Art for Art's Sake

Professor Cruz watched Ali as she painted Art's languid figure. She recognized the look on her face as the same look on the face of all Art's models in his portraits. It was the lusty look of all his models, his lovers, including her when she had fallen under his spell. She now knew for certain the source of Al's inspiration, her rediscovered edge. It was hunger, hunger for Art.

The paintings that night were all inspired. The visions of Art's body were especially clear, illuminated by his dominating erection. Professor Cruz was especially aware of Ali's arms and legs, which were collecting ridiculous amounts of paint. She circled around to view her canvass and was struck by what she saw. Ali had painted only Art's erection. The distinctive bulbous head, the pronounced veins in the sides of the muscular looking shaft, the large testicles all nearly screaming off the canvass. While most painters in a single sitting session like this concentrate on either drawing a complete work, or fleshing out something they could complete later without the model, Ali had frantically filled her canvass. Flowing around the engorged penis were drifting shapes, decorated with....

Professor Cruz was stunned when she realized a similarity. The decorations on the shapes corresponded directly with the designs Ali had painted on herself. She could now make out the shapes abstractly as body parts, arms and legs. Looking closer, she identified breasts, and the blue smears that now went up Ali's thighs beneath the legs of her shorts terminated at what was clearly two smoothly shaved pussy lips. Professor Cruz stepped back, and looked closely at the distorted shadings in Ali's background. She paced slowly back and forth to catch different light, and sure enough, there was Ali's head. It's blurred details hid from the casual viewer in a monochromatic blur, but looking closely she could make out the shape of Ali's eyes, her nose, her hair, and an eager mouth ready to devour the prominent penis.

Professor Cruz felt a hot flash erupt through her body, and had to sit. She looked carefully at Ali's paint covered thighs, and realized the student was reaching frequently beneath her pants to ease her own genitals. She suddenly wanted to look at the work Ali had been submitting, and left the room to go to her next door office. She looked at the pieces, and sure enough, there was Ali, hidden someplace in each of them. She realized that though the concrete detail in each piece was what grabbed the casual eye, the real statement of each piece was the Artists commentary, in the form of an abstract representation of herself. None of the previous works matched what was being created in the next room, however, and the teacher was struck with a need to go watch the piece finish.

She stepped back in the studio and froze with the scene before her. Ali had removed her shirt and shorts, and was painting nude. Art's eyes were fixed on her as she painted herself as much as the canvass. It was as if she was possessed, and the portrait of the penis was a vivid recipient of her genius. The other women were as busy painting Ali as they were Art, and the tables behind them were littered with sketches. Several of them had loosened blouses and belts, and like Ali were openly feeling themselves, and even masturbating.

Professor Cruz thought it was probably best to stop this, but was herself entranced by the activity. Ali finally finished her painting. She walked over to Art, kissed him deeply, and then in eerie resemblance to the abstract shading in the penis portrait, dropped down and engulfed the raging hard on in her mouth. Paintbrushes and pencils stopped. Hands became busy on pussies, as the entire class was caught up in the eroticism of the act they were witnessing live. Art had been hard too long, and Ali was too hungry and ferocious in her action and approach for him to last long. He was not in control of the situation, so his normal ability to control his pace was absent. He erupted in orgasm very quickly. Ali couldn't possibly hold it all in her mouth, and the seed leaking from her mouth brought lusty sighs from her classmates. One by one, and in quick succession each of them came, and the room filled with the scent of sex. Ali calmly packed her paints, placed her canvass on the drying rack, collected her clothing, and strode naked and glistening with paint to her car.

Art called the next day, asking her to stop by. Since it wasn't for her to pose, she didn't go. The next day he called again, almost begging. She didn't go. The following day, her husband called her just before dinner.

"Art called, your portrait is done. He wants to install it for us tomorrow. Can you be home to let him in around 10:00? He says he'll unveil it at dinner."

Ali smiled. Andrew was eagerly looking forward to the portrait's installation, but not as eagerly as Ali.

