An Evening with Artists

"Mr. Hopkins, if you're quite finished? You're in the way of your classmates," Professor Stephens called from across the room.

Paul twitched and walked back to his easel, adjusting his shorts to hide an erection. Just looking at me had made Paul Hopkins' cock hard! My eyes drifted back to the rest of the class; several of the other men clearly had hard-ons. None of them leered at me like Paul had, but it wasn't for lack of interest, and I noticed a few trying to discreetly adjust themselves. A room full of men were getting hard because of me!

I imagined them coming forward one at a time and taking their cocks out. I thought about seeing them, knowing whose cock was bigger, or bent one way, or really thick. Getting to look at them while I stayed just out of reach. I imagined them jerking off while fantasizing about what they would do to me if they could. I dreamed about them stroking their penises until they sprayed their cum on the stage, while I stood distant and inaccessible, the power of my body driving them to cum. I felt warm and maybe a little wet between my legs as I fantasized. My body was making them hard, making them want to cum. What if I reached out and grasped a cock? Rubbing and stroking while he panted and stared at my tits? I wondered how a cock would feel in my fingers.

I suddenly remembered some of the porn I'd downloaded out of curiosity in high school. I thought about kneeling at the edge of the stage, jerking off two at once while the others stroked their cocks, one after another erupting and splattering me with cum. I thought about what it would feel like to take one of their cocks into my mouth. Maybe that brown haired guy in the back; he could stand at the edge of the stage and I would slide my lips up and down on his cock. I fought back a laugh as I imagined the rest of the class painting me as I gobbled cock. I found myself wondering what cum tastes like and suddenly my mind filled with a vision of Paul standing over me, cock in my mouth, and gasping as he came.

A cell phone rang and I came back to myself, noticing that my nipples were rock hard and my pussy was wet. Had anyone noticed? The friendly girl with the nose ring wasn't giving me any funny looks, so hopefully things were okay, but the brown haired boy was staring awfully intently at my pussy. Certainty Professor Stephens hadn't noticed; he was talking to someone on his cell phone with a dour look on his face. After a few moments he hung up and turned to the class.

"Okay, folks we're just about five minutes from the end of class. Make whatever final changes you want and start to pack up."

I blinked and flicked my eyes to the clock; had it really been almost an hour and a half? I suddenly became aware of stiffness in my neck and back. I'd been holding this pose for a long time and my muscles were ready for something else. At least I'd remembered to bend my knees now and then. Jamila had told me that the first time she modeled she'd locked her knees and fainted after forty minutes. Falling flat on my face would definitely ruin this whole "sex goddess" vibe I'd locked in on! Gradually, the students shifted from last minute dabs at their canvas to packing away supplies and cleaning brushes at sinks towards the back of the class.

"Well, that's time everyone! Please leave your canvases where they are; I'll stack them tomorrow morning and we can review how things turned out next class. Once you're done cleaning your stations you can leave. Oh, and let's give a round of applause to our model!"

I relaxed, rolling my neck and shoulders as the class clapped cheerfully. Girl-with-a-nose-ring grinned and gave me a thumbs up and I nodded back, gratefully. I wasn't quite ready for the whole thing to be over, so I took a moment to rest on the stool, stretching one foot carefully. It didn't feel weird to be naked anymore, but I was already missing the feeling of everyone looking at me. Professor Stephens came over and leaned in to speak quietly.

"We have a little problem, and you can say no, but I need to ask you something."

Apparently, a photography professor was running an adult education class and their model had also called in sick. Only she hadn't found a replacement.

"The class is already mostly over, they've just been talking theory, but if you're willing, we could hustle over there. We'd have to go right now, but it would only take about thirty more minutes and you'd make another two hundred dollars."

I probably looked like I was thinking it over, but inside glee was filling me up. Another two hundred dollars AND more people obsessing over my body? Yes!

"Um, would you stay the way you said you would?"

The Professor grinned, "Of course! If nothing else, the paperwork says I'm responsible for you, so I really don't have a choice."

I nodded, "Okay. Sounds like we better get going right now then, yeah?"

"Well, I..." he started, before trailing off and shaking his head briefly, "Yeah, it's plenty late so there's nobody here anyway. Yes, let's go."

