Body Painting

byMSSD©

It's mid-afternoon on a clear Saturday in August at San Diego's clothing optional Black's Beach. The teenage girl kneeling in the sand in front of Matt Sinclair is completely naked. She holds a shock of curly brown hair back with one hand and thrusts her breasts forward. Her green eyes follow the movement of the paintbrush in Matt's hand, and then at Matt himself focused on his work.

In Matt's experience teenage girls show up in groups of two or three, if they show up at all, and are nervous and twitchy. This girl is different. She is alone, quiet, and curious. Her small breasts are tipped with hard red nipples that look like strawberries. Her pubic hair is shaved except for a light brown oval that sits like an island an inch above her pussy. A silver loop hangs from her pierced navel. Matt faces her Indian style and applies the paint slowly around her nipple. He sees the tip stiffen in response to the pressure of the soft bristles of the brush head. She breathes in quickly and tries to stifle the sound, but he hears it all the same. Within a few minutes, a yellow and red starburst spirals out from the girl's left breast, trailing a vapor trail across her stomach.

Five years ago, Matt graduated with a degree from Art Center in L.A. and had an exhibit at the Temporary Contemporary. L.A. Magazine thought enough of him to include him in a survey of emerging local artists. But Matt's plans have changed since then. In spite of his artistic talent, sex is what really interests Matt. He has wavy black hair, the sculpted muscles of a bodybuilder and an all-over tan. Body painting is a way to use his talent in pursuit of his favorite pass-time. He likes naked women, painting designs on their hot, sun-soaked flesh, and showing off his big cock to them. Depending on who he's painting, especially the good-looking women, he makes sure to give them plenty of opportunities to check out his body up close. Women play it cool at first. They pretend not to notice or care. But eventually they betray their curiosity by stealing looks when they think he's not looking. He plays along with the game, but those looks are what he's waiting for. Sooner or later their eyes stray down for a fleeting look at his crotch. And who can blame them? He's ten inches long when he's hard, and it's all right there in plain view.

The girl's skin is perfectly smooth and unblemished. Matt works the paint down her stomach, feathering it for a few seconds. Then he repositions so he is kneeling in front of her, fully exposed. The girl makes no attempt to hide her curiosity, allowing her gaze to linger for a long time while he works.

"You have a big cock," she says at last, without a trace of embarrassment or hesitation.

The boldness of her comment surprises him; he is caught off guard and can't think of anything to say. He can feel himself harden.

When he doesn't answer right away, she continues. "I guess everybody tells you that."

"No, actually they don't," he says.

"Well, you do," she says, looking him in the eye to underscore her point. "Bigger than any other guys I've seen."

"I didn't expect you to be an expert on that kind of thing," he says after a pause.

"Why not?" she says with a defensive note in her voice.

"Because you seem a little young."

"I just turned eighteen," she says.

"That's young," he says.

"Not really."

"Trust me. It's pretty young."

He paints the design over her navel and works it around her side.

"How old are you?" she says, with a challenge in her voice.

"Old. Twenty-seven."

"It's not that old." She looks at him with a self-satisfied expression on her face. "Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she says.

"No."

She thinks about this a second while she watches him brush the paint on her stomach. "You're not gay, are you?"

"Do I look gay?"

"Half the guys down here are gay."

"Turn around," he says. I'll paint your back.

She turns around. "Does that mean you're straight?"

"Good guess," he says.

"Cool." She seems pleased at this. "It's such a drag when you find out a hot looking guy is gay. It seems like such a waste. I think to myself, there's one guy I'll never get."

"It that the way it works?"

"That's what I think. There's this really cute guy I know, and it's kind of depressing to think that I'm competing with him for the same thing."

"How do you know he's gay?"

"'Cause he talks about guys. He told a girlfriend of mine that he hangs out in Hillcrest on the weekends and tries to get picked up. I'd say that's pretty gay."

Matt works quietly for several minutes, continuing the design around and down the girl's back, tracing the outline of the vapor trail that ends just above the crack in her ass. She shivers as the brush crosses over her spine. "That tickles," she says.

