“You ever thought about doing some art modeling?”

“What? What sort? And not really,” I responded.

Darleene replied, “Nude. There is an ad here in our local ‘Nextdoor’ app. Some woman locally seems to do art lessons here in Tampa and is advertising for models. Individual or couples. Ideally mature.”

“Well, we certainly qualify. How do they pay?”

“Says $20 per hour. Nice but not worth it unless we really want to do it.”

“Oh, and you do, I gather,” I replied turning to her.

“Well,” she pondered, “It might be kind of fun, depending on who the artists are.”

I’d pretty much moved in with Darlene after our first weekend together. Our relationship was developing. She was an attorney, super professional, and competent. Really smart, worldly, and curious. As well, she was, how should I put this…super kinky. As far as I could tell, no boundaries. None, at least so far. But as much physical pleasure as she dished out, and I tried to reciprocate, her most erogenous area was her mind.

“You going to respond?” I asked.

“Already have. We are having coffee with her tomorrow at ‘The Bean’. I told her we were both up for it.”

I should have figured.

The next morning, we met Cindy. She was already sipping her soy latte when we arrived. Nice looking woman. Grey, shoulder-length grey hair. Sleeveless blouse, long skirt, and sandals. Seemed pleasant as we got to know each other.

She asked a lot about us, clearly checking to ensure we weren’t too pervy. She had taught at the university level for years then moved to Florida to start her own independent program. Her clients were aspiring artists and retired folks, all adults and both men and women. She has a full array of classes, with a couple human figures oriented, which is why she needed us. Apparently, some of her prior models had gotten flaky, and at times she had to fill in. She understood, but it was a challenge to model and instruct simultaneously.

Getting into details she explained the classes were twice a week, for two hours. Basically two 45-minute sessions with a thirty-minute break. We’d have to arrive a half hour early to prep.

“Wear loose clothing, no underwear. And best no makeup. It can get warm, so we don’t want anything running.”  I’ll bet it can get warm…

Darlene asked the question on my mind. “What happens if Greg gets an erection? This boy can get hard just from me thinking about it.”

“Seldom, if ever, an issue. But if it does come up, so to speak,” she smiled, “we’re all adults, so nothing we haven’t seen before. We do have a smaller class, a bit edgier, where it might be more common. But not this one.”

That comment got my mind wandering and my cock stirring a bit.

“We do have a class tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock. Do you guys want to try it out?” Cindy asked.

“I can move my work schedule around. Greg?” Darlene said.

“Works for me.”

We packed up and left. Darlene off to work and I returned to her house and my jerry-rigged desk so I could get some work done.

That evening we discussed the pending modeling gig over dinner. We were both intrigued and perhaps a bit excited. Perhaps that’s why Darlene insisted I fuck her ass, which she loves. Then I woke at some point to find her slowly masturbating. I asked what she was thinking of. “Being watched,” she replied.

The next day we both worked from her house. At three we were both in shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops, and nothing else. We did have a bag with some clothes in case we decided to go out to dinner afterward.

We arrived at Cindy’s “art studio.” If was in a small business park. We entered into a little reception area and Cindy ushered us into the back.

She had a classroom of sorts. Various pieces of furniture in one corner, a couch on a six-inch platform, and a host of easels and chairs laid out in a semi-circle around the couch. She pointed out the one bathroom and then two curtained changing areas.

“You two can change over there. You can use both areas or one, as you both know each other. There are robes on the hooks, so each of you can pick one that will fit,” Cindy instructed.  

We each found a robe that fit and entered a single changing room. I had learned every time I saw Darlene naked, even casually, my cock began stirring. So, as we undressed, I worked diligently to think of other things. However, she had her robe on before I, so she turned, looked at my naked body, reached to cradle my balls, and, smiling, said, “I’m so proud of your self-control.”

Bitch.

I donned my robe and we emerged into the studio. Many of the chairs and easels were now occupied, students setting up and positioning themselves around the platform. They were a varied group, from twenty-something women to several in their 60’s, including one group of three women, clearly good friends. Several single men, probably there hoping to connect with the women.

It was time to get started. Cindy introduced us to smiles and nods from all. She showed us where to hang the robes, and just like that we were both naked in front of the students. Somehow it seemed incredibly natural.

Our first poses were standing, often with Darlene draped on me, in front with her back to the students, or to my side, a bent leg in front, a hand on my chest, then face to face looking at each other.

