Blushing, Blue Jeans, and Bloomers

A fearsome lady pirate in long crinoline with rosy cheeks, bright lipstick, and an eye patch also displayed curly black chest hair above a bustier similar to Gwen's uniform.

Lloyd consulted his sketches and clasped Gwen's free hand. He positioned Gwen's fingers over Gwen's vulva. She retracted the hand, but Lloyd placed it there again. He spread her index finger and ring finger so that one lay on each side of her cleft. When the hand remained in place, Lloyd commenced outlining key features of the design.

The party bumped along with plenty of drinking, joking, kissing, and teasing amongst the revelers. The variety of personalities and peculiarities evinced by only eight people made Gwen's mind vault into clumsy sommersaults.

To condense time needed for painting, Lloyd's sketches only depicted frilly bloomers stretching from knees to waist. The rest of his model must remain unadorned. Brush strokes tickled and soothed. A dense bloom of frills covering Gwen's fingers and vulva made her face flush and her breath ragged. He lingered transforming fingers into rows of pleated edging. This necessarily blended brush strokes between Gwen's fingers and over her clitoral hood. Gwen shivered in the warm room.

Lloyd lifted her legs propping one over each of his shoulders and devoted his industry to painting on her ass. To get closer for detail work, Lloyd bent his long frame. Gwen's inner thighs gripped the painter's ears.

"He should just fuck her already," the pirate suggested.

The table did not produce quite enough elevation to align Gwen's well of honey with the potential taster.

Gwen let her head loll and used the newly freed hand to caress her own neck and shoulders. Her thighs gripped tighter and compelled Lloyd's face lower. Her arousal melted fresh paint and dripped onto the table.

Conversations continued with gossip about people not present and speculation about romantic trysts. Gwen opened her eyes and blushed from forehead to the rise of her breasts when overheard words included, "even if she doesn't cum, I may just watching this..."

Gwen emitted an animalistic groan. She seemed gripped by some form of indecision as if an angel whispered in one ear and a devil in the other. When Lloyd's brush invaded to correct the flowing mess created by her body, the devil won the argument. Gwen's one hand teased her nipples, and the palm of the other ground vigorously against her center of pleasure.

"Woah," Lloyd interjected as his reverie unraveled along with the intricacies of his work.

Gwen rocked her hips, and masturbated in a frenzy.

"About time! You go girl." Someone said.

Lloyd stepped back draping Gwen's legs off the edge of the table leaving Gwen's spread pelvis at the edge of the table stage. Gwen encouraged the conflagration of her senses with reckless abandon.

Someone or more than one someone held Gwen gently to stabilize her so she might not frig herself right off the table.

Gwen's eyes darted around the room through fluttering lids to make contact with one guest after another. She whimpered and crossed her thighs trapping the energetic hand. Her abdomen crunched causing her back to arch. Gwen seemed on the edge of self destruction.

Lloyd lifted Gwen's free hand off her breasts and enveloped it in both his hands consoling her. She gazed into his unblinking eyes positioned inches above her face. As she craned her neck to possibly nibble Lloyd's lips, the long awaited orgasm crashed. It seemed to last forever, and when her body relaxed, tears streamed down her cheeks and puddled on the table.

"Anyone else want a fig bar from the kitchen," somebody asked?

"I'll have what she's having," another quoted.

"Are you OK?" Lloyd asked in a concerned or possibly shocked voice.

"Just happy," Gwen promised. Then she trembled and asserted, "I'll never do this again."

"Why?" Lloyd appeared crestfallen.

"If I'm not one of your models, you can sleep with me - right?" Gwen's lips turned up, and her eyes sparkled.