Chapter 4

Hannah said she had to go take something out of the oven and that I should have a discussion with Harper while she was gone. It was obvious Harper was impatient as soon as her mother was out of the room.

“Come on, Uncle Bob,” she said. “It’s for art. It’s no big deal. Hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day. It won’t bother me and it’s okay with Mom, and it’s for my project ... Please?”

I thought about suggesting that while “hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day, “ that probably isn’t under circumstances where the model is known to the artist or when the artist was only sixteen. But I knew that would sail right over her head. She didn’t actually want to negotiate about this.

“Here - would this make you more comfortable?” she asked when I didn’t answer her.

Before I could do anything she reached behind her and untied her bikini top. I watched with unbelieving eyes as the cups slid off her breasts like the cloth weighed ten pounds. Then she flicked at the ties on her hips and the hot pink triangle that had covered her there dropped as well. Her adolescent pussy was suddenly displayed in all its glory.

I didn’t know where to look. I mean I knew I should look away, but there was no chance of that. My eyes jittered, moving from her breasts (the nipples were brown, not pink) to a cleft that was amazingly easy to see, primarily because there wasn’t a single strand of hair to obscure anything. The term “bikini cut” flashed through my mind at about a million miles an hour, followed by the argument that a classic bikini cut didn’t remove all the hair, but then it didn’t matter because I couldn’t think of anything except gazing at her loveliness.

“Uncle Bob?”

My eyes finally went up to her face and some measure of control came back into my body. The look on her face was one of teenage angst, the kind I’d seen more than once when she was trying on a new outfit or a change in hair style and she was worried that it didn’t look good.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, automatically. That’s what I always said in those moments when her confidence was flagging.

“Oh,” she said. I saw her eyes change as the angst lessened, and my own eyes went back to ravaging her body.

She had that kind of flat stomach that young women have which, at least to a man (okay, to me) just screams out for something to swell it out, making it round as she creates life. Her hips were already ready to bear the weight of that baby and her legs looked longer than I’d ever seen them. My eyes slid back upwards, to what would feed that baby and I saw she was blushing from the upper swells of those mounds all the way up to her cheeks. Somehow that had made the nipples darker and her areolas were also more easily visible. They’d been a paler tan, just a little darker than her breast flesh, but now they had gotten more well-defined, somehow.

I think it was the fact that her nipples were as erect as any I’d ever seen in my life that caused the problem. The problem was that, while I’d known this girl all her life, and been her pal for most of that, there was no way I could merge what I was seeing into my memories of all those years. She was no girl. I couldn’t even believe she was under the age of eighteen.

But that wasn’t the real issue. The real issue was that I wanted to suck those nipples and fuck her until she screamed in orgasm.

“So ... does this make you more comfortable?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“No,” I said, required to think about every muscle it took to get that word out. It involved the lungs, the throat, jaw, and tongue, even my lips, which I had to lick before I could speak at all. That one-word sentence was punctuated by an exclamation point made up of another of my muscles, which was trying to break free of an old jock strap and pair of Fruit of the Looms.

It was then that Hannah returned from the kitchen, to see how the “negotiations” were going. I turned to look at her when she came in. I could see by how her eyes widened that the negotiations had progressed much farther than she’d expected them to. Or in another direction.

“Harper, whatever are you doing?” she asked. You couldn’t tell by her voice that she was surprised at all. I envied her self-control.

“I thought I could make him more comfortable by showing him that I don’t mind being naked in front of him,” said Harper.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Dear,” said Hannah. She looked at me. “You okay?”

“No,” I said again. I didn’t have to think about all those muscles to speak, this time.

“See?” she said, turning back to her daughter.

“Well what else was I supposed to do?” asked Harper in frustration. “I just want to finish this stupid painting!”

Hannah came and stood in front of me. She spoke softly and leaned toward me. I watched her lips move. They looked soft and delicious.

“Why don’t we just show her what she’s done to you?” she asked. “Maybe it would get her attention and teach her some manners.”

I know that sounds silly now. I mean getting her attention would be a foregone conclusion, considering that, according to her, Harper had never seen a real, live penis before. So the attention part would be obvious. It was the “teaching her some manners” part that now makes me want to laugh out loud. I mean, I get what Hannah was saying. She was frustrated, too, on a number of levels. But the concept of “teaching a teenage girl some manners” by displaying a rampant boner to her, pointing at it and saying something like, “See what you’ve caused now? Where are your manners, young lady?” sounds like something out of a bad sitcom. Now. Back then, with me not in full control of my mental faculties, it didn’t sound so crazy.

“You have to stay here,” I whispered.

“Of course,” she said.

“Okay.”

Hannah wasted no time. We’ve never actually talked about it, so I don’t know what was going through her mind at that moment. Perhaps she wanted to do the “shock and awe” approach. I do know that she turned to Harper and said, “Okay. You want to be all adult about this and I applaud that. But your actions have consequences and you need to understand what those consequences are. Bob has agreed to what you’ve asked him to do. So get over here and take his shorts off.”

Actually, now that I think back on it, maybe it did get her attention, because she just stood there frozen for a few seconds.

“Me?” she squeaked.

“You’re the one who wants him nude,” said Hannah. “So get him nude.”

“Okay,” said Harper, proving that she could recover from surprises faster by far than I could.

She came over and knelt in front of me. Her face was right in front of my bulge, which was painful by now. I couldn’t help but imagine her leaning forward to suck my dick. Don’t judge me.

She reached to pull at the elastic of the briefs and her fingers ran into the wider band of the jock.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“He’s wearing two things,” said her mother. “You should probably only remove one at a time.”

“Two things?”

