And Then It Is Tuesday

"What do you think?"

"It's uh, their good, really, I like them."

"Thanks, I enjoyed drawing you."

I move on, I step away from her, noticing, perhaps, there was a small element of arousal, looking at myself, looking at nude drawings of myself whilst I was still nude, standing next to the fully dressed and rather lovely girl who had drawn them. My penis had come out of its state of terror, had lengthened into a state I was more familiar, more comfortable with. I wasn't getting hard, but my cock was getting bigger. I forced myself to carry on, forced myself to assume that this was also normal, that the model would usually stroll around the room naked to look at their drawings, that his penis would unravel before them all. I walked, with everyone quiet now, or quiet except from a murmur or two from the teacher as she also appraised their work. I walked to the next student, one of the men on the class, around my age, stood next to him. He also couldn't resist dropping his gaze so it fell on my cock, just briefly, with just enough confidence that told me he was used to looking at cocks, that perhaps he liked it. I stand next to him and give his sketches a look. They are a little more impressionistic I think, less recognisably me, my body is a blur of lines and shading, my cock and balls a fuzz of cross hatching. I like the drawings, but I can't see me. I move on.

To the older lady who had been catching my eye, who had looked at my cock when she saw me looking at her.

"Hello young man."

"Hello, yeah, hello there."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"um, well, enjoying?"

"Yes, you seemed very nervous to begin with. Is this your first job?"

"Well, it is actually. Can you tell?"

"Yes, no offence, everyone has to have a first time, I remember mine, few years ago now, very nervous, very odd to begin with isn't it, standing in front of a groups of strangers, completely naked, getting drawn."

"It is strange, yes."

I look at her drawings. She has gone for various details, no overall, an arm, a thigh muscle, my shoulder. She is good though, I think, she seems to want to practise on very small parts. I think my penis in its original state would have appealed. I laugh inwardly at this bad joke.

"I'm afraid my eyes are not too good, I mean I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but when you were first there I had trouble seeing your penis."

This is enough to lessen my state of looseness. I feel my cock shrink again. She takes another quick look down.

"Sorry, again, no offence, I thought you were very nervous, perhaps in one of the next set of poses I'll be able to see more of you. Although what I can see is lovely, don't worry"

"right."

I cannot help but look at her tits again – what is it with these older women, with these older hippy types – I let myself look at them, not as saggy as I'd thought, quite nice really, big, heavy, her nipples still making small protrusions under her t-shirt.

"I hope I haven't made you feel bad."

"No, don't be silly."

"You have a nice body" she looks down again "And a very nice dick, it will be nice to draw, and your balls are quite big aren't they? Now I can see them up close. Yes, once you relax I'm sure the room will enjoy the challenge of capturing all the textures, all those curls there, all the beauty of your little dick."

"Yes, yeah, thank you."

I move. Was she trying to humiliate me I wonder, my little dick though has responded to her attempts to dominate me, do I like this? Do I like being humiliated? My cock seems to, I try not to look at myself but it feels bigger, it is dangling now, as I walk I can feel my balls press my dick outwards, I can feel it circling in front of my thighs.

I pass each of them, looking at the way they have rendered my body, remaining naked, feeling a dark pleasure now as I walk between them, as they look at me close up, as I stand nude as they sit and stand clothed. I approach the young girls with most nervousness, they have the most power over me, they have the ability to destroy me with a look, which in my current mood is likely to give me an instant erection. They seem to spend most attention on my dick, in their drawings, I am most recognisably me in the sketches of the younger women present. I stand next to one who has remained sitting, she flicks through the pages of her sketch pad for me and doesn't even try to pretend she is not looking straight at my cock, which is about level with her chest. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, allowing me a glimpse between her thighs, a hint of white cotton, just, maybe, I look at what she's drawn, at my balls, my pubic hair, my little dick, and shoot a look at her chest. She has left a few buttons undone, I am able to look down, as she looks across, as she leans forward – deliberately? – she offers me the quickest of glimpses of her breasts, small, almost flat, but with long and stiff nipples.

"Like what you see?"

"Well, yes."

