Art Project
5
New Model
“WOW! WHAT A SWEET SETUP,” Kendra said. We’d finally taken her upstairs to our suite. That’s what we’d taken to calling it. We had a bathroom, bedroom, and studio. All three of us had workspaces in the studio, but it was small enough that we overlapped and shared a lot.
“This is where Morgan works on spreadsheets,” Annette laughed pointing at my sister’s desk and laptop.
“Hey! Spreadsheets aren’t all I do,” my sister objected. “I’m into event planning, marketing, and communications, too.”
“I always wondered what the BBA in Arts Administration was all about,” Kendra said. “Where do you plan to work when you’re out of school?”
“I’m doing my internship at the Schipford Gallery this summer,” Fay said. “I just got accepted and I’m really excited. But I’ve also got inquiries out to a couple of agencies where I might be able to pick up part time work next year. It’s still too far in advance to know what will happen when I’m out of school. It seems forever from now.”
“What kind of agencies?”
“Literary and talent. We’re pretty remote, but with the arts community as strong as it is here, there are some good opportunities. Of course, if my mates are as successful as I think they’ll be, I’ll have enough work right here to keep me busy.”
“You mean representing them?” Kendra asked. Fay nodded. “I’d sign on. Will you rep me, too? I bet we could get you a whole client list just from our class. Where’s your spot, Annette?”
“Can’t you tell? The sofa with the embroidered pillow. Reading lamp. Tea tray,” Annette said as she pointed at her reading nook.
“Really? I thought that was like a still life that Arthur was painting.”
“Oh, he’s painted it, but the life is seldom still. I mostly do my reading and writing there.”
“Do you use a quill?” She sounded so serious! I was beginning to really appreciate Kendra’s sense of humor.
“Only to defend myself from my lovers,” Annette shot back. Kendra turned to my easel.
“It’s obvious to see where Arthur works,” she said. “Is this where I’ll sit for my portrait?”
“It can be. We can do it almost anywhere,” I said.
“In fact, we’ve done it almost anywhere,” Annette quipped. “He did our nipples in bed.”
“Are we talking about painting or sex?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard about this nipple thing. Somebody has to explain.”
I pulled out the portfolio where I was keeping the drawings and watercolors. Kendra sat on the sofa next to Annette and opened it.
“Practice,” I said. “Repetition. Draw and observe and draw again. It started as an exercise in the drawing studio and I got carried away.”
“I’m taking that class next semester. They make you draw nipples?”
“No. I just found them more interesting than vases,” I said.
“Um… Yeah. Oh! Look at the watercolors. These are beautiful. And they’re like… your breasts, right?” she asked looking at Annette and Morgan.
“Our right breasts. We’re trying to convince him that he needs to get more models and do a whole suite of these,” Morgan said. “It’s… really an intense experience.”
“Yeah. Well. Um… What do I need to do for the portrait? You know, mostly my face. Maybe a little shoulder. But… um…”
“I won’t ask you to get naked,” I laughed. “Here’s what I was thinking.” I pulled out my classroom sketchbook and we sat on the sofa to leaf through it and talk about the various poses she’d taken. We talked about the benefit of posing versus just relaxing and the difference between one of my quick classroom sketches and the drawing I’d do to paint from. When we agreed on what we both wanted out of this, she went to change clothes.
Annette volunteered to help Kendra get ready and fix her makeup, but Kendra declined. She said she knew exactly what she needed and would rather surprise us.
“Did she think I was going to rape her?” Annette asked sheepishly. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You have to remember that we’ve gotten comfortable with being with each other in any state of undress,” Fay said. “Not everyone is. Especially with people who are really new friends. As outgoing and talkative as Kendra is, I think she’s really kind of shy.”
I was leafing through my sketchbook again to look at all the sketches I had of Kendra. There were a lot of them. After I started sketching, she’d made sure that I got at least one of her every day we had class together. Four or more a week from September through November. But one thing I noticed more than anything. I’d never seen any of Kendra’s skin below her neck except her hands.
