I stood at the door to her apartment, debating with myself on whether I should knock or walk away. I wiped my sweaty palms on the back pockets of my skinny jeans and tugged my shirt down to try and cover the exposed flesh of my belly. I succeeded only in revealing more of my cleavage. (Why had I not worn something more comfortable?) Then I reminded myself I would be taking my clothes off anyway, so what did it matter?
I was here on a whim, with something to prove. I was tired of being the dull, prudish, small-town girl in a big city cliche. My friends teased me about this, not to be mean, but to urge me out of some shell they thought I was stuck in. Compared to what many college girls my age did, I was prudish and unadventurous. I didn’t rage at parties, get hammered on alcohol or drugs, and hook up with a different guy every weekend. My friends liked me well enough but thought I should go out and have more fun. What some of them really meant was that I needed to get laid. I silently agreed with them.
I was a virgin, not so much by choice but rather lack of opportunity. I did grow up in a small town, and my options for worthy bed partners were limited. Even if I had found someone, my over-protective, very religious parents would have been an obstacle. The opportunity to be deflowered, a ridiculous term in my opinion, never presented itself.
By the time I got to college, away from my parents’ observing eyes and into a bed of sexual opportunities, I found they weren’t so easy to come by. Oddly enough, some guys seemed intimidated by my virginity once I told them. The guys I didn’t tell assumed I’d be okay having sex in the back room at a party on a pile of other people’s coats or in a drunken frenzy after a long sweaty night of dancing. I have no delusions on the religious or moral importance of keeping my virginity intact, but I’ve held onto it this long, and I’m a bit attached to the quality of the send-off.
So I let my friends have their jokes. They weren’t all true, and some of the guys knew it. I had some experience with the fun play that leads up to taking a man’s dick inside me. I just never felt like crossing that line with anyone yet. It seemed simpler to let my friend’s tease than try to explain myself.
They could say what they want about my inexperience, but reading erotica was almost a hobby of mine. My friends probably don’t even know a portion of what is out there as far as fucking goes. They just go out, get drunk, and settle for sloppy sex with whoever comes along first. Not me.
For all my talk about not being bothered by their impressions and teasing me, their jokes finally cracked part of my shell one day while hanging out on campus.
“So, who’s going to Steve’s party Friday?” Liam asked the group of us. We were piled onto the benches around a picnic table on the quad. A few people enthusiastically replied that they were.
“Does that guy even go here? I only ever see him shit-faced at his house?” One of the other guys asked.
“I think he got kicked out like a year ago but never found anything else to do. I’m gonna go for sure, though. Don’t want to miss the jello shot contest, especially after that rainbow display of puke from last time.” People at the table laughed and groaned and made fake vomiting sounds in memory. Amber turned to me and quietly asked, “What about you, Lani? Want to check out Steve’s party with me?” Her smile let me know it was a friendly request.
“Gee, sounds like a fun time,” I replied sarcastically and returned her smile.
Liam overheard her comment and teased, “Lani letting loose at a party? I’d pay to see that.”
I playfully rolled my eyes at him.
“Yeah, right, she’d probably bring her homework with her because she wouldn’t know what to do once she got there.” Jackson, a guy who had not appreciated my outright rejection of his past advances, laughed too hard at his joke. A few people chuckled and nodded in agreement. “She’d walk in all wide-eyed and tripping over herself. Can you imagine Lani drunk? Talk about a babysitting gig!”
I was grateful to see I wasn’t the only one annoyed by his comment. People shifted uncomfortably and looked at their phones to see how long before class.
“Leave off, Jackson,” Amber came to my rescue, “At least Lani’s going to keep her brain cells and graduate. You’ll probably end up like Steve, throwing parties off-campus for under-aged drinkers just so you can relive some stupid glory days.”
“Damn Amber, I was just joking.”
“It’s fine, Amber,” I said quietly as I put my hand on her arm. “What’s that about?” I pointed to the paper sticking out of her book, letting the conversation around us shift to other topics and fade into the background. All I could read was ‘erotic life.’
“This?” She opened the book to show me the rest of the wording.
“Erotic life art. My art professor is looking for a model to pose for her. She’s got some big gallery event coming up in the spring.”
“So why is it called ‘erotic life art’?”
“The model has to be nude. I don’t know, maybe provocative positions or something. I’m certainly not going to offer my services. I’ve gained like ten pounds in the last year, and I don’t need to share that with everyone.”
“You look great,” I said automatically, meaning it as well.
“Yeah, well, still not my thing. I like to have my weekend nights free, and that’s the only time she has to work on this. You should do it. You’re curvy and sexy, even if you don’t know how to use it.” She nudged me to show she was joking, but the comment stung.
