Art for Art's Sake

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

His mouth tasted of peppermint. Luscious and invigorating, alluring and fresh. How appropriate, I thought, since the flavor summed up exactly my feelings about tasting a man’s lips for the first time in my life. I kissed him back, my enthusiasm showing by the way that I thrust my tongue deep into his mouth. I wanted to experience more of that seductive flavor, more of him. I needed to savor every moment of the kiss, taking full advantage of the wild situation and my newfound enlightenment regarding my soul’s most primal desires.

I delighted in the moist warmth of his tongue, and shivered as his facial stubble ran rough against my upper lip. He crushed his groin against mine, solid bulge to solid bulge, rocketing chills of joy throughout my entire body. His hands roamed up and down my backside, while mine eagerly did the same to his. And the kiss deepened even more, whether by his instigation or mine, I didn’t know. Nor did I care. All that mattered was that the kiss continued indefinitely, giving me the long-awaited opportunity to explore with my tongue.

He gripped my buttocks and languidly dry-humped my groin. The feel of Novak’s erection against mine rivaled no other sensation I had ever known. I longed to shed my annoyingly tight blue jeans and briefs, tear the clothes from him also, and have our naked c***s slipping and sliding against each other. I wanted to stroke his throbbing flesh, to squeeze him, to finally fall to my knees and taste him the way I had always imagined doing to another man.

The artist withdrew his tongue from my mouth and pulled back his head. “A pleasant experience, I presume?”

In reply, I kissed him again, on the lips, then on his whiskered jaw and cheeks, working my way over his neck and his jumping Adam’s apple.

“Another positive response. Very good. That pleases me also.” He released my ass and stepped away from me. His lips curled in a smile when I groaned my disappointment. “Patience, Matthew, patience. We’ll have time to play later. But for now, let’s get to work, shall we?”

Work? Oh, s**t. So consumed by passion, elated by my first s****l contact with another man, I had nearly forgotten the reason he had asked me here today. “Yes, sorry.”

“No need to apologize, handsome.” He leaned forward and planted a gentle, lingering kiss on my mouth. “Your zeal is greatly appreciated. In one way, it will certainly make the first part of the process much easier for me. But in another way…” He looked downward and gave my boner a firm squeeze while studying its outline through the faded denim. A sigh spilled from his lips. “I fear it could quickly become a distraction for me if I don’t keep my mind on the business at hand and work fast.”

Novak snatched my right hand and led me back into the outer studio. He told me to stand on a plush ivory carpet, where a stark white backdrop covered the paneled wall.

“Strip for me, Matthew. Let me see you naked.”

I happily got rid of my cowboy boots and socks, then pulled the T-shirt over my head. All the while, Novak studied me with those dark eyes, his pupils flashing with increased s****l heat as I revealed more and more of my bare flesh. Although it initially seemed an agonizingly slow process, by the time I finally released my erection to the air and tossed my black cotton briefs onto the pile of clothing I’d created, I realized I had probably never shed my attire so damned quickly. Considering how my hands trembled from expectation, it had been no mean feat either.

For several minutes, Novak scrutinized me, every inch of me, while instructing me to turn one way or another, to flex my arm or chest muscles for him, or to stroke my erection. I did so with great eagerness, especially after seeing the way his nostrils flared in excitement and how his crotch seemed to gain additional bulk. Knowing that he approved of my nakedness pleased me. Immensely.

I couldn’t remember any of my past girlfriends ogling my nude body with such evident lust. In fact, a few of them had even eyed my c**k with something akin to fear, knowing my nearly ten inches could prove quite uncomfortable for them. And I couldn’t even begin to count the number of girls who had refused to suck me off because of my length and girth. But here, under this man’s profound and hungry inspection, I felt more than appreciated. He obviously viewed my p***s as a work of art, not as a weapon springing to life to inflict damage. Art, pure and simple, and more importantly, a feast for his s****l appetite.

Novak stepped onto the carpet and positioned himself before me, so close that my erection stabbed his firm belly. Within seconds, the bottom of his T-shirt grew damp with the juice leaking from my c**k-head. He used his fingertips to caress my shoulders and arms, feather-light strokes that sent shivers of longing from my head to my toes. Eventually, his fingers ventured onto my chest. He traced the defined ridges of my breastbone, toyed with the sparse brown hair growing in the center, and tweaked my n*****s into hard points. The deep moans of desire that issued from his throat vibrated through me, making me tingle.

I gulped. “Evidently my body meets with your approval.”

