Life Class
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Light Bond, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Exhibitionism, School,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An impoverished student takes up an unusual offer to earn more money.

It all started on a cold autumnal day. It was about fifteen years ago, and I was still studying at college, walking round the local town. The sky was a wonderful clear blue colour, and my breath hung in the air in front of me. Dragon breath, we used to call it when I was little, because it looked like you were blowing smoke.

Money was tight back then. Sure, I received a student grant from the government, but half of that went to the college administration for the rent of a tiny room in a large wooden shack that they called a hostel. Once you'd taken out food and various other essentials, there wasn't a whole lot left to have fun with. And so, when I saw the notice in the newsagent window, I took more than a passing interest. "Models Wanted", it said in big letters, and below, "Ordinary people needed to pose for amateur art class. £20 per session." Well, £20 was not to be sneezed at back then, and I certainly fitted the description. I was no Brad Pitt, still aren't in fact, though a couple of years on a college diet meant that I had no spare fat at all. Ordinary just about summed me up. I made a note of the telephone number and back at college I gave the teacher a ring. The response to the advertisement had been under whelming and she was delighted to hear from me. We arranged to meet later that same week.

I went to the meeting with some trepidation. After all, it's easy to accept that you are ordinary looking, but it's quite another to be told that you are far too ugly to model. I needn't have worried. Suzanne was absolutely charming, and assured me that I was just the sort of person she was looking for. On my part, I found her completely beguiling. Remember, I was only eighteen years old, and at thirty-two (as I found out later) she oozed confidence and sophistication. She was not bad looking either. I've always had a thing for brunettes, and her long dark hair was gorgeous. Matched with a pretty face and voluptuous body it was almost irresistible. With just a few flutters of her eyelashes she had me eating out of her hand, and I readily agreed to attend my first session the following week.

And thus it was that I began my short modelling career. I had been told to arrive wearing my everyday clothes, and I stood in front of the class in my jeans, t-shirt and second-hand leather jacket. Surprisingly, all the pupils were women. There were about twelve of them, ranging from a little older than me to a well preserved mid to late forties. The town was located in the affluent southeast of England, and they were all dressed considerably better than I was. They all looked a lot more attractive than me too, and a couple of them were downright stunning. There was plenty of friendly chatter as I posed, and I soon felt completely at ease. The class was over all too quickly, and I helped Suzanne to clear up afterwards.

"Same time next week?" she enquired, slipping me my £20 wages.

"Fine," I replied, still somewhat tongue-tied in her presence.

After a few weeks, they had almost finished their works, and I had to admit that none of them were as talentless as I had been expecting. Actually, some of them were really rather good. As we packed away at the end of that final session, I was expecting Suzanne to give me the brush off, thanks for everything; it's been really nice of you to help us out, but goodbye. Her next comment surprised me.

"You've been great, Matt," she said. "We're moving on to a more classical style next week. Would you be willing to carry on as our model?"

I could hardly believe my ears.

"Yes, I would," I stammered. "I'd be delighted to."

"You'll have to wear clothes that we'll provide for you," she continued. "Will that be a problem? There's a little cubicle over there, so you'd have some privacy while you change."

I readily agreed. The extra money each week was providing a welcome boost to my social life, and I enjoyed being with these women. I could handle wearing strange clothes if that's what it took. And so I found myself reclining on a chaise longue, wearing a Roman-style toga and holding a bunch of plastic grapes. I must have looked a right twit, but they all seemed content and we carried on pretty much as before. Watching their pictures develop over the weeks was fascinating, the more so because I was clearly recognisable as the subject. Talk about an ego boost!

The class didn't run over the Christmas break and I returned to my family in a different corner of the country. On my return, Suzanne had another proposal for me.

"Matt, we're moving on to look at the human figure in more detail this term, and I was wondering. Would you consider modelling nude for us? It's so difficult to find that kind of model, and we all feel so comfortable with you."

