Artistic License {Part 2} [FM, mast] [FF] [first person]

You can start reading here if you skipped Part 1, but since you may want the whole story I'll put links to the other parts in the comments.

I got to the ceramics department quickly, hoping to make up for the time I'd lost that morning. I was looking forward to this project far more than I had expected.

The department advisor met me when I walked in and apologised: "There was a slight mishap earlier this morning: we had a group of local high school students in before dawn for a tour, and one of them broke a small container of paint by the cubbies and . . . " she gestured to the row of shelves and I saw where the paint had spilled, dripping just a splash of paint on the head of my figurine. I stared at in shock, as the advisor apologised again and said to see her if I needed more clay for my project. I nodded, dazed, and walked over to my clay statuette. I picked her up, and touched my finger to the now dry paint, bright pink on her curly hair, right where the shock of pink had been in my girlfriend's hair this morning.

I thought back to the previous night, when I'd greeted Summer in the hallway. There hadn't been pink in her hair. I hadn't just missed it. It had appeared overnight, spontaneously, and she'd been so confused by it this morning . . .

I stared at the figurine in my hand and remembered shaping it, remembered the energy and the passion and lust I'd poured into it. And I knew, looking at that clay version of my girlfriend, that it was the reason she woke up with pink in her hair. I know it's kinda weird that I so quickly assumed the connection, but you have to remember: I'm an artist – it's what we do, breathing life into our work. We spend our lives trying to recreate some aspect of the world through our work, trying to evoke life through a few lines of ink. And now, I'd truly evoked human life through my work.

I ended up back at the wooden table with my clay figure, some fresh clay, and a sculpting tool. I kinda like the pink, I decided, so first things first, let's neaten that up. I cleaned up some of the paint, leaving a nice, stylish streak in the figure's hair, and then went over the rest of the body, polishing up areas I hadn't perfected the day before. As I cleaned up the lines on her arms, I thought back to my original idea, a statuette of human sexuality. I remembered studying prehistoric artefacts along those lines, with their wide hips and large breasts, symbols of fertility and femininity.

I loved my girlfriend's body, small breasts and all. I'd been with women with larger breasts before, and a few with smaller, and I knew the attractions of all sizes. I liked Summer's: small, perky, sensitive to my touch, but I supposed she wasn't really my absolute sexual ideal. And if this project was to be the very essence of my sexuality, then I really did need to make some alterations to the clay figure.

I found a pot of water, wet the figure, and began adding small amounts of fresh clay. I carefully shaped the breasts, changing only the size, not the shape and details. I was still experimenting, so I only went up a cup size or so. I left her eyes closed, just perfected her eyelashes. Slightly more shapely legs, slightly wider hips. I left earlier than necessary, not wanting to overdo it, and ate a late lunch.

Friday afternoons I oversaw a freshman life-sketching class, and I was looking forward to today's nude model. It was a young man we'd had in before, slim and broad-shouldered, and I loved posing him. I still had pent-up sexual energy from sculpting, and I nearly let it get away from me, as I had the model drape himself over the stand and stare out at the students with bedroom eyes. A few of the girls and one of the boy freshman had to be reminded to keep working and stop staring. I caught myself staring a few times and ended up excusing myself to release some of that energy. I was quite fortunate that this classroom had a private back office, because I was unzipping my jeans before I finished closing the door.

I sat in the desk chair, one leg up on the desk, and imagined my girlfriend kissing up my leg. Before long though, the image in my mind turned to the man in the other room, now staring up at me from between my legs, kissing up my thigh while his hands trailed up to my breasts. I leaned back, gasping, my finger tracing my labia, while the man in my fantasy stood up, his fingers between my legs, and kissed me. He was rubbing his thumb – I was rubbing my thumb – around my clitoris, and pushing my legs apart – I spread my legs wider – and moving closer he leant over and kissed my neck – I gasped out loud – and thrust into me – I pushed my fingers into myself – he thrust upwards – I stroked my fingers upwards – he pulled in and out, rubbing against my clit – my thumb rubbed my clit, hard – and I came, clenching around my his cock – my fingers – gasping loudly.

As I straightened up, grateful for the thick wooden walls of these old buildings, I realised it had been quite a while since I had been with a man like that. My current girlfriend and I had moved in together nearly a year ago, and I hadn't fucked anyone with a cock for a year before that. I'd last dated a transwoman, and now I looked back on her fondly. Fucking a woman with a cock isn't much like fucking a man with one, but it's still a lot of fun. Still, my girlfriend had a wide range of sex toys, and I thought about playing with some that evening.

