A Tribe For Tethys Part 1 Chapter 1 by MimiRay

A Tribe For Tethys Part 1 Chapter 1 by MimiRay

Dive into the steamy world of A Tribe For Tethys in Part 1 Chapter 1 of this tantalizing adult sex story by MimiRay. Join the tribe, explore desires, and indulge in forbidden pleasures. Read now!<br/>

My friend Tethys is an artist, Taylor is a software creator. Tethys loves Taylor, but she’s aware that she could never be true to him alone. She’ll always need lovers on the side. Preferably more than one. Taylor accepts it for now, but will he always? Maybe he needs some friends of his own to play with.

A Tribe For Tethys

Part 1 – Gesso

Chapter 1: A Hot Date

I’m a lucky girl. It’s Friday, five o clock in the evening. I shut down the computer, and push away from my desk, my tablet, my pencils and brushes. I didn’t quit early, but I’m not working late either. I have a date tonight.

It’s a short commute, I walk from the spare bedroom where I’ve set up my studio into the master bathroom. I’d gotten a little sweaty during my lunchtime run, but nothing serious. My shower will be quick and efficient, my dressing and preparations afterwards somewhat more leisurely. There’s no rush.

I pause at the sink, and do a quick study of myself in the mirror. I’ve gotten in the habit of this lately, and I like what I see. I’m not ravishingly beautiful, my face is pleasant, but maybe a little wider and rounder than what would be considered “classic.” I have nice green eyes, though, a clear complexion, and an olive skin tone that has deepened to near-bronze over the summer months. My heritage is Greek, Ionian actually, and I like to think of myself as in the direct lineage of the princess-goddesses of Minoan Crete. Not that I have the prominent breasts that are so proudly displayed in those elegant, bosom-baring dresses from the sculptures and wall frescoes, but at least I share the slender waist, the strong shoulders, and the womanly hips of the images. I look better without the dress anyway, I tell myself. I spend most of my day nude, except for the necessary outfit I wear during my run. I keep a smock close at hand while I’m working, in case of unexpected visitors, but rarely have a need to grab it. I’m truly comfortable in my own skin.

I was downright scrawny until a couple of years ago, and I’ve worked hard to sculpt my body into one that I can be proud of, one that is visually arresting. I have no tan lines, quite an accomplishment for someone living in a two-bedroom apartment with no private yard, but my skin responds well to the sun, and it darkens deeply and effortlessly when I’m able to be naked outdoors. I’m a lucky girl.

I’m thirty two years old, and physically I feel like I’m in my prime. I’m not rich, but I’m not the stereotypical starving artist either. I do ok. I sell some of my work online, and some in a couple of galleries downtown. I mostly paint old-style, in oils. I do a lot of pencil sketching for my detail studies, and I use a combination of Inkscape, GIMP, and Blender to work my ideas up into templates, which I then translate onto a standard self-gessoed canvas using paints based in linseed oil. It’s a lot more time consuming than acrylic, but I love those deep, glowing colors, and my customers seem to like them too.

My dirty blonde hair looks slightly disheveled, but I’ve seen it worse. It would be shoulder length if it would hang down like normal straight hair, but it’s always had a mind of its own. Taming it will be the most time-consuming part of my evening preparations, but by the time I’m done…

The shower takes a little longer than I’d planned, running my fingers along my skin made me realize it’s time for a shave. In short order my armpits, legs, and cunt are silky smooth, but then I spend more time caressing them and enjoying the sensation. I caress them often.

I dry off, and settle in to make myself socially acceptable. While I’m putting on my face and adjusting my hair, I activate my tablet and open a porn video from my list of regulars. I’m a visual, aural, and tactile person, and while porn is a hidden and guilty pleasure for many women, I’ve never felt any guilt about it, nor the need to hide it. I like porn – at least the concept. Finding a good example of it is rare, with most of it being either boring or annoying, and sometimes offensive. This one isn’t too bad, a group of college students picnicking at a lake, which predictably turns into an outdoor orgy. Taylor will enjoy it later. It’s enough to encourage a little self-rubbing, just enough to dampen me between the legs, and release a whiff of sex pheromones onto my skin. I don’t want to overdo it too soon.

By six-thirty I’m looking pretty hot. My wild hair has been shaped, thickened, and slightly reddened. My eye and lip makeup is minimal, just the barest of highlights do the trick. My earrings are homemade, a somewhat abstract triangular design of wires and tiny hanging pendents. I put on a gold chain necklace with an emerald hanging just below my breastbone. I like how my skin color compliments it. I don’t need a bra, and my cream-colored short tie romper doesn’t need any panties either. A pair of lace sandals finishes me off, and I’m out the door, into that sweltering oven that is Austin in July.

