Live Male Model Posing for Artists
Heads up: This is a work of fiction. Although the place is an actual one, the people and events are made-up. We have people who are eighteen or older (18+), and all sexual activities are voluntary.
In the area where I reside, there are several sessions for live modeling every week or so. As an artist myself, I take part in one of these gatherings each week, sketching the different positions of the model with pencils and charcoal. Last night, I modeled for one. The venue is an old factory that has been changed to a home for artists and studios. There is a shared space for projects like these live model sessions. Since it was an old factory, the walls are painted white, and the surfaces are concrete. The floor is wood but not lavish. The industrial bulbs are used for general lighting, plus a few spotlights attached to the exposed pipes to focus on the model. Chairs, tables, and easels are arranged in a semi-circle around the tiny 4' x 6' platform where the model stands.
The common room is often chilly, so studio heaters are utilized close to the platform to maintain the area warmer next to the model. Nevertheless, because the temperature was fantastic for the past few weeks, the room was very comfortable for both model and artists, necessitating no space heaters. As the artists found their seats, I placed my duffel bag next to the platform and removed my robe. While there's no dedicated space for changing, you start by wearing a robe and then undress when required, typically only during posing.
After getting naked (under the robe), I began stretching and warming up my muscles. At 6:30 PM, the organizer stated, "Alright, everyone prepared? We'll kick things off with five 2-minute poses." I dropped my robe and ascended onto the platform. I attempted to make these warm-up poses quite active, as if I was running or about to throw something. As most weight is placed on one leg when you're standing for an extended period with your arms outstretched, holding them for more than a couple of minutes is difficult. One position had me with my leg extended backward, with the foot off the floor, and my torso leaning slightly forward, and my arms back. It was a nice pose from an artistic perspective, yet it was unbearable with my leg feeling like it was on fire for a minute.
Subsequently, we shifted to two 5-minute poses to complete the first twenty minutes. These poses are less demanding but still need altering the body in some way. One posture was sitting sideways in a wood chair with arms. My back leaned against one armrest while I raised my head and one leg over the armrest, foot hanging. The other leg, with the calf resting on the backrest and foot raised, was another pose. I needed a towel to cushion the armrest on my back as the pressure was excruciating.
After a five-minute break, we moved into the final two 10-minute poses. Here's where it became captivating. For the shorter poses, I keep my mind active by counting--essentially a game where I try to estimate when the timer will go off. For 2-minute poses, I usually count to 103 or 104 when the buzzer sounds. However, for 5-minute poses, my counting slows down, averaging about 240-245 beats per minute.
During the ten-minute poses, counting gets trite, so my mind wonder. I attempt to maintain focus on the feeling of my body and the position of my eyes-find a spot to focus on and stare fixedly-however, after a few minutes, my consciousness drifts away, and I begin considering other things. During last night's first 10-minute pose, I started pondering about one of the artworks on the wall.
While scanning through the array of artworks, my gaze got stuck on a series of nudes painted by Sarah, the organizer of the event. She was an older woman around late 50s, with short grey hair and an irresistible smile. She possessed a typical creative wardrobe styled in shabby, worn-out clothes, making it hard for me to determine her body type based on her daily appearance. But the nudes she painted were a compilation of self-portraits. These masterpieces provided a look into her life transitions as her hair progressed from brunette to grey. Sarah's face in these paintings glowed softly, her trademark smile acknowledged but more thoughtful and restrained in comparison to her bubbly personality. In real life, she exuded energy; one could describe her as lively and vivacious. However, in these paintings, she skillfully captured her inner musings, the artist hidden within. In most of them, she was seen standing or sitting with an easel on the side, and a paintbrush in her hand. Her breasts sags due to age but remain soft and rounded, nipples aroused. She boasted slender hips and thighs. In standing posts, her brown pubic hair was full but indistinguishable, while in the seated poses, the color of her pubic hair was similar, but the folds of her labia distinct, portrayed with considerable precision and care.
