Painting Dianne

"Oh, now I get it. I have to agree, the view is quite nice."

"Wait until I've had a bit more wine. The view might get even better."

"Am I going to have to limit your wine just to keep us from getting kicked out?"

"Don't worry, I'll be a lady, somewhat, that is."

The appetizers came and we enjoyed exotic cheeses and some pickled veggies. Our entrees were then served, a delightful spin on Southern cuisine for me and a more traditional Northwest flavor for her. As we finished our meals she pushed her plate to the side and then I noted she slipped her hands under the table and removed her napkin. I then watched entranced as she slid her hem slowly higher until I was able to clearly see her pussy. It was dark enough that I couldn't see any details, but she was definitely exposing herself.

When the waiter came by she slipped her napkin over one leg with it barely covering her. Once he left, the napkin was pulled free. I was then astounded when she slipped one hand down between her legs, moved it around a bit and then brought it up over the table.

"Honey, I'm thinking of you," she said as she raised her hand across the table to my face. I could easily smell and taste her arousal as I kissed her fingers. I don't know if our waiter could smell anything, I hoped not, but I certainly did enjoy her slow tease.

After a delightful dessert we went over to the small dance floor in front of the jazz quartet playing nice, mellow dance music. We slow-danced a bit, then they picked up the tempo. My mom had made me take dance lessons when I was a teen, something I hated at the time, but now they came in handy. Fortunately there were no polkas, but the band did hit some tunes that were waltzes and foxtrots, so I was able to lead her through those with no trouble.

The real fun started when they swung into a slow tango and all the rest of the dancers sat out. I was able to lead her and she picked up on the steps very quickly. The problem was with the dips. I was afraid to dip her too low as it could expose her completely, so I limited the dips to just little ones. As we came together she hugged me closely and whispered in my ear, "Let me give the band a little show next time."

I knew this was trouble but I steered her so that with the next dip her back would be to the diners and her front faced the band. My timing was perfect. I dropped her so that her head was nearly to the floor, her pelvis was held up by my arm and her feet remained planted.

I knew that they saw everything. The sax player missed a note and the drummer lost the beat for a second or so. The bass player did fine as he was looking down at the strings and the pianist, facing away from the dance floor, made no mistakes either. We then continued to dance around with more modest swirls and dips until I could tell the tune was wrapping up. We maneuvered around in the same position and repeated the dip right as the music finished. The timing was perfect and she clearly flashed them again.

The band stood to accept applause and then turned to us and clapped for us. The sax player spoke to everyone thanking the two of us for being such good and entertaining dancers and announced that they were going on a quick break. Dianne whispered in my ear, "Do you think they saw me?"

"Absolutely, how couldn't they? All eyes were on us and I'm sure they missed a couple of notes there. Turned on a little bit, are you?"

"Oh, you have no idea. Look, I know it is still kinda early, but I need you to take me home."

We nearly didn't make it. As we sat idle at a red light I could see out of the corner of my eye her reaching under her dress and touching herself. "Wait just a few minutes more and I'll take care of that," I said.

"You better hurry, that's all I can say."

Once again getting from the car to her house was a struggle, but we eventually made it. One nanosecond after the door was closed her dress was pulled up to her waist and I was pushed down on the floor. She quickly pulled my pants and boxers down to mid thigh and impaled herself on my cock. Two or perhaps three plunges down on my cock were all it took for her to climax with screams of "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod....."

She then opened her eyes, looked at me and thanked me for a perfect evening. "You know by now how excited I get doing that. To give an unexpected show to someone is a real thrill for me. Just knowing that the band got a surprise tonight still has me horny. It is your lucky night because I am gonna keep fucking you until one of us passes out." With that she pulled off her dress and began anew riding me right there on the floor. I was able to reach up and stroke her breasts with one hand and massage her clit with the other sending her again into another spasm of joy just as I came plunging into her.

"You better recover quickly, Buddy, or I'll have to get my little battery-powered friend to help me."

