An awkward modeling session

Futaba was too stunned to speak as she modeled for a now naked Yusuke. Just moments ago, Yusuke and her were clothed, casually discussing with each other, and now they were both nude, exposing their bare flesh to each other. Futaba was wide eyed, disassociating from this embarrassing situation, meanwhile Yusuke seemed to not even notice his own nudity, idly sketching her bare torso as his pencil gracefully glided through the canvas like a set of sheers gliding through pieces of paper.

As seconds turn into minutes, Futaba tried her best to stand still, holding the pose Yusuke was seemingly obsessed with, but tended to shift around, moving slightly from right to left. She couldn’t keep her balance at all, not with her mind focused on her embarrassment.

“Please hold still! The shadow on your chest needs to be precisely where your heart is.” Yusuke said with a furrowed brow.

“O-o-okay…” Futaba replied.

The nude, orange haired woman tried to stay calm, but with her heart racing and nerves on overdrive she couldn’t. Every tiny sensation felt extremely potent, as if her nerves had been exposed to the open air. She was acutely aware of her fingertips touching, how her breasts sat against her chest, the warm and still air against her bare skin, everything felt intense!

Meanwhile, Yusuke seemed relaxed, too locked in on the canvas to care about his nudity, or Futaba’s blatant glances at his bare chest and legs. It made Futaba wonder if he would paint in the nude regularly, which only made her more uncomfortable.

“Erm, Inari… Can I ask you something?” Futaba said in a soft, mouse like voice, too shy for her usual snarky tone.

“Why of course! Honestly, I was getting worried for a second. Most models tend to converse with their artist to help break the tension and silence.”

Futaba rolled her eyes. “H-how are you so… calm? Like, aren’t you just a little embarrassed, being… naked like that…”

“Why would I? We’re all nude underneath the clothing we wear, and shame is not but a social construct we’ve created to stigmatize the beauty of the human form!” Yusuke explained.

“You’re so… Inari…” Futaba replied.

He leaned back in his stool, analyzing the canvas in front of him with a quizzical frown. But as he shifted in his seat, Futaba noticed Yusuke had a now full mast erection!

Futaba blushed as she watched his enlarged member hung in the air, dangling from his pelvis like a grandfather clock. His shaft was long and veiny, larger than what Futaba thought he’d be backing underneath his dress pants. Yusuke’s tip was a pinkish red, glistening in the warm glow on the light above.

“Holy shit he’s so hard! He’s totally hard because of me, isn’t he! Oh my fucking god I can’t!” Futaba screamed in her mind.

She’s always suspected he’d was into her, at least platonically when they were still thieves, and years after she could tell he was starting to feel more, interested, in her figure, constantly looking at her through his fingers like he did Ann all those years ago. But to see him rock hard, staring at her nude body so intently made her legs quake. Something deep within herself couldn’t take the sheer weight of his silent attraction towards her. She felt like screaming in a small ball, locking herself in a cage of isolation. But the more she stared back at Yusuke’s dick, she felt aroused herself!