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Archive name: art.txt (F/F-teen, exh, mast, rom)
Authors name: Sutini Wijaya (smiling19w@netscape.net)
Story title : As long as it is Art
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
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As long as it is Art (FF, exh, mast, rom)
by Sutini Wijaya (smiling19w@netscape.net)
***
A mother determined to make an artist out of her 17-year-
old daughter gets her into a relationship, which involves
seduction by an older woman.
***
I can't just launch into this story without giving you
some background. Because to know to me is to know to my
mother. So I guess I better start with her.
My Mother was, according to some of my friends, the
mother from hell. I didn't think so. To me, a teenage
girl, she was just "Mother"... I had been brought up by
her and was used to her and in fact other people's
mothers seemed too colourless by comparison. Although she
lacked a university education she did not lack an
education and in terms of "general knowledge" there were
a few who would outsmart her. Her special interest was
"The Arts".
As far back as I can remember I ushered from art gallery
to art gallery. Her idea of entertaining a five-year-old
kid was to find a new art gallery. I would have much
preferred to play with my friends in a sandpit! My
birthday and Christmas presents were always a great
disappointment because they would inevitably consist of
drawing equipment and books about painters or sculptors.
If she had a choice of being introduced or getting to
know a musician or famous artist well the musician would
not stand a chance.
It is against this background that this recollection is
based. By the time I was in high school I was doing quite
well in English, French and not surprisingly, Art.
Unfortunately "quite well" was not good enough as far as
Mother was concerned. Mother was determined that I was
going to be the next great artist that this country had
produced.
A modern-day female Nolan... or even Donald Friend. That
was her dream. By the time I was almost 18 and
approaching my final year at high school Mother decided
that over the Christmas break I should have some extra
art tuition... she would find me a tutor. I was quite
good at and quite happy with my pencil and charcoal
sketching and drawing. Watercolours and oils did not do
much for me but I needed to know the theory. She was
reasonably happy with my sketching but desperately wanted
me into proper paintings (as she insisted on calling
them).
She found a tutor through the Art Gallery called Cynthia
Hogan-Selth. I can remember the first time we met. She
had a lovely old house in the hills of Perth in town
called Bickley. As I remember it was set in an orchard of
fruit trees with a creek, which meandered through the
property.
When we arrived there we found that she had about eight
to ten students studying under her and just by looking at
their easels it was obvious that they were not
untalented. She struck me as being somewhat a clone of my
mother as far as her approach to art and her extroverted
behaviour was concerned. The walls were adorned with
paintings ranging from the obvious work of her students -
scenes painted throughout the orchard and along the creek
banks - to more professional looking paintings of outback
scenes and a good deal of female nudes.
The other students were all ages from my age upwards. I
was received well and made to feel at home by the other
students while Mother and the lady discussed the
distasteful subject of pecuniary recompense.
Mother had some wild idea that I would be able to go
there every day (by bus from home) and then she found out
how much the fees were and also that she only held
classes on the afternoons of Mondays and Wednesdays. She
said she would also see me on Saturday mornings as well
to help me catch up. Mother grumbled a bit on the way
home about what it was costing but it was for the sake of
"Art"... and that was the main thing!
Armed with my drawing equipment, I went to the house on
the following Monday afternoon. I liked her teaching
style and femininity immediately and tried my very best
to please her. She never ridiculed her students' efforts
and complemented them constantly. We normally started a
project on Monday and tried to have it finished by
Wednesday.
I discovered that she had made a special time for me on
Saturday morning and as I was the only student at that
time she was much more relaxed. Perth can be very hot
during summer and on those days the class would stay in
the house in her huge studio which was air conditioned
but on cooler days we would all traipse out into the
orchard or down to the creek to work there.
We painted or sketched the inevitable flowers and bowls
of fruit and when she wanted us to paint or sketch human
forms she had acquired some store mannequins from
somewhere which she would arrange in various positions to
simulate some human activity like, for instance,
sleeping, sitting, or something like that. She was
particularly keen on "available lighting" where the
subject would be lit from one side, like standing by an
open window or doorway, with heavy lights and darks. Not
just the mannequins but even still life works.
