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Amateur Model free porn video
A neighbour helps out
*
‘Hello, Nelson how nice to see you. Come into the kitchen, I’m baking,’ Stella told her young visitor.
Nelson was eighteen, yet the wiggle of Stella’s hips was interesting, despite her being thirty-six. She had a slim waist, largish breasts with hips to match, which swayed seductively. He stared at her heart shaped bottom, trying to take in every muscular twitch as she walked before him. She wore sensible, everyday clothes, and he couldn’t help imagining her wearing a tight skirt.
‘Help yourself to a cake, go on. They’re still warm so I haven’t iced them yet,’ she explained. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ she asked.
Around a mouthful of cake he asked, ‘I was wondering if you would do me a big favour, Mrs. Kendal.’
‘Of course, always glad to help out. These are for the church, to raise funds for Africa. Water wells, or books, or something, I can’t remember which one we’re supporting this year,’ she enthused. ‘So, what can I do for you, young man,’ she beamed at him.
‘You sure you won’t mind me asking? I mean, it’s a bit of an imposition,’ he said, hoping the rehearsed phrases would impress her.
‘I will if I can, you know that Nelson. Always helping out here and there, but I’ll be glad to make some time for you,’ she said, looking up from a mixing bowl. ‘You’re a special friend, Nelson. I owe you a big favour in return for saving the carnival. You helped us raise a small fortune for famine relief. Thinking over how many people were saved from starvation, because of you, makes me weep with joy. So, whatever it is, the answer is yes,’ she said, with a ‘that’s final’, expression to her voice, and hand signals to match.
‘Maybe you had better hear what it is first,’ Nelson said.
‘Nonsense, Nelson. I owe you a big favour, and my mind is made up. When I make a promise, I keep it,’ she admonished him.
His voice sounded more level than it deserved to be. He felt guilty now. If he could have thought of something else, this was the time to change the plan. The many rehearsals had pushed him into a groove, so he had to continue. He risked a falling out with a good friend, but ground onward as though it were inevitable.
‘I need a model for my drawing exam,’ he stated.
He fixed his jaw tight in case he backed off with a spluttered apology. He couldn’t back down now, after all the effort he’d gone to.
‘That’s not a problem, I can sit still. In fact I get a lot of practice just sitting these days. Usually knitting for Oxfam, or with a book in the evenings,’ she smiled absently at him, while easing some butter into the bowl.
‘This might be a little more than just sitting. I missed out on human figure sketching, when I went in search of fairground attractions,’ he said.
‘For our carnival? Oh! Nelson, I didn’t know. I especially owe it to you, to help out. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it, and my mind is made up, no arguments,’ she determinedly stated.
‘I’m sorry I mentioned it now. The idea was to just ask around, and go back to the tutor to tell him I couldn’t find anyone,’ Nelson explained.
‘Nonsense, you’ve found me,’ Stella firmly told him. ‘I won’t let you down, I promise. How could I do otherwise after you arranged those fairground rides to save our carnival,’ she said.
‘You don’t understand, Mrs Kendal, it’s a live art model I need,’ he emphasised.
‘Oh, I see. I won’t do. Too old, and out of shape,’ she mused.
He watched her breasts gyrate while she whisked another batch of mixture.
‘No, it’s definitely not that, you’d make a wonderful model. You have a good figure, and your skin tones are excellent. I just didn’t think you would be brave enough to pose nude,’ he pointed out.
Nelson wanted to run from the room, from being so embarrassed. As much as possible he practised these statements, until the words lost their meaning, or at least the power to shock. He watched a hand stirring the mixture, not missing a beat.
‘That’s nice of you to say so, Nelson. You’re joking, surely!’ she nervously laughed.
Her voice was almost calm and ordinary, not angry in the least.
‘It would be so helpful, if you could,’ he said. ‘I’m late with the assignment, and didn’t get to practice with the professional model in college. I’ve got to complete the assignment to pass this year,’ he said, in a rush.
His voice was held level, not pleading, or cajoling. He wanted to remind her of the debt she owed, and that she had promised, but wisely left it at that. Mrs Kendal would, or she wouldn’t, as this was not a woman to be pushed into anything. His hand was so heavy he couldn’t lift another cake. Besides, he might have to use some persuasion, so needed to keep a clear mouth.
‘I’m too old for that sort of thing. An artist’s model?’ she laughed, more seriously this time.
