After the Art Class Teri
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After The Art Class - Teri free porn video
‘Do you fancy a drink?’
It was the end of another art class, the last of that term in fact. Isobel had made her apologies for a quick getaway and I had been hoping she might take me home with her. Perhaps I looked crestfallen. Teri, the model, tapped me on the shoulder.
‘I said, do you fancy a drink?’
‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to me.’
She smiled, ‘There’s nobody else here.’
I said that, yes, I’d love a drink and picked up my large portfolio bag and coat and followed her down the stairs from the art class. Teri was tall, maybe six feet and slim with very long, lustrous black hair. She was wearing a long skirt made of a fabric like a tapestry, autumnal shades of green and orange and gold. She had a leather jacket open over a white silk blouse. I’d seen her naked or partially naked so often that somehow this seemed more intimate.
That evening we had painted her, under Isobel’s guidance as usual. She had been almost naked. Isobel was, as she often was, exploring the erotic and had posed her on her knees, looking over her shoulder, her knees spread and wearing only a gauzy slip. I thought she probably had it on still. Isobel had told her to remove her knickers and had then pressed the fabric of the slip between her buttocks so that her lips were almost visible. The beginning of her triangle of dark hair was a shadow behind it.
Teri’s breasts are larger than mine but not big. They are beautifully shaped and her nipples are dark as chocolate, small but always long. I have never really noticed the woman, only the body. I’d chatted to her in the past but never at length. I wondered why she had asked me for a drink but I was pleased she had.
We crossed the road and went into a small pub frequented by students from the college. She acknowledged a few and seemed never to look back to see if I was still with her. I followed close behind her as she made her way to the bar. She turned then and placed a hand on my shoulder, a curiously possessive gesture to my mind.
‘What would you like?
We both settled for a beer and took our glasses to an unoccupied table in a corner of the bar where we could hear each other. She sat beside me, half turned.
‘You paint well. I love the way you paint me.’
‘Thank you! You’re somehow easy for me to paint.’
She did something with an eyelid that asked a question and I answered it. ‘I like your body, I find it seems to work for my sort of style.’
‘Can I see what you did tonight?’
I hesitated. It’s not that I don’t like people seeing my work (does ‘work’ sound pretentious?). It was that this piece was very explicit. I’d arched her back more than Teri had and the gauzy slip was more transparent than it actually had been. Her knees were painted further apart and her pussy was far more obvious. I’d also done something to her nipples. Reluctantly I pulled the canvas from my bag and she studied it slowly.
‘Clamped nipples?’ She frowned. ‘Now that I don’t remember. I’m sure I should.’ She smiled at me and I blushed a little.
‘Never be embarrassed by your work. If it’s crap Isobel will tell you. The theme was the erotic and this surely is. Fortunately she had the painting facing away from the other patrons of the pub.
‘May I look through the others?’
The cat was, so to speak, out of the bag now and so I merely nodded consent and she looked through the other canvases, examining each one critically. She was a very experienced model and her opinion mattered to me.
She found, behind the last piece, a slip of paper. I had written some notes which were definitely not for anyone else’s eyes.
‘That’s not for publication,’ I said, and hastily lifted it from the bag, folded it and put it in my pocket where it almost burned against me.
Teri looked at me quizzically. I muttered something about innermost thoughts and she smiled.
We discussed art, her role as a model and I asked her how she felt about being naked and sometimes very erotically posed as she had been tonight.
‘I was Isobel’s lover for a while. She is a wonderful woman and when we ended it was simply because she is too mercurial and independent to be constrained by a relationship. She isn’t promiscuous, don’t misunderstand me, but she has enormous passion and needs constantly to find new experiences. I couldn’t keep up.’ She laughed. ‘Not for want of trying.’
We both laughed. I wondered if she knew what had happened between Isobel and me but didn’t ask.
‘When we first met I was doing odd modeling jobs for local artists and she got to know me through one of the galleries and asked me if I’d pose for her. I did and she just posed me as she wanted. I didn’t find it embarrassing or anything. Her passion and her disregard for convention is catching, don’t you think.’
The look she gave me then convinced me she did know or suspect that Isobel had had me. There was no other way to describe what had happened between us although, of course, I’d been hoping she would.
