Bruce Timm Nude Art Novels & Stories

“Relax into it. Let your body feel everything.” I bit my lip hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles, but it was impossible not to look at him. Timothee leaned in close, dark hair falling over his forehead, his hazel eyes focused with that intense artist concentration. The muscles in his forearm flexed with every careful pass of the needle, black ink swirling under his own skin like living shadows. God, he smelled good—clean soap mixed with that faint masculine scent that made my head fuzzy. My sundress was bunched up around my waist, leaving me completely exposed from the waist down. Smooth, freshly shaved, and now marked by him.

Moments later, Bryce was bare-ass naked and sitting in the chair with his hands under his legs and his boner standing straight out between his spread legs. Brenda chuckled, and said to Tina, "He takes direction well!" Tina replied, "There's a lot of things he does well!"

— In the days that followed, Nick and I fell into a cold war. Neither of us brought up what happened. I kept my distance, and he reverted to his usual aloof self. I threw myself into the “Roses Under the Moonlight” project, which was progressing even faster than expected. Bruce was very pleased. As soon as the sample was ready, I called him. “Mr. Bruce, we’ve finished the prototype for the ‘Roses Under the Moonlight’ series. Are you available now? I’d like to show it to you.” Bruce sounded surprised. “That fast?”

“These are pieces I don’t usually show anyone. Some are finished. Some… are only beginnings.” Her eyes roamed over the paintings. She saw bodies, nude figures mostly women reclining, standing, twisting, stretched in poses that were at once vulnerable and powerful. The brushstrokes were bold yet precise. Damien’s eye for detail was staggering, his ability to capture flesh and shadow almost overwhelming. Lena felt warmth crawl up her neck. “Why are you showing me this?” she asked, her voice low, like she didn’t want to disturb the air in the room. “Because,” Damien said simply, stepping further in, “you should see the truth of what I work on when no one else is around.”

Eva's POV. Nicklaus and I stood together, nude, bound together by a strip of gauzy fabric around our legs, I had taken off my towel and I was dripping in shame, the artist peered at us from behind his easel, pallet in hand. We were facing each other, my hands on his chest, his on my hips. The artist wrapped a thin sheet of fabric tightly around our legs, giving him some texture and color to contrast against our skin.

He was slightly taken aback at the sight of Laurie naked, but that didn’t stop him from sitting down in front of the computer next to her. “Tiffany, come suck my cock while I watch your video.” I unzipped his pants and pulled them down around his ankles as the video started. I could hear everything that was happening, and Laurie was playing with herself next to me. One of Tim’s hands ran through my hair while the other began playing with Laurie’s tit. I didn’t know how she was still horny after all of the fucking that we’d just done. As the video got to the part where Tiffany fucked my ass, Tim pulled me up from my kneeling position. He turned me around and pulled me onto his cock.

The next thing Calley heard was Nelly exclaiming: “Hey—oh my god! Why is there a nude painting of you up there?!” She laughed at Nelly’s reaction. Somehow, she’d expected this. “Do you like it?” Nelly instinctively stepped back and rubbed her arms as goosebumps ran down her skin. “Dear Lord, my hair’s standing! Caty, who the heck did you strip for to paint that?!” Nelly then turned to her with wide, almost tearful eyes. “Why would you pose naked for a painter? Does Ser Phill know about this? Why would you do this, Caty? He’d be devastated if he found out—”

Hit send. And that was that. Until thirty seconds later, when my screen lit up again. Dr. Stacy Cole: Beth… I’m fairly certain that’s not the screenshot you meant to send me. My stomach dropped. “What?” I whispered, blinking at the screen. I opened the message chain. There—clear as day—was a high-resolution nude. My nude. Not raunchy. Not pornographic. Just… artistic lighting. Soft curves. A bedroom mirror moment I’d snapped weeks ago on a day I felt unusually hot.

on her back, one leg bent, one arm overhead, the classical reclining nude pose. "Hold that," he instructed, and he began to paint. The other artists worked simultaneously...Marcus sketching her form for a future sculpture, David photographing from different angles, James starting a second painting, Robert setting up video equipment, Chen creating digital wireframes on his tablet. For the first hour, it was professional. Classical. Luna held the pose while six men captured her naked body in different mediums. Then Adrian set down his brush and approached the platform. "I want to try something," he said. "I want to paint you while you're aroused. See how your body changes—how your nipples hard

It was him, our special night in the pool—a Night in the Water, or the Water Collection. Like my Blue Grotto, I started painting with oils, several more nudes, though these were just bodies—a woman sitting on a man’s lap with her breasts lit, her face in ecstasy. The colors were silver, grizzly, ashen whites and creams. Another was just the back of a woman with her hair up and naked shoulders. I painted all week, each one more provocative than the last. These were impressionistic, so I obscured the faces and lines. Next, I got out my black chalk and drew William from a photo I had taken of him the night we walked through the city.