“Last evening at the party, when I saw you wearing that muscle shirt and tight jeans designed to drive any sexually charged person wild with lust, I had envisioned you naked. But I must admit, my imagination had never quite conjured up such a sublime specimen of mankind. Frankly, Matthew, your physique is an artist’s dream come true.”

“That’s extremely high praise, especially coming from someone who has seen dozens and dozens of men in the buff.”

“You undoubtedly take good care of yourself.”

“I do my best, but with classes and studying, it’s difficult to make it to the gym as often as I’d like. I’d actually prefer a bigger chest and—”

“Nonsense.” His fingers traveled toward my navel, lingering on the valleys of my abdomen that formed a six-pack of muscle. “In my opinion, too much ‘muscle bloating’ makes a man look almost cartoonish. Some people are of the notion that ‘too much is still never enough,’ and they end up pumping way too much iron and start to look as if some hideous disease has morphed them into deformed creatures. But your body…hmm…” His fingertips dipped into my pubic bush several times, tickling the base of my shaft, and more chills cascaded down my spine. “Your body looks natural, which is what I prefer in my models…and in my lovers.”

Lovers…holy f**k. How I relished the sound of that.

I wanted to grab that handsome face and crush his lips to mine, to once again thrust my tongue into his tasty mouth prior to ripping off his clothing with my greedy hands.

Before I could make a move, however, he stepped around me. Now, my backside received his scrutiny and the breezy caresses of his fingertips.

“Such muscle definition…and such flawless skin. Actually, your tanned flesh is almost completely free of noticeable blemishes.”

“Not entirely true,” I said, feeling his touch descending the length of my spine. “As you’re about to discover.”

His fingertips paused at the very base of my spine, just above my clenching buttocks. “What I see, Matthew, is a tattoo of a panther’s head. Not the best tattoo, I’ll admit, as the colors are a bit bleached, but certainly the work itself is not amateurish.”

“True, but if you look closely at one of the panther’s eyes, you’ll see the reason why I wanted the tattoo. It’s actually masking a weird birthmark.” As the words left my mouth, Novak’s hands stopped roaming, and I could have sworn I felt a tremor go through his fingers.

“A birthmark?” He sank to his knees for an intimate inspection. His torrid breath on my ass cheeks made my d**k throb even harder. “Oh, yes, I can see it now. One of the panther’s eyes is actually—”

“My birthmark. Right. A crude five-pointed star. God, I’ve hated that damned thing since childhood, so I asked the tattoo guy to hide it and—”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“No?” I laughed. “That’s good, since it means you’ve not had any of my brothers pose for you.”

“You mean your siblings all have the same mark?”

“Not all. Only the boys. My father has one also. Some weird-ass genetic thing between the men in my family.” I laughed again. “Weird-ass—no pun intended.”

“And all in this location?”

“More or less. Each has the birthmark on their lower backs, although mine is the only one that far down. God, how I used to get teased as a kid, my brothers asking whether I’d ‘missed a spot’ with the toilet paper and—”

“And you say your father has the same birthmark?”

“Yeah, and even my grandfather. My dad said it’s a mark passed down from generation to generat—”

“How far back?”

“Excuse me?”

“How far back through the generations?”

“Gee, I’m not sure. Apparently forever, if my dad is to be believed.”

“What is your nationality, Matthew?”

“Is this some sort of test regarding my patriotism?” I asked, my forehead scrunching in bafflement. “Why I’m American, of course.”

“No, no, before that? Do you know your family’s country of origin?”

“Well, let’s see…my mother is half-French and—”

“Your father’s side of the family. Do you know your paternal origins?”

“Part Italian, some French and Greek and Hungarian, and a few other things, I think. My granddad always claimed that his ancestors were nothing but a band of roaming gypsies, so who knows for certain?”

Novak said nothing for several seconds, then climbed to his feet. “Interesting…very interesting…”

“What is, Sergeant Schultz?” I joked. “The birthmark? My ancestral tree?” I spun around, and once again the head of my d**k poked his belly. But I forgot about my s****l cravings when I viewed his face.

His handsome features had adopted an expression of amazement, with a hesitant elation creeping in, similar to how I thought someone like Alexander Graham Bell might have looked when he heard a voice actually coming from the other end of the line during the world’s first telephone call. Or how Louis Pasteur might have appeared after he injected his patient with the world’s first rabies vaccine and the patient actually recovered from the illness.

“Hell, it’s only a birthmark, Sky. Nothing to get excited about, I’m sure.”

He stood in silence, chewing his lower lip and staring at my chest. Although he actually seemed to be looking through me, not at me.

I chuckled, then cupped his stubbly jaw in the palm of my hand and lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Earth to Novak, Earth to Novak. Come in, Novak.”

