What was wrong with me? I wanted to go into hiding, being my normal self. Safe from the world. I wanted to be touched and fondled more. I wanted the feeling again, it was wonderful. I’d been a willing and ready participant into the group conversation at lunch about sex! And, I desperately wanted to hide in my art. I realized I was still mad at Jason for this morning. I wanted to be wrapped in Luis’s arms and feel his heart and, yes, his hard-on. I wanted to touch it, stroke it, put it in my mouth, maybe in my cunny. I was scared that he didn’t want me and petrified that I was going to do something wrong. Now, he was coming in the studio with me.
“Ah, Rebbecca! In the program I see.”
“Hmm, yes Ms. Rotella. This is Luis, my partner for the week.” Francesca Rotella had been a major gift to the school and me. A noted sculptor with an international reputation, she had moved to the area and volunteered to teach an advanced art course. She took at most 10 students a year. I’d been with her for 3 years.
“So good to meet you, Luis, Francesca Rotella.” She used the very Italian pronunciation of his name and shook his hand as she appraised him. It was nothing sexual or raw, just the way an artist takes apart a subject.
“Luis Contadino, ma’am.” The other students were filtering in.
“Ah, paisan!” They shifted into Italian for a minute. “You’re parents are from the South, no?”
“A little town in the south, Rotondella. They came over as teens.”
“Bene! I’m from just outside of Napoli, we’re almost neighbors.” She studied both Luis and me. “Would you pose for us, Luis?” Damn, I’d like that!
“I’d love to, Ms. Rotella. This is normally a free period for me, but we’ve got East High this Friday and I need to spend time in the weight room.”
“Please, Luis, call me Francesca. Let me ask you this, are you getting nervous about the game?”
“Yes ma’am. Always before a big game.”
“An hour today through Thursday that you can use to relax, not think about the game, would that help you?”
“I practice meditation everyday already.”
“You’d be surprised how much of a workout you will get just holding still.”
“Okay, I’ll do it, but only through Wednesday.” Wow! I as doing flips inside. Finally a chance to study him.
“Deal. Rebbecca, you will be posing with him.”
“What?” Yeah, WHAT!
“You are in the Program. I’m a teacher, right?”
“Yes ma’am.” Shit. She didn’t have to ask. I had to comply with requests from teachers.
“I’d rather you do it willingly, though.”
“Okay.” Wait, who said that? Not me! Nine other people were looking at us now. Suddenly, I realized I wanted to pose with Luis.
Ms. Rotella had Luis fetch a divan from the storage area and place it on the posing stage. He made lifting and carrying the piece of furniture look so easy and effortless. It was interesting watching his muscles shift was he worked different sets. The divan only had half a back and one arm. She draped it with silk sheets and adjusted the modeling lights.
“Okay, class. We have a change of plans for the week. Today through Wednesday, we’ll have two live models. For Thursday, just one. Friday will be an optional day so we can all get ready to support our male model this week when he beats East. This is Luis Contadino, defensive lineman and co-captain of our West Warriors. You all know Rebbecca, she’ll be our female model. Any medium, we’ll be doing 15-20 minute poses.” Wow, she knew a lot about Luis. More than I did.
“Francesca, you follow football?” Luis asked.
“I prefer Italian football, soccer. But, I’ve found I enjoy high school and college football. And, yes, I’m a big support of the Warriors.” With that she directed us onto the stage. She had me lay on my back with my hair draped over the back of the arm of the divan. My inside leg, my right, bent at the knee and my hips twisted out slightly to show my pubic hair to the room. My left leg was straight. My left arm casually dropped to the floor.
She positioned Luis so Junior was hidden by the back of the divan. Damn. Oops. I didn’t think that! She had him bend at the waist, just enough to show his massive shoulders. His left hand was inside my head on the arm and his right on the outside back of the divan. She had him turn his head so he was looking down into my eyes. As soon as our eyes met, the rest of the world disappeared.
Just then, Ms. Rotella pulled my inside arm up and put it on his arm just at his shoulder. Damn. Does cunny juice stain silk? We are about to find out.
Luis and I began a conversation with no words. There was openness that comes from looking at another person’s soul. At the same time, my nipples were crinkled so hard they almost hurt. I knew that if he just licked one, I’d cum. And cum. Yet, I felt safe. Comfortable. Perfect.
