I wanted to model for the local college. I had done it once years before, and it was an interesting experience. I had recently lost some weight, and was in the best shape of my life, so I thought I'd show off. I told the art teacher I'd do it for free, I didn't need the money, it was just a good way for me to get out and experience life a little more.
There was a background check to make sure I wasn't a perv, she checked my references from the other school, and I was in. One of her models cancelled, so I was able to get in front of a class early the next week. It had been a while, and I was admittedly a little excited.
It is a unique experience for a guy to stand on a platform surrounded by a bunch of young women, drop your robe, and strike a pose for an hour. The first time I had tried this, the physical reaction was not at all what I had expected. Of course, every guy is scared he's going to get an out of control erection, and have to stand there with his johnson sticking out. It is an art class, and you need to conduct yourself professionally, no one wants to see an erection. It is educational, not sexual. The first time, I did not have that problem, instead, the anxiety of dropping my robe made the little guy run and hide like a scared turtle. That was embarrassing. To say the least.
This time, I was experienced. I was older, and feeling very confident. I dropped the robe, strode confidently to the middle of the room, did a few quick poses to get loosened up, then settled in for the long pose. I was standing, supporting myself with one leg on a low stool, and leaning on a long dowel like a staff. I focused on a point at the back of the room, and started my meditation mantra. "Life is suffering. The root of suffering is desire. Life is suffering. The root of suffering is desire." I had found that focusing on the four noble truths freed my mind and distracted me from the fact that I was standing naked in front of a room full of people scrutinizing my every detail.
This class required a lot of focus on the mantra. The room was full of very attractive young women, not one guy. It was late in the spring semester, the room was hot, and there were a lot of sundresses leaving not much to the imagination. "Life is suffering. The root of suffering is desire ..."
The thing with men is that out bodies react to all kinds of things, changes in temperature, a slight breeze, the delicate musky scent of a woman rising up from the front row as a sexy young hairy arm pit hippy girl stepped forward to get a better view. I felt the little guy start to relax, he wanted to be friendly and say hello.
As I said, I am a little older and have some experience. I know my member is not the worlds largest. I am probably right in the middle of average. I really tried to keep my focus, "Life is suffering, the root of suffering is desire." I stared at my spot on the back wall, and took a deep breath. I felt my member get a little heavy as the circulation increased, but much to my relief, I just got a little bigger. I focused, took a deep breath. Calm. It was good. Balls felt loose and relaxed. Deep breath, relax. I was aware of my penis, but just comfortably aware. Deep breath. Then I felt a small drop of precum just barely ooze to the tip. Focus. Focus. "Life is suffering."
I held the pose for another half hour. Mercifully the class ended. I walked over to grab my robe, feeling my cock swaying back and forth. It felt great. I tied my robe, and turned to see the art teacher touch her finger to the podium I had been standing on, then rub something gently on her finger tips, as she smelled it, and touched it to her lips. My precum. As it registered in my brain I was horrified, but not the little guy, he jumped to full attention. She smiled at me, looked over the flagpole in my robe, and said, "Good work. See you next week." I blushed deeply, and felt a light sweat break on my forehead.
The next week was better. I started with another standing pose, during which the professor stood next to me, her eyes at waist level, discussing details of the musculature of my hips and abs. I felt my penis grow hang heavily, but I was filled with confidence and control. The second pose was a seated pose, reminiscent of the thinker, in which I was again aware of my relaxed cock hanging confidently before the room. I felt a drop of precum emerge lightly from the tip, slowly forming a long drop stretching down to the wooden stage. I focused on my mantra, "Life is suffering. The root of suffering is desire." It was a spiritual as well as a physical exercise.
I was focused on my spot at the back of the room, listening to pencil strokes, erasers, whispers, and the occasional giggle, when I heard someone walk into the room. The art teacher called her over, and they had a hushed conversation. Focus.
The reclined pose was much easier to maintain, and proved to be very relaxing. By the time the class was finished I was in a fairly deep meditative state. The students filed out, some of them thanking me as I stood and stretched, walking across the room feeling my cock and balls swaying gently back and forth.
