Photo Shoot

PHOTO SHOOT by Sebastian Wallace

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Author: sebastian_wallace@yahoo.co.uk Website: http://stories.remoworld.com

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Part 1

I dread the day when one of my patients blurts out, halfway through an appointment with me, "You know... I think I recognise your face from somewhere... have you ever done any modelling, Dr Wallace?"

It's going to happen; it's inevitable. Sooner or later, someone bound to come into my consultation room who remembers my face from whatever gay magazine I appeared in a few years ago.

And when it does - well - I'm not quite sure how I'm going to explain it. I don't know if it's possible to casually, laughingly, tell someone why their trusty GP was, just three or four years ago, strutting his stuff in a hardcore all-male wank-mag.

I think the tactic I'll use will be to roll my eyes back, chuckle nonchalantly and say, "Oh that! Well... you know how tough it can get for poverty-stricken medical students! My girlfriend wasn't exactly impressed, but it earned us a few bob for a holiday..."

And then, maybe, while maintaining a sweet, harmless smile: "Doesn't your wife object to your interest in that kind of magazine?"

All nice and friendly.

That's assuming the person recognising me turns out to be a married man. But I think that's a fair assumption for me to make: the magazine was clearly aiming itself at that end of the market, as I remember it.

I can't recall it's exact name - I only saw one issue - but it was something like, "Professional Photographer" or "Photography Monthly" or something. It sounded pretty innocuous anyway.

It was the kind of magazine a guy could pick up in an out-of-the-way adult newsagents and carry home without arousing too much suspicion. Slip it in his briefcase between 'The Times' and some paperwork without his wife taking any interest if she was to get the odd fleeting glimpse of it.

The one I saw had a handsome young man on the cover, smiling pleasantly against an artistically-shot sunset. Intellectual-sounding captions about some of that issue's articles.

But inside...

The photography was very heavily orientated around male nudes. Solo models - clothed, then undressing and ultimately naked; couples in an assortment of sexually-suggestive poses together; and groups posing nude in varying states of arousal.

My only look at the magazine came one evening when I called in to see a mate of mine called Jono.

Jono was a photography student at Southampton, where I did my medical training, and he had a large attic room in one of the old Georgian terraces just north of the University campus. He'd set his room up as a kind of bedroom-cum-studio, with his bed almost crowded out by a couple of large painted backdrops and an array of tripods, cameras and lights around them.

I called in to give him copies of the holiday snaps I'd taken in Benidorm: Jono and I had been there with a couple of other friends during the previous summer. By now it was the middle of a cold, wet February and I apologised that I hadn't taken the time to see him in the intervening months.

Jono was fine about it and suggested we go out for a drink together, to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah," I'd said, nodding. "We'll have to sort something out sometime..."

"No - I mean now. What's wrong with going out tonight?"

I smiled. "Well, I'm hardly dressed for it, mate..."

I'd just been playing squash at the Uni sports centre and was still in my tracksuit; still pretty sweaty.

He shrugged. "You could clean up here, Seb... have a shower or whatever..." Then, throwing a look at the bag I'd brought with me, "You've got your regular clothes with you, haven't you...?"

I thought about it and it seemed like a pretty good idea. I nodded. "Yeah - if you've a spare towel you don't mind me using..."

"No problem."

So that was sorted.

I guess if I'd have got dressed in the bathroom after my shower, as I originally intended, then Jono wouldn't have made the comment he made and there'd have been no story for you to be reading now.

But the bathroom he shared with his housemates wasn't exactly the kind of place you wanted to hang around in. It was cold, musty and damp and the floor seemed like it hadn't been cleaned since the house was built. Maybe I'm over-particular, but I figure that a bathroom floor that's as sticky as fly paper isn't something that I want to put my bare feet on for too long.

So after my shower, I'd put a towel around me and hurried back up to the warmth of Jono's room.

Jono had looked over at me as I dried myself. That in itself wasn't that unusual: he'd always seemed as if he might have, at the very least, gay leanings even though he'd never admitted to them.

But as I yanked my briefs up my legs, he'd said, "You know you could make quite a bit of pocket money with your body..."

I'd laughed hollowly and replied, "I don't think prostitution's got such a good pension plan as medicine has, mate..."

He'd chuckled. "No - I mean, you've got a well-toned body that would photograph well with the right lighting. You could earn a few bob modelling..."

Again I'd just laughed dismissively, tucking my cock into my underwear.

Then he'd said, "Sorry, Seb - it's just I've been doing a few pieces for this photography mag - one that specialises in the male physique. It pays pretty well so I guess I'm talent spotting..."

