Disclaimer: The following story contains sexually explicit depictions of female and male sexuality, as well as an ambiguous taboo situation. All characters involved in sexual activity are over the age of 18.
My second piece of fiction to publish! I finished this and my previous work 'Can't Lose For Trying' within the span of 4 days. Gee, the smut writing bug really got to me out of the summer heat? After writing a male-male story, now here comes some a good ol' straight story with a twist!
It's a typically hot Sunday afternoon in the town of Magaluf, Majorca where I reside. I'm just coming home from my gym routine because I partied too hard last night with some English tourists. The night before let me disappointed as none of those 'lads' actually felt like a good catch for me to take home last night. So yes: I'm sweaty, worked-up and in man-eater mode after rounds of lifting and cardio.
¡Hello! ¡Hola! ¡Guten tag! My name is Dina Sutter. Well.. Actually, it's been my assumed name I left my strict, controlling East German home shortly after turning 19. My real name is some crazy Hebrew biblical one and my last name is quite long -- but I like to say that young lady is good as dead. Simply put, I am a pastor's daughter and one in a numerous family of disciplined, picture-perfect, blonde-haired and ice-blue eyed siblings. All of us, but specially me and my sisters, had the misfortune to have grown under a man who strictly believed in old-time religious upbringing. At first, younger me simply put up with homeschooling and chores: It did prepare me for independence and gave me skills that still help me as an adult in life. However, the older I got, the less and less I found logic in the mythical tales that my father and mother used to demonize and instill fear of the unknown and of our own inquisitive human nature.
I pretty much grew without any other friends apart from my numerous siblings, particularly my next-oldest sister Rebekhe. Just a year and a half apart, 'Becqui' and I we were inseparable -- working on chores and getting into trouble as a unit - until one day, on one of the few times we'd leave our homestead for a religious convention, she met an American youth pastor of our same denomination. His father and ours - committed to the commandments of their faith - demanded a steadfast marriage, and thus my best friend and sister soon left for the United States of America.
Without Becqui by my side, I felt more and more 'out of place' within my family. My oldest brothers were sent to do missionary work to other parts of Europe. My oldest sister also got married, but to a local congregant young man. The restlessness and angst increased as I got closer to adulthood. I started to sneak out into town during the tiny silvers of a chance I had. Eventually, I came across the local library, which led me to discover a lot more of the 'outside world'. I would read numerous books on biology, sociology and arts that gave me a differentperspective on what I had been taught about relationships, love, sex... and the human body (The typical 'Avoiding sexual thoughts because God doesn't like them' spiel).
I remember the day I happened to pick a random book from the arts section. Unlike the dated, rugged hardcover books I had been picking, this one had a stylish, black-and-white photography of a beautiful woman with olive skin wearing a fashionable unbuttoned black shirt and jeans ripped at the bottoms. It looked edgy, new and revelatory. As I flipped through its pages, I felt jolts of electricity through my brain. Not only the photographs were aesthetic, they were defiant. I liked how the women dressed and had their hair styled: Unlike my conservative braids, their hair looked messy, rough and looked like if cut with a razor -- but I liked it! But another thing that I noticed is that both men and women lacked some garments throughout, and that made me feel something in a primal, physical level. Barechested men were a plenty in the book and that made my body tremble slightly, in what I now fully understand was lust.
A few dozens of pages later, I encountered a section within the book, divided from the rest of the contents by a black page with large white letters: "Nackt" German for "nude". Turning that page, my life was never the same: Full nudity of men, women, couples. My mouth opened agape as I had my first visual encounter with the male sex organ, long and veiny shafts of ivory, ebony and olive skin crowned by heavy pubic hair. If that wasn't enough, the supple, round breasts and rock-sharp nipples of the young women pictured completely bare caused a complete supernova inside my mind.
The deeper I wandered through the book, the more wanton in its allure it was. The couples section was all about erotic, passionate embraces. It wasn't long until I was holding whimpers and crossing my legs, as I felt dampness cover my so-called "granny-panties". I rushed to the library's bathroom in fear that I had pissed myself, but I noticed that this liquid was clear, unlike urine, and had a different scent. Despite all the books I've read, I shrugged this off as sweat, but later I realized I had my first orgasm.
