{Dear Dennis,

I'm thinking about you as I attempt once more to paint your picture. This is the 8th canvas. Oh, well, I can always put jesso over them and paint another picture. It should be easy, thinking about what we had, but I just can't seem to get it right. I put your details in AI from my memory, and your picture was generated perfectly. I don't know what I am doing wrong.

Remember art class, and me getting in trouble for sketching you nude?

When am I going to find you?

Love always,

Your Babe}

I lie back, closing my eyes and soon I'm dreaming forty years in the past, reliving that oh-so-embarrassing day in the art room...

I squirm in my seat, trying to keep my mind on the senior class biology lecture, but all I can think of is the art class that is next. I'm seventeen years old and my hormones are running high. My pussy is already dripping at the thought of seeing my friend with benefits in the next class. My left hand goes under my miniskirt, fingering my pussy through my panties behind the heavy table that hides me from sight while I take notes.

The bell rings and I jump up, gather my papers, stuff them in my book, get my pen and head to my locker.

On the way, wolf whistles greet me when the class of 1984 jocks see my skimpy outfit and my legs encased in sheer leggings ending in high wedgies. I ignore them because I'm not interested in jocks and I graduate before they do. I have more interesting things on my mind.

Only having five minutes to get to art class, I quickly open the lock on my locker, shove the biology book inside, grab my sketchbook, and slam the door.

Practically running out the door and across the grass to the back of the gym, I enter the small art room and drop into my seat just before the bell rings. Mr. Pratt looks up from the 8-tracks and asks, “What should we listen to today?”

Without hesitation, I answer in unison with the other seven class students, “ZZ Top.”

He slides in the tape and turns up the volume.

I see that the dais opposite the door has been set up with the antique wooden chair from his desk.

“Dennis, you're our model today,” he says. “Just sit back and relax how you usually sit.”

The class laughs, knowing his usual laid-back splayed-leg posture, and my pussy drips more, getting my panties wetter, for Dennis is my friend-with-benefits and I know what's under those tight black jeans he wears. He's a year older than I am but in my grade at school.

I set up my easel, tear out a piece of paper, and clip it on the easel. Pulling up my chair, I start sketching with sure strokes.

As I sketch, my mind wanders to my after-school adventure with Dennis the day before.

Dennis’s Mom works late in the next town, and the rule at my house, like many in town, is “be home when the streetlights come on.” This being October, we have quite a bit of time after school before I have to be home and Mrs. Kyle won't be home until around six.

Dennis’s house is a quick five-minute walk from school and we start kissing as soon as we get in the door and lock it. Taking me by the hand, Dennis leads me down the now-familiar hall to his bedroom where he has a queen-size waterbed.

We quickly strip off our clothes and climb onto the bed. Getting into a sixty-nine position, with me on top, I take his cock in my mouth while he goes to work licking my clit and pussy. Soon he inserts two fingers in my pussy and I cum hard, and I lift my head as I scream my pleasure. Dennis doesn't stop, and I lower my head to his silky hard cock to continue giving him head. I am startled when I feel a finger on my star, but it feels so good that I don't stop him.

“Stop, before I cum,” I hear him say. “I have something else in mind. Roll over.”

I hear him reach under the bed for the bottle of baby oil and he straddles my ass, rubbing his cock between my cheeks and giving me a back massage. I relax, but I'm getting more excited by the minute as he slowly works his way towards my ass. He pours more baby oil on himself, letting it run down on my asshole. He leans over and, nibbling on my ear, he says, “I'm going to give you anal. This way we don't have to use a condom, which I know you hate, and you don't have to worry about getting pregnant.

“I'm not sure about this,” I reply.

“Just relax,” he answers. Moving down, he rubs more baby oil into my butt, causing my pussy to tingle and my legs to open. His fingers enter my pussy and his thumb caresses my asshole, making me moan in pleasure. He continues finger-fucking me until I cum, then pushes his thumb into my ass. I cum again.

He withdraws his thumb and I feel more oil dripping onto me, then his hard cock at the entrance to my ass. “Just relax,” he says as he continues to caress and massage my buttocks. He leans forward and massages my upper back again, and I feel his cock enter my ass, filling me in a way I have never before felt.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I moan. “I want more.”

Dennis starts stroking, pushing his cock deeper and deeper each time, until he is balls-deep in my ass. I lift up my head and reach my hands up to pinch and roll my nipples between my fingers. I cum hard on his cock.

