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Painting a Pussy

I was out shopping for some business supplies but the moment I entered the art department I thought of you. I liked to watch you at work in your room, the sunlight glinting your chestnut hair, your hands so busy with brush strokes that you often weren?t even aware of my gaze. I had come up to the room you used as a studio in our house yesterday afternoon and the fading sun had painted your arms so that the golden down looked like a faint halo. You had the tip of your tongue between your lips; it?s pink tip reminding me of your clit.

I looked through the artist?s supplies, wondering if there was a treasure I could bring you, something to bring out the dimples in your cheeks, something to make you show me those perfect teeth in one of your dazzling smiles. I see the brushes, and find a selection with bristles of sable, so soft that they remind me of your breath on my cock. I find one that is the perfect shape, and I imagine what my art can make of it on your body.

I rush home, my business tasks forgotten, my cock heavy between my legs thinking of you. Will I be lucky enough to find you alone?

The phone rings as I walk through the door. It?s my wife, saying she?ll be leaving work in half an hour. Thank god for cell phones, I laugh to myself. The stars are with me, for you?re upstairs, alone, a smock over a tee shirt and jeans, that same afternoon sun warming the olive tones of your skin. I?m so excited that I stumble my greeting, but I show you the brushes, and watch the sun outdone by your smile. I lean forward and taste you, and then tell you I want to trace you with the brushes. I sit back and watch you remove the smock, and then unbutton your jeans and pull the shirt over your head. No bra today, and I imagine all of the young boys who must have lusted over those perfect small breasts moving freely under that thin shirt. Your nipples are usually hard, and if they?re not, then their puffy areolas, always showing through your shirts, make me think of sucking them hard.

You lay down and I marvel again at your skin, thick and resilient with youth. You stretch your hands over your head and I trace the brush from your throat to each breast, circling the nipple with its soft tip. I can?t resist touching each with my tongue and taking it into my mouth. Your back arches, making that delightful line from butt to leg and you moan softly.

I trace the brush down, following the tiny feminine swelling of your belly, following your navel, and moving down to your thighs. Your thighs are all muscle from bicycling all over town and grasp me so strongly when we fuck that it becomes a physical contest, almost brutal for me to overpower them. You always part them so willingly, but you want me to know your strength and to appreciate the physical raw power of that young body. Today, you part your legs in a gesture that can only be described as wanton and now I?m tracing your outer lips. I see a drop of your juice swell, glistening in the afternoon sun. I touch the brush to it and paint your outer lips, lips of such a delicate coral that I?ve only seen that color in an exotic seashell. You?re only twenty but you are the wettest woman I?ve ever known and I separate your pussy petals, wet the brush, and then draw its hard point between your lips, circling the pink button of your clit. I see your hands dig deep into the carpet and I move the brush back between your lips and then dip into your wetness. I vary my strokes, painting passion on this perfect canvas, watching your breath shorten. At the crucial moment, I put my mouth over your hard clit and touch my tongue lightly, leaving the brush twirling inside you. You cry, ?You?re killing me? and then it starts, that whole body orgasm that makes your chest flush and your nipples almost glow. Your orgasm always lasts an incredible amount of time and your pussy always floods with moisture, tangible proof of the heights of your pleasure.

I surreptitiously look at my watch, but you catch me and say, ?Is she on her way home??

I say, ?Yes, we only have ten minutes.?

?That?s not enough, but you know what I want to be thinking of when we?re having dinner, don?t you??

I grin, ?Dirty girl.?

You lift a leg and present your ass, shining with your juice. I quickly strip and slide half under you. Your rosebud asshole yields and I slide in and hear your throaty sigh, ?Oh that?s what I love. Fuck it, fuck it hard and quick.?

I don?t want to make it last one second less than possible, but when I watch you biting your lips, see your face frowning with passionate concentration and watch your hand busy with your pussy and clit it takes all my will power to hold off. I slide in and out, stroking the full length of my cock into your hot ass as you get closer and closer to your second orgasm. We hear the rumble of my wife?s car in the drive and you look at me and cum, and that throws me over the edge and I fill and fill and fill your young ass with seed. I pull out and quickly dress as you lay there. As I walk out the door, I look back at you. You?re really grinning now as you point to a trickle off cum oozing onto your leg. ?Thanks for the brushes. I?ll paint a picture and mix a little cum in it for you.?

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