Art Classes

For a while he stayed hard, then gradually softened and I felt the fluid leaking from me. I had a brief pang of conscience and moment of panic; I had been right earlier when I realised there would be no condom. I hadn't even thought to ask him if he had any, but nothing could have stopped us and even if he had produced one I think I would have pushed it away; I wanted to feel him naturally, completely, utterly.

"What do we do now?"

I was still straddling his knees, hugging him and swaying, dripping onto his legs.

"I have to go home."

"Come back to my house. The other students have already gone home for the summer holiday. I want to do it in my bed, I want to lie on top of you and see your head on my pillow and then cuddle you afterwards and stroke your hair."

I looked at the wall clock, it was just after ten and was a Friday night, so Alan would be out until about two in the morning, as usual.

"How far is it?"

"About forty minutes walk. But you can park easily and we'll be there in ten minutes in your car."

I though about it for less than a moment.

"Yes. Take me there."

I went to find my clothes, mopped myself with my knickers, put them with the matching bra into my bag and threw the dress over my head. By the time I had brushed my hair he was ready.

The drive to his house was a blur. His hand was on my leg, stroking up to my crotch. We spent longer in the car kissing than it had taken to drive there and he had my dress up round my neck, sucking my nipples as I gasped and looked down the street to check that nobody was watching.

I had been to a student house before, many times. I first met Alan when he came to the University and frequented the pub where I was working as a barmaid at the time. This one was tidier than most and Art's room was surprisingly clean and fresh, although I saw it backwards as we kissed and fondled each other all the way from the door to the foot of the bed.

My hands shook as I unbuttoned his shirt and felt the warm skin of his chest, running my fingers over his nipples, sucking them. Then he stood back and took it off, and I pulled the dress over my head, naked now for him alone. I unfastened his trousers, sliding them with his pants off his hips, the black pole springing out, already half-hard despite less than half an hour elapsed since the first time.

He pulled back the covers.

"Lie down, I want to touch you all over."

He began exploring me with his fingers, lips and eyes, as if he was fascinated with every part of me. Of course, I realised, he hadn't been with a woman before. He knew the basics, naturally, and by the time he had finished touching and probing me, he was fully hard again and then we got very basic indeed. All I saw of his room for a considerable time was the ceiling or the pillow.

Afterwards he covered us again and I lay cosily next to him, head on his chest as he had wanted, whilst he stroked my hair. The warmth and the sex meant that I was in danger of falling asleep, so I began to nuzzle his body with my lips, gently running my fingertips across his skin whilst he lay still and made a sound that was as close to purring as I have ever heard. Over the next ten minutes I kissed him from head to toe and back again, lingering in the middle in both directions. On the way down he was still soft, but by the time I arrived at his hips again there was something more substantial to fill my mouth.

I looked at the clock. Twelve thirty five. To get home from here by one thirty, to be safely in before Alan, I would have to leave in ten minutes' time. I continued my gentle caressing; I didn't want to get up just yet.

"The others all left today?"

"Yes. I had the last drawing class tonight, so I asked Dad to come and get me tomorrow. He thinks I am working in a bar."

He was expecting his dad to collect him in the morning, and I had just had sex with him. Twice. Now my head was on his lap and I was kissing his cock.

"Was it how you had imagined it would be, with me?"

"Hmmm. No, not exactly. I was surprised how wet and warm you were, and yet firm at the same time. I wasn't expecting it all to run out of you so much afterwards. I never really thought about it, but you would think it would stay inside."

I slid two fingers into myself and held them up for him to see, coated with his semen, then I slowly licked it off, with my chin on his thigh, looking up at him.

"Yes, you would expect that it would stay inside, but most of it doesn't. Of course you don't get that if you use a condom."

"Ah. Safe sex. I know all about it, yet when it comes to my first time I take no notice. I feel ashamed to ask now, when it's too late, but, well, will everything be ok?"

I moved up and lay on top of him, propped myself up with one arm so that my nipples were touching his chest, smiled coyly at him, then brushed his lips and face with my fingers.

