Where to start. My life has been a random series of ups, downs and everything in between. I suppose it is the same for everyone. I'm Cygnus. I know a stupid name. My parents, what would you call them? Bohemian, hippies, hedonists, who knows. They obviously thought it was a good idea. Everybody just calls me Cy. My childhood could best be described as unconventional. We lived in a commune. A random collection of individuals and dropouts from the rat race. The diet was entirely vegetarian, all grown by, what you could call, the residents. The population was at best fluid, people would come and go. Some would return others would not. None of the children went to regular school. We were taught by our parents or anyone with the appropriate knowledge.
I think I was lucky. When I was about twenty, a young man arrived. He was just passing through. He stayed for about six months, working on an art installation nearby. Unlike a lot of the others, who had named their children like me, or assumed strange names themselves, he was called David. Tall, dark and handsome. Three years older than me. He had been to art college and was starting to earn a living from his work. When he left, I went with him. I couldn't see myself growing vegetables and foraging for the rest of my life.
For the next couple of years, we moved from place to place. Anywhere with a studio for his work and somewhere to eat and sleep. A couple of his sculptures sold for impressive money. Probably more than my parents would ever see, in their lifetime. We found a three storey building, space for a drawing and painting studio, a large apartment and room for him to make castings and large sculptures.
His public work was almost exclusively abstract as these sold quickly and for what I thought were ridiculous sums. However, his first love, from his time at college, had been life study. I modelled for him. He drew, painted and sculpted me from all angles. Some he sold, others were more intimate and made for the two of us. He cast a bronze of my open vulva. It sits on a granite plinth beside our bed. By the time he had reached his early thirties, money had ceased to be an issue. He worked when he chose to.
Our private modelling sessions resulted in works, which would never reach the public gaze. He moulded, cast an sculpted individual sex toys for me. He would draw and paint me using them. The moment of my orgasm caught on camera, to incorporate into the finished work.
We had an unusual sex life, to say the least. I masturbated with the toys he made for me. We would have vaginal and anal intercourse but only with him behind me. It was as though he couldn't look at me, while we had sex. He would masturbate to the pictures and sculptures he made of me, rather than me in person. I knew no different. He was the first and only person to have sex with me. Why should I care. We had money, security and each other. Both of us were achieving sexual gratification, if a little unconventionally.
David's success allowed him to take on a couple of pupils, Claudine and Stefan. Recent graduates from a famous art school, a little over ten years younger than us. They helped with the work for public display, mould making and doing some of the casting. They made suggestions for new work and critiqued what David produced. The three of them worked well together and we became like a family. More like an actual family, than my biological one had been. I don't think that Claudine and Stefan were in a relationship. At least to start with. Working long hours together, often sleeping in the studio, changed things. We set up an apartment for them on the top floor, which had been a storage space.
Things were great, until I reached my late forties. David was hit and killed by a drink driver. I was bereft. Claudine and Stefan were fantastic, really supportive. I was now in charge of the studio. I'm not artistic but I wanted to preserve David's legacy. I told Claudine and Stefan to indulge themselves creating whatever art work they wanted to. They started clearing spaces for themselves. That was when things got a bit unusual. Claudine came to me one morning.
"This is a little awkward. We have been clearing some of the store rooms. I think what we found was packed away, when you created our apartment. Um, it all looks really personal, to put it mildly."
I had no idea whether David had continued to masturbate to my pictures or not. We still only had sex from behind, right up to the time of his death. Even now, I continued to use some of the dildos he had made for me. A lasting connection.
Stefan was stood by the open door, to one of the store rooms on the top floor. Myself and Claudine approached. Stacked against a wall, there I was having an orgasm, with two custom sex toys inserted.
"Is that the only one?" I asked.
"No. There are dozens of paintings, drawings and cast moulds." Claudine answered.
"Not much point denying it. Yes, that is me, about twenty years ago. No mistaking the likeness."
"Looks like you were having fun. What should we do with them? Lock it up and find another space?" She asked.
"I've not seen them in years. Let's see what's here and then I'll decide. You've seen me now. Not too bad looking, if I say so myself. Even if it is in a less than flattering position."
Stefan hadn't said anything and was probably more embarrassed than I was. He saw David as a big brother. Claudine had seen him more as a teacher and mentor.
The three of us carried out the paintings and set them against the wall of their apartment. The drawings and moulds covered most of the floor.
"Nice tits fanny and ass." She said.
"Thanks, I think."
I worked my way along all of the canvases. Looked over all of the drawings. I don't have the sort of mind, to extrapolate what a mould would look like when cast. Stefan, went through, pairing up the two halves. Explaining,
"These ones look like the dildos in the pictures. That one is your vagina. I suppose it is yours? That is a small, full body nude. Even you can work out, that is your bum."
"These all have a lot of memories tied up in them for you. Particularly at the moment." Claudine said.
"Yes, I can't part with any of it now. Maybe later. Yes, Stefan that is my fanny. I have the bronze cast in the bedroom. We'll take everything down to my place. It will give you the room you want. It will be a bit odd, seeing myself in the throws of orgasm, every time I turn round. But that is my problem, not yours."
We stacked up the paintings around my living room. The drawings piled up on the table.
"You can take the moulds down to the workshop. I don't need those."
"Can we cast some more?" Claudine asked.
"I don't see why not. I'll show you what you are looking at, so you get the right materials."
She followed me to the bedroom and I pulled open a large drawer. Good artist as always, she had a pad and pencil in the large front pocket of her smock. She made notes of what each looked like and what they were made of.
She headed back to Stefan, in the other room and they went back up to their place.
Over the next few days, I went through everything from the store. I remember the circumstances in which each was created. The poses, the artistic shaping of my pubic hair to complement the background or the dildos. For the first time in a while, I took some of them out of the drawer, to look at them. As the week went on. I went as far as buying some lubricant but hadn't committed to using any of them.
Stefan and Claudine started selling some of their own pieces, which were well received. Whether this was because of the association with David's studio or not, I don't know. I'm no art expert. I was glad they were doing well. I went to the studio to see how they were doing. Claudine was naked on a chaise longues. A dildos in her pussy and ass.
"I'm so sorry. I thought you would be packing up for the day."
"I suppose we should be sorry too. Your pose and your dildos."
