Body Art

As always, the classroom smells of paper, paint at the end of the dayMy group is focused on painting their portraits. Steep shadows, quick strokes, soft curvings, many colours… or none. Everyone has their own style, except for…

“Is it normal for the brush to sometimes… follow, instead of lead?”

“It depends who’s holding it.”

“Guys, are we 10 years old, that we think that’s funny?”

“Silliness first, seriousness second.”

My best student, of all people, is defending him. She’s the one who coolly analyses every image, while her gaze holds more emotion and restlessness than anyone else in the room. She glances over his shoulder, touches it briefly, and gives him advice.

“Look, you should hold the brush a little lighter and just let it glide over the picture instead of pressing it onto it the whole time. It looks more natural and makes this blending effect when layered.”

What he’s painting looks like a portrait of a woman who’s surprised to even exist. Somehow it has its charm… and an unbelievable amount of falsely-placed shadows.

Right now, he’s using a fine brush to paint a birthmark on her shoulder, just above her delicate collarbone… pretty much exactly where I have a birthmark. Is this a coincidence?

I touch my own shoulder instinctively.

“I… um, what time is it? Isn’t it almost-?, oh, it is. Time to go home. Thanks for joining me, everyone. Next time we’ll pick up right where we finished.”

I’m probably overreacting… That couldn’t possibly be me in that picture.

I try to think about my plans for this evening. Back to basics: I wanted to pick up some shopping, maybe do some laundry… none of that is any reason for a pounding heart. Nonetheless, it’s there, this stupid, stupid racing heartbeat. Maybe it’s because he’s still here. By this point, all of the students have packed their stuff away and left the studio. Everyone, except him.

“It was a great evening. You really put us through our paces.”

“That was the point. Otherwise, there’s nothing new to learn.”

“Oh, I definitely learned something. Especially the study of the neck.”

“The neck was just one example for manipulating light.”

“Maybe. But the way you explained it… There was something more in it.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Sometimes imaginations run wild.”

He says that so casually. But his glance is anything but casual.

“Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it about? Technique? Colour? Brush care?”

“...Emotions.”

“Emotions?”

“How it feels when you paint.”

“It feels… focused. Intimate, but… not the way you think.”

“Oh? What do I think?”

He’s hardly taken half a step before I do something that even I couldn’t have predicted. It’s like a reflex.

I move directly towards him. Without saying a word, I take his wrist and notice how my own movements are quicker than my reasoning. I stare at his hand for a moment, the veins barely visible. It makes me think of brushstrokes, and it gives me an idea.

“Oh…”

“Hold still.”

I reach for another, fine brush. Maybe it’s this silence between us, or maybe it’s this mild tingling inside of me. I want to do something that surprises us both.

My hand draws his wrist closer to me. He twitches briefly, then looks at me questioningly, his eyes widening. I can’t suppress a little smile.

Very consciously, I paint each stroke on his skin with the brush. A light blue along his veins, a soft orange on the palm of his hand. It quivers briefly. I grin.

Where does this come from, all of a sudden… this courage? Or is it even courage? It’s probably defiance. I’ve always had it… this quiet, “Nobody pushes me around,” deep inside of me. When I play, it’s by my rules.

“Don’t move.”

“Okay.”

“Cold?”

“A little… but that look you’re giving me is heating me up.”

“Is that so? Don’t you think that’s a little bold, to say to your teacher?”

“I know it is.” But maybe I want that…”

His voice is somewhat shaky. Not from nervousness, but… expectation. Carefully, I paint along the tender contours of his wrist.

“What should I paint next? I’ll only paint where you want me to. Where you want to be touched.”

“My back… my shoulders.”

His shoulders surprise me. Not because of their shape… but because of the way he holds them so relaxed. As if he normally makes them seem broader to take up more space, maybe even show more strength. And just now, he lets them sink. For me. For the paint.

