Frisk Drawing Novels & Stories

"But Mr. Christopher told me you were hungry, so I thought I'd bring you a proper snack that isn't cookies." Waverly smiled and reached for the food. "Thank you," she replied, pulling a grape off of the stem. Felicity sat down on the edge of the bed. "Drawing again?" Waverly glanced down at her book. "Yeah, I've been having some weird almost superstitious feelings lately…I find sketching to be something that lets me express it." Felicity followed her gaze and stretched her hand out, touching the book. "Do you mind?" Waverly shook her head and Felicity picked up the sketchpad, flipping through the pages covered in eyes. "These…are these—?"

All she kept picturing was his cock, for some reason - how thick and heavy it felt in her hand, how perfectly it stretched her open, and the way it looked when he was hard and fully aroused. She made a small, frustrated sound before she put down the large brush and grabbed a small sketchbook instead. Her hand suddenly moved fast, almost like it was moving by itself. In just a few minutes, she had drawn a very detailed and realistic sketch of Sebastian’s cock - hard, veined, slightly curved upward, and glistening. She stared at the drawing and found herself cackling heartily. “Wow, look at how he is literally ruining my art career." -

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.

She finally felt at home with people who would love and care for her as much as she loved and cared for them. They didn't have much time to look at each other before Freya's mother grabbed her hand and gave her a paintbrush. Freya did a great job on the tie clip design, so she asked her to make a design for something else. Freya used a pencil to make a rough sketch. She wanted to make something warm and classy like Silas 's mother. She had a hard time adding colour with paints, though. She feared messing them up because she had never used them before.

“Probably not.” Maverick walked in slowly, judging the situation in front of him, he looked worried. “What are y’all doing?” I dropped my gaze to the opened sketchbook, going to grab it before Frankie held opened a page to show him. “Look at this, bro. She’s awesome.” Maverick’s mossy gaze slid to mine and he grabbed the sketchbook. Thoughts of everything I’d drawn in there since my freshman year surfaced. I was sure since he tormented me I’d drawn something resembling him once or twice.

"As long as your heavy muscles keep working out hard on the ice rink, absolute zero wolves on the circuit would ever mistake your asset for being my biological father." Ada remains completely speechless over his coffee. COLLINS PARKER POV The exact fraction of a second breakfast fuel concludes, Ada displays the raw design sketches flat on the table for my eyes to analyze. One of the detailed drawings originated from the professional ring designer's office, while the other simple sketch was hand-drawn by Ada’s own claws. After studying both layout options on the paper, my hand ends up pointing directly to Ada’s custom drawing.

Wren's whole body goes still. The spoon stops halfway to the pot, water hissing against the burner behind her, and for one full second she forgets to breathe at all. "What pictures, baby?" Fern doesn't answer right away. She opens the sketchbook instead, flips past pages of careful, precise drawings, houses and dogs and one recurring sketch of three stick figures holding hands under a tree, until she lands on a page near the back. It's a face. A rough, five-year-old attempt at a face, dark hair, a hard line for a jaw, done in the same grey pencil Fern uses for everything she isn't sure how to name yet.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” He kissed her on the forehead, the familiar warmth of her skin almost undoing him completely. Tessa grabbed his hand, tugging at it with excitement. “Come look! I made something.” Kris let her pull him across the room, each step feeling like a lead weight. She led him to the floor where a pencil drawing lay on a sheet of paper. Kris sat down beside her, feeling numb as he looked at the drawing. It was simple—just three stick people. A man, a woman, and a little girl in between them holding both of their hands.

Coloured chalks in hand, she is deep in concentration. The noisy chatter of the young adults as they take their seats behind her barely registering as she concentrates on the task in hand. She has already drawn the parted legs and rounded arse cheeks and was now working on the pussy lips, the outer labia. Her drawing was graphic in its anatomical correctness and state of arousal.

"Fuck, after that last one, I'll happily let you draw a pretty picture on my face." The girls smiled brightly and made their way to our side of the table. Brian gave each of them a black marker and flipped a timer. Hycinth was still wearing her heels, making it easier for her to reach me. I felt her draw quick lines on my cheeks and above my eyebrows, before drawing a circle on my nose and filling it in. "Times up!" Brian called out. "What did you draw?" I asked curiously, although I had an idea. She smirked, "You make an adorable pussy...cat."