Modeling In France Ch 02

At the end of the month everything changed, my house sitting job came to an end, and Paolo went back home. I moved into Marc's villa since he needed my help on a major show which would open in three weeks. It looked like about half of the show would be pictures of me and drawings of my pussy, and he kept thinking of new photos and drawings he wanted to add. I was also helping him with organization.

During this time at Marc's villa I was constantly horny. Showing off my body is sexually arousing for me, and I was naked there all the time in groups of people, ¾ of them guys. After Paolo left I had no sex partner. Two of Marc's friends came on to me, but they weren't my type, and I blew them off. Some of the guys seemed to think I was inaccessible. Others were gay. Also, if I had slept with one or two of them it would have been complicated, since I didn't want either to be seen as common property or to start any rivalries. Anyway it never worked out, and I had to take care of things myself.

One day I was sitting in the big studio watching some videos which one of the girls in the group had made of guys playing volleyball on the beach in California. It was sexually-charged and a merciless turn-on, and I began absent-mindedly fingering my clit. Once I realized what I was doing, I didn't really want to quit. I looked around, and there were about ten guys behind me putting together a stand for the show. They weren't paying any attention to me, so I proceeded quietly.

The beauty and the problem with masturbation is that you can lose track of everything else, and I quit paying attention to the others in the room. When I looked up and saw a guy standing in front of me watching, I pulled my hand back. He told me it was OK to keep going, but he'd love to watch if I didn't mind. "Masturbation is wonderful," he said. I figured I'd already been caught, why not go on.

I started from the beginning with the full version, rubbing my thighs, circling my labia with one finger, then two, fingering the inside edge of my vagina, then the top and sides of the hood. I looked up to see an audience of at least a dozen, all male, which really got me going. So much for the preliminaries. I put my feet up on the chair, opening me up wide, and finally started with my finger on the sensitive underside of my clit, keeping an eye now on my audience to make sure that they were taking it all in.

I had assumed that I would not be able to make myself cum in front of an audience, but I soon reached my point of no return where I knew it was inevitable. I slowed down to savour it and used the other hand to find that elusive but sweet spot a little ways inside my vagina. I found the right place and then managed to get another finger inside without letting go of that lovely spot. My audience was staring in silence -- I remember wondering what had happened to the volleyball video. I reached the plateau where I began my slide into the first wave, and I slowed down again. I couldn't help but moan, so I just let it wash over me.

The first orgasm was big, and I was getting noisy. This was followed by an even bigger one, and then a smaller last one. I withdrew my fingers, but stayed where I was enjoying the silent attention and my post-orgasm glow. Someone gave me a towel, but no one said anything for a while. Finally the one who started it all said, "That was amazing, Christine." I guess I should have been embarrassed and ashamed, but I must admit that I wasn't. It's not something I ever thought I'd do, but the time and the audience were right, and I really enjoyed it, which is all that counts.

As the day of the show approached, Marc decided that he wanted me to attend the grand opening party.

It was in a large city almost a day's drive from us, so everything was loaded in a truck. Marc went with the truck, and the rest of us took the train the next day and arrived about 3 days before the show to get set up.

It was complicated getting everything into place. The show was in a gallery in a building in the old part of town. The streets in that area are really narrow, and most of it is a pedestrian zone. Only commercial vehicles could drive to the gallery, if they were narrow enough, and then only at certain times. We had to hire some local guys to get the stuff to the gallery, and the rest of us worked on set-up. The local guys really liked my slutty work clothes -- at first a tight T-shirt with an old pair of jeans cut off to within 3 cm of the zipper. (I've had panties which covered more.) By noon of the first day, the T-shirt was gone -- it had gotten so sweaty that you could see my tits anyway. By mid-afternoon I was down to my thong. One of the workmen jokingly offered to buy my thong, so I gave it to him along with a kiss on the cheek. The next two days I felt that I could forego the preliminaries, since we were all acquainted, so I discarded whatever I was wearing as soon as I walked in. The guys were really sweet, and I had a great time showing off for this new audience.

On the day before the show the one with the thong took me in his van to pick up flowers. My thong was dangling from the rear-view mirror of his van. When we got to the loading dock at the wholesaler, I jumped out with him to load the flowers into the back. A bunch of guys stood on the loading dock cheering me on. It was pretty chilly, but all the exercise jumping onto the loading dock and back down kept me warm.

Marc wanted me at the party naked -- no surprise there. It's what I wanted, too, but he also wanted a grand nude entrance. The streets were blocked to all vehicles in the evening, so he suggested that I arrive at a limo on the nearest open street and then walk to the gallery nude, which involved three different streets and a total distance of about 100 metres.

Why couldn't I just wear a dress to within a few metres of the entrance, strip in a quiet corner and then walk in? Wouldn't get as much attention, he answered. You can't argue with that -- naked women do get attention.

I got talked into it, as usual with things that I really want to do. Still, I was a little concerned. My only experience naked on the streets had been running around the little village in a scooter at night when I was drunk. The center of a big city on a busy weekend night was different.

The limo picked me up at the back of the hotel, but still quite a few people saw me. The driver hadn't known in advance and had a very hard time containing himself. A couple of times I told him to either watch where we were going or stop and let me out. It would have been interesting if I had had to make good on that threat.

I was let off next to my safety escort of 6 big guys, all of whom I knew. One of them was wearing a sandwich sign announcing Marc's show. The others kept their distance, so as not to be obvious. I definitely got attention, but nothing went wrong, and it was lots of fun. Really, the sky does not fall in if people see you naked. I walked by sidewalk cafes full of people, many of whom cheered. I felt like a star arriving at the Academy Awards. All I needed was a red carpet on the street. It worked out so well that I took an extra detour before getting to the gallery.

I spent about three or four hours at the party, talking to people and posing for amateur photographers. Some of them wanted to take really explicit pictures, which I probably would have liked to do, but Marc had set strict ground rules for the photographers. They had to stay a certain distance away, could only take one shot, and were limited to a choice of one of three poses. He had someone watching them carefully. We had an exclusive contract, which was very profitable for me, so I did exactly what he said.

Marc's photos and drawings sold like crazy, and I got a percentage, so I made quite a bit of money. We agreed we would do more pictures at some point in the future.

I left the same way I had arrived, but with only one escort, a big, muscular, but very nice guy, totally queer. I didn't feel the need, but he insisted, and he was right. A naked girl has to worry about her safety. I can defend myself pretty well, but you can't be too careful. I would not be able to fight off more than one guy at a time. Also, I had drunk a lot.

I left my escort at the street and hopped a regular taxi. It's not customary to hail taxis on the street in France, but naked ladies do get some perks. Still it took a few minutes, and a small, friendly crowd had gathered by the time a taxi went by. I created quite a stir when I arrived back at the hotel, this time at the front entrance. I acted like there was nothing unusual. That's a lot of fun when you're out and about in the raw, but it takes practice and attitude adjustment to be able to pull it off.

The next day I took the train to Italy to spend a few weeks with Paolo. I took a night train and got a "couchette." There were three guys in my compartment who seemed most intrigued with the absolute simplicity of my sleeping apparel and undressing arrangements.