My Dirty Little Secrets as an Amateur Freelance Model for Nude Art: Part 4

Musings on My Self-Perception in My Experiences as a Model and My Aspirations for This Group October 1, 2024 Hi my dear friends, My intention in creating this group was not to 'show off' by displaying artistic nude photos taken by professionals to garner admiration and compliments from my most loyal and select followers. I have the impression that you are the ones who have ventured into this 'corner away from the madding crowd' of usual blogs, including mine. Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t look down on the more popular blogs, far from it: I love the blog I’ve started and the interaction with readers, even though most of the comments are just compliments, which I sincerely appreciate. But every now and then, I feel like retreating to this quiet corner to relax: the 'Erotic Art Group,' which I see as something akin to a cozy pub with background music from the folk of the '70s and '80s, sometimes jazz or blues. A very sparsely populated pub, where a select clientele: you, gather to discuss art and intimate, daring topics, all mixed together. Occasionally, you invite me to dance on the small floor at the back of the bar while we continue our conversation privately. In the pub I am always naked, of course! Well, maybe wearing some fine lingerie at times. I like to imagine that a follower of this group, when reading one of these posts, is seated at home in their favorite armchair, with the soft, warm light of a shaded lamp. Perhaps with a laptop or tablet on their lap and a glass of fine whiskey or a cup of coffee within reach. Is your dog lying at your feet, dozing? Or your cat purring in your lap, competing for space with the tablet? You know what? I have a desktop computer where I spend several hours a day in a very cozy part of the house, which in French is called a 'mezzanine.' It's typical of classic French houses. One day, I'll show you a photo of my favorite spot in the house. Sometimes I use the laptop or the iPad in the living room, but I rarely, if ever, use my phone for the blog. That atmosphere fosters intimate conversation, where off-the-record things are shared, things I wouldn't divulge on the blog since the readers there know me less and might easily misinterpret the context of the confidences I share. For that very reason, I’d like to encourage you to be bold and ask me here all those things you hesitate to ask on the blog. Since it’s a group where I strive to maintain a certain artistic yet erotic content, I’ve initially based it on my own experiences as a model for a few painters and quite a few photographers, both professional and advanced amateurs. In any case, I never tire of repeating that I don’t want to appear to be something I’m not, nor deceive you, nor deceive myself: I have never been a good model, but rather a mediocre apprentice who also has a defect in one leg. My greatest asset was not how well I posed or having an impressive body, but my connection with the artist, my closeness to him, which almost inevitably led to ‘intimate moments’. I remind you that for me, these intimate encounters aren’t something particularly special; they’re just two (or more) people having fun together in privacy without harming anyone. It’s the ultimate expression of empathy, friendship, and affection between adults. But I won’t dwell on this since I’ve talked a lot about my perspective on sex in the blog. But the fact is that this ease, this naturalness I had with having sex with the artist who hired me, made me relatively sought after as a model on a local, at most regional, level. Naturally, when I was younger, from about 20 to 40 years old, I was quite in demand, although I had to kindly decline most propositions either because I didn't have the time or because I didn't like the person who wanted to hire me. And I'm not just referring to their looks, although that was an important part, but also their personality. Later, I started to be less in demand, but 'c’est la vie,' which is one of the few French expressions universally known; well, that and 'déjà vu', and as it seems also ‘mezzanine’ :-D Regarding this notion that a 'mediocre model' like I was, having relationships with the artist, you know it’s a classic, and it's not just a cliché. Many artists are somewhat introverted people, not necessarily shy, but they live in their own world and enjoy isolating themselves from society, so they often have few opportunities for sex and, in most cases, don’t have a partner. This is almost the norm among painters, and maybe not so much among photographers. That’s why the model is sometimes an artist’s only contact with the emotional and erotic world. For instance, I know that the other model ladies in the area… some of whom, like me, also offered discreet intimate services and were therefore my competition, referred to me by the insulting and derogatory nickname 'the Lame Slut,' a clever moniker that simultaneously alluded to my limp and insinuated that I was unattractive. Meanwhile, among the guys in the art and liberal scene, I was referred to as the 'Cheap Slutty Model,' a term that was derogatory yet somewhat affectionate, without alluding to my physical defect. This also served as good marketing for me, increasing my cachet; in reality, I wasn't as cheap as my nickname suggested, though I was indeed quite promiscuous and slut. Additionally, it was well known that if they provided proof of being free from sexually transmitted diseases, preferably with an official medical certificate, I would agree to be fucked bareback (except on my fertile days) and would perform full oral services, meaning swallowing. A few men got these tests done for the first time in their lives to show me the certificate, although most preferred to use condoms. For instance, Francis, Diego, and Ignacio within the artistic scene never used condoms with me, nor did Paco, Olaso, or Jose Manuel, for example. One day, I need to tell you how I approach the topic of sexual health with my 'play' partners, as I've always taken it very seriously; don't think I am a reckless fool, but I'll do that in a blog post. Anyway, I can assure you that despite having been with a considerable number of different men, many of whom were strangers, I have never encountered even the slightest issue in that regard: a testament to the effectiveness of my approach to this lifestyle. However, I did have a few pregnancy scares, both before and after getting married, but that’s a completely different matter. Make no mistake: there’s always an erotic and sexual undertone when a model is posing nude for an artist in his studio, the two alone, and the chances of having sex are high. Not only I, but other models I’ve met in that scene, have confessed to often getting aroused while posing if the artist is even moderately attractive and kind to them; it’s happened to me every time. Since I’ve 'never' posed for an artist I didn’t find attractive, I’ve had sex with most of them, if not all. This practice of accepting a job based on whether or not I find the artist attractive is further proof that I’ve never been a true professional model. Moreover, there was another thing that attracted some artists to me: my ability to engage in conversation and my knowledge of a wide range of topics, which is rather uncommon in that frivolous world of models. But I've never been a professional model; for me, posing was a hobby and a way to reaffirm my always uncertain self-esteem. I must admit that it's my second hobby… because my first is sex. I've always thought I could have been the cultured yet debauched courtesan of a great man from the Renaissance, and I would have loved to be that, though without any exclusivity. Unfortunately, I was born in the wrong era. Anyway, despite not being a true model, I have taken great care of myself physically and made significant sacrifices to avoid gaining weight: I’ve been as hungry as a wolf! For years, starving wasn’t a temporary state but my normal condition. The first man I posed nude for who recommended I lose weight (he wasn’t the first I posed for, but the first to advise me to slim down) was Matthias (summary 2 in Post No. 2) when I was very young—I’m sorry I can’t specify the age, like many girls that age, I was a bit ‘chubby,’ and his advice was: put half the amount of food on your plate as before, and eat only half of that… with this regime, so simple to write but so difficult to follow, I lost 10 kilos in four months, and for the first time in my life, I discovered what it was like to live starving. I only gained weight fourteen years later during my first pregnancy and postpartum period, when the murky affair with Lalo took place (summary 17 in Post No. 4), and to be honest, with my slightly chubby figure, I had a surprising success with men, a fact I made very good use of. However, for example, during my second pregnancy at 32, I hardly gained any weight, but I was extremely hungry, which didn’t seem to affect my son much as he is now an athletic 1.90 m (6 feet 3 inches) man. Some people dream of sex because they don’t have it when they are awake; I usually dream of food... :-D At 35, I went through a bout of anorexia that could have been serious, as measuring 1.70 m (5 feet 7 inches) I got down to only 48 kilos (106 pounds), whereas my normal weight when very thin is 55 kg (121 pounds), and the maximum weight I’ve ever had, whether as a young girl or after my pregnancy when I was breastfeeding first my daughter and then Lalo, did not reach 65 kg (143 pounds). Yes, we had an intimate relationship for seven months, which included ANR -Adult Nursing Relationship- for the first four. It wasn’t a psychologist who pulled me out of that horrible pit of anorexia that could have caused irreversible damage to my health, but my husband. You have no idea how much I owe that man! On the other