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This is my entry for the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2023. Please enjoy.
While this follows earlier Model Garden stories, the only background needed is that Gale, an art professor, hired Tyson, a young bodybuilder and aspiring poet, to pose nude for a small summer sketching class. She and her three students, charmed by his manner, entranced by his physique and shocked by how hard he was having to work to stay in school, offered to finance his education, including provision of an apartment.
Hijinks have ensued.
Tyson wasn't there when we awoke; it seemed a good bet that he'd gone over to Gale's next door.
Gale was half-sleep in the sun when we slipped through the hedge. Seeing us, she set aside the sketchbook she'd had on her lap and rose to greet us. Warm, friendly hugs followed.
"Good morning, Quinn! Hey, Heather! Is Tammy up?"
"We heard the thud of children's feet overhead, so Tammy must be. We didn't see her."
"Who has to die for me to get it?" Quinn quipped.
We sat in the sun, not talking very much. A pleasant lethargy seemed to be ruling the universe.
Eventually, I asked her about our model-in-residence.
"Sawing logs," Gale smiled, 'He was pretty tired."
That brought a knowing smirk onto Quinn's face and a slight blush into mine before the three of us broke into light, happy laughter. All four of us in one day -- no wonder he was sleepy!
Two weeks later...
It had worked out, I realized. I been surprised when Gale had mentioned her initial concerns about jealousy. Actually, I'd had the same worry myself; the surprise had come only from her mentioning it -- she'd always seemed so confident.
Let's face it, womenfolk generally aren't great at sharing our men. Being concerned about being supplanted by another woman is hard-wired, a factory setting for most of us. Thankfully, we'd managed to dodge most of it with Tyson. Agreements had been made, boundaries set. I won't say there hadn't been moments, but so far at least, it was working.
Ty went to classes in the morning, returning in the early afternoon. His basement apartment in Tammy's house was close to the campus, so not having to take the crosstown bus twice a day meant he had more hours in his day. By the time we women had got off work, his studies and homework were generally finished and it was still warm enough in the late afternoons for him to pose for us outside.
I was improving.
Artistically, I mean. Gale was a good teacher and there was lots of opportunity to practise. I could run through earlier sketches and see the improvement - better balance, better scale, better detail. Capturing images quickly was easier, too.
And Tyson was outstanding. He'd developed an all-over tan for one thing, had changed his haircut subtly, too. And his posing had become better; he seemed more able to anticipate our wishes.
While posing and while... um, not.
My thought of more formal themes had stayed with me. The girls' sketching skills had come a long way in recent weeks; they could capture images pretty well. Maybe it was time for them to learn to make those images project a mood, tell a story.
Today, it was happening. I'd chosen the ancient Greek myth of Prometheus, who had infuriated Zeus by stealing fire for humankind. As a punishment, Prometheus was chained to a rock, where, every day, an eagle would attack him, gnawing at his liver. Zeus also caused him to heal every night, so that his torment would be eternal.
I had draped a heavy chain over the lower branches of a sturdy oak in my back yard. Tyson in his turn stood under the tree, raised his arms and wrapped the dangling ends around his hands as if chained.
His broad shoulders and back rested against the tree trunk, but his body leaned away in an arc, highlighting rippling abs and pecs. One leg was bent forward, the other straining from behind. It was a superb pose, accentuating the struggle, tension and anguish in that magnificent body.
I'd also pulled in a favour from a friend in the Biology department. A stuffed golden eagle from some long-ago-donated collection sat on a nearby table, great talons outstretched, broad wings uplifted. It was an impressive display by itself.
The four of us were seated in a half-circle around him, charcoal, chalk and pencils flying over sketch pads. From time to time, I'd move around the group, examining their work, pointing out strong points and weak points, giving hints to on how to maximize the one and correct the other. Most of the time, however, I spent scribbling out my own dreams and fantasies.
We'd spent an hour at it so far and I was pleased with everybody's progress. The approaches the others were taking were surprisingly different, but they were doing very well.
Ty was entitled to a pause every 20 minutes. Sometimes he'd come over and inspect our renderings, sometimes he'd walk around the yard, bending and stretching to get the kinks to relax.
