You and Angie will make the exhibition together.

There might be consequences, but Angie's enthusiasm is infectious and her body is tempting. You don't know what Angie has in mind for her exhibitionist art, but you know if it involves getting your hands on her, you want to be part of it. You tell Angie that if she's willing to have you as a partner-

She stops you by putting a finger to your lips, breaking what might otherwise be a tender moment with a triumphant laugh. "I knew you'd see it my way, because my way is Atua's way! How divine! Now, your many boring words will have to wait, Tommy. There is much to prepare, but you can leave it to me." She points to a seat, commanding you to do as she says. "Watch me work, and soon, we shall work together. Actually! There is one but one tiny thing Atua is telling me you can do to prepare for our exhibition." Seeing you become tense, she is quick to clarify. "Relax! It will be easy. It will be natural! All I need you to do is stay horny and hungry for me." She places a hand on either side of your head, leaning forward until your foreheads touch and you find yourself either staring into her bottomless blue eyes or down into the valley of her bikini top. "If you ready yourself for the experience to come, that will save us some time! And if you blush at the idea of this, you will be totally unfit for what we must do next." Angie wraps her arms around your shoulders and brings her smiling lips and voice to your ear, speaking softly. "Do you understand? Atua wishes for you to whack off in this public classroom."

Angie still isn't hearing what she wants from you (likely because your mouth is too dry to talk), so she backs off and offers another proposition. "Let me make it even simpler for you, Tommy!" Still laughing and wearing that big, teeth-showing smile, she grabs the shoulder straps of her top and, without hesitation, yanks them down and to either side, freeing her tanned breasts to bounce free into view. Seeing your positive reaction to that, she whips off the pink belt holding her skirt in place, then helps both that and the bikini bottom beneath it slide to the floor with further playful motion of her hands and hips. Now that the important bits of her tan body are on display, she steps out of both her bundle of clothes and the boots that still remained on her feet. Fully nude except for accessories, seeming totally unbothered by exposing her bare breasts and shaven lower body, Angie claps her hands together. "Now, I will run around the studio getting things ready, and you will remain here, watch me, and prepare your tool. Silently, please. I have much to do, and I cannot afford to be sleepy!"

Ordinarily, even if you're told to be quiet, you find it hard to keep from running your mouth. Now, however, you find it easy to keep your unspeakable thoughts to yourself. Angie's preparations are inscrutable to you: she's pulling black curtains around everywhere, changing lightbulbs, filling buckets with a variety of paint colors. She might as well have been floating in the air, for as much difference as it makes to you. All you can do is burn her unguarded nudity into your brain. Understanding where this is going, you haven't just freed your "tool": you've shed both your pants and your underwear, leaving you only half-dressed as you "prepared yourself" with one hand beneath the desk. You've never jerked in front of anyone else or in a public classroom, so it's taking you and your little co-performer some time to get over your stage fright.

Part-way through her preparations, Angie seems to realize this. Under the unnatural LED-like glow of the light she's installed, she looks back at you with a soft smile, rocking her hips back and forth in a gesture that's both enticing and concerning at the top of a ceiling-height ladder. "What's this? You aren't having second thoughts, are you? You need to let your vision be guided by Atua, Tommy! Let yourself not be limited to my far-away body as you see it now. Imagine the body of the disciple of Atua in your grasp, at your very fingertips! It is not just a dream, but a reality to come. But see that you do not come too quickly, nyahaha!"

Locking your eyes on the artist's inviting ass, you do as she commands and try to imagine her not on a ladder across the room from you, but within your reach. You imagine what it would be like not just to be touched by Angie, but to touch her. In your usual way, you can't help but begin to muse out loud. You wonder if Angie wants your hands on her as badly as you want to put them there. You wonder how rough she'd like it. You wonder if she'd be pleased to have your fingers not just on her, but in her, and if you'd be able to please her if you even got to that point.

... You feel like your musing has had some effect on Angie, as well. You notice she's been wiggling on top of that ladder for a while now. It's hard to make out the details on her face from where you are, but you have the concerning thought that she might have been falling asleep up there. You realize that doesn't make much sense, though, as the movement of her hips has begun to pick up and one of her hands has snaked onto her asscheek. Between her legs, you think you see something glistening...

Seeming to notice you observing the change, Angie gives a shakier laugh. Her voice is still smiling, but it has a bit of dreaminess to it you think is new. "Please keep your voice to yourself!" she requests again. "We're both very excited, but it will displease Atua to become too excited too early."

You nod, struggling to keep your voice to yourself as you see Angie finish her preparations with giddy quickness. As quietly as you can, you pump yourself beneath the desk. It's a bit tricky business now, as you feel you're heating up faster than her work is finishing. Surprisingly, however, now that all of the lights in the room are changed and the curtains are up, Angie claps her hands once more. "It's finished to Atua's satisfaction!" With what reads to you as impatience, Angie doesn't even bother putting her ladder up: instead, she kicks it over so it falls noisily to the floor and into the darkness. Only your desk and chair are actually in the lights she's adjusted: the others are all hidden in the shadows at the fringes of the room. What is lit stands in harsh, exaggerated contrast to the rest of the room.

You ask her if she meant to make that much noise with the ladder. She only giggles. "I believe the point is to draw a crowd, Tommy! Now, stand and think fast!"

