The Artist and the Model

Literotic asexstories – The Artist and the Model by regnglad,regnglad
The young man felt odd, excited and afraid at the same time. But his teacher, even his mentor had advised him that if he was to get any better he’ld have to do this. He’d been praised at the academy for his portraits, the way his paintings seemingly captured the very essence of the people he painted. His style was yet somewhat traditional, something that his more radical classmates found laughable and bourgeoisie. The whole campus was teeming with radicalism but he only wanted to paint and cared not for politics, just trying to stay out of it all. This left him somewhat isolated at the university since he tended to feel awkward at parties, finding nothing in common to talk about.

He had a gift for faces, but bodies and limbs were his Achilles heel. His teachers had come up with the solution, insisting that he’ld try his hand more at studies of the body. Still, the idea of nudes were a bit frightening, and yet also enticing, for him. Male models he was ok with, even if he didn’t exactly find the idea of staring at a naked guy for hours that interesting. But females… He loved the great nudes of history, La maja desnuda by Goya, Titian, even the birth of Venus by that old Florentine Botticelli. But to actually stand in the company of a naked woman made him shiver. The first time they had one at the academy he’d started blushing so hard that he’d had to elope from the room… hiding on the toilet until his quite firm erection had gone down. Coming back to the loft he’d been fortunate enough to be able to rent he’d been unable to think of anything else than that woman, how glorious she’d been all in the flesh. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of himself that night…

The second time he’d felt so uncomfortable before they even started that he hadn’t been able to stay. Making and faking an excuse, even though his teacher seemed to look straight through him. He seemed to notice directly what the young mans heart was hiding. A few days later he’d been told by that same teacher that he needed to submit some sketches of a female nude to clear the course. He’d had a model recommended to him and now she was on her way to his loft which doubled as his studio.

He’d cleaned it as best he could, never having had any female visitors apart from his mother. It was weird, this mixture of fear and excitement stemming from the knowledge that soon there’ld be a woman standing naked in his home. He found himself trembling at the very idea, his groin beginning to get that very special itch which he’d used to subdue by searching the art books of the world for nudes and pleasing himself. He wondered if that was what had been intended, all that art to the glory of female beauty and the delight of men? Other times he wondered if he was being disrespectful, treating the treasures of old art as his personal pornographic collection. He’d seen his father’s collection of french pictures in his youth, some more, some less nude than the women of art.

There was a gentle summer rain beginning to fall outside, a few minutes later there was a knock on his door. Opening it he found a blond woman slightly older than himself but also quite radiant. Her long hair wet with the rain but her fascinating smile only slightly dampened by it. As he reached out his hand to great her she asked for a towel and hurriedly he went to get her one. As she dried her hair he got the last things ready, his sketchpad and such. She gave him the towel back and he hung it up to dry. He was stunned to see that she was taking her clothes off when he turned round and faced her, he quickly turned around again. His pulse rising he started to sweat a little. She called out that she was ready, asking how he wanted her to stand and he could barely manage facing her, his eyes going from her’s and then quickly diving down over her body and into the floor. She suggested a pose herself and he merely nodded.

Picking up the pad he found himself unable to watch her for any length of time, almost unable to watch her long enough to be able to sketch anything. He had a goddess in his room and he was terrified that she’ld notice that he wasn’t thinking about art at all. He found himself crossing his legs to hide his boyish body’s reaction to her womanly one. His hand trembling over the paper, his lines all blurred. She asked to see how it was going and before he could say anything she was peeking over his pad, her shapely bosom right before his eyes. He stared in awe, unable to talk or think as all he wanted was to just reach out and…

She was a better observer than he’d thought at first because she said she could see he was nervous, but that she knew a great trick against that. He could barely form the words to ask her what that was but she sensed the question and answered in a simple word: undress. The mere suggestion stunned him out of his bosom-induced trance and he gazed up into her sea-deep blue eyes wondering if he’d really heard that. She said she was serious. That she thought he’ld feel less embarrassed if he just put himself on the same level as her. He wanted to object but she was emphatic, almost starting to undress him herself. Reluctantly and nervously he removed his shirt. He’d always been skinny and in school he’d always been bullied for it by the bigger boys. Now he feared she’ld start laughing to. Slowly he undressed, she didn’t laugh when he finished, instead reacting as if it was the most natural thing in the world that they both were naked. He actually felt a bit more relaxed, until a certain part re-awakened and he had to find a way to hide it. Quickly picking up his sketch pad.

Meanwhile she’d resumed her position but seeing him and how the whole thing was affecting him she smiled. It was just something about him that made her think of a puppy or a kitten, so harmless and endearing that she couldn’t help but extend her warm heart towards him. He saw that smile and even as his heart melted in front of it his darker memories told him that she’ld soon start to laugh. He’ld once again be humiliated. Like all those times he’d been tricked by girls pretending to like him only to get him to do things for them or set him up to be the victim of their true boyfriends. She smiled gently as she asked him if he’d had much experience with girls, it was almost to painful for him to answer. She continued to ask if he’d ever been with one and he finally got up the nerve to answer her in the negative.

