The Artworks
A science enthusiast and an artistic individual finish their homework.
Writer's disclaimer: All characters are over 18 years old. This piece was written for the Geek competition. I hope you'll like it. Please rate and leave a constructive comment.
Ryan sat at the small two-seater table in the student center poring over his books while engrossed in the details of nucleobases: guanine, cytosine, adenine, thymine -- those that form deoxyribonucleic acid, commonly known to the public as DNA. The complexity and intricacies of the double helix and its unknown wonders aroused a strong interest within him. Composed of a sugar-phosphate backbone and attached to each sugar is one of these four bases, which come together in a specific order: A and T pair, while C and G do the same, allowing the helix to unzip and replicate itself perfectly. This mesmerized him. While fully immersed in his reading, he was suddenly startled by the sound of an intrusion.
"Hey, can I sit here?" the voice inquired, sounding irritated.
Ryan, brought back to the real world, looked up and noticed a woman sitting there. He scrunched up his face slightly, wondering why she had to trouble herself with his table.
"Sure," he mumbled, lowering his gaze and attempting to refocus on the text.
"Do you mind moving your things?" the irritated voice persisted.
Ryan readjusted his position, placing two books on a third and stuffing four or five in his bag.
The woman settled in her seat and, intrigued by the engrossment, asked, "What are you geeking out about?
The word 'geek' reminded Ryan of a derogatory label, one typically used for IT people. He had been called a geek before and it had never been used kindly.
"I'm not a fan of that word," Ryan replied, his brows furrowed.
Puzzled, the woman questioned, "What do you mean?"
"Being called a 'geek' is not very nice," Ryan reacted defensively.
Squinting with curiosity, she retorted, "Fine. What are you so interested in? What are you studying with such intensity?"
Ryan was slightly embarrassed by the accusation. "Well, 'geek,' in the adverbial form, means being obsessed. And I don't like it."
Squinting again, she clarified, "Technically, 'geek' is a term for someone highly knowledgeable in a specific area -- someone who is fully immersed in their passions or interests. I was only inquiring about your passion. Am I wrong?"
Ryan, realizing his point had been lost, responded, "Not necessarily, but I don't particularly care for the adverb 'obsessed.'"
Striving to diffuse the situation, she added, "I'll change it to 'passionate' since that seems to agree with you more."
Socharmed, Ryan slid back into his more customary shyness when in female company.
"I apologize," he said meekly.
"What are you reading?" she inquired curiously.
"Biology," Ryan replied, looking her straight in the eye.
He found the woman's eyes captivating. As odd as they were, sporting brightly-colored eye liner, she truly had mesmerizing blue eyes.
"Biology, so what are you reading in your book? I know it's a wide field," she persisted, breathing in the aroma of his fascination.
"It's not easy. I had to take an art appreciation course freshman year and found it immensely challenging," he explained truthfully.
The woman paused to evaluate him, anxious to gauge whether he could be genuine.
"Did you take it from Withers?" she asked suspiciously.
"No, it was Noland who taught it to me," Ryan shared honestly.
"Then that's why you found it so hard. Withers is a real ___," she said angrily and then her face lit up in a fit of laughter.
"Not the type of person you'd want to learn from or be associated with," commented Ryan.
She took a minute to study Ryan, wondering if he was telling the truth.
"Did you know I took the same Art History 101 course?" she said casually.
Ryan didn't show amusement, yet he found the comment entertaining, saying, "So, have you attended any biology courses?"
"Just the basic ones, Bio 101 and 102, required for all."
"Who was your teacher?"
"Bennington."
"I understand his teaching methods," Ryan mentioned, grinning.
"You mean his difficulty in demonstrating how to dissect a frog?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ryan smiled, "Yes, that's him."
"An amusing, yet genuine smile" she exclaimed in an exaggerated southern accent before feigning a blush and pretending to clutch her chest.
Ryan blushed and chuckled, embarrassed.
"It's DNA," he stated.
"The subject matter of the novel," she responded, comprehending his words.
"Ah, DNA, amazing," she proclaimed, raising her hand and making a thumbs up.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised, "Did you know about genetics in your biology lessons?"
"Naturally, we spent at least a third of the course on the topic. I'm not senile," she joked, chuckling.
"A delightful grin, the kind I'd like to see again," he thought.
Mortified, he blurted, "I didn't mean to..," he trailed off, then stopped.
"Relax," she laughed, offering him her signature smile.
"What's fascinating you from your book?" he enquired.
"Appreciating art, particularly the Renaissance era," she answered, a light in her eyes.
"Ah, the renowned artists I'm familiar with, including Michelangelo and Da Vinci."
"Yes, fascinating stuff."
A hand extended towards him, "I'm Ryan."
She accepted his hand, replying, "Liz..." she emphasized, "However, don't call me Elizabeth or I'll have my brother come after you."
"I asked for your overview, Liz," he continued.
"Why?" she inquired, her voice taken aback.
This took Ryan off guard.
"Because I find you intriguing," he said hesitantly.
Her expression changed to unadulterated amusement, "And one interested in the iconic "
"Absolutely, interesting," he confirmed with a chortle.
"I'm from upstate, have an unbearable brother, and I'm a senior, so close to completing my degree in art. Although I've dreamed of emulating Sofonisba Anguissola, an accomplished female Renaissance artist, I worry my family lacks the support."
"I see," Ryan said, nodding, intrigued.
"Sofonisba Anguissola, the artist in Spain's service, famous for exchanging drawings with Michelangelo, playing an essential role in the era, right?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.
"Yes, I'm familiar with her legacy," Ryan shared, feeling embarrassed.
"If not from your education, you like to read," she surmised.
"Exactly," he admitted.
"You're an unusual STEM student," Liz considered.
"Why?" he inquired.
