And Then It Is Tuesday

"Uh, yes, I hope not," and I cannot help myself. "Does that happen often, do many of the male models get erections?"

"No. Not many really, not to become fully hard that is, and to walk the class and still remain hard, a lot of the men's dicks swell a little here and there, like yourself, but not many stiffen up completely."

"Oh, right."

"No, again, please don't be ashamed of this"

She actually gives my cock a tap with her charcoal stick, making it sway to the side and back.

"There's nobody in the class that will not love drawing you now, that will not love drawing this."

And another tap, and again my cock wobbles and swells with the attention.

I walk to the younger one, the one who flashed me, who got me going to the state I was in. She is still sitting down, still ready to turn her pages for me, still taking a look at my prick, hanging down now, long and heavy still, the tip showing from under its taut skin, the largest vein bulging against the side more or less level with her face. She talks quietly, perhaps so the room won't overhear.

"You have a nice cock"

"Thank you. You have some nice drawings of it."

"Thank you."

I look at what she's drawn, wanting her to look at me, at my still semi-hard prick, like normal, all normal.

"And you, you don't mind this do you?"

I leave this alone.

"I know men like you, cocks hard when the wind changes direction, and you love it don't you, when you are looked at, you're so proud of yourself, of your cock, I mean look at you, walking around the room, still nude, why haven't you asked for a robe, why haven't you splashed some water on yourself, no, you're getting off on this aren't you, you want people to see you with your stiff cock, you want to parade yourself, expose yourself in front of us."

My cock quivers again. This is not over, the temperature may have been lowered, but I'm simmering alright.

"I'll bet you're almost ready to come, aren't you, I bet if I gave you one or two firm strokes you'd come in a second."

I look at her, I look at her looking down at my organ, without shame, with caring who might see her looking.

"I think I might like to see that, it would be a first, I mean a few of our male models have had erections, not many, but some, some men get aroused by being stared at, and we look, they rarely get asked back to other classes, bad form or something, but we have all looked at quite a few stiff cocks in this class, none of them has come though. That would be something, if we could see that, if one of our models ejaculated in front of everybody."

"It's not going to happen" although I sounded surer than I felt.

"We'll see, you stand back on your little platform, make sure you have a good view of me, and we'll see if I can't make you fucking come all over yourself, I know you won't be able to control yourself this time, you will become erect, your cock will get completely hard, we'll see then, we'll if we don't see you orgasm before the end of the session."

I move on, I was quickly getting nowhere with her, nowhere I wanted to go anyway. I walk the room, I do exactly what she said, I parade in front of everyone, accepting their gaze, feeling each set of eyes on my exposed and tight balls, my thick and pendulous dong. I stand next to each of the men, not caring if they're enjoying this, embarrassed by it, feeling insecure now that my prick is nice and big, thanks very much, that it is swinging at a good length and girth despite what initial appearances may have led them to think. But it is, it still feels unusual. I have been naked in front of a few women, naked whilst they were not, naked and erect, even in front of two women...

