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Nifty - Gay - Adult Friends - Picture Perfect

 
Date: Wed, 24 Aug 2011 17:53:03 +0000
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: Picture Perfect

Minutes before closing time he walked into the photography
shop that my brother and I owned. Rob hadn't changed since
I'd last seen him at high school graduation five years ago --
muscular and drop-dead beautiful. The muscles were due to his
four years of workouts while becoming a star on the high school
football team and he'd managed to maintain his thoroughly
masculine physique since then. His good looks were probably
due to a fortunate combination of genes.

"Hey, Don," he exclaimed with his characteristic grin that was
slightly lopsided but unmistakably revealed his perpetual good
humor. Knowing his environment at home was with parents
who squandered their money on booze and lived in a run-down
house, I could never understand why he always seemed to be
cheerful.

I was pleased to think that he remembered me because I did not
hang out with the "high flyers" in school. All I could do was wish
I were as gifted as they were. Still, I indulged myself by
fantasizing that Rob and I were close ... 'very close', if you get
my meaning.

"Didn't know you worked here," he said cheerily. "How're things
going for you?"

"Just great, Rob. Good to see you again. How are things going
for you?"

"So-so," he replied as his grin faded, leaving me to wonder
whether he had some kind of problem.

Not wanting to probe into his possible difficulties, I asked, "What
brings you here? Can I help you find something?"

"I was hoping to find a digital camera ... that's not too
expensive."

"In that case," I said, "my brother, Mark, is the one you want to
talk to. I run the portrait studio upstairs; he handles the
cameras, accessories, and stuff down here. Unfortunately, he
left a bit early today. It's his wife's birthday and he's taking her
to dinner and a concert. But if you'll settle for second best,
maybe I can help."

I guided him to the display of cameras and asked (isn't that what
a good salesman is supposed to do?), "What kind of pictures
you want to take?"

"Well," he began hesitantly. "I sort of ... that is ... this may
sound strange but I need some pictures of myself."

I found that to be curious but chose not to probe for more
information. "In that case," I said, "you'll probably want a
camera with a self-timer. That way you can set the timer and
position yourself before it snaps the picture. Oh. I'd suggest a
tripod, too ... that'll hold the camera while you move around in
front of it."

Digital cameras were new on the market and expensive back
then. He frowned when he saw the price tag on the various
models. "That's a bit out of my range," he said sadly. "I didn't
know they cost that much."

"I have some regular film cameras that are much less
expensive," I suggested.

"'Fraid not," he mumbled. "Got to be digital."

Trying to be helpful but not too pushy, I said, "Well, with a film
camera you can get prints made quite cheaply. And they're just
as good or better than prints made from a digital image."

"Won't do," he countered.

Curiosity got the better of me and I asked, "Why?"

"Gotta email 'em somewhere. Can't do that with prints."

The ambiguity and evasiveness that I sensed in his tone and
manner told me not to pursue the question any further. But
another idea came to mind. "I've got a digital camera in my
studio upstairs. I'd be happy to take a few shots of you and
make a CD for you. That way, you'll be able to email them."

He fidgeted and frowned for a few moments before hesitantly
saying, "That might work. And I DO need the digital pictures.
But ... well ... you may not want to do it if I tell you what they're
for."

"Hey, Rob, what's the big deal? I shoot some pictures, give you
the CD, and you don't have to buy a camera that you can't
afford. Moreover, I guarantee they'll be top quality. If you were
to take pictures of yourself the lighting, the pose, the resolution
of the image wouldn't be as good. How about it?"

"Well, okay. But you gotta swear not to tell a single soul about
it. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Of course, Rob! But now you've got me wondering. Why
would I not want to take your picture? Why is it such a secret?"

He dropped his gaze to the floor and shifted his weight from one
foot to the other. Even his frown was slightly lopsided.
Hesitantly, he said, "I'll tell you on one condition. Whatever I
say cannot be repeated. EVER! After I explain, you can tell me
to get lost, but ... on your word of honor ... you'll keep your
mouth shut. Okay?"

"Agreed," I said, still mystified by his strange demand.

"It's like this," he began. "I need money. I was laid off at work
and got bills to pay. There's a bunch of Websites that'll pay
good money to somebody like me. You can call it modeling, but
a special kind of modeling. You see, I won't be wearing any
clothes. Naked! Hard! Jerking off! Cumming! I've contacted
quite a few and the ones that pay money want to see samples
before signing me up. The whole truth is, Don, they're gay
Websites. Does that offend you? Are you going to tell me 'no
way'? Or do we have a deal? Can you keep it a secret?"

