A Butt Loving Artist

I can hardly breathe with expectation as the end of his cock strains against the entrance to my arse.

Jul 01, 2026

How much longer would I have to hold this pose? Moving a muscle, or twitching my toe was met with an impatient sigh.

Thinking back, agreeing to be his model was fast becoming a regret. Surely in this day and age, he could simply take a photo and paint from that image? But perhaps I should stop moaning — after all he was paying extremely well for me to simply lie here in my knickers. There were harder ways to earn a few quid, and he was cute in a geeky way.

Be my model?

It began a few weeks ago when he approached me in the bar where I worked, charming and persuasive, explaining the project. A collage of the human form. Made up of paintings, sketches and other media. But he wanted to create a watercolour of me which meant I would need to sit for longer. This was reflected in my wage.

In the studio - spank me

As he paints the time passes and I drift off, suddenly brought back to reality by him holding out a glass of white wine, saying he has finished for the day.

Rising from the floor the cold glass of the goblet brushes my nipple.

I glance down at its pertness, blushing slightly. Taking the drink to my lips I cannot help but notice the front of his trousers bulging. Compelled and suddenly feeling sexy and courageous I reach out, brushing my fingertips over its hardness, watching the swell spasm at my touch. He doesn’t seem to be at all surprised at my boldness.

“You dirty slut,” he whispers, “girls like you can’t get enough, can you?”