Well Being and All That

"You think so...thank you kind sir," she tittered.

We descended to the lounge, the maid brought more coffee.

"You know your comment about Jackie posing?" I nodded questioning and she nodded."If she would that would be marvellous, up to her of course, open a few ladies eyes no doubt, but the ladies who come to the sessions wouldn't be fazed with they, you know naked?"

"There's bound to be some - how can I put it? Snooty nosed ones, but of course if she's game."

"I could never do that in public you know," Monica added frowning. I didn't answer, sipped my coffee, thinking if only. She's no oil painting of course, although the charming subject of one, but a large elderly model I once studied in a class was far better than the skinny girls who think they are models. I glanced across as she seemed to be transfixed with something outside and was puzzling with something, biting her lips.

"Jackie modelled nude you know, she said it was no big deal, all the students knew what to expect,"

That got my hostess's attention and she swivelled her face back to me, sipped, finishing her coffee, putting the cup down.

"This class is not going to be all nude life class is it, we didn't say that on the flyer?"

"No No Monica. No, It will cover lots of aspects, but if looks like a possibility, I can always ask her, she is an old friend after all."

She mused off again, something outside, but the view wasn't much out of the adjacent window.

"Derek......." long pause and her eyes pierced me. "What if I modelled for you?....you know nude?"

"Whaaaoort? In the classes, surely not, it's not necessary Monica...."

"No. If I did, privately.....I mean, I have been thinking about dear Marcel's work, you know," she gestured upstairs -- so had I. "It's been on a secret bucket list, that what they say?...of mine. He and I talked about it, but you know business, the estate, the city and of course the family. I just thought it would be a fun and thrill thing to do...you know out of the ordinary, sort of... well you know fun."

"Well that of course is entirely up to you to decide..."

She rose and stalked across the lounge towards me then past to make sure the door was closed. In the few seconds, it was the first time I'd been sat in her presence, sat at the level of her groin and there in full motion towards me was a distinct cameltoe in beige. Her big arse passed me, wafting her delicious scent back to her chair.

"If...and it's still a big if....I commissioned you to paint me in the nude, would you be interested? I have seen your work on your website and it's very good. It would have to be very private and discreet of course."

To say I was gob smacked puts it bluntly. We discussed it further in great detail over more coffee and it was agreed. I would be back up here at the big house on set days and times, for as long as I required, Monica organising the room where it would take place and of course the staff.

Chapter Four

Having framed Bob's strange but intriguing ethnic painting of palm trees, cocktails, two suns and Picasso type figures on a beach, I let myself into their smart converted bungalow. Using a new Commando device which utilises Velcro and sticky tape I placed them and stood back to make sure the art work looked good. The scene would leap out at Jackie when she woke up from the bed. While I was in their boudoir, I took a sneaky peep into a laundry basket, finding it empty, ditto one in the en-suite bathroom. It's a perverted habit of mine wherever I have a chance, smelling any female undies waiting to be washed. I found Jackie's underwear drawer and rifled through that but guessed she'd taken most of her good stuff away with her, finding the odd couple of plain pants, but there was a 38D white brassiere. My dirty mind raced.

Thinking ahead and nastily, I mean they are good pals, I drove home and returned with a tiny video camera I have had success with in other locations. Where to hide it was the main issue and in the end I opted for rather large potted plant close between her clothes drawer and wardrobe. I fixed it easily to the main stem, it's dinky black facia concealed in the deep shadows. I tested it before leaving and it needed a minor tweak to get the angle correct when I stood and walked near it. I left it on to be activated by motion and sound when Bob and Jackie arrived home tomorrow.

I can't say I wasn't nervous driving to the big house that week. Buoyed up by thoughts of Jackie's intimate reveals, having safely removed the mini camera and downloaded but not having time to view the results, painting a nude of Monica was still daunting. She greeted me warmly, we chatted over some coffees in the huge kitchen and then retired upstairs to a guest room. I had stated good natural light to be the main requisite and bags of space, as my easel was going to remain there until the work was complete.

"That room is out of bounds to the staff most of the time anyway Derek, but of course it will be securely locked whether we are in it or out of it," she gaily tittered, breathing some alcohol over me at ten thirty in the morning. She was clad in a satin, dark grey gown which was belted tight high up her torso and I detected nipples and wobble beneath it. Being more observant, she was going to be the centre of my concentration for some time, I realised she had vaguely mannish aspect. Mrs Passendale had decided to tart herself up for the momentous occasion, by stacking her handsome crown of hair in a pile high like a disorderly Madame Pompadour wig, fixed in place by a series of thick wooden pins. It did look impressively elegant.

She took two phone calls while I carried my stuff upstairs to the 'studio' as she gigglingly called it. I set it up and decided where she would pose until she joined me, pointedly locking the door. It had a Yale and mortice lock so we -- she, were twice safe. Her gown had slipped a little between greeting me, kitchen coffee and phone calls. A delightful full jiggle of bosom accompanied by a couple of leg flashes happened.

"You suggested a standing pose Monica when we first talked? Still game for that?"

