My fiancée, Anne, had taken a lot of art classes. They were totally unrelated to her degree and gave her a place where she could shrug of the stress of school.

It was during her classes that she discovered that she was an exhibitionist. They'd had a lot of live nude models and Anne had been turned on every time, not by the models, but thought of it being her exposed in front of that audience.

She never summoned the courage to pose for a whole class, but she did agree to a few private modeling gigs. Nothing ever happened between her and the artists but she always came home incredibly riled up, so she had my enthusiastic approval to continue.

At the end of the term there was a huge art show, showcasing the students work. Anne, since art wasn't her major, hadn't submitted anything. But she was still eager to go. I wasn't the least bit interested until she put on her dress for the evening. It was short with black lace over blue fabric. It was low cut and the lace straps over her shoulders were transparent. It was very sexy.

Plus the drinks were supposed to be free.

The art was of mixed quality. I'm guess I'm pretty conventional and not a lot appealed to me.

There was on clay statue of a nude woman kneeling, brushing out her hair. She had no features, but seemed familiar. Anne's wide grin confirmed that it was her. There was a wall of nude femaled figures sketch in charcoal and Anne again confirmed they were of her. I was smiling, enjoying my wine, and lightly turned on knowing that she had enjoyed exposing herself so much.

But then, at the back of the gallery, a little hidden from view, we came across the painting. It was huge. Around 12 feet across and 6 feet high. It was gorgeous, vibrant and colorful. It looked like painting by Georgia O'Keefe.

But this wasn't a subtle floral reference to something deeper. This was clearly a pussy.

Anne's pussy.

Her lips were spread very wide, her hands just hinted at in the painting. It was something she loved to do. She wanted every part of her exposed. Clearly nothing, even her most intimate secrets, had been hidden from the painter.

Anne was still. Gazing at it awe. I was stunned. Knowing that someone had seen her that intimately, studied her with that level of detail, touched a deep part of my psyche. I was almost painfully aroused.

There was another man there, staring at the painting almost sadly. He was older, middle aged maybe, with a bit of a pot belly and a rumpled look about him.

"Do you like it?" Anne asked him devilishly. He was taken aback. He hadn't expected this young beautiful woman to talk to him.

"It's very nice." He sounded shy.

"Come to these things often?" Anne leaned in a bit.

"Oh. No. I'm not very artistic. I'm at a conference down the street. I thought I'd get away and see something else."

"You're staying at the hotel? The really nice new one?" Anne sounded hopeful.

"No." The guy sounded defeated. "That's just where the conference is. I'm staying at the much older one across the street." I knew the place. It was pretty run down. He clearly knew that it wasn't what a young attractive woman wanted to hear. Anne went silent for a minute. The man sighed and turned as if to go.

"That's me." Anne blurted out. He turned back to look at her. She nodded towards the canvas. "I was the model for that."

"No?" He was almost speechless.

"Yes!" Anne said delightedly. "I love to show off."

"You're gorgeous." He managed to choke out.

"Take me back to your hotel room and I'll show you." The words ran together, Anne was speaking so fast. She was clearly horny, excited, and very nervous.

I stepped forward and touched Anne's elbow.

"Anne?" I asked. She looked up at me.

"The paintings awesome. I love it." She said. "I need to show off, to show someone. Look at him. How sad he is. I want to give him a thrill, something to remember his conference for." I expected him to object, or say something, when she started talking down about him. He didn't. He just looked sad and a little lost. He had the look of a middle aged man who was watching life slowly pass him by.

I was already aroused by the idea that someone had examined Anne so intimately. I wanted it to happen again. I wanted to watch it happen. It happening with a total stranger was even more arousing. And with this man, I knew Anne would be safe. I nodded and stepped back.

"Interested?" Anne asked the stranger.

"Yes." He had the look of a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. "Will you come back to my hotel?"

"Yes. But just for a show. Nothing more. Understand?" Anne was almost quivering with excitement.

"Yes."

She stepped forward to go with him. So did I. He paused and looked at me with a hint of fear.

"He comes with me." Anne said firmly.

"How do I know this isn't some game to rob a lonely stranger?" He asked.

"You don't" He stared at Anne for a moment then led the way out of the show.

