As an art student in college, I had plenty of opportunity to see boy dick of all shapes and sizes in "life drawing" class. Art majors were expected to take life drawing and later, life painting every semester while in undergraduate school. These classes lasted all day, (three hours in the morning and three more in the afternoon) and each week models of all sorts were paraded in front of us and we were expected to draw them -- and not just beat off of course. . . though sometimes that was hard. . . Some of the men we had for models were certainly memorable, more so than the women I thought, though that could have been because our teacher , Mr. Stern, was openly gay (being the first faculty advisor for the school's first Gay Student Association, a group which I also attended in those brave first years after Stonewall). While the female models we had ran the gamut from fat to thin, pregnant, old -- all kinds of body types we'd need to know how to draw and paint -- the male models in contrast, were mostly hot young studs who were memorable to draw and thinking back on it now, I wondered where our teacher had found them all, but then, as I was soon to find out, Mr. Stern had resources he didn't share with the whole class right away.
As far as particular models were concerned, we all had our personal favorites, and mine was up to pose on this particular day. Little did I know how this day would change everything for me for the rest of my school days. This model was quite a specimen too, I thought. He was a young student about my age and about my size, blond while I had dark hair and a little thinner than I was perhaps, but he was limber and gymnastic, able to twist himself into the most amazing double-jointed poses and hold them for what seemed like forever. I was captivated, mesmerized, and totally unable to draw the whole morning for some reason. (Drawing meant I'd have to look away and down at my paper, and the last thing I wanted to do was to look away).
There was a natural, almost feral grace to this boy's movements that was unconsciously erotic, a sensuality that oozed out of every glance that came my direction. From the moment he dropped his clothes and climbed onto the model stand I was a goner. I did my best for awhile to try and draw this boy, (his name was David, by the way) but it was a waste of time. I must have spent more time drooling than drawing because as even now as I look through the drawings I did from that period of time, there are none of him, which is a shame. I wish I had somehow drawn or photographed this walking wet dream so I could show you who it was that was getting me so worked up in class.
As this morning progressed my erotic fixation was particularly distracting because from the moment David climbed up and assumed his first gesture pose my dick rose to meet him and that erection stayed with me more or less throughout the whole morning part of the class, making it too embarrassing to get up and stretch my legs during breaks. Our model, on the other hand, would take advantage of these breaks to roam around the room in his floppy bathrobe, checking out all the drawings that people had done, while stretching his legs (Being a model is hard work, and work that requires athletic control and stamina. It's a much harder job than most people think). Anyway, like many of our models, he slipped into a robe and walked around the room looking at the drawings by the students to see how they'd caught his likeness or otherwise captured the series of seductive poses that he'd run through for us so far.
Since this was a very good art school, with a very competitive student body, many of the drawings that the students had on their easels were excellent, and I was ashamed that when he got to my spot where there wasn't anything to see. I'd simply been too mesmerized by his erotically charged body and found that I wasn't able to be distanced or objective enough to put down on paper what I was seeing. While there was nothing to show on paper, I was showing more than I wanted in my pants. Those days I didn't wear underwear and my jeans were threadbare and full of rips and patches, so the pants were next to useless when it came to holding down my completely rigid and erect dick, an erection that seemed about ready to literally burst through the seams of the worn out pants if I wasn't careful.
So, as my Adonis came by my easel, with his equally flimsy bathrobe, all I could do was to stay put and shuffle things around in a futile attempt to hide my obvious arousal. I was embarrassed as well that I didn't have any drawing s to show, since, for once, there was a model who seemed interested in what it was we were doing. I sorted through my portfolio and pulled out a few examples of drawings I'd done of other models who hadn't burned their images into my imagination too much for me to be unable to draw them, like I'd been that day. Somehow I was able to pull out a nice selection of drawings to impress my new idol with evidence that I COULD draw, after all. At the same time I hoped to distract him from my own terminal turgid condition, made all the more difficult as I felt his presence coming up behind me, looking over my shoulder, his robe brushing against my arm, giving me goose bumps.
"No drawings of me?" He seemed disappointed.
"Nothing good enough to show you, I'm sorry. But take a look at these other ones; you might see something you like."
"These are really good, better than the rest of these other guys," he waved a dismissive arm around the now empty room. "Am I doing something wrong up there? I'd like to see you do a drawing of me that is as good as one of these." He picked one of my better nude studies from the pile of drawings and held it out at arm's length then studying it closely, softly saying, almost to himself, "What should I do, I wonder? Should the lights be changed around? You hardly have any light to work from way back here" He seemed to be genuinely interested.
"Naw, I can see just fine. I'm just not having a good day today. I don't know why. . .although sometimes. . . I don't know. . .maybe. . ."
"Sometimes what?"
"Sometimes I get intimidated by things that are . . .uh, some models intimidate me, I guess?"
"Me? Intimidate you? You?re kidding of course, " and comparatively speaking he was right too. I was taller, heavier and stronger than he was. Bigger in every way but one. . . his cock was awesome. It was big soft, and had plenty of room to grow. He was the definition of "well hung." At the same time, he wasn't what someone other than me that afternoon would call intimidating. In today's porn terms David was more the twink than he was the hunk.