“Modesty,” I said. “Look at the drawings. I wonder if she’s ever let anyone see any more of her.” I certainly didn’t expect to see any more of her than that. Her portrait would be her face, not a full body drawing. I could draw about any kind of clothing on her that I wanted to.
When she arrived back upstairs, she surprised us. She was, in fact, wearing a conservative skirt and blouse. A long skirt with granny shoes peeking out from beneath the hem. The laced blouse was cream and the long skirt was tan. I thought how appropriate that was based on Mom’s reading of her neutral aura. I thought Morgan could see it, too, though we’d never talked about it. Sometimes I wished I could see what they saw.
What surprised me most, though, was that Kendra wore no makeup. Her face was pretty, but not glamorous. When women go to get their picture taken by a photographer—even if they are just visiting Santa—they tend to be very careful about makeup. Kendra had worn makeup to class and even to breakfast. She was being very daring to approach her portrait with no makeup. She took a deep breath and spun around.
“Am I acceptable? I was going to save this to wear tomorrow to dinner, but I really like it. I guess I’m an old hippie at heart. Arthur, I took off all my makeup. I really want a portrait that shows how you see me and not how I try to present myself. Does that make sense?” Kendra could never stop at one sentence. I just nodded and she kept going. “And just for the record, I’m not charging a modeling fee. I hope you knew that.”
“Kendra, I was just going to give you the painting. You can do whatever you want with it.” Had I misunderstood?
“What? You can’t just give away your paintings, Arthur! I’m just a model. I’m nobody famous who needs a portrait. I just want to be in one of your paintings!”
Morgan and Annette were looking between the two of us speechless. We’d all completely misunderstood. Especially as body shy as Kendra was, I just assumed she wanted the painting, not that she just wanted to model.
“You’ve taken me in for the weekend and are treating me like one of the family and it just wouldn’t be right to take anything for modeling. Besides, it was my idea. I just want to be in one of your paintings. You’re going to be a famous artist one day and maybe sometime my grandchildren will see my portrait hanging in a museum and know it’s little ol’ me.”
“Really? You just want to model?”
“I’ve practiced holding a pose for all these years! I want someone to paint me. Just tell me how you want me posed.”
“Well, okay. Um… I think… I want you over by Annette’s reading lamp. Is that skirt loose enough that you can tuck one leg up under you? Yes! Like that. Lean a little to your right. We need a book!” Annette was on the spot with a popular romance that she handed to Kendra. Kendra’s eyes popped open when she saw the title.
“You read this?” she squeaked. Annette kind of shrugged and nodded. “I thought I was the only one,” Kendra continued. “In the Scottish Highlands, and with the last lines of the movie Brigadoon fresh in her mind, Irene Redmond signs up for a tour, hoping to uncover secrets hinted at in her mother’s diary. Instead, Irene is transported back in time to the thirteenth century, along with the rest of the tour group,” she read. “I loved this one! Did you read The Quest? She is so good. So romantic.”
“Dad treats them as serious literature and assigns one to each of his literature survey classes,” Morgan laughed. “Annette got hooked.”
“At least he can’t complain when he catches me reading one,” Annette laughed.
“This requires an adjustment to the pose,” Kendra said. She sat on the sofa next to Annette’s reading light and untied the bow at her throat. She gave a tug and the laces came loose as she dragged the collar toward her right shoulder. The lace popped out of the top eyelets and the vee gapped open. She wasn’t exposing anything explicit, but it was more flesh than I’d ever seen her expose. I thought of how Annette sighed when she read the book.
“Can you hold the book in your right hand?” I asked. “Then with your left hand, reach up and touch your cheek. No. Let it slide down a little to touch your neck below your left ear. Turn your palm out toward me. There. Tilt your head just a little to the right. Smile just a little. Pose!” I shouted. I grabbed my sketchbook and started drawing furiously. Kendra stayed in exactly that position. I’m not sure she even blinked. I drew for half an hour. “Can you get back in that pose if we take a break?” Kendra relaxed.
“No problem. I’ve got it memorized.”
“You are fantastic!” I said.
“That was unbelievable. Let us see, Arthur?” Annette said. She and Morgan had been with us the whole time but Kendra had never acknowledged their little conversation and jokes.
