I Begin to Undress

I begin to undress. Trying to think of other things, other than sex, other than the beautiful woman standing in front of me, telling me to undress now.

"I have to be able to asses your ability to hold a pose, and I suppose that you are comfortable enough naked, when I'm not. That you won't, well, chicken out on us, on the night."

"Uh, sure, um, I just wasn't expecting to that's all."

"Well then."

I stood, sort of waiting for her to insist, or to produce a screen.

"Is there a screen?"

"Well, yes actually. Do you want me to get it?"

"No, I suppose not, not really. No need is there?"

"okay then. Are you ready?"

"Yes, um, I suppose."

But I still did nothing. I looked at her. She was extremely attractive. Maybe ten years older than me, maybe more, maybe nearer forty. But still quite stunning. Auburn hair pulled back, little or no make up, slim, tall. I couldn't really make out her legs, in her jeans, but she had a great ass, and her breasts were full and pert under her white T-shirt. As far as I could tell she had no need to wear a bra and hadn't bothered that morning. I may have thought about sex as soon as I saw her, and may have worried about getting turned on, when I was naked. This was a desperate situation. No cash, no time for even part time work. I had volunteered to donate blood, without realising it didn't pay, gone down the sperm route, without realising they required that you abstain from all forms of sex, or at least all forms of sex that involved me ejaculating. All of which meant I hadn't had a fuck, though this was not an especially unusual event, but also hadn't been able to masturbate for two weeks. I suppose I might have gone for two weeks without wanking before, but as soon as you're told you can't do it, that's all you think about. Anyway, I had sex on the brain, saw sex everywhere, was thinking of sex constantly. And felt constantly aroused. Felt like I had a constant erection. And now here I was. About to strip in front of a gorgeous older lady and be looked at. This was the moment I supposed, this was when I checked out my exhibitionist tendencies. She was still waiting. I was still waiting.

"You don't have to. Obviously. A lot of men find they can't."

"no, no it's okay. I'm sure I can."

"Okay then. Take off your clothes."

I started to undress. I pulled my trainers off by the heel, bent over to yank my socks off, dropped my jacket on the chair behind me, undid the buttons on my shirt. This is it then, here I go, I pulled the shirt out of the waist of my own jeans, took it completely off and lay it over my jacket. I'm half naked, and it's a little cold in this room. I undo the button on my trousers and unzip the fly. Nope, no reaction, fear is getting the better of arousal, nerves are beating away any thought of a hard on. I drop my trousers and step out of them, fold them on the seat of the chair. Decide to wait a while now, for no reason. I think I see her raise an eyebrow. Right, here goes. I hook two thumbs into the waistband of my boxer shorts, bend over a bit and pull them down, step out of them, toss them behind me and stand up, naked. My penis seems to have shrunk on me. My penis has reacted to this situation with a flight of its own and has more or less shrivelled to a state that can only be described as childlike. Even in this situation I do not think this is good, this cannot be good. I look at her, my arms by my side, my cock sinking into my pubic rug, my balls having also retreated, like I've just stepped out of a cold bath, just had a dip in a particularly cold sea. Well, too late, you're naked now, you're naked in front of this rather lovely older lady, she's seen it, she's seen you. And I feel sure she's seen it all before, as an art teacher, feel sure she has seen all sorts of cocks, every type of scrotum, and I suppose, every type of breast and vagina, all the various types of trimmed, sculpted, bare and unkempt bush. And now here's mine. For the moment less than impressive.

"okay thank you.

"all right yes."

I turn, I think that wasn't too bad, and pick up my boxers.

"Oh no, sorry, I just meant thanks for going through with it. I'll need to get into a few poses. If you can just stand naturally for a bit. Let me have a look at you."

"Ah, yep. No bother."

