Art with Vina. And a few others.

Despite the daunting tasks ahead of him, Mason walked to his next class with a bounce in his step. Even the fact that it was a class he didn’t really like couldn’t quite dampen his spirits. The tall nerd had put off a fair number of the electives he would need to graduate until his senior year. Meaning he had to somewhat scrape the barrel in order to properly fill out his schedule. Which is how he ended up with an art class.

It wasn’t that Mason couldn’t appreciate art. It wasn’t even that he was never moved by art, or that he didn’t enjoy discussing art. He just wasn’t very good at making it. His large, clumsy hands had tremendous difficulty turning the images in his head into reality. And being **** to try and do something he was bad at just frustrated him.

Still, there were some upsides. First among them was the fact that Vina had this class with him. As usual, the curvy, Muslim girl had beaten him (and everyone else) to class and greeted him with an excited wave.

“Mason!” She said, her bubbly voice ringing out to him. “Come sit next to me!”

Like the science rooms, the art rooms weren’t set up like normal classrooms. But instead of a few fixed countertops, the room was made to be flexible. All of its furniture, tables and chairs, were foldable. Letting them be put out of the way and arranged easily. Today the chairs were once again arranged in a half-circle around a single small table.

Seeing no reason to fight it, Mason set his bag down and sat next to Vina. This immediately earned him one of her trademark hugs. Granted, being side by side made the angle a little awkward. So she really just tightly hugged his left arm. But it was still a nice moment, and not just because his arm ended up nestling between her pillowy breasts. But it could only last for so long. Though that was probably for the best since his buxom friend pulled away just as his dick gave an excited throb.

“How are you today?” She asked with a sparkling smile.

“Pretty good,” Mason answered, a smile of his own forming on his face. And even if he could already guess the answer he still asked the question. “How about you?”

“I am very excited,” Vina said, her sneakers drumming on the floor. “It feels like it has been so long since we have been able to hang out.”

The happy-go-lucky girl immediately began a rather one-sided discussion about what they could do after school. As per usual for the Indonesian girl, it eventually circled back to Magic the Gathering and what formats she wanted to try. All the while Mason tried not to think about what they would actually be doing.

As they talked the other students slowly filed in and filled the seats around them. But it wasn’t until right before the bell rang that their teacher emerged from the supply closet.

Olivia Durand was another upside to the class. If it weren’t for the absurd beauty of Principal Skinner, Ms. Durand would have been in contention for the most (physically) attractive member of the faculty.

It all started with a head of wavy, light brown hair above an elegant, bewitching, tanned face. She had a sculpted glamor with a strong jaw, high, delicate cheekbones, and upturned eyes the color of wild moss. And below all of that, she had a spectacular body. A willowy form with a slender frame, long arms, and legs that seemed to go on forever. But in spite of that her firm, round tits had to be at least a D cup.

Combine all of that with a perky, firm ass and a throaty, warm voice and you got a wonderfully seductive woman. It made her sensuous French accent seem overkill.

“Hello everyone,” Ms. Durand said, brandishing the supplies in her hands. In her right was a stack of sketchbooks. And in her left was a tub of pencils, charcoal sticks, and erasers. “Since you all did so well on Monday, I thought we would try something a little more involved today.”

This week they had been working on sketching and drawing. Last class, Ms. Durand had set out a series of colorful blocks, simple geometric shapes, for them to try drawing from different angles. Mason wondered if his green-eyed teacher had actually remembered how (not) well he did with the exercise. Still, this was all least something he was somewhat interested in getting better at. Being able to sketch might help him visualize and communicate different fossil reconstructions. Especially if he was on a dig away from a computer.

As Ms. Durand passed out supplies he couldn’t help but consider her. And not just because he would almost certainly end up registering her as a target before the end of class. She was too chatty to avoid it.

His art teacher really was second only to his history teacher among his instructors. Not that the two faced stiff competition. Ms. Bailey did have one notable advantage over Mademoiselle Durand. That the French woman was (there really was no nice way to say it) a bit of a ditz. Not that she was unintelligent, just that she tended to be a bit absentminded and oblivious.

“Here you are, Mason. If you feel you need any extra help, just let me know,” She said, handing him his supplies for the day. “Oh, you have your own pad, Vina?”

“Is that okay?” The Muslim girl asked.

“Of course,” Ms. Durand reassured her.

When everyone was ready, the lissom brunette revealed their subject for today. It was an orchid she normally had growing on her desk. A single stalk grew from a mass of broad waxy leaves, and the strange pale roots that sprang from the soil. On it was a series of bulbs. And a single white and pink blossom, the first of the oncoming spring.