"I've been thinking about that Derek and whether it might be tiring...for me you know. Any suggestions? You're the expert."

"This where you'll be whatever," I indicated, where a patch of muted sunlight splashed the floor, where the sun would rotate and enter through the double aspect windows and also where I aimed the very same video camera which was secreted on the frame of my easel. This was too good an opportunity to throw away and not add to my wanking material. I'd switched it on just before she locked the door, hoping to catch her moving around in various poses before finalising.

"Of course you could lie down, classic pose you know, but of course that might tire or make you ache...."

"Well let's get on and try things shall we?" Monica announced undoing her belt, the slippery garment was discarded round her feet.

Fuck me!!!! Bare faced naked, she stood in the sunlight, highlights on all her extremities, illuminated and pink. She attempted a classic pose, one leg perched across the other, which tended to exaggerate spare flesh on her inner thighs. Her pubes were a full on, old style, full bush of greying now thinning hair. I bet she'd never heard of, never mind thought of trimming or removing it, like some of the models her age I knew. I had in mind a sitting pose, but for the sake of recording as much wank material as I could I wanted her to get on the floor. Her knockers were full without too much gap between them. Low and heavy, past her button navel they swayed and clattered lusciously together. She had stout, five pence wide teats the same skin tone as her small smooth areolae.

Due to her own foresight, there was already a stack of duvets nearby and I made a comfy pile for her to recline on.

"Let's try a floor view first, down on this, that was useful Mrs Passendale," I murmured, offering my hand, gesturing at the cushioning, which she gracefully sank onto. I stayed well clear of the camera view.

"Yes, that's fine Derek, by the way call me Monica please - you like my anticipation of a laying pose then?" she chuckled languishing in what she imagined was a classic pose. I pondered, studying for a few seconds. Getting a good eyeful of her hirsute crotch and indeed the unexpected thatch in her armpits..

"Yes excellent....now could we have this leg...er...this way. Gosh! you don't mind, but it's usual, touching the models to get the pose correct?" I tittered, having bent close, to tap one of her chubby knees. In doing so, I got a close up twat view, seeing a slit with no labia. I stood back and weighed it up artistically and voyeurly.

"What about this Derek?" she queried, twisting her bulk, not easily, age and build playing their part, which although not giving me the view, the camera would, as this game old biddy, shuffled sideways, her big legs wide apart until she settled.

We tried standing poses which showed off her buxom torso to perfection; wobbles, quivers, bounces and the inevitable fleshy folds and wings she had accumulated over too much of a good life. A scar halfway down and across her abdomen. It wasn't neat, once again how things have improved over the years in many ways. Her wide butt was ever moving and showed cellulite and a couple of big sort of indents, two small spots and her crack was long and deep, no way of seeing in it, two layers of bum cheeks exposing it's sag. I handled her several times, without her flinching.

Finally a seating pose was agreed and she reclined comfortably, one arm gracefully along the back of the chaise longue. I got on with my work, did some ink sketches, changed the angle, thinking about moving the easel, the camera not needed any time in the immediate future now she was settled. I commenced the preparatory drawing on a one metre square linen canvas. We chatted.

"Suppose you don't get old ladies modelling do you?" she giggled.

"You'd be surprised Monica. There are two excellent models I use. One actually brought her grand daughter with her, school out, babysitting as it were. She even asked if I wanted the child to stand alongside her for the piece I was doing....."

"Good grief! Naked????"

"No it was a sort of ancient Greek thing so toga things were worn. It was a class I was holding, about eight artists."

"This is something very different to what I'd normally be doing," Monica chuckled. "I ride out a lot, got four horses in the stables. My grand daughters come up to join me when they have time. Then there's the estate business, our invest...my investments," she corrected herself and continued giving me chapter and verse on the highbrow life.

I gave her a rest after an hour, she'd refused one at thirty minutes. I managed to clutch the camera in the palm of my hand, before going to help her, rise, stretch and don the robe I handed to her. She sauntered off to a family bathroom next door for a noisy piss, I wondered if she knew I could hear.

Back in her position, the conversation rolled on.

"You've known Jackie and Bob a long time?"

"About fifteen I think. They weren't married then. He's a mate quite a good one we/re not buddy buddy but we play snooker, cards and help out...you know."

"He's quite a bit younger than her I think?" Monica fished for gossip.

"Well I know he's in his early sixties...that's all. Haven't a clue about Jackie."

"Hmmmm!"

We had two more sessions until she made contact with the kitchen and a snack of Tuna salad lunch was prepared and laid out in the lounge downstairs. Maybe she thought it didn't matter any more as I had seen every inch of her naked, so Monica was very casual the way she moved and sat, the robe not all that securely belted. Not posing, therefore not static it was a delight to observe and lech at bare legs, glimpse of her hairy crotch and a good half a tit.

