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"The models got comfortable quickly," he stated.

Trish had another negative reaction, although it wasn't as pronounced and she remained in place. I was just about to suggest we call it a night when she stunned me when she asked a question.

"How many models have you used?" she queried.

It wasn't so much the question that surprised me, as it was innocuous, rather, it was the fact that she was engaging in the discussion. That, I hadn't expected.

"Too many to count," he replied.

"All young girls?" she followed.

"No, girls make poor models. They look like girls. Women are much better," he explained, and then added, "Like you."

Her sharp intake of breath made me look her way and when I did, I found her staring directly at me. We held eye contact for several seconds, and then in a soft voice, she asked, "Are you serious?"

Suddenly, with one simple question, my entire plot had turned upside down. Never in my wildest dreams did I think she would consider the idea. After all, the man's presence was directly related to her church activity which by itself should have been a deterrent. Indeed, it was so mind-boggling that for a few seconds I wondered if she was running a scam of her own. However, her eyes showed sincerity which convinced me it was all quite real. Now, I faced the decision of supporting my wife's nudity in front of another man, a stranger, and a homeless person or killing the idea and retreating to the safety of our bedroom. It should have been easy, but suddenly I felt dizzy at the thought.

"He does good work," I responded in a voice I didn't recognize.

It became completely silent in the room and I felt at any time Trish would reach over and slap me. For a variety of reasons, I deserved it, and in some ways, hoped for it.

"How...how do you do it?" my wife asked.

"The small sofa in the other room would be a better spot. You just need to go in there, remove your clothes and lie down," he explained.

I expected more discussion, but her answer came quickly as she took my arm, "Come with me."

I could feel her hand shaking as we made our way to the formal living roomy that we rarely used. On one end, against the wall, was a traditional sofa with a neutral fabric covering. While she stood to one side, I arranged two pillows for her head and moved the others onto a nearby chair.

"Gulp..." she said when it was time to disrobe, but her hands had barely started when she looked at me with a distressed expression and said, "I can't do this. It's... it's just wrong... I mean... no, it's not me."

In the manner of just a few minutes, I had another opportunity to come to my wife's aid, support her position and comfort her in our bed. However, once again, for reasons that seemed strange even to me, I didn't.

"I think it's okay. He does really good work and I'd like to have it," I countered.

For a few seconds, she stared at me with a look of surprise and then she started to slowly undo the buttons of her top bringing her bra into view. Evidently, she had been so nervous about the proximity of a strange man that she chose to wear it but was now taking a monstrous leap in the opposite direction. I helped her remove the garment from her shoulders and then unclasped the bra tossing both on the chair. Her bottoms followed and when she was down to her thong, she turned to me with a look of panic.

"I'm not sure... are you sure?" she asked.

"No," I said, and when she gasped, I said, "Give me your panties."

Her hands moved so slowly that halfway down her legs, I looped my fingers through them and guided them off. Now, my lovely wife stood naked, and after a final look into each other's eyes, I helped her onto her back. She fidgeted for a bit, but when she finally settled, I knew it was time.

"Okay," I called out.

I heard movement and then his tall form appeared, but he stopped before entering the room and motioned me over.

"Don't stand where she can see you. It will make her nervous," he counseled.

It took a moment for the meaning to fully register and when it did, I knew he was likely correct. Thus, I hung back, outside her peripheral vision as he approached the sofa. There were no words spoken between them as he made some adjustments to her position and then he pulled a chair forward and took a position using the same magazine to support the paper.

"I'm nervous," I heard her whisper.

I expected some words of encouragement from him, so I was stunned when he responded, "Do you always shave? A natural look is much more feminine."

I half expected her to bolt, but she stayed in place and after what felt like a minute, she replied, "Dan likes it."

With that, their talking ceased and I watched as his hand moved across the small paper. However, I was too far away to see much of Trish so I carefully eased forward until she came into view and was surprised to see her small nipples were fully erect. It made me think about her state and wonder why she hadn't asked about my location.

I wasn't sure how long it would take as it was a more involved sketch than her face, but he finished in less than thirty minutes. However, rather than provide her modesty and leave, he pulled the chair forward until he was only an arm's length away and shared the drawing. After several seconds, I decided it was stupid to wait any longer and entered the room.

