tagRomanceThe Sculptor

The Sculptor

byRoniGrace©

It wasn't a hard decision. In art school, I had taken many Life drawing classes which used a nude model. I didn't really have an qualms about my body so I figured it was no big deal. Besides, you try making a living as a potter. I really needed the extra cash, and it was a lot for a couple of hours lying around naked.

I arrived at his studio in my ripped up blue jeans and black Dresden Dolls t-shirt. I normally would have worn a dress or something when I knew I would be hanging out with someone that adorable, but I figured what was the point. I would be taking my clothes off soon enough. Where's the mystery in that?

He smiled as he opened the door and waved me in. His black, silken hair was pulled back with just a few sexy strands falling in his face. His deep brown eyes gave me a quick once over, making sure I would do for his model. He seemed satisfied and gave me a reassuring smile.

He led me in to the room and showed me where I could disrobe. He had left a nice silk robe for me to put on until it was time. I came out as he was pulling mounds of clay out of a cabinet. He told me to just relax while he got finished setting up.

As I sat there waiting, I looked around the room at the sculptures he had made. They were all so wonderful. Every little detail seemed to pop and give life to the piece. He was quite talented, and I felt privileged that I was about to become his next sculpture.

When he was ready, he asked me to sit in the chair he had set. I was nervous, but I tried to hide it as best I could. I think he knew this and gave me another of those reassuring smiles. He was so beautiful. I started to think he should have been the model instead of me.

He asked me to slip the robe off over my shoulders and let it fall down around my elbows and waist. This left my breasts exposed, but nothing below the mid-line was showing. He gently positioned my body the way he wanted it, turning my shoulders a bit one way, pulling my chin up the other. His touch was so gentle and yet firm enough to show me exactly what he wanted. He didn't speak much, but the intensity in his eyes showed everything I needed to hear. He knew exactly how he wanted things and would work until he got it right.

He had positioned me so that I was looking at him while he worked. This pleased me beyond measure. He was so focused and purposeful, and I loved watching how he moved the clay around until he got what he wanted out of it. His eyes would squint as he observed the angle of my nose or the roundness of my cheeks. His eyebrows would raise as he stood back and contemplated the next step. I was mesmerized. But what intrigued me the most was his hands. They were so strong and yet could make the most gentle movements. His fingers were long and graceful, and his whole body often moved in sync with what his hands were doing. It was like a dance.

We took a break and I got up and stretched. He offered me a drink and a snack. He didn't say much, but was warm and friendly. I walked around and looked at the rest of the work he had. It was all so incredible. I was really jealous of his talents.

We went back to work and he told me that now he would be touching me a bit, to get the feel of what he was trying to accomplish. I was so excited that I would get to feel his hands on me that much more. He put his hands on my face, probing and feeling along the ridge of my eyebrows, then down along my cheekbones. He softly stroked over my cheeks and down to my jawline. He closed his eyes as he felt my jawbone and mouth. He worked his hands back up to my forehead and felt along my hairline, ever so slowly. He moved down to my temple and through my hair to my ears. Feeling my ears he paused and smiled, his eyes still closed. Then his hands went into my hair and massaged around in my scalp. This felt so amazing to me that I had to close my eyes and surrender to the tingly sensation that was now wandering down my spine.

He finally stopped, but it seemed like an eternity that he ran his fingers in my hair. He held my skull a minute, as I brought myself back to the room. I think he didn't want to disengage without me acknowledging his presence. I opened my eyes, sort of in a haze and I am quite sure with a stupid grin on my face. He smiled at me when I saw him and held my gaze a moment. This was starting to become the biggest, longest tease I could have imagined.

He went back to sculpting. I saw him staring at me, but somehow this felt different than just trying to visualize a piece of art. It was more like he was looking at me... smiling at me.

It was time to call it a day. My back was sore and I needed a rest. He said goodnight and sent me home. On my walk to the car, I felt as if he was watching me from the window above. I didn't look back, but I was quite sure he was there.

The next day started off much the same. He was still quiet, but somehow friendlier. I got into my "wardrobe" and sat in the same position. This time he was working on my torso. After the initial first bit of working up the general shape, he came over again to do his "feel-through". He started this time on my neck, gently probing his way around the muscles and flesh. He slowly worked down to the collar bone, out through the shoulders and then came back and started to feel my upper ribs. This was all a slow build up to where things started to change. Ever so softly, he worked his hands down to my breasts.