We were swimming in our own universe. At the same time, I found it very stimulating. I was building an orgasm that was going to be intense, yet all we were doing is looking each other in the eyes. What was going on with me? Yet, I continued to swim in his eyes, soul, and the energy around him.
“Okay, time to shift positions. Why don’t you get up and stretch a bit first.” As soon as Ms. Rotella finished, I reached up and put both my hands behind Luis’s neck, pulled myself up, and gave him a kiss. Just lips. Then his hand went behind me and he kissed back. OMG. Did we kiss! Our tongues were doing this wonderful slow dance. A waltz, I think.
“Oh, you two are lovers?”
“Ah, mmm, we just really met this morning.” I managed to say.
“Not yet.” Oh, Luis! Yes!
“Ah, you two are lovers. You just haven’t had enough time! I saw it in the pose and definitely in the kiss at the end. Now take a break so we can get you in the next pose.” I hadn’t broken eye contact with Luis through the kiss and the conversation. I could see mirrored in his eyes my feelings. Fire, passion, fear, doubt, fire – did I mention that?
What the hell was going on? Here I am on a Monday afternoon posing nude in an art class and finding myself engaged in the most intense, passionate, loving, caring kiss of my life. The Program is supposed to be about becoming comfortable with ourselves and our sexuality and helping others do the same. Yet, if this is what kissing Becca is like, I’ll die if we ever make love!
Rewind. Hit play. Make love? No. I fuck. I think I want love, like what my parents have. But the few girls that have let me go all the way it was fucking. And this kiss, in front of the art class was better than all those. Way better. Just a kiss better than a fuck! Wow! It was Duane Allman and Eric Clapton jamming and together hitting the perfect note. It was a cannon blast for the “1812 Overture” that blew out windows miles away. It was scarier than facing East’s offensive line in the nude.
Yet, our eyes stayed connected. I wanted to know the stories in her head, now that I had connected with her lips and her soul.
“Either you two need to finish what you’ve started in private,” Francesca interrupted us, “or get up, stretch, take a break. I’d suggest you walk around and see what the class has been up to. We’ll do only one more pose before class ends. You held that one so well, I let it go on. For that, I thank both of you.”
We broke eye contact and separated, reluctantly, and walked around the class to see how the others saw us. Since this was an advanced class, all the artists were good. Damn good. My size and strength as compared to Becca’s smoothness and grace. Yet everyone captured the energy in the eye contact. Most had managed to do quick sketches of the kiss at the end.
I was looking at one of them when the girl said, “Would you like a finished version of this?”
“Most definitely! Thank you. I’m Luis.”
“Kathy. Thanks for posing for us. You and Rebbecca are really into each other.” Thank god these were sketches or she’d be puzzling how to match the red in my face after that! “I’ll have it for you by tomorrow.”
“Thanks!” That’s when Francesca called us back up.
She had me lay on my back on the divan, my right foot flat on the floor, my left leg pulled up, and my hips twisted slight towards the class. Junior was only semi-hard until he noticed the class looking at him. Damned exhibitionist! She had me rest my head back on the arm and look up. A bit later, Becca was seated on the back with her right leg along the top, her other foot on the floor I guess. She twisted at the waist and looked down. We locked eyes again. Francesca directed us to hold hands.
Junior stayed at attention the entire pose. Our eyes stayed locked the whole time. I could see out of the corner of my eyes that her nipples were quite erect and they stayed that way. Who knows how long it was. We didn’t care. Our souls talked through our eyes. I could see questions, awe, excitement, fear, care, and interest. I’m sure she saw the same in mine.
“Thank you, both,” Francesca said as we broke the pose. “Do you both need relief?” I think we said yes at the same time. I looked at her and saw her nod to my unasked question. I picked her up off the back of the divan, stood, placed her gently on the main seat, both feet on the floor. “You first, my lady.”
I bent and kissed her. While our tongues found each other and her hands went to the back of my head, I slowly sank to my knees. I felt her breast for the first time. God, they felt good in my hands. Just right in my massive paws. Her nipples were hard to start with but managed to get harder as she moaned into my mouth. It felt as though I was squeezing it slowly out of her and into me.
Reluctantly, I ended the kiss. With a little smile to her I bent and took one nipple in my mouth. While I suckled that one, I rolled the other between my fingers, gently. More moans and gasps escaped her between the building pants. My free hand slowly slide down her side, tracing gently to her bellybutton and lightly circling it. “Oh god, that feels so good!” She was growling more than moaning now.