(when was this? One drunken night or other, with quite a close female friend as it happens, and another of her friends, that I knew less well, I was spouting some nonsense or other about why we should feel able to just fuck, no problem, why not, and for it not to mean everything, or even anything, and I talked myself into daring myself to get naked, really hoping we all would, and did, they joined in the dare, they developed the challenge, said that if it wasn't such a big deal why didn't I get undressed and spend the rest of the evening nude, I asked, well, I said come on then let's get undressed, let's get nude, they told me, in no uncertain terms, that I would be the only one naked, if I was man enough. This was weak of course, but they egged me on. "Come on, get your kit off then, let's see you, let's see what you've got, come on, show us your cock." So I did. So I stood up and stripped, whilst they kept their clothes on, I took it all off, shirt, trousers, pants, which took no small amount of nerve, and exposed myself for them, stood in the middle of her living room for them, naked, turned and showed them everything, did a little dance so they could see my cock and balls jiggle and bounce and sat back down between them, determined to remain naked. And this, of course, was not enough, they said nudity wasn't what I said, they told me I said sex, they told me to get myself ready then, show them what I had, get myself ready for sex. What? "Show us what you've got, come on, get yourself hard, we want to see that in its full glory." And I did this too, I played with myself, I persuaded them to show me their tits, which they did, together, standing in front of me and pulling up their tops up in one quick go, then they stood there, tits very much covered, pale expanses of soft skin, their nipples stiff but covered, and watched me sit and pinch and squeeze my prick until I was fully erect. Then the next part of the negotiation, I was to come for them, I was to show them what it looked like when a boy had an orgasm, which they'd not seen, not properly, so I was to carry on masturbating for them, but only if they undressed for me, which they did. So I carried on wanking as they took their turn to undress, hesitating once they were down to their underwear, I managed to persuade them to take this in turns, first one bra, exposing one set of breasts, then the other, overweight, but at this point I wasn't about to quibble, one set of huge hanging tits and hard pointing nipples, then one pair of knickers, mismatched, taken off to show a triangle of thick brown pubic hair, and the other, pulled down to reveal a sparser, blonde bush, but so thinly covered that I could see the raised split of her labia between her legs. They stood, with their arms folded underneath their breasts, perhaps a leg apart from the other, and watched me masturbate for them. I tried, I really did ("don't you want to join in? Why don't you play with yourselves."), but they were having none of it, were enjoying the sight of me pumping my cock, were getting off on making me do it. "How, where do you want me to come?" They said the bathroom, onto the tiles, so we all walked to her bathroom, me behind them, their bare bums wobbling as they stepped, my stiff penis bouncing and circling in front of me. And they sat, still naked, on the edge of the tub, and I stroked my hard cock in front of them, facing them, really knowing what I was doing, and felt myself nearly there, and allowed my hand to speed up now, so my foreskin was ripped back and forth, my balls were slapping hard against my thighs, then I stopped moving completely, the tip of my cock utterly revealed, and came for them, on them, three huge ribbons of spunk shot out from my cock and landed on my friend's huge tits, on her friend's shoulder, on her friend's chin. They squealed of course, and jumped up, tried to scoop my semen off themselves and smear it onto me, which caused me to run, with all due irony, away from this, into the other room, with them following, so I was running naked through her house with two naked girls chasing me, their tits bouncing as they ran, my balls jiggling, my still semi hard dick swinging as I evaded them. For a bit at least, until I let them catch me, and pin me to the sofa, I accepted a face-full of my own cum in return for four tits pressing against me, as payment for a stray hand here, a squeeze of my prick there, two noticeably wet vaginas open over each of my thighs as they sat on me and rubbed cum off their own bodies and onto mine. Then, almost ironically, or with a shield of fun, then they "made me" pleasure them both, which was quite thoroughly erotic, even if at the start of the evening I'd not found either of them especially attractive, they sat on the sofa, side by side, and told me to give both of them orgasms. Which I did, I think, I went down on one, as I played with the other, I could hear them both getting into it, encouraging me, the one whose pussy I wasn't licking would tell me what to do, "Go on, lick her clitoris now, gently, hold your whole mouth over it, kiss it, suck it, gently, now keep it there, now lick her up and down, go on, put your tongue inside her, as far as you can, reach in, taste how wet she is, now run that up over her lips, and really go for her clit, touch her, oh god, oh this is so arousing, let me see you touch her wet cunt, let me see you kiss her little clit and push your finger inside her tight little cunt" all the while I was rubbing the other one with my fingers, penetrating her, feeling how soaking wet she had become, feeling my cock begin to swell again as they did, swelling with every moan, as I could feel each of their vaginas become thick with blood and drenched with moisture) and, needless to say, naked in front of other men, changing room, locker rooms, once or twice naked with a hard-on, once or twice exchanging various forms of pleasuring, never though, never naked when other men were not. But here I was, standing naked in front of another man with my cock half, no, maybe quarter stiff.

"Having a good time?"

I smile, I laugh this off.

"Yes. You?"

"Mmm, I am, it's a good class."

And then to the final artist, and my fellow erectee. Less so though, under control now it seemed. He stood to show me his work, looking at my dick without shame.

"What do you think?"