I was stunned by what I heard. Rob was going to pose for gay
porn Websites. "You got a deal!" I said. "What's more, I've
seen a lot of those Websites." (I avoided admitting that I visited
them all the time. That would reveal my sexuality.) "Nobody
knows that, so we both know a secret that can't be repeated.
It's closing time. Let me lock up and we'll go upstairs for your
sitting."

I was elated! I would get to see -- for the first time -- the nude
body of the guy who had dominated my fantasies. I might even
get to see him jerk off and cum. I hoped he didn't sense my
enthusiasm and conclude that I was gay ... worse, that I lusted
after his body.

"Not now," he said. My anticipation turned to disappointment. "I
don't have the right clothes now. Can I come back tomorrow
night?"

"Sure thing," I replied. "I'll have the studio set up for you. Come
in about this time. We'll lock up and you can show off your
stuff." I immediately regretted that last phrase because he may
still be embarrassed about what he was forced by
circumstances to do.

<><><><><>

As closing time drew near the next day, I could hardly
concentrate on my job. Mark noticed and asked me what was
wrong. "Nothing," I replied. "Just a lousy day upstairs with a
nit-picking customer. When she saw the proofs, she wanted me
to soften the wrinkles in her face. Christ! I might as well try to
fill in the Grand Canyon!" It was a lie, but I hoped it was
convincing.

My hopes for seeing Rob naked that evening were dashed
when Mark said he would be staying after hours to catch up on
some book work. I knew I would have to persuade him not to
do it because of the risk of his catching me upstairs engaged in
porno photography. I was at a loss to think of a reason for him
to go home. All my eager anticipation morphed into frustration.
But fortune smiled on me when he got a phone call from his wife
to say that his son had fallen off his bike, possibly breaking an
arm, and had to be taken to urgent care. He apologized to me
and left in a hurry half an hour before closing time. I expressed
my concern for his son, of course, and tried to hide my relief that
he would not prevent what I had been looking forward to. Hell, I
had been getting hard just imagining what was in the offing for
me!

Rob had not arrived when it was time to lock the front door and
turn out the lights. I delayed closing for fifteen minutes, hoping
that he would show up. He didn't. I locked the front door but
kept the lights on. I waited, becoming more frustrated and
despondent, for another twenty minutes. Had he changed his
mind? Did he have some kind of accident? Would my golden
opportunity be nothing but a false promise?

The knocking on the door and the sight of Rob peering inside
lifted my spirits. In spite of myself I ran to the door to let him in.
While he apologized -- he was caught in traffic -- I regained my
composure. I hoped he wouldn't deduce from my running to the
door that I was particularly eager. That could lead to a further
deduction that it would be more than a simple photo shoot and
that I wanted to see him naked.

He was dressed in a tight tee shirt that did nothing to hide his
muscular chest and flat abdomen. His jeans were well worn
and clung to his massive thighs. I could see that he had work
boots on, which completed the impression of a hunky
construction worker. My heart skipped a few beats at the
thought of seeing what lay under the clothing. He brought a
gym bag that, I found out later, contained a hard hat and a tool
belt full of tools.

I directed him to the stairway at the back of the shop and was
able to maneuver behind him for a better view of his butt as he
effortlessly climbed the stairs. I was so engrossed with the sight
of his firm ass that I hardly heard him say, "I hope this isn't too
much trouble for you ... staying late, I mean. Will your family be
upset over your being home late for supper?"

"No. I don't have a family. I live alone. Besides, I'm happy to
do a favor for a friend." He had no idea (I hoped) just how happy
I was. Nor, (I hoped) would he think it unusual that I had not
married.

I had the studio set up with a leather arm chair, end table and
lamp, and a backdrop showing a fireplace and bookshelves.
The lighting was already arranged. He was impressed.
However, with the way he was dressed, the setting was not
appropriate. I suggested that I change the setting to something
more like the outdoors and he agreed. I switched the backdrop
to a scene of a river, pine trees, and a mountain in the distance.
He helped me move the chair and table and position a fake log
over an artificial grass rug. "That's perfect!" he gushed. 'Not
perfect yet,' I thought. 'Not until you're naked!'