During the initial 10-minute pose, I was seated on the floor, one leg positioned forward, while the other stayed back, my hands braced on a wooden surface in front of me. Despite the discomfort, I managed to maintain the position without experiencing cramping. Gazing at Sarah's self-portraits, I noticed the intricacy in the seated poses. One was created with acrylic, while the other with oil. The oil painting oozed a sheen, giving it a glossy appearance. My mind began to meander. This glossiness didn't stem from the type of medium used, but instead depicted the stimulation accompanying the moment.
Unlike many erotic tales about live modeling, it's far from being erotic. As an artist, one becomes fixated on the subject, attempting to capture the proportions rather than being aroused by their state of dress. Although several female models are captivating, in live model sessions, it's not an arousing experience (at least for me). Before I commenced modeling, I encountered nervousness about having an erection. However, in these settings, my concentration centered around the pose rather than the arousal.
Last night's session was distinct. As I locked eyes on Sarah's portraits throughout the first 10-minute pose, I delved into fantasies about her pubic hair being glossy. Even though the paintings were relatively far (approximately 20 feet), my focus was on the finer details, as if my eyes were graced with a powerful zoom function. While her labia was covered in hair, I could make out the slit and a sheen, which my imagination amplified to be glossy, moist.
The unpainted hand held a brush, while the other rested on her thigh. It suggested a desire to touch herself, an intention to fulfill the arousal but not quite there yet. Again, my imagination fired up. I visioned a situation where Sarah, in her studio, was positioned before the mirror, engaging in the act of painting her self-portrait and occasionally sliding her hand between her legs to caress her clit, for the purpose of prolonging her arousal. But as a disciplined model, she would regain composure and resume capturing the moment.
I entertained the idea of being present in the room, standing in the spot where the mirror overtly stood, bearing witness to her painterly performance, intensity growing, passion palpable, and a longing to be satisfied. But the artist within her couldn't relinquish control before the painting was complete, with her orgasm serving as the ultimate reward. I remained transfixed, beholding the exhibition of emotion and restraint.
Something distracted me from my daydream. It might have been a sound or something else, but my attention shifted back to the artists' studio. I focused on how I was feeling physically. My legs weren't cramping, and my left butt cheek was stiff but okay. My hands were struggling with blood flow, causing a tingling sensation in my fingers. A squeeze or two should help. My neck was in a neutral position, no issues there. My back, however, was slightly angled, so I'd need to stretch it during the break.
I had been looking at Sarah's painting and noticed her moistened private area. I inhaled, trying to imagine her scent. It was during this moment I realized I had an erection.
I'm not particularly well endowed. My limp cock measures anywhere from an inch to two inches long, hidden in my bushy red pubic hair. Even among nude male models, I'm not one of them. Still, I'm a grower, not a shower. Fully erect, my manhood can reach close to seven inches long, with a pulses-throbbing purple head. I couldn't see it, but I presumed this was one of those times. My cock was definitely throbbing.
I quickly scanned the room, most filled with elderly male artists leaning over their easels or tablets, working on capturing the essence of my pose. There were three women in the room—Sarah and two others. An elderly lady, with shoulder-length grey hair and a roomy burgundy shirt, used watercolor, which had fewer details. Next to her was a younger woman, possibly still in college or recently graduated. I'm not good at guessing women's ages under fifty. She had brown hair and worked with pen and ink, trying to sketch details. Her proportions were all over the place—some heads were large with tiny bodies, others had massive bodies with miniatures heads connected to long, thick legs.
Sarah was slightly to my left, slightly off-center in the room. Since I was facing stage left, the younger woman's painting was below Sarah's. My stiff and throbbing cock coincidentally pointed at Sarah. Recognizing this, plus my thoughts on her painting, made my erection pulsate even more, saying, "Hello, Sarah."
Her head turned to face me as she looked up. My peripheral vision captured her reaction—wide-eyed with excitement, and then she licked her lips.
