The Body Builder - Sex Stories

The Body Builder

I knew most of the people at the opening, a small show for a sculptor that had recently moved to the city. The art community was just starting to expand from the couple dozen regulars that had been there for the last decade. There were a few people I didn’t know, but one caught my attention. Even from the back I could tell she was definitely my type. Dirty strawberry blonde shoulder length hair, great tan and a solid body. Of course it was the ass that first attracted me. The loose fitting harem style pants she was wearing curved nicely over her cheeks with a nice divide down the middle. She appeared to be a bit taller than I was, which was always a bit intimidating.

I worked my way around the gallery to a position where I could chat with a couple of my artist friends and get a view of her from the front. Her face was beautiful, even from across the room. I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were from this distance, but that became totally irrelevant once she smiled. I watched as she moved from one small group to another. She didn’t appear to be with anyone, at least not that I could tell, no one seemed to be sticking close to her.

As I discussed one of the pieces with an acquaintance, a rather large chunk of marble that had sensuous curves without being identifiable as any particular object, she glanced over at the two of us. She slid away from the pair she was talking with and came over to us. I had a flash of realization that she was the sculptor.

“Hello! I’m ...

... Karyn, and this is my show, thank you for coming!” I had to look up, she was easily six inches taller than I was, though I suppose her heels were about half that amount. I met her eyes and realized they were a rather brilliant blue. I would guess her age was close to mine, around 30, give or take a year or so, but I never was good at pinpointing ages. I was so taken that my friend had to give me a nudge to introduce myself.

“Hello, Karyn, I’m Chris, welcome to the city.”

“Thank you! Please, feel free to touch it. I think that is an important part of sculpture, to connect with the materials.” My eyes were locked on hers, the blue pools completely dominating my thoughts. My hand actually trembled a bit, I hoped no one noticed, as I reached out and ran my hand around the curves, never losing eye contact. I had the uncanny feeling that I was running my hand across the curve of her side and buttocks as I did. She raised an eyebrow as I caressed the cold stone.

“You are an artist.” It wasn’t a question, she stated it as a fact.

“Yes, graphics. Mostly pen and ink with watercolor. Sometimes I will make block prints. A couple times a year I’ll play around with something in 3 dimensions.”

“Would I know your work?”

I turned, loath to break eye contact, and pointed to a print hanging by the entrance, “I did that one.” Looking at it from across the room, I could see that it had some of the same curves as her sculpture, no doubt the reason it was chosen to hang there on this ...