It was always a fantasy of mine to model for an artist. I do not think I really cared where the artwork would go, be it for personal use or to be on display for the world to see. It wasn't the fame or glory that I cared about. There is something exciting about striking a pose for someone to examine you in all your glory and imperfection, capturing your details into another form. Clay, paint, photos, charcoal drawing, all of it excited me. I could care or less about the immortalizing effect. I just wanted to stand, sit, or position myself in some awkward stop-motion pose and let the artist do his or her work. But then, I was too chicken to really volunteer.
I was in college at the time and was majoring in psychology, nothing at all artistic, but I enjoyed sketching as a hobby and would get together with a group of other like-minded amateurs to do figure work. One person from the group would volunteer, disrobe, and strike a series of poses for the five or six others to draw in whatever media they chose. While I was asked from time to time, I always declined. Maybe I'm just self-conscious about my looks, figuring it would be like when I'm at the doctor's office during a physical and my penis shrinks like a turtle's head in a time of danger.
Mind you, this was twenty years ago. No digital photos, just everything the old fashioned way. My friend, Terry, was up today, volunteering to model for us.
I don't know if anyone else felt the same way, but I loved when he was up. His body was lean, and he had awesome muscle definition, and beautiful abs. I was so jealous since as much as I hit the gym, I could never achieve such definition. I figured my admiration for him was out of my fascination with the human figure, nothing gay or sexual since I was still in denial at the time. I mean, it was just a love for the aesthetics of our humanity, right? The last pose of the night, the last of three in an hour, was a tough one where he held this pose like Apollo drawing an arrow and aiming for the sun, kneeling with his back toward the class. His back muscles simply gorgeous and his firm buttocks tense in such a flexed position. You could see his balls hanging low just below the view of his ass. Though no one paid any attention to what I was focusing on, I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at where I was staring, and was glad my jeans concealed my semi-erection.
At the end of the session we cleaned up while Terry put his clothes back on, loose sweat pants and old t-shirt. Just as I finished gathering my large sketchbook into my portfolio case, Terry came over to me.
"Hey, great session today. I loved that last pose of yours! You looked like a Greek God. You have some real talent," I said trying not to sound like a gushing teenage girl.
"Thanks, Tom! You know, you should try posing for the class some time. Everyone else has. Seriously, what are you worried about? No one here is supermodel material. It's the flaws we have that make the art interesting."
"Yeah, I know. I guess I still feel a little weird about doing it myself."
"How about this, then. I didn't get a chance to draw anything tonight since I was up modeling. How about you pose for me at my place? I promise I won't tease you no matter how deformed you are!" Terry smiled that toothy grin of his at me with that last jibe.
I smacked the back of my hand against his shoulder (man, he has some nice muscle there compared to my bony shoulders), "Yeah, gee, thanks for the confidence builder!" After I pause, I almost couldn't believe I was saying it loud, but continued, "Well, maybe... " I have to admit, I was getting tingly with anticipating trying. I couldn't even undress in the High School lockerroom as a teenager without trying to hide everything. The other guys would walk around with their junk flipping and flopping around like it was nothing, while I cowered in the corner concealing whatever I could. I was always a skinny kid, and though I have gained some muscle over the years, it was nothing all that athletic looking.
"Good," said Terry, "then it's a done deal. Come on over, I think you'll enjoy it. It's actually quite liberating to be able to stand before others in the nude. Be proud of your uniqueness!"
Well no turning back now. Last thing I need for my self-esteem is to be called a pussy. "Okay, I'll give it a shot." The funny thing is, I wasn't even thinking of sex at all. I didn't think Terry rolled that way, and honestly at the time I didn't think I did, either.
We arrived at his college apartment just off-campus, and after some arranging of furniture to make room in his efficiency apartment, he set up a drafting easel near the kitchenette to give some space and placing the lighting to make for some good shadows. He sat down and arranged his charcoal pencils. "Well? You still okay with this?"
