The First Model
The moment Homimin climbed onto the platform, the seniors all set their hands to their canvases and readied themselves to draw.
The girls in my class had gone completely red in the face by now, stealing only sidelong glances at him — and Homimin, watching them squirm, actually flashed them a smile.
He was the handsome type whose smile was his best feature even on an ordinary day, and seeing him keep his composure even in this situation only made my classmates' faces burn redder.
Showing that much poise right before posing nude meant one of two things.
Either it had all been a joke after all, or he was simply too used to this to be nervous.
Please, let it not be a joke — I lifted my pencil over the canvas and swallowed hard.
And then Homimin boldly shrugged off his robe and threw it aside.
The air inside the studio changed in an instant. It was as if someone had flipped a switch; every sound in the room simply died.
It wasn't my first time seeing a man's cock, obviously. At the bathhouse it forced itself into your eyes whether you wanted it or not.
But this felt different.
Everyone else was fully dressed, and one single person stood completely naked — on a platform, no less, under the gaze of the entire room. The fluorescent light settled evenly across Homimin's bare skin, laying bare every striation of muscle down to the finest line.
"Kyaa!"
One of my classmates, who'd glanced down at the discarded robe and then up at his naked body, let out a shriek. That scream set off a chain reaction of smaller squeals among the others, and one of them buried her face in both hands.
For painting majors, they'd surely drawn nudes before, and it couldn't have been their first time seeing a naked man — which made the reaction almost funny.
I figured it was because it was the body of someone they knew. Someone they saw every day, ate meals with, traded jokes with.
With a professional model, the weight was entirely different. Sketching the body of some nameless stranger and sketching the bare body of the guy you laughed and chattered with over lunch were experiences on entirely different planes.
I cautiously studied Homimin's body. A solid chest, and a carved six-pack beneath it. The kind of body that showed years of consistent exercise. A faint sheen of sweat had gathered between the ridges of his abs, and his pectorals shifted subtly with each breath.
And there it was — his cock, slightly enlarged, in the first stages of stirring.
There was no telling a cock's true size before full erection, but I figured this much had to be around average.
Compared to mine it definitely looked small, but that was only because mine ran larger than average to begin with.
"Alright then, Homimin, take the basic pose. Fifty minutes, then a ten-minute break — that's the schedule. Everyone, get moving."
At the student council president's word, Homimin rested one hand lightly on his hip and parted his legs slightly. Being his first time, he seemed to have settled on the most fundamental pose possible — a natural standing stance with one hand at his waist, which made him look for all the world like a Greek statue.
My eyes kept drifting to his cock no matter how I fought it; I did my best to redirect my gaze and sketch the figure as a whole, then looked around at my classmates.
Sure enough, faces crimson, not one of them could hold their head up properly. Their pencils touched the canvas, but for most of them not a single stroke had been made.
"Freshmen, what are you doing? You draw by looking at the model. Why are you acting like this? You're embarrassed? It's not you standing there naked."
At Yuna's bark, my classmates lifted their heads one furtive inch at a time, and with tiny squeaks and squeals began staring at Homimin's naked body — no, let's be honest, at his cock.
Naye's ears had flared red all the way to the tips, while Daye huddled inward as if trying to hide behind her canvas.
Seeing that, I stopped caring altogether. Something else had sapped the strength right out of me — an indefinable disappointment. What I'd been hoping for was a woman's naked body, and what lay spread out before my eyes was a man's.
And so I threw myself into the drawing and nothing else.
***
"Alright, ten-minute break. Next one's the final pose."
Three hours had already slipped by. And it seemed the next pose would be the last.
Homimin had been modeling for three hours straight, and the sweat was pouring off him now. It started at his forehead, traced down his jaw, streamed over his chest, and followed the channels between his muscles all the way down to his stomach.
The third-year girls clustered around him, offering water and towels. The sight of naked Homimin and fully clothed girls chatting away with perfect naturalness was almost surreal.
Unlike at the start, once enough time had passed I'd somehow forgotten that this was the body of someone I knew, and I was absorbed in the work.
The girls had shrieked and giggled for the longest while too, but by around the second pose even they had settled into drawing — though every so often, their eyes still strayed helplessly toward his cock.
If a female senior had been up on that platform instead, I honestly couldn't say I'd have managed to keep my composure like this.
"Alright. Final pose. Homimin, I know it's rough, but can you do the bridge for us?"
