Hidden Desires Pt 01 2

How it began

Everyone has desires, for some they remain buried, for others, they are uncovered by specific events. I discovered such a desire through a brief but intense relationship. It was one day early in that relationship that led me to discover the pleasure of being naked in front of a clothed woman.

Mary was a former colleague, but we had kept in touch after I had moved on. When she also quit her job, she called me and asked if I wanted to go and jump out of an airplane with her. As she revealed to me later, aside from quitting her job, her motivation stemmed mostly from going through a divorce. And so, we jumped out of a plane and later into bed together.

She had already gone through the separation movements, that is moving out of her common house and moving in with roommates, but she remained married on paper. I was in my thirties, single, divorced for already a couple of years, and although I never knew her age, I always suspected that she was already in her forties when we became intimate. Although we saw each other regularly, it was clear to me that I was the recovery lover with possibility for more, but this was a topic neither one of us dared to bring up as we were having too much fun.

One Sunday afternoon Mary invited me to her place. 'Oh, and can you bring a brush?' she asked. At first, I thought she needed help painting furniture or walls, but she informed me that she wanted a fine art paint brush, but my questions what it was for remained unanswered.

Mary lived in a spacious room in a shared apartment with 3 other women who I had never met even though I had visited her quite a few times. The housemates were again absent, and this meant that we felt free to embrace and kiss right when I entered. She was clearly excited and soon pulled me towards her room. I had a happy grin on my face in anticipation of passionate love making. But once in her room, she immediately asked for the brush.

'Can you tell me now, what you need it for?' I asked.

Instead of answering, she showed me her hand, which, I discovered, was covered in fine ornamental drawings. Mary explained that she had been to a wedding where the hands had been painted with henna, and she had enjoyed it so much that she brought back a tube.

'I'd like to try it on you.' she said.

Although I wasn't so sure I wanted henna drawings on my hand, I gave in as I thought it might be a fun experience.

'Thank you', Mary grinned, led me to her bed and sat me down. After kissing me one more time, she turned her back to me and laid down a sheet of paper on her table in preparation of the anticipated mess.

'Take off your sweater', Mary commanded with a smile. I thought that was sensible because I did not want it to get stained. I sat in my T-shirt ready for the painting to begin, hands already outstretched.

Then came the moment that changed the landscape of my sexual fantasies.

'Take off the rest too.'

'You mean my T-shirt?'

'No, everything.'

'You mean, you want me naked?'

Mary simply nodded, smiled, and sat down in a chair facing me.

I hesitated, but only briefly. If your lover tells you to get naked, you don't usually deny her such a wish. Mary had, of course, seen me naked, but it had always been in an act of lovemaking or thereafter. But we had not shared enough everyday life to see each other get naked while changing clothes, in the bathroom or other such situations. Being naked while the other one remained dressed was still unusual.

I got up, took off my T-shirt, stood for a moment, and then took off my jeans and underwear in one swoop. At that moment, I experienced the first feeling of slight discomfort as I stood there stark naked except for my socks.

Mary let her eyes wonder all over me. It wasn't that she greedily focused on my penis as you might expect in an erotic story. She just took her time looking at me, all over me while she leaned back in her chair. This move accentuated my feeling of nakedness, and I began to feel more uncomfortable, not solely from being naked but from not knowing what to do with myself uncomfortable. Being forced to be passive uncomfortable. Being looked at uncomfortable, being looked at while naked uncomfortable.

After a long while Mary said: 'Socks too!'

These words released me from my stupor, and I quickly peeled off my socks.

Meanwhile Mary had stood up and turned her back to me as she busied herself with the paint. She checked that it was diluted enough, dipped the brush in and tried it out on a piece of paper. Satisfied that she could draw a fine line, she turned back to me, indicated that I should sit down again. She took my hand and held it flat in her left hand. Then she started to draw, gently and very methodically.

My mind was racing. It was the fact that Mary solely focused on my hand after she had asked me to get completely naked that enhanced the feeling of exposure and of complete nakedness. It felt erotic but intense shame crept in, which was strangely linked to the tickle the brush strokes caused on my skin. The tickle was particularly noticeable in my genitals, and I also felt goosebumps spread over my skin. Slowly, the shame turned into worry whether I looked good enough to be sitting in front of her as if I were an artist's model.

As if she had felt my discomfort, Mary looked up from her work and said: 'You look great. I not only enjoy feeling your body, but I also like to look at it.'

This broke the ice for me, and although the shame persisted, I felt arousal taking over. But this caused another problem. I really did not want to get hard. Why I cannot say exactly but it seemed wrong, not allowed, a faux pas. To distract myself, I let my eyes wonder across her room. I had never paid much attention to the details of decoration and in this moment, I learned a lot about Mary. The decorations she had chosen were artistic and unusual. I think this was the moment, I began to feel awe for her. She was talented in many ways and her room showed it.

'What do you think?' Her question startled me. She obviously thought the hand was done and wanted my opinion.

