American Gothic

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Frida stood at the entrance to the museum admiring the green tinted sculpture of a lion protecting the doors inside. Looking closely she marveled at the intrinsic beauty in the patina as it imparted an elegance and character to the sculpture. The light and shadow whirled in intricate shapes and patterns as she pictured the artist carving and then later applying the plaster to form the mold. “Lost wax,” she whispered, picturing the fluid oozing from the mold in the intense heat.

“You think?” asked Diego.


“You said lost wax, you think that’s what the artist did?”

“How else?” she asked.

“Well, you’re the…”

“Performance art, I’m a performance artist.”

“But you sculpt…”

“Used to.”

“Okay, you used to sculpt, now you perform, either way you are the expert between us,” Diego said.

“It might have been lost wax, but the lion is awful big, so I’m not entirely sure. I guess we could ask inside.”

“I’m not sure that will be a good idea, I mean the Art Institute of Chicago may not appreciate our plans. It might be best to remain low profile, not attract too much attention.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, we’ll probably draw enough attention getting here this early. What time is it now?”

“About ten fifteen.”

“So another fifteen minutes?” Frida asked running her hand through her short, curly black hair.

“Yeah, then we’ll need to move quickly to get there before anyone else wanders in. You remember where it is.”

“Right here,” she said pointing to a small map in a brochure. She ran her hand up his thigh and slid it in through the legs of his shorts to grasp his cock through his jockey shorts. “Will you be ready once we get there?”

Looking into her dark eyes he whispered, “As long as you’re there to inspire me. I mean watching you will get anyone inspired and with the right bursa yabancı escort inspiration art will follow.” He sat down next to her, running his hand down her back and slipping his fingers under the elastic of her shorts. “No panties?”

“Search a bit further,” she whispered, leaning forward.

“Ah, a thong.”

“A black thong, soon to become the ‘New American Gothic,'” she replied. “But are you sure you’ll be quick enough once we get there. I mean it’s the most popular piece here, people are bound to come looking for it. And we’ve got to watch for the security guards.”

“Hey, we’ve spent the entire week building up to this, studying the layout,” Diego said, nodding at the brochure, “and, well you’ve been absolutely unmerciful with me: all those practice runs.”

“Okay, well we’ll soon see,” Frida whispered, standing up just at they both heard the jingle of keys and the loud clicks as the doors were unlocked. The security guard pushed the door open and they both stepped inside, immediately headed over to the information desk.

Diego reached in his pocked and pulled out a twenty and four single dollar bills. He grabbed Frida’s hand and after grabbing the receipt they both headed past the grand staircase. They hurried down a long, wide corridor and Diego asked, “Is this that Gunnaris Hall?”

“Gunsaulus Hall. Yes, and just through those doors we turn to the right and head up the stairs. It’s right up those stairs, off to the left in one of the rooms there. The second one I think,” Frida said, jogging alongside Diego to keep up with him.

They passed through the doors, turned right and headed up the stairs. As they reached the top of the stairs Diego started to turn left when Frida grabbed his arm and pulled him to the right. After walking past the elevator they walked into one of the exhibition bursa sınırsız escort rooms and turned left.

“Next room,” Frida said, “I think, yeah, just up there.”

Arriving at the painting they both took a moment to look at it, the plan looking woman, her light hair drawn up tightly against her head, her stern looking companion holding the ancient pitchfork and behind them the white, gothic house. They took in the picture and then turning away they looked around for any security cameras, as they both quickly pulled off their shorts, shirts and underwear. Frida sat down on the bench in front of the painting and leaned back, opening her legs.

Just the sight of her naked body had Diego hard and he reached down and took hold of his cock. Looking at Frida’s tiny breasts as she ran her palms over her huge nipples, he began stroking himself. As her right hand descended down over her stomach, through the wiry, black pubic hair and over her pussy lips he quickened the pace, letting the thumb and forefinger slide back and forth over the purple head of his cock.

Watching Digeo, Frida pushed two fingers between her lips and worked them into her cunt, moving them around a bit to get them wet with her juices. She then pulled out and slid her fingers upward, opening her lips and reaching her clit. Her wet fingers then began to circle around her clit as she moved her hips up and down as she stared at Diego.

Already feeling waves of pleasure run down the length of his shaft, he was standing above her, pushing his hips forward and then pulling back as if fucking her. His hand moved so quickly it was almost a blur. He’d come soon, and while normally he’d pause to let Frida catch up, he didn’t have time today, so he simply continued. Though he wanted her to come with him, he knew it wasn’t really necessary, the only important görükle escort thing was that he come with enough force to reach the painting.

Suddenly Frida moaned loudly and raised her hips, moving her fingers wildly over her clit. She looked into Diego’s eyes and moaned, “I’m coming, now you do it… do it.”

He let loose, arching his back as two quick, long streams of white, sticky cum launched from his cock and arched toward the painting. Frida had already grabbed her clothes and was pulling on her shorts as the cum arched in slow motion moving closer and closer to the famous painting. Diego was already reaching for his clothes as the third spurt of cum spurted from his cock onto the bench.

Frida took one last look toward the painting as she ran toward the stairway with Diego close behind her. The cum was curving slowly toward its target, reaching the apex of its trajectory and beginning to descend. It looked as if it would splatter the beaverboard painting at about mid face level…

“And it was there, just inches from the painting that Diego’s cum remained, suspended in the air, its milky white arch forming an odd, but intrinsically beautiful sight. A coming of age for a new age of art: the melding of performance art with sculpture as his semen glistened in the museum’s spot lighting.

Sure, it was controversial and although Frida and Diego did initially escape the security guards in the museum, DNA testing on the cum that both of them spilled onto the bench, along with the numerous security camera pictures, they were later apprehended. Of course, their case quickly became a benchmark for the new interpretation of art and of the First Amendment. This case is the basis for our Art Law course and is the main reason we’ve come to the Art Institute of Chicago today.

While we will visit other important displays today, our feature work is American Gothic Cum, an unauthorized collabor… Careful there Shelly, you need to stand back a bit, you don’t want to disturb the work. As I was saying, it’s an unauthorized collaboration of Grant Wood and Diego.”

“Professor, what about Frida, why wasn’t she included in the credits?”

“Ah, an interesting question…”

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