Bending Over
Scratch, scratch — the only sound in the art studio was the whisper of pencils on paper.
The surreal sight of senior Yuna's naked body right in front of me was starting to feel almost routine. The shock of when she first dropped her robe had dulled little by little, but I still couldn't keep my eyes entirely under control.
Every time senior Yuna twisted her body slightly and her breasts swayed, my cock still twitched — but somehow I managed to grit my teeth and keep drawing. I clenched my jaw around the pencil, repeating to myself that this wasn't Yuna, it was just a figure, just an object of the drawing, and followed the contour lines.
My fingertips trembled every time I traced the curve of her breasts, but I drew the line, and drew it again. Chasing the boundary between light and shadow with my pencil, I gradually found myself able to focus on the work.
After fifty minutes had passed, the break was called, and Yuna quickly pulled her robe back on. She snatched up the white robe she'd left at the base of the podium and hurriedly draped it over herself, fumbling with the ties without managing to knot them properly.
Even with the robe on, the sliver of cleavage showing through the parted front carried a strange, teasing allure that was somehow different from seeing her bare. That line — hidden and yet not hidden — only fed the imagination. The knowledge that her areolae and nipples, so shamelessly exposed until a moment ago, were now hidden beneath a single thin layer of fabric was, oddly, even more stimulating.
And the thought that in a little while that robe would open again and I'd see those bare breasts once more made my chest tingle.
"Ten-minute break, then we continue."
Senior Yuna said it in a slightly trembling voice. She was clearly trying to sound firm, but the end of the sentence wavered almost imperceptibly.
She was acting like nothing was wrong, but she was definitely not her usual self.
When she'd argued with our classmates, she'd talked about tradition as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if it were nothing — but it clearly wasn't.
Her gaze kept darting around, and her body trembled without stopping. From up close, I could see that her fingertips, gripping the robe, had gone white.
If it's this hard for you, then why did you defend the nude classes so fiercely? While you're suffering through it yourself.
Yuna had just called it tradition, but there seemed to be something more behind it. Otherwise there was no explaining it — Yuna had a boyfriend, and no amount of tradition or coursework should make her bare herself in front of other men.
Senior Hansu's words about the student council president's duty came back to me. Duty. Could one word really explain all of this? Holding a model's cock, baring her naked body while trembling like this — all of it, because of duty?
"So... um... let's start again... anyone want to request a pose?"
Yuna asked in a shaky voice. Yesterday, as student council president, she had been the one assigning poses, but today she was the model herself, so she seemed to be deferring to the room.
She stood waiting for an answer with her hands resting on the robe's ties. For a few seconds, no one spoke, and the silence pressed down heavily on the studio.
Then one of the senior girls from fourth year spoke up.
"Could you bend forward and grab both your ankles?"
At those words, Yuna's expression suddenly froze. And in an instant, her face flushed crimson. Her lips were trembling visibly.
I didn't understand why — but a little later, I found out.
Yuna let the robe slide off. Her nakedness reemerged, glowing under the fluorescent lights.
As Yuna began to bend slowly at the waist, the fourth-year senior who'd made the request spoke again.
"Face this way, please?"
Yuna turned her body toward her, and I ended up positioned directly behind her.
My gaze traveled down the curve of her back. The slender dip of her waist, and below it, the spread of her hips.
And as Yuna bent forward, what should never be shown began to be revealed, bit by bit.
The deeper she bent, the more came into view — first her anus, then her pussy. The crease between her buttocks parted, and everything that had been hidden emerged one piece at a time.
When she was bent fully over, her pussy was entirely on display.
Her inner lips were even slightly parted, a glimpse of the flesh within showing.
Yuna must have known. She must have known that this pose would leave her pussy and anus completely exposed from behind.
That's why her face had frozen. That's why she'd blushed. Knowing, and yet unable to refuse — some inescapable thing seemed to have Yuna bound tight.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a woman's pussy in such close, exact detail.
This wasn't my first nude drawing, but no model had ever held a pose that displayed herself like this. No matter how daring a professional model's pose, it never went this far into direct exposure.
It was barely believable that I was looking at the pussy of someone I knew, in a public place like this — and my erection had gone past its limit, aching inside my pants.
"See, Yuna needs a pose that shows off her chest. That's what makes it worth drawing."
At the fourth-year senior's remark, I turned my head slightly and looked at Yuna's breasts.
Violent. No other word came to mind.
Her huge breasts hung downward, and unlike when she was standing, their size was staggering. Gravity was revealing their true dimensions. Even upright she had to be a full D-cup, but the breasts swelling down toward the floor as she bent were on another level entirely.
