are you ready for pleasure?
you must be 18+ to come inside and explore
Recent BlogPosts

His Masterpiece

min read
His Masterpiece

James is a life drawing teacher; his wife is his model. It’s the day after they’ve created their own masterpiece by combining two bodies and a lot of paint, and James has to teach a class. As memories come back to him of fucking Jenna on the very floor he and his students are standing on, he needs to take matters into his own hands.


Squiggle divider

She moves her body like a dancer. In one pose she is strong lines and a clean silhouette, in the next she is curved and crooked. I know my students are focusing on angles and perception, connecting circles to squares and blocks, but I am drawing something different. Her body captured in ecstasy: an image from last night burned into my memory. She’s like a rainbow, with my fingerprints marked out in the tracks of paint all over her body. 


Normally, I would walk around the class, admiring their images and giving quiet advice here and there. I can’t do that tonight. If I stand up, they’ll notice my cock straining against my jeans.


I can’t stop looking at the tubes of paint neatly lined up on the floor at the corner of the room. If only my students knew that in this room last night she’d stretched her naked body supine while I rained yellow down onto her stomach; or that she’d grabbed my face with both painted hands to get me to kiss her, our bodies swirling blue on white; or that she lay on her front and let me slowly, hungrily fuck her mouth. That I lifted her legs above her head and ate her pussy, just feet from where they are studying her right now. That she tasted like a curious combination of fresh and warm mixed with the chalky aroma of newly-opened paint. That art studios have always turned me on, a hangover from discovering nudes as a teen and having an open-minded art teacher, and that the mere smell of polished wood or dusty easels makes me stiff.


In front of me, Jenna drops to the floor with her left leg out in front and her right leg behind her, as though the two limbs are creating a ‘z’ shape. Not quite a split. She leans lightly on her fingertips for support. Fuck it. I set the timer for 20 minutes, and, as Jenna finds another position and the class gets back to work, I excuse myself.


There’s a toilet a couple of doors down, which will have to do. I have my zipper down and my hand on my dick before I’ve even locked the door. Eyes screwed tight to conjure the images I want, I’ve one hand on the wall to brace myself while I work my cock with the other. I’m deliriously turned on, my dick rock hard and already slick with precum.


This is what I am picturing…


How I rolled her around the canvas on the floor, dipping my hand in paint to smear it across her tight ass. The way she arched for me as I dripped pink and green down her back. Splashing blue directly from the tube onto her perfect tits and watching her nipples bounce in reaction to each drop. We fucked on a canvas, and each blurred splatter of paint was an impression – and expression – of our bodies.


I focus on the head of my dick where it’s most sensitive, rolling it in my hand like dice at a casino and gasping at the quickfire sensations down my shaft to my balls. I could come from less than this – I have before, using just one finger to stroke my frenulum. Not today. That takes time and luxuriating: things I don’t have at my disposal right now. But fuck me, this feels good. Like when Jenna pulls my dick almost all the way out of my mouth and sucks hard on the head like a lollipop. Like last night when I had to grab her hair and pull her from me because any more time in her mouth and I would have been done before we’d even started.


I spit in my hand and mix it with precum, smearing the mixture down my shaft and stroke as slowly as possible. Her cunt is so tight, in order to imitate its warm snugness I have to wrap my fingers so hard around my cock it’s almost sore.


Reliving her legs in the air as I fuck her and she drags her nails over the thick white paint on my back, I grip harder and move my fist faster. I jerk steadily as I think how fucking hot it was to slide my cock all the way inside her as she sat in my lap and my ragged thrusts made her ass and tits shimmer with each beat. The dual sensation of warm slimy paint on our bodies and the hot grasp of her pussy around my cock. Fucking her doggy style and turning her hair white with paint as I grab it and pull her head towards me, making her back arch impossibly.


My balls are drawn up against my body and my dick is hot and full and throbbing with my heartbeat. Stopping suddenly, I watch as it strains impossibly upwards, twitching and shuddering, right on the edge. I exhale sharply with each pulsation. It’s agonizing to be so close to orgasm; the most exquisite sensation in the world and I want to make it last a little longer. I tug on my balls and can’t stop a moan erupting from me. I’m loud in bed, I always have been; it makes my orgasms stronger. I tug again and feel a rush of tingles flash up towards the head. Once more, and I’m leaking freely down my shaft. I grip my dick again and give one more pull, and that’s what heaves me over the edge.


My thoughts become blurred as my hands move faster and faster, the sound of slick flesh on flesh only strengthening my need for release. Her tits bouncing. Her hot cunt. Her ass blooming from the small of her back. Her slippery body. Our slippery bodies. My dick jerking. Her pussy convulsing around me.


With an unexpected groan, I bend double, my hands frozen, my body writhing. I rush to clamp one hand over my cock as I come way harder than I thought I would. My eyelids flutter and my balls ache as the sparks ravage nerve endings from my scalp to my toes in uncomfortably jolting pleasure. I open my eyes. I hike in a breath. Fuck.


It takes a couple of minutes to clean up, splash water on my face to cool down, and get my breathing back to normal. 


When I walk back into the classroom, nobody turns to look at me. But I see it. The smile spreading on Jenna’s face, and the way she breaks position to surreptitiously rub the faded swipe of blue paint on her chin. I eye the paints in the corner. I have plans for them later.

About Kirstyn Smith

Meet the author...

Despite being a writer, Kirstyn Smith still isn’t very good at amusing bios. She works freelance as an editor + writer, and she’s also founder of Marbles – an independent magazine that explores mental illness with irreverence, rawness and humour. In her free time, she likes to nap, eat chips, run and consume all things spooky. But mainly the chips thing.

60% of women are dissatisfied with their sex lives. We’re on a mission to change that.

What if you didn’t have to search to find a body that looks like yours, a sex act that turns you on, or a guided exercise that helps you tell your partner exactly what you’ve been craving?

What if YOUR pleasure came first?

Join afterglow