Still Life

“Are you sure?” she asked him furtively.

“They’ll be fine.” he responded with a chuckle. “They really are absolutely tame, and have had plenty of experience!”

So she reconsidered her initial response and agreed to come along to the home.

Janie had posed before for the local art college, and that is where Ben had met her. He had been lecturing in the evenings, and had decided that his class of fairly able students were ready for the real thing. They had drawn exquisite images of all forms of still life, carefully etching the cellulite skins of the oranges and the variant veins of the bananas. They had mastered the art of drawing intricate and accurate curves of various sporting balls, so it was now time to progress to the beauty and delights of the natural form, both men and women.

It seemed stupid really, but he had no idea where and how he was going to approach someone to model for him. He had considered popping into a local phone booth and detaching one of the copious call cards, but he really wasn’t sure how he was going to handle a sex professional, and it wasn’t what was going to excite him either.

He thought of asking some of the students themselves, but it seemed slightly sinister. How would they feel about being approached? Who would he choose? Well, he could certainly think of a few candidates, like Gemma. God, she had great tits, well what he had seen of them. They were full and hard, and when he bent down beside her to review her work, he allowed his eyes to delve down her cleavage, her two breasts so complete, clutching one another, creating a crevice that he longed to reach out and touch. Yes, Gemma would be a good model. He’d often imagined what her nipples looked like. He knew from his own observations that they were likely to be strong and protruding; they frequently stood erect as she concentrated on her art form. Were they deep brown with speckles of terracotta spots or were they lurid fuchsia with a kiss of red at the nipple opening? His cock trembled at the memory.

And who was going to be the male model? He couldn’t really see Dave agreeing to disrobe, and again from what he had seen, there didn’t seem too much to draw even if he did. Flaccidity was all he had noticed on that one! As for Andy, well, he may have been a contender, but, to be honest, he didn’t really do anything for him, so what was the point?

No, he had to be professional about this, and work out some other way of identifying the models required.

Ben decided to ask a few colleagues who had more experience of such issues than he. An A4 paper was handed to him with email addresses and mobile phone numbers.

Luck was with him. Janie had been his first call and she was more than happy to come in the very next week, along with her business partner Marshall.

No major interviewing took place. They just arrived, bathrobes in hand, strolled into the class, strewing their rather sensational bodies over the two chairs on the apron of the stage and sat there, contentedly for two hours, still and stagnant in their open sexuality.

Ben tried to remain professional and detached, weaving his way around the room, glaring at the gorgeous bodies from the secondary view of his students’ masterpieces. Gemma, nipples standing hard against her white shirt (yes, they were definitely not pink!) was clearly revelling in this new experience. He wondered if he reached down between her thighs, whether there would be a trickle of excitement dribbling out of her. She had portrayed the rigidity of Marshall’s buttocks incredibly well. The smooth, athletic arse was clearly visible on her paper, gently rubbed round the curvature of the outer edges. Ben clambered to contain himself, trying to rid himself of a growing stiffy, surreptitiously shaking his leg to avoid it having contact with his hard-on.

Lydia, bless her, had coyly captured the pert form of Janie’s ample bosom, with her pan shaped nipples that flatly dominated her delightful shapes. Ben desperately wanted to sink his teeth into those nipples, right now, hungrily devouring them, tasting their gorgeousness.

And that was how he met them. And despite all the sexual fantasies that had ensued from that and subsequent evenings of modelling, he had never once betrayed his professionalism, steadfastly ignoring his growing desires.

That had been four months ago. In his day to day job, he had another group of students, incarcerated in the local mental institution. By day he was an art therapist working with some of the strangest minds in South London, in a setting that reeked of disused aestheticism. But the joy and spirit that sprung to life from these poor frazzled beings, as they took up their media tools, was truly inspiring.

He had decided to ask Janie to come along, not to be unveiled in all her naked divinity, but just to sit there, fully clothed, with different facial expressions so that the inmates could explore a range of feelings and emotions through the study of this perfect little specimen.

So, in the make-shift studio, Janie sat there, gurning away, pulling her face into idiotic poses, chucking her head back in gleeful laughter, drawing her eyes down to bashfully glare at the clients as they sat in awe of the wondrous creature sitting in front of them.

So here they were in a tawdry setting, the defunct wallpaper and flaky paint dissolving in front of them as the flakes painted.

Janie sat. She had always seen this as an income generation sideline, and had easily managed to separate her sexual excitement from the fact that she posed infront of strangers in total nudity. Little did those budding artists know that once she had posed, particularly for the evening students of Ben’s, she always scrambled down the corridor to the toilets, firmly pushing three outstretched fingers deep into her pussy until she surged with delight from the liquid release that never failed to occur.

