The Nude Drawings

The following story is a total fabrication. Nothing here is based on any real person or place. This story contains descriptions of sapphic love making. For you anon asswipes that's girl/girl love making. Also, because I have a tendency to break chapters too short, this is a long one, around 25,000 words. If that is too long for you then move on. I won't be offended. There is no one under 18 in any sexual situations.

THE NUDES

It was the last day of class for the school year. I had finally managed to lead my high school senior class through the intricacies of my advanced algebra class. My class was composed of only the most gifted senior students. To a person they all had performed flawlessly and all had already been accepted into a college or university. Our last day in class had begun with a short thank you speech from me as I gave each their final grade. I wished everyone luck in whatever endeavor they had planned and let them socialise for their final day in class. I was then distracted for the rest of the class by well wishers and tears of gratitude from some of my most gifted students, both male and female.

Suddenly I was alone. Another year, another stab at making my boys and girls into men and women and preparing them for the world that they would shortly enter into. I was so proud of my class. I started straightening my room and began packing my personal teaching aids into a cardboard box. I finally had the summer to look forward to. In a week I would be in a class myself in a state sponsored program all teachers were required to take to be recertified. In all honesty after fifteen years in the front of the classroom I was beginning to burn out. What with teaching a class for nine months then sitting for another two months on the other side of the desk then taking the last several weeks to prepare for my upcoming class.

'Maybe I should take a year off and find myself,' I wondered for the millionth time. 'Maybe I should take a sabbatical, maybe travel somewhere warm and relaxing.'

I was almost finished cleaning the clutter from my desk when I noticed the large brown envelope. It had my name on it with a machine generated label and was sealed. Not really caring at this point what it contained I put the envelope on top of my box of supplies and took it to my car. When I returned to my room I gave it a quick once over and grabbed my purse, locked my room and left.

When I arrived at my home I quickly removed my conservative three quarter length skirt, short sleeve white blouse and jacket, low heels, panty hose, granny panties and industrial sized bra. I rubbed the strap marks under my 48DD girls to relieve the irritation of being cooped up all day. My girls loved to roam free but the constraints of a dress code at school kept them confined.

I had my bags packed and after a quick shower I would drive to my little cabin for three days of decompressing. The small one room log cabin had been given to me by my father before he moved to his new home in a retirement community in Florida. The cabin was in the foothills of the mountains of the North Carolina-Tennessee border area, very secluded and rustic. Structurally, it was well built but without any electricity or running water. Just what I needed to unwind and prepare for my summer class.

I was walking to my bathroom when I stopped in front of my full length mirror to check myself. At 6' 1" I was tall for a woman but I wore my 190 lbs. very well I thought. Petite I was not though. I had found some gray hair recently so I had begun coloring my long hair to a rich naturally curly auburn color that matched my pubic hair. My boobs were large DD cups but even at 48' they didn't look oversized and there was only a little noticeable sag. The shape had a noticeable ski slope shape, the areola was a dark chocolate color and my nipples looked like gumdrops perched on top when they were aroused. I pinched my nipples quickly to watch them puff up in arousal. Moving to my stomach, it was nearly flat and there was my only vanity, a navel piercing with a ½ carat diamond in the center of an 18 kt. gold heart, sparkled in the light. I looked further down to my trimmed pubic hair and smooth labia and thought once again of getting my clit hood pierced to match my navel piercing. 'Not today,' I thought to myself.

My hips were not too wide and still shapely and my butt was round and tight and with my frequent trips to the gym my legs still had no flab or loose skin. All in all for 36, although tall and big boned, I was happy with my shapely body. "Terry Murphy you look hot. So why can't you find a man," I said out loud as I walked to my shower.

15 minutes later I was drying my hair and trying to decide if I wanted to wear a bra or not. I decided the girls needed to breathe and deserved some freedom to roam so I put a tight tank top, panties, shorts and sneakers on. I still needed to bring my classroom supplies in so I grabbed my suitcase and went out to my jeep to swap it for my box.

I was back inside when I noticed the large brown envelope I found on my desk. Curious as to the contents I sliced the top open and pulled out a sheaf of colored pencil drawings. Each drawing was of a nude woman.

The woman was obviously me.

I gasped in alarm as I quickly thumbed through the stack of drawings. They were all of me in my classroom in different teaching poses. I was naked in every one. Most were me standing at the board, either showing my back or facing the class but some were of me sitting at my desk with just my tits showing. In a few I was sitting on my desk with my legs spread showing my pussy. I quickly closed my eyes in denial then opened them to gaze at my own face with my eyes and mouth open, apparently saying something mathematical in my classroom.

"Who could have done these and why give them to me? And why now?" I said to myself. I quickly shoved the drawings back into the envelope, grabbed my purse and locked my door as I left for my cabin.

I was quite frankly alarmed at the contents of the envelope. Should I report this to the school board? The police? Ignore it? Should I try to find the artist? To what end? They were long gone by now I suspected. Off to their college or university. Most families took their vacations now and would probably be going out of town shortly. Whoever drew these poses would have their careers possibly ruined. How could I identify the artist?

