Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction for entertainment only. Any resemblances to real people, places and events (past, present or future) is unintentional. It contains graphic sexual content which the author does not endorse. Practice sex safely and legally.
Magnificently Mortifying Modelling Maladies Chapter 04: Miles' First Life Lesson Part One, Miles Per Hour
JANUARY 2024
TRY SOMETHING NEW
Miles was nervous.
It wasn't like he'd never modelled before, but this felt different. Mr Wainwright had always been very supportive and extremely encouraging. Almost excessively encouraging.
Miles still thought of himself as a skinny teenage boy.
Well... he was a skinny teenage boy. He was in Year 11 at Chase Foundling High School. He'd been modelling for a few years – mostly boys clothing sites after being spotted on a beach in France when he was on holiday. The photographer had liked his look. Back home, Miles mostly modelled for Art classes which was how he met Mr Wainwright.
The first time Mr Wainwright had asked him to take his shirt off for a life modelling class, Miles had been too shy. It was his dad who encouraged him.
"You take your shirt off on the beach or whenever you go swimming," his dad pointed out.
"That's different. People look at you when your shirtless in the pool," Miles replied. "In Art they're going to be `looking' at me."
"It's good money," his gad grumbled.
Miles knew money was tight and he was never left wanting for anything, but that was only because he was very judicial about what he asked his dad for. In the end, he'd taken his shirt off. The Art class at a college an hour's drive from home and they had been really nice, thanking him afterwards. It was really just like every other time he'd modelled except they could see his nipples and bellybutton.
No big deal.
Miles' shirtless modelling became more frequent after that and he grew in confidence. Miles was fifteen now and enjoyed running, swimming and football. He was 1.65m (five foot six inches) tall with a physique that was on its way to becoming twunky. At the moment, it was very much on the twinky side of the scale.
Miles was still smooth; his legs and thighs had hints of whisps of fair hair that were invisible unless close up. Meanwhile, his armpits were little more than a scattering of short brown hairs. His chest and tummy were smooth with no trail leading from bellybutton to pubes, which were naturally short. This was why he looked twinky despite abs that popped (if he flexed) and a chest that was almost flat but the pecs were teasing their way into view.
Two weeks ago was when things had really changed. Mr Wainwright was clearly agitated after a modelling session; Miles had been dressed in a football kit for an Art class attended by boys in a sports club who all had learning difficulties.
They had been a really sweet bunch. Some excited and some subdued, some noisy and others almost mute. They had chatted energetically and Miles had really enjoyed their enthusiasm. Their artwork varied in quality but one of them had produced an almost photorealistic rendering, not to mention very flattering, of Miles.
Anyway, after the class, Mr Wainwright had waited for Miles's dad to arrive before broaching a difficult subject.
"I wondered if Miles would like to try something new in his modelling career?" Mr Wainwright said.
"Like what?" asked Miles's dad.
"I need a nude model for a class in two weeks," Mr Wainwright said succinctly.
The man spoke concisely and bluntly instead of meandering around the subject.
"I can't do that!" Miles said though he was secretly intrigued.
"You want to see my son naked?" his dad replied suspiciously.
Mr Wainwright didn't reply right away but handed over a large bound book. Inside were a few dozen pages of very tasteful nude models – sketches and a few photographs. One man looked like he was in his mid-twenties and had the smallest penis either of them had ever seen. Miles and his dad sniggered at it and Mr Wainwright knew exactly what photo they were looking at.
Crucially, none of the pictures were of boys. The models in the book were all young men.
"I understand that nude modelling elicits certain red flags for you but as you can see it is completely benign," Mr Wainwright asserted.
"Why Miles?" his dad asked.
"My regular model for those classes has a job at the London Fashion Show," Mr Wainwright said proudly.
That wasn't even a lie.
Mr Wainwright had been building up to this for a while. In truth, he had planned for and expected more time before suggesting nude modelling. He had so far only seen Miles topless and or in shorts; the teacher had not even got Miles stripped to his pants yet. However, with his usually reliable penis model otherwise occupied, Mr Wainwright needed someone else to take his place.
"Really?" Miles' dad asked – for his son to reach that level would be amazing.
"Modelling for Art classes and minor shows can really raise your profile," Mr Wainwright suggested. "If you were willing to fill in, I'd compensate you by paying double time."
Mr Wainwright felt a stab of guilt for manipulating them financially but he desperately wanted Miles to model.
"Really?" this time it was Miles' torn to asked that question.
"What's double time and how long do you want him for?" his dad asked.
The man's brow knotted because he sounded like he was pimping his son out.
"Three hours. I'll pay you £35 an hour," Mr Wainwright offered.
"Over a hundred quid for three hours?" Miles asked.
Mr Wainwright nodded.
"It's up to you, Miles," his dad said and he walked away.
His dad wanted to put distance between himself and the responsibility for committing or declining. Miles knew that his dad wanted him to do it but would never directly ask him. Miles' modelling money had helped the household substantially when there had been times when it had been a struggle to pay the bills. The question was, did Miles want to do it? Could he flash his... everything?
That was the thing you see; Miles was very nervous about the idea of nude modelling because of what he had between his legs. The boy knew quite nicely that it could be very embarrassing. He looked over his shoulder where his dad was waiting by the car.
