First Day of Class Beefcake and Bulges

Plains, August 2016

I love the first day of class.  The campus has been mostly deserted all summer, but today it springs to life with thousands of new students and faculty members, dozens of new opportunities.

8:30 am.  Meeting with my new teaching assistant, a tall, buffed former football player who just began grad school.

I can't wait to start sending him on errands.

9:30 am.  Office hours.  I walk out into the hallway to go to the bathroom, and hit a huge crowd of students waiting for the large lecture hall to clear.

I get five smiles and three cruisy eye-crotch-eye looks.

11:00 am.  My first class.  112 students in the large lecture hall.  I never stand on that stage; I always make a circuit of the aisles while lecturing, to make it easier to call on random students.  Cute, nervous freshmen, nerds in button-down shirts, collegiate jocks fidgeting in their chairs.  Biceps and bulges everywhere.  A shirt lifts up so I can see a flash of abs.  A hand moves absently onto the crotch.















12:30.  Lunch.  I eat lunch in my office to avoid the crowds at the Student Union.  Five students are sitting on the couches in the main office, waiting to talk to faculty members, in front of a plate of brownies left over from a meeting last Thursday.  I walk over and ask "Do you think these brownies are still good after five days?"

A slim hipster says "Let's find out."  He picks one up and tries to feed it to the cute boy sitting next to him on the couch.

"I'm not eating that!" the cute boy exclaims.

"Why not? You've had worse things in your mouth."  He grins at me.

2:00 pm  My advanced class.  The buffed blond guy from my intro class last semester is sitting in the front row.

3:30 pm.  My other advanced class.  There he is again!  He's enrolled in both.

I also see the Hispanic bodybuilder who was in my intro class twice (he failed the first time).

I can't wait to start calling on them.

5:00 pm.  Gym.  It's packed with the "new year's resolution" students, who vow to get in shape every fall semester.  It's like the gym in January.  I have to wait for my turn on the machines.

Two guys who were in my intro class earlier today are using the shoulder press, at 40 pounds.  I lift four times as much.  They stare.

Another cute guy is using the incline press, at 60!  I move it down to 180.  

"How can you lift so much?" he asks.

"I used to work for a bodybuilding magazine," I tell him.

"That must have been exciting.  Did you meet anybody famous?"

We make a coffee date for tomorrow.

6:00 pm.  I go upstairs to walk around the indoor track a few times.  There are at least four shirts vs. skins basketball games going on.  I did a long run yesterday, but nothing says I can't do a nice mile and gawk.

6:30 pm.  The locker room is packed!  Stripping down next to me is a tall, thin guy.  He turns his back to change underwear, but I still get a glimpse of an enormous package.  Then a third guy returns from the shower and needs to get to the locker between us.  We step out of the way as he removes his towel, his gigantic penis in full view, and fumbles with his lock.

7:30 pm.  Back home, I order dinner from the pita place downtown.  The delivery guy gives me a shocked smile and starts stammering.  "Hi!  Um...your total is...I mean, here's your pita..," like I'm a famous movie star.

Maybe he was in my class earlier today.

8:30 pm.  Do I dare go on Grindr?  First week of class, all of the new guys will be on.

Sure enough, there are dozens of new profiles within a mile radius.  I change my profile picture from chest to face, but still, I get a barrage of "Hi, Daddy!" and "Come over and do me!"

This will be a fun semester.

See also: Wagner's Top 10 Turn-Ons; Classroom Bulges

The "Late for Class" Dream and Oral Sex 101

I have a recurring dream where I'm late for class, but I can't find the classroom.  I run across an unfamiliar campus, try to find a recognizable landmark, rush down the corridors of random buildings, becoming more and more anxious.

I was just there yesterday!  Why does everything look so strange?  I've never seen that coffee kiosk before -- maybe I took a wrong turn, and I'm in the Science Building?  Maybe if I go through this door -- no, it's an art studio....

The clock is ticking.  Class should have started by now. I'm late!

Sometimes I rushed out of the house without getting dressed, so I'm running across the campus naked.

Or I have to push my way through absurdly crowded hallways as the clock ticks and I start to panic.

Or it's the near end of the semester.  Suddenly I realize that I've forgotten to go to the class for the last month!  I run out of my office and down the hallway, but I can't find my way...

 Or I can't find my lecture notes or powerpoint slides, and I've never taught this subject before....

It's always the same class, "Drugs and Alcohol in American Society," which I've taught several times without incident.

"School anxiety," about being late for class or unprepared for a test, is the third most common type of dream, appearing in 73% of research respondents in a University of Montreal study.  The overlapping "late anxiety" is the fifth most common type.

