"Are you ready, Kenny?"
"In a minute, Mom." I finished tying my sneakers, picked up my gym bag, and rambled downstairs. My 42 year old mother waited by the front door.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this," she asked, as I reached the bottom step.
"It's OK, Mom. It'll be fun." I smiled at her, hiding my nervousness and my excitement. 'It' was posing for my mom's art students, a group of women whose ages ranged from the 20s to the 60s. I've never modeled before, but I sure have fantasized about it a lot. And, after photographing my Aunt Jill, I've wanted to do it even more. The thought of being the model excites me even more than photographing a nude woman. Now, that I was finishing my first year at the local junior college, I had gotten up the nerve a week ago to broach the topic with my mother.
"Why do you want to model for me?" she had asked.
"Because I like being part of an aesthetic process," I said, half in truth. "A friend of mine at school has done it and he thought it was cool."
"Well, it's not easy standing still for so long, being an object for the artists to depict. It can get pretty boring and it certainly is physically tiring," she said. .
"I know, I said. But I would like to try it at least once."
"OK," she said, "but, afterward, I'd like to know what you thought of the experience."
"No problem," I said. So, now, a week later, here I am going to my first modeling session. We settled into the car and drove across town to a large Victorian home where one of Mom's students had turned a room into a fair-sized studio. As we approached the front door, I felt both excited and a bit nervous. Was I putting myself into an embarrassing situation? I'd soon find out.
Given our relationship, Mom said that I had to wear a swimsuit, so I packed a Speedo that I wore on the swim team in high school. My fantasy is to pose nude but I guess that will have to wait for another time and another place.
Most of Mom's fifteen students were already there when we arrived. Some of them I knew as friends of hers, others were strangers. I was surprised to see that Karen Murtaugh, my high school art teacher, was part of the group. The last woman to arrive was my Aunt Jill. She was quite surprised to see me there but she gave me a knowing smile.
As the women chatted, Mom asked me to change in the bathroom down the hall. After I'd stripped, I looked at myself in the mirror. I'm not buffed out but my swimming made me lean and toned. In a flash, the thought of standing in front of those women with only a Speedo on as they looked carefully at all parts of me made my cock start to rise. I quickly put on the swimsuit and stuffed my cock down so that the fabric would hold it in place. Even if the blood started to flow into it while I was posing, the pressure of the small suit would prevent my cock from popping up into a full-blown hard-on. I put on my brown robe, opened the bathroom door, and walked down the hall to the studio. I could feel my heart beating quickly.
The students were mostly in place waiting for me. Mom had shown me illustrations of ten poses that she wanted me to do. I was supposed to hold a pose for about two minutes and then switch to another one. Later, after a break, I would do two poses of thirty minutes each.
"All set, Kenny?" Mom asked. I nodded. "Ok, then, please step up on the platform and take the first pose I showed you. I found a place to drop my robe on a small chair near the door. Even with the swimsuit on, I felt almost naked. Unlike a swim meet or the beach, where a lot of people were similarly dressed, here I was the only one without much on in a room of women who were about to stare at me for a couple of hours.
I hopped up on the platform and assumed a simple standing pose. The room fell quiet, except for the sound of drawing pencils on paper. As Mom had told me, I averted my eyes and fixed my gaze on a spot on the floor. I could see my bellybutton and, four inches below it, the outline of my cock bulging against the thin dark fabric. I've always had a thing about bellybuttons—my own and others. They're very erotic to me. Seeing mine on display pushed a little extra blood to my cock and made the head of my penis bigger. I tried to think of other things so that my slightly engorged state would dissipate before it became noticeable.
"Next pose," Mom said, after two minutes. Her words took me out of my own thought stream and I worked my way into a new position. With each switch, I got more comfortable being the model and felt more natural about it. When I'd finished the tenth pose, Mom called for a short break. I put on my robe and went to the bathroom to pee. When I returned, the students were chattering in small groups.
