Paris, 1870s

Edgar Degas spent countless hours backstage at the Paris Opéra, studying the dancers. One ballerina, in particular, drew his gaze repeatedly with her long dark hair and lush curves so rarely seen on ballerinas.

Marie was the fresh young star of the Paris Opéra Ballet, and she had secured her position with a high-ranking abonné during her first month on stage. The abonnés were wealthy male patrons of the Paris Opéra who purchased an annual subscription that gave them many extra privileges.

Some were granted access to certain backstage areas and rehearsal rooms, and private meetings were often set up with their favorite dancers. The Opéra house encouraged the dancers to keep their abonné happy in any way they desired.

Marie’s abonné, Baron Henri de Clairmont, became so enthralled with her that after only a few months he did a very rare thing and married her so that she could be with him all the time.

Their union was the source of a lot of gossip, with many giving the baron credit for Marie's star position.

Edgar couldn’t believe his luck when Baron de Clairmont asked him to paint Marie's portrait to hang in the entrance to the Opéra. He couldn’t wait to have an excuse to get up close and intimate with Marie’s lovely body, and be able to stare at her as much as he desired.

She was different than the other ballerinas he had painted. She was long and lean like a dancer, but she had curves more like the Moulin Rouge girls he often paid to pose for him. Those girls had no trouble posing nude for a few coins and free wine. Sometimes he could even get two of them together at once.

It’s amazing the way art can unleash your passions and those two…

A knock on the door of his art studio brought him out of his roguish reverie before he could get too deep into the memories of their beautiful bodies intertwined while he sketched.

Edgar opened the door to greet the baron and his lovely baroness ballerina. The baron was dressed in his usual finery, but Marie was wearing her practice uniform. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tight bun.

The pale pink leotard was so thin he could see her ample breasts through the fabric, including the details of her puffy areolas and hard nipples. Around her waist, a stiff tutu stuck out from her body.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Degas. We are eager to get the process started! She wore no tights, as I know you like to see the muscle tone when sketching,” de Clairmont said, as he pushed Marie in front of him a little, like he was giving her to him.

“Marie, mon petit oiseau, my little bird, do anything Mr. Degas asks. I want you to do whatever he needs to make this his next masterpiece.”

He then turned to Edgar, “I would like to stay and watch if you don’t mind. I’m incredibly intrigued by the artistic process. I promise not to interfere at all.”

He sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable, obviously not expecting Edgar to object.

Edgar did want to object, though. He badly wanted to get Marie alone and sketch every forbidden inch of her flesh. But the Baron was a paying client, and very influential at that. He could do as he wished.

The Sketch

Edgar instructed Marie to go to the barre and move through her ballet positions, starting with first.

He started to sketch, but became annoyed as the tutu blocked his view of how her muscles moved. He needed to get her out of those clothes and really see her.

“To be honest, sir, I usually have my subjects pose nude so I can see their body more clearly,” Edgar explained, gesturing to the large tutu with disdain.

“I understand. Please, Marie, do as Edgar asks. I want this to be perfect,” de Clairmont said, his expression revealing nothing as he calmly spoke to his obviously shocked wife.

“Henri!” Marie exclaimed. “Are you sure you are OK with this? I will be completely exposed.”

“Edgar is free to explore your body any way he needs to. Don’t question his artistic methods, Marie,” her husband admonished. “Undress completely and return to the barre.”

She stared at de Clairmont as she dropped her tutu to the floor, its rough crinoline scratching her legs on the way down. She almost felt naked already without it around her waist. Before anyone could object to her keeping a shred of modesty, she slipped behind the partition that separated them from the dressing area, and removed her leotard in private.

Steeling herself, she bravely walked over to the barre and immediately assumed first position again, with her legs pressed tightly together, her feet turned out at the heels.

Edgar drank in her naked body, his fingers itching to sketch the most intimate parts of her. She stared straight ahead, not looking into his eyes, awaiting his instructions.

“Show me a plié,” he told her, staring intently at her body, still sketching even as she moved her legs apart and lowered her torso.

She dropped into a demi-plié, her feet together, knees out wide. She blushed as she felt herself open between her legs, wondering how much Edgar could see. She felt exposed and scandalous, practically squatting naked in front of another man.