"Well, I don't know, it's not like you?re threatening or anything, it's just that sometimes it's hard for me to draw someone who is already so perfect. What can my drawing add? You've heard the expression, ?to gild the lily?"
"Thank you." He blushed and lowered his eyes, "That's a nice thing to say."
I exhaled and relaxed a little, a bit shocked by my own bluntness, but relieved at the same time that I'd finally said what had been on my mind all day. I'd been afraid that to be so direct would scare him off, but instead he seemed surprised and interested, looking at me as if for the first time. He continued to slowly leaf through my drawings, coming back to one or two of my better efforts.
"Too bad I couldn't inspire you to draw like these other models did," he said wistfully, as he put the drawing back on the stack, at the same moment he let go one side of his robe which floated open, the light from the stage light catching the cloth like a scrim, he took a step forward and the glow silhouetted his generously endowed genitals. His shapely cut cock, long and thick, and growing ever longer even as I looked. . . swaying back and forth in a dreamy tango, swaying out of its nest of fluffy golden pubic hair. Just a half beat behind it in time, were his swaying balls, hanging low in the warm room, one hanging a little lower than the other, both of them swinging along with his lithe movement, just a breath in time away from the hypnotic metronome his cock had become for my eyes.
It was only for a brief moment, but one of those instants that seem to go on forever as I've played and replayed the scene in my mind's eye ever since. It was like the slow motion kiss in "Rear Window" the golden object of my affection lingered and seemed suspended in time and space. I can close my eyes and replay that clip again, its gilded silhouette of cock and balls swaying against the backlit scrim, in what seemed like slow motion, swaying so close, so close to my trembling lips, just a kiss away, so close I could have stuck out my tongue an licked up the growing drop of precum that was leaking from David's cock. I wanted to taste it but just as suddenly my own mouth went bone dry, while the same sticky liquid began oozing out of my own still erect penis, spreading a darkening spot of precum on the lap of my jeans. It was as though the sight of David's dick had had a sympathetic effect on my own cock. Hard as it already was, it seemed to strain even harder than ever, almost as though it was reaching up to meet its twin, my cock straining upwards to meet David's, like love at first sight.
I'd been staring at this plump cock and balls for the past hour or so in class, trying to draw them, but mostly just staring at them . . .only now did I really see them as clearly as I wanted and needed to do from the start. "Well, maybe I can inspire you later this afternoon," David said, "We've got the long poses coming up."
Somehow I managed to croak, "I sure hope so."
"You should move your easel closer to the model stand now that everyone is out for lunch, you can't see from way back there." he said. And it was a helpful suggestion too, since I'd gotten to class late and could only find a spot in the back of the crowded classroom. With everyone out to lunch, I could move my easel to the front of the class, like David said. . .but to do that I'd have to stand up and I was still too shy about my raging erection, so I smiled and nodded as he turned to walk out of the room on break. Now, in the empty room I didn't care -- I unbuttoned my fly to let my cock out after its sometimes painful confinement and proceeded to move my easel and all my stuff up to the front of the room, as close as I could get to the model stand. Like he said, it would be a much better vantage point, I smiled and turned back to get some more of my stuff, my newly freed cock still fully erect and guiding the way.
There in the doorway was our model, who hadn't left yet after all, and by lingering at the door as he'd done, he'd also gotten an unexpected but good look at my own fat eight inches, freed at last from my jeans and curving upwards in a full and pulsing arc pointing towards the ceiling. This time he was the one to take in the silhouette of my fully engorged cock, dramatically backlit against the studio floodlights. His bemused smile got broader and broader as he watched my awkward moment. I blushed scarlet and smiled sheepishly as he turned to go, looking back once again; he grabbed his own heavy crotch with one hand, squeezed it a couple of time, then turned and left, looking back over his shoulder a last time giving me a wink.
Left to my own devices, Chapter 2.
Now this elaborate introduction probably makes me seem like an overly Romantic queen, mooning over cuties that are forever out of reach, but nothing could be further from the truth. I was chased more often than I did the chasing during these student years, and by this time I'd had a rather nonchalant attitude towards sex. I remember someone saying that sex was like food -- sometimes you want a full six course meal complete with wine, candle light and so forth, while sometimes you?re just plain hungry and want a burger from a fast food joint. Well, I knew all the "fast food" joints in town, and frequented them whenever the urge drove me there.
The dramatic scene in the classroom with the model left me in a "fast food" mood, that's for sure, and my hard-on wouldn't wait for any fancy dinner party later, so while I did my best to get out the door after that ?come on? and wink, but by the time I could climb over all the cluttered easels and art supplies scattered all over the studio floor, David had disappeared down the hallway. Looking up and down the corridors outside the classroom I thought, "Shit! If he's a just prick tease he sure did a good job of it."
Meanwhile, it was going to be an hour before the class resumed again, and if I was going to do any drawing at all after lunch I was going to have to take care of my throbbing boner, not to mention my backed up balls which were turning blue with frustration, throbbing with pent up cum they were getting painful too. What I needed now was a blowjob, quick and neat, and I knew just the place to get one.
