Gesso
Part 5
Note to Readers:
This series concerns the adventures of a friend of ours.
It's been embellished and fictionalized, partly by her as she told it, and partly by me.
I have her permission to repeat it.
You'll Want to Read Parts 1-4 to make any sense of this story.
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Carl leaves it for me to lock up when he leaves for work. The last thing I do before heading out the front door is to slip my yellow sun dress and my sandals back on. I take a detour on the way home and stop by the art gallery. The owner, Pam, a cheerful chubby Filipina greets me with a warm hug, and hands me a check. I've sold two small originals and several prints over the last week. It's not earth-shattering, but it will help pay the rent. I look around, and see that several of my paintings are prominently displayed. They do look nice. For the most part, they are idyllic rural scenes, usually with a single, lonely looking human figure somewhere lost in the grass or brush, or on a dirt road. No nudes, all are dressed in rather classical Mediterranean style, like a shy Maxfield Parrish, but oilier. It's a recognizable style, but to me now there seems to be a sameness in all of them.
There are other works on display, other artists. Some of the paintings are larger, some more expensive. I've been warned not to compare myself with others, but it's hard not to do that here. They are all very good. Some are landscapes, some are city scenes, some are nudes. Some are boldly erotic. I like their boldness, their flaunting of the rules of decency, some even flaunting the rules of composition as I understand them.
As I stare at the boldest, most graphic painting of all, a wide-open hairy pussy in garish acrylic colors, a hand hanging limp to the floor, barely grasping what appears to be a used dildo, a tinkle from the door tells me that someone else is entering the gallery. I hear voices, and turn to see a petite, almost waif-like, young red headed girl, standing at the counter talking to Pam. She pulls back an envelope, and I understand she's another artist collecting a commission. I turn my attention back to the painting, and a minute later I notice her standing beside me.
"Do you like that one?" she asks, nodding at the brazen piece of erotica on the wall.
"I like it a lot. I was just wishing I had the nerve to paint something like that."
"If it was a self-portrait I don't think I could do it either. Good thing I had a friend model for me."
"Oh, that's yours? It's really nice, I love it." I look at her more closely, and suddenly, maybe for the first time, I feel old. She must be younger than Sonia.
She sees the envelope in my own hand with a look of recognition. "Which ones are yours?" she asks.
I point mine out to her, and she smiles appreciatively. "I like the mood of those," she says. "The landscapes look so cheerful, as if they're protecting the sadness of the lady hiding in them."
That had not been my idea when composing them, but I suddenly see they can be interpreted that way. Even more, I'm starting to feel differently about my past work, and more sure of the changes I want to make in my next piece.
We introduce ourselves, she calls herself Hera. We laugh at the shared Greekness of our origins. "What other paintings do you have here?' I ask.
"No other paintings, I normally do ceramic sculpture. The painting was a big, ambitious experiment, but I'm more comfortable doing porcelain figurines."
She points at a group of beautiful translucent nudes in one corner, all in poses of joy and movement, looking upwards as if invoking the Goddess. Most of them have their legs at least partly open, and as well as the scale will permit, their labia and vaginal openings are shaped in realistic detail. One of the nudes is a male, half-reclining, looking with an admiring expression at the women, his porcelain cock seeming to just be coming to life.
"This is wonderful! I exclaim. "You love erotica, don't you?"
"Guilty," she laughs. "I live for it!"
I dash up to the counter. It would be dangerous to stay longer. I grab one of my business cards from the stacks reserved for featured artists and hand it to Hera. "Call me. Soon. I mean it!" I leave quickly.
At home, I throw off my minimal clothing and rush to the computer. More clearly than ever, I know what I want to do. Gone is the last trace of the Little Mermaid. I will have a Goddess of the Sea, a bringer of love and beauty, but not innocence. She will gather men and women together in her nets, and pleasure herself by enticing them to pleasure one another.
I have no idea whether I can really bring it off.
Some of the detail studies can be used as is, some I have to toss out and start over. I lose no time doing so, however. I'm as inspired as I've ever been, and I work quickly. I think of the figure that I want. There's no doubt this Goddess will be naked. Not just nude, but naked. She will be a temptress.