“Such a good model,” I said. “I want to paint you a lot.”
“I know you,” Kendra laughed. “You just want to paint a lot of me.” Her expression suddenly sobered. “I look at this and see what you’ve captured—really, what you see. I’m nowhere near that beautiful, but you… I can’t wait to get started again!”
“I need the bathroom first,” I said. I left the others. I think Kendra and maybe Annette went downstairs to use the guest bathroom and Morgan pushed her way in with me. I pretended not to notice as I peed, but I couldn’t help but notice when Morgan sat down before I could flush.
“It still embarrasses you a little, doesn’t it,” she giggled.
“Um… just… um… polite.”
“My darling Pen, this part of you that dangles out here while you pee has been inside this part of me that I’m patting dry. Repeatedly. And it will be there again as soon as we take a longer break and find something for Kendra to occupy herself with. Maybe she’ll do something with her clay to keep her fingers occupied. Sweetheart, you never need to be embarrassed with me, nor be afraid that you aren’t being polite. Just love me. And kiss me,” she said after she’d flushed the toilet.
I did.
“It’s intriguing. I might, but don’t push me, okay?” Kendra said to Annette as Morgan and I returned to the studio.
“No one here will ever push you to do something you don’t want to do, Kendra,” Morgan said looking sternly at Annette. Annette shook her head.
“We were just talking about some of the other artwork and how good a model Kendra is,” she said. “I’m not pushing anything.”
“I actually brought it up,” Kendra responded. “I might be interested, but I have to think about it some more.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to. Will you finish this pose?”
“Oh, of course! I have an empty bladder now and I’m ready to perform.”
“Perform?”
“Yeah. Performance art. A living being that people stare at. Maybe we could get a whole group together to do it. Anyway, am I in the right position?”
Kendra must have fantastic muscle memory. I tilted her head to the right just a fraction of an inch more and it was perfect. Kendra held perfectly still while Annette and Morgan quietly talked about school and how it had been getting through the first semester. It was just background, but it was soothing. They didn’t try to engage Kendra or break her concentration, but I could tell Kendra was listening.
“Can I see that smile again?” I asked. “You just let it flicker across your face and I liked it.”
“Oh. Sorry. Sure. But I liked the expression you had before.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just doing a quick sketch to see if I can capture your version of the Mona Lisa.” I flipped to a blank page in my sketchbook and just focused on Kendra’s lips and nose.
“Will it be okay?” Kendra asked as we prepared to leave for Annette’s family home. “I didn’t pit it out or anything while I was posing, did I?”
“You were cool as a cucumber. I don’t think you sweat at all,” Morgan said.
“You look lovely, dear,” Mom joined in. “And don’t be nervous. You’re practically part of the family now.”
“Family? I mean… I’m not… you know,” Kendra sputtered.
“If you mean you are not one of their lovers,” Dad said calmly, “that doesn’t make a difference. I’m not either and I’m still part of the family.” That made us all laugh and we headed out to Thanksgiving Dinner with the rest of the family.
“So, I guess I felt like I needed to make a clean break and move away,” Kendra explained to Gramma. Gramma had drawn her out with subtle questions about her aura. “Just kind of blah,” Kendra had said.
“Oh, no, dear. Neutral, yes, but it has brightened even since you arrived this afternoon. I would call it balanced, not blah.” It had gone on like that and before long Gramma had gotten Kendra to talk about why she had come all the way out west to go to school. She’d already alluded to the fact that she and her friends did a lot of smoking weed, but the story she told now made it much clearer.
“I was becoming self-destructive,” Kendra said. “I thought of myself as a Suicide Girl, though I never tried to join them. I amplified the bad things in life and ignored the good. An… um… artist… I was posing for, I guess… told me I needed to look up or I’d never see the sky. Isn’t that a poetic way of putting things? It really made me think about what kind of a track my life was on and how my friends were influencing me.”
“There is a certain attraction to dystopian romance,” Dad said. “If everything is doomed from the beginning, then there is no reason to hope for anything better. If you don’t expect anything, nothing can disappoint you.”
