Father, Will you Sculpt Me?

"Sure, go ahead," she said in an understanding tone.

Soon she was naked and he only had on a wife beater undershirt and a pair of boxer shorts. They looked at one another. Their eyes traveled the full length of the body in front of them. He saw her tan-lines and then focused on her bare breasts. Her pale white, plump, breasts jutted out a good three inches from her chest. Even though she had told herself she wouldn't be self-conscious, she was.

She cupped and lifted a breast and said, "This is me now. My once high, perky breasts sag a bit. They show the effect of breastfeeding two children. I'm surprised sometimes when I see these motherly nipples with the large, dark aureoles and long, fat nipples."

Frank smiled and said, "They are beautiful. I'm sure your husband loves them. Dime sized nipples are for girls. You are a woman."

She smiled back grateful for what he'd said. It made her feel better. He continued, "Can I give you the unbiased opinion of a semi-professional sculptor?"

She nodded.

"I see before me a fit, petite woman with a lovely hourglass figure. You have the breasts of a real woman and child bearing hips. There is a thick triangle of brown hair at the apex of your thighs. The shade matches the short, pixie-cut style of hair on your head. You have toned, slender legs and cute little feet that even a non-foot fetish man, like me, finds very attractive."

"Really? Thank you."

Charlotte saw a lean, wiry, sixty year old man. Anyone would instantly knew he'd spent a lifetime doing manual labor. He had a farmer's tan. His skin was white except for his face, neck and arms, mid-bicep and below. His hair had once been thick and dark brown in color. Now he had more gray hair than brown and it had thinned out a bit.

They both had soulful brown eyes that looked kindly on the other. Frank gestured towards the model stand and trying to sound unfazed by her lack of attire. He said, "So for this statue, you were thinking about being on your hands and knees."

"Yes."

She climbed up on the table and assumed that position. He had a side view of her body. Her breasts hung down, so smooth and full looking that Frank unconsciously licked his lips. He asked, "And I should design it expecting the audience to mainly view the statue from the rear?"

"Yes," she said softly knowing that meant he needed to take in that view. She looked over her shoulder as he walked behind her and studied her ass and bare cunt. She shaved the hair around her sex so it was completely exposed. The only pubic hair hair she had was a dense patch on her lower abdomen above her clit.

"Speaking as a man, Charlotte you are a beautiful woman. Slender. Fit. Toned muscles. Appealing breasts and ass."

They both laughed at his neutral critique. It helped to relive the tension in the room.

"So help me understand the energy of the pose."

She looked at him with blank eyes. She didn't understand the question. He explained. "I see your body, but what are you thinking? What do you want to convey? You're naked. Are you comfortable, scared, embarrassed or feeling sexy?"

"It's for Cody. I'm very comfortable being naked for him."

"Okay," Frank rubbed his chin and asked, "Do your eyes have a 'come to me, lover' look?"

She thought about the swinging party and said, "No. I want an 'after sex' sculpture. I'm feeling powerful, desired, sexy, confident and satisfied. We've had sex, great sex. I'm looking over my shoulder. I'm still feeling the waves of my orgasm. I'm proud that I brought so much pleasure to these men. Em . . . I mean to this man, my husband," she added nervously.

"I see."

He felt his flaccid dick twitch. He'd hoped that he could remain calm, but in front of him was a hot, naked woman. And now it was a hot, naked woman describing herself as sexually active and sexually confident. That was too much. He felt his dick lifting and growing heavy.

"So you understand?" she asked.

"Yes. I can work with that."

She noticed the movement in his underwear. She could see that his penis was growing. She watched it fill out and thrust up and away from his body. He was half way to an erection. Both choose to overlook that fact.

He studied her body some more and tried to ignore the fact that his body was betraying him. He said, "Your thoughts and feeling are what I need to capture and put in the piece. It is the energy that will bring your statue to life. Now we'll work on your pose. So you've had sex, was it vaginal or anal?" Frank asked using clinical terms. He was trying to be non-judgmental and professional.

Charlotte was suddenly embarrassed. She asked in a quiet voice, "Does it matter?"

"Well, actually it does. The next phase is to select a pose. The kind of sex you had will influence how we position you."

