Read all the Wank Wednesday erotic stories for Patience on Ruby Kiddell’s blog
Believe it or not, my line of work is not all fun and games. When people ask what I do, and I respond model, I do get a share of giggles, as if that certainly couldn’t be my real job. When I meet that with a stoic glare, and they press on, I reveal that I’m a nude model for art classes, and then everything seems to fall into place for them. They have tons of questions, and I have a ton of answers, which I can rattle off usually before the questions are asked. Yes, I don’t have a problem taking off my clothes for strangers, no, I’m not going to do it now. Yes, the pay is ok, at least when the schools honor the contracts and pay me on time, no, I don’t have to deal with lecherous glares from horny old men all the time. Most people are cool with what I do, and some are a bit judgmental, looking at me like a glorified stripper.
I’m still in my early twenties, and female, which makes work easy to come by for now. I know that by the time I start getting into my thirties and forties, the jobs will be non-existent, but hopefully by then, my other arts and crafts skills will start to flourish and make lots of money. The first few jobs were hard to work up my nerve, but now I’m an old pro, and I have plenty of references from many instructors that can report that I’m a joy to work with and punctual, the key traits for any model in the academic world.
When I walked in to my gig that day, I saw the usual set up. Comfortable couch for me, uncomfortable chairs for the class. Each student had a proper easel set up, except for one. He just took up a student’s seat, yet had no easel or anything at his desk. He just sat there and observed me, as I reviewed some papers before class. I kept looking out of the corner of my eye and noticed that he just stared at me, patiently waiting for someone or something to happen. The instructor gave me the cue and I started, untying my robe and dropping it to the floor. Usually this is when the people who are just there to leer get their good look and leave, but he remained seated. Five minutes passed, and he was still in his seat.
The other students in the class feverishly drew, and the more gifted ones were already on their second pages. These were the students that had photographic memories, and just a few lines on the page, a couple of reference points here and there, and they would be able to reconstruct what they had seen from memory. However, the student that had no easel just stayed there and looked ahead at me, seeming to be waiting for something.
Twenty minutes passed and the Looker, as I had mentally nicknamed him had not given up. I could feel his eyes scrape over my skin and while I knew it was silly to be bothered by it, while I was naked in front of everyone, it did. My only choice was to remain stoic in my face, and keep looking forward, at the one spot in the wall, the classroom’s thermostat, which would be the focus of my attention. I stared at that thermostat very hard, trying to mentally turn it with my mind. It was a little trick that I had picked up over the past two years, and it seemed to work. Not my telekinesis of course, but the time around me seemed to speed up. Students finished their pages quicker and the Looker, while he didn’t move, adjusted in his seat at a faster rate.
Finally, the instructor called time, and I had to take a second to pull my eyes from my thermostat. During the entire time, I knew the Looker was watching me, and there he still sat, watching me put on my robe. I got my bag together, and approached him, taking the now empty desk next to him. Everyone had left and now it was just him and me.
“So, did you get a good eyeful?”
He smiled, and giggled, “Oh, you think I was...”
I didn’t let him finish. “I’ve seen your type before, usually you just get a good eyeful and leave once you realize I won’t be dancing for your dollars.”
He laughed again. “No, no, I assure you, I was here on business,” he said. Now that I could, I got a good look at him. He looked in his mid-fifties and wore a casual business suit. He certainly wasn’t a horny old man off the street, but I was certainly skeptical of his business.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m really not interested in dancing at a club or being an escort. There’s really nothing sexual going on with...”
This time he stopped me, “I assure you my business is not like that.” He produced a pamphlet from his sport coat, which was from the city’s modern art museum. Sure enough, his head shot was on the cover, which introduced him to me as Pierre Beferenski, modern artist. The pamphlet advertised his show, which included painting, sculpture and various “multimedia” work which could literally mean anything in the modern art world. “I was quite impressed with your patience with me, today, and I was wondering if your night was free, if I could interest you in a job at the gallery.”
“What would it entail?” I asked.
“Simple really, it’s a concept piece about modern femininity. You will be placed on a bed on a stage, nude as you are there, and facing the audience, waiting. Just being patient while other actresses around you play their parts and play off of you. You will be the centerpiece, the modern woman who is always waiting for things to happen for her or to her. The other actresses will be clothed mostly, except for the one portraying lust, she will also be naked as you.”
I swallowed a bit, as it was all a bit much to take in. “I don’t really know much about art,” I confessed.
“Exactly, I don’t need some actress trying to make it big, or some art student also with an agenda. You exemplified for me patience today, and I’d like you to be my Patience for me.”
I took his business card as he left, and promised an answer within a few hours. At six that evening I arrived at the gallery, ready to go on my second job of the day.
