I turned around and saw Mr. Monet, a paintbrush in his mouth, putting a canvas on an easel. The expression on my face must have been an odd one, becau...e he laughed when he saw me looking at him. "Would you like me to draw you?"I was stunned. Did Mr. Monet really just ask me to be a model for his next painting? That could not be true. I was entirely used to being on the other side of the canvas, not on this one. On the other hand: he was the professional here, the only true artist, the teacher,. This was heaven indeed. She bade me to turn over and, no surprise I had an impressive hard-on as evidence that her treatment had produced the required result. She squirted more oil on her hands and began to stroke up and down on my cock. This was just too much for my febrile mind and I really began to groan with pleasure. She became alarmed at the noise I was beginning to make and put her fingers to my mouth and told me to suck as if it was a pacifier in an attempt to quiet me down. To add to. More

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