A Love Affair with Art Ch. 01

Dedicated to my dear friend "Richard" and morning coffee chats.

Requested In Private Feedback. A Love Affair With Art: Chapter One

These art events can get really busy with a substantial crowd milling around. People use these gatherings to do some networking, check out artists, or just want to get out of the house and wander. In my case, I'm the latter.

This is my perfect afternoon, strolling through what I like to refer to as Art Ally.

I can get a coffee, and aimlessly look at art. Occasionally, stop along the way to gaze a bit longer. Perhaps share a short conversation with another lookie loo who likes the same piece.

The wall displayed a couple spaces down catches my eye.

When I walked up to it, I stare for a moment, really soaking it in. I hadn't even noticed the artist crouched down at the bottom right corner working on some touch ups.

He looks up and asks if I have any questions he could answer.

I compliment him on his style then ask about his grand vision for this particular painting which has captivated me.

He seems shy, like he's searching for the words to expound his concept and inspiration.

I observe him as he nervously talks with his hands while he paints. It's rather cute.

No doubt he knew what he was talking about, just awkward and shy being put on the spot.

I responded back with a few details of my own, how his technique has worked for me when I have tried it myself.

"Oh, you're an artist too?" He inquired.

"Well, I guess I like to think so. I paint and sketch if that's what you mean. But it's just a fun hobby when I have the time. Nothing like this." I explained.

We introduced ourselves in the midst of our nerdery and continued on with our conversation. We talked for quite a while, discussing how each art piece has a story behind its inspiration.

We shared different mediums we've worked with, all the pros and cons to each one. Then moved on to little tips and tricks we might have in working with paints or charcoal.

Conversations which are a big yawn if you're not an art person, but I was having a blast. An instant common interest to share some ideas.

"I'm sorry, I hope I'm not distracting you. I will leave you alone so you can work." I offered.

He pops up from the ground and says, "Oh no, I've just finished. Please stay."

His smile when we came face to face was warm. He had a friendly and inviting presence.

"Well, since you're finished, would you mind taking my photo in front of your piece?" I asked.

He obliged, wiping his hands off on a rag.

When he handed my phone back, I smirk at his paint smeared hands. He cracked a shy smile back in the recognition.

"You know, some say the messiness of making art is a con..."

"... but I disagree, I think the mess I make is a pro." I offered.

"Yeah? How so?" he asked.

"Well, take using charcoal for instance. It gets everywhere right? Smeared on the paper, all over your finger tips and clothes." I explained.

"Definitely, I am covered with it when I use it." He confirmed.

"I like it because of the soft texture it has while shading. There's a relaxing element to it that I really enjoy." I revealed.

"Hmm, I guess I never thought of it that way." He said with a content smile.

He started moving around the space gathering various materials scattered around, putting them away in their proper storage.

"Here, let me help you." I say as I joined him in collecting supplies from the tables.

"Thanks for the help. You know, I usually go grab a coffee after I finish a mural. I sit and unwind, maybe post the piece on social media for viewing." He offered.

"I know a great coffee shop close by if you want to join me and chat longer." He finished, moving those nervous hands again while he spoke.

When we stepped inside the shop, I see it's a quaint little spot. My nostrils breathed in the most amazing aroma.

We found a table after we ordered and sipped while chatting. He told me how much he loved coffee and roasts his own beans. His fondness of the process was something he likened to creating art.

"Hmm, I guess I never thought of it that way. " I teased with a wink.

We shared a little giggle, amused by the callback.

We got to talking about social media and other platforms out there to share an art portfolio. He told me where I could see more of his work. Then shared that he had an upcoming exhibit he was working on lately.

"If you're interested, you could come by my studio for an early sneak peek." He suggested.

"Really? I don't want to be rude, are you sure you want me to see it before it's finished?" I asked.

He assured me it wouldn't be a bother and told me to reach out when I wanted to plan something.

I noticed hours had passed as we were approaching evening. So we parted ways and agreed we would be in touch.

After getting home and falling into the couch, I scrolled through his work online and followed so I would get updates.

He had so many great murals with vibrant colors, I suspected I could learn a lot from someone with such talent.

I messaged him a few days later, asking if he wanted some company to show off his work in progress.

He sent me the address and we planned for around 9PM, but added that I should bring a few things I have created.

When he answered the door, he was wearing a smock covered in paint and a welcoming smile.

"Sorry, I lost track of time. I was just about to get in the shower." He gestured to his paint mess.

"I'll just be a few minutes if you want to look around. Help yourself to a beverage in the fridge." He trailed off as he left the room.

I wandered his personal space as I did Art Ally, checking out various things he had hanging around. Random reference notes for ideas, photos of places he's been with an accompanying sketch displaying the inspiration.

I smiled to myself.

You can piece together the creator and their interest by simply observing what they observe. How they pull from the things around them for their next idea.

I heard the water turn off and soon after, footsteps coming. He was still wet from the shower, making his shirt cling to him as it absorbed the water.

His hair was loose and falling over his forehead leaving little droplets.

He led me to his studio, just past the kitchen and I admired the space immediately. It was spacious and every inch of it was covered with his essence.

Art hanging randomly or laying around from when he moved onto the next project suddenly. Paintings, sketches, supplies, and rags strewn about displaying the beautiful chaos of an artist's mind.

He watched me wander around his studio and studied me as I studied his art.

When I paused at a small collection of nude sketches, he cracked a bashful smirk when I glanced over at him. He gestured with his hand in adorable embarrassment.

I quickly assured him there was no need, they were incredibly detailed. Each one was lovely in its own unique pose and portrayal of the women captured in them.