"Well, STEM majors are usually focused on excelling in their field, and frequently, art majors seem unconcerned with learning about genetics," he elaborated.
"You've been busy," Liz noted as she glanced at her watch.
"I'm here at Dining Hall One at 5:00, as promised."
"Hasn't the interruption off-put you?" she wondered.
"Remarkably, nucleotides lost their appeal," he admitted.
Liz arrived, strolling gracefully towards him.
"Hello," she sang softly.
"Hello, sweet lady," he answered, his voice echoing her playful tone.
They ordered and took their seats, prompted by her, "Shall we engage in lively conversation some other time?"
"Certainly. What about a dining experience tonight?" he proposed.
"Let's meet at Dining Hall One at 5:00 then."
"Perfect," he beamed.
Unusually, he arrived early, seated on a bench outside Dining Hall One, five minutes ahead of schedule. Liz, dressed in a vibrant turquoise dress, strolled up the hill towards him.
"Hello," she greeted.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Hello, beautiful lady."
They walked to the food stalls and proceeded, paying for her meal as well.
"Why are you paying for my dinner?" she questioned.
"Just a gesture of kindness," he offered.
She looked at him, surprised, "But that's kind of you."
Liz found a spot near the window. He followed, courteously holding the door open for her.
"Nice of you to let me choose the restaurant," she said, taking a seat. Together, they enjoyed their evening, continuing their engaging conversation.
"What do you mean by captivating?" he questioned, perching himself on the bench seat that was connected to the institutional dining table.
"I told you I wanted you to share your life experiences with me because you intrigued me, and I'm even willing to compensate you for it," she retorted, giggling.
Ryan chuckled to himself, thinking, "That's correct."
"So, tell me everything about Liz," he laughed.
"Alright, but only if I can learn everything about Ryan first," she chuckled, displaying her beloved smile. "As I mentioned earlier, my parents reside upstate. I have a brother who continues to be a nuisance, but what more can be done. I'm a senior pursuing a degree in Art, and I aspire to be a classic artist. Unfortunately, the current world does not adhere to the patron-client economy, which is my ultimate desire. I've contemplated exploring the realm of graphic design and even took a couple of courses, but my true passion is oils. Unluckily, the demand for oil paintings is scarce in a world where a single painting can be duplicated down to the grain of the paint on the canvas a hundred times and sold for the cost of mediocre shoes."
"I sympathize with you," he sighed. "I've attended some clothesline art sales where the frames cost more than the painting itself."
"Have you been to clothesline art sales?" Liz exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes, I have an appreciation for art. I may not possess any artistic skills. I'm envious of those who are able to visualize something and then convey it onto paper, canvas, or even stone. My utmost accomplishment in the realm of art is stick figures," he reminisced, sighing once more.
As Liz remained seated and stared at him, she inquired, "Is that all?"
"Not quite. What about you?" she asked, preparing to return her tray.
"I hail from upstate as well, but from a much quieter area. I have a sister who happens to be a nuisance," he chuckled. "I'm a senior studying Biology. I intend to pursue a Master's degree and hopefully land a job in research someday. Pure Biology isn't a lucrative industry without a Ph.D., and unfortunately, I lack the resources and intelligence to acquire that level of education," he concluded.
Throughout their captivating conversation, they exchanged fascinating information about themselves. As time had just about run out, Ryan turned to Liz.
"Thanks, Liz. It was a delight spending time with you. Alas, I must return to the lab and work on my slides for Advanced Histology," he expressed regretfully, assembling his belongings to return the tray.
"It's about dissecting microscopic structures in cells, right?" she inquired.
Impressed, he replied, "Yes, I'm studying microscopic structures in cells."
"Can you go to the lab after hours?" she queried.
"Indeed, the lab remains open throughout the night. I've made countless trips down the hill to the dorm during the wee hours of the morning, only to have the majority of the class departing as I arrived," he recounted.
"It takes a lot of devotion. Can I accompany you to the lab to help?" she inquired.
Ryan hesitated, "Are you certain?"
"Absolutely. It sounds fascinating," she asserted.
He took her arm as they hiked up the steep hill towards the Lawrence building. The sensations were electric, practically causing electricity to course through his arm. Inside the lab, Ryan shifted into professional mode, instructing Liz as they went along. The specimens for each of the ten various tissues were already conserved in paraffin and needed to be sliced using a microtome, placed on a slide, and then stained before a cover glass could be added.
To his delight, Liz proved to be a significant aid in the process, albeit the work is both tedious and meticulous. It was just as the sun began to rise that Ryan completed his task.
"Did you say you needed to create a hundred slides? You have twice as many slides here," Liz pointed out, yawning.
"Yes, but given the high failure rate, I decided to double the batch. I hope that from the twenty, ten will suffice," he said, attempting to mask his yawn as well. "I still need to sort them. It's quite late, but do you mind if I quickly inspect a few?"
"Go ahead," she said, yawning once more.
He reluctantly relented and stepped aside, allowing her to view the slides. Real Python, a skill that doesn't directly involve biology, is one of the many things she demonstrated to him. After checking the slides, they made their way out of the lab. Their paths crossed in the hallway.
"I can't wait to experience more of your world," she smiled coyly.
"What do you mean?" he asked pleasantly-surprised, having picked up on her subtle innuendo.
"I'd like to delve deeper into the science of your field," she teased before abandoning him to attend her next class.
Upon examining several more, she declared, "I was led to believe you weren't artistic."
He responded, "I am not."
She gestured at the microscope and asked, "Is this not considered art?"
Confused, all he could do was stare.
"Come now, these slides are masterpieces. They require meticulous attention to detail just as in an art studio. You had to carefully slice them to the appropriate thickness, position them correctly, and secure them properly. You mixed the stains, applied them precisely, timed the application just right, and went through the process of washing and rinsing them. And the end result is a stunning representation of things unseeable with the naked eye. How could you deny that this is not art?" she inquired, astonished.
