Many of the ‘artists’ I posed for are learning, very few are professional. Some seem tojust want to reacquaint themselves with the male form (have a naked guy over ofcoffee). That is okay with me because it is all about being respectful to thedesires and needs of others and open minded.
This is a story about a pose session for a new client that crossed the norms of many ofmy pose sessions. She was a 75 year old woman that asked me for a private pose session ather house. I went through the requisite questions for in-house posing: any kidspresent? Any jealous spouses? Nude or implied nude? Medium of art? Myboundaries? My safety? Length of time? Etcetera. I write this with the utmostrespect for her to the best of my abilities.
When I showed up, I was met by a woman who introduced herself as “Red” because shesaid she was always a redhead despite now being mostly gray and sun streaked. She was of that particular breedwhich has always made me feel inadequate: petite, so slender as to be almost,but not quite, gaunt. The bones that happen only after a few centuries ofcareful breeding. She was casual, with a dry face, throat, backs of hands, textured bythe sun and the wind and the games that are played as one ages. There was anunchallengeable coolness that was natural, and terribly polite. She movedsimply and unassumingly in a little cotton dress, because long ago at MissSomebody's Country Day School they were so thoroughly taught that their grace wasautomatic. There were no girl tricks with eyes or mouth. They were merely therelooking out at you, totally composed, in almost exactly the way they would lookout of a newspaper picture of social event.
She had a sketch pad and a pose area composed of a stool, chair, and what I call afainting couch or day bed. I disrobed and she hung my clothes on hangers. Shewanted me in my briefs initially. While she was sketching there was a constantback and forth conversation. She asked how long I had been posing, where and forwhom I had posed, and how I got started in posing. Fairly normal questions.
Then, about 30 minutes had elapsed since my arrival, she asked me if I would
be okay to pose naked on the day bed with my head ona pillow; I agreed. She moved her roller chair close with her sketch pad on herknees. She was very complimentary and said that she liked everything about myform. This is when she said it had been years since she had had sex and she detected
in me a “talent for discretion”.
She lamented that she would probably never have an opportunity to have sex again. Shedid not play those half innocent, half contrived games of flirtation thatinvite misinterpretation. That feeling of physical awareness of each other, ofmaleness and femaleness. She merely seemed to focus her physical self at me,enhanced my awareness through her increased awareness of me. I had the feelingthat it was a very conscious decision, something she had made up her mind todo. My assessment of her was: tasteful, mature, elegant, and a sensitive woman, and she was not obvious aboutit. There was no cloying kittenishness about her, as it was a style that wouldnot have suited her or me. She was proud of herself and as bold and jaunty,direct, and demanding as a bawdy young boy chuckling her pleasures full ofsweet wellness in the afternoon bed.
She bluntly asked me if I would be willing to allow her to be intimate and allow her totouch me. I asked her what she would enjoy, and she said that she would like toclose her eyes and become familiar with my body. I said that she was the customer,and we would consider her desires as her art medium similar to some bodypainting projects I had experienced. I told her to indulge herself and dowhatever she wanted. She was limber in the half light, slenderly, elegantly sensual.
She moved to the foot of the couch and ran her hands up my legs touching the penisand balls lightly, pulling my foreskin back and telling me she was happy I wasnot well hung because her petite self was not accommodating to largerindividuals. She them brought the chair next to me and massaged my chest andback to my penis. She asked me what I liked. I told her my nipples were verysensitive and she was welcome to stroke my penis, but I found dry strokes to beNOT arousing (she said she could relate to this). She went and got a bottle ofsexual lube and proceeded to masturbate me and rub my nipples. She moved tositting straddling one of my legs applying pressure on her clothed clit andstroked me. She said she so liked what she saw and enjoyed watching thepleasure in my face and my tonal moans.
She said that she was getting wet and aroused which I could feel on my straddledleg. She stood up, disrobed, and straddled my prone body. Initially she justhad my penis sliding on her outer moist lips and applied more lube. Them shesaid she wanted to feel me inside her and reached down and guided me inside.She said she loved it, and our bodies were well matched. She apologized forwanting to be on top but said it felt best for her and she was so small that itwas a bit claustrophobic on the bottom. I said that her pleasure was mypleasure and happy that she could enjoy herself any way she wanted. The motionwas a slow savoring motion like rocking in a chair. She had an orgasm within 10minutes as she ground her mons into my pubic mound. Then she said that shewanted me to cum and stroked me to climax. She said it was perfect and wouldlike to explore her ‘artistry’ on other occasions if I was amiable. Latermeetings were all unique and she was happy that I just allowed her to relax andenjoy, ‘things just the way she liked to’. She said she liked that I seemed determined to never takemore pleasure than she was able to give.
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