Category: Exhibitionist & Voyeur Stories

WVC Ch. 01: Intro & Interview

by gupiao©

Many thanks to nickitaylor for editing, suggestions and encouragement.

*****

Western Valley College

(The White Vampyres Club)

After decades as a women's college, Western Valley College finally admitted a limited number of men, but just on a trial basis. Declining enrollment and a shrinking endowment forced the board of trustees to accept the inevitable. Fortunately, I was one of the chosen few. Total enrollment was 2400, with 600 in the freshman class. Only twenty were men, so except for the required freshman lecture classes, I was often the only man in the class.

I had been a decent student in high school, maintaining a B- average, but making the swim team had been a major source of pride. I'd hoped for a scholarship, but unless you played one of the major team sports, athletic scholarships were few and far between. My mother didn't have money, so I'd applied to schools relatively close to my hometown and hoped for the best. Western Valley had been the only school to offer anything. So I took them up on their offer.

Despite the fact that While Western Valley College had only a women's swim team, they offered me a partial scholarship in the hopes that would change in the near future. I was optimistic that it would indeed happen while I was still an undergraduate. In the meantime, I kept working out, waiting.

After my father died, my mother worked two jobs trying to keep our creditors paid. Once I reached high school, I worked as well, trying to help out. But my mother always emphasized that school came first. Being on the swim team, working part time, and keeping my grade average up didn't leave me much time for much of a social life. l was shy around girls, although they seemed to like me. They often told me I was good-looking, but I really didn't believe them. I did know that I was in excellent shape, mostly the result of swimming every day. When I began at Western, I made sure I continued my daily routine. And that's how I met Coach Turner.

Tall and shapely, she'd been an Olympic hopeful in her youth. But a shoulder injury put an end to her aspirations and she'd been the coach at Western Valley for 10 years, so she must have been in her early thirties. I introduced myself to her and asked if I could make arrangements to work out in the one indoor pool on campus.

Her blue eyes twinkling, she graciously allowed me to use her office as a changing room since there were no separate men's facilities. Tossing her short, curly blonde hair back from her face, she always smiled as she exited the tiny cubicle so that I at least had privacy to change and shower in her small shower stall. Walking to and from her office wearing a Speedo, I knew the girls were watching me. Once I was in the water, it didn't bother me, but when I was out, I felt really uneasy about all the attention I received.

I knew the coach watched me as well, since she always made encouraging comments about my technique, wishing aloud I could join the team and joking that she'd help sponsor me for a sex change operation. At least, I thought she was joking.

I was fearful of making friends. Most of the other males students came to Western Valley because they already knew someone attending, usually a girlfriend. So I kept to myself.

The girls on campus had a distinctly different attitude. There was directness in their approach; a boldness in their attitude unlike any I had experienced in high school. It was almost as if that after the isolation of the years, they had taken firm control of their lives on campus, and in the town that contained the college. I noticed it the most in the classes that I shared with upper class students. And when I was in public areas on campus, I felt like was being watched constantly, like an animal at the zoo.

With money being so tight, I took whatever paying work I could find - cook's helper, pot washer, anything that didn't interfere with classes. One place where I found steady employment was in the Art Department as an artist's model. With the absence of men on campus, the male body had seldom been the object of study. I had a good body, long and lean, muscular and well defined without the bulkiness of a body builder. What little body hair I had, I gotten in the habit of shaving regularly so that I had that extra edge the absence of hair provided in swim races.

The class where I found a home as a model was Intermediate Drawing, a small class of eight students taught by Meredith Reynolds. In her mid-thirties, she was slim and attractive with a full head of wavy, reddish brown hair, which she usually wore tumbling down around her slim shoulders. Since she wore baggy clothes that swallowed her trim figure, I couldn't really tell what her body was like. With light hazel eyes hiding behind glasses, she seemed almost shy around me, but she certainly knew how to encourage her students and brought out the best in them.

The eight students were typical, I guess. A couple of the students were chubby, and seemed just as shy as I was. Another had a bad overbite while a fourth wore thick glasses and had a pock marked face. The one with the glasses may have been the best artist of the group.

