Nude Careers

A male voice called out, "Her tan lines look great!" Diane blushed and stepped off the crate. As Diane walked back to me (even watching her walk was exciting), Mrs. Phlieger got back on the crate and said, "I see we have some late arrivals. To make sure no one gets shortchanged, I'm extending the happy hour until five." That drew applause.

I saw Sandy talking with a fit-looking older man who was deeply tan. He nodded his head and turned away. Sandy walked towards Diane and me. As she did, she gestured for Connie and Mike to join us. When we were all together, Sandy said, "Chas Morton has challenged us to guests versus staff water volleyball. You're my team."

"Damn Sandy," I said, "I haven't played volleyball since high school."

Diane squeezed my hand. "Let's do it," she said.

In the water, it was clear that Sandy was a talented player. I learned later she had played volleyball in college. Thanks mainly to her, we were a couple of points up when a guest hit a ball exactly mid-way between Diane and me. Rather than calling it, we both went for it and ran into each other. Diane's momentum carried us both underwater. As we tried to get back on our feet, Diane's hand grasped my dick for a moment. That felt nice. When our heads broke the surface, Diane said, "Sorry."

"Don't be," I replied. Diane smiled.

The happy hour actually ran until six. I'd be on the phone in the morning trying to restock booze on Labor Day. Diane and I stood next to each other under an outdoor shower before we dressed, and I drove her back to our complex. When I'd parked and opened the car door for her, Diane said, "Want to come up to my place for a drink?" I certainly did. I followed Diane up to her second-floor apartment. I wasn't sure, but I didn't think she had put her panties back on.

In her apartment, Diane poured us each a glass of wine. As she handed one to me, she asked, "What did you think about today?"

"It was interesting," I said evasively. It popped into my brain that I needed to give her positive feedback. "I must be incredibly unobservant," I added. "I've known you for years, it took until today for me to see how incredibly beautiful you are."

Diane smiled. "Well, you've never seen me naked before," she said.

"What did you think about the day?" I asked. I wanted to reduce the risk of saying the wrong thing by letting her do the talking.

"Getting undressed in the meeting room was strange but not too intense," she replied. "Walking out to the pool with no clothes on was scary, but it was exciting scary like taking your seat on a rollercoaster. The sun and breeze on my body felt wonderful. Being in the pool with nothing on was great. I don't know why they invented swimsuits. When that guy said he liked my tan lines, it reminded me that everyone was looking at my tits and my mound." Diane blew out a breath. "I hate to say it, but that was a huge turn-on. Am I terrible?"

"No," I said. "You're great. You are a very beautiful, very sexy woman."

"You looked pretty good yourself," Diane said. "I knew in college you were hot, but I also knew I couldn't compete with your dance team girl. What I didn't expect was how beautiful your penis is. Why haven't you hit on Sandy?"

The question about Sandy threw me a little. I answered honestly instead of taking time to come up with a story. "I'm not sure, afraid of rejection or messing up a decent friendship," I replied. "Now that I know you're the true beauty of Citrus Cove, I'm glad I didn't."

"Why don't we take our clothes off," Diane said. "I'd like to see you again."

I was all in favor of that. I could look at Diane in the nude all night. We both stripped off. Diane came up to me. She said, "Adrian," and then hugged me. I put my arms around her and pulled her bare body into mine. We kissed. Our tongues found each other. After a few moments, Diane broke our kiss and asked, "may I touch you?"

"You already did," I responded.

Diane giggled. "Yeah, that was a bit clumsy, but it got the job done."

"It was the best part of my day," I replied. "You're always welcome to touch me anywhere you like."

Diane softly cupped my balls for a moment, then started running her index finger along the underside of my dick. She had a nice touch. I started to get hard. She ran her finger very lightly over my small head, circling around. I moved a hand to her mound. She took a sidestep to give me access. I began tracing my finger along her outer lips. Diane took a deep breath. "That feels nice," she said.

Her finger on my dickhead was getting me fully erect. "What you're doing feels nice too," I said.

"I like the effect it's having," Diane replied. I slipped a finger inside of her. I was surprised how wet she was. Taking hold of my dick again, Diane said, "I'd really prefer this to your finger. Do you have any...?"

