His eyes focused on the canvas as in his hand was a paintbrush. Since Rosangela’s departure from the apartment, he immediately found himself overfl...wing with the need to create. Unlike his ritualistic process, he created without a bound muse in the same room. In his mind those inspirational images were fresh and vivid and onto the painted black canvas the image came to life. Hours he stood, his focus unhindered. There was no multiple printed photos to guide him. There was no physical muse.. They were a solid overfilled handful, looked very firm, with almost no sag at all, and I wanted nothing more than to get my hands, er, hand, and lips on them!“They are beautiful, Chris, just like the rest of you. I wish I had known, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait twenty years to see them again!” I told her, looking her in the eye.She blushed, the color spreading all the way down to her chest, and her smile told me I had said the right thing.She quickly ran the cloth over my torso and under my. More

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