Art Project
7
Speech!
MORGAN GOT HOME just before we finished for the day and had a quick whispered conversation with Annette. I stepped over to Susan and pulled her hands down from the drapery and told her she could relax and dress now. We’d continue the next day. During the afternoon, I’d become used to letting my hands rest on her as I got her into position after each break. That was what I was doing when she turned away from the window and her breast slid neatly into my hand. I squeezed a little.
“Thank you for an exciting afternoon,” she said pressing toward me. “Zen is definitely going to want to do this. Can I bring her one day?”
“Um… sure. We’ll sketch a couple more times this week before school starts.”
“I don’t know what her fantasy was, but it was hot. I mean, looking at her was like looking at a fire,” Fay said when we’d let Susan out of the house and returned to our room.
“Your model is hot for you,” Annette said as she unfastened my jeans and pushed them down.
“Not exactly,” Fay responded. “Whatever her fantasy is, it’s all in her head. Pen is conveniently setting it up for her, but he’s not part of it. Remember when Kendra modeled Susan’s breast? It’s like that. She’s aroused—I mean blazingly aroused—but there’s no connection between her arousal and Pen.”
“Is there a connection between this extremely hard cock in my hands and the breast he was so recently squeezing?” Annette giggled.
“That’s interesting,” Fay said as she joined our Lady in stroking my erection. I was losing my ability to focus on their conversation and Morgan stopped talking as she attempted to swallow my cock. I moaned and started to come almost immediately. I couldn’t remember being so hard while sketching before. With Annette and Morgan—even with Kendra—I got plenty hard as soon as I was done, but with Susan obviously lost in her fantasy and wanting me to touch her and get her into position, I’d gotten turned on. I wondered if this was a wet dream or wet reality.
I didn’t have time to wonder for long. I lay back on the bed and welcomed Annette onto my cock as Morgan pressed her pussy into my mouth. It was our favorite position and didn’t make a difference who was on top or on the bottom. Having filled Morgan’s mouth with my cream, I was able to last longer in Annette’s pussy. I did my best to repay Morgan for her oral gift while she reached down to help stimulate Annette’s clit. With the reality of my two lovers rising to a peak and drawing me with them, I forgot all about Susan.
“So now you have to finish telling us what was different,” Annette said as we lay in each other’s arms after our sexual release.
“Well,” Morgan began, “I’ve been struggling with words to describe it. I wish Kendra was here so she could capture it in clay. I see it every day and the only way I can think to describe it is the difference between love and lust. It threw me for a while when we were younger. Pen might not talk about what is around him, but he isn’t immune to his surroundings. I remember being hurt the first time I saw it. He looked like he was just staring into space, but I saw the flare of color and intensity that told me he was getting turned on. I was upset because he was looking at the cheerleaders instead of at me. But he was all contained. They were all sexy and a couple were turned on, but they were all focused on themselves. Then when Pen saw me, his aura changed. I could tell he was still turned on, but his aura reached out to me and I could see my own reaching for him.”
“So, what you’re saying is that he got turned on by Susan, but there was no connection?”
“Exactly. And it was the same with her. She was being stimulated by being naked and stared at and touched. The heat and brightness of her sex extended all the way up her stomach and when Pen squeezed her boob, it was like that whole area of her chest exploded in color. But when he released it, there was no stickiness in the aura. It was still concentrated around her. Unlike when we make love and I can’t even separate our auras from each other. I think Pen could have fucked her standing right there in front of the window and neither one of them would have left a trace of their aura with the other.”
“No!” I said. “Don’t want to.” It was hard to get the words out, but I didn’t want anyone but Morgan and Annette. “Just you. Just you,” I said to them.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Annette said kissing me. “But it’s nice to know there is a stop point and that you can let go and enjoy feeling up a girl like Susan and still be ours. Completely. Even I could see the results when you ran your hand up the inside of her leg. I couldn’t see the aura, but I could see her pussy drip. And the truth is that I dripped, too.”
“And you got hard,” Morgan said. “How was it drawing when you had an erection?”
“Um… hard. I mean… I felt something different with this sketch than when I was just focused on her right nipple. That was like it wasn’t even a part of her. But… sometimes when I was drawing today, I’d have to shift positions so I could relieve the pressure on my cock. I mean… you know… where it pressed against my jeans.”