"Ok," Miles said quietly. "I'll do it."
STRIPPED
It was a Thursday.
Nothing good happens on a Thursday.
Miles had been dropped off at the local college right after school. The location of Miles' first nude modelling lesson was disconcertingly close to home. Usually, he avoided any paid work that was less than an hour's drive away to make sure he didn't see anyone he knew; for this job, he'd had no choice. It was after 4PM when Miles met Mr Wainwright on the third floor of the main building of Newton Mavity College. Mr Wainwright had an office on the third floor – it was a dingy corridor with painted brick walls that were in need of a touch up. Miles desperately wanted touched up too but that was a different thing.
Mr Wainwright's main work was at the St. Mervyn Poshford School – a pretentious establishment for total bellends. However, he worked so frequently with classes at the college that they'd found him an office.
Three years ago he had to share it with a geriatric Psychology lecturer who had since retired, leaving Mr Wainwright a surprisingly spacious office that he obstinately refused to give over to any of the full-time teaching staff at the college.
"Ok, Miles?" Mr Wainwright asked when he saw the boy approaching.
Miles was in his school uniform – more or less. His tie was askew, the top button of his was undone and this shirt wasn't tucked into his trousers. If one of Mr Wainwright's students rocked up looking like that, they'd be in big trouble. As it was, it suited the nonchalant teenager. The lad's hair was still damp having showered at school before leaving. Miles had barely dried himself before dressing which was why his white shirt was blotchy where his pink skin shone through.
"Hi, Mr Wainwright," Miles replied.
Mr Wainwright opened the door to his office and gestured for Miles to enter first. The boy squeezed past Mr Wainwright who subtly inhaled the boyish scent of communal showers, deodorant and body odour. Mr Wainwright was a full head taller than Miles which gave the man the feeling of looking down on the boy.
"Are you still ok about today?" Mr Wainwright asked.
"Yea. I just want to get it over with now," Miles admitted.
He was nervous but that was to be expected. Miles had never been naked in front of people before – strenuously avoiding showering after sporting activities or waiting until everyone else was done. The boy was acutely aware of his own embarrassment about his body.
Perhaps Miles wouldn't have gotten over that anxiety or embarrassment if the money hadn't been so good. £105 wasn't a fortune but it was good money during a cost of living crisis and his dad was a single parent with a mortgage.
"Good lad," Mr Wainwright replied. "Just pop your clothes off and we'll head to the class."
"Ok," Miles replied.
When Miles was allowed to dress as he pleased, they would meet before a modelling session for a short chat and then head to the appropriate. When he had a `costume' like a football kit or a baseball vest or whatever, Miles would get changed under Mr Wainwright's supervision. Each venue and room was different; the lighting or the size of the space all affected things and it was a useful process to define the details before the modelling actually started.
Today felt different. Miles was going to be humiliatingly exposed. It shouldn't make a difference being seen by Mr Wainwright in the confines of his office (a whole class was about to see him naked) but the intimacy of the space did change the atmosphere.
Miles dropped his schoolbag onto a chair facing Mr Wainwright's desk and then he pulled his tie from the collar and stuffed it in his schoolbag. Miles unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and then the buttons down the centre from top to bottom.
Mr Wainwright sat in his chair opposite, checking a few things on his computer that Miles couldn't see; the hidden cameras in three corners of the room for example. The market for hidden camera footage was a big niche – that was an oxymoron his colleague, an English teacher, Martin Williams would have appreciated.
Ah, Martin, Mr Wainwright smiled. Before Christmas, Mr Wainwright had exposed Martin's secret to the entire student body of St. Mervyn Poshford's School. Everyone from student and teacher to the catering and cleaning staff now knew Martin had a miniscule little penis. Mr Wainwright couldn't help but imagine putting little Martin and little Miles together.
When Miles removed his shirt, the thin lad folded it and then put it in his schoolbag. He was thin but had a nicely developing physique. Not muscular enough to be hunky or hench but certainly not weedy. Miles was a little shorter than average for his age which added to his physical charm. He was a cute but compact package and Mr Wainwright suspected the contents of the boy's briefs would be similarly compact.
Which was why he had chosen Miles for this modelling session. Exposing models to nudity was fun regardless but tiny little pricks was even more enjoyable. Mocking Martin Williams mercilessly had made the man hard for days. Any mockery or mortification of Miles would need to be much more cautious but invention and ingenuity was a rewarding game.
Topless, Miles had removed his shoes and socks while Mr Wainwright daydreamed. The Art teacher came around just in time to see Miles blush beet red and turn his back. Mr Wainwright watched as Miles dropped his trousers.
No wonder the boy was embarrassed. He was wearing white briefs with cartoon dogs on them. Some of them were white dogs with blue patches around the eyes and some were blue dogs with white patches around the eyes; some were mid-run and other sitting facing out from Miles's petite little bum.
Miles had no arse!
Well, obviously he had an arse! But where some men had a big, bubble butt, Miles's was flat and petite. Since the boy was only in Year 11, Mr Wainwright assumed Miles was a virgin. He imagined whoever got to pop that innocent, tight cherry would be a very happy man.
Barefoot and standing in just his underpants, Miles was already quite embarrassed. He had worn little more than this on the beach in the summer (he preferred swilling shorts to trunks); in the office environment, Miles felt humiliated to be in just his underpants. He twisted around to put his trousers in his schoolbag so he wouldn't need to face Mr Wainwright.