I stand as she looks me up and down, perhaps lingering on my genitals, perhaps I see her checking out my cock, uncircumsized if you have to know, but fresh from a shower, given a paranoid's wash that morning. Which is a pleasure I think, only an uncircumsized man knows. Stepping into a good shower, letting the water soak you, pulling back your foreskin and rubbing away any of the accumulated secretions, holding it back as you piss, as you watch the unhindered jet of piss hit the drain, and as you feel the first swelling of an erection, just the initial hint, and you wash some more, keeping your foreskin held back, and look at this, look at your cock, at its stem, at the now plump head, clean and wet, full and shiny, hard but somehow soft. And this is what I'm thinking? As I stand here naked, as she continues to look me up and down? I'm thinking of that morning's shower and the stiff prick I was playing with? The erection I gave myself and needed all my self control not to masturbate furiously until I came? And it did take some control, as it had taken control for the previous thirteen days. But there's pleasure there too I suppose, masturbating up to the point of an orgasm but not past it.

"Okay, if you could place one foot up on the chair, hold your hands behind your back."

And I look at her, and step to the chair, feeling my penis shake as I walk, feeling it hanging now, and swinging, relaxed just a bit, against my thighs. I place my left leg on the seat of the chair and hold my right wrist with my left hand, behind my back like she asked me too. And now I can feel my cock as it sways free of my legs, as it hangs against my balls, I can feel a small breeze, from somewhere, hit the underside of my scrotum, I can feel everything down there, everything registers at the moment, it's like a motion detector down there, with infra red beams and trip wires. Anyway. I sense a breeze, caressing me. And this is nice, suddenly, I am quite enjoying this, I am enjoying being looked at, am enjoying being naked, nude sorry, let's get this bit right, I am enjoying being nude and looked at, studied. And it isn't sexual, or isn't quite. Or isn't, well, a lot.

"Okay, I'm going to walk around you, if you can stay as you are, perhaps widen your stance a little. I need to see you from a variety of angles. Okay? Are you okay?"

"Sure, whatever you need."

"Okay."

She walks behind me, I take a step with my right leg, inch my left foot across the chair, further freeing my penis and testicles from contact with my legs. And still feeling that breeze, feeling it now not just on my balls, on the root of my cock, but even further down, or up. I think the pose I am in has edged apart my ass cheeks slightly, has maybe exposed my anus to the air. Which also feels quite nice. Though it occurs to me that now she is behind me it is possible that she can see this. I wonder if she can, if she is looking at me there. And I try to remember if anyone has really looked at me there, excluding my mother when she would have cleaned me up as a baby. Have they? Perhaps during a massage, perhaps when an old girlfriend had given me a back rub, and has worked her way down, as she has removed my pants, as she has taken off some of her clothes, so as not to get them oily of course, as she has pulled off my pants so she can massage my legs, my lower back, my buttocks. Yes, she would have parted them, she would have rubbed them with oil, and allowed it to drip into my crack, yes, I can feel it now, a cold drop of oil hitting my exposed anus, as she rubs, and hold my ass cheeks apart, works her way up from my thighs. Did she? She rubs the oil more thoroughly into my butt, pours on a little more, allows a finger to graze it, allows an accidental thumb to touch as she rubs elsewhere, as if to grip she then touches more forcefully, it is a touch that stays there, pressing against my tight opening. Until she says to me that she's finished. And I have a raging hard-on. And I think of regulation sex until she says what she says next. "I have finished your massage, perhaps you'd like me to pour some more oil onto my hand, perhaps you'd like me to stick a couple of fingers up your bum." "Yes." "Sorry, yes to what?"

"I'd like you to pour oil onto your fingers and stick them up my bum." "Right then." Fuck me if she didn't. I felt a slick finger against my anus, touching, prodding, teasing, rubbing it. I feel myself resisting, I feel my anus becoming tighter, clenching, and then I feel her pushing into me, I feel her inserting her finger into my bud. Then another, then she sticks her two digits into me, begins to finger fuck my arse. "Get up onto your knees." She tells me and I did. I raise by arse into the air and she reaches around to grip my stiff penis. She yanks my foreskin back without ceremony and uses the oil on this other hand to rub the engorged head of my cock as she continues to finger my anus. She quickens both movements, she fingers me and wanks me and I tell her I'm about to come and she really sort of rams her fingers deep into my rectum and holds her other hand over the tip of my penis so she can feel me coming, so she can feel the jolts of thick spunk shooting out of me. And I come, I come in buckets into her hand and over the bed and her arm and the pillow and she takes this palmful of my juice and licks it clean, and gobbles it with her own arousal as she demands I give her her own orgasm now thank you.

