Chinese – Watercolor – Lesson

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


I was teaching watercolor at the local craft store. Most of my students were ladies between forty and eighty. I was twenty-six, tall and thin, and a walking erection. Not an obnoxious erection, but a conservative one, I hadn’t been with anyone in over a year. And every patch of lady flesh was like soft butter smeared across hot bread. I hated my job, the arts never pay well, but it had its perks, and a certain Tuesday was one of them.

She looked like a school teacher with short hair. Is it politically incorrect to say a Lesbian-do? I have nothing against Lesbians as I am bisexual myself. I think everyone is if the universe lines up for it on a certain discrete afternoon. Did I mention I hadn’t been with anyone in over a year? I think it was closer to five, yes, suicidal thoughts come with that sort of neglect, but I am not that suicidal. I think everyone is though if the universe lines up for it on a certain discrete afternoon. Her name was Shannon, she was a thirty-year-old English High School teacher. And taken her first watercolor class on a summer Tuesday afternoon.

“Welcome Shannon, I am Jasper, like Jasper Johns.”

“Hi Jasper like Jasper Johns.”

I must confess men have two investigatory boxes that they check when contemplating a lady. The first is her face: Do their eyes give you an erection all by themselves. Is her mouth kissable? Are her ear’s cute little things, or elongated vampire ears? And the second, her body: I now will sound like a son of a bitch, but a perfect ass trumps everything that is less than par on its own. Breasts can very well do the same. I seem to be objectifying women, but men are more visual, and ladies are more audible or so they say, somewhere.

Shannon’s face was beautiful but slightly masculine maybe in the cheekbones. Her lips and white teeth were perfect. She did have vampire ears that where vertically four inches. Something that I will never forget. One of her brushes got loose and rolled down the table.

She screeched her chair backwards and dug a left knee in the plastic while stretching for her brush. Sharp quick movements unleashed a jiggling of her ass that was wrapped tight in purple spandex. It was phenomenal and all the blood that was swimming around my skull rocketed down to my testicles and I almost passed out.

“How is the class coming along today, Jasper?” Marion said. (Marion which means bitter.)

Marion was a young bald gay sculptor who was always the color of honey. I sensed he saw the entire ass leering event play out. I liked him at first, but he started to get controlling. Like he would never let one opportunity of shared eye contact slide; and give me marching orders over something. Avoiding him in the labyrinth of a craft store was like a daily video game we both played. Although I hated it came to that. My erection sunk like a dehydrated daffodil to Marion’s voice.

“It is coming along great, Marion,” I said.

“He is a wonderful teacher,” Shannon said. Her ballooned breasts snugged inside a black tank top looked like Elvira’s. My re-erection izmir escort bayan bruised my testicles with “blue balls”.

“Thank you,” Marion said.

A “thank you” that was so short and monotone a fucking robot that shorted out in mid-sentence could not cut it closer with more abruptness and indifference.

“Listen, I have to go,” Shannon said. “Do you do private lessons at people’s homes?”

Sometimes a woman can speak a sentence and you don’t have to worry about anything other than showing up. It is like a real-life porno scheduled as an appointment and you just need to look and dress better then when she said it.

I lied to her. “I have done a few of those, yes.”

Her key’s jingled like Santa Clauses sleight as she packed up her stuff. The sun beamed off the white linoleum floor and blazed my depression. I watched her ass bounce off into the parking lot. And I looked down to see her sheet of paper folded in my hand. In purple cursive-ness was an address, phone number, and smiley face.

I looked to my left and met Marion’s stone blue eyes. “Isle four needs restocking of those fraternity stickers, so after you clean up, Jasper.”

I wanted to scream: You need to get laid you miserable mother fucker. But I cleaned the classroom in agony instead. And having no patience or discipline. I called Shannon at Six PM from the craft store’s parking lot.

“I can come over to your house Saturday at 2PM; if that is okay?”

“That is perfect, I can make lunch too.”

My erection nearly punctured my orange corduroy pants. I glanced back and saw Marion’s blue-eyed leering from behind the window. I think he was telekinetic because I actually heard. You need to bring in those shopping carts before you go. I ignored it whether it was real or not and sped off.

I woke up Saturday morning and thought the more professional I appear, the better. I shaved, even the back of my neck. I sliced cold pressed 300-pound sheets of watercolor paper with a brand-new cutter’s blade. I ironed and folded my blue painter’s apron. I brought a stack of watercolor painting books on birds and portraits. I soaked my Croc’s in the swimming pool and sprayed my belly button with Drakkar. I ingested my leather wallet with three purple Trojans and purchased an aluminum box of spearmint Altoids.

The sky was blue. A perfect blue sky reminded me of a plethora of fine asses hanging out of thongs alongside the local beach road. And is always the case when driving it under a perfect blue sky. The only danger is whiplash. Many times, cars controlled by horny males, bump into each other. It has happened to me several times. There is no road rage because everyone’s blood is pooled away from their skulls and into their testicles. We all rather drive to the local restroom and jerk off then fight.

Shannon’s home was a townhouse with a fenced in patio square in the front. I could see her top half over the fence squeezing a pair of hedge clippers. I walked around to my trunk and grabbed out two wooden easels, a grey tacklebox, and art books. escort izmir

The sidewalk was pristine, like just pressure cleaned. I came to her gate and saw her short golden hair and breasts hanging loose in a white half t-shirt tied around her waist. I could see her belly button was an “innie”.