I nodded my head. I'd bought a box of condoms recently and carried a couple in my wallet on the off chance I got the opportunity with Sandy. I never dreamed I'd use the first one with Diane. I stepped away from her, pulled the foil packet out of my wallet, and opened it. "Let me put it on," Diane said. She unrolled the rubber on me like she'd done it before. I guessed Chad had used rubbers. "Come on," she said as she took my hand.

Diane led me into the tiny bedroom of her apartment. She lay down on the twin bed and spread her legs. I got on the bed above her. As I slid my sheathed dick into her, I had two thoughts: "she feels great even with a rubber on" and "I can't believe I'm fucking Diane Green."

Diane became even more beautiful as she became more aroused. That, in turn, aroused me. It took some discipline to let her set the pace. One thing I was certain of was that I had to get Diane off whether I came or not. Sex with a new partner is about learning what she likes and where. Diane could have offered more direction, but, when I found a spot and speed she liked, she did say, "just keep doing that, please!" I kept doing that with my dick while we kissed, fiercely.

It was probably selfish and egotistical, but I was proud of myself when Diane breathlessly exclaimed, "What's this? I haven't, oh god, felt this before! Oh god. Keep going!" Her hips bucked more violently. I could feel her heart racing. I wouldn't have thought she was strong enough, but she was lifting me up as she bucked. She let out something between a moan and a scream, and then relaxed. I started to pull out, but Diane said, "keep going until you come." So, I did.

Annette, my college girlfriend, was an athletic woman with great control of all parts of her body. Sex with her had been regular and very good. But I had never had an orgasm before like the one I had in Diane Green that evening. And I had on a rubber!

I pulled out and Diane and I held each other for a long time. Finally, Diane said, "Thank you Adrian for making sure I came." That comment mystified me. Wasn't bringing your partner to orgasm the whole point of sex? "Sorry about the rubber," Diane added. "I'll go on the pill or something."

"I guess that means you want to do this again?" I asked.

"I'd like to do it with you every morning and night," she replied.

"I'm here whenever you wish," I replied.

Diane got a smile on her face. "So, after knowing each other over four years, you've finally decided you want me?" she asked.

"Yes, I want you," I said. "May I keep you?"

"It sure took you long enough," Diane said, "but that's exactly what I wanted to hear."

I stayed with Diane that night but had to leave early to get the Labor Day cookout going. Diane was off work for Labor Day.

The cookout started at five. Tara had worked the pool bar all day, but it usually closed around 6:00 p.m. It was staying open later for the cookout. Sandy came in to fill the extra three hours behind the bar at time and a half.

Citrus Cove has a policy that employees could use the facilities, except for rooms, free of charge when they were off duty. Around 5:30, I was bringing more beer from our walk-in cooler at the restaurant when Diane walked up to the bar, naked.

"I guess you enjoyed yourself yesterday," Sandy teased.

"I enjoyed it more after Adrian and I went home," Diane said. Sandy looked at me and smiled. "But, yes," Diane continued, "I realized I was missing the real benefit of working for a nude resort."

"Girlfriend," Sandy said, "with that body, you shouldn't ever wear clothes anywhere."

"Let me grow into it," Diane said with a smile. "Here, I'm not the only person naked."

"Being the only naked person in the room is actually a lot of fun," Sandy replied.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I nude model for the art department at the university in Tampa," Sandy replied. "I get to take my clothes off and they pay me $ 45 per hour. Its fun. You both should try it. They'd love you two as models."

"I'll think about it," Diane replied.

For all the effort we put into Labor Day and renewed marketing, business at Citrus Cove did not pick up. At the end of September, Mrs. Phlieger announced pay cuts. Diane and I were each being cut $ 400 per month. That hurt. The following week, we rode into Tampa with Sandy one evening. She had gotten permission from the instructor for us to watch one of her modeling sessions.

The "studio" was on the third floor of a large building on campus. It seemed to me like an ordinary classroom except there was a platform, about a foot high, at one end of the room. Instead of desks, chairs and easels were spread around the rest of the room. Sandy introduced us to the instructor, a man named Logan. About twenty students filtered in, sat at easels, and unpacked their drawing materials. They looked like undergrads to me. Just before 8:00 p.m., Sandy went into a corner, stripped off her clothes, and walked onto the platform.

