Art and Mastubation

Posted by: Author: Age: 25 Posted on: 4 comments
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I don't know. Sounds crazy when you say it out loud. So I guess I'll write it here. It all started with me modelling nude for local artists in the basement of the community center where I live. I got paid, modestly for posing two hours twice a week.



The artists are all amateurs; most retired or over 40. Anyway, I love doing it. Getting naked in front of total strangers, them studying every curve and goosebumps of my flesh, every shade of my hair, mmm... I admit it, I get off on it. I mean, two hours I sit there, exposed in front of silent men and women as they paint my naked body! Yes, yes, it's all for art we all nod solemnly, and maturely, but wow is it a turn on. Needless to say I usually go home and vibrate the hell out of my much artistically rendered pussy after each session.



Okay. My body. Let me expose it to you now, dear reader, in words. I have smaller grapefruit-sized breasts, so they're not huge, not small. But I have very, very pronounced nipples. Like long, fleshy fingertips and it doesn't take much, a slight drop in temperature, the feel of cotton, or a dirty thought or whisper, to get them aroused and even more pink and swollen. I have a scar. It descends about four inches from my left armpit towards my breast on that side. I have a thatch of trimmed, but abundant pubic hair that mats up quite nicely when I'm aroused around my vaginal split. I am brunette.



Mara approached me after a session one evening. I was coming out of the ladies room, where I change, walking out in the foyer of the community center, when she came up and introduced herself. I was not in any real particular hurry, so I chit-chatted with her. She had been a painting regular and had a pleasant demeanor. I guessed Mara to be mid-forties. She was fit-looking for her age, with her hair proudly graying. She had an eye for what fashions suit her and on this particular day she wore a cashmere scarf that was perfect for her, I remember.



She then asked something very forward: she asked if I would be interested in doing a private modeling session at her home studio.



I was caught off-guard, I had only modeled here and a couple of times at the university. But I was not opposed to it. I told her I could. We set a date and time.



I had no idea what I was in for. I mean, I thought it was a little odd, her request, but I thought it would just be me sitting naked for her, and her alone, at her house for a few hours and that would be it. I'd be lying if I said I was not turned on by the thought of sitting naked for this woman.



But it's important for you to understand, dear reader, that it was not the woman herself that made me so aroused. (She was attractive to be sure, confident and sophisticated) It was the scenario that oozed with eroticism for me.



(I am not a lesbian, as far as I am aware. I have boyfriends occasionally, and hope to be outfitted with a husband one day. But I am curious and sexual. My history up to this point wasn't rife with many homosexual encounters, but I did have a same-sex experience, kind-of, once. My sophomore year of college a roommate and I were in the shower together for some reason after a night of drinking. We weren't wasted, but definitely tipsy. Anyway, we were in the shower giggling and screwing around as we washed our hair and shit. Anyway, Dana, my shower mate, slapped my ass, so I slapped hers, etc.,etc. and we kept giggling and upping the ante like that. 'Oh yeah? Well, I dare you to suck my tit...' I said. Dana giggled, then flashed a devilish grin and was all like 'fine'.... and leaned over and put my nipple into her mouth. She sucked on it and I remember moaning. Dana then dared me to suck on her tit. I did. Then we dared each other to put a finger into our vaginas. We agreed to do it at the same time. It was like an erotic game of chicken. So there, under the warm steady stream of the shower, Dana put her middle finger up and into me, and I put mine up and into her. To the middle knuckle. I didn't come. We just stood, conjoined like that, for a few minutes, panting. Dana jiggled her finger within me a little, and I remember giving Dana a few token thrusts with mine, but that was it. We never took it further or did it again. A novel horny college experience.)



I arrived at the appointed time. She lived alone in a nicely kept and furnished house. Plants everywhere. The placed smelled of lilac with traces of what I thought was hemp.



Mara greeted me with a grand smile and a kiss on the cheek. We sat in a sun room to chit-chat and a big glass of wine. Finally, Mara began to talk about our session and about how she would like to paint me. Well, sketch me as it turned out.