"I'm glad"

My prick solidifies. I walk past the last remaining member of the group, one of the men, he hands me his pad to flick through, takes a step back and watches me look. He was the closest to me. He has really drawn nothing but quick sketches of my genitals, or at least my waist area. I look at each of them, look at him in his grey sweat pants, the small bulge of his own prick just visible.

"you're good to draw."

"Thank you."

And with that I hop back on the platform, my cock jiggling up and down as I do. The teacher approaches, speaks to me quietly.

"How was it? Your first session?"

"Well, good, I think."

"You were nervous again, to begin with, your cock was so small, like it was when you posed for me alone."

I stand in front of her, feeling somewhat like a schoolboy getting reprimanded.

"but this is okay, don't worry, this group has seen all sorts of cock, small, tiny ones, medium, fat, thin, huge ones too of course, which are less pleasing to look at, but good to draw, easier to, when you can see every line, every vein and ridge, our last model but one had an enormous dick, really enormous, when he walked into the room for the first time, when he took off his robe, the whole class took in its breath, he never became aroused, we never got to see what it would be like in its erect state, but flaccid it was near his knees, no, I exaggerate, but to the middle of his thighs certainly, thick, full of veins, and cut, you know, circumcised, so we could see everything, see the head of it, the urethra. Not like yours."

"Yes, thank you"

"Not like yours at all, so small, almost hidden by your pubic hair, by your big balls."

"Thanks, again, thanks very much."

"But, you have a nice little dick, we know this, yes, and I think you like this, you like me talking to you like this, like you also enjoyed the ladies and gentlemen sizing you up, you enjoyed Susan talking to you about it didn't you, you like it when people tell you what to do, when they dominate you, I think this might be true after all, I watched you, when she spoke about your cock being too small to draw your little dick gave a little jump."

My little dick gave another jump. I stood and watched her look at it.

"Pose again then please, perhaps you could sit down, face the class, on the edge of the seat, yes. Right then."

I sit and face the room, my hands holding the edge of the chair, my legs bent in front, my knees together, my thighs touching and pushing my balls upwards, which push my dick up so it sticks up vertical, still small, still very much soft, but sticking out from my pubic bush like it is erect. Which feels, of course, good, it makes me feel small but pleased that my cock is conspiring to humiliate me in front of everyone, that it looks as if my dick is only an inch or so long even when it's hard. I let my head drop slightly, so I am able to look out over the class, so that I can check the state of my cock.

The class begins to draw me again. I savour the sensation of the cold air against my body, of eyes roving over my naked flesh. I look across the room. One of the younger girls, the one who showed me her breasts, has uncrossed her legs again, is sitting, with a look of complete concentration on her face, with her legs just slightly apart. Is this on purpose? Her sketch pad is on her lap, I suppose it would be more comfortable if her legs were wider than normal, I should look away, I know this, I carry on looking between her legs, at the tiny patch of white between the light brown of her skin. Then she sits forward, she edges forward, as if for a different look, and her skirt stays where it was on the seat, it rides up, just a bit more, up her thighs, showing just a bit more skin, and casting more light on the thin cotton of her panties. The she parts her legs a little further, I look away, then back, she must want me to see this, she must have wanted me to look at her tits, she is trying to play with me. It works, my dick shakes, I tighten my sphincter without thinking, my cock wobbles as a result, sticks suddenly further forwards.

I take a grip of my imagination. Despite everything that happened at the interview I don't think I want to get an erection now, I don't think I want my penis to get hard in front of the class, I can't imagine it happens very often, I can't imagine the room would stay free of looks, glances, smiles and jokes, at my expense, I read before I applied that a male model getting hard was at the least likely to lead to a lost booking. I look back at the floor. I can see myself in my peripheral vision, see myself in the room, I can see my bare skin, my feet, my legs, the darker thicket at my middle that is my pubic hair, penis, balls. I look around again.

