I turned it on high, and moved it in circles on her stomach. Her muffled giggles sounded nervously through the gag. I ran it down towards her pussy, then stopped and took it back up just before. I put it on each clothespin letting the vibrations carry pleasurably through to her nipples.I turned it off and held it to one of her still spread legs while reaching over to grab a roll of masking tape from the bag. Duct tape was a little too strong, and sometimes painful coming off. You had to use a bit more masking tape, but it stuck just right. I slid the vibrator until the head once again spread her lips wide and rested on her clit. She moaned long and loud, she knew what was coming. Once I had it taped tight, I stood back to admire my work.It was an extremely arousing sight, her hands held high in the air above her head, immobile, the clothespins slowly increasing the sensitivity of her nipples, her lips wrapped tight around the gag, and the vibrator ready to figuratively bring. I was lost in what I was seeing.The bastard blew a whistle!“Fuck!” I know mine was one of the voices that responded, but not the only one by a longshot. He started moving around the room immediately. There were eighteen of us in the class. As usual in Art, only four of us were male. It had been that way all the way through high school as well. Art is for sissies and no one wants to be a sissy. I didn’t care.“You need to work on perspective,” Blankenship said, pointing at one piece of art. He moved to the next. “There’s no depth.” At another, “You should be a cartoonist, that’s the only direction your art is taking you.” “What the hell is that?” It seems like he didn’t have a good word to say about anyone. He stopped behind me and just stood there for a minute. My drawing wasn’t complete—not even close. In fact, there was only a hint of the outline. Instead, I’d focused on what I saw reflected. He cleared his throat. “Next time try drawing the vase,” he said and moved on to the girl.
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