My nipples hardened was he felt around the soft, roundness of my tits. He stopped, tentatively and asked, "Is this okay?"

"Heh," I stumbled for an answer, "Yeah, it's fine.". Better than fine. Perfect, actually. Oh Christ.

He fumbled for a minute, touching, feeling my nipples that were now pointed up towards the sky, ready to be sucked and pinched. It was about then that I realized my pussy was dripping and I was getting so unstoppably turned on. This was bad.

He stopped and I opened my eyes. He was staring at me, and if I could read him right, longingly. My heart was beating like a drum. He broke our gaze and went back to his work station.

I watched him, intent on trying to determine if he was feeling what I was. Once in a while, I thought I saw him blush a bit when he looked at my breasts. He would look at them, and then look me in the eyes for a second, almost out of embarrassment. It was quite a turn on for me, but then, I didn't really need any help in that department.

The rest of the day I felt like I was on a razors edge. I couldn't sit still and the day dragged on forever. I was so horny and here was a really sexy guy staring at and even grabbing my tits! This was so unfair!

When I got home for the night, I had to break out the vibrator. There was just no getting around it. I let the shimmering sensation glide along my clit and pushed it deep into my cunt until I came in such a wave that it made me shiver. But I knew this wasn't going to be enough. I knew I had to have him, and this desire wasn't going to end until I did.

When I returned the next day, he had not pulled his hair back from his face. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of faded, almost broken through jeans. He smiled coyly at me and said hello. He still didn't say much when he spoke, but I didn't really care, it wasn't his voice I wanted, it was something far lower on his body.

He sat me down and got me set up, this part had become routine. This was the first time I had really seen his arms as they were always covered in longer sleeves. They were strong and lean. The definition in the muscles was clear. Even if I didn't know what he did for a living I would have been able to tell he worked with his hands in a strong capacity. And I could just make out the outline of his abs under the shirt. So strong, so sexy. My imagination was getting the better of me.

He went back to work behind the sculpture, pushing and pulling the clay to make it what he saw. His hands were gray with mud and he sometimes wiped his hair from his face with them, leaving behind a streak of gray on his cheek or in his hair. I wondered why he didn't pull it back like he had the last few days, not that I mined - it only made me want him more.

After a while, he came over and started feeling my waist. He rubbed his hands along my ribcage, staring at my torso, studying it. I was starting to feel like he knew my body better than anyone. As he felt, I looked down and saw the streak of gray mud left behind on my naked flesh. This made me feel like I was his clay, his medium to mold and push and pull the way he wanted me. I couldn't stand it any longer. He looked up at me after I took a trembling breath and, when he did, I kissed him.

He kissed me back, but only for an moment. Then he pushed me away. I sat there, rejected and embarrassed. I got back into my pose, but I knew I was trembling. I couldn't control it. My leg was shaking and I felt nauseous. I tried to breath to calm myself down, but it was very difficult to do. I couldn't keep still.

He worked for a moment and watched me. He saw that I was struggling. That much was clear. After a while, he realized that we couldn't brush this off. He came back and knelt before me. He touched my waist again, just as before. I closed my eyes, wanting to feel his touch and not wanting to see his eyes on me. His hands were covered in wet clay and he rubbed them along my sides. I trembled, trying not to let him see.

His hands worked their way back up to my breasts. One gently probed and the other moved around to my back. Then he pulled me in, closer. I thought he was trying to adjust my position, but then I felt his lips on mine, this time he was in the lead.

I didn't open my eyes. I thought it would be better to believe this was a fantasy. His kiss became more forceful and then he pulled back and I felt his tongue following the line of my top lip.

The hand that was on my breast now moved up and grabbed the back of my head. I felt him push his tongue deeper into my mouth again and the kisses became more fierce.

My hands slipped out of the sleeves of the robe and felt for the bottom of his shirt. I got my hands up underneath and finally felt the muscles of his stomach. So warm... So strong...

I brushed my hands up and found his nipples, giving them a little rub as I went. He pulled back and let me pull his shirt up over his head.

I finally opened my eyes and saw the beautiful man before me. He smiled, gratefully at me then pulled me back into him, our bare chests now pressed together.

I let my robe fall open the rest of the way, exposing the rest of my body to him. He kissed me, and then licked his way down to my nipple. He suckled my breast, adding a little bite as he worked. I knew I couldn't wait much longer.

