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Painting

By: JumperBritt



The following story is true, it happened to me two summers ago. Some details have been embellished for dramatic effect ... but only slightly. This is my first story so If it's terrible, cut me some slack. This isn't a short story, so if your looking for quick gratification and sex between two characters that haven't been developed by the author outside of "sally had big tits" then don't bother reading.

*****

Painting is never a clean task. No matter how organized you happen to be as a person or how careful you are with your splatters, paint always ends up everywhere. On your face, on your clothes ... in your hair. Painting should be left for professional guys (or girls, in the interests of equality) who know what they are doing and wont end up trying to comb a large wad of Dutch Boy out of their hair at the end of the day.

I was not so fortunate to have a friend that heeded my advice.

It was late July, and my friend Lisa and I were painting her new townhouse she had just moved into. Lisa, who never was very mechanically inclined nor had she ever done much work with her hands in all her life, thought saving some money and painting her new place on her own would be-and I quote- 'fun.' This is a girl who, at 20, can afford her own townhouse as well as plenty of other gizmos and whatnots that people enjoy having. I asked her why she thought it would be more fun to muck around in a slightly flammable substance when we could be out enjoying ourselves on her wealth. She answered with "it will give us time to talk and spend time together ... you've been with Tony so much lately I don't know you anymore"

The latter was indeed true, this was about the time I was first getting serious with my boyfriend, but I certainly didn't think I had been seeing him to the exclusion of my closest friends. I did, however, feel slightly guilty at this accusation so I agreed to help Lisa paint her new place, with the understanding that it not take all day.

This story takes place at night, after taking all day painting.

Late July is a particularly oppressive time in northern Ohio, as the breezes from the lake seem to all but disappear, and the humidity seems to blanket everything. Tonight was one of those nights where you feel like as if all of your neighbors have hidden humidifiers under their porches and are conspiring to make the air as thick as possible. The kind of night where you know, just by the consistency of the air and the quietness of the night that a storm is on the way, and you strain to see the first raindrops hit the pavement and send small clouds of steam rising from it. It was nearly 85 degrees that night, unusually warm for 10PM, and while there indeed was a storm on the way, the radar was still showing all the dark green, yellow and red as still being in Michigan and moving slowly east towards the suburbs of Cleveland. Lisa and I were working in her new living room, as the bathroom and bedrooms were all she wanted painted. We had done the first coat in there during the day, now we were back for the second coat, and almost finished with the whole task. At this point I was getting more then a little peeved, I had already missed my night out playing pool with Tony and some of his buddies, and instead of drinking beer and being handled by an amazingly attractive man, I was slopping 'soft eggshell' on walls listening to banal commentary about how much the Indians suck (with that fact however, I totally agree).

I should describe myself for you, as I'm sure that's the only thing you are wondering at this point. I am 21 years of age, rather petit at 108 lb. and 5'4. I'm skinnier then most, but that's because of my metabolism not because I throw up whatever I eat to make myself worthy of the cover of Vogue. I have brown hair that currently runs past my shoulders, brown eyes and small, A cup breasts. My name (as you may have guessed) is Brittney and I'm from the suburbs of Cleveland in the most useless state in the union, Ohio. 

Now my friend Lisa on the other hand is shaped quite differently. If you took me and stretched me out on all sides like you would do with a window on your desktop, you would have Lisa. Taller then me by a good 7 inches, she is also twenty to thirty pounds heavier, but she carries it well and is amazingly proportionate. A lot of her is muscle, while I think a lot of me is air, perhaps alcohol. She has very attractive features, but not what most people would call a 'hottie' ... she has more 'down to earth' good looks. Her hair is shorter, down to about her chin and even though it changes quite frequently, at this time it was brown like mine. Her eyes are a very unusual steel gray and she hides an impressive 36DD chest under the T-shirts and sweaters she usually wears. If you have a picture of two stunning beauties in your head then you have a pretty accurate one, just of somebody else. I hesitate to say we are the 'girl next door' types, since nowadays the girls next door have a 'girls gone wild' video series, but 'girl next door' is a rather apt description.

"Hey Lis ... uh, do you like hand prints?" I asked

"What do you mean 'hand prints'?"

"A representation of a hand outlined with something ... in this case, paint"

She looked over to the wall I was working on "You dumbass now you have to paint over that!"

"Well its not my fault I almost fell off this chair you've given me ... don't you have anything else besides wicker to stand on?"

"No I don't now come on we're almost done"

Lisa's new place was virtually empty, as she hadn't technically moved in yet. About the only smart thing she did was decide to paint before she moved her furniture and such from her old apartment, which was only a few streets away. Apart from a small TV, radio, cooler filled with Jell-O shots and Arbor Mist and painting supplies, the place was barren. Much to my chagrin when I discovered there wasn't any toilet paper earlier that day.

"Hey jumps ... want to keep helping me some more?" She inquired

I eyed her suspiciously ... she only used my nickname when she wanted something "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was thinking I wanted to do the kitchen after all ... we're here and everything and we have enough paint."

I stood there, precariously balanced on wicker, trying to decide what to do next.

"Come on babe it will only be a few more hours"

That did it... I jumped down and flung my just dipped brush at her face

"What the hell Lisa!" I was irate "We've been here almost 12 hours and now you want to do more? I had plans tonight that didn't include redecorating your new shag pad NOR did they include having to wipe myself with a paint rag! No! I said I'd help if it didn't take a long time and it already has so screw you I'm not your friend for 5 minutes"

She was calm and composed after my outburst as she always was, I was and still am the emotional one. She wiped the paint off her nose and mouth and said "If you help me with the kitchen, I will help you repaint your new place"

That gave me pause ... this I had to think about. I had signed a lease on my first place just the week prior, and I knew I would need to repaint it when I finally moved in. I had planned to hire some kids I knew from high school to paint it for me cheap, but the thought of making Lisa paint my place like I had painted hers was too good to pass up.

I sighed "OK fine deal. But we're only doing one coat and you do the second one tomorrow by yourself"

She agreed and we finished up the living room and went on to the kitchen. By the time we were done it was nearly 1AM, both of us sick of painting, starting to feel the effects of the Jell-O shots and just wanting to chill and relax for the few hours left in the evening before I had to be home at 3.

"That really sucked" I remarked, as we were washing up. "I hope your happy"

"Hey nobody forced you to be here ... but thanks for helping" Lisa answered, and have me a kiss

"By chance do you have ANY towels besides the ones for painting?" I asked. "I could really use a shower, and plus its hot as hell in here ... don't you have AC?"

"No Dad came and looked at it and said the freon had leaked out so it needs to be filled up or a new battery or whatever. There is a drop cloth in the car we didn't use though"

I looked at her with disdain "I'm not toweling myself off with a drop cloth"

"Its never been used for painting ... its just an old bed sheet. But if you wont use it I will"

I relented once she retrieved the thing from the car, it was clean and big enough to dry the both of us, provided neither one of us washed out hair.

"OK I get shower first I'm the guest" I said, sprinting into the bathroom and locking the door. Lisa playful pounded and threw a fit but I ignored her as I got out of my overalls and T-shirt. My breasts are small enough that I don't require a bra and I rarely wear underwear. After I turned on the water Lisa asked if I wanted her to wash my clothes for me. I said yes and unlocked the door to hand her my clothes then got back to my shower. The cool water felt good, but without soap all I could really do was get myself wet and try to get most of the paint and sweat off. I let my hands linger a bit over certain areas but it felt weird getting off in the shower when the bathroom was empty and there wasn't even a shower curtain ... somewhat like masturbating in a hospital. I finished up and Lisa got in after me, having already removed her jeans and T-shirt to put them in with my clothes. I sat on the toilet talking with her while she washed up.

"Why do you have a washer and dryer here already?" Was something I was wondering since she told me she could wash my clothes.

"I bought them from Best Buy and had them delivered here rather then my old place to save moving them"

'Well, score one point for the ditz' I thought. "Good plan" I said out loud

"Hey go down there and plug that dryer in ... it might need time to warm up cuz its new"

'Intelligence is fleeting' I thought as I left the bathroom and went down the half-level/landing at the back door of her townhouse, where the washer was shooting water all over the floor. With a curse I shut it off and wondered what Lisa could have done to fuck up a new washer so much that it leaked. To her credit, it wasn't her fault. The water had been hooked up, but her dad or her brother hadn't gotten around to attaching any kind of drain pipe to it. I opened the lid and saw that our clothes were sitting in water and there was no way to drain it off so they could spin dry. I figured I could just toss them in the dryer and they would just take a little longer. I reached around back of the dryer to look for the plug and found it, plugged it in and turned it on just to make sure it wouldn't explode. It ran fine, but there didn't seem to be any heat. The plug didn't seem to be as big as the one on our dryer either. Then it hit me.

"Lisa you moron" I said to myself, and went back to the bathroom

"How does it work?" She asked

I explained the washer to her and said I had put the clothes in the dryer

"OK cool we're set then" she said

"No not really" 

"Why what's the problem"

"You bought a gas dryer you dumbass"

"So? Plug the gas in then" she said with a look of utter confusion on her face. 

I couldn't be mad ... she was so cute when she was confused, which was often "You don't just plug gas in Lis, it needs to be installed. Our clothes area soaked and wont dry for hours"

"Jumps chill by the time I have to take you home they will be dry no problem"

"Lisa, we are completely naked in a house with no window coverings ... that falls under the heading 'problem'!"

"Don't worry about it we'll watch a movie in the back bedroom while our clothes dry ... it only has that one small window"

I was too drained to argue, and if I wasn't, I wouldn't have an argument. "OK fine what did you bring with you?" I asked

"I have most of my DVDs in my CD case ... go pick one out" she said as she went back to combing her hair. She brings a comb but no toilet paper. Good to see someone with their priorities in order.

I went and picked out 'The Mexican' to watch. Figured I could get my Brad Pitt fix at the same time as being able to ogle Lisa. The girl may not be very bright but I have always been attracted to her, she is not bisexual however and the one time we did experiment was disastrous to our friendship. We worked it out and now are comfortable with each other to talk about our sex lives, so in the end it was good for our relationship. I went a moved the TV from the living room to the tiny back bedroom and plugged it in, yelling to Lisa "Is your DVD player in the car?"

"That's the one the TV with the player built in!" she hollered back

I looked at the TV, it was not a TV/DVD combo. She had done it again. I went and got her, pointed to the TV and asked "so where do I put the DVD then?"

"Whoops" was all she could say

'Yeah whoops, just what your dad said' flashed through my mind. Out loud I asked her what she wanted to do now, as I didn't want to just sit on the floor for two hours.

"Well lets go get the other TV from the apartment" she said simply

I had to laugh "Yeah sure lets just stroll down the road and carry the TV back"

"No, we can drive. Its not like its far"

"Lisa, I'm not driving down the road naked with you. I don't want to have to explain to my Mom when she has to pick me up from the Police station why I'm wearing one of those jackets they cover the hookers up with"

"Come on its just from garage to garage, and its 1AM... you know as well as I do nobody is out this late in this town. And plus we can get dry clothes"

I was tempted by the possibility of getting clean clothes on, but I also knew that with Lisa nothing was ever simple. I didn't want to go but I knew my denim overalls would take ages to dry and I didn't want to go all the way home naked, so I agreed. "OK but lets make it fast" I said, taking a gulp of Arbor Mist for courage.

We scampered into her Grand Prix amid me protesting that I at least needed my shoes. "I have a clean car" she responded with. As we climbed in I had the foresight to ask her if she had enough gas, as I had been with her when she had forgotten to fill it twice before. She pointed to needle which showed a half tank. Somewhat reassured, we backed down her driveway and sped off. Lisa immediately turned on the radio all the way, but I turned it off saying "We don't need any attention drawn to ourselves!"

"Why not we're hot!" Lisa giggled and tweaked my nipple. Yup, she was gone. One to many Jell-O shots. I didn't even think about which one of us should have been driving, but we were just on subdivision roads and it was late and I certainly did not want to stop and get out of the car to change spots with her. I was trying to be discreet about things, I had on hand between my legs and my arm across my chest, but Lisa was singing along to the radio that I had just turned off, her large breasts swinging around. All I kept thinking was 'Oopps... I did it again'.

She was driving incredibly slow and weaving just a little, and it dawned on me that she really shouldn't be driving. As much from a 'I don't want to get pulled over' argument as a safety one, I told Lisa I should probably drive. She said no she was fine and that we were already halfway there, then promptly ran us up on a curb. I told her move over I'm driving that's all the is to it. She didn't like it but she agreed. She turned off the car and unlocked the doors while I jumped out of the car and ran around the front of it to get to the drivers side ... and smacked right into Lisa doing the same.

"Lisa all you had to do was go over the seats" I said, glancing around and still covering myself.

"I didn't think of that" she slurred it slightly

"OK fine whatever just give me the keys"

"They're in the car, you just have to go get them!" she giggled, placing her hands on her hips.

"Arg fine just get in the car" I dodged around her and got to the drivers side door, tugged on the handle.

It was locked.

"Lisa give me the keys!" I shouted. I was starting to get really nervous.

"They're in the car silly!" She was squeezing her tits together and trying to see them in the side mirror at the same time. Another time - ANY other time - I would have been aroused.

It was then I realized she was right ... they were in the car, sitting on the seat. For reasons that escape me now, for the first few seconds I was quite calm. I asked her why she locked the car and left the keys on the seat.

"Well duh we were getting out of the car so we had to lock it!" She responded

Technically speaking, I couldn't argue with that. I tried to think of a way out of the situation, but my calm was collapsing. I was slowly realizing that I was completely nude on the side of the road, not a stitch of clothing nor any way to call for help; we had left our phones at the new townhouse because we thought it would be a quick trip. I tried to think rationally ... all we had to do was walk the rest of the way to her old house and get dressed and call for a tow truck. It was only about a mile and it was thru a subdivision. If I was remembering my times right from high school we could do it in under 8 minutes. Without even thinking I took off down the road, with Lisa yelling behind me.

My sprint didn't last long. No more then 10 feet from the car I stepped on something. Weather it was glass or a rock or whatever I'll never know, but I almost fell over from the sharp pain in my foot. Lisa caught up to me and through her haze she could tell I was hurt.

