Model Et Tu? - Sex Stories

Model Et Tu?

... out?" I asked her as un-ironcally as I could.

"Shut up," she whispered fiercely. "That's none of your business."

"So, let's see. You got your divorce decree, what, six months ago? And then all of a sudden, I find out you're married again. And yet... here we are. I know you're not doing this for the fun of it."

"Let's just get through the next two hours, and we'll go our separate ways again."

"Right. Uh-huh," I said very ironically.

She had accused me of sleeping with other women (which was her "official" reason for our divorce). And here she was apparently having slept with her next husband before she was even fully divorced from me. Isn't it ironic. Don't you think. A little too ironic...

"So why are you back to modeling? Since I know that you like it so much."

"That is none of your fucking business," she told me with a voice full of venom.

Well, I thought. I just have to get through the next two hours. And then she'll be rid of me once again. I guess it was on to husband number five.

An hour after our little 'discussion,' we were both seated in a pose that had us facing away from the other. It allowed me to forget about who was posing next to me. By now, my once paltry erection was long past it's 'sell by' date and was no longer bothering me.

That last hour, I was focused on the task of staying as rigid as I could during our poses. The effect of gravity were conspiring to take it's effect on me. The effect of eros was won over by ...

... that.

"That's it class," the Instructor finally said. "Let's thank our models," and she began clapping. It was a very nice way to finish off her class, and not at all usual to recognize the model.

Now, normally if there's a woman and man model session, the woman goes into the back room and strips first, changing to her robe for 'protection' from 'unusual activity' from the students.

In this particular Studio, that was not a luxury.

I decided to follow along with Sharon's desire to not have anything to do with me, so as we retreated to the back room, all the baggage would be allowed to settle like the dust that pervaded everything back here.

But as I began putting my socks on preparing to my jeans next, I saw Sharon about to put on her underwear pause, looking behind her over her left shoulder. I was confronted with her now wide, gaping vulva that was calling to me. She hesitated before bring them up fully and completely.

Normally, I wouldn't have noticed. Being the professional. We were here for a job, and not a hook up.

But she kept this pose of leaning over to put her socks on, leaving me with the camel toe peeking through her panties, which were on the thin side.

"What are you doing?" I sighed again. "Do you want me to look?"

At this, she straightened up and turned towards me, still minus any bra or tee shirt.

"Am I not desirable any more?" She whispered, with a bereft look on her face.

"I thought you wanted to keep this professional, and not ...