Post by goldenmyst on Nov 13, 2018 21:46:28 GMT -6
Lupercalia
“John! Fancy meeting you here in the marketplace. It’s been a while. I got a jug of Tuscan wine. It was a good season for grapes there. We should share the bottle and remember old times. But then it’s Lupercalia. You might rather hook up with a maiden out in the hills. How are you?”
“Cassie, business is great but my love life is history. It seems I spend my time painting other people making love instead of doing it myself. I did a wonderful mural in Pompeii of two lovers. But alas my life doesn’t imitate my art anymore.”
“Well then, come with me and we’ll let the wine do its work.”
“Cassie, your pad is lovely. All that it needs is some art. I can remedy that.”
“You know John, I’ve always wanted a nude of myself to grace these bare walls. If you would indulge my desire I would be glad to pose for you.”
“I’ve never painted an old flame or a current one for that matter.”
“Hey, then we’re on! Just one thing, I want you to wear only your loincloth. I’d feel better if we were both in a similar state of undress.”
Cassie says, “Before we start, let’s partake of that wine you were promised. I am an honest dealer in love and drinking.”
She pours herself into the cup with the soul of a true merchant of hearts. They toast to old times not forgotten and new love around the corner. Then clothes are doffed until John is dressed as a beggar in the marketplace. Cassie joins the revelers in the principle of nudity but with the sun through her window instead of from the open sky.
John sits at his easel with his brush in hand. The loincloth is his only concession to modesty. He is instructed to keep his well hung self-covered or be compelled to parade himself naked down the streets of the city.
His old flame sits in a nude pose to be depicted by him in the hues of her maiden blush. She primps herself with lipstick. Her legs are crossed in supple curves.
By Jove, his regal body is sculpted in brawn Cassie muses. She eyes his gorgeous curves and rippling muscles from time spent at the gymnasium during the lonely hours of his single life. He is eager to repay her for this encounter with an image of her in the perfection that only art can offer. But she feels he has come down from Olympus to please her tired body.
He paints the colors of her femininity until a wicked plan is hatched in her mind. Her eyes lock on the drapery between his legs. Her tongue traces circles on her luscious lips until her cross-examination of him reveals the perjury he hides like a closely guarded family secret.
His guilt is revealed before his peering juror. He wields the handle of his brush trying to stay on task. But her wet lips enfold the tip of her ring finger until his guile escapes the tragedy of its confinement to see the light of day.
She parts her thighs to reveal her strawberry tussock. Her swollen feminist fury is painted pink. She slays her artist with a triumphant taunt.
He depicts her revelation in daring realism. She gives him a wily
. After teasing John for her pleasure she leads him to her boudoir for him to be her subject with her the measure of his masculinity.
“John! Fancy meeting you here in the marketplace. It’s been a while. I got a jug of Tuscan wine. It was a good season for grapes there. We should share the bottle and remember old times. But then it’s Lupercalia. You might rather hook up with a maiden out in the hills. How are you?”
“Cassie, business is great but my love life is history. It seems I spend my time painting other people making love instead of doing it myself. I did a wonderful mural in Pompeii of two lovers. But alas my life doesn’t imitate my art anymore.”
“Well then, come with me and we’ll let the wine do its work.”
“Cassie, your pad is lovely. All that it needs is some art. I can remedy that.”
“You know John, I’ve always wanted a nude of myself to grace these bare walls. If you would indulge my desire I would be glad to pose for you.”
“I’ve never painted an old flame or a current one for that matter.”
“Hey, then we’re on! Just one thing, I want you to wear only your loincloth. I’d feel better if we were both in a similar state of undress.”
Cassie says, “Before we start, let’s partake of that wine you were promised. I am an honest dealer in love and drinking.”
She pours herself into the cup with the soul of a true merchant of hearts. They toast to old times not forgotten and new love around the corner. Then clothes are doffed until John is dressed as a beggar in the marketplace. Cassie joins the revelers in the principle of nudity but with the sun through her window instead of from the open sky.
John sits at his easel with his brush in hand. The loincloth is his only concession to modesty. He is instructed to keep his well hung self-covered or be compelled to parade himself naked down the streets of the city.
His old flame sits in a nude pose to be depicted by him in the hues of her maiden blush. She primps herself with lipstick. Her legs are crossed in supple curves.
By Jove, his regal body is sculpted in brawn Cassie muses. She eyes his gorgeous curves and rippling muscles from time spent at the gymnasium during the lonely hours of his single life. He is eager to repay her for this encounter with an image of her in the perfection that only art can offer. But she feels he has come down from Olympus to please her tired body.
He paints the colors of her femininity until a wicked plan is hatched in her mind. Her eyes lock on the drapery between his legs. Her tongue traces circles on her luscious lips until her cross-examination of him reveals the perjury he hides like a closely guarded family secret.
His guilt is revealed before his peering juror. He wields the handle of his brush trying to stay on task. But her wet lips enfold the tip of her ring finger until his guile escapes the tragedy of its confinement to see the light of day.
She parts her thighs to reveal her strawberry tussock. Her swollen feminist fury is painted pink. She slays her artist with a triumphant taunt.
He depicts her revelation in daring realism. She gives him a wily
. After teasing John for her pleasure she leads him to her boudoir for him to be her subject with her the measure of his masculinity.
