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Archive name: art.txt (F/F-teen, exh, mast, rom)
Authors name: Sutini Wijaya (smiling19w@netscape.net)
Story title : As long as it is Art

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
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As long as it is Art (FF, exh, mast, rom)
by Sutini Wijaya (smiling19w@netscape.net)

***

A mother determined to make an artist out of her 17-year-
old daughter gets her into a relationship, which involves 
seduction by an older woman.

***

I can't just launch into this story without giving you 
some background. Because to know to me is to know to my 
mother. So I guess I better start with her.

My Mother was, according to some of my friends, the 
mother from hell. I didn't think so. To me, a teenage 
girl, she was just "Mother"... I had been brought up by 
her and was used to her and in fact other people's 
mothers seemed too colourless by comparison. Although she 
lacked a university education she did not lack an 
education and in terms of "general knowledge" there were 
a few who would outsmart her. Her special interest was 
"The Arts".

As far back as I can remember I ushered from art gallery 
to art gallery. Her idea of entertaining a five-year-old 
kid was to find a new art gallery. I would have much 
preferred to play with my friends in a sandpit! My 
birthday and Christmas presents were always a great 
disappointment because they would inevitably consist of 
drawing equipment and books about painters or sculptors. 
If she had a choice of being introduced or getting to 
know a musician or famous artist well the musician would 
not stand a chance.

It is against this background that this recollection is 
based. By the time I was in high school I was doing quite 
well in English, French and not surprisingly, Art. 
Unfortunately "quite well" was not good enough as far as 
Mother was concerned. Mother was determined that I was 
going to be the next great artist that this country had 
produced.

A modern-day female Nolan... or even Donald Friend. That 
was her dream. By the time I was almost 18 and 
approaching my final year at high school Mother decided 
that over the Christmas break I should have some extra 
art tuition... she would find me a tutor. I was quite 
good at and quite happy with my pencil and charcoal 
sketching and drawing. Watercolours and oils did not do 
much for me but I needed to know the theory. She was 
reasonably happy with my sketching but desperately wanted 
me into proper paintings (as she insisted on calling 
them).

She found a tutor through the Art Gallery called Cynthia 
Hogan-Selth. I can remember the first time we met. She 
had a lovely old house in the hills of Perth in town 
called Bickley. As I remember it was set in an orchard of 
fruit trees with a creek, which meandered through the 
property. 

When we arrived there we found that she had about eight 
to ten students studying under her and just by looking at 
their easels it was obvious that they were not 
untalented. She struck me as being somewhat a clone of my 
mother as far as her approach to art and her extroverted 
behaviour was concerned. The walls were adorned with 
paintings ranging from the obvious work of her students - 
scenes painted throughout the orchard and along the creek 
banks - to more professional looking paintings of outback 
scenes and a good deal of female nudes.

The other students were all ages from my age upwards. I 
was received well and made to feel at home by the other 
students while Mother and the lady discussed the 
distasteful subject of pecuniary recompense. 

Mother had some wild idea that I would be able to go 
there every day (by bus from home) and then she found out 
how much the fees were and also that she only held 
classes on the afternoons of Mondays and Wednesdays. She 
said she would also see me on Saturday mornings as well 
to help me catch up. Mother grumbled a bit on the way 
home about what it was costing but it was for the sake of 
"Art"... and that was the main thing! 

Armed with my drawing equipment, I went to the house on 
the following Monday afternoon. I liked her teaching 
style and femininity immediately and tried my very best 
to please her. She never ridiculed her students' efforts 
and complemented them constantly. We normally started a 
project on Monday and tried to have it finished by 
Wednesday.

I discovered that she had made a special time for me on 
Saturday morning and as I was the only student at that 
time she was much more relaxed. Perth can be very hot 
during summer and on those days the class would stay in 
the house in her huge studio which was air conditioned 
but on cooler days we would all traipse out into the 
orchard or down to the creek to work there.

We painted or sketched the inevitable flowers and bowls 
of fruit and when she wanted us to paint or sketch human 
forms she had acquired some store mannequins from 
somewhere which she would arrange in various positions to 
simulate some human activity like, for instance, 
sleeping, sitting, or something like that. She was 
particularly keen on "available lighting" where the 
subject would be lit from one side, like standing by an 
open window or doorway, with heavy lights and darks. Not 
just the mannequins but even still life works.