I'd smiled and pulled on my shirt. "What sort of money do they offer?"

"It varies." He pulled a magazine out from under some of the papers and prints on his desk. He leafed through it until he found a set of solo shots and showed it to me.

The photos were shot in grainy black and white and showed an athletic young man, probably nineteen or twenty years old, posing in just a pair of white Calvins. They were tightly-fitting and clearly held a fairly generously-proportioned package. He was standing in front of a painted backdrop similar to one of Jono's and was, for some unexplained reason, holding an oar.

Jono said, "I'd get between two and three hundred for a set like that..."

I was surprised. I heard myself say, "Pounds?" and then felt silly for saying it. Like it could have been anything else.

Jono just nodded.

I asked, "And how much would big boy get?"

"Depends. If he's unknown, maybe a couple of hundred. If he's made a name for himself, could be two or three times that."

I was interested. "Two hundred quid for standing around in your skivvies...? Sounds like pretty easy beer money... What's the catch?"

Jono smiled and flipped over the page. The guy had removed his briefs and was now naked. His cock more than matched its earlier promise: it was limp but large and swollen.

Jono raised his eyebrows like he expected me to be shocked by the pictures.

I shrugged. "So... two hundred quid for getting your kit off... it's still pretty good..."

Jono turned a few more pages. "That's just a starting price... if a guy's prepared to pose with another guy and, you know, pretend to play around a bit..."

He showed me another page. These photos were in colour and showed two guys, both in their early twenties, playing with a can of squirty cream wearing just their boxer briefs. Spraying some of it on each others' chests and acting like they were licking it off. Clearly both trying not to piss themselves laughing.

I smiled. "How much would they get?"

"Could be up to a grand..."

"A thousand quid? Each? For just messing around together...?"

Jono muttered, "Not quite," and turned a couple of pages. By now the guys were naked and boned up. They were both still clearly finding things more amusing than erotic but were trying their best to look serious as they pretended to lick the cream from each other's erections and arses.

I noticed that they weren't actually touching each other: their mouths and tongues only came close to one another; they never actually made contact.

I asked Jono to continue turning.

On the following two pages the lads were acting like they were squirting the cream up each other's arseholes. Once again, though, I noticed that no contact was made: there was no actual penetration, just the suggestion of it.

I gestured for Jono to keep turning but the next page contained one of the magazine's brief, insubstantial-looking articles. He said, "That's it... that's the end of the shot."

I was interested. "I can't believe they'd pay those guys a grand for just playing around like that... I mean, I've done that kind of thing with my mates when we've been pissed enough not to give a shit."

Jono grinned. "Yeah? Squirting cream up each other's arses?"

I laughed. "I've never quite gone that far, but I've messed around - you know, fun fights and stuff - with next-to-nothing on..."

Jono chuckled. "And all this time you could have been getting paid for it...!"

I thought about it. "Yeah..."

We dropped the topic, I finished getting dressed and the two of us went out for a few pints together.

And that would have been the end of it, if a mate of mine hadn't happened to mention how skint he was on the phone a few weeks later.

I'd known Daryl since we'd been thirteen or fourteen years old. Unlike most of the guys I'd been friends with at school, Daryl and I had stayed in regular contact and had occasionally visited one another at University. We'd even gone on the odd holiday together, either just the two of us or with our respective girlfriends, and had obviously grown pretty close.

So when Daryl told me he was finding it so hard to find decent employment that he might have to take up some crappy pound-an-hour 'typing from home' job just to get by, I had no qualms about telling him what I'd learned that evening round at Jono's.

With most of my other mates, I'd have worried that they might have objected to my suggestion that they'd take their clothes off for money, but Daryl and I knew each other well enough to be able to say stuff like that to each other.

As I'd suspected, Daryl wasn't in the least offended. In fact, he was as surprised as I had been that there was so much money to be had by simply taking your clothes off.

He'd laughed incredulously on the phone: "Two hundred fuckin' quid for getting your knob out... Jesus! I'd have to type... what is it... like five hundred letters or something to get that much..."

"Yeah... it's good money..."

He barked, "Hey - is it tax-exempt?"

"How would I know?!" I laughed. "Jono was just making conversation - he didn't get a contract out or anything..."

Daryl chuckled. "Well, even if it isn't - I'd still be pretty interested..."

I went on: "No point, mate: you have to be fit, otherwise the magazine isn't gonna want to buy the photos. No-one's gonna want to see some bloke with a beer-gut and a lard-arse struttin' around..."