‘You would be perfect. Besides, I can’t afford a professional model. But you would be a good subject. I’m familiar with your face, so it would be a challenge to draw you as you are, rather than as I see you every day. The difference between a photograph and a drawing is so important,’ he enthused.
‘Well, you’re right, though I’m not sure I could. It seems rather unusual. What would people think?’ she softly spoke.
Placing a hand with pastry covered fingers on the edge of the bowl, she looked to be watching a distant scene. She was ready to scrape the mix into a tin, for cup cakes, but didn’t make a move.
‘Yes, well I didn’t expect you would agree. It’s a pretty hard thing to do. Of course, no one would see it was you. The tutor would mark my work, and give me back the drawings,’ he explained.
‘If it was a secret, maybe I could. I did promise, whatever it was, I’d repay the favour. I’d feel terribly guilty letting you down, especially after you helped us with the carnival,’ she thoughtfully spoke.
‘No-one except a tutor would see the drawings. It would be a secret. Give it a try, and if you can’t do it, I’ll have to think of something else,’ Nelson said, with a sad look upon his face.
‘After promising I would do you a favour, I feel bad about letting you down. What will you do?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea. I was hoping you would at least give it a try,’ he pleaded.
‘Oh!’ she sadly exhaled.
‘If I don’t complete this assignment, I’ll have to resign the course,’ he lied.
Stella wiped her hands on the apron and rested them on her hips. Looking down at the cakes cooling on wire racks, it looked as though she were contemplating the request.
‘I promised, and a promise must be kept,’ she firmly stated. ‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘I promise to try, Nelson. Nothing more than that,’ she said, a little more firmly stated.
‘I’m finished here, so, where should we try this thing out?’ she asked.
The look on her face was less sure than usual, and more than a little nervous. The perpetual smile had disappeared too. They agreed to use the spare bedroom, which was well lit with natural light, he explained.
He followed her up the stairs where they separated. Her to the main bedroom, while he went into the spare bedroom. He slipped the tools of his trade out of a satchel. He rested a pad on the bed, leaving it open at a page with a sketch of a woman in a ballerina’s tutu. It was genuinely one of his, only carefully copied from a book.
For the hundredth time he wondered if it would be possible, but before he could dwell on the possibility of failure, she walked in. The dressing gown was thin silk, revealing she was naked under it. He didn’t say anything, or stare, but continued to select pencils.
He turned the page on the pad letting her see a glimpse of a drawing. A local bridge, not a nude. The next drawing was of a woman sitting on a chair in a dressing gown, though unlike the one she wore. He turned the page for one of a woman, again sitting, but this time n
aked.
Her eyes looked guarded, as she studiously looked away from him. The usual easy confidence had faded. He picked an upright backed chair, placing it in the light from a window.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m ready if you are,’ he said.
‘Promise not to laugh,’ she nervously murmured.
He watched from the corner of his eye, as she un-looped the belt, made of the same silk as the gown. She slipped it off both shoulders, and hung it up behind the door. She took a couple of steps to the chair, obviously struggling to keep her arms to her sides, as the poor woman was desperate to cover up.
This was no time for sympathy, as he had to get on with the job. He stood before her, not staring, or eyeing her up. She was sitting upright with legs pressed tightly together. Fingers on both hands were twitching, and he guessed they needed to leap up to cover her breasts. Sitting upright in a stiff uncomfortable position, pushed her breasts out, which turned out to be a provocative pose. Sticking her breasts out at him was the complete opposite of her intention.
She was looking away, toward the door as though waiting for salvation. Either afraid someone would catch her naked, or wanting to be out there, and away from him. It didn’t matter, he was going to say as little as possible, then go. This first session was meant to relax her.
He took a hold of her head and she flinched. He positioned her head so that it was looking sideways. He took a hold of her shoulders and pulled them strait, then nudged her head so that it stayed in position. When he grabbed an ankle, both legs moved together sideways.
‘That’s it, perfect,’ he said.
Stepping back he examined the pose. ‘Move your legs to the side, more, don’t move your head,’ he said.
Eventually she mirrored the drawing he practiced earlier.
‘Perfect!’ he exclaimed.
‘Really? I thought you would change your mind,’ she said, with a sarcasm laden voice.
‘Why?’ he asked distractedly, while fiddling with pencils.
‘I’m too old for this sort of thing,’ she complained.
For a moment he thought she might get up and storm out.
‘You’re perfect, as long as you sit still,’ he told her.