"Damn!" I thought, interpreting her actions as a welcome. My throbbing cock responded with a few more pulses. The pre-cum forming at the tip of my penis drooled down the frenulum.
I didn't know how long this moment lasted, but it felt like forever. But then, the buzzer rang, and we all snapped from our trances. I stretched my arms, rotated my shoulders, and prepared for the next pose, careful to hide my erection.
The artists adjusted their paper in anticipation of the following pose, but it was quiet. Some were finishing details, while others were setting up for the next one. The tension was palpable, though no one dared to speak. The silence and stares were uncomfortable, but my cock relished the attention. Even though no one mentioned it, it was clear to me that they were all looking at me.
Ashamed, keeping my eyes lowered, I responded, "No thanks, I'm fine. Is the next pose going to be another ten minutes?"
"Yes, another ten minutes, then we'll definitely have a break." She flustered around with her papers to organize for the next pose, but her hands were shaky. At length, she blurted out, "I'm heading out to get some tea." She rose from her chair and departed the room.
For the subsequent pose, I sat in a chair with my knees together but feet splayed apart as I held my hands between my thighs, concealing my bulging crotch with my stiffened penis resting between my legs. My shoulders were hunched forward and my head was tilted to the side, creating a timid stance. This position was uncomfortable, yet appropriate given the situation. I initiated the timer, indicating twenty minutes.
Just moments afterward, Sarah returned, carrying a mug in her hand. Glancing at the pose, she nodded before releasing a heavy sigh. The pose advanced without any incidents.
Once the buzzer chirped after twenty minutes, I was no longer erect, although the tip of my penis was glistening with pre-cum. I broke from the position, swiftly donning my robe. I hesitated to reach into my robe to pleasure myself with the pre-cum, given the awkward circumstance. I could have gone to the restroom, but before I even thought of it, Sarah approached to converse with me.
"These are exceptional poses. I'm uncertain how you can endure these positions for so long."
"That's what I'm paid to do."
"I understand, but most models pick simpler postures. Your poses are arduous and provide excellent inspiration for an artist. Aren't you getting cramps? I don't want you to get harmed."
"I'm alright. The following poses will be less laborious. They'll just be twenty minutes each."
"I wanted you to understand, I'm thoroughly enjoying your work."
"Thank you!"
During each break, I would typically wander around the room to observe the artists' work. But at that moment, I wasn't certain if I wanted to witness whether or not anyone had captured my uncovered erection on canvas. While I pondered whether to view the artwork, Sarah closed the distance between us and murmured, "Would you consider staying for extended periods of time for me in my studio?"
"Certainly, what exactly did you have in mind?"
"Perhaps we could arrange a meeting after tonight's session. I'll show you around my studio, and we can identify a date."
"I'm excited about the prospect."
To begin with, I opted for a 20-minute pose while leaning over a piano bench, with a knee resting on the floor on one side, the other leg extended and propped up by a chair. My head hung off the other side of the piano bench with my arms dangling. My profile faced the room. I hoped this pose would be unobtrusive as I couldn't glance at any of the artwork. Instead, my mind wandered to Sarah sitting there unclothed, sketching me. As the erection began to stir, it grew within my trousers. Unluckily, my elevated knee positioned it closest to the artists, making it easily visible to them. However, it was shrouded in shadow, so the view may not have been as clear.
Nevertheless, it didn't take long before my erection developed into a strong urge for stimulation. It swelled, enticing my thoughts of Sarah sitting there naked, fingering herself as she completed her artwork. I mentally reviewed the scene, leading my arousal to subside.
Fortunately, this was a 20-minute pose. By the time it was over, my thoughts reverted to other topics, tempering my erection. My penis was still firm once I released the pose, but it had grown less annoying. I glanced down to observe a puddle of pre-cum on my thighs and the head of my penis shining while I clad myself in my robe.
