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Climax of the Goddess

Climax of the Goddess

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This story is submitted for the 2025 Nude Day Contest. Please be advised that although there are references to intercourse, there are no detailed descriptions of sexual activity in this story.

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A heavily accented "Good day, Mademoiselle," startled Samantha as she fumbled with her key to her new apartment. She turned to see a slim, well-dressed man with a pencil-thin mustache smiling at her.

"Uh, hello."

"You are new here?"

"Yeah, I moved in yesterday."

"Ah, pardon, but I am Pierre. We are neighbors, no?"

"I guess, I'm Samantha but everyone calls me Sam."

"A beautiful woman like you should not be called 'Zam.' To me you shall be Zamantha."

"Oh, thank you. You're too kind. Nice meeting you, Pierre."

"You, too."

Once inside her apartment, Samantha dropped her groceries in a heap on the small dining table, put away her raincoat and began to prepare her dinner. As she was fixing her meal, she mused about the man next door who was pleasant enough and had an obvious French accent. 'I wonder what he's doing over here,' she thought, 'Maybe I'll get the chance to ask him someday.'Climax of the Goddess фото

Their next encounter was a few days later when she was using her keycard to enter the building right as he was leaving.

"Good day, Zamantha. Here, I hold the door for you."

"Oh, Hi, Pierre. Thanks."

"Why is a pretty lady going inside on such a lovely day?"

"I work the night shift and because it was so busy at the call center, I had to stay late. I'm exhausted."

"You work at night?"

"Yeah, answering phones, doing tech support."

"That must be horrible. You sleep now?"

"Uh-huh. I'll turn off my phone and put on my sleep mask."

"It's not too noisy?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I will make sure to be very soft, eh, quiet when I am home."

"Thank you."

"Good night, Zamantha."

"Good day, Pierre," she giggled as she turned to go inside.

Several days later, she woke around two p. m., fixed herself a meal and wondered for the hundredth time how long her body would let her work nights. She was relatively new to her job and it would take several years of seniority to move to evenings and even more to move to days. The pay was marginal but she refused to move back home and admit to her demanding parents that she needed help. They had wanted her to go into law or medicine but she preferred working with machines and tech. Unfortunately, she did not do well with coding and programming classes and ended up in the tech support arena which paid far less.

It was a lovely afternoon, so she decided to catch some rays by the pool downstairs. After putting on her bikini, she grabbed a towel, a can of soda and her key, before heading to the pool. Once she had basked for thirty minutes on each side, she swam a few laps. Feeling refreshed, she climbed the stairs to her floor. Right as she reached her door, Pierre opened his.

"Hi, Pierre. How're ya doing?"

"Oh, Zamantha, well, I believe. But you, you are a view, no, a vision of beauty."

"Oh, quit joking. You're just saying that 'cause I have a bikini on."

"No. I said before you are beautiful and I say it again."

"Well, thank you. I've gotta get a shower and rinse the chlorine off. Take care."

"When do you go to work?"

"Around ten thirty or so."

"When is your next day off?"

"Tonight's my last night until Sunday."

"I hope you enjoy your time off."

"Thanks, Pierre. You're a peach."

"A peach? What do you mean?"

"I guess it's a way to say you are nice and sweet."

"Thank you. And Zamantha?"

"Yeah?"

"Please remember what I say about how beautiful you are."

"Be careful. I may take the peach remark back."

"I am serious. Someday you will make someone very happy."

"Aww. Thank you, but I'm not looking for anyone right now. Bye."

Once she was in her apartment, she peeled off the bikini and hit the shower. A shampoo and total body rinse were quickly taken care of before she stood in front of the mirror to dry herself off. Sam knew she was decent-looking, at least she never had trouble getting dates when she was in high school and college. As she dried off, she looked critically at herself.

Her auburn curls framed an attractive face which featured lips more than one boyfriend claimed were very kissable. Further down, her breasts stood proudly on her chest. She had always liked their shape and had used them more than once to attract a guy. Her reasonably flat belly led down to her muff which had been shaved enough for her bikini. One could barely see the top of her slit peeking out from under her hair. Next were her hips which she wished were a few inches smaller though she had never heard anyone comment about them. All-in-all, she was pleased with what she saw and only wished she could meet someone who could appreciate her wit and personality in addition to her looks.

'Not bad, not bad at all, though Pierre's a nut. I'm pretty decent looking but you could hardly call me beautiful.'

After she had her prework meal and fixed a lunch to take with her to work, she rested an hour or so before she headed off. Work was no different from usual though two customers praised her for quickly solving their problems. Little things like that made her night and she went home in a good mood.

After getting home, she limited her sleep to just four hours so she could enjoy some free time in the evening and grab the rest of her sleep later. Around dinner time, she heard a knock on her door. After seeing Pierre through the peephole, she opened the door to him.

"Hi, Pierre. What's up?"

"I wanted to bring you thees and maybe ask you a big favor."

"Wine? Oooh, this looks good. What is it?"

"It is Chateauneuf Du Pape from where I grew up. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will. Should I open it now?"

"If you wish. You might," he chuckled, "Want to have some before I ask you for favor."

"Sure. Let's air it out a little. I'm afraid I don't have fancy wine glasses."

"Is no matter. A good wine you could drink from a marmalade jar."

"Good, 'cause that's pretty much all I can afford right now."

After the wine had been decanted, they chatted briefly about their days and the weather. Eventually, she hoisted her drink to him. "A toast to you."

"Santé," he replied.

After her first sip, Samantha looked at him with astonishment on her face. "This, this is super good!"

"Oui. My favorite."

"Do you drink wine this good all the time?"

"Non. I drink good wine when I am with a beautiful lady."

"Pierre, look. You keep saying it but I don't think I'm that attractive."

"Mais oui. You are and it is why I come to you tonight. I want a favor, please."

"Oh, I get it. Feed me fine wine and then you think you'll have your way with me."

"Way with you? What does this mean?"

"It means you will try to seduce me, you know, take me to bed."

"Non, I would never do this. You see, Zamantha, I am anartiste, a painter. And I wish to paint you."

"Me?"

"Oui. You."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"Maybe, but a crazy man knows what he wants."

"I'm, uh, I'm not available right now. I've sworn off men for the time being."

"Non. I want you to seet for a painting. I am not looking for more."

"So, you're not asking for a date or anything?"

"Non."

"Uh, are you any good, you know, at painting?"

"Un moment, I come right back."

After he left her apartment, Sam took another few sips of her wine while wondering what she was getting herself into. He returned with a large album, sat on her small sofa and invited her to look.

