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I absolutely love this photograph!
I was an art history minor in college and haunt art galleries on a regular basis. One of my greatest pastimes is going to a museum and taking photographs of people looking at the art.
Your photo, Marie, has prompted some thoughts, and at the end of my story I will attach a photograph I took two years ago of a young art student studying a painting at the Seattle Art Museum. I took it candidly with my iPhone as I was passing the room. Later when I looked at it I was amazed, better than anything I could have tried to take on purpose.
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In the Art Museum
I saw her sitting on a bench studying the paintings of Peter Paul Rubens. It had been awhile since I had visited the Louvre, and on a Tuesday morning it was somewhat quiet. As I strolled the galleries I was taken by the figure of a young woman copying one of Ruben’s paintings in the sketch book poised on her lap. An art student no doubt, not an uncommon sight in the museums of Paris. But she was no common art student, sitting pertly on the edge of the bench, an hour glass figure to be sure. She looked to be wearing a chemise with a skirt, her back was exposed and I could see her bra straps, I felt a familiar stir in my groin section and knew my penis was beginning to swell. ‘I must examine those Rubens paintings a little closer’, I thought, so I could turn to see her, as I was dying for her cleavage. As I looked at her, red hair complimenting her dress and the colors in the paintings I fell into a day dream. I was walking naked looking at the artworks, no one paid any attention to me, it was like I was invisible, I felt emboldened. Seeing a pretty girl sketching a painting I walked up to her and said, “hello’. “Bonjour Monsieur.” She did not seem taken aback by the fact that my erect penis was at her eye level, by now she was only dressed in her skirt, her small breasts reaching up, ruby nipples pointing straight at me. I asked her if I could sit and look at the paintings with her and she said, “Oui, mais bien sur.” Did I detect a smolder in her eyes as she looked at me, as if wishing my cock was in her mouth? I sat. We looked at the paintings together, she sketching and occasionally looking at my stiff penis, the head fat and swollen, me occasionally looking at her nipples, well more than occasionally actually. I soon began to stroke my penis, fondling my ball sack as I did so. The girl flipped the page of her sketchbook and began to draw my penis, the strokes of her pencil flew quickly and soon multiple images of my penis and scrotum filled the page. I stopped masturbating and she whispered, “S’il te plait ne t’arrête pas, je veux te voir venir, Monsieur.” I resumed and began to moan, but the passersby didn’t seem to notice, and soon ejaculated a plume of semen so forceful some landed on her page. She dipped a finger into the pearly substance and deposited it on the tip of her tongue. “Merci beaucoup.” I was stirred from my reverie by a strange feeling of a hot wetness and realized I had been standing there rubbing my penis thru my pants, my coat folded in front of me. It was time to find a bathroom and then to see the Mona Lisa. I never did find out what that young woman looked like from the front.
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My favorite painting in all the world is a portrait of Madame X by John Singer Sargent. You can see it at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC.
Here is the art student I promised you… Elliott
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