A Model Student

I expected college to be different I just did not know how different. Mainly it was a question of attitude. There are no virgins, so the novelty, shame, fear or amusement with sex is not there. It is a far more open environment where some do and some don't but there is no stigma. For my part I did not change my approach. Classes were academic exercises that took place on campus I needed to do to obtain a degree. I did not have much of a choice. On the other hand I partook of social activities of my own choosing. I cannot say I was a fervent support of the institution. I viewed it more as a means to an end. Consequently, when I was not in class I tended to be on my own, with associates of my choosing and left to my own devices.

Sculpture was an art form that was new to me. The bookwork, like most academic endeavor, required concentration and determination to master. The practical studio work was different. All the books in the world do not make a good artist, much less a sculptor. Mixing, kneading and shaping raw clay to conform to a physical model, or even the image in my mind, was a daunting task. Needless to say, it was not my best experience.

Add to this the instructor, Auslander, a well-known artist, in certain circles, with an established studio and a legion of purchasers willing to overpay for his work. His name was Ben Auslander but everyone called him just Auslander, not professor, not mister not Ben, just Auslander.

I felt Auslander did not care for me or my talents and his attitude seemed condescending towards me. However, his attitude changed at the start of the second semester in a subtle way. I cannot place exactly what it was. Perhaps it was a little more attention to my work, more constructive comments and less criticism, more politeness on his part. Whatever it was, however subtle, it was perceptible.

As I struggled with an assignment, that at best would make a gaudy lamp stand, he approached my table. Expecting a torrent of invective, I was taken back when he made a suggestion. Nothing earthshaking, but it was a sincere comment on how I could improve my technique. I acknowledged his comments and tried to implement them. As I did he stood by and smiled, then nodded approvingly and moved on without further comment.

After a few classes under the changed demeanor, the motive started to become clear. It was Friday, my last class of the week and I was lackadaisically putting the finishing touches on a not too attractive abstract work. As I dragged my ass about finishing the assignment, Auslander ambled over to my workstation. He was not wearing his smock and for the first time I noticed how short and chubby he was. He belt was pulled too tight and a roll of fat bulged above and below the cincture. After hoisting his chubby body up on the edge of the bench across from mine, he cleared his throat a few times to attract my attention. I looked up and he acknowledged me. "I understand we have a mutual acquaintance" he began, "a budding thespian and artist named Carl".

"Carl!" I replied. My mind raced back over the intervening years. "Wow, I have not spoken to him in eons. How is he doing?"

"He is well. He and I are members of a small theater group. It was quite by accident that your name came up in conversation, six degrees of separation and all that. It truly is a small world, especially in artistic circles".

I smiled and nodded not speaking but knowing this was leading somewhere.

"Carl conveyed to me that you have done some modeling and, if you are interested, I am looking for someone to model for a commission I recently received. Is that something that would appeal to you?"

"Depending on my schedule, if I have the time, I would be interested." I was curious how much Carl had told Auslander. That I was a willing nude model may be what interested Auslander. If Carl was very talkative, it could have been the raucous sex that culminated each session that piqued his curiosity.

"Tomorrow morning, two hours, 10 to 12 at my studio. I will pay you $25 per hour -- cash. It will require you to be nude. I need to produce four to six clay statuettes that I can scale to larger images. It will just be you and I and I am very discrete." His rapid-fire delivery was designed to minimize the amount of time of I could think about the offer. He wanted a "yes or no" and he needed an answer now.

I paused as if in thought as if struggling with the decision, when in fact I decided to accept.

"By the way, when I said just you and me, even my wife will not be present". Claudia, Aulander's wife, was a recognized artist in her own right. Frequently she appeared on the society pages hosting exhibits of her work. Unlike Auslander, she specialized in portraits rather than sculptures.

"Tomorrow morning is fine with me. I have plans for the afternoon, but if we are finish about noon, I accept." I lied about the plans but I wanted an excuse to leave promptly.

Auslander handed me a folded paper. Before I had a chance to open it, he interjected, "directions to my studio." As I hesitated, he continued, "in case you don't know it is also my house, but it is a fine studio. You will be impressed."