hand, there’s the issue of daily physical exercise to maintain a good figure and adequate muscle tone, but without going overboard into the ‘muscle-bound’ side. Due to the problem with my right leg (see Post No. 1), there are sports like jogging or cycling that I cannot practice, which is why I’ve always worked out in the gym following routines that have been successful for keeping my glutes and abdomen in shape, along with other exercises for my shoulders and chest. At my age, I still do these exercises in the home gym I have, and thanks to that, I maintain the physique of an average woman twenty years younger. Most importantly, my breasts have barely sagged, which is the nightmare of mature women. The proof that I’m not lying can be seen in the numerous very recent photos available in various parts here on AFF, such as my profile, my blog, and posts in other blogs and groups, etc. One day I’ll tell you about what those physical exercises consist of, but to give you an idea, I dedicate about an hour a day to the gym, and during times when I’ve had significant modeling activity, like during the time with Diego, I’ve even worked out for up to two hours a day… 7 days/week. Professional photo sessions are truly exhausting and often uncomfortable, both due to the required poses and because it’s common for the studio to be either cold or extremely hot due to the lights. Generally, photographers keep the studio quite, quite 'cool' so that the model's flesh appears firmer and the nipples harden, but sometimes if the lights are very close in close-up shots, they can almost burn. Add to that the outdoor nude photography sessions, during which I have experienced some of the coldest moments of my life, like posing completely nude and barefoot in the middle of the night in the old town of cities such as Pamplona, Tudela, or Logroño, in northern Spain, which are among the coldest in the Iberian Peninsula. And even though it was summer, the 'chill' of dawn is very noticeable when you’re naked on the street. Nevertheless, thanks to Jose Manuel’s efforts (summary 8 in Post No. 2), the contract with Diego was so 'juicy' that it was clearly worth enduring all those hardships, and then there was always the comforting session of sex. I must admit that Diego was quite a good lover 😉 However, posing for painters tends to be less tiring and not stressful at all, although it can become boring if the painter doesn’t know how to keep the model entertained with stimulating conversation or, as Francis and I used to do (summary 11 in Post No. 3), maintaining a sexual tension during the session, like occasionally penetrating me a little without climaxing or letting me suck his cock for a few seconds. I will continue exploring what it means to be a model in future posts, drawing from my limited yet distinctly unique perspective on this profession, even if it was part-time in my case. I suppose a true professional model might argue that I wasn't a model at all, but rather a 'dame de compagnie,' or perhaps she would opt for a less elegant term, and I think that’s fair, because it is the truth; I have never deceived myself about it. Regarding the photos I’m going to share with you today, since I began the previous posts with Diego, I will continue by presenting three additional images he took during our sessions in the first year I posed for him at the age of 26. As for the third photo, which is purely a portrait, you can see that he preferred to shoot in landscape format rather than the usual portrait orientation. He believed this approach gave 'air' to the photograph and placed the model more in context, even with a flat background like in these images. , , . Concerning the first of these three images, Diego claimed that this was how he imagined the original and ideal Mary Magdalene would have looked. He made this remark without any intention to offend; quite the opposite. The first man to tell me I was a sort of modern Mary Magdalene for him was Jose Manuel when I was his kept mistress at 22. I was already familiar with the concept and appreciated it, which is why I have used it as an elegant euphemism for some of the things I have done throughout my life. Nevertheless, except for the time with Lalo, Diego, and my long-lasting agreement with Paco, those experiences have not been as numerous as they may seem; in reality, they have been quite few. The photo sessions with Diego were sometimes commissioned for advertising for agencies or businesses, generally medium or small-sized, related to fashion, jewelry, or cosmetics. At other times, they were commissions from private clients who wanted a certain type of quality nude photography. I should mention that Diego never accepted commissions for pornography, although he did take many photos of us having sex, but those were for his private use, and what’s more, he never gave me copies of those, only a few very poor-quality stills from videos he filmed of us. However, even if the commission did not require more revealing photos, Diego would always ask me to continue the session with a series of erotic and nude images that he kept in file folders as a sort of “database” in case a future commission could be covered with those already taken. Of course, he also took nude photos of me simply because he liked me, and because it was a part of the foreplay. Regarding leading a hectic life, and I’m speaking from a sexual point of view, that year when I was 26 I had sex with my husband, Dan, and my steady lover, Francis, several times a week. We were a textbook ménage à trois; I was almost a bigamous woman in sexual terms. Although at that age, and since I got married at 23, I was still having more and better sex with Francis than with my husband. In addition to that, I was the model and regular provider of sex for Diego, and I had sex with Jose Manuel every other Tuesday afternoon. That year, I met with Olaso three times, who came expressly from Madrid just to be with me. For three years, I had been Paco's call girl during the summer vacations, and that year we met three times. I had my adventure in Granada for five days with Ignacio (summary 14 in Post No. 3) and then visited him twice in Madrid. I slept with the director of an art gallery several times to benefit Francis's work. I also had two flings on my work travels: one in Madrid and another in Barcelona, the latter as a devoted follower of the order of Mary Magdalene. In short, that year when I was 26 was a nonstop sex fest with a total of ten different men, which nearly caused my non-pathological hypersexuality to spiral out of control and lead to an outbreak of nymphomania. This had happened to me when I was very young, it happened again during my time with Lalo, and a third time in 2015. I can’t wait for you to ask me anything you want; I’m sure there are things you’re curious about. Don’t hold back; be bold! We’re among friends in this cozy little private corner, our private pub. I’m eager for you to ask me indiscreet and daring questions: the more, the better. No matter how indecent or dirty what you want to say is, I promise I won’t get offended or angry. Kisses. Aura ____________________________________________________________________________________

Sometimes Improvised Things Turn Out Better Than Planned October 23, 2024 Hello dear friends of the Club, Yesterday I posted a new entry on my blog (q:2687961) where I talk about MFM threesomes, featuring Francis, a painter and draftsman with whom I was both a model and a lover for twenty years in a ménage à trois relationship with my husband (see summary 11 in post q:2652451 and the final part of q:2654019). Although Francis was not a professional photographer, his artistic sensitivity and intelligence led him to achieve a near-professional mastery in nude photography. However, he logically lacked professional equipment: cameras, resources, lighting, a large studio, etc., but he still took many photographs of me, especially Polaroids and slides. He used the Polaroids to continue painting a picture of me in my absence since I had a job and couldn't spend all day posing, and the slides were mostly for his "Living Art" concept. When Francis delivered a painting to an art gallery or a client, he accompanied it with a kind of booklet documenting the evolution of the artwork with text and photos, and in those photos, which were of good quality, I was, of course, posing naked. I admit it was a bit daring considering I lived and worked in a medium-sized city where I could be recognized. My life, like anyone else's, has two main facets: private and public. The public one is divided into work and ‘neighbors and acquaintances,’ while the private one consists of close family and intimate friends. Part of my close family, such as my children, always knew I was 'Uncle Francis’s' model, and the rest did too since there are numerous drawings and a couple of nude paintings of me signed by Francis in my house. What my close family never knew is that we were lovers and that we had MFM threesomes with my husband. However, our small group of close friends always knew that in addition to being his model, we were lovers, though not about the MFM threesomes. I don't care what neighbors and acquaintances think of me, but in my job as a senior technician at a very serious large company, I had to maintain a good image to avoid obstacles to promotion. A woman in a high position that anyone can see naked photos of isn't exactly ideal for professional advancement: neither then nor now. For example, when you see a nude painting that looks a lot like a coworker, you think it’s someone who resembles her, but if there are several clear photos of that model posing naked next to that painting, there's no doubt it’s your coworker, and the whole company knows by the next day. In all the years I worked, only one colleague recognized me in a painting displayed in an art gallery. He was