“Let’s not take anything for granted,” Annette said. “Just because she wanted you to touch her and position her today, doesn’t mean she’ll want you to tomorrow. She may have gotten her thrill and be all business when she comes back.”
She wasn’t. If anything, she was even more excited the next day.
She walked into the room and stripped, just like always. We’d learned to put a towel on the plastic stool where she posed for the daily nipple drawing. I could see that I was breaking through on capturing the artistic essence of her nipple instead of just the technical details. I wondered if our session the day before had affected my drawing. I could still sort of feel her hard little nipple in the palm of my hand. When we’d finished, she went to stand next to the window and drape.
“How do you want me?” she asked. I had a moment of thinking ‘bent over touching your toes’ before I shook myself into reality and suggested she face the right side of the window and pull the drape toward her. “Just um… you know… um… put me where you want me.” I stepped over to her.
“May I touch you?”
“Yes. Please,” she whispered. I glanced at Annette and Morgan and they both nodded. I chose to pose her as if she was climbing the drapes with one foot up on a small stool. Instead of looking at me, I had her throw her head back to look up at the drapes. I didn’t want her on her tiptoes because it is too hard to hold a pose like that. But the drape wrapped twice around her left leg, leaving her raised right foot and butt the focus of the drawing. I took my time and petted her body as if I was smoothing out wrinkles for the pose. When I ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, even I could see the moisture gathered at the junction. I didn’t touch it, but I could smell it.
I had to refresh the pose three times after breaks.
“I wonder if she’ll make it home before she has to stop and masturbate,” Fay laughed. We were none to talk as I plunged into my sister and Annette mounted her face. I’d been hard for two hours and my lovers admitted they were dripping. As turned on as we all were, our riding and pounding was short lived. We exploded in orgasm in just minutes.
We cuddled together and whispered little endearments to each other. I really like cuddling with my two girls after sex. It’s almost better than having an orgasm but it’s like you have to get the come out of the way in order to have the cuddle. Just holding Annette and Morgan in my arms as they kiss each other and kiss my chest or cheeks and I kiss the tops of their heads gives me so much peace that I want to stay there forever.
Of course, with peace comes thinking and I get caught up in a thought and can’t get rid of it. It just grabs hold of my brain and chews on it.
“What is it, Pen? Where have you gone?” Fay asked me.
“Um… Feel bad about Susan,” I said.
“Why, sweetheart?”
“Like I cheated on you by touching her. And used her to satisfy myself.”
“Oh, honey,” Annette said. “You didn’t cheat on us. We should talk about it, though. I didn’t quite expect the level that it would get to, but I’m not upset.”
“Me either,” Fay said. “I was a little jealous.”
“Because I touched her,” I stated firmly.
“No, because I couldn’t,” Fay giggled. “I was just caught up in the fantasy of having this sexy little doll that I could push and bend and position any way that I wanted to. I don’t think I’d have been as conservative in what I did as you were.”
“You have me,” Annette said. “I’ll be your sexy little doll. Mmm. I got a tingle in my pussy just from saying that.”
“But she was… um… vulnerable,” I said. “She is my model, not my sexy little doll.”
“True,” Morgan agreed. “But you didn’t do anything that she didn’t want you to. In fact, I think that if you’d taken just a little more time with your thumb rubbing her nipples, she’d have come while she was standing there. I never used to understand the expression, ‘just sex’. How can you have just sex without a connection to your partner? But I watched her aura carefully. Sometimes I lost her physical body behind the brightness she generated. But it was all self-contained. She wasn’t connected to you, nor you to her.”
“In other words, she liked it and isn’t falling in love with you. You liked it and aren’t falling in love with her. We liked it and we love you. There’s no reason for anyone to feel bad,” Annette said.
“I don’t think I’d be happy if you actually fucked her and called it just sex, but I’m fine with the little sex play and I’d really like to see what is going on with her,” Morgan said. “And tomorrow, Kendra can do some clay work so we can see it.”
“Will Susan be comfortable with Kendra in the room, too?” I asked.
“We started off that way on the first day, remember?” Annette said. “I think part of what she gets off on is the audience. She really is an exhibitionist.”