"Here are my artworks. I take pictures of many I have done. Here," he said, handing it to her.

It had dozens upon dozens of pages filled with photos from his work. Some were charcoal and pencil sketches but most appeared to be either oil or acrylic works. The majority were of people, though there were some landscapes and assorted still-lifes. As she paged through them, she realized he was very talented.

"Pierre, these are great. I bet you could make a living doing this."

"Remember, I am artiste. This is not hobby. It is my work."

"This one... wow. I love it and this one over here, too."

"Merci. It was hard for me to get the light on her just so. But I am happy."

"Where do you sell them?"

"Art galleries and online. Some people pay me first and then I paint picture."

"Commissions? You must be well known. But, uh, why are you showing these to me?"

"So, you know I am serious when I ask to paint you."

"Really? You honestly think I should be a model for you?"

"Oui. Samantha, please think about it. Have more wine, it makes you happy and then you say 'Yes' to me. OK?" he chuckled.

"Aha! You want me to get drunk so I'll say yes!"

"Drunk, no, but happy, yes. I am home tomorrow. You visit and we can talk about money."

"Money? You pay for this?"

"Naturellement! I tell you more tomorrow. Have nice dreams, Zamantha." He gave her an air kiss over each cheek before rising and leaving her apartment.

After he left, her mind was racing wildly. She was no art critic but she thought his work was good and, apparently, he made a living off his work. And he wanted her to be a model and would even pay her. A few extra dollars surely wouldn't hurt and might even help her bottom line. Later as she drifted off, she realized she had already decided to model for her neighbor.

At ten a. m. she texted him she was ready to come over. Once he agreed, she applied a small touch of lipstick and went next door. She was not sure what to wear and had chosen a simple top, capri pants and some sexy heels.

"Oh, Zamantha, you look wonderful. Come in. Come in." He escorted her to the kitchen table, offered her a coffee and waited pleasantly until she had taken several sips.

"If you want to be my model, I pay fifty dollars an hour..."

"Fifty an hour? Are you crazy? That's like uh, uh, two grand a week!"

"Oui, but you will not work forty hours straight. The model sits for a few hours for me to draw her, then a few days later comes back when I need more detail with the painting."

"Still, that's great. I, uh, I'm kinda low on cash right now so a few hours now and then would be pretty nice."

"So, you want to model?"

"Sure. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Use the bathroom and eat before you come. Is tomorrow good?"

"Yes. I've got nothing going on. What time?"

"Ten. We work for two hours, I feed you and we work for two more."

"Sounds great. Should I bring different clothes?"

"Oui. Maybe one dress and one pants."

"OK. I'll see you then."

Later in bed, she was so excited she had trouble falling asleep. For spending several hours in his apartment, she would pick up two hundred bucks, money she desperately needed. And it was something she had never done in her life, something so unlike her usual work.

Promptly at ten the next morning, she knocked on his door.

"Good morning, Zamantha. You have your dress on. Tres chic."

"I have some extra clothes here, too."

"We start with you in your dress. Come with me."

She was led into the spare bedroom which had been converted into a studio. There were all manner of lights, several chairs, drapes on the walls and an easel with a small stool.

"First, I check the lights. You seet here," he said, pointing to a stool in the middle of the room. He ran around adjusting the lighting to his satisfaction before he turned to Sam again. "Now, it is important you relax while I draw you. Make sure you are comfortable."

"Do you want me in any particular pose?"

"Not now. You choose."

She nervously turned slightly away from him, assumed a relaxed posture and said, "OK, I guess I'm ready."

"Very good. I will draw you first many times. Would you like music?"

"Only if you want it."

"Maybe some classical music, eh?"

Sam was able to concentrate on the music, which helped her relax and maintain her pose. Every ten to fifteen minutes, Pierre would have her change positions. After two hours of posing, her back was bugging her and her stomach was rumbling loudly. Pierre provided her with a wonderful lunch and let her go back to her apartment for thirty minutes before they got started again. The afternoon activities were similar and by three she was exhausted. Who knew sitting still in various positions for ten to fifteen minutes could be so tiring? When he announced he was finished, a soft groan escaped from her lips.

"It makes you tired, non?"

"Yeah. Can I look at your work?"

"Of course. Here."

"Pierre! These are wonderful," she exclaimed as she leafed through pages of pencil and charcoal sketches.

"Thank you. I will pick the best and start my painting and when you come back, I will have you seet again so I can paint the little things better. Here is your money," he added as he handed her four crisp fifty-dollar bills.

"Thanks, Pierre. Just let me know when you want me to come back."

-----

Two weeks later there was a note under her door letting her know he was ready for more sessions. She worked out when it would be the best for her sleep schedule and left him a note promising the following Friday. A quick text from him confirmed the date and time.

Pierre had chosen four of the original poses to work with. He had her sit for nearly an hour in each position while he worked filling in details to his satisfaction. By the end of the day, she was again exhausted but pleased to receive the cash.

Three weeks later, Pierre knocked on her door and asked if she wanted to see the finished work. She was awed by his work and though she had little appreciation of the art world, she knew she liked how they turned out. It was clearly her in the paintings but they weren't like photographic images. Instead, he had used dabs of vibrant colors and unusual patterns in her clothes along with a minimalistic background. All in all, the paintings looked great.

"These are beautiful, Pierre."

"You like them?"

"Yes, of course, I like them. You are a genius with a brush."

"Thank you. I think I will wait to sell them once I have enough for a gallery show."

"Uh, how, uh, how much do these cost?"

"A beeg one will cost four or five thousand and..."

"Five thousand. That's crazy!"

"Crazy?"

"Good crazy. Wow. How about the little one here?"

"Two thousand."

"Wow. I'm impressed.'

"You want to have a glass of wine to celebrate?"

"Sure, if it's anything like the last one," she laughed.

They talked, laughed and drank. She found herself enjoying Pierre and though he was older, she idly wondered if he might be interested in her. Halfway through their second glass of wine, Pierre excused himself. "I need to use the WC."

"WC?"

"Oui. The restroom."

"Oh, sure. I should probably get out of your hair anyway."

"No, wait. I'll be back."

While he was gone, her eyes caught sight of another album similar to the one he had shown her several weeks prior. 'I wonder what this is?' she asked herself as she walked over to it. After picking it up, she sat back down and opened the first page. There was a photo of another one of his works. It featured a blonde woman who was totally nude! 'Oh my god,' she whispered to herself, 'He does nudes, too!'

