I run a hand through my black hair and start to put my instrument away. I didn't even like marching band. My parents didn't want me to go out "partyin... all night," or "smoking all day," so they refused to pay for college if I didn't participate in - you guessed it - the college band. And it sucks. I knew it was bad in high school, but this was ridiculous. Four hour practice? Seriously? I have classes to study for, shit to do. Anyways.I put my instrument in my locker and gather my stuff. As I. “Please, I need to concentrate. Pull yourself together and pose for me properly,’ he would demand with a huge frown on his forehead. Now, today, we have completely stopped the sex. Of course, we do often make love at nights or early in the morning when we wake up, but never again while both of us worked on his art. It is something I miss, something I need and crave. It is almost like a physical pain when I pose for him and receive nothing in return. He was my teacher and he taught me the. More

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