"Go ahead, I'd like to watch." And she did, and I did. It took no time at all for me to recover watching her pleasure herself. I rolled her over and took her doggy style while she continued to stimulate her clit through several orgasms. I could feel the remote vibrations all the way into my cock causing me to come again deep within her. We finally collapsed onto the floor, she turned off the vibrator and we just lay there holding each other comfortably.

"I don't know what I appreciate the most, the necklace or the flashing opportunity. I guess I'll just have to say I appreciate you the most of all. If this keeps up I could find myself really falling for you. Thanks, Sweetie, that was a very special Valentine's Day."

"You are so very welcome. I'll be glad to play along, just so long as you don't get busted for it."

"You know, tonight was the first time I ever truly showed everything. Usually I just hint and suggest, like with the New Years dress. I'll have to be careful, I know. I'm sure the band wasn't going to do anything, but I certainly wasn't going to flash the diners."

"That's a wise idea. Let's hit the sack and maybe I'll recover to take care of you again tomorrow." As she pulled me towards her bedroom she promised me tomorrow was going to be a fun one also.

After that evening there were no other major events of her exposing herself for quite some while. Once winter slowly dissolved into spring we started to plan some more outdoor activities. When Dianne came home one night with a whole list of nudist web sites for me to check out I was truly amazed. As we talked about it she admitted that she wanted to tease people again, but she really didn't think it would be nearly so fun as it was at Valentine's.

"I'd be just one of many.... how could that be so fun?" she asked. "I want to really surprise people, that's what's so much fun."

"Well," I responded, "I just think you like exposing yourself when you are in public or where you might get caught."

"You're right, Honey, it does turn me on. But just what harm is there, as long as I have you nearby to service me when I most need it?"

I chuckled a bit and we both decided that a nudist resort was just a bit too boring for her needs. She needed to shock people or be in a situation where she ran the risk of being seen exposing herself. We agreed to sleep on it and try to come up with some more ideas soon. We didn't want to miss out on the warm weather that was just around the corner.

A few weeks later Dianne came up to me with an old Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition she found in a box of old magazines I had in the basement. She seemed excited and the words just came tumbling out.

"Normally a girl might not like her man keeping such pictures in a box, but I'm glad you did! Just look, these girls haven't a stitch on over their boobs and you would never know it. That body painting is so good that at first and even second glance you would swear that they have clothes on! Oh, Honey, let's try it this summer."

Dianne had found the edition that featured many of the models with swimsuits painted on them. I still don't know how that got past the censors, but it did. The models had little cups of some sort to cover their pussies, but the breasts were for all to see just under a layer of paint. The work was masterful and clearly took a long time to perfect.

"Sure, Di', you could try this, but who would you get to paint you? I'm afraid if it was a guy, you'd attack him in the studio and if it was a girl, well, you'd probably be so horny you'd attack her also."

"Silly, I'd have you there with me and so I'd go after you while the artist went out for a smoke, that is if the paint was dry. Oh come on and let's give it a try. By the way, why don't you paint me?"

I had never thought of that option. Although I owned the nursery, I used to be quite good at painting. I took several classes in high school where I must admit I did fairly well and I even took a couple of art electives in college just to boost my GPA. I had never done body painting, but I figured it might just be a kick to learn, particularly if Dianne was my "canvas". She squealed with delight when I told her I would try and promptly rolled me over on my back and had her way with me.

A few days later I looked up a body painting studio in the neighboring college town, gave them a ring and set up an appointment. I didn't tell them I was in it to learn their trade, as I figured that if I told them my plans on the phone they wouldn't even give me an appointment. When I arrived I was met by a cute little brunette at the door and was shown into the studio. I waited on a couch until the artist arrived. George was his name, although he pronounced it like the French, and he was most pleasant and as gay as could be. He sat me down, assuming I was to be painted, and was surprised when I told him I wanted to get some basic lessons in body painting. If he was upset, he hid it well, particularly when I told him it was only for my girlfriend and I would pay him well for his time. We agreed on a plan and a fee and set up my first lesson the following week.

