Art-House Crowd

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“I’m gonna make you cum so hard,” she cooed with a wicked grin, then wrapped her moist, red-painted lips around my dick. Her long, jet-black hair splayed across my navel as I leaned back in the passenger seat of her Jaguar. Her apple-sized tits pressed against my thighs. With one hand gripping the base of my shaft, she moved her tongue over the vein of my cock, making delicious slurping sounds as she licked the bulging head. I moaned loudly as she squeezed and caressed my nuts.

They were fit to burst, filled with cum and aching for release. She dragged her nails down my inner thigh, leaving a trail of pink etchings. I had been tenderly playing with the strands of her hair, but as my body tensed I gripped her silky locks with an urgent passion. My balls tightened in her hand, and my moans became louder. I would have called out her name if I knew what it was, but then, as I was about to launch a rocket into this sweetie’s throat, she lifted her lips from my cock and squeezed the base tightly, holding back my cum. “What the fuck?” I yelped, too desperate to be angry just yet.

“I’ve got something special planned,” she teased with a wink of her eye. She sat up in the driver’s seat and pulled the straps of her dress back over her shoulders, slipping her bronze tits back into the tight fabric.

“What about this?” I asked breathlessly, pointing to the hard-on throbbing against my belly. I gripped her by the wrist and moved her hand back onto my cock. She snickered as she tenderly stroked two fingers up and down the length of my dick. Then she dragged her nails over my chest. “Don’t worry. You’re going to get off. I just want it to be at my apartment. Remember, you offered to do me this favor.”

Earlier in the night I had been sitting at the bar alone, nursing a beer when this slender Asian woman approached me and started a conversation. She told me she was an artist and needed a favor. I offered to help, and that’s when she brought me out to her car and greedily undid the zipper of my jeans. And I’m somehow doing her a favor? “By the way, what’s your name?” I asked as we parked in front of some downtown lofts.

“Heather-Linn,” she responded matter-of-fact, not asking for mine in reply. “Now let’s get upstairs and finish this favor.”

As soon as the elevator doors closed she pushed me back against the wall and fished in my pants for my boner. She gave it a couple good tugs when the elevator doors opened at her floor, and then she led me by the cock into the hallway.

Once inside her gecelik escort apartment, she dropped to her knees right in the doorway, and when my cock was good and slick she slipped it between her supple tits. I was delirious, watching the pink skin of my shaft slide through her copper cleavage. She smiled with pearly teeth and started talking dirty. “I bet you wanna cum real hard, don’t you?”

I could only nod stupidly. She rubbed the head of my member over her brown nipples, leaving a trail of glistening precum, then slipped my cock back into her mouth. I felt a tingling at the top of my head. Oh yes, the wait would be worth it; her not letting me cum earlier would make this orgasm even greater. I felt I had a gallon of jizz in my sack that was about to erupt in her mouth. But again she sensed my impending climax and pulled her mouth from my dick.

“Ah, come on.” I was at her mercy, pleading with her.

“Just a bit longer, baby. Now sit on the couch and enjoy the show. One rule. No touching yourself. You can touch me, but no pleasing yourself. I want to get you off.”

“Okay,” I answered, moving to the couch as Heather-Linn disappeared. I became aware of the smell of oil paint. There was plastic spread over the floors, and abstract paintings on the walls. Prominent in all of the paintings was a dark background, then a unique, light-toned splattering of paint in random designs on the surface. Some of the designs were long and sinewy; some were tiny drops scattered indiscriminately over the canvas; some appeared runny, as though the painting had been hung before the paint dried. There was something odd about the color and texture of her artwork.

Then the lights lowered in the tiny loft, and soft music came on the stereo. Heather-Linn appeared, having slipped out of the dress, wearing only black lace panties. She writhed seductively to the music. The exotic beauty ruffled my hair and teasingly removed my shirt. This South Pacific jewel placed her feet on either side of me and lowered her crotch into my face. I ran my hands over her thighs and ass while she shook her tiny bottom against my chin. I licked her thigh and inhaled deeply to smell the juices pooling in her underwear. As she danced I rapaciously tugged her panties aside and buried my face in her crotch, flicking my tongue along her pink slit. She was soaked, and she trembled as I drove my tongue through the folds of her labia. I slipped two fingers up her asshole, and her pussy juice dribbled onto istanbul eskort my chest. She squealed, then lifted herself from my face.