You see her whites come into focus as she charges from the darkness first: her shining eyes, flapping front ponytails, and glinting teeth. With some alarm, you realize she's running with a paint bucket. With just barely enough time to react, you rise from your seat; this allows her to throw a bucket of bright red paint across your lower body, with a bit splashing onto your hanging shirt but the lion's share splashing all over your groin, legs, and especially your erect member.

Angie tosses the bucket aside noisily and fetches another two from the darkness. She sets one on the table and gently dips them into bright pink paint, encouraging you to do the same in the orange of the other with a jerk of her head. There's an expression of focus on her face... No, that isn't it. You remember you've seen her focus when she's worked in the past. The look she has now, with her tongue working her lips, but eyes that curl into a smile instead of furrow in concentration, is definitely something else.

As if the commotion is necessary for her art, she swings these buckets cheerily off the desk when you are both done them. You notice that the parts of the dark curtains becoming coated in paint shine distinctly: the tinctures seem to burn neon in a way that isn't affected by shadow.

While you're looking at that, briefly considering the toxicity and ease of cleaning of this unusual paint, you aren't prepared for what happens next. Angie pounces on you with enough **** to take you off your feet and painfully onto your back. When you open your eyes, she's perched on top of you: the back lighting from above casts nearly all of her tan body into shadow except for the whites and the bright paint she's put on her hands. "The dinner bell's rung! But your preparations still aren't complete!" You know she's not talking about your fully erect penis, the one she's excitedly grinding with the curve of her hips as she sits on your body. It becomes clear as she starts tearing open your uniform jacket, then ripping at your shirt like a wild animal, apparently unwilling to let you lift it off yourself. "I need your canvas ready for my hands too, Tommy! Nyehehehaha!"

Partly because it's what you want, partly because it's what you think she wants, and partly simply in **** for your now-ruined outfit, you open the ceremonies by placing your hands on either side of the artist's haunches, leaving goopy orange prints as you dig your fingers into her soft skin. Already, she's letting out a ragged laugh, and repositions to raise her bottom a bit and give you better access.

The scene is starting to feel less distinct and more dream-like as her sing-songy speech loses the cohesion of words, becoming coos, shouts, and giggles instead. Her tan body becomes a canvas for your orange hand-prints red dick-prints as you use the tools at your disposal to make a colorful, drippy, sweaty mess of the artist. At some point, a strange, tuneless music has begun playing in the background, a recording of a repetitive and simple but energetic beat of island drums. It's hardly needed to give the two of you energy: every touch of your fingers, especially on her ass, and even more especially inside of her, seems to electrify her even further.

Because of the strangely charmed life you've led until now, you've narrowly escaped a variety of sexual escapades with all kinds of people. It feels crazy that after carefully extricating yourself from those situations, you're now fully surrendering yourself to public sex with a manic artist you just met a day or so ago. You can't help but wonder if she's entirely in her right mind... If you are as well, for that matter. The room around you and the woman on top of you, however, have you in a kind of erotic trance where the consequences feel very secondary to the immediate need of pleasing her and having her please you. It's hard to even satisfy your hunger for her lips, since every dig of your fingertips and slap of her wiggly body seems to elicit more rough, kiss-interrupting laughter from her, as though you were tickling her instead of satisfying her.

Abruptly, apparently done with the foreplay, Angie pushes back from you, lifts herself to hover just above your lower body, and slowly rocks her hips from side to side, just over the tip of it. You realize what's coming next and tell her to hold on a minute. Condom!

She shakes her head rapidly, wearing a goofy smile with her tongue on her lips. "Don't have any! If you are to pull out, Atua will make it so! And if there are labors to be performed, I will perform them to Atua's glory. Do not disappoint us now, Tommy!"

You have your own thoughts about this which are immediately washed away in a tidal wave of new feeling as Angie lowers herself onto your cock and begins bouncing there, raising and lowering herself before you can even begin helping with thrusts. You aren't sure how this is supposed to look, but the amount of yourself that disappears in her seems almost unreal, almost unbelievably deep, and her lower body is starting to match yours in terms of how the red paint mixes between the two of you. She seems almost entranced as she works her hips, her tongue hanging out shamelessly and her eyes rolling up as if looking for her god.

You realize the danger of the situation: there are, at the very least, certain minimum consequences you're aware of here! Desperately, you **** yourself to sit up and lift Angie off of your cock at the critical last second. As a result, you think you've managed to avoid a crisis as you see your cum fire off in thick strings across the artist's tan belly, shining in a nearly glow-in-the-dark way thanks to the room's special lighting. Her hips continue to jerk erratically, and you're somehow certain that in her trance, she's mentally feeling you cumming inside of her, unaware you managed to pull out in time.

She gasps, then collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily and looking newly exhausted. "Tommy... exhibitionist art is... quite incredible! Ah, how powerful is your devotion to Atua and his disciple... H-how divine! But the exhibitionist art is... incomplete?!" Suddenly, she shouts too close to your ear and presses her hands to her face, leaving goopy pink prints on her cheeks. "Oh no! We've already run the whole exhibit alone? Surely Atua's chosen cannot have failed?!"

You find that hard to believe. Besides the ladder and the buckets earlier, you feel like you two have made enough noise to wake the dead. It suddenly occurs to you that even if someone else was here, the darkness at the fringes of the classroom would probably hide them. Are you two really alone?