Apparently the class had been going for four weeks before
I joined it so there was quite a bit to catch up on each
Saturday morning. After about a month I had just about
done it. I particularly enjoyed Saturdays because I had
her undivided attention. With a sort of magnetism about
her, she was a striking woman in her early 40s with a
string of successful exhibitions behind her and ahead of
her and well-known in the art world in Perth.
She was terribly "alternative" in the way she dressed -
almost predictably she wore Asian sort of clothes like
sarongs and saris or just a kaftan sort of thing. Her
figure, despite the unusual clothes, was clearly well
looked after. Initially I could not tell whether or not
she had a shapely bust because of her clothing style but
a few glimpses of her legs indicated a woman in very good
shape.
I really enjoyed Saturdays and the mannequins and was
quite good at capturing the details and contours that she
wanted and she was lavish with her praise for my efforts.
One morning she started me going with one of her
mannequins down at the bank of the creek and left me
alone. She came back after about a hour to check my
progress and was very pleased with what I had produced.
"You are the only one of my students here who, when they
have a mannequin as the model, managed to make it look
like a mannequin and not like a person. Have you ever
worked with a live model? A friend perhaps?" she asked.
"You mean, unclothed?" I asked.
"Yes."
"No! Never! I don't know who I could ask." I responded.
"I would very much like to see how you handled the live
model. You have an excellent perception. Because of the
cost I cannot afford to use live models, which is why I
bought the mannequins. But it would be interesting...I'd
love to know how..." she mused.
"What would be very interesting?" I inquired.
"To see how you painted a live model.even me."
"You?" I asked with astonishment.
"Yes.me" she said and to my amazement she picked up the
mannequin which had been lying back in the grass with its
feet dangling in the water and with an almost
imperceptible flick of her wrist the sarong she was
wearing fell to the grass revealing her to be completely
naked.
I gawked in amazement! She arranged herself and regally
gestured at my sketch pad as if to tell me to just get on
with it.
I started to sketch her. Now that the superfluous layers
of clothing had been removed I could see that she had the
most amazing figure for her age, indeed for anyone's age.
She clearly had never had children and had never been
overweight and then lost it all because there was not one
stretch mark on her body. Her skin was silky and smooth
looking!
True to her "alternative" lifestyle her armpits were not
shaved and her pubic area was not trimmed - terribly
hairy - and fascinating to look at. If I think of all the
women I have ever seen naked I cannot recall anyone who
had nicer breasts. Big without being pendulous and
beautifully proportioned. Breathtaking!
Mother had always told me that in good Art there is no
such thing as 'smut'. How many art galleries had I
visited with her as we gazed on nude female and male
forms and I heard her say, "If that was a photograph
people would say is pornographic but because it's a
painting... it is Art!"
I could not argue with that idea because I had never seen
a painting that aroused me in the slightest including
some very erotic works in which people were obviously
engaged in some sort of sexual activity but the first
time I ever saw a photograph of a couple making love I
just about wet my pants. Isn't that funny! But here was a
woman, albeit much older than me, lying back in the grass
totally naked and completely unashamed. This was Art,
wasn't it? But as I sketched her I was aware of my own
feelings of arousal and I was confused.
"May I see how you are going?" She asked.
"Of course" I said.
She got up and walked over to me and looked at my work.
She was so casual about being naked. She made no move at
all to cover herself.
She was ecstatic. "What a wonderful touch! Look at the
skin tone... you have made me come alive on your paper!
You haven't done my head and face details yet... so let's
get on with it. Excellent... you are excellent!"
After pouring praise upon me she resumed her pose on the
bank of the creek as I completed the drawing with her
head and face. Her face was so peaceful. So serene. She
seemed to drift off into a private world as she lay back
while I sketched her. Within 30 minutes I had finished
and I roused her from what seemed to be a deep day dream.
She got up and came over to my easel and gasped,
"Wonderful! You have captured exactly the look on my face
that I wanted! Well done... you know you really are very
good!"
I was happy to bask in this deluge of praise. We walked
back to the house as she examined my drawing and
commented on it all the way. It was starting to get a bit
warm by now so she asked me if I would like to have a
cold drink and I accepted with glee. Back inside the
house she discarded the sarong again and strolled around
the house without a stitch.
