Mrs. M's Art Class

Early in my career, I had been an artist. Then, as responsibilities crowded out personal desires, I changed careers to something more lucrative. Still, I missed the creativity and sense of accomplishment when making art. So, once my career was doing well, and the finances allowed, I enrolled in a night class at the local community college. I wasn't sure what to expect, but nothing could have prepared me for what followed.

The first night of class, I brought along a new, untouched sketch book, several pencils, a pen, and a notebook. I guess I wanted to be prepared. I found the classroom after some searching, and it had ten other students waiting there besides me. No chairs, just stools. So, I took one and greeted everyone with an awkward nod.

Then our instructor entered the classroom, and my heart skipped a beat. She was absolutely stunning, and somewhat mature. I later found out she was thirty-eight. But she could easily have passed for thirty or even younger. Jet black hair that moved like silk, classic Mediterranean features with high cheekbones, a prominent chin, a long neck, and bright, expressive eyes. Then there was her body. Oh, god, what a body. Firm shoulders, a magnificent bosom that demanded attention (I later learned she was a 36C), a narrow waist, and broad hips. A classic hourglass figure ending in long, shapely legs that belonged on a supermodel.

"Good evening class." She greeted us. "Welcome to life drawing. I will be your instructor for this semester. You may call me Mrs. M."

Fluent English with the unmistakable touch of Italian accent. How in the world did this goddess end up working here?

We were all asked to introduce ourselves and give a reason why we were there. When it was my turn, I said "Art is man's way of achieving immortality. To create something of beauty that endures."

Mrs. M. let her mouth fall open a moment, and those piercing dark eyes locked with mine. "That's lovely." She said. "I know exactly what you mean."

The others introduced themselves as we went around the room. All of us were career adults, but for three who were younger students who likely attended classes here during the day. They kept whispering comments at one another while stealing glances at the hot teacher. Immature and rather annoying.

The first class was just an orientation about what we would do over the months to come. We would start with still life drawings, learning to use various medium like pencil, charcoal, pastels and watercolors. The subjects will be things like vases and bowls, teacups and saucers, and other inanimate objects. Then we would progress to life drawing. First that would be plants and flowers, and finally people. The last part of the class would be open for each student to choose so long as it involved one of the subjects from the class.

I was excited to get back into my art, but I was more excited to think I'd be able to gaze upon this Italian beauty for the next four months.

She gave us a list of things to buy for the next class and dismissed us. I hesitated after the class scrambled to go, and quietly approached Mrs. M. She lifted a brow at my presence and smiled so sweet I almost forgot what I was going to say.

"I greeted her in Italian, one of the few phrases I'd learned.

She brightened at once and responded with a rush of musical words, but I only managed to pick out a few.

"I'm sorry." I said. "I'm still just learning Italian and that was too quick for me to follow."

She laughed and touched my arm. "Oh, I know. I speak too fast in Italian. I'm sorry. I said how nice it was that you speak Italian, and I asked where you learned it." Then she blushed and giggled. "I guess you don't and you haven't yet."

"Not yet." I agreed. "I have family who speak Italian, but my generation was never taught. It's a shame really."

She nodded. "A terrible shame, but not uncommon, unfortunately. Perhaps I could help you learn more."

I lifted a brow at this. "Careful. I might take you up on that."

"Oh, please do." She said. "I would love to teach you."

"Then... yes, please." I said eagerly.

"Good. You come to class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, yes?"

I nodded.

She flashed another of her killer smiles. "Then you come for extra help on Tuesday and Thursday, and we will speak Italia while you draw. Good?"

"Great." I agreed. "When should we begin?"

"Oh, right away. That's always best." She smiled. "Come tomorrow. Same time as class."

I thought I'd hit a lottery somewhere. I'd be spending two hours, five nights a week for the next four months with this Italian goddess.

The next weeks were just knocking the rust off my drawing skills, but I got back to my previous skill level after a while, and my work started to show it. I noticed how Mrs. M. spent a bit more time at my easel to critique my work, offering helpful advice on how to improve. I also noticed how her rather conservative attire started to become less conservative.