Is that what people thought? That I didn’t know how to be sexy or erotic? In my mind, I disagreed with her. I often felt very sexy and thought I came off that way. Apparently, I did not.
Amber had joined the conversation again, and I let my mind fall down the rabbit hole of how people must perceive me. I didn’t feel prudish, and even for all their teasing, I hadn’t thought my friends actually saw me that way. I was beginning to see that I was wrong; they really did think of me as a bore.
It was almost time for the next class, and people started gathering their bags and heading off in different directions. Amber picked up her pile and turned to me to say goodbye. I spoke first.
“Hey, if you don’t need that paper, can I have it?”
Amber looked confused for a moment. “Oh, this one?” She pulled the scrap of paper out of her book. Amber raised her eyebrows as I took the paper and looked at the phone number.
“Does she want art students, or is it open to anyone willing?”
“She just needs a willing model with free weekend nights. Are you serious, Lani?”
I began to stutter out a response, suddenly insecure and unsure of drawing this kind of attention to myself.
“I think you’d be great! You should totally do it. And I want to see those pictures.” Amber winked at me and leaned forward for a quick parting hug.
As she walked away, I looked down at the paper, my heart already racing at the thought of posing naked for a stranger. Somewhere though, a voice cried out, ‘yes, do this!’ as a thrill of anticipation swept through me.
That had been two days ago. Now I stood there, full of nervous excitement, urging my hand to knock. I was grateful the artist was a woman. I would not have come had it been a man.
I looked up at the classy façade of the apartment building. (Condo.) Yes, she had called them condos. (I do not belong here.) That thought slammed into me, and I instinctively turned to retreat before anyone saw me. I didn’t make it far before the door opened, and light from the condo slid out and engulfed me.
I braced myself as I turned towards the opening, giving one last tug on the bottom of my shirt. In the doorway stood a stunning woman. She was alluring—subtle, delicate curves, sexy with a seductive arrogance to her stance.
Before saying a word, she leaned against the doorframe and let her gaze slowly roam my body, lingering on my breasts. I felt a sizzle of anticipation, and my nipples grew hard at her perusal. (What was this feeling? Nerves?)
She finally spoke. “Lani, I presume?” Her voice was a deep, sultry invitation. I thought of the safety of retreat at my back, but the pull towards this woman was strong.
“Yeah,” my voice cracked. “Ahem, yes, ma’am, we spoke on the phone.” I moved towards her with my hand outstretched.
“Oh, darling, please don’t ma’am me. I’m barely mid 30’s, not quite old lady status yet. Just call me Madeline.” She clasped my hand in a caress and pulled me towards her as she stepped back into her condo.
“Please come in. Let’s get you comfortable.”
I walked into an open room made cozy with tossed about pillows, blankets thrown across the backs of lounge chairs, and overstuffed couches. Paintings cluttered the walls, displaying a variety of styles and subjects. They ranged from juvenile looking shapes and painted splatters to detailed landscapes and realistic portraits. A propane fireplace helped with the soothing ambiance.
“Please have a seat. Can I get you a drink? Whiskey? Sparkling Water?”
“Uh, no, thank you,” I sat on the edge of a couch and scanned the paintings on the wall. Among the collection were beautifully painted nudes, men perched on stools, and women draped across couches. I assumed this was ‘life art’ and felt a little more relaxed. Madeline came to sit on the chair across from me, carrying a glass of amber liquid over ice.
“Quite a collection, no?” she asked, noticing my perusal of her walls.
“Yes, it is. Did you paint all of them?”
“Oh, goodness, no. This collection represents a wide range of artists. Many of them are gifts…” she paused then to sip her drink. “So, tell me, Lani, what inspired you to respond to my call for models? Do you know what life art is?”
“I believe so.”
“To put it simply, it’s nude modeling. In a bit, I’m going to ask you to take off your clothes, I will pose you, and then I will sketch you. The painting comes later. It takes me about a half-hour to get a good enough sketch down so I can come back to it with details and paint. This whole project will take a few sessions. I hope that you are comfortable with this?” She said this last as a question.
“Yes, I, uh, I think so.” (Was I?)
“Okay, great. I have a form for you to sign, nothing too technical. Just a standard consent form stating that you give me permission to create your likeness, through drawing or painting, for the purposes of art; inherent in this is that these pieces will be displayed for the public. Your name will not be attached to the works unless you would like it to be?” She paused a moment for my response.
I shook my head, “I don’t think so.”
“Okay then,” she said as she went to a shelf and brought over some sheets of paper and a pen. “There’s also the compensation that we spoke about on the phone. You’re alright with getting paid the sum at the end?”
“Uh, sure, that’s fine.” The details were not helping me relax. If I signed this paper, did that mean I had to make it through three sittings? What if I hated it and was too horrified to come back? What if I was so bad she didn’t ask me to return? The money was not an issue; my dignity was.
