Just My Luc

I, Denise Richards (no not the famous one -- I wish), started my teenage years even more clueless than the average girl. I didn't have a really good role model for a mother, and never knew my father. All I did know about him was that he was good-looking and really smart -- which made me wonder why he ever hooked up with my mother. While my mother too is good-looking, no one would ever accuse her of being smart, clever, intuitive, intelligent, or any synonym of any of them.

I guess that I inherited my absent father's brains because when I took an IQ test in High School I was told that it was "really high" (for some reason schools are reluctant to give out actual IQ test scores). Unfortunately, there is no test for practicality; I probably would have come close to failing a common-sense test at that point in my life; considering my choice of mates one could convincingly argue that I would always fail a common-sense test, or at least a judge-of-character test.

In view of the fact that I apparently had lots of gray matter and applied myself enough to get good grades, and since my mother could barely afford to feed and clothe the two of us, I got an academic/need scholarship to the campus of the State University closest to my house. The scholarship didn't include room and board, so I still had to live at home and commute. I also got a part-time entry level accounting job so at least I had some spending money.

I guess that I had a pretty typical college life -- considering that I was commuting -- including enough dates and sexual experiences to know what I liked, and didn't like; that is, it was basically normal until the last semester of my senior year.

My major was finance, but for some apparently Freudian reason hard for me to verbalize I had a minor in criminology; I only took criminology courses my freshman and sophomore years but enjoyed them and did well in them. By the last semester of my senior year I had fulfilled all my course requirements in my major except for one four-hour class in high level statistical analysis, so I took two electives that I was interested in since my scholarship paid for them. One of the electives I chose was "Art 201 -- Life Drawing" since I had a secret ambition to draw, always doodled throughout my life, and was told that many of my doodles were "really good" by unbiased observers.

My art class went along fine until we had a session where we would have a nude male model. The class before the model showed up Professor David Baugh had given us a long speech about what to expect and how to react. The part that most stuck with me -- which was also included in different words in the syllabus -- was: "In life drawing classes we use nude models to teach you students how to produce art that features the human figure based on a knowledge of geometry, motion and structure. Models work in three-hour increments, holding poses for extended amounts of time, in order for you students to reach a greater understanding of the way the body is formed. While some of you may be uncomfortable at the start there is nothing sexual about it. You are supposed to be looking for muscle and bone structures; with the live model there, you will be able to see what I'm talking about as far as accurately representing how to draw muscle and bone."

"No problem," I thought to myself.

The first day of the live model class the professor introduced the model. "This is Sean Gilbert. We are lucky to have him as a model because he is also an aspiring sculptor..."

"Who needs the money to pay the rent when the sculptures aren't selling like I want," Sean interrupted with a big smile. The professor and all the students laughed.

"As I was saying," Professor Baugh continued, "Sean has also brought one of his sculptures along which has an extremely good representation of muscle and bone of a male torso, which I suggest that you all consult at various points of time when making your drawing. I believe that you call it 'Bronzed Effigy,' don't you Sean?"

"That's right," Sean replied, and continued with a chuckle "And it's for sale, price to be negotiated." That got another laugh from everyone.

The professor made a few more comments including that Sean would be a model for almost three hours that day, and for about three more hours at our next class three days hence.

As it turns out Professor Baugh made a BIG mistake in having Sean as the model -- at least as far as I was ultimately concerned.

Sean Gilbert appeared to be in his mid-twenties, was the best-looking man that I had ever seen in my life when you considered both his face and physique, and most disturbingly had the first uncut cock I had seen live and it was bigger flaccid than any other I had seen hard.

I could see all of the guys in the class squirming and starting to sweat, as feelings of inadequacy seemed to seep out of their pores. I could see all of the gals in the class -- myself included -- squirming and starting to sweat for entirely different reasons.

Sean assumed a pose similar to that of The Thinker in Auguste Rodin's famous bronze sculpture; although one leg was positioned differently so that at least from my vantage point you could still see his entire cock (I'm not sure that he could assume any pose where you couldn't see part of that snake).