She leafed through my paintings and drawings again and lingered on the piece I had done that evening. She studied it and smiled at me.
‘Was it you who you were seeing there like that?’
The question stopped me dead. Her hand rested on mine.
‘Don’t be embarrassed.’ Her finger traced the clamp that covered her right nipple in the picture. ‘Pretty aren’t they?’
She put the paintings back in the bag and I asked if she’d like another drink. She said she would and I went through the students to the bar and bought two more. I went back to our table and placed the beer in front of her. She thanked me and, as I sat, moved a little so we were closer. I could feel her hip against me and her arm slid across the back of my chair. Her face came close; not so close that anyone in the bar would think we were lovers but close enough that I could hear when she whispered.
‘If you care, I do know that Isobel and you had a fling. Don’t be upset and don’t expect it to happen again.’ In fact Isobel had almost said that it wouldn’t.
‘And if you’re interested, I’m interested in you.’ Her hand rested on my knee which was covered by my long skirt. ‘Are you interested?’
I almost laughed. I mean, who wouldn’t be interested? She was so tall and slender – almost coltish long legs, and her face was an artist’s delight with its contrasts of dark hair, pale skin, clear white eyes with dark blue pupils. In fact I did laugh and she recoiled slightly.
‘Oh, God, Teri don’t be offended. I was just asking myself who the hell could not be interested in you?’ I leaned away from her but held her hand. ‘You’re stunning and you’re funny and intelligent. I actually thought how could she think I could not be interested?’
She smiled and looked down at our two hands on my knee. ‘Well then, let’s get to know each other, shall we?’
*
Teri called me a few days later.
‘Still interested?’
I laughed and said that, yes, I was still interested.
‘Good. Let’s have a curry?’ I agreed immediately and the date and time were set.
The Saturday of our date seemed to drag. I did some shopping in the morning and bought myself a new pair of silk French knickers, some silk stockings and a beautiful and far too expensive suspender belt in deep gray with white lace. It wasn’t frilly or flouncy, just beautiful. I had a bowl of soup for lunch and wondered what, apart from my new purchases, I would wear. I soaked in the bath until the water started to get cold and then looked at the clock. At last it was time to get ready.
I dressed carefully. The dress I chose was suitable for an Indian restaurant. I couldn’t go dressed as if we were going to the Ritz. It was a simple black number with a square neck, tight waist and buttons from neckline to waist. I don’t wear silk stockings too often, they are too expensive and damage easily but, well, I wanted to so I did. The new suspender belt looked lovely I thought and a couple of times before I left I lifted my dress to see what Teri might see if the fantasy that I’d run through my mind that morning in bed came to fruition.
I’d been lying in bed in my oldest and favourite nightdress. You will know by now that I am a silk fetishist – well, almost. The nightdress whispered between my thighs and I closed my eyes and saw Teri. Her black hair moved like water in slow motion. Her deep blue eyes were dilated with lust. Her hand slid under my nightie and caressed me, first my thighs, then my puss. I lifted my hips and she entered me slowly, curling into me. Her mouth came to mine and I came into her, gasping an orgasm into her mouth.
It was with some reluctance that I let the dress fall back down. I picked up my bag and coat and made my way through the city to the appointed wine bar where we’d agreed to meet. She wasn’t there so I ordered a glass of red and sat down at a table and waited.
I always carry my e-book so I was reading when she arrived and I didn’t see her. I felt someone looking at me and looked up. There she stood, one hand on her hip and a smile on her face.
‘I’ve been here for about two minutes. I’ve never seen anyone so focused!’
It was true. I was lost in the book and switched it off and closed the cover, smiling up at her lovely face. I took in her clothing. Her trousers were high waisted and pleated, describing her hips and waist beautifully in dark blue. She had flat shoes which were deep red and matched the red of her camisole top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, that was obvious and I wondered at her self-confidence. I’ve mentioned how long her nipples are and they were very, very clearly defined. The dark blue waistcoat she wore partially covered them but only partially. Her hair was loose and shone wonderfully in the bar’s lights.
‘Let me get you a drink?’
