Naked In School

"Well, since we’ve just been friends all these years, you wouldn’t know-but, yeah, I kinda am," I giggled.

"Wow. The things you learn from someone when they’re naked," he laughed.

"Tell me about it. You should have those hands registered, or something. Insure them for a million bucks. My goodness."

He cracked up. "Jeez, and all that time I was doing finger exercises and touch-sensitivity exercises, I thought I was just learning the knuckleball."

"Fuck the knuckleball," I laughed. He chuckled, and I happened to look behind me. My two erstwhile best friends were right behind us and had heard every word. You know what? To hell with it. "You just passed from the knuckleball hall of fame to the finger-fucking hall of fame." Did you hear that, girls? Hee hee hee.

"I think I’ll take that one," he grinned. We got to class, and he went up on the podium. It was his day to pose. Which means, I had to draw.

"Welcome. Yes, Frankie, it’s your turn. I even brought your favorite prop." Frankie laughed as Mrs. Taylor handed him a baseball bat. "We’ll do this one first." She arranged him in a standard batting stance. His body was facing the class, his head pointed to the right of the class-as if the pitcher’s mound was out there. It was the kind of view you’d get from the first-base on-deck circle. (I knew a little baseball!) Mrs. Taylor had him get in position as if he was waiting for the pitch. "Just look out there like you’re waiting for one of Lily Woodard’s fastballs," she said.

Without getting out of his stance, Frankie started creeping backwards. The whole class broke up at that one. "Hey, Lily’s a teammate. I don’t have to hit against her. Thank GOD," he said, making us all laugh louder. Even Mrs. Taylor, then she had him get back in the stance.

I drew-which I had to concentrate at, as I wasn’t that good-but I looked as I drew. I’d seen Frankie play baseball before, but not where I was concentrating on it like this-and not while he was nude. Look, Frankie wasn’t a big guy. The ‘scrawny’ stuff was a joke as far as I was concerned-he wasn’t-but he wasn’t a massive specimen. He was short, and fairly thin-but he was trim and athletic. His muscles didn’t bulge, but they were there, sinewy and flexible. He held the bat above his head, and I saw them. His legs, spread slightly in his batting stance, were fairly thin, but firm and strong. And when he stood there, glaring at an imaginary pitcher, bat held high above his head-he really was transformed. He looked ten feet tall.

Jesus. I was having these thoughts? About Frankie? Lord. This was one hell of a post-orgasmic bliss!

I did the best I could with the drawing, then Mrs. Taylor re-posed him. She had him lie on the couch as I did yesterday. He had his head on the far left armrest, looking upwards. His left leg was flat on the couch, his right one bent behind it. His left arm was hidden behind his body, his right one hanging off the couch and touching the floor.

And he had an erection. It wasn’t as noticeable in the batting stance pose, but here? It was pointing to the sky.

"Is that OK? Can you hold that?" Mrs. Taylor asked.

"Well, I don’t know where the hard-on came from, so there’s no guarantee it won’t go away, but I can hold the rest of it," he laughed.

I couldn’t help it. I blurted out, "Just keep thinking of what you did to me two periods ago." He looked at me, grinned-and got harder!

Poor Frankie. I’m a menace to society, I really am. "What was that about?" Amanda, sitting next to me, leaned over and asked.

"I was complaining about nobody feeling me up. So he did. Very well, I might add," I admitted. Amanda just grinned at me.

Anyhow, now I had to try to draw him like this. OK, I admit it. I drew his dick first.

I wasn’t kidding in Mr. Tilling’s office. As I said, I didn’t think he was scrawny anywhere, but he most certainly wasn’t scrawny there. So I drew his dick, paying very close attention to every vein and bulge, and then moved on to the rest of him.

That’s when it hit me. I wanted it. My God, I was having sexual thoughts. About Frankie! My buddy, my pal! I was having sexual thoughts about Frankie Gutierrez. Hey, I could pass off what he did to me as just a pal helping a pal out. But I couldn’t pass off this-looking at him naked and getting little quivers. I couldn’t pass that off. I wanted him, dammit.

Jesus, it had been too long. I hadn’t been fucked in a couple months. I’m not really insatiable, but, as I said, there wasn’t anything I liked better than a good orgasm. And, as I said, I felt safe around Frankie, especially now that he knew about the scars and they didn’t disgust him.

That’s it. That’s all it is, I told myself. It’s just that it’s been too long, and I’m horny. I mean, I can’t have sex with Frankie! Look, I didn’t have many male friends, and Frankie was the best of them. I treasured that. And I’m not the type of person that can take a friend to bed and leave it at that. Some people can, like Maggie Benson, but I’m not built that way. I’ve had a one-night stand or two-I probably would have had more if I weren’t desperately trying to keep the scars covered-so I’m not opposed to them. But with a friend? I don’t think I could pull that off.

Draw, Cassie, draw. Get your mind off of it. Draw something safe, like his hand. Oh, yeah, right, what am I thinking? I tried to draw his hand and started quivering worse. I drew his feet instead. Good thing I don’t have a foot fetish.

I finally finished. I wasn’t that good to begin with-and I wasn’t concentrating all too well!

CHAPTER SEVEN FRANKIE

What a morning, huh?

What got into me when I did Cassie? I don’t know. I really don’t. It really was just an impulse. But I’m glad I did it, because it was fun to watch. Boy, is she a firecracker! I never knew that about her, I can guarantee you. I just figure I’d give her a quick feel-I didn’t think I had time to make her cum. But it didn’t take much time at all.

And then she kept joking about it for two periods!

After I did the two poses, Mrs. Taylor let me walk around the room, stretch, and look at the drawings, as she did with Cass yesterday. I saw the two vultures, Missy and Laura, and had to laugh. Laura drew me as Quasimodo or something. Missy drew me as a stick-figure holding an enormous baseball bat. If this was the best they could come up with, I wasn’t worried.

Amanda can draw pretty well. I liked the way hers came out, and told her so. Natalie’s were magnificent, of course. And then I walked over to Cassie’s-and my jaw dropped. Cassie’s not the greatest artist in the world-neither am I, so that’s not criticism-but she’s good enough for me to see where she was going with it.

The batting stance one, she made me look like Mark McGwire-six-five with bulging muscles. And the prone one? She seemed to take a lot of time and care drawing my dick!

Uh-oh. What was going on in this girl’s mind?

"Those are really good," was all I said. She smiled, and I headed back to the front for another pose. A sitting one this time. Sitting on the couch, arms spread out along the top of the couch, looking at the class and grinning. I held the pose, thinking.

Did I make a mistake getting Cassie off?

I didn’t know what she was thinking, and didn’t know how to ask her. But the drawings were worrisome. It almost looked like, well, she was interested in me. In that way. And that could never happen. We were too good friends for that. And if Cass was as insatiable as she said she was-well, she was horny. Some guys can take a friend to bed and still be friends afterwards. I can’t. I’ve tried it. It was a disaster. Because I wanted more than just a quick fuck-and, afterwards, she didn’t.

Rosa’s not the only incurable romantic in the family, I guess.

The Program is a dangerous thing, I decided. I had been friends with Cass for over six years. Had I ever thought about her romantically? No. Was that because I truly wasn’t interested, or I was forcing myself not to be interested for the sake of our friendship? I don’t know. Had I ever thought of her sexually? Not really. Was I now?