This is an excerpt from part of a huge novel I'm publishing a piece at a time here at Literotica. Some readers may not be interested in a long read so I thought I'd post a few of the juicy sex scenes just to see what would happen. Here is a brief setup.
Gwen Yoshimura and her lover Hawk Detrick go to the Honolulu Contemporary Museum of Art. There they meet Kira and Emiko Kokura, an attractive Japanese couple from Tokyo. Gwen befriends the couple and take them on a tour of her beloved art department at Honolulu University. The Kokuras speak only Japanese and Gwen translates for Hawk throughout the tour. Out of the blue, an artist named Sally Higgins gives the Kokura's, Hawk and Gwen each a tiny hand size bronze fetish fashioned after the famous Venus of Willendorf. After accepting their unexpected gifts, Gwen takes the Kokuras to her private graduate studio to show them her art.
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Hawaii Exchange
I led my group into the rat warren of grad student studios and eventually to my little studio number three thirty seven. I offered everyone beers from my little fridge then gave the Kokuras a look at my work. I sat on my Salvation Army loveseat with Emiko sifting through portfolios of small abstract paintings on paper, Hawk sat at my desk looking at my huge Van Gogh book, hoping to find something on the Van Gogh painting we saw at the Honolulu Contemporary. Kira stood looking at the cacophony of sketches and notes pined and taped to the walls. Stealthily, I admired his profile. On top of his obvious good looks, the man was charming in an old world kind of way. I particularly liked the way he had me laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl all day long.
Then I realized that Emiko was looking at me looking at her husband. To cover up my deep embarrassment, I got up and pretended to look for something near my easel. Emiko made a sound and I cringed, readying myself for a curt rebuke. When none came, I turned to look at her and almost screamed. She was leafing through my special black and green portfolio of drawings. My chest constricted with panic as I rushed over to stop her. To my horror, she twisted away from me with the portfolio in her hands.
"This is fantastic," she said.
The drawing she viewed was a 24 x 36 charcoal of me sitting nude cross-legged in a lotus position looking forward. It was one of many studies I had done for my nude painting titled Shelly's New Dance. I covered my face as Hawk and Kira came over to see. The drawing was done in uncharacteristic photo-realism. The only part I took liberties with was the hair; I had left it flat black with no highlights.
"Shit," I whispered.
"It's a beautiful drawing," Hawk said with his patented lecherous smile. "You have a great body. Be proud to show it." He gripped my shoulder in affectionate support.
Hope you feel the same way in a second, I thought as Emiko leafed to the next drawing. Hawk's hand tightened on my shoulder. Emiko turned her head and looked up at me wide eyed, and then she looked at Hawk.
"The likeness is uncanny," she told him.
"She says the likeness is very good," I translated sheepishly.
"You are one big boy," Kira said with a manly slapped at Hawk's shoulder.
Emiko laughed stopped short and cleared her throat.
Hawk looked at me for a translation.
"He said you've been blessed," I told him softening the comment a bit.
The drawing was of Hawk reclining naked reading a book with a full nine inch erection stretched across his stomach. Emiko's eyes focused on the real Hawk's crotch for a couple of seconds. She saw me watching her and her eyes quickly dropped to the drawing on her lap.
Good, now we're even, I though with some satisfaction.
Emiko went to the next drawing and it was of Hawk too. In the drawing he stood nude in profile with his surfboard under his arm. His erection echoing the graceful curve of the board.
"I'm going to show all my surfer friends your nude photos," Hawk whispered in my ear.
"I'll fucking kill you if you do," I said as I held a fake smile. "Wait, you can show Professor Piedmont but not the rest." I sighed. "Since the cat's out of the bag ... " I got up and pulled the finished painting of Shelly from its hidden corner.
Everyone stared at the nude woman standing awkwardly in her vague blackish-gray world.
"My God," Hawk said.
"It's like a John Singer Sargent," Emiko said in awe.
"More like Rembrandt with those eyes," Kira said with equal awe.
"I Like her too," I said overflowing with joy at being compared to the likes of Sargent and Rembrandt.
"She is beautiful," Emiko said. She looked at me with an odd expression and said, "May we take you and Hawk to dinner? Our hotel has a fine restaurant."
"Oh yes please, as thanks for your kindness," Kira added with his eyes still on my naked portrait.
"They would like to take us out to dinner at their hotel as payment for the good time we've shown them," I said to Hawk.
Like Kira, Hawk's eyes were glued to my nude painting, he absently nodded probably unaware of what he was agreeing to. Pleased and amused, I nudged him and said, "God Hawk, you pervert. You've seen the real me naked a billion times."
I accepted the invitation to dinner.
"Is Hawk's drawing true to life?" Emiko asked in a conspirator's whisper as we exited my studio.
"No exaggeration," I said. Emiko blushed and we both laughed.
"What's up?" Hawk asked.
"Just girl talk," I said.
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The nude drawings Emiko discovered were the mildest in my new found stint as pornographic erotic artist. I don't know what I would have done if she had discovered the drawing I did of women giving head or of couples fucking in focused Kama Sutra detail. Thankfully, those drawings were better hidden.
My resent exploration into explicit erotic art has made me rethink my personal theories on the female nude. Case and point the French impressionist Renoir. Like all his fellow impressionists, Renoir had a loose sketchy style of applying paint to canvas. But when he did nudes of frolicking big ass french girls, the looseness went away and he switched to a more realistic application. I always thought the switch was purely sexist and that he just liked looking at naked girls. And Now, I'm positive that I'm right. When it comes to producing erotic images, impressionism and abstraction fall way short of the mark. Like Renoir, I want my naked people in sharp clear focus. When it comes to glorious erect penises the style of Edward Hopper in much more satisfying than Pablo Picasso. The serious downside was that I lie awake at night, worried that I have become an x-rated Norman Rockwell.