Art for Art's Sake

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

To touch another man’s p***s…

For as long I could remember, I had fantasized about this very moment—with no small amount of guilt that kept me up at night, especially during my teenage years. And now, here I lay on the plush carpet in this sun-swept studio, surrounded by drawings and paintings of naked men, and living out the fantasy with another man’s actual erection beneath my fingertips.

The reality of it all seemed so overwhelming. I thought I might actually swoon while my senses sought to interpret the tactile pleasure I experienced by coming into contact with another man’s genitals. In many ways Novak’s solid, throbbing flesh felt like my own, yet in other ways, much different. I couldn’t quite decipher the reasons why; I just knew that I loved feeling the taut, velvety soft skin over the steely hardness, the way I could detect his racing heartbeat as the corded veins relentlessly pulsed.

My encircling fingers moved up and down the shaft, and a powerful surge of blood made the c**k fatten and stretch even more. I watched in utter fascination as the scarlet head kept sliding out of the cowl of darker foreskin, and the sight made my mouth water. I squeezed the shaft with about the same amount of pressure as I typically squeezed my own erection, and to my satisfaction, a drop of crystalline fluid escaped from his slit. When it gained mass, I used my thumb to capture the warm droplet and smeared it around and around the crown’s bulging ridge. Novak’s groans of pleasure, his discernible shivers, coaxed me to repeat the process several times—stroking and squeezing and smearing the seed to make his knob shine gloriously in the sunlight.

“It appears you’re enjoying your first experience so far,” said the artist, his voice almost a whisper.

I realized then, with my mouth agape and my eyes rounded in lustful awe, that I probably looked like some moronic half-wit.

But Novak said nothing of the kind, just leaned forward and gave my lips a simmering kiss.

When our tongues met, I no longer tasted the peppermint, just a tangy and slightly salty flavor—the aftertaste of my own semen. Throughout the years, curiosity had enticed me to sample it on several occasions, but finding my flavor in another man’s mouth became the supreme turn-on. I started to suck his tongue, savoring the tang of my milk, and my c**k once again sprang to life. I could feel blood filling my shaft with incredible speed, and as I continued exploring Novak’s mouth, I wondered how I could have lived so long without experiencing such mind-numbing rapture.

Reluctantly I broke the kiss and looked into his sparkling black eyes. “Teach me more, Sky. Teach me what you did to me a few minutes ago.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I want you in my mouth, every inch of you.” I gathered another globule of his pre-c*m with my thumb, then brought it to my mouth. “And every drop of you.”

A grin formed on his lips as he watched me lap up the clear juice. I licked my lips afterward, tingling at the knowledge that I had just sampled another man’s milk. And not just any man’s milk either, but the very essence of the sexiest creature I had ever met. He had his own flavor, a bit spicier than my own c*m, and I realized how much I truly hungered to swallow more.

“How do you like it?”

In reply, I pulled down his head and kissed him, once again sucking his tongue to display my unquenched desire.

He lifted his head away from me, laughing. “As I said before, you certainly are a quick study.” He glanced down between our bodies, then stroked my own hard c**k several times. “And a horny fucker at that, by the looks of it.”

Without another word, he released me and climbed to his feet. I watched in giddy joy as he slid the blue jeans down his legs, then kicked them off to the side of the carpeted area.

Statuesque in the amber sunlight, he looked so f*****g gorgeous, his lengthy c**k plainly bobbing to his pulse as it jutted out from the patch of ebony pubic hair. And for the first time I noticed Novak’s balls, a pair of plump orbs that dangled nearly halfway down his furry thighs. Propping myself up on an elbow, I extended my free arm and cupped the warm sack in my hand. As I gently kneaded his nuts and tickled the base of his rod with my fingertips, I left a trail of lingering kisses up and down his left shin.