Art arrived the next day wearing a pair of overalls and no shirt. Ali met him at the door wearing nothing. Without a word between them, she showed him to the bedroom. Andrew had prepared the wall in advance with special recessed lights preset to the spot where the portrait would hang. The bed had been pulled from the wall, and a ladder waited at Art's disposal. It didn't take long for Art to finish his business, and soon the look of lust on the nude the portrait stared back at the flesh and blood version sitting naked, spread eagled in a facing chair. Ali was fingering herself, and as Art stowed his tools and moved te bed back to the wall, he could hear her fingers slurping in her oozing wet pussy. He turned and looked at her.

"I like it."

Art regarded his work, then looked back at her. Ali had realized that off his turf, off his script, Art wasn't the dominating figure he was in his studio, in his bed. She had taken advantage of that in the evening class, and intended to take advantage of it again.

"Take your pants off."

Art slipped the coveralls off his shoulders one at a time. They dropped straight to the floor. He was bare beneath them, and his cock was already erect.

"Lick me."

It was clear he wasn't used to following, and preferred to take the lead. He balked at her command.

"I don't do that."

"Your house, your rules, I obeyed. This is my house. Now lick me."

He hesitated, but slowly came over and got on his knees. Gingerly, he leaned forward, but the contact he made was less than satisfying.

"Oh come on, you weren't pansy when it was time to get, don't be a wuss now!"

She grabbed his hair, and pulled his face into her pussy. He offered a token resistance, but was less than eager with his tongue. Her efforts made little headway, until finally in frustration, she slid off the chair, forcing him back onto the floor. She sat on his face and grinded her pussy down on him until she got what she wanted. He either found some pleasure in the act, or resigned himself to finishing the job as quickly as possible, because his tongue and lips began to respond, and she found the right rhythms and angles to light her fire. She had thoroughly enjoyed his dominating fucks at his house, but she wasn't about to let them go unanswered. She came hard, and her juices gushed on his mouth. Once her orgasm passed, she stood, and turned the covers back on the bed.

"Now fuck me in my husband's bed."

He didn't want to do that. His adventures had never happened in his lovers' homes, it was a boundary he didn't want to cross. Playing with another man's wife because she wanted it was one thing, invading his space to conquer his wife was dangerous.

"I have the check for the painting. I only have to tell Andrew I didn't like the work to explain why I withheld it. It's a very nice payday for you, as long as I am satisfied."

She lay on the bed, and spread her legs. He could smell the wetness from across the room, her glistening pussy cried out for attention. His dick was very aware of its call to arms. It was fully engorged, and throbbed almost painfully. He brought it over to her, and slowly lowered himself onto her waiting body. His cock slid into the eager pussy, and she moaned.

"That's a good boy."

Half excited by the humiliating manner in which she labeled him a boy, and half because the lave had been building in his volcano since she answered the door nude, he couldn't restrain his sexual energy. He began to hump hard and fast as soon as his dick had established his presence inside her. She didn't complain, and equally excited by the fact she was fucking Art in Andrew's bed, in her own home, had her ready to cum quickly. Art went over the edge first, with Ali close behind. The clung and grappled with each other as the both felt the powerful surges rip through their bodies. Art rolled off of Ali, and her thoughts drifted.

She thought of the innocent young girl that had just a couple of years ago come to visit campus as a prospective. She had barely dated, since her time was spent submerged in her art. She had found sweet Andrew, he had courted her, and built a good home and career around her needs. He was her angel husband. Art was her devil lover. She had quickly learned about men and sex through these two, and liked the polar opposites. Sweet and sour are good together, light needs dark for contrast. Why not have a good man and a bad boy filling their respective niches. Yup, that'd be fine!

Right now though, Art's nice had been filled. She got out of bed, walked to the dresser on the other side of the room, and withdrew and envelope.

"Time for you to go."

He looked at her puzzled, but instantly recognized the turnabout. She was treating him just as he had treated her at his studio. He reached for the coveralls, fearing...

"Oh no. Just as you are. Go."

She waved the envelope at him. He needed that check. He had no choice, and she was insisting on turnabout. He followed her from the bedroom to the front door. She opened it, and stood aside. He naked through the door, turned to take the check, and walked to his van.