"Do you have a robe I can put on?" Miles asked.
"Sure," Mr Wainwright replied.
The Art teacher stood up and took a robe from a hook beside his desk and held it open for Miles to slip into without turning around. That was ok, Mr Wainwright was a patient man. He could wait. Indeed, seeing the tiny package of the boy would be even more fun once they were in the Art room and Miles was exposed to an audience.
"Thanks," Miles replied.
Miles' appreciation was grudging, to be honest. The robe Mr Wainwright had given him was very short. It only covered the top quarter of his thighs, leaving most of his legs completely exposed. Mr Wainwright thought Miles's legs were very pretty – long and thin and smooth from ankle to where his thighs disappeared inside the robe. The robe barely covered Miles's ass. Indeed, it would barely be long enough to cover his testicles. As for Miles's penis...
Miles was still trying not to think about exposing that to the class. How embarrassing it was going to be when people saw it? Was it too late to back out?
"Ok, Miles. Briefs off and we can go," said Mr Wainwright.
Yup, too late. Wait, what?
Miles had just been going to ask why there was no cord to keep the robe closed but now there was a more pressing issue so he held the robe closed by hand.
"Briefs off?" Miles repeated back.
"Of course," Mr Wainwright replied. "You remember you're posing nude, don't you?"
The man chuckled encouragingly at his own little joke, but his voice had an edge of condescension.
"Yes, of course. I just thought... I could leave them on until we got to the class?" Miles hoped.
"I think it would be better if you left them here. Keep all your belongings together," Mr Wainwright suggested.
"Ok," Miles deferred too easily.
That bode well, Mr Wainwright decided. Miles was keen to please and very obedient. The teenager put his hands under the robe and pulled his briefs down to his knees. Mr Wainwright was still behind the boy but he saw that Miles couldn't hold the robe closed properly and remove his own underpants at the same time. Thus, the robe slipped open and the man hoped one of the cameras would pick up the flashing moment.
Miles let his undies slip from his knees and when they dropped around his ankles, Mr Wainwright thought it was probably the best place for his pants.
Miles carefully stepped out of them and bent over to pick them up off the floor. Mr Wainwright was treated to more boyish thigh at the tease of the bottom of Miles' ass cheeks. Miles hurriedly stood and stuffed the undies in his schoolbag with everything else. Mr Wainwright dropped a pair of flipflops on the floor for the teenager to put on his feet and he duly slipped them on. The black foam was soft under his feet, the toe post slipped between his big to and the one next to it and the strap was black. Aside from the centimetre thick strap across the line of his toes, Miles' feet were bare.
"Ok, let's go," Mr Wainwright said as he put a satchel over his shoulder.
The Art teacher opened the door for Miles who stepped out and Mr Wainwright locked his office before heading right. Usually they used the class next door to his office on the right. Miles held the robe tightly to prevent it from flashing open, but he followed without saying anything and only when the teacher opened the door into the stairwell did he comment.
"I thought we were going to the class?" Miles asked, looking back.
"The class is downstairs. There are lots of dreary evening classes on this floor. I dare say it would brighten up the sociology seminar," Mr Wainwright chuckled. "Unless you want to be drawn nude while Mr McCoy lectures about the life and works of William McGonagall?"
"Oh. No thanks," Miles responded.
The stairwell overlooked the front of Newton Mavity College and Martin would have been more worried about being seen except it was already dark out. The January evening was also dashed with rain.
"And the rain came pouring down and the dark clouds seemed to frown," Mr Wainwright commented.
"Hm?" Miles asked.
"Never mind," the teacher said.
McGonagall clearly wasn't part of the Year 11 curriculum.
Miles felt very exposed in just flipflops and short robe. He could feel his genitals rubbing on the inside of the robe which he still had to hold closed because there was no cord. They had just reached the second floor landing when the doors opened.
"Hello, Marcus," said a cheerful man with blonde buzzcut hair and piercing blue eyes.
The man was in his thirties and carrying a stack of paper. Who even used paper anymore?
"Hello, Tony," Mr Wainwright replied.
"I hope you brought one for both of us?" Tony joked, gesturing to Miles.
Miles blushed. His long, bare, silky legs on show; his barely covered privates and buttocks; and the V-shaped gape of the robe that showed off an impressive amount of smooth, boyish chest.
As Mr Wainwright was about to offer a pithy reply, Tony let the top dozen slips of paper tumble to the ground. Instinctively, Miles bent down to pick them up. Mr Wainwright risked a peek at Miles's peachy little bare bum which Tony didn't notice because Miles's robe slipped open at the front.
The boy was almost hairless except for a boyish spray above his teenish penis.
Miles collected the papers in one hand and looked up as he straightened, noticing Tony's gaze and hastily pulling his robe closed with his other hand.
"You're a sexy little fucker," Tony said and meant it as a compliment.
"He's fifteen," Mr Wainwright admonished.
"Fuck, for real?" Tony looked horrified. "Sorry."
Tony took the papers from Miles and hurried away.
"Come on," Mr Wainwright said and they went down to the first floor.
