A first time for everything

As you may have guessed from my previous outpourings, I am not shy about being nude. Looking back, I was never exactly prude, but the work I had during my college period did help. When I was in college I had a job as a model for the photography extracurricular course. It was nothing special, just a bit of posing, though I had the pleasure of wearing elaborate gowns for one shot. It was fun, I did my best, and it gave me some extra cash and when the drawing course needed a model the photography teacher had passed my name on to the teacher of the drawing class. As with the photography class, I was to be paid for each 'shot' – or picture in this case. There was one catch: there were several classes where a nude model was required. I would be paid double and it obviously I would not be required to do anything pornographic, just arty nudes.

Being a model for the drawing class was not very different than modelling for the photography class: pose, stand still, wait - though the wait for the drawing class was significantly longer. For one class I wore a beautiful and elaborate and pompous mint coloured renaissance gown that pushed up my breasts in addition to a tight waist, though the corset was hellish. Then the day came when I would pose nude for the first time. I remember being nervous to the point of having stage fright. I sat there in the dressing room, staring into the makeup mirror while all sorts of thoughts ran through my mind: I was pale (I wore no special make up), plain, everybody would see me naked, what if they thought I was ugly, what if they were perverts, and so on. I sat there, the simple plastic clock on the wall ticked the time away until I really had to get moving. I felt how my butt pressed into the stool, how my nipples stood out from anxiety even though the temperature was high enough to be cozy without clothes (this was something they always did for the nude model: increase the room temperature so we would feel more at ease). I breathed deep, slung a bathrobe around my shoulder and felt its warm and soft comfort. I walked to the door, nearing it I heard the chatter of the art class students on the other side. 'Double', I told myself 'They are paying me double, so walk in, sit down, it will son be over.' And I did that.

I walked in, some stopped talking some continued. The teacher welcomed me as he always did, and for some reason I noticed how his close cropped pepper-and-salt coloured beard was such a contrast to his bald head, and how his spectacles with their half-glasses made his face seem bigger. He told the students to be ready and took me to a black bench which was draped with a red velvety cloth – a colour which did little for my pale skin tone. I thought. He spoke calmly, comforted me, said I had nothing to be worried about. He also told me how to lay on the bench in a semi-chaste position. 'Well, at least my legs cover my pussy', I thought. I turned my back to them, dropped my bathrobe and immediately felt the stares of the students on my body. I felt insecure and eased myself down on the red cloth. I heard the rustle of paper and the wooden clicking sound of the pencils. When I heard the scratching of the graphite on the paper I relaxed and soon I felt at ease.

For the next nude session I was more at ease. Even though I was standing in a coquettish pose, with one arm raised as if pointing to a butterfly, the other on my hip as I leaned in an angle. The last nude session of the program was to be a duo, so I was told. When I entered the dressing room, my partner was already there: a dark haired man, well over 6 feet tall and I estimated him to be twice my age (which would make him 40). Normally, sex is not unexpected: the situation builds and the moment evolves into the act. But when it comes to pure, unexpected, rough but consensual sex – and consensual is the only way. He looked great: he was slightly tanned, a firm jaw, and elegantly dressed in a such a way to accentuate his well muscled torso. Normally I did not fancy his type, but his friendly demeanor and openness did the trick. We were scheduled for two days as the students had to create an as realistic looking painting as they could within the time frame of two days. He undressed without much ado, taking of his shirt and trousers, then stripping his underwear. He seemed at ease being nude, while I had not even begun to undress. I had a clear view on his cleanly shaven package, and I must say that he was well endowed. I retreated behind a simple white folding screen and undressed there.

The first day passed swiftly, he lay on a roman style sofa, one leg arched, head raised and one arm raised towards to grapes the I was holding over him. I had to smile, and stand over him – slightly arched – as if I was to tease him with grapes. The scene was completed with some drapes and ornamental vases. All in all it seemed a challenging assignment. When I entered the dressing room he was already there and undressing. He looked up, smiled and welcomed me. I smiled back and started undressing. I felt more at ease, and I wanted to show I show more at ease. I also wanted to push my own boundaries: he seemed confidant of himself and at ease with being naked. I wanted to show I could do that too, though at the time I could not quite explain why. I took of my shoes and tights. I saw him watch from aside as I took of my shirt, and dropped my skirt. I unclasped my bra, exposing my breasts. I looked at him, met his gaze. He was down to his shorts as I saw a significant bulge. I bend at took off my panties, and sat down on the chair. I smiled, faced the mirror as to do my hair, when I looked at him. He took off his shorts, revealing his semi erection. I turned his way, placing my feet apart, allowing him to see past my pubic hair to my pussy.

He strode towards me, his semi stiff dick dangled from left to right. As I sat there he towered over me, I could smell his breath and his body. He bend forward, our heads towards each other and we kissed. My mouth opened, his too and our tongues met. When our kiss broke he had grown fully erect to a size – which I was surprised to see – was bigger than other stiffies I had seen, but not by as much as I had suspected. He walked over to his trousers, I looked into the mirror, saw his fierce erection, my quick breathing. I stood. He put on a condom and returned. We embraced and kissed again. I felt his cock prick my belly. His hands were on my butt as he lifted me. My legs were spread, he was between them as he carried me and placed me on the make up table. He directed his penis in my wet cleft. I raised my legs, and clasped him pressing my breasts to his chest. He thrusted and moved. Ramming his dick inside me, I moaned, grasped his muscled arms and then moaned harder. It felt so good. I rocked my pelvis against his. Pressing back as hard as he pressed into mine. He picked up the pace, and I felt his balls pressing into my vagina. He was deep inside me. I felt it building, my heart rate shot up, my moaned intensified. I pressed my fingers into his back and I came, quite suddenly with a loud 'ohhhhh'. He was still in his zone, pushing and pushing. He breathed intensely and started to mumble incoherently and suddenly jerked as I felt his penis shoot deep as it unloaded into the condom.

We stood for a while. He still inside me and I clutched him. We relaxed as he gently pulled his penis out of me. His penis rapidly became flaccid, while I sat here feeling wet – you know what I mean - and dirty. Dirty in a good sense, as in 'I need a shower'. Our whole sexcapade hadn't taken more than five minutes. He got rid of the condom, I quickly did my hair. As we donned a bath robe I saw my nail marks on his back. I thought of my boyfriend and felt a bit guilty, but not as much as I should. “Listen,”, I said. “Just to make certain, you were great and seem very nice. But this was a one time thing.” He nodded and smiled, “Yes.” He lifted his hand and showed his wedding band. As we walked out, we giggled and eyed each other. When I took my position, for some reason I felt more exposed than before. As if the teacher of the students could see we had sex, as if they could see my moistness. But none of the students reacted in any way out of the ordinary. They could see nothing. But we did get compliments from the teacher, for bringing some chemistry to our posing. If only he knew. Afterwards, we parted friendly. I have not seen him since. But I did break up with my boyfriend and not long afterwards I encountered my most recent ex, but that is another tale.