‘Perfect for what? Baking cakes, all the boring housewife tasks,’ she began.
‘Keep still, please,’ he scolded. ‘You look magnificent. A perfect curvy model. You’re not like the one I missed in college, all skin and bone,’ he said.
‘I’m fat you mean,’ she stated.
‘No, not at all. You have a wonderful hourglass figure, and somehow I’ve got to capture the voluptuous, you. I want to draw a nice housewife, looking interesting, as well as uncovering femininity,’ he explained.
‘Oh?’ she said, sounding confused.
‘Just keep still, will you, please,’ he pleaded.
Walking around her, he noticed she kept her eyes diverted. It at least made the photography easier. There was no camera to be seen as it was concealed in a pocket with a blue-tooth control, and a lens disguised as a badge. A friend on the photography class had supplied it. It was a great device, useful for finishing off a portrait once home.
He went back to the drawing position with the pad.
‘Your curves are terrific. Such a beautiful body deserves to be seen,’ he stated strongly.
‘What do you mean, I thought just your tutor would see the drawing,’ she sounded panicky.
Although perturbed she kept the pose. If he could have captured the look on her face, it would be fascinating. There again, the camera had.
‘Yes, only the tutor, just the one I present for the exam. You can keep the others if you like,’ he said.
‘Exam?’ she asked, clearly wanting to ask more than the one word question.
‘Yes. I’ll draw several then present the best for my exam. It will be worth a lot of marks for this year,’ he explained.
‘Will I be good enough?’ she asked.
The question needed rephrasing, but she was still in a state of confusion generated from embarrassment.
‘Yes, most certainly, you’re a perfect model. I don’t need a beautiful woman to gain extra marks, in theory, but of course it helps,’ he told her.
He waited for the tease to take hold, wondering if she would bite. He was feeling more confident, especially now he had her at a disadvantage.
‘Perhaps you should try someone younger, to gain more marks,’ she said.
There was a hesitation in her voice that seemed more pronounced, since she was always so perky and confident.
‘No need. You have a wonderful body. Some may present a thin waif with a doleful look. That is so predictable. You are young, and are certainly attractive in a more mature, more sophisticated way. You’re like a slim Marilyn Monroe,’ he said, watching her carefully.
When she breathed in and held her shoulders back, pushing out her breasts, he knew she was hooked. It was no lie, her figure was gorgeous, especially with those impressive breasts. They weren’t huge, but they stuck out as though held up by invisible strings.
‘Are you going to do more than one?’ she asked.
‘Yes, the first probably won’t be the best, though I won’t know that until a few are completed,’ he said, with an absent minded voice, pretending to be absorbed in the process.
‘So, you want me to pose again,’ she said.
‘Yes. I’m really lucky to have a beautiful subject. You will gain me more points than anyone else. Especially the ones who only got the artist’s model at college. Just a little longer,’ he encouraged.
Every time he complimented her figure, she straightened her back, unconsciously pushing out her breasts. A slight smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.
‘If you posed at the college, you could donate the fee to your favourite charity,’ he suggested.
‘Oh! No! I couldn’t,’ she demurred.
‘You moved,’ he scolded her.
He adjusted her head, and shoulders. He lifted a foot, slightly separating her legs.
‘Your figure is wonderful, how do you keep so slim,’ he asked.
‘I eat whatever I want. I just use a small plate. That seems to work,’ she smiled.
‘Well, you have a better figure than most girls on campus. Your skin has really good tones. A water colour would bring them out better than pencil. You look great, it’s difficult to believe you’re approaching thirty,’ he said, sounding sincere.
‘Not so good at thirty-six,’ she moaned.
‘With smooth skin like yours, I’m sure you’ll look good at thirty-six,’ he said.
‘What? Didn’t you know? I’m thirty-six,’ she informed him.
‘No! I don’t believe it. Now stop talking, I’m on a tricky bit,’ he warned her.
She was almost vibrating with frustration. She wanted to find out if he was buttering her up, or really did think she looked younger. A few questions would soon reveal if he was playing her for a fool.
He walked in front of her, and took her hands.
‘Thank you so much, you are a life saver,’ he warmly smiled.
She looked away, embarrassed. From being naked as well as from the compliment.
‘I’d better get dressed,’ she quietly spoke.
‘I don’t think you should, ever. You are a work of art, especially now,’ he smiled and kissed her hands.
