I am an artist. Female nature - care. But the man in me was always stronger than the artist. Now I draw on this very nature. If only you knew how wonderful it is: under your hands the female body blooms and reveals its true beauty. I am sure that only an artist can bring the beauty of a naked Woman to the rank of art. It is available to me. I want you to also know that this can be so.

And it is not necessary to represent me as a strange type, bathing screaming girls in paint. Not at all. Firstly, because I work only with Women. And secondly: I am an ordinary guy, I work as a designer in an advertising agency, I get quite good fees for advertising broths, tights and rolled steel.

Ask: who agrees to go under the brush? The first among candidates is a girl from a party. Fashionable, cool. Tattoo? Yes, here it is, uncle, rosette on the ass something. A little ring in the navel? Pozhalsta. Ecstasy? It happened. Fashionable pubic haircut? And what about without it? How old are you? 16-Th: These come when everything else has already been tried, when the party has nothing to surprise. She does not react to the touch at all, tries to comment on each stroke, and asks every two minutes: Uncle, will you give me the pictures? As I said, with such I do not work.

Much more attractive in this regard are Women who are familiar with their bodies, Women who seek new depths, Women who want to know, Women who have a mystery in their bodies. Basically it is Women from 25 to 37 (I don’t like younger, I haven’t met older).

It is impossible to describe the range of feelings during a session and before it. Here you are showing her work for the first time. Here you need to carefully monitor the slightest manifestations of her emotions. Here, she saw the first photo - surprised.

- Sasha, what is it?

- Did you ask about my hobby?

- Yes, but I did not think that you are engaged in THIS:

- You do not like my work, or annoying you that I did them?

- I do not know, it's just somehow:

- Look at it easier: you draw something on your face every morning, so why not draw something on your body? But since it will be quite difficult for you to reach your own back, it will be easier to let me do this:

- Well, you know: and stuff like that.

I observe further: the breath has become deeper, the pupils are dilated, there is a half smile on the lips: And I say, I entice, entangle, I devour with my eyes. There is no more pleasant sight than the sight of a Woman trying to hide her excitement. After all, she does not even suspect that as soon as she thought about her body and decided to “keep herself”, her body immediately began to give a lot of signals available to her eyes: here she almost pulled her legs together and set one slightly at an angle, then removed strand behind the ear and slightly tilted her head: Everything. It seems that I have reached a solidly fortified position. Well, temporarily retreat.

Then there is a game, very, it should be noted, interesting. The fact is that I already said “Yes” before showing her my work. Her body said “Yes” before the fifth photo. But her brain was against it. So the goal of the game is how, by collusion with her body, to cloud her brain. Okay, let's skip the next step, and move to my workshop (in fact - an ordinary apartment in a residential area).

I open the door, go. She is a little tense, I can see from the inside that she has a dialogue like this:

“And why did I do this?” Can refuse? I will translate everything into a joke, I'm good at it, but he will not be offended.

“But on the other hand, I’ll look stupid.” In addition, I know Sasha for a long time, one can hardly expect unpleasant surprises from him.

- But I do not want a serious relationship with him, he is certainly a good guy, but:

- So there will be no relationship, he will just draw something on me, laugh, and scatter in different directions.

- Ksyush, smile. (I already say this).Do you start to be afraid of me?

I plant it on the sofa, give a glass of wine in my hands, and I myself begin to prepare a “workplace”. I take out brushes, bring warm water, napkins, mix paints. Himself while watching the edge of her eye. What is probably a strange condition for her: On the one hand, she is a sensual woman, and the situation itself (and the wine) makes her slightly drunk. On the other hand, she sees my preparations, and understands that all this is intended for her, that it is I who will do it with her (how is it possible?) To do just that! She is simpler and clearer than ordinary sex: a prelude, turning into bed-wrestling with an explosive ending.

All is ready. Pause a few seconds. I look into her eyes (what a mixture!). I smile.

- Ksyush, on the couch we will be uncomfortable, and the clothes, probably, will interfere.

- What, undress? (in such a voice as if I will cut her appendicitis)

- Well, do you want me with you?

I got up. Blouse lay on the sofa, losing its content and turning into a simple rag. Chest. While hidden bra. Watching. I absorb every cell. Jeans. Tightly sit on the hips. Makes an effort. Amenable, centimeter by centimeter exposing the fabric of the panties, slim legs. Yes, you should have seen her underwear: Probably the best of her wardrobe. That devil, she knew because what was going to end! Step over. Pause. The border. He puts his hands behind his back. Chest. I was not mistaken in choosing a canvas. Like all beautiful things, her breasts cannot be described in words. She has already decided. Border passed. Panties, slowly, invitingly, languidly. So. Now she seems to have decided to play with me. Stupid mouse pulling a cat's mustache! Below, even lower, stepped over - and now in front of me IT. Please dissolve the hair. Glitter eyes. Raises hands, slightly bends. Cascade castello hair. Pause. I admire. I want to see her all.

