The Spanker as an Artist

He lovingly traces his fingers over the blank canvas.

Warm to the touch and a delicate flesh tone,

It shivers beneath his loving caress.

The feeling wells up within him as it always does.

Needing the pleasure he will bring to both of them,

But selfishly knowing the intensity of his own response,

Stroking once more and listening to the gentle moan.

He lifts his hand/brush that contains the colors he will create,

Letting it land with the gentlest of stings and taking joy in her gasp,

Oh and how he loves the gentle pink print engraved on her derriere.

The exact shape and size of his hand.

Loving both the art work and the canvas that holds it,

He bends over and kisses his first stroke.

A sigh escapes from the owner of the lovely canvas.

Lifting his hand he begins a series of strokes,

Moving each spank to another spot,

Soon one handprint begins to overlap another.

The intensity builds and soon the color he creates

Takes on a glow that is deep and beginning to show the touches of crimson.

Her delight in his artistic talent is evident in each outcry of delight.

Knowing her moods and the language of her body

He begins to caress his masterpiece.

Rubbing over the tender skin that is now moving more quickly into shades of red,

His arousal is as evident as hers.

Loving the pleasure he brings,

His hand drifts onto the satiny skin between her legs.

The dewy moisture brings a smile to his lips

And, though he can't see it, he knows an identical one lights her face.

He whispers loving words into her ear,

Her eyes close loving the sound of his voice soft and intense.

Now the artist senses he must continue,

Before he loses the shade he has achieved.

Spanks rain down on the tender canvas

As he lovingly grips her waist to hold her in place

For completion of their masterpiece.

The strokes are sharp and continue to intensify the color.

He can feel her body give itself up to the spanking.

The sounds she makes are not words

But they signal what her needs are.

The final spanks delight him with the gorgeous shade of deep, glowing color

That has been achieved.

Looking closely he can make out handprints

But when he sits back it all blends to a beautiful color and texture.

He feels her hands rubbing his legs lovingly

He knows how much she appreciates and loves his masterpieces.

What she can never know or understand completely,

Is that the pleasure he gives her increases his artistic delight many times over.

As his hand rubs and caresses the beauty before him,

He wonders how the two of them found each other.

After all artists have to search for their inspiration

Without success.

And here is his never ending canvas, just as amazed by it all as he is.

He hears the whispered words, Oh baby, thank you, how I love you.

Then knowing that both of them have needs beyond the artistic,

He turns her over, gazes on her lovliness

And kisses her deeply as he continues caressing the brilliant masterpiece he has created.

Purple Angel