Suddenly recalling a specific daydream from my youth, I stared up at him again and blinked several times. Holy f**k! Skylar Novak, artist extraordinaire, looked more like a model extraordinaire. In fact, gazing up at him, his well-developed body reminded me of Michelangelo’s David, only with a big, fat c**k just begging for attention.

Even as I continued teasing the root of Novak’s p***s and fondling his balls, I trumpeted thanks to the powers above for my extraordinary good fortune. It seemed almost too wonderful to be true that fate would provide a first-timer like me with a lover who possessed a physique rivaling David. In all honesty, that damned statue—with or without the fig leaf that occasionally covered the genitals in encyclopedia and art book photos, depending on the year of publication and the publisher’s level of prudishness—had always given me a prompt and rock-hard stiffy. In my early teens, when finding my attraction to males growing more profound, I had often daydreamed about what might happen if that flawless statue had somehow made its way into my bedroom, magically come to life, and claimed me as its mate.

Ah, the outlandish whims of youth…

Novak sank to the floor and stretched out on the carpet beside me. With his hands behind his head, he now looked like a robust, furry David basking in the sunlight. The sight made my d**k throb even harder. Quivering in salacious need, I allowed my instincts to control my actions, determined to play out as many of my youthful fantasies as possible before the day ended.

I rolled on top of him, then started to bathe his torso with my tongue, enjoying the way his chest hair tickled my face. This time he didn’t stop me when I took one of his n*****s into my mouth, and I sucked it into a hard point before moving to its twin. All the while, I squirmed atop him, relishing the feel of his bare flesh against mine, the intertwining of our body hair, the firmness of our sinew as it pressed together. And especially the way his slick c**k pounded a savage tempo as it snuggled next to mine against our bellies.

While my tongue painted a trail of saliva down to Novak’s ridged abs, renewed memories of my David daydreams ran through my head. They had always stayed with me, no matter how many times I had attempted to shun them. Concentrate on females, I had tried telling myself during my teen years. Discover the appeal of women, damn it, and forget about nude males, no matter how sexy you find them, no matter how the sight of a hot guy’s bared c**k gets you stiff in a heartbeat.

But my body and mind had simply refused to listen to those internal directives. I finally realized I was different from the other boys I knew. I would never be able to understand why my brothers or buddies tucked away copies of Penthouse or Oui magazines under their mattresses, especially when the ultimate “Boner-Producing Physique,” the perfect “Bathroom Jack-Off Material,” could usually be found in the nearest encyclopedia—under “M” for “Michelangelo.”

Once again, I smiled at the fleeting, confusing, and sometimes-painful “horny teenager” memories and dug my tongue into my lover’s belly button. Then my smile widened at the way he chuckled when I tugged the fur on his abdomen with my teeth.

I burrowed my fingers into his chest hair and moaned my pleasure. Certainly through the years, my taste in men had changed, but not by much. I still loved them lean and muscular, like the magnificent David, but I eventually came to also appreciate the natural beauty of hair on a male body. I liked observing the various patterns it produced on a man’s torso; I liked the texture of my own when I ran a hand over the center of my breastbone. Even to this day, I couldn’t begin to imagine why any guy would shave and wax himself in an attempt to look more like a chick.

Oh well, to each his own, I supposed, and definitely not a question to ponder at this moment. Not when Novak’s warm flesh, his crisp hair, his hard n*****s and muscles felt so f*****g fantastic against my palms. And definitely not when my lover’s d**k lay less than an inch from my lips, just waiting for my needy mouth to take its first taste.

I noticed how a small pool of Novak’s pre-c*m had matted the hair just below his navel. I greedily lapped at it, painted my lips in the slick and limpid juice, then finally flicked my tongue over his swollen c**k-head.

“That’s it, Matthew, taste me,” he said breathlessly, his fingers delving into my thick head of hair to massage my scalp. “Taste what you’ve craved for so long…taste your very first c**k…”

Actually, I needed no verbal encouragement from this sexy man. The enticing manly musk arising from his crotch and the sight of another drop of clear liquid forming at his slit proved much more powerful than mere words.

