Sip and Paint

George and Linda have been our close friends for years and we get together regularly now that we are retired. We are all in good shape for our age, or at least we think so. We share a number of hobbies and interests to top off our long friendship.

Linda and my wife have recently taken up what they call sip and paint. They spend one evening a month enjoying a couple of glasses of wine and painting a different object each time. They have a regular group, and Bette, the painting instructor, is liked and appreciated. In fact, Bette has become a good friend to Linda and my wife.

George and I are somewhat responsible for the various paintings in our homes as we gave our wives a year's subscription to Bette's monthly classes. We're both supportive husbands and encourage our wives to explore their interests.

It was an early summer evening where George and I were enjoying relaxing in the pool while our wives were at their sip and paint. Seeing headlights coming up the drive, George and I both toweled off, and waited for our wives.

My wife and Linda came through the house out to the patio. They started laughing when they saw the two of us, each of us stretched out on a lounger.

"What's so funny," questioned George?

My wife responded, "Just a bit of a private joke."

"Sounds like a bit more than a simple joke the way you are laughing," George shot back.

With a sheepish grin, Linda explained, "Well, this evening the ladies painted a vase with a bouquet in it. Bette was explaining the technique to capture depth in a painting."

"What's so funny about that," I injected?

"Linda suggested that we paint a person instead of vases," said my wife. "The group thought that was a great idea, but Bette said unless we find a volunteer, we can't afford a model."

"I think our two girls are hoping that our favorite calendar man is willing to volunteer," observed George. "After all, I'm not too sure that I could do it."

"Do I hear a train whistle," I questioned?

My wife said, "It's a small group, only ten women and Bette. I know that you enjoy creating photographs for me, and you seemed to enjoy that evening this spring letting Linda take your photo. You know that I'm proud of you and if you are willing to pose for us, I trust our group to respect your privacy."

"I'm nothing special to look at, after all, I'm just an old man," I commented. "Your group will probably want to go back to painting vases if I show up."

Linda shook her head, sighed, then said, "There is nothing wrong with your looks and none of us are old yet, we're just not young anymore. Would talking with Bette help with your decision?"

Giving in, I replied, "Never hurts to talk, no promises beyond that."

"Okay," my wife said as she headed into the house to get the glasses and wine.

The rest of the evening was spent relaxing and skirting the issue of posing for the painting group. The next day Bette called, and she and my wife set a meeting up for the next evening.

George and Linda came over a half hour before the scheduled meeting, While Linda helped in the kitchen, George helped me sweep off the patio. George predicted that Bette would be uptight about nudity. Right on time, Bette's car came up the driveway.

My wife welcomed Bette then George and I came in. The five of us sat down in the living room and she engaged us in conversation. She exchanged pleasantries with George and I before broaching the topic of posing for her art class.

She asked about my photography, and I explained my sending photos each day to my wife and creating several calendars for her. She asked if she could see my photos, if I didn't mind. Thinking that I was considering posing nude for her, it didn't seem that sharing a few photos would offend her, I said yes.

My wife brought out my computer and I plugged it into the TV. I opened the file where I kept my nude photos and there on the big screen my naked images appeared. Linda couldn't resist with a restrained "whoo hoo" but Bette just scrolled through the photos slowly.

Bette made an occasional note in a pad and once in a while asked me about a picture, usually about what I was trying to say in the photo. Seeing my naked body displayed for her and my friends became more comfortable for me.

I thought that perhaps there were far too many photos with my cock hanging out, and then I was momentarily embarrassed when one popped up on the screen that showed me with a raging hard-on. Bette didn't seem a bit bothered. Linda just cleared her throat and took George's hand.

When she reached the end of the files, she said that I would be perfect for her class. She expressed her admiration for some of the photos, saying they were art. I asked what kind of pose she was looking for?

"You've shared your photos, and it is only fair that I share a few of mine to give you an idea," she responded.

Bette fired up my browser and typed in a web address. As it loaded, she explained that she posed for a friend. The first photo appeared, and Linda went "wow". The image was of Bette in silhouette against a wall, with one side of her body illuminated and the other in deep shadow. She had smaller breasts and well-defined legs for a lady in her early fifties.

She showed us about 8 photos and gave a description of why and how they were created. After the screen when back to the default background Bette looked at me and bluntly asked, "So are you willing to pose for the class?"

I realized this was the moment of truth, was I willing to be naked in front of eleven women who wanted to paint a nude man? I looked at my wife and she shrugged and smiled, letting me know she would support whatever decision I made. Linda and George just looked at me, each with a funny grin pasted on their faces.

I cleared my throat and said, "Bette, I'll do my best, just no photos please."

"It's a deal,"

Bette then gave me my instructions for my modeling gig. No tight-fitting clothes for at least one hour before the start time. Bring a robe. Start time for me is half an hour before the stated start time. Get plenty of sleep and plan on enjoying the experience.

She then gave me a high five and thanked me again for volunteering. She packed up and thanked the girls before leaving. Linda and George finished their drinks and prepared to head home. Linda, always the joker, thanked me for the great show and was rewarded by my face blushing crimson.

The five days I had to wait passed quickly. On the morning of the fifth day, I stood in front of the mirror and just looked at myself. I wondered if I looked appropriate for a nude model. I decided to pick up the scissors and razor and do a bit of personal grooming down below.