I browse the internet, searching for nude models that I can template. There are a few worth a second look, but not many. Either the poses, the bodies, the faces, the hair, something is always not quite right. Of course I can mix and match, and of course I will, but...
No, there's only one body that can be the Goddess I need for this particular scene. She'll have to be me. I open up the local folders, and pour through the various nude photos that Taylor and Carl and Henri, and more recently Sonia and Jo, have taken of me. I briefly pause on some of Sonia's images. My god she's beautiful! I'll have to get her to model for me, if I can afford her.
But for this work, I need to be my own Goddess. It's become important to me. I pick out some poses, realize I need some angles that don't exist on my hard drive. I set up my camera and tripod, and quickly take a few dozen shots. A couple of them are usable. As I arrange them, I'm gad that my pussy is shaved. My Goddesses will always have shaved pussies. Maybe like a more risque' Maxfield Parrish!
By early afternoon I have the composition blocked out. The natural landscape is still there, of course, that's too much a part of me to abandon. This one has cliffs, gentle surf, a beach, and a rock on which the Goddess has made her throne. She's much more prominent than the women in my previous paintings, and of course, much more naked and wanton. The basics of my 3D rendering come quickly, of course it will take more time to flesh it out completely. But I'm almost ready to start the actual painting.
No sooner does the thought form itself in my mind than I hear the doorbell. I must have been in a zone, I completely lost track of time. I run to the door, not knowing who to expect, but knowing that whoever it might be will enjoy my naked, horny body. And I am suddenly aware of just how horny I am. I fling the door open. It's Taylor. Wonderful!
I fling my arms around his neck, fling my body up on to him, and kiss his mouth hard and long. "Come inside you motherfucker! Shut he door behind you. And get out of these damned clothes!"
Taylor obeys willingly and promptly. As soon as he flings his clothes into the living room I kneel down and take his aircraft carrier of a cock into my mouth. I want it, I want it hard, and I want it wet. "Remember, don't cum yet," I instruct him. Hold out a little longer. I want everybody here before the jizz starts to flow."
Within a few minutes he has me on all fours facing the door, while he kneels behind me and shoves his cock in. There's resistance, but only the kind that involves muscles tightening around his shaft and giving him just the right mix of friction and slipperiness. I almost miss the sound of the doorbell over my orgasm as the force of Taylor's pounding explodes into my brain. I hear it on the second ring.
"Come in, the door's open!" I pant as loudly as I can. I'm sure the sound of my orgasm was louder.
Jo and Joe come in, although there's barely room for them to stand between the door and the two writhing bodies on the floor just beyond it. Seeing them triggers another intense orgasm, or maybe just a continuation of the first. Joe shuts the door with a smile, and moves forward to stand directly over me. He reaches his arm down to Taylor, who pauses his thrusting just enough to take his hand in greeting.
"You must be Taylor," he grins. "I've heard a lot of good things about you!"
"And I'm seeing some good things about you!" Jo chimes in.
I finally gasp deeply enough to be able to find a voice. "Well don't just stand there! Get those fucking clothes off! Just toss them into the living room on the left."
When they reappear, they are beautifully naked, and Joe is beautifully erect.
"I know what I want to do with that. Bring it over here!" I demand, and Joe obediently positions himself before my grimacing face. I can arch my back, push up on my fingertips, and crane my neck just enough to reach his cock as he pushes it downward to meet me. It's not particularly comfortable, but I feel like the ultimate porn star, and my life's energy is swelling and bursting inside me.
"Wouldn't it be more comfortable if we did this in the next room where we have more room?" Joanne breaks the spell, maybe feeling a little neglected but absolutely correct. Taylor pulls out of me, and we both stand. Now he can at least introduce himself to Jo, and she hugs him close, making sure his hard, wet sloppy cock is in full contact with her belly.
Now that we're up, the next priority is drinks, and food as well. Taylor heads to the refrigerator and the rest of us make ourselves comfortable in the living room. A nice spread ends up on the coffee table, and the four of us sit on the floor, eating, drinking and chatting. The atmosphere is less intensely sexual, but just as pleasant.
