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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age
Eighteen, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Archive name: ArtClass.txt (M/F)
Authors name: MIKE HUNT (M1kehunt@aol.com)
Story Titke : ASS Art Class
(c) 1997 All rights reserved
--------------------------------------------------------
This story contains sexual situations and should be read
only by consenting adults. Thank you..
----------------- Kristen's collection ---------------
I was trying to imagine what his dick looked
like. Was it one of those that was long and thin? Or
perhaps short and fat? Or perhaps long and fat? Was it
circumcised or not? I wondered if it was wrinkled, the
way it was sitting inside his bathing suit.
Art, the model, had been posing in front of our
art class for nearly an hour, and I had finished draw-
ing his face and chest. I was working my way down, and
for some strange reason I always had the most problem
with legs. Both men's' and women's'. I don't know why,
they always came out looking surreal, thin and spindly
or fat and hairy. I was actually a decent artist, much
to my surprise. I had only signed up for the course
because I needed three more credits to graduate and
'Drawing and Art Appreciation' was a sure fire "pass."
I needed a couple of those, because I had started to
get "Senior-it's," which is to say I was fucking off a
lot.
Of course I preferred the classes where we had
a female model, but that only happened half the time.
So here I was sitting imagining what this guy's dick
looked like.
We weren't allowed to have fully nude models.
I'd heard that they did a few years back, but one of
the students' parents heard about it and freaked,
called the Dean and threatened all kinds of things. So
now all our models wore bathing suits or similar modest
attire. Still, it was better than the vases and flowers
we'd painted for the first six weeks.
By far a girl named Robyn was the most fun in
the class. We used to have a beer together after class
once in a while when her boyfriend was away. He was on
the basketball team, so he traveled a lot on weekends,
which left her to me and anybody else with a couple of
bucks for entertainment.
On a dare, one time, she went over to the male
model and bent over in a low cut top, as if to check
out the lighting or the shadows or something. She must
have stooped over in front of him for several minutes,
trying to get him to get an erection. She didn't. He
didn't. She didn't have the greatest set of tits in
the world.
Actually, Robyn was about a size too small on
the top and a size too big on the bottom. She used to
pout about it constantly, but she had the most innocent
and pretty face which more than made up for her lack of
other attributes.
We used to sit around at the Gryphon after class
eating $4 pizzas and talking about guys' dicks and wo-
men's tits and stuff. Of course the never-ending supply
of beer helped, and Robyn's lack of embarrassment al-
ways helped us lead the conversation in that direction.
"What I don't understand," she said, "is how
we're supposed to be able to draw a full nude if all
they let us have is models in bathing suits." I nodded
in agreement. "I don't know about you, but my imagi-
nation isn't that good. I mean, I can imagine, of
course, but I'd much rather have it right out there on
display. That's the only way I'll know if my drawing
is truly realistic or not." I nodded some more. "Don't
you agree?" she said, ignoring my bobbing head.
"Absolutely. Put those tits right out there for
me to see. That's the way to do it." I stated the case
firmly.
"You are so crude," she admonished. "You're just
in this class for the 'pass'; I'm in it for Art."
"Yeah, well Art barely noticed you, if you no-
ticed," I chided. "You need a lower cut top if you're
going to win the bet next time." I motioned to a wait-
ress. "The lady here is buying me another beer. She
lost the bet tonight."
"Oh?" said the waitress. "What bet?"
"Nothing," Robyn hissed. "Nothing at all. He's
just being an asshole."
I slid out of the booth and stuck my butt up in
the air. I pointed at my ass. "She's right, of course,"
I said to the waitress. OK, I'd had a few beers. The
waitress frowned and left.
"Boy you're really out there tonight," Robyn
said to me.
"Sorry. I always gloat when I win," I beamed.
"Thanks. It sure makes me feel good, knowing I
can't even give a guy a hard-on by letting him look
down my blouse. Don't have the right equipment. Damn."
She said it with conviction.
"Don't be silly. He was probably gay. And you
have very nice equipment. Not that I'm speaking from
personal knowledge, of course. But from what I can
imagine...." I left the thought unfinished.
"You're terrible!" she spat at me. "Don't you
go fantasizing. You'll probably make me look worse
than I already do."