‘Well, you saved the carnival, and the money raised saved many lives. I really should get dressed now,’ she murmured.
‘Sorry. I forgot, you’re not used to modelling. Are you free tomorrow? Good, we can try another medium. Water colour perhaps,’ he said.
‘Oh! I didn’t mean, well, err, to do this. I guess I did promise. Well, yes, I suppose so. Does it have to be, err, without clothes? I suppose it wasn’t so awful, not as bad as I thought it might be. Your right, it wasn’t so difficult. Though, it isn’t something I should be doing. You’re sure no one will know? Alright, I’ll try it again. Please, just keep it between ourselves,’ Mrs Kendal made him promise.
She
‘d rambled on from being so nervous. Being anxious to cover up, she didn’t think to ask to see the drawing. He had an excuse ready about the face not being hers, as she didn’t want to be recognised. The poses in the art book were useful, and would progress her along at a steady pace. As soon as she became used to being naked, he would work on more erotic poses.
***
The third week and the sixth session, found her far more relaxed. She almost slumped in the chair, with legs crossed, waiting for him to sort out the paints and brushes.
‘How do you want me today?’ she asked, with a little smile lighting her lips.
He was tempted to tell her, though figured it was her joke, and not something she wanted him to notice. He couldn’t help it.
‘On the bed, please,’ he casually said.
She frowned at him, and looked closely to see if he was teasing. She didn’t want him to start making lewd jokes about her.
‘A reclining pose would be good. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,’ he enthused.
‘Err, I’m not sure, do you need to, err, it’s a bit, you know,’ she murmured.
‘Look at this, it’s a classic. I’m not going to copy it, but you would look much better than this model. A more modern figure, and nicer shape,’ he explained.
‘I don’t mind standing again,’ she offered.
She stood up and he moved close. He took a hand, and in the small room it took just one step to have her sitting on the edge of the bed. While she lightly protested, he lifted her legs and swung them onto the bed. It took a second to have her stiffly perched there like a lump of wood, with legs clamped shut.
Again he positioned her, while referring to the classical painting. It was used as an excuse to lay her on her side, with legs drawn up. The compliments still worked to relax her, and make her co-operative.
He’d seen a bit of pubic hair, and once glimpsed her soft triangle. What he wanted was to have her pose with legs spread, without her feeling tortured over it. He was slowly working toward that goal, but it still seemed a long way off. When he stood back to take a better look at her, he realised how much had already been achieved.
She’d been displaying her lovely heart shaped bottom without a qualm. Her perfectly shaped breasts were out on display, looking perky for a thirty something woman. She was allowing him to manoeuvre her naked body, and this was encouraging too.
He was almost touching her intimately. Placing her limbs and head as he wanted, so the next step was to separate her legs, then move on to lewd positions.
‘That’s it, if you can hold that pose,’ he quietly spoke.
‘Are you sure about this Nelson. My bottom is too big for this pose,’ she worried, and moved again.
‘No! Where did you get that idea? It’s perfect. A perfect heart shape, nicely rounded,’ he admonished her.
He playfully tapped her bottom, and too late, figured he’d gone too far, too soon. Mrs Kendal was too distracted from thinking about his remarks, to notice this personal intrusion.
‘I’ll take your word for it, Nelson. My hips are too fleshy, so you’ll have to do something about that,’ she intoned.
‘Don’t you ever look at yourself in the mirror?’ he asked, with surprise.
‘Well, no, why should I?’ she asked.
‘Because you must, if you want to stay fit and healthy. Examine your body for lumps and bumps, and marks on the skin. You can do exercises to trim or build your body. First you should examine your body to find what needs toning,’ he told her.
‘Well, it sounds as though I should. . . What marks on my skin?’ she asked.
‘Moles that might be bad ones. Lumps in your breasts, under your arms. There’s a lot you can do to help yourself, and get an early check up,’ he lectured.
‘Oh, I guess so,’ she murmured.
He’d accomplished what was planned for that session, so decided to take advantage of her question.
‘Here on your back are brown patches, but they are all right, nothing to worry about,’ he told her, while stroking her back.
He took an arm, and felt her skin and said, ‘This is what you should be looking for, but it isn’t raised, and hasn’t changed shape recently.’
She was nodding her head, taking it all in. He ran fingers over her belly, and she stiffened, ready to protest. He felt the back of her knees, and ran a hand over her thighs.
Makenna
- 07.07.2022
- 18
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