I am a painter. Women's nature - worries. But the man in me has always been stronger than the artist. Now I draw on this very nature. If you only knew how beautiful it is: under your hands, the female body blossoms and reveals its true beauty. I am sure that only an artist can elevate the beauty of a naked woman to the rank of art. It's available to me. I want you to know that this is also possible.
And it is not at all necessary to imagine me as a weird type bathing screaming girls in paint. Not at all. Firstly, because I work only with Women. And secondly: I'm an ordinary guy, I work as a designer in an advertising agency, I get good fees for advertising broths, tights and rolled steel.
Ask: who agrees to "lie under the brush"? The first among the candidates is a girl from a party. Fashionable, cool. Tattoo? Yes, here she is, uncle, a rose on her ass. An umbilical ring? Please. Ecstasy? It used to. Fashionable pubic haircut? But what about without her? How old are you? 18th. Such people come when everything else has already been tried, when there is nothing to surprise the crowd with. She does not react at all to touch, tries to comment on each stroke, and asks every two minutes: uncle, will you give me the pictures? Like I said, I don't work with them.
Much more attracted in this regard are Women who are familiar with their bodies, Women seeking new depths, Women who want to know, Women whose bodies hide some kind of mystery. Basically, these are Women from 25 to 37 (I don’t like younger ones, I haven’t met older ones).
It is impossible to describe the range of feelings during the session and before it. Here you are showing her your work for the first time. Here you need to carefully monitor the slightest manifestations of her emotions. Here, she saw the first photo - surprised.
- Sasha, what is it?
- You asked about my hobby?
- Yes, but I didn't think you were doing THAT.
- Do you not like my work, or does it bother you that I made them?
I don't know, it's just kind of...
- Look at it easier: after all, every morning you draw something on your face, so why not draw something on your body? But since it will be quite difficult for you to reach your own back, it will be easier to let me do it ...
- Well, you know... and stuff like that.
I observe further: my breathing has become deeper, my pupils are dilated, there is a half-smile on my lips... And I speak, I entice, entangle, devour with my eyes. There is no more pleasant sight than the sight of a Woman trying to hide her arousal. She does not even suspect that as soon as she thought about her body and decided to "keep herself", her body immediately began to give a lot of signals available to my eyes ... so she slightly brought her legs together and put one slightly at an angle, Here she removed the strand behind her ear and slightly tilted her head ... That's it. I seem to have reached a heavily fortified position. Well, let's step back for a moment.
Then comes the game, very, it should be noted, interesting. The thing is, I already said "Yes" before showing her my work. Her body said "Yes" even before the fifth photo. But her brain was against it. So the goal of the game is how, by colluding with her body, to cloud her brain. Okay, let's skip the next step and move to my studio (actually - an ordinary apartment in a residential area).
I open the door, we go in. She is slightly tense, I can see from her face that inside she has something like this dialogue:
- And why did I fall for it? Can refuse? I’ll translate everything as a joke, I’m good at it, but he won’t be offended.
But on the other hand, I'll look stupid. In addition, I have known Sasha for a long time, so you can hardly expect unpleasant surprises from him.
- But I don't want a serious relationship with him, he's certainly a good guy, but...
- So there will be no relationship, he will just draw something on me, we will laugh, and we will scatter in different directions.
- Ksyusha, smile (I'm already saying this). Are you afraid of me somehow?
I put her on the sofa, give her a glass of wine in my hands, and I myself begin to prepare the "workplace". I take out brushes, bring warm water, napkins, mix paints. I am watching her out of the corner of my eye. What a strange state she is in at the same time ... On the one hand, she is a sensual Woman, and the situation itself (and wine) makes her a little drunk. On the other hand, she sees my preparations, and understands that all this is intended for her, that it is I who will do exactly this with her (how is this possible?)! It is easier and more understandable for her to have ordinary sex: a prelude that turns into a bed fight with an explosive finale.
All is ready. Pause for a few seconds. I look into her eyes (what a mixture in them!). I smile.
- Ksyusha, it will be uncomfortable for us on the couch, and clothes will probably interfere.
- What, undress? (in such a voice, as if I would cut her appendicitis)
- Well, do you want me to go with you?
Got up. The blouse lay down on the sofa, having lost its content and turned into a simple rag. Breast. While hidden by a bra. I'm watching. I absorb with every cell. Jeans. They sit tight on the hips. Makes an effort. Give in, centimeter by centimeter exposing the fabric of the panties, the slimness of the legs. Yes, you should have seen her underwear... Probably the best of her entire wardrobe. Damn, she knew how it would end! Steps over. Pause. The border. Puts his hands behind his back. Breast. I made no mistake in choosing the canvas. Like everything beautiful, her breasts cannot be described in words. She has already made up her mind. The border has been passed. Panties, slowly, invitingly, languidly. So. Now she seems to have decided to play with me. Stupid mouse pulling the cat's whiskers! Below, even below, I stepped over - and here in front of me is SHE. Please let your hair down. Eye shine. Raises his arms, bends slightly. Brown hair cascade. Pause. I admire. I want to see it all.
