The First Class
The weekend slipped by in a daze, entirely lost to time.
My trash can was overflowing with discarded wads of tissue. In my cramped studio apartment, the small wastebasket had long since spilled over, scattering crumpled paper balls across the linoleum floor.
Just the anticipation alone had been unbearable.
Senior Lee Nagyeong, the third-year with the bombshell body—her slender waist contrasted so sharply with her voluptuous breasts and hips that heads turned wherever she walked. Senior Im Jihyeon, the very epitome of second-year purity, possessing pale, porcelain skin and limpid eyes that lent her the pristine aura of a cloistered novice fresh out of a convent. And then there was my classmate, Han Naye: doll-faced, busty, and the undisputed goddess of our department.
Picturing them in the nude had sent my mind spiraling endlessly. I imagined Nagyeong's heavy breasts spilling free of her brassiere, Jihyeon's pale flesh unveiled beneath the hem of an opening robe, and Naye's prominent chest bouncing with every step.
The mere thought that I might actually witness all of that bare flesh in person kept my cock rock-hard without respite.
Back in middle school, my personal record had been shooting eight loads in a single day, and I had come dangerously close to breaking it over the weekend. I blew my load six times on Saturday alone, and on Sunday, I stroked myself raw until my dick ached, yet I still couldn't bring myself to stop.
Then, finally, Monday arrived, bringing with it our very first nude drawing class.
Among all the painting classrooms, there was one spacious enough to hold our entire department at once.
Tucked away at the end of the first floor, it was the size of two standard lecture halls combined, boasting unusually high ceilings. I had never understood why on earth it needed to be so massive, but now everything clicked. Twenty-four students had to set up their easels and canvases in a ring around a single model.
Because the studio was so cavernous, sitting in the back row would likely mean struggling to get a clear view of the model stationed in the center.
Still, as a mere freshman, I couldn't just brazenly claim a spot in the very front, so I settled on an unassuming seat somewhere near the middle.
Perhaps because of my restless anticipation, I had arrived far too early; the art studio was completely deserted. Right in the center of the vast studio stood an elevated wooden podium bathed in focused spotlights, draped in a clean white cloth. My heart raced at the realization that someone was going to strip completely naked right on top of it.
As I sat there by myself, staring blankly at the stage, the back door slid open.
Rattle—
A crowd of upperclassmen flooded inside, carrying their canvases and art toolboxes as they casually began claiming spots around the room.
"Oh? Gyeongmin, you're here already?"
"Hehehe... Hey, Hansu, you were the first one here last year too. Exactly the same... Men really are all the same..."
The guy they called Hansu was Park Hansu, a second-year senior. He was one of only two male sophomores in the department, and honestly, the one who looked out for me the most. He often bought me meals and helped me with difficult assignments. It was no exaggeration to say he was the only person in this entire school who treated me like a human being.
Hansu walked over with quiet steps and gripped my shoulder.
"Gyeongmin. What are you doing sitting here? Don't you know what class this is today?"
"Huh?"
When I looked back at him with a bewildered expression, Hansu gave a nod.
"Stand up."
Puzzled by his sudden instruction, I pushed myself up from my stool.
"Hey, freshmen are supposed to sit right in the front row. How else are you going to improve your sketching skills?"
When I glanced toward the female seniors at his words, they were nodding along in agreement. A few of them even flashed subtle, knowing smiles.
Seeing as Hansu's reasoning made sense, I gathered my supplies and moved down to take a seat in the very front row.
Once I sat down, the podium loomed directly before my eyes.
It was quite broad—wide enough for two people to lie down side by side—and so close that I could make out the individual weave of the white fabric covering it.
It was impossibly close. From this vantage point, I felt like I would be able to count every single pore on the model's skin. At this distance, not a single fine downy hair, follicle, or tiny mole would escape my view.
Realizing the true weight of sitting in the front row, I felt grateful for Hansu's consideration, but anxiety gripped me at the same time. If I looked at a woman's naked body from this close, would I even be able to keep my composure?