His hotel room was pretty much exactly what I expected. It was clean, but wallpaper was peeling in places, it had an old CRT TV and the air conditioning was loud. The bed wasn't made. It looked a bit like he did. Like everything had passed it by. Anne glanced around with look of satisfaction.

"Perfect" she said. This was clearly scratching an itch for her. She turned away from the man, held her hair up from her neck and backed towards him a little.

"Unzip me" She said. He glanced at me, then slowly pulled the zipper down her back. She pulled the dress over her head and dropped it to the floor. She was wearing blue panties and bra that matched the dress perfectly.

She looked amazing. Slim, but curvy. Very pale. Freckles on her shoulders and chest. She climbed on to the bed, giving us a view of her ass, before she settled into the rumpled sheets. She rest her back against the headboard and stretched out her legs.

"You can take off my panties." She offered. "But that's it."

He leaned forward, took the sides of her panties, pulled them down her legs, leaving them with her dress at the foot of the bed.

Anne bent her legs a little and slowly spread them apart. She was gorgeous. She was waxed bared. Little freckles dotted her mound and the very tops of her thighs. Her lips were a pale pink. She let us stare, then slid her hands down her belly. She reached her pussy and slowly, very slowly, opened herself up to us. She had small inner lips, small and tight. She spread herself wider and wider until she was splayed fully open. She sighed.

"Was that me in the painting?"

"Absolutely." The man said. Anne smiled. My cock was painfully hard, knowing that the stranger was seeing the same thing I was, that the unknown  painter had watched her, for who knows how long, to capture this scene.

Anne lifted a hand to her mouth, letting her pussy close a little. She licked her fingers, getting them wet, and brought them down to her pussy. She slid them between her lips, against her clit, and her whole body shuddered.  With one hand she pulled herself as wide as possible, with the other she started to masturbate. She closed her eyes momentarily, but then opened them to watch her audience.

She started to perform a little, pushing two and then three fingers into her pussy, pulling them out and licking herself clean, fucking herself as deep as she could, spreading her pussy as wide as possible. We were enthralled.

"Take your dick out." She told the stranger. He hesitate, looked at me. "Take yours dicks out. Both of you. I want you to jack off to my hot pussy. But don't you dare cum."

I pulled out my cock. Once I had the stanger did as well. I rubbed myself. But slowly. It would have been so easy to cum.

Anne smiled in satisfaction and concentrated on her own pleasure. I could tell when she was getting close. She stopped performing, stopped worrying about putting on a show. She focus on her clit. Drawing smaller and smaller circles. Getting wetter and wetter. Her moans, soft at first got louder as her body got tense. Suddenly her body shuddered. She let out a shout and collapsed against the rumpled bed. Her eyes closed with her release.

She opened them quickly. She crawled to the edge of the bed and knelt on the threadbare carpet in from of the stranger.

"Take off your clothes." She told him. He looked uncertain. She undid her bra and tossed it on the pile of her clothes. Her breasts were perfect.

"Take off your clothes." She insisted. "I want you to cum in my mouth." She sat back against her heels, opened her mouth a little.

He looked at me, then stripped. He was pale and skinny, with a bit of a paunch. He looked painfully embarrassed. Anne didn't give him time to think about it. She leaned forward and took him between her lips.

She gave a sloppy, wet, blowjob, taking him deep into her mouth. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself and thrust against her lips. She moaned, a soft, satisfied sound. After what he'd seen he couldn't last. He came, flooding her mouth with his sperm.

He stepped back, spent, and Anne turned to me. She opened her mouth, let me see his cum on her tongue. She swallowed.

"Cum on my face." She said. I stepped over her, rubbing myself hard. I didn't last any longer than the stranger had. I exploded on her cheek, across her nose, on her lips. Coating her in sperm.

She stayed there for a minute, letting us admire her, before she stepped into the small hotel washroom for a shower.

It was a very awkward moment, just myself and this strange man, our dicks out and going limp. He got dressed and I zipped up. Anne took her time while we sat in discomfort. Finally she stepped out and got dressed. She kissed the stranger on the cheek and we left.

The painting sold. I like to think that he bought it

The Chronology of Anne