Picture of Passion

She likes to paint at the break of day and always in the nude. Waking before the sun has risen, she will tip-toe to her studio, sit before the arched window, and simply wait. I have never understood why, or what she was waiting for. Until this moment. The early morning rays are just beginning to breach the horizon, and with them, a glorious pink blush highlights the pale blue sky. The room is saturated in a golden glow, her at its center, presented as a deity and I have the urge to worship her. To revel in her.

I am equally naked, taking small comfort in crossing my arms over my chest. Standing at the door, one hip propped against the frame, I watch her. Just watch. She looks glorious dressed in nothing but the dawn, like an angel being brought to life. Her sun-kissed skin reflects the amber light, and she seems to sparkle like she has been dipped in bronze, hair laced with gold.

I have never watched her paint before and now I’m unsure why. The muscles in her back flex as she raises a brush and lowers it to the outer edge, a trail of vermilion following in its wake. As she repeats the motion, I’m mesmerized by the curve of the side of her breast, a candy red nipple standing erect. The room is warm, so I know she is not affected by the temperature. This response comes from within.

Mahogany hair tangled from last night’s lovemaking cascades down her back, brushing the swell of her round backside. My fingers flex as I think of her tresses wrapped around my hand, pulling her brunette locks from her face to display the lean column of her neck. I lick my lips as I reminisce falling upon her, sucking, and kissing, nibbling her rosy flesh.

The narrow-seated stool she crowns ensures one toned leg is stretched out to support her, and I follow the defining line from hip to crimson tipped toes. The other is bent, foot resting lazily on the support spindle. Her legs are spread slightly. She needs to balance her weight to sit comfortably and her ass hangs over the rear edge somewhat, spreading her cheeks and giving me a glimpse of her tight puckered hole. I wonder what the view of her from the opposite angle would grant me and let the vision form in my mind. Closing my eyes, I can almost smell her sweet musk and I take a deep breath.

“Don’t just stand there,” she says, barely audible. Clearing the cobwebs from her sleep-inflicted voice she continues, “come and give me a hand.”

I walk towards her and stop just behind as more of the masterpiece that is her comes into view. From my vantage point, her tits are lush and perky, veined with a blue so deep it seems that steel runs through her. Her spine is straight except for the curve that accentuates her lower back, and I can’t help but run my fingers through her crack then up to the base of her skull. She tips her head back; lips parted she rewards me with a low moan.

“How can I help?” I ask as my arms circle around either side of her, taking her breasts in each of my hands. Lifting their weight, I squeeze and massage the round orbs until she leans against me, using me for support. Taking each nipple between thumb and forefinger I rub them gently then harder, pulling them roughly as far as they will go. She releases a hiss but arches her back pressing the warm flesh into my palms, silently telling me she wants more.  

“How can I help?” I ask again knowing I’ve caused her to become distracted. I continue to pull and twist until the second foot comes up to rest on the stool, opposite from the first. Her bare vulva catches my view and beneath the patch of hair that decorates her mons pubis, glistening pink folds peek out to greet me. I swallow down my urge to devour her, instead releasing a breast to replace it with a brush.

Dipping it is her chosen red I swirl the brush collecting a dollop of the thick acrylic. Lowering my hand, I place the bristles inside her knee and slowly pull the brush, not stopping until it meets the apex of her thighs. She opens her long legs wider and I can’t do anything but smile.

Taking a clean brush from a jar, I find a canary yellow on her paint tray and repeat my movements until her other thigh is lined, bright as the sun. Dropping it in the cleaning solution, I take a third fanned brush and gently collect a bit of cobalt. I begin to circle her nipples, around and around before filling them in, one at a time. Once coated in a thick layer I flip the brush over and tease her blue-painted tips with the end of the handle, flicking the soft wood back and forth over the pert nub of flesh.

Releasing her other breast, I take her throat in hand and place my thumb and forefinger on either side of her jaw. Tilting her head back, I lower the brush to the hollow of her neck, where her arousal is revealed by a rapid fluttering. As I pull the brush down, it passes over her ribcage, the hollow of her diaphragm, skipping over the dip of her belly button, stopping only after the faintest brush of her clit.

She arches her back further tilting her head to look at me, pressing her moist flesh into my hand.

“Give me a hand,” she says again, before subtly batting her lashes. The brush is dropped to the floor with a clatter, and I take her pussy in my hand, pressing the heel into her nub, cupping my fingers around her sex. I could easily slide into her. She is drenched and judging by the puffiness of her labia, very aroused. But I like making her wait.

“Is this what you need help with?” I ask while gathering her hair in my other hand. Roughly I pull her head back, lifting my foot to rest on the stool so she can lean against my leg. I turn her head toward my engorged cock. It’s mere inches away from her ruby red mouth. Her deep pink tongue comes out to lick her lips, and I feel a tightening in my balls. “Or was this more what you had in mind?”

I stroke the top of her head, my other hand still pressing hard into her clit. Probing her entrance, just a tickle nothing more, I gather her moisture on the tips of my fingers. She moans and tries to lift her hips, to take what she wants but I pull my hand away and tug her hair tighter. She sags back into place, and I return my fingers, circling her opening once again.

“Please.” Her whimper breaks the silence, and I take mercy on her. In a single thrust, two fingers are deep inside her, swirling inside her wet heat. The walls of her silky cunt contract around me and I pull them out slowly and immediately plunge back in, pumping lazily. Her arousal is blatantly exposed by the rhythmic sucking sound emanating from her well. With every thrust, it pulls my fingers in farther, coating them in her milky essence.

I pull them out, a string of fluid connecting us, and press my fingers to her mouth. Her lips open instantly, and her tongue comes out as I press them in. She takes her time sucking her juices from my digits, ensuring each is licked clean. Once finished, I stroke my cock in front of her eyes, once then twice, directing it into her warm mouth.

Eagerly she sucks me to the back of her throat. Her tongue swirls the sensitive tip and I release a moan of my own. Getting into a rhythm, I return my hand to her wet folds, running my fingers from clit to asshole, gathering her fluids with every swipe.  Her mouth works harder around me, and she releases a loud hum that vibrates my dick from base to tip. I feel myself jump in response. Her mouth is perfection.

Taking her clit between finger and thumb I knead it gently, increasing pressure and changing the speed. Her nipples are hard, the paint drying and flaking away and her thighs tremble as she nears release. Leaving my thumb on her button, I sink my fingers into her and curve them, pressing and coaxing the rough spot that signals I’ve found her tight bundle of nerves. Within seconds her body is tensing, and I press harder, knowing she’s close.

She’s stopped sucking now, her impending climax taking her focus. I take the time to pump into her mouth roughly, knowing she’s relaxed enough to take a face fucking. Holding the back of her head, I pull her towards me, impaling her on my cock as I thrust into her hot mouth. The silence has changed to moans and grunts and suddenly she’s coming.

The vocalisation of her thoroughly enjoying her release speeds up my climax and I feel a familiar tingle in my spine before my shaft hardens and ejects pulse after pulse of my creamy essence. She swallows every drop, even as I keep my fingers dipping into her wet channel lazily.

Once cleaned of my come, I assist her to sit up and smooth out her hair, then run my hands down her arms. “Is that what you needed help with?”

“I think that’ll do just fine.” she smiles at me before placing her arms around my neck and pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

For more to make you say Mmm this Monday, lick the lips

For more Passion, hit the bullseye

To read more tales like these, see Fiction.

Or check out the new Publication I write for, where you’ll find a collection of Tantalizing Tales.