"Good, yeah, they're good." What else, what else was I going to say. I looked at his representations of me, the dark marks of charcoal, at me, my face, my body, my bare prick, sticking up, not hard, you wouldn't say, but a thickly visible prong pointing up from the dark curls of my crotch. He leans towards me, whispers.

"This is really inappropriate but, sorry, I mean, I want your cock in my mouth, god, I think you're so fucking hot, your cock is fucking lovely, I really want to suck your cock, and feel you, god, I want your hard cock in my mouth, I want to taste your cum."

I looked at him, knowing really what he wants me to say, not quite up for it, I stay though, wanting to hear him say what he said, for some reason. I control my penis.

I glanced down at him, saw his cock begin to show again through his sweatpants.

"I should get back up there."

I did, stepped back onto the platform, where the teacher was again waiting for me.

"So, here we are again."

"Yes."

"Your prick has become quite stiff once more, I knew it would, I hoped it would, if I am honest."

"Yes, a little, I am trying to control it."

"Do you want to masturbate for us?"

"What's that?"

"An idea, I'm sure the class would like it, if you masturbated, slowly, so we could draw this. You know Klimt? Schiele? Many artists, mostly they have drawn women, of course, but women as they masturbated. Reclining, their vaginas red and vivid. It would be a nice study for the group if you allowed them the chance to draw a male figure as he held his erect penis."

"Well, that would be strange."

"This is not?" she smiled, inclined her head. "You stand in front of strangers nude, myself, last week, with a hard penis, last time I saw you you were masturbating for me, and think it would only be strange if you were to hold yourself?"

"Well, yes, this is, nothing really, an accident, I cannot do much about this, if I was to masturbate in front of everyone..."

"And yet you did for me, when I asked you to, you masturbated, you came for me."

"That was, that felt different."

She turned to face the class. "Who would like our model to pose more sexually?" I look around the room. The older and younger women both raise their hands. "I mean, who would like him to hold himself, who would like to be able to draw him as if masturbating?" More hands are raised. "He thinks it would be strange. Perhaps it would be, a little, but productive I think." I am standing on the platform again, facing the room, my cock is hanging down by my legs, still long and thick, still able to win an argument, perhaps on points, that it was un-erect. My balls are still drawn up by the tightened skin of my scrotum, which makes my cock look bigger, makes my groin look like its nothing but cock. I don't mind this. I look at the younger woman, the one who said she'd make me come, she is flashing me again, sitting with her legs apart, oh-so casually, allowing me to look at the patch of white cotton that covers her pussy. She lowers her hand, threads a finger under the gusset, rubs herself, as she looks at me, appears to sink her finger inside her cunt, close her eyes at the sensation of this, pulls her finger out, raises her hand to her face, runs her presumably wet digit under her nose, before licking it, dipping it into her mouth and sucking it, all the while looking at me. And of course I have reacted to this, my cock has, has swollen again.

"Okay, if you could hold your penis now? Yes? Hold your penis with your right hand, and drop your left shoulder, stand on your left hip? Will you do this please?"

I look at the class, I know I should walk away from this now, before it gets even more weird, but I don't, I suppose I have to admit this, I stay, for no reason other than I want to remain aroused, I am turned on by the situation, and want to get more turned on, I feel unable to walk away from the eroticism of my own submission to this. It's a game, I know this, perhaps one not everyone is playing, and one we are all willing to deny, but it's a game nevertheless, and I stay because I want to carry on playing. I am ruled by my erection. I drop my left shoulder and hip, move my right hand to my penis, grip my prick at the base of the shaft. I look around the class. She s still showing me her panties, he has folded his legs again, to shield himself from the room again, and allows me to see the stretch of material covering his own stiff cock. I look at Susan. She scratches her breast, perhaps rubs her peaking nipple, certainly winks at me and smiles.

"And if you could pull back your foreskin please, so it is as if you are masturbating, yes? If you were arousing yourself, if your hand was there you would have retracted your foreskin yes, we would be able to see the head of your penis. So, show us this please."

