Lukisan Wanita Telanjang Novels & Stories

This leads to much heated debate among connoisseurs, which is strange, considering how few have actually seen the originals. The drawings were beautifully executed, explicit and detailed, the nearest thing to photography produced at that time. The first example, coyly titled The Morning Toilette, was of a lady reclining on a four-poster bed, skirts hitched high, exposing the dark wisps coating her mons veneris. Her legs were wide apart and her maid knelt between them, while another servant leaned across, fingers toying with her mistress’s large bare nipples.

For instance, there was a rear-side shot that showed her waist was uncovered, it showed her bare side from armpit to knees with most of her bottom, but was too far to the rear to get her exposed nipple (the girl had no sideboob) or any more than a hint of her rear cleft. They also took some graphic shots that we would keep for ourselves. Li would sometimes stare for hours at the one, a landscape shot showing navel to knees with back of the dress spread like a pair of open wings, that focused on her exposed open pussy, with the red and blue accents and the dragon tat. She had a print of her own, while I kept a blown up (larger than actual size) one in my office, on my wall for all to see. It

Encouraged, I bring out the sketchbook lying on top of the others and flip through to the first page. A gasp escapes me as I stare at the picture staring back at me. It's me... completely naked. It is a picture of me lying down on a bed, one hand cupping my breast and the other between my legs with my head thrown back and a look of utter pleasure on my face. I flip to the next page expecting to maybe see the nature drawing that Lorenzo talked about. That's not what I see. Instead of a picture of a bird or a waterfall, a picture of me wearing just a bra and seated on the countertop at the beach house is what I find.

Moving from one wall to the next, I came face to face with a painting I didn't recognize. In fact, I hadn't even been the one to place it there. Looking at the little white slip of paper next to it-the artist statement, all it read was: Guilt-free Pleasures, Realism. There was no artist to claim it. Depicted in the piece was an olive-toned woman lying down on her back, completely naked. One hand was placed on her chest while her other was placed down at her core.

You could feel the atmosphere of your favorite time of year - autumn. Leah's gaze, wandering through store windows, was caught by two paintings in gilded frames, hanging surrounded by shelves of books and art supplies. One of the works depicted a red-haired girl in a short shirt. She was sleeping and at the same time floating in the air, touching the muddy surface of the swamp water with her fingertips and feet. It was as if invisible hands were grabbing her under the lower back, and she, bending in a shape unnatural for the spine, remained frozen in time. Another work was a parody of the “Vitruvian Man”, only instead of a man, the figure of a naked woman was placed in a circle and square. W

But that wasn't what made her breath hitch. On the walls were paintings. And not just any paintings. Paintings of naked bodies engaging in nasty things. One big canvas, held a hyper realistic painting of a woman on her knees, throat bulging around a thick black cock. Another painting was a muscled man on all fours, face slack as two men were slammed inside his ass and mouth. The biggest piece was a woman sprawled on a huge bed covered in red drapes, legs spread wide, a fat prick was buried in her slick pussy.

The eight remaining paintings were there, in their positions on the walls, slightly filmed with the residue that smoke leaves on everything it touches, a thin grey veil that did not obscure them but altered their quality, made them look as though they were being seen through something, through a gauze of aftermath. He stood in front of the largest one. It was not part of the abstract series, it was a piece Lila had completed in the early weeks of the commission, before the abstract direction had been introduced, a figurative work that was entirely and purely hers. A woman standing at a window, her back to the viewer, looking out at a city that was rendered in deep blues and warm ambers, the

The prince seems to be obsessed with the woman, probably even masturbated while looking at the images, making him cringe and leave the bed immediately. He tore down the other tapestries and saw the same woman in different settings, some seemed to be taken from portraits while most are candid shots. He even found one where the woman is bathing naked on a river but a few leaves obscured the important parts. Such a shame she was really pretty. She even kind of looks like Ruby. "What the fuck..."

An arrow in the corner allowed them to scroll amongst pictures, some were familiar and others they were seeing for the first time. Melissa scrolled, one after another they sighed as no apparent useful information showed. “Wait wait go back!” Lola leaned in and looked at one of the paintings. “There, is that…” She grabbed the mouse and zoomed in on a woman in the back holding a torch, her eyes had been painted so lifelike and it seemed as though she was throwing a nasty glare at a couple by a rosebush. “…is that your mom?” Lola asked and pressed her finger next to the face of the woman.

Masculine in its restraint, yet unmistakably lived in. Elizabeth slipped off her heels at the entry, bare feet silent on the cool floor. Her eyes drifted to the art, several pieces caught her immediately. Framed photographs and paintings of women entwined: soft curves pressed together, mouths open in ecstasy, hands gripping thighs, backs arched. Lesbian erotica rendered with reverence, beautiful, unapologetic, sensual. One in particular: two women on silk sheets, one straddling the other, heads thrown back, fingers buried deep. The composition was raw yet tender.