Apparently the class had been going for four weeks before 
I joined it so there was quite a bit to catch up on each 
Saturday morning. After about a month I had just about 
done it. I particularly enjoyed Saturdays because I had 
her undivided attention. With a sort of magnetism about 
her, she was a striking woman in her early 40s with a 
string of successful exhibitions behind her and ahead of 
her and well-known in the art world in Perth.

She was terribly "alternative" in the way she dressed - 
almost predictably she wore Asian sort of clothes like 
sarongs and saris or just a kaftan sort of thing. Her 
figure, despite the unusual clothes, was clearly well 
looked after. Initially I could not tell whether or not 
she had a shapely bust because of her clothing style but 
a few glimpses of her legs indicated a woman in very good 
shape.

I really enjoyed Saturdays and the mannequins and was 
quite good at capturing the details and contours that she 
wanted and she was lavish with her praise for my efforts. 
One morning she started me going with one of her 
mannequins down at the bank of the creek and left me 
alone. She came back after about a hour to check my 
progress and was very pleased with what I had produced. 

"You are the only one of my students here who, when they 
have a mannequin as the model, managed to make it look 
like a mannequin and not like a person. Have you ever 
worked with a live model? A friend perhaps?" she asked.

"You mean, unclothed?" I asked.

"Yes."

"No! Never! I don't know who I could ask." I responded.

"I would very much like to see how you handled the live 
model. You have an excellent perception. Because of the 
cost I cannot afford to use live models, which is why I 
bought the mannequins. But it would be interesting...I'd 
love to know how..." she mused.

"What would be very interesting?" I inquired.

"To see how you painted a live model.even me."

"You?" I asked with astonishment.

"Yes.me" she said and to my amazement she picked up the 
mannequin which had been lying back in the grass with its 
feet dangling in the water and with an almost 
imperceptible flick of her wrist the sarong she was 
wearing fell to the grass revealing her to be completely 
naked.

I gawked in amazement! She arranged herself and regally 
gestured at my sketch pad as if to tell me to just get on 
with it.

I started to sketch her. Now that the superfluous layers 
of clothing had been removed I could see that she had the 
most amazing figure for her age, indeed for anyone's age. 
She clearly had never had children and had never been 
overweight and then lost it all because there was not one 
stretch mark on her body. Her skin was silky and smooth 
looking!

True to her "alternative" lifestyle her armpits were not 
shaved and her pubic area was not trimmed - terribly 
hairy - and fascinating to look at. If I think of all the 
women I have ever seen naked I cannot recall anyone who 
had nicer breasts. Big without being pendulous and 
beautifully proportioned. Breathtaking!

Mother had always told me that in good Art there is no 
such thing as 'smut'. How many art galleries had I 
visited with her as we gazed on nude female and male 
forms and I heard her say, "If that was a photograph 
people would say is pornographic but because it's a 
painting... it is Art!" 

I could not argue with that idea because I had never seen 
a painting that aroused me in the slightest including 
some very erotic works in which people were obviously 
engaged in some sort of sexual activity but the first 
time I ever saw a photograph of a couple making love I 
just about wet my pants. Isn't that funny! But here was a 
woman, albeit much older than me, lying back in the grass 
totally naked and completely unashamed. This was Art, 
wasn't it? But as I sketched her I was aware of my own 
feelings of arousal and I was confused.

"May I see how you are going?" She asked.

"Of course" I said.

She got up and walked over to me and looked at my work. 
She was so casual about being naked. She made no move at 
all to cover herself.

She was ecstatic. "What a wonderful touch! Look at the 
skin tone... you have made me come alive on your paper! 
You haven't done my head and face details yet... so let's 
get on with it. Excellent... you are excellent!"

After pouring praise upon me she resumed her pose on the 
bank of the creek as I completed the drawing with her 
head and face. Her face was so peaceful. So serene. She 
seemed to drift off into a private world as she lay back 
while I sketched her. Within 30 minutes I had finished 
and I roused her from what seemed to be a deep day dream. 
She got up and came over to my easel and gasped, 
"Wonderful! You have captured exactly the look on my face 
that I wanted! Well done... you know you really are very 
good!"

I was happy to bask in this deluge of praise. We walked 
back to the house as she examined my drawing and 
commented on it all the way. It was starting to get a bit 
warm by now so she asked me if I would like to have a 
cold drink and I accepted with glee. Back inside the 
house she discarded the sarong again and strolled around 
the house without a stitch.

