This is a reposting of a previous post.
When I was in art school I used to get very excited about figure drawing and painting class. We always had the best models. I have always been in love with the human form. As a child, I remember being fascinated by my older cousin's body. He came to stay with us right after he graduated from High School and would mow the lawn with his shirt off. I would sit on the front porch, mesmerized by his muscular torso as the sweat rolled down his chest and back. I was only eight years old and had no idea what was going on inside me.
After I graduated from High School, I enrolled in Art School and was a starving artist and barely making it, so I signed on to model for the Figure Drawing and Painting classes. My biggest fear was that I would get an erection. So far none of the male models in the class had ever sported one and I was determined not to be the first. I modeled for another section than my own, but it was a small art school and we all knew one another. There was one guy that I had my eye on and I knew that he would be in the class I modeled for on my first day. The teacher had a screen with Japanese print material set up as a changing area and furnished a white terry cloth robe for the models to walk to the modeling block. I undressed, put on the robe and came out from behind the screen, making my way to the modeling stage.
I got naked a lot in those days. At the beach, up the creek, hot springs, in our communal home I shared with five of my friends, but this was my first time actually putting myself on display. I was very comfortable with my body and not too worried about the size of my cock in those days. I knew from my own experience as an artist, that once the initial 'oh my god, there's a naked person in the room' moment was over and you got to work, a professional distance was created between you and the model and it was just a body that you we're recreating on your canvas or piece of drawing paper. The eroticism was only there if you took your mind off the work. Every one always tried to stay as mature and professional as possible during the sessions. From my own experience with hard ons, I knew if I put my mind on things as non sexual as possible, I could keep my cock down. Like all the times I would get an erection for no apparent reason in History class and as the bell to release the class approached, I would start thinking of Disneyland or some such innocent images.
There was one guy who I had my eye on in school who I'll call Mr. Gorgeous Artist. He had the most beautiful skin and was the hippiest guy I knew. As I walked passed Mr. Gorgeous Artist, he turned and smiled. "Oh, shit!," I thought as I dropped the robe and climbed up onto the platform. The teacher put me on a stool and the first pose was seated and relaxed and easy to hold. My mind wandered all over the place and eventually I found myself in a safe and non-sexual zone that had me far away from the class. I did three other poses, one lying on my back with one arm above my head and one leg up and my cock and balls on display for all and another pose standing that was the hardest to hold. During a break before the last pose, Mr. Gorgeous Artist followed me outside and asked if he could have a cigarette. We stood there smoking and chatting about some nonsense; me in my robe and him with his long hair, beads and sandals, smelling of patchouli and sweat and my cock began to swell. The smell of patchouli has always been a huge turn-on for me. Maybe because so many of the people I had sex with wore it in those days. I could feel my cock rising and the head touched the terry cloth of the robe and I knew it was just a matter of time before it was jutting out, tenting the robe. I put out my cigarette and excused myself to go to the bathroom. By the time I got there, the erection had subsided and I was able to piss before returning to the class and taking my place.
My last pose was on my side facing the class with my hand holding my head up. My cock was falling onto the side of my hip and I felt something wet dripping down my skin. I adjusted myself one last time before holding the pose, sneaking a glance down to my dick. To my horror I saw a long string of precum snaking its way down my body from my cock. I reached down pretending to adjust myself and wiped off as much as I could, but left a wet spot. As I settled back into the pose I glanced at Mr. Gorgeous Artist and he was holding back his laughter by looking down at the floor, his body bouncing. I felt my whole body rush with blood and turn bright red. My face was hot and I started to sweat. I held the pose through the session and when the class was over, dressed and ran from the building. That was my last day as a model.
I actually became good friends with Mr. Gorgeous Artist. Although we never hooked up, we did have a good laugh about that day. Turned out he was straight and although he was open to having a gay friend, was not interested in having sex with a guy. Believe me, I tried.
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