I switched breasts with my mouth, the bellybutton hand now keeping her very wet nipple happy. My new free hand traveled down her other side to her bellybutton. I opened my eyes and noticed the flush to her chest and the little beads of sweat. I looked up into her eyes. At first I saw they were almost feral with lust, then shifted to something deeper when we connected.
I moved off her nipple and gave light kisses and licks all through her cleavage. Then started south, keeping eye contact as best I could around those magnificent globes. Her eyes got really wide. I think she had figured out that I was just going to finger her. When I got to her bellybutton and plunged my tongue in, she growled and her head snapped back. I worshiped her navel for a minute before continuing my journey south.
By the time I got to her pubic hair, her legs were already splayed wide. Her thighs covered with her juices. Damn, had she already had an orgasm? Well, didn’t matter. I was going to give her a proper one. I stopped teasing – relief time was short – and dove in. My first contact in this new world was that delicious skin between the labia and the anus. Her taste was… it was… her. Unique and wonderful! Her outer labia were already swollen and open. I licked, kissed, and lightly nibbled up each one. Then started again at the bottom, working my tongue between the inner and outer lips, savoring each moment. She was squirming, panting, her hands were on my head trying to pull me into her. My first time into her vagina she started babbling incoherently. She tasted sweet, beyond my dreams. Just enough of the taste every girl has but a huge overlay that was uniquely her. Her juices were flowing freely, giving me lots of chances to taste and feast. The first time over her clit I could tell she was right there So, I sucked it into my mouth and my tongue did a mad dance on the tip.
I’ve had offensive linemen not hit me as hard as her legs when they snapped closed on my head. I rode her with my mouth as she shot off the seat and her feet came off the floor. She was convulsing big time. Even with my flesh ear protectors I could hear the wail! Then she squirted.
I’ve heard about female ejaculation. Even seen some porn featuring it, allegedly. Never experienced it or completely believed it until now. I drank as much as I could. Slightly acidic at first, then more or less neutral. Yet, a slight flavoring of her. Nectar! Her plentiful vaginal juices more than aiding! Sorry Grandmama, but she tastes better than your Christmas sweets, even your Peta! She was still cumming, I was still latched on to her clit. Whether it was one long one, the next one, or ten down the road, I didn’t know. Just as I was making a note-to-self about bringing a snorkel next time so I could breathe, she collapsed. Melted would be a better description. Her bones had simply vanished.
I had my hands under her ass. Delightful, I assure you. So I helped her settle gently into the divan. I could finally hear her again. Yes, she was breathing. Ragged, but it was breath. The quiet in the room concerned me at first until I heard the sounds of scratching on paper. It seemed as fast and furious as Becca’s orgasm! I also heard the unmistakable sound of a digital camera shutter in high-speed capture mode.
I came up, staying on my knees, and lightly kissed her stomach and stroked her sides. Eventually, this wobbly head appeared in my vision. The eyes had trouble focusing. Her mouth tried to form the word ‘wow’, I think. I gently gathered her in my arms, pulling her into my lap while I sat on the floor. I showered her hair with a thousand little kisses and gently stroked her.
Slowly she came back to the world. She tried to talk a few times before the words finally formed and her voice returned. “Thank you, Luis. Oh God, thank you. Shit. Wow!”
I continued to hold her. Eventually, she looked up at me. “Luis, I… I… I really… I want to…”
“Becca, listen.” Her eyes focused on me. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. What just happened pleasured me too. There’s no rush, you and I have all the time in the world. You just enjoy right now.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with understanding and yet demanding. “Ask for assistance. But, aim here.” She waved over her face, boobs, and stomach. “Luis, I can’t move – thank you for that.” She winked and smiled. “But, I want to feel like Susan. Now.” I tried to tell her I was okay, but before I could find my voice, she found hers. “Luis needs relief and I can’t do it right now. Are there any volunteers…”
There was no need to say more. Hands lifted Becca to the divan and laid her out. Then helped me off the floor standing in front of her. Too many hands to count grabbed Junior. I locked eyes with Becca. It took less than ten strokes and I was jetting. The anonymous hands aimed my cum. I was standing outside of myself watching Junior as he jetted 4, 5, 6 massive ropes of cum onto Becca. Then my orgasm slowed and the hands moved me closer so I was dribbling my spend onto her stomach. She was painted from her pubic hair to the top of her head. My knees began to buckle. Becca’s eyes never left mine. Hers were glowing. The hands helped me down on the divan to snuggle up to Becca.