"Break time!" Gale called. I watched Tyson drop the chains and head for the back of the garden, rolling wide shoulders as he walked. There was a pantherlike grace in his movements, well-defined muscles shifting and moving under his skin. It took Gale several tries to get our attention.
"OK, ladies," she called softly. "Group huddle."
"I'm impressed with your progress," she smiled at us. "It's been pretty solid. Should we carry on like this or would anybody be interested in expanding the experience?"
I didn't understand. Looking around, I apparently wasn't the only one.
"'Expanding'?" Quinn asked. "What do you mean?"
The four of us had had Tyson as our real-life sex toy for the past week. The boy had had as broad a workout (no pun intended) as could be imagined. From gentle, affirming, intimate couplings to brazen outdoor fivesomes - indoors, outdoors, in every position depicted on several acres of Indian temples. 'Expanding' it made no sense to me.
I saw their confusion and took a few seconds to find a better way of expressing myself. Frankly, I was well into uncharted territory now, had been since this all started, but I still felt an urge to keep moving forward.
"OK, at the beginning, when it was just an art class..."
Quinn snickered and I scowled at her. She raised her hands in apology, but her eyes were following the tall figure 30 feet away. It can be hard work to hold some poses and Tyson was stretching, twisting out stiff muscles. If there was ever eye-candy for women, he was it.
"Before that first session," I started, "we all agreed to the usual limits and agreements for artists and models. No staring, no touching, that sort of thing."
And, I reflected, we actually had followed those rules.
"So?" Heather asked.
"The agreement then was that any artwork Tyson posed for would remain the property of the artists and that each of us had the right to do whatever we wanted with our work, like displaying it or selling it."
"So?" Quinn repeated.
"Well," I said, pointedly eying Tyson moving at the foot of the garden, "That still stands right now. But how would you like to become just a little more... involved  than just drawing him?"
"I still don't get it." Tammy stared at me. The clash between memories in her bedroom and my 'more involved' wasn't hard to fathom.
"Hmm. OK, let me put it this way. Would any of you like to play Hercules to Tyson's Prometheus?"
Now  I saw Tammy's eyebrows go up. I had thought she knew her mythology.
"Hercules?" Heather asked, a puzzled expression on her face.
"Hercules defied Zeus and unchained Prometheus from his rock," I explained. "We've been drawing Prometheus, but we could do with a Hercules, too."
"Who?" she asked. Her uncertainty was obvious. What we had now was a good arrangement; did we want to change the dynamics?
"Nobody," I assured her, "Nobody else, I mean." I paused.
After a couple of seconds, I saw the light go on in her eyes, but her hesitation was clear.
"You mean us? Pose with him... ourselves?"
"Only if you all agree."
Quinn suddenly looked intrigued.
"But the deal has to change," I said, "Regardless of who the artist is, nobody could release drawings of anybody else without their mutual approval. Firm deal and everybody has to approve in advance."
"Pose..." Tammy whispered. "Just unchain him?"
"Whatever," I grinned. "I imagine Hercules at least said hello before cutting Prometheus loose."
They stared at me. OK, they stared past  me, to where Tyson was swinging those long arms in big circles, low-hanging sex swaying as he did so. I could see the concept running around their minds.
I wasn't sure. Not at all. The basic idea was ok, I guess, but...
"Pose naked?" I said cautiously. "Us? For everybody to...?"
Gale just nodded. I tried to remind myself that we had all quite literally seen everything there was to see. I glanced at the others, called up memories of their bare forms with our model, of their faces as he had lifted them up into orgasm after orgasm.
Me, too. Tyson was an amazing lover.
Suddenly the thought of posing with him in front of the others, of having my likeness captured with his - for some reason, that was astonishingly entrancing. I felt myself shiver. I started to speak, got cut off.
"I'm in!" Quinn announced.
I peeked at Tammy. The tall woman was clearly thinking.
Gale nodded. Her eyes swept over all of us, back to the tall, muscular figure in the sunlight.
"Think about it," she said. "Tyson! Break's over!"
I settled myself in my chair, pencil in hand, brushed some stray hair off my face. From the corner of my eye, I could see the other women watching as Tyson returned and resumed his pose. Their stares could have set fire to dry grass.