"Crikey," I blushed furiously. "I... erm... well it's just that I'd never thought of doing that. Taking my clothes off, I mean. I know I did the toga thing, but that was different, wasn't it? You never saw me naked."

I was beginning to ramble, and Suzanne put a finger to my lips.

"I know you think it'll be embarrassing," she spoke reassuringly, "but you've got nothing we haven't all seen before. We'd be willing to double your fee for these sessions, if you agree."

£40 was about half my weekly grant allowance, and I just couldn't pass up that kind of money. Reluctantly I consented. Suzanne was delighted.

"Just turn up in your normal clothes next week," she instructed me. "You can change into a dressing gown in the cubicle, then when we're ready you just slip it off. That's all there is to it."

I left, not at all convinced but desperate for the extra money. All through the week I tried to persuade myself that it was a good thing. My friends at college made extra money stacking supermarket shelves, or plying other people with booze whilst they themselves remained sober in one of the many local public houses. Posing nude in front of twelve attractive women had to be better than that, didn't it?

Well let me tell you, it was pretty bad at first. I actually showed up, I think to Suzanne's surprise. She had been fairly sure that I would bottle out at the last minute, and grinned like the Cheshire cat when she saw me. I squeezed into my little cubicle and changed into the towelling robe that she had provided. Shivering slightly, I walked out in front of the class and stood on my little dais. Twelve pairs of eyes looked at me expectantly. I stared back, blushing furiously.

"OK Matt, are you ready?" asked Suzanne.

Slowly I nodded. I untied the belt of the robe and reached up my hands. I hesitated for a moment, then quickly pulled it from my shoulders and allowed it to slip to the floor. And there I stood, completely naked. I tried to avoid eye contact with any of the women, although several of them smiled at me encouragingly as they took up their charcoal and began to sketch. One of several things that I had worried about was that I would be unable to control myself, but that proved to be no problem at all. My cock looked as though I had just stepped into an ice cold shower. Suzanne kept up a running commentary clearly designed to put me at ease, requesting that I shift my pose slightly, lift an arm here, turn my head to the left a little there. The other women chatted just as they normally did. No one mentioned my nudity, and by the end of the class I'd almost forgotten it myself. When Suzanne called time, I bent down to retrieve the robe and covered myself before stepping over to see how they'd done.

The sketches were exquisite. I saw myself in a whole new light as I looked at the gentle grey lines depicting my body. Ordinary was the last word I would have used to describe their efforts, and I was almost tempted to ask for one to hang on my wall back at college. Almost. There was no mistaking the identity of the model in their sketches, and I didn't feel that my college mates were quite ready for that yet.

As usual I helped Suzanne clear up once I'd got dressed. She was in a chatty mood, obviously pleased with how things had gone.

"So Matt, how did you find it?" she enquired.

"Actually, it wasn't too bad once I got used to it," I admitted. "It was horrible at first, but I felt much more at ease once they'd started drawing."

"Will you be back for more next week?" she asked, cunningly choosing that moment to pass me two £20 notes. I looked at the money in my hand and reflected on the experience.

"Yes I will," I replied. "In fact, I'm quite looking forward to it now."

"Good. This is always the most difficult part of the class. There's so much to learn and it's so hard to find a willing model. You're a good sport, Matt."

Her hand brushed my shoulder as she said that, and I blushed anew at the physical contact. I thanked her falteringly. That night, for the first time, she gave me a lift back to college in her little MG roadster. I thanked her again as I climbed out of the car. She waved as she drove off, and I headed into the Student Union bar for a much needed pint.

For the next couple of weeks they continued to sketch me in various poses, each designed to highlight different parts of my musculature. The nudity came easy to me by then, and I stopped bothering with the robe after a while, walking straight from my cubicle after I'd undressed. The whole experience had given me a newfound confidence in myself, just seeing myself how these women saw me. People had started to look at me differently at college too, I think because of my changed demeanour. They seemed more willing to approach me and chat to me, and much to my surprise girls had started to show an interest as well. It's amazing what a bit of self-esteem can do to your personality and appearance.

