I turned around and saw Mr. Xnxx No matter how much I wanted it, to feel his naked body against mine, to feel him inside me, his hands over my body, his tongue in my mouth, until the two of us would simultaneously explode in a zenith of intense pleasure, I could not do such a thing. Monet must have realized how nervous I actually was, as he kept trying to engage me into smalltalk, asking about what other hobbies I had and how I liked college. I had been daydreaming in front of one of his largest paintings, but got woken up by the sound of scratching wood. The first thing I noticed when he opened another door, was the distinctive smell of wet paint, which was all around. I kissed him. I pulled down both my jeans and underwear at the same time, stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Monet had painted me. Every single one of my friends had gotten to at least have a brief conversation with him, a random hello, or even a semester of art class.