"Nonsense," I said. "You're a lovely girl. I'd
like nothing better than to have you as a model for
the class. I'd love to draw you."
She looked at me from the corner of her eye.
"You mean it?" she said.
"Of course I mean it," I replied. Of course I
hadn't meant it, it was just the beer talking. But now
that I'd said it, I wouldn't have minded.
"Well, I could never do that. Walk into that
class in just a bathing suit for everybody to see?
Phew! Never never never." She was adamant.
"Oh no, that's not what I meant," I said. "I
meant totally nude. Butt ass naked. Birthday suit.
Nada. Nothing." I paused. "Now that's something to
think about." She shrieked and slugged me in the
shoulder. She was strong, and my arm stung for a
minute. But she was laughing when she did it, so that
made it OK, I guess.
We talked for another 20 or 30 minutes, covering
everything from politics to sex to movies to sex to
music to sex. Somehow the conversation just kept re-
turning to sex. I can't imagine how. Finally I said,
"I've got a new bet. Ready?" She nodded. "I'll bet that
you won't model for me..."
She interrupted quickly, saying "You're right.
You win. I won't."
I continued, "...even if I agree to model for
you."
Silence filled the booth like the fog in the
Tennessee valleys. "Hmmm," she said. "You might lose
that bet. How much is the bet?"
"A whole night here at the Gryphon, all the
drinks on me. A pizza, too." I said. It was worth it.
"You're on," she said.
"Fully nude," I said.
"What!!?!" she said. "You didn't say that. That
wasn't part of the bet."
"Sure it was. You just interrupted me before I
finished. And you said, to quote you, 'you're on.'" I
had her. Either way, I won.
"That wasn't part of the bet," she insisted. "I
wouldn't have made the bet if that were part of the
bet."
"And I thought you had balls," I said.
"That's part of your problem," she said. "You
don't know your ass from your elbow. Or my boobs from
my balls."
"So you do have balls?" I asked. "Figurative...
or literal?"
"Ha ha ha," she said. "It's bathing suits or
nothing. Wait. I don't mean nothing, I mean, hell, you
know what I mean."
I thought for a moment. "Bathing suits, no deal.
Hell, I can see that in class, you know? How about a
compromise?" She was intrigued.
"Like what?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.
"Tell you what," she went on. " I *will* compromise.
We'll pose in underwear. Not nude, not bathing suits.
How's that?"
"Maybe. What kind of underwear? No long johns or
something like that. Regular, normal underwear. Bra and
panties for you. Jockey shorts for me. No funny
business, OK?" I asked.
"I could do that. You're on," she said. "Now.
Logistics. Where and when?"
"Simple. Tomorrow, Tallow Hall, 7:00. The build-
ing closes at 5:00 on Saturday, but if we're already in
the classroom they'll let us stay. I've done it before.
No sweat. That way we'll have all our equipment, and
we'll be ready to draw."
"Done," she said.
Flash forward to the next night, Tallow Hall. As
I said I would, I got in the building while it was
still open, and a little before 7:00 went to meet Robyn
at the West Door. I smiled as I saw her.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she said as
I held the door open.
"Chickening out?" I rejoined. "We can just go
straight to the Gryphon if you want. Hope you have your
wallet handy."
"No, it's not the money. I just hate to have you
win another bet. Especially after that last humilia-
tion." she said haltingly.
"Then let's go inside," I said, sweeping her
along.
We climbed the stairs to the third floor and
went into the room we used for art class. I closed the
door behind us. It was obvious we were the only people
in the building; the rest of the place was dark and all
the doors were closed and locked. We both diddled
around for a few minutes getting our stuff ready,
easels in place, sketch pads clipped in, that sort of
thing. It was time.
I brought out a six-pack I'd smuggled in. She
looked grateful.
"Fabulous idea. Why didn't I think of it?" she
asked rhetorically.
"Cause I'm naturally smarter," I replied modest-
ly. "I'm also naturally a better artist. And I'm also
naturally..."
She interrupted with "a bigger asshole." We both
laughed.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally I
said, "OK, it's time. Strip down, recruits."
