Body Painting
by MSSD ©

It's mid-afternoon on a clear Saturday in August at San Diego's clothing 
optional Black's Beach. The teenage girl kneeling in the sand in front of 
Matt Sinclair is completely naked. She holds a shock of curly brown hair 
back with one hand and thrusts her breasts forward. Her green eyes follow 
the movement of the paintbrush in Matt's hand, and then at Matt himself 
focused on his work.

In Matt's experience teenage girls show up in groups of two or three, if 
they show up at all, and are nervous and twitchy. This girl is different. 
She is alone, quiet, and curious. Her small breasts are tipped with hard 
red nipples that look like strawberries. Her pubic hair is shaved except 
for a light brown oval that sits like an island an inch above her pussy. A 
silver loop hangs from her pierced navel. Matt faces her Indian style and 
applies the paint slowly around her nipple. He sees the tip stiffen in 
response to the pressure of the soft bristles of the brush head. She 
breathes in quickly and tries to stifle the sound, but he hears it all the 
same. Within a few minutes, a yellow and red starburst spirals out from 
the girl's left breast, trailing a vapor trail across her stomach.

Five years ago, Matt graduated with a degree from Art Center in L.A. and 
had an exhibit at the Temporary Contemporary. L.A. Magazine thought enough 
of him to include him in a survey of emerging local artists. But Matt's 
plans have changed since then. In spite of his artistic talent, sex is 
what really interests Matt. He has wavy black hair, the sculpted muscles 
of a bodybuilder and an all-over tan. Body painting is a way to use his 
talent in pursuit of his favorite pass-time. He likes naked women, 
painting designs on their hot, sun-soaked flesh, and showing off his big 
cock to them. Depending on who he's painting, especially the good-looking 
women, he makes sure to give them plenty of opportunities to check out his 
body up close. Women play it cool at first. They pretend not to notice or 
care. But eventually they betray their curiosity by stealing looks when 
they think he's not looking. He plays along with the game, but those looks 
are what he's waiting for. Sooner or later their eyes stray down for a 
fleeting look at his crotch. And who can blame them? He's ten inches long 
when he's hard, and it's all right there in plain view. 

The girl's skin is perfectly smooth and unblemished. Matt works the paint 
down her stomach, feathering it for a few seconds. Then he repositions so 
he is kneeling in front of her, fully exposed. The girl makes no attempt 
to hide her curiosity, allowing her gaze to linger for a long time while 
he works.

"You have a big cock," she says at last, without a trace of embarrassment 
or hesitation.

The boldness of her comment surprises him; he is caught off guard and 
can't think of anything to say. He can feel himself harden.

When he doesn't answer right away, she continues. "I guess everybody tells 
you that."

"No, actually they don't," he says.

"Well, you do," she says, looking him in the eye to underscore her point. 
"Bigger than any other guys I've seen."

"I didn't expect you to be an expert on that kind of thing," he says after 
a pause.

"Why not?" she says with a defensive note in her voice.

"Because you seem a little young."

"I just turned eighteen," she says. 

"That's young," he says.

"Not really."

"Trust me. It's pretty young."

He paints the design over her navel and works it around her side.

"How old are you?" she says, with a challenge in her voice.

"Old. Twenty-seven."

"It's not that old." She looks at him with a self-satisfied expression on 
her face. "Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she says.

"No."

She thinks about this a second while she watches him brush the paint on 
her stomach. "You're not gay, are you?"

"Do I look gay?"

"Half the guys down here are gay."

"Turn around," he says. I'll paint your back.

She turns around. "Does that mean you're straight?"

"Good guess," he says.

"Cool." She seems pleased at this. "It's such a drag when you find out a 
hot looking guy is gay. It seems like such a waste. I think to myself, 
there's one guy I'll never get."

"It that the way it works?"

"That's what I think. There's this really cute guy I know, and it's kind 
of depressing to think that I'm competing with him for the same thing."

"How do you know he's gay?"

"'Cause he talks about guys. He told a girlfriend of mine that he hangs 
out in Hillcrest on the weekends and tries to get picked up. I'd say 
that's pretty gay."

Matt works quietly for several minutes, continuing the design around and 
down the girl's back, tracing the outline of the vapor trail that ends 
just above the crack in her ass. She shivers as the brush crosses over her 
spine. "That tickles," she says.

