I arrived at university in the late 1960s, a kid from the country. Not
exactly a virgin but sexually inexperienced. That first year was wonderful,
I worked hard, got good results, and made some great friends. John was one
of my best mates. He was studying law and as I was studying history and
languages we shared no classes but as two gay guys we shared many interests
and had lots of fun together. It was with John that I went to my first nude
beach, gay sauna, and to gay parties where anything was possible. It was
the 60s. For an adventurous young gay guy there was a lot of fun to be had.
I never had to work while I studied. My parents were generous. John worked
a couple of jobs and the money he earned paid for his studies. One of his
night jobs was posing for an art class – nude, but not fully nude. Men
had to wear a posing pouch or briefs of some kind. One night John came to
my room and asked if I would stand in for him. He had the flu and was
feeling terrible. While I had no concern about showing off in a pair of
briefs, I said that I would have no idea what to do. John said it was easy
and that he would talk to the teacher who held the class and make sure he
helped me. So I had my first experience modelling for an art class.
I wore a pair of pale blue bikini briefs that I knew looked good against my
olive Italian skin. The teacher, Michael, had been worded up by John, and
helped me get through the two hour class. Coming out from behind the screen
wearing just my tiny undies and being so intensely watched by about 15
students, guys and girls, was an unusual experience, almost erotic and I
did feel slightly horny. I did not get an erection but I know I put on a
good show for the class!
I must have been OK as Michael asked if I could fill-in for another class
where a model had left, so I became an artist’s model, earning a bit more
money to spend on partying. After a few sessions Michael asked if I would
pose for him one weekend. [John also posed for Michael and I already knew
that he expected full nudity.] He told me that I would earn a bit more than
the art school paid but I would have to be totally nude. I told him I was
OK with that and we arranged for me to pose the following Sunday.
Michael was a nice easy going guy. A tall blonde, going grey, of about
50. He had a reasonable career as a landscape and still-life painter. He
liked figure drawing as a way to keep fresh. He was independently wealthy
so never had to try and make a living from his art although he regularly
had good selling exhibitions. His house was in a fashionable inner suburb
and the studio at the rear of the house would have been the envy of any
artist. Specifically built to take advantage of the light it had a wall of
glass doors allowing it to be opened up into the garden. I was a little
nervous, more about the one on one situation of posing for him, than being
totally nude, but a coffee and a chat calmed me down and I was soon
stripped off and working through a series of quick standing poses as a kind
of warm-up.
After a break Michael suggested a long sitting pose and I sat in a
comfortable chair draped in a patterned Indian cloth. The sun was coming in
and I was feeling relaxed and a bit drowsy. Of course, I fell asleep. When
I awoke I could hear Michael’s pencil working on the paper, but I knew
something was wrong. I had an erection! Everything I feared when I knew I
was going to pose nude. Immediately I tried to cover myself and spluttered
an apology lurching out of the chair. `Hey, don’t worry. It’s alright.
Nothing I have not seen before.’ `But, but…’ `No buts, just sit back down
again and enjoy the sun. I was enjoying the view.’ Oh well, I thought,
Michael is not worried, so why should I be concerned. I’d enjoyed a few
pool parties where a few guys, including me, walked around showing off
their erections, John and I had once even done a striptease at a party,
so… I sat down again and spread my legs and once again felt my erection
throb against my stomach. There was a kind of thrill about showing off for
Michael who showed no interest other than in drawing me.
`Looks like it is not going to go away. You could attend to it if you
want.’ `You mean…’ `Yes, why not pleasure yourself? I am sure I will
enjoy watching. John does it for me too.’ [This was something John had not
told me about.] And, so slowly I took up Michael’s invitation. I fondled my
erect cock and played with my balls, teasing myself, and soon I had the
throbber I had woken up with. My fondling turned to stroking, up and down
the shaft of my hard cut cock, around the rim of my knob, and over my piss
slit, while tugging at my balls and rubbing beneath them deep between my
legs. I have an average six inch cut cock but I was feeling enormous as I
brought myself closer and closer to an orgasm. I forgot all about Michael
and was totally absorbed in giving myself the best ball-busting orgasm I
could. When I finally shot my load there were great spurts of jizz all over
my chest and I was gasping for breath. `Well that sure was some show. You
obviously enjoyed it. I sure did.’ `Oh yeah…’ Michael gave me a box of
tissues and told me to wash off in the studio bathroom. I must have
swaggered out and cleaned up, when I came back my cock was still engorged
but hanging rather than standing.
I still had another 15 minutes to go and Michael suggested a few more
standing poses. `I like seeing your cock like that. Perhaps next time…
well, if you want to pose for me again.’ `Oh sure…I sort of enjoyed it
too.’ And so every second weekend I posed for Michael and put on `a show’
as he called it. A couple of times John and I posed together for him, but
that is another story.
The End
