Art

A mess of paint trails the hardwood, our feet stamped throughout the house, our bodies messily created a pattern of beauty.

He laid out a white huge sheet, secured it, laid out the paints and brushes. I painted my favorite parts on him, he painted his on me. Our bodies open and exposed to each other, no shame or embarrassment, just honest and pure. I giggled as the brush glided along my neck and shoulders, moaned as the brush kissed my aroused areas. He kissed me sealing a small coat of color between our lips.

And then we fell into each other. Him deep in me, and I wrapped around him, as we moved the sheet collected our image, a reminder of our lust. Handprints mixed the colors of our flesh together, and droplets were proof of my many orgasms. Fluid movements from one end to the next, shallow face prints from when he had me bent over, heart shaped ass prints from when I was spread and open for his tasting.

The lines we left a token to hang in our home, a masterpiece unlike any other, an original by He and I, signed by seed as he aimed for my mouth, signed by my breasts as he kissed my back the second time.