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Model Behaviour

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 06 Mar 2001 1 comments
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by masturmate Hey man, I was flattered, you probably would have been too. I mean the guy�s one of the top photographers around, so to be asked to do a test for him, hell who wouldn�t? I gotta admit I was nervous, even a little intimidated at the prospect. I�ve never really dwelled on my looks, hey I�m no Quasi Modo but I�m also no Marcus Schenkenberg, just happy with the way I am. Except maybe for my eyes, I used to be teased about that oriental slant at school. "Chinky" they used to call me, but after my first girl remarked on how sexy they were, I got to see them as an asset. Anyway I�d gone along to the photo-shoot just to check that the client�s product was getting the maximum coverage. You�ve seen those photo shoots where the model dominates and you can hardly see the product that they are supposed to be promoting. I needn�t have worried; Tristan is not only one of the top photographers around he also doesn�t let his artistic vision cloud his view of the merchandise. In this instance it was a new range of ties and belts, from the Young Designer�s Emporium, and he was shooting them mostly against naked male and female flesh in his loft studio. The six models, two guys and four girls were wearing the ties against their bare torsos, and man, they had obviously been selected either for their cleavage, in the case of the girls, or for their pecs and abs, in the case of the guys. They were a hot looking bunch even if they were, for me, a little on the young side, but hey, the range was aimed at the youth market. I hung around watching the set-ups which got really interesting when he moved on to the belts, shooting them against naked hips and waists, the models pulling their black thongs down low so that they barely covered their crotches. No, I was not cruising any of the models, as I said, too young for me, although I wouldn�t mind checking back on the blond in a couple of years. I was behaving really professionally and it was after the shoot, while I was helping to wrap, that Tristan asked if I�d ever done any modelling, myself. My reply was a "Who me?" an embarrassed laugh, and a shake of my head. That�s when he asked if I�d be interested in doing a test, and hey, after not too much persuasion on his part, and an increasing sense of intrigue on my part, I agreed. I expected him to arrange the test at some later stage, so was caught off guard when he suggested we do it, there and then, while he still had everything set up. "What the hell I thought, no time like the present," so we relaxed at his bar with a beer, nervously chased with a Scotch, on my part, till everyone had wrapped and left. Although I knew Tristan�s work, I knew very little about him on a personal level. As we chatted, I wasn�t surpised to discover that he had started off as a male model himself, and at one stage had been the Camel man. It figured. He had those rugged good looks, which one associates with outdoorsmen, and by my definition was a handsome man, in the true sense of the word. Aware that most models had a very short lifespan, he had started getting into photography. Becoming a photographer was a natural progression for him, and having experience on both sides of the lens, was probably what gave him his unique edge over others. I also discovered that I liked his relaxed easy going manner, his sometimes amusing, at others revealing, anecdotes, not to mention that killer sexy grin and those sensual eyes. I found myself far more relaxed by the time I�d started on my second Scotch. He started off setting up some head-shots against a plain backdrop and although I was a little self-conscious and awkward initially, it was easy to follow his lead and I began to relax as he talked me through them. Next he set up the full body shots, all the while keeping up a non-stop flow of conversation that was as diverse and varied as the poses he asked for. He suggested dinner afterwards and we enjoyed a thoroughly tasty meal at a small bistro within walking distance of the loft, before calling it a night. Alone later, I found myself going over the days events and knew I was in trouble. I couldn�t shake his rugged image from my mind, nor that sexy smile and my last image that night was of those warm green eyes gazing into mine to the sound of a whirring camera shutter. He rang two days later to invite me round to see the proofs. If I�d been apprehensive about doing the shoot, I was doubly so at the prospect of seeing the end result. All the previous day when I hadn�t heard from him I assumed that my test had bombed and as I buzzed myself up to his apartment that night I found that I was tight and strung out like teenager on a first date. I was really relieved when he