- Ksyusha, you just deprived me of the power of speech ...
- Now we need to decide what exactly we will depict on you.
- Please turn around.
- So, take your hair forward. So...
- Legs a little wider, turn around.
- One hand up, raise your hair, So,
- Bend a little, one leg a little back. Take your left breast, lift it up, yes, like this (poor thing, does she really think that all this is necessary for my art?)
- Come on. Squat nearby. Remove your hair. Like this. (It is precisely at such moments, when I am polite with a naked Woman, that I most of all want to pounce on her and tear her to pieces).
I sit behind my back, starting from the shoulders. They are tense. First brush stroke. Her skin breaks out in goosebumps. Exhalation. Her warmth, her scent. It was not in vain that he wrote "strike" - her body twitches, as if from a current discharge. Hit. Smear. Another blow. Breathing faster and faster. I'm changing my location. Please lie on your stomach. I work with my back. Her body seems to have adjusted. Relaxed. No, beauty, that won't do... So, you think, the next touch between the shoulder blades? I did not guess - and the brush works in the lower back. The loin is slightly bent. Surprised? You think the spine - no, let's work on the neck. Each touch is in a new place, intermittent, teasing. There seems to be a smell of electricity in the air. It seems you understand everything. But you are no longer your own boss. You have only the voice of the body: "I WANT". And only one thought: "Let him start first." Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Sob. The body itself moves towards the brush. Now I am the master of your body and I tell you no.
I ask you to get up. Face to face. Busily poking at you with a brush. I pretend not to notice. But your eyes burn me. Waves of your desire are trying to pick me up and throw me towards you. I say "No. I try not to look down - I can not resist. I pull myself together. Breast. How you want to touch your lips, feel the taste, absorb the nipple, feel the trembling of your body with your lips. I touch with a brush. Closer, closer. Nipples are tight, I never thought they could be so tight. You are on the edge. I say "No.
I ask you to stand up, I myself remain on my knees. Stomach. Satin-smooth skin. I don't own myself. Right in front of me is a bud asking for affection. Your smell. No, SMELL. Last moment. I admire the beauty of the female vagina. For me now there is only this body.
I drop the brush. I put my hands on your ass - I don't want you to run away from me. I can finally feel your skin I press your bud to my face, bending you towards me. I drink you. I enjoy your flexibility. I touch every crease with my tongue. Moan. A long, sweet moan. I'm letting go. I raise my eyes, kneeling before you. In your eyes - a mixture of superiority and subservience. Throwing yourself at me. Hoping to get the initiative? It wasn't there.
I'm already undressed. A fierce kiss. No barriers. You are mine. All. Your hand finally gets to my cock. Everything, I'm yours. No will, no one else, just this hand...
Damn, in vain I restrained myself so much: my penis can’t believe in such happiness, and it’s stuck somewhere in the middle of the path to the desired state. And you, girl, well done, you understand what I need now ...
I lie on my back. Your tongue slides over the bridle, lips wrap around the head. You're in no hurry to move on, as if tasting me. Here, a jerk, and I feel a wave go down my spine, ending with a blunt blow to the brain. More and more. Deeper and deeper. No emotions. No you. Only this tongue can now ask anything from me, if only this continues ...
This is where it all ends. Where are you? I open my eyes. Your pussy is frozen over my cock. Do you love from above? Hurry. You are not in a hurry. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, my cock enters you. Your face. Eyes, lips speak of the flour of love. Moan. You are all mine. She froze. You look into my eyes. Well, what are you. Traffic. More and more.
I can’t do this anymore, I rudely drive you away, with one jerk I spread your legs to the sides, I rudely enter. I start working like a beast. Submit. I'm fucking you at an ever-increasing pace. Your legs wrap around my hips. Wave, more wave. You're yelling. I'm getting close.
Explosion. There is nothing. Only my flow is in you. More and more. I feel your vagina contract as it takes my cum. I'm falling. No forces. You are in some kind of astral plane. There is only a body next to me. No words, no feelings...
Damn, we're all covered in paint... What are you saying? Oh, ruined the picture? What picture? Ah, body painting and all that... And who told you that I do body painting? No, of course not, a friend sent me pictures on the Internet (here you need to shut her mouth with a kiss until she blurted out something like that).
That's all. In fact, I really am not an artist at all, although I sympathize with body painting. But, I will make a reservation: if in real life there were a girl, a brush and I, everything would have happened in exactly the same way.