Casting the Model

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Big Tits

“You’re Sandra, the model?” I asked.

She nodded timidly. I was a little surprised. She had said on the phone that she had model experience, but she didn’t look like a model. She was very slim, small arse and small breasts, not at all like a model. To you it may sound as if she looked exactly like a model, but I’m an artist and artist models have curves. They are usually between thirty and fifty. Artists are looking for different things than a fashion photographer. Not that I thought she had any model experience in that area either: she didn’t have the face. She was pretty but ordinary.

“And you have modelled for an artist before?”

“I’ve . . . no, not for an artist. I’ve done some pictures . . .”

I had expected something different and I was annoyed. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but my annoyance must have shown.

“Is something wrong? Don’t you think I look good?” she asked.

“You look very pretty but you see, I had expected a more mature model. More curves. You are . . . “

She interrupted me. “My tits are too small?”

“I haven’t seen them and in any other aspect of life I’m sure I’d love your tits, but for this particular project I need to . . . underline the feminine features.”

I was really doing my best to be nice to her. Not only would I lose a days work in the studio, I’d also lose a days work at the construction site where I earned a living. I wasn’t yet famous enough to make a living from my art and I never believed in the myth about the staring artist. I needed food and clothes, not to talk about money to pay the rent.

“I promise I’ll be good. I can stand without moving for a very long time,” she said.

She looked at me with pleading eyes. She was young, early twenties. There was something about her, something cute and innocent. For another project, perhaps.

“Please. You can paint my tits a little bigger, can’t you? I need the job. I’ve just lost my job and it’s difficult to get a job I can handle alongside my studies. Please,” she begged.

“OK, let’s take a look at you. Come on in,” I said.

I don’t know why I gave in. I guess I was hoping the day wasn’t wasted. She smiled jubilant.

“Thank you. I’ll be good, promise.”

We went into my studio and she looked around as if she was in Merlin’s cave.

“Are you shaved? I forgot to ask you on the phone,” I asked.

“Shaved? You mean armpits and legs? Yes, they are shaved.” she answered.

“And your pubic area?”

“What? No, I’ve never . . . Why do I need to be, eh, shaved there? Can’t you just leave out the hair when you paint?”

“I’m going to do a series of sculptures entitled “Casts of a woman”. I’m going to make casts of you, not paint you,” I said and added smiling: ” The plaster bandages will stick to the hair and it will be quite painful when I take off the cast.”

“Oh,” she said.

“It’s easily fixed. I have some disposable razors. Take off your clothes and let’s see what you look like.”

She looked anxiously around. There were a couch, a few chairs and a table.


“You can do it in the bathroom, if you prefer,” I said.

I pointed to the bathroom door and she shuffled into the bathroom. I was beginning to regret accepting her. Working with inexperienced models could be so tiresome. A moment later she reappeared, with one of my towels wrapped around her torso.

“OK, let’s see,” I said.

She removed the towel. Her tits were pretty small, but they looked like they were firm and would keep their shape when she was lying down. That might prove to be an advantage. Her hips were slim but not as slim as I’d expected. I tried to make up my mind: Lose a days work and save her pay or give it a shot?

“OK, I think you will do. Sorry, didn’t mean to sound that way, but I’m not exactly a millionaire and I can’t afford to pay you if I don’t think you are right for the project.” I added when I saw her hurt expression.

“I understand,” she said.

“Good. Now, if you shave your pubic hair, I’ll prepare for the first cast,” I said.

She turned and was about to walk back to the bathroom, then turned to me again.

“Is it a real razor, you know, with razorblades?” she asked.

“Yes. You know how to use it?”


“It’s dead simple. You just apply some foam and then shave off the foam. Then you get the hair as well. There’s a can on the shelf.”

“It’s . . . sharp, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Sure. Take one of those wrapped in cellophane. They’re brand new and very sharp.”

She hesitated, tripping uneasily on the spot.

“I . . . I’m afraid I’ll cut myself,” she uttered.

“It’s dead easy. I’ve used a blade for God knows how many years and I’ve only cut myself a couple of times and always when I was in a hurry and didn’t pay attention to what I was doing,” I said.