Ryan remained speechless.
"You're quite intriguing," he murmured. Exhaling, he stated, "But I must get you back to your dorm."
"I can make it on my own," she said, placing the slide she'd been examining back into its case.
"No, there are too many potential dangers. I'll escort you," he insisted.
She shrugged and said, "Alright."
The following day, they met again for dinner at the cafeteria, and she disclosed, "I'm assigned a project for advanced contemporary art. It consists of three canvases necessitating a cohesive theme and completed without the use of standard tools like paintbrushes on unframed canvas."
"No, paintbrushes," Ryan mused.
"The challenging part is that they must possess a sexual theme," she murmured.
Ryan's eyes widened.
"Professor Walsh always comes up with crazy ideas like this. I'm convinced she inspires her students when they turn in their work," she chuckled.
"I'm not very skilled at art, but if you need assistance, I am willing to help you as a gesture of gratitude for your assistance earlier," Ryan stuttered.
"Do you still have to complete your prior work?" she inquired.
"No, they require more drying time, and I have three weeks until the deadline," he elaborated.
"I definitely would welcome your help, but I'm uncertain whether you'd be interested," Liz hesitated.
"What exactly do you mean?" Ryan questioned.
"I won't be explicit here," she replied, slicking some hair away from her face. "Will you accompany me to the studio?"
"Edward, sure," he responded, holding the door for her.
The evening students were leaving as she led the way upstairs to a suitable studio on the second floor.
"There should be enough privacy. Anyone else staying late will use the studios downstairs," she explained.
"Do artists use this space after hours?" Ryan enquired.
"Absolutely, just like your biology students," she replied, avoiding saying the G word.
They entered a studio in the back.
"This should be private enough. If other students opt to work late, they'll use one of the studios downstairs," she stated.
"So, what's our plan here?" he asked.
"Our canvases are due in three weeks, but I'm starting now because they need to dry thoroughly and the canvases must be attached to their frames. Water-based paint will be the chosen medium. As you've learned, the themes must classify as sexual while remaining contemporary in concept, meaning we can't use traditional tools like brushes or spatulas," she elucidated.
"But if not our fingers, what tools can we use?" he inquired.
With a lengthy pause, she responded, "Your body parts are the tools."
"Like elbows or knees?" he asked,stoned.
"No, it has to be: our torsos and genitalia," she said, her voice barely audible.
"Um, what?" Ryan asked, astonished.
"Simply put, Professor Walsh demands this. It's about branching out and considering alternative methods in art. These are pieces that seem simple, but are not. There are rules and methods just like the ones you follow in the Histology lab," she explained.
Ryan considered the information carefully.
"I see your point. Artists use nudes and employ alternative methods. We in biology dissect cadavers while clothed," he surmised. "But how can I help you?"
"I appreciate your assistance," Liz replied, wrapping her arms around him.
"For my first canvas, I wanted to call it Yoni, Kuca, and Lingam," she shared.
"From the Sanskrit meaning: vagina, phallus, and breast," he translated.
"You're truly captivating, Liz exclaimed, "I won't inquire into your knowledge of that. You're extraordinary. If only that Walsh woman would let me keep my initial titles of 'Pussy,' 'Tits,' and 'Cock.' How in the world can I take these home and explain to my mother what their titles are and how they were crafted?"
"Titles can change," he replied. "Sometimes, the complete truth isn't necessarily the most beneficial."
She peered at him with her mouth ajar, shaking her head.
"Psychology 101," he said, nodding.
Ryan then queried, "How do we proceed with this?"
Liz began collecting the canvas and elaborating on each step as she did so. She prepared the canvases, ensuring they were completely coated in white paint, and placed them with fans to dry. The first and second were roughly four feet by six feet, but the third was significantly larger, around ten feet by ten feet. She gathered her paints, specifying they were safe for usage due to them being utilized and carefully blended several different hues. Ryan noticed that she was just as meticulous as he had been in the lab, and it took some time. Triumphantly checking the canvases around two in the morning, she declared they were ready to use and took one of the two smaller ones down. She then had Ryan assist her in gaining some furniture, a table, a wooden chair, and a plastic-covered recliner. Liz seemed to test each item, bending over the table, sitting in the wooden chair in multiple positions, as well as the recliner. As soon as she arranged them to her satisfaction, she turned to him.
"Ready to go, I suppose?" she said hesitantly.
"Sure," Ryan replied anxiously.
"For the process, you must assist me in positioning the canvas and elevating me once I'm covered in paint," she explained. "Or else, I'll smudge it, and well, you can imagine the consequences."
She then removed her white tank top without informing him to avert his eyes. Seeing this, he turned as his mother had demanded.
"You don't need to turn away, Ryan," she stated. "We're about to become far more intimate than simply me exposing myself to you."
"Ok," he said, turning back.
Her chest contained impressive breasts. Though he was a nerd, he had even seen pornography, and they were as stunning as any he had witnessed. They were the perfect size for her body and stuck directly out of her chest. In the chilly air, he watched her nipples harden as she gazed at him, intensifying to a considerable length.
He couldn't help but utter, "You're absolutely stunning."
Shyly, she blushed, lowering her head, and instinctively began to cover her breasts, but stopped shortly above her chest. She then sighed, lowered her arms, and responded, "Thank you."
Liz then removed her sandals and took off her shorts. She shivered not because of the cold, for there was none. Her shiver was due to the man. Her pussy betrayed her by releasing fluid and opening as she observed him.
Standing naked in front of him for some time, she hesitantly stated, "I'll need you to aid me in applying the paint...to my body and helping me position myself on the canvas."
Nodding, Ryan said, "Go ahead and tell me what to do."
