Freshers

Author's note:

Well, here we are, friends, a new chapter of Freshers for you all to enjoy! As usual, all characters are over 18.

Freshers - A Tommy, Beth & Terri story

Chapter Four - December 1985

An Aching Need (Tommy)

"If you look closely, Sally, you can see how the opening of the model's foreskin sort of frames the glans of his penis nicely," Phyllis said to one of her students as I sat posing nude for her latest group of second year art students. "All you need to do is a tiny little downward brush stroke just there to show his meatus, and it'll further add to the accuracy of your depiction of the subject's body."

You know, it's kind of odd sitting naked in front of a group of fully clothed people - most of whom are female - whilst having the most intimate parts of your anatomy discussed in minute detail, whilst only being referred to as "the model" or "the subject" rather than by name, as though I was just some kind of inanimate object to be studied, rather than a living person with thoughts and feelings of his own. But you know, I didn't mind that at all - in an odd way, dehumanising me like this made staying focused on keeping still and taking my mind off my nakedness somewhat easier.

"Good work, Sally, very good work indeed," Phyllis complimented her young student. "You're really starting to get into the close detail of the subject's anatomy - I especially like the way you have captured the veins of his penis here. But try adding a touch of blue to bring out the colour a little."

Something that was really keeping my mind off my nudity was the way in which Phyllis interacted with her students - especially the female ones. All her students received the occasional "good job" or "nice work" from her as she appraised their works in progress and advised them on how to improve their work, but with her female students it seemed as though in addition to her compliments, she couldn't help but make physical contact with them. I looked at her as she let her hand rest on Sally's shoulder as she worked. I didn't know if I was imagining it, but it definitely looked to me as though she was all but groping the girl. I wondered if she ever gave Beth the same kind of treatment during her lessons with her - I made a mental note to ask her when I returned home later that afternoon.

* * * * * *

By the time the modelling session was coming to an end, I was in serious need of a wee - having indulged in a large coffee with Beth in the art college's refectory prior to my modelling session was coming back to haunt me, and my bladder felt as though it was about to burst. It came to the point that holding on to it was becoming so difficult that I tensed up the entire lower half of my body, and I couldn't help but notice my penis begin to twitch as I contracted every muscle I had down there. It was with some relief, as I'm sure you can imagine, that I finally heard Phyllis announce that that was enough for that day's session, and instructed the group to start packing their things away. Phyllis handed me my dressing gown and I gratefully put it on.

I knew that there was a toilet located along the corridor at the other end of the building, but the situation was literally becoming desperate, and the thought of dashing along a busy corridor full of art students while wearing nothing but my dressing gown didn't really appeal, so I approached Phyllis as discreetly as I could.

"Er, Phyllis, I'm sort of er, y'know, really desperate for a wee and I don't quite fancy dashing to the loos in only my dressing gown, while the corridor's all full of students - is there anywhere else I could go?" I asked her, still not entirely familiar with the building's layout.

"If you can hold on for just a minute or two, my dear, I'll show you," Phyllis replied as she tidied away an easel.

After what felt like an age after the last student departed, Phyllis took me towards a curtained off area towards the back of the studio which was seemingly used to store various art supplies and spare canvasses. At the far end of the room was a discreetly located door.

"Just in here," Phyllis announced as she pushed open the door to reveal a narrow room with a single toilet bowl and a small washbasin at its far end. "It's not unknown for models to be caught short, so we had this installed when the building was converted. I'm afraid the lock's broken, unfortunately. I've been on at Tony, our caretaker here, to get it fixed since the beginning of term and he still hasn't got around to it yet. Don't worry though, I won't come barging in while you're in mid-flow!"

"Yeah, Er, thanks," I replied.