He laughed again. "Actually, I've toned up pretty nicely since you last saw me. I've still got a card for the university gym and, well, let's face it - I've got fuck all else to do during the day right now..."

"Yeah right."

He sounded adamant. "Yeah, fuckin' right. I reckon a body like mine would be right up their street..."

I continued teasing him. "Well, even if you've got the body for it, mate, Jono mentioned something about having a good-sized dick... so that's you pretty much out of the running..."

He laughed loudly. "Fuck off! Don't be such a tosser, Seb..."

"I'm not being a tosser! I just don't think Jono's got a zoom lens that'd be strong enough..."

He chuckled. "Yeah yeah yeah... Seriously, though. D'you think he'd want to photograph me?"

I paused. "I dunno. I see him around town sometimes... I could ask him..."

Daryl asked, "Have you got his mobile number?"

I realised how much he needed the money.

"You're that hard-up?"

"You bet. Hey - I'm nicking loo rolls from the gym toilets, mate..."

I pretended to laugh but I actually felt quite saddened to hear that Daryl was stooping to that.

I said, "Well - if you've got a mate who'd be up for it - Jono said that two guys can get a thousand quid for posing together -"

Daryl quickly interjected, "I wouldn't go in for doing gay stuff..."

"No - not gay stuff. No touching. Just messing around together."

"What - with nothing on?"

"Pretty much."

He went silent for a few seconds. I let him consider the idea.

The silence continued and I wondered if he might be feeling uncomfortable by my suggestion.

Eventually I said, "Sorry - I shouldn't have mentioned that... forget it..."

But Daryl replied, "No - I'm just amazed at how much. A thousand pounds...?"

"That's what Jono said..."

Again Daryl went quiet.

After a few more seconds of thought: "Maybe I'll catch the train down to Southampton, Seb. Could you put me up for a few nights?"

I smiled. "'Course I could, mate."

We went round to Jono's that Friday night and Jono handed Daryl the same magazine that he'd shown me.

Daryl flicked through it, intrigued.

He muttered, as he glanced at the centre spread showing a couple of guys in football strips simulating sex, "I'd have never have considered doing anything like this... I wouldn't have thought it would pay so well..."

Jono smiled. "So you'd be interested in having a few shots taken of you undressing or something?"

Daryl looked up at him. "D'you think I'd make a good enough... er... subject?"

Jono nodded. "I'd have to see you with nothing on... but I think you'd be pretty good. The last guy I photographed got two hundred and he wasn't as fit as you..."

Daryl grinned. Jono blushed slightly, quickly correcting himself: "I mean, he wasn't as athletic as you..."

I asked Jono who the other guy had been, wondering if I might know him.

Jono shook his head. "That's between me and him. You're welcome to buy the magazine next month, Seb, if you're that interested... but anything which happens in this room goes no further, as far as I'm concerned..."

I nodded. "Yeah... I guess that's fair enough..."

Jono went on, "I figure that if I start spreading gossip about guys I photograph, no-one's gonna want to pose for me..."

Daryl said, "I was going to ask about that. I mean, it's not like I know many people in Southampton... but I'd definitely need to know you're not gonna go around mouthing off about me..."

After Daryl had agreed that he'd be interested in going ahead, Jono asked him to undress so that he could see whether he'd be, as he put it, "suitable". I figured Jono wanted to look for stuff like birthmarks and pimples, and needed, of course, to check out the size and shape of Daryl's cock. Otherwise he might end up wasting a roll or two of film before realising that something as apparently trivial as a scar in just the wrong place would make the shots unmarketable.

I offered to leave the room, but Daryl just snorted: "Like you've never seen it all before, Seb...? Come on, mate, don't get all prissy..."

I chuckled. "I was just being polite..."

Daryl glared over at me. I realised that I was making this a bigger deal than he wanted me to; he wanted to keep things nice and casual to avoid him feeling embarrassed. He muttered, "It's not like a gynaecological examination or something... I'm just getting my kit off..."

"Yeah, okay."

He stripped off quickly and efficiently. Jono said, "You'll have to... er... slow things down a little for the shoot..."

Daryl smiled. "I can put on a bit of show when I need to... don't worry, mate..."

As he threw his clothes off, it became clear that Daryl's claims that he'd been spending a lot of time in the gym had not been an exaggeration. His body was beautifully toned - in the best state I'd ever seen it - and the muscles of his arms and chest looked strong and firm. He'd even managed to cultivate a set of clearly-defined abs, a feat I hadn't yet managed to achieve.

