Awaking Desire

I was going through some piles of junk a few months back when I came upon a drawing that my mother had made of a nude young man. I had known that my mother had an interest in art but had never seen any of her work. I had asked her a couple of times to show me some of her sketches, but she had always demurred, claiming that she wasn't very good and that it would embarrass her to expose her lack of talent. However, if this was representative of her efforts, it was clear that it wasn't her lack of skill that would embarrass her – the illustration was very well done – but it was instead her subject matter.

The young man depicted in the drawing was, as you would expect, fit and seemed to be of medium height. He was seated on a stool with his back straight and his hands on his knees. The air about him was one of a budding sexuality that came through especially in the way he parted his legs to expose his sex. What took me back at first was that my mother had clearly meant the focal point of the sketch to be his penis. Its striking feature was not its size – he seemed about average in that department – but the innocent way it laid exposed, not yet an instrument of sexual desire but clearly announcing maleness. While my mother may have enjoyed his overall physique, what captured her eye was his penis.

Over the next couple of days, I couldn't seem to get this drawing out of my mind. I was fascinated by the way the male body places the penis on display. As a woman, I had never really noticed before how fully the posture of the human body exposes the male sex organs. My sex is hidden between my legs and covered with pubic hair. It is unveiled only if I choose to part my legs. However, a man unfailing reveals an intimate part of himself whenever he disrobes. Moreover, what he unveils is more than simply an appendage that defines his maleness; he also places on exhibit the apparatus of his sexuality. It finally dawned on me what my preoccupation with this drawing was about. It had to do with a particular tension that male nudity inevitably entails; namely, the tension between the penis as a defining feature of maleness and the penis as the medium of sexual desire. My mother's drawing had captured this vividly.

It is hard to explain this further without getting into details that I find somewhat lurid, but I will try. The young man was not a boy, but his penis appeared almost virginal. It was slender but not small. In fact, it was slightly longer that I would have expected given his height and lean build. In contradiction to these innocent and youthful, almost asexual, features was the rather large head (or glans) that his circumcised foreskin left completely exposed. The really interesting part was that it seemed partially aroused as if he was just becoming erect. Even though he was clearly flaccid, I had the sense that he was moved by an awakened desire and that his shaft would soon follow the lead of his mushrooming head and begin to lengthen and harden. Although this depiction is far more graphic than I would wish and conveys little, if any, of the erotic nuance and subtlety that I find most attractive, it is the best I can do.

I couldn't get these contrasting images out of my mind, and I knew I would have to explore them further. After failing to come up with a good idea how I might do that, I settled on enrolling in a life-drawing class. This would give me an opportunity to inspect a variety of models and see for myself if any insight emerged. Besides, I enjoyed looking at nude men, especially live ones.

The first two sessions were busts. The first guy had a penis the size of a horse, and he was especially prone to flaunt it. I can't deny that a penis that size did created a certain stir in the class. It was obvious, at least to me, that all the women, me included, enjoyed the spectacle, but it got old after a while because there was little artistic flair to this model and no sexual spark to sustain my interest. The second session had a model that was more normal size but still didn't match what I was looking for primarily because he was middle aged. I don't enjoy sex with men who have large penises, which ruled out the first guy, but I wouldn't have minded taking this second guy's member out for a spin.

The third session was bingo! A young man in his early 20s was the model, and he was a dead ringer for the model in my mother's sketch. Even before he disrobed, I knew that he would have the qualities I had been seeking. He had his back to me when he dropped his robe. He had buns that would have bent a steel chair and strong, muscular shoulders. His short brown hair fit perfectly with his trim build. He had even chosen a wooden stool to sit on during his pose. I got my first glimpse of his penis when he turned to sit. I almost audibly gasped as my eyes focused on his fine specimen. It was just about the same size, only a tad longer, and had the same slim, innocent characteristics that lit up my imagination in the same erotic way. I positioned myself so that I was directly in front of him and could take his fully exposed penis as he parted his legs ever so slightly.

I have to say that he was not the least bit self-conscious about having fifteen women and five men view every inch of his body. One woman to my left was extremely attractive and about his age. I could tell that her attention was not solely on art, but he paid her no mind. Our session with him lasted about an hour with two short breaks, and it was only toward the end that his composure began to crack.

With about 5 minutes left, I could restrain myself no longer, and I began to gawk directly at his manhood leaving aside all pretense that I had any interest in actually drawing anything. He noticed my stare, and while I detected no embarrassment, I could sense that his loins were stirring. I saw the head of his penis enlarge and the shaft stiffen and rise ever so slightly. His penis bean to lengthen and left from his thighs. It was clear that the pace of his arousal was quickening and that soon he would be fully erect. It was impossible not to notice the change that was occurring, and an air of excited anticipation spread through his audience of artists. When his penis began to rise from his body, he suddenly stood and, grabbing his robe, left the stage. His face was red but I don't think it was embarrassment. Instead, I sensed that he was unsettled by the fact that his arousal was a sexual demonstration that had left him feeling vulnerable.

I waited for him after the class had dispersed and was lucky to catch him as he tried to sneak out the back door. I told him that I realized I was the cause of his arousal and apologized for placing him in an awkward situation. I also told him that I admired how he stood his ground even as his awaking manhood had revealed him as a man moved by desire. I said that I knew that the size of a man's erection was an intimate matter for him and his lover and that I believed it took strong character to expose those personal details to a wider audience. He smiled gently and said that it perhaps took a little more character than he had been able to muster. I asked if he would model for me personally at my home. He hesitated but finally said yes. We made a date for an afternoon later in the week.

* * *

To be honest, I think I almost came to climax when I heard the doorbell. I opened the door and, after customary greetings, ushered him into the living room. In the middle of the room, I had placed my mother's drawing, which I had matted and framed, on an easel, and I asked him to sit on a wooden stool and face the sketch. I explained how fascinated I had become with the play of innocence and sexuality that I saw captured by the lines and marking on this page. I remarked that he and the model seemed almost twins and that, from the first moment I had seen him naked, they had become one and the same person for me. I confessed that it had everything to do with the innocence, almost virginal quality, of their penises. I then asked him to disrobe and take the pose he saw in the drawing. When he had done so, I leaned forward, gently kissed his member and, for a brief moment, took it in my mouth. I stood back so that I could take in the changes that were beginning to occur before me. I saw the head of his penis engorge, and the shaft lengthen and harden, just as it had the other night. I saw his penis begin to rise from his thighs as his foreskin peeled back exposing even more his already prominent head. Once he was fully erect, I asked him to stand. I knelt before and took his long, hard member deep into my mouth. I used my hand to stroke his shaft as I pumped his penis into my throat. I soon tasted the salty, musty drops of semen shortly before he exploded into my mouth. Believe me, I sucked him dry before I left his spent penis fall from my lips.

I asked him to retake his pose. His penis was much longer and thicker than before. Although it was flaccid, the head protruded well beyond his folded foreskin. It was clearly a penis that had known sex, and I drew it and him. After I finished and he had left, I looked at my drawing and my mother's. They made a perfect set, one of budding sexuality and one of sexual desire spent.

I keep these drawings on the wall in my bedroom. I never make love without looking at them, both before and after. I see in them my own transformation from a woman who is female by the design of her genitals into a woman who is moved by sexual desire. This transition is more dramatically and physical evident in man's penis. I enjoy seeing it because it cannot be hidden as I might choose to hide my own. This awareness deepens my love life, increases my appreciation of the vulnerability we experience in sex, and makes me feel more fully human.