Painted Model

I was running low on money lately, so I took a job online as a painting model. To my surprise, the artist who posted the ad turned out to be my daughter’s boyfriend. He seemed gentle, but he actually had designs on me.   Recently, I suffered significant losses in the stock market. I didn’t want my family to find out, so I secretly found a job as a painting model to try and recover some of that money. I got married young; I was only 39, and my daughter Adalyn was already a freshman. Thanks to years of skincare and fitness, I look younger than my actual age. I often caught the attention of young guys when I was out, and even Adalyn had joked about being jealous. I was secretly thrilled to be chosen as a model at my age. But when I realized that my daughter’s boyfriend would be staring at my body, I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. How awkward! I turned to leave when Jeremiah stopped me, saying, “You must be the new model. Come on in.” Jeremiah, who was two years older than Adalyn, was her senior in college. He was young and fit, wearing glasses that gave him a gentle look. He looked at me calmly, and it seemed that he didn’t recognize me. I had only seen his photo on Adalyn’s phone, so it made sense that he didn’t know who I was. Reminding myself of the good pay for being a model, I decided to go inside. “Close the door,” Jeremiah said and then took a seat, his gaze scanning me from head to toe as if he could see right through me. A mix of strange feelings washed over me—part shame and part enjoyment. Being alone with my daughter’s boyfriend stirred feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time. I quickly quashed those thoughts, reminding myself that it was probably just because my husband hadn’t been intimate with me in a while, leading me to have these shameless urges. Jeremiah, not noticing my inner turmoil, fiddled with his paint and instructed, “Take off all your clothes.” I froze in disbelief. “Why—why do I have to be naked?” I stammered. Heat rushed to my face, and I felt a wave of tension and fear. I hesitated, rooted to the spot. Although I wanted to earn this money, undressing completely in front of my daughter’s boyfriend felt impossible. Jeremiah seemed irritated by my hesitation. “The theme of my project is body painting, and the model needs to be nude for it. That’s why the pay is so good.” Body painting? I suddenly felt the urge to retreat. The thought of undressing in front of my daughter’s boyfriend and letting him draw on me was overwhelming. I even wondered if he was planning to take advantage of me. Noticing my hesitation, Jeremiah reassured me, “This is art. If you’re really shy, there’s some white gauze on the table you can use to cover yourself.” I glanced at the table and saw a piece of gauze about the size of a bath towel. I felt relieved. If he really had any ulterior motives, he likely wouldn’t have provided that. Still, the mere idea of my body being exposed to my daughter’s boyfriend made me feel embarrassed, and my face burned. But I really needed the money. I had to tell myself that Jeremiah seemed a good guy. So, mustering my courage, I walked over, wrapped the gauze around myself, and slowly began to undress until I was completely nude, using the gauze to cover my private areas. As my skin was exposed to the air, I felt uncomfortable and nervous. It was all too embarrassing. Yet, Jeremiah didn’t seem to care about my discomfort; he was focused on me. I felt utterly mortified, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole.

My daughter’s boyfriend was staring at me. Even though my private part was wrapped in a layer of white gauze, I could still feel the intensity of his gaze. A mix of tension and excitement ran through me as I instinctively pulled the gauze tighter around myself. “You’re too tense. Just try to relax,” Jeremiah said, moving his stool closer and sitting beside me. He was so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. Suddenly, he grabbed my breast. Scared, I couldn’t help shivering, letting out a scream. “Relax and take a deep breath,” Jeremiah said. His eyes were full of seriousness. His rough, warm hand began to slide down the white gauze, leaving me feeling completely exposed beneath his gaze. “Jeremiah…” The overwhelming sense of shame made me want to refuse. Jeremiah seemed to pick up on my feelings and said casually, “I need to know the size and shape of your breasts to accurately depict the painting on your body. “I made the right choice. Your breasts are full and beautiful, perfect for body painting.” My daughter’s boyfriend was commenting on me. I felt incredibly shy, my face blushing furiously. “Here we go,” Jeremiah said as he picked up the brush, its bristles coated in navy blue paint, and began to apply it to my chest. The moment the brush made contact with my skin, I couldn’t help but shiver, my body tensing up involuntarily. I leaned back, starting to leak fluids. Oh my goodness! A deep sense of shame enveloped me. While I was enjoying the tingling sensation from the brush tip, my mind wandered. Was I really this easy? How could I allow my daughter’s boyfriend to do this to me? Biting my lip, I couldn’t help looking at Jeremiah. He had his head down, his expression serious, completely focused on painting on my chest. In his eyes, I felt like nothing more than a canvas for his art. Yet, at that sacred moment, I was undeniably aroused. Navy blue lines traced the contours of my chest, and each stroke sent shivers through me. Though I felt shy, there was a strange comfort in it—something I had never experienced during moments of masturbation. I couldn’t help but berate myself. What would Jeremiah think if he sensed my physical response? Would he see me as a woman of loose morals? “Absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly exclaimed, his gaze growing more intense. One hand continued to draw while the other rested on my breast. Heat surged through my body, and a bold thought crossed my mind. Would he feel the same way and take things further?

