NAKED ART

“I don’t think I’ll need to trim you with the scissors. Your hair is so soft and fine the razor should do it easily.”

I nodded, but I was unprepared for the feeling of Silver’s fingers spreading the shaving gel on my mound. Round and around he slicked the fragrant gel until it transformed into a thick layer of creamy foam.

He wiped his hand on a damp washer and then brought the shaving razor up to the top of my pubic mound. “I’m going to stroke down first. Get off most of the hair, and then I’ll go up, against the grain, until you’re nice and smooth. Okay?”

Feeling light-headed, I nodded.

The pressure of the razor was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It scraped and massaged at the same time. In long, slow strokes Silver worked his way down my mound, stopping every now and then to tap off the excess hair.

He had a little jug of hot water in which he rinsed the razor. Every time he did it, the razor returned hot on my skin. I liked the feeling and found myself spreading my legs and arching up into the movement.

“Now I’m going to work up. Against the grain. I’m going to pull your skin tight.”

Silver pressed the heel of his hand just above my cl*t and pulled the skin up. I bit back a gasp. The heavy sensation on the root of my cl*t was delicious.

Each time he stroked the razor blade against the grain, Silver pulled up on the skin. His hand worked in a rolling movement. My cl*t began to throb, ache with the need to be touched. After he’d finished with the top, Silver’s hand moved down, his fingers pulling tight on the fleshy lips of my labia.

My thighs tightened, my *ss clenched as I felt the slow build of a coming orgasm. When I masturbated, I loved to pull on the lips of my p*ssy. I’d always done it, and Silver’s fingers tugging at my p*ssy had my body craving release. It wasn’t enough; I wanted more. I wanted those long artistic fingers inside me.

“I’ve finished,” Silver said as his fingers let go—leaving me aching to c*m.

“You’re nice and smooth now. Feel.”

I spread my legs wide and brought a hand down to feel the smooth mound, then dipped my fingers further to the lips of my freshly shaven p*ssy. I was wet. Swollen and wet.

The skin was soft and so incredibly sensitive. I looked down. My cl*t felt plump; it sat out between my lips like a ripe berry.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t move. I need to take a photo,” Silver said and walked out of the room to get his camera.

In that short minute I couldn’t hold back anymore.

With one hand I tugged on my p*ssy lips while I ground the heel of my other hand just above my cl*t. While I pushed the heel around and around, I imagined it was Silver’s hand.

The climax came quickly, my thighs jerking out as I felt my p*ssy clench tight. I was panting, with my hand still on my p*ssy, when I heard the shutter of a camera.

“It’s okay, darling,” Silver purred, coming in close to photograph my shocked face. “Just feel it.”

I closed my eyes and used my c*m to massage my cl*t.

“You’re beautiful, darling. Just beautiful,” Silver sighed.

He took some pictures, and when I opened my eyes, he motioned me with his finger back into the showroom.

“You are going to photograph beautifully. Come here, my darling girl, into the light.”

I moved forward to stand on the sheet that Silver had laid down.

“I’m going to mark you up first. With a pencil. It’s a bit like a kohl pencil you’d use on your eyes. All the paint I’ll use on you today is specific body paint. It’s really soft, and your skin can still breathe. You won’t feel like you’re covered in gunk. Okay?”

I nodded.

“When I’ve marked you up, I’m going to spray you with the base color. It’s a light gold that’s going to make your gorgeous features really stand out. I am going to photograph the progress. Are you ready?”

I nodded again. There was no backing out now.

Silver worked quickly with the pencil, placing a series of dots across my body.

I had my arms out and my legs spread, splayed wide. I had never felt more exposed or aroused in my life. The quick masturbation had done nothing to dampen my wanting; if anything, it had amped it up to an almost desperate need.

Silver seemed oblivious as he worked around my body, focused on his work and mixing paint.

His indifference made the exposure more intense. My mind wandered to his threat of painting me and leaving me on a pedestal before the crowds. Exposed, vulnerable before all those eyes—I wanted it. Wanted them looking at my naked s*x.

The imaginings of my newly discovered exhibitionism were interrupted by the first stroke of Silver’s paintbrush.

I jerked, causing Silver to chuckle. “Relax. My hands are gentle with art.”

The brush was soft, unlike anything that had ever touched my skin before. It was damp and slick; the pressure was teasing, the fleeting delicious sensation not enough.

Silver worked first with dark colors—blacks, greys, and deep velvety browns.

“Silver? What are you painting on me?”

Silver went down on his knees, his face close to my belly. “It’s a garden. A garden of delight. Pure pleasure.”

The soft strokes swirled around my belly button and across the sensitive skin of my abdomen. My eyes fell closed, too heavy to stay open, hypnotized by the sensation of the brush.

I stifled a moan as the brush dipped down to my pubic mound, but I could not help the roll of my hips. I rocked forward, closer to the brush. Silver’s hand came down on my hip, steadying me, holding me still. “Easy, baby. Hold on,” he murmured.

The brush dipped lower, lower, down across my freshly shaved mound. Silver’s hands came between my legs, stroking up from my knees between my thighs to push lightly and spread my legs wider.

I could feel the soft pant of my breath as Silver worked the brush across the sensitive skin of my p*ssy.

“Gorgeous,” came the husky tone of Silver, waking me from my trance. I opened my eyes to see what had transpired on my skin, but Silver was not looking below; he was watching my face.

He let the neck strap take the weight of the camera, his hands coming forward to cup my face.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, running his thumb across my lower lip.

My tongue came out and flicked across the tip of his finger as he pulled my plump lip down.

My mouth opened instinctively to let his thumb enter.

He cursed, let go of my face, and raised his camera to take a rapid series of shots, close to my face.

“So f*ck*ng s*xy,” he said over and over as he snapped away.

Silver positioned me in front of a white screen and began calling out directions to me.

Directions that made my body sing, throb like bass in time with his melodic voice.

“Look at me, right at the lens. Part your lips. Spread your legs wider. Splay your fingers—down your body, not touching, but just in front. Right in front of your p*ssy, honey. Right there. Yeah. So good. So good.”

He’d moved closer and closer—now he was crouched down on his haunches right between my spread legs, his camera lens inches from my vagina.

I was wet; I knew I was, and so must he, so close to my swollen p*ssy.

“Bring your fingers closer. Closer. Touch yourself. Touch that beautiful flower. Spread the petals, baby—spread them wide for me.”

“But I’ll smudge it. I’ll smudge the paint.”

“I’ll fix it if you do.”

I followed Silver’s instructions, bringing one hand down to spread the petals of my swollen flower. “Touch yourself. With the other hand, bring your finger down and run it down your beautiful wet sl*t for me, darlin’.”

It didn’t occur to me to object. I did as I was told, slicking a finger through the wet lips up to the edge of my pink painted cl*t. I shuddered at the touch, close—so close—to orgasm.

“That’s right. That’s perfect. So good, baby. Look at you. So good.”

I slicked the finger in time with his words, with the rhythmic croon of his constant praise, until—legs spread, p*ssy bared, painted with passion, captured by the shutter of the camera—I came.

“Yes. Yes!” Silver cried out, his camera catching the spasm of my release.