Female Arms Drawing Novels & Stories

Firm hands grabbed me by the arms and lifted me to my feet. Feminine hands with red nail varnish. The hands encircled my biceps and remained tightly clasped. I really had to start working out. The six female warriors towered over me. I’m not the tallest of people, but I’ve always consoled myself with at least being above average height for a woman. Not today. They were dressed in very form-fitting leather armour with shiny metal plates covering their neck and shoulders, elbows and forearms, knees and shins. Thighs were completely exposed for some reason. Seemed like an odd design choice.

Kaliya’s pov ________ My hands shakingly covered my mouth as I gawked at the drawing, this was really me in tge drawing, my breasts, thighs and bum was exposed on this piece of paper, I turned and saw another one that was also covered, without hesitation I lifted it’s covering, it was another naked drawing of me, but this time I was facing away. As beautiful as these drawings were they felt wrong and somewhat exciting, I gasped when I heard Lumi’s voice call out to me, I wanted to cover the drawings up but there was no time because of how close she sounded, she should not enter this room.

Like, really good. Her pencil lines were even better than mine when I was sketching designs. It made me wonder if she did the markings on her arms by herself. “You draw a lot of wolves,” I said, kneeling beside her. She didn’t stop sketching. “I know.” Her voice was barely audible, soft as ever. “You ever draw people?” She hesitated, then shook her head. “They don’t stay still.” That made me smile. “You can draw me if you like.” “Really?”

Author’s POV Arman and his brothers surrendered themselves completely as the ladies pleasured them with their bodies, the room thick with heat and tangled limbs. Arman had his shaft taken into a warm, eager mouth while his hands were occupied with two bouncing breasts, squeezing and pressing as soft laughter spilled from the women around him. Their fingers traced his chest and hard muscles, nails grazing skin as they giggled in low, naughty sounds that fed the moment.

Whoever had done the work was a fantastic artist. He stood perfectly still, but his hands clenched, muscles quivering beneath my touch everywhere my hand roamed. My fingers trail down, following the design as it flowed down the left side of his body to his abs. It was free, fluid with gentle curves. A combination of hard lines but also soft florals and swirls amidst dangerous embellished claws that looked more like art than paws. I was disappointed to realize the design disappeared down past his waistband where I could no longer see it.

Her hand furiously sketched the deeper she fell into her drawing. Waverly's eyes flipped from the outline to the photograph, back to the outline; the lines growing darker and more erratic with each stroke. The woman inside of the image appeared to be getting larger the longer Waverly paid attention to her and it was as if she had no control. Her hand moved sporadically, rubbing against the lead of the pencil on the page until…it stopped.

“Two pretty boys for you tonight. Let’s give our audience the show they deserve.” She moved like liquid lightning. Her right arm flowed into a long, thick, double-headed electro-strapon, ridges pulsing with blue energy. Her left arm transformed into dual milking sleeves, one for each man lined with rippling internal textures and suction nodes. Two smaller auxiliary limbs extended from her shoulders, becoming articulated tendrils tipped with vibrating plugs and electro-pads. She started with them side by side.

Slowly looking at me from under those thick lashes. His arm muscles bulged as he gripped the pencil tenderly and made strokes on the paper. My eyes follow his arms up to where his white T shirt was folded right around his elbows. I swallowed as I imagined the tracing the veins that jumped on his thick arms. He must work out a lot, unless those veins came about from pumping himself.

I shake the memory away and lean closer to Serina’s sketch, my breath catching in my throat. There they are, those eyes, vivid even in graphite, ringed with soft crimson from the colored pencil she must have packed. The creature’s face is fierce, wolfish, but… human too? It stands upright on two legs, its limbs long and muscular, fur flowing down its arms and back like a cloak of shadow. My gaze trails over the pointed ears, the hunched posture, the claws that look more like weapons than hands. “What is this?” I whisper aloud, more to myself than to Serina.

The ones on his arms seemed to be tribal designs of some sort. Stilling his left hand with her own, she turned it over to look at the underside of his forearm. The ink continued and shifted as he moved like a living extension of his skin. It was beautiful up close. She'd only seen glimpses before. Caught up in the pattern, she traced the black lines with her fingertips from his inner elbow to his wrist and back again.