"Initially, you should, at the very least, take off your shirt so we don't get paint on it," she stuttered.
Ryan discarded his shirt, sighed, and stepped out of his shoes and socks. He removed his pants and, after a deep breath, also took off his briefs, now completely exposed next to her.
"It's only fair," he said.
Liz observed that, despite his nerdish appearance, he was built. He possessed large biceps and pecs, powerful shoulders, muscular legs, and an impressive six-pack stomach. She observed as he reddened, and his penis enlarged and stiffened until it stood upright, demonstrating that it was solely because of her.
"Should we place the canvas on the table, please?" she questioned.
Once he placed the canvas and adjusted it to the way she desired, she declared triumphantly, "Tits are first. You'll need blue and green. Let's begin with blue."
After covering them in blue paint, she bent over the canvas and pressed her breasts down on it. Upon standing, she nodded and approved of the clear imprints of her rounded breasts, areolas, and nipples. She reapplied the paint to her nude breasts.
Turning to Ryan, she told him, "Cover the back of your right hand with green and gently place it on my breasts. Ensure the nipple sits between your fingers, so it imprints well on the canvas. Then reapply the paint and do the other breast."
"Shouldn't I cover both palms? It'll seem funny if the thumb is on the same side for both," he proposed.
"Of course," she reassured. "Ok."
Ryan covered his palms with green paint and hovered mere inches away.
Liz shut her eyes, pushed her chest out, and murmured, "It's fine."
His touch sent sparks rushing through her as he strategically placed his fingers.
"Squeeze them," she stammered. "We need to transfer enough paint."
He squeezed a tad.
"Harder," she cried out and did so two more times until she felt he was pressing hard enough. "That's good," she finally said, and he careful released her.
The imprint of his hand perfectly formed on her breasts, her nipples and areolas peeking out between his middle and index fingers.
"Well done," she said as she rotated, transferring the paint from her chest to the canvas, generating exceptional replicas of her breasts, areolas, nipples, and hands. "There's a bin of rags there; could you get a few?" She glanced over her shoulder. "You can make use of one to wipe your hands a bit, and I'll take one to clean my...breasts," she stammered somewhat shyly.
Ryan fetched the rags, and they cleaned themselves.
"It won't all come off with the rags. There are showers in the back; we can clean up when we're done," she mentioned, putting the rag aside. "Can you fetch the purple color, please?"
Shellacking her buttocks with purple, Liz once more had to order Ryan.
"You'll squat down and place your hands behind my knees while I encircle you around the neck and then hoist me up and place me on the canvas at the spot I tell you to," she said, facing him.
He stooped down and lifted her. What she hadn't foreseen was that in doing so, her vagina would make contact with his member. When the two met, she yelped.
"Are you alright?" he inquired, worried.
"Yes, yes, I'm okay," she gasped.
His cock was vertical and pressed against her clitoris. Her innate urge was to move so he could penetrate her, but she knew she couldn't do that. It was wrong. Not knowing him but a short amount of time, she would have easily yielded to her yearnings.
"Move towards the canvas, yes, now a little to the left. Good now, a bit further towards the table, and a tad more, good. Set me on the canvas slowly, please," she instructed in a clear, deliberate tone. After she had settled enough, she added, "Now, lift me but slowly."
As he did, the clinging paint caused the canvas to adhere a bit, prompting her to order him to stop while she switched hands to press down the canvas, eventually peeling her butt free of the paint. He stepped back and put her upright.
"Would you like me to help you remove the paint?" he asked. "It's in the back, and you can't see it as well as I can."
"Sure, thanks," she answered, scrutinizing the impression. It was an accurate portrait of her buttocks, butt hole and all.
"The next step won't be simple," she said. "Can you get the pink and orange?" Bending over and spreading her legs wide, she said, "Could you check to see if there's any purple on my...vagina?"
"Indeed, there is some," he answered.
"Shit. Wet the rag a little and clean it off, will you?" she instructed, pointing to the restroom in the back.
When he returned, he gently wiped it away.
"Scrub it. It needs to be completely removed or it will spoil the effect. Also, wipe it dry with a clean rag," she sighed.
By the time everything was scrubbed off and dried, she was panting like she had sprinted a race.
Gulping, she said, seated on the wooden chair, her legs sprawled wide, "I require you to coat my vagina with the pink. Ensure that you cover approximately six inches of my inner thighs, but avoid coating the crease where my thighs meet my groin. Cover the outer labia thoroughly and the tips of the inner labia."
Ryan knelt and began as she observed and provided instructions.
Eventually, she felt satisfied and continued, "Cover the canvas carefully, ensuring it doesn't wrinkle or smudge the wet paint, though it is thin enough that it should be fine. Turn it ninety degrees; yes, a bit more to the right, it's good. Turn it." She stood with legs wide, posing her back to him, and said, "Now, squat down behind me and clutch my knees while I seize your neck. Now lift me. Yes, that's correct. You're strong for a nerd. Now, move toward the canvas. Closer, closer, stop. Spread my legs more, more. Ok, now lower me slowly onto the canvas."
Ryan slowly lowered Liz unto the canvas, and as he did, she groaned.
"Oh, god," she shrieked as her vagina settled onto the arm of the overstuffed chair, and the canvas touched her clitoris.
"Do you want me to..." he began.
She yelled, "Stop it!"
Liz remained still, her pussy desperate for her to rub it against the armrest of the chair. This action had brought her pleasure countless times before, but she had to resist. Her deep-seated sexual urge was begging her to perform the act, yet she knew she couldn't. Spasms of sexual energy shot through her pussy, causing chills down her spine.
"Alright, you can slowly pick me up," she requested, with him halting multiple times as she detached the canvas from the sticky layer of paint.
Eventually, she rose to her feet, her legs almost giving out on her. Ryan was there to stabilize her.