Since it was an art gallery, the changing area was just a bathroom, that was cornered off and guarded by two women who guided me in. The other three women who were also part of the piece had already arrived, and two of them were practicing their interactions with each other. They were a silver haired older woman and a woman in her forties, playing Maturity and Livelihood respectively. Their roles were designed to be one of tension, and so they practiced getting into heated arguments with one another.
The third woman in the piece, was Lust, and she walked around the bathroom in full costume, doing stretches on the sink, rubbing lotion on her skin. And, by full costume, she was completely naked.
“Are you going to be nude too?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Oh, yes, for me it’s just natural, I’m kind of a nudist. This is how I’m really most comfortable. Are you Patience then?”
I nodded and her eyes lit up, “Oh good, the last girl they had was not very umm, well, attractive.” We chatted a bit, while I undressed and Lust, as she wanted to be called before the show, made me feel very comfortable. I didn’t even notice that the two of us were standing fully nude in a museum bathroom. Suddenly, it was showtime, and Lust and I exited the bathroom hand in hand.
“I may touch you a bit, and I’m sorry if it comes off too sexual for you. There really is no script and so, I’m just going to go out there and give it my all for this part.” From hearing what Lust described before, what she was expected to do, my part was very easy. I would just be sitting on the bed completely motionless and would not react to anything that was going on. Maturity and Livelihood would cover the majority of the speaking parts, and be fully dressed. They would have arguments about me, cover me up, admonish me, and the whole time, I would have to just sit there and patiently wait for the end of the show.
I took the stage and looked out across the crowd, almost forgetting why I was there, and even that I was nude. I strode onto the stage and took my place on the bed, propping myself up and laid down, partly sitting up and faced the crowd with my normal posing gaze. It wasn’t completely unemotional, but it also didn’t convey any feelings. This is how I would wait, and nothing that was happening on stage would sway me.
The night wore on, and the crowd which was the audience, wandered around the stage. There were no seats and nobody stayed for two long, however, the men did take their time looking at me, even engaging in one-off staring contests, which I happily obliged. The pose I took on the bed was decided by Pierre, and it was basically me, sitting up, with my legs parted slightly. It wasn’t as lewd as I thought it would be, but it certainly gave those that were looking a bit more of a show than I give any art class.
By stark contrast, my companions on stage went through their parts and performed well. Maturity and Livelihood argued constantly about me, over me, beside me, and even on me at times, as they lounged on the bed, their clothed legs covering my bare ones. They only talked about me in the abstract, how I was waiting, and how I was inexhaustible. I could just stare ahead as they spoke about me, looking straight ahead at a table lined with appetizers.
Lust did end up stealing the show a bit. While some looked at me for a bit, the eyes of the men and women in the crowd always landed on the naked Lust as she confidently walked across the stage, completely oblivious to everyone. I refused to turn my head to really observe her, but as she crossed into my field of vision I could see that she made no attempts to be modest, and brazenly touched herself, and released some moans into the room. I was sure that the room could have been empty or it could have been a thousand people, and Lust would have acted in exactly the same way. She also owned the stage, walking around every inch of the exhibit, and eventually landed on my bed.
When she did get to my bed she laid in the opposite direction as me and directly on top of me, giving my gaze a very clear view of her pussy. She spread her legs wide and started to moan, masturbating just inches from me. I swallowed hard as I tried to keep my composure, as her hands explored her own body, which she did with reckless abandon. It was so hot, and I was so enthralled with it, I’m sure I licked my own lips as I watched her lewd display. I so wanted to reach out and grab some part of her, but my commitment to Patience was just to great.
Her hips finally started to gyrate, and I could sense her imminent orgasm. I knew that my own pussy was becoming inflamed at this show and I desperately wanted to touch it, just to please myself, but I kept remind myself about my role, Patience. If I indulged I would break my role, and aside from the money, it just wasn’t something I was prepared to do. As I recommitted myself to Patience, Lust came in front of me, and evidently, she was a bit of a gusher. Hot liquid emanated from her pussy splashing on my stomach, and showering on my own pussy. I remained steadfast at my post, and just stared ahead, as Lust’s cream dried on my own body.
Eventually, the last guest of the show exited the hall, and Pierre took down the velvet rope and entered the stage, signifying the end. “Thank you so much ladies, Maturity and Livelihood, as always true actors. Lust, you performed so well, that time on the bed was truly breathtaking. And Patience, you performed with more discipline than any person on the planet could muster! Brava ladies, brava!”
Maturity and Livelihood exited the stage, leaving me alone with Lust. “Oh wow, sorry about the fountain, I get like that sometimes.” Lust blushed for the first time in the evening. She rubbed my stomach, feeling the wetness that was still there. “And you were so patient, I don’t know if I would have been able to withstand that.”