She shook her head, ‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it.’ She dropped her coat over the back of the chair facing me and went to buy her wine. When she got back she sat facing me and looked into my eyes.
‘You look good.’
‘So do you.’
We talked and talked, nearly missing the time booked for our meal. We walked across to the Indian Restaurant and, as we did so, she took my arm and slipped it through hers. I cannot tell you how that felt.
We ate and drank Cobra beer and we laughed almost all evening.
It was about 10.30 when we had finished our coffee and Teri said, ‘You know what, Emma? I rather think I’d like you to come back to mine for a brandy.’
Her flat was the home of an artist. Pictures, all original and some featuring Tei graced the walls. She smiled as I walked around her spacious living room examining each one. I noted one which was clearly Isobel’s work. It had all her hallmarks, the way fabric moved, eyes sparkled, the body was revealed despite being clothed.
‘The filthy ones are in my bedroom.’
Her voice had a smile in it. I turned to look at her. She was sitting on the sofa, a low table beside her with two large brandy glasses shining gold in the light. I walked to her and bent down and kissed her mouth. Her hands came up to my face and held me to her. Her mouth explored mine and her fingers gently traced my face. Her legs were wide apart and I stood between them, bent over to her. I let my hands go to her shoulders and she allowed her tongue to extend into me. She tasted beautiful and I knew she had cleaned her teeth as I had when I went to the toilet earlier. Our kiss went on and on. I felt her hands leave my face and they went to my hips. She caressed me as the kiss deepened and became hungrier.
She broke it and leaned back. I stayed standing between her wide-spread legs. Fantasies do come true. Infinitely slowly, she leaned forward and lifted my dress from the hem just below my knees. She lifted it higher and higher and I watched her eyes. I did not see disappointment. I saw hunger reflecting my own. She held it there and I suddenly thought she has never seen my tits but here she is looking at my underwear. Her hands slipped around my hips and the dress fell to cover them.
‘I think it’s time, don’t you?’
I stepped back and she stood up. Her hands left my hips and came to my face again. She moved in and kissed me very deeply, her body moving against mine. She then turned and led me slowly into her bedroom, her hand on my arse. I felt enormous desire but she seemed intent on taking things very slowly. The lights beside the bed cast a soft glow in the room, enough to see the shades of blue that oddly made it warm rather than cold as you might expect. Above the bed was a canvas. It was another of Isobel’s – I knew that immediately. But this was like no other I had seen. Teri was sitting on a chair, her wrists tied to the arms, not with rope but with scarves. She wasn’t naked. The silver evening dress she wore in the painting was pulled aside to reveal one breast and her knees were spread and her sex was exposed and there was a hint of moisture. Her mouth was open. Her eyes held no fear, only longing and invitation. It was incredibly erotic.
I looked around and saw others. They were all of Teri and all showed her open and exposed but never pornographically, always with restraint. The one over the bed was the most explicit but it was not coarse it was, well, moving.
I felt her hand caress my arse. She moved in front of me and slowly unbuttoned my dress to the waist and opened it. She showed no surprise that I was without a bra. She merely leaned in to kiss my mouth and her hands roamed freely over me. My arms went around her and I sucked her tongue deep into my mouth. I could feel her nipples hard against me now and wanted to love them. I peeled her waistcoat from her and she shrugged it off. I pulled at the camisole and it slithered from her trousers and up and suddenly the nipples were visible as I leaned back and then down to suckle first one then the other. She held my head gently and guided me from one to the other.
There is a point at which foreplay moves on. For me then it was when I undid the waist of her trousers. I squatted and guided them down over her hips. She was naked beneath them and the dark triangle of her pubic hair, wild and untrimmed was revealed to me. I couldn’t resist leaning into it, to simply press my face against it and feel the softness against my cheek. Her hands never left my head but she didn’t move me, just held me as I rested against her. Then I helped her out of her trousers and when they were off and her legs free I pressed my face into her again and this time I kissed her as if it were her mouth. She stood over me and caressed my head as I did so. Gently she pulled me up and held e to her. She then stepped back and we both undressed what remained of our clothing. I went to unclip my suspender belt but she shook her head with a smile and so I left it and the stockings on and we subsided onto the bed..
‘The Three Sisters’ next.
