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A Model Garden – Again

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A sequel to my earlier CFNM tale submitted for the 2022 Nude Day event, A Model Garden.

This certainly could have gone under Group Sex or even Romance, for such it is, but on the whole I think it more properly belongs here.

Please enjoy.



I hadn’t meant to flirt. Truly. Yet the boy was entrancing, the personification of masculine beauty. And there’d been more than one sangria in my hands, always dangerous for me. While not drunk, I was definitely feeling bold, totally relaxed for the first time in years.

It helped that Charlie’s mother had offered to take both Ariel and Danny for the weekend.

“It’d give me a chance to play Gran,” she’d smiled. “And give you a few days to relax, with no worries about having to wake up in the middle of the night.”

I’d accepted gratefully.

She patted my cheek gently, smiled. Olivia and I got along.


The day my world caved in on me, the day Charlie’s piton failed half-way up his cliff, the only decision I could make was to not hate him. I didn’t tell the children that day, for how do you explain Forever to toddlers? Nor could I even find tears for myself and I would later feel guilty about that, too. But no, that day, as broken, as grief-stricken as one woman could be, I found myself capable of but one decision. I would not be like my mother, who hated Daddy with a bitterness beyond imagining for having left her a widow too soon, furious at the man she had loved for the sin of having suffered a stroke.

At least Charlie’s climbing club had had good insurance. Widowhood meant mourning black and I despised that. It meant a too-large, much-too-empty bed and I loathed that still more, mourned the loss of Charlie’s warmth in the middle of the night and his masculine odor on the pillows. It meant many things, but at least there was the minimal comfort that it didn’t mean poverty.

As the months passed, I caught some very subtle hints from men I knew, gentle, carefully-phrased offers to help ease the loss with that which every widow is supposed to need, but that whole part of me just seemed numb to the very idea. Nobody could replace Charlie.

So, it had been two years since I last held a man in my arms, last kissed.

Then Gale mentioned hosting an art class, ‘nature models’ posing for some of her friends. Would I be interested?

I’d taken and enjoyed drawing courses in college and the kids were old enough to be left with a sitter, especially as we lived just next door to Gale. So, thank you and I’d be delighted. In the event, I was able to arrive at her house early. I thought I might be able to help her set up. Instead, she introduced me to Ty.

Gale had told me that the model for the first session would be a tall poetry student from the school. There’d been a sparkle in her eyes as she said that and I’d wondered.

Younger than me by a couple of years, clean-shaven and casually dressed, Ty had a pleasant smile and the sort of soft brown eyes last seen in Bambi reruns.

But, yes – tall.

I’m a tall woman, taller than many men, but Ty had at least six inches on my five-foot-ten, with shoulders to match and forearms so enormous they seemed almost out of a cartoon.

I think what impressed me most was his gentleness. I cautiously held out my hand when Gale introduced us, slightly nervous of having it crushed, but his handshake was as tender as could be, steel-under-down restraint.

A glass of wine in hand, we made small talk, waited for the others to arrive.

I was smiling at his description of full-time motherhood as the most important job in the world when he wandered into the unmarked minefield of my widowhood. It caught me by surprise and it stung. He looked appalled at his gaff, but Gale swung in instantly to try and sooth things. The doorbell announcing the others’ arrival helped.

I’d met Quinn and Heather before and got along well. Heather’s curly red hair set off her curves perfectly and Quinn’s spunky personality matched a cute figure and a brain like a computer. It was impossible to be withdrawn near them; I pushed my new-risen sorrow aside and tried to focus on what promised to be a good evening.

Gale led us into her studio, a cluttered room with the far wall consisting entirely of windows and did that ethical thing, confirming Ty’s willingness to pose nude for us and reminding we three students of our requirement to respect Ty — no staring, no touching, no remarks. I’d heard it all before, but it had been a long time.

Ty left the room and returned dressed only in a housecoat and slippers, both rather frayed and shabby. I found it hard to avoid ogling as Gale prepared him for his pose. She had him standing, his leg slightly out as if he were walking. Once they’d settled on that, Ty simply shrugged off his robe and slippers, reassumed the position on the wooden posing platform.

Gale had stressed the ‘no staring’ rule and I could see why. Clothed, Ty had been impressive. Naked, he was magnificent, a primal bahis şirketleri force in his own right; I felt shimmies of reaction all the way down to my now-totally-female lizard brain.

