I originally had this idea for last week’s Wicked Wednesday “Observe” prompt, but I didn’t get it done in time. My muse has been rather unfocused and difficult to nail down recently. But when this idea came to me, it kind of wrote itself—just not fast enough. Anyway, I adjusted it a bit to fit this week’s Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday prompts.
If you’re curious, here’s a link to the Turner painting mentioned in this story. And at the end, there’s a video of the Monty Python song “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”
Please click on the badges below the video to read all the other posts!
Hope you enjoy,
The Bright Side
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2019. All rights reserved.
I’d been observing him for several weeks. Every morning, he came into the art museum where I worked and sat in front of a particularly moody painting. It was a Turner called “The Shipwreck” that we had on loan for a few months.
He was an attractive man, a little older than me—maybe in his mid-thirties. I thought he might work in one of the nearby office buildings, because he was always dressed in business casual. But his golden-brown hair was a little long and there was always a day’s worth of stubble on his strong jaw. I never thought I liked the scruffy look, but on him it was hot.
So naturally, I noticed him the first time he came in. With a dour expression of his face, he’d sit on the bench in front of the Turner, his elbows braced on his legs and his shoulders slumped. He stared at the painting so intensely I wondered if he was trying to teleport himself into the turbulent scene. My mind was overrun with curiosity.
Just for the heck of it, I read my horoscope every day—not that I really believed it. However, that morning it read:
Be the light. Brighten someone’s day and show them all the colors of the rainbow.
And that was exactly what I intended to do.
“Good morning,” I said brightly as I sat down beside Mr. Gloomy.
He looked at me for a long moment, clearly perplexed, but politeness won out. “Hi.”
I nodded my head at the Turner. “You must really like this painting.”
He looked down at my blouse and the nametag emblazoned with Teresa. “Don’t you work here? Aren’t you supposed to tell me what a great work of art it is?”
“Oh, it’s a masterpiece. Truly. It’s also depressing as hell. I can’t imagine coming here every day and brooding over it for half an hour.”
“You noticed, huh?”
“Yep. You’re much too good looking to be so morose.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up for a second, but then he sighed. “I’ve had a rough time of it.”
“So I gathered. Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to bore you with my problems.”
“Hey, I offered.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Besides, it’s part of my job here to make sure the patrons have an enjoyable artistic experience. You are clearly not having a good time.”
“No, I guess not.”
“And your mood is contagious.” I leaned closer and stage-whispered, “You’re bringing everybody down, dude.”
He huffed a laugh that sounded kind of rusty. But hey, it was a start. “My ex is making my life hell and all my supposed friends are traitors.”
“That really sucks.”
“But you know what?”
“Okay, I know it’s radically simplistic.”
“Not to mention easier said than done.”
“Do you want her—or him—back?”
“Her. And hell no.”
“Also, friends like that you don’t need.”
“Let me ask you this. Is wallowing in your misery making you feel any better?”
“It’s just playing right into her hands. Don’t let her win. As they say, living well is the best revenge.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“So you should look on the bright side of life. Like the song.”
He gave me a blank stare.
“From Monty Python.” When he continued staring, I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t make me sing it.”
I got a real, full-blown smile this time. “I know the song, but I really can’t see a bright side of this situation.”
After a moment of thought, I said, “Well, was there anything that you enjoyed that you couldn’t do with your ex? Either because she didn’t like it or wouldn’t let you?”
His eyes widened, then his expression turned guilty. “Not really.”
“Liar. I saw that look. There is something.”
He shifted in his seat. “I can’t tell you. It’s…sexual.”
“Ah, I see. Just between you and me, I’m fairly open-minded about sexual matters.” I leaned in closer. “I’m actually kind of freaky.”
He looked at me speculatively for a moment. “Really?”
“Oh yeah.” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Try me.”
After glancing around us, he leaned closer to me and said in a hushed voice, “I’ve always wanted to give a woman a messy facial, but my ex thought it was demeaning.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, but then grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the bench.
“Where are we going?” he asked as I led him down a hall.
“My office. We need privacy for this.”
Once we were inside the closet I tried to spend as little time in as possible, I shut and locked the door behind us.
He was leaning against my desk when I turned to face him.
With my back to the door, I unfastened the top button on my blouse. “We’re going to make your dirty fantasy come true.”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
I smiled at his casual response, because I saw the heat burning in his blue eyes. As I undid one button after another, he watched intently, his gaze going from warm to scorching. I pulled the blouse free of my skirt and shrugged it off, revealing my lace bra dyed in a rainbow pattern.