It was the end of another art class, the last of that term in fact. Isobel had made her apologies for a quick getaway and I had been hoping she might take me home with her. Perhaps I looked crestfallen. Teri, the model, tapped me on the shoulder.
‘I said, do you fancy a drink?’
‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to me.’
She smiled, ‘There’s nobody else here.’
I said that, yes, I’d love a drink and picked up my large portfolio bag and coat and followed her down the stairs from the art class. Teri was tall, maybe six feet and slim with very long, lustrous black hair. She was wearing a long skirt made of a fabric like a tapestry, autumnal shades of green and orange and gold. She had a leather jacket open over a white silk blouse. I’d seen her naked or partially naked so often that somehow this seemed more intimate.
That evening we had painted her, under Isobel’s guidance as usual. She had been almost naked. Isobel was, as she often was, exploring the erotic and had posed her on her knees, looking over her shoulder, her knees spread and wearing only a gauzy slip. I thought she probably had it on still. Isobel had told her to remove her knickers and had then pressed the fabric of the slip between her buttocks so that her lips were almost visible. The beginning of her triangle of dark hair was a shadow behind it.
Teri’s breasts are larger than mine but not big. They are beautifully shaped and her nipples are dark as chocolate, small but always long. I have never really noticed the woman, only the body. I’d chatted to her in the past but never at length. I wondered why she had asked me for a drink but I was pleased she had.
We crossed the road and went into a small pub frequented by students from the college. She acknowledged a few and seemed never to look back to see if I was still with her. I followed close behind her as she made her way to the bar. She turned then and placed a hand on my shoulder, a curiously possessive gesture to my mind.
‘What would you like?
We both settled for a beer and took our glasses to an unoccupied table in a corner of the bar where we could hear each other. She sat beside me, half turned.
‘You paint well. I love the way you paint me.’
‘Thank you! You’re somehow easy for me to paint.’
She did something with an eyelid that asked a question and I answered it. ‘I like your body, I find it seems to work for my sort of style.’
‘Can I see what you did tonight?’
I hesitated. It’s not that I don’t like people seeing my work (does ‘work’ sound pretentious?). It was that this piece was very explicit. I’d arched her back more than Teri had and the gauzy slip was more transparent than it actually had been. Her knees were painted further apart and her pussy was far more obvious. I’d also done something to her nipples. Reluctantly I pulled the canvas from my bag and she studied it slowly.
‘Clamped nipples?’ She frowned. ‘Now that I don’t remember. I’m sure I should.’ She smiled at me and I blushed a little.
‘Never be embarrassed by your work. If it’s crap Isobel will tell you. The theme was the erotic and this surely is. Fortunately she had the painting facing away from the other patrons of the pub.
‘May I look through the others?’
The cat was, so to speak, out of the bag now and so I merely nodded consent and she looked through the other canvases, examining each one critically. She was a very experienced model and her opinion mattered to me.
She found, behind the last piece, a slip of paper. I had written some notes which were definitely not for anyone else’s eyes.
‘That’s not for publication,’ I said, and hastily lifted it from the bag, folded it and put it in my pocket where it almost burned against me.
Teri looked at me quizzically. I muttered something about innermost thoughts and she smiled.
We discussed art, her role as a model and I asked her how she felt about being naked and sometimes very erotically posed as she had been tonight.
‘I was Isobel’s lover for a while. She is a wonderful woman and when we ended it was simply because she is too mercurial and independent to be constrained by a relationship. She isn’t promiscuous, don’t misunderstand me, but she has enormous passion and needs constantly to find new experiences. I couldn’t keep up.’ She laughed. ‘Not for want of trying.’
We both laughed. I wondered if she knew what had happened between Isobel and me but didn’t ask.
‘When we first met I was doing odd modeling jobs for local artists and she got to know me through one of the galleries and asked me if I’d pose for her. I did and she just posed me as she wanted. I didn’t find it embarrassing or anything. Her passion and her disregard for convention is catching, don’t you think.’
The look she gave me then convinced me she did know or suspect that Isobel had had me. There was no other way to describe what had happened between us although, of course, I’d been hoping she would.
She leafed through my paintings and drawings again and lingered on the piece I had done that evening. She studied it and smiled at me.
