#409) Let’s Just Say…

Let’s just say that this is a totally fictional, torrid fantasy, one semi-based on this recurring wet dream I’ve been having while my lover is away. I’m not sure that I can relate it to you in all the vivid detail that keeps waking me up early, I’m not that skilled a writer.
Let’s say that the main character is an artist, let’s call her Jennifer. She likes to stand before her easel and canvas in the nude, while inspiration takes her. Today Jen starts to sketch something ribald, a portrait of her lover, or at least the part that keeps surfacing in that fevered wet dream nightly. Jen sketches from memory in pencil, is pleased and surprised that the composition shapes up as readily, as realistically as it does. While the graphite in her right makes deft strokes on the flat surface, the back of her left hand grazes across her pubic bush. Static electricity fairly crackles at this touch, so her fingertips go in for further exploration, and find her nether folds humid.
Jen tells herself as she works that this is altruistic. I’m not just doing this of Roy, I’m doing it for Roy. She makes a few more strokes, her right bringing the image to life, her left bringing her libido to life. She steps back to gain some perspective, sits side-saddle on a nearby stool. Half her ass is seated with her leg crooked up on the rungs, while the other leg is outstretched, her bare foot on the floor. Let’s just say that from this posture, Jen reaches out and picks up several paintbrushes. The brushes aren’t new, but are clean, the bristles soft as she rubs them across her thigh. She’s used her fingers on herself so often during her lover’s absence. It’s as if she’s growing immune to their touch. So she touches the brush’s bristles to her sex, brushing back and forth, working the nodule into full arousal. She brushes some of her jism across her erect clitoris and gasps. An idea occurs to the artist. I’ll paint Roy’s beautiful cock in watercolors. I’ll mix my watercolors using my juices. The portrait will be sexual because it’s derived from sex. I just need something to capture my cum in. She rifles through her art supplies, comes up with an empty baby food jar. Perfect, she tells herself as she unscrews the lid.
No longer altruistic, now it’s all about Jen. She lays her tummy across the seat of that stool and gets busy brushing her clit with that brush. Jen is one of those rare (but growing in number) females who have discovered how to make themselves squirt in orgasm. She brushes hard, fast, cums a little bit in the jar that she holds between her legs. That’s good, she tells herself between panting heavily, but I need it to be great. Ambidextrous as all true artists must be, Jen holds the jar in hand while she jams the handle of a fresh brush up her sensitive anus, working herself into a lather. She leaves the handle in place sticking out of her rear, picks up the other brush and uses it on her clit some more. Then she inserts a finger, crooks it so as to find that elusive G-spot, and…Yes! Let’s say that she cums harder, squirting more, partially filling the jar. The term “brushstrokes” takes on a whole new meaning as she goes back and forth between her tools, working her clit with one’s bristles, working her tight anus with the handle of another, cumming and catching it. Whatever profundity the creative idea might first have held is lost in the profanity as she manipulates her artist’s tools up her ass’ tooter.
Let’s just say that Roy misses Jennifer just as much as the other way around. With effort, he wraps up his meetings and flies home earlier than expected. It was certainly earlier than Jen expected when he walks through the door and catches her red-handed (or more accurately, red-faced and red-rectumed).
“Honey, you’re home… early! I missed you… so much!”
“It looks it,” he says deadpanned.
“I was just… keeping my lady parts warmed up and in good working order… for you…!” It seemed like too much to try to convince him of what she was actually doing, why she was doing it.
“Well… is your sex working, as you work that brush all over your clit? …Is your perfect little butt hole working okay… as you work that brush handle in and out of it so roughly?” Jen can only blush more and stammer harder, and try to hide the jarful of jism. “…Speaking of warming-up…”
Roy takes Jen by the elbow. He marches her over to the couch. Her steps are mincing little ones with that brush stuck up her butt, and it wags back and forth like a dog’s tail. He sits, pulls her over, holds the handle in place with his left hand as he starts to spank her magnificent big bottom (let’s just say). He, too, is ambidextrous as he paddles her fanny good. It’s akin to rubbing ones’ tummy as one pats ones’ head, but he does this adroitly, one might even say deftly.
Let’s just say that these actions please Jennifer, that she climaxes, that she hungers for more, that once is never enough for this fun couple.
As she mounts him and begins bouncing on his wood, as he fucks her while playing with that wooden handle still protruding from her posterior, she tries to explain.
“You see… I was thinking that I could create a sexy piece using my…”
“Let’s say that you told me all about it, even if you didn’t…” he smirks.
Jen knew by now when Roy couldn’t care less. So she quit elucidating. She’d show him when her artwork sold for millions. Maybe she’d make it a multi-media piece, and yank a handful of his pubes out while he slept…
Now, let’s just see if you find this story plausible. Even though we all know that it’s a total fabrication, obviously.

13 responses to “#409) Let’s Just Say…”

    • You are the second person to tell me recently that they are staying nude while blogging, erosprism; I LOVE it!
      But do you mean to tell me that my storytelling is arousing? So arousing that you have to do something about it? Oh, my, I never thought that my innocent writing could have such consequences! Why, people will think I’m being provocative on purpose…

      Liked by 3 people

      • Yes, I don’t usually work from home and my roommate is out of town for work. So I decided to take advantage of it. Back when I was younger and lived alone, I loved being able to walk around naked and work on stories as well. I’m enjoying the opportunity to do this again! 😁

        As for your storytelling, I don’t think you should play so coy. You knew very well what might come of it if people read your naughty tale. It certainly got a rise out of me! And your just over their feigning innocence. Someone needs a spanking asap! 😜

        Liked by 3 people

      • I never knew you to be cruel, erosprism, and that’s how I interpret this ruling. You may be judge and jury, but not executioner. You watch as I mount the scaffold, stand proudly as I yank my panties down, sending a shiver through my buttocks, bend well over. Robert would get to do the honors across my proffered backside. The leather brings out soft sounds from deep down my throat, but I add to them, saying things like, “I was a tease,” and “I was falsely coy,” and “I deserve this!” Would that satisfy, sir?

        Liked by 2 people

      • That would be a great start for certain, but we all know that after a thorough working over with the leather, you would be a soaked mess. I feel sure that he would then need to take you in your needy holes as we all watched with great pleasure. I’m sure that many in the crowd would have a very difficult time not reaching into their own pants to play with themselves (or at least adjust themselves) as they witnessed such delicious retribution.

        Liked by 2 people

  1. Let’s just say your writing is wonderful. And the reason I say it is that it’s soooo true.
    I am sure you have many male followers who love what you write and the pics you send. I am definitely one of them. This was a very good post. Thank you sooo much for the time and effort you obviously put into this and all your previous posts.
    You’re the best!!!

    Liked by 3 people

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