Karen's Artistic Talents

Growing up in an average size town in an average family, with two brothers and a younger sister, the first eight-teen years of my life were seemingly ordinary. Right after graduating high school, I met John while working as a secretary. It wasn't long after that I found myself married and pregnant.

The first part of my life was somewhat expected, well-structured, and understood; the next leg took me entirely by surprise, unknowingly revealing a piece I never knew existed.

John was a good husband and an avid fisherman. His hobby occupied a lot of his spare time, leaving me to handle the mundane maternal duties of raising our children. Yes, I had fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. Years of practice kept our lives running on time, scurrying to and from all of their school and social activities.

My life was centered around them, like most mothers. Rusty and Vicki were entering their second year of high school this year. Now thirty-five, with the kids somewhat self-sufficient, my motherly duties were becoming less involved, providing more free time. I was desperately searching for something to do outside the house to keep my mind occupied and take a break from sixteen years of caring for others; time for just me.

My friend Jane recommended that I should look into taking an art class. She had taken one at the School of Art in Glendale, about an hour's drive from here, and highly recommended it.

My artistic talents were scarce; my experience was strictly limited to what little I did to assist my children in school. I never considered myself talented in any form or fashion. After several days of indecision, I decided to try it. They offered several classes, including drawing, painting, photography, sculpturing, and mixed media. I chose the drawing class.

I enrolled for the Saturday class option. The small class consisted of five adult students who seemed close to my age. We drew various things, from vases to animals and even architecturally famous buildings. I struggled with drawing but wanted to see where it would lead. John and the kids always complimented the sketches I brought home, but I knew they were being kind. After six weeks of drawing, I felt jaded and switched to the painting class.

The painting lessons were much more complicated than I had imagined. I tried for weeks to get the hang of it, but mixing colors and stroking a brush proved very troublesome; I continually ended up with more paint on me than the canvas.

"Victor, I am sure that I was never meant to paint. I must be color-blind or something. This is a total waste of your time trying to teach me to paint."

"Karen, I always try to be positive about a person's abilities; however, in your circumstance, I might have to agree with you; this may not be where your talent lies."

"I am beginning to wonder if I have any talents."

"We will begin the next phase of this class next week, painting the human form."

"I know for sure that I could never paint a person. I will have to pass on that."

"You might be right, but perhaps you might be interested in another aspect of it, being the subject."

It took a minute to understand what he was asking; I was a little puzzled. "What exactly is expected of a subject?"

"All that is required is to remain in the same position for several hours."

"Oh, I can do this." Next Saturday, the class went slower than anticipated. Training myself to be perfectly still for hours was much more difficult than I had imagined. I eventually got the hang of it after four sessions.

Several of my classmates had finished a rendition of me; Hans agreed to lend me his to show my family. It was a perfect semblance of me. I was beginning to feel like I had found something that I was good at, even if it meant being 'the subject.'

"Mom, this is nice. Did you paint this? Rusty, come look at mom's painting."

"Why is it only your shoulders and head."

"It's called a bust portrait; Hans painted it. I was the subject; I had to sit very still for hours while being scrutinized for the fine details to be replicated on the canvas."

"So, you're like the model being painted, cool mom."

~o~

Next Saturday, after Ellen finished her painting of me, Victor announced that we would be starting the next area of this assignment. He called me over as the class settled down and began cleaning up.

"Karen, you are very good at this. The portraits of you came out excellent. Would you consider doing something a bit more risqué for next week? We need more diversity for the next chapter as we will concentrate on the entire body."

"What do you mean, risqué?"

"There are several ways to accomplish this; perhaps unbuttoning your blouse a bit, maybe show a little cleavage or a shorter skirt; long crossed legs always enhance the subject matter, providing additional interest.

His request shocked me, and I knew I could never do anything like that. Besides, I don't have any cleavage. "No, thanks; I..... don't think I could do that."

"Just consider it!"