She still didn’t move.

“I don’t think I can do it. Will . . . you do it?” she asked, almost whispering.

Hiring her was definitely a mistake, but maltepe escort somehow I felt sorry for her.

“OK. We got to get this show on the road.”

She blushed while I applied the foam and as soon as I took out the razor, she closed her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I won’t cut you, promise. Maybe you should look at it and learn how you do it.” I suggested.

“I have an electric shaver,” she said. “I think it’s better if I look the other way while you do it.”

“Suit yourself.”

I was used to being around nude women. It was my job and I didn’t associate it with anything sexual. I guess it’s the same with doctors. It’s part of the job. Shaving her was out of the ordinary. A lot of things about Sandra were out of the ordinary. She was slim, young and quite attractive. Sitting there between her thighs, cautiously shaving her crotch made it hard to maintain the distance between the model and the artist. There was something undeniably erotic about it.

I did my best to look at her through the eyes of the artist. She was a challenge, really. How would I best capture her delicate bodily features? She had an innocent but also very erotic appearance, and the more I thought about it, I realised that she might be perfect for the project. If only I could capture the innocence of her as a woman, as an erotic woman.

The shaving progressed and revealed that her labia and pubic mound, contrary to the rest of her, were fleshy and prominent. It would be essential to make the casts her in a way that paid tribute to that part of her femininity. My thoughts were back on the right track, but once more I was distracted, this time by her scent. I could swear that my nose picked up a faint scent of arousal. Her breathing was a little quicker than it had been when I began shaving her. I dismissed the distracting thoughts. All the black hairs in her crotch were gone, except a few.

“I think you have to turn around. I need to shave a around your anus as well.” I said.

Sandra got up, slightly unsteady, probably because she was tense and had been sitting in the same position for some time. She turned her back to me and I applied some foam to the area I needed to shave. It was only a few hairs.

“So! Just like a newborn baby. You can wash off the foam in the shower. I’ll prepare the bandages.”

She nodded and I went into the studio to prepare the first cast. Sandra reappeared with the towel around her. There was something about her face, her expression, something erotic yet innocent. I wasn’t going to cast her face, but it was just that expression I wanted my sculptures to convey to the spectator. She was a real challenge.

“I’m going to make a cast of your backside first. I use thin bandages that harden slowly, so it will take about fifteen minutes after I’d applied the last bandage, before I can remove the cast. The second part is the most difficult. The cast is very fragile, but you’ll have to lie down in it again when I make the front cast. I put the back cast in the sandpit over there to steady it, but you still have to be very careful,” I explain.

Sandra listened carefully and studied the drawing I’d made of the first pose I wanted her to do: lying flat on her stomach with her arm up but bent, and her legs spread a little, one leg bend in the knee. It was much like a victim of a murder in a crime movie.

“I will apply a little oil to your skin. It will make it easier to remove the cast. You can apply as much as you can reach yourself or I can do it.”

“You do it,” Sandra replied.

Once she was lying down and I began to coat her backside with oil, she relaxed. I began with her arms and shoulders and moved down her body. When I reached her buttocks and crotch, she tensed, but after that, she relaxed again.

Creating the cast was not as easy as you might think. I had to put the bandages on as quickly as possible for the sake of the model as it was quite exhausting to lie still for so long. At the same time, the bandages had to be smooth with no folds, and follow the curves and crinkles of the model’s body precisely. It required concentration.

I started with the neck and worked my way down. When I reached Sandra’s buttocks, I had to tug in the bandages to get an exact cast of her buttock and crotch. She remained still, but her breathing quickened and again I could sense the scent of her; not her perfume but the scent of Sandra, of her arousal. As little as I wanted it to, it did distract me and I had to replace some of the bandages. After about fifteen minutes I was finished and after another fifteen minutes the cast had hardened sufficiently for me to gently lift it. Sandra had been quiet all through the process and I was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep.

“You better get up and walk around a little,” I suggested.

While she walked around the room, I put the cast into the sandpit and made sure it was supported in all the right places. Then I handed Sandra the bottle with oil.

