Leyla was majoring in graphic arts, just like me. There’s no way I couldn’t notice her. She may not have been the prettiest girl in the university by world standards, but there was something about her curly hair, her thin neck, the way her eyes sparkled, that really sent me.
Just thinking about her after our first date I started wanking wildly. For the first time in my life, I came twice in a row. I didn’t even know guys could do that.
She must have also seen something in me, because on our second date, we were both ready to have sex. Except, she wanted me to do some cocaine with her first.
I was like, “No Way!” I hadn’t even been drunk, had never tried pot, and just didn’t want to even think about that sort of thing. But she insisted. What could I do? If I wanted to fuck her, I had to try her stupid cocaine.
As I’m sure you can imagine, it was an overwhelming experience, and the resulting sex was great. Our romance didn’t last long. She went on to other guys, while I started to really like cocaine. In the process, I found myself enjoying other drugs as well. I even took up cigarette smoking. Me, a smoker! Can you imagine?
Fast forward only three years. I was out of college with no degree, lost my drivers’ license, and had a criminal record. Of course I was addicted to pretty much everything, even sex. I am very ashamed to say, I spread her legacy. I fucked at least eight girls, and in each case, I insisted that they try drugs with me first. I know six of them turned out OK. They didn’t become addicted. I don’t what happened with the others. I worry about that daily.
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I went through my parents’ savings and investments as they put me in one treatment program after another. Finally, I had enough. I was just going to quit. Cold turkey. I was strong. I was young. I could do it.
I woke up in the hospital. It took me weeks to get back under control with the help of many doctors and nurses. I had practically ruined my body’s endocrine system. To this day, I still have symptoms.
Part of what made recovery so difficult is I had no future. How much longer could I live with my parents? In fact, they seemed not to like me any more. Selling their TV set for one more fix was not the greatest idea. Crashing my mom’s car after already having lost my license really didn’t set things right at home. I was home all the time. I couldn’t get a job, even as a grocery store stock clerk. Yes, it is possible to cause one’s parents to stop loving their child.
Having absolutely nothing to do but take the bus to seemingly never-ending AA meetings, I became almost addicted to YouTube. Yes, that can be an addiction too.
One day, I happened across a tutorial on drawing faces on YouTube. It fired me up a little bit. I had long ago lost my art supplies, but found an ordinary pencil and some computer paper at home, and I started drawing some faces, the one skill that had eluded me in the past.
You know what? That tutorial helped. I drew some portraits that weren’t half bad. So what did I do? I found another drawing tutorial, then another and another and started practicing like all the time. Why? I have no idea. I guess it was just something to do that felt almost as nice as jerking off.
From memory, I drew a picture of Leyla. Oddly, I still wasn’t entirely over her. If she had not been into drugs… Oh well. So I drew a picture of her naked. It was a nice pose. I drew another in a different pose. I didn’t stop until several days later, I had drawn 20 pictures, all of Leyla, all in different poses.
I showed them to Keith, my one remaining friend after all this time. We met when we were 12 years old. He never got into drugs. How he could stand being my friend in my worst of times, I have no idea. Well, he looked at those drawings and had just one word for me. It was the last word in the world I would have expected. Ebay.
He then admitted that the pictures made him horny. He too, liked the way Leyla looked, and of course my treatment of her in the drawings was quite sexy. He suggested we have a good wank together, something we had done many times before. Afterward, he said it again, “Ebay.”
I had nothing to loose. You can post stuff on Ebay for free, which took all the money I had. So, I put all 20 pictures up on Ebay, asking $15 each. The very next day, three of them sold. The next day, two more sold.
Mind you, these were just ordinary pictures drawn with a plain old #2 pencil on ordinary paper. Now, $15 each for a handful of pictures may not seem like much, especially since I offered free shipping, but by gosh, I was surprisingly inspired.
I found I could knock out more pictures of Leyla in 10 or 12 minutes each. I now modified the pictures slightly so they wouldn’t specifically identify her.
In time, I found out what postures sold, and which did not. I looked at porn online, and found other pretty girls to draw in various poses.
The next thing you know, I was selling a couple dozen pictures every day, and charging more money, too. Of course I bought top-notch art supplies, but in the end, I ignored them all, using an ordinary #2 office pencil and computer paper.
A few years later, I ran into Leyla. She was not crumpled up on the street as I was expecting. No, she was working as an illustrator for a small company that sells water purification products. She was clean. She had gone through rehab just like me. However, unlike me, she went once, and had stayed clean ever since.
When she first saw me, she burst into tears, apologizing over and over for what she had done to me. I had to let her know that she didn’t realize how badly it could have turned out. How badly it did turn out. To her at the time, cocaine was just an amusement.
We fucked – without any sort of drugs. It was glorious. She was just as amazing as I had remembered. Still the most beautiful girl in the world.
Somewhere along the line she has figured out a way to rhythmically squeeze my cock while in her pussy in slow waves from inside to out. It’s quite a skill and delights me to no end. I’ve had to learn not to cum right away when she does that.
As we started to become an item, I was very reluctant to let her know that I had sold her likeness many times over on Ebay. I figured she’d be majorly upset. To my shock, she was delighted. Honored. She insisted that when I do future renditions of her that I don’t do anything to hide her identity in my drawings.
Soon, she was able to quit her job. You see, I influenced her to try some art on Ebay. She insisted on painting me.
Her medium is not pencil. She says she can’t stand pencils, charcoal, colored or other wise. She’s an acrylic painter, through and through. Her paintings of me were not just nude, but she captured me doing things like swimming, playing golf, jerking off, trying to self-suck, and posing with erections in every situation imaginable. She usually starts by taking photos with her phone, then painting from her photos. It is really quite fun to pose nude and erect for her, knowing people throughout the world are going to see me like that. Beyond her buyers, many people just browse her paintings on Ebay Etsy, DeviantArt, Saatchi, FineArtAmerica, and other websites.
Now her paintings sell for a lot more than my drawings. Anywhere from $200 to $4,000 each. Imagine that!
So, you’d think she makes more money than me, right? Well she does, but I come in at a close second, since I learned that I can simply make photocopies of my work and sell them on Ebay and elsewhere. I even rented a small office, and have two hired people handling all the business.
She wears my ring on her finger now, and her belly is starting to swell. It should be interesting to see if drawings of her in pregnancy will sell online.