Was he asking me to show my body? The walkout to my car was filled with alien thoughts; my brain was in a daze trying to understand this strange feeling twisting through me. I opened the door and sat there for a minute, attempting to make sense of all of this. "What is confusing me so much about this?"

Thoughts of his request infiltrated my sanity at a hundred miles an hour, too fast to make any sense of it. Unexpectedly a warm sensation made its presence known between my legs. I lifted my knee-length skirt finding moisture in my panties; a vaguely familiar spasm raced through me as I trembled on the seat in utter surprise. Did I have an orgasm thinking about his request? I had almost forgotten what one felt like. "I can't believe this just happened." I was angry at my body for abandoning me. Embarrassed and nervous, I could barely make the hour's drive back home.

I tried not to think about the peculiar experience for the next six days. My body reminded me each time I thought of it. This was crazy; I was like a lost child trying to find my way out of the forest. My brain attempted to convey that this was irrational, but my hormones were in the lead, telling me this was ok; I was too curious to let this go unanswered.

The following Saturday, after much agonizing, I drove towards my destination, art class. I worked myself into a frenzy, trying to come up with any possible scenario that might occur. I was in real distress. My body was in total despair, teased by small tingling sensations undulating through every muscle in my body. My nerves finally won. "I can't do this." At ten o'clock, I found myself sitting in my car outside of the school, an hour after class had started, completely bewildered.

A quiet knock on my window shattered my consciousness. I almost jumped out of my skin. It was my teacher, Victor. "I see you are considering returning to class; I noticed your car through the window." It seemed like an hour before I could utter a word, although, in reality, it was most likely seconds.

"After days of agonizing about your request, I am still unsure about this."

"Come inside and let's get your nerves settled; if you are not ready, that will be OK."

After ten minutes of visiting with everyone, I began calming down.

"Let's get started, class. Karen, you can come up and take your seat when ready."

"What should I do first?"

"Make yourself comfortable. I see you have worn a button-up blouse and skirt. Perhaps start by loosening a couple of buttons. Strike a pose you deem suitable, and let us know when you are ready so we can start."

My blouse was very moderate, concealing my small-size thirty-five-year-old breasts, which had never been revealed to anyone but John, supported today by a silk bra.

I unfastened one or two buttons giving a slight glimpse of my bra, then undid several of the lower buttons on my skirt. My skirt retreated to the upper half of my thigh when I crossed my legs. This was more than I had ever done in the company of others.

A feeling of nervousness and pleasure trickled through my veins. This felt good; I had not experienced such sensations in a long time. The class went by fast as I eventually settled into the new routine boosting my confidence; I surprised myself.

~o~

I spent the following week contemplating how risqué I was willing to be, obsessing about how much I would reveal. I chose to wear a knee-length button-up dress with small shoulder straps; this meant wearing a strapless bra that I was uncomfortable wearing.

Driving to class was nerve-racking as I attempted to build me up. Just how far can I go? Everyone was very complimentary of my dress as I took my seat. I was still trying to figure out the extent I was willing to show myself.

"Karen, we are ready when you are."

I took my seat and unfastened five or six buttons at the top, leaving my chest primarily visible. A jolt of nervous energy raced through me as I released several buttons at the hem, leaving three fastened at the waist, showing most of my thighs when I crossed my legs. Those three buttons were just enough to conceal my white cotton panties. I was a bundle of nerves, sitting mostly exposed as never before in front of my class.

"Karen, that is perfect, giving us a bit more to concentrate on. Your legs and a hint of your silk bra make a nice addition."

"Class, concentrate on her physique; try to capture the subtle display of her chest, the striking tone of her legs, and her facial expression."

I can do this, I kept telling myself, trying to convince my brain it was ok. My body was benefitting, enjoying the ordeal as I sat there and watched each student study me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins constantly as I sat riddled with anxiety, much more so when the instructor and students kept roaming up to survey me, standing inches away, studying my body parts.

