In the Name of Art - Part I - Sex Stories

In the Name of Art - Part I

Tibialis Anterior, Gastrocnemius, Patella, Quadriceps femoris, Sartorius, Gracilis, Penis. A wave of heat prickled her skin; it rose to her face and settled in her cheeks. She could afford to stare a little longer, she was supposed to. A flush of warmth flooded through her body and settled in her loins. Letting her lips crease to reveal a satisfied smile, her eyes lingered on him. Standing there as their David, he was not shy and neither should he be. His short, tousled brown hair suited the shape of his face. His body was devoid of hair and his taut skin caught the light and shade of the room beautifully. His skin was supple and he had a healthy tan from natural sunlight rather than a bottle. He was the same tone all over; his tanning preference might be lost on the less observant but not her. She knew he liked to get his clothes off and not just as a model for their study. The heat from her loins rose again and its sticky warmth imposed itself with more force. It broke her train of thought as it strengthened in intensity. Asserting her need to focus, the hard pastel trembled in her hand. Deltoid, Biceps brachil, Brachialis.... Testes, Scrotum, Penis.... Penis. Penis. Even in its flaccid state, its proportion befitted the impressive grandeur of his toned and youthful body. She raised the pastel from the heavy cartridge paper, her unconscious gaze contrasted with the languid travel of her eyes over his body. Trapezius, Clavicle, Pectoralis major, Rectus abdominis, Linea ...

... alba, External oblique, Gluteus medius, Penis. Penis. Penis. I wonder what how it would look erect and fierce. I wonder what it would feel like… She reasserted her self-control again and noticed she had pinched her lower lip between her teeth and was slowly swirling her hair with her finger. That intense heat was still there and had transformed into a subtle ache - she had to have him. “Ok, that’s time for today.” She chided herself as a tut of disappointment escaped from her mouth. She turned to look at her fellow artist wondering if it was as audible as she thought – her neighbour returned a smile. “He’s a dish isn't he?” whispered her neighbour. Acknowledging with a non-committal nod of her head, little did her neighbour know what she really wanted him for. “Thank you Harry, same time again next week?” She watched as he nodded, smiled and took the dressing gown handed to him. Harry, Harry, what a dishy body you have. Tracking his exit from the room, the Director’s office doubled as the model’s changing room. Collecting her folio and pastel box, she hurriedly took off her artist’s smock and made a beeline for the lecturer. “Cynthia, are you locking up? Allow me. It’s ok; I need to line up a still arrangement for Monday...” ------------------------------------------------------ The classroom was cleared and the entrance locked. Hovering at the door, she primped and then flicked her blonde hair around an ear to pin in back. She bit her lip and tapped on the door. “Just a minute,” ...