"One of the wonderful things about living out here in the
middle of an orchard is the seclusion it affords me on
the weekend. During the week there are people coming and
going, fruit pickers, packers and so on but on the
weekend I can do what I like. It doesn't offend you does
it?"
"Not at all" I assured her. "It's your house, you can do
as you please... no way am I offended. I would probably
do the same if I was here by myself."
"Good. Just as long as you are not absolutely horrified.
I'm sure that we have a lot in common." she smiled as she
brought in two glasses of lemonade with the ice tinkling
on the sides.
"I'm very pleased with your work today. I will probably
model for you next Saturday again. I don't have many
sketches of myself and you seem to have an amazing
ability to capture me."
I said, "Thank you. I have never sketched a nude before.
I was a bit worried that I would muck it up so I'm very
relieved that you are happy with the result. I thought
you had gone to sleep... did you go to sleep?"
"Certainly not!" She snorted. "I have the theory which I
was testing and I will tell you about it one day when I
know you better and you know me better."
"Now you have me most intrigued" I smiled. "Can you give
me a hint?"
"I don't give hints. If I want to say something I say it
straight out. Maybe next Saturday or some other time we
will discuss it."
Subject closed.
And not just the subject was closed but my tutorial was
too. I was just going to say goodbye to her when a
thought struck me. "I was wondering whether your posing
is something I should tell Mother and others or is this
something you would rather I kept to myself?"
She walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulders
and gave me a gentle embrace. "Let me ask you this,
Marion, what do you think you should do?"
"Keep quiet?"
"You are not just a good artist but an intelligent young
lady too. Yes, I think reticence is called for here."
And I was good to my word. But I spent a restless week.
My body was on red alert! This woman had really stirred
up my every hormone. I could not work out why. She was
more than 20 years older than me and yet her allure was
unquestionable.
I could not stop thinking about her "theory" and whatever
that could be. Seeing her on Monday and Wednesday for the
normal class was in some ways awkward because she was so
normal in her actions and all the time I kept thinking to
myself, I saw her nude last Saturday. I even drew her,
and at no time did she give any hint or clue that the
time we had spent together had been any sort of 'bonding'
at all. It was as though it never had happened... as if
it was a dream.
Saturday came again. Cynthia met me at the door with a
broad smile and a big hug.
"I have been looking forward to your visit all week. As
you know, I couldn't act any differently to you in front
of the others during the week and I hope you understand."
She said.
I pretended that it made no difference to me. I didn't
dare say that I had been pretty perplexed by her distance
to me.
"Well, we are going to do more figure work and because
it's a bit hot outside I don't fancy getting burned to a
crisp so we will stay inside. Set yourself up and I will
make us a cup of tea and then get myself ready."
I set up my easel, secured my sketch pad and got my
materials ready while she busied herself in the kitchen.
She brought back the tea and removed her things and lay
back on a couch. I felt a warm flush of excitement: this
woman was so attractive to me!
"Tell me about your theory now?" I asked with a smile.
"I am not ready yet," she said with an air of finality.
"I really know nothing about your personal experience in
life and it is possible you would be offended or
completely mystified. I am starting to feel sorry I
mentioned it..."
I was mystified all right! But I accepted her decision
and started sketching her. This time she was very much
full frontal and I debated what to do about her pubes...
do I put in the hair or leave it like a mannequin? I
opted for the natural look and penciled in her
substantial bushy bits. As usual I left her head and
expression until last. Satisfied and not at all put off
by the dark triangle I had sketched in, she told me to do
her face and again she went into a trance-like state...
quite serene and relaxed.
I commented, "I love that look on your face...so relaxed
and happy. I hope I can get it onto my paper..."
She murmured, indicating she had heard me. I was happy
with the results finally and asked her to look at the
finished work. She seemed slow to rouse but then came
over and said she was happy. There was one problem
though.
"What?" I asked.
"My nipples. You have them flat against my body. It is
more dramatic if you draw or paint them standing... if
only slightly."
"But that's how they were," I protested.