This is what I think of as the art teacher gazes at my back, as I feel my balls tighten again, and as, my penis relaxes some more. She faces me once again. I smile at her. She lowers her eyes again and I can't help but sneak a look at her breasts. Can't help now but notice her nipples, when I couldn't before, can't help but see they have swollen, that they are now sticking out from under her T-shirt like a pair of cold bullets. Fuck, it isn't that cold in here, despite the breeze. She's turned on by this, she's getting a little bit aroused by seeing me naked, by looking at my arse, my anus even, my penis. She looks up at me. I look back. And there is a definite if slight swelling of my own. But this is okay I think, nothing too severe, nothing overly noticeable. Her nipples continue to protrude.

"If I can get you to stand with a leg either side of the chair, and hold your hands behind your neck."

I get into this pose. Feel my balls back against my thighs, feel my penis press outwards, just slightly. Look as she walks around me again.

"Now, of course there's just me today. Do you think you'll be okay with seven or eight? Or up to twenty some evenings?"

"Well, I'm really not sure. It might be easier I think."

"Yes, maybe, the female gaze though is not something most men handle very well. You seem to be handling it very well."

I accept the compliment as she circles me, stops, again to my rear, then in front, her nipples affect me some more, I feel my penis become heavier, when she can't see me I take a downward glance. Fuck. It looks unmistakably hard. Its thick vein visible, smaller tributaries marbling across the dark skin. I sense the skin becoming taut, foreskin being pulled back, the reddened tip becoming exposed, it is no doubt fatter, thicker, longer. There can be no doubt I am getting an erection. I will it down, I think non sexual thoughts, pleading with it to calm down before she comes back around to stand in front of me. I consider stopping this, I am thinking of cutting my losses and grabbing something to cover myself with, murmuring an apology, leaving with a sheepish grin. And then she is in front of me. She looks down, I look down, we both look down and see that my penis is now in a semi-erect state, has stiffened and has risen to an angle that can offer only one explanation, this is not a relaxation, this is not a mere and variously explained filling, my penis is becoming hard. She carries on looking, walking to my side, saying nothing, offering no acknowledgment of what has happened. I look down at myself again and see further development, see my penis sticking out now horizontally in front of me, see the swollen glans appear from under my foreskin, see the pursed lips of my piss hole. And this of course arouses me further. Should it? Should the sight of my own stiffening cock get me going? Well, it does, it always does, it certainly does now, when just about anything is getting me going. As I look at it my penis trembling as it engorges, I see it shake as it rises further, as it stiffens further. The art teacher faces me again, and again she looks down, and again I follow her look and we both see my fully erect penis, I stand in front of her utterly exposed and utterly turned on, my cock is rigid, it is making me feel light headed, it makes me shake with excitement, and she carries on looking at it, at me, at my tight scrotum, exposed now, at the seam of my scrotum, at its hairs, at my equally full testicles, and these feel heavy, these feel huge with unspent cum, at the ridge on the underneath of my penis, at the hard stem and fully rounded head. I look at her as she looks at my aroused genitals, at an almost vertical eight inch erection.

"okay, now if I can get you to hold your arms out, one in front of you, one behind, and sort of crouch, and lower your head. Yes, that's it."

I work myself into this slightly awkward, slight difficult position, which gives me an unavoidable look at my erection, buried just a little now between my thighs, but no less obvious, no less hard. I feel the urge to apologise for this, to accept or acknowledge that it has happened at least, that my prick has become stiff.

"Um, listen, sorry about this." I motion to my penis.

"What? Of course, don't even think about it. It happens fairly regularly. I mean, it's an erection, men get erections, not always because of anything sexual, you have an erection. I've seen them before. Can you hold the back of the chair, yes, grip it, right. It doesn't happen a lot I don't suppose, certainly not always, but now and again we'll be drawing and we'll see our model's penis changing shape. And it's an excellent sketching exercise, as it doesn't happen often."

"yes, I suppose it would be, uh, interesting."

"I mean I know some of the girls in the class get their boyfriends, their husband to allow them to draw their penises when they are erect. I have seen some of the sketches. And some of the men, well, I suppose all of the men could draw an erect cock if they wanted to. Using a mirror."