- Ksyush, you simply deprived me of speech:

- Now you need to decide what exactly we will depict on you.

- Turn around please.

- So, take your hair forward. So

- Feet a little wider, half-turn.

- One hand higher, hair raised, So,

- Bend a little, one leg back a little. Take the left breast, raise it, yes, like this (poor thing, does she really think that all this is necessary for my art?)

- Come on. Sit down next. Hair take away. Like this. (It was at such moments, when I was polite with a naked Woman, what I most wanted to do was pounce on her and tear her apart).

I sit behind my back, starting from the shoulders. They are tense. First strike with a tassel. Her skin is goosebumped. Exhale Its warm, its smell. No wonder he wrote a “punch” - her body twitches, as if from a discharge of current. Hit. Smear. Another blow. Breathing faster and faster. Changing dislocation. Please lie down on the stomach. I work with my back. Her body seems accustomed. I relaxed. No, beauty, it will not go like this: So, you think the next touch between the shoulder blades? I did not guess - and the brush works at the bottom of the back. The loin slightly bends. Surprised? You think the spine is not, let's work on the neck. Every touch is in a new place, discontinuously, teasing. It seems the air smelled of electricity. It seems you understand everything. But you yourself are no longer the mistress. In you there is only the voice of the body: "I WANT." And only one thought: "Let him begin first." Inhale Inhale Inhale Sob. The body itself moves towards the hand. Now I am the master of your body, and I tell you no.

I ask you to rise. Face to face. Businesslike poking at you with a brush. I pretend not to notice. But your eyes burn me. Waves of your desire are trying to tear me off and throw me to meet you. I say "No. I try not to look down - I can't help it. I pull myself together. Chest. How do you want to touch your lips, feel the taste, take in the nipple, feel the thrill of your body with your lips. Touch brush. Closer, closer. Nipples are tight, I never thought they could be so tense. You're on the verge. I say "No.

Please stand up on your feet, I myself remain on my knees. Stomach. Smooth as satin leather. I do not own myself. Right in front of me, begging a caressing bud. Your smell. No, ODOR. Last moment. I admire the beauty of the female vagina.For me, only this body now exists.

I drop the brush. Put my hands on your ass - I do not want you to run away from me. Finally I feel your skin. I press your bud to my face, bending you to meet yourself. I'm drinking you. I enjoy your elasticity. I touch every tongue. Moan. Long, sweet moan. I let go. I raise my eyes, kneeling in front of you. In your eyes - a mixture of superiority and subservience. Throw yourself on me. Hoping to get the initiative? It was not there.

I'm already undressed. Furious kiss. No barriers. You are mine. All. Your hand finally gets to my dick. Everything, I am yours. No will, no one else, only this hand:

Damn, in vain, I restrained myself so much: my member could not believe in such happiness, and was stuck somewhere half way to the desired state. And you, well done girl, you understand what I need now:

I lay on my back. Your tongue slides over the bridle, sponges clasp the head. You do not rush to go further, as if trying to taste me. Here, a jerk, and I feel a wave going through my spine, ending with a dull blow to the brain. More and more. Deeper and deeper. No emotions. No you. Only this tongue can now ask anything from me, as long as it continues:

Everything ends here. Where are you? I open my eyes. Your pussy froze over my dick. Do you like top? Hurry up. You are not in a hurry. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, my dick enters you. Your face. Eyes, lips speak of the flour of love. Moan. You are all mine. Froze. You look into my eyes. Well what are you. Motion. More and more.

I can’t do it anymore, rudely driving you away, throwing your legs to one side with a jerk, rudely entering. I'm starting to work like a beast. Submit. I fuck you at an ever-increasing pace. Your legs are hugging my hips. A wave, another wave. You're yelling. I'm approaching.

Explosion. There is nothing. Only my flow in you. More and more. I feel how your vagina is reduced, taking my sperm. I fall. No forces. You're in some kind of astral. Next to me is only the body. No words, no feelings:

Damn, we're all in paint: What are you saying? Oh, spoiled the picture? What picture? Ah, body painting and all that: And who told you that I am engaged in body art?:. No, of course, I sent pictures of my acquaintance on the Internet (here I need to shut her mouth with a kiss, until she blurted out something like that).

That's all. Actually, I really am not an artist at all, although I sympathize with body painting. But, I would like to say: if there were a girl in real life, a brush and me, everything would have happened the same way.

If someone has a body theme, an art theme is interesting, write:

Sincerely. Bron.