After collecting myself after the experience, I returned to the library to periodically view that art book. I still appreciated the craft and beauty of the photos, but the more I looked to it, the arousal from the photos as a spectator evolved into a fantasy being the subject. My heart began to beat faster and my cheeks got redder as I imagined myself like that. Posing in the most alluring way completely exposed, I'd imagine I'd be dripping 'sweat' from my womanhood after just a few minutes. As I put back the book and began to leave for the door, I was stopped by the old lady who served as librarian.
"Guten abend, Schätze" said the old lady. "I see you really, really like that book with all of the naked people."
I got really embarassed "Uh... ehm.... I like art, I guess?" I had to nervously quip, fearing this lady was the town gossip.
She laughed "Dear, I know you are entering adulthood. What is it from this book that draws you in?"
I decided to be honest: "Please, don't tell anybody. I... I would like to show myself off like in this book, you know?"
She responded: "Oh, so you want to be an art model? There are akademies looking for people of all shapes and sizes to serve as reference in their classes. The best of them are outside this country, more precisely, at Vienna in Austria to the south." The lady stopped and gave me a few booklets: A guide to the Intercity Express rail system, a guide to the city of Vienna and pamphlets of some of its art academies.
I knew I was a at a crossroads in my life. My parents would never, never allow me to get outside my family home, even less if going to lay myself bare for strangers (Many of them young men my age who were probably atheistic, bohemian libertines) so I would have to do all of this in the dead of the night.
A few nights later, so I did... Since at first I was too shy to get completely bare, I began hanging around the akademies in Vienna as soon as I arrived there, approaching students and offering myself as a clothed model for their homeworks, every new opportunity becoming more confident with my posing. My earliest contacts -- later friends -- in Vienna even allowed me to keep the clothes of these early fashion/glamour sessions, mainly because the modest attire I arrived to the city made me look out of time and place. When spring turned to summer, it was time for me to take the plunge. One of the akademies was seeking volunteers for life drawing workshops and, with my heart pounding, I signed in. Twenty years later to that moment, I've have amassed a career and made myself a living simply showing off my body confidently. Individual artists, brands, publications, I bet a good chunk of the Western World has seen me in varying degrees of dress or undress.
The prestige and income from my now two-decade modeling career has allowed me to keep my body in shape at the age of 40 while living in the sunny holiday town of Magaluf. Although I must say, since a pandemic hit in the start of this current decade, most of my income at the moment comes from a premium subscription platform where I often post pictures of me wearing gymwear, bikinis, lingerie and for the users in the highest tier, nude pictures. It does make me laugh a little that even there being artistic and glamour nudes of me in my younger days freely on the Internet, there are still people wanting to see me bare it all in what I consider to be my current prime.
Speaking of gymwear, I decided to take myself a few sweaty, alluring selfies in my gym clothes for the basic tier and above. After posting them to the platform, I took a casual glance at the notifications featuring the the latest comments and monetary tips from my followers. Many of these tips are no more than $20 dollars or €22 euro.
And then a particular notification came through: "New subscriber tipped you $300 USD!"
"Wow! Quite the eager new follower! Or maybe a long-time fan that just discovered my premium page?"
I remembered that I had set up a "reward system" for a certain tip amount. "Let's see... Oh, my! This user has tipped for a videocall! Now that's admiration!" I felt a certain degree of gratitude -- and arousal -- for I was complaining that I didn't get "action" last night, but at least I would be able to get frisky -- virtually, but still I would get frisky -" So, I went to check this user's profile to message him in order to first thank him and then schedule our videocall.
Safe to say I was surprised by the user in question: The profile picture of a blonde, blue-eyed, shirtless young man with quite the physique, wearing bermuda shorts. "AdrianS03, age 22. USA/GER. Offensive tackle at a notable Southern United States university. Chemical engineering undergrad." If the fact that a 22-year-old tipped me the equivalent to what a typical 22-year-old actually earns at a job monthly puzzled me, a familiarity in the young man's face, coupled with emojis of the American and German flags in the bio got me feeling something was even more off.
