Novel & Cerita Fluffy Hair Drawing

Then I went to the kitchen table where Julie had left the drawings, weighted down with a crayon so they wouldn't slide, two pieces of paper in the particular bold lines of a four year old who doesn't yet know to doubt herself. The first was the dragon, which did look somewhat like a dog but had a convincingly fierce expression, and the second was a figure with long dark hair and a smaller figure on either side of her, all three of them holding hands, the sky above them full of yellow circles that might have been stars or might have been suns, Julie having not yet settled on the distinction. I sat down on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinet, still in the dress, the premiere som

Because after I was done, I looked down. I saw Angelstar, my wolf, and a beautiful wolf has a midnight color on his tail and under his chest with a shape of a paw on his chest. I knew it was a bigger guy than her and me because they were on the mountain top watching the sky. Then something came to my mind. So I started drawing on the other pad. I was underlining the picture and coloring and shadowy the part of the picture. Once I was done. I gasped and hid my flush face because I had drawn a girl with beautiful platinum blonde hair and purple eyes, but I kept my eyes on her. Oh, my God! The drawing looks just like-

Her beautiful, wild silver hair spills over several pieces of parchment. I reach out, my fingers sliding one of the sheets from beneath her forearm. It is a sketch of a sleek, aerodynamic shoulder pad for a professional hockey player, but she has modified the collar to fit the heavy, thick neck of a shifted wolf. The lines are precise, sharp, and dripping with raw talent.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

Firm. I closed my eyes. I tried to paint in my mind. The lines were still wrong. I opened my eyes. She was licking my underarm now. Her tongue traced the muscle. The hair. The scent of me. She moaned against my skin. Her hand never stopped stroking my cock. I reached for the sketchpad beside the bed. Charcoal in my other hand. I started to draw her. The line came out clean. Sharp. Alive. I drew her eyes. The way they looked up at me. Endearing. Devoted. I drew her mouth. The way her lips wrapped around my balls. I drew her hair. The way it fell across her shoulder as she licked my underarm.

I threw my hair into a messy bun and put on some Nikes before going down. Mike was there in the kitchen making pancakes looking excessively hot. His gaze was fixed on the pan. with every moment his muscles stretched and relaxed. It was a pure sight of the Greek god. Then I looked on the other side Liam was sitting on the floor making a drawing. I walked towards him and got curious about what he was drawing. "What the hell is that, " I said, and couldn't help but laugh at his 2 years old drawing skills. "hey come on it's not that bad". he frowned and I laughed more. catching my breath I asked him

"Wow, that was so fast. I thought it was going to take hours or something. " "It's just a sketch; that doesn't take much time. " He explains as I stand a few steps away from him and Emerson turns the drawing to my view. My eyes widen at the sight of the beautiful craft he has created. He's right; it's more like a sketch but you can clearly tell which details are which and it looks so fucking beautiful. The outline of the way my hair rolls down my shoulders, the top that I slid off my shoulders to reveal the skin under and my hands on my crossed legs– everything is so fucking perfect and I can't believe Emerson Ford is capable of something like this.

—Meow— Fluffy rushed towards me as she saw me stepped in. “Ohh! My little fluffy.” I squatted as I carried her up on my hands and she jumped on my shirt as her little tiny claws held unto the fabrics of my shirt. “Oh! C'mon Fluffy.” I held her and pulled her closely as I rubbed my face on her white hairy skin. Looking at her brown eyes now, brought so much warmth and her floral scent calmed down my hyperactive nerves. The available maids had prepared dinner for us as we ate and fluffy won't give me the slightest freedom as she kept on playing around my legs with her ball and trying to climb my body.

I exclaimed in awe as I stared at the beautiful portrait of me. In a sultry allure, I stood in a cloud of hibiscus and sunflowers, and my strawberry-blonde hair flowed wildly. My skin shined, and I wore a pink robe — a long flowing dress that draped to the floor and trailed along in the grass. My brown eyes, rimmed by long black lashes, sparkled, and my lips were curved seductively. Even though the paint was smudged from the brush being used repeatedly to achieve its perfectionism, the artist—whoever they were—had given me an almost heavenly appearance. The drawing technique was exquisite, every stroke of the painting brush capturing me perfectly, and my features seemed as if they'd been mol

"Mom’s on the left, and Dad’s on the right. Mom has long hair like you, and Dad likes to wear short sleeves and long pants..." Watching her explaining her drawing, Melody smiled. "It looks great." "Where’s your drawing?" Lily asked. Christopher followed Lily's gaze, and saw Melody tracing a shape with a pencil on the white paper in front of her. "It’s not finished yet," Melody answered casually. She added a few more strokes to the paper as she spoke. The seemingly random movements made the cat active and vivid. Even the way its fur folded when it raised its paws were lifelike, as if it would jump out of the paper in the next second.