I first met Lara one night at a local club. We were there to see a blues band we both liked -- I was alone and she was with a group of about six friends -- and I just happened to land at the end of her table. Feeling a bit awkward among strangers while waiting for the show to start. I very much appreciated it when she asked my name, introduced me to each of her friends, and began animatedly chatting and including me in the group's discussion.
She was a first-class shmoozer --- bright, witty and outgoing -- and quite nice looking, with long blonde curls and green eyes. She said she was in her early 50s but I hardly believed it. Her face had a few lines, but they actually enhanced her beauty, and her figure was attractive with big, wide hips, nice-sized breasts and a firm ass. I thought she looked really sexy in her bluejeans and flannel shirt, which was unbuttoned with a yellow tank top beneath it. I also got a kick out of how she kept referring to me as a kid although I was really only about five years younger.
"What do you do?" I asked.
"I teach art," she said, and it turned out that we lived in the same town. She was divorced and living alone on a nice spread of about five wooded acres while teaching at the local community college. Me, I'm married, but in name only. My wife is always on the road for business or doing things with her friends. We drifted apart years ago and re almost strangers now, so I do a lot on my own.
The night and the show were very enjoyable and Lara and I parted. I didn't expect to see her again but I began running into her in the village -- at the grocery store, and the town street fairs that are held a couple of times each year. "You're the guy from the concert!" she said with a big warm smile the first time we bumped into each other. She was so easy to talk to that we got to know each other a little better each time, and began spending 15 or 20 minutes talking whenever the chance presented itself. We had a lot in common as far as interests went, and the next thing I knew, she had my phone number and had had invited me to a Fourth of July picnic with her friends at a local park.
One day, I ran into Lara in the parking lot at the mall. She had her arms full of art supplies while trying to navigate some bulky pieces of plywood. I helped her load her car and she asked me if I'd help her get everything into her studio. "I've got all this stuff and it will only take a few minutes." I was on my way home anyway, so I followed her to her house, which lay at the end of a narrow dirt driveway that wound through some old oak trees.
Her studio was beautiful, all big picture windows that looked out the mountains. Easels were everywhere -- sketches, paintings -- some landscapes but many of them were nudes--male and female. "I teach a life drawing class," she explained handing me an iced tea.
"Are those by you? They're very good..."
"Those ones, yes. I like to do them on my own. The trick is finding people to pose."
"Really?" I asked.
"Sure," she laughed. "Not many people feel comfortable being stared at for an hour while they're naked. Luckily, a couple of women like to pose for me regularly. That's them."
She pointed to a painting of two naked women, both middle-aged but naturally sexy. One, with long brown hair that reached her waist was kneeling, her legs spread wide as she leaned back with her hands on the floor by her feet, a look of bliss on her face. The other woman, a short-haired blonde with a gorgeous ass, was lying on her stomach between the other's knees, kissing the woman's bald pussy.
"That's very beautiful," I said. "And erotic..."
"Thanks," Lara smiled. "I like erotic art. A couple, college kids, asked me to paint them having sex, so I started from there and just kept going."
"Who are those two?" I asked, pointing at the painting of the women.
"My friends Angie and Liz. They're straight, believe it or not. They'd never done anything like that before, but they had become so comfortable being nude around each other and they really got into it. The pose was their idea, too. But I think you can feel the heat in that one."
"Definitely," I said, as my cock stirred.
After I finished my tea, I handed Lara the glass and as she took it to the sink, she asked over her shoulder, "Would you like to?"
"Like to what?" I asked.
"Pose for me."
I was stunned. "I...uh...well...as you can see I'm not exactly built like Schwarzennegger."
"Oh, that doesn't matter," she laughed, walking over and touching my arm. "The body is beautiful in many shapes and forms. It's okay if you're not comfortable. Just thought I'd ask...."
"No..well, I...I've never done anything like that...."
"Always a first time. Thursday evening? Say, about 8? You free? Would you like to?"
"Well... sure...okay..."
But for the next several days I began to chicken out. Lara was part of a huge circle of friends. Surely someone would be there or come by. And we lived in a small town. Word gets around easy. And, finally, did I really want a painting or drawing of me naked floating around? I'm in decent shape for a middle aged-year guy, but you won't find me in the centerfold of Playgirl.
As the day approached, though, I started feeling horny whenever I thought about that painting of the naked women and about posing for Lara. The night arrived at last and I swallowed my fear with a couple of beers and drove to her studio. When I got there, she was agan wearing her jeans and open flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, a red t-shirt and white sneakers. Her wrists were adorned with several thin silver braclets and she smelled really nice.
She led me into the studio, which was all set up, with track lights shining down on a small stage she'd built. There was a stool, about three feet high and covered with soft, sky blue cloth for me to sit on. The whole thing was in front of the picture windows, so she would have the mountains and flaming sunset behind me, at least for the first hour.
"Nervous?" she asked. "Would you like a drink?"
I accepted a cold beer, and began to feel at ease again once most of it was in me. "You can undress behind that screen if you want," she said, placing a fresh canvas on her easel.
I kicked off my sneakers and pulled off my socks, but did the rest in private. "Is anyone else coming by tonight?" I asked as I peeled my grey briefs down and stood there naked. I was acutely aware of how soft my belly felt, how hairy my chest is and how small my cock was. I was shriveled with nerves and afraid to walk out. But I found the courage when she said, "Not that I can think of. Everyone knows this is my painting night, so it's do not disturb."
She smiled warmly when she saw me and guided me into position, sitting me on the stool. My legs were parted and she had me rest my right arm on my right thigh and look to my right, out the window, like a Greek statue.
"Comfortable?" she asked, as she grabbed a thin stick of charcoal.
"Uh huh," I said, feeling a muggy breeze wash over me from the open window..As she sketched, I gazed at her and was moved by her weathered beauty. Age was kind to her.
I soon became very aware of her looking at my cock and I began to feel aroused. Her easel was set at such an angle that I could see she was sketching my penis. I immediately began to get hard. I tried thinking mundane thoughts, but it was no good. The breeze, the soft glow of the lights, the sensation of being naked in front of this beautiful woman, it was all too much. My cock swelled noticeably and began to stiffen and rise..
"Well," she said, with a smile. "I guess I'll have to make some changes."
