I don't know what I thought when I saw this online posting searching for a nude model to participate in a live painting class. Initially skeptical, I convinced myself that the students don't really care what you look like in these spaces. They are just interested in art. Well, I was utterly wrong and mistaken. I joined the class and discovered only women were in the class, which added another layer of intimidation. The instructor guided me to a private place where I could strip everything I wore. She handed me a white, silky robe, and I walked to the center of around 30 easels and promiscuous faces.
The quiet awkwardness was intoxicating and blaring in my eardrums. Everything told me to bail out of the class, but I needed to do this for the extra money. As they say, "no pain, no game." I was nervous about being in my birthday suit in front of all these mature women. Once they determined what pose I would do for everyone, I undid my robe and saw it fall to the floor by my bare ankles.
The entire class viewed my chubby, naked body with blink less precision. These women were going to paint every detail of what they saw. I felt their astonished eyes glued to my cold, shivering body. I sat on the metal stool and posed for them. I'm not sure if it was in my head, but I might have heard snickers from the students.
My name is Jorge Ramone, and I have everything going for me except where it counts from the size queens. They are the ones who want a royal drill heaved deeply in them, so they can experience euphoria. That is something I will never be able to conjure. Now, I should explain I am a lightly-browned Hispanic man who is slightly chubby, pretty good-looking, and of average height. My penis is incredibly tiny compared to other men. It is around a quarter of an inch soft and 1.8 inches when it is excited and awake for action, which I don't seem to get. When I mean tiny, you don't know what that means until you've seen my baby-sized package. I am sure toddlers would come together and tease my unhandled plaything. That might explain why I was so nervous.
The silence torched every ounce of my manhood because I knew what they were thinking. I didn't fear the women in the back because they probably couldn't see anything. But, the students in the front had a clear, undeniable view of my boyish wee-wee as it was squished between my legs. The worst part was there were a couple of older women. They love to tease boys with little pinkies. There was even a grandma and her granddaughter in the front row. Granted, they were adults, but still, it was horrifying. They kept giving each other a shared look like they knew what each other was thinking regarding my mini churro.
I couldn't imagine what they would say on their car ride home. They'll probably mention how I am smaller than a newborn or something. This was the most embarrassing moment of my life, especially when I saw their comprehending smirks. I couldn't even imagine what they were thinking. They were probably wondering what I could do with such a tiny binky in the bedroom, which presented a problem. When my little naturalness was revealed, she usually wouldn't be interested or relentlessly mock me.
I just sat there with a dumb look as I was obviously uncomfortable with the entire situation. A couple of the students asked the instructor if they could move closer because they couldn't see me entirely from where they were sitting. This got a few chuckles, and the instructor scolded them and told them to pipe down. The women in the back came closer to me. I felt even more humiliated. I am sure they had no problem seeing my baby nublette, which was way smaller than my balls. Every time I heard a brush stroke, I felt more emasculated. They only came closer to get a good view of my little nub. I stood red-faced as they gaped and painted my little, pitiful penis.
The room became a little less awkward and more conversational when the instructor checked on everyone's work. People began chattering, but I did witness some of them secretly giving each other the universal small penis symbol, which coiled my insides. It was embarrassing enough to show the room how tiny my privates were, but for these women to have no shame or decency to conceal their subtle jokes and laughter. I quickly looked down to see what they were looking at this whole time. It was an innie, so I promptly pulled it out. It pierced through my veins. I felt the shivers travel away from my little tee-tee, which is why it was so shrunken.
It looked so pathetic and useless. It was smaller than the little smooth paint brushes these artists were using. I was eavesdropping on the advice the instructor gave to the students. She claimed everything was anatomically correct, except for my penile area. It was painted too small or not at all. I had nothing between my legs except a little teeter-totter bouncing when I moved. The students claimed nothing was there, which made the teacher giggle. She told them to use their wildest imaginations and apply generosity to my body. I felt my cheeks burn with a sensation of mortification. I just wanted to cover it up and sprint away from this audience.
From all the unforeseen "excitement," it was challenging to uphold my flaccid composure in front of these beautiful goddesses. From everything to their bodies, the humiliation, and the vulnerability, I could feel the little man hardening up. I felt it stretch minimally. In my head, I was rooting for the little guy. Please try more than you ever have before, little buddy. It only erectified an inch longer, resulting from my apparently stunted growth. I looked around the room with growing concern. Thank goodness nobody noticed the lack of a sizable boner. It was a relief but also cemented my internalized shame even more. I was completely erect, and nobody noticed from how I was positioned and because it was the smallest penis these girls had ever seen in their lives.
Time goes by fast when you are having fun. Still, when you have an unpleasant nightmare, times move excruciatingly slower than usual. Each minute felt like an hour as my little boy penis was displayed for their enjoyment. The instructor said she needed to take a personal phone call for a little bit. What was she thinking, leaving me alone with these sadistic girls in this entangled mess? After she left, a morbid quietude filled the room's aura. One of the girls finally caved and couldn't hold in her laughter.
Now, everyone was confident enough to giggle openly, even though some were muffled out of respect. These asked me if I was embarrassed to have such a tiny penis, and I quietly nodded. I couldn't say anything because I felt frozen and succumbed to the light-hearted and sometimes aversive comments. They didn't know Hispanic men could have such small penises. They claimed I wasn't black, so why would they think I would be well-endowed?
I finally opened my mouth, "There are plenty of huge Hispanic men."