“You mean like Steampunk stuff?” she asked.
“Long before that,” Dad said. “Take Shakespeare, for example. When you read or watch one of his tragedies, you know in the first act, usually in the first scene, that there is no hope. Romeo and Juliet will die. Lear will kill his beloved daughter. Hamlet—everyone will die. It goes back to the Greeks, perhaps even further. Oedipus will insist on bringing the murderer of the former king to justice, only to find he himself committed patricide and has married his mother. Not only will he be the cause of her death, but in his blind rage he sets the stage for his sons and his daughters to all die. There is beautiful poetry in all their works, but we know from the outset there is no hope.”
“I still don’t know where the hope is,” Kendra mused. “But I see the sky.”
“Is anyone going shopping today?” Kendra asked on Friday morning. There were a few snorts from around the kitchen table.
“We aren’t really into that kind of thing,” Morgan said. “Our family has a pretty low-key Christmas tradition and shopping isn’t part of it.”
“I started getting texts at four o’clock this morning about the sale my mother was standing in line for,” Kendra sighed. “I’m pretty sure that by five o’clock she’d spent a thousand dollars. It’s not like we have such a big family. I have two older brothers and a younger sister. My brothers moved away. One’s in the army and the other just took off wandering one day. We usually hear from him at Christmas with a report of what he’s been doing the past year.”
“Is your little sister doing okay?” I asked. From what Kendra had told us she had been self-destructive when she lived at home.
“Okay is a relative term,” she laughed. “Of the thousand dollars my mother has spent on Christmas presents this morning, $996.50 was probably for Tricia. The other $3.50 would be for a pumpkin spice latte.”
“Spoiled little girl?” Mom asked pointedly. I liked the way Mom and Dad just sat at the kitchen table with ‘us kids’ and joined in the conversation like they were friends. Not that there was ever any doubt that they were parents when it was needed, but they didn’t pass judgment on us when we were just talking.
“She does a better job of standing up to it than I did. Right now, Tricia is mad at me for leaving. She’s fifteen years old and is a powder keg with a lit fuse. I’m hoping if I can get an apartment out here when the dorms close that she will come out to stay with me for a month. That would be so cool!”
“Be sure to start looking early,” Dad said. “A lot of students will be looking for someone to take over leases they should never have signed in the first place. The same for the job market if you are going to be hunting. Everyone wants a summer job.”
“I’m going to paint,” I said as I put my dishes in the dishwasher. “Kendra’s portrait. Pretty.” She smiled at me and I left the room as the rest kept talking.
Portraits are often static representations of what a person wants to look like. I’m not a fan of them. If you really want a still picture, just take a snapshot. Digital cameras are cheap. In fact, almost every phone has a good camera. There’s no reason to take a graduation portrait and have it retouched to look like an oil painting. You can just run a filter on a digital image and turn it into something that looks painted. Sort of.
I like to tell a story with my paintings. I can’t tell it with words. That’s what Morgan and Annette do. They look at the painting and tell the story. Annette really gets into the storyline. Morgan focuses on the emotions. I get a fresh look at my own paintings when they talk about them.
The sketch I’d done of Kendra was good, but there was something missing. I’d sketched out several different variations, placing various dreamscape backgrounds behind her as she read. Nothing quite worked. I leafed through my sketchbook, trying to find an inspiration. I saw a sketch I’d done in Lib Arts. Kendra had come into the room and sat opposite me, then struck a pose I called ‘You did what?!’ Her eyes were popped wide open and her mouth made a little ‘O.’ I really got a kick out of that one. Sometimes she liked to clown.
I started sketching again. Something about what she said this morning struck a chord. I wondered if her sister Tricia looked like her. It wasn’t difficult to take a few years off Kendra’s face. If she had that expression while looking over the shoulder of the one reading a book, it would look like the younger version was reading over the shoulder of the older. I could see it taking shape and grabbed a canvas board to start laying in the shapes.
“Pen? It’s lunchtime. You’ve been at it for four hours. Can you take a break?” Annette asked from the archway into our bedroom.