I'm not sure that I ever adjusted to Sean's looks, but I was at least able to somewhat get my act together and sketched out what I thought was a very credible start by the time that class ended. During the class Sean took five-minute breaks at the 1st and 2nd hour marks. He didn't put any clothes on during the breaks but behind a small partition be did stretching exercises and sipped some water. Unfortunately, from my vantage point I was one of only two class members who could see him stretching -- and his cock -- and I unconsciously became wet in my nether regions.

After roughly two and 3/4 hours of posing thankfully Sean put on a pair of exercise shorts and a tank top. Professor Baugh then had an announcement: "Sean has agreed to critique each of your drawings so far, and I suggest that you take his suggestions to heart because I will be giving each of you a grade on your drawing after the next class."

Sean came around to all fourteen members of the class, one at a time, and made brief comments and/or gave suggestions. I was the last one. All of the others had left -- including Professor Baugh -- as he looked at my drawing a significantly longer time than he did the others, rubbing his chin as he did so. I was so nervous that he might smell or sense my arousal that I wanted to run out the door, but using all of my concentration abilities I primarily maintained my cool. After several minutes went by he asked "What's your name?"

"Denise Richards," was my uninspired reply. He was one of few people who when introduced to me wasn't a smart ass and didn't ask me if I was related to the famous one, why wasn't I in Hollywood (actually the famous one lives in Malibu), or if I hated Charlie Sheen.

"Denise you have real talent when it comes to sketching out realistic muscle definition, although I doubt that I really look as good as you've portrayed me." (In actuality he looked way better than my feeble attempt).

Sean made comments and suggestions for another couple of minutes and then with a big smile said "See you next class." As he walked away to the dressing area of the classroom to put the rest of his clothes on he turned and impishly smiled as he said "Don't be afraid to show my penis," then winked and walked away without another look.

I immediately went to my car and abused my clitoris through two intense orgasms.

***********

After the art class where Sean modeled nude I had a hard time getting his handsome face, well-developed torso, and colossal dick out of my mind. By the start of the next class, however, I had resolved not to think sexual thoughts and just be "professional" about my drawing.

Sean assumed the same pose as the last time, I still had a good look at his dick, and I did my best to be professional, including walking to a place where I couldn't see him stretching during his two five-minute breaks.

Sean posed for about two and a half hours, put his gym shorts and tank top on, and then walked around with Professor Baugh making comments and assisting in the grading. When they got to my drawing I could tell that Professor Baugh was a little taken aback. "Uh...Denise, you're the only one who drew his male member so that it is easily recognizable."

Sean smiled while I'm sure that I turned red. "Uh...professor...you see from my vantage point...uh...it was readily visible...(gulp)...and I thought that you wanted accuracy."

Sean saved me. "David, when I critiqued Denise's drawing last session I recommended that she draw exactly what she saw, including my 'male member' as you refer to it. I think that she deserves an A+."

As I stood, there still blushing I'm sure, Sean and the professor talked some more in hushed tones that I couldn't hear. Finally, they both smiled and Professor Baugh said "I'm giving you an A-; good job!"

The professor left and Sean went to the dressing area. After I got all of my stuff together -- including rolling up my drawing and putting it in a protective tube -- I was the last one left. Sean came out of the dressing area carrying his sculpture and came right up to me. "Denise, if I buy you dinner and drinks this Saturday night would you be willing to give me the drawing you did?"

I was flabbergasted, but did finally blurt out "Uh...sure.," as I handed the tube with my drawing in it over to him.

That was strike one on my way to temporary ruin.

**********

Saturday night Sean was charming at dinner and later at a nightclub. Both places were pretty high end so I told him "I didn't think that you could afford these places based upon your comments during class about your financial situation."

"I was just being funny, playing the starving artist," he chuckled "I'm not really in bad shape financially especially since I just sold 'Bronzed Effigy' to someone at the University for $12,500," he grinned. "Also," he continued, "I got $30/hour tax free for modelling for your class."