an assistant director who was an art lover, and since he was a true art lover, I 'won his favor' for also being an art lover and the artist's lover :-D He became my mentor in the company, supporting my promotions and defending me against those who tried to harm me (I will talk about him in a future post here in the group or on my blog; and yes, I had sex with him, but only after he retired as a token of my gratitude for his support over the years. I owe him a lot and appreciate him because he is an excellent person). But in the end, it’s possible that a coworker with less humanity could have seen my naked photos and harmed my career. But you know what? Not doing something you want to out of fear of 'what they’ll say' only leads to an incomplete and unhappy life. Pretending to live without taking any risks isn’t living. Francis also took, let’s say, private photos of me since taking naked photos of me became an important part of our foreplay from the beginning of our relationship when I was 23. I always got aroused posing naked, and Francis felt the same taking photos of me. In fact, since then, I’ve incorporated photography into sexual foreplay, and dozens of men have taken photos of me before having sex (and I mean dozens literally). Also, posing naked has often been an excuse or cover to have sex, as with Diego, whom I’ve mentioned in several previous posts in this group. Here is one of those photos Francis took of me during a long sex session where he wonderfully fucked me five times one Saturday afternoon and evening in my marital bed. My husband was studying in the next room, hearing the noises of our games, the bed creaking as Francis fucked me, and my loud, intense orgasms. This 'background music,' as my husband called it, made his long study hours more bearable. Occasionally, he would come to see what Francis and I were doing, and if I was 'available,' he would have a quickie or I’d give him a quick blowjob before he went back to studying, and Francis and I continued 'our thing.' Francis was a tireless lover with one of the fastest recovery times I’ve seen. Although we were never in love with each other, we had incredible sexual attraction and affinity. At that age, I was 'always' ready for sex at any time and in any place. Francis and I have had sex in the most unlikely and inappropriate places you can imagine, usually with me completely naked and sometimes at very high risk of being seen, which excited both of us a lot. However, those risky escapades do not particularly attract my husband. This is one of the many reasons why I love having a serious and formal husband like Dan, and a daring and kinky lover for doing crazy things. As you can see in the photo, my flushed cheeks and chin, my swollen breasts, and my rock-hard nipples show that I was already eager and ready to be fucked... again. Francis liked this photo so much that a few days later, he had me pose for an identical painting, documented with photos very similar to this one. It was one of those occasions where, while 'playing' and thinking only about sex and not art, an idea for a painting or drawings emerged. This has happened several times over the years. A kiss Aura

Sometimes Improvised Things Turn Out Better Than Planned: Photo 2 October 27, 2024 Hi, my dear friends of the group, Today, I'm showing you another photo from the same series as the previous post, taken by Francis when I was 23, so the circumstances and techniques are the same as previously mentioned. I've noticed the “innocence” in my expression in some of the photos from this series. You can find two more at q:2691519 and q:2682138. But if you’re associating innocence with chastity… well, I hate to disappoint you. By then, I’d already had sex with about two dozen men, appeared in several erotic card decks, acted in two low-budget porn shorts, and been the kept lover of an older man. At the time of this photo, I was regularly having sex with both my husband and Francis: more often with Francis than my husband. We’d have threesomes once a week, and I was also having sex with Olaso (Post No. 2, summary 9) two or three times a month. With all of them, I preferred bareback sex when it wasn’t my fertile period; I’ve always liked to finish with penetrative sex and leave other options for foreplay. But, at that age, guys often asked for blowjobs (since I was quite good at them), but if I went along with it, I’d usually miss out on a good fuck. So, I’d typically tell them that if they wanted a blowjob, they’d have to get me off fucking me first. My husband and Olaso usually couldn’t hold back and would finish while I was mid-orgasm. Francis, however, had an impressive amount of self-control, and if he wanted a blowjob, he’d avoid coming during intercourse. We often relied on Francis' control to have bareback sex even on my fertile days, usually at my request, trusting he could hold back. But his control wasn’t infallible; and there were a few times he lost it and came inside me, leaving me nervous about a possible pregnancy until my next period. My husband and I had already discussed this possibility: if I got pregnant by Francis, or even Olaso, I’d keep the child. The baby would be acknowledged and raised as a child of my husband and me, as I would never, under any circumstances, consider ending the pregnancy. My husband was completely in agreement with this decision. Sweet kisses Aura

A Casual Comparison of European and American Erotic Photography in the Late '80s November 9, 2024 Hi friends of the group! Throughout my life, I have posed for four truly professional photographers, meaning those who made a living from erotic, nude, and pornographic photography… and yes, I've done that too, but I've also posed for many other advanced amateur photographers, some of them excellent and nearly at the level of professionals. I've also posed for four professional painters, all of whom used photography in one way or another, usually to choose the model's poses and lighting, and as a reference to continuing painting when the model was not posing. Except for one of the photographers, Bill, who is from the USA (summary 13 in post: q:2652451), all the others are Europeans, and it’s curious, but the photographic styles on each continent are or were different, or so I believe. To verify this and discuss it with you, I will upload some of the photos Bill took of me, and you can compare them, for example, with those Diego took from my previous posts in this group. My relationship with Bill was very brief, only five days although very intense, but it was deeper than one might expect from a ‘business’ relationship between a professional photographer and a wannabe model whose main characteristic was not her beauty or her modeling skills, but the ease with which I accepted that having unlimited sex (meaning whenever, wherever, and through whichever ‘way’ he wanted) and living together those days was included in the agreement. In fact, it was one of the riskiest times for me having bareback sex with a stranger, from the point of view that I was approaching my fertile days, part of the days entering a probability of pregnancy of up to 15% according to my “fertility calculator template” (I talk about it in Post No. 14), and keep in mind that we had sex an average of five times a day, most of the times fucking, although he also used my back door and my mouth abundantly. I think it’s time for me to share something very intimate and personal, which I prefer to do here in private in the group rather than on the blog: Of all the forms of sex: masturbation, oral, anal penetration, and vaginal penetration, it’s the latter that gives me the longest and most intense orgasms, so in general, for me, the other forms of sex are good for foreplay, but I like to orgasm while being fucked. From a very young age (see Post No. 14) I got used to having bareback sex, and I’ve never really liked condoms much, because it excites me to feel myself being filled and how my partner’s cum oozes from my pussy and drips onto my thigs and ass, plus I have the habit of, after the guy pulls his cock out of me, scooping up the semen that overflows with my hand and licking my fingers to swallow it all and waste as little as possible. I’m a kind of semen worshipper since Francis taught me to appreciate and enjoy it (see summary 11 in Post No. 3); you can’t imagine how many ‘macchiatos’ I’ve had where the milk was Francis' … Well, when I started having sex with Francis, my husband and I were aware that despite all the care I took with fertile days, the possibility of getting pregnant was not zero. I told my husband that if I got pregnant, I would never terminate my pregnancy no matter who the father was or the circumstances under which I got pregnant; I am incapable of doing that as it goes against my deepest convictions where respect for human life is the foremost. My husband holds the same conviction, and if I had a child from another man, whoever he was, my husband would have accepted and loved that child as his own; we are both that special, and being so, we don’t harm anyone, quite the opposite. In fact, I voluntarily wanted to have a child with Francis with my husband’s approval when I was 38 years old (see the summary about Francis and the end of Post No. 4). And, speaking of ‘whatever the circumstances,’ I include the two times in my life when I have been fucked in a ‘not completely consensual’ manner, to put it euphemistically, but you understand what I mean… Yes, I have unfortunately experienced that twice, although I bear much of the blame; maybe someday I’ll talk about it, we’ll see. With my special friends and steady lovers, I always did it bareback except during fertile days, as we had seriously discussed the risks beforehand, especially STDs, and knowing that both of us were healthy, only the concern about pregnancy remained, although that disappeared when my oven shut