Each pose lasted about half an hour. I immediately saw one of the challenges of the work: standing still holding the pose. Despite being, or maybe because she was, the only nude person in the room, Sandy seemed to dominate the scene.

Sandy's first pose was tame, standing facing the artists with one hand up behind her head. For the second half hour, she lay on the platform with her upper body raised up on her elbows. Her feet were pointed towards the artists and her legs were spread far enough apart to expose her slit. I whispered to Diane, "she doesn't seem to care what they see."

"I think she's getting off on it," Diane whispered back. It did look like Sandy was enjoying herself.

The class, "studio session" they called it, ended at 10:00 p.m. As Sandy dressed, Mr. Logan came up to us. "We can always use more models," he said. "Based on what you saw tonight, are you willing to give it a try?" We said we were and gave him our names and phone numbers.

Driving back to our apartments, we talked about Sandy's modeling. "The artists don't really see me as a person," Sandy said. "To them, I'm just an object to draw. I don't mind spending some time as a naked object."

Apropos of nothing, Diane suddenly asked, "Sandy, why haven't you ever hit on Adrian?"

"I would have," Sandy replied, "except it was obvious within a couple days after I met you two that you were going to hook up. I didn't want to be crushed by the inevitable."

"Why do you say it was obvious Diane and I would hook up?" I asked. It had never been obvious to me.

"A couple of things," Sandy answered. "First, the way Diane looks at you and talks about you when you aren't around makes it clear she adores you. Second, you clearly respect Diane and enjoy being with her. Those two things take you pretty far down the road towards loving someone. Diane just needed her Florida makeover to close the deal."

"A makeover you suggested," Diane commented.

"Well, girlfriend," Sandy replied. "I could see how wonderful you were but, when you came down here, you hid your light under a barrel. I thought that if you just let that light shine, you'd have a lot more fun and attract a moth named Adrian." Sandy was a better friend than I had appreciated.

Diane and I started making weekly trips to the university. Diane posed on Tuesdays, and I posed on Wednesdays. The additional $ 360 per month we each earned almost covered our pay cuts at Citrus Cove. We both went on both nights. The one who wasn't posing just watched. I could watch Diane naked for hours.

Towards the end of the semester, Mr. Logan introduced us to Professor Shawna Hanman after a posing session. "The two of you are a couple in real life, aren't you?" Professor Hanman asked. We affirmed that we were. "That's good," Professor Hanman said. "I have a graduate class starting in January. I'm looking for a couple to model for it. I want to challenge my students to capture the couple's mutual affection visually. I won't ask you to do any poses that are overtly sexual, we can't do that at a public university. But I will want you to do poses that make it clear there's an emotional and sexual relationship between you. It will pay $ 65 per model per hour. Interested?"

Having already gotten comfortable standing naked in front of a room full of clothed people, the idea of posing together appealed to both of us. "Yeah," Diane said, "it sounds like fun."

Only making one trip to the university a week rather than two was good. Each session would be an hour and a half, meaning that Diane and I would each get $ 97.50 per week. That would almost equal our $400/month pay cuts at Citrus Cove. Of course, the primary attraction was being naked with Diane.

The poses we did during the first session in January were simple: standing facing the artists holding hands or with arms around each other's backs. Later, we progressed to hugging and kissing. Hugging Diane in the nude for up to forty minutes was the most pleasurable thing I'd ever been paid to do.

Late in the semester, Diane and I were put in a pose I will always remember. Professor Hanman had me lie on the platform on my right side, facing the artists. My right leg was flat. My left leg was bent with my foot flat on the floor. Professor Hanman had Diane lie on the platform at roughly a right angle to me with her head resting on my right thigh about three inches from my dick. "Look at each other lovingly," the Professor instructed us.

Diane and I held that pose for 45 minutes, staring into each other's eyes the entire time. Of course, we did not speak, but a lot of communication occurred. The basic message that passed between Diane and me was that we wanted to spend as much of our lives naked and together as possible. It wasn't exactly "I do," but it wasn't far off. By the end of that evening, any remaining questions about our commitment to each other were answered.