“I can't last much longer, Babe,” he says, lifting my ass up so I'm on my hands and knees. He slams into me over and over. I scream as I cum again, and feel him squirting his seed deep in my ass as he pushes in one last time and stops, letting all his cum drain out of his balls.

We roll over, exhausted and fall asleep.

We nap for about 15 minutes, then get up and take a quick shower before dressing. Dennis gives me a deep kiss and says, "Thanks, Babe, for a wonderful time.”

“My pleasure,” I reply. He knows that though we're not heart-mates, we're very sexually compatible and I'm always willing to have a good time with him.

I go home to a nice dinner and sweet dreams after I do my homework.

Mr. Pratt comes up behind me. “I didn't say this was a nude sketching session,” he says, startling me. He unpins the sketch on my easel and hands me the paper while the class laughs. My ears burn and my cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “Start over,” Mr. Pratt says.

I wad up the sketch, throw it at Dennis, and clip a new piece of paper to the easel. This time I try harder to keep my mind on what I am drawing, and I make a fairly credible sketch of Dennis, as he's posing, before the bell rings and lets me off the hook.

I take my time removing the paper and closing the easel because I know this is the last class of the day.

Mr. Pratt ejects the tape and shuts off the stereo. Dennis’s hand brushes my ass under my miniskirt and he whispers in my ear as we go, “Do you want a repeat of yesterday?” I just nod, and we head to his house again...

I wake with a start, looking around my empty house. Just myself and Anastasia here, my Russian Blue cat. I put the letter with the other unsent letters I've written to Dennis over the last 40 years, get up, and go to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

Even though I am alone, I go to the trouble of making focaccia bread and basil tomato soup from scratch. I enjoy cooking, and I can always share it with a friend.

Leaving the bread baking and sauce simmering, I go back to the bedroom to get another canvas. I have an art project due in a week at the art gallery, and I work better under pressure.

“Things That Fly” is the theme for next month so I look up photos of birds I have taken and pick out a Pyrrhuloxia, a desert cardinal, sitting in a mesquite tree. My paintbrush works its usual magic, and I get most of the painting done in a short time. I just have branches to do, and I'll be finished. “The hard part is left,” I mumble to myself. I set it to dry before the next step, and get my pen and stationary.

{Dear Dennis,

I've gone on to another painting. It's coming along nicely. I'm going to try a new technique to make “crackle” for the branches on it.

Do you draw and paint still?

Do you ever think of me?

Do you remember the other time I got in trouble for drawing a nude, this time for Art Club? The one that earned me the nickname “Porn Star?”}

I set the pen down and let my mind wander down memory lane, to the time we went to the University in Ogden, Utah…

It was a long five-hour bus trip down there from Idaho, but such an honor to be able to go sketch with a “real” teacher and “live model” at the University level. Only a few senior students who had shown great talent were chosen. I was the only female, with seven other students going, along with our teacher, Mr. Pratt. We arrived at the University, piled off the bus with our backpacks, and headed to the Art Department, where we were greeted by a man who introduced himself as Mr. Richmond, the head of the Art Department. He was dressed much more professionally in a suit and tie, than Mr. Pratt, who was wearing his usual black jeans and a Foghat t-shirt.

We entered the Art Department studio, and saw a college student dressed in a pink ballet leotard sitting at one end of the room on a bench.

Chairs were lined up where we entered and we all started to take a seat.

"Just a minute," said Mr. Richmond. "Are you sure you want to sit there? Look at all this space," he said, motioning to the room. "Move your chairs where you want, and I'll bring you an easel. Just make sure you don't block the vision of any of the other students." This was easy, since there were only eight of us, and we soon were scattered around the room where we had a good view of the model.

We had only brought 10”x12” sketchbooks, so Mr. Richmond soon had small easels set before us. We pulled out our pencil cases, and were prepared to go to work.

“Anne,” Mr. Richmond called across the room, “assume your pose.”

Anne swung her legs up on the bench, bent over, and wrapped her arms around her legs, letting her straight, blonde hair hang down in front of her shoulders.

I started sketching, my pencil moving in sure strokes. This was such a change from sketching from photographs or a mirror to do a self-portrait, or sketching my classmates.

As I continued sketching, following the lines of Anne's body, I imagined she'd just finished a dance performance before the Metropolitan Opera House. She'd gone home to her boyfriend, Donovan, who'd greeted her with a bottle of Champagne. His six-foot sculpted body was all she needed and wanted right now.

“Good performance. Let's celebrate.”

