Something weird happened to me last Wednesday and I’m going to try to write about it, even if I’m not yet sure I’ll be able to find the right words to describe it.

I was life-modelling in an achingly hipster studio/warehouse in Hackney Wick. With the exception of a hen party two weekends ago (which I’ll cover in a future blog post), it was the first time I’d done anything like that for about 10 years – and it was only when I got on the Overground half an hour before the class was due to start that I decided I definitely wasn’t going to chicken out.

Building yourself up to do something scary is often a lot worse than actually taking the plunge and doing it, so once I’d arrived and taken off my clothes I started to feel pretty calm about things; not exactly in my comfort zone, but certainly not so far outside it that I couldn’t relax a bit and enjoy myself.

The artists were arranged in a horseshoe around a sofa, rug and stool, with a couple of larger easels set up at the back for latecomers. The class kicked off with a series of 10 one-minute sketches, which ought to have been a nice way to ease into it. What I hadn’t realised till we got underway was that I was expected to choose all the poses myself; I’d thought the teacher would tell me what he wanted, and it was a little unsettling to have to figure it out on my own, especially during that first, rapid-fire session.

It did at least take my mind off the fact that I was naked in front of 15-20 people, though honestly, these days, I’m not sure that bothers me in the slightest. If it had, I think the quiet professionalism of the people drawing me would have helped to settle the nerves anyway; they were serious people, and it would’ve been hard to feel self-conscious for long when their interest in me clearly didn’t extend beyond my value as a subject.

We went straight from the one-minute poses into two 10-minutes sketches, which were followed immediately by a 30-minute sketch. It’s hard to get across how physically demanding it is to hold any position for that long, regardless of how comfortable it feels to begin with. After a while I tried to take myself outside my body – to reduce my awareness of my twisted back, draped limbs, and the discomfort spreading out from my core. I counted bricks on the wall behind the artists. First in rows, then in columns, and finally in neat, woven patterns. I catalogued the contents of the studio around me, then I closed my eyes and tried to remember each item I’d noticed. Finally, I studied the people fanned out in front of me – studied them, and fantasised.

With hindsight, that was a mistake. Even more of a mistake was focusing my attention on the woman seated fourth from the left, squarely in my eyeline. There was an intensity to the way she stared at me, and every time I caught her eye, I felt my cheeks get a little warmer. At first I lowered my gaze whenever hers lingered on my body. I guess we’re not brought up to easily endure that kind of sustained scrutiny, and as a model – an object – I felt even more conscious of the need to avoid direct engagement.

It’s not easy though. And I can’t stress that enough – it’s really not. The more she stared at me, the more I wanted to stare back. In my head, I turned the tables and tried to figure out how I’d draw her. How I’d bring to life the curls of dark hair that bounced down towards her shoulders. The precision I’d need to place the freckle on her exposed cleavage in just the right spot. Her creased, crinkled concentration.

Pretty soon that became a whole story. I sketched it out in my head: in broad strokes, sure – at least to begin with – but sometimes those have the biggest impact. They give you the shape of things, the real heart of the piece, and the rest is mere detail. Study someone for long enough and you’ll know exactly what you want to do to them with your hands, your mouth, and your cock – or what they want to do to you.

Let me be clear about one thing at this point. Nothing I’ve described so far really counts as weird. Not in the context of the last two years. I’ve put my cock all over the internet. I’ve opened up about some of my most private desires – and insecurities. I’ve been to a sex party. I’ve done a whole bunch of stuff that’s pushed and challenged me, but which has also opened my mind to all these fucking amazing experiences, which I might otherwise never have had. Getting naked in front of strangers – fantasising about strangers – is kinda par for the course.

The erection…now that was weird.

Not the fact of it – not that. I brought it on myself, after all. No. It was the manner of how I got hard that freaked me the fuck out. The feeling of becoming erect in a vacuum, essentially.

If you have a penis, you’ll probably know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, bear with me for a moment…

Cocks get hard, and that’s awesome. They go from soft and sleepy to thick and throbbing, multiple times per day, and often with only cursory encouragement. I’m a 34-year-old man – I know how my erections feel. I know how they unfurl across a partner’s tongue, or fill my fist as I pump it up and down. I know what it’s like to stand in a crowded room – or sit in an empty train carriage – and feel my dick slide up against the rough denim through suddenly insufficient boxer-briefs. Every morning, I wake up hard.

But here’s the thing about all those erections – and the hundreds of others I get in an average month. There’s resistance. Resistance! The kind of thing you absolutely don’t notice till it’s no longer there. When I wank, my cock pulses and stiffens into my curled hand. When I’m with someone, it’s her fingers or mouth – her stomach or thigh – that I feel against my skin as it steadily expands. Even when I’m sleeping there’s a duvet or sheet draped round me, whether or not I realise it at the time.

And those things don’t just serve as a lodestone for my building erection – they’re accelerants too. They fan the flames in a thousand different ways, subtle and obvious. Deliberate and incidental. I get myself hard. Someone gets me hard. My cock is rubbed, stroked and gripped as it gets hard. When you strip away each of the physical touchpoints it’s used to seeking, what are you left with??