"You have a great back," he says.

She turns around and smiles at his compliment. "Thanks."

He works for several minutes more, focusing his attention on her narrow waist and tight ass. She sighs as he works the brush down her lower back. When he is done she stands up, turns, and pivots. The design on her body looks just as he imagined it – like star exploding. Several feet away, a group of naked men watch her with appreciative stares. She smiles at the attention she receives. Matt hands her a mirror.

She looks at herself, then smiles at him. "What do you think?"

"You look great," he says.

Her eyes search his for a second. "What's your name?" she says.

"Matt," he says.

"I'm Ashley." She holds out her hand and he shakes it. "Thanks," she says with a smile. "I'll see you around."

He watches her for a few seconds as she walks away.

A half hour latter, Matt paints the first of two young high school teachers from Montreal who tell Matt how much they are enjoying their trip to California.

"So many nice looking men," one of them says. She is gawky and thin, with frizzy black hair. The other is short and petite, with cropped blonde hair. In Matt's mind, he imagines lifting her up by the waist and fucking her standing up. The women make small talk while he paints and invite him over to their hotel that night. He writes down their phone number and hotel and tells them that he'll see them later.

After the women leave, Matt puts his paints in his backpack and walks down to the water. He dives in and surfaces after a wave passes overhead. For the next few minutes he swims in the waves, catching them as they break, riding them to the shore where they turn into foamy ripples. He climbs out of the water, smoothes his hair, and walks back up the beach toward his backpack.

The girl he painted earlier that afternoon sits on the sand next to his backpack as he approaches.

"Hi," she says, shading her eyes with her hand. "You're really good out there."

"Thanks," he says. He reaches down to this backpack and unzips it.

"Everybody liked the design you painted on me," she says.

"Cool."

She watches him dig through his bag. "These two guys asked me to take a picture with them. One of 'em was kind of cute. Then these other guys started following me around, so I hung out with this older couple that were nice. I think the old man was kind of getting off on looking at my tits, which was weird, but his wife didn't seem to mind."

"If you walk around naked in front of a bunch of guys, you're bound to attract attention."

"Oh, it's okay. I like guys looking at me. It's just a little weird having someone like your grandfather looking at you like that." She watches him for a few seconds. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm going home." He finds his shorts and shirt in the backpack.

"I'm supposed to get a ride home with my friend Stacy."

"Yeah? Where's Stacy?"

She points down the beach. "She's hanging out with a bunch of our friends down at the pier. They're staying for the sunset, then we're supposed to go back to her house."

"The sun will be going down in less than an hour. You might miss her."

"I don't care. They're boring." She looks away for a second, then leans back on her elbows and lets her eyes wander over his shoulders and chest. "You have a really tight body," she says. "You must work out a lot."

He can feel himself thicken under her watchful eye. "I take care of myself."

"So, what do you do?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like, for work?"

"I paint surfboards and skateboards."

"And naked girls," she says with an ironic grin.

"You asked me what I do for work. Body painting is a hobby. I don't make any money off of it."

"You probably hit on all the girls that come along. Not that you'd have to try very hard," she says, staring at his cock again.

He turns and looks at toward the ocean.

"You know," she says, "you could give me a ride home."

He starts to slide his shorts on.

"You're cuter with no clothes on," she says.

He pulls his shorts up and buttons them. "I thought you were going with your friends," he says.

"I told you they were boring."

"So you dumped them and came up here?"

"Yeah," she says. "Besides, the scenery is better.

He squats down and starts rummaging through his backpack.

She sifts sand through her fingers and watches it fall. "After you painted me I started walking around and it was totally amazing. It was like being high, you know, but not like a drug thing, just totally natural. I felt totally free, like I had all this energy because of the design you painted on me."

He finds his car keys, zips up the backpack and stands.

"When you were painting me it felt like electricity going through my body. The paint brush felt like a tongue licking me." She can see the outline of his cock stiffen and press against the fabric of his shorts. "And the whole time it was happening I was staring at your dick and there was nothing I could do." She leans back again, and plows trenches in the sand with her heels. "I thought you were going to make me come. It's making me wet thinking about it right now."

