Copyright Henrik Larsen 2002.

 

 

Comments are very welcome. The letters from you, the readers, is the only reason I keep writing and posting stories. You can reach me by e-mail at henlar@hotmail.com.

 

This story contains elements of explicit sexual nature.

If, for some reason, you feel offended by erotic stories, then I don't know why you have opened this one. Maybe to be offended, so you can complain about how awful it is that somebody writes stuff like this. If that's the case, my advice is to seek professional help. You need it. If you are not allowed to read stories like this, I will not be held responsible, if you choose to continue. But don't worry; it's all fantasy.

A great thanks to Old Rotorhead for editing and proofing.

Reposting or any other use of this story is strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of the author.

 

 

 

 

Casting the model.

 

"You're Sandra, the model?" I asked.

She nodded timidly. I was a little surprised. She had said on the phone that she had model experience, but she didn't look like a model. She was very slim, small arse and small breasts, not at all like a model. To you it may sound as if she looked exactly like a model, but I'm an artist and artist models have curves. They are usually between thirty and fifty. Artists are looking for different things than a fashion photographer. Not that I thought she had any model experience in that area either: she didn't have the face. She was pretty but ordinary.

"And you have modelled for an artist before?"

"I've . . . no, not for an artist. I've done some pictures . . ."

I had expected something different and I was annoyed. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but my annoyance must have shown.

"Is something wrong? Don't you think I look good?" she asked.

"You look very pretty but you see, I had expected a more mature model. More curves. You are . . . "

She interrupted me. "My tits are too small?"

"I haven't seen them and in any other aspect of life I'm sure I'd love your tits, but for this particular project I need to . . . underline the feminine features."

I was really doing my best to be nice to her. Not only would I lose a days work in the studio, I'd also lose a days work at the construction site where I earned a living. I wasn't yet famous enough to make a living from my art and I never believed in the myth about the staring artist. I needed food and clothes, not to talk about money to pay the rent.

"I promise I'll be good. I can stand without moving for a very long time," she said.

She looked at me with pleading eyes. She was young, early twenties. There was something about her, something cute and innocent. For another project, perhaps.

"Please. You can paint my tits a little bigger, can't you? I need the job. I've just lost my job and it's difficult to get a job I can handle alongside my studies. Please," she begged.

"OK, let's take a look at you. Come on in," I said.

I don't know why I gave in. I guess I was hoping the day wasn't wasted. She smiled jubilant.

"Thank you. I'll be good, promise."

We went into my studio and she looked around as if she was in Merlin's cave.

"Are you shaved? I forgot to ask you on the phone," I asked.

"Shaved? You mean armpits and legs? Yes, they are shaved." she answered.

"And your pubic area?"

"What? No, I've never . . . Why do I need to be, eh, shaved there? Can't you just leave out the hair when you paint?"

"I'm going to do a series of sculptures entitled "Casts of a woman". I'm going to make casts of you, not paint you," I said and added smiling: " The plaster bandages will stick to the hair and it will be quite painful when I take off the cast."

"Oh," she said.

"It's easily fixed. I have some disposable razors. Take off your clothes and let's see what you look like."

She looked anxiously around. There were a couch, a few chairs and a table.

"Here?"

"You can do it in the bathroom, if you prefer," I said.

I pointed to the bathroom door and she shuffled into the bathroom. I was beginning to regret accepting her. Working with inexperienced models could be so tiresome. A moment later she reappeared, with one of my towels wrapped around her torso.

"OK, let's see," I said.

She removed the towel. Her tits were pretty small, but they looked like they were firm and would keep their shape when she was lying down. That might prove to be an advantage. Her hips were slim but not as slim as I'd expected. I tried to make up my mind: Lose a days work and save her pay or give it a shot?

"OK, I think you will do. Sorry, didn't mean to sound that way, but I'm not exactly a millionaire and I can't afford to pay you if I don't think you are right for the project." I added when I saw her hurt expression.

"I understand," she said.

"Good. Now, if you shave your pubic hair, I'll prepare for the first cast," I said.

She turned and was about to walk back to the bathroom, then turned to me again.

"Is it a real razor, you know, with razorblades?" she asked.

"Yes. You know how to use it?"

