A Great Way to Loo

What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Her gaze on his body was mesmerizing. My mind churned with erotic imagery. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her energy drew my attention away from the nude man before me ...

Perhaps I should begin at the beginning. The model had a dancer's body. Muscular, but not big muscles. Strong shoulders but not bulky nor too broad. A flat but and not rippled stomach. Long agile legs. And, of course, a firm and cute behind. Believe me, Tom -- I will call him Tom -- could strike poses! The muscles of his legs and arms had the quality of chiseled marble. His body conveyed meaning and intent that went beyond his physical features. He looked like the Praxiteles Hermes, except that his penis was much larger.

It is always a dramatic moment when a male model drops his robe and reveals his body to his audience. Many women artist will pretend that it is just a normal subject before them, something not much different from a flower or a vase, an object that can be broken down easily into lines and shadows and angles. Get these right, and you have a beautiful representation. Don't believe them.

When the object is a naked man, most women artist will pretend to pay attention to the definition of a shoulder or attempt the difficult renderings of hands and feet. They will give every indication that the twist of his torso or the angle of his leg is what interests them. When it comes to the nether regions, they will blurred the main feature or offer an abstract presentation. As I said, don't believe it for a minute.

Let me confess that the first thing I did when Tom dropped his robe was search for his penis. Many women will say that it isn't the penis that catches a woman's eye. They are lying. They may pretend that they are more broad minded in their sexuality, and indeed many are. Nevertheless, before they can focus on any of his other features, they will check out his penis. It is just the way it is, and don't let anyone fool you that it is otherwise.

Tom's back was toward me when his first disrobed. The fit outline of his buttock drew my eye. With school girl anticipation, I eagerly awaited, shall we say, the more complete, fuller version of Tom. I was not disappointed when a well shaped, circumcised penis with a very exposed head came into view. Tom was going to make a fine model.

Most men get women wrong when it comes to their interest in a penis. They think that this interest has to be mainly sexual in nature and, in a limited way, they are right. But men are mostly wrong because the sexual aspect is almost always indirect. When I see a naked man, my first thoughts are never about sex but are more aesthetic in nature. I like what I see, and what I see is a body whose sex is always on full display. It is this displaying, the prominence of its positioning, that inevitably captures my attention. My eyes always go there first.

The thing that made Tom special in my eyes was that all his attributes seemed to work together to draw attention to his penis. No matter how I tried, I always found myself looking there. His penis was particularly large but nevertheless looked thick and strong. If it had a special quality, it was the way it seemed poised on the verge of becoming erect. Its head was subtly swollen and clearly visible as the folds of his foreskin pealed back. The shaft seemed somewhat rigid but not in an obscene or pornographic way.

I don't know why, but something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. While I wanted to enjoy at Tom, whatever it was wouldn't go away. With some irritation, I finally gave in and turn to my left to see what was disrupting me. It was one of my fellow woman artists, and I knew right away what the distraction was. The strong eroticism that I felt looking at Tom was but half of the energy present in the room. The other half was the way this particular artist was looking at him. Her eyes were devouring him. She was looking at him like I knew a woman should.

Some women will say that a penis is a penis is a penis, but it certainly wasn't true with this woman. While I get a thrill every time I see a fit naked man, this woman was in a state of total bliss. It seemed that, for her, Tom was making himself especially available to her gaze. Because a man's "equipment" is always fully visible, there is an emotional, personal aspect of him always on view. I find energy in the fact that a flaccid penis, long and relaxed, is also one that can at any moment become excitable. Sometimes the changes are slight and subtle, such as when the folds of his foreskin are peeled back and expose the organ of his pleasure. In any case, this woman was relishing Tom in a way that was close my ideal.

An idea that has long fascinated me came to mind. I have always been interested in how male nudity was practiced in ancient Greece. I am particularly captivated by those somewhat rare instances in which naked men walked around in the presence of fully clothes women. Forget the CFNM stuff, which has far much to do with domination and humiliation to interest me in the slightest. What I am curious about is the blend of the erotic and the aesthetic that those women must have felt and how men dealt with their knowing looks. How did a man deal with his exposed state in these situations?

I approached this woman after the session and learned that her name was Janet. I told her that I had noticed how she was looking at Tom. Her face turned a deep red. "Oh, my! Was I that explicit?"

"Oh, yes, most definitely," I responded.

"Sometimes I just can't help myself."

I decided to push the point a bit further. No doubt, his body was beautiful, but it was the way his penis protruded ever so slightly from his body in a semi erect sort of way that sent shivers up my spine. I was sure it was the same for her.

I suggested to her that she might also be a source of erotic appeal in the way she was looking at him. "Look," I said, "how about my arranging a private session with Tom. I want to draw you looking him."

