It Is Story Time

Stories tell you what the pictures missed

A Masterpiece In The Making

Written By: Sex Writer - Sep• 27•10

Part (-)

Andre dressedThe gallery was closed for the night, and all had left. All, except for him, Andre. He had remained, and from the moment he had walked in, I knew he was something special. It wasn’t just his white t-shirt, and old ratty looking jeans, but that look. Almost magical, at how his eyes would peer at someone, how the dark hair would  jiggle around, as his perfect head moved on those broad shoulders.

He wasn’t one for talking, but when he spotted something of interest, his eyes would light up, a brilliant smile would cross that adorable, yet mysterious face. It fascinated me, no end. I couldn’t help but follow him around, at a discreet distance, until finally he had spotted me.

It wasn’t like he was disappointed either, flashing that smile, giving me that once over look, that almost made me cream my own pants. I had never felt such an attraction before, not to such a depth. I could tell that Andre knew that too, knew the impact he was having on me.

Every time he’s stop to talk with someone, his eyes would glance in my direction, to gauge my own reaction. It was unnerving, yet exciting too. The whole experience made me think, that somehow he wanted to know how I felt, about him with someone else. He could easily tell, I didn’t care for it.

The showing had been winding down, when finally my Adonis approached, and brushed past me. Deliberately he touched my side, his fingers lightly running across my side. It was like being touched by pure fire. My legs cramped up, my heart was racing, and that was from just a minor brush. My throat felt like my heart was lodged inside, making me gag a bit, flush with desire too.

And he knew it. I could tell, without even looking, that he knew. I was his, hook, line, and sinker. Yet was it just my imagination, or was there a chance for more, than a fleeting touch?

Not until there was just a handful, did I get my answer. With just a few people left, he came and stood beside me, admiring the mural of flowers on the wall. His scent was almost too much for me, making me want to reach out and ravage his perfect body. That lean physique, that firm butt, just begging me to reach out and grab hold.

As the thoughts raced inside my addled brain, a jolt of electricity seem to suddenly race up from my hand. His fingers had touched me, the tips just lightly brushing against the top of my own. I gulped, as I felt his power, felt his presence invade my very soul.

With sweat dripping from my brow, I turned my head to gaze into his beautiful face. The eyes were lit with dancing shades of darkness, the hair glistening in the studio lights, made me tongue tied. Yet, no words were needed, as I knew, that he would remain, that tonight would be a real success. Not just for the pictures displayed to words of glowing praise, or the sale of a few pieces, at unbelievable prices, but for a chance to experience true nirvana.

With the last person out the door, I turned and there he was, sitting on the glistening white sofa, under the flowers. His eyes stared deep into my soul, as I just stood there. With his eyes, he told me all I needed to know.

beautiful skinQuickly locking the gallery doors, and lowering the blinds, I turned to see him, sprawled on the sofa. His shirt up, exposing that dark skin, that sun drenched deep dark skin. My heart almost stopped, as he stood up, his shirt off. The muscles on his upper body glistening, flexed. His hands at his side, the bulge in the jeans looking formidable.

Seating himself back down, the hands moved slowly to remove the buckle on his white belt. The sound of the top popping open, startled me. Yet all he did, was grin at me and pull the belt out and away.

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