Kendra flew in at noon and it was great to see her. She’d had a good holiday with her family and you could just tell that her little sister was the center of it. She’d gotten the family to agree to let her visit a few weeks in the summer. When we told Kendra about how things were developing with Susan, she had her eyes popped open as big as saucers.
“I knew she was an exhibitionist, but I had no idea she’d go that far. I wish I could capture the double vision thing,” she said. “You know, model the aura, but be able to see her body through it.”
“I’d like to see that,” I said. “I’ve always wondered what it looks like.”
“I think you know, Pen,” Fay said. “Someday you’ll release that part, too.”
“Huh?”
“It’s in some of your early drawings and paintings. It’s especially obvious in the early paintings of Lady and me. You hadn’t actually seen our nipples or our pussies. Your paintings were explosions of color emanating from our hotspots. I think you were painting what you could see.”
I thought about it as I kissed her. I’d always just assumed that it was how artists saw things. Maybe there was more to it. It made my head hurt to think about it.
I’ll just put it on canvas.
I was in the studio looking at the drapery and visualizing the pose I was thinking of for today. I felt that I had about accomplished what I needed to with the drawings of her right nipple. I could see the changes that had evolved in my drawing over the past two-plus weeks. I was happy that it wasn’t taking as long to move from the technical to the artistic view. I still drew Annette and Morgan on rotating days and loved the subtlety of how the drawings had changed. When Kendra came up to the studio, she’d immediately stripped off her shirt and asked me if anything had changed. I drew her right nipple as she held perfectly still for fifteen minutes. We all agreed that the drawing hadn’t regressed. Neither had her breast.
I heard the girls laughing on the stairs and assumed Susan had arrived for our afternoon session. We’d do one more nipple drawing and call it quits on that. I’d focus most of the session on the new pose I wanted.
Five girls entered the room together.
“Art, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Zen,” Susan said. “Zen, this is the guy who’s been staring at my naked body every day.”
“Lucky him!” Zen said. She was about five inches taller than Susan with long dark blonde hair that hung straight down her back. I thought it was pretty cold out for the kind of clothes she was wearing. Her cutoff shorts barely covered her cheeks and the crop top left several inches of bare tummy exposed. She had high-heel sandals on that gave her an extra three inches in height. I guess Susan wasn’t the only exhibitionist.
As soon as I finished greeting Zen, I turned to find Susan already naked and perched on the stool for her nipple portrait. I grabbed my sketchbook and pencils and set to work. The girls continued to talk as I worked and Zen frequently shifted from position to position over my shoulder so she could see what I was drawing. It didn’t bother me. When I’m drawing, they could set off a bomb in the room and I wouldn’t notice.
“I could totally do that,” Zen said. “How much do you pay models?”
“Zen! I told you I’m not getting paid. This is an honor to have Art draw me.”
“I’m pulling your chain,” Zen laughed. “You just like to be naked in front of people. But still, I might have a business proposition later. There’s no harm in making money from your talents. We all have to eat.”
“Let’s move on to the big portrait if you’ve had enough break,” I said. I didn’t know what Zen had in mind to make money, but I wouldn’t mind drawing her nipples. Er… the right one. Susan went over by the window to stand. “Face front. Reach up and wrap your right arm in the drape.” She barely moved.
“Like this?”
“Um… no.” I walked toward her and saw her glance toward Zen. Uh-oh. She was nervous about posing with her girlfriend watching. “Are you okay with this?” I whispered. “I mean with posing in front of your girlfriend and all?”
“Yeah, but… um… You’re not posing me like you did yesterday. Don’t worry about Zen, just put me where you want me.”
“You mean… can I touch you?”
“Yes. Anywhere you want. You might even have to position my pussy correctly. You know, tilt it up or down. Or in or out. I’m probably dripping all over your drapery,” she said. She was talking to me, but her eyes never left her girlfriend’s. I started by moving her to the basic position and then stretching her right hand above her head and wrapping her arm in the drape as she clutched the fabric. I kept my hands on her, sliding across her breast as I reached to pull the drape under her left arm and around the back of her neck.
“I don’t mind you dripping on it,” I whispered. “It smells good when I hold it next to my face and go to sleep at night.” She moaned.
“You don’t!”
