Body painting - Sex Stories

Body painting

... events are held. It was a beautiful spring day. Cool and dry and perfect. The closer we got to the venue, the harder my heart pounded. I was nervous about stripping down to nothing in front of strangers, but I was more concerned about being naked in front of our friends. I knew they would all be there since my hubby did not make a secret of it around them. No one could believe I would do it, but they all wanted to see for themselves. I know why our male friends wanted to be there, but the women in our circle of acquaintances did too. I think they were hoping I would chicken out.

I signed in as a model and was assigned an artist. It was a man. I secretly wanted a man to paint my privates. The artist was instantly happy to meet me. He told me I was beautiful and would make an excellent model. We found the designated spot for him to work on me which was right on the edge of where the spectators were standing. I was on a short platform, wearing a thin robe and with nothing on underneath. When he was ready, he asked me to remove the robe. Here was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath, then slowly undid the sash, and let the garment fall from my shoulders. My heart was pounding. My nipples were rock hard. I was dying to cover up and race out of there, but I fought the urge. I was totally nude for the world to see.

The artist was speechless. I don’t know what he expected but I could tell he was happy with my body. He stammered a bit, then regained his composure and picked ...

... up his brush. He asked me to stand with my legs spread apart so he could study his “subject”. His face was right at pussy level with me so he saw every tiny detail of my womanhood. He stood up and began to apply paint to my upper chest. My nipples were at full attention as the brush tip danced over my areolas. It felt exquisite. All my time of going braless helped my breasts develop natural muscle support, so they were standing up well against my chest. He painted a base coat of paint on my skin that was a milky white color.

He worked his way down my tummy and to my crotch. The paint felt like liquid silk against my skin. I had a heightened awareness of touch, and the brush was stroking all my nerve endings. As he brought the brush up to my pussy, I had a sudden fear. What if I had an orgasm from the touch of the delicate bristles against my pussy lips? That would be awful. I wonder if that ever happens, and would the spectators be able to tell what had just happened? I did my best to fight the sexual tension as that brush lightly dusted my cunt and clit. It felt incredible, yet horrible, since the touch could lead to such an embarrassing situation. His brush explored every fold of my pussy lips and my clit. The female clit has twice as many nerve endings as a man’s penis, so you can imagine how difficult it was to stand still while the artist stroked it with his brush. It was exquisite pain.

Thankfully, he finished painting my cooch and moved around to my hips. He had ...