Nude Model’s Wild First Fuck with My Art Student

The buzzer hums under my finger at this swanky building facing the woods. Heart racing, I step into the elevator, smoothing my skirt. Days of flirty texts after the life drawing class—his eyes devouring me nude in front of thirty strangers—led here. No time for bullshit. I want cock, now. Door swings open. He’s tall, fifties, silver hair, still hot. Smiles wide, pulls me into the sunlit living room with huge windows. Coffee poured, we chat my modeling tales. Painter spotted me at the gallery, stripped me bare that night. Now this private session. His gaze lingers on my tits through my blouse. ‘Choose your poses,’ he says, voice husky. No changing room. I strip right there, clothes folded on the couch. Naked, skin prickling in the warm air. I strike a pose, legs apart, arms up. His pencil scratches paper. Silence thick, electric. Fifteen minutes drag, muscles burn. He flips pages. ‘Not bad, huh?’ I tease, sauntering closer. He kisses me quick, hand on my ass. ‘Juice?’ Pamplemousse bottles clink. We sink onto the soft divan. I sink deep, gasp. His hand rubs my thigh, up to belly. Arm around shoulders, fingers trail to breast. Cups it full, thumb on nipple. ‘Such soft beauty,’ he murmurs. I don’t stop him. Amused, wet already. He stands me, turns me slow, palms gliding over curves. Kneels, kisses my smooth pussy. Tongue dives deep, swirling inside. I moan, hips buck. Eyes shut, I grab his head, grind.