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The Art Student
This is from a series of stories set in North East Scotland in the year 1910. The parish minister and his wife are an extremely hedonistic couple. However the stories printed here will feature his wife and her companions only. Some of you may be unfamiliar with the word, ‘Manse.’ Quite simply, it refers to e house inhabited by a parish minister and his family.
It was late in the summer of 1910 when Isobel Hardy met Ruth Thomson for the first time. Ruth was a talented art student, on holiday from the college in Aberdeen, and had spent most of the summer on the continent, visiting art galleries in Paris, Rome, Florence, and Venice, but now she was home, ready for the new academic year which would be starting in the next few weeks.
The two women met quite by accident when Isobel was strolling round the kirkyard as she waited for her husband John, the minister of the parish. He was meeting with the church elders, but would soon be finished. Isobel saw a slim, feminine figure sitting on the grass beside the kirkyard wall, and curiosity piqued, she strolled nonchalantly in that direction.
As she approached the woman looked up and smiled, Isobel smiled back, noticing as she drew closer that the woman was drawing. ‘Hello,’ offered Isobel, smiling again. The woman was hatless, most unusual for a well brought up woman in 1910, but it allowed her long blonde hair to frame her pretty face, and she was very pretty. Her figure was slim, and although the long summer dress concealed her legs, Isobel could see that she had nice trim ankles. Isobel introduced herself, ‘I’m Isobel Hardy, the minister’s wife. I hope you’re enjoying our wee kirkyard?’ The girl smiled and got to her feet.
‘Oh yes, and it’s such a lovely day as well, I’m Ruth Thomson by the way,’ she said introducing herself. ‘I’m just trying to get some sketching and drawing practice to keep my eye and hand co-ordination up to scratch before I go back to Art College,’ she explained. ‘I do hope it’s OK for me to be here?’
‘Well, I don’t see why not. I can’t hear any of the present occupants complaining, can you?’ she joked, looking round the ancient cemetery. ‘I don’t expect my husband will complain either, I’m sure he’d be delighted to have even more pretty young women in the kirkyard – living ones of course,’ she added, joking again. The woman smiled again, looking quite vivacious. ‘I’d love to see your drawings if that’s not too much of a cheek?’ Isobel requested. ‘I have a real interest in art, and occasionally draw a wee bit for my own amusement too.’ The girl stooped and retrieved her sketch book.
‘They’re nothing great I’m afraid,’ she said turning over the pages. ‘I’m not wonderful with buildings and such like. I prefer drawing and painting people.’ The drawings of the Kirk and the kirkyard were actually very good. She had a wonderfully sensitive eye for light and shade and her line was exquisite, bringing parts forward and allowing others to recede, giving a lovely three dimensional feel to the drawing.
‘You’re much too modest my dear,’ said Isobel. ‘These are lovely, and given your preference for people, have you any drawings of people to share with me? Taking the pad, Ruth flipped over a number of pages, looking for something suitable. She finally handed over the pad, and true to her word, her drawings of people were far better. Some were rough sketches which, although rough, still showed the form and proportion beautifully, while others were highly finished pencil drawings, almost photographic in quality. Isobel turned over yet another page to find the most delightful nude study.
‘Oh, you’re not supposed to look at that one. Whatever will you think of me?’ Ruth said, seemingly flustered beyond all reason.
‘Why not?’ asked Isobel, ‘it’s a wonderful drawing and you should be proud of it, not embarrassed.’ Ruth blushed deeply, not knowing where to look.
‘But you’re the ministers wife, oh dear, I really am so embarrassed. I wish the earth would open up and swallow me,’ she finished. Isobel started laughing.
‘Well Ruth, you’re certainly in the right place for that to happen,’ she giggled, indicating the cemetery, which made Ruth giggle. Recovering her composure, she seriously studied the drawing again. ‘What a wonderful drawing of a lovely model, and such a beautiful figure. Absolutely astonishing, so slim, yet so womanly – I don’t think I’ve ever seen breasts so perfect, and the curve of her hip and her legs. A young Aphrodite,’ she concluded. ‘Who is the model my dear, one of the models from art college perhaps?’ Ruth looked completely flustered and taken aback. She blushed to the roots of her long blonde hair. Isobel puzzled over her reaction for a few seconds, and then said, ‘Oh how silly of me. Of course, I see it now; it’s a self portrait, isn’t it.’ Ruth put her face in her hands.
‘I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that one, I’m really sorry, she repeated.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ consoled Isobel. ‘Please Ruth, don’t be embarrassed. I feel enormously privileged to have seen it, and you. I won’t hear any more of this nonsense, Eryaman Escort it’s art, and that’s all there is to it. My husband may be a minister, but that doesn’t mean that he or I are narrow minded prigs.’ Ruth looked somewhat relieved.