"No."

"It's dead simple. You just apply some foam and then shave off the foam. Then you get the hair as well. There's a can on the shelf."

"It's . . . sharp, isn't it?" she asked.

"Sure. Take one of those wrapped in cellophane. They're brand new and very sharp."

She hesitated, tripping uneasily on the spot.

"I . . . I'm afraid I'll cut myself," she uttered.

"It's dead easy. I've used a blade for God knows how many years and I've only cut myself a couple of times and always when I was in a hurry and didn't pay attention to what I was doing," I said.

She still didn't move.

"I don't think I can do it. Will . . . you do it?" she asked, almost whispering.

Hiring her was definitely a mistake, but somehow I felt sorry for her.

"OK. We got to get this show on the road."

She blushed while I applied the foam and as soon as I took out the razor, she closed her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. I won't cut you, promise. Maybe you should look at it and learn how you do it." I suggested.

"I have an electric shaver," she said. "I think it's better if I look the other way while you do it."

"Suit yourself."

I was used to being around nude women. It was my job and I didn't associate it with anything sexual. I guess it's the same with doctors. It's part of the job. Shaving her was out of the ordinary. A lot of things about Sandra were out of the ordinary. She was slim, young and quite attractive. Sitting there between her thighs, cautiously shaving her crotch made it hard to maintain the distance between the model and the artist. There was something undeniably erotic about it.

I did my best to look at her through the eyes of the artist. She was a challenge, really. How would I best capture her delicate bodily features? She had an innocent but also very erotic appearance, and the more I thought about it, I realised that she might be perfect for the project. If only I could capture the innocence of her as a woman, as an erotic woman.

The shaving progressed and revealed that her labia and pubic mound, contrary to the rest of her, were fleshy and prominent. It would be essential to make the casts her in a way that paid tribute to that part of her femininity. My thoughts were back on the right track, but once more I was distracted, this time by her scent. I could swear that my nose picked up a faint scent of arousal. Her breathing was a little quicker than it had been when I began shaving her. I dismissed the distracting thoughts. All the black hairs in her crotch were gone, except a few.

"I think you have to turn around. I need to shave a around your anus as well." I said.

Sandra got up, slightly unsteady, probably because she was tense and had been sitting in the same position for some time. She turned her back to me and I applied some foam to the area I needed to shave. It was only a few hairs.

"So! Just like a newborn baby. You can wash off the foam in the shower. I'll prepare the bandages."

She nodded and I went into the studio to prepare the first cast. Sandra reappeared with the towel around her. There was something about her face, her expression, something erotic yet innocent. I wasn't going to cast her face, but it was just that expression I wanted my sculptures to convey to the spectator. She was a real challenge.

"I'm going to make a cast of your backside first. I use thin bandages that harden slowly, so it will take about fifteen minutes after I'd applied the last bandage, before I can remove the cast. The second part is the most difficult. The cast is very fragile, but you'll have to lie down in it again when I make the front cast. I put the back cast in the sandpit over there to steady it, but you still have to be very careful," I explain.

Sandra listened carefully and studied the drawing I'd made of the first pose I wanted her to do: lying flat on her stomach with her arm up but bent, and her legs spread a little, one leg bend in the knee. It was much like a victim of a murder in a crime movie.

"I will apply a little oil to your skin. It will make it easier to remove the cast. You can apply as much as you can reach yourself or I can do it."

"You do it," Sandra replied.

Once she was lying down and I began to coat her backside with oil, she relaxed. I began with her arms and shoulders and moved down her body. When I reached her buttocks and crotch, she tensed, but after that, she relaxed again.

Creating the cast was not as easy as you might think. I had to put the bandages on as quickly as possible for the sake of the model as it was quite exhausting to lie still for so long. At the same time, the bandages had to be smooth with no folds, and follow the curves and crinkles of the model's body precisely. It required concentration.

I started with the neck and worked my way down. When I reached Sandra's buttocks, I had to tug in the bandages to get an exact cast of her buttock and crotch. She remained still, but her breathing quickened and again I could sense the scent of her; not her perfume but the scent of Sandra, of her arousal. As little as I wanted it to, it did distract me and I had to replace some of the bandages. After about fifteen minutes I was finished and after another fifteen minutes the cast had hardened sufficiently for me to gently lift it. Sandra had been quiet all through the process and I was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep.

