So, I think it’s time for me to give up the goods. Because I love, love, love you guys and you’re so awesome leaving feedback and reviews on amazon and Smashwords, and just reading my work. Today I’m making Model Behavior free. This story was previously published as a part of Here She Comes: three erotic short stories. And it will stay free
right here on this blog and on my website! Enjoy!
“You’re just so beautiful.”
Those were my actual, first words to the female model who sits for us art students. I came across her in the bathroom after class three weeks into the semester. I usually delayed and dallied after class to make sure I didn’t run into anyone, especially her. Sitting in that classroom for ninety minutes with her smack dab in the center of class all poised on that platform made me feel things I only shared in the dark of my bedroom. Sometimes after class I sat in the bathroom, pants around my ankles stroking my clit, thinking about her.
I was completely caught off guard running into her there. I don’t know why really. I knew she wasn’t just some doll that stood in front of us naked each week so we could learn how to accurately draw the human form. In the back of my mind I knew she was just a normal person, like me, who used the public restroom, got dressed, and put on her make up–though she didn’t need any.
I know I stood hovering at the entrance a little too long, swallowing, and breathing, and just being all around awkward. We never really spoke in class. But there she was. And there I was about a to go into a stall with every intention of strumming myself like a guitar to the tune of her face.
She was half dressed in tight jeans, her breasts out, nipples hard, pointing at me. Come here, they said to me, pert and perky.
Rachel looked different in her semi state of dress. Smaller, maybe. Like she was hiding. She didn’t seem real like this. Sitting – or standing – in the middle of class she always looked larger than life up on her pedestal. She looked like a real woman, commanding and in charge.
Somehow she kept all of our eyes trained on her, engaged and engrossed with every detail of her body, her face. And we always came back for more. Taking in every angle, every shadow, every curve. I often found myself too busy looking at her to draw. I would look at her, then at my easel, then immediately back at her as if I’d forgotten just that quickly what she looked like or what part of her I was drawing.
“Don’t you get tired of looking?”
I was staring. Shit! I just got caught staring at her. Shit, shit, shit! I swallowed hard and closed my mouth. I was practically drooling on myself. “You’re just so beautiful.” Shit! What I was thinking actually came out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to speak. I should have just gone into the bathroom stall, but it had already come out of my mouth. And it was the truth. She was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I probably looked like some silly, pervert, art geek just standing there in the bathroom staring at her.
I couldn’t stop staring. In class I was supposed to stare at her, really look at her. I was supposed to take her visually, touch her with my eyes and stroke her to life with my charcoal or paint brush. And I did. I did it all. I brushed my lips against her cheek, her shoulders, down her back, but only with my eyes.
Her face softened in the mirror and she smiled a little. My knees trembled when she did. She never smiled in class, wasn’t supposed to I guess.
“Thanks,” she shrugged and kept dressing. The way she analyzed herself in the mirror, I could tell she, perhaps, didn’t completely believe me. She didn’t really believe she was beautiful. I found it impossible that anyone who looked like that — lean and naturally muscular, with thick hips, real hips to hold onto, to move against –couldn’t see the beauty in themselves.
I moved toward the first bathroom stall, but stopped myself. “What’s it like? To be in front of all of us naked?” She lifted her eyes in the mirror finding me over her shoulder. Her skin flushed. I thought that was funny. Of all the times I’d seen her, now she felt embarrassed and shy talking to me in the bathroom. We are such complex creatures, I thought…
“It gets easier, I guess. I just picture you all in your underwear.” There it was again. That smile that set me off trembling. “The hard part is keeping still. So I focus on that. And trying not to laugh. I get the giggles so easily.” She turned around from the sink, breasts jiggling with the movement beneath her very thin, yellow knit top. She hadn’t bothered with a bra.
“Are you aware you make faces? It’s very distracting.” She was on the verge of laughing right now. I shook my head. I didn’t make faces, did I? I wrinkled my eyebrows thinking about it. I guess when I was concentrating I did scrunch my face up a bit.
“I didn’t realize.”