She flipped through a few more pages and all of them featured nudes, mainly women but also an occasional man. She was so engrossed she didn't hear him return.

"You have found my other album, non?"

"Oh! You startled me! Yeah, I saw this over there and decided to look. I didn't know you painted nudes."

"Sometimes I do. The subject needs to be attractive and relaxed enough to seet without clothes."

"Do you sell them, too?"

"Oui. They earn even more money."

"Wow. Amazing. And look at this one. You painted her head-on and even show the beginnings of her cooch and..."

"Cooch?"

"Yeah. Her pussy."

"Oh, I know this word. It is la chatte."

"I guess. Uh, do the models get nervous?"

"Sometimes."

She leafed through a few more pages before she heard him clear his throat. "Ah, Zamantha, do you think you could do this for me?"

"What? Pose naked?"

"Oui. I, uh, I pay more for this. You are a beautiful woman and I would have the honor if you said yes."

"I, uh, I'm not too sure. What if my mother saw the painting?"

"Where does she live?"

"Back in Michigan, but still, you know, with the internet and all."

"It is not pornography, it is art. And I pay two hundred dollars an hour for..."

"Two hundred?" she exclaimed, "That's huge!"

"I want the person happy and relaxed and I find extra money helps."

"I bet. Uh, maybe I could do one hour and see how I feel. I'd like to see your work and make sure it is, uh, decent."

"Decent?"

"You know, decent can actually mean two things here. One is that the work is good quality. The other is that it isn't too gross, you know, spread legs showing (what was it?), oh, showing la chatte."

"We can do as you wish and if you do not like the work, I will tear up the papers and never do a full painting."

"You're serious?"

"Oui. I'm serious. When is your next day off?"

"Next Saturday."

"Perfect. Come at midday? The light is good then."

"I may have to have some wine to help me relax," she giggled.

"For the lady, I will have wine. Come at half to the hour and the wine will help you relax by midday."

"If I get too nervous, will you hate me if I back out?"

"Non, of course not. Nude seeting is not for everybody."

"OK, Pierre, I'll see you next Saturday at eleven-thirty."

That night she tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn't believe she had agreed to pose nude for him. But she had! And there was a tiny question in her mind if he was trying to seduce her. He had never said or done anything risqué and he seemed proper at all times. Maybe it was her simply projecting her desire for a guy onto him. It had been way too long since she had slept with anyone and she was getting tired of only having BOB, her battery-operated boyfriend. What she wanted was real flesh, the smell of a guy, his hard yet incredibly soft cock as she rode him to another 'O' and waking up next to him the next morning. And even though she wanted much more than BOB, she indulged herself until she collapsed into a deep slumber.

On Saturday morning, she awoke suddenly in a panic. She was going to pose nude! She had suppressed the idea for the previous few days but she couldn't any further. Once she had a quick breakfast, she hit the shower. After shampooing and washing, she turned her attention to shaving. Since she was not currently with anyone, she had been lax in her grooming but she knew it would not fly with Pierre. She quickly took care of her pits and legs before turning attention to her muff. Unsure of what to expect, she decided to compromise and keep a modest amount of clipped hair above while shaving around her lips.

In front of the mirror, she remained nude while doing her hair. 'Might as well get used to it,' she mused. Sam wasn't vain but she heard from friends and some of her previous boyfriends she was attractive. She always liked her breasts, her tiny belly button and thin waist. Sometimes she wished she should lose a few pounds from her hips but her most recent boyfriend, the shit who later dumped her, had said her curves were all woman and not to change anything.

To get in the mood, or at least to relax, she remained nude for the entire morning. She found it relaxing though she knew once she was with Pierre, she would probably tense up. Shortly before eleven-thirty, she slipped on a loose robe, grabbed her key and went next door.

"I see you are on time."

"Hi, Pierre. Yeah, I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

 

"Nervous?"

"Of course. I'm going to be sitting nude in front of a man for an hour while he paints me."

"We will start with a little skin and then try more. OK?"

"Yeah, I guess. Where's the wine you promised me?" she giggled.

Once he had poured her a generous serving, he tried to reassure her. "We will do some easy poses first. Maybe later we try something more."

"OK. Sounds good." She took a sip and decided to ask him something which had been on her mind for days. "Uh, Pierre, uh, is this all for art or are you maybe trying to start something with me?"

"Start something?"

"Yeah, you know, maybe try to seduce me?"

"Zamantha, I am artiste. I look at beautiful things and I paint them. You are beautiful and I paint you. Nothing more."

"You sure?"

"Absolument. I see beauty everywhere. I see a wonderful sunset. I see a pretty mountain stream. I see a wild horse running. I see all these things but I don't try to seduce the sunset or stream or the horse. And I won't try to seduce you."

"Are you sure?"

"Oui. Ah, I am what you call asexual. I have never been with a woman or a man. My joy is to paint, not to have sex."

"Oh, wow. I see. Uh, sorry to be so nosy. Uh, when do we start?"

"Now. I want you to seet on the stool, turn away from me and lower the robe to your waist."

"So, you'll just see my back?"

"Oui, just your back. We start there."

After holding the requested pose for ten minutes or so, she was asked to turn sideways so her breast was exposed to him. She watched him closely and he seemed intent on his painting and his eyes didn't appear to linger on her. And she realized he was slowly getting her used to being partially clothed.

The next pose requested was a full-frontal view with her robe gathered at her waist. With her heart racing in her chest, Sam turned to him. Subconsciously, she thrust her chest forward to enhance their size. Pierre bent over his canvas, sketching quickly while occasionally glancing up at her. She realized he was not staring or gawking and he seemed intently occupied by his drawing.

"Now I want you to drop the robe and turn to the side. Bring up your leg so I can draw your bum and hip."

"My bum? Don't you mean my ass?"

"I like bum so much more than ass, so I will draw your bum."

"OK, here goes." Once the robe hit the floor, her mind raced. Here she was exposing herself and it didn't seem to affect him at all. After a few minutes, she was able to relax so much that her mind began to wander. Not every little thought was about being nude in front of him.

"Now, the last one. I want you to face me, spread your legs and put your hands on the chair between your legs. I will see your breasts but not la chatte. OK?"

Nervously, she assumed the position. Her arms covered her breasts, or at least the nipples, and her hands obscured her crotch. 'Nude, but not really,' she thought.

After no more than fifteen minutes, he ended the session. "I have some good sketches. In one week, I will have you come back to pose again for the painting."

"Like the other time?"