The first classes, she wore long skirts, high collared blouses and sometimes a blazer. By the fourth week, her skirt was considerably shorter, and her tops started to sport plunging necklines that showed off a bit of cleavage. The more revealing her attire became, the more the annoying boys made hushed comments at one another. I even saw one get his phone out and take a few pictures. These kids were really irritating.

The weather was warming up, so she started dressing lighter too. On one Tuesday, she arrived wearing a short floral sundress that showed a generous amount of leg, back, and cleavage. How she expected me to concentrate with her dressed like that, I'll never know... or maybe she didn't.

We went about our usual routine. I set up someplace to draw, and she introduced me to more Italian words and phrases. Every time I got one wrong, she would playfully throw her hands up or raise a hand like she was going to hit me.

"How about teaching me something with visuals." I suggested.

"Si, we can try. Like what?" She asked.

"Well, how about Vase."

She rolled her eyes. "Vaso. You know that one."

I snickered at her. "Then, Pencil."

"Matita." She chimed sweetly.

"Matita." I repeated. I then dared to get a little more suggestive. "How about..." I looked her up and down, "... Sexy."

She blushed a smile. "Sexy." She said.

"Yes, sexy."

She giggled. "No, that's the Italian word. Sexy."

"Really?" I laughed. "Alright then, how about Teacher?"

"Insegnante."

I repeated it a few times as she corrected my pronunciation. Then I looked her over again and smiled. "Insegnante di Italiano sexy."

Her beautiful dark eyes blinked at me, and she nipped at her lower lip which gave her a sweet innocence that contrasted perfectly with her lusty appearance. "Are you flirting with me, Signore Willy?"

I grinned back. "Si."

She blushed a smile in return and tapped my drawing. "Well, you should concentrate."

As she turned, I definitely saw her smile brighten, and I started to have a little hope.

At the end of that session, I asked if she'd like to join me for a coffee before heading home.

"Oh, I would, very much. But I can't tonight." She said regretfully. "But, perhaps on Thursday?"

I nodded and smiled back. "Thursday. It's a date."

She blinked back at me, and a slow smile crept onto her face. "Yes. Alright. A date."

The next night was our first night with a model. We gathered around the center of the class that had only a chair and a stool. Mrs. M. came in wearing a tight halter top dress that hugged her curves perfectly. It was also so short that if she bent over too far, I suspect we could get a glimpse of whatever she was wearing underneath.

When we were ready, the model came out from Mrs. M.'s office in a long bathrobe, went to the middle of the room, and let the robe slide off. She was young, likely in her early twenties, but not a stunning beauty. A pretty face, a nice figure, but nothing so beautiful as to be distracting. She took a simple pose on the stool and froze there.

Mrs. M. walked up to her and started the lesson. "You must view the subject for her shapes and where they join. The arm is this shape here on the forearm, and where it meets with the bicep. Notice the shape of the elbow. See how the light and shadow defines the shape. Then up here, where the upper arm meets with the shoulder. See how the shapes all form smooth curves. There are no sharp edges on the body. It is like an assembly of soft sided tubes."

She came to my easel, took my pencil from my hand with a gentle brush of her fingers, and she sketched it out. "See this shape, then this. They meet here. You have to see beneath the skin. The bone, the muscle, the tendons, then make the drawing show, not just what you see, but what you know is there but can't see."

She handed me my pencil, again with a subtle touch of fingers and a sly smile.

We finished the class and Mrs. M. came by my easel before I could put it away. "You have a lovely grasp of form and shape." She said as she critiqued my drawing. "You need to work on your shading a bit. See, the light touches the form differently from the direct light and the ambient." She held out her arm, and traced parts of her lovely limb with her finger. "Here, you see. The light from above gives shade just where it bends away from the light, then ambient light illuminates the underside."

She then lifted my arm, and lightly traced my muscles in the same way. "Light here, then the shadow, and more light." She said, letting her fingers brush tantalizingly gentle on my skin. "The form, and the shapes are just part of it. Practice with this." She brushed her hand up my arm, more firmly, like she was feeling the muscle there. "Mmm... but you have lovely shape and form."

"You have a beautiful shape and form too." I said quietly in reply.

She blushed a smile back. "Will I see you tomorrow night?"

I nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."

She tried to hide her smile. "So am I." She turned and walked away, then gave a toss of that magnificent black hair and cast me a quick wink and a smile when she caught me watching her ass.