Walking towards him she felt almost motherly, she came up and embraced him as he shyly held on to his pad to cover up his groin. He melted away in her arms, smelling her soft hair and warm body he just melted, dropping the pad to the floor. They just stood there a while as she held him and he just relaxed. Sitting down next to each other on his small bed she looked him in the eye, holding his hands in hers. She told him that the she’ld show him how and that the first thing to start with was always the kiss. Caressing his cheek gently he almost purred at the feel of her hand, wondering if this was finally what he’d been waiting for for so long. She kissed him and he thought he saw colours dancing in his head. His lips couldn’t get enough of hers and she found something sweet in him that awakened the temptress within her, that inner woman of passion and fire that delighted in having a man at her feet. That was the original reason she started modelling, to know that all those men watching her wanted her yet could do nothing about it. To tempt them all and then walk away in full knowledge that she and only she would ever pick her partners. It was something so satisfying about driving someone with a talent that made them feel oh so superior down into the ground by tempting and then denying them. She’d gotten more than a few offers of money or artistic fame but she selected those she wanted in the end. The idea of debasing herself for money or fame was abhorrent to her.

Kissing they fell back onto the bed, she was lying on top of him, her thing pressing up against his more than eager and willing member. As she paused he gazed up onto her, looking as if he’d found god and god had turned out to be a goddess. Looking as if his praise for her, his thankfulness, was unending. Looking as if there was nothing she could’ve asked him to do at that moment which he would’ve refused. Lying on top of him she caressed his hair, he seemed unsure of where to put his hands so she placed them on her back, telling him to stroke it. His hands slid down to her bottom and for a moment he looked embarrassed until she told him that that was an almost better place. She moved up over him and told him to kiss her bosom. He obeyed her like he’d been waiting to do it all his life, like ever since his mother had weaned her off of her breast he’d been looking and longing for another to feel against his lips. He couldn’t help but take his hand back to caress them too, it was almost instinctive the way he kissed and licked her bosom, his tongue playing around her nipples as her bush teased his abdomen. He was in heaven as he squeezed her bosom around his face.

She moved back down, kissing him allover his face before finding his lips. Telling him he was a natural. She took one of his hands, licking a few fingers gently before sliding it down across her body. Finding her fertile valley as it was getting moister and moister. Guiding his fingers to her rosebud. She told him how to caress it, trying to keep guiding him as the pleasure was starting to make her loose control. Astonished at the effect it was having on her he just went on and on. Watching her intently and falling even more in love with this side of her. His fingers sliding in between her lower lips he was starting to explore her in astonishment, there was so much he’d never dreamt of yet that his instincts seemed to tell him was right.

She needed it, she wanted it and she must have it. Removing his hand she kissed his chest, nibbling on it. Her fiercer side revealed he was take aback. Her teeth caused him pain but strangely not a bad kind of pain, he felt himself wishing to be devoured by her. Her fingers digging into him as they travelled down his body, seeking their prey. Finding it he moaned, closing his eyes as he bit his lip. She smiled knowing he was hers for the taking. Gently caressing it she made sure he was up to the task. She rubbed her mound against his member, teasing it with her bush. He felt his blood boil, knowing something had to be done but what? Triumphantly smiling she conquered him, rising up and then bit by bit taking him in. It was as if there was no end to his bliss, each time he thought they’d reached the platform that was going to carry him onto ejaculation she found some way to elevate the pleasure even further. Her hands squeezing his chest as she rode him, riding him harder and harder as their bodies took control over them, making his bed shake as they both trembled within. Leaning down she kissed him, they were consuming each other at two ends, he’d never felt this close to another human being. As they kissed he caressed her head, letting his hands wander downwards they came upon her hips, helping him thrust into her, counter-thrusting her ride and increasing their force.

Pulsating on they were both chasing the peak, hungry for le petite mort. Their pace growing stronger they were consuming each other, as if trying to melt together from the groins and onwards until they were both as one. Instinct taking over what experience had initiated. He felt it building, that pressure within that he knew was going to burst. She was shuddering on top of him, caressing herself in the height of pleasure. Faster and harder, more and more, pressing ever onwards… biting his lip as he held it in, knowing it would feel just that much bigger when he finally lost it. Her hand on his chest was digging in, as if within her the same battle was raging. The same tension building that was just going to blow her away from within. Who came first is up for debate, she moaned first but that was what brought him over the edge. Both of them shaking and shuddering with each pulsating wave of pleasure, both of them under tremendous tension that all at once released itself. The built-up pressure flowing through their systems like a dam bursting and flooding a whole valley… for a moment none of them would’ve noticed even if a tremendous fire’d swept through and gutted the building.

Relaxing together, panting in a sweaty pile on a narrow bed he wanted to thank her. His eyes told her everything before he even tried to begin to speak, so she put a finger upon his lips and then silenced him with her own lips… a kiss as they fell asleep in each other’s arms… Later that night he awoke, his mind filled with inspiration. He sketched and then painted her, as he saw her, as he’d seen her. Like she was no, so calm and peaceful. Like she could be, so wild and passionate. He wanted no more at that moment than to show his worship for her in any way he could, for the rest of his life…