Right in the middle of class, several shots of endorphins surged toward my crotch; I shuddered with apprehension as my gland accepted the gift. What just happened... I just came! I could feel the warm pool of moisture beneath as I sat uncomfortably, not wanting to alert the class to my precarious state. Now, what do I do?

A flood of anxiety rushed throughout me, releasing a wave of perspiration. Victor noticed I was becoming flushed and uneasy and asked if everything was ok.

"Could I take a quick break?"

"Yes, sure."

I went to the lady's room, finding my cotton panties soaked. "What a mess. I surely don't want to sit on these for the next two hours." I removed them, placed them in my bag, and dried myself.

"What just happened? Why am I getting so excited about showing parts of my body?"

I returned to class, being overly cautious as I took my position. Knowing I was just three buttons away from displaying my pantie-less bottom drove my hormones into overdrive. I was as nervous as a scared cat sitting there for the next two hours. It was everything I could do to control this crushing hormonal surge holding me hostage.

I asked to be excused and scampered out to my car, clasping my flailing dress as I ran. The breeze rushing between my legs and teasing my bareness overwhelmed me. Reaching for the door handle, I held it tightly as my uncovered organ received a second volley of endorphins. Retreating to the front seat, I reached down to subdue this carnal attack. My body answered as my finger found its mark, releasing its store. Rolling my head back on the headrest and closing my eyes, I tormented the monster, wanting to extract every ounce of glory.

"Karen, are you OK?"

The shock of being discovered in such a wicked moment sent a torrent of adrenaline through every cell in my body. My finger would not release its embrace. I was in the middle of the most controlling orgasm ever, moaning with elation and indignity in the same breath; getting caught with my finger feeding the evil spirit sent strange lascivious thoughts ripping me.

I cried all the way home in humiliation. "What is wrong with me? I am thirty-five years old and have never been so reckless." Something inside me has changed.

Whatever it was had taken complete command of my body. I could not take my mind off the lingering remnants of the most formidable sensation I had ever experienced. My mind was depleted; I needed time to figure all this out.

~o~

"Karen, how is the class going? You haven't brought anything home for us to see lately."

"Yeh, mom. Are you learning anything new? You must be better at painting the canvas than yourself; I never see paint on you anymore."

"Well, I am improving somewhat, but I am still undecided whether this is for me."

"You have to give it time, mom."

"I am working on that."

For the remainder of the week, I was a wreck. I could not stop thinking about how good it felt to have such a big orgasm. Every time I thought of it, I got goosebumps. I also was trying to work out my recklessness and what to do about it. I could never show my face there again; I was sure of this.

Three weeks later, a lovely card arrived in the mail. "We all make decisions we regret in life. Your classmates and I have missed your presence and would like you to join us again."

Could I show up again? After all, it was just the teacher that witnessed my wicked performance, or was it? My mind was reeling. Thoughts of another orgasm like that consumed me. My hormones decided for me; I left home in the same summer dress, strapless bra, and white panties the following Saturday. The 60-mile drive passed in seconds, almost keeping pace with my emotions. "I can't believe that I am considering this!"

As I parked, a flood of insanity overcame me as I reached under my dress, removed my strapless bra, and slipped off my panties. Was this bravery, craziness, or stupidity? There were too many chemicals rushing through me to make sense of it.

I entered the class with profound unease. Everyone did their best to make me feel at home again. Attempting to regulate my anxiety, I took up the last pose as well as I could remember, leaving the middle three buttons fastened and crossed my legs, this time offering a partial view of my bare breasts; I could barely breathe as my heart injected red cells to my desperate organs.

Victor whispered to me, "Karen, it's great to have you back. I see you are adding something to 'risqué'; let's start fresh today. I don't want you to be uncomfortable again, so why don't you present yourself to be painted as you desire."

His invitation flew past my brain and landed in my groin. I squirmed in the seat as a surge of epinephrine shot through my body. Standing up with reckless abandonment, I slipped off my dress and tossed it away. Standing naked in front of my class, in front of Victor, euphoria raced through me as I boldly exposed myself for the first time.