How far was Miles going to be taken from his clothes? The boy was starting to think he should have been allowed to change in the Art room instead of Mr Wainwright's office. The walk, of course, was all part of Mr Wainwright's campaign to mortify Miles. Mr Wainwright led Miles into a small lecture theatre but stopped just outside it. The lecture theatre wasn't tiered; it was a single level room with a large space in the centre and easels set up all around it. In the centre of the room, Miles could see a chaise lounge.
Miles could see there was already several artists inside.
Mr Wainwright had explained the three-hour session would consist of two ninety-minute classes. He would pose for twenty minutes at a time with a ten-minute break between poses.
"I don't know if I can do this," Miles panicked.
"You can't back out two minutes before the class starts," Mr Wainwright said.
"I'm going to be completely naked and I'm only fifteen," Miles said weakly.
"Most men have penises, Miles. It's not a big deal" Mr Wainwright encouraged.
Mr Wainwright had no idea!
It wasn't men's penises that Miles was worried about. It was his boy penis he was worried about. It was humiliating!
"Miles," Mr Wainwright said to grab his attention. "You're going to be fine. You are a wonderful model and you're going to be fine."
"You really think I'm wonderful?" Miles asked naively.
"The first class is only five people," Mr Wainwright said reassuringly.
What Mr Wainwright didn't mention was that the second group had a dozen artists.
Mr Wainwright pushed the door open and Miles followed him in.
The four artists in the room turned and studied Miles with a gaze he had come to expect. They were already tracing the fine lines of his boyish features, the soft edges of his calves and the innocence of his eyes. Mr Wainwright hadn't even had the chance to say anything when the last artist of the first group entered.
The five artists were all men. Three of them looked like they were student age – anywhere between eighteen and twenty-three. The other two men were in their thirties or a well-aged forty. Martin didn't pay much more attention to the details of their faces, physique or hair – he was too nervous about what was about to happen.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Mr Wainwright said, announcing his arrival and that of the beautiful model.
Martin had forgotten it was still early – only just going on 5PM. He would be dressed again until 8PM. It felt like a long time away.
"If you all want to find a place to work," Mr Wainwright directed them. "And allow me to introduce Miles Beaufort. He's a Year 11 at Chase Foundling High School and has agreed to model for us today."
Miles sighed at the introduction. They knew roughly how old he was and where he went to school now. So much for the anonymity of modelling. Not that the introduction mattered because this class all looked relaxed and studious. Miles had modelled dozens of times now and knew they were more often than not quite detached about the subject they were drawing or painting. Miles used to be a little offended, worried he was doing a bad job, neurotic that they didn't like him or thought he was ugly... the truth was Miles was an interesting bowl of fruit to most classes.
A beautiful bowl of fruit but still just an object.
Mr Wainwright reassured Miles he was doing a good job and not to be perturbed. Besides, did he really want to be lusted over? Leered at? Commented on?
"Miles, please stand in the middle of the room and then take off your robe," Mr Wainwright said as if it was no big deal.
It wasn't a big deal to Mr Wainwright! He wasn't the one who was about to be bare naked! Miles was nervous. He was about to expose himself. Until now, the robe had hidden Miles's big secret. As Miles went in to the middle of the room, it remained obscured but not for long.
"The robe please, Miles," Mr Wainwright said impatiently. "We don't want to run late."
Miles cast his eyes down as he dropped the robe off his shoulders; it opened at the front to expose his chest and his genitals and fell off his arms, into his hands.
The room had been quiet but when he revealed what he was hiding, the silence was deafening. Even worse, Miles looked up to see their faces. They were looking at him and the expressions were far less dispassionate now – the shock and surprise in their faces as he exposed himself. He could see their gazes sweeping over his penis and testicles. Miles's big secret was no longer secret.
He had a big dick.
Miles had a very big dick!
FIRST CLASS MODELLING
It was 12.5cm (nearly five inches) soft and hung ever so slightly to the left but not by much. His balls were big. The short fluffy hair above his penis obscured the root of his dick but his balls were fuzzy at best.
Now, five inches is not a huge cock but flaccid, five inches looked very impressive. It was plump tube of supple flesh, but what's more it looked like it would expand substantially and therefore an exciting surprise.
Mr Wainwright was very surprised by what he saw. Despite being a devious and manipulate man who cynically made money out of scheming how to get men naked, he didn't spend any time thinking about naked teenage boys. He worked with teenage boys. They were little bastards! However, Mr Wainwright knew a cute puppy when he saw one. Mr Wainwright did not want to have sex with puppies. Mr Wainwright also knew a cute boy when he saw one and he didn't want to have sex with them either.
Selling images of them to people who did on the other hand... well... people paid good money.
That's why there were cameras in his office and in this seminar room. Mr Wainwright had sold photos, sketches and canvases of Martin Williams with his embarrassingly tiny penis. When he'd contrived to see Miles naked it was because he expected another tiny willy. Mr Wainwright had expected to capture the sight of a thin, nicely shaped highschooler with a neat or little dick that would drive perverts crazy.
What Mr Wainwright had not expected was a big dicked fifteen year old!
When Mr Wainwright had humiliated his colleague, Mr Martin Williams, he had idly thought that Miles would have as big (or, as small depending or your point of view) a dick which would have been a hilarious mirror for the man. Martin's full erection wasn't quite three and a half inches; how fucking big was Miles if his flaccid penis was already five inches?
