"Ladies, when you draw, use all you senses." Ms. Purdy was giving her art students a lecture. I was standing at the front of the class, naked as usual. Ms. Purdy was beside me. The evening was hot, the room stuffy and humid. "Don't just look at your subject, observe your subject. The smallest details are as important as the obvious ones. Notice the shade of his skin, the lock of hair that falls out of place, the glint in his eyes, even the beads of perspiration rolling down his cheek."
Ms. Purdy caressed my cheek with her index finger. A bead of sweat rolled on to the tip of her finger. She momentarily looked at it then poked my chest with the finger, rubbing the moisture across my pectoral muscles.
"Even though sight is the most important sense, don't neglect the sense of touch. If allowed, feel the subject you are drawing. Are the muscles hard or flabby?" Ms. Purdy squeezed the bicep muscle of my right arm. "Is the body strong or weak? Is it tense or relaxed? Whatever the state, make sure your work accurately reflects it." She ran her hand down my back, rested it on my ass and squeezed my left buttock. "Feel everything, because everything about the body is important to an artist."
She stood behind me, pressed her body against my back and ass, reached around my torso and ran her hands over my chest. She played with my nipples, ran her hands down my abdomen and fingered the small tuft of pubic hair above my cock. Her right hand groped my testicles and penis. She stroked the shaft of my penis until it was fully erect. Stepping out from behind me, she continued with her lesson.
"After sight and touch, we have smell and taste. Though they are difficult to incorporate into a work of art, it is possible. We've all seen paintings of food so lifelike our mouths salivate and our noses smell the sweet fragrance. This effect is possible with the human figure." Ms. Purdy pressed her face against my neck and inhaled deeply. She moaned softy. "Draw the beads of perspiration on his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his torso. Subconsciously, the viewer will smell him. As for taste, how could ones mouth not moisten at the sight of his erect penis? My mouth is salivating right now. When I view your completed work, I expect my mouth to salivate as if I was standing in front of the real thing."
Ms. Purdy licked her lips, squatted in front of me, held the base of my cock with her left hand and engulfed my organ with her mouth. She worked her mouth up and down the shaft a few times, held the head of my cock with her lips, and licked the underside of it with her tongue. She left a thin coating of saliva on it when she withdrew her mouth. She stood up, faced the class, and said,
"It's not often artists get to touch, feel, and taste the object they draw. Usually we are only allowed to look. Don't waste this opportunity girls, use all your senses and use what you learn in your art. Now, lets get to work. Begin drawing."
My cock remained rock hard while the ladies drew. It wasn't difficult to maintain this state given that every eye in the room was on it. The sexual tension was as thick as a London fog, but no one approached me, though I would wager many of them wanted too. Ms. Purdy broke the ice by doing two things. First, she brought in a tray of white wine and served everyone drinks. This loosened the women up and they began to talk among themselves. Before this, the room had been silent. Second, she wrapped her hand around my prick and pulled me off my platform like a dog on a leash.
She slowly lead me through the room. We stopped at each student's easel and Ms. Purdy examined their work. She made a few comments to some of the ladies but didn't criticize anyone until we reached Cynthia at the back of the class. Usually she coats her criticism with sugar, that is, she is friendly and tactful when suggesting ways the student can improve. This leaves them feeling good about their efforts, despite the problems. This time however, she was harsh.
In a loud voice, Ms. Purdy said, "Cynthia, your work is disappointing." Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at us. "You have not been observing what you are drawing. I expect better from you." Cynthia's eyes darted between Ms. Purdy's face and her hand on my cock. "Look at me when I am talking to you Cynthia," Ms.Purdy commanded.
Cynthia's cheeks turned red. She is a small, shy, demure woman in her early thirties. Her long, black hair is tied in a ponytail that runs down the length of her back. She wears black rimmed glasses that obscure her opaque blue eyes. She's married and has two small children. Cynthia looked directly at Ms. Purdy.
"Your work has many errors," Ms Purdy said. "For instance, the illiac crest in your drawing is more pronounced and sharper then it should be. Look at our model's illiac crest and compare it to your drawing." Cynthia looked at me then her drawing but said nothing. "I don't think you understand what I mean Cynthia." Ms. Purdy took Cynthia's hand and placed it on the crest of my pelvis. "See how round it is?"
Cynthia hesitatively ran her hand over it. "Yes Ms. Purdy, I do now." Ms. Purdy continued with her criticism.
"Another problem is your presentation of his abdomen." She placed Cythia's hand on my stomach and told her to feel the muscles. Cynthia tentatively pressed her hand against my abdomen and ran her fingers over it. Her hand quivered as it neared my groin. "Our model is fit and lean Cynthia, but you have him looking like he has a beer belly."
In a shallow, timid voice, Cynthia said, "I'm sorry, Ms.Purdy."
Ms. Purdy looked at the drawing and exclaimed, "Look at that!" She pointed at Cynthia's drawing of my penis. "The cock is dramatically out of proportion to the rest of the figure. He does have a big one, but it's not that big Cynthia, and the one you drew looks like a wet noodle!" Cynthia blushed.
In an authoritative voice Ms Purdy said, "Feel his penis Cynthia, see for yourself how strong and rigid it is." Ms. Purdy removed her hand from my cock. Cynthia moved her hand slowly towards me but withdrew it when it began to tremble.
In a huff, Ms. Purdy ordered, "Touch his cock Cynthia . . . it's not going to bite!" Cynthia again moved her hand towards my cock. This time Ms. Purdy grasped her wrist and placed Cynthia's hand firmly on my penis. In a soft, but demanding voice, Ms. Purdy said, "Wrap your fingers around it Cynthia, feel its strength."
Cynthia did as she was told. Ms. Purdy released her hold on Cynthia's wrist and ordered her to feel the entire thing. Cynthia slowly moved her warm hand up and down the length of my cock. Her face was flushed, her breathing shallow and quick.
"When you draw that prick Cynthia, I want it as rigid and strong on paper as it is in your hand."
With a dry, raspy voice, Cynthia said, "Yes, Ms.Purdy."
Addressing the entire class, Ms. Purdy said sternly, "Cynthia made the mistake of observing from too far away. The rest of you had better not make the same error." In unison, a few ladies said, "We won't," and laughed.
Cynthia was oblivious to the laughter, she was engrossed with my cock. Her hand moved up and down it in a slow methodical fashion. When a drop of precum dripped onto her hand, she stopped and looked at it.
