Model Et Tu?

I had been nude modeling for art classes since I was in college and it as a quick way to make some money. It didn't bother me that I might be in a class where one (or several) of the students knew me, I was "just" the Model.

I was prepared for this particular session to be a two person set of poses, with me being the man, and a woman I didn't know being the other half of that.

What I wasn't prepare for, was that the woman in this case that I was going to be modeling with today... was my ex-wife. And since both of us had agreed to do this, she couldn't back out, no matter how much her dislike and disdain of me rolled off of her in rivers of intensity. Never mind her eyes shooting daggers at me.

"We have to go through with this, but you are not to touch me, in any way," she told me in no uncertain terms. "Do you understand?"

Sighing, I told her "Yes. This is a job only."

She was older than me by about ten years, her now being forty-two. We had been divorced for about two years, since our marriage had led to a whirlwind of regrets and shouting matches.

I realized too late that I should never have married her in the first place... But I had made the mistake of falling in love with her. Big Mistake.

But she had a body at the age of 40, that most women at twenty would kill for. Not very large breasts, but her tight little body was perfection (to me). She looked as if she were twenty-five, instead of the forty-five year old that she was rapidly becoming.

Of course I then found to why she had that body. Her mind was more like seventeen (at best). I'd married someone who had the body of a younger woman, but I came to realize it reflected her emotional age, and not her chronological one.

Now, normally I would be sitting next to a much older and usually out of shape woman in whom I had not interest in whatsoever. It was not hard to keep myself from getting hard.

Sitting next to my ex- was different. I had slept with this body. I had made love to it. I had heard it scream my name in ecstasy (in the beginning). And that body was hard to put out of my mind.

But I was a professional. And we weren't doing anything sexy in the privacy of our own apartment. I knew how to keep my libido in check. I wasn't going to 'blow it.' I was going to save that for when Sharon was dressed and I was alone in the back room later.

She had divorced me mainly because I would not take care of her, like a daddy instead of a husband. She always seemed to find a man who would fall in love with her, and then live to regret it. I was husband number three.

And she had gone on (was perhaps seeing him before we were even divorced) to marry husband number four. By the age of forty-two.

Which left me wondering why she was doing what she obviously hated doing. I found out later, that her next husband (from me), had had the audacity to die from prostrate cancer, six months after they were married.

"I heard that you were married. Is that not working out?" I asked her as un-ironcally as I could.

"Shut up," she whispered fiercely. "That's none of your business."

"So, let's see. You got your divorce decree, what, six months ago? And then all of a sudden, I find out you're married again. And yet... here we are. I know you're not doing this for the fun of it."

"Let's just get through the next two hours, and we'll go our separate ways again."

"Right. Uh-huh," I said very ironically.

She had accused me of sleeping with other women (which was her "official" reason for our divorce). And here she was apparently having slept with her next husband before she was even fully divorced from me. Isn't it ironic. Don't you think. A little too ironic...

"So why are you back to modeling? Since I know that you like it so much."

"That is none of your fucking business," she told me with a voice full of venom.

Well, I thought. I just have to get through the next two hours. And then she'll be rid of me once again. I guess it was on to husband number five.

An hour after our little 'discussion,' we were both seated in a pose that had us facing away from the other. It allowed me to forget about who was posing next to me. By now, my once paltry erection was long past it's 'sell by' date and was no longer bothering me.

That last hour, I was focused on the task of staying as rigid as I could during our poses. The effect of gravity were conspiring to take it's effect on me. The effect of eros was won over by that.

"That's it class," the Instructor finally said. "Let's thank our models," and she began clapping. It was a very nice way to finish off her class, and not at all usual to recognize the model.

Now, normally if there's a woman and man model session, the woman goes into the back room and strips first, changing to her robe for 'protection' from 'unusual activity' from the students.

In this particular Studio, that was not a luxury.

I decided to follow along with Sharon's desire to not have anything to do with me, so as we retreated to the back room, all the baggage would be allowed to settle like the dust that pervaded everything back here.

But as I began putting my socks on preparing to my jeans next, I saw Sharon about to put on her underwear pause, looking behind her over her left shoulder. I was confronted with her now wide, gaping vulva that was calling to me. She hesitated before bring them up fully and completely.