"One of the wonderful things about living out here in the 
middle of an orchard is the seclusion it affords me on 
the weekend. During the week there are people coming and 
going, fruit pickers, packers and so on but on the 
weekend I can do what I like. It doesn't offend you does 
it?"

"Not at all" I assured her. "It's your house, you can do 
as you please... no way am I offended. I would probably 
do the same if I was here by myself."

"Good. Just as long as you are not absolutely horrified. 
I'm sure that we have a lot in common." she smiled as she 
brought in two glasses of lemonade with the ice tinkling 
on the sides. 

"I'm very pleased with your work today. I will probably 
model for you next Saturday again. I don't have many 
sketches of myself and you seem to have an amazing 
ability to capture me."

I said, "Thank you. I have never sketched a nude before. 
I was a bit worried that I would muck it up so I'm very 
relieved that you are happy with the result. I thought 
you had gone to sleep... did you go to sleep?"

"Certainly not!" She snorted. "I have the theory which I 
was testing and I will tell you about it one day when I 
know you better and you know me better."

"Now you have me most intrigued" I smiled. "Can you give 
me a hint?"

"I don't give hints. If I want to say something I say it 
straight out. Maybe next Saturday or some other time we 
will discuss it." 

Subject closed. 

And not just the subject was closed but my tutorial was 
too. I was just going to say goodbye to her when a 
thought struck me. "I was wondering whether your posing 
is something I should tell Mother and others or is this 
something you would rather I kept to myself?"

She walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulders 
and gave me a gentle embrace. "Let me ask you this, 
Marion, what do you think you should do?"

"Keep quiet?"

"You are not just a good artist but an intelligent young 
lady too. Yes, I think reticence is called for here." 

And I was good to my word. But I spent a restless week. 
My body was on red alert! This woman had really stirred 
up my every hormone. I could not work out why. She was 
more than 20 years older than me and yet her allure was 
unquestionable.

I could not stop thinking about her "theory" and whatever 
that could be. Seeing her on Monday and Wednesday for the 
normal class was in some ways awkward because she was so 
normal in her actions and all the time I kept thinking to 
myself, I saw her nude last Saturday. I even drew her, 
and at no time did she give any hint or clue that the 
time we had spent together had been any sort of 'bonding' 
at all. It was as though it never had happened... as if 
it was a dream.

Saturday came again. Cynthia met me at the door with a 
broad smile and a big hug.

"I have been looking forward to your visit all week. As 
you know, I couldn't act any differently to you in front 
of the others during the week and I hope you understand." 
She said.

I pretended that it made no difference to me. I didn't 
dare say that I had been pretty perplexed by her distance 
to me.

"Well, we are going to do more figure work and because 
it's a bit hot outside I don't fancy getting burned to a 
crisp so we will stay inside. Set yourself up and I will 
make us a cup of tea and then get myself ready."

I set up my easel, secured my sketch pad and got my 
materials ready while she busied herself in the kitchen. 
She brought back the tea and removed her things and lay 
back on a couch. I felt a warm flush of excitement: this 
woman was so attractive to me! 

"Tell me about your theory now?" I asked with a smile.

"I am not ready yet," she said with an air of finality. 
"I really know nothing about your personal experience in 
life and it is possible you would be offended or 
completely mystified. I am starting to feel sorry I 
mentioned it..."

I was mystified all right! But I accepted her decision 
and started sketching her. This time she was very much 
full frontal and I debated what to do about her pubes... 
do I put in the hair or leave it like a mannequin? I 
opted for the natural look and penciled in her 
substantial bushy bits. As usual I left her head and 
expression until last. Satisfied and not at all put off 
by the dark triangle I had sketched in, she told me to do 
her face and again she went into a trance-like state... 
quite serene and relaxed.

I commented, "I love that look on your face...so relaxed 
and happy. I hope I can get it onto my paper..." 

She murmured, indicating she had heard me. I was happy 
with the results finally and asked her to look at the 
finished work. She seemed slow to rouse but then came 
over and said she was happy. There was one problem 
though.

"What?" I asked.

"My nipples. You have them flat against my body. It is 
more dramatic if you draw or paint them standing... if 
only slightly."

