by Neil Plakcy
Much to my surprise he merely smiled and said, “Thanks. I don’t really do one-night stands though. I gotta be really horny or really into someone to sleep with ’em right away.”
“That’s nice,” I replied honestly. “You don’t meet a lot of young guys with those values.”
Doug grinned, showing those dimples that must have broken a hundred hearts.
The sun was just setting, staining the sky a brilliant blood-red. Unfortunately it was almost time for him to leave.
“Are there anymore shots you need, Paul?” Doug asked.
“Well…and you only have to do this if you’re comfortable, but Mr. Cundy does like to have a couple shots of the guys hard.”
We were silent for several minutes. It felt like a lifetime. I could see his brain weighing the pros and cons. I always hated asking my boys this question. It was always 50–50. Half said yes. Half said no.
“Okay,” Doug finally said.
“Really?” I was a little surprised but very happy. I was curious to see what his dick looked like hard.
“Sure.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Might as well go all the way.”
I’d like to go all the way with you, I thought devilishly, and I had to use extra restraint not to smile.
“There’s some porn over there if you need some help,” I said gesturing over to a bookshelf with some magazines on it. Most of the guys did experience performance anxiety.
“It’s fine. Give me a couple seconds,” he answered tugging on his cock.
Within seconds he was rock hard. Ahhhh…to be that young again.
“Is it hard enough?” he asked. I couldn’t help but blush. No man had ever asked me that before.
“It’s great.”
Doug smiled.
He really did have a beautiful boner. It was the perfect size. I snapped a whole roll of film on it.
“Okay,” I said bittersweetly after I had run out of film. “That’s a wrap.” It was the first time I was ever sad a session had ended.
“Already? Wow. That went by fast.”
“Glad you enjoyed yourself,” I answered unable to rip my eyes from his hard-on.
“I had fun.” He looked down at his dick and smirked. “Shame to waste a good boner.”
“Bathroom’s over there,” I said pointing. “There’s some lube in there. Go nuts.”
“Want to help me?” He asked stepping toward me.
“Ex-excuse me?” I was sure I’d heard him wrong. Or at least was daydreaming.
“You heard me,” he said taking the camera from my hands and wrapping them around his silky smooth shaft. “I saw the way you looked at me today. The way you’re still looking at me,” he whispered, sending shivers up and down my spine.
“I...” I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was blush.
“Like that dick?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, breathless. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I had never messed around with a subject before. It was like something out of a late night cable movie. “So Mr. I-don’t-really-do-one-night-stands.…Are you really horny?...Or do you really like me?”
“Both,” he whispered.
Doug brought his lips to mine. In all my years of messing around with guys on the side I had never kissed a man. I liked it. Doug’s lips were soft. Moist. They made my heart flutter. His thick tongue entered my mouth and flicked against mine. Soon our tongues were joined together in an erotic tango.
Before long I was naked and on my knees. Cupping his balls, I slowly ran my tongue over his dick, licking it like an ice cream cone.
Unhinging my jaw like a serpent I easily deep-throated him. Holding onto my head he groaned and rose on his toes like a ballet dancer when the tip of his dick hit my tonsils. Closing my eyes I savored the way his dick filled my mouth and the taste of his salty-sweet pre-cum sliding down my throat. Slowly I sucked his dick. Judging by the way he moaned I knew no one had ever given him a blowjob as good as mine.
“You do that so good,” he complimented.
Grinning up at him I squeezed his slippery mushroom head. “Married men in their forties give the best head,” I promised winking at him.
Holding my head in place, he fucked my mouth like a champ. His balls gleefully slapped against my chin. My hands squeezed his hard ass, fingers teasing his long deep crack.
“Wanna fuck?” he asked.
Hell yeah I did.
Doug got on his hands and knees, catching me off-guard. I never would have pegged him as a bottom. Maybe that’s why his ass was so round.