"Certainly. I pick the sketch I like the most and you will seet for this one. And here is your money for today."

Once she had her robe on, Sam felt great. At first, it had been a little embarrassing but Pierre put her at ease and when she left, she was delighted with the extra cash in her pocket.

A week later she returned wearing the same robe. "I'm back as requested."

"Merci. Would you like to see the sketches?"

"Sure!" She was impressed. He had obviously worked on them during the week. "Are you going to paint them all?"

"Non. I choose one and you pose for it."

"What do you do with the other sketches?"

"I get rid of them. If someone found them, I could lose money."

"Uh, maybe I could buy one from you?"

"Oh, Zamantha, I give you one as thank you. Here, thees one." He handed her the sketch of her viewed from the side with her ass bare.

"Oh, Pierre, that is so sweet of you. I'll frame it and put it up in my apartment."

"Maybe in the bedroom. Your boyfriend should not see it until he sees you."

"A good idea but I don't have a boyfriend."

"No boyfriend? A beautiful lady like you with no boyfriend? Sacre bleu"

"Maybe someday. Which position do you want?"

"The last one. It shows you nude but shows nothing. It is a tease."

"OK. Do I get my glass of wine?" she laughed.

"You nervous?"

"No, not really. I was just teasing," she said as she let her robe slide silently off. Once on the stool, she assumed the same posture from the week before: facing him, legs spread and arms and hands in front of her.

"I need two hours maybe. Can you stay for two hours?"

"Sure. I might want to take a break, though."

"Naturellement. We begin."

In no time at all, she was comfortable being nude in front of him again. In order to stay relatively still, she let her mind drift to her work, the shitty ex-boyfriend and how she might find someone new again. After nearly an hour, Pierre suggested a break. He brought her a few cookies and a glass of wine.

"You need nutrition."

"If this is nutrition, I'll be fat as a walrus soon, but thank you." As she was talking to him, she realized she was totally comfortable standing nude in front of him. 'I'm not sure I could do this with just anybody,' she thought, 'Maybe it's because I know he won't put a move on me.'

"OK, back on the stool. I need another hour, s'il vous plait."

As the time wound down, she was getting tired and a little sore from being in one position for so long. When he finally called it quits, she was relieved to be able to stand, stretch and get her robe on. "Uh, Pierre, could I maybe see the painting?"

"Today, non, but when I finish, I will let you see."

"Great. Look, I need to get back. I've got to go to work tonight and need to get a nap in."

"I call you in a week or two, OK?" he said as he handed her the money.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'd love to see it."

-----

It was amazing. It was fabulous. She couldn't believe how striking the painting was when she saw it two weeks later. She certainly recognized herself and was pleased at how realistic it was, though as before, he had his unique style which added a modern flair to the painting.

"Oh, Pierre, it's wonderful! I can't believe it. It should go in a museum or something."

"No, museums do not pay well. I sell it at a gallery."

"You know, it feels kinda weird knowing someone will have a painting of little ol' naked me in their house."

"Maybe, but they pay a lot of money for little ol' naked you."

"Thanks for letting me see it. When it goes up in a gallery, please let me know. I'd like to see it and maybe hear what others say about it."

"Of course. And thank you for posing."

"Sure. Ah, if you ever need a model again, I'd be interested in posing again."

"Bon. Uh, since you are new to this, I make it, (How do you say?) modest. Maybe next time a leetle more?"

"Maybe, but I'd have to think about it and you'd have to provide more wine," she laughed, "And please let me know when this goes for sale."

Five weeks later when she came in from work, a pamphlet announcing a new art exhibit was shoved under her door. It featured three artists, Pierre being one of them. The grand opening was scheduled two weeks later. She dropped off her purse and went next door.

"Hello, Zamantha. You have the invite?"

"Yes, Pierre, and thank you. I want to go but I hope nobody recognizes me."

"I hope this too. I want them to look only at the art."

"I'll come and maybe wear a hat or something."

"A woman so beautiful as you should not hide behind un chapeau."

"Thanks, Pierrre, but I may do something to disguise me. See you there."

"Oui, but do not forget I want for you to model again."

"Oh, I haven't, but I may need more wine," she laughed as she closed the door behind her.

-----

With her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, Samantha walked up to the gallery door where a butler greeted her.

"Welcome. Would Madam like me to take her coat?"

"Oh, thank you, no. I'm only staying for a few minutes."

"Very good," he replied as he opened the door.

Inside, there were a few dozen patrons drinking champagne and mingling as they viewed the artwork. Pierre's works were clearly the most popular and she had to wait a minute or so until others moved on before she could look at things more closely. She was impressed with his skill and interpretive nuances of the various works, most of which featured other people, scenes or objects. After milling around up front, she became curious as to where the work featuring her was.

After strolling around a partition, she was struck by the crowd blocking her view of the back wall. She waited patiently until some of the viewers moved on and gently elbowed her way into the group.

And there it was! A solo piece on the wall behind a ribbon barrier was the painting of her. But it was bigger, bolder and far sexier than the one he had shown her at his apartment. She couldn't believe how amazing it looked. She always appreciated how she had been blessed with good looks but this piece, this piece made her look fabulous!

A quick glance at the small sign on one of the stanchions caused her to gasp. The single-word title 'Goddess' was followed by the number '10,000.' Her mind raced. Did this mean he was asking for ten thousand dollars? She couldn't believe it.

"Worth every penny," said a tall man, perhaps a few years older than she, who was standing next to her.

"They can't be serious, though," she softly responded.

"Oh, they are and I predict it will be sold within the hour."

"Well, someone certainly has more money than me," she laughed.

"You'd be surprised," he responded in a soft voice, "At how much money is hiding behind these faux-torn jeans and casual T-shirts."

"Well, I hope for the artist's sake that they spend it here. I understand he's a pretty good painter."

"Yes, and the time to get one of his works is now because I predict in a few years this same work will cost ten times as much."

"No way!"

"Yes, way. He's that good."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"Maybe, a little. Oh, forgive me. I'm J. J. Watson, professor of art at the U."

"Oh, Hi. I'm Samantha, worker bee."

"Nice meeting you, Samantha. Have we, uh, have we met somewhere? I know it sounds like a lame come-on but I'm sure I've seen you before."

"I doubt it. I've never been to the U and I'm not one to hang around places like this very often."

"Hmm, well, anyway, nice meeting you."

"You, too. Gotta run. Take care."

-----

A few days later, she was scrolling through the local paper's website when she came upon an article in the 'Arts of the Town' section. It described the gallery showing with glowing terms.