"Are you okay?" he worriedly questioned.
Liz regarded him intensely, then approached him for a hug and a kiss. Her tongue intertwined with his in a dance.
After they released one another, she urged, "Let's place the canvas back on the table. Yes, just like that, thank you. Now it's your turn."
Ryan frown.
"The Lingam," she at long last blurted out. "You know, the dick."
"Ah," was all he said.
"May I paint it?" she shakily enquired. "Spread the paint over your cock."
"By all means. You know how you drool over it," he responded, sporting an uncharacteristically tremendous erection.
It burned with such intensity that it was painful.
Liz smeared her hands in the orange paint, and she covered his thick dick with her warm hands, eliciting a groan from him. She adroitly covered his balls with the paint as well. He dragged in a big gasp, and she took note of the shallow breaths he was making. When she drew his balls away from his dick, he instinctively pulled back.
"Am I alright?" she inquired, tittering.
Composing himself, he vindicated, "Yes."
When she deemed it satisfactory, she employed his dick like a leash to steer him towards the table where the canvas had been situated.
"Come a bit closer," she stated, and continued, "closer, great."
She applied pressure on his dick and gently rocked it from side to side. She simultaneously stretched his balls, deploying each of them outwards from the opposite side of his penis. It appeared that she had been toiling with his cock for eternity, and he was concerned he might detonate if she didn't stop.
Just as he was about to protest, she liberated him, instructing, "Slowly," as she hoisted his cock and balls from the canvas.
She carefully revealed the precise imprint of his cock and balls. With the painting now lying flat on the table, Liz shifted it.
"What's the color theme?" he wondered as he wiped the paint off his penile organ with a towel.
"Do you not recognize it?" she mocked. "I anticipated it would be noticeable.
"Certainly," he replied. "Although, I am no Picasso, if you will recall."
"Alright, I'll tell you then. The hot colors are yellow and red. Breasts without any stimulation are simply mammary glands—neither cold or warm blobs of fat. Add a male hand to stimulate them, and the man's stimulator is green. Green is blue with some yellow, a hot color, and the male catches temperature faster. The buttocks are purple, a combination of cold blue and red, as the buttocks are far more sexual. The vagina is pink, a mix of red and white. The red is hot, the white is neutral, the contrast of the morality women maintain, and the sanguine pussy harlots men crave. The penis is orange, a combination of two hot colors, yellow and red. What is more hot than an organ drenched in lather and prepared to engage in copulation?"
"Impressive," he marveled. "I missed that completely."
"I'm not particularly surprised," she said. "Let us shower."
"Do you want some solitude?" he asked.
"No, considering you slathered paint over my buttocks and vagina, and I slathered it over your cock. Are we so primitive that we must carry on with our ancient, embarrassing customs?" she scolded him.
"I see your point," he remarked.
Upon entering the shower, he adjusts the temperature.
"Allow me to wash your back," Liz said, using a loofah. She cleaned it for a short while and then bade, "Turn around; allow me to clean the rest."
"I can take care of my own front," Ryan said, gripping her upper arms and making contact with her eyes.
As they stood there, panting, Ryan let go of her arms and grinned. She washed the front of him. When she reached his cock, it was rock-solid and throbbed alongside every beat of his heart. With fear that she might drive him over the edge, she touched it, continuing to confront him with her eyes.
"Do I arouse you, Ryan?" she murmured.
He was silent partake in a long, passionate kiss with her.
"It's now your turn," he verbalized.
In turn, he cleaned her with the same intensity and fervor she had.
When he arrived at her vagina, he asked her, "Do I turn you on?"
She angled herself and took him in another lengthy, passionate kiss.
As he embraced her, she advised, "Hold on, please."
Ryan wasn't a ladies' man, but he let her go as she turned away shyly and switched off the faucet. They dried themselves and got dressed, and after hanging her canvas to air, he walked her to her dorm. He assumed this was it - she'd leave him for someone with more sophistication, just like everyone had done to him in the past.
At her dorm, she clung to him, begging, "Thomas, thank you. Please call me tomorrow."
As he walked back to his dorm, he tried to make sense of it all. He shook his head like a boxer recovering from a powerful punch. It was late, and he was weary, yet even as confused and elated as he was, he had no trouble falling asleep.
The following day, Thomas called her, but the timing wasn't ideal, as they couldn't meet until dinner. He booked a dinner date in the same dining hall at the same time. When he saw her there, she rushed at him, wrapping her arms around him, startling him nearly to the point of falling.
"Thank you for calling. I was worried you'd think me mad and refuse to contact me," she remarked, nestling her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
She clung to him tightly, as if she were trying to convey something. Her grip was so firm that their embrace drew surprised looks from people passing them.
"We should probably go in and eat," Thomas said.
Her expression seemed to clear a bit, and she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.
"Yes, let's eat," she said, smiling.
She allowed him to pay for their meal without comment and waited for him to find them a spot at a table. Liz appeared more upbeat, but Thomas was still baffled. The night before, she'd pushed him away; today, she clutched him as if she feared he'd disappear.
"Do you have to go to the lab tonight?" Liz asked.
"No, the slides still need more time to dry. They're not due for three weeks, and I need to be careful with them. I'm not planning an all-nighter," he responded nonchalantly.
Timidly, she inquired, "Would...would you help me in the studio again?"
Liz was nervous. She was aware of how her behavior had been peculiar the previous night. She hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction.
"I acted like a complete tease," she thought.
Yet, it was amusing. She was more concerned that he wouldn't like her. His impact on her was overwhelming, unlike any experience she'd ever had. Liz had had relationships, but they were fleeting affairs - here today, gone tomorrow. She hadn't known Thomas for long, but there was a connection. She couldn't explain it, only that the word "intriguing" kept popping into her head.