"Yes, if they wanted. There, uh, there are men in the class then?"

"Of course. Does that bother you?"

"I'm not sure, it might if I got one of these."

"Mmm, well I can guarantee that any of the men in the class would have seen one of those innumerable times."

"Yes, not mine though."

"Well, as I said, it's an erect penis, penises become erect sometimes. Really nothing unusual, nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Sure, thanks."

Though I'm not sure what for, that fact she is treating it as nothing somehow makes it all the more arousing. Again though, what wouldn't, nothing she could say at this point, other than some sort of disparaging comment... no, not even that, even that might appeal, even that sort of sexual demeaning might open up the submissive in me.

"can I ask you something?"

How can I stop her. "Of course."

"Do you like being looked at? Do you think you have a body that deserves to be looked at?"

"Oh, well, I'm really not that vain, I mean, I might not be able to do this if I was wracked with insecurities, I mean, I think I'm okay, but nothing special."

"Uh-huh. It's just at some obvious level you're enjoying this. You have become erect after I started to study you, I am still clothed, you are not. There is a power imbalance, and, sorry, I go in for this sort of thing, it's what my work is all about, but there is a domination aspect to this, which you, possibly, are responding to."

"Responding to?" Maybe she was a dominatrix, maybe I wanted to be her servant. My penis was responding further to this. I felt her hand on my back, my shoulder, moving me an inch here, a foot there. I felt controlled, directed, I felt her touch me and linger. My penis became about as stiff as I could remember, stiff to the point I felt faint again. I felt weak, that I was shaking. If she'd offered me a cup of tea at that point I would have spilled it over my hands.

"Um, how d'you mean?"

"How do I mean? You have an erect penis, I am looking at it now, it is possibly caused by nothing specific, but we have been talking about your erection for five minutes and it has not gone away. Your prick is still hard, you still have a hardened prick despite the fact that it should really have gone down by now, especially as we have been talking about it, unless, and this is what I mean, you remain erect because we are talking about it, because I am looking at it. In other words...well, I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yes, probably."

"Can I have you on the platform over in the other room? Would you mind? This is where you will be posing, it will give me a better idea of how you stand, hold, will fit into the class."

"Of course, no bother."

I turn behind me to pull at least my pants on, maybe shirt, trousers.

"Oh, please don't bother. It's only down this corridor. You don't need to dress, then undress."

And this feels more than casual now, again directed, a deliberate attempt to demean. I leave my clothes behind. In control of this woman, in the thrall to the erection she has given me. I relax the pose I'm in, stand before her with my hands resting on my hips, my left foot in front of my right, we stand as if at a party, at a busy pub, chatting about this, about that, except I am still naked and she is fully dressed, except she can glance over my exposed body and see my mat of dark pubic hair, the twin globes of my testicles and the protruding rod that is my engorged penis. And she does look, she carries on looking down at me. Which at least allows me to look, with less furtiveness, at her breasts, at the shape they make under her T-shirt and the dark points of her own arousal.

"okay, shall we go."

"Yep, lead the way."

And we walk, she waits for me, or, doesn't allow me to follow behind. I think she wants me right next to her, wants to maintain the illusion this is normal as long as possible. We walk out of this small room, through a door and into what could easily have been a school corridor, there is no carpet, a green and mauve tile, which is cold against my feet.

"So, you must be a student."

"Yes,"

"And what do you study?"

"I'm reading psychology."

"Of course, fascinating. It's just down here."

I follow her, or I walk next her, my hands swing, my legs step one on front of the other, I can smell the faint drift of her perfume, her shampoo, her shoes clack against the tiles, my bare feet are almost soundless. The cold air stiffens my nipples, stiffens hers further, and feels exquisite against the rest of my naked skin. My balls feel like they have risen inside me, my scrotum a wonderful pouch of tough flesh. I can feel a breeze, stronger now but still behind me, blowing against my bare buttocks. I feel my arse cheeks move, propelling me forwards, as I look down, at her legs, at the gentle wobble of her breasts, cotton holding them, rubbing against her. And my cock still leading me on. My erection has lost some of its rigidity but only so that it now bounces as I walk, it rises and drops, sways and circles obscenely as I step. We come to a closed door, half wood, half frosted glass, which she unlocks.