I want to paint you. Not as you might think though. No, not in the traditional sense.
Why should we be slaves to convention?
I’ve no canvas on which to daub your likeness in oils, no sketch book to cast your water-coloured features upon.
All I have is a medley of brushes with which to capture your soul.
I need you naked first, though. Will you undress for me? Please – do it slowly. Doucement. I want time to sip my whisky, to drink you in as you unveil yourself, as you offer your body to my steady gaze.
Lie down, here, upon this firm mattress, atop this crisp Egyptian cotton sheet. Enjoy its cool tautness against your skin. Relax. Feel my warmth pass to you as I take your hand, as I stroke your arm. Look into my eyes. Breathe deeply, languidly. Let go.
__________________________
He raises the first brush so that she can see it too. It looks as though someone has sliced its top away with a brilliantly sharp blade. The flat end looks precise.
“This is a one-stroke brush,” he tells her in his deep, calm voice. “I sometimes use it for washing over backgrounds, for painting skies on landscapes.” He draws the soft bristles slowly over the gentle undulations of her belly, along the tops of her closest thigh. The caress of the bristles is unbelievably soft, devilishly ticklish.
“The bristles are Kolinsky Sable. The very best.” He smiles at her. “Tell me how they feel.”
He’s reached her knee, continues down along the outside of her calf.
“They feel … wonderful,” she whispers, entranced by the delicacy of his strokes. “So light. So … graceful.”
He moves back along her body, switching his attentions from outside to in, drawing the brush along the inside of her thigh. She tries to still her trembling and fails, gasping aloud as the brush slips into the narrow crease between her thigh and her sex. He skirts the plump flesh with such cunning, she actually fancies that she hears the bristles tangling lightly with her own intimate tresses.
He pauses, lifting up a small porcelain bowl. He dips the brush within; when it withdraws, the bristles glisten, and a thin line of viscous dew descends from its tip.
“Warm oil,” he says, pressing the brush back to her flesh. She sighs contentedly as he paints seemingly random tracks across her belly, her breasts. He coats her nipples with languorous circles until they glisten, until they’re hard and proud; begging to be licked and sucked, squeezed between thumb and forefinger, gnawed upon by keen, knowing teeth. She yearns to see him press his cockhead to each peak of marbled desire, squeezing and stroking his thick shaft until his own gleaming oil is dispensed upon her, until she can cup her breast and lift it to her mouth, and then greedily lap his seed from her flesh.
The thought makes her shudder. She looks down at her naked, glistening body, and realises that he has painted the words ‘desirable whore’ upon her torso.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers.
He moves so that he is kneeling beside her head. She watches transfixed as he draws the zip on his trousers downwards. He’s naked underneath, and his cock, thick and hard and deliciously curved, is easily drawn out into the light.
“Suck me,” he tells her. “Paint me with your lips, with your tongue.”
She needs no second invitation. She grasps his shaft, marvelling at its rigidity as she guides it towards her open mouth. Her tongue laps out, relishing the vaguely salty, aromatic taste. As his glans slips over her tongue, she feels the brush tracing the outside of her sex, drawing gleaming paths of oil down over her labia, and then up through her cleft. She cries out around his hard flesh as the soft bristles flicker across her aching clit.
“You like that,” he chuckles, doing it to her again, and again, and again. Eventually, she has to ease his cock from her mouth so that she can draw enough breath to keep pace with her racing heart.
“That’s so delicious,” she gasps, and then she draws his cock back inside her avid mouth. She works his foreskin with a fluid grace, bringing forth a heavy drop of precum onto her tongue, which she swallows greedily, gratefully. The artist’s brush slips between her swollen lips, pressing into the stifling heat of her sex, the bristles now heavy with her own secret oils. Then the brush is withdrawn, only to be replaced by his strong, knowing fingers. He opens her with two fingers, a third raking up through the now-sodden valley. The pads of two fingers circle over her clitoris, and then they’re slipping inside her, fucking her, curling up against the front wall of her cunt, stroking firmly until she thinks she’s going to lose control of herself, void herself all over his palm. And then with hardly any warning, she’s coming, hard, so fucking hard, her insides flipping over, inside out, the waves of pleasure crashing into her, over her, through her, and she cries out again around his hard flesh.