"But that's how they were," I protested.

"Then you can always tell your model to stand them 
up...pinch them, or use an icy cold cloth...and they will 
come up. And if all else fails and if you have a close 
rapport with your model pinch them yourself because when 
someone else touches your nipples they will react 
immediately. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do," I said.

I had to do her breasts again. The nipples were flat so I 
said so. She seemed only too happy to run her hands in 
the most sensual manner over her breasts and soon both 
nipples were very erect. I was very relieved that I was 
not called upon to touch her.

I should tell you about now that my sexual experiences at 
this time in my life had been with both boys and girls. 
By 'girls' I mean that since we hit puberty together my 
very best friend, Allison and I had always got huge 
pleasure out of touching each others breasts and 
masturbating covertly under the sheet together when we 
had sleep-overs. I had also touched another girl's body 
more completely once when on a camping trip to Geralton. 
But I had never touched breasts like this woman had.

I was glad she had not asked me to but I was awash with 
excitement nevertheless. I knew what a lesbian was and I 
understood the concept of bisexuality and as I also liked 
guys well, I was obviously in the latter group. 

My Mother had always encouraged me to accept nudity as 
"normal" and took great delight in cavorting around the 
house without a stitch on as though she expected Pro Hart 
(hardly!) to come in through the door any moment and 
demand that she sit for him. As a result of her 
extroverted behaviour I was fairly unabashed about my own 
body and although I did not flaunt it with plunging 
necklines and push-up bras, I was not the slightest bit 
shy if the right person, say, a doctor or a friend 
sleeping over were to see me without anything on but I 
did not go out of my way to achieve this end.

Mother would make me blush furiously sometimes when one 
of my friends from school stayed at our house. "There is 
no pornography in nudity" and "Don't be embarrassed with 
the body that God made for you" were just two of her oft-
repeated lines. If I had a visitor from sheltered 
background she would look at me askance and in panic and 
I would have to tell Mother to behave and then she would 
be a bad mood for the rest of the time that my friend was 
there.

Before she separated from my (now deceased) father she 
also embarrassed him and his family with this sort of 
lurid behaviour. I made a promise to myself that I would 
never do this to my own children but having said that, I 
would have a very liberal attitude to nudity and genuine 
respect for privacy.

The weekday lessons continued unchanged. Cynthia gave me 
no more and no less attention than any other student and 
no one would have guessed that I had sketched her naked. 

By about the fourth Saturday she became more openly 
affectionate towards me. She was welcoming and seemed 
genuinely happy when I arrived at 9 a.m. As I arrived she 
gave me a hug and walked with me into the studio with an 
arm around me talking happily as though we were close 
friends of long-standing.

"I have a proposal to put to you." She said one Saturday.

"A proposal?" I asked.

"Yes," she smiled, "I have. You are dying to know what my 
theory is, right?"

"For your serene and relaxed look?" I asked.

"Yes. Today I would like to have a personal chat with 
you. I want to find out a few things about your 
experiences in life and if everything goes well, we will 
talk about my theory."

"Okay!" I said happily, "what pose have you got planned 
for me to sketch today? Where do you want to go?"

"How would you feel about a complete change?"

"Such as...?"

She looked at me carefully for my reaction, "I would like 
to paint you! I can see you have beautiful breasts under 
all those clothes. What would you say?"

I was taken aback. I had not even contemplated what my 
answer would be if she had asked me this. It had never 
occurred to me that she would want to paint me. And I 
knew instinctively that if she did a good painting of me 
topless my Mother would be thrilled beyond words and very 
supportive of the fact I had posed for her. It was not a 
matter of being shy either...it would be like going to 
the doctor.

"I would be honoured to pose for you."

"Very well. Good. Let me set up my things up and then 
I'll tell you what I want you to do."

She busied herself with a sketch pad and directed me to 
sit on the chair next to the window and she inspected the 
available light. After she had arranged me, and then 
rearranged me and finally was happy with the way the 
light fell across my body she told me to remove all my 
clothes down to my waist and make myself comfortable and 
as relaxed as I could.

I took off my T-shirt and my bra throwing them onto the 
ground. 

"Undo your ponytail and comb it out letting some fall 
over your breasts but not completely obscuring them."