Both of us had seen how the Websites presented a photo series
-- beginning fully clothed, stripping off, and a finale of a cum
shot -- so I wouldn't have to give him many directions on how to
pose.

I nearly gasped when he pulled off his tee shirt. A wonderfully
tanned, solid chest and biceps was the epitome of masculine
beauty. It was not the body of an extremist body builder that I
thought was a grotesque caricature of the developed male form.
Rather, the firm muscles formed proportionate bulges that
perfectly expressed both power and grace.

If I hadn't been so impatient for him to reveal his body -- ALL of
it -- I'd have been impressed with how well he performed as a
model. He even managed to ignore the camera, which I thought
would add appeal for voyeuristic viewers. After a brief
distraction of adjusting the lights, however, I had the presence
of mind to compliment him. "You're a skilled model, Rob. It's as
if you'd done this before.

"Well," he began. (Did I notice a slight blush?) "I practiced
some in front of a mirror. I wanna make a good impression so
they'd sign me up for pay."

"When they see these pictures, Rob, there's no question that
they'll want more," I assured him.

Through several minutes and dozens of pictures with occasional
pauses for me to get the right angle, he took off his wide leather
belt, unbuttoned the waist band of his jeans, and unzipped his
fly. My groin responded in spite of reminders to myself that I
must concentrate on my task of taking pictures. When he slowly
pulled down his jeans, it was with the skill of a striptease
dancer. He must have perfected that practicing in front of a
mirror. I was surprised to see that he wore a string bikini but not
surprised that his package was very large. I had to turn my
back on him with the excuse of adjusting a flood light. I needed
to adjust my hard-on that had become wedged in an
increasingly painful position.

My heart almost went into arrhythmia when Rob pulled down his
underwear. A thick, black mound of pubic hair came into view.
It contrasted with his virtually hairless torso. Gradually, the
bikini lowered, revealing inch by inch a thick cock. It was long,
but not abnormally so. It was about that time that I felt moist
precum saturating my skivvies. It was becoming increasingly
difficult to hold the camera steady, much less to concentrate on
getting good pictures. After kicking his skimpy bikini aside, he
began to fondle himself. How I wished it were my hand
administering the arousing touch!

He was hard and erect rather quickly, I thought, but he stroked
his manhood slowly for a long time, which allowed ample
opportunity to take some great pictures and to sear the sight
into my memory.

He gradually increased the pace of his stroking until he grunted,
"Gonna shoot! Get ready!"

The warning was appreciated and I took a position that would
assure a great picture. I was clicking the shutter furiously as
three long ropes of cum erupted to coat his torso. One or two of
the shots, I was sure, caught the semen in flight.

I thought there would be just a few more pictures of him
recovering. But he wiped up the cum with his fingers, carefully
and with obvious gusto savored every bit of it. Only then did he
turn his face to the camera and flash his lopsided grin.

"How was it?" he asked. "Do you think it's good enough for
them to offer me a contract?"

"It was fan-friggin-tastic!" I exclaimed. "I've never seen such a
performance! You're going to get a five-star rating from the
viewers, too. They'll be cumming in their pants.

He shot me a quizzical look that made me realize I may have
revealed more about my familiarity with gay Websites -- AND
my sexual interests -- than I wanted. But his question really put
me on the spot. "Are you one of those that visit a lot of gay porn
sites?"

I could lie ... unconvincingly. Or I could tell the truth ... for the
first time to anyone -- that I was gay. My resistance to coming
out was so ingrained, however, that I replied, "I've seen a few.
For the quality of the photography, that is."

"Yeah, right!" he said with a tone dripping with sarcasm. "And
what explains that tell-tale bulge in your crotch? Got a banana
stuffed in there or did you get all hot and bothered watching
me?"

I was speechless, which was enough to confirm his suspicions.
Finally gathering my wits, I said, "Okay. I spend a lot of time
surfing gay porn sites ... and not for the quality of the
photography that, by the way, is generally terrible. Why?
Because I'm gay. Nobody but you knows that. I can only hope
that you don't out me."

His laugh exploded from the depths of his being. I worried
about that. Conflicting thoughts came in rapid fire succession.
'Did his laugh mean that he would disregard my request and
take pleasure in letting others know my secret? That would be
unbearable. No. He'd have to explain how he found out. But
wait. Maybe he's not ashamed of posing in the nude and
jerking off for the camera. Maybe he's also gay. No. He was
known in high school as a stud and bragged about all the girls
he'd laid. Could that have been just a cover? SHIT! I don't
know what to think!'

