Painting sounds safe

"I'd like to be painted," you say, with rising confidence.

"Very well."

You stand on a pedestal in the center of the room and the class begins to paint. Miss Desmond seems angry.

"This isn't right," she mutters, "This is supposed to be sexual. Jennifer! Kat! Take your paintbrushes and approach the subject!"

The two schoolgirls walk up to the pedestal, cleaning their paintbrushes.

"I want you to paint her."

The girls look at the Art teacher in confusion.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Take your paintbrushes and use them on her body!"

Jennifer shrugs and applies her paintbrush to your belly, wetting your shirt. A second later Kat follows.

The feeling of the paintbrushes through your shirt is new to you. New, but quite nice. You unwillingly let out a soft moan.

"A good start," comments Miss Desmond, "But I want raw, animal sexuality. Be creative!"

Jennifer slides her paintbrush up to your breast, soon she is massaging your nipple. You feel heat spreading through your body.

Kat, being the more creative of the pair, runs the paintbrush down to your left knee. It feels strange to you, even stranger when the tip of the brush climbs up your leg und underneath your plaid skirt. When the paintbrush begins to tickle the front of your panties you take a deep breath.

Jennifer uses her paintbrush to rub each of your nipples in turn, leaving your shirt wet and your nipples hard and visible. You start to pant.

Kat brushes against your sex, driving you crazy. Your juices mix with the water. After a mere handful of strokes she brushes against your clitoris, the reaction from you makes this obvious to her. With a grin, she begins to rub your sensitive clit from different angles.

Under the pair of paintbrushes you are quickly become a wreck. You can't control your breathing and your panties are soaked through.

"Do you have any suggestions?" asks Miss Desmond in a husky voice.

"Please..."

"Please what?"

"P-please Miss Desmond, l-let me cum!"

Your art teacher nods to the two students assaulting you. They redouble their efforts. You arch your back and let out a mighty cry as you climax, but the brushes don't stop. Soon you have a second massive orgasm, and only after a third does the **** finally end.

As the paintbrushes retract you fall to the ground. Your face is covered with a sheen of sweat, your shirt and panties are also wet.

"Very good," says Miss Desmond as she rubs her clit, "You just might be my star pupil!"