Exposure (2 page)

"I don't mind," I said, "How are they?"

"Fucking amazing. Come see."

Something about his voice did crazy things to me. The sound of it was like velvet. Or chocolate. He was smiling and excited and beckoning me over and fuck me if I didn't want to grab him and stick my tongue down his throat. Instead I carefully approached him, repeating the mantra "I will not touch him" over and over in my head.

He moved aside and let me look. I didn't touch him, but I was so close I could smell him and feel him there beside me. I tried to concentrate on the pictures as I scrolled through. He was right. They looked fantastic. Obviously the camera loved him.

"Do I really look like that?" he said. I couldn't help the sound that came out of my mouth. But I covered it with a fake cough.

I stared at him. "You look better in person, actually."
What am I doing?
He looked at me for a long moment and something passed between us, and it became apparent that he knew I wanted him.

He blushed and ran a hand through his auburn hair. "But the pictures are great, right?"

I nodded. "Do you want to see them on the computer or should we take some more?"

He looked at his watch. "Actually, I have to go to work. My shift starts in half an hour."

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. "Okay."

"But I can come back tomorrow and see them. And we can shoot some more?"

"That's fine. About one o'clock again?"

He grabbed his shirt and put it on, quickly buttoning it up and grabbing his jacket. "How much do I owe you, Martin?"

I shook my head. "We'll settle up tomorrow."

He nodded and held out his hand. "Thank you. That was a lot more fun than I thought it would be." I wondered if the look he gave me held a hidden meaning or if I just imagined it? I shook his hand and walked him to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jeremy." I watched him take long strides down the path and along the sidewalk. I closed the door and leaned my head against it. I suddenly realized my headache was gone. Of course, I felt another painful ache in its place, a little lower down.

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Chapter Two

Agitation

After he left I didn't know what to do with myself. Actually, I had a pretty good idea what I wanted to do with myself, but it seemed so, I don't know, seedy to go and jerk off to memories of a twenty-three-year-old man who'd just let me photograph him. Besides, this feeling thrilled me. My body hummed with energy and I felt rejuvenated and alive. I knew there were a hundred or so shots of him that I needed to get onto my computer. I savored the anticipation of going through the high def photos, one at a time, studying each one and selecting the best ones to show him tomorrow.

I tidied up my studio, then went upstairs and attacked the apartment, which was in dire need of a good cleaning. After I finished I made a chicken stir-fry with jasmine rice and opened a beer. I enjoyed every minute of the healthiest meal I'd had in weeks. When I finished I cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes. It was only then, at about eight thirty, that I opened another beer and headed down to my studio.

During my cleaning frenzy and the meal, I managed to convince myself that my sex-starved brain had overreacted to the sight of a reasonably attractive young man. I should be able to assess the photographs with a professional and critical eye, thus attaining a more realistic appreciation of Jeremy. This sudden infatuation, although invigorating, frightened me.

When I got downstairs, I plugged the camera into the computer and started uploading the photographs. It only took moments for me to realize that there was no such hope. He was breathtaking. I scrolled through the first few and stopped on one of him laughing at the weirdness of the situation. He looked so relaxed and carefree and unassuming, like he had no idea that he rivaled a mythical Greek god in beauty. Any modeling agency that he sent these to would be falling over themselves to sign him. I was sure of it. I scrolled through some more until I got to the ones after he'd taken off his flannel shirt.

Holy mother of God! My cock, which had mercifully softened during all the housecleaning, hardened in my pants. He stood there in his black jeans and white t-shirt, looking at me with his mouth slightly parted, like he was starting to say something. I scrolled through and was startled to see that I had taken some shots when he stretched his arms up over his head, just before I'd run upstairs. I stared at him. This time I could really enjoy it, without worrying that he would notice the huge bulge in my pants. He was fucking gorgeous. My cock turned to steel as I imagined kneeling before him and undoing his jeans. There had been a definite bulge there today, but I had no idea if his jeans were snug or if he had been hard as well. What if he had been? What if he had been enjoying teasing me, pretending to be unsure of himself and knowing the entire time that he was driving me crazy?

I think I moaned at the thought. My erection had become painful. I knew I needed to do something about it. But sitting there, jacking off to these photos was too distasteful and would be extremely unprofessional. Plus, I wasn't going to risk getting spunk all over my keyboard and ruining it. I was so turned on it felt like I would shoot halfway across the room when I finally climaxed. I rubbed my aching cock once as I looked again at the photo, etching it into my depraved memory. Then I turned off the program and shut the computer down.