He poured them each a drink, then led her to her bedroom. Lifting his glass in a toast to her, they drank deeply, then set the glasses aside.

He ran his hands over Anne's lithe body and peeled the skimpy leotard off her body, before removing the suit he'd worn to her performance.

“I need a shower,” Anne said. “You want to join me?”

They stepped into Anne's large walk-in shower and turned on the water. She had installed a tankless water heater, so the water came out at the perfect temperature. They soaped each other's bodies, then took turns soaping the other's back. After rinsing with the hand-held shower head, Ann sank to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, licking and sucking it, until he grabbed her hair and thrust himself deep in her throat. After a couple of thrusts, he withdrew and took her hand to help her get to her feet. Stepping out of the shower, Donovan wrapped Anne in a large, fluffy, pink towel and carried her to the bedroom.

They stretched out on the bed, and explored each other's bodies. They had only been together three months, and couldn't get enough of each other.

Donovan took Anne's small breasts in his hands and dipped his head to capture her perfect nipples in his mouth, nipping and sucking at them in succession, making sure that they both got equal attention. By this time, Anne's pussy was dripping, and she reached for Donovan. “Take me now,” she said. Pushing her legs apart, he moved to the bottom of the bed. Instead of taking her, he first put his head between her legs and started licking her, nibbling on her clit on every stroke from her star to her clit. He put his tongue deep in her pussy. Anne grabbed his hair and, pulling him closer, convulsed with a gigantic orgasm.

While her pussy was still pulsing, Donovan moved up, resting his upper body on his elbows, and entered her. He pushed in and pulled out almost completely, over and over, until he buried himself balls deep. He kept fucking her until she was begging him. “Please cum with me, baby,” she moaned. He pulled most of the way out and stopped again. “You sure you want this?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” Anne screamed. “Make me cum with you.”

Just as they came, I heard a voice behind me.

“What are you doing, young lady?”

I looked at my sketch to see a couple twined in the bed, obviously enjoying themselves.

“This is not a nude session, and no pornography is allowed on campus.” Mr. Richmond ripped the sketch from my easel, wadded it up and threw it in the trash. He put a fresh sheet of paper on the easel. “Try again, this time drawing her exactly as she is.”

I sighed, and concentrated as I sketched, making sure that I sketched Anne as she was on the bench.

After the session was over and we were dismissed, Dennis, being closest to the trashcan, grabbed the piece of paper, smoothed it, and slid it into his notebook.

“What was that about?” he asked. “I'll tell you later. You'll understand when you see the sketch you got out of the trashcan.”

We boarded the bus and went to Keystone Pizza to eat before heading the five hours home.

We washed our hands and settled down at a long table. After some discussion, we settled on three large pizzas; a pepperoni, a cheese, and a super supreme, which had everything except anchovies.

While we were waiting for the pizzas to arrive, Dennis pulled out the sketch that he'd rescued from the trash. From the other end of the table, I tried to motion him to put it back, but he was frozen in shock. Byron, one of the other art students, grabbed the paper and looked at it. “Hey, this is pretty good! But we weren't supposed to do a nude, and was this where your filthy mind was? How did you get off drawing a couple instead of just the model?”

My face burning, I got up and ran around the table, trying to rip it from his fingers, but he passed it across the table to another student, Michael.

“What are you, some kind of a porn star?” asked Michael, taunting me with the paper. I ran around the table again, but he passed it to another student, and so it went, until everyone had seen it. It got back to Dennis just as Mr. Pratt got back from the restroom and Dennis slipped the paper back into his backpack.

While we ate everyone was looking at me with a different expression, halfway between shock and revelation.

On the long bus ride home, I kept hearing whispers, but the only words I could make out were ”porn star”

The following Monday morning, I entered the school to a round of applause. As I made my way to my locker, I heard, “How's the porn star today?” “Have you made any movies lately?”

My eyes filled with tears. Dennis worked his way through the crowded hall and put his arm over my shoulder, pinning me against the locker. “I'm sorry, Babe. I shouldn't have pulled the sketch out of my backpack at the pizza place.”

“No, you shouldn't have. You should have left it in the garbage where it belonged in the first place.” I angrily shoved his chest, but he was immovable.

Dennis tipped my chin up with his finger and saw I was crying. Wiping my tears away, he said, “Ignore them, they're imbeciles. You're no porn star. Besides, I'm glad I saved the picture. It will always remind me of us.”

