60. Keep Painting #3
“You know, the last figure modeling I did for you, I was trying desperately hard not to humiliate myself.” I crooned as I loosened my tie slowly, watching her eyes heat.
“You have no idea how hard I had to focus to stay flaccid.” I undid my belt and stepped out of my pants before I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and eagerly shed that too.
“Is that why it took you so long to come out of the bathroom?” She chuckled as my cock bounced in front of her impatiently.
“Yeah, you have no idea .” I reached for her.
“Ah, ah, ah. Wait your turn.” She scolded, smiling to herself as she started smearing my body with different colors of paint using her fingers.
“What if I don’t want to?” I threatened.
She clicked her tongue. “Too bad. I have a vision for this.”
I swiped paint across her cheek quicker than she could get away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got a vision of my own, and as you know, I’ve never professed to be a gentleman.”
“ WAAAAIIIIIIT. ” She screamed as I captured her in my arms, covering her clothes in paint— my clothes. Her shriek of laughter was music to my ears as I used about three percent of my strength to wrestle her onto the canvas before finally pinning her down.
Her giggles turned breathy when I claimed her mouth with mine. “We need a honeymoon.” She moaned, “So we can stay in bed all day and have sex.”
“Your back-to-back speed round this morning wasn’t enough?” I chuckled, sliding her shirt up over her head.
“I’ll never get enough of you.” She moaned as I tweaked a nipple with blue and green fingers, making her back arch off the canvas. Beautiful.
“After the merger, we’ll go anywhere you want, for as long as you want.” I promised, getting even harder as I considered being able to keep her hostage in bed for days on end. I reached up to the workbench, knocking things over as I frantically grabbed for a brush. “Paint something for me, baby.”
“Now?” she asked breathily, already writhing beneath me like a fucking goddess.
“Now.” I flipped her over onto her hands and knees and slid her little shorts down her thighs, groaning when I realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Do as you’re told and pick up the brush.” I murmured, and she let out a breathy laugh and obeyed.
Her body trembled as I traced her with my cock, teasing and stretching while she doodled a shaky little pink thing— a damn strawberry .
“Make it a garden of them.” I ran a paint-covered hand down her spine, leaving a handprint on her ass.
“Yes, husband.” She breathed, and I ached for her. For my wife .
The little strawberry garden was almost finished by the time she was glistening and begging for me.
So I notched myself against her, paint covered hands sliding into the crease of her hips as I sunk into the world’s most perfect pussy with a groan of ecstasy and a quick thrust—she cried out and the paintbrush slid across the strawberries, ruining them, just like I was about to ruin her.
“Oh, God.” She moaned when I pulled out and snapped back in. “ Yes.”
“Come on, baby, can’t you focus?” I set a languid pace. “Keep painting.”
“Feels too good.” She whimpered, palms flat on the canvas for stability, jolting forward every time I bottomed out.
“Then we’ll do it together, yeah?” I wrapped her hair around my fist, panting as I lifted her mouth to mine for a searing kiss, as paint slid between our bodies.
“Be a good girl and pick up the brush for me.” She whimpered as I lowered her, trembling head to toe as she grasped the brush again.
“Don’t let go, wife. ” I crooned and thrust hard—her hand slipped, streaking across the canvas as she cried out.
“See, pretty girl.” I thrust again, painting another streak, and another, and another. “Look what pretty art we make.”
“C-Carter.” She begged as we shifted across the canvas, thrust after thrust, painting our love story stroke by stroke. Priceless and one of a kind. Just like her.
“Yeah, that’s right, beg me.” I purred into her ear, executing a perfectly sinful method of retribution for the cottage.
“ Please. ” She whimpered, and I could tell she was getting close—I could feel her fluttering around me, tight and perfect, could see her stretching to accommodate me as I gave her everything she deserved and more.
“Fuck, you look so good taking me like this,” I rasped, mesmerized as I watched the place where we were joined.
With paint getting too close to intimately important places anyway, our little game quickly gave way to frantic, demanding desire, and when her voice was raw and she was trembling around me with her climax, I finally spilled myself into her before collapsing onto the canvas.
I dragged her on top of me, painting my chest with her colorful tits. “Thank you, husband.” She murmured, eyes heavy, completely satiated. “For everything”
“You are so very welcome, wife.” I ran my fingers down the length of her back, I loved that word, loved calling her that, loved being her husband.
Meow. I turned my head and chuckled, realizing we’d had an audience this whole time.
“Ranger, no,” Sara warned, “stay over there!” But it was too late. That darn cat was obsessed with Sara, followed her around the house, day and night.
Ranger wasted no time sauntering right across the painting, tracking little paw prints everywhere as he made a beeline for our favorite person.
I chuckled when he climbed right on top of Sara’s back and perched like a little bug, purring so loud, I could practically feel it vibrating through Sara’s body.
Sara groaned with a laugh. “I guess it’s fitting that everyone gets to make their mark on our family portrait.
” I smiled, obsessed with the start of our little family.
“Why don’t you take me up to the shower for round two?
” Sara gave me a soft, satiated smile. “Because as good as you look naked, I need to get you cleaned up. I might have a little surprise for you too.”
“Do you now?” I smirked, because the truth was, I had one last secret of my own. This right here was my family, my future, my everything, and it was time to let the world know she was mine . No more playing house in secret.