When he was wearing nothing but a pair of checked boxer shorts, Jono took a step away from him, studied him up and down and nodded slowly and seriously. Daryl threw him a self-conscious grin, hooked his thumbs the waistband of his shorts and yanked them quickly down.

His cock looked the same as it had on the many occasions I'd seen it before. It was limp, of course, but pleasantly large: about five or so inches long with a thick, substantial girth. Although covered by his foreskin, his bell-end was clearly discernible as a hefty mushroom-shaped bulge. His balls were also a good size, hanging low between his thighs, and his pubic bush was thick and dark.

Jono studied him in silence for a few seconds. I could see Daryl was feeling extremely uncomfortable.

He looked over at me staring at his cock and tried to smile.

I was about to say something to ease the tension a little, when Jono asked Daryl to turn around.

Daryl turned to show Jono his arse. It was squat and round, with a fine line of hair emerging from his crack.

Jono said, "Yeah... you'll be perfect," and Daryl turned back to face him. Jono went on: "I'd just make a couple of suggestions, though: you might want to buy a pair of white briefs before we do the shoot. It's what the magazine readers like to see, apparently."

Daryl nodded, picking up his shorts to get dressed again.

Jono added, "And you might want to slightly trim your pubes. Again, it's what sells magazines."

Daryl asked how short he should make them.

Jono showed him one of the models in the magazine. "Like this guy. Not completely shaved, but trimmed enough to show his cock off a bit better. Make it look longer... or in your case, even longer..."

Daryl grinned and winked at him and Jono blushed again.

We arranged to return to Jono's the following afternoon for the shoot and, after Daryl had finished dressing, he and I headed off to the pub.

Over a couple of pints, after discussing whether or not Jono might be gay, our conversation turned to the prospect of the photo session.

I asked Daryl if he felt embarrassed by taking his clothes off in front of a camera.

He shrugged. "Not especially. I just didn't like the way the guy was staring at me. It was freaking me out. At least if he's behind a camera, he can't do that... Would you feel embarrassed if it was you?"

"No. I don't think so."

He took a long drink from his glass and then asked, "Would you feel embarrassed posing together with another guy... one of those pretend-sex shots?"

I smiled. "To be honest, I think my only problem would be trying not to laugh..."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Me too." Then he asked, "Would it be worth a thousand pounds to you?"

I saw where this was headed.

"I dunno... I guess the money might come in kind of useful..."

Daryl nodded and kept staring at me as if he was waiting for me to suggest something.

I didn't, and after a few seconds he took another long drink from his pint. After he'd swallowed the liquid, he peered down at his glass as if studying the patterns in the froth, and said, "It's just... well... a grand would come in really useful for me... and you're the only guy I could ask this of..."

He looked up at me but I just went on staring at him. He had to be the one to say it.

He waited and then, when it became clear I wasn't going to help him out, he said, "Would you be up for doing one of those duo shots? The two of us?"

Even though I'd known the question was coming I still felt surprised to hear him actually ask it. I looked down at my own pint.

He quickly put in, "Don't worry about saying 'no' - it'd be no problem if you did. It's just that if you wouldn't mind doing it, we might as well get the most out of this as we can..."

I looked back up at him. I muttered, "A thousand pounds would be pretty handy right now... pay off a couple of debts... maybe have enough left to go away somewhere with Kaz..."

He grinned. "So you'd be up for it?"

I remained guarded. "I'm not saying that... I'm just saying the money would be nice..."

Over the following couple of hours - in the pub, on the walk home and as we got ready for bed - Daryl kept trying to reopen the conversation and persuade me that I really wanted to pose with him. But I wasn't convinced: the money was tempting but I had too many misgivings to be able to commit myself.

He'd say, "But you said the money would be useful..."

And I'd laugh and say, "I'm not denying that - I'm just not sure I can trust Jono..."

"You heard what he said... he wouldn't tell anyone..."

"Yeah - but Jono and I have a lot of the same friends. I can just see him getting pissed with a group of our mates and it all coming out..."

Later, he'd try: "What if we could swear Jono to absolute secrecy?"

And I'd laugh again and say, "Can't you just drop it? Anyway, that's not the only issue. What if my mother gets to see it... or my brother or someone..."

"You just say it's someone who looks uncannily like you. The names they print in the mag are fakes. No-one can prove anything..."

And then, later still: "What if I give you two hundred of my earnings, to add to your own...?"

I think it was hearing him say that that pushed me into doing it. The knowledge that Daryl was so desperate for the money he would offer to give me a percentage of his own earnings just to keep me in.

I'd smiled and said, "We'll see how I feel tomorrow, Daz. But if in the end I decide to do it, I don't want any of your share..."