Spreading his cheeks I flicked my tongue against his smooth hole. Doug’s body shuddered and his hole puckered. Spitting on it I stuck a couple fingers inside him, preparing him for my cock.
“Spit on my dick,” I told him. “Get it ready for your ass.”
Turning around Doug spit on my hard-on, making it glisten. He loudly slurped my cock, and goddamn the things that boy could do with his mouth! If business communications didn’t work out he’d make a fortune in the porn industry.
Mounting him, I slowly slid my dick inside his ass. “Your cock feels so good,” Doug moaned.
“Your ass feels so good,” I responded, slapping it and making the flesh jiggle.
Slowly I pumped in and out of him, finding my rhythm. Doug’s ass squeezed my dick. I felt my balls tighten.
“I’m close,” I moaned. “Where do you want me to cum?”
“Inside me,” he groaned.
Massaging his back, I couldn’t hold off any longer and shot deep inside him with a long satisfied Ahhhhhhh. I always loved cumming in guys. There was nothing as satisfying as that feeling.
“My turn,” Doug said.
“I’ve never bottomed before,” I confessed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle,” he promised, laying me on my back. “I want to see you as I take your ass virginity.”
Rubbing his cock against my hole it wasn’t long before it opened for him like a blossoming rose.
My mouth opened in a silent orgasmic o. His dick felt so good stretching out my ass.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Doug was a very good, very skilled, lover. His dick awakened g-spots I didn’t even know existed.
He pounded in and out of me furiously. My hands roamed over his body. He never took his eyes off me. It was like we had a connection. This felt like more than a casual fuck. Doug’s hot cum filled my ass to overflowing.
“That was great,” he gasped, continuing to kiss me.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
We were silent as we dressed. We kept stealing glances at each other and smiling. Kissing me once more Doug walked out of the studio. That was the last time I ever saw him.
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE ATTITUDE
Aaron Michaels
The photographer stepped away from his camera, hands on his hips, and glared at Jesse. “We’re aiming for drop-dead, fuck-me-six-ways-to-Sunday, if-I-buy-the-same-clothes-he’s-wearing-I’m-gonna-get-laid gorgeous here. What’s so difficult to understand about that?”
Jesse crossed his arms in front of himself and kept his mouth shut. The photographer’s assistant, a mousey young woman somewhere in her twenties, busied herself making notes on a clipboard, her back to Jesse and her boss. Trying to make herself invisible, no doubt. Standing alone against a silver-gray studio backdrop and illuminated by all sorts of megawatt-light umbrellas, Jesse didn’t have that option.
“They assured me they’d found a wonderful model for me this time. An actor, they said. Easy to work with.” The photographer wasn’t yelling—yet—but the vein running across his forehead was definitely more prominent than it had been when Jesse started posing a half-hour ago. If the guy wasn’t careful, he’d give himself a heart attack. “If this is what you call acting, my friend, don’t quit your day job.”
Okay, that really hurt. And to think, Jesse’d been looking forward to working with this guy. Sure, Tefford Saks (no r
elation to the store) had a reputation for ranting up a storm when he wasn’t getting the exact shot he had in mind, but everyone still wanted to work with him because he was damn brilliant with a camera.
That’s why Jesse agreed to audition for this job in the first place. He didn’t really care about being the Face of Fortunadi Fashions, an upstart, high-end men’s clothing line, but he was in desperate need of some publicity. What better way to advertize himself than on a thirty-foot-high billboard in Times Square? Especially a thirty-foot high billboard he didn’t have to pay for.
So far Jesse Chance’s acting career had consisted of a few B horror movies (where he’d been the pretty boy first to die shortly after having sex with the film’s blonde teenage bimbo) and a couple of forgettable movies of the week on the Syfy channel. Jesse’s agent was about to drop him, the only callback he’d had was for a soap opera so bad not even his mom would watch it, and if he screwed up this gig, Saks would make sure the only modeling job Jesse ever got again was Poster Boy for the Disease of the Week handouts at the free clinic in West Hollywood.
