Chapter 1: First Session

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Size, Slow, .

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: First Session - A buxom young female artist takes a chance and asks a male to be a nude model for her. He is a handsome model with impressive assets. They become even more impressive after she excites him with her own body.

My name is Stephenie. I am a twenty-six year old woman who lives alone in an old house I recently inherited from my grandmother. The house is a large Victorian style. It is almost big enough to be considered a mansion and located in the outskirts of Orlando. My dearly departed grandmother used it as a winter home to get away from the frigid, icy conditions of West Chicago. It was an escape for her in her old age, a way to get around the demanding Northern winter.

I moved into the house six months ago. Out went the tiny 14-inch television set to be replaced with a big screen. Away went the porcelain bathtub, replaced with a modern shower. And then there was her old phonograph player. I mean, who listens to scratchy old records in the age of CDs? Not that my Grandmother had poor taste, but I think it is safe to say that an 87 year-old woman and 26 year-old granddaughter do not exactly share the same interior decorating ideas.

I live in the house as a single woman who has never been married nor do I have any immediate plans to get married - or at least there is no one special in my life right now. It is not because I am ugly or because I have anything against men; it's just that I've never found the right guy. I actually like men very much and thoroughly enjoy sex, but my relationships never last. As soon as a guy gets me into bed a few times, he starts to change and then leaves me for someone else. Men conquer me as though I am a prize filly. Then they toss me aside for another.

The problem is my boobs. They're too big! I am a short Hispanic woman with a big set of tits. The eyes of men inevitably roam down to my chest or glance at my cleavage at the first chance they get. As they talk to me in the hall, I know they also try to picture the covered objects that make the large bulge poking out of my chest. As they politely hold the door open for me to pass, I know they really imagine their hands wrapped around my ample melons instead.

Men try to capture me like I am some sort of rare object they want to add to their collection. It starts simple at first. The guy will set a subtle trap with his words and sway me with his actions. He will say nice things and behave like I am his queen. He might compliment me on what I wear or maybe take me to an expensive restaurant. Basically, he starts out treating me like royalty. He tries his best to get me into bed, but I was not raised an easy girl. I never let a guy take me to bed on the first date, or even the second or usually the third. I make him wait until we get to know each other. And if I don't like what I see, well, I may not allow him to take me at all.

The sex - if there eventually is sex - is always really good at first. Men seem to like the extra excitement a big pair of tits adds to the sexual experience, as though my boobs take their immediate attention away from my pussy. As a consequence, the foreplay lasts a long time and the ecstasy builds to dizzying heights. Men have a fun time squeezing my breasts and teasing on my nipples, and I like it too. The experience gets both of us aroused and ready to fuck by the time we finally get around to doing it.

The problem starts after we have sex a few times. Some men will hold out longer than others. One guy may wait until he gets me in the sack a few times while another will be more interested in trying out a couple different positions. But inevitably, they all turn out the same. After the guy discovers what it feels like to lift the weight of my tits in his hands or pucker up to my inflated nipples, the novelty to wear off. He doesn't compliment me as much and refuses to take me to nice places (except, that is, when he can show me off to his buddies!). He begins to treat me more like a bimbo, like an object rather than a person. At the same time he no longer works as hard at hiding his own faults. His true personality begins to show through the facade. Most of the time the guy turns out to be a real jerk.

The sex is always good, but after awhile I get tired of it. One guy after another! It is always the same. I wish I could meet a man who would take me for who I truly am. That's what made it all the more frustrating when the tables were turned.

As I said, I live in an old house I inherited from my Grandmother. It is a large Victorian house that is really much too big for me. Along with the house, my grandmother also left me some money. In fact, she left me quite a bit of money. Not a fortune, but enough to quit my job as a secretary and pursue a childhood dream. I was always quite good at drawing and wanted to be an artist. I never expected to become a famous artist, but I just liked drawing. I always hoped I was at least good enough to perhaps teach it to others some day.