"Wow," I exclaimed. "My part-time menial accounting job pays me only $11/hour and stresses me out; I'm in the wrong business," I laughed.

After drinks Sean invited me to his apartment. I knew that I shouldn't go, but I was feeling no pain and he was just so fucking good-looking; and of course, I was really curious about what hung between his legs. When we went into his apartment it looked just like you would expect a twenty-six-year-old artist's apartment to look like. There were artistic tools and partially completed works all over the place. I was surprised to see my drawing of him framed and hanging in a prominent place on the wall.

The only place in the apartment that was neat and tidy was his bed -- which turned out to be all that we needed.

I never, ever, fucked on the first date. The earliest I ever had was on the third date. As Sean was kissing me and moving his hands over my boobs when I came up for air I moaned "Can we consider the two art classes to be our first two dates?"

"No problem," he grinned, and then things got a little fuzzy.

What I do remember is that Sean did a great job of eating my pussy to two orgasms, and me getting well lubricated, before he removed his pants and let the anaconda spring free. I also remember being so full after he slowly and carefully penetrated me that I thought that the tip of his cock must be tickling my tonsils. I further recall my pussy flooding with his seminal fluid and being distraught when he removed his uncut meatstick from my vagina leaving me feeling empty. I partially remedied that feeling of loss by attacking his glistening sword with my mouth and his testicles with my hands,

I subsequently found out that there are vastly different viewpoints by women about whether the presence or absence of foreskin is better. I found his foreskin fascinating and I enjoyed playing with it. It was also clear that when I played with his foreskin that really charged Sean up -- I do believe that it is more sensitive than the head of the penis, at least in Sean's case. After Sean fucked me once more then, and at least once in the middle of the night (I can't be sure if it was one fuck and one hallucination, or two fucks, but it/they were magnificent regardless) I was a foreskin devotee.

The next morning it was obvious that Sean had enjoyed our sexual endeavors as much as I had. I was both embarrassed and giddy when he said "You know your body is a perfect female form. You should do nude modelling yourself."

***************

Sean's words proved prophetic. Two classes after his last appearance we were supposed to have a nude female model. Somewhat grimly at the start of class Professor Baugh announced "Unfortunately our model called in sick a few minutes ago, so I guess we'll have to have a boring lecture today." Then he stopped and chuckled, clearly not being serious, "Unless one of you wants to volunteer."

Before I could check myself I blurted out "Does it pay $30/hour?"

With a bemused expression Baugh said "Uh...well that's a little high but workable."

"I'll do it," I chirped, noticing the shocked looks on the faces of all of my classmates.

"Are you serious?" Baugh coughed as I started walking toward him.

"Sure -- as long as I get at least a B on this project since obviously I won't be doing my own drawing unless I do it in front of a mirror tonight," I snickered.

I had to sign some papers, we filled "$30/hour" in the compensation line of a standard contract, and I undressed. This was my first time nude in public but after the discussion I had had with Sean the morning after our first sexcapade I was only nervous for a few minutes. Then I relaxed.

The pose that the professor wanted was for me to sit on a stool with one foot on the ground and the other on a cross-support for the stool legs with my hands on the stool seat. My D-cup boobs were clearly visible between my arms as was my naturally sparse pubic hair, although I doubt that anyone got a good look at my camel toe while I was posing. Since it was my first time posing I took two three minute breaks per hour.

When the drawings were finished after two classes with me posing nude six hours (minus breaks) total, my thirteen classmates allowed me to look at each of their drawings "As long as you don't have a negative comment," blue-haired Shawna chuckled. The different depictions were humorous. One guy drew me with DDD breasts, one girl with ethereal AA boobs, in some I had a jungle bush, in others no bush. All females did my face fairly well, all males did justice to my thighs and/or boobs, and one guy drew a pronounced camel toe even though I know that it wasn't really visible.

