Female Arms Drawing Novels & Stories

Of course, there are so many others in here admiring the artworks. “This is…” I start, but Michael completes it. “Erotic.” I blush hard. “I’d say sinful. A very sexy, sinful artwork.” I study the drawings starting from the one with a woman shoving a dildo into her big pussy, her face scrawled with desire, and her mouth dropped open to her chest. I move to the next with the drawing of an older man with his cock in hand while his seeds drip from his crown like droplets of water. There’s one with two teenage girls on their knees, their hands bound as they suck a cock from a glory hole.

I leaned back slightly, eyes still on the drawing. “It’s brilliant,” I said first, because it was. “But… the shoulder.” She blinked. She didn't seem surprised. I pointed, gently tapping the shoulder part. “Right here. It’s too stiff. See how the shoulder line forms almost a perfect right angle from the neck? That will be fine for a mannequin or an anime, but if you're aiming for a realistic human drawing, it will come out looking slightly weird.” “Please, explain,” her voice was quiet but I could feel a hint of excitement.

I replied. "You see that table over there. I want you to draw a woman's clothing that exposes the body and at the same time covers it, you have 8 minutes" she said. I looked at her quietly, a woman's clothing that exposes the body and still covers it at the same time? I sigh thinking of what I can draw. I went to the table and sat on the chair. Then I took the sharp pencil and started drawing. I am going to draw a suit but this suit will be a different type of suit. Instead of long trousers it will be short, reaching under the ass. The trouser is going to be high waisted. Then for the suit jacket, it is going to have just one arm.

She had made her realise her own worth in her eyes. “Eizzy, see. What I draw,” she showed the drawing pad to Eizlina. Eizlina looked towards that drawing pad where she saw Orelia had made the drawing of a man, two women and a little kid. They all were holding each other's hands.

They were not like Nick's, although they did have people in them, this time they were drawings of two men, you couldn't see the faces of the people at all just one blonde and one dark. The dark-haired man was on top of the other one, and they were quite obviously having sex. The drawings were exquisite, showing the tense muscles in the back and buttocks of the man. He had a fabulous figure, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. Amelia moved on to the next picture, in this one the dark man was sitting on a chair, and the other man had his face between his thighs, she drew a gasp, and then an even bigger gasp when she looked closely at the man on the chair.

Next, my hand drew a female shape whose face is divided right in the middle of the vertical line. I keep sketching the woman's face with different emotions in both parts of the face. On the right side shows a full lonely face, it seems like she's living alone in her dark world, with tears of pain in her eyes. On the left side, it shows bravery but still a fragile woman, she always has to put a smile on her face to show everyone that she's okay. Next, I drew her long hair that is blown by the breeze, then her hands are intertwined with each other. I finally drew its dress which is also freely blown around by the wind. Gray on the left and white on the right.

Then I reached the drawings. Someone had sat with a living thing and drawn it the way the old human anatomists drew, every line put down to be true rather than pretty. A figure, standing, filling the page. Not a man. It stood on two legs and had two arms, but the arms hung to the knees, longer than any arm I'd ever shaken. The jaw ran out too far and hung too heavy, built to hold more teeth than a face has room for. In its own panel beside it, the hands: longer in the palm than mine, the bone at the last joint of each finger hooked, a claw drawn back into the shape of a nail and not quite hidden there.

She has drawn constantly since she could hold a crayon, pages and pages of the specific focused artwork of a child who has something to say and has found the medium for saying it. I pick up the pad. Look at the open page. Three small figures in a row, clearly Ace and Grey and Willa, their individual identities legible even in toddler rendering. Ace is drawn largest and loudest, arms out wide. Grey is neat and careful. Willa has drawn herself with her rabbit. And beside them, slightly apart, a tall figure. A man. She has drawn him with careful deliberate strokes, more care than the rest, and above his head in her best attempt at letters, she has written three characters.

She said to herself, "These are so childish, why would he keep them framed?" Te quality of the drawings improvised in some, the artist had learned to colour the picture within the borders without scraping them across the picture. She was going through them lazily when she saw a drawing which attracted her consious attention. This was pecliar than the rest as it featured two human like figure- a girl and a boy. Bee stood there studying the picuture; the boy was taller than the girl and both held hands with a red heart floating between them. There was something scribbled above the heads of each figure.

Now I’ll sound stupid. “I am drawn to forearms,” I confess. At their shock, I continue. “Yes, forearms. I think an exposed forearm, muscular and strong, is sexy. I like to run my fingers over the contours and hair from elbow to wrist. It is the body part I lean on in public and clutch desperately in the bedroom.” I am surprised by their response. “I’ve never thought about it, but yeah,” Kennedy agrees. I watch as they inspect their forearms. They agree they have never considered it, but they are drawn to that area too. In times of weakness, they grasp it. In times of sadness, they cuddle it. Seems my favorite body part isn’t lame after all.