‘Thank you Isobel, you really are so very kind, and understanding. I can’t help but be embarrassed though. I drew myself because there are no models out here in the country, and like many artists throughout history, when there is nothing else, I draw myself,’ she explained.
‘No need to explain yourself to me my dear. It’s a wonderful drawing – you must do a painting of the same subject, and soon.’ Ruth nodded, but said nothing. ‘I’ll pose for you if you wish,’ offered Isobel suddenly on impulse, ‘but you must never tell anyone that it’s me,’ she added. Ruth looked at her in astonishment, her mouth open.
‘Surely you don’t mean… nude?’ said Ruth.
‘And why not? Isobel demanded to know. ‘Don’t let the fact that I’m a ministers wife fool you young lady. I believe in equal rights, and the vote for women. I’m a bit of a, “freethinker,” if I do say so myself. Do you want me to pose for you or not? Would I be suitable?’
‘Well, of course you’d be suitable; you’re a lovely, tall, and well-proportioned lady. It would be a pleasure to draw, or paint you, an absolute privilege.’
‘That’s settled then, so just tell me when you want to start,’ Isobel asked. ‘This afternoon perhaps?’ she suggested. ‘Come to the manse about 1.30pm if you can manage.’ It seemed to suit Ruth just fine, and so the two women parted, with both looking forward to the afternoon.
At 1.30pm prompt. Ruth knocked on the door of the manse. It was an impressive granite building, and as Ruth looked up at it, admiring the architecture, the door was opened by Isobel who stood slightly behind the door, shielding herself from the view of any passing parishioners. ‘Come away in Ruth, I was just making sure that it was you at the door,’ she said explaining why she had stood behind the door. ‘I’m all ready and just wearing my bathrobe, so we can start right away if you wish.’ She locked the door to make sure they were not interrupted.
‘Does your husband know you’ll be posing for me?’ Ruth asked, but Isobel assured her that he did know, and they had in fact discussed it at lunchtime. ‘Where do you suggest we do this Isobel?’ Ruth asked. ‘You have a lovely house here, I’m sure there must be lots of places suitable.’
‘I thought upstairs. There’s no chance of anyone catching a glimpse of me through a window up there.’ Isobel led her upstairs and gave her the choice of the master bedroom, or a slightly smaller back bedroom, and Ruth chose the back bedroom as it was north facing, and as she explained, that gave a much more consistent quality of light. ‘Do you want me sitting or standing?’ Isobel asked, ‘or perhaps lying down on the bed, reclining?’
‘Sitting poses are always much easier to hold,’ Ruth explained, so if we start with that, then perhaps if we have time we could do one of you on the bed later. If you sit on that chair, here, more in front of the window light,’ she suggested, pulling the chair over towards the window. ‘Yes, I think that will do just grand.’ As she sat down and removed her art materials from her bag, Isobel quietly and without any fuss, untied her robe and let it slip off her shoulders. When Ruth looked up she was surprised to see Isobel entirely naked, sitting on the chair and looking at her most intently. ‘Oh my, you rather sneaked up on me there,’ she smiled at Isobel. ‘I’m not quite ready yet. I was going to start with you semi-draped with the robe, but you’ve stolen a march on me. You seem to be quite comfortable with nudity,’ she trailed off.
‘I’ve no time for false modesty Ruth. I know I have a good figure, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered to pose for you. I’m very comfortable being here with you like this, and now you know a little more about me, I like being naked, I enjoy it. So, carry on my dear, just tell me how you want me to sit.’ Ruth approached Isobel and got her to sit just slightly sideways, and adjusted her hands and feet into a more pleasing pose, chatting to Isobel as she did so.
‘You have a wonderful figure Isobel, so well-proportioned and womanly. You’re going to make a great model,’ she stated trying to put Isobel at her ease, but there was no need, for Isobel was perfectly at ease already. As Ruth returned to her chair, Isobel moved her right foot out to the side about 4-5 inches, keeping her knees together to preserve the modesty that Ruth had imposed on her. Later on, she intended to gradually move her knee out to the right as well, exposing herself fully to Ruth to see what her reaction might be.
‘If you feel tired or a bit stiff, just let me know, and we can have a break,’ Ruth advised. Isobel smiled wickedly at her.
‘I don’t get stiff Ruth, that’s my husband’s job,’ she teased. Ruth looked surprised, blushing furiously. ‘Oh Ruth,’ she said, laughing, ‘you look even more lovely when you blush. The sooner you realise, that a minister Sincan Escort and has wife are just two ordinary people, the better. We have marital relations, just like any other couple you know, we’re not virgins.’ Ruth said nothing although she grinned at that. ‘When you go to Church,’ Isobel continued, ‘if you go to church that is, it’s always best to imagine the minister is naked in the pulpit.’ Ruth giggled out loud.