I catch the older woman's eye again, she seems to hold my gaze for long enough to allow me to notice her breaking it to look down at my cock, and this look, this apparently deliberate gesture causes my stomach to dip, causes the skin around my balls to tighten further, causes a flicker of excitement to shoot through my prick. I look away. I look back at the floor, then cannot help but look at one of the other older women, one of the ones in her early forties, slimmer, large but still firm breasts pushing out from under a grey flannel shirt. The shirt is unbuttoned and exposes the crack of her tits. She looks at me, looking at her, also looks deliberately down at my penis. I feel another jolt of nervous pleasure shoot through my groin. I feel my anus clench, look away, allow a sideways look at what I am feeling below. My penis has lengthened again, is sticking even further up, out from my pubic bush, up from between my legs.

No, come on, no, I can't get a hard-on, not here, not in front of everyone, the teacher was okay, just one person, who ended up showing me her pussy, that was sex, strange, weird sex, but sex, this is not, this is an art class, this will be embarrassing if I get stiff.

I think dull thoughts, I think of essays, and cleaning my bathroom, I try not to look anywhere, I try not to look at that one, that young one who is still sitting with her legs spread, who is virtually showing me her crotch, no, NO, I look, I can't help looking, she widens her legs again, I can see most of her panties now, I imagine I see the shadow of her bush, the crease of her labia, no, NO, this is not going to help. She looks at me, does she, is she looking at me? She looks down at my lap, I look down, it is noticeable, noticeably fatter, she looks down at my prick, I think I see the flicker of a smile. Then she looks away, puts her pencil on the floor, hold her sketch pad in one hand, studies it, as if working out what she wants, and lets her other hand flutter to her thigh – is this, this must be on purpose, she must be trying to get me hard, she is trying to turn me on, so she can see my cock become stiff in front of everyone – her thighs that are still slightly apart, she looks at her pad, and allows her free hand to drift up between her legs, she strokes her inner thigh, and scratches herself through her pants, where her own pubic hair would be, then she places a finger inside her knickers, apparently still to satisfy no more than an itch, and she pulls the material away from her leg so I can see a flash of darker skin, I can't help myself, I watch her rub a finger along the length of her vulva, dip just enough inside herself. She looks up at me, stops, as if she didn't mean to flash me. I look away, knowing this has affected myself.

The tension is not relieved, the room is still looking at me, first at my cock at its smallest, now after it has noticeably expanded, I think of packing this in, walking away, somehow this decision is more difficult than staying, even though I can feel my cock getting thicker, heavier, I should turn and leave, I know this is preferable to sitting here with a growing penis.

And yet I stay, feeling the class's gaze upon me, upon my cock. I glance down. I am getting hard. I do nothing, I hope this is quite common, for the male model's penis to become stiff, I hope they see this every other week, I carry on sitting and looking at the floor, avoiding all looks and glances, I sit nude and try to look completely calm, as I haven't noticed, as if I am unaware that my penis is now undeniably stiffer, that it has not just relaxed, expanded slightly, I have a stiffened cock. I know this is terrible, this is bad form, this is embarrassing, I know this doesn't happen every week, I know they are looking at me now and laughing, smiling, sniggering, my cock treads some water, I feel it pulse and quiver, I stop myself from glancing down at it, I maintain my gaze out over the room, I feel my penis sticking up, not quite vertical, its heaviness dragging it down slightly, not erect, not fully, but a way from the soft inch of two minutes ago. I force myself to ignore this. I have to. I also try to forget the game, that now several inches of swollen penis protrude from my lap, that everyone can see this, but that somehow it does not matter. This is the erotic moment. My stomach is flipping over. If I can pretend this is normal, somehow, if I can pretend to myself, believe that it is okay that my penis has stiffened, because it is only slightly, we can all pretend, nothing abnormal, nothing obscene, just a slight engorgement.

I hear a chair shift, can hear the scratch of pencil and charcoal on paper. My cock jumps, wobbles some more, perhaps, no, swells further, shrinks, I force myself to try to ignore it, ignore the situation, I am naked, yes, I am modelling for a life drawing class, that's all, I ignore the quivering of erotic excitement in my belly, which makes it worse, my penis has become a little bit harder, fine, yes, so what, I think of leaving, I stay where I am. I carry on sitting and posing for the class, nude, my penis still pointing up from my lap, still some way from being fully erect, but still vertical, still pointing up in front of me, harder, thicker, a tremulous - what? – four odd inches of engorged flesh.