"Then you can always tell your model to stand them
up...pinch them, or use an icy cold cloth...and they will
come up. And if all else fails and if you have a close
rapport with your model pinch them yourself because when
someone else touches your nipples they will react
immediately. You know what I mean?"
"I think I do," I said.
I had to do her breasts again. The nipples were flat so I
said so. She seemed only too happy to run her hands in
the most sensual manner over her breasts and soon both
nipples were very erect. I was very relieved that I was
not called upon to touch her.
I should tell you about now that my sexual experiences at
this time in my life had been with both boys and girls.
By 'girls' I mean that since we hit puberty together my
very best friend, Allison and I had always got huge
pleasure out of touching each others breasts and
masturbating covertly under the sheet together when we
had sleep-overs. I had also touched another girl's body
more completely once when on a camping trip to Geralton.
But I had never touched breasts like this woman had.
I was glad she had not asked me to but I was awash with
excitement nevertheless. I knew what a lesbian was and I
understood the concept of bisexuality and as I also liked
guys well, I was obviously in the latter group.
My Mother had always encouraged me to accept nudity as
"normal" and took great delight in cavorting around the
house without a stitch on as though she expected Pro Hart
(hardly!) to come in through the door any moment and
demand that she sit for him. As a result of her
extroverted behaviour I was fairly unabashed about my own
body and although I did not flaunt it with plunging
necklines and push-up bras, I was not the slightest bit
shy if the right person, say, a doctor or a friend
sleeping over were to see me without anything on but I
did not go out of my way to achieve this end.
Mother would make me blush furiously sometimes when one
of my friends from school stayed at our house. "There is
no pornography in nudity" and "Don't be embarrassed with
the body that God made for you" were just two of her oft-
repeated lines. If I had a visitor from sheltered
background she would look at me askance and in panic and
I would have to tell Mother to behave and then she would
be a bad mood for the rest of the time that my friend was
there.
Before she separated from my (now deceased) father she
also embarrassed him and his family with this sort of
lurid behaviour. I made a promise to myself that I would
never do this to my own children but having said that, I
would have a very liberal attitude to nudity and genuine
respect for privacy.
The weekday lessons continued unchanged. Cynthia gave me
no more and no less attention than any other student and
no one would have guessed that I had sketched her naked.
By about the fourth Saturday she became more openly
affectionate towards me. She was welcoming and seemed
genuinely happy when I arrived at 9 a.m. As I arrived she
gave me a hug and walked with me into the studio with an
arm around me talking happily as though we were close
friends of long-standing.
"I have a proposal to put to you." She said one Saturday.
"A proposal?" I asked.
"Yes," she smiled, "I have. You are dying to know what my
theory is, right?"
"For your serene and relaxed look?" I asked.
"Yes. Today I would like to have a personal chat with
you. I want to find out a few things about your
experiences in life and if everything goes well, we will
talk about my theory."
"Okay!" I said happily, "what pose have you got planned
for me to sketch today? Where do you want to go?"
"How would you feel about a complete change?"
"Such as...?"
She looked at me carefully for my reaction, "I would like
to paint you! I can see you have beautiful breasts under
all those clothes. What would you say?"
I was taken aback. I had not even contemplated what my
answer would be if she had asked me this. It had never
occurred to me that she would want to paint me. And I
knew instinctively that if she did a good painting of me
topless my Mother would be thrilled beyond words and very
supportive of the fact I had posed for her. It was not a
matter of being shy either...it would be like going to
the doctor.
"I would be honoured to pose for you."
"Very well. Good. Let me set up my things up and then
I'll tell you what I want you to do."
She busied herself with a sketch pad and directed me to
sit on the chair next to the window and she inspected the
available light. After she had arranged me, and then
rearranged me and finally was happy with the way the
light fell across my body she told me to remove all my
clothes down to my waist and make myself comfortable and
as relaxed as I could.
I took off my T-shirt and my bra throwing them onto the
ground.
"Undo your ponytail and comb it out letting some fall
over your breasts but not completely obscuring them."