down around 2010 (I’ve never really had menopause, because due to my leg problems, the decalcification associated with menopause would have been a disaster for me, so I follow a hormone replacement therapy sometimes with semi-annual implants, so despite my age my sexual desire and capacity are those of a 45-year-old woman - I’ve talked about this in other posts - ) Returning to Bill, we had ‘the talk’ and he guaranteed me that he was completely healthy, so we always did it bareback, plus using condoms wasn’t very fashionable in porn, and he hired me specifically for porn photos although he also took some artistic nude ones like the one I’m showing in today’s post. You can compare this photo taken by Bill when I was 25 with a very similar one taken by Diego a couple of years later here in the post: q:2678019. By the way, in the photo Bill took, you can clearly see my wedding ring, as it was part of the ‘script’ he had for the porn photo series which referred to a young marine working at the USA embassy in Madrid having a torrid sexual affair with a local married girl. Bill said that my appearance as a ‘street’ European girl, natural, without implants or Botox, would seem very exotic to porn clients in the USA, and being a married woman would add a lot of thrill to the matter. He, on his part, told me that although he had had sex with other married women, I was the first to let him do it bareback, and that excited him especially: filling another man's wife. Well, it seems that to porn users in the USA a girl like me would be appealing (Bill said so) because of my exotic appearance, while that same appearance was common for European photographers, where silicone-filled tits didn’t triumph at that time, but rather slimmer, even very thin girls did. I wish you all a very good and sexy day! Kiss Aura

My Dirty Little Secrets as an Amateur Freelance Model for Nude Art: Part 4 October 12, 2024 Hello friends of the group, In previous posts, I have told you how Diego (summary 15 in Post No. 3 of my blog) worked for private clients, small or medium-sized local companies with a regional scope in northern Spain. They were dedicated to lingerie, cosmetics, and also jewelry, mainly imitation. Because of this, I have posed for catalogs of the most diverse kinds you can imagine. The photographs Diego took, always slides, were of extraordinary quality since he was a very demanding photographer. His artistic interest can be debated, but his technical quality was impeccable. Proof of this is that the photos I am uploading in these posts are the ones he rejected for being considered defective. However, that quality of Diego's photographs was not appreciated in the final catalogs, which were usually printed on low-quality paper. Diego also worked for private personal clients, that is, wealthy men who liked Diego's nude photographs and commissioned him for personal projects where they specified the type of poses and attitudes they wanted from the model. Then, Diego made reproductions to the size the client desired and even signed and framed them always with refined and exquisite taste. Therefore, he had a portfolio of those private clients who, although I believe were not many, made frequent orders. There are hundreds of those photos in which I am the model scattered throughout northern Spain, although I suppose that over the years most are probably gathering mold in attics or have ended up in the trash. But Diego also worked for regional advertising agencies that handled institutional campaigns, mostly from city councils. I will tell you in another post an anecdote about an ad for bus stops and similar places in a city in the northwest of Spain to promote the use of condoms to control sexually transmitted diseases. I was the model and appeared 'scantily clad,' but not naked. A group of nuts and religious fanatics only focused on the amount of skin shown on the girl in the photo and not on the message that was intended to be conveyed. They pressured the city council to remove those ads, and obviously, the mayor ordered their removal. Well, Diego got paid for his work, and I for mine, but the bus stops were left without the message, which was not trivial: everyone with their own conscience. Within the assignments Diego received, there was one particularly interesting and curious experience that I’ll summarize for you. A well-known 'liberal nightclub' near Pamplona (in Navarra, northern Spain) commissioned Diego to take photos of a naked and semi-naked girl to create pocket calendars, the kind people carried in their wallets. On the front of the calendar was a photo of the girl in sexy poses along with the name, address, and phone number of the nightclub, and on the back was the calendar for the corresponding year. Naturally, I was the model featured. The nightclub owners selected three of the photos Diego took to make these pocket calendars for three successive years. Additionally, they made a life-size poster from one of the photos, which was placed inside the nightclub on the wall of the 'private dance room.' In this room, girls who entered to dance with their partners had to be naked. It was a part of the club that featured a bar area and a CMNF (Clothed Males Naked Females) dance floor, while the rest of the club was conventional. On the day this room was inaugurated, I accompanied Diego and danced there naked with him, the three owners, and some of the guests. The owners gave me a long necklace of real pearls as a gift, which you can see in numerous photos of me that I’ll be posting here in the group and on the blog. Honestly, my experiences as a model, both with Diego and other photographers, though at a relatively modest level, were very interesting, and I have wonderful memories of them. Here’s the photo that was on the CMNF dance floor area of the nightclub and on that year’s pocket calendar. Well, once again, it wasn’t ‘exactly’ this photo since this one was rejected, but a very similar one that Diego chose from that series of shots. I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Back then, professional photographers took photos in bursts of three shots. I’ll never forget the sound of the camera shutter: Tchack-Thack-Thack, along with the high-pitched whine of the motor drive: Neeeee-Neeee-Neeee. That sound always turned me on :-D The name of the nightclub was written in white letters in the space below my right leg, both on the poster and the calendars. In other posts, I’ll show you the other two photos used for the calendars and the posters for the following two years. That nightclub closed several years ago. I also posed naked for Diego’s commission for another pocket calendar from a well-known pub located in the center of another northern Spanish city called Logroño. There, in the VIP room (as they called the invitation-only section on the upper floor), I danced naked with Diego and some clients on a couple occasions when Diego took me to that pub. The truth is that throughout my life, I’ve had many exciting experiences and adventures in the beautiful and lively city of Logroño and its surroundings, including posing naked for Diego early in the morning for almost two hours on the most famous street of the old town: “Calle del Laurel”. You can’t imagine the cold I felt, and this was in May! I’ll tell you more about three experiences of posing naked at night in the center of a city for Diego, although at that hour in the morning, the area was ‘almost’ empty. A kiss. Aura

Showing my Bush in the Bush October 18, 2024 Hello friends of the group, Today's post is different from the previous ones I've uploaded here. Although it relates to the art of nudity, the photo is not posed in a professional manner but is instead an improvised shot taken in nature. The photographer is not Diego, but Francis (see summary 11 in Post No. 3 and the end of Post No. 4 on my blog, q:2652451 and q:2654019). For years, I have taken very long nude walks by the countryside in the company of different friends of mine, the guy would be dressed. This is the same friend I've spoken about in my blog and, for example, in the post in the group “Babes in the Bush” q:2678706. Apart from being his lover within a ménage à trois with my husband, I was also his art model as he is a well-known painter of paintings and drawings, mostly nudes. Numerous weekends, he and I used to go to a rural house that he rented in a remote area of the mountains in northern Castille (a region in northern Spain) near the Ordunte reservoir, not far from a small village called Hornes (you can Google it, it's a very beautiful area), supposedly so he could dedicate himself to painting and I to posing, but in reality, we almost exclusively dedicated ourselves to having sex. I was a young woman for whom a lot of sex was never too much, and he was a young, fit, and very passionate and 'creative' man who liked me a lot. Our bond was friendship and sex, but we were never romantically in love, at least I wasn’t with him. On those weekends, my husband stayed home studying and working, as he has always been a bit of a workaholic, while I would describe myself more as a 'sexaholic' :-D That area is very cold in winter, but in the summers, during the day, unless it’s raining, the temperature is very pleasant and invites nudity. I’ve spent some weekends there where I don’t think I was dressed at any point, not even to go for a walk in the countryside with him, or sometimes alone if he stayed working on a painting or simply didn’t feel like going out while I did. I confess that I always had the fantasy of encountering an attractive stranger during one of those nude walks and letting him fuck me right there, like a mare in heat surprised in the wild by a horny stallion, and then each of us continuing on our way as if nothing had happened. I’ve only been able to make that fantasy a reality twice in my life, though the men I encountered were