I buried my fingers in his thick ebony bush and wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft. Lifting it to point toward the skylight, I observed it from various angles. I still marveled at the way it pulsed beneath my digits and how the foreskin draped over the crown when I stroked upward. Two thick veins on the c**k’s topside, just at the root, drew my attention. When I licked the skin over those twin purple roadmaps, the scent from Novak’s pubic forest drove me wild. In response, I ran my tongue higher and higher up his pillar of flesh, all the way to the beautifully moist crown.

Before opening wide, I kissed the tip of his erection, wetting my lips with his fresh juice, then lowered my jaw and slid a few inches of his rod into my mouth. Now, my drooling tongue detected his racing heartbeat, marking time with the tempo beneath my fingertips. And my taste buds seemed to come alive at the contact with his solid meat. I danced my tongue around the ridge of his c**k-head, savoring the slightly salty flavor of his flesh, then clamped my lips around his knob and began to suck. Gently at first, not sure what to do with my damned teeth, not wanting to hurt him or to disappoint him in any way.

But once again I allowed my instincts to control my actions. I knew how I liked being sucked—what felt good, what didn’t—and recalled the masterful technique the artist had used on my c**k only minutes earlier. I curled my lips slightly inward, using them to cover the edges of my teeth, then began a pumping-sucking action. My downward thrusts fed me more of his shaft, inch by delicious inch, while my hand stroked in counterpoint. I eventually decided I must be doing okay, considering how Novak’s hands gripped my scalp and his moans increased. And his d**k leaked more tangy cream each time I swabbed it with my tongue. Slowly, then with increased speed, he began to buck his hips, meeting my downward thrusts.

On several occasions, I attempted to devour his entire shaft. Although proud that I had managed to squelch my gag reflex when he stabbed the back of my mouth, I couldn’t deep-throat him, no matter how hard I tried. It royally pissed me off. But that ability would eventually come with practice, I reassured myself.

And damn it, if Novak allowed me to do so, I certainly planned to practice every f*****g chance I got, to master the technique as he had done.

As my lover continued to invade my mouth, his rod plunging deeper with each thrust and his tempo growing more frantic, groans of pure and unabashed ecstasy escaped my throat. I reached down to snatch hold of my own dripping c**k and stroked myself to his same excited rhythm.

Oh, God, yes…tasting and sucking this handsome stud, luxuriating in his manly scent and his rough yet gentle touch…it just felt so f*****g right. So mother-f*****g right! The very thing I had sought for years.

Deep down inside I sensed that sharing this form of carnal intimacy with a man could—would—become addicting, but I didn’t give a s**t. Now that I was finally living out my ultimate fantasy, with my entire body aflame with lust, I knew I would never revert back to my old uncertain and cowering self. I happily, greedily, embraced my s****l identity, lock, stock, and barrel.

And more than anything, I hungered to give the sexy creature who had shown me the path to fulfillment the rip-roaring climax he so deserved.

“Matt-Matthew…I’m getting close…so…so damned close…”

In response to his warning, I sucked him even harder, flicking my tongue as fast as possible over his drooling knob.

“D-did you hear me?…I’m not…not kidding…I’m going to shoot…shoot my jizz…”

I grunted and moaned, and as best I could, clamped my lips around his pulsating, slippery meat. I hoped to convey to him that I hadn’t lied earlier, that I truly wanted to sample every appetizing drop he could deliver.

He obviously understood my wordless message, because he pulled most of his shaft from my mouth, leaving only the crown inside. “I-it’s going to be a…a big load…since you’ve got me…got me so f-f*****g horny. S-swallow fast…so you…don’t choke…”

I nodded. Releasing my own c**k, I fondled his shrinking ball sack and tickled his furry thighs. After an agonizing yet thrilling moment of expectation, he growled, and I felt a quiver run through the length of his shaft.