His eyes were riveted between her legs as he sketched with intense concentration. “Grand plié, please,” he asked.

“But…” she stammered, looking to her husband, waiting for him to refuse.

“Grand plié for him, my little bird,” he told her, with a wave of his hand. “Show him what you can do.”

Marie lowered herself nearly to the floor, her legs bent at the knees and spread wide. She looked as if she were offering herself up to Edgar.

“Wonderful,” he said, as he eyed between her legs, enjoying the way her dark curls there were split and her delicious-looking cunt was on full display. He could see every fold, and her clit sticking out at the top, like it was begging to be licked.

He sketched her pussy in great detail, planning to put that to use later that evening when he was alone.

“Now, penché, please,” Edgar told her, and glanced at the baron to see if he might deny his request for a pose that would have one leg on the floor and the other straight up beside her, putting even more of her on display in a standing split.

She rose from her plié and effortlessly moved into the penché. She was magnificent, with her legs making nearly a straight line to the floor, and her cunt stretched open. He wanted to bury himself in the folds he could see were becoming slick with arousal.

“I know this is a hard pose to hold. Baron de Clairmont, since you are here, would you be willing to hold Marie’s leg up for me?” Edgar asked.

The baron sprung from the couch, adjusting himself as he did. “I’m happy to help,” he said as he stepped behind Marie to hold her leg at the impossible angle.

Edgar continued to sketch, trying to immortalize every intimate detail so he could paint her later.

“I know you can’t hold this for hours. The best way for me to remember the smallest detail is by touch,” Edgar told them, setting his sketchbook down. “I need to feel how your body and muscles work together, with my hands.”

Edgar moved to put his hands on her arms. “Yes, touch her,” de Clairmont encouraged him. “Touch her everywhere so you don’t miss a thing.”

Marie held her breath with the anticipation of his touch, and watched him close his eyes as he drew close.

He leaned in and breathed in her scent first. She smelled of musky arousal and French lavender soap.  Eyes still closed, he brought his hands to her shoulders, feeling her body like a blind man, running his hands lightly down her arms.

He took time stroking each of her fingers before returning his hands to her shoulders, then up her neck and down to her collarbone.

He hesitated a minute before brushing his hands over her perfectly shaped breasts. Emboldened by the look of lust on the baron’s face, he cupped both her breasts, each slightly overfilling his hands.

He heard her breath catch and felt her nipples harden against his palms. He brushed his thumbs over each nipple, making her moan as he rolled the hard little nubs under his thumbs.

De Clairmont watched Edgar’s every move as he slid his hands down her stomach, stroking her small waist and appreciating the strong muscles of her abdomen.

He then moved his hands to her legs, running his fingers along the long muscles that led to the dark curled mound at the apex of her thighs. She trembled when his fingers brushed over just her outer lips, but she did not fall.

She gripped the barre tighter when he stroked his fingers down her center. She wondered how far he would take this. How far her lusty benefactor would let him go.

She sucked in a breath when he pushed his fingers into her, one at a time, feeling her on the inside as he did the outside.

He was mesmerized by the slickness coating his fingers as he stroked her, as carefully as he might make a stroke of paint on a canvas. 

“Is it true what the ladies say about your cock, Edgar?” de Clairmont asked suddenly, breaking the spell her wet pussy had put him under.

“And what are they saying, monsieur?” Edgar asked, curious as to what he might have heard.

“You must have heard the gossip yourself. You’ve been with quite a few of the dancers.” De Clairmont said. “I overheard Julietta saying you had the biggest cock she’s ever seen.”

Edgar smiled, knowing he did have an impressive cock. He just wanted to hear the baron say it. “Oui. Monsieur. The ladies seem to really enjoy it.”

Edgar looked into Marie’s eyes as he spoke, and kept up the rhythm he had as he worked his fingers in and out of her spread-open pussy. The wet noises between her legs were loud in the quiet room.

“In fact, the say once they’ve had my cock, they are ruined for smaller men. Tell me Henri, do you think my cock would ruin your wife for you?” Edgar boldly used the baron’s first name to taunt him.

