I recently read about an assignment in an art course to redesign the human genitals so that they would be more equitable. I couldn't help but laugh because what makes genitals interesting is their difference, not their sameness. I also knew right away what the "answer" was: give men fig leaves! The obvious feature of male genitals is their visibility. With female genitals, it is their hiddenness. (Between men, the main difference is ... well size!) The only way that might equalize things with respect to women is to give the man some cover -- a fig leaf.
On the whole, I don't care much for aggressive, in-your-face nudity. The suggestive and evocative work just fine for me. The interplay between knowing and not knowing excites me no end. This might lead to a fascination with the fig leaf as a cover, but in my case, I hate covering something I find so intriguing.
I remember well the first time I encounter a male mode without his "fig leaf." It was my first quarter in college. I had taken many drawing classes while in high school but our male models always wore jock straps. For some reason, female models, even then, posed fully nude, but men didn't. I couldn't help but wonder (although, at that age, I tried not to) why the male anatomy need to be covered. Even then, I felt that drawing the male figure without its defining feature left things somehow incomplete. I couldn't articulate it back then, but a "fig-leafed" model wasn't being fully himself.
On the day that all this changed, I walked into the studio and took my seat at one of the drawing desks. The model walked in wearing the usual robe and mounted the platform. Turning to face me, somewhat intentionally it seemed at the time, he dropped his robe. My eyes almost popped out of my head. There, before me, was the missing piece that made the puzzle complete.
Never before had I been so aware of how exposed the naked man is. His sex is flaunted, not suggested as it is with women. The nude female hints that sex is to be found between her legs. The nude male gives it full throated announcement. You see all there is right up front.
I marvel at the lengths that people will go to conceal the male member from the public gaze. Movies that parade women in full frontal scenes crop the screen at the critical point when a man enters the picture. His back is turned, his hands are strategically placed, the director cuts away at just the right (or wrong, depending on your point of view) moment. What is it that makes showing the penis so taboo?
What seems to matter most is that women shouldn't gaze. Men are notoriously incapable of modesty in locker rooms, The one exception, I am told, is that they don't like sporting erections in front of other men. Otherwise, they parade around without a stich of cover. They make no efforts to conceal their endowments. I know a woman sports reporter, and her account on locker room interviews makes me envious. It is the closest thing to ancient Greece that I can imagine. Nudity that does not matter!
I admit that, to a large degree, a woman's attention is drawn to this part of a man because it is the instrument of her sexual pleasure. It is more than simply an arm or an ear because it is an invitation to fantasize. But the fantasy can only go so far if the instrument of her fancy is flaccid. Art hardly ever presents a penis in an aroused state, but this limitation is also a launching pad for further fantasy. What gets my juices going is the ever-present potential that a flaccid penis can to grow and become hard right before my eyes. Whenever I see a naked man I know that what is hang now can, in an instant, stand and salute me.
People who study this kind of thing say that there are "showers" and "growers." I take their word for it, and it does correspond to my experience to a large degree. One of the most erotic statues that I have ever seen is a young man by Rodin called L'âge d'airain. While I wouldn't judge him a shower, how can anyone miss what he shows? Just ask any woman. Every female eye goes directly to his penis. Although quite subtle in presentation, the statue would be more aptly named "The Penis."
Another equally erotic piece of art that goes in the opposite direction is by Coleccao Berrardo. I don't know what it is called, but it consists of a naked man and women lying in each other's arms. The woman's sex is slight visible. The man is sporting a full erection that is much more visible but not flaunted. I dare any woman to tell me that she does try to peak over his hip to get a better view.
All these reflections about art and fig leaves have a point. I have a reoccurring dream that I truly enjoy. I find myself alone in a museum filled with statues of nude men. I am wearing a loose while dress that flows gracefully over my feminine curves. It is quite sexy. Each of these statues, as you might have guessed, has a fig leaf cover. I move from statue to statue surveying their bodies. As gaze upon them, I raise my hand and remove the fig leaf. I marvel at their newly revealed attributes. I take measure (pun intended) of their sizes and their potential for arousal. I am particularly interested in whether the head of glans of his penis is exposed or merely outlined by his foreskin. I choose one of the statues for a more complete disclosure. I take hold of his penis and, with my hand and mouth, bring him to erection. There is more, but I will leave that to your imagination.
Recently, after waking up from my dream, I ravished my husband, who says that he awoke with my lips wrapped tightly around his penis. Shortly thereafter, he exploded in my mouth. I gave him no relief as I immediately mounted him and banged his brains out. I ended with an earth-shattering orgasm that I will never forget.
Afterward, he asked me what was going on. I told him about my dream and how I disparately wanted to act it out. He had a great idea. He suggested that I hold a benefit for local art scholarships. I would invite my closest friends to a backyard reception. I could hire models to pose as statues around the garden. The models would be both men and women. The women would be completely nude; all but one, that is, who would wear a loose cloth skirt covering her pubic region. The men would wear jockstraps. The idea would be to auction off their "fig leaves."
I found the idea appealing for several reasons. I could watch the response of my women guests to the "fig-leaved" men and see if their reaction was as strong as mine own. Secondly, I could gage their enthusiasm for unveiling the real thing. Finally, there was the surprise that I had in store for them as a finale.
