His fingertips gingerly slipped in between the pinkness of my folds
Stroking between them like a artist, painting a portrait
Each one of his strokes
Is more bold then the last
Touching me in places, no other had before him
Leaving not one fragment of my walls untouched by his skillful, sensuous strokes...
As he stroked boldly inside me
My womb dowsed his palette knife with my finest clear lubricate...
Each one of his strokes, stoked inside me with purpose
Attentively etching my walls to a work of delicate fine art...
While his boldest stoke, stroked on my most inner sensitive spot,
Vivid colors flashed in my mind,
My body reeled with brilliant sensations...
As my body vibrated uncontrollable
His palette knife, painted his patented autographed signature inside me...
Once his signature was finished
My mind dwelled on the making of his next Masterpiece...