A Picture of Lust

She was stunning.

Her porcelain skin was a sharp contrast to the black sheets. Brown hair in curls, they dangled deliciously down her shoulders like rivulets of rich coffee. Lying on her side, innocently nibbling a single finger, her green eyes watched me watching her. It was hard to stay focused. Still, she was a client and I would not cross that line.

I dipped my brush, studying her skin intently. Mixing and dabbing, I quickly came to the tint I wanted and made several shades across my palette. I started at her shoulder, like a lover kissing that soft curve. My brush an extension of my hand, her flesh blossomed onto the canvas under me. The arch of her neck and the subtle grace of her jawline. Her sumptuous lips, a deep red that spoke of lust and passion. That tangle of brown, thick and full... those deep emerald oceans, drawing me in... I lost myself for a few moments, simply gazing at her, wanting her, needing her.

The brush nearly slipped from my fingers and I caught myself. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and focused again. A lighter shade now, some here, some there.. blending to get the shadows and depth of her cleavage, her full breasts becoming softer beneath my hands. I traced those curves, trying to do her justice, to lock in the lust I felt on canvas. I moved lower, the graceful curve of her waist, the rise and fall of her hips. Her other arm was stretched between her legs, her hand covering her pussy. No, not covering.

Rubbing.


My already hard cock throbbed inside my pants. Her hand moved slowly, almost as if I were imagining it. Her fingers glistened slightly and the faintest bit of color was in her pale cheeks. I steadied myself with a breath and continued. Focusing intently on her hand, though impossible to capture that wicked motion that taunted and tempted me, I put what I could on canvas. Her arm stretched as if reaching for a lover, fingers massaging the pink folds of her dripping cunt. I added color to her cheeks and a little sheen to her skin as she began to sweat. I fleshed out her thighs, smooth, luscious, inviting. The curve of her calves and ankles, her feet lost in the tangle of sheets.

Finished with the wondrous and agonizing task of painting her, I breezed through the sheets, only half looking at the canvas as her hand began rubbing more rapidly, her hips moving slightly with the effort. She was breathing louder, heavier, a panting. I signed the bottom of the painting and watched intently, my cock almost painfully throbbing now. Her voice rose and she lost the pose, her neck and back arching as she moaned in release.

"Are you done?" Her voice seemed slightly annoyed.

"What?" I jumped slightly and looked away, startled at the sudden change.

She was sitting up, legs crossed. I looked back at the painting, it's canvas only half done and a distinctly vivid error where my brush had wandered in my now obvious reverie.

"No, I'm sorry. Can you give me a moment? I need a short break."

She looked even more annoyed. That was fine. I went to the bathroom and finished my fantasy and came in that pouty little mouth.