πŸ“š she says Part 1 of 1
Part 1
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EROTIC COUPLINGS

She Says Pt 01

She Says Pt 01

by thevenetian
14 min read
3.77 (2200 views)
adultfiction
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Sarah found the class deathly boring from the start, pedestrian, gentrified, bougie in the extreme. The best of Chelsea's stay at home mothers came every Thursday to Hurst's studio for a life drawing class. Every week they would take it in turns to be the model, Shock, horror, nudity. They would all titter like schoolgirls as their spray on tans and Turkish made tits were on display. Sarah had wanted to quit, find another class, but she knew if she quit she'd soon sour on the idea of joining up again. Not joining up to a life drawing class would make it difficult to find any life drawing models again. Weeks passed into months of the same old leathery faces, the same inane tittering of the ignorant, bored and affluent. That Thursday she had assured herself it was the last time, she'd simply have to find the practice somewhere else, anywhere else. There had to be another class somewhere in London. Sarah swung open the heavy door to the studio, expecting the normal chirping of the ladies, ambling about before Hurst called them to the centre of the floor and told them which of them was to pose that week. There was, however, no chirping, Sarah scanned a face or two, did she spy unease? There were low whispers, quick whispers, even angry whispers.

"Ladies, to your places please," Came Hurst's familiar Teutonic accent, "We're about to begin."

Sarah began to turn and the reason for the unease became apparent immediately. A man stood, already in position, setting up his easel facing the point on which the model was to pose.

The Essex football mothers shifted forwards slowly, whispering amongst themselves the whole time. Their unease was delicious, their lack of understand was infuriating, pathetic.

The leader of the gaggle whispered to the Tutor, the old man shook his head, unkempt hair wagged, incredulous. He tried to explain, she whispered again, a look of worry mixed with credulity lined his face. She was trying to get out of it. Sarah had to suppress a laugh. There was a man there and she was suddenly too shy.

It came to her all at once, Sarah edged a little closer to the gaggle, entering herself into the conversation. "Excuse me, is there a problem?" She said.

The assertive middle class woman replied before the embattled tutor could make a peep, "Of course there is, do you see him there? I thought this was a women only class, I was led to believe-" Sarah cut her off.

"It doesn't say that anywhere, this is a life drawing class, it just didn't happen to have any men in it."

"Well, that wasn't made clear, I just, how do I explain to my husband that I took my clothes off in front of another man?"

The skin-crawling unease was too good, Sarah noticed the old Tutor was silent, looking at her expectantly, she knew what she had to do.

An idea sprang to mind, Sarah would have liked to suppress it, but the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"I'll pose."

Every head turned, cocked, smirking, judging. "Ignorant wannabees", She thought, "I'll show them how easy it is."

The old German Tutor cleaned his glasses and, coughed to gain the room again, and said, "This would be perfectly fine, if ze others are happy wiz it."

A gentle bustle was underway, The Essex football mums had already begun towards their seats, some waddling, some strutting. Sarah let her backpack fall quietly to the ground and, with a practised nonchalance, removed her t shirt, trainers, and jeans. She cursed herself quietly for doing this because she'd actually wanted to draw, it wasn't her turn, and it did leave that old bat off the hook. She knew it was too late now, there was no backing out. She stepped out of her panties, eyes followed her as she did so, and un-clipped her bra in the same manner you'd slip off a seat belt, placing it on the small pile of discarded clothes on her chair.

Sarah was good at acting, creatives often are, but she couldn't quite get over the fact that she was feeling the need to act more unaffected by this than she was. Was the fact of a man being here actually making her feel this way? She assumed the position on the central chair, facing towards the easels, after a moment the air was filled with the quiet, calming noise of graphite dragged across drawing paper. The doors were quietly locked and the studio took on the quality of being it's own world, hermetically sealed from everything going on outside. It was a cool summer day, those in the room that were clothed requested that the fan was turned on. Sarah noticed that the fans breath gently kissing her pink nipples made them erect, she'd always had sensitive nipples.