"You better get up and walk around a little," I suggested.

While she walked around the room, I put the cast into the sandpit and made sure it was supported in all the right places. Then I handed Sandra the bottle with oil.

"You better do it yourself," I said.

It wasn't as much for her sake as for my own. Her scent and her body were distracting me in a way that no other model had done since I first began working with nude models years ago. Sandra began applying the oil.

"Easy now. You just need to put on a fine sheen, not bathe in it. It will be mush harder to put the bandages on," I said, when I saw the amount of oil she poured over her skin.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You better do it," she said and handed me the bottle.

I hardly need to apply more oil, just distribute what she had already poured out. As I had feared, the rubbing of oil over her the front of her body sent my mind wandering down the wrong path. Her nipples were hard and when I reached her crotch, it looked like she had already poured oil over it, although I knew she hadn't. Her legs began to tremble as my fingers made sure that all folds in her crotch were covered.

I helped her into the backside cast in the sandpit and began to make the front cast. Her breasts were really perfect, firm and standing proud from her chest. A gasp escaped her when I shaped the bandage around her nipples. I continued quickly down over her stomach, making sure that the impression of the navel was correct before I began on her crotch. Her fleshy pubic mound was protruding, leading my eyes and fingers straight to her full labia. It took some time to get the bandages correctly arranges around her labia, not just because I had gather my thoughts a few times, but also because this part of her anatomy was soft and it was difficult to apply the bandages without corrupting the natural shape. The corrections were minute, but I did lots of them. I wanted it to be perfect.

It became almost that: perfect. When I looked down at her while the cast was hardening, I was quite satisfied. It was so close to being her as it could be, considering it was a cast. And luckily we succeeded in getting the front cast off and Sandra out of the back cast without damaging any of them. Now, I could strengthen them from the inside before I began work of the outside, making them smooth as her skin.

"OK, that was the first cast. We'll take a break and then start on the second," I said. "You can take a shower and get the circulation going again."

She did and in the meantime I studied the result of our effort. It was good; only the folds that were supposed to be there were there, and the details stood out perfectly. I was particularity pleased with her breasts. I had been worried that they would hardly be noticeable when she was lying down, but I was wrong. The time spend on getting the bandages arranged around her labia had paid off as well. As I looked closely at it, I could detect a faint smell that stuck to the cast. I put the cast down gently and went on to prepare for the next cast.

Sandra came out from the shower with a new towel around her that didn't quite cover as much as the first had done. I was sure the big towels were in the top of the pile. I hated the small towels. I didn't use them and they always ended up in the bottom of the pile.

Her short, dark hair was wet and shiny. Botticelli would have been very pleased with her as a model for Venus. She had wrapped the towel around her in a way that accentuated her hips and buttocks, but also made her look innocent, like an adolescent girl not yet aware of her own sexuality. Oh yes, Botticelly would have been very pleased with her. Only, it wasn't innocence I was going to show with the next cast.

"Are you ready?"

Sandra nodded and began to look at the drawing of her next pose.

"It's almost like the first one, except that your right arm is under you. The first cast was to symbolise death. This one is life. Your hand is in your crotch. You're in motion, touching yourself. We'll put a pillow under your hips to elevate you a little."

Sandra shed the towel and lay down in the position, almost exactly as I wanted her to pose. I coated her backside with oil and began to make the cast. The shower had washed off the perfume and deodorant Sandra had applied before she came and there was nothing to conceal her natural scent now. It was terribly distracting, but I assumed she would learn to control her own reactions as she got more experience as a model.

The cast of her backside came out as perfect as the first one, almost better, and I was very careful when I placed it in the sandpit. The slight arch in her lower back required extra support and that gave Sandra a little more time to loosen up her muscles before the next cast. I knew it was going to be difficult to get the bandages placed correctly without folds around the hand I her crotch.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes. I think it will be safer if you apply the oil after I'm in position. I might slip and fall if I'm oil up before," she replied.

