Chapter 6: Body Painting

Lydia

I don’t think we could ever keep our hands off each other for any length of time for two weeks after Mark’s birthday. By early May, during the final preparations for the Barcelona Olympics, my coach started warning me that my thigh muscles were getting too big.

I’m in the same dilemma as a professional cyclist. Your body defines what you’re good at. If you have huge, heavy muscles you’re ending up as a sprinter, like Meredith Daxter, my friend from Pasadena, but if you are a marathon runner, or a mountain goat in the Tour de France, your body needs to be light. Every unnecessary kilogram is one that you have to carry around for over forty-two kilometers, using up precious energy. So the growing muscles would become a problem. I had gone from fifty-five kilograms to fifty-seven and it was all additional muscle mass.

There was no way we could keep up Mark’s favorite morning quickie, well as much as you can call it a quickie when you need up to a minute just to get his large tool into my pussy without tearing anything apart or causing pain. He just loved to lie flat on his back, having me ride him so he could play with my boobs and watch my flexing leg muscles. And boy was he good at playing with my breasts. If I could, I would make his hands my favorite bra.

I knew he liked morning blowjobs too, so he would have to ‘make do’ with those while I was still competing. Since we needed to change our still young routines of having sex, it was just as well to have a little chat about it.

When I got home, I put on my favorite ‘seducing Mark’ costume – bright red sheer thigh-highs, a matching garter-belt and nothing else, not even panties. He absolutely adored me in that get-up. I still had about an hour and a half before he would return from the editorial team meeting at the headquarters of the Pasadena Mariner, the local newspaper that commissioned so many illustrations from him.

I slipped an apron over my head. As much as I like being naked, especially for my darling son, safety comes first. I wouldn’t want to burn some body parts that my dearest sweetie is very protective of, and handling food with your bare pussy on display isn’t sexy but a hygienic nightmare. I started frying his favorite finger food, little meatballs following a traditional Berlin recipe and I prepared other types of snacks to make it an eclectic finger buffet for two.

Back in February I had asked him to keep me away from anything alcoholic after I had almost ripped my own rear-end to shreds in a drunken masturbation, but today we would make an exception and I had selected a light wine from the Saale-Unstrut region in East Germany, just about two marathon distances from where we had once lived. Now, eight years after fleeing from East Germany, it felt like a distant, former life.

The wine was actually more for Mark’s benefit than mine. As much as he loved making love to me, he was quite uncomfortable talking about it, so I had decided to go for a more relaxed atmosphere as several things needed to be discussed. There was the obvious point of abandoning the morning’s cowboy ride, but there were other things. Mark was almost too respectful of me. As a mother it pleased me that he had so much respect for females, but as my lover he needed to be more assertive.

I was not one of those women begging their partners to spank or hurt them, but a little light humiliation and gentle domination got me going in ways that were difficult to describe. It didn’t do much for a woman with a submissive streak that he was so abashed on the rare occurrence that he actually asked to have sex. Most of the time I had to take the initiative.

There was actually only one situation in which he would allow himself to lose control even mildly, and that was when I waited for him in the exact getup I was wearing then, sans apron of course. Seeing me in the red nothing he usually jumped out of his clothes almost frantically to bend me over the nearest piece of furniture for a damn good pounding, not stopping before I had had at least two orgasms. When it came to being pleasured, he was a dream partner and I couldn’t believe that just a year ago I was still inclined to deny myself that piece of heaven because of a social taboo.

But today that wouldn’t help much. Since that memorable vacation in the Caribbean, we had both discovered how great it feels to go practically or completely naked all the time. And whenever there was an important measure to impart on our partner, we would paint it on our naked body, as a sort of running gag reference to my stunt in Utrecht and later for the photo for his birthday. That’s why I had painted “NOT YET” just above my pussy, and it is harder than it looks as you obviously have to write upside down.

But silly messages were not the only thing that got painted on my body. Being an aspiring artist he had produced several body paintings on me, really elaborate work that had me sit or stand still for up to eight hours, while he painted my body from the neck down to my thighs. He was amazingly good at that. Apparently the idea for it had hit him when the numbers painted on our bare midriffs in Utrecht had been declared body paintings and gotten us out of an indecent exposure charge.

