The Painter, Her Naked, My Boner

THE PAINTER, HER NAKED, MY BONER, AND ME

There we were. The painter, her naked body, me--also naked--and my boner. I had called her, told her my friend needed a nude model for his painting and asked if she'd be interested in doing it. "Sure," she said without batting an eye. I told her he wanted a nude male model as well. "That's okay," she said. "You can pose naked, can't you?"

I could, but I could not be naked around her without sprouting a painful hard on. "That's okay," my painter friend said when he saw me standing with a full blown boner, "I can leave it off." So there I was posing naked with the wife of a friend and I had the stiffest boner I'd ever had. After a half an hour, he asked if we could maybe do some "sexual stuff." That was like asking the Pope if he'd wear robes. She loved the chance and I loved having the chance to do it with her.

We began to make love on the bed on the platform and he painted away. I pushed it in, repeated the process, and enjoyed the hell out of doing it. When we were finished she asked him if he wanted a piece of ass for his trouble, but he said, "No thank you. I am gay."

She was my good friend's wife. She was sexually voracious, and she simply loved to fuck. She would do anyone, and probably had. I didn't care. She wasn't my wife. She continued to model for Martin for the rest of the summer and her husband didn't have a clue, not until the painting was put up in the studio on Main Street and the resemblance was absolutely striking. There she was, in all her glory, standing naked on a beach, with the wind blowing through her hair, her arms out to the side, her legs wide apart, and her face turned toward the viewer as if to say, "Here I am for you to see for as long as you like. Take a long look."

Every time her husband went into the shop he stared at that picture and did not ever say a thing about how much that naked lady looked like the mother of his children. She posed for Martin all summer. There were many other paintings of her floating around the village. One in the cafe, one in the clothing store, and one, most prominently displayed, in the visitor's center.

Martin was a favorite artist in the village on Balboa Island and everyone wanted to display his beautiful nudes, so they were everywhere, and I was sure Carl saw all of them, and I am pretty certain he knew who they were of. None of the sexual things were displayed publicly, but Martin had them in his studio and everyone who saw them knew who had posed for the graphic, erotic paintings.

Martin got some interest from some of his clients for the sexual things, so he asked me if I thought I could get her to pose for more of the porn pictures. I called her and she liked the idea, especially because he said he would pay her $500 each sitting.

She wanted to know where the buyers lived and was pleased to find out all of them lived out of the area. We posed again for a series of porn pictures running from out and out fucking, oral, and a couple of soft core. Posing with her was fun, since the hard on wasn't a problem and having sex with her for hours was tough work but somebody had to do it. I was happy to sacrifice myself for the sake of fine art.

Martin called me and asked if we'd be willing to pose for a threesome print and I said it sounded like fun. When I told Tonya she had the same reaction. We posed for a week and the painting, two feet by three feet, was sold to a buyer from San Fernando Valley. His name was Carlton Preston and he lived just over the pass from Los Angeles. However, he was looking for beach property and found a wonderful waterfront home on Balboa Island, just down from where I lived.

When Carlton Preston moved to the island he proudly displayed his pride and joy in his living room. Being a rather libertarian bachelor he had no hesitation to display his favorite piece prominently in his new home, even though it was basically porn. Mr. Preston also was a very social person and entertained regularly, giving big parties and social gatherings in his new home for his neighbors and friends from out the area.

At the first party he gave, quite a few people were drawn to the sexually explicit painting in his living room. It was clear to many people who stood before it that it was Tonya who was sandwiched between two very well endowed males. At least Martin added inches in the painting. Most people at Carlton's parties were not scandalized by the subject of the painting, but they were quite clear about who they thought it was fully engaged with two men in the painting displayed over Carlton's mantle. No one seemed to care or notice who the men were with Tonya, but no one missed the identity of the female in the x-rated painting.

"Have you been to Carlton Preston's house," Bailey Franks asked me as I worked in the shoe shop. I shook my head, but I knew very well who the woman in the painting was. I also knew who the men were, since I was one of them. "It has to be Tonya Denton," he said. "She is being fucked by two men with huge cocks."

The huge cocks part made me smile, but he missed my grin or its significance. "Do you think we should tell Carl that his wife is in a pornographic painting in our new residence's home?" I said I didn't see any reason to.

"If he ever goes in there he will find out," I said. "Let it go." He just was dying to tell her husband about his wife's extracurricular activities. I knew it was just a matter of time, but I also knew her husband might also recognize at least one of the men in the painting.

"Do you know who the men are?" Bailey Franks asked me.

"How in hell would I know that?" I said. "Preston is from LA," I said. "How would I know?"

"Well, the broad is clearly Tonya Denton," he said. "Thought you might have an idea. Don't get your back up. I was just asking." I told him I had no idea, apologized for snapping, and dismissed it to him as not my business.

I went right to Martin and asked him how the hell his porn painting ended up on our bay front. "I sold it out of town," he said. "A guy decides to move, it's none of my business. Actually, it's kind of funny, don't you think?"

"It may not be funny if Tonya's husband starts looking for the guy who painted his wife fucking two dudes," I said. "Ever thought of that?" He hadn't and his mood changed abruptly when I mentioned it.

I said it may turn into something ugly. I was right, because almost over night it became the local mystery. Not whether it was Tonya, everybody assumed that, but who the two guys in the painting with her were. However, if anyone really looked closely they could see me clearly. It was just that nobody expected it to be me. Tonya they expected outrageous behavior from, but me? A shoe salesman? It was a little less obvious.

