Julian Sterling's breathing grew increasingly ragged, his ten fingers fiercely tightening their grip on the velvet chair cushion as the brush tip showed no intention of stopping, instead brazenly sweeping further down toward his nether regions. The soft, water-soaked bristles lightly brushed past his fragile member that was proudly rearing its head and leaking fluid, bringing with it a slippery, immensely ticklish sensation that pushed the already accumulated pleasure right to its breaking point. Finally, the journey of the painter slowly circled to the back, carrying the cold, wet gel to press lightly and come to a halt right at the highly intimate entrance that was shyly parting and closing.
It carried a threatening aura of invasion that made Julian Sterling's entire body tense up, yet he was completely submerged in this chaotic euphoria, entirely unable to struggle or break free.
