The Art Class
I pulled into the small car park managing to find a space in the far corner opposite the entrance to the village hall which so needed some tlc. The paintwork was flaking and the exterior wooden panels dried and cracking from long neglect.
The door creaked as I pushed it back and stepped into the 4x4 entrance hall. I smiled to myself. You couldn’t swing a cat in that cramped little space!
Tonight was the Art class, something I had joined a few months earlier. To me it was learning a new skill, forgetting the pressures and stress of everyday life. It had a calming effect that I so appreciated.
Tonight was to be a life study class which meant a nude model of one gender or the other. Of course I would have loved a pretty twenty-year old modelling but usually, so I was informed, it would be someone elderly, with bulges where there shouldn’t be and age lines on their faces. Fifteen quid a session was little more than pocket money for them so I wondered what these models got out of it. Excitement? A turn-on? Exhibitionism? Who knows? We were never informed in advance about who would be sitting for us, we just had to turn up and find out.
I thought I had arrived in good time, in fact I just made start time by the skin of my teeth. I clattered about with my art equipment and folder as I greeted my colleagues before settling down into one of the old fashioned wood slatted chairs.
There were usually eleven of us, just the right size for the class Lizzie had said. By seven o’clock we had all arrived, four men and seven women.
Lizzie, our tutor, came out of her little office looking visibly upset. As always she had her long greying hair tied back in a pony tail, dressed in her paint spattered smock and leggings that finished half way down her legs. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, ‘not good news I’m afraid. Our male model has let us down. He phoned half an hour ago to say he had changed his mind and couldn’t face sitting naked in front of another class of strangers. So I guess you’ll all be disappointed that I have had no time to arrange a replacement model at such short notice.’
There was obvious disappointment especially from the ladies of the class, They thought they had been hard done by and wanted to know what they would have to do instead. That’s when I had a brain storm, or should it have been a brain fart?
‘Lizzie,’ I began but almost stumbled over my next words. ‘I’ll do it if you want.’
‘Pardon?’ she asked pretending she hadn’t heard correctly.
‘I’ll do it for the class. I’ll model.’
There was a sudden hush of disbelief in the class, Ben who sat next to me murmured, ‘Idiot!’ whilst there seemed to be an overall air of agreement, perhaps even excitement, amongst the ladies.
‘Are you sure Vince?’ Lizzie asked, her blue eyes now sparkling a little with surprise and anticipation.
I gulped as I realised what I’d offered to do. It would have been sinful to back out just seconds after making the offer so I replied; ’Yeah I’ll do it.’
There was a round of applause from my fellow artists as Lizzie thanked me on behalf of the class. She led me to her tiny office which doubled as a changing room, explaining the kind of pose she thought would benefit the class. As she left me I noticed the bathrobe I could wear if I wanted.
‘Thanks Lizzie. Just give me a few minutes please.’ I smiled nervously.
‘Come out when you’re ready,’ she said retreating to face the class.
With the door firmly closed I heaved in several deep breaths as my mind played turmoil with me, Should I do it? Should I go through with it? Well, hell, I said I would and I rarely ever went back on my word. As I stood pondering I wondered if I would get the model fee? Made myself laugh at that!
My hands trembled as I pulled my sweater over my head and unbuttoned my shirt beneath it. Each button was a nightmare. Undone I pulled the garment off and hung it on the back of the chair next to the small desk. T-shirt up and over my head and I was naked from the waist up. Maybe I wasn't the fittest looking guy for my thirty odd years but I did pride myself on my appearance.
Younger guys might have waxed or shaved the hairs from their bodies but I felt things should be natural. Having fair hair helped and meant that it didn’t seem bushy or hideously dark. I shivered a little bit as the coolness of the evening air hit.
This is it, I said to myself. I kicked off my shoes then unbuckled my leather belt, unhooked the top button of my jeans and dropped my zip. I stepped out of them and, being tidy minded, folded them and laid them neatly on the chair.
As much as I was nervous I felt a little twinge from my nether regions, a twinge of excitement maybe. There was a growing bulge in my underpants, What would they think out there? The men as well as the women? Was I as well endowed as them, would the ladies like what they saw or would they be shocked? I hooked my thumbs in the waist band and, with one final deep breathe, pushed them down and stepped free. My socks came off too. Yes, this was the moment I was actually naked, except for my wristwatch. I wondered if I could keep it on but decided it would be best left with my clothes. I slipped into the modesty gown that hung on the back wall and fastened the belt tightly.
‘Are you ready Vince?’ I heard Lizzie call. I pulled the gown on and answered her by opening the door.