Thursday night couldn't come quick enough. I finally entered the classroom, but I didn't see Mrs. M. I called out and she replied from her office. "Be right there." She said. "Close the door, would you?"

I did, then set up my easel and got out my collection of pencils.

"I thought you should get more practice with light and shadow." She said from her office. "So, I've arranged for you to have a model to practice on."

I expected our usual model to come out in her robe, but my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest when Mrs. M. came out in the robe instead. She strode right to the middle of the room with her eyes smiling at me and my stunned expression. She went to the stool and slipped the robe off.

In my wildest dreams, I would never have imagined this beauty. She was flawless. Every curve, every inch of supple skin, glowed. Her breasts were large and full, but still very firm, standing proudly on their own with no need for support. Her broad hips made her tiny waist look even more so, and her sex was neatly trimmed with only a tiny triangle of dark curls remaining.

"I put on some moisturizing lotion so the contrast of light and shadow will be more pronounced." She said softly. She sat on the stool and took a pose. "Well? Pencil, Willy."

I was still stunned into immobility. I had to shake myself out of the trance her body put me in and force myself to move my pencil over the paper. After some minutes, she got up and stretched. That act alone made my mostly hard cock strain at my trousers.

She came around to look at my work, still naked and smiling. "Mmm, yes. Better. I like how you captured the curve of my hip there. The shading is improving." She moved closer, her breast pressing against my bare forearm and she traced parts of my illustration. "But here, where my thigh meets my pelvis. There should be a defined crease in the skin. Let me show you."

She took me by the hand and led me back to the stool. She sat, in almost the same position, then guided my hands along her body. "Here, you see the crease?" She stroked my hand along her hip, guiding it toward her pelvis, and the top of that little dark triangle. "The shadow here, and the light there. You see?"

I nodded in aroused fascination. "The light glistening on your skin really shows the contrast." I said softly. "It's the moisturizer. It makes your skin softer in appearance. More supple and almost reflective." I decided it was time to get bolder and used my whole hand to caress up her hip. "This shape folds into the pelvis." I said and glided my hand around as I spoke. "But here..." I brushed my fingers down further until I was touching her soft curls. "The shape meets the pelvis, and there's no ambient light. It's blocked by this lovely thigh."

"It is?" she purred softly.

"Yes." I said. "See how this part of your abdomen curves down into this part of your pelvis?" My hand stroked down her firm belly, and I curled my fingers over her mound, feeling her wet entrance.

Mrs. M. made a little gasp and her chest began to heave as her breathing became panting.

"Though less defined, one can still make out the delicate curves, and the deeper shadows." On 'deeper' I curled one finger into her sweet, wet pussy, and she moaned softly at my ear.

"The shadows work differently here." My other hand gently cupped one of her magnificent breasts and I gave it a firm squeeze. Both her nipples were already hard, and I took this one between thumb and finger, giving it a little tug and twist.

Mrs. M. shuddered and made another desperate whimpering sound.

No longer willing to pretend, I gently nudged her thighs, and she willingly parted them for me. "You are the sexiest woman I've ever met." I admitted as I slipped a second finger into her tight sex.

"I am?" she breathed.

I nodded.

"Prove it to me?" she sighed. "Show me how sexy you think I am?"

I stepped back, unbuckled my belt, and let my trousers fall around my ankles. My cock leapt out like it was spring steal. I stepped out of my pants and stood before her.

Mrs. M. gasped and smiled up at me. "Oh, I see." She purred. "Umm... what do you think we should do now?"

I pulled her up off the stool, and she yelped at my suddenly aggressive turn. I quickly spun her around and held her from behind, my cock nestled into the cleft of her firm rear as my hands took both her breasts and gave them a vigorous fondling. Her breath came in short panting gasps laced with the occasional moan as I continued to explore. My lips kissed and sucked at her neck, my teeth giving the occasional nibble. One hand abandoned her exquisite bosom to slide back down to her heavenly pussy.

Mrs. M. quivered in my arms, and I could feel her arching her back and pushing at me with her beautiful rear.

