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“Okay, times up. We’ll meet same time next week,” the teacher said as I wipe the sweat off my brow.

Thank God, my wrist hurts, and I don’t know what my piece looks like, but it sure didn’t do the model justice. Apparently, six classes don’t really help someone who can barely draw stick figures, who would have wondered?

“Chessie, can I see you for a moment please?”

Goddamnit, I know I pay for this class, but it feels like I am being sent to the principal’s office.

“What’s up?”

“Can I ask, why did you decide to take this class?”

“Well, I don’t get to be creative at my job. I’m just an accountant, so I figured taking an art class would allow me to get some practice,” I can already hear myself sounding pathetic.

“Hmm. Okay, well there just isn’t any passion in your work.”

“Well, I guess my life is pretty boring. I was hoping I’d find passion here. I know that sounds dumb, but my life is just numbers, nothing too exciting.”

“Your piece looks good, you just need to work on your shading.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to get the right angle. Your model is gorgeous, but my hands can’t seem to feel her curves right.”

My cheeks go fire-engine red. I didn’t mean that to sound as dirty as it came out.

“Umm, I mean—”

“Here, may I?” he says holding out his hands.

“Uh sure,” as I put my hands in his.

He takes my hands and puts them on my hips, pushing them down my thighs slowly and bringing them back up equally as slow.

“Just like the model, you have curves too. Your body and hers have stories to tell. She is portraying her story by modeling; you portray your story differently. You are learning to use your hands in a new form. Even though it’s been six weeks of class, your hands are learning a new language. You won’t magically be good at drawing curves, but you can learn by learning your own body. Feel your shape and try to repeat it with the pencil.”

“Are you some kind of a poet?”

“Well, most artists have more than one passion. I love teaching, words, and drawing. You could say you’re an artist of numbers.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way before. Numbers just come naturally to me.”

“Well, art comes naturally to me. Teaching didn’t at first, but I thrive with students like you. You put yourself out there, it takes a lot of courage.”

“Courage, I’ve never seemed to have much of that.”

“You have to do whatever feels right to you. Take a chance once in a while, people might be a bit receptive,” he says as he leans forward.

“Usually I’d turn around and leave, but do you want to kiss me?” I ask without thinking.

“I’ve never been asked that before, usually it just happens naturally, but yes, I do. Are you sure, though? I’m your teacher.”

“We’re the same age, and I’m trying out this courage thing. I want you to kiss me.”

Running his fingers through my hair, he looks into my eyes. I instinctively bite my lip. With his right hand, he lightly pulls me up to his face. Our lips seem to merge like Velcro, lightly at first, but we move together with ease.

I melt into his arms while our lips move at a steady pace. He slowly moves his lips to my neck, and I claw at his back.

“Is this okay?” he asks through heavy breaths.

“Yeah, keep going.”

He groans and pulls my body closer. Without meaning to, I let out a moan.

“Mmm, I love hearing your voice.”

Just as I let out another moan, he puts his arms under me and lifts me onto his desk. My legs naturally slip open, and I pull him closer.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I do, but we don’t need it yet.”

Rubbing my thighs, he works his hands up to my belt. He pulls my jeans to the floor and lightly grazes the outside of my panties with his fingers.

“Woah, okay,” I say through gasps.

Sliding his fingers up and down, I feel every slow touch.

“More…” I plead.

Pushing my panties to the side, he places his thumb knowingly at the top of my throbbing pussy. Moving up and down, I crumble under his confident pressure.

“I need you inside of me.”

He grabs the condom, rolls it on, and puts his hands on my hips, lifting me, just before slowly sliding inside.

“All good?” he asks.

“Yeah, keep going.”

Smiling, he pushes in further, while grabbing my ass. Harder, he pushes into me with force. I feel every inch of him, wrapping my legs around his hips and leaning my head back. Speeding up, he forces himself even deeper, and I can feel myself clenching as he grabs my breast.

He pulls out and leads me to stand up.

“Turn around,” he says demandingly.

I follow his orders without a wondered and naturally lean over the table and spread my legs. He takes his finger and moves it up and down my sopping cunt, ready for him again.

“Oh God, just fuck me.” I sigh.

“Good girl.”

He grabs up hips and hurriedly pushes inside of me, going in and out, skin to skin. We melt together, and he reaches my G spot with ease. Harder and harder, I feel him fuck me until I reach ecstasy. My knees buckle and I feel everything as I let out the loudest sound I’ve ever made.

As he catches his breath, he stays inside me while we both come back to reality. I feel him pull away as I turn around. He grabs my face and kisses me with fever.

“Now that was a masterpiece,” he says kissing me again.

“Same time next week?” I say smiling.

“Definitely, make sure to practice your angles.”

NSFW: yes

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