I look quickly around the room. No-one has changed, Susan looks at me, smiles, looks at my fat prick and moves her pencil. The younger girls carries on sitting with her legs apart. I look at the men in the room, to see if they're smiling. Three out of four are smiling, or not, just a bit, I can't tell, they can't help it, this is funny, for them, and how often would the straight ones have seen another man get the beginnings of an erection, in the flesh. I try not to grin sheepishly, this would ruin it, I cannot appear embarrassed, because that would make be embarrassed. I have to play this straight.

I glance at the man nearest me, on the edge of the group, the one in the grey sweatpants. He is looking without ceremony at my erection, drawing furiously, but sitting it seems in a slightly awkward position. I try to work this out, he has his legs crossed, is sort of at an angle, away from the rest of the room, like he is shielding something. He moves a fraction, I get it, there is a big bulge in the crotch of his jogging bottoms, which he is trying desperately to hide from the rest of the class, he has a stiff cock of his own to deal with, in trousers loose enough that it would not be restricted. I look at him, glad someone else is going through this, I look at his crotch, at the outline of his fairly large looking dick pressing against his trousers. I look up and we see each other looking at the other's prick, he stops drawing, holds my gaze (why don't I look away, this is like the shower room again, why am I still staring at him, why did I want to see his dick at all, why am I not getting up and leaving), I look away, I look at wall, I can feel every breath of air, every particle as it passes over my exposed sex, each gaze sends another waft of terrible friction towards my bared and sensitive penis. I glance back, he has shifted his pad to his side, just enough to shield the room from him, has kept his legs crossed, but not so much he cannot but show me the full extent of his arousal. I'm impressed, despite everything, I see the quite massive length his cock is filling in his pants, I do not look away even as he drops a hand from his paper and touches his erection through his trousers, rubbing it, rubbing the tip of it, awkwardly, easing his discomfort, trying to push it down. And still I look, and still my own cock stands up, feeling almost rigid, and I feel the forbidden and transgressive thrill of another man's even more engorged member being offered to me. I look away.

"Okay, let's break."

I look over at the teacher.

"Come and see what they made of you this time."

"Well, perhaps..." I stop myself, I can't start to feel ashamed now, I have to carry on.

"Of course."

And of course I do, of course. I stand and step down from the platform, I feel my cock bounce up and down in front of me as I walk towards the first of the group, this is when it becomes even more apparent, now I am upright again, and my penis is hanging down, no question, but also out, it is longer, and it is at enough of an angle to suggest more than relaxation, I think I feel it sticking out, almost outwards as I stand next to the first artist and look at what she has drawn. I stand still, look down, with my cock between us, lower, softer I think, that I had assumed. I look at her drawings of me, of my cock jutting up proudly from between my pressed together legs. I get this some more, I get what everyone wants to think is happening, I have to pretend this is nothing, and so do they, I am to pretend that my prick becoming slightly harder is no thing at all, that I am not aroused, that it is merely an accident of engorgement, and that they are barely noticing, certainly not aroused themselves. They want me to parade my nudity and swollen dick for them, it is not embarrassment, or humiliation they want, not quite, but the denial of erotic feeling. This is foreplay, but unacknowledged foreplay.

I stand and look at the drawings, walk from student to student, my cock swinging from side to side, losing more of its turgidity now, pointing now more down than out as I walk. I stand next to Susan again, look at the drawings she has done, whole pages, entire sheets with nothing but my cock, fifteen inches long, five, six inches wide, my actual cock dwarfed by her representations of it.

"Hello again."

"Hello"

"Good to see you have relaxed, that you're beginning to enjoy yourself."

"Well, yes, sorry, really."

"Oh don't be sorry, seriously, never apologise for becoming a bit hard, certainly not when you have such a lovely dick, when your dick is so lovely when it is hard. I knew it would be, I could tell that you are one of those men whose dicks are lovely and small when they are flaccid, but big and thick when they are erect."

"Well, thank you."

"Thank you, for allowing us all to look at it. I wonder if we will see more of it tonight, whether you will become fully stiff."