He nodded. "Well at least agree that you'll trim your bush and put on a pair of white briefs tomorrow morning, just so you're prepared if you change your mind..."

I nodded back. "Okay. That sounds a fair compromise..."

The following morning, Daryl and I managed to choke up the shower plug hole with our pubic trimmings and then had a playful argument as to who ought to clear it.

Daryl was adamant that it was my duty as host to deal with household chores. I insisted, on examination, that there were far more of his dark brown hairs in the plug than there were of my blond ones.

In the end, we decided that Daryl would attend to it in return for me lending him a pair of my white briefs so that he didn't have to buy a pair of his own.

That was all light-hearted and fun. What was a bit more unusual, though, was when he suggested that we compare our handiwork with the scissors as we dried ourselves.

It felt weird for the two of us to be checking out each other's cocks, but Daryl pointed out that it was important to know that we had pubic bushes that looked at least vaguely similar. While I still hadn't agreed to take part in the shoot, it was clear that if I did, it would look a bit odd if one of us was shorn as close as a skinhead down there while the other was sporting something that looked, in comparison, like an afro.

So, before we got dressed we spent a few minutes naked, examining each other's cocks.

As he was kneeling in front of me, checking me out, Daryl surprised me by reaching over to my cock, lifting it up and peering under it to inspect my balls.

Then he looked up at me, smiled and said, "You missed a bit..."

I tried to brush him off. "It's okay - I'll sort it out..."

He hung on and reached for the scissors. "No need. I've got a better angle..."

He kept holding my cock upward and snipped at a few stray strands of hair sprouting from my balls. I had to mentally control myself so as not to respond to the feel of his finger and thumb holding my cock firmly, as he moved it one way and then the other to tidy up my botched trimmings.

He muttered, "If you decide to go with the photo shoot, and we have to get hard-ons together, these clumps might look kind of obvious..."

I felt my cock beginning to swell in pulses and he obviously felt it too because he looked up at me, grinning.

I said, feeling my face flush, "Go easy with your grip, mate. It's kind of... er... stimulating..."

He laughed. "At least we know you'll have no trouble boning up later on..."

"If I go through with it," I reminded him.

He nodded and stood up, replacing the scissors on my desk.

By now my cock stood outward from my balls, looking larger and heavier than it had a few moments earlier, and my pale foreskin began to retract back from the rapidly-swelling head of it.

Daryl threw it another look and grinned.

I snapped, smiling, "Don't look at me like that! You were the one who set it off!"

I knelt down to look at Daryl's trimmed pubes and found that his hairdressing skills, at least in that department, were far better than mine. He lifted his cock to show me his balls and I was impressed by how uniform the length of his hair was right across them.

I stood back up. "Seems okay to me. And we both look about even in terms of hair length."

He said, "Yours look a bit shorter than mine..."

"It's 'cause they're blond, that's all. I think we're pretty much the same..."

He turned around and asked me to check his arse.

I was surprised. "Did you trim that too?"

"Just the crack. I thought it might look a bit too hairy as it was..."

I looked down at it. The few wisps of hair that protruded from his cleft were gone. I said, "I didn't do anything to mine..."

"You're blond. Your arse hairs won't be so obvious..." He asked, "How's it look?"

I knelt down behind him and took a close look at it; trying to spot any stray hairs that Jono's strong lighting would quickly reveal.

I muttered, "Yeah - I think it's okay."

Then Daryl surprised me again by grabbing his cheeks and opening them slightly. He didn't exactly splay them open, but he held them apart enough for me to see inside his crack and made it impossible for me not to notice the tight pink ring of his arsehole.

He pushed it back towards me, as I knelt behind him, opening his legs so that I could see his balls hanging between his thighs.

I said, standing up quickly, "Yeah - it's fine. No worries, mate."

I turned away and grabbed my briefs.

He stood back up and turned back towards me. Then he laughed, "My hand really got you going, didn't it?"

I struggled to tuck my almost fully erect cock into my briefs.

I tried to laugh it off. "Any attention it gets does this to it... I should have warned you..."

He suggested, laughing more loudly, "Or was it my trimmed arsehole...?"

I tried another laugh. "Yeah - like that's gonna do it for me..."

He chuckled and picked up the briefs I'd lent him.

As he put them on, I noticed that his cock was by now looking longer than it had before and was slightly elevated from his balls.

It looked like this might turn out to be an interesting afternoon...

===

Author: sebastian_wallace@yahoo.co.uk Website: http://stories.remoworld.com

===