My Career as a Nude Model

OK, “career” is a bit of an exaggeration, because I never earned any money from it, but when I was in my late teens I did do some modelling work on a strictly amateur basis. Let me explain.

I met Cathy on our very first day of school. She was a pretty, funny, friendly girl and we became friends, like k**s do at that age. We weren’t special friends or anything, we were just mates; chums – whatever.

When we moved up into secondary school she was beginning to develop from a gawky girl into being a good-looking young lady. Her hips widened; her breasts flowered. But we were still no more than friends. We’d chat, gossip, joke – maybe even share a coffee or a Coke at break time. But that’s as far as our friendship went.

By the time we entered our last year of school she had blossomed into a gorgeous creature. Tall, slim, with long blonde hair and legs that seemed to go on forever. I really rather fancied climbing all the way up them. She started to feature in my masturbation fantasies fairly regularly.

Although we were studying some of the same subjects we didn’t actually share any classes. Ours was a large school with 3 or 4 classes in most subjects. The only time we did collide in class was the weekly afternoon of “games”. Even then, in winter she played field hockey whilst I played rugby. In summer we both took part in track & field athletics but again not in the same events. Mind you that didn’t stop me getting pleasure from watching her play hockey in those sexy short skirts and games knickers or her tight ass-hugging shorts viewed from behind as she settled into her sprinter’s blocks. She really had a gorgeous arse. And I enjoyed viewing it.

Our school playing fields were several miles from the campus and private buses were laid on to get us too and from the changing rooms. One day I missed the last bus back to campus so was faced with waiting 40 minutes for the next public bus service. But at least there was an Italian coffee bar across the road from the bus stop. I think they got a lot of business from k**s who missed the free bus service.

On entering the café, I spotted Cathy. She was sitting at a table near the back, nursing a cappuccino. I ordered the same and joined her. We chatted about this and that. Gossip, teachers, more gossip… you get the idea. She asked me about my plans to go to Edinburgh University and I asked her about her own plans to go to the Glasgow School of Art.

Cathy told me that she was pretty positive about her application but was still working on her portfolio of work. This would be reviewed by the Professors before she could be offered a place. She said that she was pretty confident overall but was concerned that she didn’t have enough life studies in the portfolio for comfort. I asked what she meant, and she said she felt she didn’t have enough sketches or paintings of nudes that were worth including. Particularly nude males.

“School pays for a few sessions with life models, male & female, but they don’t give us enough time to do a really good job for the needs of the Fine Art Department. It’s probably enough to produce work for a less prestigious college but not for the GSA.

“It’s possible to hire models privately but you also need to pay for a chaperone. I’d need at least 40 hours and there is just no way my parents could afford it.” She sounded a bit downhearted.

“Look,” I said after a short silence, “if it helps I’d be willing to be a nude model for you, so long as you don’t show the pictures around”.

Cathy went quiet and lowered her eyes down to her empty coffee cup.

“That’s a kind offer. Thank you. But I feel kinda strange. I’ve known you so long that it would be like seeing my brother naked. I’m not sure how I would handle that.”

“It’s just a body, shouldn’t you as an artist be able to separate your personal feelings from your professional eye?”

“I should, but I’m not sure if I can. It’s a bit frightening. If I can’t be unemotional about drawing a friend who is naked, then maybe I’m not a real artist.”

“There’s only one way to be sure. Maybe it would be better to find out now rather than later. But be honest, have you ever thought of me in a sexual context. Have you ever wanted to have sex with me, or are we just good friends?”

She laughed out loud. “No, I’ve never thought about you in a sexual sense,” then giving a wicked little smile “at least up till now!

But I appreciate your offer. Let me think about it and I’ll call you over the weekend.”

Cathy’s bus turned up a few minutes before mine and I saw her off with a kiss on the cheek, which she returned sweetly. I realised I’d never kissed her before.

Late on Sunday evening the phone in my house rang. I picked it up before my mother could and said “Hi”.

“If you are still offering to be my model” she said without introducing herself, “then I’d be really grateful to accept.”

I said I would and we arranged that I would go back with her to her house the following Tuesday afternoon. We both had double “free periods” so could leave campus before 2pm.

* * * * *
That Tuesday we left school separately, but met up at the bus stop around the corner for the school in plenty of time to catch a bus which would drop us near Cathy’s house.