I took her hand in mine, and pushed it down between my legs, and I felt her fingers start exploring the folds of my pussy. I wanted to show her how wet I was, and just how patient I had been that evening. But even my patience had limits.
She smiled broadly and straddled my hips, “Patience rewarded shall we say?” We kissed deeply and I knew that my waiting was now finally over.
Read all the Wank Wednesday erotic stories for Patience on Ruby Kiddell’s blog
When I walked in to my gig that day, I saw the usual set up. Comfortable couch for me, uncomfortable chairs for the class. Each student had a proper easel set up, except for one. He just took up a student’s seat, yet had no easel or anything at his desk. He just sat there and observed me, as I reviewed some papers before class. I kept looking out of the corner of my eye and noticed that he just stared at me, patiently waiting for someone or something to happen. The instructor gave me the cue and I started, untying my robe and dropping it to the floor. Usually this is when the people who are just there to leer get their good look and leave, but he remained seated. Five minutes passed, and he was still in his seat.
The other students in the class feverishly drew, and the more gifted ones were already on their second pages. These were the students that had photographic memories, and just a few lines on the page, a couple of reference points here and there, and they would be able to reconstruct what they had seen from memory. However, the student that had no easel just stayed there and looked ahead at me, seeming to be waiting for something.
Twenty minutes passed and the Looker, as I had mentally nicknamed him had not given up. I could feel his eyes scrape over my skin and while I knew it was silly to be bothered by it, while I was naked in front of everyone, it did. My only choice was to remain stoic in my face, and keep looking forward, at the one spot in the wall, the classroom’s thermostat, which would be the focus of my attention. I stared at that thermostat very hard, trying to mentally turn it with my mind. It was a little trick that I had picked up over the past two years, and it seemed to work. Not my telekinesis of course, but the time around me seemed to speed up. Students finished their pages quicker and the Looker, while he didn’t move, adjusted in his seat at a faster rate.
Finally, the instructor called time, and I had to take a second to pull my eyes from my thermostat. During the entire time, I knew the Looker was watching me, and there he still sat, watching me put on my robe. I got my bag together, and approached him, taking the now empty desk next to him. Everyone had left and now it was just him and me.
“So, did you get a good eyeful?”
He smiled, and giggled, “Oh, you think I was...”
I didn’t let him finish. “I’ve seen your type before, usually you just get a good eyeful and leave once you realize I won’t be dancing for your dollars.”
He laughed again. “No, no, I assure you, I was here on business,” he said. Now that I could, I got a good look at him. He looked in his mid-fifties and wore a casual business suit. He certainly wasn’t a horny old man off the street, but I was certainly skeptical of his business.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m really not interested in dancing at a club or being an escort. There’s really nothing sexual going on with...”
This time he stopped me, “I assure you my business is not like that.” He produced a pamphlet from his sport coat, which was from the city’s modern art museum. Sure enough, his head shot was on the cover, which introduced him to me as Pierre Beferenski, modern artist. The pamphlet advertised his show, which included painting, sculpture and various “multimedia” work which could literally mean anything in the modern art world. “I was quite impressed with your patience with me, today, and I was wondering if your night was free, if I could interest you in a job at the gallery.”
“What would it entail?” I asked.
“Simple really, it’s a concept piece about modern femininity. You will be placed on a bed on a stage, nude as you are there, and facing the audience, waiting. Just being patient while other actresses around you play their parts and play off of you. You will be the centerpiece, the modern woman who is always waiting for things to happen for her or to her. The other actresses will be clothed mostly, except for the one portraying lust, she will also be naked as you.”
I swallowed a bit, as it was all a bit much to take in. “I don’t really know much about art,” I confessed.
“Exactly, I don’t need some actress trying to make it big, or some art student also with an agenda. You exemplified for me patience today, and I’d like you to be my Patience for me.”
I took his business card as he left, and promised an answer within a few hours. At six that evening I arrived at the gallery, ready to go on my second job of the day.
Since it was an art gallery, the changing area was just a bathroom, that was cornered off and guarded by two women who guided me in. The other three women who were also part of the piece had already arrived, and two of them were practicing their interactions with each other. They were a silver haired older woman and a woman in her forties, playing Maturity and Livelihood respectively. Their roles were designed to be one of tension, and so they practiced getting into heated arguments with one another.
The third woman in the piece, was Lust, and she walked around the bathroom in full costume, doing stretches on the sink, rubbing lotion on her skin. And, by full costume, she was completely naked.
“Are you going to be nude too?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Oh, yes, for me it’s just natural, I’m kind of a nudist. This is how I’m really most comfortable. Are you Patience then?”