Sarah approached the platform when I was about to wipe myself. "For the upcoming pose, could you select a pose that you can maintain for twenty minutes, but then duplicate it for the second segment before the break? I'm accomplishing some excellent work and I'd like to see how far we can progress with it."
Too shy to gaze up at her as she spoke, I mulled over whether to wipe myself or to simply listen. I eventually did nothing. When I glanced up and met her gaze, she was leaning towards the piano bench, staring directly at my phallus. My erection and pre-cum were unquestionably noticeable. To make matters worse, I became aware of this fact, prompting my penis to throb.
A blend of amusement and desire flickered across Sarah's face.
"I've got an idea that's easy to recreate."
"Cool." Typically, at the end of the conversation, she'd leave, but this time she didn't. Instead, she fixed her gaze on my dick. With no other option, I used my robe to wipe off any pre-cum on my thighs and then rubbed the base of my cock. This lifted and directed it towards Sarah. She'd already seen it, so I didn't need to be modest.
I put on my robe and prepared the platform for my next pose. For this one, I sat in the chair, slightly angled towards the artists. I leaned forward, face intense. One elbow rested against my knee, palm facing out, while the other hand grabbed a nearby armrest. My legs were spaced out, with one foot to the left and back. This form gave my body a variety of angles to work with. It also allowed my penis to do as it pleased. In an attempt to avoid another sudden erection, I focused on keeping a serious look on my face.
An elderly woman in a paint-splattered shirt was to the left of my perspective. This was the first time during the night I'd paid attention to her. She did nothing particularly intriguing, but for some reason, my eyes kept returning to her. Even though her shirt was too big, her chest was ample and noticeable. It swelled slightly as she moved her attention between me and her painting.
Already aroused, just a glance from her sent my cock straining towards her. It began to swell and harden. As I was leaning forward, my cock never rose above my thighs. It stiffened, not as rigid as before, but it was plutely erect. The man in front of me was directly in the line of fire. The older woman wasn't in my direct sight, but my legs were far enough apart that she could see it well.
Despite being peripheral to me, I watched her chest heave. And when her nipples peaked, I noticed that as well. Her breasts were full, unsupported by a bra. Her nipples pushed against the fabric. This merely intensified the sensation radiating from my loins. The older woman started fidgeting, squeezing her breasts together with her arms and moving her hips. I don't know why she was fidgeting, but my primitive male brain assumed it was directed towards the man in front of her. He throbbed and pulsed with each wiggle of her hips.
When the buzzer rang, I looked over. She blushed, crossed her arms over her chest, and started packing up.
I turned to Sarah. "Sarah, you wouldn't mind grabbing my phone and snapping some photos of the artists' works, would you? I can't stand up and risk losing my position." I also didn't want to walk around with an erection in front of everyone.
She smiled. "Absolutely. You left it by the chair, right?"
"Yes." I bent to pick up my phone, set it for her.
As Sarah took my phone, she glanced down at my groin, my cock still hard. "This is a fantastic pose, but I'm not sure I'm in the right position to catch you..." Her eyes lifted to meet mine, "...in all your glory." She grinned from ear to ear as she turned to take some photos.
She approached the older woman first, who was packing up. They quietly chatted about her work. As Sarah lined up the phone for the older woman's picture, something she said made Sarah giggle. When she finished with the older woman's photo, she bid her goodbye and moved on to capture the other artists' work.
When she returned with my phone, she looked down at my groin again. Enough time had passed for me to feel a bit more relaxed. "Do you think you're able to hold the pose for another twenty minutes?"
"Definitely. My leg might get a tad sore with the elbow pressing into it, but otherwise, I'm solid."
Sarah coughed. "So, about..." She gestured downwards.
Reflexively, I glanced down. "Uh..."
"Relax." Her cheeks reddened. "It's standard procedure, but it's not a big deal. I was wondering, since it was a part of the pose last time, if it could be maintained..."