I went in and closed the door behind me, or at least, I

tried

to close it. Just as Phyllis had said, the small brass bolt that would have locked the door had partly broken off and made the thing pretty much useless. I was further dismayed to discover that not only was it the only way to keep the door closed, as there was no latch of any description, but the hinges were also not quite fixed properly, and it was impossible to keep the door fully closed. As a result, there was a persistent one inch gap between the frame and the door that no matter how many times I tried to close the darned thing, it always kept springing back open slightly. Had the room been just a little smaller, I would have been able to hold the door shut, but the room was just a few inches too long to allow that, and no matter how much I contorted myself, there was no way I'd be successful in keeping the damned thing closed. Well, I could've just forgotten about using it and just backed out and used the student's toilets at the other end of the building, but the discomfort in my nether regions had intensified to such an extent, that the need to pee was becoming somewhat urgent. So I really had little choice but to trust in Phyllis's assurance that she wouldn't peek as I relieved myself.

I stood before the toilet bowl and lifted the seat and opened up my dressing gown. Taking my penis in my left hand I pulled my foreskin back a little and finally I could fully relax. I sighed contentedly as my stream of urine flowed from me and into the water in the toilet bowl. Phyllis might not have been able to see me, but I was pretty sure she could

hear

me.

As I stood and urinated, I couldn't help but think to myself, as I often did, that back at our flat, Beth and Terri were always commenting in exasperated tones that being a "typical male" I always left the toilet seat up after I had finished using it. Of course, I tactfully kept my mouth shut to remind the girls that they always left the toilet seat

down

after they had finished using it, and that was as much an inconvenience to me as my leaving it up was an inconvenience to them. Sometimes a man has to keep quiet for the sake of domestic harmony - especially when you're outnumbered two to one!

As the last few drips of urine escaped from my bladder, I gave my penis a little shake and then flushed the toilet. I turned and washed my hands in the little washbasin and then re-tied my gown. As I exited the little room I found Phyllis putting away the last of the easels, convincing me that she definitely heard me peeing.

"All better?" she asked me as I pulled the door to behind me.

"Er, yeah, much better, thanks," I replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment rising to my cheeks.

It was funny how I was apparently at ease with posing in the nude before a group of fully-clothed, mainly female art students whilst having every inch of my naked body scrutinised under their collective gazes, and yet the mere notion of being overheard by Phyllis while I emptied my bladder made me feel a stab of embarrassment. Still, there wasn't much I could do about that - my aching bladder had taken precedence over my inhibitions. Not that I had many inhibitions in the first place - ever since that fateful day during the summer break when Beth had convinced me to show myself off to Terri. Well,

convince

is perhaps not the best choice of words, the only reason I agreed to it was if Beth agreed to have sex with me. Ever since that day, and especially during our holiday in the south of France, I had gradually lost one inhibition after another. The three of us had become comfortable being naked with each other and having sex in each other's presence. During that amazing fortnight I had also discovered my bisexuality, Terri had lost her virginity to me, and together we had discovered the joy of naturism during an unforgettable day on an island naturists colony.

Phyllis's next group of students had already started filing into the room for their next lesson before I'd had a chance to get dressed. So I hastily dashed across to the little changing area that had been set aside for Phyllis's models to use, and as I gratefully pulled my pants back on, the room gradually became filled with animated chatter as the students assembled and set up small work tables for what was apparently a session on sculpture rather than painting.

Now fully clothed once more, I made for the door, pausing briefly to collect my payment from Phyllis. As I closed the door behind me and took my leave, I couldn't help but notice that Phyllis had her hand on the upper arm of another of her female students as she set up the sculpture she was working on. Her hand rested just a couple of inches from the girl's left breast.

Concern (Beth)

As soon as Tommy came home last night, he bombarded me with questions about Phyllis, asking me if she had ever touched me in the same way he had seen her touching her female students. I replied by confirming that yes indeed, she had on occasion allowed her hand to rest upon me, but it was fairly innocent contact really, and I thought little more of it. She was just a friendly character, I assured him, and that she was just a touchy-feely, artsy sort of person - there was certainly nothing sinister in it as far as I was concerned. Of course, Tommy pointed out that if Phyllis was a man, being so touchy-feely would most definitely be seen as sinister. I thought about that apparent double-standard for a while, reasoning that he was right of course, and that I couldn't argue against it. But nevertheless, I assured him that there was no need to be concerned about how much attention Phyllis garnered on her female students.