“You maltepe genç escort better do it yourself,” I said.

It wasn’t as much for her sake as for my own. Her scent and her body were distracting me in a way that no other model had done since I first began working with nude models years ago. Sandra began applying the oil.

“Easy now. You just need to put on a fine sheen, not bathe in it. It will be mush harder to put the bandages on,” I said, when I saw the amount of oil she poured over her skin.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You better do it,” she said and handed me the bottle.

I hardly need to apply more oil, just distribute what she had already poured out. As I had feared, the rubbing of oil over her the front of her body sent my mind wandering down the wrong path. Her nipples were hard and when I reached her crotch, it looked like she had already poured oil over it, although I knew she hadn’t. Her legs began to tremble as my fingers made sure that all folds in her crotch were covered.

I helped her into the backside cast in the sandpit and began to make the front cast. Her breasts were really perfect, firm and standing proud from her chest. A gasp escaped her when I shaped the bandage around her nipples. I continued quickly down over her stomach, making sure that the impression of the navel was correct before I began on her crotch. Her fleshy pubic mound was protruding, leading my eyes and fingers straight to her full labia. It took some time to get the bandages correctly arranges around her labia, not just because I had gather my thoughts a few times, but also because this part of her anatomy was soft and it was difficult to apply the bandages without corrupting the natural shape. The corrections were minute, but I did lots of them. I wanted it to be perfect.

It became almost that: perfect. When I looked down at her while the cast was hardening, I was quite satisfied. It was so close to being her as it could be, considering it was a cast. And luckily we succeeded in getting the front cast off and Sandra out of the back cast without damaging any of them. Now, I could strengthen them from the inside before I began work of the outside, making them smooth as her skin.

“OK, that was the first cast. We’ll take a break and then start on the second,” I said. “You can take a shower and get the circulation going again.”

She did and in the meantime I studied the result of our effort. It was good; only the folds that were supposed to be there were there, and the details stood out perfectly. I was particularity pleased with her breasts. I had been worried that they would hardly be noticeable when she was lying down, but I was wrong. The time spend on getting the bandages arranged around her labia had paid off as well. As I looked closely at it, I could detect a faint smell that stuck to the cast. I put the cast down gently and went on to prepare for the next cast.

Sandra came out from the shower with a new towel around her that didn’t quite cover as much as the first had done. I was sure the big towels were in the top of the pile. I hated the small towels. I didn’t use them and they always ended up in the bottom of the pile.

Her short, dark hair was wet and shiny. Botticelli would have been very pleased with her as a model for Venus. She had wrapped the towel around her in a way that accentuated her hips and buttocks, but also made her look innocent, like an adolescent girl not yet aware of her own sexuality. Oh yes, Botticelly would have been very pleased with her. Only, it wasn’t innocence I was going to show with the next cast.

“Are you ready?”

Sandra nodded and began to look at the drawing of her next pose.

“It’s almost like the first one, except that your right arm is under you. The first cast was to symbolise death. This one is life. Your hand is in your crotch. You’re in motion, touching yourself. We’ll put a pillow under your hips to elevate you a little.”

Sandra shed the towel and lay down in the position, almost exactly as I wanted her to pose. I coated her backside with oil and began to make the cast. The shower had washed off the perfume and deodorant Sandra had applied before she came and there was nothing to conceal her natural scent now. It was terribly distracting, but I assumed she would learn to control her own reactions as she got more experience as a model.

The cast of her backside came out as perfect as the first one, almost better, and I was very careful when I placed it in the sandpit. The slight arch in her lower back required extra support and that gave Sandra a little more time to loosen up her muscles before the next cast. I knew it was going to be difficult to get the bandages placed correctly without folds around the hand I her crotch.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Yes. I think it will be safer if you apply the oil after I’m in position. I might slip and fall if I’m oil up before,” she replied.

It sounded very sensible and I had to admit to myself that I maltepe olgun escort did mind rubbing he oil into her skin. Highly unprofessional, but she seemed to enjoy my hands as much as I enjoy her skin. I allowed my thoughts to drift while my hands gently caressed her body. It would have been useless to try and concentrate on the cast until I had applied the oil; getting back on the right track hard enough.

