tagExhibitionist & VoyeurLife Drawing Class

Life Drawing Class

byThe Mutt©

When you're a starving actor, you'll take any gig that comes along. So when I saw the flyer on the bulletin board at the laundry that read - Life Models needed for continuing education art class. Nudity required. 10 dollars per hour - I didn't hesitate. I tore the flyer from the board (why encourage competition?) and went home to do some push ups.

The next day, I showed up at the office of the art department. The secretary gave me a bit of a smirk as I went in to see the Life Drawing teacher, Mr. Maxwell. He was a tall, lean man in a thick sweater. He looked at me like a specimen and stroked his beard as we talked. We discussed the job duties and such. He asked me extensive questions about my background. Finally, he sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly.

"Mister Greystoke, everything seems to be in order. I have only a few more questions. You have been naked before a group of people before?"

"Well, in the locker room, yes."

"It did not disturb you?"

"No, I think I have a good body. I don't mind being seen."

"When you were naked in front of these men, did it excite you?"

"No, we were just getting dressed."

"There will be women in this class. Does that titillate you?"

"Mr. Maxwell, I'm an actor. Being on stage is like being naked to the world. I know that I am here to do a job. That is what I will do."

Mr. Maxwell got up and walked around the desk. He sat on the corner, a few feet from where I sat.

"I don't ask these questions to pry. Let me tell you about another model we hired once and you will understand. This man, Bob I'll call him, answered all the questions you did. He mentioned that he enjoyed the idea of people admiring his body. I should have seen that as a warning sign. I did not. Bob came to his first class. I posed him in the position of The Thinker. You are familiar with the piece?"


"As 'Bob' sat in his pose he began to grow erect. This happens on rare occasions with nude models. One cannot completely control one's thoughts. As he sat, his breathing grew deeper. His face grew red. I was about to call a halt to the session when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"He.....ejaculated. Spontaneously. A woman in the front row was....spattered. There is a lawsuit pending in the matter. Do you understand now why we must be cautious?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good. When you come to the class you will arrive twenty minutes before class time. There is a room just off the drawing room. You will remain in that room until I come for you. Undress and put on the robe provided. At no time during the class will you make eye contact with any of the students. At no time will you speak to any of the students. When the posing session is over, you will return to the room and remain there until the class is cleared. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Does this mean I have the job?"

"Yes, Mister Greystoke. Be at room 5B at twenty til 6:00."

"Thank you, sir."

We shook hands and I went to the door. I paused with my hand on the doorknob."

"Mr. Maxwell?"




"He didn't touch himself or rub his thighs together or anything?"


"Wow. I didn't know they could do that."

I arrived that night as instructed. As I sat in the room in the robe, I could see the students arriving through the window. Being a night course, they were of all ages. I sat and listened to Mr. Maxwell lecture the class for a while. I cupped my package in my hands to avoid shrinkage. It was a bit cold in the room and I wanted to look my best, if you know what I mean. Maxwell was quite good. Informative and funny. Then he told the class it was time for the drawing session. He came for me.

I entered the room, my eyes toward the floor. There was a carpet-covered stand in front of the class. Mr. Maxwell posed me in an archer's pose, squatting with my ass on my heel and my other leg extended to the front. I held my arms as if holding a bow and arrow. The students began to draw. Posed as I was, looking down the shaft of an imaginary arrow, the only thing I could see of the students were the legs of a woman in the front row. They were incredible. Shapely and strong. Bare. I felt a stirring in my cock. I thought about baseball. My legs began to cramp. By the time the 15 minute pose was over, I was in agony. Any sexual thoughts I might have had were replaced by fear I might not be able to stand. Maxwell must have known this, because he helped me up and into my robe. I returned to my cubby hole.

As I dressed, I watched the students leave, trying to spot the woman with the great legs. There she was. Short, shapely, dressed in a business suit. She must have come straight from work. Her hair was cropped short and laced with grey. She walked with a confident stride. She paused beside a silver Porche and lit a cigarette. Then she hiked her skirt a bit, got into the Porche and drove away.

In each subsequent class, I would try to angle myself during my poses to be sure I could see those legs. Each night she wore short skirts. As I would pose, I fantasized that she knew I was looking at her legs and wore the short skirts just for me. I thought of her looking at my cock. I pictured her pencil drawing the lines of my shaft, shading the curve of my balls. The thoughts helped to combat the cold. My cock hung loose and full between my legs. When I would feel myself going to far I would practice difficult Shakespearian soliloquies in my mind. Each night I would go home and masturbate, remembering those magnificent legs.

This went on for about a month. I was becoming quite skilled at letting my lurid thoughts bring me to half mast, then stopping before things went too far. I wanted to look my best for the lady with the legs. But one night I arrived at the class and Mr. Maxwell stopped me in the hall. He told me I would be posing with another model that night. He asked if that would be a problem. I assured him it would not. I entered the changing room to find it occupied by a woman. A stunning woman. She was lithe and athletic. Her red hair hung to her ass.

"Hi! I'm Mary Rose."


We shook hands.

"Have you ever done any pairs?" she asked.


"There's nothing to it. I assume you've seen a naked woman before."