I walked back into the classroom, had the model change poses, checked the students' sketches, and tried to avoid staring for the rest of the class.

I arrived home early enough to cook a nice dinner, and when Summer snuck into the kitchen and hugged me from behind, I was slightly disappointed to feel her small breasts pressed up against my back. Then I scolded myself for feeling disappointed by her, and for being silly enough to think the hair coincidence was anything more than a bizarre happenstance. I turned around and kissed my wonderful girlfriend deeply and passionately. I paused only to turn the stove off before pulling her shirt off, grinning. I left the shirt wrapped around her wrists and pulled her bra down, and showed her just how much I appreciated her breasts as they were, small and perky and -very- sensitive. When Summer was leaning most of her weight on the counter and moaning, I let her nipples go. "Oh gods no, don't stop" she said breathlessly. I removed her bra, pulled her shirt back on, and said "Dinnertime, darling. Playtime comes later." She wriggled a bit, rubbing her legs together, before sighing and following me to the table.

---

I woke up the next morning in my normal big-spoon position, and for a few minutes just lay there, appreciating the warm body next to me. We'd played pretty hard the previous night, showered off the stickiness, and then made love, slowly and softly, and I remembered just how much I loved my girlfriend as she is.

I reached around to properly hug her – and my eyes shot open. These were not the breasts I remembered – and the pink in her hair was different – neater. I caressed her gently, running my hands down her body. Her hips were slightly wider, her legs felt slightly different, and the breasts I slowly rubbed were definitely larger. The changes I'd made to the clay figure had taken effect, and now I was going to reap my rewards.

I began stroking my hands up Summer's stomach, reaching up to rub her new larger breasts, then gently touching them, then cupping her breasts and very delicately touching her nipples. I knew soft touches would wake her up slowly, and sure enough, she was moaning lightly before she even fully woke up. I was getting wet, and tired of waiting, so I lowered my mouth to her shoulder and bit gently while simultaneously pinching her nipples. She woke with a start, gasping and moving her hands up to touch mine.

"Good morning, darling," I whispered in her ear as I scraped my thumbnail across her left nipple. She gasped and bucked, twisting her legs together. "Oh yeah, good morning baby", she said breathlessly. From behind, I hooked my legs around hers, pulling them apart. She moaned slightly, and reached her hands down. "Oh no, honey," I told her, and left her breasts alone to grab her wrists. I moved the arm I had been lying on above her head, loosely holding her arms up. I rolled over onto my back, pulling her mostly on top of me. My legs trapped hers open, her wet sex right over my own. One arm rested on the pillow, trapping both of hers, and the other snaked back to continue rubbing her breasts.

"Oh, babe," Summer moaned, "That feels so good. I don't know what you're doing but gasp it's good. Feels like there's something gasp different about my chest, but it's a good different . . . It's like-" I cut her off by pinching one of her nipples with my nails. I didn't want her overthinking the difference, and besides – this was a time for feeling, not a time for thinking. I rolled each nipple between my fingers, building up from caressing to rubbing to squeezing to pulling, leaving her moaning and writhing, before licking my fingers and switching to the other breast. I massaged each round breast carefully, even though she begged me breathlessly to go back to attending her nipples. It seemed she had lost none of her sensitivity in the growth. By now she was writhing against my legs and I wanted her to fully experience the pleasure of her new form, the new breasts I had made for her.

I pulled one leg up between hers, and she clenched her thighs tightly around it. I began pushing up against her sex, rubbing up and down, building her up. I squeezed each breast, pulling upwards until I was just holding on to her nipple before pinching tightly and releasing. I kissed along her neck, biting gently. I scratched the sides of her breasts, softly, and teased her nipples. I knew how her body reacted to my touches, and I could feel her getting close to orgasm. I rubbed my leg harder, and kept caressing her chest. Finally I returned to her nipples for a series of pinches and tugs and she came around my leg, squeezing tightly and moaning deep in her throat.

I released her breasts and her arms gently, and she rolled over to kiss me. Before I could react, Summer had grabbed my wrists above my head and thrust her fingers between my labia and deep into me. I was already on edge from pleasuring her, and it didn't take much before her thumb on my clit brought me over that edge, and I cried out into her mouth. She let go of my arms, reaching in to hold my face, and I brought my arms down to hold her close. We kissed deeply, and I knew it was going to be a good Saturday.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2md64y/artistic_license_part_2_fm_mast_ff_first_person