“Wow! Really? I should… Yeah. I didn’t mean to ignore everyone all day.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We four girls went out for coffee and to look at the decorations downtown. Dad’s been grading papers. You haven’t been ignoring us. At least not like you think,” she giggled. “Are you working on Kendra’s portrait?”
“Yeah. I hope she likes it. I don’t think it’s what she thought it would be.” I’d nearly completed the sketch on the canvas board and would probably start applying paint this afternoon or tomorrow. Annette circled around me to look.
“Oh! That’s wonderful!” she laughed. “How did you get this look? Did you make it up?”
“I had a sketch she posed for in class.”
“She looks like a little girl reading over big sister’s shoulder. Look at that expression! She’ll love it.”
“I hope so.” I turned to Annette and she met my lips with her own. It was tempting just to stay there or move to the bed, but I really needed to practice my social skills. What there were of them. At least Kendra was almost like family and I could talk to her when she shut up. That was pretty much only when she was posing.
Kendra liked the sketch. I guess that was what all the squealing was about when I showed her after lunch. Morgan hadn’t seen it yet either and the two girls danced and bounced around. Annette, of course, had already seen the sketch but had to bounce around with the other two anyway.
Then Kendra hugged me.
I kind of stiffened, I guess. She jumped back.
“I’m sorry!” she yelled. “I didn’t mean to invade your personal space. I just liked it so much I wanted to hug you. I didn’t mean anything by it. Honest!”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It just surprised me.”
“And don’t worry,” Morgan said. “None of us think badly about it. We all want to hug him when he does something like this. He really captured you, didn’t he?”
“I really like it and I’ll pose for you any time, Arthur.” I held out my arms and Kendra came back to them and gave me the hug she intended to. It wasn’t sexual or as invasive as I’d feared. It was just a hug from my friend. It didn’t even last long. It was good.
Kendra hugged Annette and Morgan and they all three bounced some more.
“It will take a while before it’s finished, you know,” I said. “Probably till Christmas.”
“It has already surpassed my expectations,” Kendra said. “I can wait. But… um… Promise you won’t make fun of me, but…” She was really struggling.
“Kendra, we’d never make fun of you. You are our friend,” Morgan said.
“I’d… I want to be a nipple model,” she finally burst out. “I was such a stupid girl.”
“Um…” What could I say? I just stared at Annette and Morgan. A nipple model? Well, that was something she could even talk through. If I was drawing her right nipple like I’d drawn Morgan and Annette, it didn’t require her to keep her head still or to hold a single expression. But she wanted to? It was so unlike the girl who had never shown so much as her wrist.
“Would it be okay, Annette and Morgan, if I posed. Sort of naked. So, he could draw me? You could be there. I wouldn’t, like, try anything. But what he showed in my face. I want to see myself through those eyes. I want to stop being ashamed of what I did!”
“Of course it would be okay,” Annette said. “We talked about it yesterday. But don’t think you have to in order to be our friend. And there is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I… went a little crazy when I turned eighteen. It was in September, right after I started my senior year. We all decided it would be a good idea. I’m just… Oh, fuck!” Kendra pulled her hoodie off. That didn’t expose much since she was wearing a long sleeve T-shirt, though there was a lot of bouncing around under the shirt. Then she grabbed the T-shirt by the hem and pulled it up and over her head. That was all she was wearing.
Wow!
I mean, Kendra’s really good looking. I might not put her in the same class of beautiful as I do Annette, but I love Annette and that could influence me. Believe me, Kendra had everything she was supposed to have and it was all in the right places and the right proportions. And then there was the artwork.
“It’s not the tattoos that I’m ashamed of. It’s that I was so stoned that I thought it would be a good idea to put the whole Harry Potter story on my body,” she said. “It was so juvenile!”
The first thing I noticed—I was looking at her boobs, of course—was that she had words in some ornate script tattooed around the outside lower edge of her right breast.
