Filled with Joy

"I'm going to have a party the night after finals," Rudy announced. "A big, gay party with all my friends."

"How many people?" Jacob asked, looking around their small freshman dorm room.

Rudy listed four names Jacob recognized, Brian, Gary, Kevin, and Brad. "And you, if you don't mind being a room with a bunch of gay guys."

More focused on the start of finals week than its end, Jacob shrugged. "Sounds okay. I broke up with Amber-Lynn, so I won't have anywhere else to be."

---

Six weeks of preparation passed with occasional emails from Amy about her progress. Jacob stayed in touch with the other models. Keith and Liam began dating and had become an item. Frank remained in the closet with his wife. Terry was unavailable, too busy living the life of a porn star, while Mason was too busy with work for more than an occasional, group email reply that usually consisted of just two words, Sounds great!

In those six weeks, Jacob found a temp job at an office and lost a part-time girlfriend due to his lack of commitment. Wendy complained he was too distant and she was right. Jacob couldn't stand the idea that he might wake up one day, find himself married, and realize he had turned into pale and fluffy Frank.

That Saturday spent modeling with a group of naked and excited men had conjured up too many memories. After freshman year had faded into history, Jacob came to believe those months were nothing more than a phase in his life, a youthful experiment that got out of hand, especially the night of that last party. Nothing that had happened with Rudy, Brian, and the rest had scarred his heart the way Joy had.

Jacob took wisdom in the words of the great philosophers, starting with the words of Epicurus, "What is good is easy to get; what is terrible is easy to endure." Measuring his temperament became as easily as checking whether he had celebrated a day or merely endured it. On the days when he realized he was guilty of enduring life, the wisdom of Confucius brought him back to center. "Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated." He smiled.

Life is for the living and Jacob pushed aside his thoughts that it was ever any other way. His lessons in Absurdism reminded him that it was both human nature to seek out truth in one's existence while its discovery was forever out of grasp (hence, absurd to try). If he considered the whole of his life, he was more than straight while being substantially less than gay. If the world couldn't accept that, then fuck the world.

After his modeling session, he had allowed his pubic hair to regrow, believing the simple pleasure of bare flesh would remind him too much of Joy. He reclaimed shaving down there for himself. Afterwards, he spent the rest of the day sporting a hard-on and enjoying another simple pleasure. As evening arrived, he played with himself while watching gay porn and fondly remembering the things he had once done with acceptance instead of shame or embarrassment.

In a stroke of genius timing, the show was scheduled to open to the public on Nude Day, but Jacob received an invitation to a private opening the night before. The invitation came sealed in a plain brown wrapper. Inside the outer envelope was a second one stamped with modern day warnings of adult content: "NSFW" and in the style of a movie rating, "NC-17!" In the style of a video game warning, "AO!" And, as if that wasn't enough, a bold "XXX" rating. In a separate email, Amy took the time to write a long email explaining how an opening was more like a preview for patrons of the gallery, critics, and friends of the artist.

The gallery's windows were covered in brown wrapping paper emblazoned with the same series of warnings as the invitation. Harold stood behind a velvet rope by the front door. He smiled, nodded, and unhooked the rope as Jacob walked up. Without knowing what to expect, Jacob realized he felt nervous and paused to take a deep breath before pulling open the gallery door. The foyer had been reconfigured to match the warnings on the windows. In the garish colors of stark red and yellow usually reserved for outside the adult theaters near the airport, a stark warning advised "Adult Content Ahead. No one under 18 allowed."

Jacob entered the gallery and froze with wonder as he looked around. His appreciation of artwork had always been limited to looking at a still-life and thinking, "That's pretty" or looking at something abstract and thinking, "I don't get it." Without pre-conceived notions, he had no idea what to expect. His first reaction was recognition. He could identify the owner of every stiff prick presented. A close, secondary reaction included surprise with how big some of the works were. Many were poster-size or bigger.

The show began an LCD TV turned on its side, flashing pictures of their hard cocks in all their glory. Beneath the ever-changing pictures words appeared: Businessman, Unemployed, Gay, Bodybuilder, Porn star, and Father. The words changed at a different pace than the photographs. Sometimes the descriptive word matched the photo and sometimes it didn't. Jacob's initial confusion quickly turned into delight as he realized this was Amy's artist statement. Labels didn't matter. Labels were interchangeable. Labels were meaningless.