He looks down at her. She teases him by spreading her legs wide enough so that he can see the wet lips of her pussy glistening in the sunlight. "You could make me come right now if you wanted to."

A middle-aged couple walks by on the beach and looks at them. Other beachgoers have started packing up, but clusters of naked sunbathers still scatter the beach. A naked couple bounces in the surf.

"Here? I'll get arrested."

"No, you won't"

"Yes I will. There are laws."

"Not if you do it the way I want."

Matt stares at her lying naked in the sand. "How?"

"Paint me again."

The sun angles toward the horizon as she leans back on her elbows watching him pull his brushes out of the backpack.

"What are you going to do this time?" she says.

He says nothing as he opens up a bottle of red paint and dips the brush in. He leans over and touches her bare nipple with the brush.

She closes her eyes, catching her breath. "Is it going to be another meteor?"

"Something better," he says. He works the brush around the hard tip of her nipple, caressing it with the brush and paint.

"That's making me horny," she says, looking at him through half opened eyes. She closes them as he smiles at her. He circles her nipple again and again with the paint, listening to the little catches in her breath as her nipple hardens. After a few minutes, he starts to extend the streak of read down the slope of her breast, widening it as it descends.

Two naked couples come up the beach and stop to watch Matt as he leans over the young girl lying in the sand. Ashley opens her eyes and sees the couple standing several feet away. "There are people watching," she whispers, breathing in quick rushes as he trails the brush down her stomach.

The red streak grows bigger and wider, curling now, bypassing her belly button and the soft patch of public hair. Two older men join the crowd, watching as Matt works the paint down to her hip bone, veering out onto her upper thigh, plunging back now to her inner thigh.

He stops for a moment. "Spread your legs," he says to her.

She breathes in quickly and opens her legs, exposing her pussy to him and the small group of people watching. "Ohhh...." she moans, as he works the paint down the inside of her leg.

Matt turns his attention back toward her upper body, filling in details now with darker paint. Delicate scales begin to emerge on the thin tail of a serpent, wrapped around her nipple. The streak of flat red paint transforms before the crowd's eyes. The thick body of the monster starts to appear across her chest and stomach. Clawed feet grasp her hip and stomach.

Ashley looks down, her chest heaving, then closes her eyes, and leans her head back.

The serpent's head begins to appear on her upper thigh, craning its neck inward. It's reptilian gaze focuses on the wet folds of her pussy, eyeing it with hunger.

Ashley shudders and moans as Matt fills in the details of the serpent's head with the tip of the brush. She breathes in short, sharp gasps. The inside of her leg is moist and shiny from the juices streaming out of her.

A long slender tongue now extends from the serpent's mouth, traveling over the smooth valley between her leg and thigh. An inch above her pussy, the monster's tongue breaks into two speared halves. Matt extends the points down to either side of her hooded clit. She shudders as Matt dabs the point on either side of the throbbing knob. She arches her back as he touches her again and again on either side with the brush tip. All at once, she convulses and cries out.

"My God," one of the women says. The crowd shifts nervously.

Matt continues to apply dabs of paint, leaving off when her body stiffens and spasms again.

"Ahhh," she cries, digging her hands and heels in to the sand. The juices pour from her unabated. She shudders and convulses again. After a few seconds, she opens her eyes and looks at the crowd watching her.

They begin to disperse, sensing the end of the show.

Matt leans over her as she watches the people leave. She looks up at him. "That was unbelievable," she says. "I want to see what you painted."

Matt reaches into the backpack and pulls out the mirror. He wipes the brushes and recaps the paint as she studies the design up and down her body, focusing at last on the split halves of the serpent's tongue touching the edges of her clit.

"You're amazing," she says. "It's so beautiful." She hands the mirror back to him, and he zips up the backpack.

"Where are your clothes?" he says.

She points to a bag sitting up against the hillside.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get your stuff and I'll take you home."

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