Corina was proud to have been selected as a model for Gerhardt’s spring fashion show, but she confessed to the designer that she was quite nervous. He asked her whether there was anything she could do to calm herself. “Maybe one thing,” she confessed.

“I do feel much better now,” Corina told Gerhardt. “But before I go on, maybe there’s one more thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Now thoroughly relaxed and almost as if in a dream, Corina made her way along the runway.

“Simply fantastic,” Gerhardt congratulated Corina at the event’s conclusion. “I hope you will consider taking part in my summer show.”

Here is an alternate version of the story for those who prefer a less minimalist approach without as much reliance on the illustrations to provide additional if not critical insight. I made use of CoPilot AI to flesh out the original, adding the explicit sexual references.

The Runway Bloom

By Mat and CoPilot AI
Illustrations by Mat

Corina had always loved fashion, but she had never imagined she would be chosen to walk in one of the biggest spring fashion shows in the city. When she received the invitation, excitement had swelled within her, but now, standing backstage, watching the other models glide across the floor with effortless confidence, she felt her nerves tightening around her like vines.

The designer, a sharp-eyed woman named Vivienne, noticed Corina’s clenched fingers and anxious glances. “You seem tense, darling,” she said. “Do you have a trick to help you relax?”

Corina blushed.

“Go on, you can tell me.”

“I sometimes take deep breaths and visualize something peaceful, like lying in a field of wildflowers,” she admitted. “And while that’s in my mind, I ... I touch myself.”

“Try it,” Vivienne encouraged.

Corina closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She pictured the soft petals brushing against her skin, the warmth of the sun, the gentle hum of bees drifting by. Her fingering brought about a short, sharp climax. It helped—almost. But still, tension lingered.

The show’s director, a man with an air of effortless composure, approached her. “What else would help?” he asked, his voice kind.

Corina hesitated before an idea bloomed in her mind. “Sex,” she whispered. “Slow and dreamy until I feel like I’m floating.”

With a nod, the director had Corina brace herself against the back of a chair, gently introduced his erect cock to her moist cunt, and fucked her until orgasm washed over her like waves of silk, unraveling the nerves knotted in her chest.

She stepped onto the runway, ecstasy’s delicious residue guiding her every movement. Each stride was light and flowing, each turn graceful. The audience watched, mesmerized, as Corina glided down the runway like a drifting petal caught in the breeze.

By the time she reached the end, a small smile tugged at her lips. The applause rose, filling the space like spring bursting into bloom. Corina had done it—dreamily, beautifully.