Of the other four, three were close friends, laughing and giggling when they weren't working. The blonde of the group was slightly overweight, but carried most of it above her waist. Her breasts were enormous, almost too big. The other two were brunettes, and the one with blue eyes was really cute.

The eighth student was also very attractive, a curly haired brunette with sparkling green eyes and a ready smile. She also seemed quite shapely, but I just guessing since she usually wore layers of clothes that concealed her figure.

Initially, I posed once a month for her Monday class, and as the fall semester progressed, Ms. Reynolds had me come more often until I was coming about once every two weeks. Fully dressed at first, I gradually shed my clothes so that by the time the end of the semester approached, I was wearing just a small pair of gym shorts. Before the last scheduled class in December, Ms. Reynolds asked me to pose in pair of black Speedo swim trunks. Although I wore them regularly when I worked out in the pool, wearing them to pose for an art class when no one else was revealing anywhere near as much skin made me very self-conscious. But the girls were all business, focusing on the work at hand, so by the end of class I had relaxed.

That first day I wore the Speedos, the curly haired brunette with green eyes was waiting for me outside the building after class. Her smile was warm as she held out her hand, the sun glinting off her light brown hair. Her handshake was firm and direct.

"Hi Bill. I'm Valerie. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Uh - no, Ma'am. I'm just going over to the student center for a snack. I never like to eat before I pose in class."

Her eyes had a playful glint in them as she fell into step beside me as we crossed the common.

"I'm just a couple of years older than you are. You don't have to call me 'Ma'am.' It makes me feel so old."

"Yes Ma'am. Uh, - sorry. It's just a habit my mother drilled into me."

She smiled at me again.

"I see. Well, it's better to be more polite than necessary than the other way around."

I held the door open for her as we arrived at the student center. She ordered a bowl of fruit while I got a cup of yogurt. Feeling more than a little shy, I pulled out my usual bag of nuts out while she settled into the chair across from me. She was attractive, with a scattering of freckles dusted across the bridge of her upturned nose.

I knew she had a nicely curved chest from observing her from my perch in the front of the class, but I was surprised to see just how prominent her breasts were on her slim ribcage. They swayed as she first shrugged out of her jacket, and then pulled her sweater up over her head. As she fluffed out her mane of thick hair, I couldn't help but stare as her breasts wobbled beneath her T-shirt, the large nipples firm and erect, pressing excitedly against the thin cotton. My cock began to thicken inside my jeans.

Trying to be discreet, I reached beneath the table to adjust my swelling crotch. As I raised my eyes from her swaying chest, she smiled slyly. I was caught. Hastily, I pulled my hand up and put it back onto the table. Pointedly glancing down toward my waist, hidden by the table, her smile grew broader.

"Comfortable now?"

I blushed as I murmured my assent. Her green eyes sparkled as I met her gaze. I felt as if she were laughing the whole time we talked.

"You seem very at ease with your body when you pose. Have you done it before?

"No. This is the first time."

"Really? I would never have guessed. You must be a natural."

I blushed again.

"Thank you."

"You have a great physique, Bill. You must work out."

My blush deepened as I nodded.

"Yeah, I swim a lot, every day. And I work out with weights once in a while."

"It shows. You must be proud of having such a marvelous body."

"I guess so."

My face must have been red. Watching me closely, she asked the next question carefully.

"Will you feel as comfortable posing when you're completely nude?'

Stunned by her question, I felt the blood quickly drain from my face. She chuckled.

"Surely you've noticed that you're wearing fewer clothes in today's session than at the beginning of the year?"

"Well, yes."

"Ms. Reynolds always follows the same routine for new models. By the end of the year, you will be posing totally nude."

Holding her spoon between her lips, she studied me.

"Does that bother you?"

"Umm, I guess not. As long I keep getting paid."

Her eyes twinkled again.

"I'm sure you will."