She collapses back, the breath rasping maniacally in her throat, the Egyptian cotton rumpled beneath her, around her. Eyes closed, she is barely aware of the sounds of clothes being dropped to the floor. She feels her thighs being parted, feels his weight between them, his smooth glans pressing against her sex, slipping inside her cunt. She gasps with decadent relief, with wanton pleasure.
Desirable whore, she thinks.
The full length of him embedded within her velvet wetness, he begins to thrust long and steadily, kissing her mouth, her face, her ears, her neck and her breasts as he fucks her with swiftly rising passion. She entwines her calves behind his thighs, binding him to her.
“Are you finished painting me now?” she gasps.
“Not by a long way.”
__________________________
We’re not done yet. Mount me now. Swing your thigh across mine, hold your greedy cunt open with your fingers and ease yourself slowly down onto my aching prick. Ride me, languidly at first, then harder, faster, the breath rasping in your throat as my cockhead presses against your womb, as my oiled brush presses against your skin once more, describing the sweet contours of your breasts, circling the stiff peaks that crown them, gliding across the softness of your belly, and the succulent nub of your clitoris.
I’ll still want more though.
I want to take you from behind, my cock implanted within your ass, the soft bristles exploring your wondrous arse, tracing lightly around the roseate place where my flesh becomes yours even as my hot seed erupts into that forbidden darkness. And then I want to paint the lips of your cunt as I tongue you, taste you, make you come again and again and again.
And when we are done, when we’re both finally spent, drained, exhausted, the image of the gleaming, pleasured body that we’ve created together will be etched upon the canvas of our minds forever.
Tags: Artists, Brushes, Painting, Sugasm Top 3
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"Read this girls, that is all I'm saying."
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"EA has a wonderfully sensual quality in his writings (the sexy beast of a man, grrr!) totally unique in that he somehow balances the sexually provocative flavour of his writing style, fluid and deliciously exploratory, with intelligent phrasing, selective word choice, even his pacing is remarkably concise. Rather well done we think."
We Were Wolf
A wonderful story to start your 4th year, sir. Definitely inspired art!
Thank you kindly, Ro…
~EA
I guess we are all desirable whores, and we all want to be painted…
A wonderful story to start your fourth year, indeed.
I’m pleased you enjoyed it, Kirsten…
~EA
I do enjoy the languid sexiness of your new writing. See, I’m arching back into my chair…
That’s the problem, Wrenna - I *can’t* see…
~EA
Decadent and sexy as hell. You are like a good wine, getting better with time. And even though this is your fourth year I’m sure you’re not ready to be uncorked yet…
Oh, you can come for dinner, Aurea, if you’re going to keep hitting me with such wonderful plaudits…
~EA
This stole my breath away.
You are truly an Artist, EA, and this is most certainly a Masterpiece.
I could only hope for such colour and depth on my canvasses.
Stunning.
(bows humbly) Thank you, mademoiselle…
~EA
Wow.
Your best story yet. Actually, I think that’s the best story I’ve ever read. Thank you, E.A.
Now *that* is quite a thing to say to a writer. Thank you, Leah…
~EA
as i started to read i jumped ahead of myself and presumed you were going to adorn her canvas with your tongue or unyielding hardness….silly me…..i will admit i instinctively “assumed the position” when i read..”i want to take you from behind, my cock implanted within your ass”…..whoa
You’re not silly, Nymph. It just means I was able to surprise you, something that pleases me immensely. As does imagining you in that position…
~EA
Nothing would please me more (deep sigh at the impossibility of it all…)
I know exactly what you mean…
~EA
I just dropped by to say how much I’ve enjoyed having your book around to enliven my afternoon today - and then found this glorious gem. As an artist I’m never going to look at my brushes in quite the same way, so thank you once again.