I tried to pursue my dream out of High School but with no success. I enrolled myself in a private liberal arts school for two years in attempt to get some additional training, but I soon discovered it was a waste of time. There isn't much money in being an artist, and the tuition bills began to mount. Even the most famous painters in history- Michelangelo, Salvador Dali, and a lot of others lived in poverty for much of their lives. Ironically, many of the most famous artists did not become famous until after they died.

It took me two years, but finally I came to my senses and decided to be more practical. I dropped out of school to get a real job. My dream had to be put on the back burner, left sizzling as a hobby as I cooked up more practical matters.

I got a chance to change things after my grandmother died and she left me most of the inheritance. I was her favorite, as she always said, and now I got to reap the rewards. Despite the high electric bills for the poorly insulated house in the summer and the constant need for maintenance of the old house all year round, I owned the place free-and-clear. And there are not many 26-year olds who can say they own a house without a mortgage. Furthermore, I had enough cash left over from the inheritance to buy a nice complement of stocks, bonds, and a rather healthy savings account. It was enough so I could quit my job and pursue my childhood dream.

I began my adventure by turning the downstairs sunroom into a studio. I now spend most of my days doing sketches, drawings, and the occasional painting. My primary specialty is pencil and chalk drawings. I am also pretty good with cartoon figures and once tried to start a little cartoon column in the local paper. It only went on for five weeks, though, until the Mayor didn't like my particular rendering of his likeness.

Brush painting with colors is still difficult for me, although that is where most of the money lies. I notice most shoppers at the weekend art shows seem to want large, color landscape scenes. They want paintings to put over their fireplace mantels. Some are willing to spend thousands of dollars for one, even from an unknown artist! I've tried the big time myself, but I prefer the black-and-white medium. The most I ever made for a drawing was $200.00, which I guess means I am talented but far from famous.

I began with landscape scenes, drawings pictures of seagulls flying across the beach or the structure of interesting buildings in town, but lately I moved on to the more difficult subject of the human form. For this, I needed models; so I started hiring models and made a number of figures. It was strange at first. I mean, it felt strange to have another person standing in my living room as I transferred their image to the canvas, but I gradually got used to it. Most of the models were art students themselves and therefore understood my passion. Most were also female because I didn't want some strange guy looking back at my bulging chest. One model in particular, Lisa, eventually became a good friend of mine. She gave me many compliments and said she liked my work - and she didn't say it just to humor me or because she was being paid. She came over many times for free just so she could learn some of my techniques. We even exchanged places a few times and she drew me instead. I have to sadly admit, though, she was not very talented herself.

My first drawings of the human form were of the face and upper limbs. I found it difficult in the beginning. It was hard to properly capture the subtle color change in the fleshtones of the human form, but my eyes were gradually able to pick out the details. The more I practiced, the better I became. It was as though the circuits between my eyes and fingertips slowly started developing in my brain.

My first drawings were all of clothed models, but as any good artist will tell you, it is more important to paint the nude form. I knew this all along and really wanted to paint a nude model, but was too embarrassed to ask. I would never pose nude myself, and I therefore didn't think it proper to ask someone else to do it for me. Besides, I figured models would ask for a lot more money to pose nude.

I didn't draw a nude until Lisa made an offer to pose herself. "Why not?" She questioned with reason. "It's art! It's not slut."

I agreed and we went ahead. Lisa posed nude for me in my sunroom.

I must admit, it felt strange having a nude woman lying down in the couch in my house. But like before, I gradually got used to it. I soon went into a trance and could ignore the fact she was nude. I drew for the sheer pleasure of drawing the human form and capturing all the sulitaries of the human muscle structure. Lisa later talked some of her friends into posing nude for me also, and I found that I really enjoyed it. My work visibly improved.

"Now you should try a man," Lisa told me one day. "Forget about painting woman all the time! You should try experimenting with the more dramatic and corrosive muscle structure of a man."

"In the nude?" I questioned back. "I don't think so! It would feel too awkward."