Madeline studied me from her chair, again surveying my body with a scrutiny that warmed my blood. She stood and came to me, her hands reaching towards my hair, pausing to ask, “Do you mind?” I wasn’t quite sure what she was asking for, but I simply responded with a shake of my head.
She reached towards my bun, gently pulled out the hair tie, and let my thick, dark hair fall. She ran delicate fingers into the mass of tendrils and brought my hair to rest around my shoulders. I caught the hint of a provocative perfume and noticed the smoothness of her skin. I wanted to slide my tongue along her neck and collarbone. (Where had that come from?) She arranged my hair alongside my breasts, fingers brushing their sides, another exciting jolt of touch. Her face was close to mine. For a moment, I feared she might kiss me, but when she pulled back, I was slightly disappointed.
“Your hair is stunning, so much life. I’ve always envied women with lustrous hair like yours. I don’t even remember what color mine is supposed to be anymore,” she laughed. I thought her dyed black straight bob a sophisticated look and began to tell her so. A knock on the door stopped me.
“Ah, that must be Jeff.”
I sat there, confused, as she went to answer the door. Perhaps Jeff was a delivery guy or some friend dropping off supplies. I heard the voices at the door, saw Madeline’s back as she greeted whoever was there, and frantically thought of how I would explain my presence here if need be. I looked down at my clothes to make sure everything was in place. When I looked up again, Jeff was walking into the room.
Jeff, the attractive, charming guy from my philosophy class and the reason I got excited about going when the topic was too dull to hold my attention. The guy with the shaggy mop of brown curls my fingers itched to play with—the well-built athlete with a friendly smile and penchant for philosophical ramblings. Here was the stand-in body of my erotic fantasies, the guy whose cock penetrated my thoughts as I rubbed myself to climax.
(What in the hell is he doing here?) And how was I going to explain my presence? I watched in horror as he made his way confidently into the room, scanning the paintings and décor. He stopped when he saw me, a puzzled look on his face, but smiled.
“Hey Lani, how’s it going?”
He knew my name. That was a shock in itself, but then the casual way he came around to sit near me on the couch made me flustered. I stuttered out some return greeting and looked to Madeline as she sat in the armchair across us.
“So, you two know each other? That could make this interesting.” Neither of us said a word. “Are you friends? Lovers?—”
“Classmates,” Jeff cut her off before she could continue.
Madeline looked at the two of us with amused scrutiny.
“We have a philosophy class together,” he continued.
“Hmm…well, have either of you ever sat for an artist before?”
We both shook our heads.
Madeline bit her lip. “Have you ever been naked in front of people you weren’t intimate with?”
I thought about the one time my friends tried to get me to skinny dip with them and how horrified I was of my parents finding out that I kept my clothes on.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Jeff and I responded at the same time. Madeline apparently thought this was interesting and paused in contemplation before replying.
“Jeff, turn and look at Lani. Tell me what you see.”
Jeff shifted nervously. I could tell he was trying to be polite. I looked at him and offered a friendly smile. He studied me for a moment and let the corner of his mouth raise playfully. I wondered if he knew how sexy that movement was.
“I see a beautiful young woman with gorgeous hair,” his voice softened.
“And…” Madeline encouraged.
“And comforting brown eyes, and sexy full lips.” Jeff stopped then, possibly thinking he had gone too far.
My cheeks were flush with the attention.
“Nice, Jeff. Now Lani, tell me what you see when you look at Jeff.”
I was so nervous that I responded with the first thing that came to mind, “Masculinity.” My stomach dropped. (What the hell kind of response was that?) Madeline, however, seemed to approve.
“Perfect answer. Now,” the shift in tone drew our attention away from each other, “you’re both here because you responded to my call for a nude model. I thought it would be interesting to sketch you both together. These pieces will hang in a local gallery this spring, but they have been commissioned by a client with a particular taste for the erotic. The poses will be provocative, but this is art, not porn. I will be asking you to get very close and intimate, but tastefully so. Are you both comfortable with that?”
She said this last as a question, but I took it as a challenge. Would I give up now? Was I going to tuck my tail and run, flee from the scene of an attractive naked man and prove my friends right? I thought about it; I really did.
The ice in Madeline’s glass clinked as it shifted. My body started to tremble, and I could easily imagine the movement of getting up and walking out of the condo. My feet twitched in expectation. My heart thudded loudly in my ears. I chanced a glance towards Jeff and saw he was watching me intently. When he caught my eye, he smiled. “I’m game if you are.”
As terrified as I was about sharing this experience with Jeff, I quickly realized that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t see this through.