The thought even shocked me. How could I entertain such a shameful idea? He was my daughter’s boyfriend, after all. Yet, when I remembered Adalyn mentioning that Jeremiah was strong, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of anticipation. Suddenly, Jeremiah slapped me and said, “Don’t move.” I froze in an instant. He had actually hit me in a very private area. A slight pain was quickly overshadowed by an unexpected wave of pleasure. A strange thrill coursed through me, prompting me to clamp my legs instinctively. I knew I should feel ashamed, yet there was an undeniable sense of comfort. I even wished he would slap harder. Lost in thought, I suddenly became aware that Jeremiah was gently pressing down on my lower abdomen. The area, concealed beneath the white fabric and unseen by any man other than my husband, was now leaking fluids to my daughter’s boyfriend. How could this be happening? I was in an absolute panic. How could I have such an inappropriate reaction in front of my daughter’s boyfriend? This was completely out of line. Shame made me want to run away, but I felt paralyzed, unable to move. Or maybe I just didn’t want to admit that, on some level, I actually liked it. “The gauze is getting in the way,” Jeremiah muttered. As he said this, his warm breath brushed against my abdomen, causing my body to tremble. He seemed completely unfazed. He pulled away the white gauze, and at that moment, I noticed fluids where the gauze had touched my leg. The air was thick with the scent of my own fluids, and somehow, the gauze had become soaked. At this moment, I felt utterly embarrassed. “Don’t be shy. It’s a natural response of the human body,” Jeremiah said, offering me a reassuring smile. His tone was devoid of mockery, carrying a hint of encouragement instead. Yet, his words only deepened my shame. “It’s time to start drawing down below,” Jeremiah continued. He dipped his brush into the paint again, his gaze shifting to a part of me that had only ever been seen by my husband. It glistened in the sunlight, moist and shimmering. Though Jeremiah was merely painting, I could clearly sense that his breathing had grown heavier. I was so nervous that my body trembled. The thought that he might have watched my daughter like this only heightened my wetness. Painting on my private part brought me more excitement than painting on my chest did. The cold, damp brush tip sent waves of heat through my body, intensifying my desperation. “Don’t cover up. It’s beautiful here, and it’s perfect for painting,” Jeremiah said, his voice slightly shaky. Suddenly, he separated my tightly closed legs, leaving me completely exposed in front of him. The brush tip moved back and forth across my sensitive area, creating a dense tingling sensation that drove me wild, and soon the fluids began to soak the table. Jeremiah’s movements grew increasingly bolder, his fingers exploring the area as each touch produced a lewd sound. I realized that he had stopped painting. With a vague idea of what he was about to do, I wanted to resist, but my body betrayed me. I even arched my back slightly, making it easier for him to delve deeper. Realizing this, I tightened my grip, stealing a glance at Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s chiseled profile was flushed, and his eyes were filled with desire as they lingered on my vagina. I felt hot all over. I knew I had to put a stop to this. He was my daughter’s boyfriend, and she would bring him home at any time. But now, I was completely caught up in it and couldn’t refuse. I was eager to spread my legs and welcome him enthusiastically. Suddenly, Jeremiah set the brush down and leaned his body against mine. In an instant, I felt his member pressing against my legs. Panting, he said in a low, husky voice, “Mrs. Murphy, you’re even more beautiful than your daughter. I just can’t help myself.”

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