He turned and led the way out of the classroom, right past the easel where Paul was packing his materials away. As I passed, I felt him lightly brush his open palm against my ass. I inhaled sharply, but didn't stop or turn. Paul Hopkins had just felt my bare ass!

I broke out in goosebumps as we left the warm air of the classroom. I had been so nervous when I arrived I hadn't really seen it, but hallway was scattered with doors to classrooms, bulletin boards and occasional chairs. I suddenly became hyper aware that I was walking around the art building completely naked! I don't know why it felt different than the classroom, but it was oddly exciting and deliciously wrong. My nipples were standing up straight.

Professor Stephens pushed open the door to a stairwell and we hurried up two floors. I felt my breasts bouncing as I jogged up the steps and was glad the professor was in front of me. We popped out of another door and then into another classroom. This one was much darker, but with the same kind of stage lit up with lights suspended from the ceiling. A short, older woman with rich ebony skin was speaking at the front but paused at our entry and came over to meet us.

"We came as quickly as we could. Professor Okoye, this is Ms. Drake."

She thrust a hand out and took mine, "It is so good to meet you! Thank you so much for helping us out. I see you are all ready to go!"

She guided me over to the stage and got me posed. Unlike Professor Stephens, she touched me a few times to help me get into place. Only once she was satisfied, and stepped back, did I have a chance to look at the class. I couldn't see them in detail, it was too dark for that, but they were much older. They looked like people who had office jobs, or worked construction, or I don't even know what. The youngest were at least forty and the oldest probably could have been my grandfather. I think one of them might have been the janitor who worked in my dorm! What would it be like to see him there, knowing he could picture what my tits looked like?

Professor Okoye gave quick instructions and each student came forward and took a half a dozen pictures, choosing the angle for themselves. Every now and then they'd ask me to shift a little; Professor Okoye explained it was okay since photos happened so much faster than paintings.

One man, about fifty with sallow sun-starved skin, started barking short requests at me as soon as he came up for his turn. Space your ankles a bit wider, straighten your spine, head to the left, left arm down... I was so busy following the hurricane of commands that I didn't realize that he had me thrusting my breasts out and spreading my thighs. My eyes snapped around and looked straight at the lens as the shutter clicked.

"Perfect," he breathed, peeking out from behind the viewfinder.

"I think THAT'S quite enough, thank you, Bob," Professor Okoye snapped.

"But..." Bob started, but caught sight of her expression and quieted down.

My face flushed as I thought about the photo. I had probably looked like a woman in a dirty magazine, flaunting her tits and pussy for anyone who could buy a copy. I noticed I was smiling.

Again, much faster than I expected, Professor Okoye called the class to an end and dismissed everyone. She thanked me and went to help pack up equipment. Professor Stephens collected me and we headed back to where we started. Once more, I was conscious of being naked, walking around with someone fully clothed.

"Well, this has certainly been an eventful first time modeling!" he said wryly.

I snickered, "Yeah, for real not what I expected! But it hasn't been as bad as I feared. And the extra money will be nice."

He nodded, pushing open the door so that we could leave the stairwell. This time we were going slowly enough that I didn't have to worry about my tits jiggling back and forth. I was almost disappointed.

"You're certainly welcome to come back any time. I don't think I've ever seen someone take to it as naturally as you did."

I considered this as we walked back into our now empty classroom, where I'd first bared my body for others to see. It was fun, yeah, but would I want to come back and do this again? Show off my tits to a room full of people? I noticed my heart was beating a little faster. It must have been the stairs.

I walked over to my dressing room and turned the knob, or tried to. It wouldn't budge under my hand. I tried several times, and pushed a few more, but the door remained stubbornly closed. With a sinking feeling, I remembered the "click" of the door closing.

"Um, Professor?" I said, turning.

"Right, you must not have unlocked it when you came out. Here, let me-" he fumbled with his keys before freezing. "Oh, damn."

"What?"

"Well," he started in a pained voice, "This isn't my usual room. I had to get one of the maintenance people to open it for me, and I don't have keys to the door."

He took a breath, "I'll have to go find someone to open it, which means one of the guys working on the burst pipe, and I don't really want to walk you over there like, you know, this."