She took me back to her drawing room. She showed me some of her drawings and paintings. They were all nudes. Mostly females. The poses were erotic in nature, one even with a girl self-pleasuring herself with a large tusk-like phallus. But there were also a few drawings of guys, a couple of them sporting erections. I asked her if she used live models for all of them. Mara said yes.



'Do these make you nervous?' She asked.



'No,' I said.



'Would you still like to pose for me?'



'Yes. Very much,' I said. I was very, very aroused by all of it. 'I will pose in any way you wish.' I submitted. And I was serious. I was ravenous to do something erotic.



'Well, let's get started then,' Mara said.



We discussed positions and Mara suggested the couch. I undressed completely with no hesitation. And why would there have been?: Mara, of course, I had seen every inch of my body before many times.



I posed sitting back on the sofa, legs spread wide with my fingers moving the curtain of my pubic hair and flesh-folds to gently open my clitoris to Mara's view. She sat a few feet away with her pencils and tablet.



It did not take long, sitting that way, for my pussy to start secreting. A wet spot was expanding on Mara's cushion.



'Don't worry about it, dear'. She seemed to read my concern.



I relaxed and continued to slowly leak. My nipples swelled to their full limit. I wanted desperately to raise each of them to my mouth and suck them in turn, as is my custom when I pleasure myself at home. But the demands of art demanded that I stay still so that Mara could render my aroused body.



We took a break after a half-hour or so and Mara made a simple lunch for us: sliced fruit, bread, cheeses and of course more Pinot noir. I remained totally naked at Mara's encouragement. During our meal, I learned that Mara was ten year's divorced with no children and lived the life of a jet-setter, traveling whole months out of the year to places in Europe, especially Scotland where she had a sister. I asked her where she had met her other models. She said she had a friend who was an art teacher at the university and that he approached certain students who he thought might be interested and discreet.



We resumed our art. I spread-eagled myself on her sofa and Mara finished up the detailing the flower of my pussy, the curves of my lips, my thighs, my breasts, all of me.



My arousal was now nearing unbearable heights. My bodies natural lubricant now matted my under grove of pussy hair as if I had just stepped out of a bath. I fidgeted.



Mara apparently could sense my tension. She said she was almost finished and then added with a grin, 'then you may take care of yourself if you wish.'



I think I audibly gulped at that. 'I would like that very much£'. I said. 'Would you like to watch me?'



Mara smiled warmly. 'That would be positively delightful.'



Minutes later Mara announced she was finished and I then began to move my hands in a masturbatory fashion on and in my vagina, tentative at first, and then robustly. My eyes went back and forth viewing what I was doing to my own body to Mara's face, watching her watch me.



It was absolutely amazing being watched by her like that. This went on for some time like that, when suddenly Mara said: 'wait'.



She then stopped time and asked if it would be be alright if she masturbated me.



I took my fingers out of my pussy and said, 'please'.



Mara crossed the space between us. She first put her hand on my left shoulder. She briefly massaged that shoulder and I shuddered at her touch. Visions of Dana and me and our shower together danced in my head.



She pushed me to lie down on the sofa, then she scooted an ottoman to sit down beside my body. Mara then placed her hands on my thighs and rubbed along the width of my pelvis.



I trembled. I moaned. I cupped a tit and moved it up to my mouth and suckled my own nipple.



Mara's warm hands found my genitals: her fingers pulsed through my pubic garden, followed my slick glistening up the moist folds of my interior-flesh and rubbed my clitoral mount. She circled and circled and circled my loins with her hand and I felt my orgasm beginning to break and fracture loose from in my tummy and then pulse out like an earthquake through the membrane walls of my womb.



I bucked. My hips rose up off the sofa. I thrust my weeping pussy at Mara and her ministrations. I bit my lip and came. I came, I came, I came. Under Mara's touch, I came.



A week later I went back. She drew me in another pose. Afterward she asked if I wanted her to masturbate me and I said yes. She did this to me. I came.