Chapter 2
Once Madeline walked us through the consent form and details on how to be an effective model, she turned on some music with a slow but distinctly Latin feel. My hips longed to gyrate to the beat, shake off this building tension in my body. I stuffed down the urge and sat silently with Jeff, watching Madeline. I wondered if he was as terrified as I was, but when I glanced at his relaxed posture, I imagined not.
Madeline shifted furniture and moved a few lamps over to what I thought of as an old-timey reclining couch, something with a French name that I could not remember. It was emerald green with rounded support at the head and a low side that stopped almost at the midway point. She tucked that side into the corner at an angle, so the backrest was near the wall. A person could move around the couch and stand in the corner, behind the arm, leaving the open side towards the focal point. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling.
“Ideally, I would lower the lights to help you feel more comfortable, but alas, I need the lighting. I’ll have you both here on the chaise.” Ah, so that’s what it’s called. She said this as she rotated a few large umbrella-looking lamps towards what I now knew was the chaise. She laid a blanket over the backrest, arranged it to look discarded, and called Jeff over.
“Now, typically, I would have you remove your clothes in private and walk out in a robe. However, this being specifically an ‘erotic’ sitting, let’s get right to it. Jeff, remove your clothes first, please.”
Jeff paused for a moment, seemingly insecure, but then gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Before I had time to fully appreciate the tanned skin stretching across a well-toned back, he flipped his shoes off and dropped his pants.
If he felt self-conscious, he didn’t show it. I looked away the moment he bent to retrieve his clothes, trying to be respectful of his nudity. When I looked back, Madeline was holding what he had discarded, unabashedly looking him up and down. Her gaze rested on his cock, and she said, “Well, I imagine that gives a good ride when he’s ready.”
A surprised laugh escaped Jeff as he brought his hands to cover himself. “You get right to it, don’t you?”
Horrified flames crept up my neck.
“I apologize if that was too forward,” Madeline sounded less than apologetic, “I thought I’d be frank since this is business. I will be studying your body quite intensely.”
“By all means, study away.” Jeff removed his hands in what I thought was a confident display of his willingness.
My friends were right about me. I wasn’t adventurous. I didn’t belong here with these two. They were a different, sexier breed than me. I thought again about fleeing. I would never have to see Madeline again, but Jeff, well, I could always drop out of philosophy.
No, I would not back out of this. It wasn’t sex or anything. It was art.
I tried to slow my breathing as Madeline directed Jeff’s reclining posture on the chaise. She had him drape an arm over the back, legs outstretched on the cushion, his chest and pelvis turned towards her point of view. I looked quickly away from his cock, impressed at how comfortable he seemed and feeling all the more anxious for it.
He was beautiful, though. Tan and muscled just enough to show his strength with broad shoulders and defined bones and muscles. I imagined my tongue tracing the contours of his ridges.
“Lani, you’re next.”
I rose, trying to calm my shaking limbs and breathe through the nausea. I stood before Madeline, very aware of Jeff’s eyes on me, and before I lost my courage, stripped off my shirt. I reached back to unhook my bra, but Madeline stopped me. “Not yet, dear, we’ll save some of the mystery for the drawing. Your pants, please.”
I slid out of my flats and fumbled with the button on my jeans. I tried to work them down past my underwear without those coming off as well.
I had on mismatched bra and panties. My bottoms were a simple pink bikini, and my bra, black lace. With my pants stripped, I stood there under the perusal of both Madeline and Jeff, wondering what was to come next. They were both quiet, and I began to lose my nerve under their scrutiny. I looked around for a blanket to cover myself, but Madeline stopped me.
“Lovely, just lovely. Okay, Lani, come around into the corner here. Now, I need you to put one knee up on the chaise next to Jeff.”
I did as she instructed.
“Yes, but don’t face me, turn towards Jeff. He’s your focus, and you’re mine. Now, lean forward and put your hand on the back next to his head so it can support you. Good, now try and soften the pose a bit, like you’re enjoying yourself.”
I looked as if I was seductively trying to mount Jeff in this position, which I suppose was the intention. Thankfully, Jeff was still positioned slightly away from me, so I did not have to look him in the eyes, but he must have noticed the dampness of my hand on his belly. Madeline tossed my hair back over my shoulder and urged me to arch my back a bit, pushing my breast towards Jeff’s turned away face. She stepped back to observe.
She was quiet and observant so long my arm began to shake. When she spoke, it startled me, “Okay, no. Stop. Lani, you can lean back a moment. Jeff, turn more towards Lani, relax a bit into the cushion. She is seducing you, and you are willing to let her have you. There you go, much better. Now, Lani, lean forward again in that same position.”
I did as instructed, though it brought my breasts near Jeff’s face. (What the fuck am I doing?) I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry over the ridiculousness of this situation. Still, there was a small and growing current spreading through my body, a tingle of excitement and anticipation. I was beginning to enjoy this.