The sole bright spot in Jesse’s world at the moment was the new man in his life. Tall, dark, and smoldering, Greg Simmons was a personal trainer at the gym where Jesse had a thirty-day free trial membership.
Jesse was pretty sure all Greg wanted was a pretty boy to fuck every now and then, which was fine with Jesse. Actors who “had ambitions,” as Jesse’s agent liked to say, didn’t “have relationships” with other men. Jesse had heard the speech from her so often that he almost saw the air quotes hovering over her frizzy red-haired head.
“You can’t be Neil Patrick Harris unless you are Neil Patrick Harris,” she liked to say. “Not in this town.”
Okay, fine. But it wasn’t like TMZ followed him around anyway.
And they never would, not if he couldn’t even nail the emotions required for a simple photo shoot.
Jesse took a deep breath. If Saks wanted fuck-me-six-ways-to-Sunday emotion, Jesse knew one quick way to get it.
“I need five minutes,” he said.
The photographer’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? You fuck up my shooting schedule ’cause you can’t do your damn job, and now you want five minutes?” The vein in Saks’s forehead had started to throb. Maybe the guy was such a jerk because he had a constant migraine.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. If he couldn’t pretend to be sexy, at least he could pretend he had enough balls to stand up for himself like he didn’t need this job to survive. “Five minutes, then you’ll get your shots.”
Saks grabbed his assistant’s clipboard and threw it on the floor. His assistant never made a sound, even when the plastic shattered on the bare concrete floor.
“Take your damn five minutes,” Saks said. “I need a smoke.”
The assistant watched her boss stalk out of studio, then she glanced over at Jesse. “He’ll be back here in exactly five,” she said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Jesse did, too.
He trotted back to the small changing room at the rear of the studio. He made sure the door was shut behind him. It didn’t have a lock, but he’d have to make do. He retrieved his cell from the pocket of his jeans (a nondesigner brand) and selected a number from his list of contacts.
Please be there.
Greg answered after three rings. “Hello, lover.”
That deep, raspy growl never ceased to turn Jesse on. That’s what he was counting on, among other things, like Greg being a good sport and playing along.
“What are you wearing?” Jesse asked.
After a short beat, Greg’s low chuckle resonated over the phone. “My, my, my. I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing.”
“Not usually, but I’m desperate. I’m supposed to ‘exude sex’ here, but the guy’s a dick, and all I keep thinking about is my dwindling bank account and the possibility of a career asking people if they’d like dessert or should I bring the check.”
“Ah, the fashion shoot. So does this mean I’m your go-to guy for all things sexy?”
“Yeah. Pretty much my go-to guy period.”
Oops. Where did that come from? Jesse glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit. He didn’t have time to worry about what he’d just inadvertently said.
“Look,” Jesse said. “I’ve only got three minutes to get sexy or I’m dead meat.”
“Three minutes. Nothing like working under pressure.”
Greg went quiet, and Jesse got worried. They didn’t really have a relationship, just a lot of fun, hot sex. He could really be pushing Greg too hard, no pun intended.
Then he heard Greg grunt. Jesse recognized that grunt.
“You know what I got here in my hand?” Greg asked.
A flush went through Jesse. “Yeah. A cock the size of Milwaukee.”
“Hard and hot, just for you, baby.”
Jesse swallowed hard. “Tell me what you’re going to do with it.”
“Fuck you till you scream. Fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in your throat and you’ll be begging me to let you cum.” Odd sounds came from the phone, a rubbing, scratchy sound, then Greg’s voice came back. “Feel how hard I am for you?”
Good God, he’d touched himself with the phone. Jesse closed his eyes and imagined that. His own cock was getting heavy. He wanted to touch himself, but he held off. The look he was going for was erotic, not postcoital.
“I want to suck that cock of yours,” he told Greg. “Make you scream. Make you so crazy for me you’ll fuck me all night.”
Greg groaned. “You’re doing a damn good job of it now.”
“Yeah?”