It was then just a few minutes’ walk to the detached 3-storey villa set back from the road behind a screen of mature trees.

Cathy let us in with her key and we went directly upstairs to her studio. This was a purpose-built room taking up most of what used to be the attic. There were huge picture windows let into the roof so that it was bright, airy, clean, and fitted out with everything that a serious artist could want. There were also a couple of armchairs and a 3-seater settee ranged around a coffee table. Next to a sink I saw a fridge, a kettle, a toaster, roll of kitchen towel, and a small gas cooker.

Removing her school tie Cathy locked the door behind us. There was a slightly self-conscious hiatus which I broke by saying, with somewhat forced enthusiasm, “OK, I guess I better get out of my clothes”.

Cathy made no response so, facing her, I commenced to remove my shoes, shirt, socks, trousers and, finally, my underpants.

My cock was semi-erect but was gradually getting harder and I was amused to see that Cathy was blushing slightly as she stared at my full-frontal nakedness – my cock rising slowly under her gaze.

“What does it feel like when you are getting hard?”

“Well, it’s very pleasant. There’s a sort hot feeling as the blood flows into my penis and it starts to swell. Then my balls tighten and tingle and there’s a sort of pleasurable ache that creeps down the inside of my thighs.”

She watched in silence as my cock grew and my glans started to emerge from my foreskin. I was really getting turned on.

“Where do you want me to sit?”, I asked.

She hesitated then dragging her eyes from my now rigid cock said “Oh, well, why don’t you sit on the settee?”

I did as requested, with my legs close together and my cock pointing upwards.

“Can you lift your left leg up and lay it across the settee, so I get a good view of your cock?”

I did as requested.

“OK, now lie back a little and move your bum forward a little so I can see your balls.” Again, I complied with her request.

“Good, just relax while I sketch in your position.”

“Can you put a cushion in the small or my back as it’s a bit uncomfortable. I’m not sure I can hold this position for too long without getting stiff.”

“You look stiff as it is,” she joked as she thrust a cushion behind me.

I did as requested, and I felt very aroused. It wasn’t the first time (far from it) that I’d been naked with a woman, but it was the first time I’d been so closely examined by one.

Faced by Cathy’s concentrated silence my erection gradually subsided.

“I’m not trying to produce an overtly erotic sketch,” she said. “I want it to be a picture of a nude boy comfortable in his nakedness. You need to look relaxed, natural. Your penis needs to be reasonably firm but not fully erect.”

“So, semi-turgid, to be anatomical about it”, I said “perhaps it should rest against my thigh whilst I read a book; which may or may not be the cause of my incipient arousal?”

“That works for me,” she laughed.

I waited patiently whilst Cathy sketched. I was intrigued by the serious look on her face and I realised she wasn’t drawing me in a sexual way but just drawing what she saw in a totally detached and neutral manner. Oddly I found that a bit arousing, so I had to distract myself by mentally reciting some poetry from memory.

After 20 minutes or so we took a break. It actually felt totally natural to be bollock naked in the presence of this gorgeous girl as we sipped coffee and chatted about inconsequential school gossip.

“Right,” Cathy said, clapping her hands, “back to work. Assume the position!”

I rearranged myself back on the settee to Cathy’s directions.

“Move you leg a little to the left.”

“Part your legs a bit more.”

“Not so much.”

“Pull your balls forward a bit.”

“Take more of your weight on your right buttock.”

“Turn your ankle a little to the right.”

“Your cock needs to be a little harder.”

I complied with her every direction, including stroking myself for a short while so as to achieve the required state of firmness.

I mentally drifted off into thoughts of my own. It was almost as if I had moved out of my body and was only reminded of it when instructions such as “your need to be harder” or “don’t squirm” were given.

“My arse is getting numb,” I replied to the demand not to squirm.

“I won’t be much longer now, so put up with it please.”

True to her word in just a few minutes more Cathy said “That’s it. I’ll finish it off tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

“No, it’s just tidying up some lines and finalising shading. But I’d like to do some more sketching over the weekend. If you’re up for it”, she laughed.

“I think I can manage that, what sort of picture are you thinking of doing?”

“I’m not sure at the moment, I need to do two or three general nude studies and some close detail sketches.”

I asked what she meant by “close detail” and she explained that she needed to sketch body parts, such as hands, feet, thighs etc.