I quirked an eyebrow, "Not fashionable?"

"I'm sure you'd get attention," he answered, "I'd put you in my office, but it's part of the flooding."

He rubbed an open palm over his cheeks, "Okay, follow me."

Once again, I found myself walking briskly down the hall in my birthday suit. We took a right, then a left, and stopped outside an unmarked door.

"I do have a key for this door," he said, unlocking it, "And I'd rather leave you alone here than in a classroom. We just keep supplies in here and I'm the last person teaching painting tonight, so nobody will come in before morning. Just wait here while I get your dressing room open and I'll come get you, okay?"

I felt anxious at being alone with my tits and pussy out, but it sounded like the best idea. The light came on as I entered; the room was narrow, with shelves lining two walls. Across from the door was a table at about hip height, probably for sorting, and the far end of the room had a bulletin board with various labor notices tacked on it. Plenty on overtime, from the look of it, but nothing about working in the nude.

"Stay right here and I'll come get you," the Professor said, before stepping out and carefully closing the door behind him.

I had no idea what to do, so I started looking over the shelves. They were full of paints in squat containers, brushes in trays, neat stacks of canvases, bits of beads or feathers for collage, and jars of tacks, paperclips, and all kinds of fasteners. Leaning over, I caught sight of my reflection in a glass jar and smiled just a bit. Not bad. I looked pretty good with my petite tits dangling like that!

I heard the door start to open and walked back over to meet the Professor. That had been fast! But I stumbled to a halt as Paul Hopkins' face appeared around the door. His mouth curved into a smile as he caught sight of me, and he stepped all the way inside, closing the door behind him.

"What are YOU doing here?" I blurted out.

He smiled more widely, "I came to find you, of course. I wanted to talk to you after class, but you left really quickly."

"Talk to me? Is that what you call palming my ass?" I replied, crossing my arms under my breasts and glaring. I didn't try to cover myself; what would have been the point?

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, sounding anything but, "I just couldn't help myself. You're so hot now, I just got carried away."

My heart fluttered in my chest. Paul Hopkins said I was hot!

"You made my life hell, you know," I stammered, backing up against the table as he took a step forward, "People called me names for years, Paul. I hated it."

He took another step, holding his palms up in a shushing motion, "I'm so sorry about that. I was an immature asshole."

Paul was close now, the tips of his sandals against my toes, his hands at the same height as my breasts and just to the sides. Just a tiny movement and he'd be touching my tits. The first man to touch them. If I turned just a little, he'd be cupping one of my tits!

"I can make it up to you, you know," he said, leaning forward a bit.

"What do you- EEP!" I yelped, as his hands grabbed me around the back of my thighs. He lifted me up and dropped me on my ass on the cold table. His hands slid down behind my knees, gently lifting and spreading them apart. My arms swung back behind on autopilot so that I wouldn't overbalance. My eyes widened as I recognized my position; legs spread, pussy and tits on display for Paul Hopkins. He looked me up and down and smiled more widely.

"I can make it up to you like this," he said, sinking to his knees.

Comprehension dawned as he leaned forward and for the first time I felt a tongue trace a line up my pussy.

"Oh!" I squeaked in surprise and pleasure. He took that as encouragement and leaned in, swirling his tongue around my labia, darting inside, and then flicking at my clit.

His tongue danced over me, pressing inside my folds. He licked side to side, slowly rising before swirling his tongue around my clit. My heart was pounding and my breath was coming in ragged gasps, half in pleasure, half in shock and disbelief. I had started this night studying, and had ended up naked in a supply room with Paul Hopkins of all people licking my pussy like a choco-taco. What the hell?

A shudder of pleasure pulsed through me. I had fantasized about exactly this, and not all that many years ago. Beautiful, sensitive Paul noticing me. Desiring me. Pleasuring me. I looked down and watched his face pivot gently back and forth to guide his eager tongue. His sandy blond hair fell across his face, but I could imagine those eyes looking up while he went down on me. I could hear him breathing around his tongue, and knew that he could smell me as well as taste me.

