My career as a body painter has introduced me to some interesting people. Call them characters, if you must. But, understandably, a person willing to have their naked body turned into a canvas is going to be somewhat...extroverted.
I've always thought exhibitionist was a cruel description for my subjects. In fact, if I do my job correctly the public should not know that the subject is naked. Of course, there are certain designs I do where that is not the case. But, for the most part, we want to project an optical illusion upon the public.
I mention this only because I'm constantly asked if my job is as sexually arousing as it seems to most people. The typical question is something like, "Do you ever, you know, uh, 'do it' with your subjects?"
Well, duh!
However, you'd be surprised at the way it sometimes happens. When I'm doing my job, I'm concentrating on the very difficult task of creating a piece of art on a rounded, pliable canvas. There's no doubt that running a brush, even an airbrush, over a perfectly formed breast is erotic. But it's nothing compared to what the person being painted is feeling.
When I'm covering a naked pussy with a thick layer of paint, I've been accused of lingering around the clit. But don't, for an instant, believe that I feel the same thing as my subject.
Still, it's a very erotic job. I'm normally horny to the point of desperation by the time I've finished a young woman's body. Then, of course, I can't touch her. Think about it.
Do I have sex with my customers? Many of my clients are swingers. They have no problem with, and actually enjoy, having sex with new people. While the whole idea was a little frightening to me at first, I've learned to appreciate the sensuality of the men and women who partake in the habit.
They invite me to parties. That's a perk. Sometimes it's just three of us, sometimes a few couples, sometimes I lose track.
And here's a fact that will shock those of you not into this lifestyle: it is very, very common.
I was recently at a large party at the invitation of a couple—she's an accountant and he's an insurance company executive. Their house was what a middle-class girl like me would call a mansion. Tucked well back in the woods with a driveway longer than most streets I've lived on, it was the perfect setting for a late summer eve's get-together.
I arrived fairly early, which is a bad habit of mine. Even then, the crowd was large enough to spread people out among the numerous rooms on the first floor. More guests were on the patio and around the pool.
I quickly found the food and drink. That's another bad habit. And with drink in hand, I began to mingle.
Most of the guests were familiar either from earlier parties or from my work. It's not uncommon for a customer to bring friends with them to my studio to observe, so it's not like I'd painted everybody there, but I had met many of them. I guess I was WISHING I had painted everybody there...so I could afford a house like this.
Eventually I ended up in a family room, attracted by a little blonde with a marvelous body. Yes, go ahead and accuse me of looking at a person and imagining what they'd look like naked. It's part of my job, OK?!
And another thing: I'm not a lesbian. I've spent a good portion of my twenty six years preferring to have sex with boys and men and I don't want to change now. But I'd be lying if I said I'd never made another woman cum or had her do it to me. And now I was standing there staring at a woman who could make me cum fairly quickly.
She wore a tight-fitting, low cut top that exposed just the right amount of her breasts. Teasing was a game this crowd had down to perfection. It was part of the fun. The woman I had my eyes on at the moment knew how to play. In fact, I probably couldn't have painted on pants any tighter than hers.
At these parties it is a commonly accepted practice for complete strangers to introduce themselves to you. So I introduced myself to her.
"Hi", the beautiful girl with the gorgeous blue eyes said. "I'm Amber."
I only half believed her, but wasn't going to let a little think like a name stop me on my quest. I found out she was an elementary school teacher. Lucky kids. Then I explained who I was.
"Oh, wow," she exclaimed. "You must be the Theresa that Heather was telling me about. I mean, there can't be that many Theresa's here that are body painters."
I nearly spilled my drink trying not to laugh. "God. I hope not. I don't need the competition."
Amber laughed, which at least allowed me to smile without feeling stupid. "Heather says you are very good."
I knew she didn't mean it in a sexual way, but my mind was having trouble staying on track the more I talked to this angel. Her breasts were dazzling, with just a hint of nipple protruding from the material of her top. Her skin was tanned and smooth. Her hair hung to her shoulders similar to Holly Hunter in "Crash." And if you know what I'm talking about, you ARE perverted.
"Well, I don't know about that. Maybe you should find out for yourself," I said.
Amber blushed. "What could you do with a lousy body like this?"
I smiled and took the opportunity to look over every inch of her lousy body, including the beautiful ass I couldn't see before. "Hmm. How about a string bikini so real looking even your husband will try to untie it?"
It was the only thing I could think of saying under short notice to find out if she was married or not.
"We should ask," Amber volunteered with a gleam in her eye.
She turned, looked around the room for a second, and said above the din of the crowd, "Adam!"
A man in his late twenties, Amber's age, turned to face her.
"Come here," she ordered, using her finger to invite him over.
Adam was handsome in an ordinary way. Not like a movie star or magazine model. But approachable. This might be fun, I thought.
"Adam, this is Theresa," Amber said. "Remember when Heather said the girl that did body painting would be here? This is her."
Adam and I shook hands and exchanged polite greetings. I was happy to see him surreptitiously examine me as we talked, hoping that my four or five inch height advantage over his wife didn't eliminate me from the competition. Maybe my four or five year age advantage made up for it.
My heart raced when Adam actually said, "It's so nice to find somebody here that's not so much older than us. We were feeling a little out of place. Can you stay and talk for a while?"
Can we just go somewhere and get naked? I let the question flow through my brain, bypassing the mouth for now. Instead, I said, "Sure. Do you need another drink?"
We agreed to head back to the dining room for refills, then found a less crowded corner of the house.
Adam explained his company had used the accounting services of Heather, my friend. They had hit it off and discussions led to Adam and Amber attending some of these parties.
"I really enjoy watching Amber with other women," Adam said. He and his wife exchanged knowing glances.
"So you'd be OK with the bikini?" Amber asked.