I slowly glide my brush over his neck, along the base of his hair towards between his shoulder blades. I paint small strokes to leave no more than a little tingling sensation behind. He inhales more deeply. So do I.

I follow the line of his arm, leaving little spots of paint along his upper arm. The muscles tense briefly before relaxing once again.

I stroke slowly over his skin, sensing the light warmth beneath. He glances at me attentively over his shoulder, with a little smile flitting across his face. I can sense how he’s paying attention to me, how his body trusts me. This makes me feel like I’m in control, not over him, but over this moment.

I put the brush down and step closer, wrap my arms around him. With slightly shaky hands, I unbutton his belt and pull his pants down just a little, revealing the top of his buttocks.

I reach for the brush again, continuing to paint just enough to feel the gentle, curving transition to his hips. They’re firm as he turns them toward me.

“Can I do that on your body, too?”

“If you’re careful.”

“I’d like to see how you’d react, if I-,”

“Do it.”

He gently pulls the fabric of my sweater down, revealing my cleavage.

He nibbles his lower lip for a moment as he realises I’m not wearing a bra. He pauses briefly, then catches himself. The brush in his hand dips into a bold, red colour. The paint looks warm, but feels cold on my skin.

I feel my nipples harden, but don’t know if it’s the paint causing it… or the throbbing in my pussy.

First, he draws the brush lightly over my collarbone, then glides it further downwards towards my cleavage. Every contact is precise, controlled, but incredibly close, almost like a breath on my skin.

I imagine that it’s his tongue stroking between my breasts, along their undersides and then down to my naval.

I want to get even closer to him. It’s almost like something is pulling me towards his body. I lean my hips against him, and he grins.

“That’s not enough for me.”

“What do you need?”

I take a step away from him and slowly unbutton my jeans, pulling the fabric down my legs. My sweater follows shortly after to the ground.

Now he finally has a clear view of my curves and sees how hard my nipples are. His naked chest heaves and sinks fast with every breath he takes.

With only my panties left on, I slide my thumb slowly along the seam of them. He clears his throat, and his hand twitches.

“You’re… beautiful.”

For someone who started this course so confidently, he seems almost shy and reverent. Maybe even honest, for the first time.

I pick up the brush and place it aside. Instead, I dip my index and middle fingers into the paint, leaving two fine dots on my inner thighs. He understands and kneels before me.

His hands grip my hips firmly, and he positions his mouth between my legs. Sensing his warm breath on my sensitive pussy, I spread my legs a little wider, and he buries his face between them, nibbling at the fabric of my panties.

I stagger backwards, grabbing a wooden table for support.

“You’re so wet already.”

I don’t manage to answer, already feeling his tongue stroking over my underwear.

“Do you like that?”

“Only if that’s just the beginning.”

Instead of responding, he pulls the fabric of my panties aside and starts to play with my clit, his tongue drawing circles.

He begins to suck on my clit softly, while his hands slide back and grasp my ass firmly.

Fuck… I press my hips eagerly against him as he keeps going, on and on.

“Yes… right there! Oh… Oh God!”

Is this really happening? My fingers glide through his soft hair, pressing his head a little further towards my centre. We’ve only just started, and I’m already so close. I’m almost about to let go, when…

My glance shoots to the door, and he withdraws from my lap.

We both stare up at a shocked face. I recognise her immediately from the course. My best student, the one who just gave him advice today. Every time I see her, I forget for a second what I was about to say. Just like right now. How long has she been watching us?

“I’m sorry… I… I just left my hat here, and I thought, I’d come back, and there… there…”

“It’s … not what it looks like.”

“Actually, it is.”

The way he looks at me at this moment… It’s delectable. His lips still glisten from my wetness. They curve into a small, subtle smile as he recognizes the mischief in my face.

“So… should I go?” Or should I… take a closer look?”

“It depends on what you want to see.”

With that, I take his head in both my hands, signalling to him that he should finish what he started.

My pussy’s already waited long enough. It’s throbbing even harder, while his lips and his tongue find their way back to it after the unexpected interruption. This time he takes two fingers and pushes them inside me.