"You have a great back," he says.

She turns around and smiles at his compliment. "Thanks."

He works for several minutes more, focusing his attention on her narrow 
waist and tight ass. She sighs as he works the brush down her lower back. 
When he is done she stands up, turns, and pivots. The design on her body 
looks just as he imagined it – like star exploding. Several feet away, a 
group of naked men watch her with appreciative stares. She smiles at the 
attention she receives. Matt hands her a mirror.

She looks at herself, then smiles at him. "What do you think?"

"You look great," he says.

Her eyes search his for a second. "What's your name?" she says.

"Matt," he says.

"I'm Ashley." She holds out her hand and he shakes it. "Thanks," she says 
with a smile. "I'll see you around."

He watches her for a few seconds as she walks away.

A half hour latter, Matt paints the first of two young high school 
teachers from Montreal who tell Matt how much they are enjoying their trip 
to California.

"So many nice looking men," one of them says. She is gawky and thin, with 
frizzy black hair. The other is short and petite, with cropped blonde 
hair. In Matt's mind, he imagines lifting her up by the waist and fucking 
her standing up. The women make small talk while he paints and invite him 
over to their hotel that night. He writes down their phone number and 
hotel and tells them that he'll see them later.

After the women leave, Matt puts his paints in his backpack and walks down 
to the water. He dives in and surfaces after a wave passes overhead. For 
the next few minutes he swims in the waves, catching them as they break, 
riding them to the shore where they turn into foamy ripples. He climbs out 
of the water, smoothes his hair, and walks back up the beach toward his 
backpack.

The girl he painted earlier that afternoon sits on the sand next to his 
backpack as he approaches.

"Hi," she says, shading her eyes with her hand. "You're really good out 
there."

"Thanks," he says. He reaches down to this backpack and unzips it.

"Everybody liked the design you painted on me," she says.

"Cool."

She watches him dig through his bag. "These two guys asked me to take a 
picture with them. One of 'em was kind of cute. Then these other guys 
started following me around, so I hung out with this older couple that 
were nice. I think the old man was kind of getting off on looking at my 
tits, which was weird, but his wife didn't seem to mind."

"If you walk around naked in front of a bunch of guys, you're bound to 
attract attention."

"Oh, it's okay. I like guys looking at me. It's just a little weird having 
someone like your grandfather looking at you like that." She watches him 
for a few seconds. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm going home." He finds his shorts and shirt in the 
backpack.

"I'm supposed to get a ride home with my friend Stacy."

"Yeah? Where's Stacy?"

She points down the beach. "She's hanging out with a bunch of our friends 
down at the pier. They're staying for the sunset, then we're supposed to 
go back to her house."

"The sun will be going down in less than an hour. You might miss her."

"I don't care. They're boring." She looks away for a second, then leans 
back on her elbows and lets her eyes wander over his shoulders and chest. 
"You have a really tight body," she says. "You must work out a lot."

He can feel himself thicken under her watchful eye. "I take care of 
myself."

"So, what do you do?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like, for work?"

"I paint surfboards and skateboards."

"And naked girls," she says with an ironic grin.

"You asked me what I do for work. Body painting is a hobby. I don't make 
any money off of it."

"You probably hit on all the girls that come along. Not that you'd have to 
try very hard," she says, staring at his cock again.

He turns and looks at toward the ocean.

"You know," she says, "you could give me a ride home."

He starts to slide his shorts on.

"You're cuter with no clothes on," she says.

He pulls his shorts up and buttons them. "I thought you were going with 
your friends," he says.

"I told you they were boring."

"So you dumped them and came up here?"

"Yeah," she says. "Besides, the scenery is better. 

He squats down and starts rummaging through his backpack.

She sifts sand through her fingers and watches it fall. "After you painted 
me I started walking around and it was totally amazing. It was like being 
high, you know, but not like a drug thing, just totally natural. I felt 
totally free, like I had all this energy because of the design you painted 
on me."

He finds his car keys, zips up the backpack and stands.

"When you were painting me it felt like electricity going through my body. 
The paint brush felt like a tongue licking me." She can see the outline of 
his cock stiffen and press against the fabric of his shorts. "And the 
whole time it was happening I was staring at your dick and there was 
nothing I could do." She leans back again, and plows trenches in the sand 
with her heels. "I thought you were going to make me come. It's making me 
wet thinking about it right now."