Every small movement Yuna made sent them swaying heavily, and the sight was unbearably obscene. The trajectory her reddish-brown nipples traced, swinging left and right at the tips of her breasts, felt almost hypnotic.
Half curious, I glanced around at the other male seniors — every one of them was staring at Yuna's naked body with the corners of their mouths creeping upward. Pencils in hand, yes, but not pointed at their canvases. There was a strange comfort in knowing I wasn't the only one losing my composure.
And remembering that senior Homer had touched those violent breasts yesterday made envy surge up in me — then it occurred to me that senior Hansu had apparently had his hands on that chest before, too.
Could I touch them someday, too?
I shook my head, slapped my own cheek once, tore my eyes from her chest, and turned away.
Get it together. This is a class.
But when I looked back at Yuna, another overwhelming sight met my eyes.
The pose must have been hard to hold, because she'd bent a little further — and her pussy, which until now had only revealed as far as her inner lips, had parted slightly.
I was seated closest to the podium, so it was all too visible. Barely a meter away — less, even.
Between the pale wisps of her pubic hair, her reddish inner lips had parted, and through them I could see the red flesh within, and at its center, a small opening.
Her vaginal hole. The thought that her boyfriend pushed his cock into that spot every day, in and out, made me feel like I was going to burst. The place only her boyfriend could see, the place only he could enter — and I was gazing straight into it right now, with nothing between us at all.
I was supposed to be drawing, but my hand was shaking too badly to draw anything. Above all, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her pussy. The pencil rested on the canvas, but not a single line had been laid down.
I just kept staring — and then I felt eyes on me. I glanced slightly to the side, and there were the girls in my class.
They were giggling at me.
Embarrassment crashed over me all at once. They'd been watching me, glassy-eyed and mesmerized by Yuna's pussy, this whole time.
I couldn't hear what they were murmuring, but I could guess. Something like 'look at that freshman boy, can't take his eyes off it' was probably drifting back and forth.
Then, as if she'd caught the whispering too, Yuna turned her head slightly and looked at me.
My eyes met those of senior Yuna, her face completely flushed.
Her eyes looked, somehow, like they were about to spill over with tears, and guilt came flooding in without end. Those eyes, damp with shame, seemed to be saying please, stop looking.
In the end, I lowered my head.
And I couldn't look at Yuna anymore. Couldn't look at her pussy.
Today's nude drawing would have to be rendered only from what I had already burned into my eyes.
After that, there were no more poses that exposed her pussy. The session wound down with her seated on a chair raising her arms overhead, and finally sitting on the floor without a chair at all.
What surprised me in the middle of all this was that when Yuna sat down on the chair, the seniors rose from their seats and walked up in front of her to study her in close detail.
Approaching the model to work out their compositions, they ran their eyes freely over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs.
Sitting naked on a chair while people stared holes through her, Yuna was so overcome with embarrassment she didn't know what to do with herself. Her legs flinched; she started to cover her chest with her hands, then lowered them again; her eyes rolled this way and that, as if searching for somewhere safe to rest her gaze.
She looked incredibly erotic — and somehow adorable at the same time. The fearsome student council president who barked orders at the freshmen shrinking this small in front of a naked audience stirred up a strange tangle of feelings in me.
I kept sneaking glances at her as I drew, but today I couldn't produce anything worth the name. The afterimage of that pussy I'd seen wouldn't leave my head, and every time it surfaced, my pencil hand trembled on its own.
The moment the nude session ended, Yuna hurriedly scooped up her robe and disappeared into the preparation room, and it was a long while before she came out dressed — with the rims of her eyes slightly red.
The seniors packed up their things one by one, and the girls in my class hurried out of the studio as well. They brushed right past me without so much as meeting my eyes.
"Gyeongmin, let me see what you drew today."
The voice from behind me startled me.
I turned around to find senior Nagyeong, a third-year. She was famous for her youthful face and voluptuous figure — a slender waist set against a full bust that made its presence known even through her T-shirt.
"Huh? My drawings?"
"Yeah. Show me?"
I flipped through the pages I'd drawn today, one by one.
It was mortifying. I hadn't drawn properly today, so they were a total mess. The proportions were warped, the shading was smudged into mud, and the face — the most important part — was barely rendered at all. The consequence of staring only at her pussy and failing to observe anything else was laid out in full view.
My face grew hotter with every page senior Nagyeong turned.
"Figured as much. All the guys are like this their first time, apparently. But if you're this much of a wreck, you should ask Yuna to model for you again sometime. She'll probably say yes."
Senior Nagyeong's words made my jaw drop.
She'd model again? For me? That chest... that pussy... I'd get to see them again?
My cock, which had been sulking under the weight of my guilt, sprang right back up to attention.