Many people think that these dreams are related to real-life anxieties, but the images are too similar, appearing across countless life situations.  Scientists think that they're probably related to the brain trying to make a coherent narrative out of the neurological changes during REM sleep, and falling back on memories of adolescence, in my case transferred to my job.

Whatever these "late for class" dreams may signify, they're annoying.  Afterwards I have a vague sense of anxiety that lasts through the day.

When I told my friend Gabe about the dreams, he suggested "lucid dreaming," a technique that allows you to orchestrate what goes on in your dreams by rehearsing them in advance.

Before going to sleep, you visualize the dream as you recall it, but make whatever changes you want.  Imagine that the hallways are familiar, for instance, or that you're going somewhere pleasant.

Last night I gave it a try.  I visualized that was walking across the dark, warm, comfortable campus of a clothing-optional college, on my way to teach Oral Sex 101: Oral Sex for Gay and Bi Men.

It was fun making up the syllabus:

1. The physiology and psychology of oral sex.
2. The history of oral sex from the Ancient World to the present.
3. The oral sodomy laws and the limits of jurisprudence.
4. The philology of slang terms.
5. Oral sex in literature, art, and film.
6. The sociological importance of oral sex in contemporary gay communities.
7. Roles and positions.
8. Techniques.

I imagined that today the students would be delivering their research presentations:

"A Comparative Study of the Erotic Pleasure Received through Oral and Anal Acts."
"How Big is Too Big?  Size and Satisfaction for the Oral Bottom."
"Are Big Men More Likely to be Oral Tops?"
"How Many Straight Men Will Agree to Oral Sex with a Gay Man?"
"An Analysis of the Top's Verbal and Non-Verbal Signals During Oral Sex"
"69 as an Act of Political Resistance"

Making up all of that was fun, too, but would it transfer into a more pleasant "late for class" dream?

Eventually I drifted off to sleep.



I had the "late to class" dream again, but my anxiety level didn't go down.  I was even more panicked than before, running wildly down the unfamiliar corridors, desperate to get to that classroom.

I really wanted to see those student presentations.

See also: That Bathhouse in West Hollywood; The Ins and Outs of Oral Sex; The Precognitive Dream about the Boy with the Bratwurst

The Student Who Had Erotic Daydreams in Class

Dayton, November 2007

There's a secret that all college professors know, but students don't.

We can see what they are doing in class.

We're standing, and they're sitting, so we always have an excellent view of the first row.  In small classes, or classrooms arranged in tiers, we have an excellent view of everyone.

So we know when they're trying to type a text message, or sneak a peek at their notes during an exam.

And other things.

College students don't check their erotic desires at the lecture hall door, and 21-year olds don't even need an erotic stimulus -- things just happen.

Bulging and tenting.  And hands moving down there, trying to cover it.  Sometimes even helping it along.

I had a colleague who used to walk up to tenting students and ask "Do you need to be excused to take care of that?"

But I won't say anything to the student -- to acknowledge that I have noticed would be terribly embarrassing for both of us.

So I just enjoy the spectacle.


I have only mentioned it to the student once, when I was teaching in Dayton.  The student -- I'll call him Raheem -- sat in a tier where his lap was exactly at my eye level.

And he wasn't just trying to cover an occasional tent. Two or three times per class, he slid his his hand all the way down into his pants, felt around for a few moments to make sure everything was arranged properly, and slid his hand out again.

It was very distracting, to me and no doubt to the students around him.

I asked my faculty mentor what to do.  He said "Raheem is obviously a homophobe, trying to get a rise out of you so he can claim sexual harassment,  You should confront him and tell him that his behavior is inappropriate."

But Raheem wasn't looking at me during his beneath-the-belt explorations.  He was staring into space, bored by the lecture and letting his mind wander. No doubt to erotic thoughts.

So I sent him an email:

"I'm sure you don't realize it, but from my position in the front of the class, I'm looking directly at your lap.  So be careful not to sneak a text message or do anything else that you don't want me to know about."

How would Raheem respond?  Would he not understand what I meant?  Would he angrily deny doing anything?  Would he say "I was hoping to get your attention!"

He didn't respond to my email, but the next day after class, he came up to my desk and wordlessly handed me an envelope.  It contained a beautiful "Thank You" card with the inscription "Thanks for the heads-up!  I'll be more careful!"

The beneath-the-belt explorations stopped.  But soon I discovered the reason for them -- when Raheem didn't rearrange himself, he spent most of the class sessions tenting.

That was even more distracting.

See also: My Student Gets Naked in Class; and The Theater Major with a Professor Fetish.