Drawing Closer Novel Novels & Stories

And I start drawing a new one that fulfills the new fantasy I started having lately. Kingsley with his ass in the air, so full of my cum it’s starting to drip and his arms tied behind his back with ropes. Even though my cock gets hard from the moment the drawing starts to take shape, I know it won't be satisfying unless I make it as realistic as possible so I spend an hour working on the details of his face and when I finally finish drawing, my erection is so hard it hurts. I pull it out immediately and grab it in my hand to jerk off with almost punishing force because this is getting to serious creep level.

But that lasted only for some minutes before they found something else to do. Raymond was pretty much reading novels online on his phone I mean that was the top novel app trending on the net right now. So Ray couldn’t be blamed. Even Alex too was constantly reading novels on Good novel, D****e or R*****m and they were both competing on who discovered new authors and good interesting novels so they could each read and discuss about. While Ray was sneakily reading his novel, Alex was with a black pen and a book. With utmost concentration his hands motioned around the book. Looking at him, one would think he was jotting down the words of the teacher but Alexander Marshal was actually drawing.

It was just like the writings of a computer, neatly and clearly obvious. Her perfect handwriting flows gracefully across the page, with elegant curves and consistent spacing. Each letter was meticulously formed, exuding a sense of sophistication and precision that captures attention and invites admiration. I picked up the drawings, and observed the nude pictures perfectly sketched out on blank sheets. This young Miss drawing is a mesmerizing dance of colors and lines, weaving together to create a vivid tapestry of emotions. With each stroke, she breathes life into her creation, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and depth.

Allen attempted to snatch the notebook from me, but I slapped his hand before he could even reach my desk. “Don’t make me repeat it again, Allen. I am writing a novel, not a drawing. And if I am to draw someone, it must be another person, not Christoph.” Speaking of which, something came up in my mind. A brilliant one. Instead of drawing an image of him, which was pretty obvious, why not make a novel instead? A story of us. He and I against the world. All I have to do is change our names to make it more obscure.

Then she opened it and held it up. She had drawn the room. All of it. Every person in their position from the moment she had arrived, rendered in precise, unsentimental lines. Claire by the window. Rosa in the doorway. Elena at the counter. Damian on the balcony. Lila at the table. Noah on the couch. Mia between them. The old man in his chair. And in the corner of the page, small and slightly separate from the others, a figure that was clearly herself. Holding a sketchbook. Watching everything.

He climbed onto the sofa beside her and opened the notebook. Crayon lines filled the page. Bright colors. Simple shapes. But the drawing was recognizable. Three stick figures stood side by side beneath a large sun. Evelyn had seen similar drawings from him before. Usually the same three figures. A woman. A child. And a tall man with darker shading around the eyes. Silas held the notebook proudly. “Do you like it?” Evelyn forced a soft smile. “It’s beautiful.” He studied the picture carefully. Then pointed to the tallest figure.

Beside me, Noah kept his notebook open but wasn't writing anything down. I grew curious when I noticed the gentle movement of the pen between his fingers. I leaned subtly, and my eyes widened as I realized what he was doing. Noah was drawing. The page of his notebook was filled with delicate lines taking shape. It was a sketch of intertwined hands, so full of detail and emotion that it looked almost real. Each stroke was made with care, as if the whole world had disappeared for him, except for that paper. "Wow…" I murmured before I realized it.

Hair products were on the nightstand, while notebooks covered another table. His eye was drawn to a colorful drawing. As he approached the table, he saw that the notebook was full of drawings. Not just drawings—some kind of graphic novel? He began to flip through the notebook. He was hardly some graphic novel enthusiast—he hadn’t read a comic since he’d been a kid—but he could see talent in the drawings. The strokes of the pencil, the light and shadow, it all seemed to reflect Thea as a person. When he came to one passage, he even chuckled at the dialogue.