Mason had a funny feeling he would need extra help with this one.

Still, he, like his classmates, began trying to draw the flowering plant. Some gentle jazzy music (Ms. Durand always put something on) accompanied the sounds of pencils scratching on paper. It was a pleasant atmosphere, one highly conducive to creative pursuits. But despite that Mason once again found himself distracted by the girl sitting next to him.

Vina, like Yumi before her, was laser-focused on her task. But he found it amusing, and endearing, how different their respective versions of focus looked. The petite girl scrunched up as she worked. But his curvy friend unfurled like a sail, sitting taller and taller in her chair. As her smile grew wider on her face with each passing moment. And while the Japanese girl’s pen had only moved faster and faster, the Indonesian girl’s pencil only got more careful and deliberate. And yet the same sharp passion boiled in their eyes.

As he watched her work, he couldn’t help but feel a sudden surge of affection for Vina. And a **** hope that today went well.

But as he glanced down at her sketch, a series of beautifully clean lines that perfectly replicated the flower before them, he also couldn’t help but be a little jealous of her skill. Especially when compared to the rough, stiff image he had produced.

“How are you two doing?” Ms. Durand asked as she stepped up behind them. She glanced over Vina’s shoulder first. “Oh magnifique, Vina.”

“Really?” The Indonesian teen said joyfully. She gave her gigantic blond friend a beaming smile. Not that she was gloating. She was just always pleased as punch when Ms. Durand complimented her. She was probably her favorite teacher.

“Oh, yes. You did a wonderful job capturing the weight of the bulbs on the stem,” The teacher explained, a well-manicured hand gliding just above the page.

Next came the part Mason hated. Not because Ms. Durand was particularly cruel or critical. But if drawing poorly felt bad, having someone examine said drawing felt awful.

And yet Mason had a hard time, feeling that sense of dread. He found himself very much distracted.

Like with her female student, Ms. Durand tried to look over his shoulder at his work. But she wasn’t a particularly tall woman, so to get a proper look she had to sidle up right behind him. So close that she was leaning against him, her pillowy, prodigious bust pressing into his back.

Mason froze. Had she ever been this close to him before? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t do much of anything but marvel at the wonderful softness pressed against him.

“I must say, you do have a good eye for shape and proportion, Mason,” Ms. Durand said, mere inches from his ear. “But you're just drawing an orchid. Remember to focus on your perspective.”

She leaned forward again, aligning her eyes with his. Her smooth, refined cheek was so close to his own that he could feel the warmth radiating off it. Mason even caught. the scent of her perfume, a smell he couldn’t put his finger on. Something flowery, herby, and earthy. It somehow seemed to accentuate the way her breast squished against him.

“Look at the leaf closest to you,” She told him. “For now try focusing on the curves.”

Mason could honestly say he was pretty focused on the curves closest to him at that moment.

That was all it took. The bonus “Lilith” had thrown in for the Refractor Factor trait, had clearly done its work. His cock was throbbing, straining against the fabric of his pants. Without the benefit of a table or desk to hide it. All he could hope was that people wouldn’t look at him

Ironically, despite being its cause Ms. Durand apparently failed to notice the boner beneath her nose. She just straightened up and walked over to help another student. But the same couldn’t be said for Vina. The Indonesian girl wasn’t looking at him. She had, rather pointedly, brought her sketch pad up to her nose and was hiding her burning face behind it. That made Mason’s own cheeks redden.

But even though she wasn’t looking at him, Mason still felt someone’s gaze on him. It proved to be an easy mystery to solve. After all, he only knew a single person with pink-red eyes.

The blond giant had been so preoccupied with his Muslim friend that he hadn’t really paid any attention to who was sitting to his right. It was Charlotte Underwood. As usual, she was decked from head to toe in all black. And also as usual the sheer volume of her massive tits ensured that even a modest neckline showed a generous amount of pale cleavage.

Her face was perfectly blank as she stared at him. But surprisingly the goth wasn’t staring at his lap. (Though from where she was sitting there was no way her big, round eyes had missed it.) Or even at his face. Instead, her blank gaze was locked on his drawing.

“It looks like it’s out of a textbook.” It wasn’t the first time Mason had heard her small, monotone voice. Nor the first time she had directly addressed him directly. (The two of them had actually shared a surprising number of classes over the years.) But it might have been the first time in over a month. And like always he wasn’t sure how to take what she said.

“Um, thanks.” He decided to take it as a compliment.

But he was still trying to figure out what to make of Ms. Durand’s and Charlotte’s behavior when the bell rang.