I’ll tell you what you’re left with: something weird.

Aargh, but this is the bit I’m going to struggle to describe! The erection process. The way a whole part of your body just detaches itself from your conscious control and starts to change. Language for it certainly exists within the standard erotica vocabulary. ‘The skin stretched taut over his swollen length’, ‘it jutted out from his body, stiff and straining’, etc etc. But how does it feel, and – more to the point – how does it feel when there’s nothing but emptiness around it?

Slow. That’s the first word for it. Almost excruciatingly so, in fact, as it pushed up between my parted thighs. Hands and mouths coax – they encourage – and my cock responds accordingly. They also measure its progress. Even if I can’t see it, when I feel a grip tighten around the shaft, or the head move up someone’s bare stomach, I know for sure that it’s getting thicker and longer. On Wednesday none of those catalysts or cues were available to me. As I stared at the wall, I just felt something start to change.

It’s a centre of gravity thing; a shift in weight. As the tip stretched out – just a centimetre or two to begin with – it was like a slinky toppling in slow-motion from one stair down to the next. I wasn’t even sure it was happening at first. My cock changes size all the time without getting hard; it’s a natural rise and fall that’s triggered by anything from air temperature to bladder fullness, and rarely has any link to sexual arousal. It was only when the heightened sensitivity kicked in – first in my stomach, then in the soft, spongy head – that I knew I was in trouble.

Perhaps because I had a row of people staring at me, the blood rushed to my face and neck before it really began to pump through my cock. It was a proper “oh fuck” moment, and my head pounded as I desperately tried to focus on anything other than the sudden urge to cross my legs and put a hand over my crotch.

If I’d been able to do that, I could’ve stopped things getting out of hand. At that stage there’d been a change in length, but not really in firmness, and that’s the killer – that’s when you know the horse has pretty much bolted. As it was I just had to sit there and watch them watch me.

When enough blood had been channelled into my cock, the next part of the chain reaction kicked in. I felt the tip jerk up a notch as the muscles in my pelvic floor twitched. It’s like whacking a hammer down on one of those ‘strength tester’ games at the fair; the puck shoots up and back down again, before you’ve really registered its movement.

At the same time the shaft got thicker. If you don’t have a penis, try this. Take a decent-sized breath, close your mouth and hold your nose. Now push the air really slowly against your cheeks, as if you’re exhaling. That stretch you feel – the pressure on your skin, forcing it outwards – that’s a rough approximation of what it’s like when erectile tissue swells in that way.

Beyond a certain level of rigidity, the dick becomes strong enough to support its own weight, and it no longer bobs down after each clenching tug on the string. There was an ache to the way mine levered itself up above my thighs that night, to sway gently in air that felt cool around it, despite the fan heaters either side of me. I wanted to be touched – sucked, licked, stroked – and the complete absence of any physical stimulation made it throb and thud.

It took no more than 20-30 seconds to get from those first stirrings to full erection. As I sat there and waited for the ground to swallow me up, I heard the scratch of charcoal on paper increase in volume, a discordant, unsettling counterpoint to the trippy techno beat coming from the teacher’s laptop speakers. I glanced to my right and caught a couple of the artists smirking, which immediately made me switch my focus back to the wall opposite.

I’ve no idea what any of the people in that room were thinking about as they watched my cock get hard in front of them. I don’t know how it made them feel or whether they all even registered what was happening. By the time it dipped down then gradually deflated, maybe half a minute later, I’d entered a state of mental blankness, as if my brain was protecting itself from the shock and embarrassment by going into standby mode.

Whatever they thought of it all, I’m pretty sure the whole thing was as strange for me as it was for them. To be trapped in my own body like that – stripped of agency – is unavoidably disconcerting. Because I couldn’t touch it – because it was just there – my erection felt both unreal and almost comically obscene. I was detached from it, but at the same time made more aware of its existence by the unfulfilled need that detachment triggered in me.

I left shortly after the session ended, with £25 in my pocket and an invitation to come back any time I liked. And I almost certainly will. What I won’t do is allow my thoughts to drift into such dangerous waters. As the model, I am an object – no more, no less – and I need to remember that. Also…it was just really, really weird…

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12 Responses to Erection

  1. I love this post so much. I should write about my recent life modelling sometime. I also *need* to model at a group rather than an event. I also need to find a local drawing group to indulge in my arty (can’t bring myself to say artist) side. I love drawing naked people and I love the dynamic of the disconnected connection between artist and model.

  2. Mrs Fever says:

    FIRST: I’ve never sketched a male model who *didn’t* get an erection at some point during the process. As you said, your cock changes size multiple times during the day; that’s not going to change when you take your clothes off in front of other people. If anything, the natural ‘rise and fall’ will only accelerate. So: it’s normal. Don’t sweat it.