It was a hot day, so mid-afternoon, I stripped down and put on a tee shirt and a pair of shorts that weren't tight. I dug out my robe and timed my drive to Bette's place so that I would arrive on time.

Bette welcomed me when I arrived. She showed me her studio and suggested that I get into my robe. She was setting up easels and paints for each of her students and I decided that modesty was about to be abandoned anyway. I undressed in front of her and slipped my robe on. I thought I saw her smile when I glanced her way before putting the robe on.

It seemed like just a few minutes and the first lady showed up. I didn't know her and one after another the room filled up with women, Bette introduced each one, but in my nervousness, I promptly forgot their names. There was one lady who looked to be in her early thirty's, three that I'd guess were in their forty's, two who had to be in their upper seventies, and the rest were in their fifties and sixties.

My wife and Linda were the last to arrive. Bette welcomed the class and explained the evening's subject was going to be me and that in consideration of my privacy, phones had to remain off this evening. Several of the ladies seemed disappointed, but they all turned their phones off and put them in their purses.

The easels were arranged in an arc in front of a blank wall and had a couple of lights aimed at the center of the wall. The ladies took their places and Bette signaled me to come forward. She explained that I would be simply be standing in front of the wall with my arms crossed as it was an easier pose to maintain. Bette said that painting would be in 15-minute segments with five-minute breaks for me. She then said, "Let's begin."

I untied the waist tie and pulled it loose. I could feel ten pairs of eyes watching as my robe opened and then slide off my shoulders. Just like that, I was naked in front of the ladies. I could feel their gaze just as much as the air circulating over my bare skin.

My fear of my cock shrinking to its smallest or of having an erection were relieved as it swung with each step as I moved to the wall. I crossed my arms as I took my position and heard Bette say that was perfect.

It was a new feeling to be standing naked and exposed in front of eleven women, of which only three had seen me naked before. I could feel their eyes running from my face to my chest and arms, from my legs up to my cock that quivered with every breath. Then Bette turned on the lights and put me in the literal spotlight.

The group started painting with Bette giving some direction and advice about how to paint the human form. I started to watch the ladies as they painted. Some seemed focused on their painting and seldom looked at me, while others spent the bulk of their time staring at me. One of the older ladies especially seem fascinated by my cock whenever it would twitch.

By the time the first 15-minute session was over, my nerves had settled, and I was enjoying the experience. When Bette called time, I put on my robe and took a look at what the ladies were capturing in paint. The thirty-something was obviously the only real artist, but the others were doing great in my opinion.

Then it was time to shed my robe and return to my position in front of the wall. As I resumed the position in the light, I found that I was comfortable being bare and the center of attention. I saw my wife wink at me, and my cock swelled a little.

The ladies were also getting more comfortable with my nudity. They now met my eyes, and their chatter became more natural. The second 15-minute session passed quickly and as I slipped on my robe; Linda muttered something about what's the point.

The paintings were progressing, and Bette continued to circulate giving pointers and suggestions during the break. Before the class resumed, each lady was poured a second glass of wine. Then the break was over, and I tossed aside my robe and took my place at the front of the class.

The ladies started to include me in their conversation. One of them asked me how I had the courage to be naked in front of them. I hesitated, then tried to answer her question. It is a combination of excitement and freedom, I explained.

The third session went quickly as I tried to verbalize answers to their questions. As we talked, my cock would swell a little or twitch depending upon how intimate the question was. Plus, the anticipation of doing what Linda had implied was building.

When Bette called time, I didn't bother putting on my robe. I just wandered from easel to easel looking at the paintings. My wife patted me on the butt and the rest of the women were ladies and didn't touch me. The last break ended, and I once again took my position in front of the wall.

It was the older lady who mentioned the bead of clear precum that appeared on the tip of my cock. I blushed at her comment and my cock swelled a bit more to stick out from my body. I thought about snowstorms in an effort to keep from getting an erection.

When Bette called time, I looked down and saw that the bead of precum had become a thread from the tip of my cock to my thigh. I knew that all the ladies had seen it and the embarrassment passed as they didn't seem bothered by it.

I put on my robe, and each lady then took the opportunity to give me a hug as they showed their painting to the class. When Bette ended the class, I looked for my clothes and saw that my wife was holding them. She smiled at me with her wicked grin, and I knew that I wasn't getting them back right away.

Driving home with the girls following me was uneventful. I had a firm erection by the time I got home and got out of the car. Linda gave me a thumbs up as my wife got out of the car. I guess that after she had seen me naked several times, one more made no difference.

My eyes were for my wife and as Linda's car left our driveway, my wife and I made it to the patio before I shed my robe. She sat on a lounger and pulled me to her. She took my cock into her mouth, and I groaned with pleasure. Her tongue caressed my shaft, and her hands gently cupped my balls.

I knew I wouldn't last long and pulled out of her wonderful wet mouth and lifted her sundress to find she wasn't wearing panties. I reclined beside her and then rolling on top of her, I slowly entered her. The sensation of my rock-hard cock sliding into her warm dripping pussy elicited a moan from each of us.

I started to thrust, and my wife reciprocated with her hips lifting in rhythm with me. It didn't take long, and she was crying out as she came. That was all I could take, and I felt the cum rise in my shaft and fill her pussy.

We just laid there as my cock deflated inside her and enjoyed the afterglow of our passion.

"Thank you for letting me explore my exhibitionist side," I whispered.

"As long as I'm the only one that gets this, you're welcome."