“I’ve got plenty female stuff but could do with some male ones as there are differences. I’d also like to do some of your penis and testicles.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Both.”

Whilst we were chatting Cathy had taken a part-opened bottle of white wine from her little fridge and poured us each a large glass.

“Cheers”, I said as I took my first sip.

“Bottoms up”, she replied and we both laughed.

We sat in silence on the settee for a few heartbeats.

“I’d never realised quite how beautiful a penis is. It’s remarkably complex, full of ridges, connecting tissue, and your big red knob.”

I said nothing.

“The same with testicles. Or at least with a scrotum, the testicles being inside the scrotum I suppose.”

I said nothing.

“I’ve never seen a cock or balls close up before. It always seemed rude to stare at the school models’ genitals.”

I said nothing, just sipped my wine.

“Would you mind if I touched yours?”

This was a question which demanded an answer. Saying nothing was not an option, but “yes please” seemed to be a little too forward. So, I contented myself by replying, “be my guest.”

Cathy’s fingers, cool from holding the glass of white wine, curled around my balls and stabs of pleasure shot from them straight to my ass-hole and down the inside of my thighs.

Cathy cupped her hand around my balls before sliding it up onto my cock to close around my now rock-hard erection.

I couldn’t help myself. My back arched as I thrust my cock in and out of her hand. Fucking it energetically as my body spasmed into a sudden, intense and messy orgasm.

“Wow”, she said still stroking my spunk drenched cock and rubbing my juice into my tingling balls, “where did that come from”!

When I got my breath back under control I said that I didn’t know where it had come from, but that I hoped it would come again!

Cathy crossed over to the sink and tearing some kitchen towel from a roll commenced to wipe me clean.

“I don’t suppose you have a condom handy”?

“Actually, I do. There’s a pack in my brief case.”

As I rummaged in my case for the well-hidden pack Cathy started to undress. If I’d needed any encouragement to stay hard she dispelled the need.

She first removed her skirt revealing that her long legs were encased in black stockings held up by a lacey white suspender (garter) belt with matching panties over the suspender straps. It was wonderful.

Next, she unbuttoned her white blouse and shrugged it off. Her white bra matched the rest of her lingerie. Moving towards me she slid her panties down giving me a good view of her pubic hair. I was intrigued to see that it was trimmed into a neat V and the hairs were all about ½ an inch long. I’d never seen a bush that had been hair-styled before.

As she drew her panties down a thin ribbon of pussy juice which was leaking from pussy and was adhering to the cotton gusset of her panties stretched down with them. She clearly was more than just a little aroused.

As I rolled a condom onto my swollen cock Cathy finally removed her bra so show a pair of small, tight, firm tits. Her nipples were swollen and red and as she stood over me I took them, in turn, into my mouth.

Cathy swung herself onto the settee and pulling me on top of her said “just get on with fucking me please”.

So, I did as instructed.

She came quickly and urgently almost as soon as I entered her. Even though my cock was encased in rubber I could tell that she was sopping wet and so I simply started thrusting myself in and out, slowly at first. Then speeding up before slowing down again.

I counted her cumming another two or three times before I too finally achieved a second massive orgasm.
The sweat on our skin and the cunt juice which was by now coating my balls and inner thighs, caused our bodies to stick together, so when me pulled apart we had to wash each other using water boiled in the kettle. That was fun too but as we finished I heard a car draw up in the drive.

“That was good timing,” Cathy said, grinning from ear to ear, “mum’s home already.”

“How are you going to explain me being here?”

“I’m not. She’ll have a cup of coffee before driving to the station to pick up dad. You can leave then.”

“Will she know you are here?”

“Yeah, I hung my jacket up downstairs, but she won’t come up. I’ll go down in a few minutes to say hello. I’ll tell her I’ve been sketching.” She laughed, “But I won’t tell her what I’ve been sketching!”

We sipped our wine in silence as we waited but then Cathy said “Actually, I’ll go down now and if she asks I’ll offer to come with her to pick up dad. You can slip out when we go.”

I said that sounded good to me but suggested that she might want to splash some perfume around in case she had an odour of sex that might be noticed in the car.

We laughed at this and then promising to speak tomorrow Cathy went downstairs leaving me to finish off the wine and hoping it wouldn’t be too long before she wanted my services as a life model again. The pay was wonderful.

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