    SECOND: The concept of agency and the “strangeness” of not having ‘resistance’ pretty much sums up, in a nutshell, what the men in my life have described as their experience(s) when given a “hands OFF” order. Part of my delight in demanding “Don’t touch!” is witnessing their in-and-out-of-body responses. Just because your cock WANTS attention doesn’t mean you are allowed to give it. LOVE. (And I’ve been on the other side of the “don’t touch” rule too – with my own body – which I love too, but in a different way.) 🙂

  3. Oh, god, that was hard to read! Agh!

  4. slave tasha says:

    As one without that particular appendage, i have always wondered how it feels as an erection grows, so thank you 💋Knowing that Master does live modeling occasionally, i can’t wait to ask if He’s encountered this Himself.💜

  5. As a 52 year old man, I know just how it feels to get an ‘out of context’ erection and I know only too well how it feels to get an inappropriate erection too. What I found enlightening was your description of how it feels when you start to get erect, the feeling of stretching skin etc. My cock isn’t big enough to feel that sensation; I never even knew it existed. You learn something new every day!

  6. mariasibylla says:

    This was very enlightening! You always describe sensation so well, you really give us a taste of what it might feel like. Also, sitting perfectly still for 30 minutes? That’s some amazing zen feat there. I’m not sure if I’d be able to manage that, though I’d love to try someday.

  7. Josh says:

    Thanks for telling this story! It’s so nice to hear stories about figure models that got erections and lived to tell about it. From most of what you read online, an erection will cause an instructor to end the session, terminate that model’s employment, and never hire him again. As a guy that has worked as a figure model in my 20’s, I have had my own erection experiences, since practically any change in circumstances — temperature, air, etc. — can cause some fluctuation at that age. Notably, though, after the two occasions I was most worried about — where there was no doubt I was hard as a rock, all seven inches fully engorged, with the thing standing literally straight up, and it remained that way for what felt like an eternity but probably was closer to five minutes — I was specifically invited back to model again. On the first occasion, the art group at a local museum had no staff person in the room when it happened, so upon being invited back, I went out of my way to mention what had happened and confirm that none of the participants had complained about it (None had). On the second occasion, during an art class for students, the standing pose betrayed everything, so I specifically asked the teacher if I should take a break; she played dumb but essentially said there was no reason to do so as long as I was comfortable and could hold the pose. Immediately after the session, she booked me for another two gigs. I imagine there must be more stories like these out there — as long as the model is serious about his work, understands the job of a figure model and can strike dynamic poses, it does seem like the group/class could care less about what form a man’s penis takes while he does his work.

  8. Alan says:

    I originally posted this under the Experience Project site, but as I came across your entry today I thought that I would go ahead and send it out here!

    This was in a lot less open times. I was a virgin and aware that I was gay- although had never done anything about it(unfortunately at the time “gay” was not the word used) . My only awareness of homosexuality was occasional reports in local newspapers about some poor guy being arrested in a public toilet for “public indecency”. I saw myself as a kind of young hippy I guess, but I was very lonely and shy and really had no idea how to change this status. I was living at home and unemployed , frightened of becoming stuck in a mundane regular job, but knowing it was me that was going to have change it. I kept myself very fit by swimming and running, but in those days I had never even seen a fully naked man, local swimming baths were quite prudish, every one got changed in their cubicle. And the school I had gone to although had physical exercise and sports, did not have showers.
    But something had happened recently, my younger sister had got married and one of her husband’s relatives, his uncle I think had got a little tipsy and started to make a lot of compliments to me, he had seen me taking care of one of the children, and started to call me the ‘salt of the earth’ etc, it wasn’t’ much but my Dad didn’t like it at all and there was some kind of physical skirmish. The next day my eldest sister drew reference to it at dinner laughing and saying that he was a bit “funny’. I just got more embarrassed, but it struck a chord in me, and made me even more aware of the feeling of being “different”

    Anyhow, I had started to take an occasional train ride to London, and try to look around for something-I don’t know what, to change my life and one day I found a want ad for art models at probably the city’s most important art school. It wasn’t’ even current but I took the # and called it and suddenly found myself with an appointment for an interview.
    The location was reached through the back of the school and I was checked in by a doorman/security guard, who was very “camp”, if your familiar with the actor Kenneth Williams it was like he was channeling him. He quite boldly stared at me knowing I was there for modelling and almost appraising me, which made me even more embareressed. He made a phone call and after some time a woman appeared who led me back to the office of the the person I was to see. She knocked at his door and entered and said “this is the model, Alan”.

    The man who stood up from behind the desk was quite a surprise. Although I guessed him to be about 40 he was very good looking-handsome, with a shock of Grey air, and looked to be in good shape from what I could tell. He was dressed in business suit, shirt & tie. He took my hand and gave it a firm shake and introduced himself as- I’ll call him “Mr Edwards” I sat down and had my interview which was basically “have you done this before?” “you do realize it is nude modelling? he asked me my height and weight and a few more questions mixed up with general chit chat as he wrote things down.