He looks down at her. She teases him by spreading her legs wide enough so 
that he can see the wet lips of her pussy glistening in the sunlight. "You 
could make me come right now if you wanted to."

A middle-aged couple walks by on the beach and looks at them. Other 
beachgoers have started packing up, but clusters of naked sunbathers still 
scatter the beach. A naked couple bounces in the surf.

"Here? I'll get arrested."

"No, you won't"

"Yes I will. There are laws."

"Not if you do it the way I want."

Matt stares at her lying naked in the sand. "How?"

"Paint me again."

The sun angles toward the horizon as she leans back on her elbows watching 
him pull his brushes out of the backpack.

"What are you going to do this time?" she says.

He says nothing as he opens up a bottle of red paint and dips the brush 
in. He leans over and touches her bare nipple with the brush.

She closes her eyes, catching her breath. "Is it going to be another 
meteor?"

"Something better," he says. He works the brush around the hard tip of her 
nipple, caressing it with the brush and paint.

"That's making me horny," she says, looking at him through half opened 
eyes. She closes them as he smiles at her. He circles her nipple again and 
again with the paint, listening to the little catches in her breath as her 
nipple hardens. After a few minutes, he starts to extend the streak of 
read down the slope of her breast, widening it as it descends.

Two naked couples come up the beach and stop to watch Matt as he leans 
over the young girl lying in the sand. Ashley opens her eyes and sees the 
couple standing several feet away. "There are people watching," she 
whispers, breathing in quick rushes as he trails the brush down her 
stomach.

The red streak grows bigger and wider, curling now, bypassing her belly 
button and the soft patch of public hair. Two older men join the crowd, 
watching as Matt works the paint down to her hip bone, veering out onto 
her upper thigh, plunging back now to her inner thigh.

He stops for a moment. "Spread your legs," he says to her.

She breathes in quickly and opens her legs, exposing her pussy to him and 
the small group of people watching. "Ohhh...." she moans, as he works the 
paint down the inside of her leg.

Matt turns his attention back toward her upper body, filling in details 
now with darker paint. Delicate scales begin to emerge on the thin tail of 
a serpent, wrapped around her nipple. The streak of flat red paint 
transforms before the crowd's eyes. The thick body of the monster starts 
to appear across her chest and stomach. Clawed feet grasp her hip and 
stomach.

Ashley looks down, her chest heaving, then closes her eyes, and leans her 
head back.

The serpent's head begins to appear on her upper thigh, craning its neck 
inward. It's reptilian gaze focuses on the wet folds of her pussy, eyeing 
it with hunger.

Ashley shudders and moans as Matt fills in the details of the serpent's 
head with the tip of the brush. She breathes in short, sharp gasps. The 
inside of her leg is moist and shiny from the juices streaming out of her.

A long slender tongue now extends from the serpent's mouth, traveling over 
the smooth valley between her leg and thigh. An inch above her pussy, the 
monster's tongue breaks into two speared halves. Matt extends the points 
down to either side of her hooded clit. She shudders as Matt dabs the 
point on either side of the throbbing knob. She arches her back as he 
touches her again and again on either side with the brush tip. All at 
once, she convulses and cries out.

"My God," one of the women says. The crowd shifts nervously. 

Matt continues to apply dabs of paint, leaving off when her body stiffens 
and spasms again.

"Ahhh," she cries, digging her hands and heels in to the sand. The juices 
pour from her unabated. She shudders and convulses again. After a few 
seconds, she opens her eyes and looks at the crowd watching her.

They begin to disperse, sensing the end of the show.

Matt leans over her as she watches the people leave. She looks up at him. 
"That was unbelievable," she says. "I want to see what you painted."

Matt reaches into the backpack and pulls out the mirror. He wipes the 
brushes and recaps the paint as she studies the design up and down her 
body, focusing at last on the split halves of the serpent's tongue 
touching the edges of her clit.

"You're amazing," she says. "It's so beautiful." She hands the mirror back 
to him, and he zips up the backpack.

"Where are your clothes?" he says.

She points to a bag sitting up against the hillside.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get your stuff and I'll take you home."