She turned away from me and began to unbutton
her blouse. I saw her twist her head around to make
sure I was getting undressed, too. It would have been
just like me to stand there and wait for her to finish
and then surprise her by not having undressed, but (at
least this time) I wouldn't do something that sneaky.
I heard a zipper unzip and I knew she was taking off
her jeans. I was with her almost every step of the way.
As she turned around I saw that she had lived up
to the deal. She was dressed in a quite modest pair of
panties, all white, and a not-so-modest bra of thin
material. I could see the hint of the color of her nip-
ples through the wispy material.
"Well, let's get to work, shall we?" she said,
trying the break the momentarily uncomfortable atmos-
phere.
"Sure, let's go," I said, not taking my eyes off
her tits for even a second.
"Hello? Hello! Up here, fella," she said, eyeing
me sternly.
"Uh, oh yeah, sorry," I said. My eyes drifted
upwards until they met hers. I flushed a little.
Within a very few minutes it was as though there
was nothing strange going on at all. We were talking
and cracking jokes, standing there in our underwear
drawing pictures of each other. It was, I must say,
weird with a capital WE.
We stood facing each other, partially hidden
behind our easels, peeking around the sides every once
in a while to get a glimpse, then returning to our
drawing. Ten minutes passed with only the sound of
scribbling on sketch pads.
"OK," she said, "Imagination time."
"Don't be silly," I said gallantly. "We can do
that in any old class. It's time to see if you can
really draw a righteous penis." And so saying I pushed
down my briefs. They hung at my thighs, then at my
knees, finally drifting to my ankles. I stepped out of
them.
Robyn let out a shriek, but I knew it was a
mock protest. Her eyes riveted upon my flaccid dick
and never left. I walked over to a stool and leaned
against it. "Go for it," I said.
Her hand became a blur, her eyes darting back
and forth from my limp wang to her drawing tablet. She
drew and erased and brushed and smudged. "This isn't as
easy as I thought," she said absently.
"You mean it's *harder* than you thought?" I
said, leering into the word. She chuckled at my
typically stupid joke.
Looking straight at my dick she said "It's
obviously not harder than I thought. It's just not
as easy as I thought. I mean, when you're just drawing
a cock and you can't see it, anything will do, sort of.
You know? But when you actually have to draw it the way
it is, well that's harder. I mean, more difficult."
"Let me see," I said. She turned the pad around.
It was a half decent picture of me, standing nude at my
sketch pad drawing. I checked out my penis. In the
picture, I mean. Damn. She made it actual size. I was
hoping for a little artistic help, but no such luck.
"Not bad," I said. "I think you could have flat-
tered me a little more in the genital section, but it's
pretty realistic, I have to admit."
"Thanks," she said. "Let me see yours."
"It's not done, yet. I have the, ah, vital sec-
tions still to go."
"Oh," she said. "Imagination time, huh."
"Yeah, I guess so." But to my surprise, her
hands went up behind her and she unfastened her bra.
She let it hang there, unfastened but still covering
her breasts as her hands went to her hips and grasped
the sides of her panties.
"I don't know about this," she said. But her
actions belied her words, as she began to slowly push
the panties down, first one side, then the other. She
walked the white cotton briefs down her thighs an inch
or two at a time. My mouth must have been agape as her
pubic hair came into view, followed by her love tri-
angle and pussy lips. As she bent over to push the
panties even lower, the bra fell away from her tits
and flapped in front of her. She straightened up and
shrugged the straps down from her shoulders onto her
arms, and with a little flip the feminine undergarment
landed in a heap on the floor.
She straightened in front of me, a little bit
shy but still proud. "Wow," I said. I say that a lot
when I see naked ladies. My brain pretty much stops
functioning for a few seconds. I think it has to do
with blood flow or something.
It took a couple moments, but I suddenly remem-
bered why we were there, and I turned back to my sketch
pad. My hands fairly flew across the paper, shading and
rubbing. I was so into the technical part of the work
that I didn't even get excited. It was weird. I fin-
ished drawing in the curves of her breasts and darken-
ing the buttons of her nipples, checking back and forth
from the paper to the model. At last I had them done.
I paused a moment, then moved on. She walked
over to one of the model's tall wooden stools at the
side of the room and brought it back. She sat down on
it and demurely crossed her legs. I frowned.