“I’d like to find out,” Henri said, looking openly at the lump forming in the front of Edgar's trousers, and not correcting him. “I want to watch you fuck my wife with your famous horse cock. I want to see how much you can satisfy her.”

Upon hearing those words, an orgasm shuddered through Marie, her pussy clamping onto Edgar’s fingers that were still relentlessly working her clit. She fell out of the pose this time, collapsing on the ground.

The Final Act

Edgar was not surprised at the baron’s request. It wasn’t the first time a husband had wanted him to fuck their wife. He knew some men enjoyed seeing their lover’s pussy filled with a cock like they never could. He knew how to play this game.

“Stand up and grab the barre,” he told Marie. “And if you want the best view, get on your knees beside her,” he said to Henri.

They both did as he instructed, Marie now bent over with her pussy ready for taking, and the baron close by, ready to watch as Edgar ruined his wife in front of him.

Henri gasped when Edgar dropped his pants to the floor, his extremely large cock springing free. He leaned in to get a better look as Edgar lined himself up with Marie’s wet slit.

Marie moaned and pressed back, ready to find out what it felt like to be fucked by Edgar’s big cock while her husband watched.

Edgar worked himself into her tight pussy. It felt like heaven, warm and slick and so inviting.

Marie braced herself against the barre in front of her, watching Edgar and the baron in the large mirror. She felt like he was splitting her open with each thrust, and she liked it.

She watched as Henri moved closer and closer to where Edgar’s dick was pounding into her. She felt Edgar pull himself out, and saw him wrap his hand around himself, offering it to her husband's lips.

“Do you want to taste her?” he asked, and she watched in shock as the baron opened his mouth and sucked as much of Edgar’s thick dick in as possible. His head bobbed back and forth, while her empty pussy ached to be filled again.

Edgar quickly filled that need, sliding back into her in one swift motion that hit a spot so deep inside, she knew the baron would never satisfy her again.

His pace quickened as he pounded his full length into her, grunting as he got closer to his release.

“Cum in her and let me clean you off.” Henri urged him on, his words causing him to let go and fill up his sweet protégée with the biggest load of cum he’d had in a while.

He pulled out, still semi-hard and coated with their mingled juices. Henri didn’t hesitate to suck him clean so enthusiastically that Edgar started to get hard again.

As the baron’s head dipped lower, Edgar gave a passionate groan and warned, “Careful Henri, or you’ll be the next one to find out what it feels like to be filled with this cock.”

“Tempting,” said the baron, but first I’d like to see if you can fit that big cock in her mouth. He turned his attention to licking the cum oozing out of his beautiful ballerina’s pussy, while she was still bent over in front of the barre.

Edgar walked over and gently pushed her head down, until just the tip was in her mouth.

“How about it, little bird? Do you want more?” Edgar asked, and was pleased when she sucked him deeply.

The baron was behind her, pleasuring her with his tongue, and she moaned around Edgar’s cock, pushing herself back into the baron’s face.

“Yes, you are doing so good, Marie; this will inspire my best artwork yet. I want you both thinking of my cock next time your husband tries to please you,” Edgar said, pointedly looking down at the baron.

“Watch your wife swallow my cock, Henri, see how much she likes it. I’m about to paint her sweet face with my cum,” he said as he pulled out and stroked himself in front of Marie’s face.

“Open your mouth,” Edgar commanded as the first spurt hit her lips. Marie obediently licked her lips and opened her mouth for Edgar as he released himself in her mouth and on her face.

“Henri, clean up your wife and get her dressed. I have enough to create a masterpiece that will make her the envy of all the ballerinas at the Opéra.”

“Yes, Edgar,” said the baron, still on his knees. “This has been so inspiring watching you work. I’d like to purchase a series of paintings. Marie will be available whenever you need her, provided I can assist, of course.”

Edgar pulled up his trousers, imagining all the things he wanted to do to Marie.

“Wonderful. I look forward to our next meeting,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be here the next time your wife needs to be satisfied by a real man’s cock. Now let me get to work.”

And with that, he ushered them out the door of his studio, his mind filled with visions of Marie and his hands anxious to get started on his next work of art.