This comment made me laugh, as he was trying to do, because there was no “us”. We weren't actually girlfriend and boyfriend, just two friends with benefits, who enjoyed the benefits way too much…

Little did I know that after we graduated, I would move to the city and I would lose track of him.

I pick up the pen and continue the letter.

{Do you still have the sketch you rescued on the trip to Ogden?

As always, I am missing you, my old friend. We had some good times, both in and out of bed. You would always listen to me and make me laugh.

Love always,

Your Babe}

I carefully fold the letter, put it with the others, and go to the kitchen to check my food. “I always make too much,” I say to Anastasia, who's rubbing against my ankles.

“Myat,” she responds. “Meow?”

Ah, I know what she wants, and set her food down for her to eat.

After dishing myself up a bowl, and cutting a thick slice of hot bread, I head to the table to eat.

I work on my painting, then go to bed.

In the morning, I stumble to the kitchen for a cup of ambition and take out my stationary.

{Dearest Dennis,

It's too hot to paint in anything but my birthday suit, or, at the most, an XXXL T-shirt I found that reaches my knees.

I don't know what I was thinking last night, but I apparently booked a non-refundable trip to Durango, Colorado in the middle of the night. I'll be there for a week.}

I doze off and am reliving the past again…

The Art Club raised enough money at Christmas by painting windows in the businesses in our tiny town to be able to take a trip in the spring to Sun Valley, and Ketchum, Idaho. The idea was to spend the night, then spend the next day wandering around Ketchum visiting all the art galleries.

Four female and four male students went, all in the senior class, along with two teachers as chaperones. Mr. Pratt had a CDL, so he drove the bus. Ms. Stout, a substitute floating teacher, sat behind him.

Of course, Dennis and I sat together on the almost two-hour ride so we could talk. We gossiped about what was happening in town, reminisced about going to the museum and observatory at the College, since it had been moved from the jewelry store, and just life in general.

The students were scattered around the long bus in pairs, with Dennis and me near the center of the bus.

Looking around to make sure nobody was near, Dennis turned slightly and told me to lay my head on his shoulder. It would look like I was going to sleep. This allowed him better access to my pussy under my miniskirt, and his hand was soon busy pleasuring me.

I put my hand on the growing bulge in his pants.

Just then the bus arrived at the Sun Valley Lodge, and I quickly arranged my skirt and stood up to exit the bus

We checked in, and were assigned rooms on the third floor overlooking the skating rink where Dorothy Hamil perfected the famous Hamil Camel maneuver.

I was assigned a room with Cindy, and we put our bags on the bed, then joined the others in the lobby. We found out from the lobby clerk that there were several small places to eat nearby, so we decided to wander until we decided what we wanted.

We came across a small snack bar serving pizza and ordered 3 large pizzas, our favorite food. After dinner, we headed back to our rooms and got ready for bed.

Soon we heard whispers in the hallway and Cindy and I peered out to see Ms. Stout entering Mr. Pratt’s room.

At that point, it became a free-for-all scramble as we all switched roommates for the night: Cindy disappeared to be with her boyfriend, and Dennis appeared at my door. “Hi babe,” I said. “What's up?”

He said that a girl had gone to be with his roommate and asked if he could spend the night with me, and of course I said yes. I'd make the most of it, because this was the first time I would spend a whole night with him.

Locking and latching the door, I set the alarm for 4:40 am, then proceeded to undress.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he did a strip-tease for me. He made me laugh, but it also turned me on.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he asked, “How's my little porn star tonight?”

I tried to slap him, but found my arms pinned above my head, with him straddling my legs. I'd forgotten how fast he could move, because he was also a wrestling champ.

“Shh, I was only teasing,” he said.

I could feel his cock hardening against my pussy and I thrust my hips up in a desperate attempt to get closer. I never could stay mad at him for long.

“Let's get on the bed right, Babe,” he said.

We moved onto the bed and we kissed, then he started licking and nibbling on my nipples. I spread my legs and his hand went between them. He rubbed the lips, then inserted his fingers between them. I moaned and reached for him.

“Not so fast. We have all night.”

He moved down and pushed my legs open, my knees bent, just looking at me. Then he started licking from my ass to my clit, nibbling at my clit on each pass.

“Dennis, if you want me to last, you better stop now,” I said.

“Cum,” he said. “I'll make you cum last all night.”

He put two fingers in my pussy, causing me to cum immediately.

He kept this up, keeping me on edge for a long time, then made me cum again before entering me. My pussy tightened around him as we came together.

