Daddy’s Dirty Secret

PROFESSOR, TOUCH ME MORE! 3

Chapter 3:

His Touch

“The pose needs fixing to show the right emotion,” Julian said as he set his charcoal down and stepped onto the platform with me.

His voice stayed low and commanding, the same tone he used in class but heavier now that I was standing there completely naked in front of him.

“Stay exactly where you are, Evie. I’m going to adjust you with my hands so the lines are perfect for the sculpture.”

I swallowed hard, my heart beating so fast it felt like it was pounding between my legs.

“You’re going to touch me now?” I asked, my voice coming out breathy and small.

My t**s rose and fell with every quick breath, n*****s still hard and tight from being stared at for so long.

My p***y lips felt swollen and slick, a slow trickle of wetness already sliding down my inner thigh because I was so exposed and turned on.

Julian moved closer until I could feel the heat from his body. “Yes. I need the real shape, the way your body reacts when it’s being handled. Lift your chin a little.”

He reached up and gently tilted my chin higher with two fingers. His touch was warm and firm, rough from years of working with clay and bronze.

The second his skin met mine a spark shot straight down to my c**t. “Good. Now roll your shoulders back so your t**s push out more. Like that.”

His hands slid down to my shoulders, pressing them back slowly. His palms brushed the sides of my breasts as he did it, not quite grabbing but close enough that I felt the heat of his fingers graze my sensitive skin.

My n*****s ached even harder. I bit my lip to hold back a small moan. “It feels strange having your hands on me like this,” I whispered, my p***y clenching tight. “You’re so much older than me and you’re touching me like you own the pose.”

“I do own the pose right now,” he answered, his voice rough but controlled. “Arch your lower back more.

Push your ass out.” He moved behind me and pressed one big hand flat against my lower back, the other landing lightly on my hip to guide me.

His fingers dug in just enough to make me feel his strength. The move made my t**s jut forward and my p***y open slightly from behind.

I could feel cool air hitting my wet folds again and I knew he could see everything. “That’s better. Your body looks honest when it’s forced into the right curve.

Your n*****s are so stiff. Your cunt is dripping down your thigh. Don’t hide it. That’s the emotion I want.”

My face burned hot but my hips gave a tiny involuntary rock. “I can’t help it,” I said, my voice shaky. “Standing here naked while you stare and touch me is making me so wet.

I feel it running down my leg.” Inside my head I kept thinking how dirty this was, a forty-year-old professor with his hands on my twenty-year-old body, shaping me like one of his filthy bronze statues.

Julian stayed behind me for a moment, his hand still on my hip. “Good. That wetness is part of it. Now turn and lie down on the red velvet chaise over there.

I want you reclining. One arm stretched above your head, the other resting on your thigh. Move slowly so I can watch how your t**s and p***y shift when you do.”

I stepped down from the platform on shaky legs and walked to the soft red velvet chaise.

I could feel his eyes burning into my ass and the slick space between my legs with every step. I lay back on the chaise, following his instructions.

I stretched one arm up over my head, which made my t**s lift and spread. My other hand rested on my thigh, close to my p***y but not covering it.

My legs fell slightly apart on their own and I didn’t close them. “Like this?” I asked, looking up at him while my c**t throbbed steadily.

Julian nodded and brought over a bucket of soft, warm clay.

“Perfect for now. Keep that position.” He dipped his fingers into the warm clay and started pressing small amounts directly onto my skin. First on my collarbone, then down the curve of my waist.

The clay felt warm and smooth against my cool skin. His fingers smoothed it carefully, pressing and shaping it to match the exact dip of my body. “Your waist curves so nicely here,” he said, his hand sliding lower to my hip.

He added more clay there, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin right above my p***y mound. “And this hip bone… I need to feel the real texture and warmth to get it right in bronze.”

Every time his fingers moved, my body reacted. My n*****s stayed rock hard. My p***y kept leaking more slickness onto the velvet beneath me.

When his hand smoothed clay along the side of my breast, his palm grazed the underside and I let out a soft gasp.

“Your hands feel so warm compared to the air,” I whispered. “Every time you touch me lower I feel it right in my p***y. It’s getting harder to stay still.”

He didn’t pull away. Instead he added more clay to the dip of my waist and then to the top of my thigh, his fingers working slowly and deliberately.

“That’s because your body knows it’s being studied. It knows I’m looking at your cunt while I work.

Spread your legs just a little wider for me so I can get the inner thigh right.” His hand guided my thigh open, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my wet p***y lips.

“Look at that. Your folds are shiny and pl uffy. The clay will capture how swollen you are right now.”

I moaned softly before I could stop it, my hips shifting on the chaise. “Professor… you’re touching so close to my p***y.

I’m dripping all over the velvet. This feels so dirty, you putting clay on my naked body while I lie here spread open for you.”

My mind was spinning with raw lust. I wanted his fingers to slide higher, to touch my c**t, but I stayed in the pose because the contract and the money and the strange thrill kept me there.

Julian kept smoothing the clay over my skin, his voice low and steady. “Good girl. Keep breathing like that. Let your body react.

I need the tremble in your thighs, the way your t**s move when you breathe hard, the slick shine on your cunt lips. This is what makes the sculpture real.”

He continued working, adding more clay to my hip and waist, his hands moving with slow, possessive care.

I lay there naked and exposed on the chaise, clay drying on parts of my skin, my p***y aching and wet, my n*****s throbbing, already losing track of how much I was enjoying his touch even though I kept telling myself it was only for the scholarship.

After a while he stepped back slightly to study me, but his hands stayed close, ready to adjust again. “The clay needs more work on your lower body,” he said. “I’m going to smooth it lower now.”

I nodded, my breath coming fast, my p***y clenching in anticipation of where his hands would go next.