Art Class 7

Art class. The studio was built creatively, with an airy atmosphere and plenty of natural light flowing in without any windows set in ways that would threaten the privacy of those inside. That was important, considering the kind of studio it was. Derek looked around at the fresh, bright faces, and felt out of place; he'd never been the artistic type. Fortunately, he wasn't there to draw. While they went to their easels, he sat on the edge of the platform in the middle of the room.

As the students settled, the teacher cleared her throat. "Class, today we're moving onto life drawing, with a live model. Since this is your first time with it, we're going to go with a half-class. Some of you know Derek; he's going to be our model for today. Everyone, please make him feel welcome."

There was a chorus of mumbled, half-hearted greetings, interspersed with a few real smiles. One caught his eye: he didn't remember seeing that woman before. Chin-length, blonde hair fell from underneath her beret, but judging by its dull lustre and the darkness of her arched eyebrows, it was bleached. There was a friendly look in her dark brown eyes, matching well with the smile she was giving. Her clothes were simple – a tank top and a knee-length skirt – and suggested a slim body without showing anything off.

After some more preamble, it was time for class to begin. Derek stripped to his skin, and stood up on the platform. The room was warm enough for him to be physically comfortable, and psychologically, it was just another day. He held himself in a simple pose, head turned to the side to offer the artists a profile view while his body still faced them. Next up was going to be a half-hour of silence, except for the sound of scratching pencils.

A feminine, French-accented voice broke that plan. "Pardon, Miss Fletcher?" It was the bleached-blonde woman he'd noticed earlier.

The teacher looked to her. "Yes, Patricia?"

Patricia lowered her hand. "The model, he is soft, yes? I thought that, perhaps, it would be best to capture his image when he is stronger, more, um, alive-looking?" She shifted in her seat, preparing to rise. "I could help."

The teacher considered, a smirk spreading over her face. "I think it could be an interesting change in the class plan. But, it's up to Derek."

Patricia's smile brightened, with a crinkling at the corners of her eyes. "Yes, Miss Fletcher." Without another word, she rose to her feet and walked toward him, to sit on the platform's edge. She leaned toward him, but slowed considerably, watching his face for any response. A little curious and a lot bewildered, he did nothing to stop her.

Soon, he felt her breath against his organ. Next, the tip of her wet tongue. The muscle itself was firm, but she used it softly, in a slow caress along the side of his shaft. That touch changed the whole scenario, and he felt the blood rush into his cheeks. Yet, however the embarrassment rose, he didn't stop her. So she closed her eyes, and focused on her task, agile tongue sliding back and forth on him.

Something was starting to stir within him, gradually. The thought of so many eyes on him slowed it, and so Patricia had to keep working. That side of him was wet enough, and so she drew back with one last lick. It reached all the way to his tip, swirling around his head once, twice, as she shifted in her seat. From there, she went forwards again, tongue dragging to make the right side of his shaft match the left. Her cheek nestled against his hip, and she held herself there as her tongue kept flicking, stroking. Each breath was a warm sigh that tickled at his groin.

However composed he tried to be, he still eventually let out a groan. Patricia's continuing attention drew his blood to flow down into his nethers. However hesitantly, his organ grew, becoming rigid underneath that tongue.

That was when Patricia pulled back, still all smiles. She looked at his shaft, her eyes showing the pleased glint of a job well done, and then she shared that smile with the rest of the class. "There! He is much more masculine now, yes?"

The class had already started sketching as soon as she took her mouth off him, leaving no room for audible agreement. Yet, the looks in their eyes, especially among a couple of the more mischievous women... Derek just tried to pose to match the new effect. It was a strange thrill, one he hadn't had before even the first times he'd posed naked. He'd never posed naked and hard.

Patricia skipped back to her easel, and hurried to catch up with her classmates. The smile on her face was one of simple relaxation and friendliness, as if there wasn't a thing scandalous about what she'd just done – however her classmates were looking at her now.

Throughout the whole posing period, he stayed solid. It was a combination that let him do that: the memory of Patricia's tongue definitely helped, but so did the excitement of doing something so new to him, and the surging pride of being so examined, and obviously found pleasing.

Yet, it had to end sometime. The sketches were done, and the budding artists were packing up and leaving. Except for one.

Patricia sat down in front of him again, grinning. It wasn't a wicked grin; the look on her face was as casual, even innocent, as always. "It would be too cruel of me to make you want, and then not satisfy you. Hold a moment?" She laid a hand on his hip, to hold him steady.

Then came her mouth again, starting with a similar kind of tease. He could use the refresher, and this time, it only took a few licks for her to get him all the way erect. He wasn't as shy as he had been before, even as some of the other students turned to watch. He even gave them a smile, before turning his attention back downwards, to watch Patricia.

She had her eyes on his face, an expression of focus in them. It was casually done, yes, but skill still needed concentration. Her tongue dragged along the side of his cock, all the way to his tip, and there she hovered. Three fingers from one hand wrapped just around his base, holding him upright. After a different kind of lick moistened her lips, she puckered them, offered them forwards... and then moved toward him.

With her lips puckered, he could feel them spread around his tip, drawing him into the warmth of her mouth. She kept them as closed as possible so their softness could stroke him as she continued, creeping along his length. She was multitasking, with those lips only being part of what she offered: her tongue was in motion, licking along everywhere but his top side; she made warm coos and groans that rumbled up from the back of her throat to tingle right into his manhood.

Each little touch contributed to the heat that rose in the pit of his stomach. After a few seconds more of that warm-up, she started truly working him, showing just how much she could do. She bobbed her head, stroking him with those tight, soft lips, while she sucked firmly enough to cave her cheeks inward. He couldn't have helped the moan that rose from him, even if he actually tried. His hips moved without checking with him first, slapping forward each time she came toward him. The fire was growing, hotter and hotter, and he found no reason to hold it back.

Patricia felt what was coming. After a few more bobs of her head, she dragged herself off him, lips squeezing his crown as she passed it. Her mouth stayed hanging open, hovering just a short distance from him. That hand that had held him up now gripped him, swiftly pumping his length. Each stroke was smoothed by the saliva that now coated him. She kept her eyes on him, watching the pleasure rise in his face, the dam filling... and finally, breaking.

The pitch of his groan made a few of their watchers jump, and sent a flash into Patricia's eyes. Yet, she didn't smile: her mouth was held too far open for it, in a waiting 'O'. That opening accepted the spurting of his cum, with each gooey, white strand landing to shine on her tongue. Her aim was perfect even as she kept stroking him, jerking him off and sending that fire roaring all the more intensely.

When he finished, she closed her lips, and drank it all down with a single bob of her throat. "Thank you, Derek!" She hopped onto her feet and grabbed her things. "Now, I must hurry away. I'll see you next art class, yes?" One hand waved to him, as she ran out the door.