- I made this erotic feel for it.
- I made this erotic feel for it -2
This is a new story called” I made this erotic feel for it” Let’s begin….
I met my wife Mila in an Art’s class during college. It was one of those moments, now looking back, that I knew even then would change my life. Though to what extent it did, and had…I certainly didn’t know at the time. The only thing I did know, the moment I saw her, I knew I was going to marry her. No matter what.
Oddly enough, she was the artist. I was merely modeling, in the nude mind you, for a few extra bucks on the side. I was myself a struggling writer, not an artist. I never had been very shy, a fairly decent body all things considered, though I was certainly no body builder either. But then the arts instructor hadn’t been looking for that either when she approached me.
“Mike? Would you be interested in posing for a particular class of mine?” She’d asked. “You will be nude however…think you can handle that?” Like I said, nudity wasn’t a problem for me, and so I assured her I could do that. “Can I ask you another favor?” She then asked, actually blushing a little. “But only if you’re interested,” she then added, hedging her bet a little. “It would require something else, but you’d get paid additional for doing it,” she hinted.
“What’s that?” I asked curiously, wondering, as she seemed obviously hesitant to even bring it up.
“Well, once a week, I also teach an erotic arts class. So not only is there nudity involved with that, but you’d also have to be comfortable enough to sport an erection during the class. If you’ve got a girlfriend who might be interested in joining you, that would make things easier on you perhaps, though I do have a number of girls who’ve also signed up to be models for us as well.”
I had to think about that one, though only for a moment as she told me it paid a hundred dollars an hour, and with the class being two hours long, that was an easy eight hundred a month I could use, just for posing nude…with an erection. Rose, the instructor, quickly informed me there wouldn’t actually be any sexual relations, just simulated expressions. More like, something was just about to happen, or just had. That kind of stuff. I figured I could handle that, though maintaining an erection for two hours wasn’t going to be easy.
Until she told me that very often, the artists themselves very often drew one another also posing nude as they sat drawing. So perhaps, knowing and seeing that, might keep me more or less aroused. Though keeping myself stimulated was obviously expected. I figured, “What the hell? Why not try it at least once, see how things went?” I currently wasn’t seeing anyone either, so the potential for perhaps hooking up with someone seemed promising. I had no idea just how promising that would turn out to truly be, as that’s when I first saw Mila.
And the first time I even saw Mila, I saw her nude too.
Not everyone was, just a handful, three women and one man out of a class of twelve as it turned out. I had just come out of the dressing room only wearing a robe, which I would soon be removing. Oddly enough, I’d actually popped a Viagra a short while ago, and had been sitting there looking at porn mags, working up a nice stiff erection prior to walking out. The first night would be solo. Five or six different positions, but all of which would be clearly showing off my exposed aroused member.
Approaching the small platform, I soon assumed the position Rose had asked me to do first, laying down on my back, one leg bent at the knee, one hand behind my head, the other not quite touching my hard cock, though appearing as though I was just about to. I was asked to hold this particular pose for about fifteen minutes while all of us took up whatever tools they preferred using.
Whether it was simply a charcoal sketch, watercolor and brush, or oils. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mila, though I didn’t even know her name at the time. Though I daresay, I was too busy looking at her cute luscious body, which was helping to keep me focused, not to mention, stiff and straight for the class.
I guess you could say she had medium sized tits, neither too small, nor too large. Light tan areolas, slightly darker than the rest of her flesh, though the one thing she did have, and which clearly stood out, was very long thick nipples that seemed to be perpetually hard as she sat there drawing and sketching me throughout the night. I know, because I hardly took my eyes off them whenever I had the opportunity to look at her for any length of time.
She had dark shoulder length hair, which she wore in a ponytail. I later discovered she had almost emerald green eyes, a small dimple in her left cheek whenever she smiled, though at the moment she too was focused and serious as she sketched various positions and poses of me on her pad, tearing them off one after the other as she discarded some, drawing others. It was after that first class was over that I boldly approached her, introducing myself, and only then learning her name.
“Hi, I’m Mike. Mind if I see your work?” I asked.
