Something erotic

You are a red-blooded nineteen year old male who can think of one thing. Or, to be fair, quite a few things. Boobs. Asses. Pussies. Blowjobs. Every sex position from missionary to the wheelbarrow.

Your sketch is your current best attempt at conjuring the female form. You've never taken an anatomy lesson, but you have studied all kinds of anatomy late at night under the covers using your phone. And there is no problem with your muse having a porn star physique; none at all.

Missus Schmitt spends most the class pacing around, examining what everyone is drawing. You suppose this is her way of getting to know her students. Finally, after circling multiple times, she is able to notice what you are doing. Your sense of shame almost flares up, but you've already gone far enough down this rabbit hole, and you will yourself to not even slow down.

"Very interesting Mister Brown," she says, her hand on her chin. "A very idealized conception of feminine sexuality, but a well-executed one."

"Uh...thanks," you say, and then, stupidly, "this is allowed?"

She gives a single chuckle. "This is not High School, Mister Brown. Everyone in this room is an adult. And erotic art takes just as much effort and mastery as the non erotic variety. Follow your passions. Life is too short for anything else."

You look down at your sketch. It's true, isn't it? Right now, you're at a point where you're interested in sex, in and of itself. And maybe that's fine. You could grow out of it some day, but for now you'll ride that train as far as it goes.

Despite how amateur your sketch is, you're ultimately proud of it by the time the class ends. You find yourself looking forward to next art class, and you prepare yourself for the last 'first day' you'll have this semester.