****** The art Class ******
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The art Class

It was Anja's third day at the university, and she could hardly believe how
many people were concentrated into the small campus. She had never seen so many
students all at once. She sat in the refectory slowly sipping a coffee and
glances around her furtively. She hadn't yet made conversation with any of
these young, intelligent looking people and she wasn't sure if she was going
to. She was convinced she'd have nothing in common with them.

As she made her way up to the art department, she realised what it was that
bothered her. She regretted that she herself had never gone to university. She
was jealous of these carefree yet ambitious students, with no apparent
responsibilities but with the glimmering possibility of a good job in the
future. Anja felt that she'd missed out on that part of her life - she'd gone
straight from school to work, and had always been aware that she'd have to work
hard all her life, before she could allow herself to feel complacent.

She stood before the heavy wooden door of the art room and took a long, deep
breath before pushing it open and striding confidently inside. The large, airy
room was filled with paintings, sculptures and materials and the main body of
the room was filled with artist's easels, some replete with half-finished
sketches. Anja never looked at these, they made her feel uncomfortable. At the
front of the room stood a cluttered desk at which a thin, balding man sat.
Apart from that the room was empty of people. He looked up from his
administration as Anja walked in and smiled kindly. "Ah. Our model returns."

Anja smiled back but declined to comment. Again, it made her feel uneasy in her
role as a life model to have a voice. Instead she walked behind the desk and
through a little door into her broom-cupboard-like changing room. As she peeled
the layers off her curvaceous frame she heard the art students beginning to
arrive for their tutorial. She waited in her habitual fashion in the small room
until all they had all apparently arrived.

Then she gripped the door handle and, a little less confidently this time,
edged into the room. The art teacher was busy talking to one of his students so
she hung around by his desk, then made up her mind and taking a chair from the
side of the room, arranged herself into the pose she had been holding for the
past couple of days - curled up in a foetal position, her arms wrapped around
her knees. However, the art teacher had seen her out of the corner of his eye
and started briskly towards her. She wondered if she'd done something wrong.
"We're going to try a different pose today," he explained, still smiling "is
that okay?"

She nodded hesitantly. This was her job, after all. The teacher dragged out a
long table from the side of the room and asked Anja to lie on it sideways, with
her head propped up by her hand. He then arranged her other arm and her legs so
that she was lying languidly and artistically, her strawberry blonde hair
covering half of her face and tickling her bare breasts. The students, as
always, ignored her until they began drawing. Anja found it strange but
refreshing to get this reaction from her body. It was all very professional. As
the class began, Anja immediately relaxed into her role.

Ten minutes into the lesson, someone suddenly burst into the room. Anja had
been busy surveying the (very normal and average looking, she thought)
concentrated looking students as they quietly sketched her. She glanced at the
intruder. He was tall, with wild, black curly hair and green eyes. He was
unconventionally handsome, Anja immediately decided. "You're late." The art
teacher said, looking displeased. The latecomer smiled a cat-like smile and
shrugged apologetically, making his way to a spare easel near the front. He got
out his materials, and set up a battered sketch-pad. As he began to draw, he
gazed at Anja with an intensity that unnerved her. His green eyes bored into
her and she felt her cheeks burn. She wondered what he was seeing. Perhaps it
was something artistic. It was probably nothing personal, she surmised. But as
she watched those eyes wander across her body and her breathing quickened a
little, she knew it must be more than that. Even now she could feel her small,
pink nipples stiffen and her cunt felt damp.

In what seemed like seconds the class was over, and the students began to
leave. The teacher barked out some instructions about tomorrow's session and
with a lingering passionate glance, and a reprise of that mysterious feline
grin the dark-haired man strode out through the door.

After Anja had finished dressing, she did something she had never done before.
She waited until the art teacher was busy in another part of the art department
and she slowly walked around the room, looking at the student's sketches. So
many different images and interpretations, and all of her. However, many of the
budding artists had decided to draw only her body, cutting her head off
completely. A faceless woman. Anja shivered and moved on.