"Lets just take it slow to my place OK?" She grabbed my hand and we started walking. No sooner had we started out then we saw a pair of headlights swing toward us, having turned off of a side street. We got back to the car as quickly as we could and crouched behind it. The car slowed a bit but didn't stop, then continued on its way. Lisa wanted to just stay by the car and flag someone down but I thought the better of it; for one we were both naked, which is bad for a cop to see. For two, Lisa was drunk and I wasn't exactly sober either and if a cop did happen along, not only do we both get MIPs and indecent exposure charges, we could get slapped with DUIs as well. Our only choice was to trek it back to her apartment.

"Lisa lets go" I said, suddenly noticing how erect her nipples were. I couldn't believe it but this was exciting her! I asked her if she was cold

"Its hot as fuck out here babe! Why would you think I'm cold! You must be drunk!" She wasn't aware of what she was showing.

I ran my hand across her left nipple "That's why" I said.

She looked down and giggled "Oh I'm not cold silly I'm horny! See lookie..."

With that she took my hand and placed it between her legs so I could feel her wetness. She must have been amazingly turned on or sweating like a pig... I don't know which but she was definitely very wet. For a second I lost myself in the moment and then snapped back into our situation realizing I cant have sex with my friend in the road. We needed to get home first so she could sober up, because I didn't want to take advantage of her this way. We started off, and this time we traveled without interruption for almost a half hour. I was starting to feel better and my buzz was wearing with all the walking and it was then that disaster struck.

The Arbor Mists and Jell-O shots wanted out. I had to use the facilities immediately only there were none available. I'm not such a girly girl that I don't know how to relieve myself in the wilderness - I love camping - but this wasn't wilderness ... this was roadway. Roadway with peoples homes lining it. All it took was for one of those people to call the cops and it was all over. I knew I shouldn't go but I had to, my body wasn't listening to me. 


Painting



He looked like a pirate standing there with a bandanna tied around his head, his dark hair escaping in wisps. The only thing covering his tanned body was a pair of low slung ragged pants that looked like they had been cut off above the knees with a dull knife. He was facing a large canvas and the sunlight was casting shadows through the windows along the western end of the loft when she walked into the huge area. She stood inside the door and watched as he brushed paint on what looked like a large mass of rolling colors. 

She looked around, taking in at a glance the stacks of canvases and supplies everywhere. There were windows on three walls and a door leading to what she assumed was a bathroom. On the right was a kitchenette and she could see how the counter was littered with take out containers. To the left was a huge four poster bed with jumbled bedding. There was a cozy area in the center of the room that had several couches, chairs, and tables loaded with books and other items. 

She leaned back against the door jam and watched as he continuously dipped his brush on a palette and jabbed at the canvas, scattering a bright red hue here and there among the other riotous colors that were already there. She didn't want to alert him to her presents yet as she was enjoying the way his muscles rippled across his back and the way the fading sunlight played across his biceps as he gripped his brush. She caught a glimpse of his face as he turned to the windows. It looked like he was almost willing the sun to last just a little longer but the gloom was filling the room fast as the sunlight faded from the room. She could see him daub paint almost in a frenzy now as he rushed to finish what he was working on. He glanced at the last rays of sunlight and made a final stroke to his painting before laying his palette on a table and dropping his brush into a jar of liquid. 

His muscles bunched as he stretched, his arms reaching above his head and then down to his lower back to rub it absentmindedly. He turned and saw her leaning against the door and wondered how long she had been there. 

Her breath caught and her pulses raced as her eyes met his. His smile was blinding and went all the way to his eyes. She felt her knees almost buckle and was grateful she had the door facing to help support her. He didn't say a word but started in her direction with his arms outstretched to her. 

Finally drawing in a breath, she pushed off the door casing and steadied herself before walking to meet him. She felt her breath being crushed out of her as he wrapped her into a big bear hug and buried his face in her neck. She caught her breath and started giggling as his lips traced a path up to her ear where he took a quick nibble and then around to her lips where he engulfed her mouth in a heated kiss. All she could do was hang onto his back and drown in his overwhelming heat. His tongue laid claim to her mouth and scorched her down to her toes. Her body tingled, her stomach churned, and there was a molten heat radiating from her womanhood as she pressed her body to his. She started to explore his mouth as he ravaged hers. 

He couldn't get enough of her; the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body pressed to his, and the scent of her was almost intoxicating. He knew if he didn't let her go soon he would not be able to pull away with dignity but would end as a rutting animal pulling her down with him. His penis was rock hard and he could feel it pulsing between them yet he eased back from her, reluctantly breaking their kiss. He couldn't resist sucking on her bottom lip for just a few seconds before he drew completely back and looked into her passion filled eyes. 

"Hey there southern girl," he purred, "How did you find me?"

She was still feeling quivery from the heated kisses they had shared but she put on a sly smile, "You seemed happy enough to see me." She deliberately looked down at his hardness pressing against his cut offs then looked back up at him. 

He could see the merriment dancing in her eyes and casually shifted to relieve pressure on his genitals. "Yes, I guess it is hard to hide how happy I am to see you. I was just curious as to how you found me."

She laughed, "I have my ways and if you play your cards right, I might ease your curious nature." She ran her hands up his chest and tweaked his nipples before wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers. 

He didn't pull away this time but deepened the kiss while pulling her between his legs to let her feel his desire for her throbbing between them. He could feel his nipples harden as her hands and fingers manipulated them. He wanted to feel her flesh against his and started to blindly unbutton her blouse. His questing fingers soon found her front clasping bra, unsnapped it, and pushed the fabric aside to uncover her firm breasts and taut nipples. By this time she was moaning into and around his mouth as she continued to return each tongue thrust with one of her own.

She shrugged out of her shirt and bra without missing a beat of their exploring kisses and pushed her sensitive nipples to his chest. She couldn't seem to get close enough. His hands splayed across her back and pulled her even closer. She gripped his buttocks and massaged them in rhythm with his hands running up and down her back. 

He was tugging on her skirt zipper when she broke the kiss and pushed down on his arms to get his attention. It took him a couple of seconds to realize she wasn't cooperating because as soon as their lips broke contact his mouth had started kissing, sucking, and nibbling down her neck. His nose was buried in her breasts when it finally registered that something wasn't quite right and he glanced up to see her looking at him. He knew she wasn't upset at his liberties because she had this wonderful smile on her face but the devilish sparkle in her eyes gave him pause. 

"What," he moaned.

"Before we get to involved I want you to show me some of your paintings and I want to lay down the ground rules," she stated firmly.

"Ahh, come on sexy," he purred in that Scottish lilt of his. 

She winked at him and said, "You won't be sorry, I promise."

He grinned broadly, released his hold on her before taking her hand and leading her to some of his canvases. He stopped to rearrange his genitals about half way across the room.

This caused her to giggle and he gave her a mock stern look but his eyes quickly lowered to her bare breasts. He gave one of her nipples a quick tweak before tugging her hand and walking forward again. "I hope you keep your promises."

"I always keep my promises," she purred.

They spent some time walking around the big area and he pointed out some of the works he had finished and some that were in progress. She was amazed at the abundance of colorful impressionist paintings. She knew he had many talents but this one had been a surprise. He had told her not long ago and nothing could keep her from seeing his artistic efforts. The night he had mentioned his painting she couldn't get it out of her mind and she set out immediately to find his secret loft. They stopped at the canvas he had been working on when she came in the room and he dropped an arm around her shoulders as she stood there taking in the splashes of colors.

"It really is beautiful," she drawled, "is this someplace you have been or is it an imaginary place?" It was a rolling field of colorful flowers twining and tangling and had a towering mountain in the background. 

"Remember the other night when we talked on the phone and I told you I wanted to tell you a story," he asked.

She glanced up at him and said, "Yes, I remember. I love your stories."

"I started painting this after we talked," he chuckled, "well….," he hesitated, "actually….he winked at her, "it was after we talked and…. after I jerked off."

They both started laughing and he hugged her to him for another heart stopping kiss. 

She finally pushed away and looked up at him saying, "and…?"

He looked into her eyes and then at the painting before saying, "That is where I would like to make love to you. Lay you in a field of wild flowers and make you faint with pleasure. I sent you a picture of that mountain erupting and smoking and I want you in my arms erupting your heat and passion to revile the mountain."

She stood there gazing at the painting for a few long minutes before she spoke. "Tonight is my night if you will allow me to take charge," and she looked up at him waiting for his answer. When he hesitated she quickly added, "You trust me, don't you?"

He blinked and smiled at her saying in a joking manner, "Just be gentle with me, "and offered up his hand to be led.

"Do you have a tub in there" she asked looking towards the door where she had assumed the bathroom was located. 

"Yes, there is a big claw foot tub in there," he replied, "You want to join me in the tub?" He raised an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly.

"I'll be right back," she said and almost ran to the door of the loft, reached out and pulled in a big tote bag, pulled the door shut, and turned the bolt to lock the door. 

His eyes lit up when he saw the bag, "You bring your toys with you, southern girl," he asked. 

She winked at him, "You coming," and started to the bathroom carrying the bag with her.

He didn't hesitate at all but strode across the room, stood in the doorway, and watched as she set the bag on the sink counter and leaned over to turn the faucets on the tub. He enjoyed the view of her large bare breasts swaying as she bent over the tub and adjusted the water temperature by turning one faucet and then the other until she got it the way she wanted. He was almost disappointed when she stood up and went to her bag to retrieve several bottles but soon enough the breasts were swaying again while she added what looked like some kind of liquid and salts to the slightly steaming water. Bubbles were erupting now as the force of the water hit. He watched her as she reached over and pulled a big fluffy towel off the rod, folded it in quarters, and placed it in front of the tub. 

She got a louffa and some scented soap from her bag, laid them in reach, and turned to him. "Let's get rid of these," she crooned as she reached for the snap of his shorts, popping it and unzipping them in a quick motion. She eased them down his hips being careful not to touch his penis as it sprang free of it's confinement. She took his hand and led him to the tub and held it while he stepped into the steaming bubble filled water. 

"Whew, it is hot," he said as he slowly lowered himself into the bubbles, "Hurry up and join me," and he scooted back to allow room for her. 

She had already dropped to her knees and started to lather up the soap, "No, darling, this is just for you. I took my bath before heading over here," and she started applying the soap covered louffa to his broad shoulders and chest. 

He was a little disappointed that she wasn't going to join him but quickly decided this might be just as much fun as he watched her smiling face and large breasts moving as she ministered to him. 

When the tub was full enough she turned off the taps and returned to lathering up her lover and massaging his bronzed skin. She noted that his erection was still standing up and looked cute all covered in bubbles. She scrubbed his back, front, legs, and even between each toe, but until now had made an effort not to touch his genitals. 

He had enjoyed her care of him and it had been very relaxing except for his sexual tension. He felt like his balls would burst for want of release and he didn't realize that he could maintain such a rigid hard on for so long. "You going to wash all of me, southern girl," he teased.

She took his penis in her soapy hand and started to stroke him gently watching as he laid back and shut his eyes.

"Oh yeah, baby," he moaned, "clean him good."

She stroked him for about two minutes, and then splashed water over the soapy appendage. His eyes opened to see what made her stop and he saw her mouth headed for his erection. The bubbles had started to evaporate and his penis was standing at attention out of the water. He wanted to lay back and enjoy her efforts but the visual of her hot mouth encircling his engorged head was a sight to behold and the sensations were overwhelming. Her breasts were swinging as she bent over the tub and one hand was braced on the other side of the tub for leverage. 

She ran her tongue around the head and dipped it in his tiny hole to savor the bit of pre cum that was glistening there. She slowly ran her tongue around his swollen head, before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently. Soon she lowered her mouth around his shaft, sucking as she bobbed slowly up and down. She scooped his ball sacks into her other hand and softly massaged them as she continued to suck him deeper into her mouth. 

He laid there enjoying this for several minutes but too soon he could feel his balls tighten. He couldn't help but raise his hips slightly each time her mouth was on the up stroke. He knew his orgasm was near. It had been too long since he felt this kind of relief and he couldn't help but enjoy the quick rise and fall of her mouth and the sensations she was giving him to the end, even if the end was there already. 

She could feel his balls tighten in her hand and the veins in his penis fill with more blood. When the first spurt of sperm shot out, she swallowed quickly and then grasped the base, continuing to stroke him while watching the next bit of sperm shoot up and land on her breast. The next glob landed on her stomach, the next bit only ran out the tip of his still hard penis. While still grasping him she leaned down and licked the tip like a lollipop. She smiled at him and licked her lips. 

"Bloody hell, girl, you know how to please a man," he rasped. His eyes had taken on that post orgasmic, satisfied look. He lazily rubbed his own juices into her skin before letting it slide down her arm to her elbow and leveraged her towards him so that she almost lost her balance and tumbled into the tub. He leaned up and forward so that his mouth met hers and he caught her shoulders to keep her from landing in the tub. 

They kissed for long minutes before she gained her balance and dropped back to her knees beside the tub. "See how fun it can be when you trust me," she said and picked up the louffa and soaped up his now diminishing penis. 

He winked at her and said, "Yes, I can see my trust was well placed."

She took the louffa and washed her torso where his ejaculate had landed and been smeared around by his hand. "Ok, my Scottish Pirate, get your cute butt out of there, I am not finished with you, yet." 

Water ran off his body as he stood and stepped out of the tub. "Don't worry southern girl, I will return the favor," he said as he started to dry off with a clean towel he pulled off the rack. 

She took the towel from him and dried his back, buttocks, and the back of his legs, then handed it back when he turned to her offering the front of his body. 

"What's the matter," he asked, "not getting shy on me are you."

She turned, grabbed her bag, and walked towards the bed. She turned her head and winked at him saying, "Remember that hot oil I told you about, if you get over here, I will give you a nice massage southern style."

"Oh ya, I would love one of those hot oil massages you have been teasing me with for years." He tossed his towel back in the bathroom and strode across the room but waited for her to straighten the bed cloths.

She tossed the comforter into a nearby chair, smoothed out the sheet, then fluffed up two pillows and stacked them in the middle of the bed. "Okay, lover," she indicated the now ready bed and stepped back. "Face down with the pillows under your stomach.

