Stories Hub / Exhibitionist & Voyeur / Nude Day, Birthday, Art Grade

Nude Day, Birthday, Art Grade

by NJR_Kole 07/12/18

Chapter 1

A Pose in Revealing Clothes

Cassie Jansen could scarcely believe that anyone could hold a pose for so long, or that a professor might show so much of herself in class.

It was getting late in the day. On any other Friday afternoon, many a student might watch the clock out of impatience to enjoy the weekend. A more studious pupil might feel pressured to spend the next couple days focused on homework. Ordinarily Cassie would fall into the latter category. Now she found herself glancing again and again at the time only to confirm her sense that the art teacher had held a difficult pose for almost an hour. Still, like all the other students presently assembled, most of her attention was on the teacher.

Ms. Aster stood on tiptoe in ballet shoes and little else. She'd stretched her arms wide as if basking in heavenly elation, as if those limbs were angel wings. Somehow she retained that position, staying so still she might have been a statue. She took such slow and deep breaths that she scarcely seemed to be breathing at all.

Over most of the year, Ms. Aster was the college dance instructor. In the summer session, while another professor was away, Aster filled in teaching a class on figure drawing and painting. On this July afternoon, she looked as if she was still in dance mode. She looked frozen in dance mode.

Aster had slipped off a short robe of burgundy silk to reveal a scant leotard. Even if the garment hadn't been the same shade as her pale skin, she'd have looked virtually nude. The leotard covered little. A deep diving décolletage revealed a great deal of cleavage. The sheer fabric obscured nothing of her protruding nipples, nor of areolae so dark they might have been inked on. The garment rode high enough up the hip to expose most of her posterior, and clung tight enough to hug the folds of her labia majora.

Aster conducted this class in the same room of the East wing where she taught dance through the rest of the year. She now posed before the large mirror which ran along the far wall. Both her front and back were on display to everyone in class, so that each student could sketch her from either angle or both.

Cassie rarely developed a deep crush on any instructor, though she could admit to herself that she had felt vague attractions to this one or that. The gender didn't matter to Cassie. What did was a striking balance of keen intellect, pleasing demeanor, and facial symmetry. Still Cassie had been too focused on her studies in math and science to entertain a fantasy of getting any teacher naked.

She did hold one dream she couldn't consciously admit to herself. Cassie imagined getting naked herself. She dreamed of doing it in front of a teacher, in front of a whole class, in front of the whole school.

As Cassie's subconscious wish tried to slide forth into her conscious mind, her own nipples hardened. Her nethers tingled and grew wet. She breathed deeper. She thought the whole class could hear that breath, and imagined they could extrapolate from its shuddering roughness her secret fantasy. That idea in itself presented a frightening and titillating thrill.

But it wasn't her own breath she'd heard. It had been that of Ms. Aster.

The instructor's barely perceptible breaths had quickened. Her already mesmerizing chest now rose and fell.

Cassie realized that she could hear little else. All pencil scratchings had stopped. She glanced around the room. The other students stared as if hypnotized. Cassie noticed the nearest three in particular.

Eddie, the college football team's quarterback, pulled at the crotch of his pants.

Debra, the snootiest person Cassie had met since high school, licked her lips.

Robert, who always dressed as if attending a Victorian dinner party, tugged at a collar buttoned up to the neck. For once, he'd brushed his long hair out of his face. He had a strong jawline, sensuous lips for a guy, and deep-set blue eyes. The rumour was that Robert was homosexual. If it were true, Cassie didn't think he'd look at Ms. Aster that way. His expression was that of a puppy smelling a sumptuous feast and hoping for just a taste. Cassie had wondered how he could stand to wear dark layers in the Summer heat. Now she saw how. He couldn't have been wearing underpants. He had a long, thick bulge. It pushed not up at his zipper—as it would had he been wearing briefs—but ran down one thigh. Its girth strained against his trousers. Cassie supposed he might been wearing boxers, but she doubted it. That was one layer he'd gone without.

Cassie developed feelings for classmates even more rarely than she did for her professors. At eighteen, one day from her nineteenth birthday, so many her age were obnoxiously loud. Though she still lived with her family, she could academically understand the riotous sense of freedom others must feel in being out from under direct parental control for the first time. Cassie just didn't care to be around the noise.