"Sonofabitch!" he said when he stopped laughing. "I'd never
have thought it."

"Please!" I pleaded. "Don't tell ANYbody. It would destroy me.
My family. My customers. My reputation."

"Relax, Don. We've already agreed to keep each other's
secrets. Now, if you don't mind, stop gawking at my body and
I'll get dressed."

Chastened ... and worried about whether to trust Rob's promise
of secrecy ... I transferred the images from my camera to the
computer while he dressed. "I shot a lot of pictures, Rob. Too
many to fit on a CD. So I'm going to put them on a thumb drive.
Go through them when you have a chance and write down the
numbers of those you want to send off to the Web site. I'll then
make a CD of the ones you choose. I'll also put them in a ZIP
file so you only have to send one email attachment. It'd be a big
attachment if you choose too many so I suggest you pick out the
ten or so best ones."

"Thanks, buddy," he said. "How much do I owe you?"

"We'll talk about that later, Rob. I never charge anybody until
they're satisfied with the proofs. Then the price depends on the
size and number of prints they order. So don't worry about it
now. Just be sure that it'll be fair and affordable. Okay?"

<><><><><>

Rob was back in the shop the next day just before noon to hand
me the thumb drive and a list of the eight photos he wanted to
use. He didn't know it (but probably guessed) that after he left
the day before I jerked off as I viewed the pictures as a slide
show. With the sight of his magnificent body displayed before
me, intense doesn't begin to describe the orgasm I had.

"I can have these ready for you today," I said. "Can you come
back later?"

"Sure," he replied. "I've got a couple of job interviews this
afternoon but I can be here ... hopefully before you close."

"If not, Rob, I can wait around for a little while. Just knock on
the door if it's locked."

I waited half an hour after closing before hearing the knock on
the front door. I let Rob in, locked the door, and we went
upstairs to the studio. I was not surprised by the eight pictures
he had selected. They were favorites of mine as well. It took
only a few minutes to transfer the photos to a CD.

"Thanks, buddy. How much do I owe you?"

I'd given that plenty of thought and debated with myself on what
to ask for. Ultimately, I decided to gamble. "Normally, I charge
only for the prints a customer orders. The cost of the sitting is
built into the package price for the prints. If a customer doesn't
order prints for whatever reason, I charge fifty dollars for the
sitting." I could tell from his reaction that he was troubled by the
cost. "But you're just getting a CD and not getting prints to
frame. Moreover, you were honest enough with me to have me
make the CD instead of burning off the pictures yourself. So it's
hard to say. But I know you're short of money so I can give you
another option."

"What's that?" he asked.

"First of all, let me say that I did it as a favor to a high school
friend. But if you'd like to return the favor, I have something in
mind. We already have a pact of secrecy so I'm willing to tell
you what I want. It isn't cash. I want to undress you. I want to
wander all over your superb body with my hands and mouth. I
want to suck your terrific cock. To put it plainly, Rob, I want to
give you a blow job. If that offends you, you can walk out of
here with the CD and owe me nothing."

He looked at me intently for what seemed to be forever. I
couldn't interpret his blank expression. I began to regret my
bold but foolish request. I was about to apologize when he said,
"Okay. But on one condition. I get to do to you the same as
you do to me."

It was my turn to be speechless. But not for long. "Does that
mean...? Are you also...? Are you serious?"

He flashed his lopsided grin as I tried to fathom whether this
macho man could possibly be gay. "To answer your questions,"
he began. "Yes, I want to give you a blow job, too. And no, I'm
not gay. I like to bang chicks but I've been curious about what
it's like with a guy. What the hell. Sex is sex. Right? I guess
that makes me bi. And yes, I AM serious. How about it? Do
we have a deal?"

"DEAL!" I exclaimed, not ashamed at all of my enthusiasm.