He looked a bit dubious but situated himself so that his head tilted to the side and was resting on his hands, his hips were elevated by the pillow and his long legs were slightly apart and stretched almost to the end of the bed. He watched her bend over and dig through her bag. She brought out a clear bottle with a red looking liquid. She opened the bottle and set it on the bedside table and he could smell a faint cinnamon fragrance. He watched as she reached back in the bag and brought out a small bag, placing that beside the bottle of oil. 

She knew he was watching her every move so she decided to put on a show for him. She kicked off her flats, then reached behind and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor and stepped over the fallen material. She smiled at him as she slowly undulated her hips and danced to an imaginary song. 

He watched as she moved her body and limbs to a very sensuous rhythm. Her large breasts swung gently as she reached down to slide her almost transparent silk bikinis off her hips. She gracefully stepped out of them and handed them to him. Without even thinking he brought them to his nose and breathed in her womanly fragrance. He looked at her hungrily and smiled in anticipation.

She winked at him before taking up the bottle of oil and climbing up on the bed. She straddled his hips and poured the oil into the palm of her hand, recapped the bottle, and dropped it on the bed. She rubbed her palms together to coat them with the fragrant oil and then leaned down to start massaging his shoulders. Cinnamon scent wafted all around the bed as she spread the oil down and back up again. Her fingers splayed and kneaded up and down his back. 

He moaned softly as she manipulated his muscles. The scent was nice, the massage was pleasurable, and the fact that his lover's crotch was nestled against his buttocks rocking gently as she moved back and forth massaging him was a major turn on to him. 

When she leaned down and licked his shoulder blade the heat created by the special formula of oil surprised him and he jerked a bit and purred, "Yurr setting me afire southern girl and it feels so good."

Her only answer was the flat of her tongue blazing a heated trail down his back. Moaning softly and arching his back to meet her wet tongue let her know he was enjoying her special treatment but soon enough she went back to massaging. He glanced back to see what was going on when he felt her weight lift off of him and cool air hit his backside. He saw her rise to her knees and shift back a bit so that she was straddling his thighs. He loved watching her breasts undulating as she shifted into place. He watched as she reached for the oil and poured more into her hand. He couldn't help but clench his butt cheeks as her hands started to knead his flesh. He wasn't a homophobic but he wasn't used to anyone ministering to his butt either. The massage felt so good that he soon relaxed as her strong fingers rubbed deep into his flesh. 

She waited until he relaxed before palming his cheeks and pushing outward a bit each time she rocked up and out. Her thumbs would dig a bit into his lower back and then run along his spin as her palms and fingers massaged on either side of the center back. She rocked back and forth for long minutes letting her hands create a rhythm of massage from his butt cheeks to his shoulders. The next time she added oil; she let it dribble from the bottle into the crack of his cheeks and quickly started to rub the oil into his warm flesh. This time she ran her thumbs within his crack, spreading the oil deeper into the cleft and pushed down and out separating his cheeks a bit but would then run her hands all the way up his sides, making one continuous motion and back again. 

He felt relaxed and was really enjoying the massage. His muscles were loosening up a bit and he was surprised to note how erotic it felt to have her massaging his buttocks. He could feel the warmth of the oil, the friction of her hands against his flesh, and the heat of desire that was boiling in his blood. He was so into the pleasure that his eyelids had lowered. He had given his body over to his southern girl and he figured that he might as well lie there and enjoy it to the max. He was so relaxed that he didn't even open his eyes the next time her weight shifted to his calves. More oil hit the backs of his thighs and he felt her massaging from the back of his knees up to his shoulder blades. Her breasts would touch his middle back as she leaned over far enough to accomplish this long reach. This went on for some time as her fingers would splay out running from top of his calves to his shoulders. Each time her fingers spread across his rear, she would dip her thumbs in, smearing the oil inside of the crack until it grazed his tight pucker. 




Painting



She shifted on last time to the end of the bed and rubbed oil on each foot and the back of his calves. She took her time with a two handed massage of one foot then the other, coating between each toe and rubbing her thumbs up and down his soul as her fingers worked the top of his foot. Then she did a two handed massage of each calf before going back to one hand for each calf and running up his buttocks and to his lower back, again. 

He almost jumped off the bed when her wet tongue lapped at his butt cheek, the spark of heat was amazingly hot, but he held himself in check to see what would happen next. His penis was instantly hard again and he chuckled to himself knowing she knew what effect her antics would have on his body. His backside felt on fire as her tongue continued to lap at him, little darting tongue drags up and down his lower back, buttocks, and the backs of his thighs. All he could do was moan softly and enjoy the heated sensations as she blazed a hot trail with her tongue. He didn't bother opening his eyes but took the opportunity to shift a bit to relieve pressure on his hardness when she bent his leg back at the knee and started to suckle first one toe then the next on his right foot. "Ohhhhhhh, girl," he purred, "I never thought a "hot foot" could be sooooo erotic."

She giggled as she changed to his left foot and suckled each toe before dragging her tongue the length of his soul. This caused his toes to curl up and his foot arched of it's own accord. She gently laid his foot back down but nudged his knees apart. He willingly cooperated and then he watched as she knee walked up a bit and leaned down to run her tongue between his cheeks. This time he didn't know if his penis pushed him up a bit or if his body was betraying him but his rear raised up to meet her questing tongue. The heat was unbelievable as she delved deeper with her tongue, and her breath left a heated trail, too. 

When her tongue nudged his oil slicked ring it felt like a bolt of lightening struck him to his core but he refused to back off from her. He had to see how far this would go. He could feel his shaft throbbing and pulsing and even with the pillows giving him added room his penis was pressing against the mattress. "Bloody hell, woman," he groaned, "I think you better turn me over before I waste my cum on the mattress."

She laughed out loud before she inched her tongue inside his tight ring. "Oh God," he groaned again. "Please southern girl I need some release," he begged. 

She raised her head long enough to lick her oil coated lips and say, "Mmmmmm, I love cinnamon. Be patient my sexy pirate and let me have my way. I promise you won't be sorry." She didn't wait for a reply but dropped her head back to the task at hand. She held his butt cheeks apart for easier access and slowly worked her tongue in and out, in and out of his tight ring until he relaxed a bit. 

The heat generated from her tongue was almost unbearable but the pleasure was intense, too. He was learning that anal play could be quite enjoyable. He had never had his asshole rimmed before but relaxed, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the sensations coursing through his body. He noted that when he finally relaxed her tongue seemed to delve deeper into his hole. 

She rimmed him for several minutes after he relaxed, her tongue darting in and out as deep as she could manage. She enjoyed the mingled musky flavor of him and the cinnamon oils on her tongue. His body was relaxed and she knew he was ready. She leaned over, reached into her bag removing a small vibrator, and eased it into his pucker before he even realized what was going on. The oils that she had applied earlier mingled with her saliva and his relaxed mood allowed her to slide the small vibrator in without any resistance. 

He opened his eyes to see what the newer, fuller sensation in his bowels was and saw her sliding something white and round and about 5 inches long in and out of his rectum. He didn't protest as it felt good and he didn't think it would do any good to complain, anyhow. Obviously she had something in mind and he hoped he was brave enough to see it to the end. 

"I guess I'm not a virgin any more," he joked.

She laughed, puckered her lips, and made a kissing gesture at him, "At least I will give you a kiss after I screw you." 

"You are a cheeky woman, aren't you southern girl," he asked.

"Yes, my sexy pirate, and you love it, too," she kidded him. She playfully swatted his butt cheek and said, "Now turn over and let me do your front."

(more to cum)



Painting



I was painting my office, no one else was here, save for my secretary downstairs, so I had music turned up, oblivious to the outside world. I had changed out of my skirt and heels, and had on my painting clothes, and old ragged pair of Umbros and a short t-shirt. I was on my knees, singing, and painting the base boards when I heard, "Nice ass."

I screamed, jumping out of my skin, and splattering paint on the wall and on myself. "DAMN YOU. You could have knocked, or told me you were coming, or something..." I looked down at my ragged shorts and t-shirt and knew I looked awful. 

"I did knock, somebody was singing too loud to hear me," he laughed as he slowly backed me up against the wall I'd just finished painting. 

"Damnit," I squealed as I realized I'd just leaned into wet paint. But before I could move away from the wall, he boxed me in, planting his hands on either side of my body. "Uh, the paint's wet," I stammered as he lowered his head to kiss me. And then, I didn't care. I raised my arms up, wrapping them around his neck, spreading paint to his shirt from where my arms had been against the wall. 

He lifted me off the ground, so I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing myself against him. As I rubbed my pussy against the bulge in his pants, he bit my lip, and laughing said, "You little slut."

"Mmm, yes?"

He dropped me to the floor, and I felt my body dragging through the wet paint. He dropped his hands to my waist and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts and pulled them along with my thong down to my ankles where I promptly kicked them off. I had my hands busy at his zipper, trying to divulge him of his pants as quickly as my shorts had disappeared. He helped me push them down, then lifted me again to pin me against the wall. 

I felt the cold paint squish against my now naked ass. "This might be hard to explain," I smirked, thinking of my very paint covered bare ass. But I soon forgot all about wet paint as he pushed into me, completely filling me. "Oh, oh wow," I stammered as I wrapped my legs back around his hips and pressed myself as close as I could to him. He thrust into me, over and over again, sliding me up and down the wall, his hands gripping my ass.

"Cum for me, cum for me now," he growled into my ear as he pulled almost completely out of me, then slammed into me, pushing me hard against the wall. 

I screamed as I climaxed, bucking my hips against him, and biting down on his shoulder until I tasted the paint that my arms had spread earlier. 

He never stopped pushing into me, harder, faster, slamming me against the wall. I had barely stopped convulsing through the first orgasm when the second hit me hard. I gripped his hair in my hands, and slammed my mouth against his, kissing him hungrily. 

He pushed me once more hard against the wall, and I felt him cum with great force inside of me. I ground down against him, wanting to feel every pulse. 

He let me slide down the wall again 'till my feet touched the ground, and I could stand up. He pulled up one of the chairs, and sat down as I leaned against the wall for support. He suddenly started laughing uncontrollably. 

I put a paint covered hand on my hip, and said, "That was funny?"

He reached out and grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. He turned me around so that I was looking at the wall, and said, "No, but THAT is funny," indicating the lack of paint or smeared paint in the area where he had just fucked me.

"You know you are gonna have to help me fix that, right?" I said.

"Sure, later though, I'm not finished with you yet."

"Oh, really? What else do you have in mind? Wait, I think there are a few spots on me not covered in paint, want to fix that?"

"No, sit down, there on the floor, now, lean back, good girl."

"What, want me to roll over and bark next?"

"No, I want you to touch yourself, I want to watch."

"You're not going to join me?"

"No, just watch."

"You'll at least come down here by me, right?"

He complied, laying down beside me as he drug a hand along my naked thigh, up to the hem of my t-shirt, and then farther up to graze his fingers across my nipple, just teasing me as he went. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Hoping you'll change your mind and help me out."

"Nope, this is about you."

I sighed as I trailed my fingers down until they could dip into the sticky wet mess between my legs. I let one finger slide down between my pussy lips, it felt so cold against the hot, slick flesh it encountered. I shivered, but didn't stop. I looked up into his eyes, just for a minute, and I must have conveyed some of how unsure I was, because he dipped his head and kissed me, stroking my cheek. So, I let myself enjoy the moment, and before long, I was lost as I worked myself to climax. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, telling me how much he was enjoying the view, how he wanted to see me make myself cum. It didn't take long before my quick fingers and his words had me biting my lip as I climaxed hard and fast. 

"Let me have your fingers."

I lifted my hand, and he took each of my fingers into his mouth and sucked on each one individually, then kissed me so that I could see how good I tasted.

"Mmmm, that was nice," I sighed as I stretched.

"Who says I'm through with you yet?"

"Mmm, really? What else did you have in mind?"



Painting a Fox Ch. 01



Many thanks to Sapphos Sister for the editing.

*

Although I'm a lawyer by profession, my passion has always been for more creative and artistic endeavors such as painting and photography.  Having received an easel and some canvases as a birthday gift, I decided I would bring my painting gear with me on my next hike into the woods.  Surely there would be something interesting for me to paint.

I threw on my Lucky jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt and set out early in the morning. The rising sun cast long shadows.  Overhead, the light breeze ruffled the canopy of leaves, pelting me with dewdrops.  In the forest there was a clearing with a stream that I liked to visit, and by the time I got there, my shirt was soaked.  I peeled it off and hung it on the back of the easel in the middle of the clearing.

Water rushed over moss-covered stones in the stream while the sun rose above the tree line, warming my broad shoulders and back.

I began by quickly sketching the scene onto my canvas with a soft pencil. By noon, I had nearly completed the painting.  Lots of green, some browns but no excitement.  

"Something's missing," I thought.  I looked around and wondered where the animals were.  Normally, I'd see a squirrel, some birds, often deer and occasionally a fox.  But today, nothing.

"Guess I have the place to myself," I thought aloud and began to add a couple of gray squirrels to the canvas.  Just when I painted the second squirrel, I heard the rustle of leaves behind me. I spun around, shading my eyes to see who was there.  The sounds got closer, and I knew before I saw, that there was a small animal coming toward me. Sure enough, two squirrels ran right past me and bounded over the rocks and the stream before disappearing.

I continued to embellish the painting, adding some small birds and a couple of chipmunks. By now, it was positively hot out, so I went to the stream and knelt to splash some cold water on my face and chest.  Birds were twittering nearby and a couple of chipmunks squeaked and ran away.  That's when I realized: everything I paint has appeared as if by magic.  I cupped my hands full of water and poured it over my head.  Refreshed, I stood and shook the water off my long, dark, curly hair. 

As I walked back to the canvas, some water trickled down my back and my chest.  The dripping water felt like light fingertips tracing down my abs, inside my jeans, then down my shaft. 

"I wonder..." I said aloud. I began to paint a nude female figure, crouching beside the stream, cupping water in her hands. I gave her light brown hair, pale skin and a full figure.  Wishing she too would appear for real, I painted her body in a three-quarter profile so you could see most of her ass but one side of her generous breasts. With my face close to the canvas, I carefully added fine details - the hint of a nipple, the glint of sunlight on her hair, the toned muscles of her shoulders and calves.  She was beautiful, like a fairy without the wings.  I felt my cock pressing against my jeans as I slowly stroked the tip of my brush between her breasts.  

