Naked with Female Course Mates

One time I saw an interview where a writer said that 1/3 of what he wrote had happened in reality, 1/3 was things he had read and 1/3 was his imagination. The following is like 1/16 from my real life, 3/16 from what I read, and 13/16 fantasy. Don't expect anything like this to happen in real life.

In the story, a 23 year old is mentioned, all other characters are decades older than 18 (also 23≥18).

This took place the summer I was 40, I took a summer course in poetry. The school form is called "Folkhögskola", and it is a school form here in Sweden that is often found in rural areas and it... no you're not interested in that, nor are you interested in the poetry. I wasn't the only man in the class, not that it mattered but I am quite sure the other guy in the group was gay. He didn't play any part of this story anyway. He had already left school when this happened.

I myself was still long-haired from the Covid era and I had finally managed to grow what I thought was a sexy stubble. No grey hair in my beard yet. I have a few tattoos and a few muscles on my body. My attempts to get piercings as a young man, however, did not go well. With some exceptions, my body never managed to heal piercings, maybe because I did it myself. The exceptions were in the septum and penis, which actually healed. I didn't have any jewelry there, so it didn't matter.

On the last day, we were invited to stay with Nicole, a slightly over 50-year-old woman in the course. She did not live at the school but in a house near it. She stood out not only because she had her own villa outside the village but because she was from Congo Brazzaville. She had ended up here because she met a Swedish man at the University of Cambridge where she was studying tropical infectious diseases, they had married and she was working at the Karolinska Institute, Stockholm. However she said she was separated. I didn't dare ask but Congo Brazzaville was colonised by a Catholic country. If they married Catholic, would it have been difficult for her to get a divorce?

Another older woman, but under 50, Julia who was wearing a shirt with the words "Matriarchy now!", printed on it, asked me if I wanted to join them for dinner. As I said, the other man in the course had left us. I thought the gentleman thing to do was ask if they didn't want to have an all girls dinner but they instead. "I'm happy to come along. As long as I can catch the 9.30pm train." By the way, Julia had written a poem about her experience in the music industry and the Roskilde festival. "It's not even the third wildest story I have from a festival."

At the dinner we were five people. Me, Nicole, Julia, Nadja, and Gabrielle. The last two were more anonymous compared to the colourful Nicole and Julia. Nicole had braided hair, she was wearing a green top, gold necklace, and earrings. She had a quite large smile, a face full of anticipation. When Julia was tall and slim, she was rather short and a bit overweight. Big heavy breasts.

Over dinner, the women exchange a few words about Ulrika, one of the women in the group who was not present. Nadja dropped the big bombshell: "Ulrika took a sentence I had written and used it in her poem."

"Really! If I didn't dislike her before, I do that now. The white yoga trousers, leaving nothing to the imagination of what she has between her thighs, showing the outline of her you-know-what!" Said Julia. "Okay, Olov, cover your ears." Said the always smiling Nicole. Before I could react, and honestly how can you react, Julia continued: "Someone should pull down her yoga trousers and spank her bum, with a hairbrush." Picking up a pink, curved hairbrush from a bag, she continued. "You know she likes you, Olov? It shows."

"Oh my god Julia. You definitely should have covered your ears, Olov." Nicole added.

"Next time I'm going to write a poem about a twenty something year old woman with a cameltoe, to see if she dares to steal it." Nadja added, seeming to regret the role she had just played in the conversation: "Let's change the subject."

"But Ulrika? I'm too old and she has a partner?" I said and got some giggles in response.

"You're one of those men who pretends not to know that he's handsome? And she was born in 1996, at least she's 23. No kid anymore."

Surprisingly, Nicole picked up the thread from earlier.

"Olov, do you have anything to say about..." Here she paused "... spanking." Laughing. I found myself playing history nerd instead of whatever game they were playing here. "There are stories that in the courts of Europe, boys were hired to be whipped when a prince did something wrong. The idea was that the prince would befriend the boy and they could punish the prince by whipping his friend."

Julia leaned over to me, demonstratively holding her palm up from her mouth as if trying to prevent the others around the table from hearing. But we both knew that everyone around the table heard her words: "So what you're saying is that Nadja should spank you instead of the one who really deserves it? Ulrika?"

The women around the table laughed so loudly that I began to wonder if they wouldn't get a stomach ache soon. Julia continued.

"If we had Ulrika and pulled down her trousers - forget that it would be humiliating for her - don't you want to see that? You'd rather I pulled your trousers down. You'd rather show yourself off. Pervert?"

Here Nicole took over the conversation: "Pervert, ok. But I've met some really bad men. My husband here treated me well, we are just separated. Most of the men in Sweden have been good, although some of them thought I was a prostitute when they saw me late at night." She narrowed her eyes on me. "I don't think you're like that. I can see it in your eyes. You're a pervert, but not in that way."

