***
Sarkopheros Says:
Man, November has been nuts. I was worried I wouldn't get a story out this month. But I fucking did it in the 11
th
hour ... literally. It's 23:23 as I'm writing this. Or 11:23 PM I guess. But it's not as amusing that way.
Anyway, in this story, Jae goes to his art class, but there's no model, so he helps inspire the class!
Expect all that Jae-Sun goodness. Low-hyper sizes, huge balls/cock etc, cum inflation, a nice chainbang, deep-throating, face-fucking, and of course interracial. If you've read these before, you know roughly what's going to happen.
***
Jae's heavy boots clomped over the tiled floor. An 18-by-24 sketchpad was tucked under one of his arms and a toolbox of art supplies was in the other hand. He reached for the paint-stained doorknob and entered the classroom.
Clack.
A couple dozen easels sat in a large circle surrounding a blanket on the floor. A wild assortment of disparate chairs accompanied the easels, apparently gathered from every random Craigslist ad in La Tijera Island. Studio lights were pointed at that blanket, though without a subject, they were dark and the room's lights were on.
The door, the walls, the furniture—all were scuffed and scarred. A wild kaleidoscope of paint stains had been left on most surfaces over the past years. Blackboards lined one wall, and there was a skeleton suspended from a rolling rack. Muscle charts lined another wall. Jae could smell the wood, acrylic paint, the earthiness of clay and pastels, the pumice soap by the sink. The room trapped and blended all of it.
Shana smiled brightly when she saw Jae. "Hey, Jae!" She was standing near her usual easel.
Jae grinned warmly at her as he approached. His heavy package bounced as he walked. It looked as if he was smuggling a pair of swollen grapefruits and a summer sausage. Her eyes darted down to it, though only briefly.
He took his dull red shades off and tucked them into his spiked leather vest. "Sup, girl? Miss me?"
"Oh yeah, you like that," she chuckled. Shana was nearly as tall as Jae—and Jae was hardly short at six-three. Of course, if one counted her enormously poofy hair, she was actually a good deal taller than Jae. With her slender body, long limbs, and impressive 'fro, she reminded Jae of a dandelion—though he wasn't sure if saying so would be racist.
"Who doesn't want a pretty girl to miss him, huh?" Jae winked. "Can't blame me."
Shana shrugged. "Yeah, people who ain't like pretty girls."
Jae smirked. "Well I
do.
You're so fine, girl, how can I ignore that?"
She rolled her eyes and looked away, though Jae could see the big grin on her face. "You a flatterer, Jae," she said.
"Nah, just an observer." Jae looked around the room. Almost all the students were accounted for. One thing Jae appreciated was that he was inexplicably the only male in this class. He also appreciated that Hudson graded on progress and not outright skill—the latter was something Jae sorely lacked. As he flipped through his sketchpad, most of the illustrations looked more like elaborate depictions of ginseng roots than people. He said, "So where's Hudson at? I'm like ten minutes late."
Shana shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe she getting stoned."
Jae sat down.
Clack.
"Hey, claaaass!" called a high-pitched voice from the doorway. Professor Hudson whirled in. Her long, frumpy dress flared out as she spun. A too-large brown peacoat hung from her shoulders. There was a bandana tied under her platinum-blonde braids. "Wow, everyone's here! Except the model. Oh no. Where's the model?!" Hudson began giggling.
Jae, Shana, and the other students looked around. There was, indeed, no sign of George. Of course, George was a rumpled middle-aged man with little sense of grooming, so Jae wasn't entire displeased by his absence.
"Is he okay, Ms. Hudson?" asked a chubby girl across the room—Tabitha.
"I
toooold
you, that's like, my mom's name!" she giggled. "Call me Carol! Like music. Because music is art, and you can be an art, too. You have to flow, and if your name is right, your attitude has to be right."
Jae shook his head. "What?"
Shana giggled. "Hey, Carol, you fixing to bring us some?!" she called.
"Huh?" laughed Carol. "Maybe we can have an art-jam session after-hours? Yeah. Yeah, who wants to do that? We can order a pizza, and no one will care if we eat marshmallows from a cereal bowl. Who said the bowl was for cereal,
anyway?
It's so confining." She walked to her desk. "Let's start with some warmup exercises. If George doesn't get here soon, we'll figure something else up." Ms. Hudson walked to her desk and took her peacoat off. She draped it over her chair.
Then she bent down, and when she came back up, there was a guitar in her hands. "I'll like, play some music, to inspire you. Just let it flow, man. Let it flow. Draw
anything.
" Then she began playing. "Let it flow, let it floooow, don't ... don't hold it back anymore! Yeah, we're not doing that. Let's go!" As eccentric as she was, she was actually pretty good with the instrument. "Just draaaaw. Let your pencil go where it wants."
Jae looked at Shana. She shrugged again. Jae looked at his pad.
What to draw?
He looked around the room. Usually, he drew whatever was in front of him. Left to his own devices, he was a bit lost. He twirled his pencil.
Apparently, Carol noticed. "Just, like, listen to the music," repeated Carol. "You can think of something. Jason, I don't see your pencil moving. Do you need more inspiration?"
He looked over at the teacher. Music.
An album cover.
"Nah, I got an idea now, thanks," he said.
Jae began drawing. His pencil glided over the pad. The image was hot in his mind. It would be so cool.
Except twenty minutes later, it was definitely
not
cool.
A weird figure vaguely resembling Jae was jumping some kind of squiggle lines in what appeared to be a giant Pinewood Derby car. Not even one of the elaborate ones—it looked like the ones where it was obvious that the kid hadn't had any help.
In theory, it was meant to look like Judas Priest's
Painkiller
album cover. But it really ... didn't.
Jae frowned. "Man, this looks like shit," he grunted.
"It better than your last one," offered Shana. She smiled and put her hand on Jae's arm. "Before I couldn't even tell if that was you."
Jae sighed.
Shana rubbed his firm arm. "You'll get better eventually. It takes a long time. I been doing this my whole life."
"Yeah, eventually," said Jae. Then he looked over at Shana's sketchpad. "Holy shit."
There, on the paper, was a drawing of
him.
And not only was it a drawing of Jae, but it was damn
good.
The shading wasn't completely done, but there was absolutely no doubt as to whom it depicted. The details were unmistakable. Every wrinkle in the leather of his jacket, every single spike on his shoulders, even the scars were right.
Jae furrowed his brow. "God
damn
, girl."