"Well I can't in honesty tell you with 100% certainty because I've never been tested, but you are only the third man I have been with. The first was when I was seventeen and I'm pretty sure he was a virgin, judging from all the fumbling. The second was my husband, Alan and he was the same.

So, as far as I know, I am perfectly healthy."

"I wasn't only thinking of my health."

"I know. No, I'm not on the pill or anything else and, like you said, it's too late now."

"Stay the night and sleep with me."

I was so tempted to do that. But I had to go, I knew I had to go. I could feel his hardness pressing against my crotch, but too low. I looked at the clock and felt his hand move down between us, his fingers opening me.

Twelve forty five. I closed my eyes.

"I can't."

"Oh." He was inside me again and moving slowly, kissing my neck, teasing my nipples with his teeth. I had to go. Perhaps just another few minutes.

Five minutes to One. At this time of night, maybe, I could get home in under forty minutes.

"Do it harder, faster. I want you to come again, it won't make a difference now if we don't use a condom. Go on, really fuck me. Yes! Like that. God that feels good. Uhhnnn."

We swapped places, him on top of me and I put my legs on his shoulders, another new experience for him and maximum penetration for me.

"Harder, Uhhhnn, I won't break, faster, come on, Ahhhh, come in me one more time...."

The headboard was banging against the wall and I was gripping the sheets, my body bent double, then he came, screwing up his face in ecstasy. As soon as he had finished, I got up. I was still panting and my legs were shaking, but I managed to dress myself, putting on my bra this time. I rolled up some tissue and put it in my knickers as he threw some clothes on, then we ran out to my car and I kissed him goodnight through the open window before speeding off.

Nothing had been said about any future meetings and I was content to leave it that way. I wouldn't see him again until after the long summer holiday, and maybe in October we would behave as if it had never happened. Unless I was pregnant; however I was fairly sure I wouldn't be, from the timing.

I was home before Alan, and in ten minutes I stripped off, dumped my clothes at the bottom of the washing basket, washed the semen from between my legs and hopped into bed. By the time he got in, I was nearly asleep. He was his usual considerate self, quiet but smelling of beer, I felt the bed move as he got in, then after a few minutes he was asleep himself; beer always made him sleepy.

I found myself lying in the dark and wishing there had been some way to spend the night with Art.

---

Peter had a two week holiday and then started his summer school, so I went to pose a few times for the new class. I arrived early the first night, as he said there was something he wanted to discuss, and was apprehensive about what he might say. As ever, he was straight to the point.

"You and Art had sex after the last session?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Next term, you wouldn't mind posing with him like that again, physically touching?"

"No, not at all."

"It has possibilities. Holding hands, sat on his lap, cuddling in a doorway, light and shade, cradling his head on your breasts, that sort of thing."

He looked at me sideways. "Comfortable with that?"

"Yes."

"Some of the drawings from last time were fairly good." He brought one out from a folio; I would have described it as excellent rather than good, the eroticism of our entwining burst out of the page. I felt myself getting wet at the memory.

"If you become uncomfortable with it, you tell me. Ah. Here are the summer students."

I only did five or six sittings with the summer class, because some of the time they went outside and drew flowers and scenery.

It was in the third week of the new university term that I went to the first class, as there wasn't one the first week and I was on my period for the second. Art was careful not to assume anything, but as soon as I saw him naked I knew I would have to have him again before long, even though during the summer I had put it out of my mind. As the week progressed we posed for the class as Peter had said, ranging from holding hands to me sitting on Art's knee, but on the Friday he got him to stand behind and wrap his arms around me.

He had to keep still, but I wanted him to caress me, then I felt him getting hard, his cock pressing into the crack of my backside; I knew that had to be uncomfortable for him so, when the artists were distracted by Peter talking to them, I pulled away until it sprang upright, then pressed it flat against his belly. Art whispered in my ear, "bend over," and I wriggled slightly against him, with a low "mmmm". From that moment he knew he was going to screw me again.

At the break, I turned around quickly and we kissed with three months' pent-up passion.

"I've got to feel you inside me, like that, just for a moment."