Normally, I wouldn't have noticed. Being the professional. We were here for a job, and not a hook up.

But she kept this pose of leaning over to put her socks on, leaving me with the camel toe peeking through her panties, which were on the thin side.

"What are you doing?" I sighed again. "Do you want me to look?"

At this, she straightened up and turned towards me, still minus any bra or tee shirt.

"Am I not desirable any more?" She whispered, with a bereft look on her face.

"I thought you wanted to keep this professional, and not personal?"

She looked at the point of crying. "So I said, "Of course you're still desirable. But you're married. Remember?"

At this, her back straightened, and she put on that haughty, aristocratic aire that I really didn't like. Her 'I'm better than you' look.

This lasted for about thirty seconds before it began to crack, and she was leaning back towards the look of a teenager, not an adult.

Although I hated myself for it, my heart melted at this crack of her veneer. I knew it was not going to be for the good, but I walked over to her and hugged her.

My long deferred erection began rising to take over my interaction with her. It began to rise up to the level of her crotch, and nestle there, as if asking for further instructions. "You're married," I quietly told her. "And it's not to me."

"Not anymore," she said, as her floodgates began to open.

This was interrupted by a sudden and loud knock on the door. "Are you ok, Sharon?" The Instructor asked.

"Yes," Sharon told her, her voice strengthening into a more adult like voice. "We'll be just a few minutes," she told the woman on the other side of the door.

"Ok. I have some paperwork to do, so I'll give you a few minutes," she said, and then softly added, "Ok?"

"Yes. We won't be long."

My erect member was trying to decide on whether this was a 'go for launch,' or a momentary distraction that should have warned me from anything further.

But her body felt so warm and welcoming, it was hard to decide. Would my 'higher mind' prevail? Or my lower 'mind?

"What do you want to do?" I asked her softly. "We don't really have the time to do anything here. And as soon as you walk out the door, I'm sure your mind will change.

In response, she put her fingers on her hips and slide her panties down her legs. Of course, causing my erection to spring back up and slap her moist intimates. I began slowly sawing in and out, gently rubbing my prick through her wetness and rubbing her clit with the helmet of my prick.

"Oh, this feels so good," she murmured into my shoulder with a sigh.

"If it feels so good, then why did you want to end our marriage?"

"Because you wouldn't take care of me. Like a husband should."

Right. Back to that old 1950's nonsense, I almost told her.

Instead, I decided to take it for the moment and have some break up sex. I speeded up the intensity of my motion through her lips, and at one point pointe upwards and entered her 'inner sanctum.'

"Yes," she hissed in my ear. "Yesss."

I stroked faster now, aware that she and I didn't have forever for a gentle fuck, but had a time limit. I reached down and brought up her right leg to rest on my thigh, and then her left, penetrating her as deeply as I could.

"Is that better now?" I asked, as I pounded her. I could feel her juices running down my legs now. I kept on slapping her thighs with my legs, until I felt her shudder and cum.

"YES," she almost screamed. Well if the Instructor didn't know what we were doing before now, I thought, she does now.

After a few brief shinning moments in afterglow, I let her legs return to the ground. "We've got to get dressed. We shouldn't hold up Diane from leaving.

She just demurely nodded her head, not looking up to look in my eyes. Yep. This was a once and done, last hurrah for us. I could feel it in her already changed attitude.

When she looked up, her former steely look of distance had returned. I handed her some rough napkins from the sink, and she duly cleaned herself up. Of course, we both still smelled like sex, but that couldn't be helped.

A minute later, we exited the room and went to seek Diane out in her office. "Sorry for that delay, Diane. You might not know, but Sharon and I were married. So we had to work something out after modeling."

I could see her nose twitch as she said, "I'll make sure to not have that difficulty in the future," she said with a wry smile.Handing us our money, "I'll still have you back in the future... Just not as a male female couple.

"Thank you," Sharon and I said simultaneously, both of us more than a little abashed.

Waling out the front door of the Studio, Sharon looked at me with a look that said 'Let's not meet this was again,' and turned to walk off in the opposite direction from me.

Well, it was only two hours, I thought, not one year. Not that I wouldn't miss her. I was still very much in love with her, much to my chagrin.

Sighing deeply, I adjusted my backpack and began walking to the metro close by.

©The Author "Bob Hardcastle" All Rights Reserved