She started writing, and as expected her top rose along with her hand and her fair white hips were visible again. I was having the best view. She had ... habit of doing the whole sum first and then explaining it.This sum was quite a big one and all the space of the board until her hand reached was filled. As she was short, she had to lift her hands higher to write. Her deep white navel was clearly visible to me and I was having a tough time hiding my boner.Then she moved to write on the middle. It was truly two people becoming as one. As little as nothing separated his hairy torso from her full bosom. Or his slightly bulging stomach on her flat muscular one. Or his stubbled chin grating against her smooth one. And the orgasms she achieved, which he somehow reciprocated without losing the will and vigour to continue, were full, throaty and unfeigned. Fuck the neighbours, Quentin thought. He would probably never have to confront their complaints about the passion they could hear through. I was beyond turned on, almost breaking a sweat. I in turn returned the favor, by sending one of my semi flaccid cock..This activity went on for several weeks, resulting in what was a great kick start to intense sex we once had. Our late night conversations turned from work to fantasies, with me once again, begging to see her with another man (I swear I was a cuckold in my past life..LOL), a thought that once again, I felt would not materialize. The next day, I went to work like usual doing. Enjoying the sights and the sounds, she slowed her pace to look in the window of some of the shops. When she walked a block closer, and was within view of 38 Newbury Street, as if she was seeing her reflection in a mirror, she saw full size portraits of her face in color decorating the windows of Saunder’s Art Gallery. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said standing still while staring. ‘I don’t believe it. That’s me. Jerry painted those of me,’ she said totally stunned seeing herself in life sized, living.