"My God, that's me!" a voice asked, making me jump and drop my palette against my hip. "Oh! Sorry!" she said as I turned to see who had snuck up on me.

"Oh, great!" I said, trying to scrape the paint off my right hip and the front of my jeans. "You startled me!"

"Sorry, sorry!  I didn't want to spook you, but then I saw you were painting me, as if you'd seen me in the nude!" the woman of my fantasy spoke.  I was trembling with excitement.  Was this some sort of new-found magic power, or a dream?

I extended a paint-covered hand to shake and introduced myself, "Rodger Greene."   

"Indeed you are," she said, declining to shake my green hand.  "Angie Fox," she said, tilting her head to one side, "Have we met?"

"Not until now," I said, walking to the stream to wash my hand. Angie studied my painting while I rubbed my hands together in the stream, the paint shedding greenish clouds into the water as it rinsed off.  I stood back up and examined my hands.

"You sure you haven't been spying on me?" Angie asked with a smile.

"I'm a good boy, honest," I replied with my most innocent smile. "Why, do you often crouch naked beside this stream?"

"Not when there's a boy around, no matter how good!" she teased. "You know you've still got paint all over your hip and your jeans.  I hope that washes out." 

"It's acrylic, but it should wash off with water as long as you don't let it dry," I explained while wetting my hands and trying to wipe the paint off my hips and lower abs.

Angie took a few steps closer and watched with amusement as I tried to wash myself.  Angie Fox was aptly named.  She looked to be about 24 years old, 5'2" and fit.  She wore a white V-neck t-shirt and green sweatpants. Her hair was light brown, her eyes blue and her skin was fair. She looked just like the girl I was painting.  Angie crouched beside the stream to fill her hands with water, giving me a glimpse of her breasts inside the V of her shirt. She wore no bra.  Angie stood carefully and walked toward me with the water still cupped in her hands. I reached toward her hands thinking she was bringing it to me to help me clean myself, but then she dumped it all over the front of my jeans, soaking them.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?!" I yelped, as half the water ran down the inside of my jeans. I quickly kicked off my sneakers and pulled off my socks to keep them from getting soaked.

"Sorry, just trying to help clean up the mess I made," she said, reaching forward with her hands to rub the paint off the front of my jeans.  

The minute her hands made contact with my leg, all thoughts of protest vanished from my mind.  I stood still as Angie's hands rubbed the paint out of my jeans. Well, most of me was still.  When she bent down to rinse her hands, I reached inside my jeans and pulled my hardon upright to keep from embarrassing myself.

"This may be a bit cold," she warned before pouring another handful of water onto my pants and then kneeling to rub the paint out. The force of her hand on the front of my thigh made me fall backward.  Instinctively, she reached behind me with her left arm to catch me but ended up grabbing the back of my jeans, pulling them half the way over my butt while pressing her ample breasts against the front of my thigh. I reached down to steady myself with my hands on her shoulders. We regained our balance, her breasts engulfing my upper thigh and crotch, her right hand on my naked behind and her left hand gripping the back of my jeans. I hoped she couldn't feel my cock from throbbing against her.

Gingerly, Angie stood up just inches from me. She pulled the back of my jeans up, but only by an inch. I looked down at her shirt; it was smeared with paint, especially at her hard nipples.  There was also some paint between her breasts which rose and fell as she breathed.  I raised my gaze to her face and saw her eyes were cast downward.  Looking back down, I was surprised to see the paint-smeared head of my cock rising over the top button of my jeans.

"You should take these off so I can clean them properly," Angie said softly without looking up. Her hands reached for my button fly, her fingers grazing either side of my cock and with one tug and twist, the jeans fell opened.  "Lucky you," Angie read aloud from the embroidery inside my fly and laughed. 

"I'll say," I thought. But I didn't say a word for fear of waking from what surely was the best dream of my life.

My wet jeans fell to my ankles and I stepped out of them.  Angie tossed them into the stream and then pulled off her shirt and dropped it in the water.  She placed a stone on top of her shirt to keep it from drifting away.

She took my hand and pulled me, naked, to the edge of the stream, her full breasts swaying in the dappled sunshine. Angie kicked off her shoes and then shimmied out of her sweats to reveal a light green thong, a perfect ass and slender legs.  She then led me to a shallow pool in the stream.  I stood smiling at her, my erection proudly pointing at the sky while Angie gently used the water to wash the paint from my hip and abs. 

Soon the paint was off me everywhere except for the green paint covering the head of my cock, and she paused.

"It's okay. I can wash that later," I told her.

"You should wash it now, before that paint dries," she said.  

"We must look like Adam and Eve," I said, trying to break the sexual tension.

"Well, from what I remember in Sunday school, Adam had a bigger fig leaf, or maybe you've just got a bigger . . . serpent," she smiled.

I wet my hands and rubbed at the paint on the head of my cock.  At first, Angie looked on unabashed. The paint wasn't coming off easily. I then took my shaft in both hands, and placed the balls of my thumbs on the head and rolled them forward, rubbing and squeezing repeatedly. Angie, for her part, was now wetting her hands and raising them to her bare bosom, running her fingertips up between her breasts, then cupping and lifting them with her palms.  What started as cleaning sure seemed to become something more.

"There... That looks like it's working," Angie said, releasing her breasts and stepping closer, the stream softly lapping between her legs. A drop of pre-cum formed at the tip of swelling cock.  As I continued to rub, the cum mixed with the paint and dissolved it quickly. I bent at the knees, submerging my hands and cock, then rose, glistening and paint-free, or so I thought.

"Um, you missed a few spots," Angie said with a serious face.  

"On me?" I twisted to look at side. When I turned back, Angie had closed the space between us, smirking. 

"Yes, on you," Angie gingerly knelt in the stream and wrapped her fingers around my cock, lifting it up against my stomach, to reveal paint on the underside "...and on me," she continued, pulling my shaft down and brushing the tip between her breasts, "and I think you have just the thing we need to get it off," Angie hefted my swollen balls in her left hand to emphasize her point and continued to slowly brush the tip of my cock up and down between her breasts while massaging my balls in her other hand.

"Ohhhh, yes, you naughty, dirty girl," I grunted.  At the top of each steady upstroke of my cock, Angie brought her mouth down and swirled her tongue across my wide purple head. I leaned back slightly to see her breasts as she plunged my cock down between them.  Stroke after stroke, as she dragged my head down between her breasts, the tender skin felt hot like a match being struck.  

"I am a dirty girl, Rodger, so cum on me and make me clean," Angie whispered, looking straight up into my eyes.  Her right hand was now sliding up and down my entire shaft, the sides of her thumb and forefinger banging against the rim of my head with each tug.  My balls tightened in her left hand, and Angie stroked faster and faster, tightening her grip on my shaft.  My breathing became shallow and fast, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back on my shoulders as my hips began to thrust forward.  I inhaled sharply through my nose and felt the rush of semen as she tugged downward on my pulsing shaft to shoot streams of hot cum onto her breasts.  

"Oh ... my ... God!" I grunted as her cum-slick hands slid all over my balls, my shaft, and breasts, in a frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

"See?!" Angie laughed and leaned back, holding onto my cock with one hand while running her other across her breasts, "we're all clean now!"   

"I guess I'll save money on paint remover from now on," I smiled as she let go of me.

Angie lifted the rock off her shirt and it was soaked, but paint-free.  I turned to look for my jeans, but they were nowhere to be seen.



Painting a Fox Ch. 02



Kindest Thanks to Sapphos Sister for her editorial touch. I welcome your comments and your votes.

*

Angie wrung her t-shirt out and then spread it on a sunny rock while I searched downstream for my jeans. After five minute of fruitless endeavour, my bare feet began to hurt and I returned to get my shoes. Angie had put on her sweat pants and my white oxford shirt. With the shirttails tied around her waist, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone, she looked like an exotic pirate wench,. I tugged on my shoes and, in order to preserve some semblance of modesty, I tried to tie Angie's wet t-shirt around my hips for cover, but I only succeeded in making Angie laugh. 

"I can't hike through the woods completely naked! What if someone sees us?" I exclaimed, a hint of anxiety in my voice.

"Why not paint a pair of jeans?" Angie said, fingering my paintbrushes.

For a moment I was confused but then it hit me. By painting Angie and other animals I seemed to have made them appear. Why not paint a pair of jeans and see if they show up too.

"That's a great idea! You're a genius," I told her with a kiss, grabbed a tube of blue paint and squirted a smear onto the palette. I mixed in some black to darken the shade a bit and then looked at my landscape to see where I should put the jeans. 

I decided to put them in the foreground, beside the stream, and began painting. Angie watched me intently while I carefully applied the blue paint to the canvas and then added tiny dabs of white to make the stitching on the seams and pockets. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I completely forgot that I was still wearing nothing but my shoes. I looked up at the stream. No jeans in sight. 

"Nothing?" I sighed. My shoulders fell in disappointment. I set down the brush and palette.

Angie picked them up and said, "You're doing it wrong."

"I better take another look," I began, but she put her finger to my lips and then with the gentle touch of her fingertips closed my eyes.

"I'll paint your jeans for you, Rodger," she whispered, "and then we'll be able to hike out of here with no problems, okay?"

Keeping my eyes closed, I nodded my agreement and wondered what sort of magic she was about to work.

I heard her rummage through my paintbox and then squirt paint out of a tube.

"Now keep your eyes closed, or this won't work," she said.

I squeezed my eyes closed tightly like a little boy making a big wish. 

"What size jeans do you wear?" she asked. I felt her hands resting on my hips, as if she were sizing me up.

I thought a moment, and answered "34 waist, 34 inseam."

Her hands slowly moved from my hips until she held the front and back of one thigh. Her hands were warm and slightly moist as she caressed my thigh and buttocks before calling out, "I'd say your thighs are 26 inches around."

She let go and moved to my other side. I could hear her kneeling beside me and then felt her warm touch on my other leg. I imagined myself in a clothing shop and she, a sexy tailor, sizing me with lustful attention to detail. Her palms cradled and rubbed every inch of my hips, my ass and the tops of my thighs. I gasped as I felt her hands slide up between my legs.

"Relax," she said. "I'm almost done taking your measurements. When I'm finished, you'll have the best fitting, sexiest jeans ever." She gently lifted my balls in a cupped hand, as if weighing them, and slowly stroked her hand forward to my shaft, catching my balls in her other hand while she inched her curled fingers down the length of my shaft, calling out "one... two ... three...four ... five... "

My breathing quickened as I felt myself begin to grow in her hands, forcing her to widen her grip.

"... six ... seven ... eight ... mmmmm yes, I'd say eight inches." I thought I heard her lick her lips as she let go of my balls and stroked my hardening shaft with her other hand, twisting and squeezing the tip.

I smiled and exhaled deeply, relishing her every touch. Just then she let go. 

"Okay, keep 'em closed now," Angie ordered, a slight laugh in her voice. I heard her walking around me in circles. Then she seemed to be fishing around in the paint box again.

"This may tickle, but don't open you're eyes," Angie told me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, but she hushed me and then I felt the lightest touch on the side of my hip. "Mmmm, that feels good," I told her.

"I'm nearly done. Keep your hands up behind your head, until I say so."

I raised my hands as she had demanded. Her light touch traced slowly down the side of my hip to mid-thigh, then completely around my thigh. She moved to my other leg, blowing playfully on my bare skin while she traced the circumference of my thigh and then up my opposite hip. I squirmed a bit when I felt her light touches on my ass, seemingly tracing a slow circle on one cheek and then the other. 

"You have a beautiful body, you know that?" she asked.

I grinned involuntarily. "Thank you. You do too," I told her as she moved around the front again.

"Nearly there," Angie announced and I felt her light touch on the front of my hip, tracing more small circles. I knew her hands were near my cock, but was still surprised to feel her light touch (it was wet - was it her tongue?) dotting down the length of my shaft while she held my length in one hand. I felt myself getting harder and harder as the steady wet touch... touch... touch worked its way from base to swelling head. I could feel myself throbbing in her hand. She let go, saying I should just relax, while she painted.

"But keep your hands behind your head," she commanded imperiously. 

Holding my hands up was difficult. My cock was begging to be touched. A few minutes later her task was complete.

"Okay, you can open your eyes," she said. 

As things came into focus, I saw she was holding my painting right in front of my face. I backed up a step and took it into my hands. 

"Wow!" I was impressed. Angie had painted over the jeans I'd added to the picture, inserting me into the painting. I was standing with my hands clasped behind my head, with nothing on but a pair of cut-off jeans. I looked down at myself and saw that she also had painted cutoffs onto my bare skin, complete with pockets and a fly stitching down the length of my cock! All that touching - her hands must have been covered in paint.

I put the painting back on the easel and admired her work as best I could. 

"Here, try this," Angie said, fishing a small mirror out of her backpack. It was amazing. It really looked like I had on cutoffs unless you got close or I got excited. I still felt naked, but at least, I figured, I could hike through the woods without causing trouble. Angie put her t-shirt in her backpack and I folded up my kit.

"Try not to touch the paint until it dries," Angie warned me.

"I won't," I promised.

"Now, I know what they mean by blue balls!" Angie quipped and spun on her heels to lead the way. I hiked behind her, enjoying the view of her perfect ass clad tightly in her tan sweats, the top triangle of her green thong peeking out. My balls were swinging with each step and after 30 minutes of hiking, Angie had gotten a bit further ahead, so she stopped and waited for me to catch up.

"Come on, slow poke," Angie called out, "you must be dry by now. Let's have a look."

I picked up my pace, striding quickly to where she stood. With each step, my cock slapped against my thigh, growing fully erect by the time I reached her.

Angie motioned for me to turn around and then crouched to inspect her work. I felt her lightly touching my ass and then the firm grip of both her hands on my hips, turning me back around to face her. She bobbed her head back to avoid my cock as it swung around.

"Uh oh," she said.

I looked down and saw what she'd noticed. The paint on my shaft had mostly peeled off.