Normally I would wear a cheap pair of skimpy white panties that he just painted over, but for one picture he asked me to be completely naked. I wasn’t so sure, because once done he would always call a professional photographer to have his ‘canvas’, me, photographed from different angles. I wasn’t very comfortable with the thought, but my clever sweetheart had made my naked pussy the black triangular nose of a large and ridiculously realistic looking tiger head he had painted on my torso while my boobs were covered with the surrounding jungle. I could just as well have worn a swimsuit with that as a motive printed on. Frankly, I wouldn’t even have been afraid going out into public like that. You could theoretically see all, but practically nothing. It covered my naughty bits better than some of the underwear I have.

Well, the rest of the cheap white panties would probably collect dust now. From then on I was comfortable enough to be painted on completely naked and Joshua, the photographer, who like Mark worked for the ‘Pasadena Mariner’, was a very funny and respectful guy, so I no longer felt uncomfortable, when he took pictures of me. That they looked spectacularly good certainly helped too. I couldn’t believe I still looked that good at age thirty-two. If you are a woman and want to make sure you look spectacularly good far into your thirties – just become a world-class athlete, it’s that simple.

When I heard Mark pull up in the driveway, I quickly took off the apron and waited for him in the living room. The dinner table was all set, but I had to make sure he would read the message, else I would end up on my back between the food, being ravaged by my sweet lover. Having come in with a cheery ‘Hi mom’, he was already sans shirt before he saw the message across my pubic area. His eyes went wide.

“Got it?” I asked and he nodded, looking sheepish and slightly disappointed at the same time. I wiped off the food dye with a wet cloth.

“Honey, don’t worry, I want you as much as you want me, but beforehand I want to talk to you.”

“Okay, mom,” he said, dragging out the first word insecurely, and I could clearly notice the wariness in his voice, so I smiled to ease his worries.

“Get those clothes off and come here,” I said and stretched out on the sofa. Getting his clothes off meant that he was supposed to strip down to his boxers. He normally wore those even when going ‘naked’ and I could see the reason for that. Well, no, I couldn’t actually see it as it was covered by his briefs, but walking around the house with those large dangling bits slapping against his thighs was a bit impractical, so he wore a pair of shorts when we ‘went naked’ about the house.

He slipped in behind be and I lay back against his chest while Mark held me with his hands around my waist. It was our favorite cuddling position.

“Mark, honey, do you remember the little game you played with me on my birthday?”

I felt the soft vibrations of his chuckle. “I couldn’t believe that you really went without any panties and bra,” he said, his mirth radiating in his voice. “The dress went all the way down to your ankles, but your boobs could have fallen out at any moment.”

I sipped my wine, before asking the question that was on my mind.

“Why haven’t you done something like that again? Now that you’re eighteen, the options are much more ... interesting.”

“That was a little game. Making love is something special and I can’t just walk in, saying ‘Suck my dick, woman’. I couldn’t be that disrespectful. I can’t just assume you’re in the mood for sex whenever it takes my fancy. You would miss yet another Olympics if I did that.”

I had to giggle about his chivalry. Of course as his mother it was proof that I had done something right in his upbringing, but as a lover he needed to lose that once in a while.

“Sweetie, do you think it is disrespectful to wake you up in the morning with your dick in my mouth without me asking if you want that?”

“Well technically it is,” he said with a chuckle. “But you know how much I like ... Oh”

I bet if his brain was mechanic, you could have heard the gears turning until the proverbial penny dropped. And bless his sweet heart, my Mark is nobody who would waste time. As soon as he had worked out what I meant to say, he’d already fished out the blindfold we keep in the back of the sofa and tied it around my head. I was wet in an instant as the ideas went through my mind what he might possibly have in store for me.

I felt his hand probe my pussy for any moisture and he could just as well have probed a saturated sponge. The sheer thought of him ordering me around had me gush like a firehose.

“Now, mom, I have no experience with this, so I guess you need to tell me what you want me to order you and how I know where the limit is.”