That afternoon started a pattern. After the first intermediate drawing class of the spring semester, Valerie and I went out for a quick bite again. I was surprised how quickly she shared her personal life with me, being quite blunt in discussing her recent break up of a long term relationship. It seems that the boyfriend was talking marriage, and she wasn't ready. She was having too much fun being single. I wasn't sure exactly what she meant when she said that he didn't share some of her more adventurous impulses. I was too shy and polite to ask.

After the next class two weeks later, Valerie was usually quiet. She seemed more interested in rearranging her chunks of pineapple than talking. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at me, as if she'd made up her mind about something.

"Are you planning on joining a social club?"

The question came out of the blue. I didn't know she was interested. I certainly wasn't.

"No. I haven't been asked. And I'm not particularly interested."

She nodded, and took another bite of the fruit salad, watching me steadily.

"Do you know there are some secret clubs on campus?"

Slowly, I nodded. After glancing around us, she leaned closer.

"What do you know about the White Vampyres Club?"

"Nothing. I mean, I've heard of it, but that's all."

"What have you heard?"

She was being cagey. Maybe she was a member.

"Really, not much. I know that it's very old, and that it's very exclusive. And I think you have to be wealthy to get in."

"Anything else?"

"No. I really don't know much about it

"Oh. I thought you might have heard something."

I wondered about what she'd said, but I really didn't think much about it until two days later when I received an anonymous e-mail from the Psychology Department.

"Congratulations! You have been nominated to apply for membership in the White Vampyres Club. For your initial interview, be at 734 Elm Street promptly at 7 PM tomorrow night. You are not to discuss this invitation with anyone. Eat lightly and dress casually."

Coming so soon after my conversation with Valerie, I was sure that she was a member. Had she nominated me? I was flattered that they'd want a freshman like me to join their exclusive club. So I decided to go to the interview, just to see what it was all about.

The Interview

Wearing khaki pants, a clean polo shirt and loafers, I was nervous as I knocked on the door at the appointed time that Friday. The house was several blocks off campus in a quiet neighborhood populated mainly by teaching assistants and graduate students. I knocked a second time before I noticed a note taped inside the screen.

"The door is unlocked. Inside in the hallway, you will find a chair with a blindfold on the seat. Fasten it securely around your head and take off your shoes and socks. You will then be given further instructions"

The inside of the house looked deserted, with the front rooms sparsely furnished. The chair was a simple straight backed one, with a black satin blindfold draped over the back. I followed the written instructions to the letter, waiting patiently for several minutes in the silent house. Finally, I heard the click, click, click of high heels coming toward me down the hallway. I caught a whiff of perfume, a soft floral aroma with a strong undertone of sharp spiciness. A soft hand took my elbow and guided me down the hallway, into a warm room and up onto a two-step platform. Someone flipped a switch and I felt the powerful beams of spotlights directed on me from several different directions.

"Bill, welcome to your interview for admission to the White Vampyres Club. We have some questions for you that you must answer fully and completely. At any time in the process, you may terminate this interview and you will never hear from us again. If you are accepted into the formal application process, you may drop out at any point, but once you begin, you may never speak of your experiences to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Now take off your shirt."

I hesitated. Had I heard her right?

"You are expected to obey the instructions we give you immediately, without question. If you disobey, we will terminate this interview and send you home."

"Yes Ma'am."

Quickly, I pulled my polo shirt up over my head and dropped it to the platform. I could feel my nipples growing stiff and erect under the bright lights.

"Much better, Bill."

She paused and walked around behind me, around the base of the platform.

"There are many misconceptions about the White Vampyres Club. First, our name misleads some people. We are not racist. Despite our small number, we include one Afro-American and one Asian-American among our members."

As she paused again, I could hear the quiet breathing of others. I wondered how many people were sitting in the room, watching me.

"Are you wearing underwear?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Take off your pants."

"Yes Ma'am."

I didn't hesitate this time, immediately unbuckling my belt and unzipping my slacks. Bending over, I drew them down my legs and let them crumple on the platform. Taking a deep breath, I straightened up and stepped out of them. The silence was deafening as the woman paced around the platform. I was glad I had worn a new pair of briefs, but when I felt blood starting to flow below my waist, I was certain that the swelling bulge in the pouch was quite obvious. I began to blush as she continued the interview.