not complete strangers but rather neighbors from the area whom I knew by sight. I knew they liked me and that they usually worked in the fields around that area. So, the encounter wasn’t entirely accidental; I went out expressly to find them while naked and hinted at my intentions. They did with me what a stallion is supposed to do with a mare that offers herself to be mounted. One of them is the ranger I’ve mentioned in previous posts in the group “Babes on the Guch”, such as “Sex in the Bush with the Ranger,” for example in q:2682792. I’ve always liked using erotic language analogies comparing to the world of horses; I learned it from another mature lover I had when I was 22. His family had a ranch for breeding horses and fighting bulls. Going back to today’s photo, during the walk I mentioned in that post, Francis took numerous pictures of me. Exceptionally, I wore the yellow blouse you see in the photo, as on those nude walks, I normally didn’t carry any clothing of mine due to the additional erotic thrill of having nothing to cover myself with if we happened to encounter someone, which has happened to me a few times. But exhibitionism without risk isn’t really exhibitionism; it’s just simple public nudity, like when going to a nudist beach (this very summer of 2024, just a couple of months ago, I was at one). By the way, whenever I’ve encountered someone while being naked in the countryside, I’ve never had any unpleasant experiences, quite the opposite. As you can see in the photo, I'm sporting a thick “Bush in the Bush” :-D and that’s because Francis asked me to let it grow, or he himself would trim or wax it, depending on the specifications of the commission for the series of paintings, drawings, and photographs requested by one of the art galleries he worked for or a private client, like during the period when he took this photo. By the way, that client came several times to Francis’s studio to check on the progress of the painting he had commissioned, and also to see me posing nude in person 😉 and take some photos as mementos and to ‘document’ the painting that he later hung on a wall in the restaurant he owns in a city in northern Spain, where it still hangs along with a few framed photos he took of me nude during his visits to the studio. Yes, I had sex with him a few times, but it was a few years after what I’m telling you about today. I still visit his restaurant occasionally, though not very often, and I wouldn’t rule out letting him have a quickie in his office again in the future if he asks. Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time, and that day the meal would be on the house. He’s not the only guy I’ve paid a bill for by spreading my legs if the amount is significant… or by opening my mouth if it is just a trifle :-D Just kidding… or am I? Let me clear that up for you: I’m not kidding, and I am talking in the present tense. Yes, I was and still am such a slut, and is a lot of fun for me and for the guys I am with. Wishing you an excellent Friday, don’t work too hard as the weekend is almost here. Kisses Aura

On the Pleasures of Flirting Naked in a Pub Surrounded by Horny Clothed Men October 15, 2024 Hello friends, Here I come again to our 'private club,' our cozy imagined pub, but not imaginary because is real in our minds and maybe somewhere, and as the CMNF (Clothed Males Naked Females) standards dictate, to which this club and group adhere unconditionally, I have left all my clothes in the cloakroom at the entrance. A discrete collar and le+sh are allowed and welcomed. One day a week, such as Thursdays for instance, it's exceptionally allowed for the girls to wear fine lace lingerie, but only corsets, garter belts and stockings, never panties or bras: pussies and tits have to be always on full sight: “no exception to the rule”, do you remember the song from B.B. King, one of the kings of blues? I'm sure you can imagine the atmosphere: a not very large space located in the basement of a pedestrian alley, with a door accessed by descending six steps from street level. There's a wooden door with "Pub La Fep" carved in Celtic letters and a sign that says "Private club, right of admission reserved" and a bell beside it. When you ring, the pub's manager, who also serves as the bartender, opens a peephole. If he recognizes you, he lets you in, and if he doesn't, he asks who you are and what you want, and only then does he open the door... or not. I guess you've realized that "La Fep" are the initials of our group's name. Upon entering the pub, there's a smell of waxed noble woods, leather, malt whisky and brandy, and a slight aroma of Cuban cigars. Soft jazz, blues, or folk music from the 70s and 80s plays in the background. Right at the entrance, there's a hall with a dressing room with a fabric curtain where the girls must undress before entering the bar, only shoes are allowed. Clothes are left in wooden lockers built into the wall, without a lock. The floor is well-cleaned wood, and the walls are covered with walnut-colored wood panels framed with nude photos of women that the members, us, have brought to the club, which are the photos we have uploaded here to the group. The bar is cherry wood color, worn by the elbows that have leaned on it over the years. The lighting is indirect, with beige fabric shades, green glass banker’s lamps, and some Tiffany-style lamps. Light also comes in through small rectangular windows set high in the walls, typical of basements, allowing a bit of daylight to filter in from the street level through colored leaded glass. Across from the bar is a large old worn mirror that doesn't give a clear reflection, surrounded by many bottles of different liquors lit by a backlight. Yes, I see the bottle of Baileys over there. I’ll ask the friendly bartender for a glass: no ice, please. The bar has only four high stools, and across from it, there are four small round tables with a leather armchair and a matching comfortable leather chair: the armchair for the men and the chair for the naked girls. It's a CMNF club, so there's a certain D/S undertone, with the girls tacitly taking a somewhat submissive role, but without any obligation to any guy. It's all just role-play, and if someone doesn't like this distribution of roles between men and women, they know what to do: go have a soda at McD's :-D At the back of the pub, there's a green pool table illuminated by a hanging green glass lamp. Behind it, there's a small dance floor for two or three couples, and at the back, the restrooms, always impeccably clean. Besides their original utility, they are where many couples have sex after getting horny from dancing or flirting. Next to the restrooms, there's a door leading to a back alley where empty drink crates and beer barrels are stored. This door is open from dusk until the pub closes, as some couples prefer having sex outside. The bartender never charges a girl... how could she pay if she's completely naked? The guys always pay for the drinks and are expected to be kind enough to leave a good t+p to the bartender, which isn't for him but for the girl keeping them company, whether she's a wife, lover, friend, or a stranger they've just picked up. The bartender discreetly gives the t+ps given that night to the girls before they leave; it's usually not much, but it's a nice touch and always boosts self-esteem to know that the guys you've entertained appreciated your company... Especially if you visited the restrooms or the back alley together. In my opinion, an ideal night at a pub should end with a good quickie with someone who is just a familiar face, a regular, or even better, a stranger who has managed to convince me by any means to kiss and fondle while dancing, getting horny, and then culminate by ‘mating’ right there without further ado, like a stallion mounting a mare in heat in the stable, hard sex on the go in the old good style, just for lust, and I've done it many times throughout my life, I love it! So, have you got a mental picture of our pub? You know, according to some twisted interpretation of Quantum Mechanics, vividly imagining something makes it exist, not necessarily here and now, but it's real somewhere, somewhen :-D And... don't you think I've given a too detailed description? Maybe I'm thinking of a club I know in our troubled and convulsive world, not in an alternate reality?... Alright, you've caught me! That pub exists exactly as I described, except the name isn't La Fep. My husband and I have been members for many years, though I've mostly gone alone, the last time being a year and a half ago, and yes, I visited the back alley with a guy. By the way, the bartender's name is Eloy (his real name for once), and I met him when I was 29 when he was the manager of a bigger members-only private club where I worked three afternoons and evenings a week as a "hostess" for seven unforgettable and wonderful months (see summary 17 in Post No. 4 of my blog). So, my dear friends, you now know: our pub is called La Fep and the bartender is Eloy, and by belonging to this Group, you are already full members. As for today’s photo, I’m including another one taken by Diego during the test sessions for the nightclub photos, featuring a reserved section of the liberal atmosphere I discussed in my previous post here in the group. This photo might not be the best, but I chose it because my pose is very natural, and I believe it gives you a glimpse of how I would look naked in 'our pub,' flirting with one of you. In fact, I’ve found myself in that very position countless times, really many, in clubs and pubs where nudity was either allowed or expected of the women. You can’t imagine how exhilarating it is to flirt while completely naked with a stranger, feeling his excitement build, and though he believes he’s in control, it’s quite the opposite. My nakedness is my weapon of dominance, not the other way around. In a moment, he becomes so desperately in your hands that you can ask for anything… so go ahead and do it. Ladies! To those of you who haven’t experienced the thrill of being naked in a pub or nightclub surrounded by clothed men who gaze at you with lust: find out where there’s one near you that allows this, and don’t hesitate: give it a try! You have nothing to lose, and I promise, you’re going to love it A kiss to all you guys, and a hug to all you girls, and don’t forget to get dressed before heading out! Aura