“We need to find the best way to place your hand,” I said. “It will be difficult to cast no matter how we do it, but let’s see . . . one finger between your lips, right there.”

I guided her hand as I spoke, placing her index finger between her lips and folded the other fingers into her palm.

“Does it feel natural?”

Sandra cleared her throat.


“Then let’s go. I promise I’ll be as fast as I can.”

Sandra was tense. Perhaps she was afraid to break the cast she was lying in. I started from her neck and moved down towards her feet. As expected, it took some time to cover her hand and crotch. Sandra sighed impatiently, but I didn’t let it distract me. I wanted to get it right and it was better to be careful the first time than having to do it all over again.

I always turned up the heat in the studio when I worked with nude models. A bit too much that day, perhaps. I was sweating when I had finished the cast and Sandra face was blushing hotly.

“Are you OK,” I asked her. “I can give you something to drink.”

“No, that’s ok. It hard enough to lie still as it is,” she gasped.

“Just relax. Ten more minutes and we can get you out.”

The ten minutes passed slowly, more for her than for me, I guess, but we got her out of the cast without breaking it and the result was good.

“Are you satisfied with the result?” Sandra asked while I was examining the front cast.

“I would have liked it to be more expressive, but I can’t put my finger on anything.”

“You said it was to be an image of life as opposed to death, right?” Sandra asked.

“That’s right.”

“Then why not show the beginning of life? You should have a male model, too. They should be, you know, having intercourse. That would be life; creating life.”

“You have a point, but I wanted to use the same pose in both sculptures, showing how little that separates life from death. And it would be a very difficult cast to make, the male cast.” I answered.


“Well, firstly, the position would be awkward. Secondly, it would be hard for a male model to keep an erection for so long. I mean, usually a male model has to avoid getting an erection,” I explained. “And keeping it for five minutes or more, lying completely still and knowing that if he doesn’t keep his erection the cast will be ruined, is more difficult than you might think.”

“It sound’s like you’ve tried,” Sandra said.

“I have and it is difficult.”

Sandra looked at me quizzically. “Are you . . . gay?”

“No. How did you get that idea?”

“It’s . . . I mean, you have been touching and teasing me for hours and you act as if it doesn’t affect you at all.”

“I have to stay . . . objective and concentrate on the creative process. I don’t use nude models to fulfil a sexual fantasy. A lot of my models are married and it would be highly unprofessional of me to make advances. You could be married or at least have a boyfriend. Wouldn’t you be offended if I tried to take advantage of the situation?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, but I can see what you mean. I’m just not used to men being . . . so much in control of themselves.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s not because I think you’re unattractive or anything like that. I just have to concentrate. On the contrary, I think you’re very beautiful and very sexy.”

She looked down, blushing. “Oh. Thanks.”

An awkward silence followed. I guess Sandra was embarrassed and I was a little embarrassed because I had intimidated her. I decided to change the subject.

“So, do you think it’s hard to be a model?”

“No, not really. It is different from what I had expected. I mean, I’ve been lying down all day. It would have been harder if I had to stand or sit,” she replied.

“That will probably be what you usually will have to do, also by me. This is a new way of working for me. If you want some good model jobs, you should look out for sketching courses where they use live models. A teacher often has more than one course. That’s a sure way to a steady income as a model. Usually they prefer models with a little more, how should I put it . . . curves and character. Young girls are too smooth, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do. I’m studying art history – only just started, that is – and I’ve been wondering why all artists seem to prefer fat women as models. They are more artistically challenging, is that what you’re saying?”

“I guess you can put it that way, yes. Or the artist’s wife is less likely to become jealous. No, only joking. Just look at the face of an old man or woman. Often, you can read a whole life from the face.”

“You’ve done this with a male model before.”

She pointed to some front casts by the wall.

“No, those are casts of me. I wanted to try out the technique before I paid a model.”

Sandra looked thoughtful for a moment.

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