Two more painting episodes were necessary until I was satisfied with the work. It need touch ups which I did alone, referring to several photographs she had allowed me to take, not making any stipulations about deleting them. One of the sessions, she arrived breathlessly late, fully dressed, perspiring -- she wouldn't sweat, excusing her delay because she'd called the vet and needed to be with him and the sick horse. That didn't concern me, but instead of retiring back to her quarters, she undressed behind a lovely black lacquered Chinese screen in a corner. There were glimpses of her through the slender gaps between the panels and the sound of her movement and the sound of her clothing was titillating and I wondered if I would get a chance to inspect her underwear when she went to a piss, but no, she took all that with her. She must have dropped the warm smelly garments in her bedroom.

"Bob asked me to drop this round Derek," Jackie said about four weeks later, handing me the Commando stuff I'd hung their picture with. I'd left it with them at his request for another job he could do. "I take it you have finished madam at the big house?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah and she's paid up too. It does look good even if I say it myself."

"Yes well that being said, no one is likely to view it are they?"

"No way, it's actually hung in a cupboard...which is locked by the way, so her staff can't see it," I chuckled. "Great from my point of view," I moaned and grimaced.

"So what's she like then?"

"You know her you silly cow," I scoffed, knowing what Jackie was getting at.

"You know you bastard, she a bit of old alright or gone to seed?....bit like I'm doing."

"She's of her age Jackie, that's all I will say, you know what I mean," I stated my eyes roaming over her tiny neat body in a tight pair of slacks, her silicone enhanced tits solidly up front in a form fitting floral blouse and her admittedly small waist looking very small indeed. She saw my eyes roam and giggled, adopting the glamour pose she often does. "And you are not going to seed, I can tell you."

Jackie preened and pursed her lips which didn't work as well as a twenty something as they do.

"Come off it Derek you old charmer," she gurgled throatily sidling towards me, her pelvis thrust forward, the glass of Merlot I'd handed her at a precarious angle in one hand. She stepped really close and slunk her spare hand up to my shoulder, plonking the wine down on the worktop. Our groins had to come together, a little mis-matched height wise. I grasped her waist, well it seemed the right thing to do.

"There...see? Can you feel my waist going to seed?" she whispered her mouth level with my chest, one hand snaking behind her and covering mine, snuggling it closer. She was right, firmish and no spare tyre.

"Ok Jac, I agree, lets just say......OOohh!"

I halted when her hand slid off mine and grabbed my genitals.

"Jac......!" Her fingers shushed my lips and she clutched me firmer. I was aroused. She moaned.

"You know this prostate thing that's bothering Bob?" I nodded, enjoyably unsure. "He hasn't shagged me for ages and it's not fair....I mean on him, poor darling, but on me too. I mean a growing girl needs a good seeing to...regularly....you know?" she gazed up at me. I was now solidly erect.

I grinned down at her imploring countenance and best mates or not, led her upstairs.

We were naked within seconds and she lay on the bed. We didn't even bother with foreplay, she was holding her bald cunt open so much, from the bottom of the bed, I could see all sorts of inner membranes and vaginal muscles pulsing, wet and pink. As I crept up to mount her, I could even see her uterus, glistening in the profuse moisture. I didn't know elderly women got wet any more, hearing on Womans Hour on the radio, and reading of dryness and such.

Old 70+ lady or not, she claimed she wasn't, I rammed in hard and fast. Making her grunt, but her eyes were wide and joyous, I shafted Jackie on a steady rhythm while her long fingernails raked my back. She wasn't tight, she had three children and maybe her dance obsession and employment when much younger had made use of the casting couch. She was a fucking good fuck.

Amazingly we came at the same time. She was either a fucking good actress to go with her dancing but her climax was all enveloping. She shrieked, howled, spat, eyes rolled, her nails must have drawn my shoulder blood, her athletic legs nearly round my neck as I slammed my cock deep and fast, the motion gradually dying, my dick being released from an incredible grip high in her old mott.

We lay wrapped together as I soaked in a sloppy slack minge until I slid off, our sweat making our bodies squeak in parting. Her false tits were jolting with each frantic breath, the cones sitting ridiculously high and solid on her tiny torso, nipples hard and erect. I thought of Monica Passendale's bloomers and how much better they looked and would look in this situation. Yes - probably nestling amongst the hirsute thatch she had let grow in her pits, but natural and malleable.

I excused myself to go and piss and didn't wipe my dick thinking might get a blow job too, she seemed the type who would savour the taste of sex, knowing Jackie had a complete false set of nashers.

Returning to the bed, she still lay reclining, her white hair on the pillow, her legs bent up. I climbed on the foot of the bed and viewed the extra vision of her arsehole, set in a darker skin tone, a cute tiny crevasse set in a circle of delicate wrinkles. I ventured a finger on it and she stiffened, flinging her legs down.

"No no Del. Not allowed, that's private," told me sternly.I slid from between her shapely pins and she clamped her thighs together.

"OK you're the boss Jac!" I told her. "More wine?" I stood and was aiming to go downstairs, but she stopped me at the door.

"No thanks, very sweet but look what it's started. I shouldn't have come....but I did Oh!" she sighed.

"That was very very good and it's sorted me out, but that's it OK? Not going to be a regular thing?"

I agreed and dressed, leaving her to use the bathroom. She joined me in the lounge where I was sat at the computer editing video footage of Monica's intimate reveals during the painting. She refused a coffee and left.

THE END