I awoke the following morning to the feeling of him gently resting his arm across my belly. I was on my back, gazing up at the ceiling whilst he was lying on his front. He was still fast asleep, and I smiled at how peaceful and utterly untroubled by the outside world he looked. My senses went into overdrive, just as they always seemed to do when I was this close to him, and I could feel his breath on my shoulder. My nostrils were filled with his masculine scent, and my eyes aware of every tiny muscle movement on his soft face.

His eyes were twitching, and I realised he was dreaming. But was he dreaming about me, or dreaming about Terri? Or maybe, as it suddenly occurred to me, was he dreaming about Alex? He and Alex had recently embarked on a journey of self-discovery together, during our American friends' recent visit to our little apartment in York, a journey that had culminated in their making love together. But then, he could just as easily have been dreaming about whitewater rafting down a river of custard with a purple lion called Sandra, or something equally as surreal and avant-garde.

Tommy just seemed so much more self-assured after his first time with Alex - he was more sure of who he was, more confident in his sexuality, and he felt openly comfortable to say "I am bisexual". The only real hurdle that stood in his way was being able to say those words to our parents. But I was hopeful that he'd find the courage to come out to them before too long, and I had already pledged to him that when he eventually did decide to come out to mum and dad, I would be by his side to support him.

Of course, while it was perfectly okay for Tommy to come out to our parents as being bisexual, there was something else that neither of us could ever admit to them. Our parents may have been liberal enough to be totally accepting of Tommy being bisexual, but if they ever found out about Tommy and I having an incestuous sexual relationship with each other, well, I certainly didn't want to entertain that thought! They would be sure to skin us both alive! Yes, I know it is morally wrong to have sex with my own twin brother, but the truth was, we simply could not ignore the way we felt about each other. We were basically taking the idea of twins having a closer relationship than other siblings, to the absolute extreme.

Tommy stirred a little, stretching his arms and legs before erupting into a huge yawn.

And then there was always my dear friend Terri in the mix too - the three of us made a fine

ménage á trois

together. I suppose, the same part of my mind that makes me acknowledge how wrong my relationship with my twin brother is, is what makes me so accepting of the thought of sharing him with other people. For as often as he has sex with me, he also has sex with Terri. And now, there was Alex thrown in for good measure. Our American friends had returned to their hometown in Southern California, to spend Christmas with their folks, and it was likely that we wouldn't see either Alex or Jenny for a good while, possibly not even for years.

With a grin, I cast my mind back to that evening in the nightclub, when Jenny had single-handedly verbally torn a skinhead to pieces, something I never in a million years would have ever contemplated doing myself. She was such a ballsy, confident girl, and I felt I could really look up to her. I could tell she clearly had an effect on Terri too, if the way she was looking at her that night was anything to go by.

Tommy's eyes opened, and I looked at him as he gazed back at me. He smiled, and softly snuggled up against me, pressing our naked bodies together. But there was no urgency that morning, no sudden need for any kind of sexual gratification, despite the presence of Tommy's morning erection pressing against my hip, we were just two people cuddling up to each other on a cold and frosty December morning.

"Mmmm... 'Morning, Beth," Tommy said, his voice deeper than normal.

"Good morning, my dear, sweet little brother," I replied.

"Hey! You're only older than me by half an hour!" he retorted.

This little fact, that I am the older twin by about half an hour, always irritates him a little, and I love teasing him about it. He knows I'm only teasing him, of course, and when it comes to sibling banter, he gives as good as he gets.

"I know," I replied, snuggling myself a little closer too him. "And don't you forget it!"

"How could I ever?" Tommy replied. "Just remember, when we're old and wrinkly, my wrinkles will always be half an hour younger than yours!" And he poked his tongue at me.