asked if I wanted to share a joint while we quaffed our ice-cold beers and only after we�d finished it did he pull out the proofs. On top was a matte-finish black and white headshot and it took me a moment to recognise myself peering out with a quizzical, almost cheeky and unfamiliar expression. I was amazed, even thrilled - I looked hot man, even if I say so myself. When he asked me what I thought, I found myself unable to express myself clearly, but managed to mumble that I must be buzzing, cause I hardly recognised myself and that the joint must be kicking in. We looked through the rest of the contact sheets as he told me that his instincts hadn�t failed him, that I was a natural, that the camera liked me, and that he�d like to do some more shots, build a portfolio. Fuck man, I was elated, still amazed at how he�d captured sides of myself that I had never seen in the whole of my 26 years. Curious, I asked if he had any shots of himself from his modelling days. He hauled out a large portfolio, which I opened out on the coffee table and leafed through as he modestly set about tossing a salad to accompany the lasagna he had prepared. I could now see why he�d had such a successful modelling career. He was one of those rare men who radiated an all-male aura, like some thoroughbred animal, and I found myself lingering over the semi-clad shots, admiring his perfectly proportioned physique. I couldn�t linger over them too long though, as I felt the stirrings of a potentially powerful hard-on raising its horny head, triggered by a combination of the joint, the beer, and the buzz that I got from seeing myself in a totally new light, while being able to ogle one of the sexiest studs I�d encountered in a long, long time. To distract myself I offered to uncork the wine that I had brought and poured us each a glass. Over dinner we chatted about his earlier career as I bombarded him with questions and he mapped out his plans for me. We finished the wine and after the dessert of chocolate mousse, we smoked another joint over our coffees before climbing the stairs to the studio. There I discovered that Tristan had set up a dumb valet in the centre of a semi-circle of full-length mirrors. He asked if I�d mind doing some shots in front of the mirrors, the scenario being to undress as if I was alone at the end of the day and about to take a shower, as he needed some semi-clad shots. Man, I was putty in his hands and, if I�d been buzzing before, the second joint kicked in and I found myself losing any reservations that I�d had at our previous shoot. He flicked on the CD player and "AC/DC" began to pump out "Burnin� Alive" over the powerful speakers. I had come straight over from the office so was still suited up and over the pounding beat he talked me through the various poses as I began to strip off in front of the mirrors. I found myself teasing my own reflected image as I discarded first the jacket, then the tie, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, opening it to reveal my tanned chest and ripped abs before pulling it loose from its mooring in my pants and discarding it. Bare-chested, I unbuckled my belt and unhooked the waistband on my trousers before losing my shoes and socks. I hesitated momentarily and grinned when AC/DC pounded into the track "Caught with your pants down" as I unzipped the fly. I was really buzzing now, aware of Tristan clicking away and catching odd glimpses of him reflected in the mirrors. I eased my trousers down over my hips revealing the waistband of my low-rise briefs and paused a moment, remembering all those Calvin Klein ads, before pushing them down even further, responding to Tristan's directions, turning this way and that, until they were down over my thighs. I released them at Tristan's command, stepping out of them as they dropped to the floor. "Hard as a Rock" began to pound out now and for the first time I realised the inherent sexuality of the situation, and the stirrings of my cock. With my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my briefs I looked questioningly, directly into Tristan�s lens. He lifted his eyes to mine and his answering nod was the only signal I needed. Some sense of modesty prevailed, as I wondered whether to turn my back on the camera as I stripped off my briefs, only to realise that with the mirrors all round it would be a pretty useless exercise. Throwing caution to the wind, I looked directly into the lens as I eased the briefs down over my hips till my pubes were showing, pausing momentarily again, teasingly, baring my butt, before whipping them down, my cock leaping free. As the cool air hit my cock it began to stir for the second time that night and now I did turn my back on the camera as I stepped out of the briefs. There was nowhere to hide as my cock began to lengthen and fill, and I reached for the towel on the dumb valet and draped it over my