Without waiting for a reply he hopped down from the edge of the bench and left me at my workstation.

The directions were straightforward. The studio was in an old residential area that was way past its prime. I heard that efforts were afoot to renovate and gentrify the area but I still considered it a 'seedy' neighborhood at best.

Low grey skies and a cold winter breeze made me opt for a knit hat and winter coat as I made my way to the commuter train. Five stops late I disembarked and started walking in the general direction of the studio. After about fifteen minutes I found the street. It was several blocks of three-story brick townhouses. In their day, perhaps the early 1900s, this was a fashionable area but not now. I had memorized the direction and the address so I did not give the impression of being a stranger to the areas. It was an even number which meant it would be on the north side of the street, so I walked past the bleak façades furtively checking the numbers haphazardly attached to weathered doors.

As I counted down the numbers, one house seemed to leap from the rest. The brick was weathered but meticulously maintained. Tasteful curtains graced the large, clean, palladium windows. The door was a gloss black, flawlessly applied so not a ripple was evident. A brass plaque was mounted beside the door which read "Olivieri Studio est. 1881". Without even checking the number, I knew this was Auslander's house.

I checked my watch I was 10 minutes early. Better to be a little early than a little late, so I pressed the doorbell. Almost immediately, on cue, the door opened and Auslander, in his smock and beret, begged me to enter. I was in a vestibule that opened to a long corridor that lead down the length of the house ending at the kitchen. To my left was a series of rooms, each tastefully but sparsely appointed.

"The living room", Auslander recounted as we made our way past the first entryway. We entered the second room, "the parlor" he paused and pointed, "the dining room and then, of course, the kitchen." I nodded as we crossed the parlor to the base of the stairs and ascended. The stairs wound to the second floor, "rooms" he stated without being specific and continued climbing. The stairs ended at a landing on the third floor with one door leading to the front and one towards the back of the house. Auslander fumbled inside his smock for a key and opened that door leading to the studio in the back of the house.

The studio was a cavernous, uncluttered open area extending to the back of the house. Tables and easels were neatly arranged down the walls complete with supplies and implements. Before the far wall was a low dais and behind that an enormous stage curtain. Auslander walked to the corner, pulled on a drawstring, which opened the curtain to reveal a sloping wall of large glass panes. The glass was about a sixty-degree angle. One could walk towards the wall and at some point look straight up to the sky above. This made the studio suddenly become awash in soft natural light.

"North light", he said professorially, "a requirement for any serious artistic endeavor. Are you ready?" As he inquired he motioned towards a coat rack.

I nodded and approached the coat rack and disrobed deliberately hanging each article of clothing on the rack. I then turned and approached the dais. Auslander unfolded a large sketch with four figures and taped it to the wall. "These are the poses I want to complete today. Study them while I get the clay."

When he was ready I stepped on the dais and assumed the first pose. Auslander stepped back, motioned me to move my arm slightly from my side. I did so. Then he motioned me to flex my knees slightly. He then approached me and touched my arms and legs get the proper placement. His touch was timid as if he was afraid I would suddenly scream.

"Fine. Hold that as best you can I will try to work quickly."

I stared at the clock on the wall. I forced myself to hold the pose as I let my mind wander. I thought how nonchalant he was about my body. Did he get aroused at all? Is he interested in anything other than my form and my skin? The time passed.

The next two poses required me to stare at out the large glass wall. The clouds had given way to a brilliant blue sky. The back edge of roofs and distant buildings accentuated the horizon.

"Last one" he barked. I turned, studied the sketch and took on the pose. I leaned forwards raised a foot and froze. "Good, good. Hold that!" Immediately my leg began to cramp. He flitted around working frantically as my body quivered and sweated trying to hold this unbalanced pose.

"Done! Relax!"

I dropped on the dais and massaged and stretched by legs. "That last one was tough on the muscles," I said. "Couldn't I use a crutch or something?" As I said this I noticed that he moved away from his table to a spot that gave him a better view of my pussy. This caused me to exaggerate my stretching to tease him with my red eye. If he became aroused he hid it under his smock.

I finished my tease and sat on the edge of the dais with my knees slightly apart.