She thought for a moment, trying to imagine what all this would entail. It was clearly something that she had never thought about before. "I won't also to be nude?" she asked.

"No, I want to try to capture the way you were looking at him just now. In fact, it would be best if you wear just what you are wearing now. I want you to be a female artist admiring a naked male; that is, a naked male who is very aware that you are admiring him." We agreed on next Tuesday afternoon.

I then approached Tom about it. Tom, needing money, was usually agreeable to anything that brought income, but he was reluctant at first. I suppose that he thought I had a threesome in mind, and so I led him gently away from that idea. I explained that a male dancer's body, or a model's for that matter, doesn't completely belong to himself. It is always in direct sense but it is also something that he shares with his audience in a very personal way. A dancer or a model puts on a display of the finer details of their personhood. Those who watch him are let in on an intimate secret of sorts; they see him in his entirety; they view his sexual dimensions. Put in plainer language, I am part owner of his penis. In a sense, it becomes mine as I am viewing it. Tom rolled his eyes, but finally agreed.

To make a longer story shorter, the day came and I set everything up. Tom arrived first and put him in another room and told him to undress and put on a robe. Soon thereafter, Janet arrived, and I asked her tom set up her easel, etc. Then the moment I had been waiting for came.

I invited Tom into the room and ask him to strike a pose like Michelangelo's David. I placed myself so that I could see both Janet and Tom as he disrobed. It was trilling to watch Janet's eyes as she found his penis the moment he dropped his robe. Erotic energy bounded off the walls. After a few minutes, something unexpected happened.

I don't suppose that Tom had ever modeled before a woman who was so transparent in her interests. In any case, I noticed that it was having an "effect" on him. At first, it was just that his foreskin was completely peeled back. For me, this is a state of full exposure that I find captivating. But his arousal didn't stop there.

I don't like pornography. I find it boring and dull-witted. It holds no sexual appeal for me. Still, I must confess that I have enjoyed seeing John Holmes a few times. For those who may not know, John has a legendary penis. I don't know or care about its dimension. Let's just say enormous is a bit of an understatement. Size, however, by itself doesn't interest me much. What I found fascinating about John was his erection doesn't rise up as most do but instead remains pointed down. Besides having about the diameter of a salami, it reaches almost to his knees. These facts together give me a charge.

There was Tom with a John Holmes style and size erection sending Janet into fits of ecstasy. I put aside the idea of drawing them and grabbed my camera. After about 15 minutes -- Tom remained erect the entire time -- I asked Janet to leave. She reluctantly packed up but made it clear that she didn't want to leave. I promised her another session with Tom in the upcoming week.

As I closed the door behind Janet, I turned to Tom. His erection had subsided, but I was now completely in my own fantasy world. I asked Tom to retake his pose. I slowly disrobed, making sure I was always in his sight. Looking into his eyes, I asked if he wanted me to service that "thing." I took his smile and the return of his erection as a yes.

I took him to my bed and asked him to lie on his back. I was completely wet with anticipation as I mounted him. He was too large to fit easily inside me, but I took my time. Eventually he filled me completely to the last millimeter, and I rode him to several quick orgasms. Knowing that I had more fantasies to fulfill, I dismounted him and took him in my mouth. His size allowed me to suck on his head while furiously stroking his shaft. Before long, I tasted the first hint of salty, musty cum that I knew was on the way. He exploded in my mouth as continued to pump his penis vigorously. I let his cum run down the shaft of his penis and cover my hands. I keep him in my mouth until he went soft.

I took his hand and led him to the slower. The hot water poured over us as I soaped his back. Turning him around, I reached down and grabbed his penis. As I stroked it, his erection returned. His eyes closed, and I could tell that he was focusing on the pleasure I was bringing him. I had no idea that my hand would barely fit around his shaft. I caressed his penis with long, slow strokes, which prolonged and enriched my fantasy. Before I knew it, his penis rippled with several spasms and shot forth his cum. I realized his penis only after it had become flaccid again.

Of course, I have fondled men in this fashion before but never one this size. The contrast between the mechanics of this experience and my own masturbation took on a stark quality. I was overwhelmed by the sensation of his this hard, pulsating, tool-like shaft. The connection between this rather substantial instrument and the small nuances of pleasure that I was giving Tom played in my mind. This gap for me was bridged finally when he released the semen that bathed my hand.

I broke my promise to Janet and never invited her back. I kept Tom to myself. Each week, I would begin by watching, taking the place of Janet as the woman who could see the male body as a woman should. The erotic energy that I saw emanating from her was now all mine. It was my energy, my eroticism that was the driving force in our encounter. We had further exploits that could rock any woman's imagination, but they are a story for another time. The lesion of this story is simply. It is perhaps too much to say that there is one best way for a woman to look at a man, but I know that there is, at least, one great way to do it.