I had always wanted to pose in the nude for a large group of people
in a highly aesthetic setting. For many years, this wasn’t just a
fantasy, it was an obsession. After high school, I attended an esteemed
art college, only to discover I was not the next Diane Arbus or Paul
Klee. I went on to open my own catering company, expressing myself as a
vivandiére for the IT crowd. Still, I never lost touch with the art
world. I was approaching a birthday―always an impetus for doing
something wild―and decided it was time to make a wish and forget the
candles.
I chose a school that was an “institute” rather than a college, one
of these places that began popping up next to every Cineplex and strip
mall since the last recession, a grey somber edifice where students can
learn to scuba dive in one room while others are conjugating Italian
verbs in the next. Why I chose this place over my city’s one fine art
academy was simply due to location. The institute is in close proximity
to my humble abode. I also had this odd notion that baring it all
might make me crave nachos and wouldn’t it be nice if there were a
drive-thru nearby?
The classroom I walked into the night of my first modeling assignment
was one I will always remember. It was on the institute’s top floor
with a glass roof which seemed to skive the very firmament from the
gods. The students were a motley bunch who scorned me from the start,
but, no matter. This is where I would meet Leo, a jolly, barrel-chested
man who exuded sexuality the way watching airplanes makes you want to
take off for sights unknown.
That first night, Leo was the most solicitous man I had ever met. Of
course he was an instructor in the throes of his work, but I
immediately sensed he wasn’t just being polite. He arranged my dais
with the utmost care. The students were studying drapery, so the first
week I would pose in a state of dishabille, wearing a crimson velvet
robe I let slide down my orbs until the lapels rested just above my
nipples. Though the area was well-heated, my nipples were hard and
tremulous; I congratulated myself for not choosing a thinner wrap, i.e.,
one that would have revealed a wet crotch spot when I stood.
What was making me so horny? When Leo spoke to the class, I could
feel his stentorian voice travel through every part of my body, but it
was his gaze that truly electrified me. He looked at my semi-exposed
form with such a finite appreciation it almost made me weep. The second
week of class would put my fantasy to the test. Could I actually stand
naked before a bevy of strangers and one burly man I was already
starting to dream about?
I let my robe drop and kneeled on a tuffet into what I hoped was a
natural position. After twenty minutes I shifted to another position,
and then another until it was time for a break. Leo approached me then,
for the first time. His face was redder and sweeter-looking than a
ripe persimmon. I wanted to kiss him.
He said, “I’ve been teaching for twenty years, and I have to tell
you, you are a natural artists’ model. You have very graceful
movements.”
At the end of the course, there was a wine and cheese party, but I
didn’t stay. Just got my clothes on and left. I felt satisfied for
risking adventure, sad as I always do when chapters fold so a new story
can begin, and a little strange after spending so many nights in the
buff without the freedom to touch myself or anyone else. I found my
home exactly as I had left it before the modeling gig. In a state of
dishabille. Well, the exhibitionist had had her fun: time for a reality
check. I threw on a pair of sweats, found my rubber gloves and got to
work. I was elbow-deep in dishes when my kitchen phone rang.
“I have to see you,” Leo breathed.
“When? Just say when.” It was quite late. I didn’t care.
“Can you come back to the school? The students are gone. I’ll give you the code. Please. I have to…”
“I know. I have to, too. Give me twenty minutes: just the length of a pose.”
I hung up and searched my closet for my highest heels. I wore jeans
and a coat with nothing underneath. Only quarter of an hour later I was
back at the school, punching in the damn code and beaming myself back
to Leo.
I found him on the dais, straddling a chair. He was wearing a velvet robe of his own.
“Take that off,” I demanded, tossing my parka on the chalky floor, my
heels clacking like a pair of castanets. My breasts were like heavy
porcelain plates for a table with a coveted view, yet here I was eager
to roll in the dirt with this ponderous, balding man.
“I don’t deserve those,” Leo murmured.
“No, you don’t. But you’re going to give me your cock after I put up
with your agonizing looks, never able to touch you or myself. You sent
me home wet every night. You know you did.”
Leo stood and his robe disappeared. Everything disappeared, except the twinkle in his eyes and his magnificent member.
“Your cock’s like a shillelagh! I feel like I should run through the streets with it, start clamoring for war.”
“Oh, please don’t do that.”
“We could build another institute with it.”
Leo chuckled as I moved closer to my quarry. I took his cock for a
tongue spin before he could even protest. I had waited long enough. He
moved his hands through my hair the way I like to toss a salad: slowly,
so nothing gets mashed. I took him in as far as I could. My hungry
mouth never touched base as he seemed to rise like bread with every turn
of my tongue. He was groaning and twisting like mad as I inhaled him
like a breath of fresh air. I finally eased away and told Leo to find a
rug and find it fast. He moved as if sleepwalking to a cupboard,
producing a foamy mat that would suffice for the occasion.
“Now you’re going to fuck me in the wheelbarrow position until I say
stop. When I say stop, I’ll get on my knees so you can take me from
behind.”
Good thing I was limber from working out because the wheelbarrow is a
bit of a challenge. That bit of dizziness was worth it though when I
felt the head of Leo’s cock wheedling its way into my aching want and
plunging fast, plunging deep and hard. Stop.
I rolled out the mat, grinding my knees as if to press fovea into concrete.
Leo got behind me and the first thrust was a tentative one. The next
one, too. Fuck me I silently pleaded until Leo finally realized what I
was there for, what I needed, because he ironed his hands to my hips,
gripping them for leverage as he pumped me with that beautiful cock, my
ass tilting higher and higher so he could go deep, yes, deeper still,
thrust after thrust as the night grew velvety soft and street lamps
dimmed, thrust after thrust until we were fucking like the last two
people on earth.
When we finally came, we fell into each other, hugging for a long time on the mat.
“Was this part of your fantasy?” Leo asked. “Model naked for six
weeks, make an instructor go weak in the knees and then fuck his lights
out?”
“Actually,” I said, “I just wanted to see if I could model naked. I wanted you too much to even dare to fantasize about you.”
We cradled each other a little more until Leo suggested going back to his house. After all, my place was still a mess.
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