The Friday Night Male Nude Art Club

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“Do you find me attractive?”The question sounded like more of an accusation, a reprimand, than anything.Professor Milford eyed me sternly over narrow, rectangular lenses. I wasn’t keen to meet her eye, but it was better than making things worse by staring at the stretches of red nylon visible from half-thigh to calves on her crossed legs.This was what I’d done habitually during lectures, and what I now imagined, given the question, had caused the professor to summon me to her office. There was, I decided, nothing for it but to metaphorically prostrate myself.“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way,” I blurted out. “I hope I haven’t. I mean…”I broke off. Professor Milford was giving the ghost of a smile, lips pursing in concealment.That was even more unnerving. I was expecting to be reprimanded and sent packing, but she seemed to find something amusing. Professor Milford was a woman all the students understood was not to be trifled with. Her greatest claim to fame was an 800 page study of the female nude in art which one particularly enthusiastic blurb on the back of the book, which was required reading, described as a “razor sharp castration of millennia of patriarchy”.That said, it hadn’t escaped most of the male students that whatever Professor Milford thought of the female nude, she was, while pushing 50, a bit of a looker. I don’t think I’d seen her wear anything other than her thigh-high skirts and nylons in various colours. Consequently we didn’t quite know what to make of her, but a surreptitious study of her legs and the thrust of mature fruit beneath various jumpers was a luxury I had allowed myself during lectures. Except I was now suspecting that I’d been too obvious.“You haven’t answered my question,” she said now.I tried, as quickly as I could, to gauge the situation. It seemed to me that I was damned whatever I said. Better to let her make the running.“I don’t understand,” I said.Now Professor Milford did smile. Thinly. “It’s a perfectly simple question,” she said. “Do you find me attractive? Yes or no?”Did I want to be hung for a sheep or a lamb? Did it matter? “Well, yes,” I stuttered, “but…”Professor Milford held up her hand, motioning me to silence. “See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”I looked down, expecting to be metaphorically castrated at any moment.“So bashful,” Professor Milford went on. “And it hasn’t escaped my notice that you try to be discreet. When you eye me up during lectures, I mean.” I thought it better not to say a word, for fear of digging myself deeper into a hole. “Would you say you’re a discreet kind of person, Martin?”I think I frowned. I didn’t understand the situation at all. I didn’t understand the Professor. I had no idea where any of this was going. Looking up I saw that one of the Professor’s nails was scratching the surface of red nylon below the hem of her skirt. I think I started. I must have reacted in some way, because the Professor looked amused.“I-I- don’t know,” I said. “It depends, I suppose.”Professor Milford’s whole hand slid down her thigh, giving her knee a little rub, then she shifted, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward a little. “None of that, Martin,” she said. “Just tell me, yes or no, if you’re the kind of person who can keep a secret.”“That would depend on what kind of secret it was,” I said. “If it was something illegal…”“What if it was just something that is frowned upon?” Professor Milford asked.“I don’t know. It would depend…”“Oh for goodness sake!” Professor Milford clacked her tongue impatiently.I’d had enough of this cloak and dagger stuff now. “It would help if you gave me a concrete example,” I said.Professor Milford leaned back, re-crossing her legs. By now I’d forgotten myself, and let my eyes linger a second too long almanbahis şikayet on the red nylon. I saw that Professor Milford saw, cursing myself. But by now she had clearly made her decision. “Suppose, as a hypothetical situation, that you found a member of faculty attractive, and they let it be known they found you attractive, and you found yourself in their office, and… well… one thing lead to another. Could you keep that a secret?”I bit my lip. This was difficult. Was it a trap? Or was Professor Milford actually coming on to me?