I returned and we did our whole routine again: I undress, I pose, she draws or paints me naked and in some erotic pose and then she would masturbate me. Sometimes I would eat lunch or have a wine, sometimes it would just be the art and masturbation. This went on this way for a couple months. Because of this, because of Mara and posing for her and the release she would give me through her hands, I was constantly turned on. My horniness perpetuated itself. I became craven.



Mara and I of course became close friends due to our sessions, but it was not love. I lusted for her touch. Not Mara herself, mind you, but for her hands upon me, and not just that either, I began to realize I lusted for our ritual: my undressing, the posing, eating at her table naked, while she remained fully clothed, and her meticulous masturbation of me. Every part of our sessions, every little nuance, every flourish, all of it became a banquet to me, and I became an epicurean.



That's what Mara said we were, epicureans. The feasters. She began playing classical music for our sessions. Chopin and Rachmaninov mostly. (I came so hard whilst sitting on her kitchen island to Prelude in G Sharp Minor that I kicked a vase off shattering it into a million pieces. I felt so bad, but Mara said it was a priceless moment, a cum to be cherished.



One afternoon we were having coffee in her sun room. We sat together on a small loveseat, I cross-legged and naked, Mara in a long muslin-looking skirt and blouse. She was actually done sketching me for the day and she asked me if I still wanted my orgasm. I snickered and said, yes, yes I did still very much want to orgasm. Mara said good.



I then asked her if she enjoyed getting me off. She said she did very much. I asked her about the other models she had had erotic sessions with. Did she masturbate them too?



'One of the men I did. I drew him with an erection at full stretch. The poor boy stayed hard like that for near an hour. I offered to jack him off and he of course said yes'.



I rolled my eyes. 'Yeah, duh, what guy wouldn't? How did you get him hard?'



'I went topless, that was it though. Guys are pretty low maintenance,' Mara said. 'It took all of two minutes to get him to cum'.



'So how, I mean. Do you ever want me to masturbate you?' I asked. It felt awkward broaching this subject now after this woman had probed my pussy and rubbed it, got her hands and fingers on and completely within me more expertly than any lover I ever had.



Mara took a slow sip from her coffee cup before answering. 'Is that what you would like? Want to masturbate me for a change?'



'That's not what I asked', I said. 'I asked if you ever wanted it from me?'



'I see. Well, it's complex. Let me address the layers one at a time', Mara said. 'Does doing that to you turn me on? Yes. Very much. Everything about what we do here together is a turn on of course. Am I attracted to you? Of course I am, you're beautiful. You're the muse, the image. You're empirical, Beth. The whole world longs for the nirvana you have between your perfect thighs. But do I require or ask you to touch me in kind?..No'.



I listened to her and tried not to be hurt for some reason. 'I guess I don't get that then. Why don't you?'



'Because what makes all of this so erotic are the roles each of us plays in this. I say again, you are the muse, the image, corpus maximus. I am the watcher, Beth, the mirror, the artist who gazes and interprets. Even when I put down my pencil or brush, and I walk over and put my fingers in you, I am still your mirror, your adorer, even as I help push your body over the edge into orgasm, we are still making art, not love. Do you understand?'



'I think so', I said. 'I guess it's becoming more clear'.



Mara continued. 'I do often pleasure myself after our sessions together. I also have a lover, a man currently, that I fuck when I need to. But that's not art. It's sex. Now, if you'd like to rub me off into climax, we certainly can. I'm sure I will enjoy it, but.....



'It wouldn't be art?' I blurted.



Mara nodded. 'Not unless we find a way to change the narrative. I'm not the image, Beth. You are. That's not to say that I don't find my naked body beautiful, I do, but it's different. My body and its sexuality is no longer empirical as yours, my dear. I am no longer Venus, but Juno in winter. If we want to plant my naked body in with yours, plant it into the artist's scope, we must change the narrative. And we will need another mirror.'



'But can we do this though? Change the narrative?' I asked, maybe a little too eagerly.



'Of course we can. We're epicureans, you and I. If we do this though, it will be different and you must follow my instructions and trust me'.