    I was quite unprepared for the next step when he advised me that he would like to see me naked. Which I suppose makes sense, but it is the only time that I have ever been asked to ***** for a modelling job other than the actual modelling. He led me to a back room with a small podium in the middle of it , and asked me to get undressed and stand on the podium and let me know when I was ready, and then returned to his office, leaving the door ajar, I nervously ******** off and took my place on the podium trying to assume what I thought would be a noble. artistic pose, totally wishing I had not made the decision to do this. Anyhow I called out “I’m ready” And he stepped back in. He stopped for a few moments directly in front of me looking me up and down and, it seemed to me, looking for a longer time at my midsection, he then circled and started to make some comments about how I was in excellent shape, and “you look very good”, “I am surprised your body is so hairy-you look so young.” ( I am not overly hairy just chest hair really, but I suppose I lookled very young) “I think you will be a very popular model” You have excellent muscle definition” ‘We also have sculptors here would you be interested in modelling for them? ” I asked if it was different than the regular modelling and he said that they had occasion to touch the model. I gulped and said that it would be OK. The next thing I knew he was on the podium next to me and gripped my bicep and then my shoulder telling me that I really was in excellent condition, slowly I became aware that this physical intimacy was for me a hugely exciting and never before experienced sensation, and I started to get aroused. I didn’t know if it was just the experience of being manhandled in such a blatant way, or because I found Mr Edwards himself very attractive. Either he didn’t notice or chose to ignore my rising ****, and I didn’t know what to say. He bent down and squeezed my calf and ran his hand up to my thigh confirming that my muscles were very firm, by this time my penis was fuly erect, and then slowly patted my stomach and slid his hand down my belly, complementing me on my muscles and letting his hand come to rest with the edge nestled in my pubic hair and my throbbing / straight up erection curving back and almost touching his hand. “Yes I think you will be a very popular model, but if you present this fine looking fellow to a sculptor he may or may not need to handle it. would you be comfortable with that?” And as he said this he firmly grasped my erection which allowed my foreskin to fully slide back and completely expose the swollen head, it seemed to me that my **** had never been so big … ( I did not realize telling my story would bring back so many details, and I’m out of time I ‘ll try to continue this at a later time, if you are interested)

    My Story continues:

    As I look back at this, I remember that Mr Edwards gave a warm smile. I think he was trying to put me at ease by addressing my obvious arousal, and also acknowledging that it would be noticed. And obviously it would be difficult for him to ignore it. know that I was incredibly embarrassed , but also excited. However he reliquished his grasp on my **** and left me to get dressed and, then I returned to join him, somewhat shamefaced, in his office.
    He again complimented me on my body, and let me know that I was somewhat late in my application for work as he had already scheduled the models for the classes through to the end of the year. I wan’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. But then he offered an opportunity for the following week-end , letting me know that a small group of teachers & students and others occasionally got together on Sunday afternoons and that the model scheduled had called in and can celled and would I like to take the job. I, still not knowing what I was really agreeing to, agreed and said that I would be there.

    When I arrived that Sunday it was early- the job was scheduled for 2:00pm and I was outside at 1:15. I had no preparation, this was before the use of the WWW brought all of these things into easier access, so I arrived without a robe- a pair of sandals etc. I nervously hovered around in a doorway some distance away and observed the comings and goings trying to figure out who was there for the session and not sure even if I would actually do it or run off. In fact I think the only thing that stopped me was a sense of duty, that I had accepted the job and it would be very bad form not to keep my word.

    At exactly 10 minutes before 2:00 I entered the building, the same doorman was there and I said I was there to be the model and could he tell me where to go. He led me to an enormous room with sky lights ,he said his name was Edward and that everyone called him “Teddy”. He pointed to a small room – almost like a cupboard in the back of what was the posing area and said “You can get your kit off in there, no one’s here yet , it’s normally a pretty small group, I’ll see you later..”
    I sat on one of the the edge of a bench and literally twiddled my thumbs for about 10 minutes, it was nearly 2:10 before any body arrived and I was kinda of mixed emotions- breathing a sigh of relief thinking that nobody was going to show and disappointment that after all my nervous excitement that it was going to result in nothing happening. The 2 young men that entered were obviously co students and were chatting away as they entered, one of them addressed me ” Are you the model?” When I acknowledged that I was he looked at his friend and said “Great, its nice to get a guy and one who In’s’t’t fat or old.. we’re used to mostly women and old men”

