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Art 101
Part-1-of-1
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A slight chorus of poorly contained titters went up around the room as the three lovelies shed their robes. They all seemed very comfortable in their naked skins, yet two of them had merely switched their robes for a professional bearing. The third was an avowed exhibitionist. All eyes were riveted on them for a few uncertain minutes. He had gone to great lengths to create a balanced set. The blonde was of California ilk, trim and golden brown with piercing blue eyes and D-cup breasts. The brunette was a coffee colored Mulatto. She had a no nonsense body, sturdy yet sensual. Her dark eyes commanded one’s attention. The redhead was breathtaking. Her gleaming creamy white and freckled skin provided the perfect backdrop for her orangey-pink nipples and matching bush. Her knowing eyes belied the Irish farm girl sweetness she otherwise projected. The walls themselves quivered in anticipation.
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“If I may have your attention please,” Professor Jolsen announced. “If you will all peel your eyeballs off the young ladies. Yes, thank you. Throughout history the great masters have created scenes with heavy sexual overtones. Some have, in more recent years, attempted to capture raw emotions. In the weeks to follow, class, we are going to attempt to merge these schools of thought and capture the emotions we find associated with sex. We will explore many different kinds of sex, from the sublime to the perverted, and finish with the traditional. We will compare and contrast these emotions on both an art and a moral level. Today,” he gestured towards the nude models, “we are fortunate enough to experience these three lovely ladies as they share their bodies with each other. We will all analyze our emotions, as well as the emotions that they project, and compose a painting based on those findings. Any questions?”
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A homely looking girl, wearing boy’s clothes spoke up, “This is nothing but pornography and pornography is degrading to all women.” She was so incensed that venom all but dripped from her mouth as she spoke.
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“Yes Miss Piasecki, we’ve had this conversation before. Anything else?” The room was otherwise silent. “Then, my dears, you may begin when ready. Take your time class. Let the play unfold before forming an opinion.”
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Jolsen, he congratulated himself, you’re a fucking genius. For decades he had quietly whacked off behind his impossibly oversized canvas while admiring the nude models his class painted. Pretty or plain, provocative or demure, male or female, he had enjoyed them all. Yet after the initial thrill wore off, he had begun to crave some sort of action. Still life and fantasy are wonderful tools for the mind to work with, but action broadens one’s horizons. With a class of painters, however, action was impractical. That is, until he struck on this ‘emotions of sex’ idea. With his paint speckled, silk brush rag at the ready, Jolsen settled back to watch the young ladies perform their pageant.
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There were some stalls and uncertainties at first. The blonde appeared a bit standoffish, or possibly shy. Finally the black woman took the redhead in her arms for a ‘lover’s kiss.’ Their tongues darted in and around each other's mouths for agonizingly quick moments. Nipples and clits reacted automatically to the stimulation with swelling curiosity. After some moments of watching, along with the rest of the class, the blonde bombshell was ready to rock.
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Taking the black woman’s cue, she moved into a kiss with the redhead, or vice versa. The retiring brunette circled around behind her West Coast sister so she could administer some tender kissing on her neck and earlobes.
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It seemed the golden one would play receiver for the moment. Each of her new lovers made simultaneous kissing trails down her svelte body, both front and back. The black woman did as thorough a sucking job on the points of her shoulder blades as the small redhead did on her engorged nipples. Soon they arrived on their knees, one perched at the fissure between her ass cheeks, the other poised at the hairy cleft of her tingling pussy. Tongues flicked out like hungry snakes tasting the air for prey. The class shifted on its stool.
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The blonde was breathing heavy and erratically as knowledgeable tongues danced where her panties had been. Desperately, she tried to balance herself in a bowlegged stance, to give the other girls more access to her horny holes, and to try to stay erect. At long last, though, the pyramid collapsed, crashing to the floor. Some students stood to maintain their view of the action. A few began to paint furiously. The feminist leaped to her feet and stormed angrily from the room in a noisy cavalcade of one. Forgotten by the class, Van Horne sat at the back of the room and teased his exposed cock with his silk paint rag.
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The action on the floor turned turbulent. The blonde made a reciprocating move to lick the dewy pussy of the fair redhead. She, in turn, kissed and otherwise fondled the proud breasts of her raven-haired sorority sister. The brunette found herself amused with fingering the blonde’s brown bud. All three made the most lewd noises, while the hungry freshmen looked on in wonder. Some of the less sophisticated among them were rapt in shock. The more aware managed a secret stroke of their own flesh, or that of a neighbor in one case. Frenzy was overcoming the models. They seemed to jump from one heaving body part to another in an attempt to do it all at once. It was obvious that there were no old lovers in this triad. Van Horne managed to tease his balls with a soft paintbrush as he palmed his old cock with the rag.
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The amorous young women seemed to calm their passions a bit, or at least find a rhythm. They settled into a daisy chain, each with her face buried in the sticky sweet pussy of the next. To the artists, their mingled skins reminded them of a color wheel. Stiff clits ground into moaning mouths. Anxious teeth nipped at puffy lips. Sweet cries of tortured ecstasy reverberated around the room. Not all of them came from the center of attention, either. The redhead begged to have her tiny asshole fingered as she reached down to help herself along. The coffee colored woman collapsed flat on the floor in a shuddering mass of Jell-O, begging for more. But her pained pleas went unanswered. Soon all three women lay panting on the floor, their energies and excitement spent. So too was Van Horne’s. He let the sticky rag fall into his brush bucket and adjusted himself accordingly.
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There wasn’t a dry pair of underwear in the room. The students had either cummed or wanted to so badly that they could scream. Jolsen wondered, for a brief second, whether the poor freshmen could handle five more of these sessions. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought with a profound, “Fuck them.” One girl could stand no more. Urgently, she begged off and ran for the ladies room. An exodus followed her.
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As she entered the ladies room, a grunting of sorts called her frazzled attention to an unlocked stall at the far end of the room. Fearing that someone was in real trouble, the girl opened the stall door. There sat Miss Piasecki with three fingers pushed up inside her soaking pussy and a thumb teasing her clit. The recently arrived freshman girl just shook her head, in wonderment. But not too puzzled to keep her from getting down on her knees in the small stall. The moaning resumed.
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The End...
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