When she hesitated, Frank sat beside her and draped and arm across her back. He looked her in the eye and said,

"I'm not asking to embarrass you or make you feel bad. I know you have trouble with birth control pills just like your mother did and, like me, you're allergic to latex, so condoms are not an option. These issues led your mother and I to have a lot of anal sex. I guessing to reduce your chances of pregnancy, you have more anal than vaginal sex. It's not something to be embarrassed about. It's a smart thing to do given your situation."

He gave her a kind and encouraging look and asked, "So this super satisfying coitus, was it anal?

She nodded. When she lowered her eyes to nod, she found herself looking at her dad's mid-section. He had a full blown erection and it was tenting his cotton boxers. She couldn't stop her mind from thinking, "Wow. Dad's got a pretty good sized cock".

He hopped off the table. His wang bounced about, barely restrained by the underwear's thin material. He picked up a digital camera and asked, "Do you mind if I take some pictures? I'll snap you in various poses and then you can select one."

"Okay."

"I'm going to circle you and take pictures from all sides and different angles. Let's start with your back parallel to the ground. Good. Drop you head. Lower. That's good."

He moved his daughter about, sometimes with commands and sometimes by placing his hand on her. In all the pictures, she was looking over her shoulder at her lover.

All of Charlotte's girly bits were totally and completely exposed. It was hard for her at first. She was embarrassed. As they continued to work together, she was beginning to feel okay about posing nude until her father walked behind her and asked her to spread her legs wider. As she did it, she laughed nervously and said, "I know asked for this. I guess I'll just have to grin and bare it".

That line brought a hearty laugh from her father, and they took a break. She stretched and walked about. He got them both a cold beer. They lounged and drank. When they were finished, Frank said, "Let's try one more series of photos. I want you to put your head on the blanket and push your butt up high in the air."

She climbed back on the stand and executed his orders.

"Yes, like that. I love the curve in your back. Your ass looks fabulous." He stepped to the side, studied her body and said, "Oh. We don't want your breasts obscured. We can't have them squished into the floor. They are very sexy looking when they hang down. I need you to lift up a bit. Put your forearms on the floor and rest your head on you arms. That's better. Now from the side we get a full, unencumbered view of your cute boobs and we can see your wonderful, fat nipples."

As he said that, he reached out and pinched her nipples. She was a shocked by his touch. He was nonchalant and explained, "We need them nice and hard."

He took many photos of her in this positions from every angle and used the zoom feature on some of them.

"There. I think that'll give us plenty to consider."

Frank put the camera down and grabbed a silky robe. He offered it to his daughter. She appreciated the coverage even though the clingy polyester material hid nothing. The slope of her breasts, the pointiness of her nipples, the gentle swell of her hips and ass were all discernible.

Similarly, the soft cotton shorts Frank was wearing did nothing to hide his erection, especially now that it was weeping pre-cum and had stained his boxers. Both chose to ignore the lewd displays.

Frank plugged the camera into his computer and the two of the reviewed the photos. They sat in silence as the machine scrolled through every photo. At the end, Charlotte said, "I've never liked having my picture taken. Mom used to say I was too critical of myself. That the flaws I focused on, others barely noticed. You're feeding into my insecurities with all these photos, especially the ones where you zoomed in."

"Sorry, dear," her father explained. "To make the statue, I need to see things clearly. I have to understand the muscle definition in your arm . . . "

Charlotte giggled and interrupted him, "I guess it's too late for me to be embarrassed or self-conscious. It appears from the number of magnified, close-up photos of parts of me, the shape of my nipples and the folds in my hoo-ha are absolutely critical features."

It was Frank's turn to be embarrassed. He blushed red. He started to speak, but had no reasonably, believable explanation for what he'd done, so he remained silent. Charlotte patted his arm and said, "It's okay, Dad. You're only human."

She shot a look at his hard penis tenting his shorts. She lingered so he knew exactly where she was looking. Then she said, "I know you need lots of photos and from every angle to make an accurate, life-like statue. You were honest with me from the start. You said it would difficult and uncomfortable at times."

She let her hand drop to his groin. She squeezed and then gently stroked his erection through his underwear. It was too deliberate of an act for him to mistake her actions as accidental contact. As she touched him she thought "I wonder how long it's been since Dad was with a woman? Mom died six years ago. I can't imagine going six years without sex. Wait. He said he touched Connie's naked body when he made her statue. But still that was 6 months ago."