    As they started to set up their easels, I asked “Should I get ready?”
    “Yeah, that would be OK,” I found myself quietly stating that I hadn’t modeled before and was not quite sure what was expected. the one who had spoke first said his name was Steve and his friend was Martin, and said it was ok and that normally they started with some warm up poses and then gradually longer ones and then the last 2 hours was normally one pose with a 30 minute break, and that he was sure I would be fine.
    I retreated into the small room and slowly ******** off, there was a full length mirror, and while taking off my clothes I looked at myself, and once I was fully naked – just before stepping out gave one last look, and tried to suppress the rising panic. Looking at my reflection I tried to pretend that my nerves had not had an effect on my genitals but I could see that they had and felt I was going to be exposing a singularly unimpressive organ. Also I had no awareness of things like bringing a robe or sandals etc. so I opened the door and stepped out naked just as someone else entered the room, this appeared to be a teacher as he was older and had that ‘artistic” untidy look. he gave me a brief nod and assumed another position with his drawing board resting on his knees. I quickly sat myself in a large arm chair , taking care to cross my legs and “casually’ arrange my hand to cover my crotch.
    Over the next 10 minutes 4 more people arrived one more older man and 3 more students- all male. Steve was easily the most attractive, blond tall slender, but all of them were quite attractive looking to me, and I in my virginal state was hoping that the erection that had made it’s appearance a few days before would not be making an encore. The warm up poses I tried to focus on as something to keep my mind off my nervousness and be as flexible as I could while still trying to keep my hand in some way covering my self , or bending so a leg would do the job or trying rear views and as time passed I began to relax. after about 30 minutes and 5 poses someone said I could take a break. I retreated into my room and shut the door and tried to get comfortable with what I was doing. When I resumed the session I had 3 poses of about 15 minutes. and than another break. When I returned Steve and Martin were arranging a large lounger type chair with foot rest on a podium and fixing the lights.
    “Are you ready for the long pose for the rest of the day? We’ll do about 30 minutes then take a break for 30 and finish off with 2 more 30 minutes sessions, if that’s OK? Alan”

    As they finished up with the lounger , Steve casually said “Martin and I were wondering if we could do a ************ pose, if that’s OK with everyone?”

    The general response was kind of non commital muttering along the lines of “it’s OK with me’ “I don’t care”etc. One of the teachers said- “If the model’s OK with it ?” . I did not get the impression that the question was directed at me or even included me , I didn’t get the impression that my feelings or thoughts were really anything that needed to be considered and so said nothing. I never thought about whether I could refuse or ask to discuss it, it seemed more that the “artists ” would decided if they wanted me to pose in that fashion, and if they did then that’s what I needed to do.
    I actually don’t remember saying anything, But as I took a seat in the lounger, I think my mind was frozen, I lay back and Steve and Martin seemed to take control, “could you bend your right leg out to the side and let it rest on the arm of the chair, and kind of stretch your left leg out straight out on the foot rest” , as I did so Martin used the lever on the side to adjust the foot rest so it dropped a little in the front, they both gathered up their stuff and got somewhat closer and the other guys also rearranged their positions, I noticed that one of the participants packed up his stuff and left.
    “Could you move your left leg a little more out to the side so we can see what’s happening down there”, I guessed the ‘down there” was my crotch
    I felt the light that Steve was arranging was focused squarely on my crotch. And I started to feel very hot and bothered, and panicky.

    note: written 11/20/2012: It occurs to me that this request for a ************ pose must have been decided during one of the breaks, if they were used to getting fat older men, I doubt that they would have come up with such an erotic pose.

    When everything was ‘arranged’, I found myself not sure what to do, the 7 artists were all looking expectantly at me, but no one was drawing, finally Steve spoke, “We’re all set Alan, any time you’re ready” I finally found a voice
    ‘Em, I’m not quite sure what you want me to do”, my hands were kind of shrouding my crotch, “I mean do you want me to just look like I’m doing it, or do you really want me to **********, I think i might get hard, I don’t know if that’s something I could control, I’m sorry ?”
    “Oh we are doing life drawing so we would like the real thing, so we’re looking for actual ************ and yes, we are hoping that you will get hard, we would really like like to see you with an erection if possible, that’s what we’re all hoping to see” this was Martin and I was beginning to think that my first impression that he and Steve were good guys was wrong and in fact they were setting me up to make a fool of myself and that if I did go ahead and do it that suddenly everyone would be laughing and pointing a finger etc. But then I thought well, I’ve agreed to do this and that’s what they’re asking me to do, and for all i knew this was just a typical request before an interesting pose that all models had to comply with, ‘ I’m not sure that I can”, I quietly muttered , more to myself than anyone else, i don’t think anyone heard me. It never occured to me that I could say no or quit.
    There was a few moments when I hesitated and looked around the group who all seemed to be looking expectantly at me, and slowly I started moving my foreskin backwards and forwards on a very unenthusiastic penis. and I had a panicky thought thinking “I’m not going to be able to do this” However after a few minutes hormones, my untried sexuality and the whole set up started to have an impact and soon I was holding my erect member in my right hand and my balls in my left. I had closed my eyes while i concentrated and tried to get an erection, I opened them and found myself the focus of 7 pairs of eyes, no one was drawing they all seemed to be just looking at me- or more to the point -my ****. I thought for a moment that I must hade misunderstood, and then-because I’d never seen nyone else ********** that perhaps I was doing it wrong or something. “Is this ok?’ Nobody said anything but then Martin did:
    “Well actually could you open out your crotch a little bit more” , I did what I thought he meant, ‘Is this better?’
    “No it’s not quite what I’m looking for”. He walked up to me and said “Do you mind if I touch you,’
    I don’t know if I said anything, but he put his hand on the inside of my thigh and said” “this is the part I’m looking to get more power from, I hope that you don’t mind but I’d really like to see some more thrust from your crotch”, and kind of pushed my thigh outwards, he looked around, and said ‘let’s try this’ he took one of those rolled ups cushions, the kind that looks like a tootsie roll or liquorice allsort, “let’s see what it looks like if I put this under your hips” well I was still ************ and so took my left hand off my balls and used it to lift my hips while he slipped the cushion underneath me, at this point I noticed that as I was no longer holding them in place , and I was still ******* my **** that my balls were now bouncing around only a few inches away from him( If you’re wondering why I was still ******* my ****, I can only say it didn’t occur to me to stop). I settled back on the cushion and realized that it had thrust my crotch up more blatantly I suppose, so I did understand what he meant, I guess it made the pose more in your face, it certainly made a very erotic pose even more difficult to ignore, and he seemed happy, I think this finer point in the pose was more his concern than any body elses. The lounger had been set so that iwas sort of propped up with my lags spread out , he made one more adjustment using the lever he tilted the chair so I was almost stretched out flat, my head and upper shoulders were still raised somewha so i could see everyone and the room in front of me, but the thrust of my crotch was now even more in evidence as I was lamost streched flat out. ‘Yeah, that more like what I was looking for”. I couldn’t help but wonder what everyone was thinking of me.