Madeline came over to reposition my hair down my back, and this time she pulled my bra strap down my arm until my left nipple popped out from behind the fabric. The exposure drew my nipple tight and erect. I closed my eyes against the sudden ache to be touched.
“Now, Lani, I’m going to ask Jeff to touch you in a way that is meant to both soften your body and increase the tension.”
I looked at her, confused but intrigued. “Okay.”
“Jeff,” Madeline said quietly, “lean forward and lick her nipple.”
This comment didn’t startle me as much as it should, a signature of my growing arousal. I waited but felt nothing. When I turned towards him, he was studying me. My body felt afire, waiting for him to touch me. Was he horrified by her request? She got my permission, but not his. What if he decided he didn’t want to be here but wasn’t sure how to say it? Despite how we got here, I desperately wanted his mouth on my nipple this moment, and it didn’t matter that Madeline was watching. He must have seen the acquiescence in my eyes, for he leaned forward, and I almost buckled under the warm moistness.
“There you go, Jeff. Again.” He licked a few more times and finally clamped his lips around my nipple and began to suck. “Uh uh uh, Jeff. That’s too far.” He jerked back in embarrassment, stumbling out an apology to me as I struggled to pull up my bra strap. It was not that I minded; in fact, I wanted more, but we were not alone.
“Okay, you two, let’s take a breather. We’re here for art, not play.” Madeline handed each of us a robe and asked us to put them on and sit on the couch. She left the room, and we sat in silence, unsure of how to be with each other.
“I… I’m sorry if I went too far, Lani.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t, I mean…I…liked it.” Madeline still had not returned.
“This is pretty crazy, huh? I mean, we were just discussing Kant in class this morning, and now here we are, naked and…and posing for an artist together.”
I let out a quiet laugh. In the ensuing silence, I questioned what I was doing here. Who was this woman, really? I wondered if the drawings and paintings would be to my likeness enough that I would be recognizable. Shit, what if my friends saw them? (Well, that would shut them up.) But what about professors, even strangers for that matter, studying my naked body sketched and painted for whomever to see.
I panicked then. I stood and looked for my clothes, wanting to quickly dress and get out of there before Madeline came back into the room. I didn’t want to have to explain myself. Where had she put those clothes?
Jeff stood with me, “Lani, are you alright?”
“I just, I can’t believe…”
“Lani, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“This isn’t me. I don’t know why I’m here,” I fumbled around the room, flustered with nerves and doubt. I finally spotted my clothes and went to retrieve them from the shelf when Madeline returned.
She looked at me, surprised that I wasn’t where she had left me. “Lani, what’s going on?”
I noticed that she held two glasses of amber liquid in her hand. I looked at her, not sure how to explain myself. I felt less assertive with her there and went to sit again on the couch next to Jeff. She stood a moment, as if puzzling something out, then walked to the two of us.
“I brought you some whiskey. It’s great for calming the nerves.”
Jeff took the glass from her outstretched hand, confused when his hand wrapped around something else along with the glass. He fumbled with the object and set it aside while taking a sip of the whiskey.
When I didn’t accept the glass, she placed it on the end table next to me, along with a small square object. She then picked up her glass and sat across from us, settling in before speaking.
“Art is a powerful form of expression, a way to build windows into the human soul, a lens through which we may come to know each other better. Humans are a very sexual species, but far too many people have squashed and smothered their urges for the sake of propriety and religion.” She paused then to be sure we were paying attention. I agreed with her so far.
“I seek to explore the sensuality of our nature, display it for the audience in the hope they can see the beauty in these most fundamental aspects of our nature. Now, if you are not a willing and open participant, the piece will never come to its full potential.” (How willing am I supposed to be?) “It will be yet another baseless fragment of how humans have distorted and degraded the gloriousness of sex in its many forms. If you can’t fully commit to this piece, perhaps it’s best if you leave now.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. In another context, I would have thought her speech an inspiring one. I knew what she meant. I had been raised in a religious community. I saw firsthand what restrictions and unabashed homophobia, and the degradation of women’s sexuality could do. But what was she asking from us?
Thankfully, Jeff found his voice enough to ask her that same question.
“I’m just asking that you be open to possibilities, let your bodies feel the currents between you two, and don’t be afraid to explore those. This is a safe place. I am just an artist trying to capture the essence of attraction.”
I still wasn’t quite sure what she was asking of us, but I wanted to be a part of this. I felt the confirmation in the settling of my nerves. I wanted to be here and see this through. I reached for the glass of whiskey to give me fortitude. The sight of the condom packet she had deposited there almost shook my resolve. I am in charge of my decisions, I reminded myself. Picking up the glass, I took a deep swallow and tried to stifle my sputter. After the fire in my throat calmed, and I felt the warmth spreading to my limbs, I stood and dropped my robe.