Trish had shifted so that her vagina was no longer visible and had draped an arm across her chest shielding her breasts, but she appeared to be fully engaged in discussing the work.

"Where did you go?" she asked when I entered.

"I thought I might make you uncomfortable," I said and after a moment of thought, she nodded.

"Here... take a look," she said and handed me the sketch.

Even on the small, letter size page, the quality of the work came through. It was very detailed and sensual without being dirty. I did notice a shadow on her vagina that made me wonder if he was trying to show her with pubic hair, but it was the only aspect that I thought might be off.

"Fabulous," I declared.

"Can you make a copy? I'd like to have one," Jerry asked.

"Why?" my wife replied nervously.

"No, I don't think so," I responded firmly.

At that moment, Trish became aware of her nudity and began to glance between us and her clothes.

"Let's let her get dressed," I said, motioning for our guest to follow.

"Can I get another drink?" he asked when we arrived at the TV, and with a nod, I left him to collect a round.

Trish had joined him when I returned and it was clear when she moved that she had forsaken her bra. I passed out the drinks and for the next few minutes, we sipped them while I engaged the man with some technical questions about his art. He was slow to answer, evidently past the surge of energy he experienced from seeing my wife naked, and after a few minutes, I informed him we were going to bed, hoping he would as well. However, he seemed determined to drink his vodka, so after receiving a shrug from Trish, we departed. Once we were in the bedroom, Trish stripped to her thong while I got naked, and as soon as we hit the mattress, I pulled her close. I started a soft caressing of her breasts while I nibbled her ear, but soon l let my hand descend to her pussy.

"Damn, you're soaked," I declared after I snaked a finger beneath her thong.

"Stop," she answered in embarrassment as she tried to squirm away.

"I guess Saint Trish got horny being naked," I teased.

It was dangerous ground, totally unexplored, but the situation had been so unique that I couldn't hold back.

"You made me horny," she answered trying to deflect my remark.

No... uh uh... you got excited being nude. Admit it," I demanded.

"I'm ashamed," she responded and tried to hide her face in my chest.

Realizing things were moving too fast, I replied, "Don't be upset. Those drawings are amazing. I'm glad you did it."

"Really?" she asked, buoyed by my words, and then suddenly her angst showed again when she said, "What if Gayle finds out?"

"Don't worry, she won't," I replied, although I knew it was a risk.

My dick had become so hard it ached, so with no further foreplay, I began to climb onto my wife. Halfway, her hand found my shaft and guided it to her waiting opening.

"Ohhh... mmmm..." she sighed as her legs pulled back.

"Be still... I just want to enjoy the feeling for a little bit," I said and then let my lips find hers.

We kissed and purred in contentment for the next few minutes, enjoying our closeness, but my thoughts kept coming back to my wife's nudity, especially how easily she had agreed. I wanted to know more but feeling a direct approach might frighten her, I decided to take a different path.

"It would be nice to get some more," I said.

"What? Drawings?" she asked.

"Mmmm... hmmm..." I confirmed.

"Nudes? Not nudes..." she responded, but when I started kissing her soft neck, she sighed and said, "Really? You want me to?"

Rather than respond verbally, I began to move slowly, which took the tension to a much higher state. Faster and faster I went until I had her groaning each time I found bottom.

When I thought she was close to the point of no return, I whispered, "Do you want more?"

"Nudes?" she asked instantly.

"Yes, nudes," I confirmed between breaths.

"Do you?" she asked.

"Never mind me... tell me what you want," I demanded.

"No... I don't know..." she said, and then after a pause replied, "Maybe... if you do..."

"I do..." I said once she admitted her interest.

"Mmmm... what do you want it to be?" she whispered.

It was a good question, and I had spent so much time focusing on her psyche that I hadn't thought it through, so I replied, "Whatever I think of."

With that, all my attention turned towards bringing my lovely wife to a climax. I knew she wasn't far away, so I set the steady pace that always proved effective while showering her lips, face and, neck with soft kisses. Soon, her sighs turned to little whimpers that became needy moans. Then, she was there and as her orgasm hit, I began moving rapidly knowing from experience it would both heighten and lengthen the experience.