“Not just me. Annette and Morgan, too,” I lied. “They think you smell like roses.” She moaned again and I could detect her unique scent rising as I continued draping the fabric like I wanted it. I took my time and touched her as much as possible. This time when I ran my hand up the inside of her leg, it twitched to the side a little and I slid through the warm moistness of her pussy.
“Yes,” she sighed. I stood back and saw that she was in a perfect position except her face was turned the wrong direction. I realized that she was still looking at Zen. I went to my easel where I was ready to start sketching.
“Zen, could you stand over here on my left?” I asked. She just nodded and moved.
“Here?”
“Just a little farther. Can you still see okay?”
“Sure. Just… uh… put me where you want me.” I didn’t really need to adjust her much, but I put my hands on the bare skin above her waist and shifted her a step to the left. As I suspected, both girls tracked each other with their eyes and Susan’s face turned to focus on her girlfriend.
I went to work.
“We have got to do that on cam. Can we shoot video in here?” Zen asked as we all started to relax after the intense session. As before, we’d taken three breaks and I’d had to reposition Susan after each one. My fingers had touched her pussy twice more and I’d held them to my nose as I drew. When I finished the last time, Susan rushed to Zen and kissed her. I was pretty sure Zen’s fingers were busier than mine had been, but her mouth muffled Susan’s orgasm.
“We could,” Annette said. She had her arms wrapped around both Morgan and Kendra. The clay model in front of them had streamers shooting out of Susan’s body toward where Zen was.
“Performance art,” Kendra said.
“Would we need special lights? And how would you like to do it?” Morgan asked. She took over the negotiations with Zen and I just sat in front of the easel and looked. Susan, pulling on her clothes, was getting a tour of the sculpture from Kendra. I felt Annette’s hands on my shoulders as she kneaded them.
“Such passion and intensity,” she breathed. “It’s the best of the three, though there is nothing wrong with the other two. It’s like she’s tied up and waiting, except there’s no ropes—just the drapery. It’s beautiful.” She tugged at my left hand and brought it to her nose. “Could you paint a vase of flowers in the picture so we could all pretend where the scent came from?” she giggled.
It was a nice scent.
Our guests left and my lovers dragged me—not unwillingly—to bed. They dragged their fingers through each other’s pussy and wanted to know if I could tell the difference between their scents and if Susan’s was different.
“So, Zen had an interesting business proposition,” Morgan began.
“Zen is an unusual name,” Dad said. “Is there something ethnic about it?”
“No,” Annette joined. “It’s her professional name. Apparently, no one in the cam world uses a real name or reveals their exact location. It could lead to stalkers.”
“Cam world?” Mom asked.
“She’s a performer on an internet site,” Morgan continued. “She’s sort of a stripper, I guess, but there’s a lot more to it than that. She never meets the guys she performs for except by messages to her chat room. They tip her for her performances.”
“She can make a living like that?”
“From what I understand, a pretty good one. She gave me a short course on the business and economics of it. They actually go to a training school to learn how to maximize profits and use various marketing techniques to draw an audience. I had no idea, but there are thousands of them,” Morgan said.
“And what’s the business proposition,” Dad asked. “I hope she isn’t trying to talk you into becoming a stripper. I’m not sure if my heart could take that.”
“I don’t think any of the three of us have what it takes to be successful in that field, Dad. It really takes a special kind of person. It isn’t enough to just be comfortable taking your clothes off. The customers in the chat room can only type their comments. The performer has to talk to them so everyone can hear him or her. Yes, there are men who do this, too,” Morgan said. “Now, about the proposition. Susan has been posing for Arthur each day on our break. The past few days have been interesting, to say the least. And when Arthur paints that last sketch he did, it might be one of the most spectacular paintings he’s ever done. Posing the model was… very physical. And sensual. And arousing. That’s what Zen wants to capitalize on. She wants Arthur to pose Susan and draw her while Zen auctions off the drawing on her site. She also thought that shooting a video of the real thing and selling it would be very successful.”
“I can’t go on television!” I said with genuine horror. What was my sister thinking?
