Cave Painting and the Renaissance

A slice from some ancient play, (who likes saaaamples?!?) when I was young, inexperienced, and impressionable. How some would take advantage, tainting the curious and inquisitive girl and then coming back for more, more...but I loved every second. Grin. And so today, I show you a little bit of before and a little bit after. I feel like I should be pressed up against a doorjamb with a Sharpie on my head.

Today, I am THIS big!

…she wriggles, choking it all down, bucking and swallowing. He grips her hair…guiding her up and down...

“Oh yehhhhhhhhhhh...suck it.”

She spreads his taste all over his dick and licks him hungrily.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

She moans, panting. She pushes him back, away from her body, and leans back on her hands, breathing heavily. He catches his breath.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm…very nicely done.”

She grins, wiping her mouth on her arm.

“Tell me how wet that pussy is.”

She smiles and shakes her head.

“No?”

“A girl's entitled to her secrets.”

She smirks.

“A girl’s going to get it in her bottom next time if she doesn’t tell me.”

She gasps, “Very, very wet.”

“Was that so difficult?”

She growls. He smirks. She refrains from her list of profanity.

“Good girl.”

“Yes. Remember that.”

He smiles and nods.

I feel so old. What was once a monosyllabic impression of play has become monstrously carnal and liquid, fluidly alive in my veins, my vision, my pussy. I'm like a super-lame girl, skimming back through her diary...I swear I really thought I loved Jake! Remember that time he left his sweater in my car?!? It was a sign! We would have had really beautiful babies. (Big, heartfelt sigh of regret.)

Anyway, smirk:

…she closes her eyes, delicious, slurping, sucking, hard and methodical, opening her legs wider, bending deeper, mouth sliding farther onto his cock, lips snugly slipping up his shaft.

He moans, his hips bucking forward slightly, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth; he pushes her head forward, his dick hard as it slams against the back of her throat, choking her as he pushes down hard on her head, hips moving, fucking her mouth, his eyes closed.

She grabs his hips, squeezing into his skin furiously, breath shorter, sliding him to the back of her throat, a tight, damp tunnel trapping him, throat swallowing hard around him. She moans softly, delicately, focused, wanting to please, wanting to serve, wanting to be fucked, and devouring him gratefully. She gasps, chokes, still sucking hard, lips wet, fingernails cutting into his skin, eyes wide, throat closing.

He moans, gripping her hair, pulling and pushing her head roughly, using her mouth, soft and warm, wrapped around his cock as she sucks earnestly, kneeling with her legs wide as her cunt drips down her thighs…

PS. I am aware of how self-congratulatory this blog title is, but realize that I am in fact, an artist, and I recognize that in the spectrum, I am no where near my Modernist revolution yet. That, my friends, that is going to be published! Squeak.