His voice sounded almost apologetic. He was apologizing for his inexperience.

“It’s called a Safe-word, sweetie. You can demand anything you want as long as you don’t hurt me and when I really don’t want to do what you order me to, I will say ‘Uncle’ and you need to stop what you’re doing immediately, okay?”

My sense of hearing, trying to make up for the loss of vision could pick up that his breathing was getting quicker. He was getting aroused by what I had just said.

Mark

The sheer magnitude of ‘You can demand anything you want’ was starting to sink in and I was getting rock-hard. I had actually thought about ordering mom around a bit, knowing that’s part of her sexuality since she had told me during that vacation on St. Kitts and Nevis. But the thought of hurting her by ‘ordering’ her to do something she didn’t like, had always put me off the idea. Now I felt like the village idiot. Working out something as easy as a code word should not have been an unsolvable puzzle for a straight-A student. But then, in sexual matters I was nearly illiterate so to speak. Even now my brain was working overtime, trying to work out how I was going to ‘use’ the freedom that I currently had in regards to mom’s intimate request.

I probed her pussy again and mom was still sopping wet.

“You are a naughty girl, aren’t you?” I said with a teasing tone as she ground her hips to intensify my touch. “Look how wet you are.”

“Yes, I’m a very naughty girl,” she answered. The husky sound of her voice made me even harder.

Then an idea struck me. She was still lying on top of me, so I released my embrace around her waist, grabbed her buttocks and gave her a good shove. Not expecting my sudden forceful intervention, mom toppled over forwards and face-planted the cushions on the opposite end of the sofa, coming to a halt with her rear-end stuck in the air. She let out a someone belated squeal of surprise, but I was already in action, pushing down my boxers and lining up my throbbing erection with her exposed and well lubricated pussy.

Without as much as a warning I entered her slowly but steadily, amazed how large my prized possession looked in comparison to mom’s slender frame. Okay, according to mom and Meri I’m not the smallest man they’d ever encountered, but it was still a long way from one of those outlandish jackhammers you see in porn movies. Mom was fairly tight, mostly because I had been delivered by C-section, and she hadn’t had much sex in recent years, so getting that thing in was a bit of a challenge, at least if it was to happen without causing discomfort.

Normally the simple process of inserting myself into her slim frame was a lengthy process, but this time I simply shoved it in, determined to plunder that bald pussy like a pirate given a last chance to prove himself. Mom’s groans signaled her discomfort, but as soon as I started moving that discomfort passed as she started to moan in raw lust. That she had been positively gushing since I had blindfolded her did certainly help a lot.

I don’t know why, but that day the sweet scent of her arousal was even more potent than usual and it drove me wild. Inhaling her sweet scent, I started pounding her in earnest, causing nasty slapping sound every time my hips impacted with the firm flesh of her petite butt.

And I wasn’t the only one descending into a frenzy of lust if the sound-track was anything to go by.

“Yes sweetie, fuck mommys naughty pussy. That’s so good, harder, harder!”

Well, unfortunately I was an artist, not a world-class athlete, so I couldn’t quite go as fast as mom would have liked, which meant I had to come up with a plan B. Scooping up some of that copious amount of juice dripping out of her pussy, I soaked the index-finger of my right hand and rubbed it over her puckered rear-opening, elicited a gasp and several vulgar encouragements from my gorgeous lover. Satisfied that I had lubed her up enough, I pushed my digit past her tight gateway, eliciting a pleasured shriek from mom as I continued to pound her hard slowly finger-fucking her backdoor for added pleasure.

I was already close to exploding, but the additional stimulation did the trick. She pressed her face into the pillows and screamed so hard, her whole body was trembling. I had to hold her by the hips as she could barely keep upright, her small body convulsing in the throes of a mighty orgasm.

That pushed me over the top as well and I fully buried myself into her while spilling into her womb. I was still basking in the blissful aftershocks of my own climax when mom went completely limp and passed out.

Lydia

I had to live thirty-two years to experience an orgasm that was so intense I passed out. Okay, I had also passed out when going wild on myself with two dildos after my birthday date with Mark, but that had more to do with the fact that I had been blind drunk at the time.