Vanessas First Pose part 01- MMf reluctant nude model no sex slow
EroTongue
by EroTongue
Copyright 1999 by EroTongue.
This story may be re-distributed provided the following conditions are met: 1)
no modifications, 2) no distribution to minors, 3) no distribution under any
other conditions prohibited by law, 4) no distribution where the distributor
makes money (web sites that receive income from admission fees would be covered
by this prohibition, but not those that receive income from ad banners or from
services such as Adult Check.)
WARNING: the following is erotic material intended for adult audiences. It is
fiction.
Comments are welcome.
Enjoy! (I hope)
1999-04-01
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PREFACE:
Paolo was the professor for a figure-drawing class full of hormonally-challenged
college Freshmen. I was enrolled in that class. He asked me to pose for him
privately. I had agreed, reluctantly, too embarrassed to refuse him. I saw
him as an authority figure. A Bohemian one to be sure, but an authority figure
nonetheless. Naively, it had never occurred to me that he meant nude.
Yesterday he had me go through various stages of undress, short of nudity. It
had been the most embarrassing experience of my life. Until this morning, that
is, when he had actually coaxed me into lying nude on a dais while he sketched
me from some 35 feet away.
Then the visitor arrived.
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"Now, give me that," Paolo said, as he tugged gently on the robe.
"But I’m NAKED under here," I hissed back, low enough that the visitor could
not hear me.
"Well," he replied with a grin, "you were NAKED just a few minutes ago,
weren't you?" His emphasis of the word "naked" mocked my own. And his voice
wasn’t
as low as mine had been.
I glanced at the visitor. The visitor glanced back. "He’ll SEE!"
"He’s an artist, just as I am."
I saw that the visitor was now obviously observing our conversation. A bemused
Mona Lisa smile forming on his lips. "But," I insisted, "he’ll SEE!"
"You’re a MODEL." Paolo’s voice was now more serious, though not mean.
"Models pose for artists. That’s the way it works. Besides, he’s here to see
me, not you."
"B-but, I thought, I thought there wouldn’t be anyone else.…".
"It wasn’t in the original plan, I admit, but it’s not like you’re the model
in a figure-drawing class full of hormonally-challenged Freshmen." Paolo
paused. "Look, V." Softer now, with a touch of exasperation, "I…I simply
can’t go through this with you EVERY time I ask you for a new pose.
"But….," my voice trailed off, losing conviction.
"How about a compromise?" Paolo suddenly proposed.
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Paolo’s "compromise" was that, while I would be nude, I could cover whatever I
wanted to cover with my hands. He was truly interested in just my general form,
not adolescent gynecological detail.
I cupped my left hand over my labia, with the tip of the middle finger over my
anal bud. I closed my thighs on my hand, without squeezing it obviously. My
palm felt sweaty on my sex. My thighs felt clammy against my hand. Butterflies
were taking wing in my stomach.
Positioning my right hand over my left breast (there was that sweat again), I
bent my wrist up towards my chin so I could cover my right nipple with my
forearm.
"Ready?" Paolo asked.
The butterflies in my stomach swarmed. Biting my lower lip to keep it from
trembling, my head paralyzed, I fixed my eyes on his. I said nothing, but I’
m sure the expression on my face would have been described as ‘pleading’.
Paolo smiled a wry, half-smile. "Remember," he said, "you’ll be less exposed
now than you were earlier."
And with that, before I could reply, the robe was gone! I let out a shocked
gasp. He had jerked it away like a magician with a tablecloth.
Paolo finished his maneuver with an unnecessary flourish, but then he dropped
the robe without ceremony on the floor behind my left shoulder. With barely a
glance at me, he sighed, turned quickly, and walked back to his easel,
muttering something under his breath as he walked. I didn’t quite catch it,
but if I had to guess, I would have bet my money on: "Finally!".
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A glance down revealed a plentiful amount of pubes showing on both sides of my
wrist. My stomach churned. But at least my ‘female parts’ were hidden.