The whole naughty scene was getting me hot, too. Desire unfurled low and slow in my belly. A needy ache thrummed between my legs and moisture quickly pooled there, soaking into my matching panties. As his gaze devoured my breasts, my nipples tightened, pushing against the fine lace.
I sauntered up to him and placed my blouse on the desk. “I didn’t want to risk getting it messy.”
“Good thinking.” His gaze was still focused on my tits. “You should lose the bra too.”
Grinning, I reached back and unfastened my bra. Then it joined my blouse on the desk.
“I love your big tits.”
I traced my fingers over the blatant erection outlined beneath his slacks. “Do you want my hand or my mouth?”
Lifting his gaze to meet mine, he hissed out a breath. “Both.”
“Mmmm, my pleasure.” I meant it too.
Kneeling between his legs, I unzipped his pants and freed his cock. He was gloriously hard, but I planned to make him even harder. My hand wrapped around the base, I slowly licked up his shaft, stopping just beneath the head to tease the sensitive spot there.
He groaned and cupped the back of my head, his hand gently holding my ponytail.
I took just the head into my mouth and softly sucked on it. Some pre-come oozed out onto my tongue, making me moan at the taste of him. I tried to ignore the growing ache in my horny cunt, focusing all my attention on pleasing him.
Sucking a little harder, I slid my mouth down his cock, taking more and more of him until my nose was buried in his thatch of pubic hair. I loved the heady, musky smell of him there. I gradually moved back up his shaft, then back down again. I set up a steady rhythm, up and down, the head of his cock nudging the back of my throat every time I took all of him.
I could hear him breathing hard. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
It made me even hotter that I was pleasing him so much—making him forget all the crap that had been weighing on him. I pressed my thighs together to relieve some of my neediness and sucked him even harder.
His grip on my ponytail tightened, but he didn’t try forcing me into a faster rhythm.
Reluctantly, I relinquished his now-slick cock and used my hand to stroke him. “Am I a good little cocksucker?”
I really got off on dirty talk and especially enjoyed being called filthy names. But right then, I was more drawn to his balls. While I jerked him off, I took one in my mouth and lightly sucked on it, massaging it with my tongue.
He moaned. “You are so fucking hot.”
As I gave the other one the same attention, I stroked him harder and faster.
“I’m going to fucking come!”
He pulled on my ponytail, so I released him and looked up expectantly, my mouth slightly open. Still holding my head, he took over jerking his cock in forceful strokes. When the first blast of come hit my glasses, I closed my eyes reflexively. I heard his soft grunts as several more heavy lines of spunk fell across my face. Easing my head back even further, he shot two final ropes on my tits.
I felt so wonderfully filthy and realized I was grinding my thighs together to get some much-needed friction.
When he released my ponytail, I went to take off my messy glasses so I could see him, but he stopped me. “Wait, can I take a picture of you like that?”
I chuckled. “Sure. Only if you promise to keep it to yourself.”
I heard some rustling, then a click from what I assumed was his cellphone.
Once he gave me the go-ahead, I set aside my come-covered glasses and captured a thick, milky dollop of spunk that was about to fall off my chin. While he watched, I painted it on my nipples. I moaned as I smeared the rest of his come all over my tits, luxuriating in the sweet filthiness of it.
“Damn, that’s hot.”
“Mmmm, fuck yeah. I’m so fucking horny right now I could self-combust.”
Faster than I would have thought possible, he picked me up and had me sprawled out on my desk.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned down at me. “Returning the favor.”
I groaned. “Thank fuck.”
He didn’t waste any time pushing up my skirt and removing my drenched panties. All too soon, he had my legs spread wide apart and eagerly demonstrated what a skilled and talented tongue he had.
“Your ex is a fucking idiot!”
Then he slid two long fingers deep inside my cunt and I completely lost the ability to speak—or even form a coherent thought.
After several mind-blowing orgasms and I finally came back to earth, we quietly put ourselves back together. I had a lot more fixing to do than he did, but I really didn’t mind.
“Can I buy you a coffee after work?”
I’d been using a wet-nap to wipe the come off my face, but stopped to look at him. “I’d love that.”
“Leave my come on your tits for the rest of the day.”
It was the beginning of a beautifully dirty friendship.