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The lighting is perfect, canvas at just the right angle, covered with a thin sheet, brushes neatly arrayed, supplies close at hand.
The Artist enters.
Pulling the sheet from the canvas, the Artist studies the smooth whiteness, fingers gently gliding over the surface, feeling the texture, imagining the art to be created tonight.
The soft fabric of the Artist’s robe falls, puddling on the floor to reveal the most artistic tool, smooth, oiled, erect, velvet head pulsing slightly, framed by the soft black fabric of tight crotchless briefs.
I am the Artist and you my canvas, my art is your orgasm.
There will be many.
I have skillfully positioned you, blindfold and earplugs in place to enhance your sense of touch, alone in silent darkness as I move about in preparation. The Black Label Ramp props you up, hips high, knees spread wide and restrained, hands clipped to the wedge supporting your head. You are framed in black velvet, pale form shining in the spotlight I have focused on your most intimate places, slight wisps of hair neatly trimmed above, shaved below to fully expose your clit, now barely peeking out from under it’s hood.
You are perfect.
You are ready.
So am I.
I take the first sable brush in hand, broad tip very soft, and begin.
Barely touching the arches of your feet, I see goosebumps appear. You feel soft, fluttering sable kisses between your toes, on the tips of your toes and then butterfly strokes lightly tickle your ankles, your calves, your knees. You are wanting as I return to your toes, pressing a bit harder this time to increase the sensation, moving to the soles of your feet as you begin to writhe in pleasant frustration.
My brush flits under your arm, then to each nipple in turn, back and forth, teasing until they stand firm, wanting more. Straining against your bonds, you feel my brush moving between your breasts, tracing a slow serpentine path to your navel, dipping in and around, moving back and forth playfully, ever so slowly, inch by inch towards the neatly trimmed hair below. My brush plays with the soft downy hair, tracing patterns, then flitting down between your legs to your outer lips, then to the sensitive skin below and as I reach your small, pink rosebud, you moan deeply, almost a growl. You whimper as I stop, moving back for another brush.
Dipping a smaller, rounded brush into oil, I begin painting your areola, making sure each nerve ending feels a warm, wet oily caress. Your nipples stand even taller as I paint them, slowly moving around the sides, leaving the very tips for last, my brush first dripping drops of warm oil, then the bristles ever so lightly stimulating, teasing with warm, wet tickles.
Again I move between your breasts, leaving a trail of warm oil as my brush moves towards your eager core. I see you are already dripping, as I take my dry brush in one hand, oiled in the other and begin teasing your inner lips, holding them between my brushes like soft, furry chopsticks, one side softly tickled, the other side caressed with soft oily bristles. You are very still as your hungry clit demands its share of my brushing, exposed, no longer hiding beneath its hood.
I submit to that demand, moving up the hood with my dry brush, lightly stroking your clit on the left side, just above 2 o’clock, the spot I know brings you the most pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, butterfly kisses keep the sensations building, your thighs twitching as you edge ever closer to bliss.
Your first orgasm comes in slow, a warm tingling burn that arches your back, your lips opening to sigh deeply, my brush a constant flutter as your hips buck sharply once, twice, then a third time as the wave of pleasure crests.
At the peak of that crest, my oiled brush surrounds your sensitized clit, bringing a silky warmth that generates sharper sensations and you eagerly respond, your second, third, and then amazingly fourth orgasms coming in quick succession, one crest following another and then another at the warm, wet pressure.
Your back arching in release, I move the velvet head of my oiled cock to your opening and slowly press in, just the head, just enough to hit your inner spot with my widest girth, pressing very slowly back and forth in tiny increments, massaging the tender raised flesh I know so well with the crown of my cock as my oiled brush continues to swirl around your clit.
Slowing my tiny thrusts, I let you take over the movement, your wet, hungry pussy moving in just the right cadence, putting the sensitive crown of my cock in just the right place, with just the right pressure, pussy slowly twisting around me, building pressure until a wave of delight washes over your entire body, hot liquid flowing over me as you squirt your massive pleasure on me in reward.
At the hot flood, I drop my brush and thrust into you fully, coming to orgasm in a single powerful stroke, pussy gripping me tightly, clenching and unclenching around me, milking me dry as I fill you deeply and we orgasm together, the shared pleasure almost too much to bear as we both scream in passion and release.
Tenderly withdrawing from you, I leave you panting, exhausted. Flushed, dripping wet from both you and I, the strobe captures our moment of deepest desire fulfilled, flashing as my camera records every angle, every curve, every drop of love felt deeply, fond memories for later.
I am the Artist.
You are my canvas.
My art is your orgasm.
There will be many.17