My left breast hung, pendulous, in my hand. Erotic, I had to admit. Too
erotic. My right breast, however, was somewhat crushed under my arm, and it
bulged out above and below. Not ‘erotic’, not ‘sexy’, but ‘vulgar.’ No, I
decided finally, ‘obscene.’ But I could not hold my arm any other way and
still cover my right nipple. This was terrible!
I was rigid with anxiety. Nauseous. My breathing was rapid, and came in
shallow gasps. I was literally more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my entire
life.
Paolo picked up his tools and started a new creation . The visitor perched
himself on stool next to the easel, back towards me, positioned so he could
watch the easel. Oblivious to me.
I closed my eyes, and after several minutes, I actually started to relax. The
men were talking quietly, occasionally laughing gently. Little sniplets of
conversation worked their way into my consciousness. The typical inanities that
men spout at each other. But for the scratching of Paolo’s charcoal, I would
have sworn I was listening to a Docker’s commercial. I was almost dozing now.
If you had told me a week ago I would be doing nude modeling, even for a
respected artist, I would have called you crazy. Even after yesterday’s
session, if you had told me I would modeling nude today in front of TWO men, I
still would have laughed. And never having even met one of them? Madness!
Being alone with them? Just the three of us? No way! With a stranger. Alone.
Naked. A stranger. Watching me. Nude. My breast…my pubic hair. MMMmmmmm….
I felt the slight pang of the beginning of sexual arousal, and then…
Oh my god!
I jolted back into full consciousness from my sleep. My eyes bugged open.
Paolo had stopped drawing and was conversing with the visitor, who still had
his back to me. Thankfully, my hands and arm had not slipped out of position
while I dozed, though I still felt totally exposed. When I jerked awake, Paolo
noticed, laughed a gentle laugh, and said, "Wake up Sleepy Head! I’m done."
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Paolo woke me and sent me on a bathroom break. I freshened myself up as best I
could, happy to be wearing even that thin robe again, and thankful that the
ordeal was over. As I returned in search of my gym bag, Paolo had a surprise
for me.
"OK Vanessa, let's get back to it while the light is still good."
"ANOTHER pose?"
Paolo rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. Before he could say anything, I
instinctively tried to cover-up my boo-boo.
"Chill out, Paolo," I added. "It's just that you gave me the impression we
were done for the day." Truth. "I've got no problem posing again." Lie. Lie.
Lie. What was I doing?
Paolo brightened. "OK then! Sorry I overreacted. Let's get to it. I'll start
you out in the same position you were just in."
"Uh-oh," I thought. "He's gonna 'start' me in the same position? Where will I
finish? Should I just make a break for it?"
"Vanessa.......?" Paolo's voice.
"Uh..., oh, sorry. My mind just wandered." I walked timidly back to the
dais. It was just dawning on me that I was going to have to disrobe and
maneuver myself into position with the two men watching. Paolo. And the
visitor.
I had made up my mind to just do it an get it out of the way. So as I
approached he dais, with my back to the men, I took a deep breath,
unfastened the tie on the robe while I was still walking, and let it fall.
(The visitor had already had an eye-full of my butt when I took my break.) I
positioned my hands as before, left over my pubic area, right over my breasts,
before turning around to face the men. I sat on the cushion, laid back, and
swung my legs up into position. In doing so I reflexively lifted my knees and
parted my legs enough to give them a clear view in between. My left hand was
the only thing that kept them from seeing what only my doctor had seen. And
they WOULD have seen, because they were both taking in the whole performance.
Paolo was appraising me as he had done earlier, merely as a three dimensional
object that interacted with the light in a certain way. But the in the
visitor's gaze was...something else. Something unsettling. Definitely
something that made me keenly aware of my nudity. And as the butterflies
started fluttering in my stomach, I gasped for air, unaware that I had been
holding my breath this whole time.
"OK now, V.," Paolo called from his easel 30 feet away, "scoot yourself into
the middle of the platform.
Yeah, that's good. Now roll a little onto your right side. Hmmm. Nope. Uh,
roll back onto your back. Scoot further towards this side of the platform."