After the break, we moved to the couch. She sat while I stood, so her face was cock height. Initially, Cindy had Darlene looking up at me, then moved her gaze directly at my cock.

This was enough for me to manage. Then Darlene slid the hand on my back, blocked from view, to my ass, her nails caressing my cheeks. Minutes later her index finger slid between those same cheeks.

This was not good. Really not good. Really, really not good when she gently blew hot breath at my cock. The combination was getting exactly the result Darlene sought. While I couldn’t see it, I could certainly feel it.

A couple of the younger girls apparently noticed, however. I could see the smiles. Cindy did as well. She changed our position, thankfully. She now had us lie on the couch, Darleene in front, on our left sides, facing the students. She placed Darlene’s right hand on my hip, my right on Darlene’s lower stomach. When Cindy turned away, I slid my fingers a bit, nearly touching Darlene’s pussy. Then I pulled her back into me, my erection now more pronounced. For the twenty minutes until the session finished, we remained in that position. Still. Except for subtle changes in my fingertip pressure.

I knew exactly what that fingertip pressure would do. Over time, her breathing deepened, and soon after I began to smell the distinct odor her pussy released when it got wet.  I knew if we remained there long enough, combined with her knowledge of the art student’s eyes studying her naked body, she would come.

As that moment approached, Cindy said, “Time.” The session was over. Aware of Darlene’s excitement and my hard-on, Cindy brought our robes to us. We slid them on, I rolling away from the students to shield them from my predicament.

Darlene and I repaired to the dressing room. While Cindy escorted the students out, we all but attacked each other. Darlene whispered, “You are such an asshole! I need to come, now.”

Our robes were open, her arms were around me and I had two fingers inside her. She was beginning to hump my hand when we heard Cindy’s voice. “You two decent?”

She knew we weren’t, but as we scrambled with our robes the curtain slid open and Cindy took in the sight.

“Relax. I’m just glad the two of you seem to have enjoyed yourselves. Any hotter and I might have joined you on the couch.”

“That would have added to the fun,” Darlene noted as she tied her robe, her breath still heaving a bit.

Cindy smiled. “I have a proposition for you two. My next class is in two hours. It is smaller, more intimate, and more erotic. Essentially, it’s a “quick draw” style session. The models do what they choose. When I see them in a particularly erotic position, I say freeze. They then hold that position for, say, five minutes. The artists do a fast sketch of the scene. Then, at my signal, the models move on.”

“The challenge I have is all my regulars are unavailable, so I was going to have to play model. Still will, unless I can get you two to fill in. It’s non-stop for an hour. Sometimes we go longer, depending on the flow. Pay is double, but I don’t think that is why you two would do it, if you choose to.”

She was correct on why we might, but I had a question. “How does it work when you model alone?”

“Simple, I simply close my eyes, initially, and pretend I am waking up after an exciting dream, alone. I touch and caress myself as I would, just trying to prolong things more than normal. Any artist can say, ‘freeze’, then I hold until instructed. It works OK, but not as effective as when others model.”

“What do you two say? I have some snacks and white wine here to fill the gap until class starts.”

My cock had already answered for me. I looked at Darlene. “In,” was all she said.  

Cindy said, “Excellent! You two can finish what it seemed you were starting before I interrupted, or join me for a glass of wine.”

We both could have easily fucked right there, in front of Cindy. She might have even enjoyed it. But we chose the wine…for the time being.

Twenty minutes before class time the artists began to arrive. Again, it was a mixed group, several young women, two couples, one maybe in their thirties, the other fifty-somethings. They positioned themselves much closer than the prior group. Some used easels, others positioned pads in their lap. The other distinction was that each brought a container of some beverage, mostly wine, and a cup.

This was definitely going to be a different experience.

As before, Cindy introduced us while taking our robes. I was already semi-hard while Darlene’s nipples were hard and protruding. She was ready.

Cindy again positioned us, first facing each other, angled so we were both exposed to the artists. Different from earlier, she placed Darlene’s hand on my cock, my hand on her breast. “Gently touch each other as you look at each other.

We certainly didn’t need much urging. My fingertips grazed Darlene’s breast, gently pinching her nipple. She stroked me. Our breathing deepened. After a minute or two, we kissed as her fingers cradled my balls. Then Cindy said, “Freeze.”