“Come on in, hun.”

I opened the gate and she was standing on a stepping stool. Her thigh was bare from her hip to her little toe. I figured she was in a bathing suit and the sun slapped me towards a patio table. “Can I put my stuff…”

“Sure, anywhere.” she said. “You thirsty?”

“Are you having something?”

“You want a drink or not, hun?”

She carried authority in that question. A mix of school teacher’s and subtle flirtation that’d be emphasized by what I was about to see: a beautiful bubble ass in a thong that was so ridiculous in fabric volume that a magic marker scrape would suffice. I fantasized for days about her ass covered in spandex and here it was loose, unwrapped, unleashed, and wobbling in the sunlight encased by a privacy gate. My cock was marble with a heartbeat.

“You like screw drivers?” she said.

My legs gave out and I landed on a cream-colored cushioned wicker chair.

“Yooose.” Fuck, did she hear that?

She came out of the blackness of her home with two yellow glasses. She handed one to me and sat at the table. I was thinking I could still fuck this up. I am a loser like that. Should I stay on course as a teacher? Or bring up her sweet bottom, baking in the summer sun, as a distraction.

“Is this better than that craft store?” she said.

“Oh yes, much.”

My voice cracked. I needed to uncrack it. I drank the yellow stuff and it burned my throat. My erection leaped up like a mailbox flag and I crossed my right leg over my left.

“So, tell me about yourself Jasper.”

“I am a failed artist and now teach. I love watercolor. I love teaching. I like it around here: the sun and the beach.”

She finished her drink. “I see.”

Her home so far was impeccably clean. I could have licked the pavement and her ass. The house puffed out strawberry perfume blasts of invisible vapors. Maybe it was her hair too. I heard Bob Marley playing soft inside, maybe her bedroom upstairs? Her ass was so perfect that I could easily suck her vampire ears like fruit popsicles. How do I start the lesson? I cannot move with this erection. I swallowed every puddle of my drink.

“You want a refill?”


I needed to move. I walked around the courtyard and the vodka numbed my insecurity a bit. We try to outmaneuver our insecurities especially around half naked women: how do I balance sensitive artistic sissy with bad boy muscle?

“Should I set up the easels?”

She popped out of the cold blackness of her threshold with two more yellow drinks. “You are the boss.”

When I heard “boss”. Premature gizz chilled my inner thigh.

I wanted to say, I am getting drunk, lets fuck the lesson and fuck. But I didn’t want it to be like that either. izmir escort My head was a ticking time bomb, with thoughts that where tightly wrapped sticks of dynamite with a wick dangling the courtyard coming from her two perfect ass cheeks. My thoughts where no longer in words, just visuals of her shapes and how they transformed in the sunlight. I spoke in tongue, now vodka numbed tongue.

“I wilp set those here so we can paint your Gawdenia plant.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she said.

I stood there like I have seen my drunk father stand so many times with his hands on his hips and a bobbing head. A bobbing head filled with an engineer brain trying to stuff in the beautiful colors of his garden in lieu of calculus formulas. And a river of blood doused with gin to speed up that process. My erection raised my green cargo shorts and I could no longer hide it. I sort of didn’t give a fuck.

“Hun, come here.”

I walked over, obviously erected, holding two wooden easels. She smiled. Unbuttoned my shorts. Unzipped my shorts. Pulled them down to my ankles then pulled off my checkered boxers. The eye of my slanted cock store at her Adams Apple. I was paranoid to say anything. I have a talent for fucking things up with a bad choice of words. She kissed its head and stuck the entire thing in her mouth.

“Oh my God.” I said.

She slurped and slurped and tickled under my nuts with her fingertips. I raised my head up and felt my brow getting sunburn. I saw two clouds, one that looked like a commercial airline and the other, an Irish Setter; juxtaposed. Her hand pulled me, and I followed her up a stair case. I was chilled at first, but she led me to a teal queen bedspread. I ripped it open and climbed underneath.

On the pillow, her two wild tits punched my face until I palmed both of them still. I let one hang and put a hickey on it for two minutes. They were Double-D with good nipples and tasted like summer. She unfolded latex down my cock, and I jumped up to my knees with the hardest cock I ever had. I kissed her lips, tasted her candy cane tongue, molested her bare ass, squeezed her bare ass and turned her around very carefully.

“I knew you had it in you,” she said.

I smacked her ass and watched it wobble. She was bent over with her tits smooshed on the covers and her ass aiming at the ceiling fan. I lined up and slid my cock in.

“Oh, fuck,” I said.

She had those 1980 sliding mirror closet doors and I watched my ass shake as I dug deeper inside her. I held her cold tits for dear life and stuck my entire soul into each thrust. My thumb found her lips and it slid into her warm French kisses. I pounded her ass with an enthusiastic rhythm: clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

“Oh, baby girl, I am fucking coming, baby girl,” I said.

“Come inside me,” she said.

“I am pounding this pussy, huh?” I said.

“Oh, you are.” She said.

“You gonna be my Saturday afternoon…”

“Uh…yeah…yes baby.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.” It all spilled out.

Five years of hell spilled out between her beautiful milky ass cheeks. I held up her four-legged horse stance with outright exhaustion. I flipped her around and landed between her thighs and put my tongue in her mouth.

“Can we order Chinese food?” I said.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir