I have been blessed with many loves throughout my life, thanks to my polyamorous nature and irresistible charms. Part of those blessings has been a myriad of shared erotic fantasies, poetry, and experiences. Since last week’s rant-inspiring craziness from Miss Bitchy Pants, I’ve had the urge to share some of those wonderful aspects of my lifestyle with all of you. It’s only fair that if you get to see my anger when defending my loves, you should also get to see the joy that I have received from these beautiful souls. First up is an adaptation of an erotic short story sent to me years ago by my girlfriend of 6 years (on and off, but still… Hi Cheri!). Why an adaptation? It’s not because I think her work is poor… it’s because I want to keep her exact words for myself. Call me greedy.
The Art Class
Annie stands in front of a room full of aspiring artists in a simple beige bathrobe, not understanding how she actually managed to call up the courage to do this. The instructor, an aging hippie with silvery-gray hair pulled back into a ponytail, was droning on and on about artistic techniques which she had no real understanding of – although she thought she heard him talking about how the lighting was going to brighten her skin tone. She inwardly flinched and had an image of her untanned body blinding those unlucky fools in the front row. She could see the title of one of their paintings clearly, “Blinded by Chubby Girl.” Why was she doing this?
The instructor clears his throat, catching Annie’s attention, and motioned her up onto the stage. His smile was an attempt at encouragement, but it just made Annie cringe at all her perceived body flaws. Her boobs were too small and her nipples were too big. Her belly was round and scarred. Her ass was flat, her hips non-existent. Her best feature, and Annie used the term “best” ironically, are her chicken legs. Thank goodness she’d be able to keep her thighs together so they wouldn’t be able to see the wrinkly folds of her pussy! Seriously, why was she doing this? Annie closes her eyes and tells herself to bolt for the door.
Instead the soft cotton falls from Annie’s shoulders and onto the raised stage floor. The cold studio caresses her nudity as she uses her feet to kick away the robe. Annie feels her nipples (already too large to be captured on canvas, damnit!) harden even more. Every hair on her arm was standing straight up. She was going to wrap her arms around her chest, to hell with any complaints about her shyness, until she hears a gasp from the back of the room. It wasn’t a gasp of rejection, as Annie’s fear had tried to convince her would be the only response, but of need. Of want. Annie instantly warms when she hears it and her nerves flee.
Her eyes open slowly. Most of the students are diligently scribbling or scratching away at their canvases, giving her cursory glances and then looking back to their interpretations. Annie stays as still as she can, but scans to find the source of the sound that had saved her from self-loathing. She finds “him,” and their gaze locks and Annie can feel the unhinged lust and desire like a flamethrower. He never wavers in his stare. His hands are moving about his canvas, but his eyes never leave her. Annie feels like he was drinking her in, and it is intoxicating.
A small tremor of desire pulses through Annie’s core like a damp jolt of electricity. Her arousal begins to flow, seeping down her thighs, and against the hippie’s constant whispered instructions to hold still Annie shifts her thighs slightly, opening herself to this one man. A small smirk crosses his face when he gets a view of Annie’s wet excitement and his hand moves even more furiously to capture it. Her breathing becomes quicker and more shallow, her heart beats as if it wants to escape its cage, and she begins to softly bite her lower lip as her body prepares to release a wave of ecstasy.
Some small part of Annie’s mind wonders how this is even possible when this man hasn’t even touched her yet… but that part is ignored as Annie teeters on the edge of orgasmic bliss. She knows he wants her to cum, she sees it in his slightly raised eyebrow and naughty grin. Just as she is about to grant his desire, the art teacher places the robe back around her shoulders and announces that’s all the time they have for tonight. The teacher thanks Annie, and the class gives her some applause in thanks, but Annie barely hears any of it. All she sees is the disappointment in her lover’s eyes as she is covered up. So she gives him a smirk of her own and asks the silent question.
He grins and nods, and Annie knows they’ll be finishing this project… in a private studio for two.