"Why not?" Lisa asked back. "You're a professional and I know a few male models who are also professional. You should expand your experience. I think it would improve your talents."

So far, all my nudes were female, except for the time when one of my old boyfriends allowed me to draw him, but the drawing was now in ashes. I burned it right after he suggested a threesome with one of his old girlfriends.

Still, Lisa had a point. It would be a real challenge to do a drawing of a nude male. I thought about it a long time. After a few more proddings by Lisa, I finally gave in.

The next afternoon the phone rang with a prospect. "Hello," I answered.

"Hello. I'm a friend of Lisa and I'm calling about a modeling job. She said you were looking for an undraped male model."

"Yes," I choked. Undraped in the language of an artist meant nude. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to a man offering to pose nude for me.

"Am I speaking to the right person?"

"Oh yes," I came to my senses. "I'm Stephenie. Lisa told me she would give out my number, but I wasn't expecting a response so soon."

"Sorry!" He graciously apologized. "I can call back later if you want."

"No, that's fine," I felt like I was tripping over my own words. "That's fine. The sooner the better, I guess."

The line was silent for several seconds.

"Um, what do you pay?" He finally took the initiative.

I hadn't thought about pay yet. Most models earn near minimum wage. Undraped female models usually wanted a little more, and I figured a guy would want even better pay. "Fifteen dollars an hour," I took a wild guess and then added the single word "undraped" under my breath.

"That's fine!" He accepted enthusiastically.

By the tone of his voice I realized my estimate was too high, but it didn't matter. I had the money and could always lower for the next time - if there was a next time.

Then I thought about what I was doing and realized I forgot to ask him any questions. I felt stupid. I was practically offering him a job without knowing anything about him.

"I know you are a friend of Lisa and you are probably acceptable," I told him. "But could you tell me a little about yourself? I mean, do you have any previous modeling experience?"

"Oh yes, quite a bit over the last two years. It helps to pay for tuition."

"You are a student then? What's your major?"

"At the moment, undeclared," He answered almost shamefully. "I came in under a soccer scholarship and play on the football and baseball teams, and I am still taking classes in several areas to search for what I really want. I met Lisa in one of my art classes."

It sounded as though he was a real athlete. I liked that, for it meant he probably had well toned muscles that would add to my experience. I also had a momentary thought about how exciting it would be to see him in the nude, but I quickly dismissed it. This is art, not slut, I reminded herself.

"What kind of modeling experience do you have?" I quickly forced my mind to look in a different direction.

"Commercial photography and posing for artist like yourself. An ad agency first picked me off the street. They said I had the perfect face for one of their layouts. I've been doing modeling ever since and I really like it. It's one of the few jobs where I can fit around classes and soccer practice."

He sounded pleasant enough and already had some experience. His mention of an add agency picking him off the street started me thinking that he probably had a very handsome face. It looked as if Lisa picked out the perfect candidate.

"You're hired," I offered him the job. "When are you available?"

"Tuesday and Thursday mornings are best for me. I don't have any classes until the afternoon on those days. And I'm an early riser."

I laughed. "I'm afraid I do not rise very early myself. How does 9:00 AM sound?"

"Sounds good! I'll be there."

"By the way, my name's Stephenie." I suddenly realized I hadn't given him my name yet.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Peter."

I gave him my address and we finished the call.

Tuesday morning was hot and humid. Peter arrived at about a quarter to nine. I opened the front door and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw.

Peter was young and finely muscled. He wore shorts and a tank top that nicely displayed his large biceps and muscular chest. I should of known what to expect, but I pushed it out of my mind instead. A guy going to school on a sports scholarship would naturally be well built and muscular. He was a fine specimen of a man and looked perfect to practice and fine-tune my drawing skills. I couldn't help but think he was also a fine specimen for a girl to do many other things with as well.

"Morning, I'm Peter," He greeted at the door, interrupting my pleasant thoughts.

