It was 1789, in England, and Elisabeth knew that she was but a peasant girl and could never even hop
It was 1789, in England, and Elisabeth knew that she was but a peasant girl and could never even hope to have an affair or even have sex with a painter so nobel and famous like William Turner. She could only help around the house while her master was in London for art exhibitions or in a voyage to paint far away places. When he was at home, she stood there watching him paint, and imagining his strong and long strikes of paint in the most sexual way as whips of pain and pleasure on her young and still virgin body. When he was gone, she would masturbate using his brushes, feeling them deep inside while thinking about his strong strokes, watching his paintings. Sometimes… if the paint was still fresh, while her master was outside, she used to press her naked body on the painting, feeling her nipples become hard while pressing against the paint. She masturbated while doing this and the thing that always made her cum most of all, was waiting until she could hear the steps of her master on the stair. Fearing that he could discover her and punish her made her orgasm every time stronger and stronger. At the last moment, she hid away while he entered the room and watched him again, adding strong brushes of other colors on top. -- source link
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