Committed Without Limits in Body and Soul to Helping My Artist Friend Triumph November 2, 2024 Hi my dear friends of the "Club", In my erotic life, there have been a few important and very uncommon milestones, but undoubtedly one of them was the beginning of my relationship with Francis when I was only 22 years old (see summary 11 in Post No. 3 and the final part of Post No. 4). Francis and my husband Dan (summary 10 in Post No. 3) have been friends since childhood and went to the same private school together. Dan's father was a technical engineer and had a good job at a company that provided electronic equipment for ships, so his family was financially stable, able to live well but without luxuries. However, Dan's parents believed that providing the best possible education for their two children (Dan has a younger sister) was their duty. Therefore, despite the fact that public education was free and of good quality, they thought that private education was better and spent a significant part of the father's salary on it. Francis's father owned a small “screen-printing” workshop specializing in printing on plastic surfaces, and initially, the business was doing well, giving them a slightly better financial situation than Dan's parents. Likewise, they sent their son and daughter to private schools. However, when Francis was about 14 years old, they started losing customers to larger screen-printing companies, and Francis's parents pulled him out of private school and sent him to public education. This did not in any way mean the end of Dan and Francis's friendship, as they both lived in the same small town less than 500 meters apart, and both the private school and the public institute were within a 1 km radius. They saw each other daily in the afternoons with other friends from their small group, a few of whom remain close friends to this day, such as those I briefly mentioned in Short Post 7. When Dan was 17, he went to university to study a degree and a MSc in Science and Technology, the same as me but in a different specialty. However, despite being a free public university, Francis couldn’t go because he needed to work in the family business. This deeply affected Francis, who had wished to study Fine Arts, which would have undoubtedly boosted his career as a painter and illustrator. Not because he would have necessarily learned to do it better, although that might have been part of it, but because of the network of relationships with other students and professors that are established during university studies. Thus, Francis had to start his career as an artist from scratch and without any help, except mine. Well, and Dan’s, by allowing me to help Francis. Despite the difficulties, Francis did not give up. His passion and talent drove him to keep going, creating works that gradually began to attract attention. Although his path was more arduous and solitary, his determination led him to develop a unique style that set him apart from other local artists. The lack of formal academic training made his creative process more self-taught and experimental, which in a way enriched his art. A few weeks after getting married, I offered to be Francis’s model for free, and my husband and I offered him the use of the spacious and bright living room in our rented apartment as his art studio. Francis stopped working for his father, which caused great family upset and left him without any source of income. His parents allowed him to continue living and eating at home, but they could not help him with his expenses due to the family’s financial situation. Dedicating oneself to painting professionally requires certain investments: a couple of easels, various painting materials (paints, brushes, etc.), a good number of canvases of different sizes with wooden frames, special paper and drawing materials, and also presentable street clothes for going to art galleries, receptions, dealing with clients, etc. Since Francis combined painting and drawing with photography from very early on, he needed photographic equipment. Initially, he used Dan's Polaroid camera and his compact Konica camera, with which he took countless photos of me, some of which have already appeared on my blog. However, Francis needed to buy a couple of tungsten light fixtures, two tripods, some stands and fabrics for backdrops, and also a color slide developing kit. Taking them to a lab for development was very expensive, and since I appeared naked in most of the photos, there was some concern that my photos might 'leak' and end up circulating around the city, putting me in an uncomfortable situation if someone from my family, but especially from my work, saw them. I told him that it didn't worry me much, but he didn't want to put his best friend's wife at the center of gossip, as it would also have become known that it wasn't my husband who took those photos of me. All that necessary material cost a lot of money that he didn't have, and Francis didn't want to borrow it from Dan. I convinced him to accept that I loan it to him, telling him that I wouldn't tell Dan, but I also wouldn't lie to him, as Francis didn't want to deceive his friend. I lent him that money with one condition: that I would go with him to buy the formal clothes for business and receptions…. Francis is an artist, but his taste in clothing is, let’s say… arguable. By the way, on one of those occasions, it was the first of many times that Francis and I had sex in the fitting rooms of a department store, although it wasn't the first time for me. I have never had sex with my husband in fitting rooms, but they especially excite me, but I have had sex in fitting rooms with more than fifteen different guys, including three salesmen whom I flirted with a bit and asked to help me try on clothes 😉 What Francis never knew is that I didn't have that sum of money either and had to take out a personal loan from the bank where my salary was deposited. Of course, I told Dan everything, first because it was my obligation and also because we have always had a regime of community property. I repaid that loan to the bank in two years, and Francis repaid me little by little over five years, without interest of course, although I did pay interest to the bank, and quite substantial ones. But that's what friendship is for. Over time, his works started to be recognized in wider circles, and the connections we managed to establish together, although limited at first, expanded thanks to our joint effort. My role was not only as his muse and model but also as his promoter and advocate, always seeking new opportunities for his talent to be appreciated. The constant collaboration and support we provided, both Dan and I, were essential for Francis to overcome the barriers he encountered along the way. Thus, despite the adversities, his art flourished and achieved a recognition that, was deserved and gratifying. Returning to Dan and Francis’ friends, I joined this exclusive and unique group when I met Dan. They have always been very grateful to me for having been Francis's model and for having decisively helped him achieve success as an artist, and for having been his lover for twenty years, providing him with a fulfilling emotional and sexual life. They are also very thankful to Dan for allowing me to be those two things for Francis: lover and model. However, they have never known about the MFM threesomes, or that Francis and I were trying to get me pregnant with Dan's blessing and support when I was 38 years old. It would have been so beautiful to have a 'child of the three of us'! But despite trying with total dedication three times a day for three months he and I living together in his studio apartment, we were unsuccessful. When we realized that I wasn’t getting pregnant, Francis and I went to my gynecologist, who ordered us both to undergo complete tests. The results showed that Francis had completely normal sperm count and motility, but I was diagnosed with a thyroid imbalance that, although not very serious and treatable, was possibly the reason why I wasn't getting pregnant. It's interesting how my passion for modeling and my ‘out of ordinary interest in sex’ led to a health issue that could have been serious for both my body and mind. This thyroid problem apparently originated from an episode of anorexia I experienced after giving birth to my second child at 32. In an effort to regain my slim figure so that Diego would hire me again as an ‘advertising model’ and for sex (see summary 15 in Post No. 3), I subjected myself to a strict and unsupervised diet. This led to a dangerous combination of anorexia and bulimia, and I dropped to just 46 kilograms (about 100 pounds) at a height of 1.70 meters (5 feet 7”) with a relatively strong bone structure. An endocrinologist, whom my husband practically forced me to see, irresponsibly diagnosed me with “Graves' disease” and prescribed a powerful medication filled with contraindications. When my husband, who knows me better than I know myself, saw the diagnosis, we bought the medication, read the terrifying potential side effects, and then opened the bottles and dumped them in a public trash bin. He said, “You don’t have Graves' disease; you’re just hungry. Trust me, and in less than three months, you’ll be back to normal.” That was just before our summer vacation when we went to the Costa Blanca for a