“Of course not, honey,” Annette soothed me. “You would just pose Susan like you have been the past three days. In fact, it would be good if you wore some kind of mask so you weren’t recognizable at all. You wouldn’t be talking unless you were whispering an instruction to Susan. It’s been taking you about ten minutes to get her posed and then you sketch for twenty minutes. Zen thinks she can auction the sketch off live while you draw. She’ll split the bids with you, but she gets the rights to the video and other tips.”
“No one will pay that much for my drawings.”
“If we were trying to get a $1,000 bid, you might be right. But the auction works differently. All bids are payments. If I bid ten dollars and Annette bids fifteen, the whole twenty-five dollars is in the pot, not just the high bid. The bidder who has the largest single tip during the auction wins. So, I couldn’t get back in the action by adding six dollars to my bid. I’d have to bid again at sixteen dollars because only the highest bid counts. If Annette drops out and I win the auction at sixteen dollars, I’ve paid a total of twenty-six. But the total amount in the pot is forty-one because no one gets their bid back.”
“So, you sell the drawing for sixteen dollars, but you get paid forty-one?” Dad said. “It sounds like a scam.”
“There are apparently rich old men out there who don’t have girlfriends and support the models any way they can,” Morgan said. “Zen invited us to spend an hour watching her. One of us live and the others online. It could be a pretty cool event. I say we do our observation and then make the decision.”
Sunday afternoon, Morgan went to Zen’s apartment where she observed how the operation worked. There was a quick introduction, but then Morgan sat out of the line of sight from the camera. Annette, Susan, Dad, and I sat in front of a couple laptops in the family room to watch as if we were members of the chatroom.
It was kind of boring.
She was in a small window on the screen while the bulk of the screen was taken up with a text window in which men (and some women) wrote notes to her and she talked in response. The notes weren’t even particularly suggestive.
“Hi, Dick Gently,” Zen said. “How’s your Sunday going?” A text response shortly appeared on the screen.
“Dick Gently: Lazy. Too much to drink last night. Need another cup of coffee.”
It was pretty innocuous. Occasionally, Zen would get up and dance a little or simply move around her room. She was dressed in a baby doll pajama set and obviously had nothing on under it. I noticed that she had the same habit as Susan of stroking her breasts, but did it more blatantly. She would pause as she stroked and pinched her nipples, sometimes slipping a hand inside the pajama top. There was a chime on the screen and a message popped up.
“Zen’s Toy just tipped 150 tokens: Hi, baby. Sorry I’m late this morning. Had an emergency run.”
“Oh, thank you, my toy!” Zen said. Her hand slipped back inside her pajama top and as she talked casually, she slipped the top off her shoulder to expose the breast she was playing with. Her nipple was pale and almost blended in with the flesh of her breast but was hard and stuck out as she pinched it. “I hope the emergency is past. Do you have the rest of the day off? We’re just having lazy hangs today.”
“Zen’s Toy: I’m off for three days now. Plan to do a lot of sleeping. I’ll hang for a couple hours here first.”
“Did any of you guys see the Porsche rally yesterday? I’ve put a Boxster Spyder on my wish list if you want to spoil me. Do you think I’d look best in a black one or a red one?”
And so it went. Over the course of an hour, she talked about baseball, music, and movies, comforted several guys with hangovers, got tips, turned around and spanked her own ass with a paddle that left it looking bright pink, and for a while leaned back in her chair and rubbed her pussy through her pajama bottoms. I thought it was boring, but it was also non-threatening and I figured I could do the posing and drawing without having to look at the computer screen. Annette took over the screen with our group login of “RightNip” and told Zen “The artist has agreed.” Zen squealed and started telling her chatroom that we were going to have a special surprise soon and they should start saving up tokens for an auction that would be upcoming.
Monday, second semester started and my world fell apart.
The three fundamental courses in Drawing, Painting, and Sculpture were required of all art students. I’d taken Drawing first semester. It was my strongest area. Just like Kendra had taken Sculpture her first semester. Now she was taking Drawing in the afternoon and I was taking Sculpture. But we both had the early morning Painting class. The first day was mostly about materials and studio work and how the class would progress.
“You’ll help me through this, won’t you, Art?” Kendra said as we left the class. “I’m so out of my depth. How do you control color with a brush? I need my fingers in things.” I snorted. She looked at me and slapped my shoulder. “You know what I mean!”