I turned her around, pulled her close, crushing her tits to my chest, and kissed her hard and deep. She moaned into my mouth and gave a long sigh when it ended. "On your knees, Mrs. M.." I commanded, and she gave a shudder at my words.

She knelt on her discarded robe, and gently took my cock in her hands, stroking it lovingly for a moment. Then she guided it to her mouth, and began tentative licks and kisses, sliding her delicate tongue along the underside.

"Suck it." I insisted. "Suck my cock."

She looked up at me with her shining dark eyes, gave me a smile I'll never forget, and slowly glided her mouth down the length of my shaft. At first, I thought she'd be timid about it. But it kept going, deeper and deeper. Then I felt the head of my cock going down her throat, and she still kept going. Only when her lips nestled against my own dark curls did she stop and slowly slurp her way off my length again.

She gasped for a breath, flashed me another of her amazing smiles and repeated the whole thing again before bobbing her head up and down my cock, working me into a frenzy.

When I couldn't take any more, I pulled her to her feet, turned her around, and shoved her to kneel on the chair. She complied with another nervous gasp, tossed her long flow of black hair over her shoulder to look back at me as I lined up my cock, and slowly started to slide into her.

"Oh, dio!" she cried out. "Più forte"

"English." I reminded her.

"Ah, dio. Più forte!" She whimpered again. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

I needed no more encouragement than that. I laid into her with complete abandon. The erotic vision of her writhing on the end of my manhood, her cries and moans spurring me on as she rocked into my every thrust. It was all I could do to keep from cumming immediately. At some point, I let my lust get the better of me, and I began pulling her into me harder. With only her shoulders and hips to grasp, I searched for something more.

Before I fully knew what I was doing, I had a handful of those silky black tresses, and was yanking her head back as I lunged into her. Her shrill cries and deep, lustful moans told me I was doing something right. And moment later, I was treated to a wildly thrashing vision as she squirmed on the length of my cock, cumming hard. Her twitching, convulsing pussy was too much to resist, and I exploded inside her. She heaved and panted from the thrill and excursion, and I was right there with her, trying to catch my breath.

I remained there, a firm grip on the lovely Mrs. M.'s hair, my cock still enjoying the warm embrace of her sex. I released her hair, and wrapped my arms around her sweetly scented body. My kisses fell on her exposed neck, shoulder and back, my hands gently caressed her breasts, arms, hips, and thighs. And every soft touch coaxed another appreciative moan from my lovely Mediterranean goddess. We stayed like that a while until my softening manhood slowly slipped out. I stepped back, admiring the view of the stunning teacher with a slight trickle of cum visible on the lips of her pussy.

Mrs. M. stood on trembling legs and approached me with graceful little steps. She eased herself into my waiting arms and held me close. The feel of her warm body and generous breasts against my chest started to entice my cock to rise again. I caressed her gently, breathing in the sweet aroma of her soft skin and the musk left from our lovemaking. I settled more light kisses on her neck and shoulders, my hands lightly exploring to become more familiar with this delicious beauty.

"Sei bravo, cazzo." She purred softly.

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"You're a nice fuck." She giggled.

"Oh, well. The feeling is mutual." I murmured. "You know, I don't even know your first name."

She giggled and graced me with that award winning smile. "Stefania. But you can call me Stefi."

"Stefania." I said, and decided it was one of the prettiest names I'd ever heard. "Stefi." And that was one of the cutest. It was fitting. She was a divine beauty, but with some subtle overtones of adorable innocence.

"I don't suppose you'd like to take me for that coffee now?" She asked hopefully.

"I'd love to." I said. "Go put on some clothes, and we'll go.

She bent to pick up the robe and walked off toward her office like a model strutting a runway. I stared and just drank in every graceful move of that magnificent figure, and she looked back at the last moment to see me watching her. She smiled and blew me a kiss, then entered her office.

I dressed quickly, put my things away, and she emerged wearing a delightfully short summer dress that showed off her fantastic legs and a very generous amount of cleavage. We left campus in my car and went to a local coffee shop while we talked and tried to make sense of the passionate moment we'd just shared.

Stefi settled into the booth beside me and leaned close so we were touching. "I need to tell you something." She said tentatively. "And it may not be what you want to hear." She took a breath and sighed. "This relationship must remain quiet, for many reasons."