It sounded very sensible and I had to admit to myself that I did mind rubbing he oil into her skin. Highly unprofessional, but she seemed to enjoy my hands as much as I enjoy her skin. I allowed my thoughts to drift while my hands gently caressed her body. It would have been useless to try and concentrate on the cast until I had applied the oil; getting back on the right track hard enough.

"We need to find the best way to place your hand," I said. "It will be difficult to cast no matter how we do it, but let's see . . . one finger between your lips, right there."

I guided her hand as I spoke, placing her index finger between her lips and folded the other fingers into her palm.

"Does it feel natural?"

Sandra cleared her throat.

"Yes."

"Then let's go. I promise I'll be as fast as I can."

Sandra was tense. Perhaps she was afraid to break the cast she was lying in. I started from her neck and moved down towards her feet. As expected, it took some time to cover her hand and crotch. Sandra sighed impatiently, but I didn't let it distract me. I wanted to get it right and it was better to be careful the first time than having to do it all over again.

I always turned up the heat in the studio when I worked with nude models. A bit too much that day, perhaps. I was sweating when I had finished the cast and Sandra face was blushing hotly.

"Are you OK," I asked her. "I can give you something to drink."

"No, that's ok. It hard enough to lie still as it is," she gasped.

"Just relax. Ten more minutes and we can get you out."

The ten minutes passed slowly, more for her than for me, I guess, but we got her out of the cast without breaking it and the result was good.

"Are you satisfied with the result?" Sandra asked while I was examining the front cast.

"I would have liked it to be more expressive, but I can't put my finger on anything."

"You said it was to be an image of life as opposed to death, right?" Sandra asked.

"That's right."

"Then why not show the beginning of life? You should have a male model, too. They should be, you know, having intercourse. That would be life; creating life."

"You have a point, but I wanted to use the same pose in both sculptures, showing how little that separates life from death. And it would be a very difficult cast to make, the male cast." I answered.

"Why?"

"Well, firstly, the position would be awkward. Secondly, it would be hard for a male model to keep an erection for so long. I mean, usually a male model has to avoid getting an erection," I explained. "And keeping it for five minutes or more, lying completely still and knowing that if he doesn't keep his erection the cast will be ruined, is more difficult than you might think."

"It sound's like you've tried," Sandra said.

"I have and it is difficult."

Sandra looked at me quizzically. "Are you . . . gay?"

"No. How did you get that idea?"

"It's . . . I mean, you have been touching and teasing me for hours and you act as if it doesn't affect you at all."

"I have to stay . . . objective and concentrate on the creative process. I don't use nude models to fulfil a sexual fantasy. A lot of my models are married and it would be highly unprofessional of me to make advances. You could be married or at least have a boyfriend. Wouldn't you be offended if I tried to take advantage of the situation?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, but I can see what you mean. I'm just not used to men being . . . so much in control of themselves."

I laughed. "I'm sorry. It's not because I think you're unattractive or anything like that. I just have to concentrate. On the contrary, I think you're very beautiful and very sexy."

She looked down, blushing. "Oh. Thanks."

An awkward silence followed. I guess Sandra was embarrassed and I was a little embarrassed because I had intimidated her. I decided to change the subject.

"So, do you think it's hard to be a model?"

"No, not really. It is different from what I had expected. I mean, I've been lying down all day. It would have been harder if I had to stand or sit," she replied.

"That will probably be what you usually will have to do, also by me. This is a new way of working for me. If you want some good model jobs, you should look out for sketching courses where they use live models. A teacher often has more than one course. That's a sure way to a steady income as a model. Usually they prefer models with a little more, how should I put it . . . curves and character. Young girls are too smooth, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do. I'm studying art history - only just started, that is - and I've been wondering why all artists seem to prefer fat women as models. They are more artistically challenging, is that what you're saying?"

"I guess you can put it that way, yes. Or the artist's wife is less likely to become jealous. No, only joking. Just look at the face of an old man or woman. Often, you can read a whole life from the face."

"You've done this with a male model before."

She pointed to some front casts by the wall.

"No, those are casts of me. I wanted to try out the technique before I paid a model."

Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Is it difficult? I mean, putting the bandages on," she asked.

"No, not really. It's pretty straightforward. The important thing is to avoid folds. I couldn't cast my own backside, so I decided to call them "Hollow men"," I joked.