I suddenly felt my loins leak with wetness. I unabashedly placed my fingers between my pubic hair to confirm my juiciness. 'Yes. I trust you. Hell yes, let's do it.'



Mara set up a tripod and small digital camera. She said she was setting the camera to take a pic every 15 seconds. She then placed a pillow on the sun room tiled floor next to her bare feet. She took off her skirt and blouse. 'Kneel here, Beth'.



I knelt before Mara on the pillow. The camera began flashing pics intermittently. Mara unclicked her bra. As I said, Mara was fit for forties; her tits had very little sag and were larger, fuller than mine. Her nipples were smaller than mine, but her areoles were massive as silver-dollar pancakes and very dark-brown in color. I looked up at them in wonder.



'Take my panties off. But do it this way: take your thumb and index finger and pinch the fabric covering my vagina and pull them down'.



I did it exactly as she instructed me.



Suddenly Mara's pussy was everywhere. It was inches from my face and seemed to eclipse the sun. An explosive bush of dark and gray long and curling hairs maned her vaginal opening. My nostrils and the entire sun room became drowned in her powerful pussy odor. Mara's was by far the thickest I've ever smelled. It thrilled me in the most primal of ways, her massive ero-reek. I salivated, I could already taste traces of her pussy in my mouth even though I had not touched it.



The camera continued flashing behind us.



Mara looked down on me and I looked up at her. She put a hand through my hair and slid it lovingly down my cheek. 'Ready?' She asked.



'Yes'. At first I thought she was going to want me to eat her out, which even though I had never done before, I was more than prepared to do at that moment had she asked.



But instead she said, 'Slowly, very slowly, penetrate me with two fingers and slide them in and out for a while. Make sure to stay positioned where you are so that the camera can properly see what you're doing to me'.



I slid two of my fingers, palm-towards me, into her vaginal canal. After penetrating, I slowly thrust into Mara, deep and slow into her genitals just as she instructed.



The camera flashed. My knees started to ache, but I did not care. We were sacrificing for our art.



Mara continued to stroke my hair and look down on me with an almost motherly stare as I continued my manipulation of her. I was conscious of my stretched nipples slapping into her knees in time with my finger thrusts.



Mara's beautiful cunt was beginning to swell and pout and her wetness was tidalling to the point that delicious suction noises were being produced with each of my finger-probing thrusts.



My pussy also ran riot with wet. I felt my moistness running down my thighs and legs. I did not care.



The camera continued flashing, documenting my sexual submission to Juno, I guess.



Then Mara began to climax, slow at first, her whole body seeming to tighten, her cervix closing down on my penetrating fingers. A strong shudder rose up through her; she gasped and then grunted. Mara's hips and cunt rocked forward and backward as she stood before me, and her shudder intensified, culminating in such a body shake that her tits slapped and shook with violent ecstasy. Mara howled as she came, howled looking up to the sun room's ceiling in rapture.



When she finished her rocking, I slid my fingers out of her vagina and immediately began rubbing my own clit with them. I was frantic as I knelt there, playing with myself in earnest while Mara stood there, recovering. I couldn't wait for her to tend to me as usual.



'I have to cum now!' I said.



'Ok. Is there anything I can do?'



I stood up, never ceasing my rubbing. 'Pinch my nipples!'



Mara stepped to me and took both my fully erect nipples between her fingers.



'Harder, Mara!'



Mara squeezed. My nipples sang with sweet pain in her grip.



'Yes! Keep squeezing them. Now yank my tits towards you!'



Mara pulled my tits by the nips.



'Harder! Pull my tits to the limit!' I screamed. Mara pulled without mercy. The pain was sublime. It felt as though she would tear my nipples off. My tits stretched incredulously. My fingers a blur in the swirling swamp that was my pussy. And then I was cumming. As I went through my cum throes, Mara stopped her yanking and began softly caressing my nipples and breasts. I collapsed on the couch and she followed me down and softly kissed all over my breasts.



Later, she painted a portrait of me kneeling before her, deeply fingering her. A wreath was in each of our hair.



So there it is, dear reader. A window into what I am into, sexually. May you all enjoy good cumming too.

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