    “That’s great Alan” said Steve and gave a smile and a nod, The older teacher kind of shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head from side to side . one of the others gave a thumbs up and Martin nodded , “Very good, very good indeed”

    It was strange to find myself adjusting to this whole set up so quickly, and my mind flashed back to my first interview where I had sported the hard on, and then arriving for this session full of nerves that I might get aroused and now being asked to do so. As I gamely stroked away, I started to get quite objective about the whole process and realized that from a professional point of view I had to focus my energies on what I was doing. As a horny teenager I think that when I *********** for my own pleasure I was, I suppose, in a hurry wanted to get to the ******, *** and so on. Now I was in a situation that I needed to not ***. I had to keep going for another 90 minuted basically- even with a break . I adjusted pretty quickly.

    After about 15 minutes , I heard the door opening and a rattle of pots or something, A voice called out “Tea Up” and around the corner Teddy the doorman appeared carrying a tray with mugs, teapot, milk and sugar. I nervously coughed and looked at the group , expecting someone to consider that someone new had entere the environment, someone who I was exposing myself to in this explicit pose and that they would, tell me to break or tell Teddy to come back later, but no one seemed to notice my unease He went from artist to artist distributing mugs to most of them, I was aware that he was looking at me with more than a little interest. Of course when he entered once again it made me feel freshly exposed and embarrassed. By the time he got to me, he was of course closer than anyone had been and i could see he was looking directly at my erection. “Want some tea, mate?”
    “yes please”, “Sugar?” “Yes”, “How many?” I said “Two, please” and he set the mug down a foot or so away from me on a nearby table. As he was talking to me I had looked at him now Martin spoke again,, “Alan, you’ve move your head, can you get back to looking at your ****?”.

    “Sorry” and duly complied as Teddy left the room I could see that he was still looking at me.
    I got back to the job “in Hand” and at some point noticed that the pose was presenting me, because of the lounger being on an elevated platform and me lying almost flat out, with my crotch thrust up and out with an almost 3-D effect of the artists all looking up at me, my **** being pretty fully erect most of the time and the artists all arranged in a semi-circle around me. The perspective made my **** look very big compared to the faces in the background. After about 15 minutes the 30 minute break was called.
    “Let me just mark your pose, Alan” Steve grabbed a roll of tape and stepped up to me, again i was struck how almost surreal this all was, I had had to process so much in just a few days, first he marked the top of my shoulders, then asked me to lift my arms so he could run some tap marking my hips, then, he was in front of me with a big smile on his face as he ran tape by my legs and thighs, and just under my balls, you have to remember i was still ******* off at this time, and he was very close, he gave a wink and said “you can stop and take a break now”. I got dressed and when I left the changing room every one had left . I wandered around looking at the work in progress, Steve’s was the most detailed and life like, Martins’ was charcoal and very “active” , the man I supposed was a teacher, was not -it seemed to me , very complementary, very modern and fleshy, one of the other’s was quite ok, the other 2 made me wonder if they really needed me as I couldn’t’t see much evidence that they did, one also was a portrait which made me feel a little strange to be up there in front of him, ************ and him just drawing my head. I decided to have a wander around the building, and in doing so came to the doorman’s office again, Teddy was sitting inside, apparently talking to someone I couldn’t’t see ” You want another cuppa?” he called out, I said yes and stepped in. The other person was apparently another doorman. “Fred, this is the model Alan, you should see him in there, they’ve got him having a ****, you’ve got a lovely looking knob Alan” As I said he was very camp, but as a well brought young man. I politely responded “Thank you very much” and blushed. Fred was old enough to be my grandfather but very amiable, “That right , you in there having a ****, cor I wouldn’t mind seeing that, I nice looking lad like you, I bet you have got a very lovely knob”, he chuckled as he said it, and I realized that he and the Teddy were gay, the first official gay people i had ever met. I drank my tea and moved on – around the corner there was a cafeteria, but as I was broke and anyway nervous about who might be in there and what they might think of me I gave that a miss, but I could see some of the people who had been drawing me inside. And then it was time to return to the studio.

