A couple weeks ago I read an article about a group of students at the University of Sydney' s veterinary school who do an annual nude calendar to raise money for good animal-related causes. Naturally, I then did some research; turns out students do the same thing in Scotland, Liverpool, and other places, and that there's a subreddit just for these kinds of pics. It occurred to me that it might be awkward to be in that calendar... not because of the camera, mind. Because of your classmates.
I'm entering this in the Lit Nude Day contest. Please enjoy and, if you like it, cast your vote at the end!
* * *
They were discussing us again.
The Girls discussed us a lot, I knew. Me and Reagan. We were sitting in the Main Seminar Room that day with our feet up on the cheap table the professors use for department meetings, and we exchanged eye rolls. Why? Because they were discussing us again.
"It's the way of the world, man." The prophetic words of the immortal Dave, greeting me at orientation when I'd started the program. "They treat you like a piece of meat here, and then as soon as you're off-campus they act like you don't exist." A piece of meat, yeah; Dave was famous for being treated that way. The guy could pull pussy like nobody I'd ever seen. "Meet up with them at a bar in the neighborhood? Man, these girls are the most stuck-up bitches ever."
He'd been right, too, not that I'd tried to hook up with any of The Girls; I don't shit where I eat, and when you're in a grad program with a bunch of women, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize they'll all know if you put the moves on any of them. Not that that stopped me from admiring them, of course. Which was fair, because nothing seemed to stop them from discussing us.
Like now.
I could see the glances, snaking across the room from where they huddled in the corner. We were all waiting for Professor Lim to arrive for our required second-year seminar, the one on Nontraditional Roles For The Modern Library, and Reagan sighed. "You think they're all in synch?"
"Do what now?" I blinked. I'd been busy checking out Erin's tits where she sat by the windows, while carefully adjusting my twitchy cock. Jaqui hadn't stayed over last night, and I'd really been looking forward to being with her. I was almost uncontrollably horny. It was like being a college freshman all over again. I stirred. "What's that?"
"In synch." Reagan pushed his glasses up on his greasy nose and grinned his unpleasant smile. "Like, menstrually."
"Eww." I was only 24, with no sisters, so menstruation remained a vaguely unsettling mystery to me in those days. I just knew that Jaqui tended to simply avoid me for a few days each month, but one of the many things I didn't feel like thinking about was The Girls shoving tampons into themselves. "Dude. Keep it down." I glanced over. "They're already talking about us. I don't think we need to give them a reason to get skeeved out by us discussing their periods."
He shrugged easily and returned to his phone, where some sort of internet poker game had swallowed him up. Off to the side I heard The Girls crescendo into a higher and more urgent whisper before, suddenly, I caught Brandi's high, honking laugh. They were already gazing at me when, startled, I glanced over: four female faces, staring intently, a couple of them nodding coolly. I know I was blushing.
Most of them weren't
hot,
per se; only Megan Ringo, with the first-years, truly qualified as a knockout. But they were women, and young, and smart, and Reagan and I were the only guys in the whole program. So there was always a secret ripple of sexual tension at moments like this, with The Girls looking boldly at me while I just smiled like a dumbass.
I waited a decent interval before I blinked innocently at them. "What?" I said loudly, and the tornado of female laughter that came whooshing back at me left me redder than before. Except for Jenn. She was just squinting thoughtfully at me.
"Nothing, Mikey," mocked Brandi, yawning extravagantly. She was a coffee snob, and all the seminar room had was a Keurig nobody cleaned. "Just girl talk."
"Yeah." Aimee tossed back her long black hair. "It's not always about you." They giggled some more, and when I glanced back toward Reagan he was nodding sagely. His expression was loud: yup. Synchronized.
I sighed. Professor Lim showed up a mere seven minutes late, and I took my feet off the table and got ready to work.
* * *
I lay that night, my cock throbbing inside my boxers, gnawing at my fingernails while the endless low roar of the streets painted my ceiling with passing headlights.
Jaqui.
The text had come in at 11:30; her apologies. She had to study for her licensure test. I believed it; this was her third try, meaning she'd need to take classes if she failed again. But I was getting thoroughly sick of nights by myself; what was the point of having a grad-school girlfriend if the two of you couldn't fuck endlessly?
Without even thinking about it my fingers were tracing along my belly, through the hair there, prodding with loathing into my boxers. I hadn't needed to do this since I'd started dating Jaqui; fuck. Having a girlfriend is supposed to immunize you against having to whack it. But my girlfriend wasn't here and my hard-on was, so I lay my head back on my pillow and reached down to grab the hot, sweaty rod I'd produced in my boxers.
Masturbation is like riding a bike. You never really forget how to do it.
I shoved my boxers halfway down my thighs, the streetlights glinting through my window; my dick cast a weird sundial shadow across my belly, then the fingers of my left hand were caressing my balls while I ran my right hand along the sides of my trembling cock. Good lord. It felt good, almost Jaqui-good. This would take all of three minutes, I told myself, craning my neck to look down my body.
Nah. More like two.
I did a quick crunching sit-up, the saliva already drooling out of my mouth, and landed a big bubbly loogie smack on my head, right alongside my piss-slit. The spit gurgled down to meet my hand as I wrapped it around, fingers and shaft moist now, and then I lay back down and started running my hand up and down with firm, long strokes, my scrotum jiggling in the other hand.
I sent my mind elsewhere, out of the stinking city apartment, out of the narrow Jaqui-less bed, out of my legs fighting the elastic of my boxers; I was desperate to cum, the hand around my cock making sickening wet slithery sounds, my left hand tightening on my balls. I was holding my breath within just a few seconds, knowing it was close, squeezing hard at the base of my head on every upstroke now.
Like the best orgasms, it surprised me when I came; a tingle behind my balls, then the rushing sensation inside my shaft, and then the long gaspy exhale of breath in time with the first warm thick slap of semen along my chest and stomach. The second rope was more powerful, a splatter surprising me by landing on my chin; it hadn't often gotten up that high.
I relaxed slowly, sordidly, my body covered thick with its own cum, and as I drew a quietly shuddering breath I realized I hadn't been thinking about Jacqui when I came. I'd been thinking about Erin Lewes and her big, perfect tits next to the seminar-room window.
