Evan slipped through a gap between the tall cypress and stepped in to the neighboring garden. This housesitting gig had been a sweet score. One of his former professors was letting him watch this condo in a portioned out mansion while he summered in Europe. This corner of the gardens was the part he could see from the living room window and here were a couple of the statuary that had caught his eye. They were both robust men, one might even say portly, posed in somewhat classical stances.

Running a hand down the leg of the man before him on the pedestal Evan experienced a rush between his own legs. He couldn’t help but long to feel the warm skin beneath his hand for real as he sensually kneaded the muscle beneath. So thick and yet strong to support the barrel chested build of this man. Stepping forward, he reached out towards the next figure when another statue down the path caught his eye.

In a green house stood a figure with legs spread in a wide stance supported by a sort of stump. Meaty arms crossed over a powerful girth. Hair full about his fleshy features which were punctuated by a deliciously rounded nose with a thick mustache beneath it. The doors to the structure were wide open and all too inviting. The light shifted across the bronze surface, almost giving the illusion that the figure was shifting his weight as Evan approached. The closer he came to the figure he realized it wasn’t a life-sized piece. Finally standing before the icon it was still impressive on its base, but he realized it must have been just over four feet tall. He couldn’t be disappointed though, the work just exuded an energy and personality that demanded his attention.

The bronze was cooler then he expected when he touched it. Reaching up he could cup a meaty pec in his hand and then run it down across the great curve of his belly. As his hand slid across this expanse he smiled at his own regret as he noticed the supporting wood covered the nether regions of this gentleman.

“I see you appreciate many of the same fine features of a man that I do.” The shock of a voice out of the silence made Evan’s entrails turn cold in embarrassment over his intrusion. Rapidly turning about, all he could do was stare.

Standing in the doorway he had just passed through was a handsome man wiping his strong hands with a rag. Was that clay?

“Nothing to say for yourself?” The man asked with a slight raising of an eyebrow. His hair was a dark grey flecked with some highlights, cut in to a loose flattop style. Deep brown eyes observed him from under thick masculine brows and Evan could not describe them any way other then soulful. A thick mustache turned up a bit to pointed ends with a patch on the face of his chin gave him a Prussian air. Pushing himself off the door jamb with his shoulder the gentleman shifted his stocky but solid frame. Evan’s eyes couldn’t help but admire how the sleeveless black shirt highlighted the nicely muscled arms of this man. Tracing along the mottled traces of clay across the abdomen his glance passed to the loose linen pants. Evan found himself burn with a flush as he realized for the second time in minutes he was wondering what delights were being obscure betweens a mans legs.

A gruff clearing of a throat snapped Evan out of his reverie and his eyes darted up at the man who stood before him now.

“Let’s be a bit more direct then. Who are you?”

“Evan. I’m so sorry, I never meant to-”

“Well now, you’re presence here belies your intent.”

Evan could only fidget under the gentleman’s appraisal.

“Well, it seems you have a strong appreciation for Honore.”

“Sorry?”

Nodding to indicate the statue, he stepped passed Evan. “Honore de Balzac here.”

“Yeah, he’s really hot.”

The man chuckled and betrayed a slight grin at the bluntness of his erstwhile trespasser. “Yes, I agree. Rodin had such skill to breathe such quality of life and the natural presence of the man in to this work.” Stepping slowly around the piece, Evan watched the eyes of the man take the work in lovingly. Distractedly he continued, “This was actually just a study for the final work. I prefer it much more to the final piece really. Not to discredit that work in the least however! I know you appreciate the… primal draw this work exhibits though.”

Evan’s gaze had drifted across the curves of the figure again. As his eye travelled up the form he found the artists dark gaze resting on him once again. This time he only burned slightly under the weight of it, but his discomfort fueled a self-righteous outburst. “And who are you sir?”

That grin came again but a flash in the eyes made Evan draw back a half step. “I see I am not in touch with the criminal set to realize that full introductions were in order. I am Claude Lazare and you are in the gardens of my estate.” The emphasis at the end was not lost on Evan and the chill fell hard in his gut again.

He did not start though as Claude stepped over and placed Evan’s hand on Honore’s belly, firmly sandwiching it between the metal and his own thick hand. The sensation of the chill figure, the warm skin, and Claude’s close presence washed over him in a sensual wave so strong he almost felt weak in the knees. Claude drew Evans hand across the surface. “You can almost feel the Masters hands in the work as you follow in his wake. Just imagine what he was feeling as he sculpted this form. The wet clay like a smooth satiny skin beneath his fingers, feeling this form grow out of his work.”

Evan breathing grew slow and deep. Claude drew him back, cradled in against his chest as he continued to run their hands together across the gorgeous barrel-chested form. Melting against him under the gravity of the words. Evan felt their deep resonance pass between them with their close contact now, filling him with their rich warmth. They stayed like that for moments that felt like hours. All this time Evan was unaware of Claude’s appraising gaze noting how deeply he had fallen, how strong his appreciation of the moment was.

“You don’t have to imagine though. Follow me.”

Confused but unsure if it was due to the odd statement or the breaking daze, Evan didn’t have much time to consider as he drew himself to follow.

Claude walked out in to the gardens and led him to a shaded grotto nearby. A small waterfall burbled tranquilly in to a nearby pool. A small pedestal with a rough figure standing on it was placed next to a covered pit that showed the same grey clay at its edges. A work table was nearby but Claude quickly cleared it off and beckoned Evan over, “Sit.”