‘Was it you who you were seeing there like that?’
The question stopped me dead. Her hand rested on mine.
‘Don’t be embarrassed.’ Her finger traced the clamp that covered her right nipple in the picture. ‘Pretty aren’t they?’
She put the paintings back in the bag and I asked if she’d like another drink. She said she would and I went through the students to the bar and bought two more. I went back to our table and placed the beer in front of her. She thanked me and, as I sat, moved a little so we were closer. I could feel her hip against me and her arm slid across the back of my chair. Her face came close; not so close that anyone in the bar would think we were lovers but close enough that I could hear when she whispered.
‘If you care, I do know that Isobel and you had a fling. Don’t be upset and don’t expect it to happen again.’ In fact Isobel had almost said that it wouldn’t.
‘And if you’re interested, I’m interested in you.’ Her hand rested on my knee which was covered by my long skirt. ‘Are you interested?’
I almost laughed. I mean, who wouldn’t be interested? She was so tall and slender – almost coltish long legs, and her face was an artist’s delight with its contrasts of dark hair, pale skin, clear white eyes with dark blue pupils. In fact I did laugh and she recoiled slightly.
‘Oh, God, Teri don’t be offended. I was just asking myself who the hell could not be interested in you?’ I leaned away from her but held her hand. ‘You’re stunning and you’re funny and intelligent. I actually thought how could she think I could not be interested?’
She smiled and looked down at our two hands on my knee. ‘Well then, let’s get to know each other, shall we?’
*
Teri called me a few days later.
‘Still interested?’
I laughed and said that, yes, I was still interested.
‘Good. Let’s have a curry?’ I agreed immediately and the date and time were set.
The Saturday of our date seemed to drag. I did some shopping in the morning and bought myself a new pair of silk French knickers, some silk stockings and a beautiful and far too expensive suspender belt in deep gray with white lace. It wasn’t frilly or flouncy, just beautiful. I had a bowl of soup for lunch and wondered what, apart from my new purchases, I would wear. I soaked in the bath until the water started to get cold and then looked at the clock. At last it was time to get ready.
I dressed carefully. The dress I chose was suitable for an Indian restaurant. I couldn’t go dressed as if we were going to the Ritz. It was a simple black number with a square neck, tight waist and buttons from neckline to waist. I don’t wear silk stockings too often, they are too expensive and damage easily but, well, I wanted to so I did. The new suspender belt looked lovely I thought and a couple of times before I left I lifted my dress to see what Teri might see if the fantasy that I’d run through my mind that morning in bed came to fruition.
I’d been lying in bed in my oldest and favourite nightdress. You will know by now that I am a silk fetishist – well, almost. The nightdress whispered between my thighs and I closed my eyes and saw Teri. Her black hair moved like water in slow motion. Her deep blue eyes were dilated with lust. Her hand slid under my nightie and caressed me, first my thighs, then my puss. I lifted my hips and she entered me slowly, curling into me. Her mouth came to mine and I came into her, gasping an orgasm into her mouth.
It was with some reluctance that I let the dress fall back down. I picked up my bag and coat and made my way through the city to the appointed wine bar where we’d agreed to meet. She wasn’t there so I ordered a glass of red and sat down at a table and waited.
I always carry my e-book so I was reading when she arrived and I didn’t see her. I felt someone looking at me and looked up. There she stood, one hand on her hip and a smile on her face.
‘I’ve been here for about two minutes. I’ve never seen anyone so focused!’
It was true. I was lost in the book and switched it off and closed the cover, smiling up at her lovely face. I took in her clothing. Her trousers were high waisted and pleated, describing her hips and waist beautifully in dark blue. She had flat shoes which were deep red and matched the red of her camisole top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, that was obvious and I wondered at her self-confidence. I’ve mentioned how long her nipples are and they were very, very clearly defined. The dark blue waistcoat she wore partially covered them but only partially. Her hair was loose and shone wonderfully in the bar’s lights.
‘Let me get you a drink?’
She shook her head, ‘Stay where you are. I’ll get it.’ She dropped her coat over the back of the chair facing me and went to buy her wine. When she got back she sat facing me and looked into my eyes.