“It’s problematic,” I said. “There’s the power angle to consider.” Professor Milford was big on power, or rather big on critiquing power.Now, however, she waved an impatient hand. “Oh forget that,” she said. “There’s no coercion, complete consent, and no question of special favours – or for that matter punishment if things turn out less than satisfactory. If that happened, a mutually fulfilling moment or two… Could you keep that a secret, Martin?”She was scratching her thigh again, and there was the merest hint of a tongue swerving onto lip. I still wasn’t sure if it was a trap or not, but curiosity and temptation were working together to edge out common sense. “The ethics of it would still be shaky,” I said. “But if there were no harm done…”“Excellent!” Professor Milford exclaimed. “Then I intend to make you a proposal, Martin. If you do not want to accept, fine, we’ll say no more of the matter, and it won’t affect your grades in any way. But whether you accept or not, before I tell you want I’d like you to do, I want you to guarantee that nothing of what is said will ever be repeated outside of this room.”Now, firmly convinced that things were getting immensely interesting, I tried for smooth charm. “You needn’t worry, Professor Milford. Your secret’s safe with me.” Her smirk made me feel like an idiot.Eight days later, I lingered at the back door of Professor Milford’s house, smoking a cigarette and thinking how different her secret had been to what I’d somehow brought myself to imagine.Except what had I imagined? That Professor Milford would lean back, throw her legs apart to reveal a naked pussy under her skirt, crying out, “Lick me, Martin! Lick my hot pussy and then fuck me and make me scream!”No, that was preposterous; I hadn’t quite imagined anything, except that Professor Milford was coming on to me and that I had felt vaguely flattered, even though I was somewhat intimidated by her too. In the end, I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d agreed at all. I just had, as if unable to resist some invisible force of nature.Professor Milford appeared to be a smoker too. There was a large, circular, stone ashtray set to one side, with a scattering of cigarette ends in it. I deposited my own there and rang the bell. I didn’t have to wait long. Professor Milford welcomed me in, looking much the same as she always did, except that today her nylons were black, and this was the first time I’d seen her wear a dress, a patterned turquoise affair.She led me through a hallway lined with various prints, and what looked like fairly expensive decorative items on small tables. I imagined they were old, possibly antique. Where I came from, we hardly had a hallway, far less antiques. I was lead through a doorway, into a well-lit space, this one cleared of objects, save for three or four lamps and a chaise longue. Who the hell had a chaise longue these days? Just in front of it, heavy drapes hung hid the rest of the room from my inquisitive eyes.“I’ll leave you to undress and position yourself comfortably,” Professor Milford said, indicating the solitary item of furniture. “The others are already here. We’ll begin in about ten minutes or so.”I nodded. Getting comfortable was going to almanbahis canlı casino be a problem, not physically but in every other respect. I had never been in a situation remotely resembling this. As I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped my trousers, I wondered again why I’d agreed to this. But I had, and it was impossible to extricate myself now.I wasn’t sure how to position myself to Professor Milford’s satisfaction, but assumed I would be given directions. I just sat on the chaise longue, legs outstretched, waiting. Thoughts were racing through my mind, and I tried to relax, but my stomach knotted when I heard voices.The drapes were pulled aside. I found myself staring at four females, besides Professor Milford, who swiftly moved to the vacant seat, chairs arranged in a semi-circle in front of me.“Here’s Martin,” she announced, “who has agreed to be our model for the foreseeable future. No need to worry, he’s been sworn to secrecy.”I still wasn’t sure why this was necessary. There was no law against modelling, with or without clothes. There were plenty of representations of naked men out there, these days a lot of them by women. What was the big secret? “You must never say a word to anyone about what happens during our little sessions,” Professor Milford had said, back in her office. It was all very mysterious. I assumed that there would be those who didn’t think it could be as innocent as it looked, and that Professor Milford was anxious to avoid any kind of suspicion of impropriety, both on her own account and that of the other four women.For I recognised them all. One was a full bodied lecturer of Iranian descent, who everyone called Iris, presumably to avoid mispronouncing her real name. Like Professor Milford, she wore spectacles and could look slightly austere. Her body seemed to be a mass of shawls, a long skirt draped over her legs. The other three were all students. I’d seen them around, and one of them, a freckled redhead in combat trousers, I’d worked on a project with. Her name was Felicia. The thickset girl called Sarah was a redhead too, though in her case it came from a bottle. She favoured Doc Marten style boots with black nylon on her legs and the same thigh-high skirts as Professor Milford. Her jumpers always gave the impression she couldn’t find one quite large enough to accommodate her large breasts. Then there was Sophie, whose hair colour also came from a bottle, but leaned more towards auburn. Her hair swept down over her shoulders, and she too was wearing black nylons, with a tight skirt the colour of woodland that stretched down over her knees.