I'm sure I made quite a sight as I squirmed myself towards the end of the dais
nearest my feet, in Paolo's direction, while trying to keep myself covered.
I'm pretty sure my right nipple flashed a couple of times, and each time it did
I felt a jolt of anxiety right in my stomach. I finally got as far as I could
go, with my feet sticking off the end and a stupid, overstuffed pillow under
the small of my back. I was sure I looked ridiculous.
"You look ridiculous," Paolo said. "Scoot straight back until your feet are on
the platform."
It was at the exact moment that the pillow under my back became the pillow under
my butt that Paolo shouted,
"Hold it!"
"Paolo!"
"What?" His voice had the innocence of a choirboy.
"This position…!"
"Is very interesting," he interrupted. "Give me a minute."
So he pondered my body, which was on display more lewdly than it had ever been.
More lewdly than I had ever seen a woman's body displayed. My pelvis was thrust
up by the pillow under my butt, the focal point of my body. The fingertip over
my anus, which had been pretty well hidden, was now seeing the light of day.
Being observed by TWO men. I closed my thighs tightly.
"OK," Paolo said finally, "just hold that position. But you've got to relax."
"RELAX?" My retort came out before I could stop it.
"You did it earlier," he replied calmly. "You even fell asleep."
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As I was laying there convincing myself that this wasn't so bad, Paolo started
dumping his supplies in a box. "What gives?", I wondered.
"What gives, Paolo?"
"Huh? Oh, I'm just moving closer."
CLOSER? He's moving closer! How much closer....?
Before I could finish the thought, Paolo was walking towards me. He laid the
supplies right at the foot of the bed and went back for his stool and easel. A
minute later he was perched on his stool right above me! He could probably
count the individual pubic hairs that peeked out from around my wrist! I stared
straight up at the ceiling. How much worse could this get?
A moment later, the rhetorical question I posed myself was answered when I
heard the sounds of the visitor putting his stool down softly next to Paolo’s
and perching himself on it. I closed my eyes. I was paralyzed.
Paolo began working, while I continued staring at the insides of my eyelids.
This time all I heard was the scratching if the charcoal, and the visitor
occasionally clearing his throat. This was NOT a Docker’s commercial. This was
me, lying naked in front of two men, one of whom I barely knew and the other
who I knew not at all. I didn’t even know his name.
You know how it was when you were young, and woke from a monster-filled
nightmare? You were afraid to open your eyes, lest you see the monsters. You
wanted to pull the covers completely over you, but then the monsters would see
you move and know you knew they were there. So you laid there, rigid with
fear. Unmoving. Trying the breathe naturally.
That was me right then. Except I had no covers to even contemplate pulling over
me. I was totally exposed.
So I did what we all eventually did at some point during our monster-induced
paralyses: I sloooowly opened my eyes just a teensy crack to see what was out
there.
The men were quiet. Paolo was drawing quickly, intensely. But the visitor had
turned around on his stool and was studying me! Intently. He had an obvious
erection. This was mortifying! I had to do something, and quickly! Plan A
formed instantly: take a food break and then claim severe intestinal distress
from whatever I ate. Leave. Never come back.
"Paoloooo," I whined playfully, opening my eyes and smiling at him, "I’m
dying of hunger. I need to eat. NOW."
Plan A failed instantly as Paolo threw an apple down onto the bed next to me.
"Eat," he stated mechanically, "but move as little as possible." And then he
continued drawing.
The point of my complaint was not to get fed, but to get the hell out of there.
Plan B formed.
"Now Paolo," I said in a condescendingly friendly way, "I can’t very well feed
myself right here, can I?" It was obvious. To feed myself, I had to be
allowed to cover up and move about.
"You’re right, V," Paolo replied. But instead of hearing exasperation, I
heard in his voice that same dogged, mechanical determination I heard when he
threw the apple at me. Plan B was about to fail. Spectacularly.
Paolo turned to the visitor and said, "Feed her."
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END OF PART 01
(Part 02 is a work in progress. Positive feedback will speed that work.
Constructive feedback will improve that work.)