Introducting: The Stripped Financial Expert
Hey there! My name's Diego. I'm 29 years old and currently reside in London.
I moved to this city from Spain to kickstart a career in finance. I'm still associated with a major US bank, in case you're wondering.
After my fair share of experiences with dating apps, ghosters, leavers, and the indecisive ones in London, I realized it was time for a change - a shift towards focusing on myself. I got into sports, arts, frequented gyms, chill bars, pubs, tried cuisines indigenous to zone 4, watched comedy shows, and devoted a lot of time to traveling.
One day, in February, I stumbled upon a Facebook post asking for models for life drawing sessions. It was organized by a fella who ran these sessions every Wednesday night at Eagle and the Driver pub, from 7 pm to 8:30 pm.
My instincts told me to give it a shot. Although I'd considered nudism pretty early on in my life, my experience with being naked was limited to nudist beaches and saunas where others were also nude.
So, after pondering over the offer for a few minutes (which, mind you, wasn't enough time to completely comprehend the consequences), I said, "I'm available." Just two hours later, I got a message that made my heart race: "Hi Diego, have you ever modeled for life drawing sessions before? We organize these at the Eagle and the Driver pub every Wednesday from 7 pm to 8:30 pm. Let me know if you can confirm for the next session."
At that moment, I felt my blood pressure rise. It was like the universe had suddenly placed a key to an exciting adventure in my hands. I just had to take the first step - leave behind my inhibitions and clothes. I conjured up a story about having modeled in university - completely fibbing to grab the attention of the opportunity. I quickly confirmed my presence for the next day.
The day dragged on, and all I could think about was undressing in front of a crowd of strangers. Before leaving for the pub, I rushed to Marks&Spencer to buy a white bathrobe. I reasoned that a professional model would have a bathrobe just like the one I had in mind. But, the men's section failed to impress me. I had a sudden thought: I'll check out the women's section.
And there it was, a perfect white robe, sans patterns, monochrome, short, and under 20 pounds. Once I had the robe, I was all set for my artistic journey.
I found myself calm and composed when the time came to leave the office and head to the pub. I even messaged John, "I'm here."
John: "Come upstairs."
As I climbed the stairs, I met John and his girlfriend, Amy. Both of them were covered in tattoos, untidy hair, and just oozed bohemian vibes. They gave off an air of carefree coolness, representing the artistic world perfectly. John oriented me on aspects of the session: "Here's where you'll stand and pose (pointing towards a makeshift stage using a rug). The room next door is empty. You can change there."
Do you need anything else from us?
Me: Nope, all good!
I retreated to the adjoining room and started stripping off my clothes, did a couple of push-ups to seem muscular. I put on the white robe.
15 minutes passed before the first ten artists showed up for the session. I went back to the room where the class was being held and chatted with a few of them.
As more people arrived, the room was almost filled. There were 15 people attending the workshop. I got a thumbs-up from John, the music was on, I shed the bathrobe, and my first pose.
John: "Let's start with short 30-second poses to warm up."
I accepted this shift in pace. With each fleeting pose, I blended into the rhythm of the session, smoothly transitioning from one stance to the next. The passage of time felt hazy and surreal as we progressed from quick, 30-second sketches to long, contemplative poses.
In that nude space, both literally and metaphorically, I left self-consciousness far behind in favor of servicing an audience desperate for artistic expression. And with the room growing silent save for the "scritch-scritch" of pencils on paper, I relished the pure exhilaration of artistic liberation.
Near the halfway mark of the session, two slim Asian ladies strolled in, their outfits radiating daring artistic vibes. With only one empty chair, one chose to sit beside my feet on the floor.
I plowed through my postures, some bordering on risky decisions, forcing me to endure cramps and numb fingers. Despite the desire for a chance to rest, I pushed on, determined to never give up.
The session stretched on for an additional 45 minutes, including two lengthy poses that took imaginative approaches to retain concentration. To avoid boredom, I journeyed into reminiscing about prior football games, scheduling management, and even made a shopping list. The finale, backed by the playful tune of "I was dancing at the lesbian bar," brought a joyous moment before the bell rang, signaling game's end.
As I geared up to leave, I looked upon the artwork and asked for feedback from the artists and John. Amid the remarkable illustrations, it became apparent that talent has no limits.
On the verge of going, one of the Asian girls peeled me off. Congratulating me on my poses and physical appearance, they handed me an invitation for a beer. And so, my sudden journey commenced...
Read also:
- My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
- A Stepmother's Varied Testimony: Volume 3
- Listening to Their Groans: The Complete Narrative
- Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2
Source: www.nice-escort.de