I smiled inwardly, for none of them were actually drawing. All three were pondering my suggestion and the beautiful man displayed in front of them.
I started my own work again, paused. I chewed the end of my pencil, looking at Tyson. He had once told me that he spent a couple of hours a day in the gym - it showed. Broad shoulders, rippling muscles and a narrow waist were shown off by another part of our agreement -- regular full-body waxing. Quinn had suggested it early on and even I had been surprised by how much it emphasized his actual form.
I made some exploratory shapes on the page, turned my eyes to the eagle, tried to figure out to incorporate it into my drawing. I drew some faint oblongs for body masses, soft curves for wings and talons,
"Yes. Me too."
Heather's voice wasn't at all loud, but I saw Tyson turn his head just slightly to look at her, a puzzled look on his face.
I felt myself flush at Heather's announcement. It was up to me now.
I wasn't entirely comfortable... No, face it, I was really uncomfortable  with it. Posing like that — I knew what Gale was suggesting would turn into sex, sex in front of the rest - maybe not 'real' sex, but it couldn't fail to be remorselessly erotic in front of a bunch of people not only watching, but drawing me as part of it.
I put my charcoal down, sat back in my chair. Quinn and Heather had begun working again; Gale was simply sitting there, apparently lost in thought.
Two thoughts began chasing each other around in my brain.
Why did that even matter?
I wonder what I look like when I cum?
Part of my brain was insisting that there was no reason for me to be demure or shy. Everybody here had seen Tyson and I making love, had seen me riding him out in the open, had heard my delighted cries.
Of course, they'd all been pretty busy themselves at the time, maybe too busy to have paid attention. I smiled wryly at that, felt a slight flush on my face and shoulders. No, not likely.
I thought briefly of Charlie. What would he think of me? I closed my eyes, opened them again and stared at Tyson, his muscles almost gleaming in the late sun, I tried to ignore the shameless carnal ripple moving through me. I didn't feel any better when my conscience broke into my dreams, saying that it was wrong to use somebody like this.
Some men use women as playthings, toys for their own selfish pleasure, cheap things to be enjoyed for a while, then discarded when convenient. I knew girls it had happened to, had comforted a couple myself, had silently cursed the men involved.
I blinked, tried to compare. Yes, it's bad to play with somebody's feelings. But this wasn't like that, was it?
Tyson's sex was soft now, half-hidden in the shadow of one muscular thigh, but I smiled at the memory of how it had looked like when the man was aroused, what that glorious male appendage had felt like in my hands, of the look in his eyes when I'd touched him for the first time. He certainly seemed to like our deal and he'd entered into it with no illusions. And if it wasn't some saccharine fairy tale; we at least liked each other, right?
So, if the 'toy' was willing, then why not? With that, I realized how deeply I'd missed having a man in my life. Sex with Tyson had been wonderful, but after two years, just his warmth beside me some nights had been equally nice, an entirely different — and delicious — column on the menu.
I was surprised when my thoughts were interupted by a low voice.
The whisper was soft, but the voice was definitely mine.
"You all promise?" I repeated.
All four stared at me. Tyson was clearly puzzled, but the others were smiling gently, nodding.
"We do," Heather said.
I took a deep breath.
"All right. I agree."
I relaxed a little, waited to see how this would play out.
"Who's first?" Quinn asked softly.
Who's going to bell the cat?
It was an obvious question and I was embarrassed that I hadn't anticipated it. We looked back and forth at each other for a moment, waiting for a volunteer. Tyson, puzzled, relaxed out of his pose, simply stood there, trying to understand.
Well, you can't lead from behind.
"Me," I announced, then pointed at Tyson. "Hold that pose!"
I approached the young man, nudged one of his feet into its original place with a toe.
"Ty, remember how the Prometheus myth ended?"
He turned, still slightly puzzled.
"You mean Hercules?"
Tyson had studied his mythology, too. Of course, he was an English major.
"Mm-hmm. He freed Prometheus. But we don't have a second model, so we're going to take turns being Hercules. Are you OK with that?"
"Sure. Whatever you want."
My heart gave a double beat. He had a very  nice smile.