“I’m ready.”
Chapter 3
Madeline had us return to our previous pose. This time, I brushed my hair behind my shoulder and pulled down my bra strap to expose my taut nipple. Jeff looked at me. When he saw my playful smile, he leaned forward and gave it another lick. The whiskey, and the speech, had done their job.
“Good, good,” Madeline said as she stepped back to her easel to survey us. “Very nice, you two. Much more natural. Now hold that position.” I could hear some scratchings on her paper and wondered how long we would have to hold this. My arm began to shake again.
“You can lean back a moment and give your arm a rest. Bring your other leg up to straddle Jeff. Keep your weight on that back knee, though, and keep that front leg back a little more so we can see that beautiful cock of his.”
I thought I saw a flicker of shyness in Jeff’s eyes at the casual mention of his manhood. He stifled it quickly and offered me a playful smile that somehow conveyed the question, “Can you believe we’re doing this?”
I smiled back.
Madeline continued, “Jeff, I’d like you to place your hand on Lani’s hip. Yes, and let a couple of fingers slide under her panties. There you go. Now give a squeeze, just for fun. In fact, reach around a little more. There you go, now squeeze tighter. Lani, you can lean forward again.”
This pose was beginning to become unbearable, with my taut nipple in Jeff’s face and his enticing cock beneath my increasingly wet pussy. His hand gripped my ass, spreading the flesh and exposing my most intimate parts to the air. We stayed this way for a few moments while Madeline sketched. I could feel a throbbing in my vulva, my lips swelling to the point of aching. Without warning, Jeff leaned forward and licked at my nipple again, giving me a sheepish grin that I was quickly growing to love.
I glanced at his cock and saw that he was getting an erection. I had a sudden, instinctual, and very non-virginal desire to sit down on him, take in his cock and ride him. I wondered briefly if Madeline would stop me if I tried. Probably not.
“Okay, you two. Let’s try something else.” After not having spoken for so long, her voice startled me. It took Jeff and me a moment to respond, but we managed to shift ourselves away from each other and stood awkwardly. Madeline was already adjusting a few things and surveying the scene. This was silent torture, and I had the irrational fear that she would tell us we were done and to go home for the night.
“Okay, Lani, drop your panties.” This startled me, and I felt the shyness coming back. She stepped forward and, before I could protest, gently tugged my panties down. She squatted to get them off from around my ankles as I picked my feet up in turn. “Aw, so I see you are enjoying yourself. That’s good, Lani. That’s very good.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I said nothing and hoped the flames of embarrassment growing along my skin were not too noticeable.
“Lani, come over here and sit that cute little ass of yours on the back of this chaise. Yep, there you go. Now, Jeff, come to the end of the chaise and start crawling towards Lani, almost like your stalking her because you can’t wait to get your mouth on that sweet pussy. Good, get a little closer. There. Now Lani, put your foot on his shoulder, like you’re going to push him away, but tilt your pelvis towards him as an invitation. You’re playing coy by holding him off, but it’s only temporary.”
The fire that burned in my body, a mixture of embarrassment and desire, was almost too much.
“Yes, Lani, feel that heat. Now lean back, not too far because there’s a wall close behind you, and let your head drop back.”
She reached forward and pulled both bra straps down, methodically releasing my breasts from their captivity. She leaned forward and licked both of them in turn, giving me a start. When she noticed my slight jump, she smiled and said, “I couldn’t help myself. It’s like a little buffet. Well,” she looked pointedly at my size D breasts, “maybe not so little. Also,” she continued as she stepped back to her easel, “I need them erect for this sketch.”
I choked back my surprise, realizing it wasn’t embarrassment or horror I had felt at Madeline’s touch, but arousal.
Madeline surveyed the scene again, my foot on Jeff’s shoulder, breasts pushed into the air, his face mere inches from my embarrassingly wet pussy. I prayed that Jeff wasn’t put off, that perhaps he thought women’s intimate parts beautiful and enjoyed the view. I pushed aside my urge to run. I was in it now.
“Perfection…ahh, just perfect! Hold it, you two. Don’t move a muscle,” Madeline commanded, “I know that’s not an easy pose to hold, but I have to get the foundations of it on paper before you can move.” She picked up her pencils and got to work.
We held that position for a few long, excruciating minutes. I tried to think of other things, my biology test on Monday, my dog Juniper back home, anything to keep me from falling into a puddle of desire with Jeff’s face so close to my bush. An occasional breath reached out to tickle my soft hairs. It would be so simple for him to lean forward a few more inches and use that tongue of his. I’d probably wrap my legs around his head and not let go.