I release my hold on my dick, let it flop down again before move my hand up so I can place it over the tip, move it back down, still holding, so my foreskin moves back with it, exposing the fat and glistening and dark red glans. I stand still after this single stroke of masturbation, realising the end of my prick is already doused and slick with pre cum.

I hear the scrape of pencil and charcoal across paper, I see the teacher walk behind each student, looking at their work. She stops and look at me, then down at my hand and cock. I see her smile. I glance down and see why. A tear of my pre-cum has dripped off the end of my penis and is hanging down by a thread from my urethra. I look at the girl who threatened to make me come. She is not on her seat. I find myself unable to resist looking at the guy on the end. He notices me looking at him, feels encouraged to scratch his own cock beneath his jogging bottoms. I watch him do this, I watch him stroke then squeeze. The younger artist comes back to her seat. I can take a guess as to what she might have done. I want her to have done it. I don't want to come, I don't want to ejaculate in front of the room, but now this is more because I want this to go on for longer, I don't want this to end just yet. I don't care if I do orgasm, I am ready to do it if the teacher asks me to, I will masturbate for them, I will wank for them and shoot my load onto the stage (as I did before, as I enjoyed doing for my two friends. And as I had done previously. These are episodes that are only now becoming significant. My first girlfriend, or, the first girlfriend who let me do anything other than feel her tits, the first one who reached into my own trousers, past my pants, and placed her bare hand against my bare cock, stiff and bent underneath my jeans. She was the first one who when we were snogging took my hand and placed it on her breasts, who would place it under her T-shirt if I wasn't quick enough for her, who would not break from kissing me as she placed my hand underneath her bra and onto the cool and smooth flesh of her tits, broken by the tough point of her nipple. And who would, as I felt her breasts, would first squeeze the ridge of my semi-erect dick through my trouser, would then unbuckle my belt, undo the buttons of my jeans, would then dip her hand into my pants and take a firm hold of my cock, I would pinch her nipples as she moved her fingers over the shaft of my penis. She was the first to say

"Can I see it then? Can I get your willy out?" to which I nodded. And allowed her to unzip me the rest of the way, lifted my bum off the chair to allow her first to pull my trousers down to my ankles, to spend a second or two looking at the outline of my willy poking up from under the blue material of my pants, and who was the first to pull down my pants, stretching them first over my dick, but persevering with it, pulling my pants down to where my jeans already were to let my dick spring free, spring out, erect and exposed from the bed of dark, still quite sparse pubic hair, up from the tight pouch of my balls. She stopped kissing me to look at it, I sat there as she studied my erect willy, her first she told me later, the first time she'd seen one close up, that wasn't her dad's or her brother's, and the first one she seen when it was big. "Nice."

"Thanks"

"Are they all that big?"

"Well"

"Are all your friends' willies this size?"

"I don't know. I, I haven't seen my friends' like this."

"Really? I heard you had, I heard you had wanking parties, wanking competitions."

She stopped this though, had other things on her mind. She held my cock in her hand, she gripped it and started moving her hand up and down the shaft.

"Is this how you do it? Is this how boys wank themselves?"

"Yes"

"And all boys do this do they? All boys play with themselves like this?"

"I reckon."

"It's funny."

And it was, as she slowly and methodically pulled my foreskin down and up over my willy. Stopping the first time the purple helmet was shown to her, to anyone other than myself.

"Oh wow, look at that. It's shiny, and wet. Is that cum? Or wee?"

"it's, sort of, it's not really cum, but it's not piss."

She stopped wanking me for a second to touch my glans with the fingers of her other hand, to run them over it, squeeze it gently. Then she carried on wanking me, we didn't kiss, I had stopped feeling her tits, made no move to get my hand into her knickers, just sat and let her rub my cock.

"What happens?"

"Well, if you carry on doing that, maybe a bit quicker, a bit harder."

I placed my hand over hers, got her into a nice rhythm, without breaking contact, without losing hold of my foreskin. I felt confident enough to take her other hand and place it on my balls.

"Like that, keep doing it like that."

"This is so weird, so odd. I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm giving you a hand-job." She sped up, moved one hand up to brush a strand of hair from her face, which allowed my balls to slap against my thigh.