“Turn over,” he said. You're still incredibly tense.”

I rolled over and he got up, soon returning with the complementary tube of lotion from beside the sink. He straddled my hips, and put lotion on my back, massaging it in as he relaxed my muscles. I felt his cock between my cheeks start to get hard once more as he massaged my back, then my buttocks with his cock between them. He spread my cheeks and massaged my star, then inserted one finger, fucking me slowly with it, then inserting another one. I buried my mouth in the pillow, trying to keep back the sounds of pleasure I was making.

Dennis removed his fingers and pushed his cock into my ass, withdrawing it and putting it back in further each time until he was buried deep within me. He fucked me hard, and we both came together.

After taking a shower, we curled up together and went to sleep.

Four in the morning came too soon, but Dennis wanted to be back in his room before the wake-up call.

Just as he opened the door to leave, Cindy was inserting her key to enter. She came in and said, “Did you have a good night?”

“Very much so, thank you. Did you”

“Yes, thank you.”

We lay back down and went back to sleep.

We slept through the wake-up call, and soon Ms. Stout was knocking at the door.

“It's time for breakfast,” she cheerfully exclaimed. “You don't want to miss out. We're leaving at nine.”

I got dressed quickly, put on minimal makeup and was ready in fifteen minutes. “Hurry up, Cindy! We're going to miss breakfast”

But Cindy wasn't to be hurried. She had to tease her hair all poofy, mousse it, and spray it into place. Then the heavy makeup she always wore. By the time she was finished, a half hour had passed and we almost missed breakfast. But her face really was a work of art.

After breakfast provided by the hotel in their dining room, we loaded our luggage back on the bus and Mr. Pratt drove the 5-minute drive to Ketchum, where there were a large number of art galleries.

While Mr. Pratt was parking the bus, I looked out the window and did a double-take.

“Hey everyone, is that who I think it is?” I asked, knowing they were much more familiar with actors than I was.

They exclaimed, “Tom Selleck, and look at his dog!”

Sure enough, Tom Selleck was strolling down the street with Ray-Bans Aviator sunglasses, and his Golden dog strolling along beside him with matching glasses.

Before we got off the bus, Mr. Pratt advised us that celebrities were often seen in the area, as many had retreat homes there, and they were to be ignored, or to be treated like normal people. We were not to acknowledge that we knew who they were.

With that in mind, we were let off the bus and we entered the first art gallery.

This was the first time I had been in an art gallery, and my senses were filled by the many wonderful paintings of local scenery and wildlife. This was only the first of many galleries we visited that day: another was pop art, another abstract art, and the final was a gallery that had a theme for the month of “Things That Fly.”

We ate lunch downtown between gallery visits, and loaded back into the bus by two in the afternoon to go home. Clouds had come up and the sun was gone.

We only got about seven miles out of town when the bus made a noise and the engine quit.

The beautiful weather we had had all morning had turned into a cool, miserable rain.

Mr. Pratt coasted to a stop along the narrow highway in a wide spot beside a driveway leading to a house set about a quarter mile back from the road.

He told us to shelter in place while he went to the house to call the school and let them know the situation.

When he returned, he was drenched, but he informed us that the couple that lived there had invited us to go wait at their house until another bus would arrive, which would be about an hour and a half.

The rain had almost stopped, so we headed up the lane to their house. About halfway there, the rain started coming down heavy and we were drenched by the time we got there.

I don't remember the name of the couple, but they were very nice. We were hesitant to enter, being muddy and wet, but the lady supplied us with towels and invited us to the sunken living room where her husband lit a fireplace in the center of the seating area so we could dry out. She brought us all sodas and showed us where the spare restroom was.

The house, what little I saw of it, was incredible.

Finally, the replacement bus pulled up in front of the house, we thanked the couple, and headed home tired but happy. It had been a very interesting day and a trip of a lifetime...

A knock on the door wakes me up, and I go to find the mailman has delivered a package. I tear it open to find items I had ordered recently: zippers, lace, paintbrushes, a Halloween mask, a couple of new dresses, and phone charger cords. It is quite an eclectic collection.

I finish the bird painting and set it to dry. I pick up the letter to Dennis and finish it.

{Well, I guess I will never find you. Nor will I ever forget you. We had some good times, my dear friend, but it's time to say adieu. Blessings on your life.

Love always,

Your Babe}

I fold up the letter, bind it with the rest of them with a wide ribbon, and put them away at the back of a drawer. Maybe someday I'll read them all again and stroll down memory lane.