‘Oh Isobel, you’re so funny,’ she choked. ‘Very well, I shall imagine your husband naked if you say so.’ All the time they were chatting and joking, Ruth had been looking and measuring by holding up her pencil and squinting with one eye like a marksman with a rifle to make sure she got the proportions right.
‘I’ll tell him to look out for you, but just as long as you realise, he’ll be thinking the same when he’s looking at you. I’ll get him to give you a wink if he is.’ They giggled and chatted, but eventually the talk died off as Ruth concentrated on Isobel. She could do nothing but admire Isobel’s body, from the tips of her small, elegant feet, up the length of her long and beautifully shaped legs. The soft swell of her hips and breasts, which were a marvel in themselves, held her attention for quite some time, the dark nipples, erect and proud in the small islands of darker skin that were the areolae.
Ruth thought her one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, laughing at herself, she realised she had almost developed a schoolgirl type, ‘crush’ on the minister’s lovely wife. It felt just like the time she had a silly crush on her art mistress at school, but she was only 14 years old then and here she was, twenty-one years old, and feeling as if she were back at school again.
‘You’re smiling Ruth,’ Isobel said suddenly, ‘what are you thinking of?’ Once again Ruth blushed.
‘Just my old art mistress at school. I don’t know why I started thinking of her,’ she lied.
‘Perhaps I remind you of her?’ Isobel suggested, but Ruth shook her head. ‘Did you like her?’ Isobel queried.
‘Yes, I liked her enormously. If it hadn’t been for her I probably wouldn’t be sitting here now drawing you.’ Isobel smiled at that, opening her legs a tiny bit.
‘Did she look like me?’ said Isobel, niggling away at the subject, which made Ruth giggle.
‘Not in the slightest, she was rather plain, with a bit of a moustache if the truth be told, but I liked her a lot. You on the other hand are tall and elegant, and rather beautiful… like chalk and cheese really,’ she finished.
‘Did you have a crush on her?’ Isobel asked, not waiting for a reply. ‘I had the most awful crush on my Geography mistress at school; I followed her everywhere like a love-struck calf.’ She laughed at the thought, as did Ruth.
‘Yes, I suppose I did have a crush on her,’ admitted Ruth. Isobel just smiled at her again, opening her legs even more. She knew she was very, very wet, and if Ruth had eyes to see, and noticed, she would see that Isobel was extremely aroused.
‘Have you ever kissed a woman?’ Isobel said, slightly changing the subject. Again, Ruth blushed.
‘My mother, my sister, my grandmother’s and my aunts,’ she replied.
‘No, you know what I mean – kissed a woman passionately? What would be the excitement in kissing your relatives, no, I mean any woman other than a relative?’ She opened her right leg out further knowing she was now fully on view to Ruth.
‘No, I haven’t,’ replied Ruth looking shocked again. ‘Have you?’
‘Yes, and it was lovely, but you must promise never to tell another living soul,’ she confided. ‘Her lips were so soft and tender, quite brought me out in goose bumps. I thought of her for a long time afterwards,’ she mused. They lapsed into silence again as Ruth concentrated intently on Isobel. Suddenly Isobel noticed Ruth stiffen, and knew Ruth had finally noticed her delicate state. Knowing Ruth was looking at her, ‘there’ made Isobel feel even more excited, and she pushed her knee a bit further out to the right. Ruth stared as if mesmerised. After a while Isobel broke the spell. ‘Are you all right sweetheart, you have a faraway look in your eyes, and you’ve gone bright red?’ Ruth was suddenly startled out of her reverie, knowing Isobel had caught her staring at her sex.
‘Yes, I’m fine, just fine, I was just concentrating very hard,’ she explained.
‘Yes, you were, weren’t you,’ said Isobel casually, adding, ‘I think we ought to take a short break, don’t you?’
‘That might be a good idea. You’ve been posing so well and hardly moved at all. I think you deserve a rest,’ and she put down her sketch book, and stood up stretching herself. Isobel stood up too, and walked about the room, stretching herself too, and looking marvellous as she did it. ‘Don’t you want to put your robe on?’ asked Ruth.
‘No, I’m very happy naked. Why, do you want me to put it on?’ she asked stepping closer, her eyes almost like an intimate caress holding Ruth’s as she stood so close their breasts were only inches apart. Ruth shook her head and looked away, her mind in turmoil.
