Summer Art Class

I motioned to the futon and Carl took a seat on the edge clutching his supplies closely to his chest. "How do you want me to pose? I thought the stools and the bar would make a nice setting - and the mirror. I also have a robe if you want a seductive look."

Carl fiddled with his pad and pencils, arranging them on his lap as he teetered on the edge of the futon. "The bar would be good. You can stand or sit whichever is more comfortable. I prefer you sit. That gives a relaxed feel."

I positioned the stools side by side at the bar, then took a seat on one and struck a pose. "How's this?"

"Fine. Fine. As long as you are comfortable." Carl fidgeted nervously.

"Don't you want me to take my clothes off?"

"If you are comfortable."

"If you don't want me to take off my clothes we can do this in the park!" I was faking displeasure but was taking glee in making Carl squirm.

Without waiting for a reply I stood facing him and kicked off my loafers, unbuttoned my skirt and let it drop to the floor and edged my slip over my hips and let that too fall. I retrieved them from the floor, folded them roughly and set them on the end of the bar. I next unbuttoned my blouse, slid my arm from it and placed it with the skirt. I stood before Carl who was perched on the edge of the futon like those gargoyles I sketched during lunch, "should I continue?" In a raspy almost hoarse voice he replied, "OK." I pulled my camisole over my head, tossed it aside and immediately hooked my thumbs in the elastic of my panties and in bowing motion pushed them to my ankles and stepped from them.

Carl's eyes swarmed over my body like spotlights. My budding tits and wispy pubic hair seemed to burn under his gaze. I raised my arms over my head and pivoted in my best imitation of a ballerina to enable Carl to do a 360-degree survey. Completing a circle, I then hopped on to the bar stool, leaned back draping my arm of over the bar and extending a leg to rest on the seat of the other stool. "OK?"

Carl nodded, lifted the pad from his lap and began to sketch feverishly. His air of confidence returned as he concentrated on his drawing and not on my casual nudity. He was doing several small drawing on each page. Occasionally turning to a new page and beginning over while other times tearing the page from the pad and placing it on the floor beside him. He filled page after page without a break or comment.

I held the original pose or as close to the original pose for several minutes. During that time my mind wandered through various sexual fantasies. I imagined masturbating before Carl as he sketched. With one hand I would tenderly caress my tiny nipple as the other slipped in and out of my sloppy cunt. With my legs spread wide before him, I would grind my fingers on my hot clit as my pussy juice flowed down my thighs. As I dreamed I felt my nipples firm and my clit tingle with anticipation but still I kept holding the pose.

My reverie was shattered when Carl dropped the pad to the floor and leaned back. "I need a smoke!" he said. His usual dramatic flair had returned and any embarrassment cause by my nakedness was not evident. "Not here" I stammered thinking of how the smell of cigarette smoke would lead to questioning by my father. "You need to go out on the side of the house" referring to the area sheltered from view by the woods and fence.

He sat back looking at ease and fully relaxed. "Perhaps I don't need one. I should quit. It is a terrible vice" and in an attempt to emulate Oscar Wilde he added, "one of my many!"

I sat next to him. My body was moist with sweat and I could detect a mild earthy aroma emanating from my crevasses. We stared at each other; he fully clothed and I totally nude. Without seeming obvious I sole a glance at his crotch to see if there was a discernable bulge under his khaki slacks. I could not detect any sign of arousal.

"Do I turn you on?" I asked, "It seems to me that a normal guy would have boner that wouldn't quit". My bluntness caused him to fumble for words. "Don't talk like that!" His voice now had a juvenile tone. "Don't say that", he retorted.

Again I felt on the high ground. I pierced his façade of sophistication. "Why not? I am naked you should get hard. Or should I say an erection? Is that the word you use?" My emphasis was on "you". "Or maybe you don't get an erection by looking at naked women, hmmm?"

He attempted to recover. Huffily he snapped, "That is not something I speak about in company."

I had the advantage. I was testing his and my limits by wanting to push him so far but not make him flee. I placed my hand on his mid-thigh and slowly eased it towards his knee. He tensed but did not resist as I moved my hand between his legs and gently felt his inner thigh. I stared into his eyes, intentionally avoiding visual contact with his crotch as I rhythmically strengthened and released my grip on his leg. From the tension of the fabric I knew his cock was reacting to my touch, but his demeanor was still tense and fearful.