Sarah let her mind wander and the breeze caressed her skin. The thoughts turned dirty, as they often will, recent conquests. She tried to tease a boy, putting his tip in and taking it out, grinding it along her softness. This boy grabbed her hips and forced her down, flipped the script, made her his. Not so much artistry in his delivery, but passion and force. She'd masturbated thinking about him many times in the weeks since they'd fucked...

A car horn woke her, reality rushed in. Sarah checked the room anxiously, as if what she was thinking about was written on her face or projected onto the wall for everyone to see. There was no discernible change in the room, people working at their pages, scratching away at the sketches of her nude body. It was then Sarah recalled why she was up there, because there was a new face in the room, a new male face. He was off to her right she knew, she wanted to look at him. Slowly, over the course of about half a minute, she moved her head little by little until she could perceive him in her peripheral vision.

The first thing that struck her was his eyes, piercing, intense, cobalt blue orbs that until now had been digging into her without her knowledge. He was tall and roughly handsome. Broad shoulders spread easily beyond the width of the chair, and the and the vest he was wearing showed them off well. He was a little older than her and his long hair, tied back, showed a smattering of grey. She guessed he was in his early forties.

He was intent and serious while the others were all smiles and giggles. Sarah looked into his eyes, trying to catch them, maybe vamp for him. The thought was delicious, he was dead set, adamant, his eyes stayed on her body as he worked.

Sarah burned beneath his stare, her cheeks turn red, she hoped her tan covered it. Her breathing shallowed and quickened slightly. Ever so slightly but no hiding that on her bare chest in front of twenty strangers. She felt like Salome, Isabella de Luna, maybe Madame du Barry, she felt like a great whore in his sight. The stifling film of professionalism curled and peeled around them as quickly summer snow in the mountains of Sierra de Guadarrama, melting as Maria and Robert fucked for their lives.

She wanted to get out from in front of these fools and fuck this man's brains out. Yes, nudity in the pursuit of art is not something to be sniggered at like schoolgirls, but art was life and my God, life is fucking horny. She imagined him in her cunt, the smell of him, him kissing her neck as he thrust inside her.

"Uh, my darling?" Came the old German's voice

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"Y-yes."

"It iz over now, you can put your clothes back on." The old man smiled when he caught her gaze, and walked to his seat.

The congregation were packing up around her, tossing their belongings into tote bags while discussing each-other's pieces. Everything they did would be naΓ―ve copies of Hurst's own style, which was adequate for the level he taught at and not original. These pictures didn't interest her one bit, she wanted to see what the man had drawn. Sarah stuffed her bra and panties into her knapsack, as she pulled on her jumper the course fibre dragged across her nipples and sent a jolt to her pussy. She would be very aware there was nothing between her skin and the hemp. It made her think of the monks who would ware horse hair undergarments and flagellate their skin.

Thanking Mr Hurst, Sarah made to walk out of the hall. The man was in no rush, ordering his pencils and charcoals in the boxes before sliding them slowly into his bag, all the while eyeing his sketch intently. Sarah took her chance and tilted her head.

She was shocked, a wide open maw, fangs dripping venom, cold dark eyes. He'd given her pendulous breasts, a distended stomach and scrawny thighs. She began to giggle, all confidence returning, and walked up to the mysterious man.

"I never fail to make a good impression." She smirked.

"Do you like it?" Said the man.

"Certainly, I love it, do you do caricatures?"

"No," The man replied with a smirk, "Well, I've done a little of that work, but this was always my style. I sell to online magazines."

"Porn magazines?"

"More like bizarre magazines, there is nudity. Mainly lowlife, fringe stories, freaks, whatever."

"How do I rate on your chart of freaks?" Sarah asked with a smile.

The man saw something in her eye, "I don't know yet, don't know you well enough."

"That's true." She said, playing the coquette, wondering if the comment about not knowing her was making him think of her naked.

"Should we get to know each-other better?" He said.

"Sure."

"What would you like to do?"

"You drew me," Sarah said, "It's only right I get to draw you."

The man leaned in and whispered, "Sounds great, now, let's get out of here, the only thing we seem to be drawing now is a crowd, and I don't like this one." The man gestured to the long forgotten ageing Essex crowd, they were idling, trying to listen in without being obvious.