"Ah." I was unsure of how to answer. I'd heard about other male models experiencing erections, but they were usually frowned upon. Showing a lack of control was disapprved upon. Until now, it had never been an issue for me, leaving me unsure of how to respond. I anxiously searched for a way to answer. "Well, considering only a few artists could really see anything, and one of them is leaving, I don't believe it's an issue."
During my conversation, I was imagining a completely different situation. The idea that Sarah requested me to get hard, to become erect, caused my penis to react accordingly. It didn't achieve complete stiffness, but it did begin to grow as I uttered my reply.
She kept gazing at my member. She recognized its growth. "Carry on with whatever you're doing. Just like I mentioned before, I relish your poses and want to arrange additional sessions for you."
I resumed the position. For another twenty minutes, we completed another set. A handful more artists then left. Our time was still not up. I usually put on my robe during breaks, but as I didn't want to change my position and risk losing it, I remained naked. I shifted my legs and arms, enabling the blood to flow more freely.
Sarah addressed the departing artists farewells, and we proceeded to our last session.
It sped by. There was no more busty older woman to distract me, and the ache in my arms and legs gave my mind something non-sexy to dwell on. As the alarm sounded, I stretched out my arms and moved my legs forward. I inhaled deeply before retrieving my robe.
Following the artists' departure, I dressed and packed my belongings - my yoga mat, towel, and robe.
Upon their exit from the room, Sarah addressed me. "I need to pay you. Can you come to my studio? I need to get my checkbook."
"Certainly." I picked up my duffle bag and trailed after her out of the community space and along the hallway.
Her studio was at the opposite end of the old factory. It was a spacious area with hanging industrial lights and visible pipes, yet smaller than the communal room. In one corner was a square platform equipped with a couple of light trees on either side. "This is the spot. It's where I create my art, at least for myself."
She retrieved her checkbook and began writing the check. "I wanted to talk to you about doing some extended poses. I have a separate area where models pose for me for an extended period. This is where I may concentrate and truly capture a moment. The sketch sessions are fine, but not long enough in duration."
As she handed me the check, she inquired, "If by any chance, what was it that prompted you to get aroused earlier?"
"What are you referring to?"
"Your erection. It didn't seem to be an issue with the brief poses, but during the first ten-minute pose, you became quite hard."
"I'm sorry. This doesn't typically transpire."
"It's fine. This does sometimes occur. I was just inquisitive as to what caused it. Was the pose too strenuous?"
I blushed, "I was thinking about your self-portraits."
"Your collection of nudes? I'm grateful. Which one?"
"The oil painting in which you're seated."
"It certainly contains an element of sexual excitement. I'm delighted that you detected it. Was it due to that particular element?"
"It appeared as if you were..." I couldn't finish my thought.
"You were thinking I was...?"
"I perceived you were sexually aroused, turned on, while painting that canvas."
"That one is indeed lustful. I'm honored you discerned that. While painting that piece, I pleasured myself off and on."
"I'm flattered. If you liked that one..." She continued through a cabinet, snatching out a folder of her works. These were all watercolors; they were vivid depictions of her legs spread apart. Some had a hand poised between them, others had fingers inserted, and others showed just a wet and lubricated labia and genital opening.
My uniform lacked underwear - to prevent any elastic imprints on my skin at the night's beginning - so there was nothing preventing my penis from stiffening in response. As I perused the images, my penis swelled and stiffened. Normally, I favor my right side, but on this occasion, I was standing upright.
Sarah chuckled, "I see your reactions are evident."
I looked down and apologized, but not without enthusiasm. In the presence of other artists, it felt inappropriate to develop an erection. However, with her exposing intimate artwork to me, it seemed suitable to react as such.
"Would it be permissible," she hesitated. "I'd like to draw you like this again tonight, considering you've responded favorably."
I grinned. "I'm available and willing." I discarded my shoes and shed my sweatpants.