I leaned back on my left arm and brought my right hand up to my breasts. I rubbed one, then the other, squeezing and massaging in time with the licking. I starting to pinch and flick my nipples, sharp bursts of pain making a counter-point to his pussy licking. I closed my eyes and let waves of pleasure wash over me. I had played with myself before, and knew that an orgasm was coming- not surprising after showing off my naked body all night! Paul had more enthusiasm than skill, I could tell, but after hours of exposure I was powerfully horny, and it didn't take long for me to cum.

I gasped and squeaked, trying to keep quiet, clutching my right breast as Paul shoved his face even more deeply into my pussy. My hips ground against his face and he clutched the small of my back tight. Finally, the waves subsided and he released me.

I sat up straighter, panting slightly, as Paul rose to his feet. He had that cocky grin on his face and the tent he was pitching was pointed right at my spread legs and wet pussy. The look in his eyes told me how he thought this should turn out. My heart thudded in my chest as I imagined how it would go, having sex with Paul right here on this table.

"I gotta say, Pancakes, your syrup is delicious," he said slowly.

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him for a long moment before reaching out and closing my fingers lightly around his cock. I felt it twitch through the thin fabric of his shorts and he drew in a quick breath.

"Is it? And what do you have here, I wonder?"

He grinned, "You can take a look if you want."

I laughed softly and lifted my fingers to his waistband, yanking the elastic out and then down under his balls. He wasn't wearing underwear. My eyes dropped to the first cock I'd ever seen in person. Jutting straight out from his belly, curved up a bit at the end with a bright red head. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave a few experimental tugs, drawing a soft groan from him. I put my left hand on his chest and pushed, keeping my hold on his cock with my other hand and shimmying forward off the table. He took a step back, giving me room to get to my feet. I stood there, my breasts almost touching his chest, and lightly stroked his cock.

I leaned in and whispered, "Why don't you take off your clothes? I'm feeling out of place."

I didn't have to ask twice. With a speed that was honestly funny, he shucked off his shirt and stepped out of his sandals before ripping off his shorts, throwing them onto the table next to me. Paul was naked from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. I pushed him back another two steps and turned him a little so that I had space. My hand had already resumed lightly stroking his penis as I squatted down to rest on my heels, bringing my face even with his cock. I stroked with one hand, studying his cock with honest curiosity. I could hear him taking shaky breaths and saw a little pearl of fluid appear at the tip. I looked up at him, the tip of his cock inches from my mouth, and met his lust filled eyes.

"My, my," I said, standing back up holding his sandals in one hand and his cock in the other, "Would you like me to do something about this?"

"Yes," he answered in a shaky voice.

I smiled, "I don't have protection, but... maybe I could find some other way to thank you?"

He smiled broadly, "By all means."

"Okay," I giggled, pushing him back again, "Why don't you lean against that wall?"

He shuffled backwards a half a dozen steps and leaned against the bulletin board at the back of the supply room. He spread his feet apart and put his hands behind his head, grinning at me.

I put his sandals on the table next to his clothes and walked forward slowly, shimmying just a bit to make my tits jiggle. As I got close I smiled shyly at him.

"I haven't done this many times before, and I'm embarrassed," I stroked his cock a little, noticing more wetness at the tip, "Close your eyes while I get comfortable on my knees, okay?"

He sighed in anticipation, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, "Whatever you say, Pancakes."

I tugged his cock twice more and let go, "Okay, Paul, here we go."

He tensed up, waiting for the feeling of my lips on his cock. I took two quiet steps, grabbed the jar of tacks off of a shelf and jumped back as I threw it as hard as I could at the floor by his feet. The glass jar shattered, scattering jagged bits of glass and sharp metal tacks all over the floor and especially by his bare feet. I turned and raced for the door, scooping his clothes and sandals up with one arm. He shouted in surprise and then in sudden pain. He must have taken a step forward. I hit the door with one arm, shoving it open and then threw my body against it to force it shut again. I could hear Paul swearing in the supply room but he didn't sound close so I wrestled one of those nice comfy hallway chairs over and propped it under the supply room doorknob. I stomped it into place twice, feeling my tits bounce with each movement, forcing the chair tightly into place. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands were shaking from the adrenaline, but I was pretty sure that even if he got past the tacks and the glass, he wasn't getting that door open any time soon.