Painting the Landscape of Her Body - Sex Stories

Painting the Landscape of Her Body

... want you to paint me now.” “But we are meeting Chen in an hour.” “I don’t care to see Chen tonight. I want to remember this. Wang get home in few days.” “Wang wouldn’t want you to bring the painting home.” “No no… I see it at Chen’s show in two months, and that is enough for me.” “Alright,” He said, getting up. He pulled his easel off of the wall and unfolded it, before placing his last canvas upon it. She looked perfect, bathed in city light and sitting amongst his white sheets. “Ready? Just look out the window toward the island.” “Almost,” she replied, and she took her shirt off elegantly, then reaching behind her she unclipped her bra. Gael felt a lump in his throat. He had done nudes countless times before in college, but he never painted a woman who he desired. Not only that, but she was a goddess in every classical sense. He watched in awe as her bra fell onto the sheets in front of her. This was going to make it difficult to focus. ‘You’re a professional’ he thought to himself. She looked over at him. She didn’t have the look of a seductress in her eye, but the soft and tender glance of a girl full of stolen dreams. It all became clear to him in that moment. The natural beast-like urges which were poking through the surface receded as he realized that this night was about her freedom. It was a night where she could taste that life which she was never allowed to have. He picked up a paint brush and began to paint. He covered the canvas in an easy coating of black. It ...

... was the darkness of her past. He then picked up the white and began to outline the curves of her body, the present. He painted for about a half an hour before stopping. “Is something wrong?” she asked, noticing that he had stopped. “No. I just have to wait for the paint to dry.” “Oh ok.” She said softly. She sat there on the bed staring out of the window, and it looked as though she were wrestling with a whole swarm of different emotions amidst the jazz. After a few minutes she slid her legs off the bed and stood up. She stood there, with only her jeans on, and he soaked in the landscape of her beauty. What river, what mountain, in all of China, could come close to the wonder she inspired? She was the splitting image of Eve, freshly molded and sculpted by God in Eden. She picked up the whiskey and took a sip straight from the bottle, before walking slowly over to Gael. The shadows changed with the shifting light as she moved, and Gael felt the hairs on his neck stand up as she approached. The shadows of her stomach stirred him, and the shapes of her pelvis drew his eyes down toward the top button of her jeans. The explorer, the artist, and the poet within him, all overpowered the rationalist. He reached out and pulled her in close. He stared into her eyes for the first time without restraint. Her gaze had always been too much for him, but now that he knew what she wanted, he drank her soul. Was it the whiskey or her essence which gave him this buzz? She leaned in close, her ...