"We'll have to touch this up a bit," Angie said with a smile, while pulling up on my cock with her left hand. "At least your balls are still blue. Come on, we're nearly there." 

Angie retained her grip on my shaft as she stood and began walking, pulling me firmly by the cock as we hiked slowly on.

After a minute or two of clumsily bumping into each other, we fell into a smooth rhythm, my hard cock sliding in and out of her loose hold, her fingertips occasionally grazing my balls. Her teasing touch felt so good, I completely lost my bearings and all sense of time. 

"Here we are," Angie said, letting go of me and taking a few steps before stopping. We had arrived at the edge of the woods, beside a public park I'd never seen before. 

"Where are we?" 

"Brookdale Park. Haven't you been here before?"

"Never heard of it," I replied. Nearest the trees where we stood was a small exercise area, a bit further from us was a macadam jogger's path. The exercise area had some monkey bars and a wide balance beam that was about three feet off the ground.

People were jogging on the pathway as Angie walked along the balance beam. I froze just inside the woods.

"Put down your stuff and come here with me, Rodger. Let's have some fun," Angie called to me.

"I can't go out there like this!" I hissed, clutching my kit.

"Oh, yes, you do need some touching up in front, but the rest of you is well covered," she said. "Come stand up here and I'll re-paint you."

Not wanting our fun to end, but scared of getting arrested, I walked over to where Angie stood, carrying my easel and kit for cover. Angie took my stuff and turned me round, my back facing the jogging path. She set up my easel with a canvas and took out the palette. 

"Okay, Rodger, climb up there," she said. Doing what I was told, I stood on the balance beam, facing her.

Angie posed me like a model, and to any passersby it would have looked like she was making a painting with me as her subject. I had my legs spread in a wide stance, my hands on my hips and my head tilted to one side. For her part, Angie pretended to be painting on my canvas and periodically walked over to me with gobs of blue paint on her brush. With people jogging or walking past just feet behind me, Angie stood coolly before me simultaneously teasing me and painting me. 

"There, there, Rodger, don't get too excited. I'll I just blow on you a bit to speed the drying," Angie whispered and then followed her slow brushstrokes along the underside of my cock with her hot breath. With each stroke of her brush, she brought me to the edge of cumming. It took all my concentration just to keep from falling off the beam. 

Whenever anyone approached on the path behind me, Angie would calmly return to the canvas, leaving me naked and twitching, just feet away from God knows whom.

"Are you almost finished?" I asked, trembling with nervous excitement. As far as I could see, every inch of me was denim blue.

"Yes, Rodger, but don't move just yet. I can see some friends of mine coming, and I don't think you'll want to attract their attention," Angie said with a mischievious smile.

I could hear the voices of two women approaching from behind. I held my breath and tried not to move in the slightest. I felt my erection begin to subside and was thankful as the voices moved behind me and then grew fainter as they continued along the path.

"They've gone past," Angie assured me as she stepped close to test whether the paint had dried.

"I'm sure they're quite lovely," I said, my voice cracking as she blew lightly between my legs.

"They are lovely, and they'd adore you!" she said, looking up into my dreamy gaze.

"I'll bet," I said, and with that, she called out to them.

"Sally! Claire!"

I turned to look down the path and the two women had stopped about fifty feet away from us and turned to look.

"Don't move, Rodger," Angie commanded. "Remember, you're a model and you're wearing cutoff jeans."

"Angie?" one of them called as Angie walked toward them, placing herself between them and me. 



Painting a Fox Ch. 03



I relaxed but remained standing with my back to the three women. There was occasional bursts of laughter but mostly speaking in hushed voices. Eventually I heard them walking toward me, so I resumed my pose. Angie walked right passed me to the canvas and easel with her friends in tow.

I could now see that Angie's girlfriends, Sally and Claire were also quite attractive. A bit older than Angie, likely in their mid-30s. I soon gathered that Sally, the taller of the two, was Angie's art teacher at the local college. 

Sally looked at the painting for some time, before looking up at me with a confused expression. Claire, on the other hand seemed more interested in Angie's attire than the canvas or myself.

"I'm glad to see you've kept up with painting, Angie, but I don't understand how his pose relates to what you've done here so far," Sally said. "Shouldn't he be standing with his back to us?"

"Well, of course," Angie replied. "Rodger, do turn around now so I can finish this up."

Sally and Claire seemed not to notice that I was nude. Was the paint on me that convincing, I wondered, or were they just disinterested in me sexually? I swallowed hard and turned my back to the women, and faced the park and the path with nothing to cover me but my painted on jeans.

"Hands up behind your head please," Angie called and I complied. "Widen your stance... No, not that wide... Lean a bit more to the left..." I tried as best I could, yet Angie's voice grew impatient. 

"Here, let me," said Sally. The next thing I knew, Sally was standing right in front of me, her face level with my crotch. "Rodger, is it, may I?"

Before I could answer, Sally grabbed my right ankle and slid my foot about four inches to the right, causing my cock to swing and brush against her hair. 

"Perfect," Angie called out to Sally who walked away from me just as my cock started going to full mast. 

Thankfully, the park was fairly empty. Angie and her friends were chattering away and I was doing long division in my head to try and prevent an erection. Over the next twenty minutes, nearly a dozen people passed by me on the path. None of them noticing me, or at least none that acted like I was naked. 

"Hasn't Rodger been a good sport?" Angie asked Claire and Sally as the three walked around the front of me. Relieved this ordeal was over, I was about to step off the beam when Claire called out, "Wait!" and started fishing around in her purse. She pulled out a camera phone and handed it to Angie. "Take our picture with Rodger."

Angie stepped backward onto the path and looked through the viewscreen of the camera while Claire and Sally stood in front of me, each with her face on either side of my cock. I couldn't step backward without falling off the beam, and gently put my hands their shoulders for balance. I could feel the warmth of their faces on my shaft, and it naturally had an effect on me. 

"Smile," Angie called. "Rodger, look here at the camera, and try to smile!"

"He sure looks happy from here," Sally quipped as I tried to breathe calmly through a somewhat clenched smile. 

"I'll say," said Claire, and with that, both Claire and Sally reached up behind me and placed their hands firmly on my bare ass, squeezing and pulling me forward. This caused me to wobble on the balance beam, making my cock bounce off the cheeks of both women.

"Careful Rodger," Sally teased, "Blue is not my shade."

"Too bad you didn't paint pink shorts on him, Angie" Claire joked, "then we could have done our lipstick for the photo."

"Well, if our lips were blue, we could warm ourselves up back at the studio" Sally smiled while Angie snapped photos.

"One last shot, before poor Rodger has a heart attack," Angie suggested, stepping closer with the camera phone.

Claire and Sally pressed their cheeks together, sandwiching my cock between their faces and smiled. I think my jaw must have been dropped for that photo. Then, they turned to kiss each other, both of them kneading my ass and pressing the head of my cock between their lips. As they kissed hungrily, their mouths and tongues slid up and down the length of my shaft, as if they were sharing a harmonica. Angie's eyes went wide and she stopped taking photos while her two friends devoured me while trying to kiss each other through my flesh, their hands roaming all over my ass. Unable to control myself, I began thrusting myself forward, fucking their faces in broad daylight.

"Claire! Sally! You're awful!" Angie shrieked and the two women broke their embrace, grinning at each other with denim blue lips as I staggered off the balance beam and braced myself with one arm against a nearby tree. They'd left me with blue balls in more ways than one – but the rest of my shaft was now decidedly bare and somewhat angry looking.

"Claire, you look cold!" Sally and Claire were laughing hystericallysaid with a hysterical laugh as Angie came to see how I was.

"Is it my blue lips," Claire replied, "or my pointy nipples?"

"They were cruel to you, Rodger, but I did warn you," Angie said with a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" Angie asked.

"We're going to the studio to wash up," Sally laughed, "Why don't you two come back with us? 

"Brilliant, Angie can finish touching up Rodger while I touch up Sally," Claire said.

Angie raised her eyebrows at me as if to ask whether I was willing. After a few deep breaths, I shrugged my shoulders.

"Terrific," Angie said with a note of relief and handed me the paint kit which I carried to for cover on the walk to the studio. Angie walked close behind me occasionally admiring her work.

I didn't know what to expect at the studio, but I was happy to be leaving such a public place. I was also excited at the prospect of remaining in the company of these three beautiful women. 

Sally's art studio was only a short walk from the park. The space was on the second floor of an old Victorian house in a residential area adjacent to the college. The floor was white linoleum, splattered with paint. Three large bare windows shed natural light on the shabby furniture. Against the walls stood wooden easels and various props. Two large utility sinks sat below cabinets full of paints. Beside the sinks were jars full of brushes and a pile of rags. Off the studio on one side was a bed behind a folding screen. To the other side was a small dining table with four chairs around it and a tiny kitchen. When we arrived, Claire and Sally sat on the bed and resumed their passionate kissing. Angie stood me on a raised platform near the sink which afforded me a clear view over the top of the screen and into Sally's 'bedroom.'

"So, Rodger, I can either repaint your jeans or we can try and remove the paint you've got on. What's your pleasure?" Angie asked, drawing my attention away from Claire and Sally.

"I was hoping to borrow some real clothes until I can get home," I explained.

"I'm sure the girls will have something around here you can use, perhaps a costume. In the meantime, let me get this paint off of you, "Angie said while fishing around in the cabinets under the sink. 

I stood quite still, watching Clair and Sally as they knelt facing and undressing each other on the bed.

"This may be a bit cold," Angie said and I felt her rubbing a wet cloth on my ass. I didn't say a word, for fear of distracting Claire and Sally who were now both topless. Sally was kissing Claire's neck from behind, her hands lifting Claire's pale breasts and tugging forcefully on her nipples while Angie was scrubbing at me from behind.

"Oh Rodger, this paint is stubborn, "Angie walked round front forcing me to look down and away from the lovemaking. "I don't think I should use paint thinner on your skin, do you?"

I shook my head "no" and Angie went on "I could make the water hotter but I don't want to burn you. You just tell me if it gets too hot, okay?" 

I silently smiled my assent and she returned to the sink and ran the faucet hard to let it get hotter.

Sally and Claire were now both naked. Claire had her back to me, her hands were up against the headboard and she was kneeling astride Sally's face. Sally was alternately kneading Claire's ass and her own breasts with both hands. 

By this time, I was rock hard and Angie was rubbing the fronts of my thighs with hot towels trying to remove the paint.

"Could I make this any hotter?" Angie asked.

I tore my eyes away from the lesbians to see Angie looking up at me. Her face an inch from my cock with both of her hands on my thigh rubbing up and down. The motion of her hands was doing nothing to remove the paint from my leg, but it had the effect of rhythmically bouncing my cock from left to right until a drip of pre-cum hit my thigh and immediately dissolved the paint. 

"Rodger!" Angie nearly shouted with excitement, "Did you see that?! I know how to get this paint off you." Without hesitating, Angie grabbed my shaft in one hand and squeezed catching a couple drops of clear liquid from the tip of my cock with her other hand. Eagerly, she took my fluid and spread it widely across my thigh. As if by magic, the paint began to dissolve everywhere the cum had been rubbed.

"See!! See!!" Angie was thrilled. I was too. I looked up over the screen at Claire and Sally and they were lost in their own lovemaking, their legs intertwined and faces locked. Claire's wonderfully pale and round behind was grinding rhythmically as I felt Angie rubbing the head of my cock against my thigh while kneading my shaft as if trying to empty a tube of paint and then using her fingertips as if finger-painting on my legs. Angie let go of me a moment to re-wet the towels in hot water and then returned to scrub at the fronts of my thighs. The paint was nearly all gone although I knew the back of my legs, and my ass and balls were still covered in paint. 

In the bedroom, Claire and Sally were lying side by side, but in a kind of relaxed 69 with each woman's face resting on the thigh of the other. Both Claire and Sally were shaved bare and quite swollen with excitement. Sally's clit seemed particularly large and Claire was lightly stroking the underside of it with her fingertips while Sally licked Claire tenderly.

Suddenly, I felt something warm and a bit squishy on my balls. Looking down, I saw Angie holding a soapy washcloth at my crotch, massaging my blue balls while her soapy hand slid slowly up my cock.

"Rodger, you have something I need," Angie said, with a mock sultry voice followed by a giggle.

It was all I could take. Two beautiful naked lesbians making love right in front of me while a third gorgeous young woman was slowly caressing my balls and milking my shaft. I didn't care if I'd have to dress as the Queen of Sheeba to get home, it was adding up to be the best day of my life.

I looked over at Sally and Claire while Angie began to stroke me more firmly. Sally was bucking her hips, plainly begging to be sucked. Claire climbed over Sally, planting her pussy squarely over Sally's mouth and then slinked down to suck Sally's huge clit into her mouth while looking straight at me over the screen. I could feel my own hips beginning to thrust against Angie's strokes until a new sensation drew my eyes down to see Angie trying to fit the giant head of my cock into her wide-open mouth. I looked back up at Claire and now she was smiling at me with Sally's clit held tightly in her teeth. Sally was clearly having a crushing orgasm as she began to writhe under Claire's body. As soon as Sally stopped shuddering, Claire, without losing eye contact, raised herself up on her knees and began to furiously finger herself with one hand while twisting a nipple with the other – Sally all the while lapping at her gaping cunt. I felt Angie's tongue swirling over the head of my cock while her hands were working me into a frenzy. 

Claire's smile suddenly vanished as if something had surprised her. Both Claire's hands went straight to her mouth and she stifled a scream while her body began to shudder and shake. The sight of Claire cumming all over Sally's face took me over the top and I stiffened suddenly. Deftly, Angie slid the washcloth off my tightening balls and brought it up and over the head of my cock catching what must have been the mother of all loads of cum. The next thing I knew, I felt my own hot cum being rubbed all over my balls and my ass. It was so hot and slick and Angie's fingers were slipping all over me, rubbing my balls, rounding the curves of my ass, until she was holding me in a messy embrace, my thick pulsing cock pressed against her cheek while she covered every inch of me in a mix of cum and loosening paint.



Painting a Lion



The Virgin Elizabeth or Lizzie as her friends called her, was perfect. She was 5'5", 118 lbs, blue eyes, firm round boobs, a curvaceous sweet ass, with her flowing blond hair to complete her femininity attracted males to her like a magnet.