I did as she said and when she was happy with the result
I lay back on the fairly comfortable chair and felt the
sun shining on my left side. It was easy to relax. She
worked quietly and industriously for about 20 minutes
occasionally making complementary grunts of approval
like, "beautiful breasts..." or "magnificent lines" or "a
certain innocence but at the same time there is something
else...."
I guessed that she had penciled in the out line and was
now working on the shadowing. As it was a frontal
portrait and I was looking at her, I was able to see how
fast she was working.
Without any warning and as though she was thinking aloud,
"Yes, a certain innocence... but I wonder how innocent?"
I smiled, listening to her talking rhetorically about me.
I did not respond.
She stopped working abruptly and looked at me
inquiringly, "Well? Are you innocent?"
I blushed. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Cynthia.
What's 'innocent'?"
"Well, are you a virgin? Have you slept with a man yet?"
Now I really blushed. My cheeks were burning. I couldn't
bring myself to answer her question so I just shook my
head.
She smiled. "A dear little virgin. How sweet. But you
have a certain...je ne sais quoi... a certain air of
awakened awareness about you. I wonder if..." she trailed
off.
It was my turn to smile. "What do you wonder about me?"
She continued working on my portrait as we spoke. It was
a long time before she spoke...she looked up and said, "I
was wondering if you have ever had any experience
with...ah... girls perhaps? What I mean here is a
romantic, even sexual relationship. I don't mean 'just
friends'. Do you understand what I mean?"
"I understand what you mean."
"Well?"
Once again I blushed. I didn't want to say too much
because I doubted that anyone would be impressed that I
had had some sort of relationship with one of my girl
friends since we had been young and my more extensive
experience with the girl in Geralton. At the sane time
her questioning me was direct and had a sort of no-
nonsense ring to it and I was starting to get the message
that she would be non-judgmental whatever I said. But I
still could not bring myself to reply. I was silent.
"Let me ask you this then, Marion, do you know what an
orgasm is?"
"Yes I do."
"Have you experienced one or do you just know what it
is?"
"I have had one," I blushed.
"Only one?"
"Oh no! Many!"
"Wonderful. Just wonderful! Always alone?"
I wondered what to say. I was starting to feel more
trusting as this interrogation continued. But thought to
myself, 'Who does she know that I know?' Why not tell
her?'
"Not always but usually. I have a girlfriend..."
"Even better! Tell me what you and she have done together
and then after that I will tell you about my theory. Is
that fair enough?"
"That's fair enough. But this is just between you and me.
Just as I don't tell anyone about you posing for me."
She agreed. "Of course we will share many secrets with
each other. I am sure I have more than you have!"
So I told her how Allison and I had touched each other
experimentally and how we usually masturbated ourselves,
(as opposed to each other), when we had sleep-overs and
that we were both completely open with each other and had
told each other little tricks which seem to be useful to
make the orgasm bigger, better or longer. I told her
about the girl in Geralton and how we had touched each
other and given the other one an orgasm digitally. She
listened in rapt silence smiling and nodding from time to
time as I rambled on with my story. When it was finished
I waited for the reaction.
"Very sweet. Very much like my own experiences at your
age. Although at your age I had lost my virginity. But I
prefer the touch of a girl. Have you had anything to do
with boys?"
"Yes. Actually, I think I have done more with boys than
with my Allison. She and I never touch each other 'down
there' but I have touched a couple of boys there and they
have done it to me... you know, with their fingers."
"Which you prefer?"
"To be honest I never masturbate thinking of having sex
with a boy but usually about being with a girl."
She put the pencil down and looked at me, "One last
question and then I'll tell you about my theory. Have you
masturbated in the last, say, four weeks and if so what
did you think about?"
Again the blood rushed to my cheeks. "I don't want to
say."
"Was it... was it anything to do with me or being here
with me?"
"Yes," I mumbled, my face fiery hot.
"I am complemented. I am delighted. I am thrilled! I had
a feeling right from the very first time I posed for you
that you were aroused by looking at me... am I right?"
She looked at me and I nodded. She went on, "Here is a
little secret for you... the way you looked at me aroused
me too and I have been masturbating thinking about you
and wishing, and hoping that you felt the same way and
now that I know you do I am beyond just happy! We are so
alike!"
