Mrs Cooper unfolded her sketchbook and sat opposite me and, almost as if I was being interviewed for something, as she drew she began to ask questions about what I had been doing at university. Her pencil seemed to move very quickly, and she spent a lot of time staring at me. I liked that part: her eyes scanning my body. I don’t know if her models usually had erections or not, but there was nothing I could do about it.
She turned the page, shifted position, and I did the same. I tried to look relaxed but I doubt very much that I managed it. The only good thing was that while she was sketching I was able to study her as much as she was studying me.
I wondered how her dress would feel against my skin. The wool looked so soft; my skin tingled at the thought and my cock waved. Mrs Cooper’s eyes were attracted by the movement and suppressed a smile. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks but all I could think about was my desire to hold her against me.
It would only take a minute, I was sure, maybe less, if just one of those delicate soft fingers deigned to touch me. It would be so little effort for her, but mean so much to me. I wondered if the thought even occurred to her as she continued to draw. I watched as her tongue moistened her full red lips. She looked up from beneath her dark lashes as my cock waved again. This was insufferable, and I began to wonder if it was possible to ejaculate without being touched at all. It would be humiliating, but it would be an end to this torture.