But Lizzie didn't possess equal confidence that matched her looks, she seamed to be frequently searching for male attention to verify her desirability. She needed a boyfriend and always was looking for the perfect one. 

The problem was that Lizzie didn't put out, she couldn't being a devout Catholic. Her gorgeous sexuality and flowing personality easily got the blood flowing in any male she dated. A simple kiss wood harden the intentions of any healthy male but somehow Lizzie avoided spreading opening her legs to serve the breeding desires of any of her boyfriends. Lizzie was simply a good Catholic who believed in following the vows of her religion. 

That meant two things were ingrained in her beliefs; holding her virginity until marriage and birth control was out of the question.

Sure she wasn't perfect. Lizzie came very close a few times to spreading her legs when combining too much booze on a date, but she always seamed to find a way to hold off and defeat the many "Leg Opening" tactics. More than once dates had reached her panties and were able to trace the folds of her cunt, but they never found the key to the door and her purity remained intact.

Lizzie had entered her first year of University as a nineteen year old rooming with a friend from high-school Tracy. Tracy was different from Lizzie in both looks and lifestyle. Tracy was a brunette, 5'1" 108lbs, small boobs with a tight little ass. 

She had been sexually active since losing her virginity on the back seat of a Chevy while in high-school. Since that date she had never been able to say no easily. Even in high school Tracy earned a reputation of being a "sure thing" on a date. If Tracy said yes to a date, he had a great chance in getting lucky if he didn't do something stupid to kill the mood. Simply, Tracy very much enjoyed the sensations of being a woman on her back.

After the third week of classes Sigma Sigma was holding a huge Friday Night party at their fraternity and Tracy had been invited by Steve a friend in one of her classes. Not wanting to go alone Tracy asked Lizzie to join her. It took a lot of effort, but in the end Lizzie decided she could go too. She just couldn't let her 

room-mate down.

Tracy was invited for two very good reasons. First, given that Tracy's reputation as a slut was well known by the frat brothers, one would most likely get lucky with her. Secondly, it was as widely known that Lizzie was the strange opposite sexually to Tracy. The boys wanted Lizzie to come hoping that someone could open her legs. In fact, there was a complete Virgin Leg Opener plan in place for girls just like Lizzie if the stars and booze aligned correctly.

Never aware of why they were invited the girls got dressed in the normal college party attire. Lizzie wore her school tee-shirt, short ruffle miniskirt, and flat shoes over her matching cute pink polka dot Bra and Panty set. Tracy was well prepared wearing her shortest miniskirt and went braless under her tight tee shirt.

The girls walked the long two mile on campus trek gossiping about anything that came to mind. Finally they reached the front entrance to the Frat house. In front was a large golden lion statue. Lizzie giggled to Tracy as they passed the lion knowing the on campus rumor. 

It was said that the lion was painted the color of the most recent virgin's panties who had been deflowered in the frat house. Lizzie laughed to Tracy "What type of girl wears gold panties, I mean, well maybe a guys boxers. But I can't remember ever seeing gold panties at any shop or even at Victoria's Secret. I don't believe the rumor, its crap!" she said.

Both girls giggled, as they were welcomed through the front door of the frat. Immediately they were both passed a plastic cups filled with what looked like cool aid. The girls took a sip, looked at each other shrugged whatever it was, it wasn't cool aid but it tasted good with a slight bit of alcohol. 

Lizzie and Tracy both were immediately joined by two of the Frat brothers, Tim and Andy. After the normal niceties the girls found themselves dancing with the boys and having lots of fun. 

Tracy asked Andy "hey what's that concoction you've been filling these cups with? 

Andy replied laughingly "Its what we call a Glove Potion".

"Oh" laughed Tracy.

"Nothing really bad, some vodka and a few other things nothing too bad. But we know the women always love the taste so we mix up a batch for the party every year." Andy joked.

Meanwhile Lizzie had been dancing up a sweat and had downed her third cup of Glove to quell her thirst. But the more she drank the thirstier she got.

Lizzie had no clue that the stars were aligning perfectly for her taking.

Lizzie had no clue what she was drinking. The boys had mixed a special potion especially for her. It was never cheap but it was an effective concoction. Two parts raspberry vodka, one part Cointreau, one part Chambord and three parts Sweet and Sour mix. Women liked the drink because the sweet and sour mix masked the alcohol taste into a sweet raspberry flavored lemonade drink. Every cup had four full shots. The term GLOVE was canned two years earlier when the drink was discovered online. Great Leg Opener Virgin Eliminator. 

Of course this was all part of the orchestrated plan of attack. With phase one fully on course. The hope was that Tracy would bring her unsuspecting room-mate along. Then the girls would be treated to as much GLOVE as they liked with hot dancing feeding their thirst. Lizzie was undeniably falling into the plan with every sip of GLOVE she consumed.

The next step of the plan was also well underway, that was to remove Tracy from the game. Of course this would be quite easy because Tracy was known to be more than willing to be generously fucked given the right circumstances. So the GLOVE was helping her contribute to Lizzie's de-flowering process.

With several drinks already downed by Tracy, Chad inched his way in and was completely focused in on her. And why not considering this was as close to a sure thing as he would ever find, no virgin but what the hell, why not separate the room mates to help the cause and bang the living daylights out of this slut.

Sure enough after three cups, Tracy told Lizzie she was going on a tour with Chad and she'd see her later. Five minutes later Tracy was in Chad's room on her back being rammed to the hilt. Tracy wasn't going to see Lizzie until the next day.

Lizzie was well taken care of by both Andy and Tim. They made sure she danced continuously and her cup was always full. Half way through her fourth cup which was somewhere around eight shots Lizzie hit a wall and became dizzy. Dizzy-Lizzie sat down and Andrew told her "You've been dancing way to much and you need to drink more to keep you going. Sure enough, her thirst was quenched by finishing the fourth and then a fifth. It was all she would need. 

Soon after the fifth the room began to spin. Tim suggested that she lie down a bit until Tracy returned. She agreed without much thought. Tim and Andrew took her by the arms and escorted her down some steps into a large room lit by a dozen tea lamps. In the middle was a single bed with a thin mattress. Lizzie sat on the bed noticing the room was a spinning darkness.

Eliminating Lizzie

Lizzie lay down and closed her eyes to stop the spinning, god was she wasted. 

Kevin joined Tim and Andrew in the room and they discussed executing the next step. Quietly with Kevin watching Tim approached and kissed Lizzie on her lips while holding her face. At the same time Andrew began caressing her flat stomach and her body without touching her nether regions. In a first step to undress the virgin Kevin removed her shoes. Lizzie could feel six hands touching her but she wasn't sure how and why with the attack on her senses working she allowed Tim to slip his tongue into her mouth and put her arms around his neck.

Tim could taste the alcohol on her breath and knew the virgin Lizzie was weakened and highly vulnerable. Tim raised his hand and beckoned Kevin continue the process. Soon all three boys were kissing this virgin beauty and fondling her body. The boys moved in further and softly began running their hands over Lizzie's breasts and her legs tracing all over her body gently. She could do nothing with all three arousing her senses simultaneously. She allowed them to kiss her deeply while fondling her body.  

Kevin quietly backed off and grinned widely watching Andy and Tim remove her university tee shirt leaving her only in her bra, skirt and panties. For the first time they could see her pink-polka-dot bra. With Tim kissing Lizzie deeply Kevin gently lifted her skirt and found her matching panties. With Tim still kissing her deeply, she never noticed Kevin checking her out. Kevin disappeared for two minutes and returned to caressing Lizzie's body.

Lizzie mumbled helplessly into Tim's mouth but it didn't matter, as Tim unclasped the front clip of her bra. Six hands were now once again running softly over her body and arousing her nipples, her stomach, her legs, and her neck before her bra was completely disappeared. 

The boys had removed all but two articles of clothing. There was no doubt that this unsuspecting virgin was getting closer to having her cherry popped. The preparations were already in far in place as other frat brothers started to paint the lion long before the de-flowering was complete. As students left the party they saw the painting start and wondered who the former virgin might be, and if they even knew her.

Lizzie lay on her back with her senses under attack by six hands and three mouths with only her skirt and panties covering her. 

Tim continued deep passionately kissing Lizzie while Andy and Kevin caressed her from both sides of the bed. Both boys moved closer and while caressing her aroused nipples they slowly started to caress her legs moving along the outsides then towards her nether regions. In unison they stroked the insides of her beautiful thighs pushing ever closer to her pussy. One of the boys lifted her skirt and slowly they worked her entire body until they reached her tight virgin hole. Gently they stroked her body over and over with occasional gentle traces over her cunt lips. Her labia swelled from all the attention and her panties were soaked.

Once again Lizzie tried to speak in her intoxicated state but Tim continued to kiss her deeply while twisting one of her nipples. 

All these hands and mouths had her in an extra heated up state that she had never felt before. The room spun while her body was being caressed, and her cunt teased through her panties alternately by different hands. 

Slowly and simultaneously in pure ritual Andy and Kevin looked at each other and took hold of opposite sides of her Pokka-dot panties and in teamwork they slowly pulled them down her legs, past her knees and removed them from her body. 

Kevin quickly tossed the panties to a fourth individual who took them from the room. Both Andy and Tim traced her folds finding a very wet and slick pussy. As wet as Lizzie was she had to be mid-cycle and ovulating, what a perfect situation to deflower a virgin in her hottest time. Lizzie knew she was been stripped but couldn't rationally put her thoughts together.

No longer being kissed Lizzie mumbled unintelligible sounds, but the boys only laughed while fingering her cunt and kneading her tits. She was fully prepared.

Kevin re-appeared having stripped from the waist and he stroked his member making sure that he was at his very hardest. He stood only feet from the virgin at the foot of the bed. Immediately, both Tim and Andy grabbed Lizzie's ankles while positioned her at the foot of the bed. Both boys simultaneously lifted her legs skyward ankle to ankle. Her skirt flipped conveniently onto her stomach.

Kevin positioned his virginity eliminator inches away from her Cunt but didn't touch her, yet. 

In tradition Kevin nodded followed by both Tim and Andy slowly bringing her feet and legs apart while caressing her inner thighs. 

Lizzie was now perfectly spread eagle with her eyes shut. She knew she was in trouble but had no clue what was truly happening to her. Lizzie's legs were brought down to a perfect ninety degree angle to hot body forming a perfect T shape with her cunt waiting in the middle.

With her beautiful legs spread completely apart, her cunt lips separated slightly leaving a perfect little target for Kevin. Kevin put both his hands on the bed bedside the curves of her body and positioned himself for his mission. Lizzie's eyes opened wide and she shrieked when the tip of Kevin's nine-inch rod filled that gap. 

"Goodbye sweet virginity" he laughed.

"No" she mumbled as Kevin positioned his rod carefully into her cunt. 

Lizzie senses instantly sharpened with the realization that she was about to get fucked.

Moments later, with Kevin's cock entering her cunt she screamed, "my virginity" only to hear shouts of "Yes" from the spectators in the room, even one of the brothers was filming her deflowering. 

Then Kevin pushed his entire 180 pound body forward plunging through her resisting hymen and drilling her womb as hard as he could. Her sweet virginity was conquered. 

Lizzie mumbled an exquisite sound of sex as her fucking started.

He held his cock in its deepest penetration with his balls resting against her ass and yelled "Your are mine". 

After twenty deep hard thrusts he withdrew and wiped the blood from his rod on the sheet before quickly sticking it back into her cunt. Lizzie bucked back into her mate as he pounded her good for his pure enjoyment. Moments later he splashed baby-batter against the back of her womb making sure to shoot hard and as deep as he could into this beauty.

Both Tim and Andy stood behind Kevin awaiting their turn with Lizzie patiently. Tim was next and his ten inch tool filled her womb completely. Then Andy followed and four others who had documented the de-flowering of Lizzie. All seven came deeply inside of her womb leaving her filled with baby-batter to the hilt.

Aftermath

The next morning Lizzie woke alone with a splitting headache in the room to the sound of an alarm clock. Her cunt ached and she was covered in dry cum. She knew she was a virgin no more her vows had been taken from her and she inwardly sobbed. It was ten o'clock and Tim walked in. Lizzie covered her tits with her arms and coldly asked where Tracy was. Tim said she had left thinking you were gone. 

"I need my my blouse, bra and panties" she asked, "well" answered Tim. "I really don't know but we have a spare tee shirt that you can wear. " 

Her bra and panty set were already hanging in the trophy case upstairs.

"Ok" she answered doubting his answer somehow, but wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. Tim returned two minutes later and Lizzie turned beat red when he passed her the tee shirt. It was badly painted pink-polka-dot with the words stenciled on the back "I successfully participated in a virgin lion painting adventure."

She stared angrily at him, and he offered "well another option is you could walk back to your dorm topless, if you like." She had no choice, no choice at all.

As Lizzie left the frat house she couldn't help but notice the lion now sported a brand new paint job. Pink-polka Dot. Oh God she thought, knowing she had her own monument and her unprotected womb was completely full of baby-batter. A sheet hung from the frat house highest window with her virgin blood stain to validate their victory and proof of the painting.

Lizzie eventually arrived back at her dorm but hundreds of students saw her along the way and knew she had been the Lion's girl. 

She finally entered her room and Tracy looked up from her bed at her knowing immediately Lizzie's fate from the previous evening and said "oh no, not you, they didn't"

Yes she cried, and they filled me with cum. I am not on the pill, what will I do.

Ten weeks later the poor Catholic girl Lizzie was visibly pregnant with twins growing within her body.



Painting A Nude: The Undressing



AdVersion


STUDENT REQUIRES PART TIME WORK
Anything legal and moral considered.
Only available during 'unsocial' hours and
occasional days. Reply Box No 662G


Box No 662G
I am an artist, painter mostly, require exceptional model
for clothed posing. Usual rate. Unsocial hours ideal. 
Send age, M/F, recent photograph and phone number.
2B, Brunswick Centre, Brunswick Rd, London E15 4JJ


An artist, intensely focused, shy yet piercing eyes that blink, like an owls, slowly and deliberately as if posting colour, texture, shadow and shape to memory. Slightly dowdy in cloth, and quite possibly hygiene, hair lank, a certain pervading aroma; tardiness of appearance disguises an aggressive business manner, working time, a rate per hour, a work schedule, are negotiated and concluded without so much as a 'good evening'. The brisk manner may be shyness, or a flaw in social skills, an anxiety to commence, or just a game. The artist prowls like a caged animal.