Most people in the village didn't know we were an item. At least they didn't know for sure. Most people knew she had affairs, but nobody knew who they were with. Most people just thought it was with pretty much everybody, although the wives in town just hoped it was not with their husbands.

The subject of conversation around the village, of course, was Tonya and the dirty painting she was in. I don't think anyone was talking about anything else but the x-rated painting on our new neighbor's wall.

At the next big party Carlton Preston had, one of the people there was Ralph Peters, a big Hollywood producer everyone wanted to get a selfie with. When he saw the painting, the only thing he wanted to know was do you want to sell it, then when turned down, where can I get one like it.

Carlton told him about where he got the painting and it was quickly traced back to Martin, who called me the next day and wanted to know if Tonya would pose again, and Mr. Peters wanted a threesome picture just like the one on Carlton Preston's wall. I was hesitant, but Martin assured me Peters lived in Hollywood and no one would see if from the village.

I called Tonya and she was thrilled. Another $500 and the fun of posing naked having sex. It was a big adventure for her. She loved adventure and she would do just about anything, especially if it had to do with sex. Her husband was not very exciting, and excitement was her obsession. She wanted to be perpetually passionate and constantly aroused.

Tonya was a risk taker and she loved to be sexually engaged as often as possible. When I told her Martin wanted to do some more erotic poses she was ecstatic. "Today?" she asked eagerly. I told her it would be Friday and we would go to his apartment at nine in the morning, that would give us all day.

"Will it be just you and me," she asked, "or will anyone else be there?" I knew she loved having others there. 'The more the merrier,' she would say. I assured her Peters wanted a threesome painting and there would, indeed, be another model there. His name was Marcus and he was tall, muscled, and black. That thrilled her since she had never been with a 'brother' before.

We arrived at Martin's at eight fifty, since she was so eager she wanted to get there as soon as possible. We were only there for enough time for her to kiss Martin hello, give Marcus a hug, and she began undressing. He was as eager to get started as she was and had his easel set up and ready. He wanted the first pose to be oral, with me on my stomach between her thighs, my face pushed against her pussy, sharing her sex with Marcus.

She was naked and ready in three minutes, and since the poses usually were in thirty minute increments, so that would mean I would be at her pussy for thirty minutes at a time most of the day. What an ordeal.

Eagerly she got on her back and opened her legs, then she smiled at me and Marcus between her creamy thighs. She kissed the air in our direction and closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of our lips on her lower lips. She sighed when they touched her sweet petals and she put her hand on top of each of our heads.

"Oh, yes," Martin said, loving the pose and encouraging her.

Marcus and I would take turns at her pussy, but the painting would have both of our mouths on her lips. Mr. Peters intended to hang the picture in his den. He also wanted to meet the model. When the painting was finished and delivered, he demanded to meet the model and told her he wanted to do some video of her receiving pleasure from two men at one time. He told her he would pay $10,000 per session and she could get far more by doing appearances after the film was released.

Tonya was enraptured and quickly agreed to do as many appearances as he wanted.

The film was made and released. Her first appearance was at a swingers resort in Beverly Hills and she had me come along. Her husband thought she was at a PTA convention and said he was happy she was finding an activity she enjoyed. Perhaps the only person in Newport who didn't know what she was doing was him.

The swinger members asked her to recreate the film in real life and she willingly complied. She signed autographs on women's breasts, napkins, and men's stomachs, and took selfies with numerous swingers in varying degrees of nudity. I posed with her in positions made famous by her films.

Her next appearance was in Hollywood and there were many producers and movie types there. She was at the height of he glory. One of the producers got her off alone and made her an offer: if she would do porn he guaranteed her $100,000 a picture. She's

signed that night and became a porn star over night. On the way back to Balboa Island she asked if I was having a good time.

"Oh, yeah," I said.

After her first picture was released, the word went around the village and it found its way to Tonya's husband who tried to ignore it as long as possible. When she got home from her three day trip to "her mother's" after filming was finished, he confronted her with the evidence, a flier from the film company that had made its way to his mailbox at the post office. It had her picture on the front. She told me all about it the next day.

"How do you explain this?" she said he asked her firmly.

"Well, what do you say to this?" she said, throwing the check they gave her for $200,000 on the desk in front of him. "This is my advance," she said. "There should be a check a month for at least five years," she told him. "I am guaranteed $500,000 for the first film, and could be more for the second. So that is how I explain this. It's the money, honey," she told me she said.

"I like sex and they pay for sex. So, you want me to stop?" she asked. He picked up the check and examined it. "How much was that truck you wanted?" Tonya said she asked him.

She called afterward and told me about their confrontation. "He says maybe I can keep doing it," she told me with a smirk in her voice. "If it is what I want to do. He says the money has nothing to do with his decision, yeah right," she said. "He says it is because he wants me to have something to do that I like, but he called the dealer right away about his new truck," she said.

Tonya has made three films, and I have had a part in one. I got $25,000 for my labor, but I am not a porn queen, and they pay better for queens than they do for peons.

Martin has become rather famous for his erotic paintings and has moved to a house on the waterfront. I am driving a used Mazda and live in a bigger apartment. My days as a nude model are numbered, as Tonya has moved on to more professional male models, and I don't begrudged her the success. She is a lot sexier than I am, so it was destined to happen.

It was fun as long as it lasted. After trying to pose without a hard on but failing, the erotic shots allowed an outlet where it didn't matter, in fact it was a plus and I never needed a fluffer, who is a woman to help you keep your hard on, but with me it was not something I ever needed, at least not with Tonya.