    The first thing that i noticed was that there were 2 more people present, as they didn’t have art materials, my naivete left me and I realized that they must have heard about the pose and wanted to observe it. After getting undressed again, I emerged and felt just as exposed as I had before , the newcomers were leaning against the wall at the rear of the room, and I could feel them checking me out, and then it occurred to me that some of the participants must be gay, of course that wasn’t the word i used in my head, but i realized that I was ************ in front of people that were not just viewing me in an artistic way. As i settled in the chair and tried to arrange myself within the taped guidelines Steve walked up and gave me a Boots(the Chemist) bag, “I thought you might be getting a little dry up there” Inside was a tube of KY jelly, I’d never heard of it, and didn’t know what it was for. But I said “Thanks”
    Continued :
    As I looked around me I tried hard to focus on the job in hand, I hadn’t started ************ just trying to get the position right, being particularly aware of the tapes, “Is this right?’
    “You need to scoot down a little with your hips”
    Giving a look at the 2 newcomers, and remembering that I had been looking at my **** before- although this allowed me the flexibility to look up and around, the newcomers for some reason really threw me off, I told myself that I had to get on with it, but it just felt even more strange to do the pose with people apparently just watching. A part of me wanted to say “Are you just going to watch?” or even “I don’t think I want to do this pose if you’re not going to draw”, but of course I didn’t and I’m sure all of you reading this who have worked as models, have experienced casual onlookers or passer bys appearing in the art studios and nobody ever asks the model if it’s ok or if they mind, and so once again I started to roll back my foreskin , as I began to firm up- it was a turn on- the ‘teacher” said your left hand’s not right. Well I am right handed so ,I was grasping my shaft with that hand and my left was at the base of my ****, I didn’t know what was wrong and finally had to ask for help, “well before we could see your balls, now we can’t, your hand is covering them”, I pulled my balls out to the side and attempted to put them on display, “No , what you had was 2 fingers above them and 2 fingers below ” I corrected the pose and started getting hard again, , as I looked up I could see the 2 newcomers looking at each other and raising eyebrows and looking like they were smirking, and for the first time, it occured to me that perhaps the request to pose ************ was out of the ordinary, but I was committed now, so I gamely carried on, although I could see that one of them was visibly hard in his crotch area., which actually helped stimulate me,although being 19 I didn’t really need any help. This time around- once I got used to the apparently “casual” observers I actually started to just find the whole experience enjoyable, at some point I realized I I was having a little “seepage” problem but I sneakily used my thumb to smear it around the head of my **** and gamely carried on, But after a while I did start to get somewhat sore. I didn’t want to say anything so carried on until the break was called. But my exchange with Teddy and Fred, did make me wonder if I did in fact have a nice looking knob, not having seen anyone elses’s , I would have liked some feedback re: my ability as a model and if I was doing ok, and if they liked the way i looked.

    When the break was called, before I could get up and get back to the changing room, one of the artists, who I hadn’t really noticed that much, kind of nerdy, small, glasses, tentatively approached me and said “Could I just keep you a few extra minutes”, he was clutching a small sketchpad, ” I’m Jewish and i’d just like a little closer look, if you don’t mind”. Again a side note here, growing up in suburban England,my family was not religious, I was aware of catholics and Church of England-IE protestants, but it did not make a big impact in my life, I had been to Church 3 times, -2 weddings and 1 funeral. Although aware of the Jewish faith, I had not been conscious of ever meeting any, obviously i had, but I just never had thought about it , so when he said he was Jewish I thought “What difference does it make if he comes from Israel?”. What I said was “OK”, he grabbed a stool and sat quite close to me and started sketching, with a very earnest expression, I meanwhile was still gamely stroking my erection. The 2 newcomers approached him and stood behind him as if they were studying his drawing. After a moment he said ” Could you stop that for a moment and just hold it still”, which I did. He was chewing his lower lip and was so focused on my crotch, that I remember slightly thrusting my crotch up and holding my **** out at a slightly different angle to give him an even better view. I think subconsciously this was probably the first time that my psyche realized that there was an exhibitionist streak in me. With my butt elevated by being on the cushion, me holding my hard **** for close inspection for the 3 of them there was a part of me -I think- that enjoyed this extra attention.