I quietly confessed, "I have always been curious about what posing nude for a portrait would be like. How it would feel being the muse pulling focus of the artist. The intense eyes pouring over me to catalog every curve of my body."

As I finished, I could feel his eyes molesting my curves I just spoke of, those eyes searching for clues through my clothing as to what he might find underneath.

He smiled and offered, "I would be honored to sketch you if you were interested in the experience."

"It could be done in the style you would like, however you are comfortable." He added.

I thanked him for the offer and said I would think about it as we get to know each other better.

I continued my slow walk around the room looking at his environment while he hovered, poised to respond or answer a question I might have about something I see.

We reached the red sofa butted up against the wall, merely a fixture amongst several easels. I gestured, suggesting we sit to chat for a while.

He popped out of the room briefly to grab us some water, and I unzipped my sweatshirt to open up to some air.

The room felt warm, definitely cozy, but my body was radiating heat. I could feel it consistently building as he stood next to me the whole time.

When he returned, he plopped down on the couch next to me handing me the water.

I commented on the large canvas a few feet away which seemed to hover over us as we sat there. He revealed this was his big project for the exhibit he mentioned.

I studied it a bit as he explained his use of color. I commented on how the brush strokes were so graceful... it felt like they were dancing.

He blushed then extended his hand reaching for my "portfolio" I brought with me.

I felt a bit small handing over what was basically just a folder with a handful of sketches I happened to like. These drawings were obviously not on the same level as having a piece of your artwork displayed in an actual art show.

He flipped the cover open and took his time gazing over the first one, little curls began to form in the corners of his mouth as he smiled.

I watched him intently, admiring him in his genuine interest and focus to detail.

This time it was I who studied him, as he studied my art.

His steady hands and firm fingertips caressed the paper, making me think of how they would trace over my body.

It was there... that was the moment. I wanted to taste that smile.

I wanted to feel those fingertips journey over my curves with such precision.

My movement was so swift I barely thought about it before acting as I leaned in grabbing his face, pulling it to mine, covering his full lips.

He inhaled deeply as he immersed in the kiss, reaching for me letting the folder fall to the floor.

His hands explored my body with such curiosity.

First, caressing my face and down my neck, then finding their way down my chest.

As he groped my breasts, I hastily removed my sweatshirt.

Our make out was electric, sending jolts through my body sparking such a deep desire for more.

Every trail along my skin his hands traveled, was soon after traveled by his lips and tongue.

When he reached the waistline of my skirt, his eyes peered into mine as if silently asking. He paused, his hands resting near my zipper patiently.

I smiled at him with wonton eyes, and his fingers continued on to unfasten me.

I lifted my ass and he peeled my skirt and panties off in one swift motion. It took me by surprise and filled me with excitement.

His mouth devoured my sweetness. The tip of his tongue outlined my ridges and teased my hood with such precision, my body tingled everywhere.

Little jots of electricity travelled through me, igniting me.

His sweet moans and suckling sounds pleasured my ears as he enjoyed my succulent flavors.

The way he moved his tongue along my folds and clit felt like my pussy was the canvas, and his tongue was the paintbrush.

My body had never felt that high, the edge of it was near maddening.

As I felt my orgasm beckoning to me, I reached for his hair clutching with both hands. His strokes became deeper, pushing me to cum.

His sweet sounds suckling on my clit made it all too much, and my body surrendered. My legs shook and my entire body trembled.

My juicy pussy pulsed and seeped for him.

He lapped and drank my honey as if he were worshipping at an altar. I felt like a goddess the way he watched me, devoured me.

When he pulled his face back, he was glistening in my wetness. He wiped his face as I proceeded to sit up.

He moved in between my legs reaching to pull off my shirt. I unhooked my bra and discarded it as he was wrapping his arms around me, kissing my lips.

I could feel his cock pressed into my thigh, the throb of him made my pussy ache for it.

He scurried to unzip his pants while gently flicking and tugging my nipple with his teeth, grazing my areola with his stubble.

When his cock was free from his pants, he paused to lean back so I could see him. I look at his mouthwatering cock leaking for me, anticipating the feel of my silky walls.

When he removed his shirt, I touched his chest with my hands, feeling the warmth of his body.

I gently pushed him back and he started to lie back on the floor. I followed, slithering over his body to find the heat of his cock between my thighs.

His eyes looked up at me, his hands resting on my legs. He had such a glow about him, here in his space, beneath hisart.

I pushed my pussy down the length of his cock, watching his face overcome with pleasure. I could feel my wetness leak from us and dribble down his cock with every rock of my hips.

I fucked him slowly, making him feel all the space inside me.

His moans grew louder and his finger tips dug into my skin when he groped my hips.

My tits swayed and jiggled in our rhythm and my orgasm began to beckon to me again.

His control of my hips took over, he started to push and pull me faster. My hungry cunt was so eager to cum, grinding into him deeper.

When he reached his climax, he leaned up throwing his arms around me, shaking as he came. His body trembled and spasmed, sharing the movement with mine as he held me tight.

I continued to rock my hips gently massaging his cock until his body came to rest.

His hot labored breaths covered my neck and shoulder as he recovered. When his arms loosened their grip, his mouth kissed my neck finding its way to my lips.

As we found our way back to our senses, we laid together on the red couch. The warmth of our naked bodies snuggled us in for the night with his arms wrapped around me.

My eyes grew heavy pondering theart in this soft ambience, inviting me to drift off.

Disclaimer: All characters depicted are fictional consenting adults over the age of 18+ as should be the audience enjoying them. No part of my [OC] may be reposted to other platforms or shared behind a paywall.

Thanks for reading!