A model, a student, nervous naturally, it is a first time posing, hesitant, groomed for approval, the grooming ignored, mildly confused, the preliminaries, you see, names neither offered, nor asked, or even spoken to, curious beyond wondrous, and stands, fidgeting. 

And so to begin, with the customary awkwardness of strangers, a clipped dialogue, one straining to please, the other... just a strain, uncomfortable making demands. 

"Keep still!"

A hand to chin, firm, commanding, like the dentist, twist turn, head raised - angle appraised shadowed by murmured grunts; the faint reek of oil paint and turpentine quite fails to mask a musky scent. Not wholly unpleasant.

"Hold the pose." Harsh.

Behind me, looking at what? Am I to be painted from behind? How will anyone know it's me?

Prowling again, three steps, stop, sigh; shift the shoulder alignment, looks from the side, looks from the front. Twist the chin a taut neck-stretching delineating fraction, and growls. 

"Hold the pose." A request.

Now a camera, soft clicks, digital, of course. Angles, repeated, flash blinking, eyes blinking. "Don't look at me. Hold the pose." Now charcoal on paper, scratching, blowing, a different smell, cleaner somehow. Moving and drawing mumbling whispers, moving and drawing mild obscenities.

It's a mess, this place, splendid with clutter, paintings, paint a riot of colour heavy redolent tongue coating... silent.

"You don't say much."

A different glance, hair brushed from the forehead, charcoal smudged. I point with my eyes. Shrugs.

"I'm a painter."

It covers everything, but not the piquancy, and nothing.

Leaves me standing. Pulling canvases from racked shelving clearing with feet, debris, laying canvas, portraits, crowd scenes, members, costumed, coy nudes, risqué strangely hued copulations. Studies, hands, feet, eyes, and lips still glossed.

"Can I move?" Nod.

"Choose."

"What am I choosing?"

"You."

"You want me to choose a style?"

"Choose how I should paint you."

"You're the artist."

"You are the subject. Choose. You won't choose right, no one ever does."

"I don't understand the point."

"There is no "point". I will paint what you see, not what I see."

"You want me to select one of these paintings that I think represents me."

"No.

We are both wasting our time. You should go."

I shrug, near the door, a voice.

"Next Wednesday. Eight o'clock. Maybe. Less clothes."

- - - - -

ConVersion

The door is ajar, I did knock. The studio, a room, empty, and crowded. Partly cleared. A slightly raised dais. Cushioned, purple draped shiny, and around, paintings... possibly.

Possibly... photographs more like. Paintings by smell by touch by framing. Caressed not brush stroked, intimacy within oil, deep drawn plunging conscious depth. Colour sublime, clear, the painters eyes hauled to canvas, shades unnoticed, virulent hues rendered clean, unsullied, now seen, now fingertip touched, now traced.

I am here, centred. I am singly clad, my face, my clothes, my hands, my lips, my body, my hair, all cloned, the once. To my left side, a flaccid penis thicker than my leg, dusky pink, partly sheathed, purpled head intruding beyond, rippled skin sleeping. To my right side, a shaven pubis, viewed like the soft hill of the English countryside painted twice the size of my head, split, smooth shadow trailing, curving beneath, tissue nub crinkled darker skinned breaks shadows line. I crouch. Move left. The same penis, a woman's? lips as last I was here. Lipstick pink, glistening, pouting kisses. Move right, a lower view, legs slightly parted, crevice snagged creamy skin, a protruding crenulated russet nub, a beauty spot, a blemish on otherwise perfect skin dark spilling into folds of blackness. 

I'm made to move, a symmetry unfolding left and right, separate acts, detached intent, mutually independent, intrinsically joined. Lipstick pink parted on purpled hue, moistened, growing. A male finger (definitely) indents female flesh, parting, and still hidden. Pink lips engulfing, erect, dark vein ridged, drawn inward on hollowed cheek. A glistening finger, the dazzling transparency of wetness, penetrating, half entered, half withdrawn, a moisture click painted to see heard crystal clear in silence. Erect, shadow cast on muscled abdomen, wet, saliva trailed ruddy engorged, ringed with vestige trace of lips pink bloom. Now almost joined, arched to receive, parted to give, strained to pour, electric. The last painting, set opposing my singularity, a climax, unmistakable, the canvas screams, fingers claw, fully penetrated leaking pearl gelled on ruby red flesh, opened, exposed to see, to smell to hear... and intimate within, and within. I'm uncomfortably with uncanvassed honesty, an unwilling voyeur feasting unsated, aroused by desire, curiosity abandoned to selfish pleasure. 

"Have you decided?"

I jump, heard no footfall should have noticed the piquancy.

"I'm to choose. From these?"

"Maybe."

"How did you paint me? When?"

"You're easy to paint. It's a surface. It's not you. Clothes and a head. Empty."

"And these?"

"People." Shrug.

"They are just paintings of sex. Incremental steps to a... fuck. That's not people."

"Were you there? How would you know? Do you know painting?"

"A little. Your style is astonishing."

"Style is a technique. Image is painting."

"Are you in these paintings?"

"You think them of me, that this work is about sexual arousal? Maybe I should have left you a pornographic magazine, and saved my money."

"I don't know what to think."

"I can't paint you clothed. You're too innocent, you lack the charisma of experience."

"The advertisement said clothed."

"And still you spend one hour of my time, of my money, studying my most intimate paintings."

"You were not here."

"You looked where you wanted to look. Saw what you wanted to see. You chose last time. From a dozen paintings, you chose to look at my sex. Your innocence is all I can paint."

"Why did you paint me clothed?"

"Look at the painting. It has no soul. It conveys nothing, it tells no more than the photograph from which it was painted."

"And naked you will see me different." Sigh.

"It is not what I see, I can make of you anything I chose, I can paint you in high office, I can paint you with dignity, or sadness, or laughter. I can paint you as a gymnast and give musculature you scarcely possess. It is not about my choice, not about what I want to see. Naked you will see you different."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Must I answer?"

"Why are the canvases so big, why exaggerating the size."

Resigned sigh, a few steps, fingers combing still lank hair. I'm the child.

"Why are you playing for time? You must undress. I need to see you."

"It is a serious question. If you talk, I will... undress. For you."

"I'm uncomfortable with words, the chaotic scramble of letters, I'm a servant to words, not their master. I do not like to speak. I cannot paint with words. Must I tell you this? Can I not simply paint your naivety?

"Each of these canvases is one fifteenth part of a whole. Fifteen canvases make a single portrait, the entire body, not just these details. Put your clothes on the chair. What you see in the single canvas is passion and desire, a very private act given between equals, an act they share, but rarely see, not as we see it. Theirs is an unbridled passion, uncontrollable, unstoppable, driven sometimes by love, sometimes by lust, and always by the giving and receiving of pleasure. In exaggerating the size, the act is removed from conventional observation; it is no longer a copulation of a type that may be viewed on the Internet or in a magazine. The viewer passes from adolescent voyeurism to seeing beyond the image as a purely a sexual act. Detail is revealed. Will you turn around slowly for me, arms down by your side? Detail the viewer could only expect to know of someone they share intimacy with, the myriad colours of her sex, the beauty spot that spills into the fold of her labia, his penis, the foreskin that never quite closes over a protruding head, the change of colour, engorged with his blood quickened in mutual desire. Her lipstick, chosen to mark and not solely for lips decoration. Their secretions, different maybe from yours or mine in their texture, their colour and consistency, the taste of their sex, the smells of their bodies, and their pleasure, only partly glimpsed in these canvases, is unmistakable in the whole. 

"Put your hands above your head, like a dancer, turn slowly. You become intimate with their intimacy, you share their act in your memory with those you have shared intimacy with. The images may arouse, as they clearly arouse you, and it was unfair of me, perhaps, to only show you the sexual core of the whole. Beyond arousal is delight at the pleasure of others, pleasure at memories recalled, pleasure in the secret held rediscovery of your own intimacy, and pleasure in anticipation of intimacy to come. Will you lie on the dais now please? I'm going to photograph you, don't be alarmed, the photographs will be deleted when the painting is finished. The photographs are simply a tool, a notebook of colour and texture. I paint in the style of photographs to hold true to the reality I see. Close to the canvas, you will see a different reality and smooth skin becomes a foreign terrain, the colour is not the lie you imagine in your head, the smooth surface is a minefield of pores and follicles and blemishes. We imagine what we want to see, and rarely see what we imagine. 

- - - - - 

DiVersion

Some of these photographs will be very close, very personal... click... you may do what you will... click... to express your inner self. I told you these paintings... click... have been selected to arouse you... click... I want you to be aroused... click... I want to paint you inflamed... click... your passion, touching yourself... click... imagining whom ever you will... click... opening yourself to your emotions... click... with desire, I will help you if you wish... click... you only have to ask... click... Talk to me... click... Tell me what you are thinking... click... show me what it is you need... click... I will paint the real you from... click... these photographs. From what... click... you reveal of your emotion... click... and your desire. Talk to me now... click... What are you thinking?

Click...

Click...

"I'm confused, I feel vulnerable... click... I'm not sure what it is... click... you want from me... click... what you expect from me... click... I'm nervous... click... embarrassed... click... you're very very close... click... "

"I'm going to be closer... click... I need to photograph your face... click... What are you feeling... click...? Tell me what you see... click... Tell me what you smell... what you feel... click... tell me what you hear... click..."

"The edge of your painters smock... click... Your knees are dirty... click... from the floor... click... My face, I can see my face reflected... click... in the camera lens... click... I smell the room... click... Oils, turps, varnish... click... and a musky tang, erotic and yet... click..."

"Close your eyes... click... I'm going to use the flash. It's Petuli. What do you feel... click... reach out and touch... click... me... click... "

"Oh my... skin... click... is it... it's your leg, quivering, warm. Don't move... click... don't... are straddling me? click... "

"Open... your eyes... click... tell me what you see."

"I... oh my.... I see... I can see... it's... click... You know what I can see."

"Yes... click...

"describe, touch, smell, ... click... "

"Intoxicating... my eyes are drunk at the sight of you. My senses are reeling... your scent is ripe, like an exotic fruit bruised at my lips, the sensation before taste when tongue buds strive to bursting point, and the mouth wells with saliva. If you were a fruit, I would pluck and bring you into my mouth."

"Wait... it may come to that. Savour first, eyes and fingers... describe for my painters eyes what is you see, colour, texture, what it is you touch."

"It's... the same but different from the canvas... shaved of course and quite unexpectedly rounded, delicately cleaved, a silken hollow deeper than I imagined. And a glistening folded nub... a rosette gleaming... hot... God you're so hot... your heat stings my face, and smooth, how can you be this smooth... and you're trembling where my finger strokes. Oh yes... come closer. I can see the beauty spot, chestnut brown, slightly raised, I'm following with my finger where it slips into the folds of your lips. Heavens, you're wet... seeping. You move when I touch you there, shrink and ease back against my knuckle, and between the secretion glued lips of your sex, you smell of secrets, hidden treasure, of musk and sandalwood boxes, the edges are darker, crenulated... "

"Darker is not a colour, just shade."

"Then maroon and mahogany, on the very edge, like make-up painted to highlight, where the world ends, and where fancy begins, and lower down, the skin becomes drawn, turning inward, almost plaited, to a hood, here, where you flinch at my touch, and the glut of your desire pools under the tip of my finger and spills, a rivulet trickling. The inner surface, salmon pink and magenta, violent colours before the storm slick smooth lined, coated clear...strung with pearls and you move to fold my finger within you, closer still. I can run my tongue through your flesh, and I feel the burn where you mark me as yours with your shiny pink lipstick."

"You may stop... if you wish.

Oooh."

Authors Note - I've only ever been photographed nude, for an artist, and I've had my penis cast in wax. If I was going to be painted, I'd liked to be coaxed just as described above. If I've intrigued you, interested you, amused, annoyed or excited you, please vote and send feedback. Copyright 'Neonlyte' 05/2006



Painting Donovan



I had trouble writing the ending of this because I'd get too turned on to write. Enough said. ;) ~K

*

My brother Donovan was a cunt slut.

His schemes were simple but effective. Having his latest fling "meet the family" as a demonstration of commitment was one of his favourite ways of getting into their pants. Since I was the only reliable family member he had living in Vancouver, I was the one he always asked out. I'd never really found it fun to play the good little brother as Donovan made baby talk with a dumb bombshell. Still, I went along with it because I figured it was the brotherly thing to do.

This was what I expected when I got a call from Donovan one late afternoon. The interruption was a welcome relief as I'd been in the midst of a painter's block and was close to chuck the canvas out the window. 

"Hey man," chirped Donovan. "What's up?"

"Well, I was trying to paint but it doesn't look like it's gonna happen tonight." I gave the canvas a hard look, but it just gave me a blank look back.

"Aw, how come?"

"I guess I'm taped out of inspiration."

"Hey, here's an idea," said Don. "Why don't I come over and we grab something to eat?"

"Right," I sighed. "So who's the girl this time?" The last one had almost talked my ears off, and the one before that had been just plain nuts.

"Aww, Darren, there's no girl this time. It's just me." 

Uh oh, I thought. What's he up to now?

"Well," I said aloud, "There's that Italian restaurant we had last time." 

Donovan liked Italian.

"Yeah that one was good," he agreed. "Kind of pricey, though. How about we raid a McDonalds or get loaded on a pound of Kentucky Fried Chicken instead?"

"Don, that's friggin' gross. Why don't you just come over to my place? I was going to make pasta anyway." 

I liked Italian too.

"Sure!" he said, "I'll see ya tonight." 

"What time-"

Click. He'd hung up.

Asshole, I thought, even though I was smiling.

* * *

There was a knock at my door. 

I'd texted him about the time, and he'd texted back that he'll be there around six. He was late. It was past seven now and I was fighting aliens on my laptop to keep my mind distracted from my stomach's unhappy noises. I let the aliens win as I went to get the door.