"Would you want me to help you cast your backside?"

"No, I don't think I'll use them for anything. It was just for practise."

"I mean . . . if you wanted to make a male sculpture for the "Life"-part of "Life and Death". I could help you. Maybe I could help you maintain your -" Her cheeks were blushing "- erection. I mean, you said you found me attractive and sexy."

"I, eh . . . I do think you're very sexy, but you have to continue to put on bandages after you have covered my penis."

"I have a plan."

She smiled secretively. What could I say? Deep down inside, I wasn't sure that my motives were purely artistic, but if she could do it, it would be a controversial sculpture, bound to cause some controversy and that was usually a sure way to become known outside the narrow art-circles. It was worth a try. Sabdra was very enthusiastic and didn't wait for an answer.

"Let's do it! I think we'll have to use chair for support. We'll need to take the backside cast of you and place it under me to get the right position."

We set up the chair and the backside cast of Sandra that the cast on me had to match. I took off my clothes and got into position. Sandra applied the oil and while she did it, I could already feel that it was a pretty uncomfortable position to stay in for any extended period of time.

"Even with the chair it will be pretty exhausting to keep this position," I said. "You'll have to work fast."

"I'll do my best. Just let me check if the position is right," Sandra said.

She reached under me with her oily hands and began caressing my soft penis. I'd been too preoccupied by the project to think of anything that would give me an erection, but her warm hands were impossible to ignore and she was able to check my position in less than thirty seconds. I began to suspect that she had mixed motives just like me, but as long as we could make the cast it didn't matter what her motives were. She removed the cast and replaced it with some pillows for support. That would make it easier for me to stay in the right position.

Sandra worked very fast and I was a little worried that the result might be sloppy, but I couldn't check until she had finished, so I consoled myself with the thought that it was worth a try and if it didn't work out, I still had my original idea and the cast of her.

I had already tried this when I tested the technique, so I knew how boring it was to wait while the cast hardened. Finally Sandra lifted the cast very cautiously and I could stand up and stretch out. I was glad that I was the artist, not the model, even though modelling was often better paid.

The cast was smooth and she'd work very fast; she was almost better at it than I was. If we could do the front successfully, it would become a really beautiful and expressive sculpture.

The first obstacle was to get the backside cast sufficiently supported for me to get into it again. It was difficult because of the shape: it was bent in the knees and the arms would be almost upright. We both worked concentrated in the sandpit until torso and legs were securely supported, but the arms still remained. Sandra would have to put a chair in front of me after I had settled in the cast. That way the cast of the arms could rest on the chair and my arms would get support without danger of breaking the cast.

"Are you ready?" Sandra cheerfully asked.

"I'm ready."

"I'll rub the oil in when you're in place."

"I . . . yes, of course."

You may find it hard to believe that all my thoughts were on the sculpture, but I really had forgotten that I was with a beautiful, aroused young woman, even though she was naked - she didn't want to get plaster on her clothes- but my manhood was limp and not at all ready to be cast in all its glory.

Getting back into the cast was difficult. Sandra tried her best to help and support me, but I was a big man. Hauling bricks develops your muscles. We had to try a couple of times before I was safely settled in the cast. Sandra took the bottle and began applying the oil with a cheeky smile on her face. Her warm hands rubbed the oil in thoroughly, especially around my crotch. I could no longer concentrate on the sculpture and enjoyed her hands and the different views of her body as she moved around me.

She put the chair up and began to apply the bandages from top down. Maybe she should have done it the other way around. Her closeness while she covered my arms and chest was so arousing. I could only watch, not touch and whereas before I only had eyes for the casting when I touched her, I now felt a strong urge to reach out and let my hands glide over her smooth skin. So far, my erection was very persistent.

She moved down to my stomach and now the chair blocked my view. I could only get a glimpse of her breast or stomach every now and then. Her hands got closer and closer to my crotch and my still erect penis. It was longing for her touch now, and at this point I felt sure I'd be able to maintain my erection forever.