I completed disrobing and stepped onto the stage; the warm lights caressed my skin. My erection was prominent and poised. My scarlet pubic hair resembled fire surrounding my erection. My skin may not have stood out much under the lights, but I doubt that's what Sarah was focusing on.
She snatched a notepad, a pencil, and seated herself only a few feet away. Gazing up at me, she expressed, "I won't take long, but you're just so captivating. Can you maintain your erection for some five to six minutes?"
"Indeed." Then, feeling playful, I added, "However, I wouldn't object to a bit of stimulation."
"Oh," she said, putting down her notepad. "You desire motivation?" She rose and began removing her garments. Upon discarding her top, her breasts were full and round. They were significantly less saggy than in her paintings. Next, she shed her sweats and undergarments altogether. Her legs were more mature than in the depictions, and her bush was almost completely grey. "I painted those self-portraits a few years ago. My body has altered."
My erection throbbed. "It nevertheless appears magnificent."
"Thank you." With that, she resumed her seat, but this time she spread her legs. Her labia was pussy and spread. The vaginal orifice was drenched and gapping, ravenous. "As you observe, I'm not the sole participant experiencing arousal this night."
"And it was YOU who instigated this."
"Truly," she said, inhaling her breath. "Your erection. I noticed your hard-on during the initial ten-minute pose, and my pussy began gushing. The more I witnessed it bounce and sway, the hornier I became. For a moment I believed you were ejaculating, but then I realized it must simply be pre-ejaculate, but wow, there was a considerable amount of it. And when I came over to converse with you later, and saw all that pre-ejaculate on your thighs, it was all I could do to prevent sticking my face in your lap and sucking your cock right there."
As she explained this, the night's events replayed in my head. When she suggested she desired to suck my cock, I almost ejaculated. I possessed a rock-hard erection, eager to touch myself. However, I wished to prolong the experience.
Instead of reaching for the notepad, she slid one hand between her legs and began rubbing. "I was about to draw you, but forgive me, I need to climax."
"I understand." Again, I yearned to touch myself, specifically observing her caressing herself, but I craved prolonging the sensation.
She held one hand thrusting three fingers inside, while the other frotted two fingers in circles over her clitoris. "I'm approaching climax. Don't be reserved. If you wish to cum, I'd relish watching."
"I yearn to, yet afraid if I touch myself right now, it'll be promptly over."
"Oh my god, fuck!" she screamed. "Yes, yes, yes. Please cum. I desire to view you cum."
I stepped off the stage to where I stood directly in front of her. My hand wrapped around my erection, and started thrusting. The tip leaked considerable pre-ejaculate, facilitating my masturbation. It wasn't long before I began to climax. A lengthy string of pre-ejaculate squirted from the head of my erection and landed on Sarah's thigh. Another pump and a stream of pre-ejaculate, this time covering her fingers masturbating her vagina. I surged forward, straddling her legs, my erection approaching her, and climaxed repeatedly. These were more dribbles than streams, yet they coated her fingers and vagina.
She squeezed her hand and lips together and moaned. Following her climax, she reached out, leaned forward, and began sucking my erection. I had just climaxed, profusely, but I still felt insatiable. I was still erect, or at least it felt that way. Sarah sucked on my erection, maneuvering the head deep into her mouth, as her tongue bathed my frenulum. Her grasp encircled the base of my erection, while her other hand pinched a buttock, impeding my retreat.
After what seemed an eternity, she cautiously withdrew, relinquishing my flaccid erection from her mouth. Once more, I am typically not particularly massive when diminished, but sometimes, following an intense climax, my penis exhibits a state I refer to as 'happy penis.' It is not erect, yet it is rounded and approximately four to five inches in length.
Sarah reclined in her chair. "I hope you'll contemplate modelling for me again. I can compensate you."
"Instead of paying me, how about this? We exchange. I model for you. You model for me."
"I'm fine with that." [Ends]
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Source: www.nice-escort.de