The piercing screech of a cell phone startled me from my thoughts. Jeff and I started to shift, but Madeline said, “Stop, don’t move!” She fumbled around, looking for her phone, and when she answered, I could feel the urgency on the other end. “What? You can’t be serious!” She started to walk out of the room but turned to us, “I’ll be just a minute, you two, keep that position!” And with that, she was gone.
I’ll give us credit. We lasted another minute or so, me trying to think of anything but the moment and Jeff’s birds-eye view of my cunt. I was just about to break when I felt a slight shift in Jeff’s body. And then his tongue, warm and moist, reached towards my pussy and flicked against my clit. My body ricocheted with the contact. Jeff pulled away, probably thinking he had done wrong, but I used my foot to draw him back in.
He flicked his tongue again a few times, not quite close enough. We were both trying to hold our position as Madeline had commanded but soon gave in to the temptation to touch. He practically lunged forward, lapping at my bud and periodically ducking lower to plunge his tongue into my opening. His hands came up to grip my hips. I held onto the edge of the chaise back and leaned my head against the wall behind me.
With his hands gripping my hips, Jeff rocked me back and forth in rhythm with his tongue. We both moaned in pleasure. My hand came to the back of his head, forcing him to calm his rhythm and suck my clit. Fire exploded then, and my legs shook with the force of my orgasm. Jeff moved his face down to suck up my juices, lapping and sucking as the jolts of my climax receded.
I stayed leaning against the wall, my eyes closed, as I caught my breath. I tilted my head forward and opened my eyes to see Jeff upright, kneeling before me.
“God, Lani, you are beautiful.”
My eyes took in the muscled lines of his chest and followed the dark trail of hair down to his erection, the head glistening with his arousal. He was quite beautiful too.
“I want you, Lani. This is torture! I’ve never wanted anyone so badly.”
I slid myself off the chaise and walked the few steps to the table by the couch. Jeff must have thought I was leaving because he turned and slumped against the backrest. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, Lani. I didn’t mean to. I thought—”
I gently shooshed him with a finger to my lips and took another drink of my whiskey, easier now to swallow for the melted ice. A questioning urgency tried to push through my thoughts, but I ignored it as I picked up the condom packet. This was my moment.
Jeff watched as I sauntered towards him, my inner thighs slick with my pleasure and his spit, my breasts displayed above the lace of my bra. I thought about taking it off, but something about the restrictive movement of my arms caught in the straps excited me. Jeff rose on his knees to meet me at the edge of the chaise.
His hands came up to grip my hips as his mouth went straight for my nipple. They had been begging for more attention, and I let my head fall back in ecstasy as he sucked. I couldn’t raise my arms too high for the constraint of my straps, so I settled with gripping his arms as he kneaded and roamed the flesh of my ass.
His mouth moved to my other nipple, leaving the first wet and tingling in the warm air of the room. I must have moaned too loud, for it was Jeff’s turn to shush me then as he pulled back. I looked down at him. Hands came up to remove my bra. I didn’t stop him because I wanted to touch him now. He slid the bra off my arms, brought his hands to my face, and kissed me, softly at first with an increasing need and desire. He tasted of whiskey, my pussy, and Jeff.
I lost myself in the kiss, tasting and sucking, hands feeling along the contours of his shoulders and back, pressing my breasts into his body. His hands explored the lines of my back, came to clasp my ass again, and moved further. His hand followed the crevice to my pussy, his finger sinking in deep. My knees buckled. I broke off the kiss, clasping Jeff to my chest as he chuckled. One arm wrapped around my waist and held me up as he plunged his finger into my pussy from behind again and again.
(This can’t be real.) This felt so insanely wonderful; I knew I was going to come again, very soon.
Jeff’s voice purred along my desire, “You know, I have something better to do this with, something bigger.”
I stepped back as he released me and watched him shift so he was sitting and no longer on his knees. He was deft with the condom, and I watched hungrily as he touched his hard cock. Once he made the final roll down, he looked up at me with an adorable grin, slapped his thighs once, and said,
“Come here, baby.”
He didn’t know I was a virgin. How could he? I certainly wasn’t acting like one, and I no longer wanted to be one. Stepping forward, I placed my knees on either side of his thighs, both of us watching the other intently. I reached down to grasp his cock, relishing the hardness. His hands brushed mine, and we both held his cock as I lowered myself onto him. My pussy was wet and open. I slid right down to the base, moving my hand to grip Jeff’s shoulder, and felt a slight pinch inside. My skin was stretched and tight, but the feeling was nothing like the pain described in some books. This was the benefit of enticing foreplay and a strong desire.
I wrapped my arms around Jeff’s head, holding him tightly against my breasts, his arms coiled around my waist, savoring the ecstasy of his cock deep inside me. We sat a moment like this until he unraveled his arms and gripped my ass, urging me to move my hips. I released his head and raised myself slowly up the length of his cock and back down again.
(Oh my god.)