‘You look good.’
‘So do you.’
We talked and talked, nearly missing the time booked for our meal. We walked across to the Indian Restaurant and, as we did so, she took my arm and slipped it through hers. I cannot tell you how that felt.
We ate and drank Cobra beer and we laughed almost all evening.
It was about 10.30 when we had finished our coffee and Teri said, ‘You know what, Emma? I rather think I’d like you to come back to mine for a brandy.’
Her flat was the home of an artist. Pictures, all original and some featuring Tei graced the walls. She smiled as I walked around her spacious living room examining each one. I noted one which was clearly Isobel’s work. It had all her hallmarks, the way fabric moved, eyes sparkled, the body was revealed despite being clothed.
‘The filthy ones are in my bedroom.’
Her voice had a smile in it. I turned to look at her. She was sitting on the sofa, a low table beside her with two large brandy glasses shining gold in the light. I walked to her and bent down and kissed her mouth. Her hands came up to my face and held me to her. Her mouth explored mine and her fingers gently traced my face. Her legs were wide apart and I stood between them, bent over to her. I let my hands go to her shoulders and she allowed her tongue to extend into me. She tasted beautiful and I knew she had cleaned her teeth as I had when I went to the toilet earlier. Our kiss went on and on. I felt her hands leave my face and they went to my hips. She caressed me as the kiss deepened and became hungrier.
She broke it and leaned back. I stayed standing between her wide-spread legs. Fantasies do come true. Infinitely slowly, she leaned forward and lifted my dress from the hem just below my knees. She lifted it higher and higher and I watched her eyes. I did not see disappointment. I saw hunger reflecting my own. She held it there and I suddenly thought she has never seen my tits but here she is looking at my underwear. Her hands slipped around my hips and the dress fell to cover them.
‘I think it’s time, don’t you?’
I stepped back and she stood up. Her hands left my hips and came to my face again. She moved in and kissed me very deeply, her body moving against mine. She then turned and led me slowly into her bedroom, her hand on my arse. I felt enormous desire but she seemed intent on taking things very slowly. The lights beside the bed cast a soft glow in the room, enough to see the shades of blue that oddly made it warm rather than cold as you might expect. Above the bed was a canvas. It was another of Isobel’s – I knew that immediately. But this was like no other I had seen. Teri was sitting on a chair, her wrists tied to the arms, not with rope but with scarves. She wasn’t naked. The silver evening dress she wore in the painting was pulled aside to reveal one breast and her knees were spread and her sex was exposed and there was a hint of moisture. Her mouth was open. Her eyes held no fear, only longing and invitation. It was incredibly erotic.
I looked around and saw others. They were all of Teri and all showed her open and exposed but never pornographically, always with restraint. The one over the bed was the most explicit but it was not coarse it was, well, moving.
I felt her hand caress my arse. She moved in front of me and slowly unbuttoned my dress to the waist and opened it. She showed no surprise that I was without a bra. She merely leaned in to kiss my mouth and her hands roamed freely over me. My arms went around her and I sucked her tongue deep into my mouth. I could feel her nipples hard against me now and wanted to love them. I peeled her waistcoat from her and she shrugged it off. I pulled at the camisole and it slithered from her trousers and up and suddenly the nipples were visible as I leaned back and then down to suckle first one then the other. She held my head gently and guided me from one to the other.
There is a point at which foreplay moves on. For me then it was when I undid the waist of her trousers. I squatted and guided them down over her hips. She was naked beneath them and the dark triangle of her pubic hair, wild and untrimmed was revealed to me. I couldn’t resist leaning into it, to simply press my face against it and feel the softness against my cheek. Her hands never left my head but she didn’t move me, just held me as I rested against her. Then I helped her out of her trousers and when they were off and her legs free I pressed my face into her again and this time I kissed her as if it were her mouth. She stood over me and caressed my head as I did so. Gently she pulled me up and held e to her. She then stepped back and we both undressed what remained of our clothing. I went to unclip my suspender belt but she shook her head with a smile and so I left it and the stockings on and we subsided onto the bed..
‘The Three Sisters’ next.
Uma
- 26.08.2020
- 14
- 0
- Category:
- Lesbian