“Turn on your side and recline a little more,” Professor Milford said. I shifted on the chaise longue, surprised when she said, “What a striking pose! Why don’t we start there?”The women voiced their agreement. This was still all very hard to take in. Professor Milford, who had spent goodness knows how many years trashing the whole concept of the female nude, apparently had no problem with male nudes, or perhaps it was her idea of revenge for a whole history of patriarchy. I had no idea. I should have asked her when she made the proposal in her office, but I hadn’t dared.I’d been given to understand that the members of the Friday Night Male Nude Art Club might choose any medium they cared for. Most of the time, Professor Milford, had told me, photography was preferred, but this evening she and Felicia were armed with charcoal, while Iris and Sophie used water colours. Only Sarah was wielding a camera. At this point none of that was of any concern to me. What did concern me was my own sense of embarrassment, the acute awareness of my own nudity. I’d been naked with women before, of course, but only one at a time, almanbahis casino and they’d been naked too, so it hadn’t really mattered. I felt absurdly gratified that Professor Milford had assured me that any pictures that resulted were “strictly for personal use”, whatever that meant.I stared blankly at one of the walls, trying to idle my thoughts away as I would if I were lounging around at home. Of course, at home the chances were my thoughts would turn to sex, and that was one thing I didn’t want to think about. The women were all quite attractive in their way, even combat-Felicia, but there was something about the situation that militated against such thoughts. So I quite literally thought of England, or at least tried to remember as many players as I could who had turned out for England in the World Cup; Hoddle and Waddle, Gazza and Lineker, and John Barnes sprinting down the wing, making the opposition look like shop dummies.It worked, for a while. I was never quite unaware of the brushstrokes and the scratch of charcoal, nor the snap of the camera as Sarah moved around, trying out different angles, but I managed to shove them to one side of my mind. In fact I succeeded so well in this, that I didn’t catch what Iris was saying when she at length addressed me.“Would you stand up, please,” she repeated, a touch impatiently.I stared, then swung my legs into position and got to my feet. I suppose I felt a tad insecure; I mean I knew I was no Adonis, but it appeared I was good enough for them.“A fine, upstanding figure of a man,” Professor Milford said. I got the feeling she was taking the piss; especially when Sophie snorted a laugh.“Except he’s not really upstanding,” Felicia said.They all laughed at this. Ribald, insulting laughter. It took me a few seconds to get what she meant, and then I went all hot and bothered, hoping I didn’t look as red as I felt.“Maybe he needs a hand,” Professor Milford said. “Who wants to do the honours?”Call me dim, but it took me even longer to work that one out. Not until Iris moved towards me did I get it, and then I almost recoiled in shock. Her skirts swished as she walked, and got down on her haunches next to me. This was hardly behaviour you expected from a university lecturer towards a student. I’d never imagined not being able to get a hard-on from the touch of a woman’s hand, but the situation was so awkward that for the first time in my life, I remained flaccid, incapable of producing the proper response.That was, if possible, even more embarrassing. “Oh dear,” Iris said, her fingers squeezing my soft member. “Don’t you find me attractive, Martin?”This was one of those situations where it doesn’t matter what the truth or otherwise is. There was only one possible answer. “I find you very attractive. Perhaps it just needs a bit more time. I had a… I mean, I… earlier.” Obscurely I couldn’t bring myself to use the word ‘wank’. It was a lie in any case, if it counts as a lie when you can’t get the words out.“I see,” Iris said. “That was naughty of you.” I didn’t quite understand why such a thing should be considered so naughty, at least in our day and age. “These modelling sessions,” she continued, “We need you to be good and fit. You understand what I’m saying?”I did now and nodded. Somehow I felt both aroused and afraid. I understood, but I didn’t. Not quite. They all had their eyes on me, or rather, on one part of me. In spite of my conflicted feelings, my body finally decided to function as nature intended. I felt myself grow. I felt relief, letting Iris squeeze me until I was fully erect. She made sure the foreskin was pulled down, exposing the head. Five pairs of eyes stared at me, at my swollen cock. At that moment I thanked my lucky stars I was endowed with equipment of somewhat above average size.“No slacking,” Professor Milford said, as Iris retreated to her chair. “Make sure you keep it up, young man!”I nodded. Now that I was erect, and it being clear that this was expected of me, my embarrassment faded.

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