I told her I was feeling rather nervous and even silly having volunteered for such a revealing situation. Lizzie touched my arm, looked into my eyes and smiled reassuringly. ‘You’ll be fine.’ My heart missed a beat with each of the couple of dozen paces to the stage. The class, sitting behind their easels were in two semi-circles and, guess what? Most of the women were in the front row.
Lizzie again explained what she expected of me, to lay on the sofa centre stage, with my back resting against its back, far leg bent at the knee and one hand resting on that. The other leg flat on the sofa, and she added, that I should expose my privates as ‘no-one will take any notice of them.’
Like hell they won’t I thought!
Lizzie stood facing me with her back to the class and obstructing quite a number of eager viewers visions.
‘Ready?’ she asked. I nodded. Embarrassed, hands trembling even more than before, I undid the belt then slipped the garment off my shoulders. I lay on it, Lizzie bending forwards to tidy the sleeves etc., and, doubtless, getting a close up of my paraphernalia at the same time.
Lizzie went and took her place behind her own easel. I listened to the gasps of one or two of the women who couldn’t believe that I was in front of them, naked, showing my all. Even one of the guys gasped. I wasn’t that big either. Any hankerings of hardness disappeared and what was on show was my natural and usual sized self.
As the class settled down and the muttering stopped I eyed the assortment of characters each staring at my bodily revelations before transferring their first sketches onto the paper. I was shivering, and shaking as goose pimples sprung out everywhere causing an amount of discomfort. Lizzie, bless her, did her duty collected two electric heaters from the store cupboard, switched them on full and directed the heat to me.
That did the trick. I soon settled down, relaxed a little and almost felt comfortable in the situation. I began to enjoy staring back at the class. Ben kept looking at me and shaking his head so I guessed he was having his normal artistic problems.
Old Beth, I call her old though I imagine she is in her early fifties, had a twinkle in her eye and I noticed every now and then her free hand kept going to her breast and involuntarily squeezing it. She was silver haired and quite well proportioned for a lady of her age and, believe it or not I’d always fancied getting it on with an older woman. I held that thought before my mind went into overdrive visualising having a little fuck with her. My cock suddenly twitched and I quickly thought of other things otherwise who knows what might have happened.
I averted my attention to the two elderly sisters, the ‘ugly sisters’ as Ben called them. Peggy and June. They were, to all intents and purposes, prim and proper yet if I didn’t know better their old eyes were ogling my privates. Peggy was widowed and June a spinster. June, it was, who was intently staring at my nether regions with hardly a stroke going on her canvas. I was disgusted with my perverted thoughts that rushed through my mind, leastways if showing myself off to Joan made her happy then, well, I’m glad I’m showing my all.
It was easy avoiding boredom by having thought running through my mind. Imagination is a marvellous thing but even that could not stop me beginning to ache from maintaining the same position for so long and I began to get a little fidgety. Lizzie gave me a 10 minute break before I resumed the position once again
The other two men in the class, Ron and Terrence, resumed their studious sketching alongside their wives and another middle aged woman called Sonja. Now she was dishy, curvaceous and raven haired with bright green eyes. The rings on her fingers told me she was one rich female. Could I fuck her? Well if the offer was made then of course I would. My JT flicked as those juicy thoughts shot into my mind.
Then the youngest and most talented member of the class, teenage tearaway Tania. Now she was a real beauty and one who I would think knew all there was to know about sex. That’s the way these days. They learn everything there is to know at school, and college. If only I was as young as her.
My pecker continued twitching and I soon realised much to my embarrassment that I had a semi-hard growing. Then there was Lizzie, she was always friendly, but not the best of lookers. Sometimes the plain Janes are the hottest. I knew she’d had a good look at my testimonials before anyone else had seen them. I wondered what she was thinking. Had she liked what she had seen?
Then it happened and I couldn’t control it. My dick stood rigid much to the shock to some and amusement to others. ‘Sorry’ I muttered but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Lizzie stood up and walked over, leaning over me to pull the vanity gown round me. Her hand drifted mighty close to my erection. There was a glint in her eye as she turned to the class and said that she thought the class should end there.
Appreciative comments and applause came from the artists who wanted to know if I could pose again so they could finish their masterpieces. I was agreeable but my erection failed to subside immediately.
Lizzie accompanied me to her office and, as the gown slipped open her hand accidentally brushed against my hardy member then clasped it. She asked if I would be prepared to do a private session with her, at her home, as soon as possible.
Being a gentleman of some (dis)repute, how could I decline?