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“Fuck!” I cry. “I was so close, but shit, your tongue is so talented.”
He takes a pen and writes on my thigh, with an arrow pointing to my balls. It reads,Licking your luscious balls.
I bring him into me, as I push from the chairs. “I fucking love you.”
“Ditto,” he returns.
He rolls next, and it comes up with bed, spank, and nipples. I hum at this idea. “How about instead of spanking, I just flick them?” I offer.
He loves his nipples played with and runs to the bed. I hop on it and straddle his waist while I flick them and take some liberty and even suck on them a little. He doesn’t stop me and growls at every fucking sensation I cause.
At the five-minute mark, I write under his pierced nipples.I flicked your nipples.
“One more foreplay, then I’m going to fuck you.”
“Yes please,” he responds as he rolls the dice. “Blow, Penis, Bed. I guess we don’t have to move.”
“You can’t make me come, unless you want to fuck me,” I say.
With the way his lips quirk, I have a feeling I know what he wants. He loves topping. “Challenge fucking accepted.”
I roll over, and he climbs between my legs. He’s trying to make me cum, and with his thrusts, fast and hard, I hope he does. He begins to fondle my balls, and he’s technically cheating, but I don’t care. Sliding his teeth down my shaft, carefully, but eliciting a little pain, I cry out as I fill his mouth with my cum.
He pulls back and swallows it. He’s fucking sexy when he swallows me. He takes the pen and writes on my stomach with an arrow pointing down.I blew his penis and made him blow.
I laugh at his words, but I throw him the lube, and he doesn’t take anytime to breach my tightness. He bucks in and out of me, wild, yelling my name. “I love you so fucking much!”
I’ve never seen him this fucking frenzied for me. He fills me up, only to eat his cum out of my hole. Eventually he drops beside me.
“Can we do that again?” he asks. “That was so fucking hot.”
We’re both sweaty and covered with edible marker. “Yeah, I almost insist we do this a couple times a week.”
* * *
“As we begin workingwith acrylic paints, let’s review what they are again.”
Teaching these kids not only gives Ash and I something to do together, but gives me purpose, and a reminder of the passion I’ve always had for art. It started at an early age, and has never waned.
“It’s a pigmented water soluble medium that becomes water resistant when it dries,” Lainey calls out next to her older brothers. We’ve been teaching for eight weeks. In that time, Lainey, Collin and Devin Carrol have become special to Ash and me.
Lainey is seven. Devin, who is only sixteen, cares for his siblings like he’s the parent. We’ve been careful stating the truth, but it’s not hard to tell—they’re neglected.
Lainey retains all information, and the second she sees or hears something, it remains in her memory.
“You’re right, Lainey. Anyone else?”
Collin raises his hand. “It dries quickly, and you can easily paint over any mistakes.”
Ash and I exchange a proud look. “What sort of brushes should you use?” I ask, and this will be the rest of my review today. Everyone is ready to paint.
“You can use an acrylic round brush, flat brush, or an angled brush,” another student says before one of the Carrol kids can ring in.
Every student has worked on a sketch of what they plan to transfer to canvas. We’re limited on supplies, although I have no problem buying anything these kids need. But, Ash is trying to reel me in.
“Your sketch should be your roadmap. It doesn’t have to be exact. If you need more paint, or different colors, they’ll be up here near Ash and me. Just try to be respectful of others.”
We walk around the room, watching everyone’s strokes on the easels Kate brought a couple of weeks ago. Every student has one. I walk around the classroom as they work, comparing the painting to the sketches they keep close to them.