I was stunned. I couldn't believe what my ears were
hearing. I had to suppress an urge to run to her, to hold
her and to kiss her. I felt every hair on my body stand
up... I was a mass of goose pimples.
"I don't know what to say..." I said. "I'm sort of
confused."
"You have been honest with me. You have opened your heart
so I decided to be honest with you. Anyway, you want to
know about my theory. Yes?"
I agreed. "Yes tell me, I am dying to know what it's all
about."
"You commented that I had a 'serene and relaxed' look on
my face when you were sketching me. My theory is this: a
woman's face looks at its very best just after she has
had an orgasm. Haven't you noticed your friend Allison
has a dreamy and faraway look after she has come? Well as
I lay back and you sketched me I was having a fantasy
about making love to you and I climaxed very quietly
without even touching myself. Have you to done that?"
"I can make an orgasm by pressing my thighs together
sometimes and moving my knees slightly against each
other," I admitted.
"Exactly. I was dying to do that when you were sketching
me, to have an orgasm secretly, and see if you could
catch that look in my face. I might get you to do
something for me."
"What?" I asked.
"I want to borrow a video camera and I'd like you to film
my face as I masturbate and as I come down from the high
and then we will make some still photos and see how they
look. Would you be prepared to do that for me? There is
hardly anyone else I know that I could ask. In a sort of
a way, as I am sure your mother would say that it is a
form of experimental art. But I don't think she needs to
know." She smiled.
I asked her incredulously, "So you want me to make a
video of your face while you have a climax? My God! How
amazing!"
"Does that mean you will do it for me?" she smiled.
"If you want me to. Of course! Yes, I would do it for
you."
I don't have to tell you how I felt that week, especially
at the Monday and Wednesday session when she treated me
just like any other student. My night time thoughts as I
went to sleep were a mixture of nervousness and sexual
arousal. Half of me couldn't wait for Saturday to come
and the other half had a feeling of dread! But Saturday
came nevertheless.
I arrived promptly at the orchard house and she greeted
me warmly as usual and with a hug that could have been
construed to have been loaded with meaning and intent,
longer and tighter than necessary. She asked me if I was
still prepared to do what she had suggested last weekend
and I nodded and felt an electric thrill shoot like
lightening to my ovary area. She led me into her bedroom
where she already had a video camera on a tripod at the
pillow-end of the bed. She asked me if I had never use
the video camera before. I told I had once used one but
was not a great cameraman.
She went over again what she called 'her theory' and
explained again what she wanted me to do. It was
basically a matter of keeping her face in the viewfinder
as she wanked herself. That was the plan anyway. But
plans do not always go quite the way we envisage because
it was all just too clinical and not conducive to a
sensual feeling for her.
She lay on her back naked and first with her fingers and
then with a vibrator she desperately tried to achieve her
climax but as her frustration grew so also the look on
her face reflected this emotion. It was anything but'
serene and relaxed' and finally she gave up in disgust,
put the vibrator away, rewound the tape in the camera and
turned it off.
"We should have done this last weekend after I talked to
you... I had come before you got to the front gate!"
"Really?" I gaped. I couldn't imagine I had been able to
turn a woman on like that! Or even a guy!
Then she had an idea. "I know what will get me going. I
would like to do another sketch of you, if you will let
me. I love your short shorts! I didn't realise you had
such beautiful legs... you usually hide them under your
jeans or a skirt. Let me sketch you again. Okay?"
I honestly misunderstood her. I thought she meant that
she wanted me nude! We returned to the studio where I
would pose for her and while she went into the kitchen to
make tea I took everything off and lay back on the studio
couch. When she came back in she looked startled and
delighted.
"Oh my God... nude! I meant topless... I can't believe
how beautiful you are!"
I was horrified. I was suddenly quite self-conscious
embarrassed at my stupidity. "I thought you wanted me
nude" I stammered.
"Of course I wanted to... but I didn't dare ask you. I
was just going to sketch you wearing just your shorts
with your top off."
"I'm sorry. I misunderstood."
"Never be sorry when you have a body like yours, my
sweet! You stay like that. I will do a beautiful sketch
and after that I will be so turned on we can make our
movie as well. What joy!"
END
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 19