Here she was, sitting her fully clothed and still had that bruise-like sensation growing inside her, raising her clit without any tactile stimulation. Maybe posing per se just turned her on. Or maybe it had something to do with noticing, yet again, how Ben’s shaft climbed and thrust itself towards the zip of his trousers, visibly pushing at the gold metal so that the lip of cloth covering it, leapt forward, and then declined, ready for its next erection.

How many times had she seen his cock rise in his trousers as he walked around his room, taking deeper strides to rid himself of this unnecessary stiffness?

The flakes had finished. It was time for tea. Janie needed to go to the loo. She asked Ben for directions. He’d have to take her there. Not a good idea to wander round here unaccompanied just in case.

Through the labyrinth of dull and dormant doorways, traversing the linear corridors, Ben pointed towards the door to the ladies loo. They must have walked for two minutes and hadn’t passed a soul.

Janie looked at her companion. She leant against the door of the toilet and raised her hands to her cheek. Ben searched her face for a flicker, a sign of what she was thinking. He continued his gaze as he watched her eyes wander down to his waistline, and beyond, landing on his now protruding cock, and he watched her pupils dilate and her lips sliver with the gentle stroking of her tongue. She stared at his growing state of arousal and then, without warning or averting her gaze, she pulled her skirt up, revealing black, lacy thongs that fit snugly round her beautiful, angular and shapely pussy. With her shoulders arched against the flaky wall, she rocked her legs back and forth, shooting her hand down her knickers, bypassing her bush of pubes. With a single press on the erect knob of her clit, she emitted a projectile gush of a cat spraying her territory. The force of her cum soaked his hidden balls, and he felt the warmth of her sexy juices dribble down his trousers.

Still standing there, she removed her skirt and turned to face the wall, hands arched above her shoulders. He was faced with the full and beautiful view of perfect arse, hardly clothed in the thin line of lacy cloth. His cock was dancing with excitement, begging to be released from the tightness of his own thongs.

She slid her hands down the wall, until she was bending before him. With one hand released, she slid her thongs away from her sopping wet hole to reveal a mass of red, flapping skin that screamed out for filling.

“Fuck me, here!” she breathed through her second wave of orgasm that seemed to be coming without any action.

Ben hesitated for a split second, and then reached out, urgently clasping his cock as he tugged on his underwear, and forcefully pushed his ample appendage deep inside her self-lubricated cunt. She leant down further so that he could feel himself gliding deeper and deeper into her excited body. The pools of cum that were springing out of her was something that he had never experienced. They rocked back and forth in a puddle of fuck juices that continued to pour out of her. He shoved hard and strong, pushing his body nearer and nearer, listening to her screams of delight. He wanted to cum but didn’t want to break this moment by asking inopportune, practical questions. He bit himself on his arm as he held onto the impending orgasm, pushing it out of his mind as he slowed his thrusts, leaving his cock alive and rigid within her.

She pushed herself towards the wall, freeing his cock from her cunt. Splashing down to her knees, amongst the juiciness that she had recently emitted, she took his cock deep into her throat, twisting her tongue around his shaft, munching on his pinnacle, sliding his foreskin to and fro, mimicking the feeling that he had experienced within her pussy. She brought her lips to his helmet, and then dived quickly down to bury her nose in his pubic hair, taking his cock as far as it could go.

Ben was unable to control his orgasm. He spunked eagerly and without reservation into her throat and she groaned with delight at tasting his creamy juices sliding down within her.

The sound of pattering feet, worked their way along the corridor. Muted steps became clearer. Ben reached down and picked up her skirt. She grabbed his unclad cock and banged open the door of the toilet. Locking the door behind them, Janie, looked up at Ben’s smiling face, alive at the sexiness of what had just happened. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek and worked her way to the side of his face, whispering in his ears, “Fuck me again!”.

Could his cock bounce back so quickly? He doubted it but as he cast his eyes downwards he saw that this body had a mind very firmly of its own, and seeing the vivid V shape of her silky black cunt, that he had viewed so frequently, and denied himself so often, he had no alternative. His cock aroused, his mind deeply set on fucking this gorgeous woman, he gladly obliged, looking longingly into her eyes, fixated on the sensual wonder of what he was experiencing.

They lay together in bed that night, having fucked each other senseless for five hours. How they got home, how they kept their hands off each other in the taxi, who knows.

But there was more excitement to come, more energetic love-making, more fucking sensational pussy eating and cock teasing.

And all because the flakes liked to paint!