Robert was a rare quiet one. He seldom spoke in class except when called upon. When he did have something to say, he managed to convey unusual insight despite any initial shy stuttering. He and Cassie had barely spoken out of class. In passing, she had thought him cute. Now she felt something unexpected.


If Robert was going to get hard in his overly formal trousers, Cassie wanted to be the cause. If the whole class was going to stare at a half naked figure, let it be hers. Half naked? Hell! Cassie wanted to go completely nude in front of them. That would be thrilling.

Now her subconscious desire didn't just tease the front of her mind. It slid all the way in, filling space ordinarily occupied by matters of mathematic and chemical equations.

Cassie squirmed in her seat, rubbing her thighs together. She could smell excitement in the air. The scent of arousal would be more telling, more suggestive than her own heavy breathing. Again she fancied that other students could detect her arousal. But like the sound of deep breathing, the erotic aroma might not have have been hers alone. It could have come from any girl in the class. Even the supposedly heterosexual, like Debra, seemed to stare with lust at their instructor. But Cassie spotted the scent's most likely origin. She she saw a trace of dampness in Ms. Aster's leotard, rendering the already sheer material outright transparent.

Cassie doubted her senses. Had the teacher gotten wet living out the very fantasy of which Cassie had only dreamed?

With a long and languid sigh the instructor relaxed her posture, set back from her toes and onto her heels, and slowly lowered her arms. She reclaimed and donned the red silk robe, tied it loosely about the waist, leaving her cleavage uncovered but hiding the juncture of the thighs.

Looking groggy or sheepishly guilty, students blinked as if coming out of a trance. Many made subtle little adjustments to their clothes, especially around the groin.

Ordinarily Ms. Aster would stroll around the room, perusing the work of her students. Now she sat cross-legged atop a nearby stool. The robe rode high up thighs. She folded her hands over her lap in a prim manner stunted minds would find at odds with her scant attire. In formal mode of speech layered with an accent Cassie had never quite been able to trace, Aster addressed the class.

"Before I release you to the wilds of the weekend, I wish to tell you of a special class I shall conduct this Saturday."

The prospect of an extra workload would sometimes make students groan aloud. This time no one did, not even Cassie, who hadn't solidified her birthday plans anyway

"This lesson will not be compulsory," Aster continued, "But I highly recommend you attend, if not to practice an art or broaden your appreciation of it then to attain some extra credit."

Word of extra credit had Cassie's full attention.

"This will be a long session, starting here at noon and running to six. After that, two may be selected to participate in an exhibition that evening. They will receive still more credit."

An exhibition? While Cassie had a fine technical understanding of human anatomy, her figure drawings had little flair. She couldn't claim to have developed a style worthy of exhibition.

Still that extra credit tempted, and not just Cassie. A couple other students murmured about it.

Aster stood. She ran her fingers down the front of her robe, smoothing out the silk in another strangely prim gesture. "Class dismissed."

Students gathered up their sketchbooks and pencils, and rose to their feet. Over the bustling noise, Aster called out, "I do want to see a few of you before you go; Eddy, Brenda, Robert, and Cassie."

Cassie's heart pounded. She thought she had some idea why she'd been called.

She didn't know the half of it.


Chapter 2

After Class Consultation

Ms. Aster's office bore the sort of furnishings Cassie associated with an English Lit professor rather than someone who ever worked with something so messy as paint. There were hard bound books arranged on a shelf of dark wood. There was a long oxblood leather sofa. A matching leather chair stood at the far side of a sturdy antique desk. Two elegant wooden chairs stood before it.

As in the classroom, Aster had shuttered every window against natural light in favor of artificial beams which could be consistently aimed wherever needed. At present, only a desk lamp with an amber shade illuminated the office.

Aster sat behind the desk. Her robe fell open enough to expose one breast. Beads of Summer sweat had appeared on her chest and dampened the leotard. The nipple stood out more visibly than in class. She might as well have been nude. She didn't seem to notice. She extended a hand. "May I see today's work?"

All four opened their sketch books to the latest page and handed them across the desk. Aster perused Debra's drawing. That work consisted only of a few listless lines. Eddie's sketch featured a cartoonish exaggeration of Ms. Aster's already ample chest. The instructor's expression remained neutral. She returned their books without comment.

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