Realistic Carnation Drawing Novels & Stories

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.

But then Carmen's expression brightened. "Wait," she said. "You drew your wife yesterday, yes? From your memory?" I nodded, pulling the ruined, rain-destroyed paper from my pocket and showing it to her. Carmen winced when she saw the smeared, unrecognizable mess. "The rain destroyed it," I said quietly. "Then you draw her again," Carmen said firmly. "You said you remember her face clearly now, yes? So you draw her again. And then we can see if she looks like the woman from the newspaper."

I massaged my chin thoughtfully and replied, “Realistic drawings. There is someone’s portrait I would like to learn how to sketch or paint.” He nodded, understanding my desire. “Realism is one of the hardest styles. I never got a chance to study it deeply because of many things happening in my life right now,” I added, a bit wistfully. “Alright,” he said with a reassuring smile. “We can start with color combinations. The colors, shadows, and highlights bring depth to a realistic painting. It’s a bit critical, but I am sure you can handle it.” I felt a surge of excitement. This was the beginning of a new journey, a chance to capture the essence of someone I admired on canvas. The road ahead m

She had big brown eyes, a round little face full of freckles, and wild brown curls that stuck out in every direction. She looked up at me and grinned like I had not almost stepped on her hand. “It’s okay! I was drawing that bush over there.” She pointed to a cluster of bright yellow roses nearby. “But something looks wrong and I can’t figure out what.” I sat down beside her in the grass without thinking. She handed me the notebook, and I looked at her sketch carefully. It was actually very good for a child her age , the petals were soft, the leaves full and round.

After ten more minutes as I finally finish my girl's portrait, Michael has finished the flower vase. That drawing is again amazing. Orange tulips in beautiful blue vase. But since it's just a flower vase and he did it really quickly, it's not something really great like the first drawing. Probably he wanted to finish the scenery drawing now itself.

*** "Very good! you praise my work, but your picture is even better!" "I'm pretty good at drawing non-excretory objects like landscapes and plants. But, if I paint a human face, I feel the expression is too flat and less lively!" "Then, try to draw my face! let me see the results!" "Re ... really? is that okay?" "Take it easy! I'll wait until you finish. Besides, I love being in this garden," "What a beautiful garden!" "Is it true?" "Yes! the flowers in this garden are also very beautiful,"

"You can do it, Cyan." I answered her with a simple nod and glared at the bird sculpture, before closing my eyes. In the darkness, I painted the bird, its wings opening up slowly and carefully, its beak parting and head-turning like it was truly alive. Then . . . ah, it really looked plain, though. The eyes and the color were dull. It would be better if its feathers had the shades of bright flowers and its eyes as though they were chipped from the stars— "What are you thinking, Cyan?"

His cheek was pressed to his arm, and directly in front of him was a drawing clipped to a wooden easel that he seemed to have been working on when exhaustion finally claimed him. The drawing was partially complete, showing the early stages of what would clearly become another portrait of me. My eyes lit up at the sight of this particular drawing. It was different from all the others, so realistic in its detail that I might have mistaken it for a photograph if not for the telltale marks of pencil work. It was rendered in black and white, every line and shadow perfectly placed with the skill of a master artist. The level of technical ability evident in the work took my breath away.

I don’t know why, but it just did. But then I lifted my hand to the flowers and touched my fingers to one of the petals of a vibrant red Carnation. Within a few seconds the Carnation wilted in front of my eyes and the vibrant red turned into a dull brick brown color. And I knew that that’s exactly what I’d do to Anaya if I even breathed the same air as her.

'I am sure he will love your drawing Mom,' I simply nod my head before we started to put colour on our canvas. I looked at her drawing from time to time and I smiled seeing how good she is in mixing colors. Amari decided to draw a big flower with five petals. Given her age, she is already good at drawing and I can't help but be proud that she got my talent. We stayed in the garden for an hour. I finished drawing Marcus's lips but it will still take me more hours to finish his whole face.