"What do you think about" I asked.

"When", he answered in a dry puzzled voice.

"When you beat off." My voice was as casual as I could sound, hoping for another reaction.

"Don't talk like that!" He was on the defensive.

"Well, everybody does it. It is nothing to be ashamed about. Beating off doesn't hurt anyone. But what do you think of? Sexual encounters? Naked women? Guys? Couples?"

"How do you know everybody does it?"

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't or do you always have help" I said with a slight laugh after which I slid my hand up his thigh until it came to rest upon his bulging cock trapped beneath the layers of fabric. Carl closed his eyes as if in a trance. I continued to massage the bulge as he reclined against the back of the futon.

With one hand I continued the gentle coaxing and with the other worked the stubborn zipper down. His white briefs posed another hurdle to overcome in my assault on Fortress Cock. Sliding and pushing I edged my hand into his pants probing for the secret access to gain entry through the briefs. The thrill of the hunt was meeting with frustration.

Not to be deterred I, rolled off the futon onto my knees in front of Carl. Placing my elbows between his knees I eased them apart leaving me face to face with the encased monster. A pronounced wet spot indicted the position of the bald head. Not caring about damage to his clothing I tore at his briefs until the raging dragon sprang forth from the cotton folds. There I was staring with two eyes down at his one weeping eye. Carl surrendered. His body was under my control his pleasure was entirely in my hands.

I eased back looking up to Carl's face. "Is this OK?" I asked rhetorically. Carl did not answer directly but muttered a whiny approval. With that I started stroking him very slowly. "Is this how you do it?" I taunted. He flinched in reply. With meticulous precision I applied just the proper pressured and the perfect cadence to keep him suspended between the edge of frustration and the abyss of orgasm. All the while his body fought me but did not give in to either side.

With one hand I cradled his balls softly rolling them between my fingers knowing that I had the power to inflict a terrible pain. My other hand gripped the firm shaft and squeezed, once, twice and a third time. Drops of precum dripped for the small eye on the head of his cock. Releasing his balls I began to pump easily with one hand and worked the precum over the smooth head with circular motions of my free fingers.

Carl's body tensed and twitched. I halted the stroking and looked up at his contorted face. "Don't stop" he said his voice barely audible. "Don't stop. Make me explode."

"Do you want to come on me?" I pleaded.

"Uh huh."

"Where?"

After was what seemed like an inordinate long pause, he mumbled "face"? At that I used my full fist to stroke from the head to the base of his shaft. Each tug was a little faster than before. Carl bit his lip to stifle a sound. "Go ahead and moan", I ordered, "nobody will hear you." With that he let out a cry of excitement as his hips pumped in an exaggerated fist fuck with my hand. His moaned louder than I ever did and his body thrashed wildly under my grip.

Faster and smoother I stroked. This was a war between the cock and me. Each stroke of my fist brought the wet pink head of the pulsing cock close to my face. I tightened the pressure of my grip and increase the tempo of my stroke. Carl contorted his body in response and his hands drifted about as if afraid to touch himself or me. Low moans emanating from behind clenched teeth.

I sensed the change. The thighs tensed and pelvis tightened. The cock pulsed and I felt the surge building. I placed my face closer to the raging organ and pumped. My fist contained the pressure as I aimed straight at my face. Then it happened. The sticky come launched from its cannon and landed across my nose and below my eyes. I stoked again and another blob hit my cheek and hair. I redirected the aim lower and a final load landed across my nipples followed by dribbles of come. While his cock was still firm in my grasp I painted his come over my face and tits with the head of his cock. Slowly but emphatically I moved my head in long pronounced motions to fully distribute Carl's milky deposit over my cheeks, lips, jaw, forehead.

I loosened my grip on his cock, which was quickly going limp. My skin glistened and the aroma of come and sweat permeated the small room. Having accomplished my task, I knelt over the edge of the futon as the come dried to a thin crust and Carl made his way out the back door.

To Be Continued