“Huh?” He snapped back to the moment. “What was that you said?”

“My stupid birthmark…it’s hardly the stuff of miracles.”

Obviously still distracted, he stepped away from me and nodded. “Oh, yes, sorry about that, Matthew. I’m sure you’re right.” He sprang across the room and picked up a camera, returning to the carpeted area almost immediately. “Now then, back to the business at hand.”

“What are you doing with that? You’re not going to draw me or paint me?”

“Oh, I eventually will, but I primarily work from photographs. I’ll take shots of you from various angles, using the best of the best as my ‘models.’ You must understand, an entire portrait will take untold hours, sometimes days, maybe even weeks for me to perfect.”

“Sorry, that never dawned on me.”

His dark eyes twinkled in flirtatious mirth. “Plus, think about the type of art I create. It would be a gargantuan task for you to maintain a solid erection all that time. But then again,” he added, waltzing his fingers along my throbbing rod and slamming me with that sexy dimpled smile, “you might have the stamina for such a task after all.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind trying.”

He laughed. “And I just might give you the opportunity someday. Although I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to resist this beautiful stiff c**k for long. No, it would prove too damned tempting.” As he spoke, he wrapped his fingers around my thick shaft. He stroked me slowly, yet firmly, so that my foreskin covered my entire knob with each upward motion. Soon, warm pre-c*m covered the tip, making it shimmer in the rays pouring down from the skylight.

Fucking hell! Watching the sexy artist stroke me, I nearly climaxed right then and there, proving his point. It would indeed be a colossal chore attempting to keep a boner when this man made me want to spew like a long-dormant volcano.

As if sensing my current predicament, he clamped the base of my c**k with his fingers. “Yes, having you hard and needy during a long session would prove tortuous not only for you, but for me. As a s****l being, I would feel it my duty to offer you satisfaction again…and again…and again…”

“I like the sound of that, too.”

He released my d**k, then placed his hand on the back of my head and grabbed a chunk of hair. Without warning, he yanked me forward and crushed his lips against mine. I moaned my ecstasy as his tongue invaded my mouth. The peppermint flavor still lingered, and I basked in the taste. When he finally let me go, we both gasped for air.

“Enough playtime,” he said in reprimand, more to himself than to me, I was certain. He went to the corner of the room and selected a tripod-legged stool, which he dragged toward me. “Sit on this for me, if you please.”

I took the stool from him, set it onto the center of the carpeted area, and did as he instructed. For a few minutes, he circled me, snapping photographs of my head, then my torso. He backed away a few inches, but continued to step around me. “Now, grab your c**k, Matthew. Keep it nice and hard for me.”

He didn’t have to instruct me twice. I jerked myself in a lazy rhythm, especially when he sank to his knees, eye level with my groin.

“Now, take away your hand.”

I did, and Novak’s camera clicked and clicked with a frenzy as he took shots of my erection from various angles. As before, I felt his hot breath on my skin, but this time on my c**k itself. It took all of my willpower not to erupt, and I almost did several times, even without the aid of my hand.

Finally, he sank even lower toward the floor, snapping photos of my legs, then my feet. I couldn’t help but notice a small damp stain forming off to one side of his zipper, where his stiff c**k strained against the taut fabric of his blue jeans.

Eventually, he made his way to my backside, and the camera kept clicking away. “Now stand up for me, Matthew.”

When I did, he yanked away the stool before circling me and taking head and torso shots once more. This time, however, when he worked his way around to my backside again, I counted an inordinate amount of clicks from the area of my buttocks. What the hell did he find so damned fascinating about my tattoo? Or rather, the ugly birthmark partially hidden by the panther?

I couldn’t even begin to guess. Nor did I want to, especially when he moved back to my front side and sank to his knees, directly in front of my crotch. Without instruction, I once again started to masturbate.

“Ah, good boy. You’re a quick study.”

“Tell that to my professors,” I quipped.

“Poor grades, my friend?”

“Passable, but I know I could do better. It’s just…well…”

“Too many other distractions that interfere with a fun-loving party animal like yourself?”

I laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

Novak moved lower, once again photographing my thighs, knees, shins, and feet. When he finished, he finally took the camera away from his eye, but continued to kneel before me. “Then I suppose the last thing you need is another distraction, hmm?”

“That all depends on what type of distraction we’re talking about.”

With his free hand, he gripped my wrist, then pulled my hand away from my c**k. The moist crown bobbed just inches before his mouth. He licked his lips several times, and I could almost hear the war raging in his head, his scathing words of self-reprimand about getting distracted himself when he should be concentrating on his work.