I nodded and her eyes lit up, “Oh good, the last girl they had was not very umm, well, attractive.” We chatted a bit, while I undressed and Lust, as she wanted to be called before the show, made me feel very comfortable. I didn’t even notice that the two of us were standing fully nude in a museum bathroom. Suddenly, it was showtime, and Lust and I exited the bathroom hand in hand.
“I may touch you a bit, and I’m sorry if it comes off too sexual for you. There really is no script and so, I’m just going to go out there and give it my all for this part.” From hearing what Lust described before, what she was expected to do, my part was very easy. I would just be sitting on the bed completely motionless and would not react to anything that was going on. Maturity and Livelihood would cover the majority of the speaking parts, and be fully dressed. They would have arguments about me, cover me up, admonish me, and the whole time, I would have to just sit there and patiently wait for the end of the show.
I took the stage and looked out across the crowd, almost forgetting why I was there, and even that I was nude. I strode onto the stage and took my place on the bed, propping myself up and laid down, partly sitting up and faced the crowd with my normal posing gaze. It wasn’t completely unemotional, but it also didn’t convey any feelings. This is how I would wait, and nothing that was happening on stage would sway me.
The night wore on, and the crowd which was the audience, wandered around the stage. There were no seats and nobody stayed for two long, however, the men did take their time looking at me, even engaging in one-off staring contests, which I happily obliged. The pose I took on the bed was decided by Pierre, and it was basically me, sitting up, with my legs parted slightly. It wasn’t as lewd as I thought it would be, but it certainly gave those that were looking a bit more of a show than I give any art class.
By stark contrast, my companions on stage went through their parts and performed well. Maturity and Livelihood argued constantly about me, over me, beside me, and even on me at times, as they lounged on the bed, their clothed legs covering my bare ones. They only talked about me in the abstract, how I was waiting, and how I was inexhaustible. I could just stare ahead as they spoke about me, looking straight ahead at a table lined with appetizers.
Lust did end up stealing the show a bit. While some looked at me for a bit, the eyes of the men and women in the crowd always landed on the naked Lust as she confidently walked across the stage, completely oblivious to everyone. I refused to turn my head to really observe her, but as she crossed into my field of vision I could see that she made no attempts to be modest, and brazenly touched herself, and released some moans into the room. I was sure that the room could have been empty or it could have been a thousand people, and Lust would have acted in exactly the same way. She also owned the stage, walking around every inch of the exhibit, and eventually landed on my bed.
When she did get to my bed she laid in the opposite direction as me and directly on top of me, giving my gaze a very clear view of her pussy. She spread her legs wide and started to moan, masturbating just inches from me. I swallowed hard as I tried to keep my composure, as her hands explored her own body, which she did with reckless abandon. It was so hot, and I was so enthralled with it, I’m sure I licked my own lips as I watched her lewd display. I so wanted to reach out and grab some part of her, but my commitment to Patience was just to great.
Her hips finally started to gyrate, and I could sense her imminent orgasm. I knew that my own pussy was becoming inflamed at this show and I desperately wanted to touch it, just to please myself, but I kept remind myself about my role, Patience. If I indulged I would break my role, and aside from the money, it just wasn’t something I was prepared to do. As I recommitted myself to Patience, Lust came in front of me, and evidently, she was a bit of a gusher. Hot liquid emanated from her pussy splashing on my stomach, and showering on my own pussy. I remained steadfast at my post, and just stared ahead, as Lust’s cream dried on my own body.
Eventually, the last guest of the show exited the hall, and Pierre took down the velvet rope and entered the stage, signifying the end. “Thank you so much ladies, Maturity and Livelihood, as always true actors. Lust, you performed so well, that time on the bed was truly breathtaking. And Patience, you performed with more discipline than any person on the planet could muster! Brava ladies, brava!”
Maturity and Livelihood exited the stage, leaving me alone with Lust. “Oh wow, sorry about the fountain, I get like that sometimes.” Lust blushed for the first time in the evening. She rubbed my stomach, feeling the wetness that was still there. “And you were so patient, I don’t know if I would have been able to withstand that.”
I took her hand in mine, and pushed it down between my legs, and I felt her fingers start exploring the folds of my pussy. I wanted to show her how wet I was, and just how patient I had been that evening. But even my patience had limits.
She smiled broadly and straddled my hips, “Patience rewarded shall we say?” We kissed deeply and I knew that my waiting was now finally over.
Read all the Wank Wednesday erotic stories for Patience on Ruby Kiddell’s blog
A very clever story and hot too, brilliant.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much! I've never been or done any nude modeling, but I hope my story was at least a little realistic. (However, I think I pushed what would qualify as "modern art" here!) :)
ReplyDelete