Page 12 of Hard Wood Daddy

Chapter 3

Tess

Well, I’m naked now.

That’s something.

It’s hard to imagine that I was elbow deep in dirty dishwater a week ago. Now I’m sitting on a stool with my whole ass hanging out, and the only thing protecting my modesty is a long drape of salmon-colored chiffon over my crack and breasts.

I do feel like I’m straight out of a Rubens masterpiece.

Even a king-sized bedsheet couldn’t hide the size of my boobs, though. The nipples are incognito. Almost everything else is available for everyone to draw.

I feel so safe in this situation, though.

Lindsay helped me find my first couple of poses. “Let’s just move this arm here, this leg there…” she said, while gently nudging me this way and that. Her body shielded everyone from seeing parts that I guess fall under the ‘intimate’ umbrella, but it’s crazy how new ‘Tess’ doesn’t seem to care.

Now I’m encircled by artists and their easels, and everyone is just so focused on the art, I don’t feel judged at all. The bite of the hard wooden stool I’m perched upon is the only downside to this whole deal. I’ve found my fans, I guess. And, outside of openingan OnlyFans account where my shape would only be a thinly veiled side show, I never thought I’d have admirers, so to speak.

IamRubenesque.

It might be the nicest word anyone has ever used to describe me, and I didn’t really know what it meant until I was thumbing through one of the art books in my cabin all about the artist Peter Paul Rubens.

When I catch little glimpses of the sketches in the class, I even start thinking I’m beautiful.

The word “thinking” might be a little generous. The truth is that I’m not thinking about art class much at all. After the initial thrilling minutes of semi-terror at being naked in a group of clothed artists, my mind drifted away from the situation to something a lot more immediate.

Like coming hard on Rutger’s thigh.

He had me by the ass and by the hair and used me like I was just his little fuck-doll. I was more than fine with it.

Like, I licked his cum off my hand. I’ve never done anything like that. It was a little sweet, a little salty, and more than a little addicting.

I wish I could try it again. This new Tess deal is fascinating. It’s like I opened up a new jar of ‘me’ out here in the wild, and I’m coming into my own for the first time.

A couple of days have passed since my Rutger interaction behind my cabin. I haven’t seen him since, although it feels like he’s always lurking nearby, like that first time I glimpsed him at the sign.

The amount I’ve been thinking about him is unreasonable, given the amount of time we’ve actually spent together. Never once have I met a man and been so confident that I need to have him inside me that I literally climbed him like a tree.

My own personal Oak Tree, I call Rutger.

He was clumsy rutting against me, like he didn’t know exactly where to touch. He still managed to build up enough friction to make me come. And as soon as I got home that night, I did it again with my fingers another three times until it started to hurt, furiously rubbing myself to the thought of his hand on my ass. That length of tree trunk behind his straining denim.

His mile high chest.

Jaw like granite.

Eyes like Jesus.

Jesus?

I shake my head. I think I’m losing it.

Even so, I’m still not sated.

It’s good that I can’t get an erection, because if I could everyone would know. At least the throbbing and waterworks going on in my lower level aren’t as obvious as a bat sized boner under the thin sheet. My nipples have been hard as little pebbles, but that can be written off on the chill in the big room.

I thought I knew what it was like to be attracted to someone.

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