Art Classes

Our passionate Friday and Saturday nights continued until the end of term, almost to the end of March because Easter was late that year, then Art went home. I was busy at work and the time seemed to pass quickly. When we returned to the class at the beginning of May, I knew it would be Art's last term at the university as he was in his final year.

Peter had a new selection of the pictures and wanted me to choose the ones for the term. I leafed through them, then chose one that showed three images from a wall, that successively told a story.

"These? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I suggest that we do the first two before you go for the break, then Art and I will work through and present you with the third one as soon as you get back -- well within a few minutes, probably. I want to do variations on this theme for the whole term."

I showed Art the pictures.

"If we do this every night...."

"Yes, I know."

Peter told the class that this term the format would be different. Three sketches; two before the break and one more detailed one afterwards. He showed them the picture sequence from Pompeii and asked if everyone thought they could do it. It wasn't so much a question about their skill as an opportunity for them to leave if they felt uncomfortable with it. Nobody said they couldn't.

I knew that Art would be very turned on and I wasn't disappointed; he told me he had thought about sex with me every night of the holiday. I said that he had better make sure he enjoyed me fully this term because it was his last chance.

Although we tried to keep still during that first half, it was practically impossible.

In the first picture, the woman was stepping over the man, facing him, one leg in a squatting position and the other across his body with her foot on the floor. She had just taken his cock inside, about a third of the distance. Once Art's was in me, I wanted it so much that I couldn't resist sinking right down onto it.

"I just need to get the depth right."

Whilst the artists all laughed, which broke the tension I knew they had, I closed my eyes and began a vigorous motion with my hips, until the noise died down and I stopped, gasping. I rose up right to the tip, then down to about the correct spot.

"Now you all better get drawing, I can't stay like this for too long!"

The second picture had the woman lying completely on top of the man, his penis fully inserted. After a while I needed to move, so changed to the other position, after casting a glance at Peter, then we alternated between them all the way up to the break. I needed something more, so when I was lying flat on Art, I moved his hand to my crotch and he slowly circled his finger around my clitoris until he had me catching my breath, then he would push me up into the other position. I made sure that we got a good few thrusts every time we moved.

I kept thinking about the third picture. Peter called for the break and they all left remarkably quickly. Art rolled on top of me into our favourite position, with my knees pulled up to my chest, then started to screw me hard, the way he knew I liked it, all the way out to the tip then deep inside until he banged against my lips.

"Are you... are you sure about this?" he gasped between strokes that were speeding up.

"Yes, but you have to pace yourself, wait."

He slowed down, keeping both of us on the edge. When we heard the artists start to come back, he speeded up again and I wrapped my legs around his back, clamping myself to him, my breasts bouncing from side to side and my head tipping back in pleasure as I felt Art spurt inside me over and over again. I heard Peter telling them to sit down and get drawing, to stop gawking, asking if they hadn't seen anyone having sex before.

After a minute, or so, Art climbed off me, breathing heavily, and lay on his back to my right, his right knee raised up. I put my right leg over his left, then extended my other out until I was spread wide open and lifted my left knee up, matching the picture. We both lay recovering, then I remembered to turn my head towards him and smile. I wondered if we did justice to the picture, if the artists would use the same licence the ancient ones had used, showing a thick white stream slowly trickling from my open red lips.

By the end of the week there were some interesting variations on the theme in the pictures they had made. After class on Friday and Saturday that week, Art and I made love slowly in his bed and I left no technique untried, no part of my body that could take his long, thick, cock escaped its probing, thrusting exploration. I lay with my head tilted back over the end of the bed and eventually learnt how to take it down my throat (which caused quite a stir the next week when we did it for the artists). The first time we did it on the Friday, Art took out a condom, but I told him to put it away.

"Last year I was the first woman you had sex with. But I want more. I want to be the first woman that you had every night of the month, all through her most fertile days, with no protection. Yesterday was day 11 of my cycle, so I'm ready now. I haven't done that before either. And the beauty is that if I don't get pregnant we can do it again next month; but if I do, we can have sex every night until you leave, with no more interruptions."

I could see him thinking about what I had said. Then he fucked me until I was a physical wreck.

The second and third weeks, we continued to work on the same pose. Then there was the scheduled break for my period, which was a day late, then two days. Art knew, because I went to his house every night and when we resumed the classes the week after, it still hadn't arrived.

At the weekend, a stony-faced Alan told me there was something serious we had to discuss. I didn't know how he had found out, although I had been reckless, but I didn't regret a moment of it.

"The thing is, well, I've been seeing someone else."

"Seeing -- you mean sleeping with, screwing?"

"Yes, sex."

It seemed surreal. Then I realised it was him confessing to me, not the other way around.

"I'm going to move out, live with her, we're going to have a baby."

I was very calm, which must have surprised him; the fact was that we had grown apart and I had to admit that after feeling the way I had been with Art, I didn't want him any more.

"If you're sure, then I won't make a fuss."

"Thank you. We've paid off over half the mortgage, between us, in the last two years. I thought if I signed the house over entirely to you, you would be able to manage the rest."

He handed some papers to me, I read and signed them, then handed them back. By evening he had taken most of his things and gone. The next time that Art asked me to, I slept with him until morning.

So that is how it ended. At Art's graduation party I was nearly three months pregnant, with just a hint of belly showing, then it came time for him to leave. Our relationship had never really been based on anything more than lust and sex and it had run its course. I strongly suspected that although Art had been the first person I had experienced this type of life with, he wouldn't be the last.

I continued to pose for Peter's classes and we couldn't help but smile at each other when he showed me the fourth and fifth pictures from the sequence. The whole set was from a mural found in the house of a Pompeii midwife. It would be another month before I could pose for picture four, and six months before I could do the last one.