I couldn't help but fantasize what he would look like without the shorts and tank top to get in the way, and then suddenly realized I would. This male body was going to pose for me in the nude! I couldn't believe it.

"I take it, you're Stephenie?" He questioned.

I came back to my senses and tried to put the picture of his nude body out of my mind. "Oh yes! You have the right house."

We shook hands. I noticed his grasp was hard and raspy. His hands were callused. He almost crushed my tiny fingers.

I invited him in and walked him back to the sunroom where I had my studio set up. Right away he showed interest in my drawings that I had stuck up around the studio walls. "These are great!" he said enthusiastically.

"Thank you," I replied, not really sure if he really meant it or not.

"Wow, you really understand the human body! You show great promise."

I figured he was just BSing me, brown-nosing like a well-oiled politician, but I appreciated the compliment anyway.

We talked for about ten minutes before getting started. I asked him a few questions about school, and he asked me a few questions about my work. He seemed intelligent and was a good conversationalist. He mentioned something about a chemistry lab he had to finish up after lunch. He didn't sound like the typical jock.

I was a little scared of him at first. He was a big guy, especially compared to my small stature. I think my eyes only rose to his chest. He looked to be nearly six feet tall and probably weighed in at about 220 lbs. - and there wasn't much in the way of fat on his body. It looked as though he did a lot of weightlifting to keep himself healthy.

He made me feel nervous. There were butterflies in my tummy, making me feel as though I was about to give a speech in front of a large audience. I tried to hide it. I didn't want him to know that he was my first male nude model, even though Lisa may have told him anyway. I don't know if he noticed it or not.

His words slowly put me to rest. I would have preferred to talk to him a lot more, but he said he needed to finish up by 11:30. He suggested we get started, so I pointed to a folding screen in the corner of the room that Lisa liked to use. It seemed strange at the time, to offer an area for privacy to a guy who was about to take off all his clothes, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

Peter disappeared behind the screen to re-emerged two minutes later wearing a plain silk robe. I continued talking the whole time, telling him the poses were up to him. I think the talking helped me to relax.

"I first want to get accustomed to drawing your form," I told him. "I have nothing special in mind. I figured a couple of ten to fifteen minute drawings each. You can decide on the poses and when to change," I offered. "If you find a pose too much of a strain, just change."


I saw him in the robe and he looked even better. The knowledge of the lack of clothing underneath began to get me excited.

"You can stand or there is a couch and stool," I spoke to get it out of my mind.

Then he did it. He simply nodded and removed his robe. He undressed like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

I liked what I saw! He had long, muscular legs and a tight backside. His physic was excellent. And best of all, he looked like he was rather well hung! I tried not to look too close, but his dick looked to be a little longer than what I considered average.

For the first drawing, he simply sat on the arm of the couch and leaned back. He faced me at an angle and gave me a profile, which made his dick look even bigger. I started drawing just to keep my eyes off it, but it remained very impressive and I couldn't stop looking down at the thing. I began to fantasize what it would look like when it was proud and erect. And the more I looked at it, the more I started realizing how big he was. He was definitely more than the average six incher. This one was at least seven; maybe even eight or nine. Occasionally it seemed to swell slightly, but I think this was only my imagination.

His next pose was standing with his back towards me and his face looking over his shoulders. I could no longer see his dick, but I was almost just as excited by his ass. It was taut yet fluid, clenching beautifully whenever he moved one of his legs. I found my breathing becoming increasingly hard. My heart was beating faster.

For the third pose he again faced me, this time lying down on his side on the couch. This made his dick look even bigger. To my surprise, it was the sexiest pose yet. Instead of staying between his legs, his organ fell to the side. It extended out from the middle of his body and pointed downward, almost long enough to touch the fabric of the couch. I was in shock. Clearly, this was no ordinary male organ. Peter had a monster. He had a real whopper of a cock.

