Paint Me Satisfied

I was sitting backwards on one of the chairs in my tenant's kitchen, watching him cover an easel with bold strokes of varying shades of green. Sean had moved into the basement suite in late August, and we'd hit it off right away. He was a nice boy, 22 years old, a couple years older than my own son, who was also away at university.

We'd fallen into a comfortably symbiotic relationship: I kept him well-fed and he kept the little things running well around the house. By early December, we'd expanded our relationship to include much more than apple cobbler and shoveled driveways. This worked well for me, as I'd been finding that the rumour about women in their thirties hitting their sexual peak was indeed a fact.

I'd been a very horny teenager, and if someone had told me that one day I'd reach a stage in my life where my hormonal teenage sexuality would pale by comparison, I would never have believed them. So it was very convenient, and gratifying, to have a young, sexy stud living right here in my house. Looking back, I was so glad I didn't take the thirty-something female who also answered my newspaper rental ad.

He mixed a little black into the paint on his palette, making a beautiful forest green, which he dabbed along the bottom of the paper.

"Mind if I put some music on?"

He glanced over and hesitated. "Well, as long as you don't pick something loud and angry. It's hard to paint with a certain atmosphere in mind when you're surrounded by something totally different."

I nodded and headed over to his cd collection. Alphabetized and in pristine condition, every single of the over 400 albums. I scanned down the holder until I got to the N's. I pulled one out and flipped it over, checking out the song list before nodding to myself and putting it on.

"What did you pick?" he asked, adding delicate twirls of candy apple red to his picture.

"Nine Inch Nails," I stated with a straight face and straddled the chair again. He looked at me, startled. I gave him my best "wide eyed innocence" look, and then grinned as the first Norah Jones song started. He scowled menacingly at me and turned back to the artwork. I watched him work, tapping my foot quietly to the music, occasionally singing the odd lyric under my breath.

"I want to paint you one day," he said without looking over. "You'd make a beautiful nude."

I smiled and folded my hands on the back of the chair, leaning my cheek on them. Norah's gentle voice drifted through the room and I watched the muscles in Sean's forearm shift as he moved his wrist rhythmically, building layer after layer of colour, creating images on the paper right before my eyes. The hues of green took the shape of leaves, the reds magically transformed into crisp apples.

His ivory face was intense, his piercing blue eyes intent on the paper. My eyes drifted down over the sculpted cheekbone that I'd gently traced many a time, the clean jawline I'd ran a finger along, the bottom lip I'd kissed too many times to count that was now being bitten in concentration. I tried to take in every detail, wanting to burn the image into my brain to pull up at any future time.

"Sean?" I whispered.

He made a couple more strokes and then moved in and touched up a few tiny details, and I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. He leaned back and admired his work and then reached over with a satisfied smile and stroked my leg. "Yes, Meg?"

There were no words. I just sat there, looking deep in his eyes, unable to articulate what it was I wanted to say. I gave him a gentle smile. "Kiss me?"

"Of course." He leaned over and gently touched his lips to mine, letting them linger. I leaned into it, spreading my lips slightly and running my tongue along his. He moaned slightly and pulled back.

"You're giving me a boner, baby." He shifted his pants and tossed me a wink. "If you keep tantalizing me like this, I'll never finish my painting. And it's due in two days."

I groaned as he turned back to the easel. "I'll bet a little break would be good for your creativity. Inspire you!!"

He chuckled. "It's a known fact that sex sucks all intensity and passion out of you. Just ask the professional athletes. A lot of them won't have sex the day or two before a big game."

"Hmmph. Fine. Do your painting then." I felt the most devious look cross my face. "But I hope you don't mind if I just take care of my own needs then."

He gave me a quick sideways glance and shook his head. "Oh, you're BAD! Well, you just go right ahead, but I'll be trying my best to not pay any attention to you."

"Mmmkay. You do that, Seanie, my sean." I slowly pulled my shirt off, making quite a show of cupping my breasts and caressing them through my bra. "You go right ahead and ignore me."

I closed my eyes, arching my back and swaying to the music, reaching behind to unclasp my bra, letting it slide off my arms.

"Mmmmm...." I sighed, as my hands kneaded my warm skin, pinching my hard nipples between my fingers. I reached up and unpinned my hair, shaking it out, letting it fall against my bare shoulders. I smiled, my eyes still closed, knowing he HAD to be sneaking a peek or two.

I let a hint of smile play on my lips as I licked them, then moaned slightly as my hand slid under the silky fabric of my panties and over the trimmed hair. Holding onto the back of the chair with one hand, I leaned back, rocking my hips to give my other hand full range of stroking motion. I could hear the sound of my fingers sliding through the moisture, rhythmic wet accompaniment to the beat of the song.

I had almost forgotten I wasn't alone when I felt strong arms encircle me from behind. He pushed his hips up against my ass, pushing me forward on the chair and I could feel his erection pressing into my back. He slid his hand down my shorts and cupped it over mine, feeling the rhythm I was rubbing with, pushing my fingers harder against my throbbing clit.

I could feel his hot breath in my ear as he leaned his chin on my shoulder. My body quivered as I reached orgasm, and he held me tightly, my back against his chest, his hand hard against mine, intensifying the moment.

When the intensity subsided, he softened the hug, kissing down my shoulder, putting his hands on my hips to get me to stand. His lips moved down to my sensitive lower back and I twitched a little.

"Stand on the chair, beautiful."

I stepped up on the seat and he slid my shorts and panties down my hips to my ankles. He put his hand on my lower back, bending me over the back of the chair, spreading my lips with his other hand. I gasped as I felt his tongue licking me, his lips nibbling, his mouth nuzzling into me. He put his hands on my hips, pulling me into him, his tongue exploring my every crevice, making me moan and cry out, gripping the back of the chair.

When I'd climaxed again he let go of my hips, and I could hear him unzipping his pants and then sit back down on the chair behind my feet. He put his hands on my hips, pulling me down onto him, guiding his hardness inside me.

"You're very bad, you know," he growled softly in my ear, nipping my earlobe and cupping each of my breasts in a hand.

"Yes," I whispered back, leaning my head forward so he could have free access to my neck. "I do know and I'm very sorry."

"No. You're not sorry at all."

"You're right," I gasped breathily, moving up and down on him. "I'm not sorry in the least. And you wouldn't want it any other way."

"You're right...about that. You're...a wildcat...my Meg...And I would...not...change a...single...thing...about you." The words came out in short strained bursts, his hands now on my hips, guiding me to speed up the tempo. His fingers digging into my hips, the bite on my shoulder, the groan as he pulled me down hard onto his throbbing member, were all ecstasy, sweetness beyond compare.

I came again, my pussy tightening and squeezing his hard cock, coaxing every last drop out as he moaned my name in my ear, pulling me tightly into him, throbbing so deeply inside me as he climaxed. Mmmmm...I had yet to decide which was the greater pleasure: giving a great orgasm or receiving one.

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, turning to smile up at him.

"Alright," I said with a grin, "you can finish your painting now."