"What part are you working on?" she asked.
"I was about to start the, uh, lower half. But
that pose won't exactly help me," I said.
She uncrossed her legs, turned and faced me
directly with her knees pressed firmly together. I
stared at her legs.
I began to sketch, slowly. And just as slowly
her knees parted. First an inch, as if she were just
being lazy. Then two inches, as if she were getting
comfortable. Then three inches, then four. I had a
perfect view up her thighs to her pussy, which while
still in shadow was still quite visible to me. Her
knees continued to part. Now five, now six inches. I
lifted my vision out of her lap and into her eyes. She
was smiling at me. I continued to draw. My eyes went
back south.
Her legs opened, again, and I drank in the sight
of the unveiling of her cunt. I began to feel the
tingling of my dick, and I knew it would be only a few
moments until it would begin to bounce and transform
itself into an organ of a vastly different shape and
size. OK, not vastly. I didn't care. I continued to
sketch and to stare into her vagina. I glanced at her
face, again, and saw that she was now watching my cock.
That was more of a turn on than looking at her cunt,
and my dick began to swell under her watchful gaze. My
eyes returned to the treasure between her legs, and
it was only seconds until my cock was standing straight
out in front of me, fully erect.
"Is it done, yet?" she asked.
"No, I still have a little shading to do," I
said.
"I wasn't talking about the picture," she said.
"Oh."
"I'd like to draw it, if you don't mind," she
added.
"Not at all. But don't move for a couple more
seconds. I'm really enjoying... I mean, I'm almost
finished, and, uh, aw hell. Just don't move."
I stood there busily sketching, fully erect,
and having the time of my life. As I drew in the lines
and curves of her cunt my dick increased in pressure
until it felt like it would burst. Lightly tapping my
pencil against the pad like a drummer on a snare drum
I filled in the pubic hair, and I was done.
"Want to see?" I asked.
"I'm already looking," she said. She was staring
at my engorged member.
"I meant the picture," I said.
"Oh."
I flipped the easel around and she looked. She
walked over to it and stared. I had "improved" her
breasts slightly and softened her hips. In the stance
in the picture you could see a cocked knee and the top
of her female hair and the mons veris, followed by the
puff of one of her pussy lips. It was actually quite
good, if I do say so myself.
She said so herself.
"Is that how you see me?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "I can't help it. You're ter-
rific looking. You make a great model."
"So do you," she said. She turned and walked
the few steps back to her easel and ripped the sketch
pad off it. She came back and sat cross-legged on the
floor in front of me. My dick bobbed in her face.
Supporting the pad with one hand, she began
busily sketching with the other. My organ was at full
throttle as she began, and I could see by her long,
full strokes that she was drawing a large picture of
my dick.
"Help me a little there, if you don't mind," I
said.
"I don't mind, but frankly you don't need the
help," she replied. "Huge dicks are highly overrated
in my opinion. I know with guys that the size of the
girl's tits are vital, the bigger the better..."
"Not true," I interrupted.
She ignored me. "...but women don't feel the
same way. Especially if you've ever had to give a blow
job to someone with a wide and wild woodie. Your jaw
feels like its going to fall off. Give me a nice normal
sized penis any day."
"How about today," I said.
"I was thinking about that," she replied can-
didly. "But for the moment I'm having too much fun
drawing it. I mean, this will never happen in class.
Even if I let the model look down my blouse. The
basketball star isn't likely to pose for me. So here
you are. And here I am."
"Fine," I said. "I think I can hold this pose
for a while. Maybe just until the end of the semester,
though, so hurry."
She giggled. I could see from her frantic move-
ments that she was recording my erection in pastel and
chalk for posterity. I took one hand and lazily stroked
myself a couple of times. She continued to draw. Final-
ly the frustration got to me and I walked around behind
her, my dick waggling with every step. Her picture was
quite good, a realistic portrait of the little fellow
and even somehow managing to capture the bounce in his
current state.
"Wow, pretty good," I offered.
"Wow, pretty good," she repeated. One of her
hands reached for me and she stroked her fingers along
the length of my shaft. A fist encircled me briefly,
then let go. "It's easy to be an artist when you have a
good model," she said. I blushed.