The next two hours were euphoric! Every moment is burned
into my memory and I frequently recall (and perhaps
exaggerate?) the experience. We began as timid, sometimes
awkward virgins who were unsure of what to do and how best to
satisfy ourselves and our partners. It was my first (and so far
my only) gay encounter. Although Rob had laid many girls, it
was his first time with a guy. Consequently, underlying my
ecstasy was the hope that I could give him as much pleasure as
he had often experienced with girls. Any inhibitions we might
have had were soon displaced by overpowering carnal lust.
After a short time I had the vague sense that he was treating me
like a girl by taking command and choreographing our actions.
But I didn't give a shit. I had free access to a hunk whom I had
envied and hungered for since high school. It wasn't long
before all thoughts of the outside world vanished. My attention
was focused exclusively on the muscular body that was mine to
explore.

We were both hard, but I managed to control my urgent desire
to rush to orgasm or, for that matter, to let his cock fill my
mouth. I was -- for the time being -- content to enjoy
worshiping his body with my hands and mouth. He was not as
patient. He pushed my head down to his crotch, an obvious
sign that he wanted the blow job I had promised him. The
scent, the sight, the feel, the taste of his manly organ did to me
what I imagined a snort of cocaine would do to an addict. His
precum coated my tongue and intensified my arousal. I teased
the head of his cock with my tongue, which elicited two
reactions from him. The first was a loud groan of pleasure that
pleased me. The second, however, disappointed me. I wanted
to prolong my sucking and pleasure but he started fucking my
face. 'Okay,' I thought. 'If that's what he wants, I'll go along for
the ride.'

A few minutes later and without a word of warning he erupted
with several blasts of hot cream into my mouth and throat. I had
to swallow quickly, not wanting to lose a single drop of his
offering. He then collapsed while I coaxed the remaining cum
out of his softening rod. That pleasure was not to last long. He
pushed my head away, no doubt because his cock was too
sensitive to endure further stimulation.

When he had recovered he said abruptly, "Your turn." He
immediately positioned himself at my crotch. I wished he would
pay attention to my body as I had done to his but he seemed
interested only in my erect cock. It took a few minutes (of
extreme pleasure) before I was on the brink. I warned him but
he locked his lips more tightly around my throbbing sex bone.
My orgasm was so intense it was almost painful. My mind went
totally blank except for the extreme sensations of pleasure that
radiated from my groin to every part of my body.

We cuddled, pressing our naked bodies together, for a long,
blissful time.

"That was marvelous," I gushed.

"I liked it, too," he replied with a disappointing lack of emotion
that started me worrying that he didn't like it but was just trying
to be nice. I wondered what he said after he fucked one of his
girlfriends. If he wanted a return engagement, he'd surely
express more sincere appreciation.

I had to know more. After a few moments I asked, "Something
you'd like to do again?"

"I'll be honest with you, Don. If you're asking to get together
again, the answer is no. Don't get me wrong. It was fun and I
enjoyed it. But I don't want to get involved in any kind of
relationship. Too much complication. Too many worries.
Maybe someday I'll change my mind. But if and when I do, it'll
be with a woman. That's not to say I'll stop having an
occasional fling with a guy but it'll be just for the sex. With no
promises of commitment."

I had hoped for a repeat whenever he was horny and couldn't
score with a girl but it was apparently not to be. I'd have to be
content with memories of a glorious encounter with a
spectacular stud.

<><><><><>

A week later, Rob came into the shop again. I could tell from
the bounce in his step and the radiating smile on his face what
he was going to say. I guessed right. "Hey there, Don," he
gushed. "Got some place we can talk? In private?" We went
out the back door into the alley. I guessed right. "Got word
from the Website," he gushed. "They like what I sent 'em. I
leave next week for Dallas, all expenses paid. Be there for a
week. They want to do three or four series. Solo, another with
a guy, and another with a chick. Imagine! Getting paid to have
fun! Just stopped by to share the good news and to thank you
for your help."

"Congratulations, Rob. Although I'm not at all surprised that
they liked what they saw. You're going to be a hit, for sure."

I never saw nor heard from Rob again -- not even on the
Websites I frequented. My only regret is that I never asked
which Website he would be working for so I could follow his new
career.

I periodically view the photographs I took of him. They
inevitably get me hard and lead to a satisfying orgasm,
particularly when I recall our only sex together. I caught myself
wishing once that I had gone with him to be his exclusive
photographer. Perhaps we could repeat our sexual encounter.
But what's the use of mourning over something that didn't --
and couldn't -- happen?

The end.

Author's Note: Iatia, the best editor I know and my best friend
corrected my careless mistakes and offered valuable suggestions to
improve this story. THANKS!
 
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Nifty - Gay - Adult Friends - Picture Perfect