“Expecto Patronum?” I said.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she growled. She turned and faced me full on. The tip of a magic wand protruded from beneath her belt and from the end there was a kind of cloud that took shape as a winged horse. Then she rolled her arm over and on the inside of her left forearm was a skull and snake kind of thing. Oh, yeah. The dark mark. I wasn’t sure if I should look any further. “That’s all,” she said. “My little sister stopped me before I went any further. Well… except for one.” She grimaced and pushed her jeans and panties down to the top of her slit. She had a lightning bolt tattooed there, pointing at… um… I assumed it was pointing at her clit. She pulled her pants up.
Annette and Morgan were speechless. Poor Kendra looked like she was about to cry. She was so embarrassed. She grabbed for her shirt.
“You had a really good artist,” I said. “Pegasus for your patronus. I like that. When I do your breast, I want to capture the lettering, too. It will take me a little extra time to be sure I’ve got it right. You don’t mind, do you? I can see how all this is part of you, just from the way you act and talk. You could be a character in the story. Let’s get you positioned so I can draw. Okay?”
“Really, Arthur? You’re not just freaked out? I’ve never heard you say so much at once!”
“Somebody had to,” I said glaring at my girlfriends. That seemed to break them out of their shock.
“Oh, my god!” Annette said. “I never would have guessed in a million years that was what you were hiding.”
“Let’s get you into position so Art can start drawing. He’s already making marks on the page,” Morgan said. “We’ve been doing the drawings on the bed because it’s comfortable and Art can move around to see what he wants to. Here, let’s pile the pillows up so you can sit up.”
“Really? You’re going to start drawing right now?”
“Well, you’re the model,” Annette said. “If you weren’t undressing to pose, we’d have to assume you just wanted to show Art your boobs and that would create complications, don’t you think?”
“Oh! I…”
“We could all go topless if it makes you feel better,” Morgan said, “but Arthur might get a little distracted and I know he wants to concentrate on your nipple. It’s probably better that we just sit with you and talk like we did during your portrait session.”
“Except you can talk back and turn your head because he won’t be looking above your neck,” Annette said. “Is this good, Arthur?” I was already about ten inches from Kendra’s right nipple and had pencil to paper. I just grunted and nodded. I needed to concentrate.
“I have a feeling this is going to take a while,” Morgan said. “Every aspect of your right nipple will be drawn. We’ll probably have to do two sessions because no one can sit as long as Arthur can draw.”
“Did it take that long for you?”
“No, but Art already had a passing familiarity with our boobs. Yours are an all new experience. And then there’s the text. He’ll need to get that right.”
“Besides, he draws our nipples every day,” Fay said. “It’s the repetition thing for his class. He’s supposed to draw the same thing every day.”
“How’d you happen to choose that spell?” Annette asked. My girlfriends were babbling faster than Kendra!
“I was going to do ‘Expeliarmus’ but I couldn’t come up with a good wand image for it and the Pegasus patronus was an inspiration,” Kendra said. “I think if I had a patronus that’s what it would be. I started reading Harry Potter when I was too little to understand everything, but I read it over and over. Even got the books on tape and listened to them when I couldn’t read. I was definitely going to be a Slytherin. Griffindors were too prissy. I was going to do an entire basilisk on my back and was consulting with my sister about it when she put the kibosh on the whole thing and told me that I was ruining everything and she was ashamed of me.”
“Ashamed of you?” Annette said. “Why?”
“She told me that I was her idol and I was just destroying my body and not creating art. That she could have gotten behind a good tattoo and might have gotten one herself, but that I was just indulging in something childish and she didn’t want to be anything like me. My baby sister! I didn’t realize she even liked me. Her idol? That’s when I realized that I’d really been screwing up my life. I hadn’t been treating my art seriously or anything else. I was just so ashamed that I hid myself. I promised her that I’d do better and that I’d get my act together. She was pissed when I told her I was coming out here to school, but she understands that I had to get away from the influences that were leading me down a destructive path. That’s why I want her to visit me this summer. I want to show her that she can be proud of me again.”
Kendra had tears running down her cheeks and Morgan grabbed a tissue and wiped them away. I couldn’t believe that as emotional as Kendra was and as much as she shook her head and cried, she held her torso absolutely still. The only thing that changed was the rise and fall as she breathed and the gradual distending of the nipple as it became erect. That didn’t happen all at once. As the girls kept talking and comforting Kendra, I felt her attention shift to me periodically.