"Whose turn is it to make coffee?" I asked.

"Yours, Big Sis," Tommy answered.

"Aww, but it's so cold!" I grumbled.

"Hey, a big sister has to look after her little brother, right? Huh? Big Sis?" Tommy countered.

"Ugh! Touché," I grumbled.

Well, I did sort of leave myself open to that one. I looked across to where my dressing gown hung, on the door opposite the bed. Even though the heating was on, I knew I'd feel cold as soon as I got out of bed and stepped across the room, even if it was only for a few seconds, but I was just so warm and cosy that I simply didn't want to. But of course, I had a more pressing engagement, I had a lecture to get to that morning, and I had to get to class in good time. So, with a groan I reluctantly got out of bed, threw aside the duvet and stepped out into the relative cold of the bedroom.

I padded naked across to the door, giving Tommy a nice view of my bottom, before grabbing my dressing gown and putting it on. Even though it had been just a few seconds, it felt nice to be warm again.

Tommy and I, and Terri also, having earlier discovered the joys of naturism during our French holiday, had been in the habit of being naked as much as possible within the private confines of our rented flat, but on a cold morning like this, I simply was in no mood for being naked. I stepped down into our kitchen, filled the kettle and clicked it on, and then took three mugs from the cupboard. I briefly planned my itinerary for the day ahead - out to college to arrive on time for a lecture on men's fashion through the ages that I wasn't especially interested in, then to visit Phyllis for another painting class, then lunch in the refectory before heading into town for an afternoon shift at work.

Just lately, working at the department store had been increasingly hectic, as Christmas shopping season got into full swing. The pace of serving customers was relentless, and all of us were constantly rushed off our feet. For me, working in the store had an added downside, ever since I had started there back in September, I had been assigned to working in the menswear section. Not only was this a bit of a pain for a fashion student that wanted to specialise in women's fashions, but it also meant working down in the basement of the building, away from any natural light and with much lower ceilings that always leant the space a sort of oppressive and claustrophobic feel. I sometimes left the place after a shift feeling like some kind of daylight-starved troglodyte. Still, the money was pretty good, and there were occasions when I was asked to provide cover upstairs in the womenswear floor for staff members who were off sick. And with it being winter, there was a lot of it about, or so it seemed anyway.

With the kettle coming to the boil, I tipped a spoonful of instant coffee into each of our mugs and filled them up. I had no idea if Terri was working that day - the exact nature of her job still eluded me - all she would tell me was that it involved promoting various products in supermarkets and shopping centres, and basically looking pretty at product launches and stuff. All of which was fine in principal, but that didn't really explain why she was so late home on some nights. I don't know what time she got in last night, but she still wasn't home by the time Tommy and I went to bed at midnight.

Realising that I hadn't even heard her come in, I returned upstairs with our coffee on a tray and tried her bedroom door. With relief I found her asleep in her bed, or should that be

on

her bed, for instead of being tucked up under the duvet, I found her sprawled out on top of it in only her knickers. She looked to be completely out of it, but the worst thing was that this wasn't the first time I had come across her in this state. She wasn't drunk, I knew that because I couldn't smell any alcohol on her, so I just assumed she was tired. The one thought I didn't want to entertain, was the idea that she may have been taking drugs. I was reasonably sure she wasn't, but I didn't want to just come out and ask her if she was, for fear of her reaction. I mean, running away from home after being disowned by her own mother can't be an easy thing to bear on her young shoulders, especially with Christmas coming up. I'd heard all the stories about people finding themselves turning to drugs during traumatic periods in their lives, and I dearly hoped Terri wasn't one of them.

I decided to just leave her mug of coffee by her bed, hoping that the aroma would bring her round a bit, and returned to my own room.

"Is Terri still in bed?" Tommy asked me after a monumental yawn and a stretch of his limbs.

"Yeah, but she looks completely out of it," I replied as I laid down beside him and handed him a mug of coffee.

"That boss of hers working her too hard again, you reckon?"