BUT IS IT ART?

[EsmeraudeCamus]

"It's bold. Heroic, the brush strokes haphazard, chaotic but, out of the chaos, comes a work of definitive sexuality, the male in blue, dominant, the female pink, receptive yet bathed in shadow, as if...as if..."

"As if what?" Angie interrupts, and Jach looks around, surprised to find someone stood next to him, and embarrassed that he has been thinking out loud, again.

"As if the artiste' has something to hide, perhaps he is trying to convey a message, a sublime meaning, look..." He waves an awe-stricken hand at the painting then shrugs his shoulders in resignation. "You can't see it?"

Angie shakes her head and smiles with a look in her pale green eyes that encourages him to continue.

"It's rampant." He says. "Simply rampant."

The gallery is quiet, it's a private viewing, by invitation only and most of the guests still haven't made it past the champagne and canapé' buffet. Canned Muzak drifts in and out of the discrete art décor speakers.

"I just see two people fucking." She says, a wicked grin on her freckled face. Jach returns her smile but on his face is an expression that patiently explains to the entire world that he is obviously talking to an idiot. He takes a deep breath.

''It's the sheer poetry of the thing,'' he says, taking another sip of champagne and running a hand through his unkempt hair, ''the way everything just connects. It's so beautiful.'' He takes a step back from the painting and stares at it as if he's trying to drink it with his eyes. Angie is not offended by his blatant patronising, she finds his accent cute and his dishevelled appearance appeals to her in a weird bohemian sense that reminds her of the years she spent as an art student. He looks like an out-of-work actor, she thinks, and decides to throw him a line, just to see if he'll take the bait.

''She's shaved smooth,'' rubbing elbows with Jach but not looking at him, her gaze fixed on the blue and pink canvas on the wall before them. ''Her clit is absolutely glorious...'' she laughs under her breath and she can feel Jach looking at her.

''..uh uh, interesting perspective.'' He is staring at her now, and when she turns her head he looks directly into her pale green eyes. "May I ask you something?"

Angie meets his gaze unabashed, imperceptibly, moving one step closer towards him until her nipple brushes lightly against the lapel of his chequered jacket. Jach looks over her head and around the room. Some of the guests have drifted away from the buffet, meandering from one exhibition piece to the next, still out of earshot. "Does it excite you?"

She feigns ignorance. "Excite me? How? In what way, exactly?" Her voice has taken on a dark, husky tone, and her breath becomes shallow, adding to the effect. Jach seems to blush, a faint rose' teint rushing up from his neck to his cheekbones. He pushes thick framed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, leans close to her ear and whispers, his accent thick like treacle.
"I mean, exactly, does it turn you on?" He has his hand on her elbow now, a light touch, both hesitant and intimate, she does not pull away.

"Right now," Angie's leg presses against him and meets the ardent resistance of his thigh pushing back against hers, "I am very wet." For a long moment, Jach stares into her eyes, then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do to a complete stranger, reaches out and pushes a lock of thick red hair back behind her ear. His fingers linger at her earlobe and brush delicately over her neck as he pulls his hand away.

Suddenly he is behind her, she can feel his erection pressing urgently between the cleft of her buttocks. Angie looks quickly around the room, no one is taking any notice, everyone engrossed in the art on the walls or in each other. She pushes her ass back against his hard cock, then again, tiny movements that send ripples of lust gushing through them both. In a moment of risqué madness, Jach reaches around and tweaks one of her hard nipples through her blouse then slides his hand down towards her crotch. Angie instantly understands what he wants and turning her back to the ambling crowd behind them, pulls the waistline of her skirt away from her belly. Jach's hand burrows into the soft folds of her silky panties, his fingers finding her slit, then her clit. A moment later and a sly, secret orgasm hits her, smooth and unannounced. Angie struggles to keep her mouth shut and her knees from shaking. And all the while Jach is pontificating, his heaving body gesturing, questioning in a stiffled, mumbling voice, "But is it art?"

Anyone who did happen to cast a glance in their direction would have seen a man who knew about art explaining a painting to a novice. Only the keenest of eyes would have registered the dank, damp patch that had magically appeared on the back of her skirt. When they had both caught their breath, Jach moved aside and looked at her with a far away look of gratitude in his eyes.

'"Jach, art critic from Switzerland. It's been a pleasure." He said, holding out his hand.

"Angela, I painted the damn thing." She pants, taking his hand and shaking it. They both laugh, and with a look that shares an eternity, they quietly separate and head off to the rest rooms.

[rojoa]

Nicely written. Not sure if it's ENF but I liked it anyways.

[hanskumoekk]

Originally Posted by rojoa

Nicely written. Not sure if it's ENF but I liked it anyways.

This is a general fictional forum and it wasn't tagged as ENF, so it is what it is. I liked it!