to touch my skin. She passionately sucked, drawing on our fears
and our embarrassment to reach a new level of frenzy. My fingers
pulled painfully on her hair and she moaned her approval deep in her
throat till my whole length was vibrating.

My eyes popped open in bliss and I saw a couple stop on the
street to watch us. I said nothing as the young blonde turned to her
tall boyfriend and point at us. As Vanessa's head continued to move on
my cock, the couple stared in silence. I began to curl inwards, drawn
by the wet pleasure emanating from her mouth. When I uncurled and
moaned with my back pressing into the brick wall, the couple was gone.

More people walked by and some of them watched and some of them
ignored us and some of them even shouted rude unrepeatable things at us
but I didn't care. In that moment in the alley I existed only to be
sucked and as the recipient of Vanessa's art I felt no shame or
hesitation. I groaned as I emptied my seed into Vanessa's mouth and I
didn't care who witnessed my happiness.

"Congratulations," Vanessa said when she was done swallowing. I
pulled her gently up and then playfully pushed her back against the
wall. She began to laugh when I kneeled before her but when I pulled
aside her thong, her laughter turned into a moan. I buried my face in
her sex and demonstrated in the alley that her lessons had taken hold.

The end.


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