The day couldn't come quickly enough. I decided that I would not tell Dianne until I had mastered some of the basic techniques, so I gave her some silly excuse to be gone and I again turned the nursery over to my assistant. Once I got back to George's place I was really looking forward to my lessons. He had predicted at least three sessions, maybe four, for me to learn the technical paint issues and to practice on real skin. The cute brunette lead me back to the studio again and George and I set down to talk basics.

We reviewed skin preparation, which included what soaps to use and then he discussed the paint. There were a ton of details to remember, including what kinds of paints worked best, lasted longest, which were waterproof and how to clean them up. A very important issue was the "plastic" nature of the paint. If a painted figure moves about too much, the paint tends to crack and peel. We discussed additives that help prevent this problem. He had a small, portable paint sprayer but its cost was way more than I could afford, so we agreed to keep to paint and brush work only.

After we both had a cup of coffee, he asked if I was ready for a beginner's lesson. I shrugged and said "Sure" and he stepped out for a moment. I had no idea what was in store and figured he would start me painting on paper with the special paints. I was tickled when he came back in with the brunette, who was introduced to me as Dixie. As calmly as if we weren't in the room she stood there and peeled off her blouse and then her bra! Wow, what beauties! They were way bigger than Dianne's and swayed a bit as she walked over to the stool in front of me.

"Haven't you ever seen a half naked girl before?" she asked. "You have to get used to this if you are going to paint skin."

I thought to myself that if she only knew what was planned she would be surprised. Once George sat down by my side, he started talking about painting the body, how the skin moves in certain areas over the bones and muscles and what paints to use where. We also discussed what lines worked best with the body's contour. In no time it seemed as if we were just casually talking about a card game or the Trailblazers. Dixie's breasts were just part of the lesson. I knew however that painting Dianne was going to be a bit harder. It would be a toss up as to who attacked the other first.

After he demonstrated a lot of strokes and how fine detail needed to be held to a minimum in body painting, I got a chance to practice. My previous experience served me well. In no time I was retraining old circuits in my brain to create beauty, not just worry about anything else. I worked extensively on her back and up to the neck before I ran out of territory. Dixie was the first to suggest painting the front. She turned around and said, "If you don't paint a girl's boobs, you are a fool. All girls love the attention, particularly to the nipples. I really like to have my boobs be the eyes of a giant frog and when I walk the frog can actually look like he's winking back at you!"

I didn't need any more encouragement. With George's help I learned a lot about how to get the lines to be just so, how to keep the paint from running and how to get the colors to mix nicely. Working on her boobs was a bit of a task, first because they really were quite nice to look at and secondly because her nipples kept hardening and softening as the paintbrush rubbed over them. Dixie seemed to enjoy the attention and even confessed that although she had worked there for several months, she had never had a customer work on her before.

After several hours we parted company and agreed to meet again in two more weeks. At the second session Dixie again was the canvas, but this time she stripped to her thong and allowed me to work not only on her chest but also her legs and butt. George seemed very pleased with my work and suggested that a third session was not needed. I still felt obligated to pay him the prearranged price, over his objections, I might add, and as a result he threw in a few bottles of paint and skin toner. I left as a very happy and excited budding skin painter.

I finally decided to fess up to Dianne what I had been doing. She was thrilled, even when she heard I had painted a well-endowed, topless girl at the studio.

"Those big boobs won't cut it in a few years, Bucko. Mine will still hold your attention years from now because they are not too big, not too small and won't flunk the pencil test by the time I'm thirty-five!"

I had to admit she was right, and quite frankly hers would be easier to paint as well. If we were to make her look like she had a bikini on, her boobs would be easier to camouflage than bigger ones. We agreed to try to work on a preliminary painting session the next Saturday morning.

I had trouble waiting for the weekend. All week I sketched in my mind how I might create her bikini top. I wanted it to look as real as possible. There was even going to be a strap over one shoulder that would appear twisted, just to add that perfect touch. On Saturday morning, with sleep still in my eyes, I was dragged out of bed by Dianne, stuffed with a bagel and cream cheese and told in no uncertain terms to get busy.