The big shoulders and forearms I noticed earlier were matched everywhere. His body was flat planes, heavy shapes and clean, knife-edge muscle definitions. Ty had muscles I’d been unaware existed, muscles I’m still not sure are mentioned in medical textbooks. His chin was square and his forehead high. His sex was heavy, dark, almost ominous, and lay long over the wrinkled sac behind it.

I might have still been staring had not Gale cleared her throat lightly. I was surprised to find my next breath a subdued gasp and tried to catch up for the couple I’d missed sitting there in wonder. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Quinn and Heather were scarcely better off.

Blushing, I adjusted the angle of my sketching pad and got to work.

Gale gave us a couple of breaks over the next hour, during which Ty pulled on his robe and, leaving his slippers behind, went outside, wandering about in the sunshine, bare toes in the grass. Gale’s back yard was completely screened by a tall hedge and Ty took advantage of the privacy by bending and stretching as if trying to work out the stiffness caused by holding a pose for too long.

It was hard to keep my eyes off of him. Once he did a couple of light jumping jacks, which had all four of us instantly giggling. He turned and saw us watching; I was still blushing when he came back inside.

When Gale called it a day, I was happy with my chalk sketch of him. From the look in his eyes when he looked at it, I think he was, too.

I was disappointed when he declined to join us for another glass of wine, saying he had an early day ahead of him.

“But we’ll see you again next week?” Heather asked. I felt my tummy tighten just a little when he said yes.


The second session was every bit as good, I thought. Gale was a talented artist and an excellent instructor and was giving us all useful tips for improving our own techniques. In addition to being mouthwateringly handsome, Ty was also a good model, flexible enough to take on almost any pose and stable enough to hold it without swaying or drifting.

Sadly, he hadn’t been able to stay after the second session, either.

There was a succession of other models over the next few weeks, a pretty normal-looking young woman, a pregnant woman who smiled very sweetly and had the difficult-to-capture Madonna glow about her and finally an old man, white-bearded, bent and wrinkled. They were all good subjects and I enjoyed drawing them, equally enjoyed learning from Gale.


They weren’t Tyson.

OK, I’ll ‘fess up. Yes, it was about Art and about Learning and about a whole bunch of other things with capital letters. And, no, Erotic was wasn’t supposed to be on the list at all. I kept telling myself that, but let’s get real. I was reacting to Tyson’s presence the way mortal men were supposed to have reacted to Aphrodite, the ancient Greek goddess of beauty. Thinking about it, I hadn’t been so much sexually aroused by his presence as I’d been ‘alert’.

Terribly, completely, totally alert.

The old man had left Gale’s house after his hour had ended and the four of us had settled into the usual post-lesson Girl’s Night talkfest. Discussion roamed here and there, normal stuff, then, inevitably I suppose, turned back to Tyson.

“I mean, Roy and Martha before him were good models,” Heather said, her face serious, “but I don’t suppose you could get him back again?”

“Ty?” Gale asked.


Heather’s face broke into a happy smile. Her eyes closed for a long moment and the rest of us broke out laughing. It was pretty obvious what she’d been thinking about. She opened her eyes, grinned sheepishly in acknowledgement.

“Yes,” she repeated. “Let’s get Ty back again.” She took another drink from her wine glass. Her face was a bit flushed. Whether it was the wine or her thoughts of Ty, I couldn’t say.

Gale looked at me, raised an eyebrow. I nodded.

“Yes, please. I’d like that. Let’s get Ty back.”

Quinn, who was barely five feet tall, had had her share of wine, too. She muttered something into her glass.

“What’s that?” Gale asked her.

Quinn, startled, looked up, saw us staring at her and shook her head. Her face was scarlet and she bent again to the glass.

“What?” Gale pressed. For Quinn to be embarrassed, it had to be a doozy.

Without raising her nose from the goblet, the small woman muttered something again, too low for me to hear.

“Speak up!”

“Shaved!” she shouted, then, lowering her voice only a little, “Bring him back shaved!”

Sometimes you can hear people thinking. The teasing laughter fell away instantly and in the tomb-like silence in Gale’s living room, the only thing to be heard were four women thinking about how Ty would look if…

“I couldn’t do that,” Gale whispered. Her voice was low enough that bahis firmaları I just knew she was tempted. “The school has rules…”

“This isn’t at the school,” Quinn objected. “And he could always say no. And, hell, I’ll help pay for the salon and kick in a hundred bucks on top of that if you think it might change his mind.”