“Finger paints,” I said. “That’s how I started.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ll show you some of my earliest pieces next time you come over.”
“You still have them?”
“Morgan made it her life’s work to preserve everything I ever put on paper. There’s a whole storeroom in the basement devoted to boxes of my scribbles,” I laughed.
“That’s so cool. She loves you so much, Art. Someday I’m going to find someone to love like that.”
We walked into Liberal Arts Seminar II and I was glad to see mostly familiar faces. Only a dozen this semester, though. Over the break, all the chairs had been reset in neat rows and we looked at each other with a shrug before starting to drag them into a circle like we’d had first semester.
“Kindly return the chairs to where I had them set and be seated,” a woman announced as she walked into the room. “I’ll thank you not take liberties with my classroom.” She didn’t look as threatening as she sounded, but we all scooted our chairs back into rows. She was on the short side, but might have just looked shorter because she was kind of wide. She wore a cardigan sweater over a white starched blouse and a straight skirt that fell just below her knees. She didn’t wear heels, so her lower legs looked squat, almost foreshortened.
“Where is Professor Leitner?” one of my classmates asked.
“Leitner? Oh, the first semester instructor. This is second semester,” she responded. “I am Mrs. Reynolds and this is Liberal Arts Seminar II.” She scrawled the words on a whiteboard as she spoke. “You had a nice time getting to know people and getting familiar with college life the first semester. Well, introductions are over. This class will focus on effective communication. Effective communication occurs when you command the attention of your audience and move them to action.” I had my sketchbook out and had already drawn a picture of her standing at her pulpit. I guess they call it a lectern, but the way she was preaching I thought of it as a pulpit. I captioned the drawing ‘Effective Communication’ and even went so far as to sketch a big cross behind her as she glared down at her class.
“There are three principles of effective communication,” she droned on. I knew these from last semester and jotted them on my page as I continued to develop my sketch into something that resembled a cathedral. Be clear. Be concise. Leave room to respond. “The first is to command attention,” she said. That was different. “This is not a drawing class. You will do real work in this class. Please remove your sketchbook from your desk.” I looked up and she was glaring at me. What the fuck? I was paying attention to her. I’d even written ‘Command Attention’ in a bubble over her head in my sketch. I closed my sketchbook and dropped my head. Shit!
“What is your name?” There was a long pause and then a pencil was tapping on the desk in front of me. “You! Your name.” I looked up into her fierce eyes. It was like she was a demon and they were blazing. My breath was caught in my lungs and they were beginning to ache.
“A-a-art!” I finally burst out. She looked in the book she was carrying.
“Art. Art. Ah yes. Art something or another. What is this last name? Is it supposed to be French? I know you are all aching to be identified, but if you are going to choose a name for your creative endeavors, it should at least be something people can pronounce. You aren’t the artist formerly known as Prince.” The classroom was silent. I was still holding my breath as she glared at me.
“Mrs. Reynolds…” Kendra began.
“I am addressing another student at the moment. Do not interrupt. When I am finished, you may raise your hand and I will ask you to identify yourself.” Kendra’s mouth snapped shut. “Now, Art whatever. I would like you to stand and turn to the class to deliver a two-minute impromptu speech on what it means to command attention. You need not cite references and sources as this is strictly an opinion speech. Take a deep breath as you approach the podium and then let the words rattle out in whatever order they come. I won’t grade severely as this is the first presentation.”
I was gasping for air. I couldn’t move. The whole room was spinning in circles around me. I could feel a burning in my eyes and my hands shook so much that my pencil flew out of them and landed a few feet away. And still she was glaring at me with those demon eyes.
“He can’t do that!” Kendra burst out. “He can’t speak in public like that.”
“That is the second time you have interrupted me,” Mrs. Reynolds snapped. “Name?”
“Kendra.”
“You now have a deficit in points you need to make up. This is a speech class and everyone will speak. Whether you do it well or poorly will determine your grade, but you will speak. Now, Art, let’s hear your speech.”
I grabbed my sketchbook and bag, stumbling to my feet. I looked at her and tore my eyes away to look at the rest of my class, all focused on me. “I… You… uh… B…” I needed to get out of there. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. “Bitch!” I screamed at the top of my voice.
I fled toward the door.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