She then peeled off her top.

I can't sing enough praises of her beauty. Those breasts are perfect. I never liked really big tits, except to gawk at now and again, like I did Dixie's. The perfect breasts had to have shape, good form and be firm and proud. Dianne's breasts always were proud and I felt they were perfect. Now how was I going to sit still and paint her? She answered the question herself by saying "If you don't get over here and paint me, you won't be seeing these for a very, very long time!"

I pulled out the paints, sat her up on a bar stool and set to work. I chose a hot orange color for the main "fabric" with a white band around the triangles over her breasts and for the ties around her neck and back. I wanted this to look as natural as possible, so I painted in some faint lines, such as cloth has when it puckers around some curves. The hardest part was creating a shadow effect under the white strap that connected the triangles across her chest, but somehow I managed. The resulting bikini top was, if I say so myself, remarkably realistic looking. Since I had been working intently and up close for the better part of an hour, I lost track of the whole image until I was done. Dianne said it best.

"Wow, you really did it. I would swear I had a top on!"

Once the paint dried we admired her new "bikini" top. It looked great, just like those models in the SI. After we grabbed a bite to eat, I realized we were sitting there chatting and eating just like she was clothed, but she wasn't.

She then got a gleam in her eyes and insisted we go out for a drive. The day was certainly warm enough that a bikini would not be too unusual, so I agreed. She slipped on a pair of cut-off jeans and out the door we went. On the sidewalk in front of her place we met Mrs. Steinmetz, a sweet old lady who lived next door. We smiled and said "Good Day" as if nothing were unusual. Mrs. Steinmetz responded in her thick accent, "Gut Mornink to you. Fräulein, you look very pretty, Wünderschön. I only vish I could haf dressed in such a pretty bathing costume when I vas your age."

Dianne smiled as we went to the car. It had worked! The old lady was no more than a few feet away and didn't even see that Dianne had only paint on her and not a bikini top. This seemed to embolden her even more. She wanted to go someplace public and try out her paint job in the open. We hopped in the car with her driving and swung by an espresso stand. She very calmly ordered and paid for two lattes from a teen aged kid who never seemed to realize that his dream of seeing a beautiful girl's tits was right in front of him. He calmly counted out the change, handed it to her along with our drinks and wished us a happy day.

Dianne was delighted. She reached over, squeezed my hand and sighed. "Uh-oh," I thought. "She's getting horny again." We drove on and she then pulled into a parking lot next to the River Walk, a grassy trail that wanders along the river for about five miles. There were dozens of people milling about when we hit the pathway and most were wearing cutoffs with the girls wearing halters tops or bikini tops. We fit right in. As we strolled hand-in-hand we encountered numerous walkers and a few bikers. No one seemed to pay us any extra attention. There were no double takes, no slow lingering looks and not even a pause in anyone's stride. After a mile or so we turned around, this time facing the sun. I was sure someone would then notice her state of dress, but no one did. Everyone had the first glimpse of a beautiful female wearing cutoffs and a bikini top and never did it register to them that the first look was deceiving and that all she wore on top was a thin layer of orange and white paint.

By the time we got home Dianne was wild with desire. She always liked exposure and danger and this was right up her alley. I barely got the front door closed before she had my pants down to my ankles and was encouraging my penis with huge strokes of her tongue. She shucked off her cutoffs (as usual, no undies) and pushed me down onto the floor. In no time she was riding me much like she had at New Years. The day and its results were smashing successes. I didn't know who was happier, Dianne for being able to strut half-nude in public or me for being able to paint in such a realistic manner.

It was several weeks later in July when Dianne came up to me and said, "I want to go all the way." I was a bit confused since we had been going all the way for many months already. She realized my confusion and explained further.

"Look, Dummy, I want to do the paint thing but be totally nude. Nothing on. Nada. Think you're up to it?"