"Agreed, wait, shit, what's your name?"

"Nathan." The man replied as he began a long striding walk to the door that Sarah struggled to keep up with.

"Yours?"

"Sarah."

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"Sarah," The man repeated, "Nice to meet you, I'll message you later."

"H-how will you find me?"

"The muse will compel me," Nathan smiled devilishly, "I'll find you off the Facebook page."

Sarah had always loved a tease, to draw out the lovemaking to unreasonable lengths. As far as she was concerned they'd been making love since he'd seen her naked. Nathan grew in her mind as the days rolled by. She caught herself fantasising about drawing him naked. The messages back and forth were flirty, not crude, she noticed it was mostly her being flirty. Her pussy ached and she felt he was teasing her, she liked to feel this way. It was unusual, empowering. Only a few days more and she'd get to see what he was made of.

The alarm buzzed crude and metallic, jolting Sarah awake. A jump to silence the alarm, a moment laying there to quiet her racing heart. As Sarah moved her bare nipples caught a seem in the duvet cover, she slinked back under the covers. Her hand slid down and she began to touch herself, gentle motions over her clit, she made herself wet this was and rubbed her fingers up and down her slit. She considered whether she'd let herself cum before Nathan arrived. She decided no, her pussy throbbed, she'd be humping everything in the house until she heard that knock on the door.

They exchanged pleasantries at the door, as he came in he had to squeeze past Sarah as one of her housemates had left her bicycle behind the door. She smelled his cologne and the radiated heat off his body. Sarah wondered how she'd possibly concentrate enough to draw, regretting for a moment, on purely practical grounds, that she had not allowed herself to come earlier.

"So," Nathan stopped in the hallway, "where's the studio."

"Through there."

"Looks like a living room to me."

"It's my studio today."

"Can we uh, close the curtains before we get down to it?"

"Interesting choice of words." Sarah said with a smirk, "I've got a light, we can close the curtains."

"Cool, let's get to it then."

Nathan dropped his bag and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Sarah didn't know whether it was rehearsed, practised, or he just had catlike grace all the time, all she knew is that she wanted to find out.

"Where do you want me?" Nathan slid his Levis down his legs and kicked them into the corner.

"Hey, how do you know I want you nude? I could be practising croquis, something like that."

"Yeah, you're not." Nathan shot back with a smile.

"Heh," Sarah laughed, "You're right, how about over by the sofa?"

"Sounds good to me." Nathan took up a position on the sofa, "What sort of pose?" He asked.

"Hmm, imperious, think Roman Emperor."

"I like it."

Stretching out like he was on a Roman lectus, his arms behind his head, Nathan had understood the brief perfectly, and his face said he knew it. It was almost instinctual. Sarah began to draw, wasting no time tracing the outline of his head, arms, torso, legs, and his cock. Sarah hazarded a long look. She was already turned on, now she was throbbing, her mind tossed on a sea of lust. Sarah wondered if he could tell, the way she shifted in her chair, the change in her breathing. He was surely watching her almost as intently as she was watching him. Not just watching, understanding, dissecting, pulling each-other apart with their eyes. The artist, the muse, the unspoken rules, the unacknowledged lust so thick in the air you could barely breathe.

Sarah was working at some knots of muscle around his obliques, thinking how she'd quite like to kiss them kept her getting the lines wrong a few times, when she noticed something. He was, was he? Yes, he was becoming aroused. His expression hadn't changed. Sarah couldn't scrape her eyes away, she pulled at the paper on her sketch pad, it ripped slowly, then fell to the floor. She had a new subject now.

The creative juices flowed almost as much as her sexual juices. She drew him as a great Satyr. Those mythic beasts of unrestrained male sexuality, bestial lust. She pulled the paper off and showed him, he smirked. She got up off the seat, walked up to him, got down on her knees and did what she'd been thinking about for the best part of a week. She felt it, thick and throbbing in her hand, he didn't pull away, she could feel his breath on her cheek as she put it slowly in her mouth.

To be continued.

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