It looked like it would be enormous.
"Ok, Miles. You look magnificent," Mr Wainwright complimented and Miles blushed.
Miles appreciated the compliment because he was vain.
"Thanks," Miles replied.
Mr Wainwright stepped forward and put out his hand for the robe. Miles lifted his arm to hand it over and, not for the first time, the Art teacher looked into the concave of the boy's pit with its scant concentration of hairs. Mr Wainwright nodded to the flipflops and off they came too. Miles bent down to pick them up and as much as he'd have loved to see the rear sight again (that tight, hairless hole), the front view as Miles bent down was spectacular.
Miles penis and ball dangled impressively between his slim, smooth thighs. Miles handed over the flipflops and was acutely aware that he was now totally nude in front of his teacher and five strangers. He nervously covered his penis and balls, crossing his hands and holding them `casually' over his boyhood.
"Ok, for the first pose..." Mr Wainwright said – straight down to business. "Why don't you sit on the edge of the chaise lounge? Right leg over the edge of the seat, please, and cross your left leg under you buttocks."
Miles tucked his left foot under his butt as he sat down. He could actually feel the cold skin of his heel against his asshole. His other leg dropped to the floor with his foot flat on the floor.
"Put your right hand on your right knee," Mr Wainwright instructed. "And your left hand between your legs."
Miles was relieved that this meant his penis and testicles would be partially obscured.
"Ok, Miles. That's great. Hold that pose for twenty minutes, please. Everyone get drawing," Mr Wainwright told his students.
The class were clearly not amateurs. Miles could tell that from the professional way they had treated his nudity and the practiced, confident scratching of pencil on paper. Mr Wainwright offered comments and suggestions but the artists needed little advice. Miles' trepidation dissipated as time wore on.
After the first pose, he was given a break and donned the robe again. While most of the students chatted amongst themselves or checked their phones, Miles spoke with Mr Wainwright who was encouraging and effusive.
Miles took a second pose during which he felt more comfortable and confident. After that, he was offered another break and this time the students left to get something to eat or drink from the nearest vending machine. Even Mr Wainwright left to get something from his office, satchel over his shoulder and asking if Miles would be ok by himself.
Miles was dressed in the robe again so he was perfectly content to have ten minutes to himself.
The whole afternoon, so far, was perfectly normal for a modelling session. Apart from the part where he was naked, it was a routine task for which he was being well paid.
The artist drifted back into the room, most now offering polite nods and praise for his behaviour. Miles had sneaked peeks at what they had done so far. Some were better than other and one was absolutely remarkable. Before the third pose, the artists asked Miles if he wanted to see their efforts and he was prepared with his opinions; careful and tactful about the average sketches but gushing about the remarkable ones.
One of those had captured Miles in pencil that was almost unsettlingly realistic; both legs crossed and arms stretched behind him. His penis was a prominent feature but only because it was so large.
Miles was perfectly aware that his dick was bigger than average. Ironically, that was what was so embarrassing. Miles knew quite nicely that being too different evoked ridicule; this dick is too big and this dick is too small but this dick is just right! Miles had been anxious about nudity not because he had a small cock but because having a large one was just as worthy of attention.
"Ok, last pose, Miles?" Mr Wainwright said as he closed the door.
Mr Wainwright calculatingly walked into the centre of the room and gestured for Miles to remove his robe again. This time, Miles did so without hesitation. He was getting cocky, Mr Wainwright thought. Mr Wainwright folded the robe and put it over the body of his satchel which he then placed on a table outside the centre, behind the artists.
In his last pose for the first group, Miles lay on his stomach on the chaise lounge. His lower legs in the air and crossed at the ankles and his head propped up on his hands as he looked at the artists. Miles was quite happy to hide his dick from the final batch of drawings but now his ass was being rendered in detail – small, peachy and virginal. Mr Wainwright gave the artists a five minute warning and during the final minutes, Miles day dreamed about what poses the second class might demand of him.
"Ok, thank you everyone..." Mr Wainwright told the class.
There was a murmur of thanks around the room – directed at both Mr Wainwright and Miles. Miles remained on his tummy while the class dismissed but as soon as he last one was out, Mr Wainwright grabbed his satchel.
"You were excellent, Miles," Mr Wainwright complimented. "You did a fit class job for your inaugural life modelling session."
"Thanks," Miles replied happily.
"There's twenty minutes until the next group starts," the Art teacher added. "I hope you don't mind if I leave you here but I have a quick thing I need to deal with in my office."
Before Miles could even reply, the man was gone. He'd been in a hurry – it must be urgent. Miles sat up and walked over to the desk to get his robe... where was the robe? Then miles remembered it was on top of Mr Wainwright satchel. He must have accidentally taken it with him.
Miles was stranded naked in the seminar room.
DO I KNOW YOU?
Miles actually contemplated covering his boy bits and just going to Mr Wainwright's office but even he wasn't that brave. He couldn't walk around Newton Mavity College stark naked. Instead, Miles hunted around the room for something else to wear but there was nothing. Was being nude for twenty minutes so bad? At least he was alone and not posing, right?
The trouble was, it was boring.
