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16 Mayıs 2023, 22:16
There?s a man about our age, in his early 50s, sitting on his own at a table. He?s having a drink and reading a London tourist guide. Looking around for a place to sit in the crowded hotel bar, we approach him and I ask if we can share his table. ?Please, be my guest,? he says and I go to order drinks while my wife sits and waits. At the bar, I turn to see them exchanging words but he?s not looking at her; he still has his head in the guide. When I return, I hear him say he?s an art tutor here for a couple of days to look through some galleries. I sit and we introduce ourselves. Charles is an urbane gentleman, well-dressed, well-mannered and articulate. Sipping our drinks we strike up a conversation about the merits of this gallery verus that and talk about the places we?ve enjoyed on our travels around the world. The conversation eventually centres on the role of women in art. We speak about the nude and how fashions and trends have changed the concept of beauty and decency throughout the ages. We go on to discuss some of our favourite artists and their works: Botticelli, Monet, Degas and Raphael among them. ?I think it?s the allure and the mystique of the nude that?s so compelling," says Charles. "Seeing a woman naked is like being included in a special, intimate secret; a secret you really want her to share.? ?A university friend of mine was a life model,? says kolej escort (http://kolej.t2bro.net/) Francine. Looking at me, she continues,*?Richard, you remember Linda, she was a model for the local Arts Society. One night when we were out she told me she really loved it, exposing herself to men like that. I?ve always wondered what it would be like but I wouldn?t have the courage to do it. Nobody would want to draw me anyway.? Charles goes to order more drinks because we're told that the bar will close soon. When he returns I say, ?We're staying here and our room has a fabulous view over the Thames. Why don't we take our drinks up there and enjoy the view.? Francine is bright eyed and smiling when we walk out of the bar but she staggers ever so slightly, giggling as she quickly regains her composure. I notice Charles?s eyes resting on her backside as I guide her towards the lift. When we reach our room, the conversation again turns to art and we examine and dismiss the very ordinary prints hanging on the wall. Walking to the window, I throw back the curtains and we look out at the view. It's like a fairyland of twinkling lights with their reflections dancing on the surface of the river. As I turn around, Francine is taking off her jacket and Charles nods and, quite ambiguously, says, "Yes, a beautiful view.? Fran looks away blushing; her face glowing a bright sihhiye escort bayan (http://sihhiye.t2bro.net/) cherry red, but I see a small smile forming in the corners of her mouth and a glint in her eyes as she puts down the jacket. ?Ah yes,? she says, ?but beauty is very subjective.? ?What does beauty mean to you Francine?? Charles asks. She studiously ignores Charles?s question and gazes out of the window. At this point I gesture towards Francine. ?This is beauty to me Charles; her caring thoughts, her bright eyes, her beautiful smile and the curve of her lovely body.* ?Charles, do you think a woman like Francine would make a good model? Can you see a woman like her in the classical pose of a Roman nymph or a Greek muse? Or do you think something more modern and abstract like a Picasso would better suit her more voluptuous figure?* ?What do you think Francine? Turn around sweetheart and show us your lovely body.? Francine strikes up a mock chorus girl ?grand-finale? pose and I say, ?Come on Fran, I?m being serious, I?d like to explore this theme. Which is more beautiful? Man-made buildings and ornaments or the natural human form?? She looks at me quizzically. ?It's art,? I say, ?the beauty of the human form, nothing more, nothing less.? Fran's hands rest on her hips and she looks at me questioningly. Her head is on a slight tilt, a defiant, challenging Escort sincan (http://sincan.t2bro.net/) look in her eye, and she asks, ?Are you sure about this?? With no opportunity to answer, Charles and I watch mesmerised as she breathes in, puffing out her magnificent breasts. Slowly she inches her hands towards the top of her pants. Hesitating before fumbling with the button, she pulls down the zip. My eyes, wide open now, are glued to the small triangle of pale naked flesh exposed between the top of her panties and the hem of her singlet. Looking me in the eye, she rests her hands back on her hips and slides her pants down with a flourish and lets them fall to them floor. I stand there staring at her in mute astonishment. I?m surprised but delighted she?s taken off her pants. It?s as though I?m living in some kind of dream. A secret fantasy becoming a reality. Here, right in front of me, my wife has pulled her pants down in front of a man she just met. Amazing, fantastic and so exciting, it?s almost surreal. I?m terrified that it will all melt away to nothing like an imagined Dali painting. ?Oh, Fran!? I gasp, encouraging her. I look at the curve of her slender ankles, her finely turned calves, her silky thighs and finally fix upon her full cut, black cotton panties wrapped tightly around her crotch and waist. Straightening up with a look of confidence now, Francine reaches down and grasps the hem of her top and lifts it up revealing her very feminine soft rounded tummy. Her black lace and satin bra and her deep cleavage bounce into view as she pulls the top over her head in a flowing movement. ?Mmmm,? I groan, almost under my breath. ?You are so lovely Fran.*There she is...