I suddenly thought of myself. What of my career? Would the authorities blame me for this? There had been many instances in the news of teachers having sex with their students in the last few years. Would I be suspect too? I was a 36 year old single woman. While I never considered myself beautiful, I had been subjected to harassment on occasion by some horny male faculty member with an overly large ego and probably a little dick. Could this be payback for my refusal to play around? With whom? I hadn't had any problems in a few years since the school board instituted the current strict anti-harassment policy.

The more I thought about it the more questions I had so I tried to put the subject out of my mind for now and just enjoy the drive. This could wait.

It was still early evening when I arrived in the last small town before the mountain road to my cabin. I had planned on fueling my jeep and getting enough food supplies for my stay here because the added food bags would severely cramp the available space in my little jeep. With no refrigeration and only a few days stay I could only buy canned, dry or something I prepared then ate quickly so I put a shortlist together and left the quicky mart with only a few bags.

Evening found me roasting hot dogs over an open fire and eating whole wheat sun chips. Since I wouldn't be driving I planned on opening a bottle of the local wine while I decided what to do about the drawings. I scored a six pack of locally brewed brown ale also and it was cooling in the small stream next to my cabin as I cooked my simple meal over the open fire. Tomorrow I would move my cooking indoors after inspecting my cabins wood cook stove for varmints.

Morning found me brewing coffee, eggs and bacon over the open camp fire once again. Having satisfied my hunger I stripped naked and washed up in the cold water of the stream before tackling the move into the cabin. The cabin only needed a quick sweep and check for varmints and spiders then dusting before I moved into my little home. I put my bedding away and prepared a fire in the cook stove before settling down for some serious thought.

I had a beautiful summer day ahead so I poured the last of my coffee and removed the contents of the envelope once again.

I picked up the top sheet and studied the 8 1/2" by 11" drawing. The artwork was surprisingly life like for a pencil sketch. My facial expressions almost photographic quality and the colors of my hair, lips and overall skin tone were surprisingly accurate. The only thing not accurate was what the artist couldn't see, as in under my clothes.

In the first drawing I had a full pubic bush and my outer labia hung down loosely. My outer labia had always been puffy and tight, my inner labia had always tucked in tight and never hung loose. In the drawing my clit was extended like a little penis and mine had always been small and always hidden by its hood. A tribal tattoo surrounding my upper left thigh was pure artistic license as I had no tattoos at all. My breasts were much smaller than in real life and the areola much larger and lighter, my nipples in the drawing were small and pointed. My areola in real life was about the size of a half dollar and a dark chocolate brown. Because of the size and shape of my breasts my areola was slightly oval. My real nipples were large and round like little gumdrops. Over all the drawing looked like a life-like image of my head and hands on someone else's body. I also noted that the drawing was dated. The first day of the school year.

I put the first drawing aside and picked the second one up. The artist chose another frontal view. This one was similar to the first but I had small gold rings in the piercings in my nipples and clit hood and the tribal tattoo was on my upper right thigh. I also had earrings. I never wore earrings in class. I did notice the details of my pubic region was much more detailed. I could make out each individual pubic hair. The clitoris was much smaller but still extended making the clit piercing look larger.

I put this one down and picked up the first drawing of my backside. In this one my ass was much slimmer than in real life. I actually liked my ass in the drawing better than my real life ass. I giggled to myself at my comparison. My pubic hair was peeking through my labial gap and ass crack. I also had a tramp stamp tattoo above my ass and a butterfly on my shoulder. The artist must have a fetish for tattoos.

The succeeding drawings had similarities to the first three. The piercings changed as well as the tattoos. The detail was amazing. In every one I had a full bush until I got to the drawing of me sitting on my desk.

In this drawing my legs were spread and my feet were flat on my desk. I had a totally shaved pubis. My outer labia was extended showing my inner labia, pussy and asshole. There seemed to be a small puddle under my pussy. The clit was extended like the first drawing. Moving up to my breasts, there was the first words. On my right breast it said cum, on the left was slut.

Cum slut.

My face was scrunched up in the artist's version of my cum face.

Most of the rest of the drawings were variations of these examples. The one exception was the last day of class. In this drawing I was squatting on top of my desk again with my legs spread. I was wearing a pair of high heels and nothing else. My right hand was pulling a nipple. My left hand was rubbing my clit. My pussy and my pubic mound were totally bare. On the desk top was a puddle of fluid under my dripping labia, supposedly from my orgasm. The expression on my face was almost a pained expression, again the artist rendition of my cum face.

By the time I finished the drawings it was mid day and I was hungry.so I finished the perishable hot dogs and chips. The stack of drawings were never far from my thoughts though. I was concerned enough with the idea that a student had studied my physical self to the point of such accuracy. Not counting the hidden assets the details of my face and hands was amazingly lifelike and accurate. The imagination that was displayed with my body and the tattoos and piercings was amazing also. The clit and nipple piercings in particular gave me a visual on how they would look on me. I giggled at the thought of having my nipples and clit pierced to match the renditions. I certainly knew what visuals to expect after seeing myself now.