Miles wandered around the room, covering his genitals for the first five minutes or so but it seemed pretty pointless since he was alone and the second group of artists would see him naked anyway. After a while, Miles almost forgot he was nude, relaxing as he lounged around or wandered about the room.
Miles must have zoned out because 1) he became aware of laughing and 2) realised it had been going on for several seconds before he'd really noticed it. Miles looked over at the seminar room door that was now open and in the doorway were two boys. They were both a few years older than him and worse of all, Miles recognised them. The oldest, Alan, had a brother in Year 11 (Miles's cohort) and the other, Brady, was in Year 13 at his school.
Also, they had their phones aimed at him!
Miles clamped his hands securely over his dick. He was pretty sure they'd only seen his bare ass until now and he didn't want them to see his penis. This was a stupid thing to think as they were going to see it when he modelled for the next hour and a half.
They were still standing in the threshold and Miles was all the way across the room. If he thought being seen by boys he recognised was bad just wait until they recognised him!
"You are way better looking than our usual model," said Alan.
Alan's gaze hadn't lifted higher than the nipples and was substantially focussed on Mile's covered privates and before he'd faced them on the boy's twinky ass.
Alan was a tall and gangly lad of eighteen. He was wearing blue denim shorts with a pale blue cuffs just above the knee; his t-shirt had a stretched neckline so his chest was on show. Alan was surprisingly hairy – with a furry chest and the hair on his leg was like a weeping willow (salix babylonica). He had left Chase Foundling High School last year and had a reputation for causing trouble; his little brother, who was in Miles' classes, was also a troublemaker.
"Yea, you're pretty... pretty... do I know you from somewhere?" asked Brady.
Brady was a little taller than Miles with a lightweight boxers physique and a nose to match. He had beady brown eyes and was dressed in a black muscle t-shirt. Brady and Alan had stepped into the room and were moving towards Miles now. Any second, they were sure to realise who he was.
Miles felt his asshole tighten and his balls shrink and his nipples getting hard in response to the impending embarrassment. He hadn't expected to recognise or be recognised by anyone.
"Don't think so," Miles said lied.
Miles was trying to aim himself away so they wouldn't see his face properly but it just offered them a profile shot of his thin body, his petite ass, his long bare legs and feet and of course his cupped genitals. They chuckled and raised their phones (Miles looked away) – the sound of a shutter sealing the digital image.
"Hey! You shouldn't do that without asking me," Miles complained.
The phones lowered grudgingly.
"Wait a sec, I do recognise you!" Brady said enthusiastically. "This kid goes to my school."
"That's hilarious," Alan added. "So, you're in like... Year 10 or something?"
"Year 11," Miles corrected him.
Miles was embarrassed beyond belief. He was bare foot and bare arsed with two boys who knew him from school and the only thing to cover his modesty were his hands.
"Right. And you're a naked model?" Alan replied.
"Life model, yes. But this is my first-time modelling..." Miles didn't want to say naked.
"In the scud?" Bradley teased him.
Miles nodded.
"That's hilarious," Alan said again. "My brother is in Year 11. You know Alfie Abbot?"
"Yea, I know him," Miles admitted with a blush.
Alfie was a very cute boy and less of a trouble maker than Alan had been at school but still had a reputation for being unruly.
"Does he know you model with your knob out?" Alan asked.
"No," Miles responded emphatically.
"Maybe I could send him a picture of you?" Alan lifted his phone.
"What? No! Please," Miles pleaded.
"C'mon. Move your hands, it'll be funny," Alan insisted.
"No. Alfie will spread it all over school," Miles said in terror.
"Even better. Brady, grab his hands," Alan said.
"No!" Miles took a step back.
"We'd better not, man," Brady said reasonably. "We don't want to get kicked out the class. We're on probation, remember?"
"Ah fuck," Alan complained and lowered the phone.
Now Miles remembered – six months ago Alan and Brady had been arrested for stealing a mobility scooter from Tesco and crashing it into the canal. Also, they'd loaded a 55 inch TV onto the scooter which really didn't have the speed for a getaway vehicle. They had been given community service and had to attend remedial classes at the college. They'd chosen Mr Wainwrights Art class because they thought it would be easy. They had actually discovered a genuine interest in Art and were above average.
"You won't tell people at school, will you?" Miles asked the pair but especially Brady who still attended (sometimes).
They both looked at each other and felt a stab of compassion for the boy. They weren't heartless.
"Are we going to see you posing naked?" Brady asked by way of reply.
"Y- yea," Miles stuttered.
"So we're going to get to see your little dick?" Brady added.
Miles nodded and wondered if they'd still think he was little once they'd seen his plump prick.
"Sounds like a good deal to me," Alan commented.
"Ok, we promise not to tell anyone at school," Brady asserted.
Then Brady thrust out his hand for Miles to shake on it. To shake Brady' hand would mean covering his not-insubstantial dick with only one hand.
"You sure you want to shake my hand?" Miles tried to put him off. "I've been touching my balls with them."
"I was already willing to shake on it, I don't need more of an incentive," Brady replied with a smirk.
Was Brady flirting with him?
Miles extracted his right hand, keeping as much of his genitals covered with just his left hand. The root of his dick peeked into view and so did his right testicle. Miles took Brady's hand and they shook.
"Wow, I thought you were fifteen, where are your pubes?" Alan said.
