"Hi, Linda. You're early again. Where's Eric." Sandi, the young, blue-haired college intern, greeted me.
"Good morning, girl. Eric's checking a noise from the car he heard on the way here. Is warming up and practicing new poses before people arrive okay?" It was quarter past nine, and the Art League open figure drawing session started at ten.
"It's fine with me. Everyone's talking about your last session. They say it was your best. The practice pays off." Sandi gave me the keys. "I'm busy here; get them back before the session starts. Studio Three, as always."
"Thanks, Sandi." I took the keys and turned to the gallery door, held open by Eric. He waved to Sandi, and we walked into the courtyard.
Eric and I started modeling for the Art League two years ago when we moved to Texas from New Orleans. We met six years ago in northern California, married soon after, and modeled as a sideline to our geology studies and, later, our jobs.
"Did you find the noise?"
"Caught a palm frond on the rear axle. I pulled it out, an easy fix. Sandi doesn't mind our practicing?"
"Not at all. She told me everyone said the last session was our best."
We walked through the garden courtyard and turned along the landscaped path to Studio Three.
"Your poses were so sexy I worried we pushed it too far, and someone might have complained."
"The poses weren't as problematic as fucking in the toilet on the last break. I didn't clean your cum from my pussy. It streamed down my thighs, and several artists noticed." I unlocked the door and entered the studio, setting the keys on the table by the door.
The Art League is located on a busy mid-town street. It initially comprised four tiny houses built in the 1930s. They demolished two to provide parking areas and gallery and admin building space. The other two homes were extensively remodeled to create 20x30 ft. art studios by demolishing the interior walls. The entrance is on a shorter wall.
"Let's strip and get to work." I pulled my sunflower print summer dress over my head and left it on the floor by the door. I never wear underclothes before modeling.
The door looks across the length of the studio. The model stand is straight ahead and centered on the long right-side wall. A portable screen inside the door blocks a direct view of the model stand from outside when the door is open. There's one window next to the door and two more along the long wall to the left. The wall at the studio's far end has a counter, a small appliance kitchen setup, cabinets to store props and materials, and the door to a small toilet. It's a well-equipped space for the needs of Art League classes.
"Don't we need to get the keys back to Sandi?"
"Only before the session starts. We have a half-hour before people arrive, and I don't want to waste time."
I wanted as much time nude and exposed as possible. Usually, we undress in the restroom and wear robes. Today we didn't bring our robes, a trick we'd learned to spend more time naked. We left the studio door open, and Eric piled his clothes on top of mine.
The model stand is 7x4 ft. and elevated two feet. It used to be smaller, but Eric and I needed more space for our poses. When I'm on the stand, with the blinds open, I can see across the street to the convenience store and the left, back along the pathway to the gallery building and the second studio. There is a full-length mirror attached to the wall behind the model stand. Artists get multiple views without moving around. There's a small trapeze above the model stand. It's strong enough to support a model's arms overhead during a long pose.
"God, your body feels great." Eric hugged me when we were nude. His warm arms and hands slid over my back, sides, and ass.
I caressed his liberated but soft cock. "You shaved extra close this morning."
His shaving complements his 6'1" tall ballet dancer body. I'm a couple of inches shorter and verging on plus-sized. I shave my inner thighs and pussy lips to a straight line across the top of my clit hood. Otherwise, I have an all-natural, brown-haired triangle of curly pubic hair. With ample breasts, a bit of a tummy, and curvy hips, Eric loves to press his face between my cheeks and thighs to devour whatever he finds there.
"I'll start opening the mini-blinds. We need some light." I began to the right while Eric started at the door.
The proctors close the blinds and doors during the sessions, preserving the model's modesty. We're unabashed exhibitionists and open every blind we can, hoping to be seen. During the day, there wasn't much anyone could see from the street, but I always wished someone would get an unexpected, voyeuristic thrill.
During our practice, we pull the stage out from the wall and use the mirror to see our poses from the artist's point of view. Moving the stand puts it in the center of the room, and people outside can see us from the courtyard path to the studio.
"What do you want to work on today?" Eric finished moving the stand.
I reached for his cock. "First, do me doggie style. I want to see us in the mirror." I kneeled on all fours, where I could see our reflections, and watched him walk on his knees between my spread legs.
"Ass or cunt?" Eric offered the choice.
"Pussy first, ass later, maybe." He bent over, and I felt his tongue glide over my vulva. I didn't need more moisture. The possibility of being caught while fucking got my juices flowing.
He replaced his tongue with his cockhead in my slit and pushed until his thighs pressed against my ass, filling me. I watched in the mirror as he pulled out and thrust in a few times before feeling eager to continue our practice.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I want to practice two poses, and we're running out of time. It's your turn on your hands and knees."
"Your wish is my command." I watched as he slowly pulled out. I love the look of my labia stretched out by his cock as he withdraws.
"We've got to do this during a session. It's been so long since Bethany's class in New Orleans." I stood and looked at Eric. "Point your butt to the mirror."