I touched my toes, felt the exploratory touch of his fingers and tip, then I was stretched open deeper and deeper as he slid himself into me. We both knew it would only be for a few seconds, but it was enough, until later. When we went through to join the others for a drink, I told him that this time I wanted him in my bed, but that he would have to leave at one o'clock.

By parking at the side of my house, I was able to get Art in through the back door where none of the neighbours would be able to see him if they happened to be looking out of the window. By the time we got from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, there was a trail of clothes behind us. I couldn't wait to feel him inside me again; on the staircase, as I backed up it, kissing, he explored me with his fingers, then somehow we were on the bed and he was on top of me, his marvellous prick filling me, youthful hips driving him with such vigorous intensity.

I gasped and panted beneath him, I didn't want to stop him but I knew that I had to. The sensations going through me were too good to interrupt; the longer he went on, the less likely I was to stop him and I was on the point of abandoning myself to it when I gulped and said it.

"Ahhh, Art, stop, stop a moment."

He paused in his thrusting and looked at me quizzically.

"We have to use a condom, it's my fertile time of the month."

I reached into the bedside drawer where Alan always kept them, took one out and handed it to him. He smiled back at me mischievously, opened the packet and rolled it on.

"A bit small, don't you think?"

It looked tight and it only went about two-thirds of the way down, even though fully unrolled. We had been stopped for long enough; I wanted him back in me.

"We'll just have to make do."

"It will break."

"Don't you dare stop if it does."

We started again and it was a glorious feeling, but Art was being too gentle, inhibited by not wanting it to break; I wanted it harder and told him so, lifting my hips and bucking against him. He thrust into me, fast and deep, three or four times, and I saw his eyes open wide and knew that it had broken. We bounced our way across the bed, him on top, me on top, him again.

I was so turned on by this time that I didn't care. I reached down and felt it for myself, the remnant in a ring around his shaft, pulled it off and threw it onto the floor.

With all thoughts of protection abandoned, we gave in completely to the lust coursing through our bodies and it just got hotter and hotter. It's unusual for me to come from just being penetrated, but I did that time, throwing back my head as it overwhelmed me, my whole being twitching. The experience was too much for Art and he came too, pumping spurt after spurt of his sperm into my body.

We sprawled on the bed, getting our breath back, as we came down from our orgasmic high. His softening cock had white globules of semen around the base and I could feel it starting to run out of me. I scooped most of the droplets off him, with my fingers, and held them up for him to see.

"You know what this could do to me."

I didn't wait for a reply and kissed him, long and tenderly, until he realised that I wasn't reproaching him.

"I think some escaped."

I propped myself up and purposefully transferred the drops into my vagina, as if I was scraping honey off my fingers into a pot, whilst he watched, fascinated.

" Now I think a glass of wine is called for, so lie there and get your strength back whilst I get us both one, and then -- and then I want you to do that to me again."

I got up and opened a bottle, bringing it to the bedroom with two glasses. Art looked so handsome and sexy as he lay spread out, naked on the bed I normally shared with my husband -- although we hadn't done much other than sleep in it for six months or more, as Alan was so tired after his music teaching and late night gigs at weekends. I knew he would be wondering if this was another one-off so I put any doubt out of his mind.

"After class tomorrow night I'll come back to your place for a few hours, if you want me to, so you had better make sure you get some condoms that are the right size."

We talked and drank our wine, then I told him that over the next few months we would do everything that was sexually possible together. I said that when he left university, he would be properly educated! By the time I had finished describing some of the things we would do, he was ready to do it again. There was no point trying another condom and after an hour of touching, teasing and screwing, I pressed my face into the pillow in joyous release as he brought me to orgasm by rubbing my clitoris with his finger, as I had shown him, whilst he came, pumping jet after jet into me.

He knew that he would have to go, kissed me, said goodnight and left me lying face down, exhausted, delighted, wet with our combined juices. I held my hand over my crotch to stop too much leaking onto the bed. I heard him go downstairs, finding his clothes and quietly shut the door and I knew that I had things to do. The time was just after one o'clock.