shoulder so that it hung down over my increasingly, burgeoning cock. The driving chorus of " Hard as a Rock" only served to underline my predicament and I looked once again directly into Tristan�s lens for guidance and help. He looked up, fastened the camera to the tripod and walked towards me. "Oh fuck", I thought, "now I�ve blown it, he�ll never be able to use these shots" But, the next minute, I felt Tristan�s hand on my shoulder as he removed the towel and turned me to face my reflected image. My cock was jutting out at right angles to my body now as Tristan�s hands began to trail down across my shoulders and arms, then reach round me pulling me hard up against him as he began to caress my chest, my defined pecs and erecting nipples. Waves of unadulterated lust surged through my body and my cock leaped instantly to full erection, curving inward and upward against my lower abs and I was sure I could feel his erection pressed against my naked butt. Our eyes locked in the mirror and he smiled as his hands moved down, tracing the ridges of my abs, then out to the crest of my hips continuing downwards again, till they were framing my raging boner. My body responded to his every touch, wave after wave of erotic sensation coursing through every fibre. He turned us to face the camera again, wrapping one fist round my throbbing rock-hard cock, the other cupping and groping my balls, I stood there transfixed sure that I was hallucinating, my head reeling, and buzzing. He reached for my right hand, wrapping it round my cock, then my left, cupping my balls and, once he�d replaced his hands with mine, and set them in motion, he slapped my butt and went back to his camera. Tristan began to click away again and I couldn�t stop myself, I was so fucking horny, that I began to stroke and grope myself involuntarily, responding to the sensations raging through my body, cock and balls. AC/DC�s "Ballbreaker" was now booming through the loft and I was intent on doing just that. I was lost in a world of pure unbridled animal lust as I responded to Tristan�s directions over the pounding driving beat. Fuck man, it was wild. I had never even jerked off with a buddy as a kid and here I was doing my nut on camera in front of a guy I hardly even knew. Some, latent exhibitionistic streak suddenly unleashed. I could feel the first waves of orgasm beginning to build and grunted out a warning to Tristan. His response only drove me closer to the edge as he encouraged me: "Yeah, blow that load man...go for it, Ridge...let�s see you shoot that hot spunk...cum on, fucker...give me some cum shots! " As "Ballbreaker " built to a climax so did I. I felt my cock stiffen even more, swelling, lengthening, filling as the first burst of cum began to surge up from my churning balls and I roared like an animal as white-hot lava began to erupt from my raging cock. My body rocked and bucked with each ball-breaking gush of hot cum, some spraying onto the mirrors, as I turned every which way to give Tristan the angles he needed. The sight of myself in the mirrors, Tristan clicking away, the pounding music, provoking another and yet another volley of white-hot ball-draining cum spewing from my engorged dick-head. I had never experienced an orgasm anything like it and as the volleys diminished and my roars, groans and grunts subsided my legs began to buckle and I sagged to my knees on the floor. I squatted there totally spent and drained, head thrown back, leaning back on my heels, my knees splayed, my hips thrust forward, my cock still rock hard, still raging. I glanced up to find Tristan standing over me, a quirky grin playing round the corners of his sensual mouth. I bucked as he dropped between my spread-eagled thighs and began to lap at the wads, spatterings and runnels of cum splashed across my abs and chest, cock and groin. His hot wet tongue was like liquid fire on my exposed, sensitive flesh as he lapped, licked and sucked up every driblet, the mere thought of what he was doing sending fresh waves of lust coursing through my writhing body. He leaned over me and pulled my head towards him, our mouths brushed, our lips met and he began to kiss me, long hard and deep, sharing my male seed with me, and sending fresh shock-waves through my still raging cock. Fuck man, I had never even experimented with tasting my cum, and here I was tasting it from another man's hot hungry mouth. For a moment there, I thought I was going to cum again as my pungent salty-sweet spunk combined with Tristan's all-male must, pervaded my mouth. Only when I had absorbed the last traces of my essence did we break apart. I gasped for air, as Tristan grunted with satisfaction, and suddenly I was crazed by desire for this rugged hunk. I shoved him over onto his back, straddling him and began to tear at the buttons of his khaki shirt, till his full, hairy, sculpted chest was exposed form neck to