“Want me to jerk myself off and let you listen? You could imagine it’s your hand doing me while my tongue’s up your ass.”
Jesse’s cock twitched. If he wasn’t careful here, he’d be going back in front of the camera with a raging hard-on.
“Think about this,” Greg said. “You know what we’re gonna do when we get together tonight? All of what we’re talking about here, and that’s only for starters.”
Jesse glanced at the clock again. Thirty seconds. Damn. “I don’t want to wait till then, but I have to.”
“Knock ’em dead, stud,” Greg said. Then he added, “Make’em all jealous that I’m the only one gets to fuck you.”
The call disconnected. Jesse blinked at the phone. Wow. He’d called Greg hoping for a little dirty talk, but Greg had gone above and beyond, and all at a moment’s notice.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “You’ve got about ten seconds,” came the assistant’s voice.
Jesse thought about Greg on the other end of the call. Greg, in a tight wife-beater T-shirt with his cock sticking up hard out of his workout shorts.
“Yeah,” he said to the assistant. “I’m ready.”
He opened the dressing room door. The assistant took one look at him, a quick head to toe glance, pausing only briefly at his crotch. “I believe you are,” she said. “Now go make that asshole your bitch.”
Jesse didn’t know if he made Tefford Saks his bitch, but the photographer was smart enough not to say one word to Jesse for the rest of the shoot. Instead, he had his assistant turn on some sort of techno dance mix and had her tell Jesse to move however he wanted.
Jesse let the beat play out against the movie unreeling in his mind, a XXX feature starring his hot-as-hell lover and his big cock. Jesse moved and posed, mouth half-open, eyes heavy lidded and soft-focused. He ran his hands through his hair, disrupting the makeup artist’s earlier attempts to tame his curls, and let his hair fly where it wanted to.
At some point the assistant must have adjusted the intensity of the umbrella lights, because when she finally said they had everything they needed, the studio seemed darker than it had been when they started.
It took Jesse a few moments to come back to the here and now. Somehow he’d managed not to cum in his fancy Fortunadi clothes. Amazing, considering he’d just had the most intense waking almost-wet d
ream of his life.
The assistant was scribbling on a new clipboard she must have had stashed somewhere. She’d also apparently cloned herself because three more mid-twenties women were standing around behind the lights, ogling Jesse.
Saks checked his camera equipment, nodding to himself, and—was that an actual smile? Jesse took a deep breath, somewhat surprised that he’d managed to work up a sweat.
“You’re free to go,” the assistant said to Jesse. “We’ll have proofs sent over to your agent, just so you see what we’re sending off to Fortunadi. If any of the rest end up being publicity stills, we’ll let you know.”
“Publicity?” Jesse was confused. He had no rights to any of the photos. Saks was way out of Jesse’s price league.
“For our website,” the assistant said.
“Uh…” Jesse didn’t know what to say. The people Saks put up on his website were top models. Sports megastars. A-list actors. Not a B-list wannabe pretending to be a fashion model just to keep himself afloat.
The assistant nodded at her clones, who were trying to make themselves look busy while still sneaking glances at Jesse. “You did good,” she said. “You made a few fans here. My guess is they’re going to look you up on IMDB, and there will be a run on your movies after they tell all their friends about you.”
Jesse almost laughed. He didn’t think his movies were even out anywhere.
Saks stepped away from his camera, and the assistant faded into the background. “Good job, young man,” Saks said to Jesse. “If you can bottle what you did today, combined with your looks…you’ve got a career ahead of you.”
Okay, this was getting surreal. “Thank you,” Jesse managed to say. “Now if you could just convince a casting agent that I’m—”
“I didn’t mean acting,” Saks said.
Huh?
Before Jesse could think of a response that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot, the photographer nodded at him and left. The three assistant clones who’d been hovering retrieved the camera equipment and proceeded to lock it away.
“Uhm, did he mean modeling? A career in modeling?” Jesse said to no one in particular.