Without hesitation or second thought, Thomas confirmed, "Of course."
He said it as though the previous night's events were insignificant. Liz shivered as a tingling sensation ran through her body. Pure delight brightened her face, and her smile illuminated the entire room.
"Fantastic!" she exclaimed in a loud voice, causing some to turn and stare.
She didn't notice them because she focused on Thomas, who smiled back at her just as steadfastly as she did.
At the Henderson Building, the proceedings commenced similarly to the night before. Liz collected her canvas, checking on the finished piece and the canvas they intended to use next. She prepared her paints, confirming she had enough and that their consistency was right. Eventually, she had Thomas bring furniture to the table as before and laid the canvas they'd use on it.
Turning to him, she whispered, "I'm ready. Are you?"
Upon that, Thomas began to take off his shirt.
She smiled and giggled, removing her articles of clothing.
Nude, she said, "Can you give me the yellow, please?" Before coating her breasts, she paused and looked into his eyes, murmuring, "Would you like to paint my breasts?"
Embarrassed, he murmured, "If that's what you want me to do."
Exhilarated, her face beamed with delight, her smile illuminating the room, "Yes, yes, I do."
She explained to him where and how to smear the paint on, and when satisfied with the result, she requested him to wash his hands in the sink to remove as much paint as possible.
"Here, cloth your hands and remove as much paint as you can," she instructed, handing him a towel.
He wiped his hands, but he remarked, "If you want me to get rid of the paint, I better wash them - I can't seem to get it all off."
She nodded, and he departed to the restroom to wash his hands and take a shower. As the door closed behind him, Liz touched herself, rubbing her clitoris. Her pussy was wet with anticipation, and she moaned softly as the stimulation intensified.
Upon his return, she commanded, "Take the red and rub your palms." [
"I see the intensity of the color scheme increasing," he chuckled.
"Do you understand?" she giggled.
"Yes, your breasts are not just lumps of fat but are sexually aroused. I assume my red hands signify that the male is fully aroused and prepared to engage in Mombo," he laughed.
"Yes," she squealed excitedly. "You do understand. Now, don't be scared."
Nodding, he coated his palms, made sure his fingers were in the right position, and did indeed enjoy squeezing her breasts. She enjoyed it as well, albeit her neglected nipples would have appreciated more attention.
When she said, "Okay, that's good," they were both panting.
The impressions were made, and she continued.
"Now, pink for my butt," she instructed when he had finished wiping his hands on a rag.
"You mean the butt is becoming more sexual?" he inquired.
"Yes, the butt is very sensitive, and women can even reach orgasm if it is properly stimulated. It is almost as hot as the pussy," she instructed.
"So, the last one was Pussy, Tits, and Cock. What are you calling this one?" Ryan asked.
"Pussy Meets Cock," she said as he finished massaging her butt. "Stop asking questions and lift me and place my butt on the canvas she said, giggling, and then gasped as his cock hit her pussy again.
The second impression was successful, and as he was wiping off the remnants of the paint on her butt, she giggled, "Your turn."
She massaged his cock and balls with the red paint until he was close to cumming.
"You better stop," he groaned.
Stopping, she smiled, "Am I making you hard?"
"You're about to make me cum if you don't stop," he warned.
"We can't have that...yet," she replied, releasing him.
She maneuvered him where she wanted him and waited until it was safe to touch his cock and make an impression.
"This last part will be challenging," she said, taking the canvas and carefully draping it over the arm of the overstuffed chair.
"I'm all yours," he said.
Liz embraced him and purred, "I know. Thank you."
"Red on my pussy this time," she instructed as she positioned herself in the wooden chair, legs spread wide and squealing as he applied the paint.
Ryan took his time, spending quite a while on her clit until she cried out, "Enough, or I'll cum."
"What's fair for the goose..." he began.
She smiled and, taking his red paint, replied, "Yes, and revenge is sweet."
Liz then coated his cock and balls and nearly made him cum.
She maneuvered him over to the overstuffed chair. "Straddle the arm. Yes, like that. I straddle it here, facing you. Now, come closer. Yes. Place your cock in me," she moaned.
"Do you want me to penetrate you?" he questioned.
"Yes," she simply said.
She took his cock in her hand and guided it to herself.
"Put it in only about halfway," she said, groaning as his cock slid between her labia.
"So, you want me to put just the tip in?" he joked about the classic come-on line.
Laughing, she replied, "Yes, just the tip."
Once it was arranged how she wanted, she moaned, "Okay, settle down on the canvas slowly. Yes, like that."
Liz pressed down on his cock and balls, making the impression she desired, and rocked her pelvis to create a good impression of her assets. Once she was satisfied, she looked him in the eyes and drew him into a passionate kiss, a lover's kiss. They made out intensely for a while, groping each other until Liz cried out, "I think we both need a bath."
In the bathtub, she lathered him, ensuring she spent a lot of time on his cock.
Soon he was moaning and finally groaned, "You better stop, or I'll cum."
"Don't you want me to make you cum?" she cooed, rubbing her incredible breasts on his chest.
"Only if I can make you cum," he sighed.
With that, she released his cock and pushed him roughly away, moaning, "No. Please, no. Not tonight."
"What's wrong?" he questioned, frustrated both sexually and emotionally.
"I can't explain now, but not tonight," she wept, turning her back on him.
They finished showering in silence, drying off independently. In silence, they got dressed and walked arm-in-arm towards Bailey.
As they turned the last corner on the windy walkway before Bailey, Ryan suddenly blurted out, "What's wrong? You seemed so enthusiastic and aroused, then you pushed me away."
Hugging him, she moaned, "I know it's difficult for you. Please be patient with me."
He took her into a passionate kiss, their tongues intertwined. She placed his hand under her tank top on her bare breast and groaned.
"I want you so badly," she moaned.