month. There, he ensured we ate well, especially lots of “paella” :-D . Every week the same day at the same hour, he took me to weigh myself at the same pharmacy to keep the scale and the measure consistent, allowing for reliable weight variations (his scientific mind even notices those details). By the end of the vacation, I had surpassed 50 kilograms, and well before two months were up, I was back to my normal weight of 55-56 kg. You can't imagine how fortunate I have been meeting my husband! He is an extraordinary man: there's no other word to describe him, and he loves me with all his soul despite my many flaws and weaknesses. I am truly lucky, even though I probably don't deserve it. Francis was also very concerned during my anorexic phase, but he felt relatively calm because he knew Dan was managing the situation. The faith and admiration Francis has for my husband would astonish you. I posed for Francis during that extreme thinness, but not much, as although he could add a bit of weight to his drawings and paintings, I looked quite gaunt in the photographs for his Living Art concept that accompanied the painting delivered to the client or gallery. My ribs and hip bones were clearly visible through my skin, which lacked the necessary layer of body fat. However, Diego hired me more frequently than usual because, at that time, extremely thin advertising models were in vogue, and personally, he found me much more sexually attractive at that weight than at my normal size. Someday I will show you some photos from that time, both clothed and nude, but not before you get to know me better in my ‘normal’ shape. While the clothed ones are acceptable, the nude ones are, to say the least, ‘disturbing.’ Many professional models have, over time, fallen into issues of anorexia and bulimia, sometimes even leading to su+cide. However, the worst part in my case is that I have never been a professional model, but rather an exhibitionist slut with a certain physical attractiveness, though with an unhideable flaw in one leg, which greatly limited my opportunities. I compensated for this with a well-known predisposition towards having sex with those who hired me. This was partly due to the boost in self-esteem I got from posing: being the absolute center of a man's attention while I posed, and partly because I felt indebted to them. And let's not kid ourselves: mainly because I absolutely love sex! That's why, with one exception, I've never posed as a model for any man who didn't seem at least reasonably attractive or fuckable to me, because I've had sex, whether light or full, with all of them, including the unattractive one. Well, the thing is that when Francis and I decided to have a child together and I went to live with him, I made the mistake of controlling my meals to lose weight and appear more attractive to him again. Although I didn't suffer from anorexia during this time, it seems my thyroid became unbalanced again, preventing me from getting pregnant. The truth is that Francis always liked me, probably even more when I had a couple of extra kilos. But I couldn't help feeling more attractive if I was thinner. If I hadn't been so stupid and obsessive about not gaining weight, I would have gotten pregnant and had a child with Francis who would now be 24 years old. Francis wouldn't have abandoned me, our ménage à trois would have been about to reach forty years, the same as he and I being lovers, and I wouldn't have had to look for other men to replace Francis. But, and this horrifies me to think about, I wouldn't have met Dean, the second great love of my life… the main one for a time, and who has made me and still makes me enjoy a lot and suffer at times (see summary 21 in Post No. 5). How complicated life is, right? But if it were simpler, it wouldn't be so interesting and passionate. During the entire time I lived with Francis trying to get pregnant, I barely saw my husband and children. I didn’t let my husband fuck me even once, not even using a condom, and I didn’t sleep with him a single night because I wanted to be absolutely certain that if I got pregnant, it was with Francis. I gave my husband a few blowjobs but not many, and always with Francis present. But I didn’t allow Dan to finger me or eat my pussy as all my orgasms were reserved for Francis. Poor thing, Dan never complained. During that time, I also didn't want to make love with Francis in front of my husband because I wanted our child to be conceived in an act of love solely between Francis and me. I didn't have either any kind of sex with any other man, despite having many opportunities and very tempting propositions, because I reserved all my desire and sexual energy for making love with Francis. I even postponed (but did not reject) proposals of sexual encounters with Nestor, Jose Manuel, and Olaso (see Posts No. 2 and No. 3). Of all my friends, the only one who knew I was trying to have a child with Francis is Jose Manuel. Besides other things, he is my lawyer, and I consulted him about potential legal issues of having a child out of wedlock, even though it would have been consented to by my husband and later legally recognized by him. Back then, DNA was already being discussed. For example, in the event of a traumatic divorce between my husband and me, something highly unlikely but not impossible, a DNA test would reveal that my third child was not my husband's. Jose Manuel kept me informed about everything, and because of professional confidentiality, I am absolutely certain he has never told and will never tell anyone. My gynecologist, who delivered my two children, also knows, but he too is bound by professional confidentiality. Luckily during those months, I only had to make one business trip to Madrid. Fearing that I might not resist the temptation to pick up a guy at the hotel bar and fuck him, as was my habit (yes, I'm such a slut), I asked Francis to come with me. While I worked, he visited the numerous art museums in Madrid, and we made love three times every night: once before sleeping, once in the middle of the night, and taking advantage of his morning wood. Even during the heaviest days of my period, we continued having sex three times a day so he wouldn’t "lose shape" and his testicles would keep producing fresh semen. Usually, it was two blowjobs and an "impalement" (anal sex) if I wasn’t too sore down there. Regarding what I have shared, I know that much of this has been mentioned in previous posts, but it's an inevitable burden of someone writing an autobiographical blog or any blog with sequential content: "Not all readers have read all previous posts," so some repetition is necessary. However, today I have provided some details that I believe you will find interesting. The message I wanted to convey with what I have written is that I made an effort to give Francis as intense an emotional and sexual life as I could, including the attempt to have a child: I don't think there is a greater proof of friendship and affection than that, both on my part and my husband's, who not only allowed but encouraged me to do so. Let's say that for years I managed to give Francis at least a satisfactory emotional life and certainly much more and better sex than most married men have with their wives. Additionally, there is my help in his professional aspect as Francis's model, always out of friendship and affection, without receiving any remuneration. But beyond being his model, I was the one who initially negotiated with art galleries to exhibit his works, managed public relations with his clients, performed secretarial duties, and connected him with my good friend Jose Manuel (see summary 8 in Post No. 2) whose firm began to handle his contracts with private clients and art galleries, and managed Francis's legal and tax procedures at a 'friendly' price. In the early days of my relationship with Francis, when I was only 23 years old, I worked from 8 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon as a senior technician at a large electric power company. After work, I would rush to my apartment where Francis was painting and waiting for me. I usually arrived around 5:30 or 6 in the evening. I would undress, and without much ado, we would have our first fuck of the day. Having been working for hours on drawings, paintings, and photos of me naked, Francis was usually waiting for me as horny as a stallion. And during my commute home, I would get horny too because I knew what awaited me as soon as I walked into the apartment. That first fuck was usually on the mat where I posed, or with me lying on the kitchen table when we were in a hurry. Both of us being so horny, we would both cum within ten minutes, and within half an hour, we were already working: me posing and Francis painting. We didn’t shower to save time, and because Francis liked me to have traces of his cum on my pubic hair and thighs and to smell like him. I was his woman, and he liked to 'mark' me... well, I was his woman with the permission of his best friend. But Francis was more possessive and jealous of me than my husband, from whom he never felt jealous. Francis always stayed with me until Dan returned from work around 9 or 9:30 in the evening, and then we often spent the night together in my marital bed if my husband planned to stay up late studying in his home office, where there was a sofa bed he would sleep on to avoid waking or disturbing Francis and me. Sometimes, when Dan was horny, he would come to the bedroom and have a quick fuck with me in the darkness of the night while Francis watched and caressed my face or breasts. They were so in tune with each other that sometimes Dan would ask Francis with just a touch on the shoulder to kiss me while he fucked me, or to put his cock in my mouth. How many times the three of us came together in the dark! Me sucking one of their cocks while the other fucked me; a simultaneous