But unlike the last time he got sidetracked from his artistic endeavors, now he flicked his tongue over my knob, lapping up a bead of fresh pre-c*m that had started to form at the slit. My entire body quivered, and this time I was the one who clamped my fingers around the base of my shaft, stopping the seed from shooting.

Shit! Seeing his hand on my rod earlier had been highly erotic, but the sight of his handsome face as he tasted my juice proved too f*****g hot for words. A visual aphrodisiac that thrilled me to the soles of my feet. I had to squeeze the root of my c**k to painful degrees before my c*m stopped churning in my balls.

He acknowledged my distress by backing away, but not before blowing a stream of cool air over the length of my pounding shaft. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks blushing boyishly.

“No problem,” I lied, still attempting to master control of my body.

Novak winked at me, then reclaimed his feet. He went to a table and reloaded his camera with a fresh roll of film. “Why don’t you lie down, stretch out on the carpet for me. Face down first, okay?”

“My pleasure.”

No sooner did I get into position, with the sunlight bathing me from above in its amber warmth, that the artist returned to take more photographs. And once again, when he ventured to the area of my buttocks, I counted a few extra clicks from his camera. I made a mental note that, after we partook in whatever s****l adventure would follow the work session—and please, dear God, let it be soon!—I would ask him to explain to me the reason why my birthmark/tattoo so enraptured him.

“All right, Matthew, turn over and lay on your back.”

I did so, looking up at his muscular body, and noticing how the moist spot beside his zipper had grown. What had once been a stain the size of a quarter had now increased to the circumference of a fist, darkening almost the entire left side of his jean front. f**k, and I thought my d**k leaked pre-c*m like a faucet.

This time, Novak knelt and started taking close-ups of my feet, then worked his way up my hairy legs. Before he continued higher, however, he threw one of his legs over mine, straddled me, and parked his ass on my thighs. “That’s it, Matthew, we’re almost done, buddy. Hang tight…”

He clicked away at my belly and chest, leaning forward to take extreme close-up shots of my n*****s. He instructed me to stretch out my arms, then proceeded to take photographs of my hairy pits, obviously leaving no area of my body to chance when deciding what portrait to paint.

And then, he focused his attention on my groin. Looking straight down from his perch on my thighs, he snapped away for what seemed an eternity. Occasionally he would use one of his hands to slide my c**k to the right or the left and take several photos, until my ten-incher moved—or rather, throbbed—back to its original position and pointed once again at my belly button. He asked for several “stroke shots,” but for the most part he wanted no hands in this series of stills.

Finally, he lay the camera on the carpet by his side, then sat up straight. His chest muscles expanded and contracted as he pulled several deep breaths. “You know, Matthew, all the photographs I’ve taken so far have been in color. I wanted to capture your beautifully tanned flesh, making certain I have the correct hues for the portrait. I had planned to also do a series of black and white shots, using them to make charcoal sketches of your magnificent physique, but…”

“But what? Anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is just too right. Too damned right, and I can’t take it any longer.”

Without further discussion, he crossed his arms at the waist, grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, and yanked it up and over his head. My gaze encountered the sort of male torso of which I had always fantasized—muscular, with ridges along the abdomen, and a sea of dark, swirling hair that covered the chest and led downward to surround the navel. Manly as all f*****g hell. Yes, indeed, give me an Alec Baldwin or a Pierce Brosnan type of chest any old day, and keep all the Brad Pitt and Justin Timberlake shaved, baby-smooth torsos for the drooling females who preferred their men to look more like women.

Confronted by such divine masculinity, I could barely breathe. Not even thinking, I lifted my hands and ran them over that bared flesh, delighting in the velvety skin, the rock-hard sinew beneath the surface, and the crisp hair. I started to rise, aiming to take one of his large pink n*****s into my mouth.

But Novak stopped me. “Not yet. Let me pleasure you, my handsome model. Let me pleasure you until you scream your joy.”

He struggled with the button and zipper of his blue jeans. In seconds, his c**k sprang outward, pointing toward the skylight. He wore no underwear, so now it made sense how his jeans had gotten so damp so damned fast. From a thick forest of black pubic hair, his shaft stretched a good eight, perhaps eight and a half inches, and to my satisfaction, he also had a foreskin, its shade a bit darker than the crimson crown of his p***s. A network of purple veins ran along his entire length, and a stream of fluid oozed from his slit and down to nearly the base of his rod.

He took my erection in hand, then used his thumb to hook onto his own shaft. I groaned in rapture when he squeezed our c***s together. He stroked them in tandem, and they quickly became slick with our combined juice.

