by B.J. Scott
Tony followed him to his apartment where erotic paintings were stacked against the walls. Tony was wearing nothing but a towel, and the artist began to draw a sketch of him. He knew the artist would put down his pencil at some time, come to him, and take the towel off… He knew the drill.
“I can see that you can’t keep your eyes open. Let me show you to the bed.” Tony followed him to the bedroom, trying to predict his next move. But then he left him alone.
In a week spent in the artist’s apartment, nothing happened between them, which puzzled Tony. What was he waiting for?
Wanna have a look?” he asked when the painting was almost finished.
Tony smiled. The painting was amazing.
The artist set the painting along the wall to dry.
“Go to sleep,” he told Tony.
Tony went to the bedroom but was confused. He didn’t know why the artist wasn’t trying to get into his pants. He was lying on his back staring at the wall and didn’t hear him enter the room. He came closer and whispered, “I can do it the way no one has ever done it to you before.”
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