Page 5 of Paint Me Love
Him: I’ve had a really hectic day. And I’ll get even busier from now on. I’m afraid I might not be able to text you as much for a while. It’s unfortunate, but I have an important work thing coming up. I hope you have my reward ready for me : ).
My excitement dulls down a notch at his words. It’s a bummer he’s not going to be around so much, but I understand. Sometimes work has to take priority. Besides, some distance might help me get over what I am about to do.
Me: You aren’t going to ask how it was at the gallery?
Wow, how smooth of me. But I do need a few more minutes before I can send him a picture of my dick. It’s not as easy as it sounds, and all my confidence from earlier has kind of drained. Even if Mystery Guy is technically a stranger, it does take some guts to go through with a nude, okay?
Him: Stalling. Okay then. Did you have a good time?
Fuck him for calling me out. But he’s not wrong.
Me: I did! All the other artists are very skilled, and Cassandra, the manager, is very nice. I even got to meet the owners.
Him: Oh, you did?
Me: Yeah, they were there. But…
Derek seemed so disinterested. I really can’t put my finger around it.
Him: But?
Me: Well, Derek Salinger didn’t seem to care much. Isn’t that strange? I mean, it’s his gallery… But he was kind of broody and distracted and looking at his phone the entire time. It’s rude, you know. Like, I know he’s rich and great and so on, but why do this whole thing if you don’t even care?
Oh shit, why am I ranting? Or am I buying time because I’m so nervous about the damn dick pic? Like, seriously, itshouldn’tbe such a big deal, and besides, I won’t be showing my face or anything!
I want him to like it, I think that’s the problem. I’m afraid he might not, and what do I do then?
Him: Interesting. But I think you should give me my reward now. I have an early start tomorrow, and I’d rather not stay up too late ; ).
Oh my god. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? He’s killing me.
With trembling hands, I untie my bathrobe and let it slide to my sides. My cock is semi-hard already, clearly intrigued by what’s about to happen. I gulp down a bout of nerves and give it a stroke, tearing a moan out of myself.
“Fuck. I’m really doing this.”
A few more strokes while imagining it’s Mystery Guy’s hand has me wishing it really was. That he was here watching me jerk off, or helping me do it. But he’s not, and the next best thing is having him masturbate while looking at my dick pic, isn’t it?
While my liquid courage lasts, I snap a photo and send it to him, too turned on in the moment to care about what I’ve done. This was probably a bad idea, but I just want to come, so I continue to pump while still imagining it’s his hand touching me.
When my phone pings next, I throw it a quick glance, only enough to see that Mystery Guy thinks my cock is pretty. It’s all I need, really. With a groan, I climax, spilling inside the small towel I grab from my nightstand.
For a few minutes I stare at my ceiling while lazily palming myself, feeling like a boneless mess. It’s been a while since I jerked off, I guess. I retrieve my phone. There is a new message.
Holding my breath, I open it. It’s a photo of Mystery Guy’s dick, the tip glistening with precum. It’s flushed and veiny and it looks delicious, sending a zap through my entire body.
Him: If you get lonely, just imagine you are riding me, little artist. I bet you’d look lovely shaking on top of me. Sweet dreams.
I jerk off two more times that night. His dick is so beautiful I can’t get it out of my mind. His words, too. They replay in my head over and over, until the sun rises and I regret not getting an ounce of sleep.
With a vile headache, I make my way to my morning shift, contemplating my life choices and arriving at the conclusion thatmaybe putting some distance between us while his work thing lasts might not be such a bad idea.
3
Daniel
Theonemonthweare given to complete our murals flies by in the blink of an eye. Like he warned me, Mystery Guy barely texts back, which makes getting over what we did that night a lot easier. I’ve mostly forgotten about it by the time opening day rolls in… except for the picture I have of his beautiful dick.
As funny as it may be, I can’t get out of my head. I’ve doodled it on multiple occasions, but even that doesn’t help. The length, the width, the veiny surface—it all works together so well, turning a simple human appendage into a piece of art that should be displayed in a museum.