It turned out to be a worthwhile life experience. My classmates actually respected me for doing it -- common expressions were "I could never do that," "thanks for pitching in," and "was it hard to hold the pose so long?" Fortunately, there were no sexual comments. I got an A- without doing a drawing, and $180 tax free -- which I badly needed at the time.

There was another benefit. After the second class when I called Sean to tell him what happened he demanded that I promptly come right over to his apartment. He proceeded to abuse my kitty for most of the night with his tongue, fingers, a vibrator, and by fucking me blind with his horse dick. I walked bowlegged the entire next day and had to use maxipads for twenty-four hours to keep my undies from being saturated with the cum leaking out of my pussy.

***********

Sean and I really clicked. I was surprised that someone as good looking as he was would be as attracted to me as he obviously was. While he -- like most artists I knew -- had a rather mercurial personality and had a more liberal attitude toward sex than anyone else I had met he was never mean or belligerent and we had a number of common interests -- and differences. Plus, there was the sex; it was beyond spectacular. He loved to eat pussy, loved to fuck, always made sure that I came, and clearly enjoyed the fact that I was enchanted with the foreskin on his big dick, and the heft of his testicles.

Actually, it was one sexual encounter that made it nearly impossible for me to decline Sean's proposal for marriage after we had been dating a mere five months and I had just gotten a full-time job in finance after graduating from college. The day I was offered the job for the celebration (we were living together in his apartment by then) after a quick dinner he excitedly said "Tonight we have our first 63!"

"What the hell is a 63?" I snickered.

"Look it up on your cellphone while I put my newly purchased silk sheets on our bed," he cackled.

I looked it up. According to the Urban Dictionary a 63 is: "A sexual position similar to 69. In 63, the girl is on top, and instead of giving the guy head while he eats her out, she lets him titty fuck her. The outline of her boobs is like the number 3."

Despite my fleeting art background that was hard to visualize so I did a little more searching. I finally found a photo of a 63. It looked like it required flexible partners, big tits, and a long cock. Since Sean and I seemed to have what it took I was happy to give it a try.

Sean was very erotic in massaging my naked body and giving me kisses all over in preparation for our 63. After he rubbed lubricant in the valley between my boobs he got under me while I was on all fours and presented his extremely hard long dick to my bazoobies. When I placed his dick between my mammaries and pushed them together to trap his dick he started eating my pussy at the same time that he was bucking his pelvis upwardly. I assisted by moving my tits up and down over his cock.

This position seemed to push all of my buttons. I came like a freight train from him fingering my cunt while tonguing my clit; he groaned and his cock erupted. He must have really been turned on too because I thought that his cock would never stop pulsing gobs of cum onto my chin and face, until I shoved it into my mouth to suck out any remnants.

After we had our simultaneous earth-shattering orgasms we both almost passed out, me lying on top of him with my ass near his face and his softening cock still touching my boobs. We periodically emitted languid groans and moans, and finally started returning to the living.

"How do you like a 63?" he rhetorically asked.

"I'll tell you when I can think again -- right now there are too many endorphins racing through my brain," I groggily replied.

While I was still almost comatose Sean said "Marry me Denise; I'm in love and will never find anyone that can hold a candle to you," as he produced a ring that -- considering his economic situation, which wasn't dire but also not too good -- was awesome.

I was shocked; I didn't think that Sean was the marrying kind, although I did get some hints in our many discussions that, like me, he wanted the chance to have a normal family life -- something that we both were deprived of in our formative years. I couldn't think of anything to say but "OK," which caused him to slip the ring on my finger and then make sweet love to me in the concubine position, his dick stretching and completely filling every cubic millimeter of my pussy.

My acceptance of his marriage proposal turned out to be strike two on my way to temporary ruin.

***************

During my two years of marriage to Sean the sex was universally fabulous but not everything else was -- in fact some things were bad. The two major issues I had with Sean were: 1) He periodically had unsettling excitable periods promptly followed by disquieting blue ones. 2) A guy named Rocky Werner, who seemed to be someone who passed for both Sean's business associate and best friend, I found truly unlikeable.