Amy had used her photos to create works of art in a variety of different mediums and techniques. There was a long, narrow panel covered in oil paints that celebrated the crisscrossing colors of a man's excited prick. She had used bright, primary colors to reimagined bulging veins, the circumcision scar, and the captured the excited color change of a prick's helmet head. Castings of Terry's cock had been turned into mundane and functional devices ranging from a toothbrush holder to a lamp. It took him a moment to realize there was a progression in place. The front of the gallery featured more abstract and bizarre works while each step took the viewer closer to reality until it finished with the same photographs featured in her artist statement without labels.

Jacob began working his way through the gallery, taking the time to examine and appreciate each work of art. He marveled at her skill and vision as each piece spoke to him on a deeper level. These were men he knew, whom he had touched, admired, and in one instance, sucked. At the same time, her art displayed every excited man who had ever lived; the passion of their desire and the ache of their need for release. He was embarrassed as he realized his reaction; he was getting hard. Was it because he remembered each of these men or because the artwork was thrilling? He felt surrounded by cock and loved it. He started smiling.

Along the way, he caught snippets of comments being made by the small groups standing in front of her art. "She calls this art? Look at her use of color!" said another. "Disgusting," one said. "While I love her use of shadow, I question her choice of topics!" said someone else. Jacob gaped at these people. Who were they? What right did they have to object to her choice of topics?

"I like it," he announced to a small trio gleefully ripping apart a dramatic photograph of Terry's magnificent prick. The stark black and white photo featured a close-up of his cockhead, the skin pulled tight and as the rest of his cock disappeared into shadow, while a careful viewer could catch the hint of his hand, as if he was masturbating.

"And I suppose you're a friend of the artist?" asked a tiny man wearing a bright red bow against a multicolored shirt. His glasses were the same color of red.

"If being a model means I'm a friend, then, yeah. I guess I am," Jacob said, keeping hold of his smile.

"Ooo, is that you?" asked a taller, skinny man with the kind of shimmy that made his sexual preference clear. For whatever reason, he carried a fan that he waved at his face while running his eyes up and down Jacob, lingering at the lump in his pants.

Between the two men stood a heavy set woman with her hair piled up in a beehive that would have Marge Simpson jealous. She wore fifties style eyeglasses with catlike points. She bulged out of her strapless, pencil skirt dress in a way that surely would leave red marks pressed against her skin for days. "It's obscene," she said.

"Actually, it's just a hard-on, though I can understand if that's not something you've seen very often in your life," Jacob said, finishing with a return of his smile. These were the kinds of pretentious pricks that had kept him away from Joy's artist parties.

"Ooo, burn," the tall man giggled while making another sashay with his hip. He fanned his face for a moment. "Tell us what you like about this, um, picture." His emphasis on the final word clearly dismissed Amy's work as inconsequential.

"Probably the taste of his cum on my tongue," Jacob said, unable to turn off his smile as their eyes went wide and jaws fell slack.

"And he's not the gay one," Joy said, suddenly appearing alongside of him. Hooking his arm, she guided him towards the middle of the room. "Do you know who that was?" she asked. Jacob shook his head. "Just one of the most important art critics in town."

"The short guy, right?"

"Actually, the fat chick in the middle. She runs the local art guild and whatever she says on her blog becomes truth."

"Oops," Jacob said, regretting his words, but Joy laughed away his concern.

"Fuck that bitch. She hasn't bought a piece of art in years and shows this like are all about the sales."

"Is Amy here?" he asked, glancing around the room and not seeing her.

"Behind the desk," Joy said, nodding towards the back of the gallery. "Listen, I hate to impose, but I was wondering, can I introduce you to some other people?"

"Do you think that's safe?"

"I want to introduce you as one of the models," she said, biting her bottom lip and looking worried. "I know Amy promised no one would ever know who was who. . ." Jacob put two fingers on her lips, stopping her.

"Go for it," he grinned.

Joy steered him towards a middle-aged couple standing in front of a work he couldn't quite see. The man wore a suit while the woman on his arm looked absolutely radiant. "Can I answer a question?" Joy offered.