'It looks nice. You are very good with the lines. Maybe a bit too flowery for my taste.' I responded honestly.

Mary smiled. 'OK, then let's do something else.'

She stood up and faced me. Thinking that she was ready to make love, I tried to kiss her, but she gently pushed me away. Her shameless grin told me that she had other plans still. She walked around me, eying me from all directions and finally settled on my shoulder and upper arm as her next piece of canvas. She brushed my skin as if it were dusty and started to draw again. The strokes were getting longer as she extended the drawing from the hand upwards. This felt nice, like feathers stroking my skin and I started to lose control over my penis although I still using all my will power to avoid full erection.

After some time, Mary moved onto my chest. She was now standing in front of me and had to bend down since I was still sitting. This provided me with a glimpse down her dress, which was modestly cut and long, and the cleavage revealed almost nothing. Nonetheless, I felt her presence much more intensely. Her breath was on my chest and face and because she moved during the process of applying the paint, she occasionally brushed against my penis, which was on its way to be fully erect and started to poke her as she moved.

After one of those pokes, Mary stopped, stepped back, and looked at my penis, which, despite my best mental efforts, was now pointing straight up between my closed legs. She took my knees and spread them apart, causing my penis to point forward rather than up. Her flat hand then moved under my penis, and she laid it on top as if she were weighing it. This caused an incredible feeling to spread across my body. It was not localized in my penis but radiated all the way to my toes and a first quiet moan escaped my lips.

I was sad when Mary withdrew her hand and continued her project. She was intensely focused on her drawing as the strokes moved over my body. But she made sure I had no chance of getting soft again as she occasionally grabbed my penis to give it a gentle stroke or squeeze. This sent lightning bolts through my body, and I was trembling each time.

Arousal and teasing can become mild torture, and Mary was, of course, well aware of what she was doing. She had me completely at her fingertips and was visibly enjoying herself. She was enjoying both the artistic work and the sexual tension. I was her plaything, completely at her disposal. She later told me that this experience had been a first for her too and that she simply went with the flow, as she put it. That flow led her brush over my body and her hand to my penis for occasional stimulation.

By now, most of my front torso had been covered with ornamental paintings, which caused Mary to step back and take a long look at me.

'Not bad, but not done. You should stand now,' she remarked with a smile.

I got up and immediately felt awkward again. Standing naked in front of someone who is fully clothed feels more exposed than sitting, especially with a full erection that is not attended to. This feeling was accentuated by her eyes wondering all over me again. I was not sure whether she was looking at me or her artwork.

That said, she put the paint cup on the floor and knelt in front of me. She grabbed hold of my penis and gently started to draw on it. If I thought I the denial from before had been torment, I now thought I would go crazy with desire. I wanted nothing more than release, but I at the same time did not want to cum. I knew she had to complete her project. Mary sensed this and gave me breaks that allowed me to calm myself as much as I could at my advanced state of arousal.

Finally, Mary got up, took several steps back and admired the finished product. After a couple of minutes that seemed far longer to me, she came towards me, took my hand, and led me to a floor mirror in the corner of her room. This was the first time I saw myself painted. Of course, I had glanced down at my arms and especially at my penis, but it had been impossible to appreciate what she had done. I was covered in intricate patterns some of which looked like faces and animals. I could not believe that she had done this in relatively short time. She came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me.

'What do you think now?'

'Incredible,' was all I could say.

'Can I take a few pictures?' she asked. 'I have never done anything like this.'

I nodded, getting even more excited if that was even possible.

And so, I have some pictures of my painted and very aroused body. My favorite is a selfie of the two of us where she is standing behind me and taking a picture of my naked body in the mirror. It is obvious that her fully clothed body is leaning against my naked backside.

But Mary did not take too many pictures because I think that at this point, she was also getting too excited to function.

'You need to make me cum now,' she suddenly declared.

I wanted nothing more than that and moved to undress her. But again, she had something else in mind. She dragged me to her bed, sat down and lifted her dress to expose her panties. I knelt between her legs and saw the deep wet spot on their front.

'Take them off and lick me to orgasm,' Mary said. No woman had ever been this direct with me and I wanted nothing more than to serve her. As soon as her panties hit the floor, she drew my head close, and I began to explore her pussy. It did not take long and her whole body started to shake, and she exploded with a violent, screaming orgasm.

After she had calmed down a bit, she laid me down on her bed and started to stroke me. She then took the tip of my penis in her mouth and ran her fingers up and down my shaft. Do I have to say that it also did not take long for me to cum? It did not and my orgasm was incredible, toe curling incredible.

The paint didn't wash off easily and so my body remained a canvas for a while. It was a slowly fading reminder of the most incredible experience. A few days later, I did the right thing and talked to Mary. I told her how much I had enjoyed the eroticism of being naked while she remained dressed and willingly followed her instructions. She said she had felt the same enjoyment, and these mutual admissions gave rise to some very erotic play sessions between us. Letting go after her divorce certainly contributed to that and I became her willing plaything. I may write about some of these events another time.