This story could have gone in a variety of other categories, as it involves domination and submission, and aspects of heterosexual and lesbian sex between participants of different ages. If that offends you, then I suggest you don't read it. If it works for you, check out my other stories! The story is my recreation of one I read years ago on a different site; so if it seems familiar, that may be why. If you know (or even wrote) the original, I hope you'll forgive my adaptation; and let me know what you think.
If there's a moral to this story - and I'm not sure that there is - it's to know how to keep a secret. Because if women know that their preferences aren't going to be the stuff of gossip, they might do
anything
with you!
I kept a secret about a girl I knew, a few years older than me, who crashed her car into a lamp-post whilst driving home from the pub a bit worse for wear. Just happened to be walking nearby, that's all, and heard the car crunch to a halt.
Anyway, there was no-one else involved, and it was a fairly low-speed accident, so when Janie staggered drunkenly out of the car, I helped her walk the half-mile home. I was fifteen at the time, and Janie was eighteen; but I knew her brother from school. Still, when her mum asked me not to tell anyone, I didn't. And three years later, I realised it was the best thing I'd never done!
Janie had gone off to university, and I was at college when her mum transferred there as the new head of Art; one of my best subjects. She was strict as hell, but fair, and very supportive to me. In fact, I didn't think anything of it when she asked me if I'd like to be involved in some extra-curricular classes...
I turned up at four as she'd suggested, and met her in the arts lab. The lab was isolated at the far end of school from the entrance, so there was no-one about apart from me.
"Hello, Tom." said Mrs Wood with a smile. "So glad you could make it."
"No problem," I said. "What's up?"
Mrs Wood spoke quietly and calmly. "Well, I've been concerned about your development, Tom. Actually everyone's, but yours in particular. Not that you don't show talent - far from it - but that your opportunities here are limiting you."
"What do you mean?" I asked a bit anxiously. Art was my favourite subject, and I was thinking about doing it at university. I thought things were going fine.
"Well, you've got real talent, Tom. Your oils are making good progress - and I think that your charcoal portraits are truly superb. But in order to develop your skills properly, you'd need to do more than simple portraits. I think you need to move on to full figure nudes."
We'd done plenty of work with still-lifes, and portraits, usually of each other. But school policy forbade letting us draw full or partial nudes, for some reason. I can't imagine why!
Still, we'd all made a few jokes about it. I'd even suggested it, casually, to a couple of ex-girlfriends. But to no avail. So what was Mrs Wood's plan?
"Um, that's kind of... I mean, I'd want to, but isn't it kind of against school rules?"
"Well yes Tom... But great artists need to break the rules sometimes... And I know you can keep a secret..."
I remembered Janie's drunken crash then, and wondered if this was some sort of payback.
"So Tom; I see three factors coming together... You need to learn to sketch nudes... I'd like some new sketches for my private collection...and I have a model who wants nothing more than to help me..." said Mrs Wood calmly, as if suggesting nothing more than a cup of coffee.
"I - er - wow!" I babbled, a little stunned. "You mean a nude model? A girl?"
"Of course, Tom. But she expects your total discretion - as do I." She raised a finger warningly. "And you won't disappoint me, will you?"
"No, ma'am" I said earnestly.
"Very well." She said. "Now set up the area. You see the inflatable mattress there? Lay it out with the white duvet in that cupboard."
I did as she asked, and she disappeared into her supply room. I heard low voices murmuring as I did what she asked. The blinds were drawn, and two spot-lights were already fixed on the subject area - usually used for pot plants or sculptures.
Mrs Wood came back out, smiling. She walked past me and told me to set up my easel as she locked the door.
"Now, I want you to be relaxed and mature about this, Tom. It's difficult posing nude for the first time, and some nervousness is only natural. You being calm will make it easier for her. And I'll expect you to thank her properly at the end."
"Sure, Mrs Wood. Who is it, though?"
"You're ready then? Good. Fernanda? Come on out now, there's a good girl"
Be calm, be cool I thought to myself. But I couldn't think of any girls called Fernanda. And then my jaw hit the floor as I saw who walked out of the supply room, wearing just a flimsy blue cotton robe.
There's one teacher like Miss Carter in every school, I guess. One young female teacher who drives all the boys wild. They aren't always that attractive, in all honesty. But Fernanda Carter was a full-blown knockout. In her late twenties; dark Spanish complexion with bright green eyes and long black hair. She taught English literature, and dressed pretty sensibly for the most part. Still, even 'sensible' clothes couldn't hide her large bosom, or the long legs that pushed her close to five foot ten in her socks. Not that she was wearing socks now.
I gaped as she walked out. She looked prettier than ever; her wavy black hair falling to her shoulders, face made up with a little blusher, eye shadow, and lipstick. She looked at the floor as she came out to the drawing area, and stepped onto the soft mattress.
"Very good Fernanda. Now, as we agreed; the Venus pose?"
Miss Carter kept her eyes down, slipping one arm and then the other out of her robe; whilst struggling to hold it closed. She arranged her hands underneath as the robe quickly fell to the floor. She was a dark Venus, rising from the depths... She stood there, naked, head down. One arm reached across her chest to conceal her breasts - or at least, her nipples - and the other snaked down to cover her pudenda.
I swallowed, mouth dry.
"Chin up now, Fernanda. Look at us." said Mrs Wood. "In your own time, Tom."
I jumped slightly at the sound of my own name, realising that I was supposed to be sketching. I picked up my charcoal as Fernanda lifted her head, finally looking at me with shame burning in her eyes. She looked unhappy, but didn't say a word as I moved my easel closer.
Eagerly, I drank in the sight of this live nude woman; this goddess made flesh. Obviously I'd seen plenty of porn before, and I'd been with a couple of girls; but this was different. She wasn't a teenager, but a woman; her body more mature and fully-developed. Although she was covering herself with her hands, it didn't really hide much. The soft flesh of her ample breasts swelled above and below her slender fingers erotically.
I began to sketch as I studied her; starting with the curvy hourglass of her body; the swell of her hips leading down to the long, long legs. In a couple of minutes, I had these roughly sketched, and moved on to her arms; a much trickier proposition. Her right arm was pulled back to enable her to cover her breasts; the right breast squashed behind her forearm and the left lifted a little as it was covered by her hand. Her breasts were truly amazing; I thought as I carefully shaded in her cleavage.
