December 2020 (continued)

She Comes In Colors Everywhere

People all over America send us their wildest stories. This one is creative on so many levels, our jaws still hang open in disbelief. Read on and see if you agree! –– The Editors

Marian and I were first turned on to body paints from on-line photos we saw of tourists at a festival in Key West, Florida. "Looks like fun," I said to Marian. She said nothing but had a strange look in her eyes.

That Saturday night we were in the living room watching TV and checking our phones when she said she wanted to "fix herself up a bit." Those words were always a signal that she would bathe, shave her legs, put on perfume and a sexy nightie. And then I would hear her call from the bedroom an hour later, ready to go.

Instead, I came upon a scene from science fiction. Marian had put colored light bulbs in the lamps, and she herself was a pillar of color, standing resplendent in the center of the white pile rug. They say that women are sexier with clothes on than without, and sometimes I agree with that, but one thing I'm now positive of: neither is nearly as erotic as a naked woman covered with color and designs right on her skin.

Marian's body had been transformed. Her breasts were violet, her belly crimson, her thighs iridescent green, and her pubic hair an eerie blue. She turned around. The back of her was untouched except for her ass, on which she'd drawn a set of orange handprints, making it look like someone had been spanking her.

The effect was psychedelic and erotic all at once. She looked like a creature from another world, but one that was also very desirable on planet earth. The combination of alien and familiar was devastating. I found myself getting spontaneously erect, one of those granite erections which last for hours once they are roused.

When she saw the look in my eyes she smiled victoriously. If she'd wanted to turn me from a lazy-ass husband watching TV into a voracious lover who wanted a full night of passion, she'd certainly succeeded. "The gods have sent me for your pleasure," she said mockingly.

Our eyes locked and I pulled her gaze down to my erection, now throbbing visibly. Her lips formed into an "O" and her knees bent. I walked up to her and her whole body swayed and sank before me. I looked down and saw her lean forward, her tongue sliding sensuously between her teeth and licking one pearly drop from the tip of my cock.

And then she swooped forward and took my whole shaft into her mouth. She put her hands on my butt and pulled me forward until I was embedded deep in her throat. For a long moment she didn't breathe, distracted by the bulk and heat of my rod filling her so completely.

She pulled back, stared up at me with soulful eyes and whispered, "I want to worship you." It was something she never would have had said ordinarily, but turning herself into a strange and lustrous creature had transformed her psyche. Now some ancient, locked-up urges were bubbling up to the surface!

"Yesss," I hissed. She went wild. She licked and sucked me with so much abandon it took my breath away. Her tongue was a demon on my flesh, lathering my thighs, tickling my testicles, loving my tool. She crouched even lower and dug between my legs, nuzzling me between my ass cheeks. Finally she fell all the way to the floor and started kissing my feet.

I gazed down with wonder. Marian was rolling on the rug, her gaudily painted body a moving sea of color against the white fur, looking like an apparition. All at once I had to have her entirely, to possess her. I sank down and let my full weight fall on her body. She gasped. She then cried out, "Yes, yes, yes," wanting to go on with our scenario. The heat was upon me, especially as I felt her squirming against me, her ass grinding into my thighs.

She thrashed about until my cock slid between her cheeks and found the soft wet center of her pussy. As it nudged against the tender lips, she sighed and surrendered. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, "I want you," into her ear, then slowly and majestically entered her, sliding deep into the clutching center of her sex.

Once inside, I knew my Marian. No amount of paint could disguise the way she received me when she was turned on. She pushed back, lifting her butt and spreading her legs as wide as she could, opening herself for me to ride her as long and as deep as I wanted.

We went on late into the night and the next day it was clear to us we were on to something with this body paint thing. We decided that the next time we'd both do ourselves up, and the following Friday night we went down into the basement of our house which is set up as my man cave.

We arranged the lights and music, got undressed and began the ritual. I lay down first and Marian applied the body paint. I closed my eyes and gave myself up to her knowing fingers and the sensual feel of the wet paint. She took a long time, caressing and kissing each part of me before putting on the color, and she covered almost every inch of my skin. By the time she was finished, I was charged with excitement and my cock began to stir. "The canvas is coming alive," she laughed.

Next I did her, and when I was finished we got up and stood in front of a full-length mirror. It was mind-boggling. We were nothing like the conventional couple who lived in that house. Marian had done me in shades of brown, deep purple, with rich blues and greens, using a camo pattern, so that I looked like a fearsome creature of a primal forest. She was almost the opposite, a dazzling sprite who flits among the flowers. Her face was a burst of gold, her torso a shimmering silver column.

Her arms and legs had become pillars of flame, all red and orange. I had made her breasts a deep blue, with vermilion nipples. We turned to one another, completely stunned.

"Marian," I said, "You're radiant."

"And you are the dark lord of my dreams."

For a few moments we couldn't move. I didn't recognize her. I didn't recognize us. Then I reached out, took her in my arms, and kissed her. Physically she felt the same, but psychologically it was as though we were together for the very first time in our lives. The drastic change in appearance had cast a spell. We had begun by playing at a game of make-believe, and now it was hard to believe we weren't actually two primordial creatures who were finding their true identity at last.

Just then, as we'd more or less programmed it, Olatunji's classic percussion-filled Drums of Passion came on the sound system, and with the first beat we started to dance. There were no steps, only a surge of movement sweeping us along. We flung ourselves into a river of sound and soon were dancing wildly, shouting and sweating, the paints running and mixing, sending rivulets of color down our bodies.

We danced until we were ready to explode with energy and then fell to the floor. I was caught up in an orgiastic delirium and Marian seemed a living flame as she hurled herself against me. Then it was fingers and teeth, limbs sprawling, hair flying. I threw myself on my back, my erection poking in the air like a maypole at a spring rite. Marian's eyes blazed and she slid on top of me, impaling herself on my cock.

"Yes!" she screamed, and continued her dance, this time using me as the ground she moved on. Her body with its wild colors and streams of sweat swayed and trembled, and she pushed her bottom down and down until I was lodged as deeply inside her as it was possible to go. Her face was a mask of divine and demonic frenzy.

I slipped my hands behind her and cupped her ass, beginning to guide her, to try to control and direct the primal energy of her ride. We'd gotten pretty passionate in the past but what was happening now was in a different league altogether. I gazed up at her, transported by the awareness that my wife had changed into such a wanton and delicious creature.

We went on endlessly, the music changing, going from position to position. At one point, as we rolled across the floor, locked in a sixty-nine, we left a trail of color behind us, making the space of white floor tiles look like an abstract painting.

At the very end, I was standing in the middle of the room. Marian had her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, her pussy holding my cock in its fierce grip. I stood there feeling like the first and last man on earth, and bellowed in triumph as Marian convulsed. She came and came so often that the juices ran freely out of her down my belly and legs. And when I exploded my own orgasm, it felt as though the top of my head had blown off. My legs gave way and the two of us collapsed in a heap on the floor.

That night shook us both to our foundations because it hadn't been just a matter of hotter sex. The body painting had tapped some primeval source in us, bringing us back to a time when people lived in real caves and danced around fires in the woods.

Since then we've descended into our basement fantasy land quite a few times, and have taken to photographing ourselves so when our trips are finished we can sit at leisure and enjoy the vision of how far out we've gone. Body painting may seem like a superficial game, but it can actually be a medium for a fierce and challenging erotic confrontation. Besides that, it's inexpensive, harmless and, no matter what kind of creature you've turned into on the night before, it all washes off in the morning.

–– Bruce in Boise