Every muscle in my body started weakening within seconds as I slowly sank into the chair. The chemicals in my body possessed me; I could hardly breathe. Reaching down, I indulged myself, attempting to quell the overwhelming sensation, whimpering as a mountain of pleasure escaped the confines of its origin.

After several minutes my sanity alerted me of my condition; you are sitting naked in front of your class, masturbating. "I am so sorry; I don't know what has come over me. I am ashamed and embarrassed to have put you through such a blatant display of self-sacrifice."

"Nonsense! Look at her class; study the flushing colors of her skin, the tiny droplets of perspiration dripping off of her forehead and breasts, the rise and fall of her chest as she feeds oxygen to fuel the muscles, the perfect portrait of the body's reaction to immense pleasure. It is almost impossible for a person to imitate erotic emotions accurately. Karen, you are a marvelous subject to paint; I don't think I have ever seen the body's reaction to carnal pleasures like we just witnessed. Can we proceed as you are? Would you be willing to pose like this?"

I immediately became addicted to this new emotion that was consuming me. I wanted to exhibit myself. I hardly noticed that the class had gathered around me, wanting to study me closer. Having others so close to me, nude, replenished my store as I lowered my finger and continued my journey as James captured this intimate moment in a photograph.

"Karen, that is perfect. Class, take note of her expression as her body reacts to the massive orgasm. Try to capture the pleasure she exudes, the frantic partnership between her finger and her body." His camera was snapping frantically, securing the lascivious activity, while the others sketched as fast as they could.

There I sat, manipulating myself as they attempted to paint and photograph the prodigious female in front of them. I had never been so audacious; discovering that one could tether an orgasm in front of a crowd for quite some time was an added benefit.

"Karen, the class and I are asking you to sit before us again and, for that matter, as many sessions as you like. I have never had such an explicit subject that could display such emotion."

"Yes, please, we all want to continue studying you." still snapping photographs of me, the naked thirty-five-year-old willingly exhibiting herself. Being sought after, even required to demonstrate my body blatantly to a partaking audience, sustained my exuberance.

My life had changed in the span of a few hours. I had never before felt so wonderful for so long. How did I not know about this? My marriage did provide an orgasm now and then, but nothing close to this. This is something I will never do without again. I discovered much about myself today, a very different side of me—something I want to explore much further.

~o~

"OK, I will see you next Saturday." I spent the drive home attempting to take inventory of the day's activities, letting my body recuperate from hour-long ecstasy sessions, and planning my next one. The image of myself in a chair with my dress on the floor beside me, naked, spread apart, instigating my glands deliberately for an audience, could not have been more powerful. I could not wait to be at the front of the class again. The week rushed past like it didn't happen. Before I knew it, it was Friday.

My brain had been working overtime for days dreaming up scenarios of way different things, things that were questionable at best, things I could never tell my family. I could not stop fantasizing about this. I had become addicted to this obsession.

"Are you going to the art class tomorrow?"

"Yes, we are studying all the necessary attributes to make a painting interesting; I like my class; it's exciting."

"Mom, when will you bring home some of your work?"

"Maybe I will surprise all of you one day."

"I will be fishing with Gene tomorrow."

"Have fun fishing."

"Enjoy your art class."

"Oh, I plan on it."

Wishing to be even more daring, I spent hours last night shaving; I don't know why but I felt compelled to de-hair my bottom. I decided to wear another dress to class, not including underwear. My nervousness raced during the drive to class, knowing my vaginal smoothness was only a few buttons away from being displayed.

As I walked into class, I felt a thrill from the air reaching my hairless parts hidden beneath. My urges were multiplying quickly. Everyone was early, anticipating a lengthy study session today.

"Welcome, Karen. It is so good to have you back. We were hoping you had not changed your mind."

"No, I would not have missed the class today for anything. I want to discuss something with all of you. I have spent the week agonizing over doing this. My mind was in a fog, trying to figure this out. I have become addicted to this; I cannot get it out of my mind. Being your subject was exciting last week, but I need more."