Heather-Linn kissed me deeply, then licked my chin and neck to taste her salty fluids. She achingly lowered herself onto my cock, and I groaned with pleasure, thinking certainly she would let me cum this way. Her supple tits bounced in my face, and I bent my neck forward to nibble her stiff nipples. Heather-Linn responded by gripping the back of my head and burying my face into her chest. She was grinding her pussy on my cock, my overfilled testicles mashed between my thighs. She reached between my legs and gave my balls a squeeze, and I was about to pop. I tossed my head back and grunted.

Suddenly, Heather-Linn lifted herself from my lap. I was arching my back, thrusting my hips up and down, trying to fuck the air. Her soft voice whispered in my ear, “I want it doggie,” she cooed, then got on all fours on the floor. There was no way she could stop me this time. I slipped into her velvety snatch and started slamming quick and desperate. But as soon as I started grunting she pushed herself away from me, leaving my pole bobbing and twitching in the air, slick with her juices and precum. “Why are you doing this?” I pleaded.

“You’re about to find out, lover,” she smiled devilishly. She left the room again, leaving me naked and tightly wound. I was so desperate to cum that I was tempted to jack it right there and leave a big stain on her carpet. I took my cock in my hand and started rubbing it, but then Heather-Linn returned and turned on the lights. “What did I say?” The sternness of her voice made me jump, and the tone of discipline thrilled me.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get off,” I answered with a dry, trembling voice.

“And now it’s time, lover,” she cooed, signaling me over to where she was holding a canvas. She held the canvas upright, resting the top of it under her chin. There was already a thick design of dried paint, I noticed, and then I understood the unique texture of the paintings that lined the walls of her loft. “I want you to cum right here,” she ordered, tapping a finger on the center of the painting. She tightly gripped my shaft with her tiny fingers, stroking my vacillating cock with a frantic rhythm. I arched my back as she tugged on my hard-on with one hand and cupped my balls with the other. I felt the tingling inside my head, and then I felt it like an electric shock through my whole body. I was so desperate to cum; my otele gelen escort balls were like cantaloupes. I closed my eyes and moaned loudly, arching my back as she stroked my dick.

She gave my nuts one last squeeze, and that was it. My cock twitched in her hand, and she aimed it toward the canvas. I had so much muck pent up inside me that the first semen blast didn’t even hit the canvas—it shot straight up and hit her in the mouth. She lowered the angle of my shaft and the next spurts landed at the top of the canvas, dribbling over the dried paint. My knees trembled with release. She had built so much semen that my dong just kept firing stream after stream of ropy jizz, splattering the canvas in abstract form. After the initial jets of cream had subsided, Heather-Linn lowered the painting to the floor and milked out the glaze that dribbled from the head of my twitching member. Then with a tiny finger she gathered the cum from her chin and sucked it into her mouth. She kneeled over the painting, taking my dick back into her mouth, and sucked out whatever cream was remaining. When she pulled her mouth from my cock, she lowered her bottom lip and let my dick batter spill onto the canvas.

After we had cleaned up and had more drinks, Heather-Linn explained her artwork to me. She explained it on some abstract, metaphysical level, but I could only bask in the afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm. After I had rested up we had another session, and this time I fucked her missionary. She had me withdraw and spray my goo onto her navel, and then she took a paintbrush and used her body as a palate, transferring my seed from her belly to the painting with educated strokes. “By the way, you cum a lot,” Heather-Linn commented after she had moved most of the viscous fluid to the canvas and rubbed the rest into her smooth, copper skin.

“I know,” I smiled, proud of the prodigious size of my climax.

“How would you like to be a regular contributor?” She smiled.

“Certainly,” I answered without hesitation. “How about tomorrow.”

“About two. And bring some friends.”

Since then I have helped create many works of art with Heather-Linn. Sometimes she jacks me off onto a canvas, other times I fuck her with the painting beneath her ass so some of her juice gets into the frame. Once I came in her mouth, and she spit it onto a painting of orange and black; another time I climaxed into a rubber, and she emptied it onto a crimson and magenta background. The masterpiece, though, is the time three friends and I stood in a circle while she sucked and jerked each of us in turn. We each fired a massive load onto a painting, completely covering the canvas. She sells many of her works, and I hope she keeps on creating and selling because I feel I have a lot more to contribute to the art world.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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