It is truly rewarding to know that in our community of modest size, there are artists of such skill as were on display at The Pinewood Gallery last week. Among the several undiscovered 'Rembrandts' featured, one, in particular, stood out: Pierre Portiers. His works feature a new approach to realism which has been lost, in this reviewer's opinion, to the various 'ism' schools of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. While he does not paint meticulous, photographic replicas of his subjects, his works combine realistic images with the bold use of color and shadow to create pleasant yet stimulating works. Nowhere was this more evident than in his work 'Goddess,' a piece which deserves to be in MOMA. This reviewer notes all his work was sold by the end of the opening evening. The next time you have a chance to view his works, you should definitely take the opportunity. You will be glad you did.

Stunned. She was stunned Pierre's work was described in such glowing terms. Sure, she liked it, but she was no connoisseur of the arts, yet here was someone who presumably was and who had lauded his works in such terms. It gave her ego a little boost knowing she had been the object of his best work.

The next time she saw him, she gave a warm hug and congratulated him on the opening. "Pierre, you were a smash. Did you read the thing in the Gazette about the opening?"

"Non, but I have heard about it."

"They really liked the 'Goddess.' And I saw you made a lot of money on it. Congrats."

"Congratulations also goes to the subject. I thank you seetting for me."

"Oh, Pierre, it was nothing," she giggled before going on, "You get it? Nothing was what I had on and we say if a favor was no big deal, we sometimes say it was 'nothing'."

"Very funny. Ahh, I think the subject was why it did so well. Would you like to seet for me again?"

"Sure. I already promised you. We can coordinate the date and go from there."

"Ah, would you agree to a more risque pose?"

"Uh, more risque? I was already nude."

"Oui, but I have an idea for a painting like The Goddess but more sexy."

"Sexier? With a guy, you mean?"

"Non, I mean you alone but with more sex appeal."

"Uh, sure, I guess I would be willing to try it."

"I can pay more."

"Twist my arm and give me wine," she laughed, "And I'll be there."

-----

She had no idea what he meant by 'sexier' but assumed he wanted to paint more of her. Certainly, his offer of two hundred and fifty bucks an hour made her think 'nips and bits' could be on the table. Wearing her robe, she nervously knocked on his door three weeks later.

"Zamantha, welcome."

"Hi, Pierre. I'm here for my wine," she giggled.

"Ah, and beautiful like ever."

"Thank you." After she was given a small glass of wine, she asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"I want to paint a woman who is having sex."

"No way. I won't do this with anyone else here."

"Non, I want to paint only the woman but a woman who looks like she is having sex. I want the look on the face when she has orgasm."

"You want me to come, you know, to have an orgasm while you paint?"

"Non, non. You pretend to have sex and I paint you."

"So, a fake orgasm, huh?"

"Oui."

"Most girls know how to do that," she laughed, "I'll do my best."

After drinking the last of the wine, she went with Pierre to the studio. He had a small, well-lit bed covered with a sheet in the middle of the room.

"Please get on the bed and pose like you are having sex."

"OK. You're the boss."

Once her robe was off, she crawled on the bed, laid down on her back and spread her legs while raising her knees slightly.

"Like this?"

"Your arms. Where do you put your arms when you have sex?"

"I usually wrap them around the guy."

"Hmm. This won't do. Try another position."

Pierre didn't like the doggy-style position either, saying it would be too hard to see her face.

"Here. Let me try cowgirl."

"Cowgirl?"

"Yeah. Cowgirl. You know, like a cowboy on a horse but I'll be a cowgirl on a guy. Do you have a pillow?"

Once he provided it for her, she straddled it, leaned over slightly with her hands on the bed and threw her head back, eyes closed.

"Perfect! This is what I need. Can you hold this position?"

"I'll try. My knees are going to be talking to me after a while."

"We make a break if your knees hurt."

Samantha closed her eyes, tipped her head back a little more and settled in for the preliminary drawing. As she held her pose, her brain raced. Here she was, absolutely nude, in front of the painter and pretending to be in the throes of sexual excitement. Except, except she realized she was getting a little turned on! She didn't know if it was due to the circumstances, the fact that this was her favorite sexual position or if the pillow's pressure on her cooch was stimulating her. All she knew was that she was definitely getting excited. And it made her ability to hold the position even easier; she didn't have to pretend to be excited when she truly was.

After considerable time had passed, her knees began to bark at her and she asked if she could have a break. As she rose up, she realized there was a small wet spot on the pillow. She quickly flipped the pillow so Pierre wouldn't see things, stretched and grabbed a glass of water.

"Can I see it?"

"When we are finished today. Uh, Zamantha, I would like to finish this one and paint some of the others we did before, OK?"

"Sure. No problem."

After a few more minutes, her knees felt better, so she resumed the position. As before, she felt herself getting turned on. 'Why is this happening?' she asked herself once again.

At the end of nearly two hours, Pierre declared himself happy with his preliminary work. "I believe we have a good start. Can you come back in one week?"

"Sure. What about the others? Do I need to come back for them?"

"Non, but I will use them to go with today's painting. Maybe I make them a set. Pretty lady getting undressed and then having sex."

"Well, you're in charge."

"Here is the money."

"Wow, thank you, Pierre. I can't believe I just made five hundred bucks."

"You are worth it. I must say Merci, beaucoup. You come back in a few weeks again, non?"

"Sure. Let me know when you need me and we'll work it around my schedule."

-----

One week later she was again posing in his studio. And again, she found herself getting slightly turned on, particularly as she recalled the last time she was riding her most recent boyfriend. More than once, Pierre commented her face seemed realistic and was exactly what he needed.

When she asked to look at his work, he would not let her. "This will be a good painting. I want to feenish it before anyone sees it. But I will let you look first."

"Thanks, Pierre. Just let me know."

-----

Two weeks later, a cryptic note was slipped under her door. "Cowgirl" is waiting for your approval.

When she went to his place, it seemed Pierre was particularly nervous. "Come in, come in."

"Hi, Pierre. Are you finished?"

"Oui, with the big one. I am working on other paintings now. The gallery wants a show in one month so I am very busy. Come. Let me show you."

With shaking hands, he turned on the lights illuminating a covered easel. "Voila," he said as he pulled the cloth from the easel.

Samantha took in the entire image in a second. The canvas was huge and her nearly life-sized image commanded the viewer's attention. As with his other works, his style featured marvelous detail accented by unusual colors and shadowing. But this one, this one was somehow different; even she could see it. And even though she knew what his aim had been with her posing, she realized in an instant how the figure's ecstasy, her ecstasy, was so obvious and so overwhelming.

