"C'mon, it'll be fun! Worth it," you plead.
I look at you incredulously. "You can't be SERIOUS! You can't be. Serious."
You grab my hand, ignoring my qualms and reservations. You pull me up the stairs to our bedroom, flinging open the double doors like a showgirl on a game show, revealing our king-size bed, adorned with plain uniform white sheets, white pillows, and a brass headboard. At the foot of the bed is an empty trunk, which we've never used, but on top of it are five paint cans, filled to capacity.
"It didn't matter what I said! You were gonna force it on me either way!" I complain.
"What are you complaining about? Don't be such a square. Let loose, this is for your own good." you counsel.
I realize the stupidity in which I protest, and submit to your will. You order me to lie on the bed. I comply. You cock your head, and tell me to get off the bed. I roll my eyes.
"What are you playing at now?"
"You know what the plan is, don't you?" you ask. "Let's not beat around the bush. Well, let's not beat around the bush just yet. Strip."
I finally take a deep breath and let myself slip into your fantasy wholeheartedly. I unbutton my collared shirt, pulling it up to untuck it, and let it slide down my arms onto the floor. You watch with a captivated amusement, a slight smile pulling at your mouth. Your tight black yoga pants bunch as you cross one leg over the other, and your ample breasts are pushed up and to attention by your arms, which you've crossed in front of you.
I begin to pull my plain white tee up my muscled stomach and you rush over, unable to merely watch, slide your hands up my stomach, following the path of my retreating tee shirt. As I pull my shirt up and over my head, your hands, still tracing a path, go up and over my shoulders, eventually clasping behind my neck. I smile and grab you around your waist, pulling you against me. You smile up at me and offer your lips for sacrifice. I give you a small peck, to see your reaction. You wait expectantly, and when I don't kiss you again, you pout. I laugh out loud and press my lips against yours. As our kissing intensifies, our mouths open together, and our tongues confidently meet, embracing, flickering, retreating, and then attacking with renewed vigor. You wiggle your ass closer to me, grinding against my growing manhood. Your hands at the back of my neck begin to tickle up and down my neck, barely touching the hairs that are raised. My tongue betrays my enjoyment.
You suddenly use all your willpower to break away. "I want to do what we said we'd do!" You pout.
"I love your pouting! Pouting will only get you what you want," I warn you. "Don't do it unless you know you want what you wish for."
"I want it!"
"Done." I flash a satanic grin. My hands drop to my waistline and I unbuckle the button on my jeans. The zipper zips down before my captivated audience of one. I shimmy the jeans down my tree trunk quadriceps and leave them in the growing pile of my clothes. I am left standing with only my navy boxers on, conspicuously adorned with humanoid wolves wearing university sweaters. I know you love them and I blush as you give me the look that lets me know that you love them, and you love that I hate that you love them.
My boxers are made prominent by a half erected tent in the middle. "You're a work of art," you breathe. "... and you're about to be immortalized. Strip more and lie down."
I slip my last piece of clothing off, revealing a half-cocked male masterpiece. Not limp but not hard; it looks like the nose of a dog sniffing for a smell. I lie down and you grab the blue paint can. You order me to close my eyes and relax. My defined muscles relax into
semi-distinctive curves as I let my body calm. My cock is slumped to one side, dejected. You begin at my feet, letting a dribble of blue paint fall onto the bed. It tickles my right big toe, and I snap my foot in minor surprise.
The paint works its way up my leg, slowly, in zigzags, giving me visible goosebumps, my hair standing on end. Higher and higher the paint comes, till you're pouring it right onto my upper thigh. My cock gives an imperceptible twitch, and I imagine your smile.
"It's edible," you say. "The paint, I mean."
Still only a drizzle, you trace a blue line up over my pelvic bone to my lower abdomen, coming around the top in a wide arc and finally letting the smallest stream hit the side of my shaft. Growing like a mythical magical beast, my cock springs to life slapping my painted stomach as it collapses in its erectness. You let the stream increase in volume until you dump the
contents of the paint can onto my body all at once. My eyes flick open and I sit up, paint splashing in all directions. I open my mouth to reprimand, to say anything, but I am speechless when I see you in midair, landing on me like
a pouncing cat, clothed against my naked skin. You grind your body against mine, your clothes adding to the friction, your face nuzzled in the crook of my neck.
I writhe against your onslaught, not in resistance but in compliance. I push you half off of me and nearly rip your black tee shirt off, giving a low sigh of approval at your lacy black bra. You, straddling my blue waist, swing your head to get your wavy blonde hair out of your face and unclasp your bra. You let the straps slip to your elbows, but don't let me get a glimpse of your perfect breasts just yet. You give me a look of superiority, pause, and then, with a flourish, let the bra fall off, and you whip it over your shoulder. Your pert and scrumptious breasts, topped with lively pink nipples, eye me with interest as I eye them with interest. You swing your right leg over me, stand beside the bed, and you turn your back to me.
Your tight pants are pulled taut over your luscious butt, and as you pull them down your lovely long legs, you give an ever so slight bend, pointing your little behind at me as if to say, "You. Get it?" Your matching black panties are quickly added to the pile. It was nice of you to match your panties. You know how much I like a little effort.
You turn to me, and I get my first peek at your well-trimmed well-kempt cunni. You put your hands on your hips and lean your head to one side, examining me with your eyes, as if considering your options. You grab the red paint and hop onto the bed. Standing over me, you give the bed and me a quick dose of red paint, equally distributed over the entirety. Your incredible assets keep me well at attention, on display for me, the view of your clearly anticipating pussy-lips all the better from being from below.
You are standing just beyond my feet. You sink to your knees, and slither your way up my body, your hands leading the way, and our contact is slick from the added lubrication of the paint. You slide up me, raising your head as you reach mine, and sink down onto my body. Your head rests just below my head on my chest, your tits are squashed against my sternum, and I can feel your nipples like little pinpricks against me.
My cock is sandwiched between my stomach and yours, and I twitch it so you know it's there. We both begin to writhe as cuddling becomes too hard to do exclusively. Your heat rests on my thigh as your legs are intertwined with mine, and you slowly grind against me with more and more urgency. Our bodies are still, for the most part, inert.
You sidle up my body until your lips are on my earlobe, and you lick and bite at it, teasing sensually. My hands run up and down the side of your body, occasionally kneading your ass and coming up to cup the sides of your breasts.
You whisper in my ear, "You know what's going to happen now?"
Your pussy is now on the shaft of my cock, its lips ever so gently wrapping around it. You move your body slowly up and down the length of it, my cock still not penetrated you.
"You tell me what's going to happen now," I breathe huskily.