"Hey bro," grinned Donovan. His wet hair and the gigantic duffel bag slung over his shoulders told me he'd probably come straight from the showers of the hockey arena. He looked fresh though. 

"You're late." I noted.

"I know. There was this chic in the crowd." He scratched his jaw, still grinning. He was almost good-looking if in a rough, untrustworthy kind of way.

"I thought you were seeing Cynthia."

"It's Angie now. Hey you got any beer? I'm starving, what you got cooking?"

"Linguini primavera," I handed him the beer and went over to the stove where I was keeping the sauce warm. I tasted it. It was a little saltier than I liked from sitting out, but it would do. I poured it over the pasta and served.

"Looks great," he said as he plunked himself onto the kitchen table and started gorging. 

He munched for a while and then said, "So, why'd you and Colin breakup?" 

That threw me. I put my fork down. Sure, I was out to my family, but I had only just broken up with my boyfriend of two years. That had been less than two weeks ago and I hadn't told a soul.

I decided to temporize. "What makes you think we broke up?"

"You took down his photographs," he said, pointing his fork at a blank wall. 

"Oh." I had. It hadn't occurred to me that he'd notice. Donovan could be kind of perceptive sometimes for a jock. 

"Plus Ashley said so. So I thought I'd come over and check you out."

I felt embarrassed. Sure, the break up had been mutual. But I hadn't been ready to deal with being single yet. And how the fuck had my sister found out?

Donovan put a hand on my shoulder and giving me a concerned big-brother look. "Hey. You doing alright?"

"Yeah."

"Well. If you ever wanna talk... I don't know much about relationships with guys, but y'know?" He smiled. "I'm here." 

His hand was still on my shoulder. I could feel its warmth. Truth be told, Donovan was a hot number. In fact, if he hadn't been my brother... woah there! Get your mind out of the gutter Darren!

I sat back on the chair and his hand fell away. "Thanks Don." I said, maybe a bit too curtly because Donovan gave me a funny look.

"Anyway," said my brother. "There's another thing I wanted to meet up with you about." He sighed, massaging his neck. 

He laid his hands flat on the table, palms down. A determined look. I noticed the dark hair all along his muscled forearms. 

"Look. I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm swimming in debt, man. The job at the warehouse, it's steady but it barely covers the rent and utilities. I'm a bouncer on Saturdays at a club too, but it isn't enough. I was wondering if maybe... they could use me at your work place. I'm open to anything."

I felt bad for him. It knew what it had cost him to ask his kid brother for help, but there wasn't much I could do. I was a lowly assistant instructor in the arts school and Donovan couldn't tell a Picasso from a Michelangelo. We needed people with artistic talents, not a six-foot muscled hulk who might accidentally break a figurine. I suppressed a chuckle at the thought of mincing Mr. Princely teaching Donovan how to make jewellery. Mind you, Mr. Princely would enjoy the view, hell, almost everyone would... 

And that's when I realized we could use him. Maybe. A smile crept across my face. 

Donovan brightened, "You got an idea. Come on man, spill it."

"You really serious about being open to anything?" I was grinning now.

"Yeah! Damn right I am!" he slammed the table with his fist.

I chortled. "Great! How'd you like to be a nude model?"

The expression on his face was priceless. Or rather the sequence of expressions -- from incredulity, to chagrin, and finally to resignation, all transitioning seamlessly into the other. In fact, I thought, it might even be possible to convey those facets with the right layering of acrylic...

"You serious?" he exclaimed.

I nodded.

He contemplated it for a minute and then asked seriously, "What do I need to do?"

I told him. There'd be no fooling around. It usually started with some warm up poses, but eventually he'd have to hold poses for at least an hour, with twenty minute breaks in between. It helped if the model got creative with the poses since it made the painting more interesting.

I let him mull it over. Finally, he said sheepishly, "What if I get, y'know...turned on?"

The image came involuntarily: My brother lying naked with his cock hard. I swallowed and shook my head. Man, I seriously needed to get laid. 

"Think of Mrs. Hendricks nude." I suggested. Mrs Hendricks was a shrivelled up 70-something prune who'd taught us both English in high school. I'd used her on a number of occasions to calm my horny self down. I was using her now.

"But what if I mess up?" he said anxiously. 

I shrugged, "We could practice. Get you comfortable." A part of my brain was screaming something urgent but I wasn't listening. I was a professional. I was helping my brother out. And if on occasion I entertained less than brotherly thoughts, when had mere thoughts done any harm?

"You mean try it here?" 

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"Sure, if you want." I kept my voice light. It was important that I keep this casual.

"I need more beer."

"If you knock yourself out you're not going to be able to hold a pose." I warned.

"Ok. I'll just have one, ok?" He was committed, just about. 

"You can use my robe; it's behind the washroom door." I told him.

Donovan got up to get another beer, and I quickly dropped the dishes into the sink. I picked up the stuff I'd need and moved the television in the living room so that I'd have a clear view of the sofa from where I'd be painting. I could hear Donovan pacing around the kitchen and then move into the washroom. There was the unmistakable sound of Donovan unzipping and loosening his belt buckle. The anticipation was killing me. 

Finally, Donovan reappeared in my robe. He chucked the empty beer can in the garbage bin. 

"Ok. Let's do this." He said grimly.

I turned on the studio lighting. 

"Alright, strip!"

The robe fell to the floor.

Oh baby baby... 

Feeling a little light headed, I vaguely heard him say nervously, "Where you want me?"

"Just sit on the coach, find a comfy position." I said. He wasn't hard, but man, even so it was something else. He sat. He leaned back and put his massive arms loosely across the top of the sofa, his abs and shoulders rippling all the while. 

Now to set the scene. I had to do something about Donovan's nervousness too. I went over to his duffel back.

"Hey, what you doing?"

"Rummaging through your stuff, what's it look like?"

"Now wait a minute..."

"Relax Don, I'm you're kid brother, remember? I'm a pro at this." I grinned, "You remember those Hustler magazines you bought way back when you were fourteen? Guess who left one in the washroom for Mom to find?"

"What? That was you?" He yelled. His face flushed as he moved to stand up. 

"Uh uh uh...You move from the sofa, and the gig's off." 

He froze. I had him. 

"You little shit..." He seethed. 

"Yeah, I know." I gloated. "I still remember Mom raiding your room and finding the rest of your stash, plus the bondage and sex toy ads." 

In the meantime, I'd pulled out my brother's hockey stick, helmet and smelly Canucks jersey. I leaned the stick against the arm of the sofa, hooked the helmet on a corner, and threw the jersey haphazardly on the other side. Stepping back, I evaluated the tableau critically. It still needed something...I picked the beer can he'd crushed out of the garbage bin and put it into his hand. 

"What the hell?"

"Just hold it." I told him. 

The perfect jock.

"Alright I'm starting now, hold that pose for twenty minutes." I said.

I got behind my canvas, took a breath to steady myself, and started sketching an outline. I noticed right away how small the sofa looked with him in it. His thick, broad torso filled the space. There were scars on his chest I hadn't seen before, though it must have been years since the last time I saw him shirtless. He didn't look nervous now. He looked a little pissed off actually, which was good, added to the scene.

The scene. Right. Who the fuck was I kidding. I didn't give a damn about the scene. What I wanted to do was to run my hands across those ripped abs, lick between those pecs where his treasure trail started, and suck that cock, suck it suck it suck it... Jesus Christ was it just me or was it getting hot in here?

"Man, these lights are hot," Donovan remarked as if on cue.

"Yeah, they're cheap, sorry." I apologized. I'd gotten the lights at a discount price from someone I knew who worked for a porn studio. That's right boys, when you see those actors sweating, it isn't just from the sex.

Speaking of sweat, I couldn't help noticing how good Donovan looked with it. There was a definite sheen on his muscles. I was using bold, dark lines for his body, and shades of pink and red for his skin. It was working up a sweat too. 

I took off my shirt. 

That's when things started to get weird. Now, I paint men and women for a living, and one thing I knew how to do was to tell looks from looks. From Donovan, I'd known "hey, how's it going my lil' bro" looks and "hey bro, wanna have a beer" looks. But I'd never seen the look he gave me now. This was something new. His slack jaw had a hunger in it. The hooded intensity in his eyes had intent behind them that was anything but innocent. 

I had a good body, I knew that. Our parents had passed on good genes to both of us. Mountaineering as part of my landscape and photography work had given me muscle and definition. I'd just never known my brother to be interested.

He stared at my lower lip. I licked it. He licked his.

And then I forgot to breathe.

Donovan was getting hard. His big-veined, uncut cock pulsed and grew. The purple meat curved sinfully upwards. And all the while he looked straight at me. There was nothing brotherly in that look. Or that cock.

Holy shit. This was getting dangerous.

"Ok, I think it's been about twenty minutes. We'll take a break. You want some water? I'll get some water." Without waiting for his reply I dashed to the kitchen. I filled a cup with water and drained it. Filled it again. I felt my brother coming up behind me. And then I felt his body heat. I turned.

He had his hand on the counter on both sides of me, trapping me, eyes burning into mine.

"Want some?" I said weakly, putting the cup between us.

Our fingers touched as he took it without a word and drained it. I watched feverishly as his throat muscles worked. He put the empty cup down on the counter with finality and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned into me. And then he cupped my hard cock and all I could do was moan.

"You want me, don't you." It wasn't a question. His voice was like wet gravel, hard and coarse. "This was your plan all long, eh? Get your big dumb brother naked. So you could get off on the thought of me, eh?"

With the other hand he palmed my face. Bringing our lips close enough almost to touch, he whispered, "Well, it worked." And then he closed the distance with his mouth. The last vestiges of my sanity evaporated with the heat of his lips, his tongue, his naked rod pressed against my belly, his hands feeling up my sides, my own on his hard sweaty back.

The next thing I knew he was lifting me over his shoulder and fireman hauling me down the hall. He was on top of me the instant he put me down on the sofa. He kissed me hard and then nuzzled my neck with his unshaven jaw till my toes curl. I bit his shoulder; he groaned, and rearing up, he unzipping my fly and ripped my pants off. It was sweet relief for my cock. 

I gripped his curved cock against mine. "Guess I'm not the only one our parents made bent." I drawled.

Donovan was humping his cock against mine. "You wanna suck it?"

"Hell yeah."

He scooted up and lowered his cock to my face. I started sucking. He was big, hard, warm, salty and perfect. He moaned and started thrusting gently. Holy fuck, I was sucking my brother's cock and I was on cloud nine. 

He pulled out and said, "Let's suck together."

We got in a sixty-nine position on our sides and he went home on my dick. He was taller but his dick was longer, so it worked out. His mouth was hot and he sucked fast and hard, but I was better. I could take him all the way down my throat.

"Fuck Darren, I'm gonna cum if you keep this up." He groaned. "I want you on your knees." 

I got on my knees. Donovan got behind me. He started licking my hole.

"Fuck..." I gasped. Somehow I knew then that he'd fucked guys before.

I gritted my teeth against the pleasure. God he was amazing. His tongue circled my hole, making little stabs that made me cry out and writhe on the sofa. Looking around I saw that his cock was leaking. Donovan made a lot of precum.

The next thing I knew his tongue was gone, replaced by something harder and more demanding. His cock slid along my crack, nudging teasingly while his big hands explored my back. Donovan groaned.

"Wanna fuck you, Darren."

I arched my back. "You got a condom?"

"Shit... I don't." His cock nudge at my entrance in frustration.

"Me either." Damn. But Jesus we had to do this. I didn't know if there'd be a second chance, and I knew this was what I wanted. "Lube's upstairs. Don't want to get it. Put some spit on it. Fuck me dry."

I looked back at him and watched him put spit on his cock and smear it around. I reached over and positioned his cock at my entrance. Then I braced myself on the arm of the sofa as he pushed.

It burned bad as his head slid in. 

"More spit." I gasped. 

He dribbled some more spit, his hand firmly on my hips, as he slowly worked the rest of it in, pulling back a little then pushing it in a little deeper each time till he was sliding in and out almost all the way. By that time he was ramming my sweet spot inside and it was feeling good. Hell, more than good. The pleasure just built and built. I'd never known it to be like this. 

"Donovan...." I cried.

Hearing his name, he leaned over me, his chest rubbing against my back hard. We were working up a sweat, me being fucked raw and dry by my dumb jock of a brother. He reached around with one hand a splayed his fingers over my pec. When I turned to watch him plow into me, he kissed my breath away.

"Don't think this is what Mom and Dad intended for us." He grunted thickly into my ear, pounding me. "But your ass was meant for my cock."

"Yeah Don... Fuck your brother good..." 

"Fuckin' A...." he growled, picking up speed.

I reached around to push his ass closer. I wanted him in as far as he could go so that the walls of my gut could mould around ever millimetre of his skin. Donovan was going full throttle now, ramming in and out, his precum making my insides slicker, easier. His breath came ragged and hot on my shoulder. We'd become like animals in that our main thought was just to fuck and fuck harder, except that we knew this was forbidden and right.

"I'm close," he rasped, his breath hot against my neck. I was almost there too. His assault on my cock, my ass, and my skin was sending waves crashing on me. Something had to give. This was too hot. Too good.

He slammed into me once, twice, his big muscles all around me straining, and his whole body convulse. My brother roared as his warm wet cum filled me inside. He pumped his load, filling me till cum leaked out of my sphincter. The extra lubrication of his semen was what pushed me over and made my world explode. "Sssshit...!" I yelled as cum shot out of my cock, spilling on the sofa and on my brother's hand.

By the time it was done I was trembling and hoarse. We were drenched in sweat. Donovan was still having little convulsions. I turned to him. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his jaw was slack and he was still breathing hard. We kissed, Don tonguing me for good measure. He smeared my cum on my abs and rubbed it in. And then we both collapsed.

"Fuck bro. That was something." He grinned tiredly, his cock still in me.

"Yeah," was all I could think to say, grinning back. It was something all right.

He shifted and his cock slid out. It was still half hard. He moved so we were face to face, his arms draped over me. He nuzzled me, and started to drift off. We'd have hell to pay in the morning, I knew. But as I closed my eyes and put my hand on his chest and felt the thumping of my brother's heart, I couldn't think how things could get better than this.