“What about you? What’s going through your head when you’re drawing me?”
It was my turn to blush. I felt the heat moving into my cheeks, up behind my eyes. What did I think about when I was drawing her? Her. The way her skin glowed seemingly from the inside out. That heart shaped mark on her shoulder. Was it a birthmark, a scar? How would it feel under my lips? Smooth? Raised like a tattoo? I thought about the dip beneath her arm that traveled down her side betraying the weight of her breast. And her breasts. How the right one was slightly, only slightly larger than the left. How the freckles danced around her nipples when the afternoon light stroked her bare skin and how much I wanted to be one of those delightfully playful freckles. I imagine her skin smelling like powder and honey and warmth. When her back was to me I thought about the delicate curve of her lower body. How she flowed like water and just how much I longed for a sip. She searched my face now and I knew my eyes and my slowly deepening breath had exposed my secret.
“Oh,” she whispered, her eyes still on my face. She brushed her dark curls out of her face. She didn’t shy away from my stare. I didn’t know what to say. We were both, surprisingly, more exposed than either of us would have preferred in that moment.
“I hope you don’t think I’m –”
“Does looking at me…make you, you know…aroused?”
I cleared my throat before my voice threatened to leave me all together. I saw my answer before I heard it. It sounded like someone else admitting my attraction, my lust for her. I felt like someone else standing there in front of her. “Yes.”
“Show me.” Her voice, a raspy command, stroked me as if she’d come right over and touched me. We stared in each other’s eyes. My cunt seized by her order, eager to show her, to prove what looking at her did to me. Show me, show me. Her words pumped along my veins. My cunt pulsed and twitched against the seam of my panties. I squirmed in my jeans and for once I was aware of the face I was making.
“Show me,” she repeated, slipping the tongue of her belt out of its buckle. She pushed her jeans past her hips, over her milk chocolate thighs and let them drop. She didn’t wear panties. The revelation had me clenching all over. I worked my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to…What? Will her closer? I was doing everything I could to believe this moment into a reality my consciousness could understand. No way was I about to pinch myself and pull out from this sweet, intoxicating dream. Her top fell to the floor next. Her heavy breasts available to my eyes once again without barrier.
“Show me.” Each time she said those two words my body reacted. My nipples tingled like an imaginary string pulled them up toward the ceiling. All the hairs on my body tugged my skin taught, and the sound of my heart beating in my ears threatened to deafen me. She moved toward me in the most fluid movements. She looked like a wanted woman. And she was. I wanted her so badly. I wanted to, for once, touch and not just look.
She had me pressed against the T-bar between two bathroom stalls in a matter of seconds. Her breasts touched mine. Her hard tips igniting fire between my legs each time she grazed my tits. I moaned into her mouth as our tongues met, licking at each other, struggling for dominance. Her mouth was hot and slick against mine. I clawed at her skin, leaving white traces of swirl lines over her dark skin where my fingers had been. Her shoulders were softer than I imagined, and strong. My eyes had only been able to relay so much detail. Beneath my fingers the subtleties of her skin and muscle, and bones came to life for me. My fingers roamed the landscape of her upper body mapping the contours and nuances just beneath the surface.
My head was spinning and I couldn’t catch my breath when she pushed me hard into the t-bar, raising my arms above my head, slipping my shirt off. We moved against each other, chest to chest, hip to hip. We were touching, but it wasn’t enough. Where the eyes are appreciative, the hands are greedy always wanting and seeking more. She pinched my nipples through my bra until I writhed beneath her delicate fingers. She was relentless, twisting and pulling until she had my bare breast out and in her hand, stroking me. My breath came fast and steady. I pushed my tits up toward her face. I wanted to feel her mouth on me. I’d drawn those lips and imagined them so many times I had to know what they felt like. She sucked my nipple into her mouth tugging the most urgent sound from my throat. She cupped my other breast in her palm.
“Let me show you.” The voice I heard didn’t quite sound like mine. It was deep and husky, a bit shaky, travelling from some dark, primal place from within me. She pulled my nipple hard with her lips and let it go, the sound of her smacking echoing all around us. I still hadn’t caught my breath, but I needed to get my jeans off. I wanted her to see, to feel, to know me.