At 10:00, I decided we both needed a short break, I think me more than him. He wrapped himself in his robe, grabbed a water bottle from his bag and stepped out into the courtyard. Meanwhile, I tried to regain my composure as I looked at the three drawings I did so far. They weren't very good, but I didn't care. It was difficult to draw with your hands shaking and your heart beating like crazy. I was still excited and light-headed when he returned.

It was time for a few longer poses where I could get into additional detail. I asked him to do a sitting pose first. He graciously took off his robe and did what he was told, just like a proper servant would do for his master. As soon as I saw him in his full frontal nudity, I suddenly had this crazy, erotic idea go through my head. I thought about really being a master with Peter as my servant. It would be fantastic if I could order him to do whatever I wanted, but I tried to put the idea out of my mind. The idea was too erotic to consider.

I began again. I started with my fourth drawing of Peter. This was the first drawing where I drew his dick. I started with his face and upper torso, and then moved down to his waist and his big organ in the middle. I had never drawn a man's dick before and found it very exhilarating. I couldn't help but want to draw it in the erect position, extended up into the air an incredibly long distance, like half the way up to his chest. Needless to say, it was difficult to keep my concentration.

For the last drawing, I asked him to do a semi- reclining pose. I liked it when he lay on his side before but thought it too awkward to draw him twice in the same position. So I tried to get as close as possible, asking him to sit up against one arm of the couch at an angle. He did so, but he did not quite understand what I wanted. I really wanted his left leg to be a little further over to the side and a little more bent. He started to move his leg in the wrong direction, so I instinctively reached out. As I did, my hand lightly touched the inside of his thigh and brushed against his dick. I did not try to touch him on purpose. It was an accident - or at least it wasn't a conscious accident. As far as my unconscious was concerned, perhaps it was going for his dick the whole time. In any case, the touch of his dick sent a quivering thrill through my arm, like an electric shock. At exactly the same moment, his dick jumped to life.

Embarrassed but excited, I stepped back, cleared my throat and said "Yes that'll be fine, I think."

I realized I was smiling, and then noticed Peter look up at me and smile too. Our eyes met. I think he knew what I was thinking. The heart inside my chest began to pound like crazy and my hands began to shake, but I tried to ignore it. I went back to the canvas and began drawing.

Then I noticed Peter's organ jerk upwards again. It seemed to be starting to get aroused and inflated a little bit more. The heart inside my chest beat even faster. The image of his erect cock again formed in my mind.

There was no doubt about it. He really was a very well endowed young man. He became a little harder but ignored it. He didn't seem to notice, so I tried to ignore it too. It was impossible, of course, so I tried to at least act as though I didn't notice it and kept drawing. I kept drawing because I didn't know what else to do.

I wanted to see it erect so bad I was almost willing to go up and adjust his legs again, but it soon stopped. It reached a plateau, and then began to soften again. Gradually, after about a minute or so, his cock started to go back to normal. I came off my plateau at the same time.

It made me disappointed, but I was not surprised. It would have been nice to see it inflate some more, but I was happy with what I already saw. I think he had inflated his dick to only half-size, but it was enough to make it about six inches long. Clearly, his cock had much further to go and it was already at the size of a normal man. In comparison to other male organs I've seen, Peter was very impressive in size. He had to have a ten-inch cock and it looked plenty wide too.

Unfortunately, 11 o'clock came all too quickly. The two hours were up and I was feeling disappointed. I wanted to reach out and move his leg again. I wanted to brush my arm against his penis once more and see it inflate a second time, but that would have been too forward. I was not a slut, although I have to admit that I was starting to get very hot and horny.

"I didn't realize it was so late!" He said with surprise after I told him that we were done. "But I suppose it's kind of hard to tell the time when you don't wear a watch; or anything else for that matter."

I paid him the $60.00 and asked when he could come back.

"Thursday morning, if you would like?" He replied.

"Excellent!" I said with glee. "I would really like to start again with some more drawings. I think we got off to a very good start."

Peter smiled at me and then went behind the screen to put his clothes back on. A wave of disappointment came over me as I saw his ass disappear behind the screen.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Size / Slow /