It’s always a thrill to learn that something I’ve written has changed someone’s perspective - even if it is confined to the paintbrushes in their artist’s toolbox…
~EA
~EA… just when I think I have read your best, you paint yet another fine masterpiece of words to make a woman’s heart sigh… and her mouth water! Thank you…
Will this perhaps be the first story for Compulsive Ardour II? I received the first book today, and I will be taking it to bed with me!
Compulsive Ardour II, eh? I’ve barely shipped a dozen copies of the first version, Ms H - but I do promise to make this the opening story if and when CA2 makes it to the stands. In the meantime, I did start working on the outline for an novel today. An erotic thriller. See you around Christmas…
~EA
Who do you write for? Is it a lover you have, or just the woman in your mind’s eye?
She’s very lucky you think of her this way, whoever she is!
It’s a little of both, Mistress. I’ll leave you to decide where the lines are drawn…
~EA
EA,
You have truly surpassed yourself - an EXCELLENT blog!
“Desirable whore” mmmmm
You spoil me, Minx - thank you…
~EA
Oh, how beautifully you twist your words, EA!
My body was left tingling from the thought of your paintbrushes. I’ve been toying with the idea of perverting the uses of writing implements lately - quills mainly, but now you have me thinking about soft brushes.
You do inspire one so fitfully.
I do enjoy being a source of inspiration, Lady P…
~EA
4 years?! And yet i’ve only just found this little diamond of a blog..
You really do have a way with words.. It’s so good to find a male writer.. who’s actually good..
I think I may be here some time tonight reading your blog!
Welcome, Raven. Fortunately, the archives are reasonably well-stocked, and unlike those readers who’ve been around for a while, you don’t have to worry about being drip fed. So gorge away as you desire…
~EA
Very well painted story, EA! Lovely pacing and descriptions of sensations… and the moving perspective… masterful!! Ahhh to be that canvas!!
It’s lovely of you to say so, JRM - thank you…
~EA
Some women struggle so hard to prove to themselves that they are beautiful. Their lover can vocalise the sentiment til the end of the world and she doesnt truly believe. To have him write the words on her body, she has to face up to the possibility that it might indeed be true and thus will his positive endorsement access her psyche and permit the ensuing orgasms to achieve optimum pleasure. Nicely done EA.
Thank you, Cake…
~EA
warm oil… in the hands of a man who knows exactly what his desires are ….bliss xx
I always endeavour to be a source of bliss, Kimmie - with or without oil…
~EA
oh you are ….without one single shadow of doubt xx
Thank you for the glowing endorsement, ma’am…
~EA
Mmm, delicious.
Perfect thing to stumble across at a time I was feeling lonely and aroused.
Fantastic as ever, EA.
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sammy - thank you…
~EA
EA, you have outdone yourself this time. You have left me soaking wet and aching.
Just as I’d hoped to, Natasha…
~EA
Dear EA,
Tell me one thing, and then I will leave you to your painting…
Do you make house calls?
It has been known, Stephanie. It has been known…
~EA
Wow, this was incredibly hot. And gives me even more reason to buy those decadently soft brushes that I always covet at the art store.
I’m flattered to have been able to encourage you to treat yourself, AM. Life’s too short for us to neglect our desires…
{BTW, my apologies for not replying to your comment earlier - it wasn’t ignorance, honest!}
~EA
I just stumbled onto this. I’m burning up. I wonder if I’ll sleep tonight. I’m in a crowded cyber cafe and you’ve made me wet. How dare you?
How dare I? Angelique, you’ve just told me that I’ve made you wet in a public place, when you know full well that that knowledge will only stiffen me with delicious desire. How dare *you*…
~EA
gentle and beautiful~