Hot juice hit the back of my throat. As much as I wanted to savor it, to roll it around my tongue and bask in the taste of his seed, I did as he had instructed and swallowed. Thankfully I had listened to him, since another jet of juice, then another, then a fourth filled my mouth at unbelievable speed. I nearly did choke, but managed to swallow all of it. Or so I had thought, until I felt dampness on my lips and jaw. More of his cream coated my tongue, but since he had started to taper off, I could finally allow my taste buds to fully sample it. Somewhat bland, somewhat spicy, somewhat sour—and altogether more f*****g savory than I had imagined. I ran my tongue around his still-dripping prick, sucking hard in an attempt to draw from him as much of his essence as I could.

He yanked the crown from my mouth and his d**k slapped against his belly. “S-so sensitive…so f*****g sensitive…”

I swallowed the rest of his c*m and licked my lips. “s**t, I’m sorry, Sky, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Matthew. That was so damned fantastic!” He panted for a moment, then released his last breath on a heavy sigh. “Especially for a first-timer. s**t, you’re a natural at this.”

“Maybe.” I once again wrapped my fingers around the base of his semi-erect c**k. Careful not to apply too much pressure with my tongue, I slowly licked the white juice from the long, vein-laced shaft and leaking head. “Or maybe, as you said before, I’m just a quick study, huh?”

He fell back onto the carpet, his arms thumping down at his sides. “I’ll say. With this sort of aptitude, I’m surprised your grades aren’t higher.”

“Too bad c**k-sucking isn’t a credited course and you’re not my professor.” I slipped his d**k back into my mouth, continuing to enjoy the remnants of his stellar climax. I groaned again several times. Yep, addicting, just as I had predicted.

Novak laughed and stroked my hair, then grabbed one of my arms and dragged me upward. He maneuvered me onto my back and rubbed his taut belly against my erection. “Come for me again, Matthew. Only this time, let me see you shoot your excitement.”

He lowered himself until his breastbone came into contact with my thudding rod. When his right hand moved down, I thought he intended to jack me off. Instead, he imprisoned my shaft between his soft palm and fur-covered chest and started to slide my throbbing flesh back and forth.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched the lewd play. For several minutes, my c**k rolled from side to side beneath his hand, my thick foreskin alternately masking and unmasking my c**k-head, driving me wild, while his crisp chest hair tickled, teased, and taunted, adding fuel to the fire growing in my balls. Pre-c*m oozed freely from me, making the ebony tufts of hair in the center of his chest shiny with dampness. From time to time, Novak bent down and sucked some juice from my exposed helmet, then stretched upward to kiss my lips.

“Do you like this?” he asked.

“f*****g hell, yeah!” I said on a groan, already feeling my balls preparing for another volcanic eruption.

“Shoot for me, Matthew. Come on, buddy. Cover my chest with your hot f**k-juice. I want to see it dripping through my fingers and streaming across your beautiful six-pack. Give me that d**k-cream…give it to me…”

Novak’s filthy talk, almost as much as viewing my prick rolling back and forth against his sexy chest, proved to be the perfect detonator. With my entire body tingling as molten blood gushed through my veins, my c**k blasted with what seemed to be a never-ending stream of semen. The initial shots splattered my chest and shoulders, then left streamers of ivory all along my quivering belly.

The artist sighed his lecherous approval and smeared his chest with the juice dripping from his fingers. Before I had even finished shooting, he bent down and took me into his mouth, draining me of the final drops and moaning his satisfaction. He then licked some of the c*m from my belly and kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth to share it. Again and again he repeated the process, until my torso glistened with saliva.

I heaved an exhausted breath and plunged backward onto the carpet. Sunlight blanketed me in warmth, and my heart pounded in joy. Here, in this fantasy-filled studio crammed with obscene artwork and the sexy artist who had created it returning to suck my shrinking p***s, I found myself in heaven.

Or at least I thought it might be heaven. s****l heaven for certain. And I never wanted to leave.

Never in a f*****g million years.