1. The Hangout


    Date: 11/3/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Consensual Sex, First Time, Job/Place-of-work, Male/Female, Oral Sex, Author: wantsomefun, Rating: 89.1, Source: sexstories.com

    about all I can do without sketching more. The paint is too wet to lay down more colors, so let’s grab lunch.” “Pizza?” I suggested. “Get a medium with pepperoni on my half. I’d like a soda too.” She handed me money. “Can you get it while I clean up?” When I returned, the black lights were on, and Martha was sitting on the scaffolding. “Jeremy? Do you have matches? I left mine down there in my bag.” I climbed up to sit beside her. She pulled a joint from her shirt pocket. “They ran trucks in here with those fans to clear the exhaust fumes, so a little pot smoke will go straight outside way above anyone’s nose. I was going to save this for the drive home, but I thought, ‘Why not get hungry for lunch?’” We passed the number back and forth, Martha producing a roach clip from her jeans so we could finish the entire joint. When we were done, we laughed our way down from our perch and pigged out on pizza. Then it was time to work again. She mixed colors for her sprayers, and I kept them full and clean. By mid-afternoon, the vignette she was working on had real shape. From the floor, it was easy to see the twisted, dead trees around a cave entrance where a dragon waited for the knight who would ride in from the area not yet painted. “Martha, that looks great!” “Hand me the cans of black and white paint and two brushes,” she said. She worked for a couple minutes, adding slashes and bits of shadow and highlight to make the colored areas come alive. Then she climbed down from her perch ...
    and joined me in the center of the room. “Will you work the lights?” I went to the control panel, shut off everything but the exit signs, and turned on the black lights. “C’mere,” she said. I walked across the weirdly lit hall to join her. The artwork glowed dully in somber contrast to the stark white primer next to it, the dragon seeming much more menacing than pigment on plywood. “Tomorrow, I’ll add the black light paint. Whadya think?” “It’s weird, especially since it’s above us. Kinda scary, really.” “Good,” she said. “Imagine yourself in here with hundreds of other kids listening to Hendrix or Cream or Black Sabbath.” “Lemme play with the other lights.” I turned on strobes and moving spotlights for the area above the scaffolding. The scene flashed like it was lit by a violent storm. “Yes! I know what it needs!” she exclaimed. “I bought black light paint that dries almost clear. Tomorrow I’ll add lightning bolts, rain, and puddles.” I joined her on the dance floor, and we walked around the empty hall together looking at her work. “We both forgot the first rule of dressing for club lighting,” she chuckled, pointing at her little bra gleaming through her shirt and the waistband of my underwear glowing like neon where it peeked over my jeans. “Hey, I kinda like seeing your bra.” “Not much to see.” “Doesn’t matter. Very pretty and feminine.” “Oh, come on, Jeremy. I was the only girl in our class who wore a training bra under her graduation gown. Do you have any idea how much ...
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