I did as she said and when she was happy with the result 
I lay back on the fairly comfortable chair and felt the 
sun shining on my left side. It was easy to relax. She 
worked quietly and industriously for about 20 minutes 
occasionally making complementary grunts of approval 
like, "beautiful breasts..." or "magnificent lines" or "a 
certain innocence but at the same time there is something 
else...."

I guessed that she had penciled in the out line and was 
now working on the shadowing. As it was a frontal 
portrait and I was looking at her, I was able to see how 
fast she was working. 

Without any warning and as though she was thinking aloud, 
"Yes, a certain innocence... but I wonder how innocent?"

I smiled, listening to her talking rhetorically about me. 
I did not respond.

She stopped working abruptly and looked at me 
inquiringly, "Well? Are you innocent?"

I blushed. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Cynthia. 
What's 'innocent'?"

"Well, are you a virgin? Have you slept with a man yet?"

Now I really blushed. My cheeks were burning. I couldn't 
bring myself to answer her question so I just shook my 
head.

She smiled. "A dear little virgin. How sweet. But you 
have a certain...je ne sais quoi... a certain air of 
awakened awareness about you. I wonder if..." she trailed 
off.

It was my turn to smile. "What do you wonder about me?"

She continued working on my portrait as we spoke. It was 
a long time before she spoke...she looked up and said, "I 
was wondering if you have ever had any experience 
with...ah... girls perhaps? What I mean here is a 
romantic, even sexual relationship. I don't mean 'just 
friends'. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I understand what you mean."

"Well?"

Once again I blushed. I didn't want to say too much 
because I doubted that anyone would be impressed that I 
had had some sort of relationship with one of my girl 
friends since we had been young and my more extensive 
experience with the girl in Geralton. At the sane time 
her questioning me was direct and had a sort of no-
nonsense ring to it and I was starting to get the message 
that she would be non-judgmental whatever I said. But I 
still could not bring myself to reply. I was silent.

"Let me ask you this then, Marion, do you know what an 
orgasm is?"

"Yes I do."

"Have you experienced one or do you just know what it 
is?"

"I have had one," I blushed.

"Only one?"

"Oh no! Many!"

"Wonderful. Just wonderful! Always alone?"

I wondered what to say. I was starting to feel more 
trusting as this interrogation continued. But thought to 
myself, 'Who does she know that I know?' Why not tell 
her?'

"Not always but usually. I have a girlfriend..."

"Even better! Tell me what you and she have done together 
and then after that I will tell you about my theory. Is 
that fair enough?"

"That's fair enough. But this is just between you and me. 
Just as I don't tell anyone about you posing for me."

She agreed. "Of course we will share many secrets with 
each other. I am sure I have more than you have!"

So I told her how Allison and I had touched each other 
experimentally and how we usually masturbated ourselves, 
(as opposed to each other), when we had sleep-overs and 
that we were both completely open with each other and had 
told each other little tricks which seem to be useful to 
make the orgasm bigger, better or longer. I told her 
about the girl in Geralton and how we had touched each 
other and given the other one an orgasm digitally. She 
listened in rapt silence smiling and nodding from time to 
time as I rambled on with my story. When it was finished 
I waited for the reaction.

"Very sweet. Very much like my own experiences at your 
age. Although at your age I had lost my virginity. But I 
prefer the touch of a girl. Have you had anything to do 
with boys?"

"Yes. Actually, I think I have done more with boys than 
with my Allison. She and I never touch each other 'down 
there' but I have touched a couple of boys there and they 
have done it to me... you know, with their fingers."

"Which you prefer?"

"To be honest I never masturbate thinking of having sex 
with a boy but usually about being with a girl." 

She put the pencil down and looked at me, "One last 
question and then I'll tell you about my theory. Have you 
masturbated in the last, say, four weeks and if so what 
did you think about?"

Again the blood rushed to my cheeks. "I don't want to 
say."

"Was it... was it anything to do with me or being here 
with me?"

"Yes," I mumbled, my face fiery hot.

"I am complemented. I am delighted. I am thrilled! I had 
a feeling right from the very first time I posed for you 
that you were aroused by looking at me... am I right?" 
She looked at me and I nodded. She went on, "Here is a 
little secret for you... the way you looked at me aroused 
me too and I have been masturbating thinking about you 
and wishing, and hoping that you felt the same way and 
now that I know you do I am beyond just happy! We are so 
alike!"