At that, Homimin let out a long breath, flipped over, and lay down on his back. Then he raised his knees and lifted his hips.
It wasn't the full bridge with the arms raised off the floor, but even this version was clearly punishing to hold. His abs and thigh muscles pulled taut, and a fat bead of sweat rolled down Homimin's forehead.
"Homimin, rest whenever you need to. Oh — and can you get your cock up for us?"
"Pfft!!"
I'd been idly preparing my canvas when that made me spray spit across it. It splattered right onto the drawing, but I had no presence of mind to care.
I thought I'd misheard. I hadn't.
Homimin lay back down and began working his own cock with his hand — in front of everyone, as casually as if it were nothing.
The girls had gone rigid. They looked as blindsided as I felt, mouths hanging half open as they stared blankly at the movement of his hand.
"Haa... Senior. It's not going up."
Homimin said it with an embarrassed look. Apparently, with this many people watching, things didn't rise on command.
At his words, Yuna — the student council president — walked over to him. And then she took his cock in her hand.
I felt like I had to be dreaming. There was Yuna, a woman, stroking Homimin's cock — a man's cock — right in front of the whole class, all to get him hard. Her pale fingers wrapped around his shaft and began to slide slowly up and down.
And it worked. Homimin's cock swelled little by little until it stood in full, throbbing erection — veins standing out along its length as it rose hard and angled up toward his stomach.
"There we go. Everyone, focus up. Let's begin."
Yuna brushed off her hands as if nothing had happened and returned to her seat.
Homimin resumed the bridge, and there, dead center in the pose, his huge jutting cock rose like some kind of monument.
This was a first for me too. Watching another man's erection.
Compared to mine it wasn't all that big. But it was an erect cock all the same, and even as a man I found it excruciating to look at.
I turned my eyes away and glanced at the girls instead — heads bowed, faces scarlet, peeking at Homimin out of the corners of their eyes.
Curiosity had its claws in them; not a single one could tear her gaze from his cock. Naye was no exception. Her face blazed red, but her eyes were unmistakably locked onto Homimin's erection.
***
Ten minutes passed, and I still wasn't producing anything worth the name. The girls were surely no better. I'd had no idea transferring an erect cock onto paper could be this difficult.
And Homimin's cock — that proud flagpole — slowly sank until the erection had faded entirely.
"Homimin, come down for a second."
Yuna approached him again.
And just like before, she began working his cock with her hand. Once more her fingers wrapped around him and started their slow rhythm.
But this time he didn't swell. Apparently it wasn't so easy to get it up at will in front of a crowd this size.
Yuna stroked and stroked, and nothing happened. Bewilderment began to creep across Homimin's face.
And then it happened. Yuna murmured something too quiet to catch, and the moment she did, Homimin raised his hand and started fondling her breasts.
Even through her clothes, it was unmistakable — he was kneading them openly, shamelessly. The shape of Yuna's large breasts shifting inside his grip was visible right through the fabric.
I was struck speechless — but Yuna's expression didn't change by a hair. She just kept stroking his cock.
And since none of the seniors behind us said a word, this apparently wasn't any big deal to them either. I caught a few stifled snickers, but nobody gasped, nobody objected.
A little later, Homimin's cock swelled hard again, and the council president returned to her seat.
None of it fit anything I understood about the world. The two of them were clearly not a couple. Yuna had a boyfriend in another department — I'd seen the two of them together plenty of times.
And yet here she was, handling a man who wasn't her lover, and letting him grope her breasts in return.
I couldn't even begin to imagine how furious Yuna's boyfriend would be if he ever found out.
Maybe I wasn't the only one thinking it — the girls were still frozen, mouths agape, staring blankly at Homimin's cock.
His erection failed twice more after that, and each time the council president came over and got him standing again.
The final time, when it simply refused to rise at all, Homimin slipped his hand inside Yuna's top and fondled her breasts directly. You could see his hand moving beneath the fabric, and Yuna — just for a second — seemed to bite her lip.
All of it was shocking. But I couldn't let it show. If anything, my own cock was throbbing.
Will Yuna stroke mine too, when it's my turn? Will I get to touch her breasts?
That thought alone made my cock surge hard inside my pants. Because if my day on that platform ever came, I might get to put my hands directly on those huge, heavy breasts of hers.
And so the first nude-drawing session came to an end — drenched in shock, in a pounding heart, in anticipation.