"Hagen, you did quite satisfactory. Carl was right to recommend you. If you are agreeable I would like to schedule another session sometime."

I nodded. "Sure, just give me some notice so I can check my schedule." That was the first time today he mentioned Carl. I wondered if that was a cue.

"Yes, Carl spoke highly of you. He said you were a girl of many talents and an intriguing name."

"It is my middle name. It is a family name and I have been called that all my life."

He chuckled and added, "I was referring to your nickname, Hagen Handjob."

My mind raced back to those early days of puberty when sex was done by hand. "Nope, nope. It was Handjob Hagen. Don't confuse me with someone else. That is a very old nickname, but I deserved it. I am very good"

He leaned back against the table and chuckled. "Does anything embarrass you? You are naked before a man you hardly know, casually talking about your proficiency at masturbation. Most students in this situation would at least blush."

"Well, I am not most students. In fact, I do not care to associate with most of the students. And as far as masturbating or beating off or jerking off, I know people denying doing it but I think they are lying. Everybody beats off when the pressure gets too much. So why be embarrassed. It is perfectly natural. Don't you jerk off?"

Auslander was again taken back by my bluntness. He blushed mildly and after a noticeable pause he replied, "When the pressure gets too much, I usually rely on the assistance of a partner, although, in desperate times I do satisfy myself."

Was this a form of seduction? Cat and Mouse? Teasing? I decided to become the hunter and see how the game would play out. "And how is your pressure now?" I asked. "Do you require the assistance of a partner?" A long pause followed my inquiry. Before he could respond I rose and stood before him. He was shorter than I and had to tilt his head back to look me in the eye. "If your pressure is an alarm condition I know how to solve that." With that I ran my hand down the front of his smock and pressed at the general area of his crotch. Instinctively he reacted with a spasm. When it passed I continued groping until my hand located the bulging member beneath his smock. As I did he began to loose the buttons and let it fall open. I took that as my cue. I crouched before him and worked his belt loose, unsnapped his pants and unzipped his fly. I then eased his pants and underwear down about his thighs to reveal his hard cock.

The head was already shiny with precum when I grabbed the shaft. A gentle squeeze brought forth a clear bead from the tiny eye. I eased forward gently pressing the head against my tit and varnished my nipple with the glistening lotion. Auslander gave a hum of satisfaction as I continued to work his cock over my tits.

"Easy and slow or hard and fast" I asked? "Every guy I know likes it a little bit different. How about you?"

"Your choice" he murmured, "whatever turns you on."

I cupped his balls in one hand and stroked him with very little pressure using my thumb and forefinger. His thighs twitched. I continued in this mode until his head was well lubed with precum and then with my thumb I massaged the juice over the bald head making sure I drew the pad of my thumb across the eye with each rotation.

"Jerk me! Jerk me! More, more, you are driving me crazy!"

On that command I wrapped my fist around him and slowly pumped the shaft. I started slowly with little pressure at first, then gradually increasing the rhythm and pressure. I reached a moderate tempo when he began to rock his hips. I stopped and let him fuck my fist. When he reached a steady gait, I worked my fist counter to his motion. Each time he thrust towards me I slid my hand down his shaft; when he pulled back I pulled my fist to the head. We were synchronized in mutually agitated actions. Suddenly he barked, "Now! Now! Make me come!" With that I increased my speed and tightened my grip. I felt his prick pulse and throb under my grip. "I am going to explode. I am going to shoot."

"Where do you want to shoot?" I asked frantically, afraid I would not get a reply in time.

"Your face, your hair, your tits." I moved closer to get ready for the shot when he erupted. A wad hit me high on my cheek followed by another on my chin and then my neck in quick succession. Then he just oozed. I pulled him close and milked the last of his come onto my face. Using his cock like a brush I spread the musky goo around my face and neck as if performing some mystical rite.

Satisfied with my work I leaned back on my haunches. My hair was sticking to the come on my face and I could sense a small rivulet running down the side of my nose and cheek. In a moment it would be close enough to catch with my tongue.