Alan wasn't being an asshole... well, he was a bit... but he liked teasing and winding people up.
"Have you checked between your teeth?" Miles shot back cheekily.
Brady burst out laughing, taking his hand back, and even Alan joined in.
"Good one," Alan agreed. "Even if it does look like you've just started puberty."
With that snarky comment, they started sauntering off and it was then that two new people came into the room. Miles didn't recognise them and they did their best not to overtly undress him (so to speak) with their eyes, but they clearly had an eye for him. It was a professional interest though – not as detached as the last class but certainly an artistic gaze.
"Hello there," said the older of the two. "I'm Hank and this is my nephew Wilbur."
Hank was in his late thirties but in good shape. He looked like a total DILF rocking too good a physique to call it a dad-bod. Wilbur meanwhile was around 19-21 years old with his hair almost shaved and green eyes.
"Hi, I'm Miles," he replied politely.
Neither of them offered to shake hands to preserve Miles' dignity.
"Shouldn't you have a robe?" Wilbur suggested.
"Don't encourage him to cover up!" Alan chided good naturedly.
Next entered a very handsome young black man with a short bearded and after him a Saudi Arabian man who's brown eyes might have been the most beautiful thing Miles had ever seen. He later learned their names were Usher and Qasism.
Miles felt embarrassed to be standing around naked but not modelling. He simply felt exposed. Modelling wasn't like that – not even the earlier nude modelling. Modelling was an activity but now Miles was basically just standing around nude.
Another two people entered, chatting and stopping briefly as the registered the young, beautiful, naked teenager.
"Well it itches like hell," said a shaggy haired young man with a deep tan.
In fact, Miles couldn't tell if it was a tan or a Mediterranean heritage. He was scratching his arm which he'd brushed against a particularly ferocious nettle while gardening. He was still wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt with GREEN'S GARDENING embossed on it.
"Well Keaton..." the other lad with him saw Miles, stuttered, and then continued. "I-I-I'd suggest Anthasan cream. It's an antihistamine you can buy over the counter."
"I might need your help to apply it everywhere, Gordon," Keaton flirted and Gordon blushed.
Gordon was a bleached blonde young man with his hair dyed blue on the sides. He was in his late twenties and worked as a nurse. He hated his job.
"Everybody here?" asked Mr Wainwright as he came back into the room.
The Art teacher looked around and did a head count (eight) so four still to come. The man supressed a smirk when he saw Miles was nude but of course he was, Mr Wainwright had deliberately taken the robe with him.
"Miles, you're exposing yourself already?" Mr Wainwright commented.
He chose his words carefully: 1) to place the blame for nakedness on Miles, and 2) to emphasise Miles' display before the modelling had even begun.
"I don't have the robe," Miles replied but he didn't want to sound critical. "I think you might have taken it with you when you went to your office."
"Oh. Sorry about that," Mr Wainwright answered with regret he did not mean. "And now I've gone and left it and my satchel in the office."
"Not to worry, we're going to start soon and Miles doesn't mind, do you?" Alan chipped in cheekily.
"Oh... eh..." Miles started to say. Yes, obviously. "No, it's fine."
"Oh! Hey! Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino, right?" asked a voice and Miles felt his balls contract with embarrassment.
The twenty-one-year-old who had just spoken was named Micah. He was skipping in from the door with excitement having seen the naked model and even more interested to realise he recognised the model. Miles recognised Micah in return.
Micah had brown skin and sweet eyes and lips, scruffy facial hair and a flirtatious character. Also he worked in Starbucks. How the fuck was Miles meant to get his Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino from the store after Micah had seen his fucking penis!?
"I... I just go by Miles, usually," Miles joked.
Micah laughed but was checking Miles out. He hadn't realised the boy was so fit. He'd always seen that Miles was cute but his tiny little ass and that thin waist and both hands covering his boyhood... wow.
"I didn't know you were a life model," Micah said.
"Yea but this is my first time doing it with no clothes on," Miles admitted.
"I wanted the store manager to let me run an Art workshop on Tuesday afternoons. They're always really quiet," Micah observed.
"I bet the store would be creamed... I mean crammed... if you had Miles modelling," Brady chirped.
"Yea. Maybe put him in the front of the main window, facing outwards, flashing everyone who passes by," Alan embellished. "What were we talking about again?"
"I was talking about Art and Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino's," Micah said tersely.
Micah liked Alan and Brady most of the time but they could be very immature and they were a bad influence on him.
"I bet your milkshakes bring all the boys to the store," Brady said.
"Fuck you, Brady," Micah replied while laughing and giving him both middle fingers.
Brady and Micah hugged in a bro-ish way and then Alan got in on the action too.
"Perhaps we should make a start. We're only waiting for... Carson..." Mr Wainwright started to cite the missing artists, one of whom had clearly just arrived.
Miles turned to see who Carson was and recognised this young man too. He worked in Tesco. He was always chatty when Miles went through the self-service checkout. Miles knew he was participating in the robbery of checkout roles by using self-service but also it was faster and he got to see Carson's ass squeezed into generic uniform trousers.
"Sorry I'm late, I didn't leave the house on time," Carson explained facetiously. "Hey, I know you."
Miles cringed that the lad had recognised him. Another store Miles would need to avoid in the future or risk humiliation. He just imagined buying bread and milk while Carson looked at him and remembered the time he'd seen Miles's willy.