"Are you the artist?" the man asked without looking away from the art.

"Just an attendant, dear," the woman said.

"Actually, a friend of the artist," Joy gently corrected. "And this is the model." When the couple turned, Jacob got his first glimpse of what had held their gaze. It was the pencil sketch of his excited prick leaking pre-cum. Amy had gone back over the sketch with a watercolor wash, adding color to her bold line drawing everywhere except for the drip leaking down his shaft. That remained as starkly white as the paper.

The distinguished looking gentleman offered a smile of bright white teeth that stood out in contrast to the deep tan of his face. Jacob was impressed that the woman on his arm looked age appropriate for him. "This is you?" he asked, studying Jacob as if he would be able to tell the difference between a rendering of Jacob's hard cock and someone else's. Jacob nodded. "You look rather excited."

"I was," he admitted, looking closer at the drawing as he saw it for the first time. The day Amy had made the sketch; she had kept it to herself.

When he turned back to the couple, he realized the woman was looking at the lump in his pants. He hadn't intended on getting hard, he couldn't help it. Her eyes moved back to his face. "Why?" she asked. "What could possible make you that excited?"

"She did," he said with a nod towards Joy.

"I can only imagine how," the woman replied exchanging a knowing glance with her husband.

"Actually, you can't," Jacob corrected. "She never touched me, not in that way and not on that day."

"So she watched while you. . ." the man suggested, making a tiny gesture suggesting Jacob had jerked off.

"You're so naughty," his wife giggled, taking half a step towards the next work.

"He's wrong," Jacob flatly stated, prompting the couple to stop.

Once more the man sized Jacob up before smiling. "Convince us and your artist friend has a sale." Joy didn't need to squeeze his arm for Jacob to understand how important this was.

Before he started, he noticed another couple had drifted close. Joy drew them closer, "This is the model," she explained, and that couple waved over a few more people. Jacob shot her a dirty look. He didn't mind explaining to the first couple, but this was becoming intimidating. Where should he start? Should he reveal how he had just finished sucking off Terry before posing? What about explaining the confusing relationship he had once had with Joy?

---

With his last final completed, Jacob felt a huge weight off his shoulders and was ready for a party, even if it was a party of gay guys. It began with himself, Rudy, Brian and a big jug of Jack Daniels. "Where's everyone else?" Brian asked, looking disappointed.

"I don't know," Rudy shrugged. "They'll be here, but why wait?" He uncapped the Jack, took a swig, and passed it along. Sitting in front of his laptop, he started up some dance music before opening his web browser to one of the porn-tube site where he queued up a long list of videos.

"Really?" Jacob asked, smile as he shook his head. "I get to spend my last night partying with a bunch of gay guys and watching gay porn?"

"You have a laptop, too," Rudy said as the bottle made another circle around the room. "Play whatever gets you hard."

"Maybe I will," he said, taking a moment to build his own queue of porn. Why not? Especially if it was just the three of them, what difference did it make? He leaned back on his bed, took another sip of the bottle when it was offered, and stared at his preferred version of porn.

"If you get hard, you have to show us," Brian said with a giggle while eyeing Jacob. Ever since that one night when Jacob had given out two blowjobs, he had had to endure Brian's advances until it had turned into a joke for him.

"Maybe I will," Jacob said, rubbing the front of his shorts while Brian stared as if he had x-ray vision. "But if I do, looking is all you'll get to do."

"Aw, don't be like that," Brian pouted. "I suck dick, too!"

"Not like him," Rudy assured him. "I swear, for a confused straight guy, you're scary good at giving head."

"Um, thank you?" Jacob said, unsure how to take that. Maybe it was the several sips of Jack on an empty stomach or the relief that he had made it to the end of his first year at college, either way, Jacob felt better than he had in a long time.

"Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?" Rudy asked.

"There are girls," he admitted, pretty sure he didn't want to tie himself down to just one. This past year had convinced Jacob he needed to find a special woman. For one, she needed to enjoy sucking dick. But beyond that, he needed to find a girl with fewer hang-ups, someone with a free spirit and an open mind. Maybe someone who would like to watch him. . ., he cancelled the thought before he finished it, but not before he remembered Cathy. Yeah, maybe he would have to look her up when he got home.