“You’ll understand in a minute,” said Hannah.

Hannah had to pull the elastic as tight as it would go, but she got it over the tip of my cock and exposed the front of the jock.

“Hey. Is that a... ?”

“Yes,” said her mother.

“That’s what guys wear in gym, right?” asked the curious girl.

“Yes.”

“I never understood why?” said Harper.

“Think of it as a bra for a boy,” said Hannah. “You support your breasts with a bra. A boy supports his testes with a jock strap.”

“Oh.”

“And, if a boy gets an erection in gym, one of those is supposed to control it so nobody knows,” said Hannah.

“Oh,” said Harper again, who was in the process of shoving my briefs down my legs. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Which is why Bob wore one today,” said Hannah. “He suspected he’d get an erection and he wanted to control it, so you wouldn’t know it was there.”

“Oh,” said Harper, a third time. “It’s not doing a very good job,” she pointed out.

The worn material in the jock strap wasn’t up to the task of controlling anything at all, and I had one of those diamond hardons. You know those pictures you’ve seen of bikini tops that are minuscule and stretched across really big breasts? You can see everything except the tips of the breasts, right? Well that’s sort of what my jock looked like. It was stretched so much that you could clearly see my balls hanging down, and some of the shaft of my penis.

Harper’s hands went to the top of the front panel of the jock. It was already stretched as much as it would go so all she could do was pull it down, bringing my penis with it. I winced, but then she jerked things and, suddenly, my manhood was bobbing up and down right in front of her face. I actually saw her eyes go cross-eyed a little bit until she moved her head back.

The jock, now wrapped around my upper thighs, was forgotten as Harper moved back a little more.

“Wow,” she whispered.

I looked up from my penis, which had stopped moving for the most part after nodding its head a couple of times. I imagined it saying, “Okay! I’m finally free! This is more like it. Now, where’s that delicious little naked girl I saw through your eyes a minute ago?”

It wasn’t difficult to personify my organ, actually. First of all it helped me pass the blame for my erotic thoughts to my little head. Second, while it wasn’t bouncing up and down anymore, it was still moving around. I think that was the result of blood pressure, and little movements my hips were making or something like that. The point is it was moving a little bit, sometimes up as I clenched the muscles designed not to let sperm rush through it, and back and forth a little bit. The effect was of a dog’s nose up in the air, sniffing around.

“Oh my,” sighed Hannah, breaking my concentration. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well...” I said. “I tried to warn you. Maybe I should put my shorts back on.”

“No!” yipped Harper. Then, as if she’d just showed up, she said, “Wow!” again.

Harper just stood there, but she wasn’t alone. Her mother stood beside her and the eyes of both women were pinned to my errant cock. I had never considered the aesthetics of my privates before, but was forced to consider them now as both women stared in what was clearly something along the lines of awe. I’m not unduly endowed, but somewhere in the average range I suppose. Neither am I vain about things though, as I suspect most men have, I measured myself one time. At that point I was 6 1/2 inches long when fully erect with a diameter of not quite two inches. I’m not circumcised.

And yes, I felt stupid for measuring it.

“It’s so big!” Harper whispered.

“No, it’s not,” I said. I think it was an automatic response. I’d have said the same thing if she’d said it was “so small”. Anything other than, “Well, thank goodness, that looks completely normal!” would have gotten that response.

“Yes, it is,” sighed her mother, whose tone of voice made it clear she was agreeing with Harper, rather than arguing with me. I could see her nipples poking through her shirt now too, and it was apparent she’d gone sans bra that day.

So there I was, standing there with my little Blue Heeler’s nose up and sniffing. The “prey” wasn’t afraid of the dog, though, and hadn’t screamed and run away. Believe it or not, it was so surreal that it calmed me down a little. I mean my worst fear, that of Hannah pointing toward the front door with thunder on her face, hadn’t happened. So the worst was over ... right?

“So I guess I should get back in my pose?” I suggested.

Harper seemed to snap out of a dream.

“Yes! Lie down. I need to study you.”

I spoke to Harper as I got back into position. “Are you going to put your suit back on now?” It was a suggestion, rather than a question.

“No,” she said, staring at my groin. “This feels really nice.”

I looked at Hannah, who was also still staring at my groin. It was a little amazing that she was that shocked ... and yet not upset about it.

I resumed the pose she’d had me in and Harper came over to stand and stare. She licked her lips, and my cock bobbed. Finally she returned to the easel and started doing things there.

Hannah fanned her face with a hand and smiled. I was pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better.

“This is better,” said Harper from behind her easel. “But there’s just one more problem. I can’t paint him like that.”

“I thought this was what you wanted,” I groaned.

“It is. I mean I need to see it, but I can’t render it looking like that. Think about it. In what museum have you ever seen a naked man depicted with a hardon?”

“Erection,” corrected Hannah.

“Okay, erection,” said Harper.

“So you want him naked, but not hard,” said Hannah.

“Exactly. Though I’m not complaining about it, really. This has been really cool, getting to see him like that. But I really need him soft instead of hard.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to Bob about that. Give us five minutes and then come back in,” said Hannah.

“What can happen in five minutes?” asked the curious teen.

“Never mind that,” said Hannah. “Just give him time to relax a little.”

“Okay. I need a snack anyway,” said Harper.

When the door had closed Hannah came over to the bed and sat down on the edge.

“So,” she said. “What do you propose we do about your naughty little friend?”

“Do?” This was all moving a little fast for me. This is not to say I wasn’t running along behind the wagon Hannah was perched on, as it trundled down the road. I was trying hard to keep up.

“Obviously something needs to be done to make things more ... relaxed,” she said.

“Sweetie, you know I love you,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this.”