Needless to say, I was a little surprised, and embarrassed as each and every piece she’d done…showed differing angles of my cock only. Nothing else…just my cock, top to bottom, from the side, some large, some exaggerated, (obviously so) and one even looking like something Picasso himself might have done.
I didn’t see much of a resemblance in that one, though Rose had commented favorably on it while looking over Mila’s sketches, which is when she then further introduced the two of us though we had basically done that already. I did learn however, according to Rose, that Mila was one of her more promising students and really had an eye for detail. By the few sketches I had seen, I could clearly see that…even if they were all pictures of my cock, and nothing else.
“You do good work,” I had told her after Rose had left the two of us to get even better acquainted with one another.
“You have a nice cock,” she’d countered. “Make it even more interesting to sketch when they look like yours does. Lots of differing veins, angles, especially when it throbs, like it was obviously doing earlier,” she said smiling at me. “Coffee?”
I laughed. She had a way about her, which I was just beginning to discover. Almost honest to a fault, certainly open-minded as I would also learn. But she had a few deep dark secrets about herself too, that I would also eventually find out.
But for now, it was a late night coffee together at a local hangout, where I would discover that the girl sitting across from me, was the one I had every intention of eventually marrying.
Yeah, I know. Love at first sight. Something that only happens in fairytales and romantic movies perhaps. But it in fact happened to me. The only problem was, could I accept and come to terms with Mila’s passions, her quirks, kinks and interests. I would soon find out.
**
I figured the evening was coming to a close for the two of us as we’d already passed on another refill of coffee. Mila was already gathering her things in preparation for leaving as I tossed a few bills on the table. She smiled, looking at me, and then said. “I’d like to watch you come. I only live a block away from here, care to come back to my place with me?” She asked as though we were discussing the weather or something.
Even then, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right either, figuring she’d meant something else, or had misspoken the words in some way. I know by the confused expression on my face, she was realizing that. “Seriously, I’d like to watch you come, you know…spurt, squirt. Come on, I’ll explain it to you on the way home.”
And just like that, I followed my future wife out the door of the café’ back to her place, wondering as we walked side by side, now hand in hand…if she was merely flirting with me, or teasing me. Until she actually explained herself as we walked.
“Here’s the thing,” she began. “And I was being serious when I asked you that. You see, for as long as I can remember now, I’ve had this fascination, this incredible desire and interest in seeing a man come. I love seeing it, watching it, making it happen…or just sitting back and watching it as they make it happen. I know, some might think it’s too freaky, too weird, which is why I also don’t date very much. Not too many guys I know are eager to accept that, unless they’re the only one doing it for me, but that’s not what I’m into,” she said openly.
Like I said, with no reason not to be honest about it, she was…especially since we’d just met, and she was just letting me know in no uncertain terms what she enjoyed seeing, and why. “Anyway, like I told you earlier, you have a nice looking cock, and I’ve been wondering all evening long what it would look like when it finally squirted, so…you interested?”
After two hours of sitting there with an erection in the first place, and now this…I was once again very hard, walking next to her, realizing we were headed back to her place, where I was actually going to come for her, though I of course had other hopes at the time too. Only some of which were actually accomplished…that night. We soon reached her apartment, which was on the 1st floor, and soon followed her inside where she almost immediately directed me to sit on her couch, after removing all my clothes first, though she did as well.
Like I said, I had other hopes in mind, which she soon clarified as she then took a seat in front of me. “Will it help if I masturbate in front of you while you do so for me?” She then asked. I realized then, she had been very serious, nothing else was even remotely hinted at or suggested, making it very clear to me once again, that it was all about seeing me cum. That, and nothing more.
Obviously I told her it would indeed help of course. I mean hell, if nothing else, I’d at least get to see her doing that. After all, we’d just met…and maybe this was just her way of getting to know me better before venturing on into anything else. Though I was still a little nervous and hesitant at first, until she settled back in her own chair, and began touching and toying with herself right there in front of me. After that, it got pretty easy for me from there.
“So, do you usually come a lot? Big squirter? Or dribbler?” she asked, though at least her tone of voice had taken on a rather lusty edge to it.
“Depends I guess,” I said almost matter of factly. “On how horny I am.”