waist. He looked up at me, startled, as I ripped his shirt from its moorings in his olive-drab chino's, thrust it back over his broad shoulders and bulging pecs, and, as he shrugged it off, I attacked the waistband of his chino's. In my feverish haste, I fumbled with the belt buckle, the snap at the waistband, the series of fly buttons, but finally had them open, exposing his briefs-clad cock, clearly outlined, as it thrust up against the thin white stretch-cotton. I was vaguely aware of the thudding beat of AC/DC's "Furor" blasting out, as I tugged and pulled his pants down over his hips. He thrust his crutch up, and I whipped them over his straining thighs, calves, down to his ankles and slid further down to tug and pull his feet free from his boots, stripping off even his socks, before ripping his pants off completely. I slid my hands up, exploring every inch of muscled flesh from his feet to the junction of his thighs, pausing there, gazing down in anticipation, watching his imposing cock, jutting up against the waistband of his briefs, noting the semi-transparent wet spots around the bulbous crown. I was out of fucking control, man, high on the joint and my savage lust, spurred on by the glimpses of my wild abandonment reflected in the semi-circle of mirrors. Time was slipping cogs, reality receding then rushing back with shattering force, my focus waxed and waned then locked on Tristan's bulging crutch. I cupped, then groped his full heavy balls, massaging them as he tossed under me. My grasping hands inched up over the rigid outline of his lunging shaft, gripping it through the thin fabric, gauging and measuring its strength, length and breadth comparing it against my own potent cock. As my eager hands crept upward from root to tip, his confined dick-head suddenly bulled beyond the waistband of his briefs, thrusting free. Tristan gasped with relief, I in awe, at the sight of his naked, gleaming, pre-cum slicked, mushroom-head. Like mine, it too, was cut and ruby-red, engorged with hot pulsing blood. I gripped the waistband of his briefs, easing them down, exposing the full length of his throbbing shaft, before whipping them down under his roiling balls. My naked hands wrapped round hot, firm, naked flesh, and I reveled in the unfamiliar sight and feel of another man's rock-hard cock and churning balls in my grasp. I had fully expected it to feel much as mine did in my fist, but it was somehow different. There was an almost hard, rubbery texture to Tristan's, his soft outer skin, satin-smooth, as it slid it over the bone-like man-gristle straining beneath. I explored further, sliding my fist up from root to crown, locking round the base of his dick-head, before sliding my thumb over and spreading the pearl of pre-cum across his glistening glans. Tristan groaned with pleasure, and I looked deep into those sultry eyes. I literally, ripped his skimpy briefs off, tossing the tatters aside, as I stoked his pulsating shaft, thoroughly, from crown to base, in long, slow, even strokes. His body writhed under me, his chest heaving, his abs rippling, my naked butt riding against his muscular hairy thighs. He bucked and thrust his raging cock deep into my encompassing fist, as I increased my tempo. Our eyes glanced down at his cock appearing and disappearing into my relentless grasp, before locking once again. I could read the sensations there, knew what he was experiencing, determined to coerce his cock into maximum overload, as I began to pump him purposefully, faster and harder. My own cock had remained rampant throughout, and I now thrust it up against the base of his balls, my dick-head poking and prodding his hot pliant sac. Both my fists were now locked on his steely shaft, pummeling and pounding. He grasped my hips, arching his back, ramming his cock into my flailing fists. His pendulous balls engulfed my jabbing driving cock, again and again, as he strove and soared towards release. Jesus, a part of me was incredulous at what I was doing, but I could see my image reflected in the mirrors, double-fisting and ball-fucking this hard-muscled hunk, another MAN for fuck's sake. Unreal man, but I was so fired, by his arousal, that I abandoned myself to my unbridled lust. Our eyes locked as he groaned and moaned, his entire body straining now and I recognised the first telltale signs of impending orgasm as his eyes began to lose focus. His breath hissed between gritted teeth, bared in a grimace of agony and ecstasy. I felt his cock filling, lengthening, swelling, growing even more rigid in my unrelenting fists, felt it strain and spasm, tore my eyes away from his intense, rapturous expression and looked down to see the first huge jet of cum explode from his yawning slit. That was all the trigger I needed, and my balls began to unleash their second load, against his ballsac. He roared as spasm after spasm wracked his cock, his