"People also have misconceptions about vampires that are fostered by the media and pop culture. We don't sleep all day and stay up all night."

We?

"We don't live forever. We don't sleep in coffins. And we don't drink blood."

The wooden platform creaked as she stepped onto the platform beside me. Despite the heat from the spotlights, I shivered as her cool fingertips trailed across my shoulders.

"Take off your briefs."

Again without hesitation, I obeyed, hooking my thumbs inside the waistband of my briefs and bending over, pulling the white cotton down my thighs, all the way down to the platform. Taking another deep breath, I stood up, my bare cock swinging heavily between my thighs. I heard a sharp intake of breath across the room. The silence was longer this time as the woman beside me let her fingertips trail across my shoulders and down my back. My cock began to twitch, slowly stretching down between my thighs.

"Spread your feet apart and clasp your hands on top of your head."

As I complied by putting my hands on top of my head and shuffling my feet wide apart, my cock swung heavily back and forth, gradually lengthening as she continued.

"If you accepted as a candidate for the White Vampyres Club, you'll need to remember this position. We call it the 'Present Position'.

"Yes Ma'am."

Her fingers lightly rubbed my lower back, just above the swell of my bare ass cheeks, gently urging me to press my hips forward, toward the unseen audience. It suddenly dawned on me what I was presenting.

"While we don't drink blood, we do drink another bodily fluid."

Stepping around in front of me, she let her fingers slide across my chest, tracing the curves of my pectoral muscles. I caught my breath as she tweaked my nipples, first one and then the other, raising my buds into stiff points. My cock kept swelling, twitching as it stretched out away from my legs, growing longer and thicker.

"We drink the sweet nectar that flows from between our legs, the milky liquid that is the product of sexual arousal. Hence the title - White Vampyre."

I swallowed, feeling my thickened cock jerking uncontrollably as it finally began to rise up between my thighs, protruding out in front of me.

"As a secret society in an all girls' college, we've only had female members. If you were to be accepted, you would be our first male. You would bring an entirely different flavor to our ceremonial meetings. So to speak."

Breathing heavily, my excitement must have been obvious as my trembling cock twitched higher, jutting out before me. It felt as if it were now almost parallel to the floor. Leaving my stiff nipples, her soft fingers drifted lower, tracing the ridges of my abdominals.

"You seem to have become sexually aroused."

I blushed in the silence that followed since my cock was now nearly fully erect, confirming her observation. Gliding lower, her fingers brushed the edge of my pubic hair. I shivered.

"Your male genitalia seems adequate."

I wasn't sure why that was important. I knew I wasn't small, since I was bigger than anyone I'd seen in the locker room at high school. Her teasing fingertips caressed the skin of my lower abdominals, pressing lightly.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No Ma'am."

"But you've had girlfriends in the past? In high school?"

Delicately, she circled around my exposed crotch, sliding her fingers along the side of my right hip. I held my breath as her cool fingertips explored my bare skin, only inches from my quivering cock.

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"Well, I dated some girls."

"Some?"

Making lazy circles, her insistent fingers moved lower still, sliding down the front of my right thigh.

"Well, two actually."

"I see. And how far did you go with them?'

"How far?"

"Yes, sexually. How far did you go with them sexually?"

I shivered as her gentle fingers came back up my leg, tickling the smooth skin of my inner thigh.

"I just kissed them."

"You mean you never touched them?"

"Well, yes Ma'am. I did, but through their clothes."

"Did they touch you?"

I blushed. Her relentless fingers circled back across my lower abdomen, closer than ever to my jutting cock, now fully erect, pulsing urgently.

"One did. I think she was kind of surprised. She pulled her hand away pretty fast."

"Were you hard? Like you are now?"

My blush deepened.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Did she see you like this? With your penis nude and erect?"

Category: Exhibitionist & Voyeur Stories