    ( Here another sidebar. I have quite ambivalent feelings about vistors in the life studio,. In my time -particularly at Schools/ universities etc. I have had amongst others, plumbers/ electricians/ janitors, secrateries, appear and attend to jobs .. most of the time no one says anything like “do you mind?” and I get a bit of a kick out of it. But at the same time I find it very insensitive and unprofessional for the participants not to ask me if I mind, after all I am being paid to exhibit myself to the artists, not anybody who passes by)

    After several minutes i was at last able to relax, he thanked me “Very much”, and returned to his easel. Which left the 2 bystanders in close proximity, gazing down at my still hard ****, when they realized that no one was left drawing they wandered away It was a long time before i realized that when he said he was Jewish, the relevant factor was that he was circumcised and wanted a closer view of how an uncircumcised penis appeared when erect. obviously a standing nude without an erection would have not presented the same image as my erection It’s also funny thst while i was posing ******* off, and then a break being called to stop stand up up wander over to the changing room with a hard ****, after all i wasn’t posing just walking around with it sticking out, funny sensation. When I got in the room I had more chance to examine the package that contained the KY. And kind of guessed what it was meant to “lubricate” . So when I went back for the final stint I did carry the tube with me, and self consciously unscrewed the cap and squeezed a little out and as I firmed up again found it tremendously helpful with the soreness factor( I had after all been ************ for an hour).
    This was going to be the final 30 minutes and was still feeling very odd about the whole thing, it suddenly popped into my head that I wouldn’t be able to tell my parents what I had been doing , even if it had been just nude modeling- i wouldn’t have, and now as i saw the end in view- so to speak- i started to get a little down. Again a reminder- i was suddenly having sexual experiences for the first time with someone else in the room aside from myself, and even though it was an extreme situation overall it had been very exciting. Suddenly after about 10 minutes of this final session , i broke into an incredible sweat, I don’t know if it was the lubricant, but I was suddenly dripping, it was even dripping off my hair and running down my face, and then I started to get a flood of pre-***, it just started flowing out of me, running down my **** shaft and of course my ************ hand was rubbing it back all over my ****, I think it was because I had normally at times of ************ got the whole process over with very quickly, I also hadn’t *********** for several days- ever since the interview for the job, as I had thought it might calm the erection that I had initially been concerned about getting(before I was requested to get one). I realized that I very much wanted to ***, but I also knew that if I did that i would lose the erection and funnily enough that just seemed very unprofessional. But someone said in the back ground “This is so cool”. I was on the brink and then I heard the door open again, And I could see the man who had hired me for the class – Mr Edwards, he was standing at the back of the room, dressed casually today just jeans and a sweater, slowly he wandered around stopping to look at the work being done and looking up at me, his entrance had stopped the threatening ****** and now I was back to dutifully milking my firm **** as he got closer to me, Finally he was just a foot away from me , i couldn’t read his expression but there i was again in front of a new person ************, with a very ***** streaked ****. He lent forward a little and said, “When you get through here, come back to see me in my office”, “OK” I said, and he left the room. I soldiered on and finally someone said “OK Alan, you’re done, it was a great pose and you’re a terrific model”.,
    So suddenly I was done, most of the participants packed up and left quite quickly, but I had a little problem getting myself together with the ***** that was oozing from me and I knew that if I got up I would be getting a trail of it, so for a few moments I didn’t move, Martin I think guessed my predicament, and came over, “I guess you could use a few of these” and handed me some tissues ” Oh Thank you” and took them and started to -with some embarressment(it’s not easy to be wiping KY and ***** off your **** with 2 people standing close by looking down at you) – clean myself up, as he stood looking down at me Steve -his friend also came over and started chatting, thanking me for my efforts and he said I was the best model they had had for a long time, I felt pretty awkward , I knew if I got up now I would be standing naked with 2 attractive young men, and although I had been handling myself pretty blatantly for the last 90 minutes, it still felt very strange. “We’ve been wanting to do a ************ pose for some time but we never had a suitable model, then when we saw you today we both had the same idea to ask you and when you agreed(I didn’t remember being asked and I never voiced any agreement,) it was just great, , I don’t think either of us expected your being to keep your **** hard for the whole pose, it was very impressive” the other one laughed and said “What the **** or the fact that he kept it hard the whole time?'” The other one replied laughingly “Both!” I had no idea what to say, even though I had been ************ in front of about 11 strangers for 90 minutes, I was still basically the same Shy nervous 19 year old that I was when i arrived. Having a bantering conversation about my **** and erection was beyond me. Eventually they also packed up and left, and i was able to get myself dressed and, leave the studio, before heading off to Mr Edwards office, I stopped off and washed my **** off in the rest room.

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  11. hardboy says:

    My experience tells me that the artists appreciate a model who shows up on time, doesn’t cancel at the last minute, and can hold interesting poses to draw. It helps to be personable and open and friendly to establish a good rapport. If do these things you will be golden.

    I was modeling for first year students when I felt things stirring. When I paused they all wondered aloud why I stopped, so I just stood back up and kept going and never looked back since. They JUST WANT YOU TO MODEL so don’t disappoint them.

  12. eric says:

    Very frank and entertaining post. As a life model for hen parties the line between having an erection or not is most definitely blurred – it is now coming to be expected I find. Which is a whole other issue because there is a difference between in involuntary erection and an erection “on demand” – which some groups of hens cannot understand. Eric

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