"You can have me," Ryan responded, annoyed.
"Yes, just give me some time," she sobbed, hugging him tight and squirming her breasts against his chest.
They kissed until Ryan finally said, "It's time for you to go in."
"Please call me tomorrow," she begged, clinging to him and refusing to let go.
"Ok, I will call you tomorrow. Don't worry," he said calmly while stroking her face.
"Don't give up on me, please," she gasped, pulling him into another deep kiss.
Ryan didn't plan on giving up on her, despite the sexual and emotional roller coaster she was putting him through. Since they didn't need to prepare the canvases, as they did the first night, it wasn't so late, so he was going to get a full night's sleep for a change. While contemplating her and their activities, he eventually fell asleep.
He phoned her the next day, inviting her to breakfast, but she said she had an early class, so they scheduled another dinner date.
Liz leaped into Ryan's arms as she saw him sitting on the bench waiting. He embraced her, managing to lift her into a passionate kiss. Many spectators watched and tsked before looking away. She was dressed differently today, wearing a semi-transparent white cotton top and a skirt instead of her usual shorts.
"Oh, I've missed you today," she exclaimed, kissing him fiercely.
After they came back to their senses, he commented, "I'm hungry. Let's eat."
She laughed as he released her hand and led her to a table.
"Do you need to go to the lab?" she asked tentatively.
"No, I've been arranging the slides today," he answered. "I've got about a third finished. They turned out better than I expected. The lab assistant must have been good."
"No, it's because you're such a talented artist," she crooned.
"So, you want to finish the last canvas at Studio?" he inquired.
"Yes, let's go!" she squealed excitedly.
They nearly inhaled their meals in a rush. As they entered Henderson, Liz stated, "This is Friday. No one comes to do work on Friday. I imagine we have the whole building to ourselves."
The night began like the others. She took the canvas, spread it on the table, and started mixing paint. Ryan noticed a significantly larger quantity of red and then three smaller bottles of a darker red, blue, and white.
When he returned for the furniture, she said, "We don't need the furniture."
"Ok," he replied.
She hugged him and moaned into his mouth, "Ready?"
"Yes," he gasped back.
"Do I turn you on?" she whispered.
"Yes, Liz, does seeing you get turned on turn me on?" he replied.
"Oh, you have no idea," she murmured, stealing another kiss.
Liz slid her hands under his T-shirt, pulling it up and discarding it. Ryan then removed her tank top, and she removed her skirt.
"Rub some red on my tits," she directed, offering her glistening breasts. "Make sure you massage them well," she purred, closing her eyes.
He eagerly covered her chest with red paint and massaged her until Liz shouted, "Oh my god!"
Startled, he paused, and she reached out her hand, as if she were about to fall.
"Are you OK?" he inquired, worried.
"More than OK," she cooed, grinning.
She pressed her tits against the red paint and handed him the darker red bottle.
"Use this on your hand. The contrast doesn't matter that much, but there has to be a contrast," she panted.
"Don't you wish to remove the other red stain from my fingers?" he inquired.
"No, this time mixing is more suitable," she claimed.
He smeared his fingers and gently positioned them on her breasts. When he attempted to remove them, she grasped the rear of his hands and held them there for a while, with her eyes closed. Eventually, she surrendered him, revolved, and imprinted the design. The imprint was unclear and just displayed a vague shadow.
"Great, spread the red paint on my buttocks," she instructed. Meanwhile, she gasped, "Fear not. Paint my asshole and vagina as well."
Ryan soon had Liz moaning. He was somewhat perplexed. In the preceding canvases, she had assiduously ensured the impressions were always clear and precise, with paint only on particular regions. These imprints would be blurred and blended.
"Enough of that now, raise me up," she yelled, standing in front of him.
He knelt down and held her behind her knees while she wrapped her arms around his neck. As he straightened up, just like before, her body slammed into his, her vagina bumping against his dick.
"Fuck yes," she yelled as his crocodile crawled in her vulva, thrashing hard on her clit. "Yes, yes, she screamed as she bumped her vagina against his dick, rocking her pelvis, causing her vagina to rub his crocodile from base to tip.
Previously, she had been meticulous, making sure not to move, but now she was frantically rubbing his dick.
After they both caught their breath, she exclaimed, "Set me on the canvas."
"Where?" he asked.
"Anywhere, I don't care," she mumbled, luring him in for a kiss.
"Stop, this is your exhibition, your classroom, your assignment," he protested, stressing the word "your."
"Yes, I know. Let me take a deep breath," she gasped, attempting to find her breath. "Come a bit closer to the table. There. Now, to your left, yes, stop. Set me here," she commanded, drawing him into another kiss.
He lifted her cautiously, and she expressed, "OK."
He carefully placed her down, and she giggled, "Now it's your turn."
She lavished his dick and balls with red paint.
"Hold on, you're going to cause me to erupt," he complained.
Chuckling, she whispered, "Not yet."
She made the corresponding imprint on the canvas, and he stepped back from the table.
"Help me place the canvas on the floor," she stated, overjoyed.
They unfurled the canvas on the floor some distance from the table. She gathered and fastened an outline around the canvas, broadening it. Liz then gathered the two squeeze bottles, blue and white, placed them on another nearby table, and, taking the red paint, walked to the canvas's center.
"Stand next to me on the canvas," she instructed Ryan.
"Really?" he questioned, stressing the last syllable like a question.
"Yes, really, Ryan," she whispered, lifting her hand for him to take.
As they faced each other, she grabbed the red paint and commenced smearing it all over his dick and then other areas of his body.
Handing the paint to him, she said, "Now you do me."
So, he coated her with paint at her directions, vagina, breasts, and bottom, as well as shoulders and other regions. Once satisfied, she poured whatever remained onto the canvas surrounding them.
"You still haven't asked me the title for this painting," she purred, stroking his cheek.