She backed away slightly but kept contact, trailing her fingers over my exposed breasts. My jeans came undone with the flick of my wrist. Her hands snaked their way down my sides coming to rest at my hips. She steadied me as I lifted one leg out of my denim, then the other. The fresh air on my lower region gripped me and the dampness between my legs sent chills over my body.
With my head thrown back against the support beam and my eyes closed, my hand shifted toward my cunt. I slipped a finger down over my clit and stroked my hard, glistening bud between my thumb and finger. I could feel her eyes make the journey down, her lips kissing over my torso, down to my belly button, and stopping just above my mound. She hooked her fingers inside my panties, tugging them off slowly. I kept my hand against my pussy until she pushed it away.
“Show me,” she demanded. I could hardly hear her over my own dizzying panting and uncontrollable breathing. But I could tell she was no more in control than I was. The edge to her voice was slipping.
Her lips were plump, gentle forces spreading my legs apart. She pushed her tongue between my juicy, wet folds catching the weight of my leg on her shoulder. She gripped my ass, pulling me forward into her hungry mouth. She lapped at my arousal, tasting me before delving deeper with her tongue. My vision blurred as I felt her sweep over my clit with her tongue, back and forth only stopping every so often to encircle my clit and suck it into her mouth.
I felt my wetness spill down my thighs and the build up of the first wave hit me. My orgasm spiraled out from my clit upward, radiating through my entire body. My muscles tensed and relaxed like the ocean swaying in and out. Rachel rode my wave down to the last ebb on her tongue, kissing and gently licking me in time with each aftershock. She traced a finger up my thigh and circled my hole.
My cunt clutched at her fingers, pulling her in. She went slow. One finger at first, slipping in and out of me, applying just enough pressure right where I wanted it, her knuckle nudging and bumping my sensitive spot. I dug my heel into her back, motivating her until she slid a second finger inside of my wet, hot slit and then a third.
I rode her fingers hard, the fleeting thought that she, or I, or both of us may come away from this encounter bruised, slipped in and out of my mind just as she slipped in and out of my body. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Yes! I cried out, unable to control my spasming body against her manipulation. My rocking hips met each thrust she delivered with renewed energy until she hit the spot that always, always sent me barreling head first into the shuddering, mind exploding release that left me spent and slumped over my lover’s shoulders, gripping her close to me. Rachel did that to me.
She eased her fingers away and held me firmly until the last tremor passed through my body. I sank down to my knees beside her and rested my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t ready to make eye contact just yet, to let her see what she’d done to me. I grasped her shoulders and focused on slowing my ragged breath.
“I bet you’re making a face right now,” she whispered on my my neck, the sensation of her warm breath threatening one last tremor. She laughed softly in her throat pulling me closer. Her laughter vibrated against my shoulder and despite my urge to nestle in the crook of her neck, to stay there, my thoughts pushed me to my feet and I found my clothing along the way. I felt her eyes on me as I dressed. They were tender, skimming the surface of my body. Was this what she felt like up on that platform? I thought back to what she asked me, what had started this whole thing. ‘Does looking get me aroused?’ and I had a question for her now. I pulled my pants up, buttoning and zipping myself back in.
“Hey,” my voice still held on to that last bit of an after-sex gravelly tone, “Question.”
“Mmhm,” she didn’t bother to look up from buckling her belt. I watched her long fingers, the fingers that had just been inside of me, coaxing my pleasure from me, skillfully put herself together. She smoothed her hands over her thighs.
“Does being looked at, really looked at, get you, you know… aroused?” I smiled, raising my eyebrows playfully. She came over to me, a huge grin on her face. She stroked my chin with her fingers and tilted my head up toward hers.
“I think you know it does,” she damn near growled in my face. Rachel kissed me full on the lips, holding nothing back. I tasted the remnants of my arousal all over her. Her tongue, darting in and out of me, licking at the roof of my mouth, and the corners of my lips, set me on fire all over again. The kiss consumed me, sent me whirling and spinning into nothingness.