“Two hundred,” Heather said quickly. “I’ll add another hundred.” Her eyes, bold now, flashed at the rest of us.

She and Quinn both turned to stare at me. Who says this isn’t about sex? I thought. I felt my nipples tighten just a little, took a deep breath and nodded.

“Three hundred,” I whispered.

Gale’s eyes ran back and forth between us.

“You guys are crazy!”

“So, you’ll ask him?” Quinn challenged, her blush fading.

“I could lose tenure for this.” To me, it sounded like she was arguing with herself.

“So, you’ll at least ask?” Heather repeated.

Gale looked at me. I tried to say something, but my mouth was suddenly too dry. I nodded, just once.

“He’ll never agree,” Gale said, shaking her head.



Gale must have been very persuasive, for she texted us just a couple of days later that he’d agreed.

Normally, Ty had been the early arrival, the first person at Gale’s. This week, the three of us were all there very early. Heather had produced a large jug of sangrias and the laughter was pretty happy by the time the doorbell rang to announce our model.

Ty accepted a glass and we talked a while, ignoring the elephant in the room. Eventually, Gale finished her drink and herded us into the studio. Ty followed, emerging from his change room a minute later in his robe.

What? Well, of course I looked! Just his legs, of course, what I could see under the hem of his robe. His bareness looked odd compared to my memory of what he’d looked like before. I tried not to stare; no doubt he was uncertain, too.

Gale put him into an odd pose, standing, but bent over to one side and with his hands behind his head. It worked his form in an unusual way and made an interesting challenge for the artist.

Ty let this robe slide down his arms before he passed it to Gale and resumed the pose.

I won’t say my heart stopped, but I will admit that it took a long pause.

I was used to men with body hair. It was normal, standard. Tyson was now as bare as he’d been as a little boy, but there was absolutely nothing boyish about the rugged, ripped form standing on a knee-high platform just in front of me.

No, it wasn’t lust I was feeling. It wasn’t even desire, not really. Awe, perhaps. More than that; sitting there, I was completely aware of why there were both men and women in the world — and to which group he and I each belonged. Nothing so affirms strong, positive Yin as strong, positive Yang. and Ty’s mere existence was that affirmation on wheels.

It was quite the pose, I thought as I looked at him. His body was stretched, emphasizing some muscles, minimizing others. No longer partially concealed, his sex looked larger than it had, his sac low and full. I found myself staring at it, captivated. I took a deep breath, picked up my chalk.

Behind me, I became aware of Gale seating herself, beginning to draw. I could hear her hand sweeping back and forth, rapidly, with force as she so often did.


“Time!” I called in a bit. “Take a break, Ty.” I watched him pull on his housecoat and stride outside.

I looked at their drawings, made comments, but they all wanted to see mine.

“No, thanks. Not now. I was just experimenting.”

Quinn crossed her arms dramatically, frowned at me. I shot a quick look at her.

“Nope. Just scribbling.”

“Oh, come on!” Heather demanded. “Let’s see!”

I shrugged, fumbled through my pad.


Had I been that obvious?

I could feel the blush rising over my face — and further. I think my toes were blushing. On either side of me, Heather and Quinn were laughing so hard I thought they’d choke.

Gale had captured my daydream far better than I could have described it. A tall, naked man — clearly Ty — had an equally bare woman in his arms, one hand fondling her bosom, the other on her bum, pulling them together. Her face was turned towards him for a kiss and her face was hidden. So, no, I couldn’t see her face, but the girl in the sketch was tall enough that it just had to be me.


Quinn grinned in challenge. “So, you’re saying it is you in his arms?”

I blushed even more. I was embarrassed, angry and… and I wanted that sketch for myself.


“May I see?” Ty’s voice said from just behind me. He was quiet on his bare feet, that boy.

I slapped the pad closed as the four of us jumped apart, faces red with embarrassment.

“Just an experiment, Ty. Not suitable for your innocent eyes.”

His eyes swept back and forth between the four of us.


“We haven’t time.” I held up my arm to look at my watch. “Ready to get back into pose?”

He had to settle kaçak bahis siteleri for that.