It’s a fifteen minute drive to Taylor’s house, in one of the newer cookie cutter neighborhoods with small plaster-walled homes on identical cul-de-sacs. Definitely a nicer neighborhood than my own apartment complex, but I’m not sure it’s worth the extra rent. It has a river rock front yard with a couple of small, straggly willow trees and a boxwood hedge. I pull into the driveway and walk through the front door without knocking.

“Right on time!” comes the cheerful male voice from inside, as I pull open the screen door. Taylor practically leaps across the hallway towards me, wraps me in his arms, and gives me a long, enthusiastic kiss. His shining eyes are crinkled in joy. He steps back to take in the sight of me, and the eyes widen.

“Tethys, you are so fucking sexy!” he breathes. “You look fantastic in that outfit.” I follow his eyes down to my nipples, subtly visible through the soft hemp fabric. The blouse hangs off them, and gives just enough stimulation to keep them a little extended. I like the feeling, and I like that Taylor likes the view. His attention stimulates my nipples even further, and I feel them tightening under the cloth. Taylor notices. I can see it in his eyes.

His eyes. Those eyes! Those eyes are what captured me from the very beginning, and never yet have let me go. They’re green, like mine. Almost the exact same shade, but they somehow seem brighter, clearer, deeper. If they truly are a window to the soul, then Taylor has a very green, clean soul. But there’s lot more to him than that, more that thrills and captivates me. On paper, maybe he’s nothing special: average height, average weight, average proportions, the shape of his face is almost exactly the standard you’d find in a drawing manual. But those averages belie the qualities that make him so exquisite. He’s fit, that average weight is distributed over a tight core, a nice chest and abdomen, the body of a good runner. There’s rarely a 10k or half-marathon run in town that he misses. I enjoy my daily lunch runs, but he puts me to shame in that department. He doesn’t do full marathons, though. He stops before he runs out of glycogen, he’s explained to me. He wants his exercise to be aerobic, not catabolic. He won’t break his body down just to race.

He applies a wide smile generously in my direction, his mellow sonorous voice can sing all my favorite songs, a somewhat pale skin color contrasts nicely with his dark hair and eyebrows and with my tan, his ass is tight and fine, his cock large and skilled, and when he’s not displaying those assets to me he knows how to dress well, too. I adore this guy.

Taylor is a software developer, putting together apps for phone interfaces on the front end, and cloud servers on the back end. He works mostly in Java, or Swift, or Objective C, but at home he programs in Python, just for the fun of it. He’s built some impressive stuff for himself and friends; a gravitational program that allows the user to build their own solar systems or star clusters or even galaxies, an evolution simulator that puts a population of a species into a changing habitat and tracks how it responds, using both natural and sexual ***********ion and genetic drift. Currently he’s building an app for our mutual friend Carl to help him track his weight training progress.

At the moment, Taylor is indeed dressed well, a little fancier than me. It looks a bit much for this central Texas blast furnace, but he’s not sweating yet. He takes another step back, eyeing me appreciatively once more.

“Nobody in the place tonight is going to be able to eat a bite, they’ll be too distracted looking at you.”

I blush, even though I know it isn’t true, my nipples and my pussy don’t know that, and they both react with anticipation. The very faint aroma of sexual excitement reaches our nostrils.

“So, are you ready to go?” he asks. “The reservations are for seven-thirty, we’ll make it in plenty of time.”

We step through the utility room into the garage, and the door begins to rise. We’ll be going in his car, of course, his pride and joy, a brand new Tesla Model 3. The grayish-green color seems understated, but it’s all elegance to me. My ten year old Hyundai will be in no danger in his driveway while we’re gone. It takes nearly half an hour to get to downtown Austin, Friday night traffic is always a pain. It’s a pleasant trip for me, the Tesla is a great ride, and Taylor is great company. He keeps me entertained with stories and jokes as we wind our way into the city, he laughs easily, and it’s easy to laugh along with him.

We finally arrive at our destination, one of the side streets connecting Fifth and Sixth street, a small restaurant called “The Taino”, advertising Caribbean and Cuban cuisine. It has an even smaller outdoor courtyard, but the heat drives our preference for indoor seating tonight. Small though it is, it’s furnished very nicely, the menu is pricey, and reservations need to be made several days in advance. We are quickly ushered to our small booth near a corner. The menu is a little bewildering, but enticing. Taylor orders a spicy sea bass with red beans and rice. I go for the jerk, the pulled pork with mango salsa, black beans, sliced sweet potatoes, and amaranth greens. It’s all beyond delicious, with complex flavor mixes that I can almost identify, but completely savor!