All thoughts of my jewelry aside, I knew that no matter who the artist was, I could possibly get into some serious trouble with any possible allegations. I was a mid-thirties, never married, relatively attractive woman. I had never considered how that must look to society but the fact that I didn't date might give some people the impression that I would be interested in their sons or daughters. The fact that I had dabbled into some sapphic loving in my long ago college years could possibly come to light if an investigator dug into my past deep enough. I had also dated a few men in college but I found them to be the older but still immature pussy hounds that I had left in high school, so I just didn't date much. Even after I started my teaching career the southmoric male attitudes and constant pressure to date, even some of the married staff, had been daunting. The innuendos of my sexuality had been almost a daily affair until I filed a formal complaint with the school board. They then crafted a much more stringent sexual harassment policy and the comments and innuendos had ended..

So, even though I was totally innocent of any wrongdoing, I would probably be convicted by the jury of public opinion and my career would probably come to a screeching halt, or at the very least be severely damaged.

What should I do? Change careers? Take that sabbatical I had been considering? Act like nothing had ever happened and try to go on with my teaching career? I was a good teacher. I prided myself in the fact that every student I had ever had went on to a successful career. Even though I only taught the most gifted seniors and only one class, I considered their success mine also.

The fact was that one of the hormonally challenged 17-18 year old students I so enthusiastically identified with had seen me in a much different light than the others. That person held my career in their hands. If I proactively changed school systems I had no guarantee that, in this age of the internet, any allegations wouldn't follow me and my career would not continue to advance.

What to do, what to do.

*****

I put the drawings away and decided to not let the problem ruin my little time off. I had only a few days to unwind before I would be back into the classroom myself as a student. I decided to start with some exercise so with my morning well under way I got my walking cane out and went for a brisk walk. The early summer day was bright without a cloud so I walked quickly up the mountain road to a public hiking trail. The trail was one that I had often used and as I knew most of the locals I felt safe. The morning air cleared my mind of any troubles as I kept my pace up. The wildlife sightings were spectacular as I neared the apex of my usual hike. The big flat stone that was usually my turn around point also doubled as a resting point while I ate an energy bar and drank half of my water. I once again considered my problem with the nude drawings. Not having come to any conclusion, I once again entered the trail and headed back to my cabin.

The morning exercise was a great time for introspection. I was a mid 30s advanced math teacher in a school system that met my financial needs but I had to file a formal complaint to get the sexual harassment to stop. Shouldn't someone have seen the level of harassment and proactively dealt with it for the sake of the female staff? Is this the life I wanted for myself? Did I want to teach at all anymore?

I considered my personal situation also. At my age I was getting to the point in my life when most women were married and had families. Some girls from my high school class had been married for 16-17 years and had teens of their own in high school. I was still struggling with bad dates in which the guy just wanted some pussy. I quickly thought of the few dates I had gone on through the years and for the first time I realised that none had excited me to the point that I wanted to continue any type of relationship.

Was I gay?

I tried to remember my college years, more specifically the time I spent with my girl. I liked to think of it as my sapphic period. I was only 20 when I had my first experience. My first roommate/lover was an 18 year old freshman and had been a hot little blonde haired, green eyed cheerleader in high school. She instantly became a party girl after entering college. Her name was Sylvia Maven.

The room assignments usually paired an older student, I was a junior, with a freshman. By the time I graduated she would be the mentor.

She had been this perky little high school cheerleader. She was very pretty with long lush blonde hair, big tits and a tight bubble butt. She was a virgin until her high school prom and had been considered a good girl back in her hometown. She probably was a good girl when she left home but when she arrived at our college she blossomed into a total round heeled slut. She had almost immediately started dating and having sex with any sports jock she could entice between her legs. Black, white, hispanic, tall, short, big dick, small dick. It didn't matter to her. It seemed like she wanted to fuck anyone involved in sports and was trying them all.

She had been my first and only sapphic experience.

One night after a bad date she came into our room crying and I could tell she was drunk or high or both. Between sobs, she told me about how much of an asshole her date had been and how men were pigs and wanted only one thing.

"All they want is to fuck me," she said. "I want someone to make love to me for once in my life. Someone to hold me and kiss me and think of my needs and wants. Tell me Terry why can't any guy just romance me. Kiss me and hold me? What's wrong with me?" She was blubbering and tears had ruined her mascara. Black lines were running down her cheeks. She moved over and sat on my bed where I had been studying for a calculus test.

"Listen sweety, first off you are a beautiful, sexy woman. But that's a two edged sword in your case. Because you are so beautiful, all the guys want to fuck you. That's a known fact of life. Your problem is you never say no. You let them into your panties without making them work for it. Let me ask you, how many dates have you been on where he doesnt get into your pussy? Hmmmm? How many times have you said no when he puts his hands on your big titties? Did you ever push someone away? No? I think that's your answer. They only work hard enough to get what they want. Once you give it up there is no challenge anymore. You become a punch board to them. The village bicycle. A sure thing. Resort lay. If they don't have a date by Friday they call you as a last resort because you are easy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah I think so but what do I do now? I've already ruined my reputation here. How can I find someone if they are used to me saying yes? Terry I love sex but I want him to at least like me first. I don't mind having sex with someone on a date but I don't want to be the village bicycle anymore."