"You're a good model, Kenny," one of them said. Mary Murtaugh, my former art teacher, smiled at me and said, "Good job." I walked around looking at their work. Most of the drawings were not much more than very quick sketches. Of course, I thought, what more could they be? I saw Mom walking towards me, a little concern on her face.
"Well, Kenny, how was the first set for you? Are you tired? Sore?"
"I'm fine, Mom. It was fun. Easier than I expected, actually." She smiled a bit.
"Well, as I told you yesterday, I want you to do two thirty-minute poses with a small break between them. Michelangelo's "David," Remember?"
"Sure," I said.
"There's one thing, though," she said with a slight frown.
"What?"
"My students want you to pose nude." A jolt ran through me but I tried to appear nonchalant. Our discussion about mother, son, and swimsuit filled my mind. "They said they understood if I didn't want you to do it." She paused. "I told them that I would speak with you."
"What do you want me to do?" I said. She looked at me squarely in the eyes.
"It has to be your choice, Kenny. Would you be embarrassed being nude in front of me, your aunt, your teacher, and some of the other women you've known for some time? Would you feel uncomfortable? Most importantly, would you feel pressured into posing?"
"I hadn't expected this, that's for sure," I said. "I must admit that I'm nervous about it." I paused. Mom kept looking at me intently. I thought of the bit of pre-cum I noticed when I had pulled down my suit to use the toilet. I wondered if anyone had spotted it when I was posing. Could I keep things under control if I was standing naked in front of all of them? But wasn't this what I wanted all along—to pose nude for artists?
"But if you're cool with this, Mom, then I am, too," I finally said. She smiled.
"I'm cool with it," she said, "even though it's a bit unorthodox, to say the least." She breathed deeply. "Ok, you get yourself ready and then come back. Wear your robe until I ask you to take up the pose. When the thirty minutes is up, put the robe back on and take your break. We'll talk again to see if you want to continue for an additional period."
I walked back to the bathroom feeling chills up and down my body. In a couple minutes, I was going to be standing naked for half an hour in front of my mother and the rest of the women. I closed the bathroom door, took off my robe, and lowered my swimsuit. My cock had shrunk and my sac had shriveled into a bag of rippled skin. If they stayed that way during the session, I'd have no problem. But, what if they didn't? I looked at myself in the mirror, glanced at my cock one last time, and put my robe back on. I knew that, when I walked into the studio, there was no turning back. I opened the bathroom door.
As I entered the studio, all eyes turned towards me. I could tell that they knew I had agreed to pose nude. Mom explained what the pose would be. Then she said simply, "Get into position, Kenny."
I untied the robe and slipped it off my body. Quickly, I stepped up on the platform and struck the pose. Mom moved a light so that it cast a shadow over part of me. I stared over the heads of the artists to a wall behind them. I was naked, motionless, the object of their attention. They could look at me, all of me, intently, critically, and then create their inspiration on paper. All I could do was stand there, naked, exposed. About twenty minutes into the pose, I heard some tittering and very quickly caught some smiles. Suddenly, Mom was at the side of the platform. "Kenny," she said, softly, "look down." I lowered my head and saw a long strand of pre-cum hanging from the tip of my cock. Instinctively, I moved my hand to scoop it up. It wasn't much but it left my hand sticky. "Don't break the pose," she said, quietly. "It's normal. It happens to a lot of models. Just go on as you were."
I was so embarrassed. I felt like a little boy. I almost decided to step off the platform but I noticed that the artists had gone back to their work as if nothing had happened. Mom had gone back to observing her students and I slowly regained my composure. Ten minutes later, she called for a break. I quickly put on my robe and headed towards the bathroom.
"Let's talk," Mom said, as she stepped inside the bathroom with me. "I know that was embarrassing for you, but you handled it well. To tell you the truth, my students always get a kick out of it when they see that."
"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't even know it was happening."