Settling down, Claude drew off Evan’s shirt. He ran his hands across shoulders and down the chest with a touch that felt appraising yet delicate. Bending to hook an arm under Evan’s knees he drew him up to lay across the top of the table. Another run of hands down the chest and across his abdomen made Evan sigh out in pleasure which brought a true smile to Claude’s lips. Their eyes were locked as Claude undid the waist of the pants and drew them down, taking the white undergarments with them with a crook of his thumbs. Evan didn’t break the gaze as he shifted to allow the final items to be removed.

Claude turned and cupped some water from the pool and moistened Evan’s chest. Surprisingly frosty, the sensation soon passed under the work of the artists strong hands. Evan thought he heard some indistinct words as Claude walked over to the pit and drew off the cover but he was only silenced with a ‘tsch.’ Claude soon returned holding a mass of clay and he placed it on Evan. As this was repeated, Evan felt as though the earth itself were swallowing him up in a subterranean embrace. As it almost became biting Claude’s warm voice wrapped him up again.

“So my interloper, tell me about yourself.”

“What- What did you want to know?” Evan asked in a dreamy and distracted tone.

“Where are you from?”

“Here…”

“Ah so your family is here?”

“No, they’re gone. Accident…”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Claude replied and Evan knew he was sincere.

“Been rough… They never prepared. I had to drop out of school.”

“Ah.”

“Want to get back, but… no way.”

“Mmm hmm.” Claude ran his hands across the clay smoothing out the edges, drawing up the form. His hands working with deft purpose.

“Honore really drew you in, did he not?”

It was Evan’s turn to murmur ascent, “Mmm hmm.” Claude had drawn his full hand across the clay sculpting out a curve.

“He does have a primal magnetism about him. Can you imagine what the man himself must have been like?”

“Mmmmm”

“Rodin really caught the essence of the man I believe. Everything I have read seemed to point to him practically being a force of nature in his own right.”

Another hand across the chest and Evan shivered. “Now, now, keep still,” Claude chided but he still smiled at Evans pleasure.

“That is why I am drawn to sculpture. The form itself, the true _presence_ of a figure. That work will let you experience the weight of the man in a way a painting could not.”

“And there. A quick work, but let me share it with you.”

Evan drifted back and was no longer in that cool embrace. In fact he felt a weight on his chest that seemed to shift with his breathing. Steps drew closer and he tilted his head to see Claude retuning with a frame.

Claude, noting his reaction commented, “The clay should have taken on your body temperature by now.” He had not stepped right to the table however, taking a moment to dip his hand in the pool before finally approaching.

With a slight flourish he swung up the frame and Evan gazed upon his chest reflected in the mirror. The pillowed pecs and mound of a belly shocked him and he gasped. This only shocked him more as the grey skin reacted to his drawn breath as if it were truly his body.

Claude tolled out ample laughter at this reaction. “It is incredible how supple the wet clay can be, is it not?” But Evan could on stare at the reflection, incredulous.

“And now…” Claude intoned as he raised his other hand, letting the water from pool dribble out from between his fingers on to the slick surface. Was he able to feel it fall, Evan marveled, but was cut short as Claude struck the belly with an open handed slap. With a yelp Evan reacted to the sting and would have leapt off the table if not for the weight of the material on him. Only as the shock wore off did he realize he felt Claude rubbing the affected area in a circling caress. Felt it-

“Wha-?!”

“Yes, you are feeling it! The moist, dense clay transmits the sensation enough for you to experience the phantom touch. You are far more sensitive to it then I have ever seen before.” With that he ran a hand up the belly to cup one of ‘Evans’ meaty breasts causing the young man arch his back a bit in pleasure. When Claude’s thumb tweaked the rough nub of a nipple that he had sculpted Evan moaned. “Very sensitive,” Claude breathe out huskily as if enjoying the sensation himself.

This seemed to drive them both on. Claude’s hands moved quicker across Evans clay form. Cupping meaty love handles at the side. Running across the pushed up belly that looked bloated from an indulgent meal. Kneading the pecs he had shaped. He drew up Evan’s own hands and ran them across and then down to his sides. He could envision the pose, as if he were holding his sides because the weight of this pot had to be born with an arched back to hold himself upright.

“Mmmm, yes. You are enjoying this as much a I am, I assure you.” With that Claude stroked Evan’s hard cock. The realization that he had not been able to see his member due to the great curved belly made him throb in Claude’s grasp. The clay slicked hand and a butt against his porcine mound from Claude’s owen abdomen was too much and Evan shot a huge load. Powerful surges of cum shot up from behind the expanse and rained down to seep across the slick surface.

“Yes, yes, that’s what we needed.” Claude rubbed the load in to the clay and the sensation washing across Evan was incredible. He felt his cock throbbing the pulsing pleasure mixing with pain of the load being long spent. It all because too much to bear and the throbbing mixed with the pulsing blackness as he passed out.
Evan bolted upright on the couch in the living room. What happened??! The curtain was still drawn at the window and he could see the tops of the cypress straining up towards the sky from here. A moments doubt was allayed as he looked down to find only his pants about his waist, the other clothes stacked on the nearby coffee table. Glancing down at his shaking hands Evan noticed the grey of the clay underneath his fingernails. He dashed to stand up, to go see Claude! Rocked by a sudden crash, it wasn’t the blood rushing to his head it just felt as if it was. As he fell back down to the couch a storm broke swift and dark across the falling night.

Spent and and too weak to brave the torrent Evan drifted off once again. Unconsciously running his fingers across his abdomen, the clay under his fingers left the occasional smudged grey line in their wake.

eBenTrovato :: ebentrovato@gmail.com

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