He hired me to pose nude. As he sketched, tension thickened. I gently parted my thighs, fingers trailing down to touch myself. He set the charcoal aside.
He kneeled and tasted me, lapping his tongue against my swollen clit until I arched and came. He entered me slowly, fucking me against the easel, my moans guiding every thrust until he spilled inside.
When we finished, I dressed and handed him an envelope.
“Payment for the session, Mr. Miller. Your wife commissioned the portrait.”