"All right, so what's the name of this painting?" Ryan enquired.
"The first was Pussy, Tits, and Dick. The second was Pussy Satisfies Dick," she said. "This one is Fuck Me. Fuck me, Ryan. Fuck me, please," she bellowed, lying down at the canvas's center and spreading her legs. "Oh, god fuck me, Ryan. I can't bear it any longer."
At first, astounded by his inactivity, Ryan swiftly transitioned. He knelt between her legs as she beseeched him to climb on her. He massaged his dick through her slit as she squirmed, and then synced a sluggish thrust. Her eyes sprang open, and she shuddered, moaning.
Initially, he moved cautiously, gradually picking up the pace. Liz eagerly responded, delighting in each stroke, wrestling and urging him closer, wrapping her limbs around him for a tighter embrace. She shifted to accommodate him better, allowing him deeper penetration as Ryan's phallus entered her and expanded her. Every action led to pure ecstasy. Liz sliced out involuntary cries, answering each thrust with either moans, groans, or shrieks. The tension in her belly swelled to the point of bursting, and she cried out, wildly humping, and yelling while reaching her climax. She emitted a gusher around Ryan's organ, soaking the underlying material in her enthusiasm.
"Dammit," she roared, pulling him closer and clareting him with both arms and legs.
Ryan refused to withdraw, selecting swift jabs instead.
"Ryan, fuck, yes," she let loose another scream.
After making about two dozen strokes, Ryan grabbed onto her, screaming, "I'm about to ejaculate."
Liz's limbs squeezed him tightly in response.
"Cum in me. Stay in me, don't take out," she screeched.
Unwillingly, Ryan couldn't pull out and thus resorted to thrusting and smashing his penis against her vagina. Liz braced and discharged again, spurting around Ryan's member as he deposited ropes of semen deep inside her vagina and mercilessly pressing his genitalia against her clitoris.
Breathing heavily after a short while, Liz felt his cock and said, "Incredible, you're still hard, my adorable nerd."
Looking into his eyes, she added, "Let's go somewhere else."
She switched them a quarter turn, guiding him into a kneeling position, presenting herself to him and begging, "Please, use that magnificent erection and penetrate me again."
The challenge was small, as he did not require encouragement to begin. Ryan started thrusting gently and profoundly.
"You're such a exceptional lovemaker," she asserted, matching his rhythm in reciprocation.
Her lauding of his sexual prowess was heard after every move, along with utterances of how good it felt, how she never wanted him to cease, and more. A second time, she unleashed two sprays, eventually collapsing onto the canvas in exhaustion as he emptied his load deep in her vagina.
Gathering oneself up, Liz guided them in the direction for him to lie down. Straddling him, she noticed his cock had revived once more and held on to him, metaphorically screaming through his ear, "Fuck me again, Ryan. Fuck me again."
Despite his relative juvenility, it still required some time for him to orgasm. Liz, on the other hand, only reached the pinnacle of pleasure with a slight interlude in the secrete liquid falling on his torso. They curled into each other's embrace, necking in the congestion of paint, cum, and liquor on the scratchy material. Eventually, they yielded, and Liz wielded the blue and white squeeze bottles. She sprayed lengthy streams of blue in opposite paths, and then performed the same maneuver with the white in parallel trajectories.
"These images appear differently than the previous works," he mentioned. "Their focus is not only about sex. It's about Liz. The first painting portrayed her breasts as merely mammary glands with a lukewarm vagina and anus. The orange of her mother's ideals had dampened her excitement. My touch ignited her desire, transforming her breasts from pink into fiery, restaurant-red, the arcane fervor engulfing her muff. This last painting symbolizes me carrying her away in a whirlwind of passion, obsessed with her breasts, her ass, and her cunt. The blue splotches monitor the five times you stimulated my desire into ejaculation, the orbs of pleasure. The three white patches represent the three times you discharged in my vagina."
Unexpectedly revealing, "I've been surveiling you for a considerable amount of the time. A particular seminar with Wilson captivated my mind. I figured you wouldn't recognize me as I was usually late and sat in the back. I was enamored with the way in which you held yourself and your brainpower. Then, I spied on three of your ex-girlfriends. They claimed you were too kind. But I longed for a decent man. Womanizer, I've had enough of them. What I favored about you as a result of my study was your meticulousness, artistry, and compassion. You've kind of been on my mind since," he shared.
Tossing her head down, she asserted, "That's not entirely true. I'd been fascinated by you and planned to go solo. However, I'd become unsure of you up until I encountered you in lab. I was enthralled by the precision, provocativeness, sweetness, and indulgence that you possessed. At that moment, I desired you. I wanted you," she whispered, pulling him into a kiss.
Ryan held her tightly, "I don't want you to harm the paintings. I find this situation quite perplexing. Typically, geeks aren't the main attraction for beautiful women."
She replied, "Don't put yourself down. Join me in the shower. We'll leave the canvas in the frame to dry."
In the shower, she removed all inhibitions and, to his astonishment, Ryan became aroused again. They made love a second time under the scalding, cascading waterfall.
They sauntered beneath the starry sky, his arm encircling her shoulder and hers around his waist. As they prepared to depart, she tightened her grip on him, "Please, will you contact me tomorrow?"
"Certainly, we'll need to remove the canvas from the frame first," he replied.
Puzzled, she stared and stated, "We could. It's likely dried, but we don't have to."
Amused, Ryan said, "Of course, we must. It's essential that we continue our art lessons, isn't it?"
Enwrapping him, she kissed him and whispered, "Yes, we must."
Read also:
- Uninhabited Abode, Satisfied Appetite
- A Night's Stay with Us
- Closest Pal Turns Into Skilled Expert
- Stories From Celeste: The Seductress
Source: www.nice-escort.de