Forget David, I thought as I made a beeline to the most active T room on campus, on the second floor of the Psychology Building (where else?) this was the surest place for quick anonymous sex, as long as I could get an open stall.
I ran across campus and bounded up the stairs of the Psych building and slammed into the restroom, making enough noise to alert the patrons that someone else was coming their way.
The set up of this men's room was perfect for status as a queer quick stop. It was big, yet out of the way, with a noisy set of double doors separated by a long corridor which had lockers, no longer used, for lab supplies. This lengthy entryway gave plenty of warning of potential intruders to the guys who were busy doing each other. And the glory holes were always busy, at least two or three guys staking out the last three stalls which had big, carefully cut out and smoothed holes between them, as smooth and perfectly cut out as though they were designed to go there in the first place. The stalls also had breezeways under the walls that were about a foot and a half from the ground; so it didn't take much of an acrobat to slide under and provide the guy next-door with easy and complete access to your crotch. For those less nimble or more anxious about being caught beneath the transom, the glory holes were large enough to fit the biggest cock and balls together, as well as giving an excellent view of the neighbor's equipment should you care to check it out. If you didn't care for what you saw, a square of tissue could cover up the view, and besides privacy, it was an effective message for "No, thanks."
Anyway, I came in loud and fast, having the good luck of getting the far end stall, which was just that moment being vacated by a happy looking frat boy. Good, I thought, this might be short and sweet. I closed the door and dropped my jeans and up popped my eight inches. I stood for a while letting it bob and weave in front of the eye level glory hole, to give the person in the next booth an eyeful before I sat down and started to massage my swollen cock. I wanted to cum so badly but made myself hold back, just to see what would happen. The guy in the next booth started furiously tapping his foot and running his finger around the bottom of the glory hole, beckoning me to give him a taste of my dick. I didn't need to be asked twice and I had my cock up and through the hole and into his warmly appreciative mouth in a flash. This mouth was an expert. My not insubstantial dick was swallowed down to the balls in one smooth movement, and the muscles of his throat began an amazing milking action, while he tightened his lips as my glans probed his tonsils. He also was able to somehow get his tongue swirling around my cock's shaft as he slowly pulled back away from being impaled, his slippery hand replacing his drooling mouth, continuing the same corkscrew motion, just long enough to take a breath -- then down he went again, enveloping my entire cock in what felt like a permanent holster -- and then again, the same movement twisting slowly one again. Then again came the plunge down all the way deep into his throat, and this time I became aware of how his nose was rooting around my pubic hair, his hand s having returned to his own stiff member, which I could see but the loud slapping sound must have raised the lustful curiosity of the other guys in adjacent stalls because I also heard a rustling of clothes and movement of shoes and bodies as they either resumed the oral exams my entrance interrupted, or else they were jockeying around for some sort of view.
With my stomach pressed flat against the stall wall, the view was definitely on the other side, and sure enough when I looked up I saw that the occupant of the stall on the other side of my cocksucker had climbed up on the toilet seat so as to get a view of the loud slurping action from over the top of the stall walls. He smiled briefly at me but seemed completely entranced with the action centering on my dick. And that action was everything I was hoping for. This talented mouth and throat had resumed its rhythmic dance on my cock and it was quickly bringing me to an almost electric orgasm. My balls tightening up against my body and I could tell it wouldn't be long before the spasmodic spurts of cum would begin, with my cock pulsing and throbbing with a heartbeat all its own. My oral expert responded to these signs of an immanent cum explosion by redoubling his efforts with his polished tongue technique even as he engulfing the entire length of my cock down his throat. I could feel the hot breath exhaling from his nose, which was still rooting around my pubes. His other hand was busy massaging my tightening scrotum, gently pulling at my swollen balls for a few moments then giving me chills by softly running the tips of his fingers over the tops of the hairs on my balls and inner thighs.
Normally, this kind of royal treatment would inspire me to reciprocate in kind, being a mean cocksucker myself, but not today. Today I had an emergency cum backup and was grateful to lose some of that overflow as soon as I could, and with this expert milking action quickly brought me to that escalation of sensation, and the point of no return. I shot off like Vesuvius, squirting cum lava down that expert throat, his lips clamped tight around my cock so as not to lose a single drop of the ropes of cum that started squirting again and again and again . . .he swallowed it all, just as he'd done for the frat boy whose place I'd so quickly taken. Today, it suit me just fine to be the next in line, particularly as this cocksucker obviously loved the job he was doing so well.
After giving in to the pleasure of his insistently hot and wet mouth, and after he'd swallowed every drop he finished me up by licking my cock clean of any stray gobs of semen. Limp and satisfied at last I sat down and caught my breathe while my cocksucking friend smacked his lips and whispered "Thank you, that was great." I thanked HIM for his awesome job, and I slowly got up and pulled on my jeans and opened the door to the stall. Standing at the outer door from the corridor was the next lucky kid, hard on in hand, waiting for me to be done so he could be next in line, like I'd done. I held the stall door open for him and smiled, "Enjoy. I did."