Without thinking I rubbed the come on my neck over my tits and nipples as I looked up at Auslander and commented, "You must have saved up a week. That was a monster load." Just then the stream of come ran onto my lip and I licked it away with my tongue. Auslander smiled and tossed a towel. "No thanks", I let I drop on the floor. "I like the feel of dry come on my skin." He smiled again with a little more emphasis.

I rose and went to the hook where my clothes hung and began my reverse striptease without wiping the come from me. I started with my panties. When I had pulled them up to mid thigh, Auslander spoke up. "I like your pussy, natural, brown, curly hairy. Too many girls shave theses days. A nice hairy triangle is the way nature intended a twat to look."

"I agree", I replied and continued with my jeans and shirt.

Auslander put his clothes back in order and pulled a money clip from his pocket. I noticed him remove some bills, fold them in half and offer them to me. It was ninety dollars, a fifty and two twenties. "It is a little more than we bargained but I think you earned it." I pushed the bills into my front pocket. "I reckon this makes me a professional." I replied.

"A professional?"

"Yes, a professional. I have never been paid for modeling before." I joked.

"If you are interested in doing more . . . modeling, I have some artist friends who get together on occasion. We enjoy a live model and we pay appropriately, if you are interested?"

"Give me some notice and let me see what my schedule looks like."

Auslander opened the door and I walked into the cold air. As I did his come turned crispy on my cheeks.

I had no classes with Auslander on Monday so I was a bit taken back when he called to me while walking across campus. "Hagen, Hagen I need to speak to you about your project." I stopped and waited as he approached. To onlookers it was just an impromptu student-teacher chat. "How about this Friday? I have a few friends dropping by to sculpt together. Are you available?"

"What time and for how long?"

"Oh say sixish until about nineish. This is a very informal group."

"Will your wife be there?"

Auslander chuckled. "No. Someday I might explain that to you."

"Friday at six at the studio. I will be there. And would I be rash in presuming that I will be posing nude?"

"You would not be rash. I will see to it that you are appropriately compensated for your time."

"Agreed." I nodded and we continued in different directions.

Classes that week were 'normal'. Auslander made no reference or innuendo to our previous session. From his obvious discretion I gathered that he did not share his off-duty activities with fellow faculty. In this he and I were in agreement since I rarely associated with classmates outside of class.

Friday broke cold and overcast with a threat of snow. By the time I set out for the studio, the clouds had grown heavy and the prediction was elevated to 'possible blizzard conditions'. The streets seemed exceptionally dark but also deserted and I wended my way from the train stop. As before, Auslander, with his beret and smock, was waiting for my arrival and ushered me in from the cold. The lights were subdued giving the house an eerie, haunted house feel as I followed Auslander up the stairs. The door to the studio was ajar. Auslander entered first and then beckoned me to follow. Three men about Auslander's age, mid 40 to mid 50, all wearing stained smocks were gathered around some cheese and wine at a work bench against the wall. As I entered their voices fell silent.

"I would like to introduce" he began with a flourish, "our subject for this evening; Hagen." I nodded to the group and they offered a salutatory lifting of their glasses. "May I present Larry, Moe and Curly; no last names." They nodded in response.

"Shall we get started?" I inquired hoping to put the members at ease and to mask any discomfiture I may have felt about stripping before a group of strangers. I walked toward the clothes rack in the corner of the studio. The curtain was drawn back and the streetlights reflected off the grey clouds casting a pall about that end of the room. Without waiting for a concurrence, I removed my outer garments and my hiking boots and sox. I turned to face the crowd wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, unsnapped the jeans and stepped out of them and then removed the shirt. I did not wear a bra, so I was clad only in cotton panties that I easily slipped off, dropped on the pile and stepped on the dais to get my instructions.

"The topic for this evening is a Grecian goddess" Auslander began, "something Delphic or Bacchanal perhaps." I assumed a pose as if I was supporting a vase on my shoulder, which was something I recalled from an earlier class. "You look a little bit like a desk lamp" someone commented, "but I like it." Aulander stepped to the dais and adjusted my pose, positioning my hands and arms as well as the placement of my feet. "There! You may still look like a lamp, but it is a very attractive lamp."