I rose again, slowly, tortuously, and came back down, a little harder this time. The slow movement up Jeff’s cock singed my nerves with a sweet, slow burn, but when I dropped back down, his cock pierced something inside of me that screamed for more. I lost touch with my hands, with Jeff’s hands. All my attention was on the slow rise up his cock, and the ecstatic thrill of coming down. I don’t know how long I kept to this rhythm, delighting in every tingling sensation.
Poor Jeff must have been as tortured as I was because he eventually dug his fingers into the flesh of my hips and choked out, “I need you, faster, Lani…please.”
I rose again, faster, and came down harder. Again, faster and harder. I surrendered the slow burn of feeling the length of his cock, to the driving desire of mini-explosions as he repeatedly rubbed the arousal spot deep inside me. We abandoned our hands and mouths, needing only to hold on as I demanded more. Briefly, I noticed the wet sounds of fucking, the slapping of thighs, and slick sucking sounds of a wet pussy, but they weren’t important. Nothing was important but the hardness of Jeff’s cock and my ability to keep up the rhythm.
Our pleasure grew to a crescendo. Jeff’s cock hardened even more. His fingers dug into my hips, helping me keep tempo. Finally, he filled me completely. An explosion ricocheted through my body, seizing my limbs and forcing me to cry out, “Oh fuck, yes!”
I was aware of the twitches inside me and the pounding of our hearts. We sat, draped around each other, catching our breath and trembling as the residual sparks sporadically jolted through us.
“Lani, that was…god, that was amazing,” Jeff got out between breaths. I could only grunt in agreement. These were not the kinds of stories my friends told. We sat there a bit longer until the stiffness of my limbs began to poke at my attention. Jeff rubbed the slightly bruised flesh of my hips and mumbled an apology.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me. That was wonderful, better than I ever imagined.”
Jeff pulled back and looked at me quizzically. “Better than you ever imagined?” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Have you imagined sex with me before?”
Even after what we had just experienced together, I felt suddenly shy and exposed. I stood up, stumbling a bit from the weakness of my overworked legs.
Jeff grabbed my hand to hold me there in front of him. “Lani, it’s okay if you’ve fantasized about us together. I have too.”
“Well, yes, I’ve imagined us together, but I also just mean sex in general.” I wanted him to know that I had been a virgin only moments before. I waited quietly for him to decipher my meaning.
“Oh, Lani.” He let out a deep breath and scanned my face, “Was that your first time?”
I nodded, holding eye contact with a bravery that I didn’t feel. He studied me, probably trying to decide if I was deceiving him. He must have seen the truth in my eyes.
“I…I don’t know what to say…are you okay? I mean, how do you feel? Are you hurt? Do you—?”
“I’m good, Jeff. Better than good.”
He pulled me towards him, kissing my breasts and reaching up to pull my face to his. He cupped my face in his hands and looked intently into my eyes. “You are so beautiful, Lani. Thank you for sharing this with me.” We kissed then, softly, as if sealing some pact, and I was grateful for his gentleness.
Slow clapping interrupted our kiss. I jerked back, my heart racing anew. How could we have forgotten Madeline?
Jeff jumped from the chaise and reached for the robes, handing mine to me before putting on his.
“Absolutely beautiful, you two! More than I could ever expect!” We stood there, stunned and silent. Madeline walked over to us, smiling in a congratulatory way. I wanted to hide my face in the robe and run away.
“Lani,” she gripped my shoulders, “look how you have blossomed here. I’m only sad I wasn’t here to see it.” Something in her eyes told me she had seen more than I would have liked. “And Jeff,” she moved to him, “such a gentleman. You two will make exquisite subjects. How about the same time next week?”
Madeline moved to hand us our clothes and watched as we sheepishly slid out of her robes and dressed. Neither Jeff nor I knew quite how to respond, so we both mumbled assent. Embarrassment and insecurity were creeping over me, and I had a strong need to be at home, alone.
I finished dressing and looked briefly at Jeff. He was watching me and smiled when I caught his eye. I smiled briefly back, slipped on my shoes, and moved towards the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jeff called to me.
“Oh, Jeff, I need to speak with you for a moment,” Madeline held him back. I wanted to be alone, so I was grateful for the distraction. Before Jeff could break away from Madeline, I slipped out the door and to my car. I drove home in silence, reliving those intoxicating moments with Jeff. The awe of the experience made me giddy with excitement and anticipation. The potential awkwardness of seeing each other in class seemed irrelevant.
I had come to the night with expectations of proving my friends wrong. But I knew I wasn’t going to tell them. Those details were only for Jeff and me. And Madeline. And Madeline, I admitted, shoving away the questions of how much she had really seen. It didn’t matter. I was going back next week and hoped fervently that Jeff would be there as well.