"Yea. Hi," Miles replied.
"Hey," Carson said as he found a spot to draw. "You look really cute with all your clothes off."
"Thanks," Miles replied shyly.
Fuck! Why did so many people who knew him attend this Art Class?
(Because Mr Wainwright had arranged it).
Ten people were now arrayed in a semi-circle that would study Miles for the next hour and a half. Four of them knew and recognised Miles and the others were now sure to remember him.
"Right, as I was saying. We should make a start; we're only waiting for..." Mr Wainwright stopped midsentence. "Sorry, I thought Ezra and Spencer would walk in and I'd look prophetic."
The artists and Miles chuckled at the joke.
There was an excitement from most of the artist now because they were finally going to see Miles naked. Well, obviously Miles was already naked, but they were going to see him expose himself. Most of the artists had a professional curiosity.
Alan and Brady wanted to laugh at the boy they knew from school; it wasn't every day you saw a fellow student's willy. Even if they kept their promise not to tell anyone, they'd have each other to discuss the mortifying moment with.
Micah and Carson were thinking how they'd never look at the customer the same again. He was just boy who came into Starbucks/ Tesco sometimes and now he'd be the boy whose penis they had seen.
POSE/ EXPOSE
"Miles, for the first pose, I'd like you on all fours..." Mr Wainwright started to say.
"I want him on all fours too," Alan said.
"I call dibs," Brady jumped in.
"You two, stop that," Mr Wainwright admonished half-heartedly.
"Down on all fours, buttocks towards the door. Facing us," Mr Wainwright concluded.
Mr Wainwright liked this pose because it meant Miles' dangly bits would droop beneath his body. Miles wouldn't be able to cover his genitals or his face would therefore be in all the sketches. Moreover, anyone entering the room would see Miles' hole and his dick between his velvety thighs. Mr Wainwright was very much looking forward to the reaction of the boys once they saw Miles had a big, floppy penis.
Miles walked into the centre of the room again and slipped off the flipflops. He had still been covering his privates but now was the moment he would have to reveal them. Miled uncovered his genitals and the ten men in the room (eleven including Mr Wainwright) got an eyeful. Miles's five inch dick and plump teenage balls came as a surprise to this group too.
"Whoa, look at the size of that thing," Alan said.
Miles blushed and rather thought Alan had impulse control problems if he couldn't (or wouldn't) censor himself. He seemed to say whatever same into his head.
"You have a big dick for a such little dude," Brady commented.
Miles knelt on the edge of the chaise lounge and then swivelled around to face the artists. He put his hands forward and looked up at them. Miles was more or less in the yoga cat-cow pose. He could feel their eyes on his bare chest with his perky nipples and oval bellybutton the most prominent feature above the waist. The big feature was the five inch dangle of his penis and the sagging of his testicles.
Miles' bare feet and bare back were facing the door to the seminar room. More importantly, his sweet, small, tight, peachy, virgin asshole was facing the door. Mr Wainwright smirked when he saw two students pass by the open door, realise what they had seen, and then step back to look again. Miles never knew that the pair had raised their phones and taken pictures of the fifteen year old. If they'd known he was just a schoolboy, they wouldn't have jerked off while looking at the pictures later that night; Miles' bare feet and hairless legs, his pink and puckered hole, smooth back and the droopy tube of penile flesh between his bald thighs.
These details were the first thing the last two artists saw when they entered the room. Miles' naked ass was a thing of absolute beauty. They arrived only a few minutes after the first twenty minute pose had begun.
"Wow! Look at that!"
"Fuck, where has this hot model been all our lives?"
"Sorry to objectify you..." the first voice started to say.
The two newcomers were still behind Miles. They stood for a moment admiring Miles's bare feet and the sweet cheeks of his hairless ass. Not to mention the fact his dick and balls were sagging between his smooth thighs. The newcomers very much wished they could take a picture of it to masturbate to later. They each imagined pushing their throbbing cocks into the model's ass, thrusting hard until he squealed.
If the model looked this good from behind, they imagined his face and full-frontal would be even better. Having seen how hot the model was, they didn't even want to draw him now. Slinging under his body to suck every drop of cum from his cock would be much more appealing.
"Don't worry about it, we've been objectifying him for ten minutes," Alan told them.
"Ha, nice. Fuck, how big is his dick? You should see it from behind! Sorry. Sorry, it's just your ass is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Definitely. We can see your perianal and scrotal raphe."
It was then that the two men in their thirties came into view and Martin's jaw dropped.
The two men who had talked about the beauty of his nudity...
The two men who had imagined sucking Miles' cock...
The two men who had imagined having anal sex with him...
They were both teachers at his school. Ezra Coleman was Miles's Maths teacher and Spencer Lumsden was his PE teacher.
"Wow, your dick looks even better..."
The two teachers stopped dead when they suddenly recognised him. Fuck, they'd been objectifying a student from their own school. What was his name again? What year was he in? Why was he naked? Why couldn't they stop looking at his impressive dick?
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
This chapter has introduced a brand new character and explores the exposure and embarrassment of someone with the exact opposite problem that Martin had in chapters 1-3. The two characters will meet soon, but first Miles must finish his first life modelling class. The story continues next week.
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.
Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.