Lukisan Wanita Telanjang Novels & Stories

Cute and dreamy. But the others… She was naked in most of them—shamelessly so. One sketch had her bent over, her spine arched in a deep, sensual curve, ass high in the air, thighs parted, hair spilling over her shoulder. What? My eyes widened as I flipped. She was straddling… someone, her head thrown back in abandon, lips parted like she was mid-moan, nails digging into imaginary skin. Her breasts were drawn in exquisite detail, nipples tight, hard, mouthwatering.

Then she saw the girl. Liana stood beneath the largest print in the show, a ten-foot-tall image of herself sprawled across white silk, thighs open, fingers buried between them, head thrown back in a silent scream of release. In the photograph her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, skin flushed rose and gold. In the flesh she wore a slip of silver fabric that barely qualified as a dress, nipples dark against the thin material, legs endless. She was staring at the image of herself the way someone might stare at a lover caught in the act: possessive, angry, aroused. Elena’s pulse kicked hard. She crossed the room, heels silent on the polished concrete.

I moaned when he reinserted his member and started thrusting into my still eager pvssy. I’m now facing the mirror of the dresser in the bedroom while I’m applying light makeup to my face. This is the night of Luca’s gallery show at his Paradiso Galleria. After a few days of our sessions and f*ckery on the side, my modeling for him is over. I’ve seen his artworks featuring me, and I was so happy and satisfied! I’m also proud of myself because I did this thing, and I did justice to Luca’s painting of me. All of the paintings turned out beautifully. You can really see the seduction, desire, and mysterious aura of it, and I can't believe it's me. Although you can't see my face, you can't tell th

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.

Chapter 4 The gallery was filled with different people, its high ceilings filled with the hushed murmurs of patrons as they wandered between canvases and sculptures. Leonardo’s latest collection Flesh and Surrender had its own the space: it showed naked bodies twisted together , women on top of each other men pressed against each other. And at the center of it all, standing beneath the harsh glow of a spotlight, was me, his muse, completely naked legs spread wide with socks on my juices dripping down my cunt for everyone to see

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