Art Class Creampie for Cuckold Wife

Tim’s fingers trembled slightly as he clicked “Enroll” on the adult education website. The class was called “Figure Drawing: Live Models,” and the description promised an evening of charcoal, oil pastels, and a professional nude male model. He told himself it was a thoughtful gift for Lauren, something to nurture the artistic spark she’d let fade since their marriage. In truth, it was the latest in his quiet, aching need to watch her eyes light up for someone else.

Lauren, twenty-nine, confident and curvaceous, read the confirmation email over his shoulder that night. Her full breasts pressed against his back as she leaned in, and he felt her breath catch.

“A nude male model?” she asked, voice low with interest. “You really signed me up for this, baby?”

Tim nodded, throat tight. “Thought you’d enjoy it.”

She kissed the top of his head, but her smile in the reflection of the laptop screen looked a little too sharp. “You’re such a good husband.”

Three days later they walked into the converted warehouse studio together. The room smelled of turpentine, linseed oil, and the faint metallic tang of old radiators. Ten easels formed a loose semicircle around a low wooden platform draped in black fabric. Most students were already setting up palettes and charcoal sticks. Lauren wore a simple cream blouse that clung to her heavy breasts and a knee-length navy skirt that hugged the generous curve of her ass. Tim carried her supply bag like a servant.

The instructor, a gray-haired woman in paint-splattered overalls, clapped her hands. “Our model tonight is running a few minutes late, but he’s a regular. Very… gifted. Please be professional.”

The door at the far end opened.

Darius stepped in.

He was even taller than Tim remembered. Six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, the kind of muscular frame that came from years of hauling lumber and swinging hammers rather than gym machines. His dark skin glowed under the studio lights. He wore a simple white robe that stopped mid-thigh, and when he moved, the heavy outline of what hung between his legs shifted obscenely.

Tim’s stomach dropped through the floor.

They both recognized him instantly. Darius had spent two weeks at their house last month, ripping out their outdated kitchen cabinets and installing sleek new ones. He’d been polite, professional, and shirtless most of the time in the summer heat. Lauren had brought him lemonade. She had laughed at his jokes. She had stared.

Now Darius’s dark eyes swept the room, landed on Lauren, and a slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

Lauren’s cheeks flushed crimson. Her nipples, clearly visible now through the thin fabric of her blouse, tightened into hard points. She shifted her weight, pressing her thighs together.

“Evening, everybody,” Darius said, voice deep and smooth like aged whiskey. “Ready to draw?”

He shrugged the robe off without ceremony.

A collective inhale rippled through the class. His cock hung heavy and thick even while soft, easily ten inches of veined black meat swaying between powerful thighs. The head was fat, plum-colored, already glistening at the tip. His balls looked full and heavy, hanging low.