"Don't you see? This gentleman did not fantasise about tying up a naked 23-year-old and having his way with her, even though Ulrika wishes he would. He is interested in the Role, Reversal!"

"He is my guest, I can help him. But Julia is also my guest and it was she who led us to this discovery about Olov. She gets first dibs on him."

Julia needed no persuasion: "Ladies, if any of you are uncomfortable with seeing a cock tonight, tell me now." She turned to Gabrielle, "How about you?"

Gabrielle made an appreciative face at Julia, "No, just because I have a wife doesn't mean I don't love cock. Let me see! Just don't tell my special sweet pie at home." Very loud laughter.

Again Julia wasted no time: "So I'll pull down the trousers of the inept man and show you what he has for us to feast our eyes on?"

I protested, but still thought she was joking.

"We're outdoors, you can't do that!"

Lucky Nicole agreed.

"No, not so my neighbours can see it!"

"Isn't that right? You're no fun." She stuck out her lower lip in a grimace.

"But I can think of a compromise: he can take off his shirt out here. Later we see what to do in the living room."

Laughter seemed to bubble around me.

"Didn't you hear what Nancy said?" Said Julia. "I know it's getting chilly, but get that fooking shirt off now!" And as if to demonstrate the cold, she picked up a blanket lying on a piece of outdoor furniture and pulled it round her, leaving a gap for the words "Matriarchy now!".

For the reason Nancy had already guessed, it was natural to follow Julia's command. I unbuttoned the shirt. Left the shirt hanging on my shoulders, unbuttoned, I got more courageous: "We're really doing this?". Julia, with her shameless and baldness, raised her wine-glass: "For camaraderie between poets - and for making Olov stripp!" I took my shirt off. I didn't want to waste any time, high on the unexpected turn the evening had taken.

If it really was chilling I didn't notice, soon Nicole took the half empty bag-in-box under her arm and it was time to take the party indoors. The four women went for the sofa in the living room, and I found myself standing in front of them. Hearing their playful banter: "Ulrika might have stared at his groin, might have wanted to get into his pants, but it's us he's hard for, she didn't even get to see him without his shirt!" "Yep, a blind could see how hard he is!"

Time to unbutton my jeans. Is it possible for a man to do that in a sexy way? I didn't know, I just tried. Of course they were right about my genitalia, not only were I hard, as the ladies pointed out between them, a spot of precum was visible on my boxer-shorts. I pointed at it: "I have your permission to go on?"

"No you don't have permission!" said Julia, "I fucking demand you to go on!" I didn't need more, seconds later my boxer-shorts were laying around my feets.

It was apparently time for Gabriella to give her perspective:: "Nice cock! It's been a while since I've seen one of those. Thank you Julia!"

"You're welcome, Olov, what are you going to say to Gabriella?"

"Gabriella is too kind, and I'm glad you thanked ma'am Julia, instead of little me!"

"Good boy!" Julia said.

"Yes, it's nice to have a hard penis in my house again!" Said Nicole. But of course it was still Julia who was most vocal: "Masturbate! I think we need to see Olov masturbate!" As it was the most natural thing in the world I grabbed myself. "Cool, look how wet he is behind the foreskin."

It didn't take long, I actually moaned, something you never do when playing with yourself otherwise. Nicole, of all people, got up and gave me a piece of household paper.

I bowed deep. "Thank you so much for the honour of showing you my hard cock. You are so kind to let me jerk off in front of you! Thank you, ma'am Julia. It is a great honour for me to be naked with you ladies."

"Good boy!"

Julia walked up to me. Put her arms around me, and then she whispered: "I'm going to write you a letter, don't you dare to go before I'll give it to you." This while she opened her purse. "I know I have pen and paper somewhere here. I can't be a poet without a pen." She asked me to turn around, put a paper at my bare back and started to write at it. Thereupon she followed the paper: "It's time for you to get dressed, we don't want you to miss your train. Don't read this until you're on the train."

Leaving the house, thinking about what had happened I thought that this was how my life could have been. If men could be sex-objects for women, could I have made a carrier out of it. On that summer evening in southern Sweden, it really was a little cooler than expected. I stood waiting outside the station anyway, and luckily the train was on time. The aftermath of everything that had happened made me indifferent to the world around me. Of course I could not forget the letter.

"Dear Olov, from your madame, Julia! It looked you had the same piercing as Lenny Kravitz, in your cock. Yeah, I told you I have stories from the music industry. But you didn't give us a chance to see what it looked like with jewelry. Bad boy! I don't think you have done your duty until I have seen it.

That said, otherwise you're a good boy. Don't forget, Olov, you're always welcome in our matriarchy."