She felt his dick pulsate as she stroked him and said, "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He nodded like a nervous school boy. "Did Connie help you out last summer?"

Frank was sweating. Her hand felt so good on his dick, he couldn't bare to have her stop. He would have told her anything she wanted to know. He took in a sharp breath and said, "Yes. Connie."

"Just as I thought" Charlotte said in her mind. To her dad, she said, "I"m going to give you some relief. Lose the shorts."

While he ripped off his underwear, she spat on her hand twice. He presented his aching boner to her, she grasped his erection and vigorously beat his meat.

He groaned and looked at her with a combination of surprise and thankfulness. She used her other hand

to loosen the tie on her robe. Then she pulled it off one shoulder exposing her boobs. She said, "They're not the biggest, but as long as I've had them, boys have enjoyed looking at them.

She spat on her hand again and resumed stroking him. He started moaning.

"Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhh."

He was breathing rapidly and leaned into her for support. His face rested against one of her boobs. She smiled at him, nodded her head and said encouragingly, "Go ahead. Come."

He did. He moaned loudly and fired off. Ropes of cum landed on her leg and the floor. She giggled and continued to jack him off. When he was finished, she let go and said, "I never get tired of seeing a man ejaculate. It always strikes me as funny to see stuff fly out of the end of a penis."

He grunted in reply, weak and unable to speak due to his orgasm. Frank felt a close connection to the woman who had pity on him. He turned his head and latched onto to her large, dark nipple. He gently nursed while the waves of pleasure reverberated throughout his body.

Charlotte had been with enough men to know what he was going through. This wasn't an escalation or an overtly sexual act. He needed to hold on to something. It wasn't any different than when she'd squeezed her man or had a death grip on the sheets as she was climaxing.

She put a kind hand on his cheek and looked at him warmly. He felt her love. He also sensed that she forgave him for the unnecessary and inappropriate photographs he had taken of her. She said, "Dad, we will just work through the difficult parts."

When he had recovered from his orgasm, he said, "Thanks for being so understanding."

Charlotte moved the discussion back to the task at hand. She pointed to the computer screen as if nothing had happened and said, "I guessing you liked the last pose. That's my favorite, too. It's got the fun, flirty feel I wanted. I suspect there is no picture of my butt that I'll like, that all women think their bum looks huge, but this is a good pose."

"You're right. I like this one. You look great. The next step would be for me to make a small scale, clay model. That'll give us something to review. After that, I'll make a full scale clay model. That will be the one that gets cast in bronze."

"Sounds good."

He reached for her robe and untied the belt and said playfully, "I need my nude model back. Climb back up on the carousel please." She did as requested. He guided her into the pose they had selected. "I need you to hold that position."

"Aye. Aye, Captain."

Frank went to his model stand and began. He took some wire and created a skeleton for the piece. Then he applied chunks of clay making a rough, humanoid figure. Satisfied with his basic structure, he said,

"This is one of those times I need to get handsy. Your body needs to tell my hands how to take this amorphous lump of clay and form it into a representation of you. Are you ready for me to touch you?"

Charlotte swallowed hard and nodded. He placed his hands on her head. He slowly moved them to her shoulders and down her arms. He replaced his hands on her head and this time traveled across her back, over her butt and down her legs.

Charlotte found his touch reassuring. His large, scarred and calloused hands brought a good energy. They were comforting.

For the next stroke, his hands encircling a thigh and journeyed down her leg. His hands brushed up against her sex at the beginning of the stroke. He repeated the rubbing a second time and did two strokes on her other leg.

The final sweep of his hands cover her underside. He started at her chest and ended at her belly. When he came in contact with her breasts he paused and cupped them before ending this sweep with his fingers in her pubic hair.

Without saying a word, he went to his stand and began re-working the model. He used his fingers and his tools to give definition to the blob. It slowly began to take form. He would look at her body and shape the clay. He would walk around, look at or touch specific parts of her body and use the information he gained to improve the model.

Charlotte watched him work. His hands seemed to move on their own accord. More than once she glanced at his crotch. His penis was limp. She put it down to the high level of concentration required to shape the clay.