I did some research after I’d drawn Annette and Morgan. All those little grooves and furrows in the nipple are called sulci, individually a sulcus. Once I read about them, one particularly attracted my attention. It was a little fold or wrinkle right where the nipple joined the areola. I’d seen it on both Morgan and Annette, but now that I knew what it was, I was even more interested. As I watched her nipple become erect, the sulcus began to stretch and smooth out, allowing the nipple to rise. So cool!
I filled most of a sketchbook with enlarged drawings of her nipple until I could almost feel it as I drew it. Looking straight on, the nipple was slightly egg shaped. The small end pointed toward her breastbone. There was a deep concave in the middle of the nipple, like a little crater. The sulci that radiated from it in three locations performed much the same as the one at the base of the nipple. As she became more erect, the wrinkles smoothed and the crater became shallower.
There was a dark spot no bigger than the head of a pin on the inside edge of her areola. A ring halfway between the edge of the areola and the nipple marked off a darker area and as the nipple swelled, so did that area. Beyond the ring, the color faded so gradually that it was hard to define exactly where the areola ended and it became just breast.
“Um… can we take a break?” Kendra asked.
“Oh! How long have I…?”
“An hour, honey,” Annette said. “Even the best model needs to move a little occasionally.”
“Oh, sure. We can start again later. This was… It was… Thank you!” I stumbled. I could still scarcely pull my eyes away from Kendra’s breast as she pulled her T-shirt on.
“I um… need to go downstairs for a while… and… um… put my fingers in some clay. Or something. Let’s start again in an hour. Or so,” Kendra said, stumbling from the room as quickly as possible.
“My bet is ‘or something’,” Morgan laughed. “She tried not to be obvious, but I think our friend was getting turned on.”
“How about you, Pen?” Annette asked. She reached for me and stroked my cock through my pants. “Did such a close examination of our friend’s breast turn you on?” If it hadn’t, Annette’s insistent stroking certainly did. Morgan managed to get her hands in where she could unfasten my jeans and pull them down, freeing my cock to Annette’s manipulations. I reached for Morgan to caress and kiss her.
“No, no,” my sister said. “Lie back and relax while we take care of you. No touching.”
“W-why?” I moaned. Nonetheless, I laid back on the bed after Morgan had removed my shirt.
“Because Annette and I are reality. This is about dreaming.”
“Close your eyes, lover,” Annette said. “The image of that breast you’ve been staring at for the past hour should be fresh in your mind. All you thought about while you were sketching was shape and color and texture. But now, with your eyes closed, you can see a nipple perched atop a beautiful full breast. Think about what it would feel like beneath your fingers as it got erect. Imagine putting your lips over her turgid nipple and sucking gently. Hear her moan?”
I moaned. It was all too easy to see Kendra’s nipple behind my closed eyelids. I never touched her while we were drawing, but I could see her nipple stretch and extend. My lips involuntarily pursed as I thought about sucking on it. A second hand joined Annette’s on my cock and Morgan gave her special little twist at the top that always made me gasp.
“While you are sucking on her breast in your dream, our dear friend is downstairs with her fingers in her pussy. What do you think she’s dreaming of, Pen? She has a dream of you laying down your sketchbook and leaning in to taste her. She imagines your breath as your lips get closer making her nipple even more solid, begging for your attention. She thinks about how good it would be to have your cock replace her fingers in her pussy, sliding into her wet open channel. Can’t you just feel her clamping down on you?” Morgan whispered as they continued to stroke.
“Ahhh!” I screamed. The first jet of sperm that came out of my cock must have come all the way from my toes to pick up the speed it had when it shot. It hit the left side of my face, my ear, and my hair. The second was almost as strong but the girls had apparently changed the trajectory so it hit just below my Adam’s apple. I groaned as four more spurts landed on my chest and stomach and convulsed repeatedly to the continued stroking of my lovers, even though nothing more was coming out. I moaned again and collapsed into the pillows letting a sweet lethargy wash over me.
“That, my love, was a wet dream,” Annette whispered.
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