The art class had moved on to more detailed work now. Instead of drawing my entire body, they'd pick a section and focus in on it, producing several fine miniatures of my chest, limbs or buttocks. They spent three whole weeks on my hands. Suzanne would walk among them, offering advice or assistance, often pointing things out and using my body for reference. I think that she deliberately strung things out a little, so that when they finally got round to scrutinising my cock I was totally unperturbed. I was so relaxed that it just hadn't occurred to me that she might start to point out details there in much the same way as she had for the other parts of my body. I had drifted off slightly as they worked, when suddenly I heard her voice close by and felt her touch on my cock. As she spoke, she lifted it and her finger touched me, moving across my cock and down onto my balls. She delicately took these in her hand and gently moved them around, showing the budding artists.

I felt a familiar tingling sensation, and ever so slightly my cock began to stiffen, despite the circumstances in which I found myself. Luckily, Suzanne chose that moment to let go her hold and walk away. With a supreme effort I forced my mind onto other topics and my partial erection died away. One of the women, Jane I think her name was, whispered in Suzanne's ear as she passed by. Suzanne arched an eyebrow and nodded in agreement.

"Ladies, it has been suggested that we study this organ in both its states. Has anyone any objections to this?" There was a general murmur of consensus before Suzanne continued. "Matt, please would you arouse yourself so that we can explore the erect penis?"

I looked at her, aghast. My cheeks felt as though they were burning as I mutely shook my head.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I just can't."

"Very well," she replied archly. "I'll give you a hand."

And before I could object she had taken my cock in her hand and started rubbing it briskly up and down. Scarlet with embarrassment, I watched as every single eye in the room fixing on my growing organ. I couldn't help a small groan as Suzanne wrapped her finger and thumb around my foreskin and moved it backwards and forwards across the engorged head of my cock. I grew almost painfully hard, the skin stretched tightly over my shaft. I glanced down at my cock. Now I am under no illusions as to how well endowed I am. I know full well that I fall firmly within the 'average' bracket, but that day, as Suzanne let go and stepped back, it looked huge. It pointed directly at the mesmerised women, almost 45 degrees above the horizontal. I could feel the blood throbbing and pulsing in my veins.

For the next hour I stood there, my cock jutting proudly out in front of me. Every time it showed any sign of subsiding, Suzanne would come over and with a few strokes of her soft hand return me to my full hardness. Several times one of the women would come over and crouch in front of me for a closer look, often taking hold of me and manipulating me experimentally. I was having difficulty controlling myself. My eyes were tightly closed and beads of perspiration formed on my forehead as I fought the growing excitement. A drop of precum formed on the tip of my cock, and Suzanne gently smeared it all over the head, which glistened under the studio lights. After what seemed like an eternity, my ordeal was over.

"Right, ladies, time to pack up," announced Suzanne.

Reluctantly they obeyed as I made my way back to my cubicle. My cock throbbed unbearably. I had never stayed so hard for so long. My underpants couldn't cover my cock and the head poked out above the waistband. I covered it as best I could and pulled on the rest of my clothes. Suzanne looked at the bulge in my trousers as I emerged from the cubicle.

"You did very well tonight," she praised me. "I think you deserve a bonus."

I looked at her hopefully, but that wasn't what she had in mind. Instead, she handed me my usual fee, and gave me an additional £10 note. As had become the norm, she gave me a lift back to college. She tried to make conversation but I could barely string two words together, not helped by the seatbelt, which rubbed my crotch with every change of direction and kept me in my heightened state of arousal. When we got back to the campus, I dived out of the car with a strangled "goodbye" and practically ran all the way back to my room. I tore off my clothes and threw myself onto the bed, where I masturbated furiously to a long overdue climax.

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