"Ohhh... oh, baby... mmmm uhhhh... uhhhh... oh, Dan... ohhhh... oh yes..." she grunted as it rolled through her.

When she started to come down, she wrapped her arms around my neck and held on as I worked towards my release. Like always, seeing her let go proved a powerful stimulant and I could already feel my balls tightening.

"Don't pull out... not this time," she begged.

Trish wasn't currently on the pill so we had to be careful. However, it was quite common when she became highly aroused for her to lose control and try to get me to cum inside her. Sometimes, I acquiesced, and we would spend the next few weeks wondering if we were going to be parents again.

"Maybe tomorrow if you make a good drawing," I teased as my groin started to tingle.

"No Dan... no..." she whimpered.

At the last possible moment, I pulled free from her warm pussy and immediately began to fire streams of semen that covered her from her neck to her belly button. My body sucked in air greedily as I fought the sudden loss of energy that always arrived with a release. When I had regained some control, I grabbed the sheet, quickly wiped my dick clean then moved it back into my wife's opening.

"Mmmm... why did you pull out?" she sighed.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," I chuckled, thinking it was a surprising act of control in an altogether strange evening.

We stayed connected and enjoyed the afterglow of lovemaking for several minutes before I collapsed at her side and quickly fell asleep. Later, I felt movement on the bed and surmising it was Trish on her way to the bathroom, I didn't stir. However, when I awoke again and realized she was still gone, I became concerned and was about to rise when I heard the door open. I watched as she stepped inside and noted she had on the thin dressing robe that she rarely wore outside the bedroom. When she was naked beneath it, I knew it left little to the imagination, which meant she likely had used it as a purposeful tease.

"What time is it?" I asked, startling her in the process.

"A little after three. I checked on Jerry to see if he had gone to bed," she said and I sensed some guilt in her voice.

"Had he?" I inquired.

"No, he's still up drinking," she replied.

"How long were you gone?" I asked.

"Not long," she answered evasively as she climbed into bed.

"How long?" I demanded as I pulled her close.

"An hour I guess," she said in a low voice.

"I see. So, what happened in an hour?" I pushed, feeling she had something to tell.

"Look... I mean... You said you wanted me to," she replied in a voice bordering on panic.

"Does that mean there's another drawing?" I asked.

She didn't reply verbally. Instead, I watched as she nodded her head several times. Contemplating the meaning and potential ramifications, I didn't respond at first.

"You said you wanted more," she blurted out evidently finding the silence uncomfortable.

I ignored the many fallacies in her statement deciding to focus on what else had occurred, and asked, "How did the subject come up in the first place?"

"I... I guess... I mean we talked for a few minutes and then he asked me if he could," she explained.

"So, that's it? He spent an hour sketching you naked?" I asked.

"There were three," she admitted.

"Where are they? I want to see them," I demanded, now feeling a bit agitated.

"I... I said he could keep them," she whispered.

"Naked sketches of you? Trish, he's very good and if someone from the church sees them, they might connect the dots," I responded.

"He won't... I mean... I don't think he will," she stated.

The way she spoke the words gave me a strange feeling of foreboding and thinking there had to be more, I demanded, "Look, I'm tired of playing twenty questions. Tell me everything that happened from the moment you left."

"Okay, I will... but don't get mad," she said and turned towards me. When I concurred by nodding my head, she continued, "I went out to see if he had gone to bed and he was still up... drinking. We talked a while and then he said he wanted to make a drawing to keep and... I said okay. He started the second as soon as he finished then did the third."

"Did he keep his distance? Did he try anything?" I asked as my instincts told me there was more.

"He wanted me to go into the bedroom," she said in a low voice.

"Did he touch you?" I demanded.

"No touching... he got hard some... and it kind of came out..." she said.

"Came out? Out of the fly?" I tried to clarify.

"Yes..." she admitted.

"Did he put it back?" I asked wondering how she reacted to the flashing.

"Yes..." she said in a nervous voice.

"How long was it exposed?" I asked.