He walked up to her and touched her face again. He gently ran his fingers over her forehead, down her nose, across her cheeks, he pulled and pushed her lips and finally used a finger to trace the shape of her chin.

He retreated to the model and worked intently on the face portion of the statue. He made a couple of trips back to her and again touched a portion of her face. Eventually, he was satisfied.

On his next trip over to her, he reached under her chest and caressed her rib cage. Then he fondled her breasts and pulled on her fat nipples.

"Sorry," he said as he walked back to his model.

He made some changes to the clay form. He glanced at her boobs and made more changes. Then he returned to her side. He copped another feel and tweaked another nipple. Charlotte had to admit when he returned to the statue the changes he made, made it more lifelike.

Finally came the part she was dreading. Frank came up behind her and rested his hands on her butt. His thumbs stroked and separated her cheeks and caressed her little butt-hole. Next his fingers found her vagina. He caressed her sex. As she feared, his touch drew out her nectar. She smelled her arousal. She was thankful he said nothing, although his cock did harden.

And so it went. Frank studied her, touched her and modified the model. His hands brushed across nearly every part of her nether region. His fingers found her anus, pubic hair and her vagina. He touches were soft, but purposeful. His demeanor at all times was businesslike, and his efforts changed a formless lump of clay into a shape that did mirror her body and expression.

Hours later, he announced, "That should do it for today. What do you think? Does it have promise?"

"Yes, definitely!" Charlotte gushed.

"I'll work on it some more tomorrow. I go to town on Wednesdays to get supplies. I'll bring it with me. Can I stop by around 10? We'll critique it. Discuss changes. That work for you?"

"Yes. That gives me time to drop the kids off at school. See you then."

January 5, 2000:

Charlotte drank her strong coffee and Frank drank his hot tea. Together they studied the clay form on her kitchen table.

"What do you think?" Frank asked his daughter.

"I like it. It's me."

"I like it, too. Although it's not quite there. I'll need to tweak the full scale model here and there to bring it to life. I may need all day to sculpt that. When can you come up?"

"Tomorrow works best for me."

"How about 9:00?"

January 6, 2000:

Charlotte showed up at a quarter to nine. She smelled of bath soap. She had gotten up early to soak, bathe and shave herself so she was ready to be naked for her dad.

"Hi, Dad," she called out as she stepped out of the car.

He gave her a kiss and a hug and they headed inside. They went straight to the studio. He said, "We have a lot of work to do, so let's get started."

They both proceeded to undress. He raised an eyebrow when she pulled up her sweater and seemed to deliberately let her boobs drop into view. She giggled. He asked, "Did you really just do a boob drop for your old man?"

"What?" she said, playing the wide-eyed innocent.

She grabbed her nipples and used them as handles to lift her breasts up. They stretched obscenely as she raised her tits. She released her nips, and her boobs dropped and bounced about.

"You mean, that?" she said with a laugh. "I'm sorry to tease you, Dad. I'd never heard the term 'boob drop' until last night. Cody had me do it a dozen times for him. I'm like a kid who has just learned a new trick and I want to do it all the time. I had to do one for you.

"Funny, it all started innocently," she said. "I read that models shouldn't wear tight fitting clothes, like bras and underwear, before a job because they leave marks and indentations on the skin. So I went braless and commando all day yesterday. When I undressed for bed, I accidentally did a boob drop. Cody whooped and hollered. I didn't know what he was talking about. He had to explained the concept to me."

She shook her boobies, proud of her newly rediscovered objects of wonder. Frank couldn't help but smile and stare at the twin masses of soft, jiggling flesh. Her spirit was infectious and he laughed too.

He said, "Thank you for taking this so seriously and being concerned about the marks your underwear make. I forgot to mention that. It is difficult to make something beautiful and memorable. Your dedication to this process is much appreciated."

"You're welcome," she said, adding, "My husband enjoyed my level of dedication too. My boobs were bouncing around all day and night. He was disappointed when I wouldn't let him screw me. I wanted to tell him that I was saving my ass for you, but instead I dragged him into the bedroom, where I gave him an oral tutorial on fellatio. He was very pleased with my enthusiasm and command of the subject. "