I was stunned. I couldn't believe what my ears were 
hearing. I had to suppress an urge to run to her, to hold 
her and to kiss her. I felt every hair on my body stand 
up... I was a mass of goose pimples.

"I don't know what to say..." I said. "I'm sort of 
confused."

"You have been honest with me. You have opened your heart 
so I decided to be honest with you. Anyway, you want to 
know about my theory. Yes?"

I agreed. "Yes tell me, I am dying to know what it's all 
about."

"You commented that I had a 'serene and relaxed' look on 
my face when you were sketching me. My theory is this: a 
woman's face looks at its very best just after she has 
had an orgasm. Haven't you noticed your friend Allison 
has a dreamy and faraway look after she has come? Well as 
I lay back and you sketched me I was having a fantasy 
about making love to you and I climaxed very quietly 
without even touching myself. Have you to done that?"

"I can make an orgasm by pressing my thighs together 
sometimes and moving my knees slightly against each 
other," I admitted.

"Exactly. I was dying to do that when you were sketching 
me, to have an orgasm secretly, and see if you could 
catch that look in my face. I might get you to do 
something for me."

"What?" I asked.

"I want to borrow a video camera and I'd like you to film 
my face as I masturbate and as I come down from the high 
and then we will make some still photos and see how they 
look. Would you be prepared to do that for me? There is 
hardly anyone else I know that I could ask. In a sort of 
a way, as I am sure your mother would say that it is a 
form of experimental art. But I don't think she needs to 
know." She smiled.

I asked her incredulously, "So you want me to make a 
video of your face while you have a climax? My God! How 
amazing!"

"Does that mean you will do it for me?" she smiled.

"If you want me to. Of course! Yes, I would do it for 
you."

I don't have to tell you how I felt that week, especially 
at the Monday and Wednesday session when she treated me 
just like any other student. My night time thoughts as I 
went to sleep were a mixture of nervousness and sexual 
arousal. Half of me couldn't wait for Saturday to come 
and the other half had a feeling of dread! But Saturday 
came nevertheless.

I arrived promptly at the orchard house and she greeted 
me warmly as usual and with a hug that could have been 
construed to have been loaded with meaning and intent, 
longer and tighter than necessary. She asked me if I was 
still prepared to do what she had suggested last weekend 
and I nodded and felt an electric thrill shoot like 
lightening to my ovary area. She led me into her bedroom 
where she already had a video camera on a tripod at the 
pillow-end of the bed. She asked me if I had never use 
the video camera before. I told I had once used one but 
was not a great cameraman. 

She went over again what she called 'her theory' and 
explained again what she wanted me to do. It was 
basically a matter of keeping her face in the viewfinder 
as she wanked herself. That was the plan anyway. But 
plans do not always go quite the way we envisage because 
it was all just too clinical and not conducive to a 
sensual feeling for her. 

She lay on her back naked and first with her fingers and 
then with a vibrator she desperately tried to achieve her 
climax but as her frustration grew so also the look on 
her face reflected this emotion. It was anything but' 
serene and relaxed' and finally she gave up in disgust, 
put the vibrator away, rewound the tape in the camera and 
turned it off.

"We should have done this last weekend after I talked to 
you... I had come before you got to the front gate!"

"Really?" I gaped. I couldn't imagine I had been able to 
turn a woman on like that! Or even a guy!

Then she had an idea. "I know what will get me going. I 
would like to do another sketch of you, if you will let 
me. I love your short shorts! I didn't realise you had 
such beautiful legs... you usually hide them under your 
jeans or a skirt. Let me sketch you again. Okay?"

I honestly misunderstood her. I thought she meant that 
she wanted me nude! We returned to the studio where I 
would pose for her and while she went into the kitchen to 
make tea I took everything off and lay back on the studio 
couch. When she came back in she looked startled and 
delighted.

"Oh my God... nude! I meant topless... I can't believe 
how beautiful you are!"

I was horrified. I was suddenly quite self-conscious 
embarrassed at my stupidity. "I thought you wanted me 
nude" I stammered.

"Of course I wanted to... but I didn't dare ask you. I 
was just going to sketch you wearing just your shorts 
with your top off."

"I'm sorry. I misunderstood."

"Never be sorry when you have a body like yours, my 
sweet! You stay like that. I will do a beautiful sketch 
and after that I will be so turned on we can make our 
movie as well. What joy!"

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 19