"I don't know... maybe... maybe a few minutes," she responded.

"Damn, Trish... all these years I thought I was married to an angel and now I find out she's really a bad girl," I said, unable to control myself.

"That's not true! Take it back," she demanded.

Fortunately, I was able to regain control and after a deep breath, I said, "No, it's not true. I take it back. I'm sorry for saying it, but damn honey."

"I know... I know..." she replied.

Somehow, I woke within thirty minutes of my normal time and stumbled my way to the kitchen to make coffee. Jerry had retreated into the guest room and with Trish still asleep, I had the house to myself as I contemplated the recent events. It didn't take long for me to realize that throughout the entire night I had been repeatedly surprised by my wife. It started at the homeless encampment where, no doubt due to peer pressure from Gayle, she offered to take Jerry in and then continued for the remainder of the night through a series of increasingly edgy acts. Easily, the most astonishing development was my wife's acceptance of nudity in front of the homeless man. True, he was an artist and a talented one to our eyes, but I wouldn't have expected her to get undressed even for Picasso. I realized it could only mean that deep within her existed a person I didn't understand as well as I thought.

"Morning," my wife said as she stepped into the kitchen dressed in her pajamas.

"Morning, were you able to get some sleep?" I asked.

"A little," she replied while giving me a nervous look.

I sensed by her body language she was feeling me out concerning her revelations. I poured her a cup of coffee, but before handing it to her, I took in her arms, hugged her tightly and said, "I love you."

"I'm sorry..." she started, but I quickly cut her off.

"Hush, just let it go," I said.

My words seemed to take a huge burden off her shoulders and a smile quickly filled her face. For the next hour, we sipped coffee and chatted, wondering when our guest might appear. Finally, Trish announced that she wanted to freshen up, so she left me while I cleaned up the living room, collecting the now empty bottle of vodka. When she returned, we settled in the living room to watch TV and it was just before noon when we began hearing sounds emanating from the guest room.

"Jerry, would you like some breakfast?" Trish asked when he finally appeared twenty minutes later still dressed in my things.

"Tea, if you have it. That's all I need," he responded in a thick voice and then started a hacking cough.

He had now been in our home for over fifteen hours, consumed almost an entire fifth of vodka while eating nothing. I could only imagine the state of his internal organs, but Trish dutifully rose to fulfill his request.

"Jerry, I understand that you made some more drawings of Trish last night. I'd like to see them," I said when my wife was out of earshot.

"They're mine," he answered defensively.

"I know, but I'd like to see them," I responded.

He looked at me for several seconds and then with reluctance he made for the guest room where he stayed for some time before returning with the papers in his hand. His timing matched my wife's who joined us with his tea just as he sat. Without speaking, he handed me the sketches and then accepted his mug. I noticed they made furtive eye contact but remained silent as I turned my attention to the papers.

The first one showed my wife seated naked on the fireplace hearth with her arms at her side looking forward with a big smile. Other than the nudity, there was nothing racy about the drawing and, in truth, I thought it was a bit uninspired. The second one showed her on the sofa and was more sexually expressive. Her legs were open slightly and her expression showed anticipation. If the artist was true to the subject, then it indicated my wife had been in a state of arousal. It was disconcerting but I decided to look at the final sketch before reaching any conclusions. Unfortunately, this one was even worse as it showed her sprawled on our dining room table looking towards the artist with anticipation.

"Which order did you draw them in?" I asked the man.

"This one first, then this one and this one last," he answered putting them in the order I had viewed.

It meant the drawings had become more aggressive as he went and I wondered where in the process his cock appeared. To me, their encounter now seemed sordid despite the earlier work, and the risk of Trish being recognized was very real. It would have been one thing if they were created when we were away on vacation as it would be highly unlikely that anyone in our sphere would stumble upon them. However, the church group actively interacted with the encampment, so the possibility existed that the art would be discovered. The artwork was good and the likeness was solid, but I had a situational bias. The question was whether an unexpecting person would be able to make the connection.

"Jerry, I'm worried about someone seeing them and realizing its Trish. I don't want her reputation damaged," I said, deciding to be straight forward.