"You're gonna miss this dick," Brian said, shoving down his shorts, pulling out his prick, and waving it at Jacob.

"Not that one," he said, smiling at Rudy.

"Aw, the straight-boy loves my dick!" Rudy teased, getting up and answering a knock on the door. Jacob winced at the sound of gay squeals as Gary arrived to the party.

"What's up, bitches?!" Gary squealed as he flopped on the bed next to Jacob. He glanced at the dueling porn on twin laptops and laughed. "Isn't that sweet? Porn for you and porn for us!" He took a sip from the bottle of Jack and coughed before taking another sip. "Boy do I love a hard man!"

"Tell me about it," Rudy said with a big grin.

"Oh bitch, please. You were a slut all year! How many guys did you sleep with?"

"Six," Rudy bragged.

"Really?" Jacob asked, surprised. He knew Rudy was a social queen, but he would have never guessed that many.

"Shut-up," Rudy said, acting gayer than usual around their company. "I wrap that rascal every time. And, I get tested, too. All gay guys should. Including you, cocksucker."

"But I'm not gay," Jacob protested.

"But you are a cocksucker," Brian shouted. "And a damn good one." He rubbed the front of his shorts, showing off his hard-on, and giving Jacob another of those come hither looks.

"I thought he was straight?" Gary asked, looking confused.

"He was until he put this between his straight-boy lips," Rudy said, clutching the lump in his shorts.

"Shut-up," Jacob complained, wishing Brian and Rudy wouldn't tell his secrets.

"Oh girlfriend, don't you worry about it. Half the gay guys on this campus are so far in the closet they should be wearing hangers for hats," Gary said before patting Jacob's bulge.

---

Jacob did his best to ignore the handful of people who had joined them in front of the artwork depicting the height of his thrill. "We used to date," he began, gesturing towards Joy for the benefit of the well-heeled couple in front of him. "In college, a long time ago."

"Was it serious?" the woman asked.

"For me it was." He flashed Joy a smile filled with melancholy. "I thought, maybe, she was The One. You see, before I had met her. . ." He tried ignoring the group of people staring and listening. "I had done stuff." He caught a glimpse of Frank standing among those people. "Stuff with other guys." The handsome older woman gasped while her distinguished looking man went a bit stiff. "I'm not gay," Jacob hurried insisted. "But, well, things happened between me and my roommate. Gay things. Things I never told her or anyone."

"What does that have to do with this artwork?" the man asked, giving his wife a quick glance before returning his attention to Jacob.

"Nothing and everything," Jacob said, feeling all those eyes on him. Public speaking was never his forte. If he could talk in front of crowds, he would have considered getting his doctorate and becoming a philosophy instructor. Instead, the limelight made him uncomfortable. "She never knew. Not any of it, because I acted like it had never happened. I never told her and then we broke up. Like I said, years ago. She, um, she had a lot of boyfriends at that time."

The crowd grew a bit bigger and Jacob realized the music had been turned down, too. He saw the goofy looking trio that included the woman from the art guild and her gay friends. "Anyway, I'm not sure all that matters," he said, hoping to wrap up the story quickly. "Except Amy wanted all of us hard the day we modeled. Really hard and excited, all six of us. And before she sketched that, I had a reason to be really excited."

"I'll say," Terry piped up from the back of the crowd. He smiled and waved.

Jacob laughed and couldn't resist interrupting his story. He leaned in close to the short guy with the red glasses and said, "That's model from that photograph you didn't like." He grabbed Joy's hand as he turned back to the couple with money to burn. "She saw that reason and it was the first time she had any idea that I was, well, different."

"I always knew you were different," Joy said, squeezing his hand.

"But not that kind of different," Jacob insisted and she nodded. "No one knew, except maybe Amy. She had figured it out. She's good like that. While we were sitting on the floor in her studio, Amy made me tell my story, in front of this one. And I told it, most of it, some of it." He glanced at Joy, knowing she deserved hearing the rest, too. "But that's what made that happen, my truth, knowing she could see me while I told the story, knowing I couldn't hide the thrill I felt coming clean. I think part of me wanted to shock her, but more of me wanted her to know. It still does. I want her to know everything."