Lost in thought as I gazed blankly at the podium, time ticked away. Before I knew it, my female classmates had all arrived, taking their places along the front and casting scathing, contemptuous glares in my direction.
Fucking bitches, what is their problem with me?
Their hostility stoked my anger, but there was nothing I could do about it. My only option was to shrink back into my shell. It was a routine that had played out countless times over the past three months since matriculation. By now, resignation set in long before fury could take hold.
"Is everyone here? Then let's begin the intensive nude croquis session. Freshmen, loosen up your faces a little. Why do you all look so terrified?"
"Oh... no, it's just..."
"Heh... We were all like that at first too. So just relax and take it easy."
Yuna, our department president, stepped onto the podium in an effort to ease our nerves, but the tension didn't dissipate so easily. My female classmates sat with their hands clutched tightly over their knees, their legs trembling uncontrollably.
"Now then, shall we draw lots for today's model? Since we have freshmen joining us, let me explain how the drawing works first."
At the mention of a lottery, I watched my classmates swallow hard in anxiety. Naye was gripping the hem of her skirt with both hands, white-knuckled.
"I have slips of paper here. Each slip has the name of one student from our department written on it. Naturally, I'll draw a slip, and whoever's name is on it will be today's model."
President Yuna raised a small box. Under the fluorescent ceiling lights, the folded slips of paper inside gleamed white.
I had suspected as much ever since seeing the box, and it turned out to be nothing out of the ordinary. If your luck was bad, you became the model; if you were lucky, you could skate through the entire nude drawing curriculum without ever having to strip.
"However, once a slip is drawn, it gets discarded. In other words, if your name is picked once, you're removed from future drawings."
"What!?"
Startled by her words, my jaw dropped and a shout slipped past my lips.
"Hehe. What are you so surprised about? There are twenty-five students in our department, right? And this intensive course will run for a total of twenty-one days. Do you understand what that means? Every single one of us is going to model at least once."
Wait... something didn't add up.
If twenty-five people are doing this over twenty-one days, why would everyone have to do it? Shouldn't four people get spared?
Sure enough, my classmate Daye raised her hand and spoke up.
"If twenty-five students are modeling over twenty-one days, doesn't that mean four people won't have to?"
The department president smiled and replied smoothly.
"Nobody ever said we'd only have one model per day. So yes, every single person will end up modeling."
That was it. There was no rule stating it had to be one person at a time. That meant on certain days, two or even more students would be posing simultaneously. Which in turn meant that two or more people might stand naked together on that very podium.
The thought sent another uncomfortable twitch through my pants.
A murmuring buzz rippled through the room until Yuna lifted the lottery box once more, prompting an immediate hush. A taut wire of tension stretched across the studio.
"I'm going to draw today's model now. But freshmen, don't look so frightened. The first-years are excluded from the draw this week. First, observe carefully how the seniors handle modeling, and focus on your sketches."
The moment the words left her mouth, I watched the tight panic vanish from my female classmates' faces. Their shoulders slumped in visible relief, and several of them let out long, shuddering sighs.
Next week it would be their turn anyway, and they would inevitably have to strip, so seeing them let their guard down just because they were safe for the day struck me as faintly pathetic.
And yet, simply looking at them was enough to make my erection throbbing and relentless.
The very classmates who usually looked down on me, slandered me, and treated me like air—I would get to see them completely bare. Those bitches who glared at me with pure disgust every single day would soon have to stand stark naked on that podium. That realization alone sent a bizarre thrill of illicit pleasure surging through me.
The seniors were one thing, but each of my classmates had her own distinct allure. Daye possessed surprising curves despite her petite frame, and the silhouettes of the other girls, visible through their light summer clothes, were undeniably tantalizing.
And Han Naye, above all, was on another level entirely. Just glancing at her made me feel like precum was seeping from the tip of