I slid my hands down to his jeans. I first tried to slip my hand inside, but soon found there wasn't enough space for my hand and what else was going on in there. I fumbled open the buttons and pushed the pants down his hips far enough to release his manhood into my grip. He was as hard as I was wet. I loved wrapping my hands around it. He felt strong and ready.

He kissed me again, this time with increasing force. He wanted me, and I was going to give him what he wanted. I pushed his pants down farther and massaged his balls. He sighed with pleasure as I tugged and then pumped his cock a few times with my other hand. He was so close to me and we were both ready.

He ran his hands down to my hips and moved me to the edge of the chair. I still had his cock in my hand, and I was stroking him firmly. The head was near my vagina at this point and I spread my legs farther and brought him close. He reached his clay covered hands down and grabbed his cock. He rubbed the head on my clit. It was so warm and soft; I was so wet and slippery.

He rubbed it a few times while he kissed me lightly. I tried to bring my head up to kiss him harder, but he pulled back. He was again in control.

He gave me a devilish smile as he teased me with the head of his cock almost in my cunt. He knew I wanted him deep inside me, but he wanted to know I wanted him more than anything. I wasn't waiting any longer. After a few false starts, I reached around, grabbed his ass and pulled him deep into me.

He moaned as his balls hit my ass and I moaned as his cock pressed deep into my cervix.

He started off slow, making the longing grow, making me want him harder and deeper with each push.

I brought my right leg up, knee to shoulder, trying to give him the most access I could. I had always been limber, so this position felt amazing. In he went, deeper and deeper. He built up speed until he was slapping hard against my bottom, making that lovely whacking sound that you know means you are being fucked good.

I felt my first orgasm building. I took a few deep breaths and asked him to slow down a bit. He did and as I got closer I moaned "Deeper!!!"

I felt the full force of his weight press into me and then pull out, and again, all the way in, and then back, and again... Then it came. I started shaking underneath him as my pussy started sending out it's waves of pure pleasure throughout my body. He pressed harder as he heard me cumming, more motivated now hearing and feeling my pleasure.

When he knew I was done, he pulled out and motioned me to turn over. I gladly obliged. Now on my knees, i bent forward against the chair and grabbed the sides as he held my hips and put his penis head on my clit. He let it rub against me for a minute, priming me again. I spread my legs a bit farther apart for more access. He straightened up and pressed in again and began to pump me from behind. I pressed back with my hands making the force greater, fucking him back with all I had. He let out a sigh as he pumped and ground his way harder into me. I squeezed my pussy muscles as hard as I could as he pumped, trying to give him more pleasure.

After a few minutes like this he pulled back and sat in the chair. I straddled him and kissed him as I sat down on his cock. I moved my hips forward and back a few times, allowing his cock to massage my insides. He pulled me closer and held me as I enjoyed this feeling of being filled up inside. He seemed to enjoy seeing me derive so much pleasure from having him inside of me. He smiled as he watched me arching my back and riding him in ecstasy.

I felt another orgasm building so I placed my feet on the ground and pressed my hips up, rising almost off of him and then coming back down hard on his cock. He made a face, and I knew he was trying to hold back his orgasm, so after a few more bucks, I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I want you to come with me and I want to know you came hard..."

I then increased my thrusts and took my breaths. He reached up and pinched my nipple and that put me over the edge. I came; loud and strong, and feeling me come pushed him to a very intense orgasm. He moaned at the top of his lungs, pressing his hips up to meet mine in a strong, deep orgasm that lasted minutes for both of us. I kept feeling waves coming over me, even as I collapsed over him in an exhausted heap.

We sat there for a while, him holding me like a baby. When finally felt I could move, I sat up and looked at the mess he had made of me with his clay covered hands. I dismounted, and surveyed the damage. We both were covered in gray streaks and clumps of muddy clay.

I turned to pick up the robe, when he let out a little chuckle. I looked at him, quizzically and he said he had "Left his mark," on my ass. I turned my bottom towards the mirror, and sure enough, there was a hand-print there. I laughed and asked him if I should get it tattooed on. He said no, but he did have some paint...

Needless to say, the sculpture came out beautifully, and in tribute, his hand-print was placed on the butt cheek of my likeness. He has kept it for sentimental reasons. And I have kept him for... other reasons...

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