“Oh… Oh… Oh God…”

This time I feel her gaze completely on us. I see through her eyes, how my breasts heave with every quiver that rushes through my body. How his blind lust for my pussy does something to hers too. And then suddenly - I can’t think straight anymore.

“Oh… Oh… fuck, that’s… OHH!”

“That was incredible.”

“Yes it was…” Did you like it too?”

She grins. By now her hand has disappeared into her pants. She holds onto the doorframe with her other hand.

“I did. And those colours really suit the both of you.”

I look at our bodies,at the streaks and dots of paint on our skin, at all the points we’ve shown each other. Some of the paint has even dropped onto the floor.

“Do you want some too?”

Instead of answering, she walks towards us.

We begin to take off her jacket, and slip off her blouse.

I nibble gently at her earlobes. She smiles back confidently, almost cheekily.

He takes off his last pieces of clothing, too. My gaze lingers on his stiff, hard cock, which until now had been concealed by his pants.

It’s time he was taken care of. I spit in my hand. And grasp his cock.

“Ohh… fuck.”

The new addition to our group fits in perfectly. She kisses my neck…

…and presses her full breasts against me from behind and wraps her arms around my upper body so her fingers can start to play with my nipples.

“Fuck, this feels so good…”

He watches us, and something flares in his glance. It’s as though the already intense throbbing in his cock is getting even worse

I grip him harder. He looks for something to hold on to, but there are only unsteady easels around him. The three of us fall to the floor, knocking paint pots aside.

I pull away from him abruptly to turn towards her, taking him with me. I pull him by his hand towards her, just to place it on one of her breasts. I’m leading the other one between her legs.

She shivers with arousal. Our eyes meet with a look of pure desire. He brings his head closer to her.

“Sit down. I want to taste you too.”

At the same time, I take his cock into my mouth.

“God, yes, just like that! Don’t stop!”

Our bodies are intertwined. While she rides his face, I take him so deep in my mouth that it makes me gag.

First slowly, then growing faster, I suck on him. Their moaning makes me so horny. Hearing their pleasure and tasting his lust makes me crazy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see how her body is reacting. How she can hardly hold herself upright. Between my lips, I sense that he’s about to release himself into my mouth.

It’s right in that moment that I let go of him.

I pull my bag over and open a small packet of condoms I always carry with me. When I find it, I rip the package open with my teeth and gently roll the soft rubber down his cock.

“Ohh my… ohhh.”

He feels incredible. Big and filling, hot and aroused. I’m so horny too… My hips move in a punctuated rhythm with his… up and down, up and down, my body trembling with desire.

“You’re driving me crazy...”

“Yeah? That turns you on?”

“Ohh, yes. You’re both so hot. I… want… more.”

“You want more? Or you need more?”

“Both!”

She looks at me with a hungry gaze. We merge more and more into a single entity. Our hands frantically search for each other’s skin; him digging his fingers into her ass cheeks, mine digging into his shoulders, hers into his hair.

“That’s… probably the hottest thing that I’ve ever-,”

I feel his cock inside me, rubbing over my most sensitive spot. My hips press further against him so that he can stimulate my clit at the same time. I think I’m going to fall apart.

“Shit… shit…”

We all need a moment to calm ourselves down. We lie down on the studio floor and tune into our bodies. Our muscles are warm, our limbs relaxed. Several pots of paint have tipped over, leaving further traces on the floor and on us.

“You know that we look like an expressionist painting, right?”

“Perfect. Then the course was worth it.”

“Um, excuse me? Was there ever any doubt?”

“Never!”

“Good. And I’ve got to admit, with that sense of touch, and the way you played with colour… you’ve both got that down. That’s some talent.”

“And courage.”

“True. Not everybody dares to delve so deep into the art.”

We sit there like that until late evening, wrapped in blankets on the studio floor, between splashes of paint and paintbrushes…