orgasm of all three participants in an MFM threesome is one of the most incredibly erotic sensations one can experience. Anyway, I must admit that in the first months of my relationship with Francis, most days when I got home, we would go to my bed to have sex for the rest of the afternoon until my husband arrived, and we would even continue if we were in the middle of a fuck while my husband got comfortable and prepared dinner. I have already mentioned in other posts that all the mutual explorations, dirty stuff, and sexual experiments that a newlywed does with her husband, I did first with Francis. And even ‘many things’ that I did with him, I have never done with my husband. But keep in mind that the beginnings of a painter's career are very tough. Before being able to approach an art gallery, an artist needs to have a considerable collection of paintings and drawings to show, so they can organize an exhibition and start selling those works, thus beginning to earn money. But that work takes months, and meanwhile, Francis had no other income. To address this issue, one afternoon after work, I went to the graphic publishing house where I had worked the previous year (see summary 7 in Post No. 2) and spoke with the owner to hire not me but Francis, with me as the model for erotic card decks, erotic bookmarks, and pocket and wall calendars. Since I had a very good relationship with Ignacio, the real name of the owner, and had fucked him two or three times during the filming of the two short porn films I've mentioned in several posts (the four girls who participated had sex with him, not forced but because he was a very nice and kind guy and a great fucker), I took this opportunity. For example, in my case, I was the one who asked for it after another girl told me about how good he was at fucking and eating pussy and the incredibly hard and stiff cock he had. I can attest that all those things were true. Another day, I accompanied Francis to talk to Ignacio, and they reached an agreement with very good financial terms for Francis. I did not charge anything, by the way. Besides the aforementioned erotic material, photos of me were also going to appear in a low-cost and short-run erotic magazine that Ignacio had started to distribute in cities in northern Spain, mainly Logroño, Pamplona, and Zaragoza. The magazine was in a small format and printed on thin paper like supermarket leaflets. It occasionally had a section titled "Javier Nos Enseña a Su Mujer" ("Javier Shows Us His Wife"), where Javier was the name Francis used in the magazine, and I played the role of his wife. Thanks to this, Francis began earning his first money as an artist, as a photographer in this case, and soon he was able to stop using my husband's compact camera and bought a brand-new Canon A1 and a couple of good lenses. I took a bit of a risk since, for two years, I appeared in several erotic card decks, calendars, and bookmarks, and someone from work could have recognized me. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, or if it did, no one said anything. As for the magazine, it was much less likely for me to be recognized since it wasn't distributed in my city, and the printing quality was so poor that I could always plausibly deny it was me. Of course, although Ignacio didn't ask for it, during the three years that Francis had a contract with his publishing house, I fucked him four times as a token of appreciation. Why not? And I confirmed that he was still as good a fucker and pussy-eater as the first time. In other posts, I will show you some of the cards, calendars, and bookmarks where I appeared nude. Additionally, I will share others from when I was 22, the first time I worked for that publishing house. Once Francis had a collection of six paintings (that was the limit we set), I started looking for an art gallery that would want to exhibit Francis's work. I must emphasize that I took on this task since Francis is terrible at public relations. Moreover, there weren't that many art galleries in the city, really just about half a dozen,and two of them were, let's say, very Catholic and didn't want to display nude art. Two of the remaining four gave me only kind words but nothing concrete. The other two showed moderate interest, but since Francis was an unknown artist, they were quite skeptical and only agreed to exhibit a couple of Francis's paintings and a few drawings in each, and not in a central location in the gallery. The owner of one of those galleries is Ernesto, whom I've mentioned in Short Post 7 of my blog, q:2692988, and to further convince him of the virtues of Francis's art, I had sex with him several times. The other gallery was owned by a mature, widowed woman who was quite large, had a strong personality, and little education. She didn’t like me at all because I was a married woman posing nude and admitting that those drawings, paintings, and photos could be shown in public while also being the artist's lover. However, she recognized that she could make money from Francis's work and agreed to exhibit some of it in her gallery. This woman had a son, Alex, and years later she asked Francis if 'that hot classy slut you use as a model and fuck-toy’ could deflower her son, since he had turned 20 and being very handsome had not yet been with a girl. She was afraid he might choose a 'sexual path that wouldn't give her grandchildren'… you understand what I mean. Francis asked me for the favor, and I deflowered Alex with great pleasure, even though I was already 35 years old at that time. However, Alex was infatuated with me, and it was he who, when his domineering mother told him it was time to have sex with a woman, confessed to her that he wanted to do it with me. Alex wasn’t shy, but he was a bit odd and solitary, as is often the case with boys who have very dominant mothers. I will talk more about this peculiar experience in other posts, along with the relationship we had for a time: Alex, Francis, and I, but to give you an idea of how strange it was, the afternoon I deflowered Alex, I went to his place, and 'Ogre Mom' opened the door for me. Without further ado, Alex and I went to his room and had sex while his mother watched TV in the living room near us because it was a small apartment, obviously hearing our noises, the creaking of the bed, and our orgasms… four each that afternoon-evening. When I had to go to the bathroom twice wrapped in a sheet, I had to walk past Mamma Ogre, who followed me with a sarcastic and contemptuous gaze both going and returning. When we finished and left the room, the mother quietly walked me to the front door, handed me an envelope (I hadn’t asked for anything), said 'goodbye' without even looking me in the eye or thanking me, and closed the door. I visited Alex a few more times at his home, and during those other visits, there were no more envelopes, but she barely spoke to me either, except one day when she jokingly said: 'What a wh+re you are, my girl! You sure have fun with Alex, don't you? Twenty-year-old young flesh for a change. You have quite the loud orgasms, like a pussy cat in heat! But my son likes you, and that's all that matters to me.' The truth is, we couldn't stand each other, but I was more polite than her and pretended not to hear her. Years later, Alex married a very nice girl his age and gave Mamma Ogre three grandchildren. Also, when I was 25 years old, an art dealer from Barcelona, who was a VIP client of Ernesto's gallery and had purchased two of Francis's paintings, became infatuated with me. He made Francis an extraordinarily generous offer for three large-format paintings in which I would pose, emulating classic nude artworks. This included a collection of erotic drawings based on specific poses he requested, all accompanied by an extensive collection of over 200 nude photographs of me, slides, some of which crossed the line from erotic to pornographic. However, he hinted that his offer would only be valid if Francis sent me to visit him, for free, in a downtown hotel for a night of 'no-limits' sex on a couple of Saturdays. Francis timidly asked me for this favor, and I accepted. In the end, there were three visits, and the guy was very clear about what he meant by 'no-limits'... I can't complain, as I genuinely had a great time with him. Through this art dealer, Francis secured several lucrative commissions from clients in Barcelona and Madrid in the following years. In summary, to put it bluntly: I pro+tituted myself with three men, multiple times with each of them, to support Francis's career. Aside from the insultingly ridiculous tip that was in the envelope given to me by Mama Ogre -a gesture meant to humiliate me and demonstrate that she owed me nothing, that I was just a random cheap wh+re- I received nothing in return. Just the enjoyment of the sex, which I don’t complain about, and the pleasure of having helped Francis. By the way, Francis ‘forgot’ to thank me on all those occasions, which would have been a nice gesture; he didn't like me doing it because he is very jealous, but on the other hand, he wanted me to do it because it benefited his career. This wasn't the first time in my life that I'd done ‘something’ similar, both before and after (refer to summaries in Posts No. 2 through No. 6) and both on behalf of others and on my own. I'm sure you understand that I prefer to share these types of experiences in this group rather than on the blog; here we have a more intimate and select atmosphere, and you better understand the reasons behind my actions. In summary: I did everything I could, and more, to help Francis and never said “no” to anything he asked me. I did it all selflessly, out of affection and friendship… for twenty years. The legend that in the art world there are always, or almost always, shady sexual dealings involved is, in my humble experience, a complete truth. Kisses Aura