I looked around. Nobody here but us chickens and, even this late in the afternoon, the sun's still warm.   I felt my last doubts fall away.
I stepped out of my shorts, kicked them aside, pulled my t-shirt off and tossed it towards my shorts. Clad now only in the palest pink bikini panties, I smiled, glowed inwardly at the open approval in Tyson's eyes.
I pushed the scrap of cotton off my bum, over my thighs, down to my ankles and kicked it aside before turning to the other women. Their eyes followed me, but I wasn't surprised to see that it was Quinn with a big smile on her face.
"It might help," I said dryly, "if you had your pencils and pads ready. You've got ten minutes."
Quinn chuckled out loud, but even shy Tammy smiled. With that assurance, I turned and stepped towards the tethered figure.
I approached from one side, not wanting to block anybody's view. I slipped in beside him, under an upstretched arm and did my best to let my body flow in against his, one arm behind him, around his waist. Under my fingers, his muscles felt like carved hardwood. I heard him sigh softly and wondered a moment at such male strength reacting so to female softness.
I put on my brightest smile, looked up at him and raised my voice.
"It's taken me a long time to find you, Prometheus. I'll set you free, but I need to catch my breath. Just relax, don't fight the chains."
I leaned my head against the side of his chest, turned so I was facing the girls, put on a soft smile and held the pose.
Pencil in hand, Heather started, her hand moving rapidly back and forth across the page. Good.
Eyes wide, Quinn was still staring at us. I grinned to myself at the surprisingly prominent nipples visible under her thin blouse. Without breaking my pose, I stared at her, pursed my lips in a kiss. Startled, she giggled, then started drawing.
Tammy was blushing furiously and her glances towards us were now just peeks over the top of her pad, but it was clear she was getting into the swing of things. Fine.
I reached way up, traced the line of Tyson's jaw with my free hand. I realized I wasn't feeling any stubble and felt pleased by the realization he must have shaved after school. How considerate of him, I thought - maybe the boy was actually becoming housebroken?
My fingers moved over his cheek and chin and I could feel him struggle to maintain his pose.
"Relax, big guy," I said softly. "We've got a few minutes."
He leaned back against the tree, making it even easier for me to mould my body against his. The breeze shifted a little and I caught a whiff of him, more as I inhaled deeply. My head filled with it; a tingle run over my skin. I felt my own nipples react and laughed inwardly at the look on Heather's face.
I ran a gentle forefinger down one of Tyson's collarbones, then up the other. I kept my eyes on the three students as my fingers drifted over those huge pecs.
Tyson shivered as my fingers found, circled and teased one of his nipples. I pinched it lightly. The boy quivered slightly and I heard Quinn snicker.
The snicker then turned to a wicked laugh and all three stopped drawing.
Wondering, I looked down and grinned myself to see Ty's organ rising into sight, no longer flaccid.
"Poor man, how you have suffered," I whispered, my hand sliding down his torso, over his six-pack, abs like ripples on a corrugated tin roof. Lower still; his body tensed as my hand massaged his pubis, just short of that now-towering manhood.
I sensed he was about to lower his arm and poked him with a finger.
"Just stand there and get rescued, dude!"
Somebody laughed, golden bells of delight; his arm stayed where it was.
Tyson was breathing harder now. Well, so was I. My world was filled with the sight of his cock -- heavy, dark, promising. There was a trembling in my legs, a weight in my abdomen. I pressed my hand more firmly on his chest and stomach. My other arm dropped from his waist, began to move over his bum, squeezing, caressing.
I moved my hand back to his nipples, again teasing and stroking before continuing on. The bulky chest beside me shivered as my fingertips flowed down his body, tickling behind his sac without touching it or his swollen rod. I felt a breeze on my now-liquid sex.
Back at my chair, my phone chirped gently.
"That's it," I announced, stepping away, "Ten minutes! Let's see what we've done."
I giggled at the look on Tyson's denied face, but knew he'd forgive me.
I hoped I would.
Looking at their work, all three of them had done well. Quinn had focussed on the boy's abdomen, his prominent erection and my hand not quite touching it. The drawing was hot, I had to admit, just sizzling.