Upstairs, I quickly stripped and got in the shower, which, thanks to my earlier motivation, sparkled clean and shiny. I looked down at my poor under-utilized cock. It was huge and red and quite impressive actually. I was decently hung, just not particularly confident about the rest of me, but that didn't matter right now. I poured some body wash in my hand and gripped my erection, closing my eyes and visualizing that last photograph as I stroked firmly back and forth. My breathing quickened and before long I gasped and moaned as I imagined Jeremy in the shower with me; touching me, sucking me, stroking me. I came hard in a matter of minutes, I was so worked up. It felt so good to release all the tension and stress of the past twenty-four hours that I leaned against the shower wall for a bit as I got my breathing under control.

One thing was for sure. My dick would be getting more attention over the next few days, if only from my own hand.

On Friday I only had a nine thirty session booked besides Jeremy's in the afternoon. My morning appointment consisted of shooting an eighteen-year-old girl in her taffeta prom dress under the watchful eye of her overly coiffed and manicured mother. I wondered why I was taking a prom picture in October. It turned out the girl had gone to the prom in June but there had been no "acceptable" pictures of her taken that evening and her mother insisted on bringing her to me. The girl was obviously just trying to please her mother, and so over the whole thing. I felt a bit sorry for her. She was pretty enough but the dress did nothing for her. I did my best to get some decent shots. The mother made sure I didn't ogle her daughter or encourage any inappropriate poses. If only she'd known I was saving that for my afternoon appointment.

I finished the session by ten thirty so I had some time to prepare for Jeremy's arrival. I went through his photos again, this time in a professional manner, and selected the outstanding shots to show him. Of course, I still got hard doing that, so I finished quickly, had a leisurely lunch upstairs, and went through some mail. Looking at bills calmed my erection and by the time one o'clock rolled around I was presentable.

But he didn't show up at one o'clock. Or one fifteen. When one-thirty arrived and he still hadn't shown, I started to think he wasn't coming. I had his photos so I figured he'd come back eventually, but I really wanted to see him today. Then a scary thought occurred to me. He'd had the photos taken on a dare, a dare that he wasn't particularly comfortable with. Maybe he'd fulfilled the dare and had had enough and wasn't coming back? But surely he needed the photographs as proof?

As I was contemplating that scenario, the doorbell rang. I rushed downstairs but forced myself to move slower when I neared the door. I didn't want him to know how eager I was.

I opened the door. He immediately started apologizing.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I missed my bus--I hope we can still do something or do you have more appointments this afternoon?"

I couldn't even understand what he said because he had on the same black skinny jeans, black army boots, and a plain black t-shirt under his open leather jacket. He probably noticed me eagerly eyeing him but I couldn't help it. He looked absolutely delicious. But he either didn't mind or didn't care, because he waved a hand in front of me.

"Martin?" he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yeah," I recovered, giving him a weak smile and beckoning him in. "It's not a problem. You're my only appointment."

"Oh, great. That's great. 'Cause I really want to see what you've got."

I beg your pardon?
"What I've got..." I repeated, confused, but hoping...

He laughed. "The pictures. Did you look at them?"

Duh! You pervert. He's talking about the photographs.

"Of course--yes, I did." He followed me into the studio. "I think they're really good but it's up to you, of course. If they're not what you want--" I opened the program. It opened on the most suggestive photo, the one that gave me immediate wood whenever I saw it.
Of course.

"Wow," he said, staring at the picture. "That's really hot."

I mumbled something under my breath but thank goodness he didn't hear me. I scrolled back through the other shots, pausing at each one. I had chosen about twenty-five out of the hundred to show him. They were spectacular. He seemed to agree.

"Those are so great," he said in a soft voice when I finished. "Can we do some more?"

I looked at him. He stared at me and I fancied I did see something this time, something that made my heart stop and my cock even harder. "Sure," I said, looking into his brown eyes.

He backed up in front of me, holding my gaze and slowly removing his jacket. Suddenly the shy, apologetic young man was gone and this was much, much better. "Why don't you take some shots of me on that chaise?" he said, gesturing towards it. His black t-shirt outlined the muscles of his chest and arms superbly. He smiled, but his gaze was scorching.

Fuck. Me.

I didn't say anything.

I walked over to the chaise and dragged it noisily over the floor until it sat before the blue background. I went directly to the tripod and began making adjustments. "Sit down," I said shortly, trying to contain my excitement.

He sat down on the chaise and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. "Like this?"