Andrew was thrilled with the portrait. He had brought home a romantic dinner. He set a candlelit table in the bedroom, where they looked it over, discussed its artistic merits, and dined on lobsters and champagne. It wasn't long before Andrew, coaxed Ali to the bed, and began kissing her. He told her he needed to see the real thing and the portrait side by side as he gently undressed her. She smelled of lavender from her shower oil, and he was touched that she had been preparing for this celebration too. She had showered and cleaned up just for him.

"Sweetheart, I know it was hard for you to pose naked for another man, but the portrait is perfect. Thank you for giving me such a treat."

It became apparent that he intended to give her a treat in return, as he lowered his face to her cleanly shaved sex. Well it was clean on the outside, but since Andrew never gave her oral sex, she hadn't bothered to wash Art from inside. She still carried his semen from their moment barely two hours ago. She smiled wryly as he began to lick the juices from her, but was also dreading the possibility that he might discover her indiscretion. His comments turned, however to praise at how wet she was for him, how good it was, how they'd have to do this more often.

"Ok, if you insist." She chuckled, "I'm game."

Ali's paintings were garnering quite a bit of attention from the faculty and people they had shown her work. It was determined she would have a solo exhibition at the school the following semester. Ali was so excited, and became even more driven in her work.

Andrew's gallery had gained considerable status in the art world, and was doing quite well. He had profited from the exhibitions in his innovative space at Berlin's Walls, and had used those profits to buy two established galleries in the city. Although he had managers for all three sites, he was very involved in the operations, and was beginning to discover how much influence his selection of an artist to show in his shops held on the art world in general. Berlin's walls had been a fine choice of a first business with which to follow the family heritage of amassing fortune.

Art's star had risen fast with his show at Berlin's walls. Critics had favored his work, and some piece had sold for a tidy sum. He was content but remained guarded in the solitude of his studio home.

Ali had taken to hiring her own models, and spent most of her studio time at home, rarely coming to campus except for her scheduled classes. She liked her own work, and was developing a very unique style with her blend of detailed foregrounds with very abstract though meaningful backgrounds. Few people who saw her work could decipher the true meaning of the backgrounds, but they all sensed something extraordinary. Professor Cruz, spotted the technique immediately that night when Ali radically painted Art and entertained the class with her sexual attack of her model. Cruz desperately wanted to see Ali's work, but was only privy to what her young protégé produced as class work. It took a visit to Andrew's new downtown gallery to work an invitation to dinner one Friday night. Andrew had even extended an invitation to come early and spend some time with Ali in her studio.

The night came, and Cruz arrived at the home in her her favorite little black dress. Andrew showed her in and directed her to Ali's studio. Andrew excused himself to oversee the final preparations for dinner, and Cruz stepped through the door. She was awestruck. The room was filled with canvasses of several sizes. Some were hung, some leaned against walls. There was a long table, supply cabinets, easels, and jars filled with brushes. It had the look of purposeful chaos. I was that level of untidy enough to look messy but organized enough that I know exactly where everything is and what I need is always in reach. Cruz had seen that same look in her brother's garage, the garage of a master mechanic. She had spotted that air in the workshop of her grandfather, the brilliant electrical engineer. It was the look of genius.

Knowing the key to Ali's Art, the teacher at the back ground first, allowing her eye to slowly gravitate to the detailed objects that seemed the focus of the painting. The teacher was stunned. The paintings told amazing tales of objects and the artists feelings towards them. Ali stepped in without Cruz noticing.

"Like anything you see?"

Cruz was spellbound. Her gaze moved from painting to painting.

"You are the most talented student I've ever had."

She continued to examine the works, as Ali looked on. Time passed, and other guests arrived. Still she studied. Andrew's head poked through the door.

"Hey you too, enough shop talk. Dinner is ready."