"Well, sure."

"So, it's nothing you haven't seen before. If you start feeling....uncomfortable, just remember. I'm a lesbian."

And she began to undress. She was as casual about it as a football player in a locker room. I wish I could say the same. Her body was exquisite. Her breasts were firm and pointed. Her belly was flat, yet soft. There was a thick tangle of red curls between her legs, but not so thick that I couldn't see the pouty mound of her pussy. Her armpits were unshaven, the hairs long and red. When she bent to gather her shoes, her taut ass cheeks spread and I could see her tiny, pink bunghole. I felt myself grow hard. She turned and saw my state. She threw back her head and laughed. I began to wither. She could apparently read my expression.

"Don't be silly. It's a fine looking cock. I was just laughing because I would hate for you to get fired before you even got in front of the class."

"I'm sorry. But you are very sexy, you know."

"Hell yeah, I know. But we're here to work, right?"


"Right. So keep thinking those good thoughts."

Mercifully, Mr. Maxwell came to bring us in. On the pedestal was a step-ladder draped with a cloth. Maxwell led us to the ladder and we dropped our robes. He placed Mary Rose atop the ladder and me in front of her. She leaned her head back and her red hair cascaded like a waterfall. I stood between her legs, one hand at the small of her back, the other on her thigh.. Before I threw my own head back, I saw her pussy, spread and inviting. I was grateful that my leg was raised onto the first step, blocking the sight of my half-swollen cock from the class. Try as I might, I could not stop my eyes from drifting down to her jutting breasts. Her pink aureolae cupped the end of them. Her nipples were like marachino cherries. I thought of squeezing them between my lips. I thought of the lady with the legs gazing at us. My cock grew harder. I began "to be or not to be...." in my mind, but it wasn't working. I was approaching full erection. If Mr. Maxwell were to walk around behind us he would see it.

Mary Rose's skin felt hot under my hand. Her breathing was deep and rhythmic. Her breasts rose and fell. My cock continued to rise. Because of how I was standing, the tip of it was directed right at her cunt. I could feel her red hairs tickling the head of it. It was too much. There was no fighting it. So I stopped fighting. My mind became filled with thoughts of the sexy lesbian licking the legs of the woman in the front row. Of watching her wrap those legs around her head.

Now I was rock hard. The head of my cock was pressing against Mary's pussy lips. she was growing wet! The scent of her arousal filled my nostrils. I seemed impossible that the whole class couldn't smell it. I leaned slowly, slightly into the pose. I could feel my cockhead slide up the soft folds of her butterfly lips. She felt like wet velvet. To my amazement, she slid her hips forward on the ladder, pressing her clit against my shaft. She began to subtly, so subtly rock her hips back and forth. I was going mad with lust. Then Mr. Maxwell got up from behind his desk and Mary Rose pulled back. I could feel her wetness cooling on the tip of my cock. I thought we were busted, but he only went to the light stand and adjusted the light. When his back was turned, Mary Rose slid her thigh up and down the side of my hip.

My body was on fire. I had to move, to speak, something to break the spell. I rolled my head as if I was getting a crick in my neck. Just one roll, then back to the pose. But when I rolled my head, I saw her. The woman with the legs. They were wide apart, her feet hooked behind the legs of her chair. Her skirt was pulled up to her lap. She wore no panties! Her hand was between her legs! Her finger was deep in the thick, black tangle of curls! My body quivered. There was no stopping it now. I let go. I shot a hot jet of cum onto Mary Rose's red bush. My face must have been burning, but no one seemed to notice. After a few minutes, Mr. Maxwell called the end of the class. I quickly grabbed my robe, hoping no one would see the drop of cum hanging from the end of my cock. I raced to the changing room.

When Mary Rose got there she was snickering. When she opened her robe and saw the mess I had made in her bush she began to giggle uncontrollably. She locked the door and leaned against it.

"Okay, Mutt-Boy. Here's the deal. I could tell Mr. Maxwell and get you fired, maybe busted. But I won't. On one condition."

"Anything. Please. I need this job."

She hopped up onto a table and spread her legs wide.

"Lick me clean," she ordered.

I did as I was told. The taste of my cum was salty as I cleaned her red curls. When my tongue would drift too low and taste of her sweet pussy, she would slap me upside my head. When she was clean, we dressed. She put on her coat. She took a handkerchief from the pocket, licked it, and wiped a drop of my cum from my chin.

"Walk me to my car, Mutt-Boy."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm not your mother. And I own your ass now."

"Yes, Mistress."

I followed her to the dark parking lot. When we approached her car, I saw that it was a silver Porche. Someone was in the driver's seat. It was a woman sitting sideways in the seat, smoking a cigarette. Her legs were extended out of the open door. Those legs. Those magnificent legs. The legs from the front row.

When Mary Rose reached the car, the driver got out. The two women embraced and kissed each other deeply and passionately. They got back in the car and Legs started it up. Mary Rose rolled down her window and smiled at me like a cat smiles at a mouse.

"Need a lift, Mutt-Boy?"

"Please, Mistress."

I walked back the next morning for my car. Six miles, but I didn't care.

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