thick, creamy cum shooting, leaping and gushing, across his hairy, heaving chest and ripped abs, echoed by the spasms in my own cock as it jetted my jism over his balls and the base of his cock. I slid my cock up and opened my fists to grasp it together with his, our hard cocks sliding and gliding together in my fists. "Fuuuucckkkk!" he bellowed as he looked down, his eyes wild, reaching for my uppermost hand, wrenching it from his cock, replacing it with his own, as he too, wrapped his fist round both our cocks. We gazed down in awe, our cocks fused, locked together in our combined fists, the unprecedented sensations, triggering a fresh set of eruptions from our blasting balls as AC/DC's "Love Bomb" burst forth from the speakers. We hung suspended in the throes of euphoria, clinging to our incensed cocks, as they convulsed, jetted and spurted wad after wad of pungent spunk, the spasms eventually becoming less frequent, ebbing and receding till mere dribbles and drivels oozed down into our merged fists. Tristan pulled me to him with a low growl and I collapsed on top of him, trapping our fists and cocks between us we kissed deeply, voraciously. I relished Tristan's all-male taste, the sound of his ragged breath, drew in the unmistakable smell of sweaty male sex, felt our heaving chests against one another, my nips, hard and sensitive, chafing against Tristan's. We reluctantly released our cocks, then ground them between us, sliding and gliding together against our wet, sweat- and cum-bathed midriffs, as we wallowed in the afterglow of our tumultuous orgasms. We writhed together, gently, sensually, languorously, till Tristan rolled on top of me. He drew his mouth from mine as he looked into my eyes, brandishing that quirky grin again, and began to kiss his way down over my glistening body. He licked and lapped and sucked the smeared mixture of our cum from my torso and as he straightened again, leaning over me to resume our kiss, but I flipped him over onto his back and tentatively licked at our blend of semen. As that gamey flavour permeated my mouth, I lusted for more, and hungrily foraged over his gleaming body, intoxicated by our heady mix of rich cream. I drew back, crushed my mouth to Tristan's and we devoured each other, zealously, greedily, rolling over and over across the polished hardwood floor till we'd consumed the last dregs of our cum cocktail and sated our hunger for each other. We fell back, side by side, lazily caressing and fondling each other as we struggled to regain our breath, savouring the spicy aftertaste on our palates. I toyed idly with Tristan's hairy chest, trailed my hand down over the scattering across his six-pack, chasing his glory trail into his full pubic bush: "Whew man, you give new meaning to the term photo SHOOT! Awesome man". We laughed, that quirky smile returning as he quipped: "Yeah! And you've produced some great cum shots Ridge." "Pity, we don�t have any of yours." "Oh, but we do." "What do you mean...how?" "Live action, man...not stills." "What are you talking about?" "Look over there, behind the stills camera, now check the "security" camera over in the corner, and behind here." He reached over, wheeling the central two-way mirror aside to reveal another camera. "Not to mention the one directly overhead. Don�t freak out, but those are all video cameras and they have been rolling since we first started." "WHAT?" I squawked, appalled. "All this has been captured on video?" "A little side-line of mine. For a very exclusive market, of course, so exclusive, that it will remain for our eyes only, if that's the way you want it." "Jesus fucking Christ, Tristan! There's no fucking way, anyone is ever going to clap eyes on those tapes. I'm going to destroy everyone of them before I leave here tonight." "Whoa, whoah, Ridge...let's not be hasty...reserve that judgement till you've seen the finished product." In spite of myself, vivid images of our torrid session flashed through my mind, and I had to admit that I was curious. Curious and, unbelievably, freshly aroused, that latent exhibitionistic streak had raised its unruly head again: "For our eyes only?" "If that's what you want?" "Damn sure!" "We'll see. Come on then, let's get cleaned up, grab a beer, and get started. You can help with the edit if you like?" "I'm not going anywhere till I've seen those tapes." "Oh wow, Ridge, you ain't seen nothing yet. Just wait! Trust me, you are gonna blow your mind, man!" Later, I blew more than my mind, but that will have to wait for another session. You see, I'm helping Tristan with the packaging of my exclusive debut video, called appropriately enough: "THE PHOTO SHOOT" (This is also my debut attempt at erotic writing and for maximum appreciation try listening to AC/DC's "Ballbreaker" while you read it. If you'd like me to continue this factional narrative drop me an e-mail : masturmate@hotmail.com)