Diane and I were still new enough to nude modeling that it made us horny. More than once, we didn't wait until we got back to our apartments and fucked in the car in a remote corner of some parking lot. Yeah, I know that was risky, but it was also exciting.

One night, after we had finished fucking in the car behind a carpet store, Diane said, "I almost wish Professor Hanman would let us go farther with our poses. I've been fantasizing about being up there on the platform with you inside me while people draw us." That sounded like a great fantasy to me.

At the end of the semester, Professor Hanman thanked us for modeling. "The desire you have for each other is so palpable and you are both so physically attractive that I couldn't have created better models," she said. Despite her compliments, she seemed a little uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No," the Professor replied. "It's just that someone asked me recently if I knew of anyone who could do a particular modeling job. The two of you would, I think, be perfect; but I'm hesitant to mention it."

"Why?" Diane asked.

Professor Hanman paused before she said, "Sheila is a talented artist, and a friend. She's been doing nudes for years and had sone some paintings of couples in poses much like what you've done for us. She was part of the inspiration for this class. She wants to do a series of pictures exploring human sexuality. She needs models for poses that are, well, uh, very intimate."

Diane looked at me and smiled. I nodded my head. Diane told Professor Hanman, "I think we'd be interested."

We met Sheila Posten at a Starbuck's. I still wonder if anyone overheard our conversation and, if so, what they thought. Sheila was, I'd guess, in her fifties. She brought with her a rather plain-looking young woman whom I guessed to be about 25. Sheila introduced as her "my daughter and assistant Lydia. I wanted you to meet Lydia upfront," Sheila said, "because I don't want you to have any surprises if you agree to pose for me. I sketch while Lydia takes photographs. The sketch captures my subjective impressions while the photos capture light and color. Once a painting is done, I delete the photos."

"What kinds of poses will you want?" Diane asked.

"If we decide to work together," Sheila replied, "I will want you to pose in just about every way people give pleasure to each other: intercourse, oral sex, mutual masturbation. We are moving into warmer weather, and out of tourist season, so I hope to find outdoor locations for some sessions."

"What are you paying?" I asked.

"I'll pay $ 150 per hour for the two of you for our indoor sessions," Sheila replied. "Outdoors is a little riskier, so I'll pay $175 per hour for that."

Sheila's studio was attached to her house. Diane and I showed up there a few days later. The studio was a well-lit room with a lot of plants. "Just take your clothes off and get comfortable," Sheila said. Diane and I undressed and chatted with Sheila while she set herself up to draw. Lydia hovered in the background with her camera. When Sheila was ready, she said, "Let's start with intercourse in missionary position."

Diane and I began kissing and fondling each other. Sex on command was a little weird but also a little exciting. Once we were both aroused, Sheila had Lydia take pictures of Diane's vulva and my erection. Diane lay back on a cushion placed on the floor amidst the plants. I got above her and slid into her. "Don't worry about being motionless," Sheila told us, "That's not how people have sex. But please do take as long as you can."

Diane and I had learned how to keep each other stimulated but short of orgasm and enjoyed doing that. Not focusing on getting each other off left us more aware of our surroundings. I could hear Sheila's pencil on her paper. I was aware of Lydia moving around to photograph us from different angles. At one point, Diane raised her eyebrows. I leaned my head down and she whispered in my ear, "this is pretty weird doing it with them watching, but it is fun."

We made love casually for what seemed a very long time. Finally, Sheila said, "please, bring each other to orgasm now." I sped up and began pushing my dick against one of Diane's most sensitive spots. Having stimulated each other for that long had built up a tremendous need for release in both of us. We came almost simultaneously, and powerfully. As I kissed Diane after our orgasms, I heard Lydia say, "that was beautiful."

Driving home, Diane said, "I must be pretty kinky."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I really enjoyed us fucking while Sheila and Lydia watched," Diane answered. I'd enjoyed it. That Diane did too made me love her even more.

We had several sessions with Sheila and Lydia that summer. We were drawn and photographed while I ate Diane, while Diane sucked me, and while we masturbated each other. Sheila had us fuck with Diane on top, doggy style, standing up, and on our sides facing each other. One of the best sessions involved the four of us taking a boat captained by a friend of Sheila's to a small barrier island in the Gulf. Diane and I got to fuck in the surf while Sheila drew, and Lydia took pictures.