Cruz reluctantly left the studio, and followed Andrew to dinner. Ali silently brought up the rear. At the table were already seated an art critic from the Times, another gallery owner, and Art. Ali and Art didn't speak directly through dinner, though both engaged Cruz and the other guests in conversation. The man from the Times pontificated on and on about the work of some old school landscape artist who lived nearby. He blew more hot air than anyone was willing to deal with, and everyone was relieved when Andrew moved the topic to Art and his portrait of Ali.

"I'd like to see it."

Conversation stopped at the critics request. Ali, Andrew and Art knew that it was a nude, Cruz expected it, but the other guests ad no idea.

"Well, I'm not sure that would be proper," stammered Andrew, "you see it's a bit revealing, and I'm not certain Ali would appreciate exhibiting her so openly."

There were smiles and chuckles around the table as the company came to the realization that Andrew was refusing their viewing of a boudoir piece. Conversation dangled again, until Ali broke the silence.

"I'm quite comfortable with my body, and the work is fine. I wouldn't mind."

Andrew looked up, surprised. Though his voice objected, his face had the flushed color of sexual excitement.

"But honey, I wouldn't parade you in front of guests naked, why would I show them your portrait naked?"

Ali stood, and the guests looked at her closely. Male guests were undressing her with their eyes, and female guests were wondering how she'd look in paint. Ali satisfied them both. Her dress was a loose fitting ivory smock, with lace like eyelts belted at the waist. Ali pulled the belt off, and slid the dress off her shoulders, letting it flow to the floor. She was nude beneath the dress, and stood before the company. Her body was decorated with the paintings that had so become part of her persona. She was immersed in paint all day, and all night. She was quite beautiful and the details were incredible....

The connection hit Cruz like a ton of bricks. Ali painted her detail on herself before the canvass. She lived the background, and eventually transferred the detail while posing herself for the abstract. It fascinated the teacher to discover how the student arrived at her material, at her subject.

"Come."

Ali walked slowly from the table and headed to the bedroom. Her guests were close behind. A somewhat stunned and very quiet Andrew followed last. As the guests spilled into the bedroom, Art found a place alone by the far wall. Ali slid onto the bed, recreating the pose directly in front of her likeness. The eyes of the guests slowly moved between picture and model. Art and Andrew, for different reasons, watched the guests reactions. Ali was becoming visibly turned on, her nipples rising to attention in spite of the warm room.

The guests began commenting on the portrait, complimenting both Art and Ali along the way. Art calmly answered their questions, and finally as they probed deeper said "You just have to be in touch with your subject. There is a lot of me, and a lot of Ali in the paint." Andrew's ears perked up at this, and he began to be suspiciously curious about the modeling sessions. He began to have doubts as to whether he should have commissioned the work. Had he chosen Art in haste?

At that, the discussion deepened, until Ali was asked what she was thinking of during the pose.

"Desire."

Ali had looked right at Andrew as she spoke, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He now gazed at her expression. He had never seen this expression on Ali's face before, but it was clearly there now. Only Cruz understood, and she moved close to Andrew out of compassion for what he must be discovering. She knew that lok well. All Art's subjects wore it. Of course all of Art's subjects had just submitted to him sexually, and were so satisfied, they were instantly lusting for the next time. All of them believed there would be another round. All of them would be left wanting in order that he could maintain control, and have willing models. He didn't make love, he fucked subjects into his desired state of mind.

The questioning continued. Finally Andrew spoke up.

"How did you get her into that mood?"

The guests fell quiet. Art looked at Andrew, and remembered where he was. He didn't want to make an issue in the man's own bedroom, but the hand was being forced. Art dropped his eyes and left the room.

"He fucked me into it."

Ali wasn't interested in beating around the bush. She had learned that sugar coating her world led to meaningless work as an artist. She had to live on the edge to paint with an edge. She was not about to deny this edge.

"It's ok though, you got the sexy picture of me you wanted for the bedroom." She then giggled, "And actually, you dedicated an entire wall to it, my wall. You have another Berlin's Wall."

Andrew couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe she'd humiliate him this way. He'd commissioned this portrait because he adored her. It was truly a stunning work. Now a future was taking shape that included this incredible painting hanging in his home, while he divorced and evicted the model.