Suddenly, she came to a sketch that made her stop and gasp aloud. She stared in
amazement. The artist hadn't drawn her faceless, he had drawn all of her. But
what had caught Anja's rapt attention was the attention to detail the artist
had applied to the sketch. Her features were near perfect, but it was more than
that: It was like someone had captured her and trapped her on paper. It wasn't
just a drawing of her, it was her essence, distilled into art form. Anja felt
simultaneously thrilled and frightened. Just then the door burst open and Anja
twirled round in fear. It was him. The dark-haired artist, and as he stood
there staring at her it dawned on Anja that this was the easel he had been
standing at. This was his drawing. The realization made her knees go weak and
her eyes widened even more.

Slowly, he moved across the room towards her, weaving his way through the maze
of easels until he stood right in front of her, still staring into her eyes. In
turn she gazed up at his. Neither of them made a sound. Suddenly he reached out
and touched her cheek, feather-light, as if feeling the contours. He had an
artist's hand, and his callused fingers felt rough against her soft skin. She
blinked and swallowed, breathing heavily. Slowly, gently, he drew her face
towards his. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She closed
her eyes and felt his lips touch hers.

As they kissed Anja felt a burning sensation run through her body, though he
hadn't so much as touched it yet. Their kiss become more passionate, and their
tongues collided fiercely. Then he pulled away and slowly, undressed her,
concentrating on each part of her body as if he were studying it. When she was
completely naked he led her silently over to the table where she had been
posing earlier. She sat on the edge of it, and he stood in front of her and
kissed her again, then moved from her face to her neck, then down to her
breasts. As he kissed and sucked at her nipples Anja threw her head back and a
small sigh escaped her lips. She tugged insistently at his belt and he broke
away from her to help. Soon he stood there naked, and Anja gasped to see his
long thick rod spring free. It really was magnificent. Anja was surprised to
see how erect it was even though they had only kissed. Eagerly, she lent
forward and grasped its length in her hands, stroking it lovingly, and although
it stiffened further and he moaned a little in pleasure, he took her hand away
impatiently. He was far more interested in pleasuring her, and Anja felt a
thrill run through her as he lay her down on the table and continued to kiss
her, his tongue running across her belly. He stopped at her belly button and
the licked all the way down the inside of her thighs, toward her now slick
bush.

Gently he spread her legs wide, and placed his thumb on her clitoris, then
started slowly rubbing and rotating it. Anja moaned deeply at the sensation,
and reclined fully on the table, feeling the cool, hard surface press against
her buttocks. He was rubbing a little faster now, and he began, with his other
hand to insert a finger into her slit. When she had opened up a little he
replaced the finger with his tongue, darting it in and out of her, sliding up
the walls of her cunt, faster and faster. Anja cried out and was about to come
when he stopped abruptly. Her eyes flew open in surprise but within an instant
he was climbing up on to the table and leaning over her. His huge cock was as
hard as a poker and he pushed it slowly into her waiting cunt. Anja cried out
as he began pumping and thrusting energetically. She noticed that he was still
gazing intently at her while his cock plunged into her deeply. Anja responded
by wrapping her legs around his waist and raising her hips and pelvis off the
table so that she could get as much of him in her as possible.

He continued to ram into her and as the pace quickened he leant forward and
grasped her breasts, his hot hands groping them furiously yet skilfully, as if
he was sculpting something. As the table jerked and rocked under their passion,
Anja felt herself about to come. Sure enough she felt a wave of pleasure rise
up in her and her whole body vibrated as she felt him spurt into her and came
again and again and again.

After he has left, her whole body glowing, she had quickly dressed again. She
had not known his name and throughout their passionate encounter she had not
exchanged one word with him. Even now, she felt their respective roles as model
and artist had not been compromised. Then she walked back into the studio just
as the balding art teacher returned from a nearby room. "Ready?" he enquired,
smiling. "Yes, darling" she responded, pulling on her coat. He switched out the
lights and put his arm around her as they walked out the door, but not before
Anja had given the room a last look, smiling secretly to herself.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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