All I could do was say thanks with my eyes and give her a little kiss. My strength slowly returned and I glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit, only 10 minutes to the team meeting.
“I’ve got to get moving. I’ve only got 10 minutes to the team meeting.”
“I know. I’ll be here when you’re done. We can talk then you can give me a ride home. Okay?”
“Sure.” I gave her a quick kiss and managed to walk out of the art studio.
On automatic, I made my way to the team meeting room.
“I’ve got to clear my head. Focus on football. Focus on East.” I told myself as I walked rapidly. “I need a nap after that! Damn!” Just then, the B. B. King, Eric Clapton song “Riding with the King” came to mind. Humming it, I shifted gears and made the meeting just in time.
“Well, good of you to join us, Luis.” Ah, Coach McFarland. Extreme task master. Perfectionist in all things. Great coach. Perfect in my mind. “You’ll be happy to know that the Program now allows the regular football uniform for contact practices and the game. You are currently dressed for all other occasions.”
His pronouncement was met with the usual round of locker room humor. In my opinion, best left there and quietly washed down the drain. Lots of industrial strength cleaner required. Testosterone and manners don’t seem to mix in a locker room. Something more primal occurs. And is going to stay there.
Coach got the melee under control again. “There are conditions, though. First, for practice you can dress no earlier than 15 minutes before the start. For the game, 30 minutes. You have to disrobe immediately after both practice and the game. Oh, you have to dress and undress in public. For games, standing in the middle of the 50 yard line.”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about that aspect of the program. I’d been so wrapped up in the rest of it. For practices, it takes 15 minutes to tape. For games, it’s over 30 minutes. Now, I’d have to tape, carry my uniform out, and put it on midfield. “Ah, Coach?”
“Taping. Some of it goes over the uniform. How do we handle that?”
“You tape your ankles, knees, elbows, and hands in the training room like always. Then go out and dress. We’ll have a trainer and equipment manager available to help you and tape your shoes and pads once the uniform is on. They’ll be available when you undress as well. Don’t worry, you won’t be the only one parading around nude. The cheerleaders will be nude for the game as well.”
Needless to say, that produced hoots and hollers. Then I remembered Margie. I hadn’t seen her all day. And I twigged on something Becca – sigh – had said about Jason that morning. I owed it to him to warn him of the brewing storm.
We settled into a review of last week’s game with Mike and I adding our analysis before Coach could point out our weaknesses. Then into a review of the game films of East so far this year. We began mapping out our strategy for handling them on both offense and defense. Mike and I would be taking copies of the films home tonight for further study. Then we outlined the real plays versus the plays designed to throw off the other side. Look, all teams spy on the other team’s practice. We threw in plays that may or may not be part of our game plan. We might even practice the real plays behind locked doors in the gym. Anything to gain an advantage. That’s enough of that aspect of the team meeting. What gets said and decided stays. Everyone else finds out what we decided on on Friday. At the same time East finds out. We hoped they liked our little surprises!
At break I motioned for Jason to join me outside. “Jason, you know Rebbecca is my partner this week in the Program?”
He got kinda strange. “Man, it’s okay. As long as you respect her.”
“Dude, no problems.” No kidding. Respect? Me, the Italian? “She said something about this morning you need to hear.”
“Huh?” Don’t ya just love us football players. Quick on the uptake!
“She thought you were making fun of her this morning when we all got pulled into the office and put into the Program. She’s hurt, dude.”
He thought for a minute. Smart guy. “Damn. You know she and I are tight, best friends?”
“I got a glimpse.”
“I’ll talk to her. Thanks. You guys connect today?”
What do I say? Connect? Does her pussy juice all over my face and my cum all over her count as connecting? Does the kiss while being drawn and photographed in art count? That our souls touched each other? Shit.
“Ah, she’s my partner. We’ve spent time together.” He looked in my eyes. Hard. “Yes, she touched my heart.” Breathe, bastard, breathe. “She’s waiting for me in the art studio and wants me to give her a ride home.” Breathe.
He didn’t say anything. Just looked up at me in a way that made me feel small. I could see and feel how close he was to Rebbecca.
“Jason, if in your mind I ever do anything to disrespect your sister, I won’t fight back when you come after me.” Okay. I’m like a foot taller (almost) and 100 pounds heavier. Yet, I felt the love and concern he had for his sister.
“Give me a few minutes with her, okay?” I nodded agreement. We went back to the team meeting.