on October 1, 2011
It was four twenty 4:20Pm and im in my first class as a nude art model, the Hot young attractive instructor told me to get into a pose I could hold for 20 minutes. Not only was this a turned on but i was on a platform in the middle of the room; about 10 young sexy students(all hot girls and guys) , two of them young Russian males, they all stood around me in a semicircle. I got down on my knees, put my forearms on the floor, and rested my head on my clasped hands. One of the sexy women called out "Great pose!" with such enthusiasm that for the first time in that session I felt really, really naked and really really good.
I recently spent two classes as a model at Colorado, Denver College for a cancer awareness gathering. This was an activity that perfectly fulfilled the Human image of a genie pig mandate: to humiliate myself doing things normal people are curious about but too normal to do themselves. After I left a message at the dispensary indicating my availability, the model coordinator, called me for a preliminary interview. It turned out to be no problem that I'd never modeled before—as long as I was willing to be nude for my maiden voyage.I was told to wear a wig also.
My model poses with such confort motivated me to do more:
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MJ invited me for an in-person interview, where she quickly approved me then gave some crucial advice. She said I should bring a bathrobe to class to wear during breaks.
I had met the two essential model requirements:
1) I owned a bathrobe.
2) I was willing to take it off.
She consulted her schedule. She penciled me in for one teacher then nixed it: "No. One of the models told me this instructor likes the models to walk around and interact with the students." Geez, was I supposed to sidle up to a young artist and say, "Is that a paintbrush in your pocket?" She considered another class, made up of freshmen, but said it was better to let experienced models deal with new students early in the semester.settled on an evening class, consisting largely of adult-education students. I would be paid $15 an hour. I wondered why it was so hard to find and keep models. It sounded like the ideal job: earning almost three times the minimum wage just to sit on your rump.
On the appointed night I arrived early, after going through what I realized was the silly-under-the-circumstances ritual of wondering what to wear. I changed into my bathrobe in the restroom and waited in class while the students arrived. I was relieved to see they were almost all women between the ages of 20 and 60—although, disturbingly, one was a teenage boy. i was told me to start with 10 one-minute poses. I asked if she had any particular poses in mind. She shook her head, "I never tell models what to do."
Here is the distinction between naked and nude. Naked is when you step out of the shower before you've put on your bathrobe. Nude is when you drop your bathrobe in front of a roomful of art students. As I undid the sash to my bathrobe, I had the fleeting thought that I could say, "I don't know what I was thinking," then grab my clothes and run. But I opened the sash, took off my robe, and stepped up on the platform.
I recently spent two classes as a model at Colorado, Denver College for a cancer awareness gathering. This was an activity that perfectly fulfilled the Human image of a genie pig mandate: to humiliate myself doing things normal people are curious about but too normal to do themselves. After I left a message at the dispensary indicating my availability, the model coordinator, called me for a preliminary interview. It turned out to be no problem that I'd never modeled before—as long as I was willing to be nude for my maiden voyage.I was told to wear a wig also.
My model poses with such confort motivated me to do more:
Advertisement through the 420Nurses~
MJ invited me for an in-person interview, where she quickly approved me then gave some crucial advice. She said I should bring a bathrobe to class to wear during breaks.
I had met the two essential model requirements:
1) I owned a bathrobe.
2) I was willing to take it off.
She consulted her schedule. She penciled me in for one teacher then nixed it: "No. One of the models told me this instructor likes the models to walk around and interact with the students." Geez, was I supposed to sidle up to a young artist and say, "Is that a paintbrush in your pocket?" She considered another class, made up of freshmen, but said it was better to let experienced models deal with new students early in the semester.settled on an evening class, consisting largely of adult-education students. I would be paid $15 an hour. I wondered why it was so hard to find and keep models. It sounded like the ideal job: earning almost three times the minimum wage just to sit on your rump.
On the appointed night I arrived early, after going through what I realized was the silly-under-the-circumstances ritual of wondering what to wear. I changed into my bathrobe in the restroom and waited in class while the students arrived. I was relieved to see they were almost all women between the ages of 20 and 60—although, disturbingly, one was a teenage boy. i was told me to start with 10 one-minute poses. I asked if she had any particular poses in mind. She shook her head, "I never tell models what to do."
Here is the distinction between naked and nude. Naked is when you step out of the shower before you've put on your bathrobe. Nude is when you drop your bathrobe in front of a roomful of art students. As I undid the sash to my bathrobe, I had the fleeting thought that I could say, "I don't know what I was thinking," then grab my clothes and run. But I opened the sash, took off my robe, and stepped up on the platform.
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