I nodded and started shooting.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
. He was staring at the camera with the most intense, heated look. I wasn't sure how much longer I could control myself. But I wanted to try something. "Okay, now lean back against the side of it with your hands behind your head and put one foot on the seat."

He smiled and did as directed. Jesus Christ, he looked hot. I could barely work the camera. He could see how agitated I was. And I'm sure my hard-on was pretty obvious. He let me take a few shots and then he said, very quietly, "Why don't you come over here?"

I swallowed and froze, staring down at the camera. Then I looked up at him. He was still in position but he stared at me with a challenge in his gaze. My nervousness made me hesitate. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you want to do." He leaned back even further, offering himself to me. "I've been hard for you since I got here yesterday."

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I moved forward until I stood over him. I looked him over hungrily, letting the anticipation build, letting him wonder what I would do. Then I dropped to my knees and in moments had his jeans unbuttoned and freed his erection. There was no underwear to get in the way. We both gasped. I wrapped my hand around him, enjoying the sensation of holding a hot, hard cock in my hand that wasn't my own.

His cock was beautiful, just like the rest of him. He was uncut, like me. The rosy head jutted past his foreskin and glistened with moisture. I think I moaned at the sight.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped and covered my hand with his own, stroking up and down slowly. "Martin... fuck..."

That was all I needed. I leaned forward, sliding my other arm beside his hip, holding him firmly, and bent to lick the wet tip of his cock.

He whimpered and rocked his hips. He let go of my hand and stretched out as I stroked him firmly, up and down, and licked flat, wet strokes of my tongue across and around the head. God, he smelled and tasted good, clean and musky and salty and sweet. It had been so long since I'd done this I'd almost forgotten how much I loved it. "Fuck, you taste good," I whispered.

He moaned. I took my hand off him and spat into it, then wrapped it around him again, making him whimper as I worked him. He was completely at my mercy and I loved it. I couldn't wait any longer. I covered the head of his cock with my mouth and sucked.

His hips came up off the chaise and he cried out in pleasure. "Oh God, yeah, that's so good. So good..."

I moaned in response, opening my mouth wide and taking him in deeply, then sucking as I pulled up. I did it several times until I had him panting and moaning beneath me. I sped up with my hand and mouth. He groaned and gasped and I stared up at him. Our eyes met. It felt incredibly dirty and hot and amazing.

"Ohhh...fuck...me...I'm gonna...I'm gonna...Martin...fuck..." and with that, he climaxed violently in my mouth.

He groaned in ecstasy as he pulsed and kept coming. I loved giving him pleasure like this. I had no idea if he'd want to return the favor, but I didn't care. After I let him slide out of my mouth I kissed him on the hip and looked up. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed as his breathing slowed. He opened his eyes after a few moments and gazed down at me.

"Thank you," he said with genuine gratitude. "I really fucking needed that."

I was still kneeling between his legs with my arms alongside him. I nuzzled his belly. "I could tell." I grinned.

He laughed. "I had no idea this would happen."

I looked at him, not sure what he meant.

"But as soon as you opened the door yesterday, I wanted it to."

I couldn't believe it. "Really?"

He nodded and tucked himself back into his jeans, buttoning them up. I stood up.

"Are you kidding?" he said and stood up too. "You think it wasn't fuck-hot having you take pictures of me and knowing you were thinking of how I would look naked?"

I blushed. "Was it that obvious?"

He moved closer to me. "Well, I'm good at reading people. And, yeah, it was kind of obvious..." He reached out and stroked my hard-on through my jeans. I gasped.

"Holy shit, you are so hard..." He pressed more firmly against my crotch. The fingers of his other hand twined in my hair, guiding my mouth to his. We kissed desperately, hungrily and he pushed himself against me; he was already getting hard again. He broke away from my mouth and licked along my ear, sending shivers through me. "What do you want, Martin?" he whispered. "Do you want me to blow you?" I whimpered. "Yeah? Is that what you want?"

I nodded. I gripped his shoulders, kissing and sucking on his neck. "If you want to."
Please, please, please.

He laughed and pulled away, making me look him in the eyes. His were brown and warm, kind and honest. "I would be fucking honored, Martin."

A huge breath of air whooshed from my lungs and for the first time I really believed that he wanted me, maybe as much as I wanted him.

He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall. Then he kissed me and pressed himself against me before dropping down and practically ripping open my jeans. He kissed my straining erection through the fabric of my black boxer briefs. Then he tugged them and my jeans down to my knees. My cock bobbed free. I hissed as the cold air hit the moisture at its tip.