We did as instructed. I could feel Darlene wobble a bit. Were her legs weakening? I held her firmly. I could feel her nails moving slightly at the base of my balls. I could also feel my cock throbbing, moving. Not much I could do about that.    

I could hear the pencils on the sketch pads, furiously creating their images of Darlene and me. A minute later, Cindy said, “Move,” and we did.

I knew Darlene’s legs were weak, so I asked if we could sit. “Sure,” Cindy replied. “Let me position you.”

She had me sit on the couch, facing the artists. She spread my legs and had Darlene sit between them, also facing them. Darlene’s hands were on her thighs. Cindy wrapped my right arm around Darlene, my hand on her right tit. My left wrapped similarly, hand resting on her lower stomach, just above her slit.

“Have at it,” Cindy said as she stepped away.

I kissed Darlene’s neck where it joined her shoulder, a kiss, a gentle bite, a taste. She moaned slightly, her head falling back a bit. I knew her. The artists drawing her were slipping from her mind as warm tingles surged through her. I could feel her legs widen slightly as my fingers slid down to her moist pussy, finding and resting on her clit.

Her body twisted as she tried to worm closer into me. My finger toyed with her clit and she let out a quiet, “Ohhh…”.

“Spread your legs more,” I instructed. “I can’t,” she whispered. Then she added, “I can, but not with all them watching. I’m too wet. Can’t let them see how excited I am. Too embarrassed.”

I knew exactly what that meant. I hooked my legs over hers and spread them. Now she was exposed, embarrassed, perhaps humiliated. The noise of pencils on paper stopped as they all stared. My fingers now slid deeper between her folds. Another, deeper moan escaped her, I assumed both from my touch and the realization all the artists were seeing her spread, excited and humiliated.

“Freeze,” Cindy said. We did. The pause seemed to give her time to become more aware of her predicament. As the students drew on their pads, more juice flowed from her pussy.  I didn’t hear more moans, but her breathing deepened. We both knew she would come for them, but it would be on my time, not Darlene’s.

“Move,” came the instruction. Then Cindy approached. She spoke to me, clearly not Darlene. “Do you mind if I help you?”

“Of course not. It’s your class.”

Cindy removed my right hand from Darlene’s breast and my leg from her leg. Then she lifted her leg up and back, placing my hand behind Darlene’s knee. Now, not only was her pussy open and spread, but her puckered ass was as well.

Darlene must have been torn. She loved getting her ass played and fucked. Did she like having it exposed just a few feet in front of students she didn’t know while they sketched it? Did she even care anymore?

My fingers fucked her cunt and toyed with her clit. Then, when they were sopping, I slid one, then two fingers into her anus.

She was humping my hand as my fingers alternated. She was in a space in which nothing mattered except her own pleasure. “Do you want to come?” I asked.

“Fuck yes,” she whispered.

“You can’t, yet,” I replied. ‘First, you have to open your eyes, look at the students drawing you, and ask them if you may.” Another moan escaped her lips as my hand drove her excitement higher.

Her eyes opened and she looked at them. “Can I come?” she asked. A few looked up. “Louder,” I said as my fingers slid from her ass and plunged deep inside her sopping pussy.

She got the message. “Can. I. Come. Now,” she said loudly, even though they were only ten to twelve feet away.

She grimaced as I continued to toy. All embarrassment overwhelmed by the excitement of her exposure and the throbs of pleasure coursing through her. I played with her clit as they whispered their deliberations. One young girl shook her head, “No” and Darlene moaned in frustration. Then another whispered to the naysayer, as my fingers tortured her, ass, pussy, clit. The two young girls smiled to each other. One turned to us and said, “Ok.”

As four fingers plunged into Darlene, her orgasm began. Her hips rose from the couch, her legs spread even wider than before. Her moan turned to a scream. All eyes were on her as she exploded.

The waves went on…and on. Then they subsided. I released her as Cindy approached with a towel and wiped the sweat and cum from Darlene’s limp body. When Cindy was done, she rolled to her right and curled into a fetal position on her side, facing away from the students, her head resting on my thigh.

I caressed Darlene with my right hand. I was breathing hard. The excitement had pushed me as well. Now I sat in front of the artists, naked, legs spread, cock hard. I realized the artists had not returned to drawing. Rather, they were simply sitting, pondering what they had just witnessed.

Then one of the two young girls, the two who had given Darlene permission to come, turned to Cindy.

“Cindy, the class isn’t over yet. What do we do with Greg?”

She replied, “What would you like to do?”