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Red Music Rose
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While relieved, you feel a little weirded out by this segue into painting. Your fur is caked in the stuff. “So, what exactly is happening here? Some kind of body paint tradition?”
She’s holding a clay jar full of indigo-blue pigments. Her hand dabs in to mix everything around. “It’s just a form of touch therapy! Some people get a kink if it was messy or colorful or even very, very light presses. Something from tribalistic roots in all species when paint is thrown into the mix!”
“Touch therapy?” You lay right back, trying to contain your boner all over again when at half-mast. You wonder why she’s only wearing an apron. Still, that Chupian mom looks pretty sexy with such minimal attire. You remind yourself to buy an apron for another Chupian date to cosplay with. Yamelle could’ve kept a robe on but—maybe she was planning to splash paint everywhere all along. “Like… sensing energy fields and whatnot? -huff-”
“Energy fields? Oh please, nothing so ridiculous! People like to be touched—” har har~ “as it releases oxytocin to help mitigate stress! And there are some flairs you can add for each session. Sometimes there are groups of naked strangers painting each other. Some cuddle sessions perhaps? Lounging. Private matters. And the like.”
“Well color me impressed~” you make sure to say through exhausted breathing, “by all means, please continue your work on this side of the canvas.” You lay back and she’s content to proceed. You wave a hand to cool off your face—but the way Yamelle pours more paint on your chest helps chill your body.
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