Still partly hidden from my view, Sandra began to arrange bandages around the base on my penis and my sack. All my senses were focused on the feeling of her hands. It felt as if she had deliberately slowed down, but I knew how difficult it could be to arrange the bandages correctly. Inch by inch, her fingers wrapped bandages around my penis. I suddenly feared that something else would happen that would make it impossible for me to stay erect, but the stimulation wasn't powerful enough for that to happen. When the last bit of my penis was covered, Sandra began to speak.

"Modelling for you have really been exciting. You've made me do things I've never ever done with a man before. I was so embarrassed when you asked me to shave my pussy, but it was mainly because it excited me so much. And then when you did it, when I felt your fingers manipulate my most intimate parts . . . it turned me on. I really wanted you to go on, you know. I was so hot and you were so cool, just shaving me, nothing else. You were driving me up the wall, you know that? I couldn't believe you didn't notice how hot I was."

Sandra continued to talk while she covered my legs telling me how excited I'd made her, including all kinds of details. When she had finished, she got up and moved away from the chair, giving me a full view of her body. She told me how wonderful it felt to be shaved completely bare; how sensitive her pubic mound really was, now that all the hair were gone.

"I just can't believe how you can control yourself like that. Most men I've know would have ravished me before the first cast was ever finished. A man with such self-control must be a fantastic lover. You know, when this cast is done, I want to take a shower with you and then I want you to rub oil all over my body. Then I want to make love to you. I want you to take me. I want you to released the pressure you have build up inside me all day."

I'd been listening with interrupting her, but at this point, I was about to explode.

"Please, Sandra. If you keep talking we'll never get the cast off," I said.

"That was the point, wasn't it? But I'll stop now. I think the cast is ready to come off," she grinned.

It was amazing, but true. It felt like only seconds since she applied the last bandage, but the clock showed that fifteen minutes had passed and the cast had hardened. It was fairly easy to get it off, even though my penis was still was standing to attention. It was a bit harder to get out of the backside cast, but I got out without doing any damage to it.

We made a test set-up of the backside cast of Sandra and the front cast of me and it looked almost perfect. If I hadn't already planned to call it "Life and Death", I could have called this one "The Second Just Before". It really looked like I was just about to enter her.

"This is just fantastic. You were fantastic. I don't think I've ever created an image so powerful and expressive. We could be a great team," I said.

I was really delirious. Sandra had helped me created the greatest piece of work in my career. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a tight hug.

"Thank you very much. I can hardly wait until it is finished. I need to strengthen it first, then work on the outside finished, making it smooth like skin. Then paint it. It will be so beautiful."

"I really look forward to seeing it." Sandra said. "But I think we need a bath first."

"Yeah. Sure. You can go first," I said and released her.

"I wasn't just saying all those things to keep you . . . hard," she said and snuggled up close to me. "I really do want to know how it feels to make love to a man with a self control like yours."

"Do you really want to give yourself to a man that completely ignore a beautiful, sexy woman and selfishly concentrate on his work instead?" I asked.

"Yes. I watched you while you worked, sweating and completely focused on getting it right. I watched your fingers delicately manipulate the bandages around my lips. I want to feel those fingers again. I want to give myself to a man who's so passionate. I want you to take me in any way you want."

"Perhaps I'm only passionate about my work, my art. I might be selfish and inconsiderate as a lover. I might take you for my own pleasure and leave you unsatisfied," I teased her.

"I don't believe you. I could see it in your eyes when you applied the oil. I could see the same passion in your eyes as I saw when you worked. Cast me any way you want, but stop teasing me. Take me. Ravish me!"

"You're so stubborn," I grinned. "I give in."

I lifted her up in my arms and carried her to the bath. We made love: in the shower, on the floor, on the couch. I touched every inch of her lovely body, covered it with kissed and explored every cavity. She gave herself completely and I gave her everything I had in me.

Sandra was perfect. Her body as well as her mind inspired me to make the greatest sculptures, paintings and drawings. I needed no other model; she was an inexhaustible source of inspiration. I draw her face contorted in orgasm, I painted her while she was sleeping and made cast of her while the baby was growing inside her. Her beauty and passion were naturally turned into images so expressive that I sometimes wondered if they were made by me.

Over the years, her body has changed; become more mature. She's still a fantastic model, wife and mother. Her love and passion haven't changed.
henlar