‘No, Etlik Escort no, I’m very comfortable with you naked too,’ she replied. ‘Would you like to see how it’s going so far?’ she asked, turning away and lifting up the sketch pad, desperately trying to change the subject, but realised she’d made a big mistake immediately, for now Isobel was standing right next to her with one hand on her shoulders. They looked at the drawing so far, with Isobel exclaiming how good it was, but all Ruth could think of was the heat emanating from Isobel’s naked body close to hers, as the wonderful breasts nestled against her arm.
‘You’re trembling my dear,’ Isobel stated, ‘are you sure you’re all right. Do you feel well?’ Ruth shuddered even more as Isobel turned her round and took her in her arms. ‘You poor dear,’ she whispered in her ear, stroking her back. Quite involuntarily a moan escaped Ruth’s lips, and Isobel stepped back a little, looking into the blue, blue eyes of her friend. When Ruth closed her eyes, Isobel gently let her mouth brush against the full sensual lips, parting them with her tongue. Ruth opened her mouth in response and suddenly they were kissing passionately, fiercely, sexually.
There could be no mistake as Isobel knowingly caressed Ruth on her back, bottom and finally her breasts. Ruth clung on helplessly, her legs suddenly feeling hopelessly weak and incapable of holding her up, completely overcome by the strength of her passions. She felt the silky-smooth skin of Isobel’s back and sides, the firm buttocks, and the wonderful naked breasts pushing against her own. Isobel pushed her back gently as they kissed, manoeuvring Ruth towards the bed, never letting up on the kissing and touching for a moment, giving her no time to think until the edge of the bed caught the back of her legs and down she went, with Isobel on her in seconds, like a lioness going in for the kill.
The kissing continued, but now the touching became much more intimate, and Ruth’s breasts felt so, ‘tingly,’ and so good. She never noticed until it was too late, but without warning she felt Isobel’s hand under her skirt, searching and probing, stroking and caressing, trying to find a way through the barrier of her undergarments. She made a token protest, but then Isobel found her way in, and Ruth felt real pleasure between her legs such as she’d never experienced before, and abandoned all thought of struggle, or resistance.
She even helped Isobel undress her, until she too was naked, ‘Let me look at you my darling,’ whispered Isobel, pausing for a moment to drink in the sight of her beautiful new conquest. ‘Oh Ruth, you’re simply divine,’ she said in a low voice as she pushed Ruth’s knees apart, seeing for the first time the natural blonde curls that masked the pale pink lips. Isobel stroked lightly against the moist pussy lips, letting her fingers gradually work through the wispy hair until Ruth was uncovered in all her glory. She stroked between the wet lips, gently pushing them aside, letting her fingers slowly work deeper while the ball of her thumb sawed lightly against the lovely clitoris peeking from below its hood. Ruth spread her legs wider now, all shyness gone, just desperate for this lovely warm feeling never to stop.
As Isobel began to slide her fingers in and out of the increasingly wet pussy, Ruth sighed with delight, feeling a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. She gasped for breath, feeling herself open up to the gentle probing, while her world narrowed down to that small area of willing flesh between her legs. ‘Oh Isobel,’ she gasped out, ‘ I love it, I’ve never felt anything so good before,’ but Isobel just hushed her, and swivelling round on the bed, placed her head between Ruth’s outstretched thighs and started to lap and caress the open labia and clitoris very gently. Ruth, in her innocence thought nothing could feel better than Isobel’s hands touching her pussy, but within a few seconds, within that part of her conscious mind that still functioned, she realised she was wrong.
This was sublime, utter bliss, and the position Isobel had adopted allowed her an unhindered view of the older woman’s vagina. She was struck by how wet and succulent it looked; open and oozing juices, the complete wonder surrounded by trimmed dark hair. She could smell her too, such a wonderful musky aroma. She was overcome by the sensations coursing through her body and so very grateful that she felt almost compelled to give back what she was receiving and lifted her head, rubbing her nose against Isobel’s clitoris. Isobel moaned loudly in response, and encouraged, Ruth licked at the juices.
An unusual flavour she thought, but not at all unpleasant, and pushed her tongue between the lips which she was making even wetter than before, and was rewarded by an even louder cry of pleasure from Isobel who in return redoubled her efforts to give more pleasure to Ruth. And so it was that the lovers, egged on by each other became more and more frantic, until at last Ruth felt something akin to an earthquake take control of her beautiful body, trembling and shuddering, overpowering emotions and sensations swept over her again and again, leaving her drained, but entirely relaxed. ‘Thank you Isobel, oh thank you so much. I’ve never…’ but her words trailed off, superfluous. No words could convey how she felt right then, so she gave up trying to think and just luxuriated in the moment.
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