Title of Drizzle: A Muse-ing Vengeance

Your author name: RosaBella75 (aka IslandWoman221)

The first day we met I saw the lust and attraction for me blazing in his viridian eyes - but then for some unfathomable reason he acted as though I didn't exist… and his cold dismissal really pissed me off. So I decided I would taunt him - make it so he couldn't fail to take note of me.

It didn't take much to convince Alice to let me take her spot as the nude model for his sculpting class. He was one of only four advanced sculpture students and the only male. Even so, I took solace in how the work stations were set up on the four corners of the compass, screening my heated folds from all but my intended target.

As I took my pose on the stool the first day, I made sure my bare, naked sex was well exposed to him along with the profile of my ample breasts. I was spread and all but dripping, taunting him with my proximity while taunting myself with my want. I arranged myself on the platter of the stool, untouchable except through the proxy of his clay, a visual feast for his self-denial.

This went on for weeks. I had what felt like a permanent ridge on my back from where the stool ground into my ribs and my muscles perpetually ached from holding the difficult pose every night, but it was worth it. Hearing him pant through his nose, imagining him grinding his teeth while feeling his eyes boring into my naked flesh gave me the motivation I needed to carry out my plan.

God, I loved listening to him squirm!

And at last, tonight he would really squirm.

I had snuck a vibrator in my bag with me today. While I was disrobing in the back room I had employed it liberally, though only enough to leave me swollen and wet with need. It had left me ready; now I lay with my nipples tightly wound pebbles of want, and my pale skin glowing with arousal. The sound of my blood flooded my head and pounded in my belly. I burned for him.

Lying there I kept replaying the images I had used earlier in the dressing room to aid the vibrator, successfully pushing my desire higher and higher. I imagined him waiting until the other students left for the night before tossing down his scraper in frustration. He would fall to his knees between my own, firmly grasp my hips and bury his scruffy, no longer arrogant face deep into my hungry cunt.

It was all I could do not to squirm and moan instead of hold my pose on the stool. I could feel myself leaking down the curve of my ass. Force of will alone kept my legs still and my knees apart. I was so distracted by my difficulty holding still, along with the delicious images in my head and tickling moisture leaking across my tingling flesh, I was hardly aware of the sudden silence in the room.

A hot hand grasping my burning flesh jolted me to awareness. A single digit dipped into the moisture welling ever more strongly from my exposure and traced across my turgid folds.

"Is this for me?"

I moaned long and low and completely without volition before nodding.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper filled the silence.

"Then I'm going to give you what we want."

I screamed my approval as I was filled to the brim, my back arching even more sharply.

This was the regard I wanted between my legs.

All great artists should know better than to ignore their inspiration!