Ty said he had to work that night, too. After he’d left, the four of us sat silently, looking at each other over the rims of our wine glasses.

I didn’t have the courage to ask Gale for the drawing.

I did think about it a lot.

Gale did something different for the next lesson. To give us time for a small party afterwards, she’d scheduled it for an afternoon instead of an evening. And, instead of our model holding a pose for an hour inside, Ty would simply move around in her garden. We were supposed to capture images of him moving. I heard that but was unprepared for the reality.

She and Ty emerged from inside carrying a table, the one she normally set refreshments on. I was for some reason shocked to see he’d already undressed.

It was an awkward carry and Ty’s legs kept banging against the table as he shuffled forward. The odd rhythm set his sex swinging. His head turned towards me and I looked away, blushing, only to let my eyes slip back to his bum and back once he’d passed us.

It was actually a good lesson, something which proved quite different from sketching a posed figure. To get him moving about naturally, Gale had him fetch each us drinks. I asked him to freeze briefly when he brought me mine. My hand with the chalk stick flew across the paper as if it had a mind of its own. I tried to concentrate on his flat stomach, but the sketch kept drifting down lower as if it had a mind of its own. He peered at it and I again turned beet red to see him smile at my work.


The light was different out here, the shadows sharper and that made his muscles stand out more. His totally bare, perfect figure moving around offered dozens of fleeting opportunities, both for sketching and for imagining.


I enjoyed it. Gale was an expert in challenging us to improve our techniques. I enjoyed the different setting, too.

All too soon however, Gale said that our hour was up. I was disappointed to see Ty heading back into the house.

Gale reminded him that he’d been invited to the party, too, pressed the point. Although it apparently wasn’t normal for models to join in social gatherings, Ty agreed — after he got dressed.


I guess I pouted. I was so used to that tall, perfect form being nude that putting clothes on it would have been a desecration. I was going to speak, but Tammy — the ever-so-shy Tammy! — beat me to it.


“Ty,” I said, moving to stand beside him. My voice dropped to the merest whisper. “Um, we’ve seen you…”

I waved my hand up and down his nakedness. “I mean, I think… I think it’s nice the way you are.”

The last words came out in a rush.

I stared up at him, hoping.

“Please?” I said.

He closed his eyes a moment in thought, nodded.

“Yes. All right.”

The four of us — Gale included — broke into that silly dance of glee women do, jumping up and down, laughing and clapping our hands. In retrospect, that was a mistake in front of a healthy young man. His eyes locked onto four pair of boobs bouncing up and down in front of him and his penis suddenly started to grow, just enough to be noticeable.

He spun away, went to the table and, facing away from us, began slowly loading a plate. He returned a few minutes later, the problem having eased. Neither he nor we mentioned it again, but I remembered.

He spent some time talking to each of us, casual party talk. He explained to me the difference between weightlifting and bodybuilding. Yes, he said, he lifted weights — he mentioned that he spent almost eight hours a week in the gym! — but that actual strength wasn’t so important as was the figure lifting weights helped him build.

I eyed his body in front of me, asked the first thing that came to mind.

“How much do you lift then?”

“Bench press?” he smiled. “Around three hundred of late.”

“Pounds?” I whispered. “Three hundred pounds?”

I found that difficult to accept. It was more than twice what I weighed.

I had visions of him in the gym, those broad shoulders and massive arm muscles straining against a long barbell. I felt a tingle run through me.

“Show me!”

His eyes drifted around the back of Gale’s yard, obviously drawing my attention to the absence of gym equipment.

“Sorry, Tammy. Maybe we’ll catch each other at the gym sometime.”

I licked suddenly-dry lips, overcame shyness and common sense.

“I weigh one hundred and twenty-five pounds. Show me!”

The words almost echoed in the quiet of the garden. Everybody’s eyes were locked on me. Heather looked a bit shocked, Quinn was grinning and there was an odd look on Gale’s face I couldn’t interpret. Ty looked flustered, as if he were trying to find a way to dodge.

I was astonished when Gale broke in.

“What would you need to try? Would an Ottoman work? I have one in my bedroom.”

Low, covered in black leather — of course — the Ottoman was about the same size as a gym bench. He and Gale soon had it outside in the sunshine. Ty lay down on it, his long, muscular body almost gleaming against the black leather. His sizable sex hung limply between his spread legs.

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