I poured the remaining wine down the sink, washed the glasses and put them away. Then I rounded up my discarded clothes, checked that Art had left nothing behind -- apart from what was inside me -- and returned to the bedroom, put on a fresh sheet and duvet cover, had a quick shower and went to bed. I must have fallen straight asleep as I never heard Alan come in at all.

The next morning I slept late and the first thing I heard was Alan's voice calling from the kitchen to ask if I wanted coffee. I sat on the edge of the bed as he handed it across to me from his side, nearest the door, then I noticed the discarded condom on the floor by my foot. As calmly as I could, I got up and stood on it, panic mounting in me as I wondered what I would do next and where the opened wrapper was.

To my immense relief, Alan went back downstairs. I located the packet on the floor, partially hidden between his bedside table and the bed, and finally my heartbeat returned to normal as I congratulated myself on disposing of the remaining evidence. I thought wryly that the only other evidence was now inside me, but at least I would know first if it was going to be revealed.

The rest of the term continued with similar poses in Peter's class and the only difference was that I spent every Friday and Saturday night in Art's bedroom -- the other nights Alan and I got back at around the same time, 10:30 or 11pm. The other students in his house were friendly enough; they knew I came for sex and that was that.

There were no consequences of the night in my bed at home, and although after that we usually used a condom -- of the correct size -- sometimes I would get carried away with lust and make him do it without, or occasionally he was so turned on that he would ask if he could just put it in me for a while bareback; invariably on those occasions I didn't ask him to stop and get one.

After Christmas, Peter got the two of us together well before the class start time and showed us some photographs of pictures that had been taken from the walls in Pompeii. All showed scenes of a couple having sex, but the interesting thing about many of them was that they depicted a dark skinned man with a white woman.

"I would like to recreate some of these poses, so that the students can produce modern versions of them." He looked at me but spoke to us both. "Would the two of you be willing to pose like this? You can see that the women are being penetrated, of course and you would have to keep fairly still, I don't want it to degenerate into us just watching you have sex. If not then we'll continue as we did last term."

I looked at Art, who nodded. "Yes, we'll do it. But I would like to keep some of the pictures."

"No problem. I will do some for you myself."

So we began to recreate the ancient poses, changing to a different position every few weeks. At first we were bashful, but, like the nakedness itself, we soon became accustomed to it. I needed to keep Art hard without moving, so I would move back and forwards slightly and squeeze him with my vagina. Art called it 'microsex' and the easiest to do was oral because they couldn't see what the tongue was doing! I would flick it across the tip whilst I held him in my mouth, until I sensed that I had gone far enough, then I would keep still until he calmed down again.

One night I was doing this, and as it was approaching the end of the session I began to lick and suck him more actively, whilst trying to keep any obvious movement to a minimum. Art began to make little sounds; I knew he was having trouble keeping still, so I really started to flick my tongue across the tip, concentrating on the really sensitive spot just underneath, whilst gripping the shaft tightly and flexing my lips. I began to get the slightly salty taste - the artists were working away, oblivious - and I knew he would expect me to stop: he made the little signal we had agreed, a small cough, but I kept on; he coughed again then I felt him go harder, little pulses rippling up the underside of his shaft past my lips, pumping his semen onto my waiting tongue. As it hit the back of my throat I thought I might choke, and give the game away, but I managed to quietly swallow it all then proceeded to lick off the remaining drops. By the time the artists packed up their gear and Art pulled his softening cock from my mouth, there was no sign of what had transpired, other than the wicked smile I gave Art.

Usually after the students had left, unless it was Friday or Saturday, we would just kiss and cuddle and go home, building up our sexual tension for the weekend, but sometimes by Thursday I couldn't take any more and I would tell Peter, during the break, that he would have to finish the class early because I needed Art to screw me. He would just nod and say "Fair enough."

I would feel Art get harder, inside me, as the time came for them to depart, then as soon as the door closed he would start, closing his eyes, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and faster until he released his pent-up desire into my craving body. On those occasions I would be a little late home, telling Alan that the artists had been a bit slow.