"Wow," she whispered.

"You like?"

"Like? I love it? It looks like I'm about to orgasm. You got those little creases on my forehead. And my neck veins are sticking out."

"Do you, is it OK for me to paint your breasts and, uh, down there?"

"Sure. I mean, that's what this is all about. Right?"

"I am relieved. And happy, too."

"Are you going to sell it?"

"Once I have all of your paintings, I will have them go to the gallery. And I invite you, too."

"I hope nobody recognizes me."

"If they do, it will be a compliment for me."

"Let me know, OK?"

"I will. I will."

-----

Nearly two months later Pierre let her know he was finished with all the paintings and a show was scheduled for the following month. "You may look at all the paintings if you wish."

"Uh, maybe I shouldn't. It might be fun to see them for the first time there."

"Bon, he responded somewhat nervously.

"Is everything OK?"

"Oui, oui."

"Then why you so antsy? You know, nervous."

 

"I, uh, I have a very beeg favor to ask."

"Sure. Ask away. It can't be any worse than posing for you."

"Maybe it is."

"What do ya mean?"

"Zamantha, I think the picture is my best ever. I plan to auction it on opening night."

"So?"

"The auction would be much better if people could see you there."

"You want me to be there?"

"Oui, oui."

"That's easy-peasy. I'll be glad to come to the opening."

"And pose?"

"Pose?"

"I want you to pose like when you deed for me."

"Sure, no big deal... Wait! Pierre, do you mean naked?"

He slowly nodded his head as the nature of his request finally sank into her brain.

"I, uh, I, uh don't think I could do..." her voice trailed off.

"This is my masterpiece and if you posed, it would be perfect. More money, I'm sure. And I pay you."

"The two hundred an hour?"

"Non, I pay you ten percent of the auction."

"Ten percent! Are you crazy? That's gotta be a ton. The last one sold for ten grand and you think this will be more?"

"Absolument! I know this. I know if you pose, it will be much more."

"How long do you think?"

"One hour. We open at eight, we keep the back closed until nine and from nine to ten we show the painting and you pose near it. Then the auction at quarter past ten."

"Uh, how much do you think this will sell for?"

"Much more than last time."

"Twenty?"

"I hope much more."

"Pierre, that means I could pick up over two grand for the night."

"More, I am positive it will be more."

With her knees quivering and her heart racing in her chest, Samantha sat down on a chair while resting her head in her hands. It would be huge money! For one hour of work, she could clear two or more grand. Sure, she'd be nervous. Who wouldn't be? Then it hit her: What pose or poses did he want her in?

"Uh, would I be changing poses or...?"

"Non. You pose like in the painting."

"You know, Pierre," she laughed, "It's gonna take a lot of wine for me to go starkers in front of a crowd."

"So, you will do it?"

"Let me think about it. No promises."

"I need to know soon."

"OK, I'll get back to you before the weekend."

-----

For the next few days, her mind kept going back to Pierre's request. It had taken her several minutes along with the glass of wine to get comfortable enough to pose nude in front of Pierre. And he made it clear he would never take advantage of her which he never did.

But posing nude in front of a crowd for an hour, well, that was something very different. Way scarier. She didn't hang out with the artsy crowd but there was still a chance someone she knew would be there. And she assumed he'd want her to hold the pose for the entire time which was doable, but not altogether pleasant.

Yet every time she figured she'd turn him down, the dollar signs fluttered in front of her eyes. His previous painting of her sold for ten grand and he was sure this one would go for more, possibly way more. This could be a great opportunity to pay off her credit cards and put some money in the bank. Before she knew it, she found herself knocking on his door three days later.

"Zamantha."

"Oh, Hi, Pierre. I guess I'm in."

"In?"

"Means I'll do it."

"Tres bien. You will make the show perfect. I will let them know to set up gallery with you and the painting behind a curtain in the back."

"Uh, do you want me to pose like I did with you?"

"Oui. You must look like you are doing cowgirl."

"Eyes closed? The whole thing?"

"Certainement. You look like a woman before orgasm, like in the painting."

"At least if my eyes are closed, I won't see people staring at me, I guess. But I'll still know they're there."

"Bring a robe and you can stay for the auction."

"Great. Maybe if I'm there, people will bid more."

"I hope so, too."

-----

On the Saturday of the opening, Samantha was a nervous wreck. She had never considered herself a prude and had enjoyed carnal pleasures with more than one partner over the years. But she wasn't 'in your face' about her sexuality, preferring to keep certain things private. She and one boyfriend had gone skinny dipping once but there were no others in the area so it was no big deal at the time. But here she would be nude in front of any number of people. The one thing which helped keep her sane was the knowledge she would have her eyes closed the entire time. She wouldn't have to watch people stare at her. And she hoped all the talking would be about the painting and not the live model next to it.

She was there when the doors opened at eight and was ushered to the back by the gallery owner, a nice woman named Giselle.

"I'm Giselle and I know you are Samantha. Pierre has done a wonderful job with your painting."

"Yeah, it's pretty good, I have to admit."

"Much better than 'The Goddess' and I think the auction will prove many others agree."

"I hope so. I'm nervous about posing nude in front of strangers."

"I'm sure you are. I have some champagne in back if you want to try and calm your nerves."

"Maybe a half glass. I don't want to get the giggles while I'm posing."

"No, that would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? Why don't you wait here, read a little or something and I'll come get you about five minutes before we open your section."

"Yeah. Maybe playing a silly game on my phone will distract me."

Although it didn't distract her completely, it did help pass the time. Shortly before nine p. m., Giselle came through the curtain.

"It's about time. Is there anything you need before we get you up on the platform?"

"Yeah, a quick tinkle." In the bathroom, she stripped before slipping on a robe. Once back with Giselle, Samantha was led into the curtained-off area. The painting, illuminated by high-intensity lights, was hung on a stark white wall. The rest of the walls were bare and off to the left was a small, padded bench which was covered with a pale blue sheet and a matching pillow.

"Looks nice," she noted nervously.

"Thank you. With nothing more than the painting and you in the room, I'm sure you'll present an awesome dynamic between the real thing and the artistic impression. Here, let me have your robe and I'll put it right inside this door."

Samantha handed it over before crawling onto the bench. She fluffed up the pillow, lowered herself and glanced once at the painting before closing her eyes. A few seconds later, she assumed the position and the aura of the painting.