"Hey, I've got one for you," I exclaimed. I
walked to the front of the room and picked up a mirror
which had been leaning against the wall. I brought it
back and leaned it on a chair in front of her as I
moved her sketch pad and lay it flat on the ground. She
understood immediately.
She knelt on all fours facing the mirror. She
had her chalk in her hand. I had my dick in mine. I
knelt down behind her.
"How about a self portrait?" I asked. "I think
it could be fabulous, especially if you can capture the
sensuality of the moment."
"What sensuality?" She twisted her head to look
at me as she asked, playing along.
"I was thinking...this," I said, bringing the
head of my erection into perfect alignment with the
open shaft that now presented itself. I moved my hips
forward and we made contact. She was already wet,
apparently as stimulated as I but responding in her own
way. I moved my hips again and shuffled my knees for-
ward to catch up.
"Oof," she responded as I sank part way into
her. "Oh that's perfect. Don't move."
"Don't move?" I asked. "Are you crazy?"
"Really. Don't move," she said, her hands now
beginning their frantic dance across the sketch pad.
I leaned over her and with one hand against her
back for balance, put my other under her hanging
breast, cupping it and feeling the texture of the tip
against my palm. "You mean don't move like this?" I
asked. "Or do you mean don't move like this?" I said it
as I pushed all the way in, bouncing my pelvis against
hers hard enough that her entire body was pushed for-
ward.
"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "How am I supposed to
draw if you're bouncing me all around?" She paused.
"Although it does feel great..."
"Yeah. How about if I 'don't move' right about
here?" I asked.
"That would be fine," she responded.
And like any good artist's model, I froze my
position to give the artist time to render the likeness
that she saw in her mind's eye.
We must have stayed that way, locked like dogs,
for ten minutes. I could see the portrait develop, and
it was suddenly clear that this girl had an abiding
talent. On the flatness of the page came a three
dimensional woman, and farther back a man. Their
activity was obvious, and even more evident was the
pleasure it was bringing to both of them.
With her last smudges and strokes she asked "So
what do you think of it?"
"It's unbelievable," I answered. "But there's no
way to ever capture this." And with that I began a
series of long, slow strokes in and out of her. Now my
full weight bore down on her as I used both hands to
grasp at her hanging tit flesh, then I straightened up
and put my palms against her back as I looked for more
freedom of movement to bang away at her.
I had been kneeling for 20 minutes, maybe more,
and my knees ached. But even though I wanted to change
position, I wanted to stay behind her, my hardness
locked into her softness. My tempo increased and she
matched me thrust for thrust, banging backward into me
with every forward push I offered. My testicles offered
a "slap slap slap" in synchronism with our movements
as they bounced against her clit.
Our rocking increased again, and the sweat from
her back mixed with the perspiration from my chest, the
slipperiness of our bodies emulating the slickness of
our sexual junction. My dick had never been harder, nor
found a more willing pussy, and I was finally ready.
"Oh God," I said.
"Oh yes," she answered.
And then it was upon us. I don't know who got
there first, all I know is that I bucked forward so
hard that she collapsed prostrate on the floor. The
natural momentum of my motion carried me forward on
top of her, and my weight landed on her without mercy.
She seemed none the worse for it, and continued
her own series of bouncing and writing motions as her
orgasm took control of her body. I suspect an older
woman might have bruised at the inadvertent rough
treatment she received, but she seemed fine, and un-
concerned.
"Oh my god," she said as we floated back to
earth. "That was heavenly."
"You bet," I answered. "The best I can remem-
ber." It wasn't a lie. In fairness I had only had a
couple of sexual partners to that point in my life,
but the experience of a new playmate coupled with our
evident compatibility had brought me to the very ze-
nith of human pleasure.
"By the way," she said nonchalantly.
"Yes?" I asked.
"I won the bet," she smirked.
"Double or nothing?" I said.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WARNING!!! NEVER, NEVER practice unsafe sex. In this day
and age, it is just plain stupid to have unprotected sex
with strangers. This story is for entertainment not to
be imitated. You only have one body per lifetime.... So
take good care of it... Kristen
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!