However, to keep the life a bit colorful he had made friends with the canvas. He was an artist, a painter. And strangely so he had mastered the art of...nude painting.Kailash was an introvert and interacted very less with people. A humble man with a weird but a beautiful hobby. For him, the nude painting was not erotica but an art. He pleasured it not with his penis but with his soul. His tools were his brush and his canvas. But little did he know that his life was about to change!So, Kailash was. I know it is hard to believe and it involves a lot of moral issues.”I took the card and motioned for them to let me out. I went to the phone booth and dialed the number on the card.The voice at the other end said the is “Garden Funeral Home, how may I help you,”First, I asked for their address, I thought if this was a scam that would be hard for them to come up with on such short notice. Much to my surprise, they immediately gave me the same address as on the card. Then I asked if Mr. John. I was sinking in to a morass of self-loathing when there was a gentle knock at the door.Standing on the doorstep was a young woman, who for some reason seemed familiar. I was about to ask what she wanted when she said, "Hello Miss Malone, it's WPC Moore. I thought I'd come by and see how you're both doing. Are you feeling a little better?" Seeing her off-duty and out of uniform, I hadn't recognised her even though it was less than twelve hours ago that she'd been sitting here with us. I assured. Her urgent cow girl movements were replaced by long sensuous sweeps of her body, as if she knew I was close to my climax. I pursed my lips and planted kisses wherever they touched. My hands drifted over her hips and bottom, savouring each soft curve until I reached the moist crevice between her little ass and her pussy. She gasped as I circled her anus with my finger, half expecting her to protest, but it just made her moan a little louder. She resumed her faster movements and I kept my finger.