"Oh, Samantha, you're perfect. Can you hold it for an hour?"

"I think so. I did pretty much while he was painting me."

"OK. Well, I'll go out and announce the special viewing and afterwards, you'll hear people come through the curtain. Do your best to hold things just as they are, OK?"

"I guess so. I'm still pretty nervous."

"Just remember, you won't see them looking. Try to distract yourself by thinking of other things, but don't lose that look on your face. It's fabulous."

With her heart beating double-time, Samantha's ears strained to listen to the announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Giselle Weaver, proud owner of Pinewood Studio. I hope you have enjoyed some of the works you've seen here tonight. I have a very special showing for you behind this curtain. Pierre Portiers has a wonderful piece that will be open for viewing for one hour before it is auctioned off tonight. We will have it on display for one week after it is sold and if you wish to see it beyond the week, you must submit the winning bid.

"A few rules about this exhibit. First, no children are allowed. Second, absolutely no cameras or phones. And last, please be respectful. Thank you. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Portiers' painting entitled 'Climax of the Goddess.'

Samantha was stunned to hear the title of the work, but before she could think about it, she heard the curtain being drawn back. A few soft footsteps were heard before a murmur went through the room. She heard some whispering and the few words she could make out clearly suggested the showing was a hit.

It was difficult not to look but at the same time, not looking helped keep her from feeling too embarrassed. If she couldn't see them, how could she be?

One thing she had decided ahead of time was how to occupy her mind. Holding a pose for an hour was hard enough but to keep from decompensating mentally, she had decided to do math problems, do some historical quizzes and plan for a possible vacation the following summer.

'Let's see,' she calculated silently, 'How much can I expect to get? He said it would be way more than ten grand. Maybe twice that? Hmm, even if it's eighteen grand, that gives me eighteen hundred. And, if there are sixty minutes in an hour which makes it thirty bucks a minute! And it means a dollar every two seconds or fifty cents a second! One Mississippi; fifty cents. Two Mississippi; now a dollar!'

She almost laughed out loud once she realized she was worth fifty cents a second. But her mind went on. 'What if he gets thirty grand? Then I'd get...' Her mind continued figuring out many potential outcomes.

She then tried to recount all the presidents in order from Washington to the current one. Unfortunately, she got bogged down in the early to mid-eighteen hundreds. 'Dammit, I can never remember which one was Tyler and which was Taylor,' she thought before giving up. 'Maybe I can think about a vacation. I still don't have a lot of money but maybe I can visit Mom and Dad and hike a few days on the Appalachian Trail with him. I know he'd like to get away.'

Toward the end of the hour, at least it felt like it was near the end but she had no way of being certain, her mind quit thinking about numbers, history and vacations and began to think about her pose and what it meant. She was portraying a woman who was nearing or beginning to climax. And it was her favorite sex position, no doubt about it. The only problem was she'd not had an opportunity to ride a man in far too long. Thinking about it caused her to realize she was becoming horny. And being in her favorite position, well, that combined with her horniness, caused her body to respond.

She could feel her nipples tighten. She could feel a certain fullness in her pelvis. But most shockingly, she felt moisture begin to collect, much as it had when she was sitting for Pierre. Panic struck. How was she going to get up when her time was done without people seeing a big wet spot on the pillow?

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have five minutes to go before we close the exhibition and move on to the auction."

This was wonderful news for Samantha. She knew her arousal, the wet pillow below her and her slightly sore knees all would appreciate the end of the session.

"OK, everyone. The hour is now up and I want to be the first one to thank our lovely subject. You may get down now, Dear."

As she moved, she grabbed the pillow, held it slightly in front of her and opened her eyes. She was stunned at the number of people in the room; there must have been close to a hundred all crammed together.

One pair of hands began to clap and soon everyone was applauding her as she turned to leave the room. Once out of their sight, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, grabbed her robe and collapsed into a chair.

"You were great out there,' said Giselle. "They loved you."

"I was blown away by how many were there."

"Yeah, they were very well-behaved and quiet. No wonder it was a surprise. Now I need to get out there and make sure people have plenty of champagne to loosen their wallets. Bidding will begin in ten minutes or so."

"May I watch?"

"Of course. I might have you take off your robe to see if we can juice the bids a little... no, I'm only teasing. Keep the robe on and feel free to mingle."

After a few minutes, Pierre strode to the front of the room next to his painting. "Thank you so much for coming tonight. I am very pleased with this painting and I hope whoever wins it will treasure it as much as I did painting it. And I want to thank my wonderful subject for being so patient in my studio and again here tonight."

Another round of applause rattled around the room before he spoke up again. "I want to introduce you to Harry who will be the auctioneer this evening. Please turn your attention to him."

"Good evening, everyone. Now, I am not an artist or an art critic but I can say this piece somehow seems special to me. Maybe it's because I was able to see the real model and how Mr. Portiers painted her. Anyway, I will tender bids of no less than two thousand dollars and no less than five hundred dollars per raise."

"Do I hear two thousand?"

"Two."

"Three."

"Five."

"Seven fifty."

"Ten."

Samantha was amazed. In a few seconds the bidding was equal to the selling price of 'The Goddess' and no one seemed to blink an eye. As the bidding continued, she became aware of someone standing next to her.

"I thought I recognized you last time. You were the model for "The Goddess,' weren't you?" came the whispered question.

"Maybe. Uh, you're J. J., uh..."

"Watson. Shh, we should listen to the bidding."

"I have seventeen-five. Do I hear eighteen?"

"Twenty!"

Samantha could hardly believe it. She had earned two thousand dollars in sixty minutes! The bidding continued and after most people dropped out, there seemed to be two bidders who were in serious competition for purchasing 'The Climax.' In five-hundred-dollar increments, the bidding went back and forth between an older, white-haired man who looked like a banker and a younger woman who was talking quietly on a phone between each bid.

'Must be bidding for someone else,' Samantha thought.

"We're at twenty-seven five to the lady. Sir?"

"Twenty-eight!"

And on and on it went. It was stunning that one piece of art could command such bids. And every time the bid went up five hundred dollars, another fifty went into her pocket.

"You seem excited," whispered J. J.

"Yeah, I am. I'm being paid on a percentage of the auction price."

"Sweet deal."

"Yeah. Pierre's such a great guy."

"And a great painter, too."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we now have a bid for thirty thousand dollars. Do I hear thirty-thousand-five?"

"Thirty-one thou," responded the woman with the phone.

"Thirty-two."

After a few seconds on the phone, the woman responded "Thirty-three."

"Thirty-four."