She explored me without hesitation, drew me deeper and deeper toward that sensual place that kisses lead to, but then eased away. My lips twitched for more of her as I tried to regain my composure, but she moved on to my neck, nibbling and planting kisses all along my pulse line. I felt her warm breath snaking up beside my ear.
“Same time next week,” she purred, setting off a network of sparks up and down my spine. She released me and I watched her go.
The wait between classes and seeing Rachel again was all I thought about. It wasn’t like I wondered what she’d be wearing, or what we would say to each other. That part was simple, easy. She’d be in the buff, we’d speak with our eyes. But I needed those eyes. I needed to look at her, touch her that way.
Rachel was, as usual, naked, perched atop the model’s platform at the center of our class when I saw her again. Her back was to the door as I entered the room. Her body tensed, then the smooth muscles of her back relaxed again. Did she know it was me? I kept my eyes on her as I walked around the platform and I swear I saw her smooth, dark skin flush. I observed the position of her body as I reached my seat. She was statue like, one leg stretched out, the other crossed over front creating the perfect curve, exposing her sex to me. She’d positioned herself directly in front of my seat. I could see everything, all of her. She was already moist and glistening, her clit hard and throbbing as my eyes sought her out.
Rachel had planned to combat my gaze with one of her own. My head buzzed. I looked around the room trying to see what angles everyone else had. I clearly had the best view. A smirk pulled at my lips and I saw Rachel trying not to smile as I settled into my seat. She dipped her head to compose herself, sneaking a long glance at me in the process. I wouldn’t last the full ninety minutes. There was no way. My pulse tripped along at an increasingly irregular clip and the moisture between my legs pooled quickly, making it difficult to concentrate on my drawing of Rachel. So much so I didn’t take my eyes off of her the entire time. I didn’t draw a single line.
Instead I drew my gaze up from the soles of her feet, over her legs. With my eyes, I bathed her legs in attention, pushing my whisper soft breath over her kneecaps and up her thighs. She raised her head slowly. From that motion I gathered she felt me on her. I exhaled gradually, audibly to maintain some sort of control, but it was a losing battle. Rachel half swallowed half murmured to herself, winning the attention of a few of the other students. She stilled herself and closed her eyes. If she thought she could escape my scrutiny by closing her eyes, she was wrong. I lifted my eyes up from her thighs and spread her legs wide. With my sight aimed on her twat I held her there. My desire seeped out of me and flowed into her as I teased and taunted with my stare.
I visually probed and fondled her sex until she was sighing and shifting at regular intervals. l fanned my view over her, sweeping up past her stomach to her breasts. She slumped in her shoulders, moaning against my concentrated touch. I plucked at her nipples making them stiff on contact. She arched her back, moving into my manipulation. I nibbled and licked a path up her neck until her head fell back, her breasts rising and falling with the inhale and exhale of her breath.
More than a few students looked up from their work. The added heat from their eyes pushed her further. She clenched and un-clenched her hands, her body making its descent into full blown pleasure. Rachel gnawed at her bottom lip pulling it into her mouth to stifle her cries while rocking down and around with her hips. Her breath, ragged and choppy, mingled with her moans and then her release. The look on her face as she leaned into the final quake of her pleasure was one of decadent satisfaction.
The silence in the room amplified after her exclamation. Everyone looked directly at her. Eyes darted back and forth, followed by low murmurs and modest gestures. A few students left the room. I found my breath just as irregular as Rachel’s as I fought my own inner trembling taking place.
I desperately wanted to see her eyes. No one else in the room mattered. Hers were the only eyes I needed to make contact with, to feel on my face. Show me, I thought. Show me.
When she lifted her head, her lashes were wet and her lips pursed together allowing only the thinnest stream of air to pass through. We were the only two people there in that moment. Rachel locked eyes with me from the center of the room.
“Don’t you get tired of looking?” She uttered, her voice strained and tired.
I shook my head slowly. “No. Never. Because you’re so beautiful.”