“How does that feel, Matthew?” he asked, his voice a raspy whisper.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t have done so even if I’d tried. Indeed, I could do nothing but grab handfuls of the soft carpet and force myself to concentrate on other things—the English exam from last week, my friend’s upcoming birthday party, the sunlight spearing through the open windows—anything to keep from shooting my jizz right then and there. But f**k, the task proved more difficult than anything I had faced during my lifetime. One of the sexiest men I had ever met, with a body to die for, had started me on a journey of s****l enlightenment and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out.

“That good, hmm?” he asked after several moments, a lecherous chuckle rumbling from his throat. “Perhaps you’ll also like this…”

He released his c**k, but continued to stroke mine. Then he lowered his head and ran his tongue all along my shaft.

I squirmed and bucked beneath him, a blissfully tormented and willing prisoner of his s****l tutelage. Each lick from his expert tongue, each stroke from his masterful hands, sent me farther into the stratosphere. And I couldn’t help it. Not when my fantasy had come to fruition.

Nevertheless, in a valiant effort to regain control, I battled to recall all the state capitals I could…

Salem, Oregon…

Sacramento, California…

Olympia, Washington…

Cum City, Nevada?…

No, Carson City, you stupid f**k! Now, where was I?…

And then he slid back my foreskin and took the head of my c**k into his mouth. The mouth that had previously tasted of invigorating and alluring peppermint. The damp, hot mouth I wanted to savor forever and a day before sampling every inch of his muscular and furry body.

Heavens on fire.

His tongue painted urgent circles around the crown, flicking over the sensitive ridge and toying with the flesh that connected my foreskin with my shaft. He opened wide and devoured nearly my entire length; no former girlfriends had ever been able to perform that trick. But then again, I’m sure none of them had a fraction of this artist’s experience when it came to fellatio. And by the way Novak kept deep-sucking me, with the head of my d**k continually stabbing the back of his throat, I could tell he had performed this s****l deed hundreds of times.

Oh, s**t, oh, s**t…Helena, Montana…

Cheyenne, Wyoming…

Bismarck, South Dakota…

Pierre, North Dakota…

Oh, wait, did I get those last two backward?

Probably, but who cares?…yes, who the f**k cares anymore?

With both hands, I gripped Novak’s head and started f*****g his mouth. Grunts and groans tore through my throat, and my balls once again started to contract. But this time, I did nothing to stop them.

I erupted in a series of eye-watering spasms, filling the artist’s mouth with all the semen that had been collecting since my disastrous attempt at m**********g last night in my drunken state of horniness. To my amazement, he continued to suck me, and I heard him swallowing wave after wave of my seed. His moans of approval sang a melodic counterpart to my own, and it seemed to take forever for my eruption to taper off to the point where I could once again breathe.

Gasping for air to feed my starving lungs, I lifted my head and peered at my crotch. Novak looked at me with those ebony eyes, now glowing with unadulterated lust, as he continued to lap at my still-hard prick. A small stream of pearly white cream crept out of one side of his mouth. The juice covered his lips and chin, making them glisten in the morning sunlight and giving him an even sexier appearance.

“Oh, holy f**k!” Until my voice echoed back to me, I hadn’t realized just how loud I had said those words. Then again, how could I judge the volume of my voice when my heartbeat pounded against my eardrums?

With most of my c**k still wedged in his heated mouth, Novak issued a guttural chuckle. The reverberations went through my shaft and into my groin, making my balls tingle. He gave me another deep-throated suck, then released me with a popping sound.

“See, Matthew, that’s why I work better with photographs, since having an honest-to-goodness real erection staring me in the face for too long would be impossible to resist.” Novak licked his lips free of my milk, then took another few sucks on my rod. He ran both hands over my belly and onto my chest, where he playfully twirled the hair growing between my breastbone. When he again released my d**k, he laughed. “And I have a sinking feeling I would never be able to get enough of you, which means if you were to do any ‘live posing’ for me, I’d never get any work done. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

“But how do you think I’ll be able to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day?”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

I glanced downward and viewed his c**k, still at rigid attention and looking so f*****g delicious. “You’ve already taught me so much, but I’m a willing pupil who is just dying to learn more.”

“You’ve waited a long time for this moment, haven’t you?”

“Nearly twenty-two years.”

“Then I won’t make you wait any longer.”

Bequeathing me with that sinfully wicked smile of his, Novak repositioned his ass on top of my thighs. Without another word, he lifted my right hand and slowly wrapped my fingers around his pulsating shaft.