Another phone discussion led to, "Thirty-five."

"Thirty-six!"

The lady turned away from the crowd as she talked with her unknown associate while gesturing in an exasperated manner before she hung up and dropped the phone in her purse. "We are out," she announced.

"I hear thirty-six. Any other bids?"

"Hearing none, 'The Climax of the Goddess' is currently at thirty-six thousand dollars. Going once."

"Going twice. Anybody?"

After what seemed to be an agonizing wait, the auctioneer announced, 'Sold!'

There was a round of applause as the older man made his way to the front of the room. There, he stood by the painting while accepting congratulations from several onlookers. And in Samantha's mind, she quickly calculated she had earned a dollar for every second she posed nude. Wanting to thank him, she squeezed through the crowd before giving him a big hug.

"If I had known a hug was part of the deal, I might have paid more," he said to the laughter of the crowd.

On her way back to get dressed, J. J. intercepted her.

"How much did you earn?" he asked.

"Kinda private, but it was nice."

"Well, good for you. Say, uh..."

"Say what?" she asked.

"Uh, is there any chance we might be able to get together sometime, you know, for a drink or something?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'm not so sure. You've got to see all of me and you keep yourself covered with your chinos, shirt and sports coat. Not really fair now, is it?"

"If I promise to forget everything I've seen tonight, will it make things better?"

"It makes them worse! Here I bare all and you'll just forget it. You know how to hurt a girl," she laughed.

"Oops. I screwed up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Anything I can do to make it all better?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it," she smiled.

"Then take my card and feel free to call anytime. This number is my work number but my personal number is the same except you need to switch the last two digits."

"I'll have to keep that in mind. Uh, excuse me but I'd like to go ahead and get dressed."

"Sure. Say, uh, I am serious about us maybe getting together sometime. Please think about it."

"You just want to see me naked again," she giggled.

"I won't deny it, but in all honesty, I'd settle for a coffee sometime."

"I'll keep it in mind. Goodnight, J. J."

-----

When Pierre handed her a check for thirty-six hundred, she gave him a big hug and thanked him profusely.

"No need to thank me. I want to thank you. I am sure you raised the price at least another ten thousand dollars."

"Well, now at least I can pay off my credit cards and take a quick trip back East to visit my parents."

"Bien! Ah, I would like to paint you again sometime. Would you...?"

"Of course, Pierre, I'd love to. Just give me some warning and we'll figure it out around my work schedule."

-----

Several days later when she put on her robe after a shower, her hand found the business card in her pocket. 'Hmm, should I call him?' she wondered, 'Seems nice enough. Kinda older than I prefer but...'

She kicked the question around in her mind for the next week or so before she came up with an idea. Maybe she could even the playing field a little. She picked up her phone to send a text.

Sam here

hi glad you remembered

want 2 get 2gether

Y

good be ready Sat 10am I will send instructions

what will happen

check the date, ur only clue

She giggled as she turned off her phone. 'I wonder if he'll figure it out.'

-----

Saturday the fourteenth dawned clear and warm, a perfect day for her plans. She drove some distance out of town, turned onto a small by-road and eventually came to a familiar weed-covered drive. She parked her car out of sight from the road, and grabbed her water, phone, picnic basket and a blanket before walking down the drive. Things had grown a lot since she had last been there but it appeared to still be private and remote.

After a five-minute walk, she came to a clearing with a dilapidated cabin off to one side. The meadow grass was nearly knee-high and she immediately knew if she were to walk across it, he would figure things out. 'Maybe I'll hide in the cabin,' she thought.

Inside, she clattered up rickety, old stairs to a loft which featured a window looking over the meadow. 'Perfect! And my phone still has three bars.'

She pulled out her bottle of water, had a few swallows, played a game on her phone until ten a. m. showed on her phone.

ready?

Y

nice that u follow orders

I try

good. drive out Harris road 22 miles and text me

Twenty-eight minutes later, he texted back.

I'm there.

trn on Richards road, drive 6 miles

K

Nine minutes later came his next text.

here

see big tree on left?

Y

turn on driveway by tree, park by my car

K, then what

walk 2 field

With her heart pounding in her chest, she waited and wondered if he'd be willing to play her little game. The five minutes seemed to last forever before she heard her phone chirp.

'Damn, hope he didn't hear that,' she muttered to herself as she muted her phone.

now what

go to middle of field

From a corner of the window, she watched as he walked through the grass as instructed. Once he was there, he pulled out his phone.

 

here

I c u

Now what

take off ur shirt

what

shirt off

She watched as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt and slid it off his shoulders. He was seriously good-looking and sported a nice six-pack.

now what

guess

pants

1 smart professor

She watched as he undid his shoes, pulled off his socks and then his pants. His dark green boxers were all that was left.

K

what is today?

jul 14

what is jul 14

?

u don't know

N

Nat Nude Day

There was a long pause before he texted back.

u want me 2 strip

get busy

She watched as he looked around, almost catching her staring at him from the window. When she peeked again, he was pulling his boxers to the ground. He stood proud and slowly turned a three-sixty, arms held out to his sides. Damn, did he look good! His broad shoulders and slightly hairy chest announced his masculinity, even from a distance. The hair on his lower belly drew her eyes down to his pubes. His uncut cock was decent in size, not porno material, but plenty big to satisfy a girl. Suddenly, she knew she wanted him, even if it was just for the day.

well?

don't move

She quietly slipped down the old stairs, peeled off her clothes, grabbed the blanket and basket, took a deep breath and walked through the door. As he was looking off in the distance, he didn't see her at first, but once he laid eyes on her, he froze. She took a few steps towards him, grass tickling her feet. He started to move towards her but she held her hand up with a 'Stop' gesture. As she neared him, she saw he was already getting excited.

'Even nicer up close,' she thought, 'I can't believe I'm doing this, but why not?' "Nice that you drove all the way out here," she said.

"I wanted to see you again, so I figured why not."

"Hmm. Now we've each seen the other naked, what should we do about it?"

"Uh, a picnic? I see your basket though I didn't bring any food or anything. Had no idea what to expect."

"Food? It's not even eleven and you're thinking about food?"

"Well, I'm a growing boy and..."

"I'll say you're growing, Professor!" she laughed as she started to lay out the blanket, "And let's see what we can do about that before we eat!"

-----

Trionyx -- Nude Day contest 2025

Votes and comments are appreciated. Thank you.

-----

Other stories of a woman experiencing first-time public nudity can be found at Riveria Vacation and Clementine's Bloomers

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