Wednesday 14 September 2016

Getting Some Shots Done



I went to see Henry, the guy I met the other night at a party, who is a photographer, he was very keen for me to go around. I kind of like the idea of a photographic journal of my life, not only putting it down in words, but having images to go with those words. 

Who do I think I am, I hear you say? 

Why does he think he is so special, or that interesting, for that matter?

I don’t know about that? All I can do is provide what I know and other people, future generations, will decide if it is interesting, or not. I’m just recording my bit for posterity. And isn’t everybody interested in their family and where they came from? Even if it doesn’t seem so important now, in 100 years if may be viewed differently.

I reckon that is what I am going to do, photography. And what a way to start, with Henry.

Don’t worry, I got it. Henry has an ulterior motive, I thought, as I got ready to go. He’s old school queen, to whom photos are something naughty. That’s okay with me, old queens were really kind to me when I first came out, like a bunch of protective nanas, it is like repaying the favour, however that may occur? 

The old queens never got a look in when I was 18, oh no, don’t you worry about that, I was way too ageist back then, so every kind act went unrepaid. (well, other than gratitude, but, old queens usually want something more than gratitude) Now a days, I am an older and wiser, 35 year old who is in good shape and who, from all accounts, isn’t too hard to look at, and I am a little kinder and I don’t mind giving an old queen a thrill every once in a while, if that’s what it takes to get what I want?

One day, I am going to be their age and nobody is going to want to have sex with me, well, not too many 35 year olds, I reckon. If he charms me and cajoles me, and flatters me, you never know what I’ll let Henry see. Why not, old queens, as a rule, love me, so it is rewarding. They don’t get to touch much, just watch, or remember. It is when all my voyeuristic tendencies come out and I shiver with anticipation. I might let them watch me wank off in the end, if they are keen. Especially, if they rolled me a joint. I’m a sucker for a blunt. Oh yes, I know, I know, it is not something I’d own up to with just anyone in polite company, but then I don’t have to.

Ashamedly, or unashamedly, it puts a skip in my step, yes it does. I don’t know what that is called? Some may say depravity, some may say freedom, I don’t know. 


Henry flattered me enough the other night to entice me over to his place to see what may go down, well, in his mind. He’s a photographer and I want some shots done. Win, win. Curiosity peaked, is that the expression? An indulgent session, where I am the focus. One on one. Hot. Steamy. Anticipatory.

So, I get there and Henry is goo’ing and gushing about me. He is dressed all in black. He tells me how handsome I am… sideways smile. Standard fare. 

“You are beautiful, really beautiful.” 

I’m handsome enough, the boys seem to like me, but beautiful? It is amazing what people have said to me in the past to get me out of my pants. (I guess that is true for all gay guys growing up through gaydom) I’ve got a good face. I’m in shape. My stomach is flat and my arse is pert.

“Would you like something to eat, my boy?” says Henry. I wondered if that was a double entendre, but it wasn’t. It was nearly lunchtime and Henry has prepared something.

We had cucumber sandwiches and tea from a rose print teapot, I kid you not. Not so standard fare.

“It is lovely that you have come over,” said Henry.

“It is nice to be here.” Well, so far so good, I thought.

“I’m very excited by our partnership,” said Henry.

“Me too.” I wasn’t at all sure that I was, um, excited, per sei, at that stage, but it was better to be generous, I thought.

“A handsome young man like yourself…”

“Thank you, Henry, you flatter me,” I said. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Of course,” said Henry. He beamed his big smile. “Got to make my, um, candidates feel safe and secure.”

“Candidate,” I repeated. “What am I a candidate for?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Henry smiled again. Said the spider to the fly, was all I could think. I admonished myself under my breath, Henry seemed nice. I could look after myself, what could possibly go wrong?


“So, are you up for anything?”

I shrug, as if it is a simple question. “Sure.”

“Would you do bathing suit?” 

There you go, there it was. “You make it sound like Miss World.”

Henry laughed like I was such a card.

“Well,” I say. “As long as it is indoors.” I smiled, deliberately making big eyes for effect.

“Yes, indoors, yes, yes indoors, quite, quite, quite. We don’t want anything, um, underestimated.” He laughed. A wanton kind of knowing laugh, the type of laugh that gay guys laugh when they are being dirty.

The sandwiches were good, fresh, tasty. The tea was strong and well brewed. My great aunt would have approved, I chuckled to myself.

“I’ve got cake, do you eat cake?” asked Henry.

“Sure,” I said.

“You’d never know with your waistline,” said Henry.

“Oh no, I love cake.”

He reached for a yellow looking cake on a cake stand on the counter. “Lemon cake.” He smiled. “Would you be too shy to do nude shots?”

“Lemon.” I tried to sound just a little surprised, but I wasn’t. I just knew that that question was coming. “Nude with cake, it would be called,” I said. 

“Yes,” said Henry. He put the cake down on the table between us. “I think it is always nice for a young man to do a full frontal nude shot, it completes the set of pictures, if you know what I mean?”

“I’m sure I do,” I said.

“It gives the complete picture.”

“So, you get all of him,” I said feebly. I immediately regretted saying that.

“Yes, precisely,” said Henry. “So you get every angle, so to speak.”

“Yeah,” I could hear myself saying. “I’m not shy.” I’m really not. “What are you hiding it for, I say,” I said.

“Yes, very good,” said Henry.


We got into the studio. It was a big square box with a mattress in it. What have I let myself in for, I thought, as I gazed at it? It was a bed, what were the connotations? Am being unkind? A chair. A table next to the chair and a studio space at one end.

“You can put your clothes on the bed.”

“You want me to take my clothes off?”

“No… oh yes.” He squealed as if he was being naughty. “I’m going to give you clothes to model, you can put your clothes on the bed.”


He lit a joint, which we shared. My head was feeling very thick very quickly.

“I’d like you to stand over here. I will give you direction. I’ll be standing here.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Would you take Viagra if I gave you one?”

“What?”

“It is just for affect, nothing else,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t do it for you. And…you want to take your best shots, don’t you?”

So there you have it, the tone was set for the photo shoot. I did want my best shots. I told him that I did want copies. It was good knowing that I was recorded for posterity and if somebody got pleasure out of it…” I kind of heard myself talking, so I was agreeing to do porn, right there and then. That was it, it was agreed.

I laughed, somewhat self consciously. “Sure, why not.”

He lit a second joint, passing it to me immediately.

“That’s good, he said. “Here you go.”

I looked at Henry and he had something in his right hand and a glass of water in the other hand. Where it came from, I didn’t see. He’s done this before, I thought. He handed me a blue pill and the glass of water. I hesitated. Henry’s head tilted to one side, with a we’ve discussed this look. I took the pill. I washed it down with the water.

He adjusted his camera. I puffed on the joint and he took a photo of me, a face shot.

“Could you sit on the chair?”

“Sure.”

Click sounded the camera. (I am writing click, but there were multiple clicks, at times.)

“Could you smile?” Click. “Bigger smile.” Click. “Now, no smile.” Click. “Not sad, expressionless. Yes.” Click. “Turn away.” Click. “Back this way.” Click. “Pensive. Very good.” Click. “Serious.” Click. “Look away.” Click. “Look down.” Click. “Remain looking down.” Click. “Don’t move.” Click. “Now relax.” Click. “Not a care in the world.” Click. “Relaxed.” Click. “Shake it out.” Click. “Throw your head back.” Click. “Smile.” Click. “Relax.” Click.

A moments silence.

“Close your eyes, throw your head back, right back, as though you have long hair that is falling all the way down your back. Yes. Hold that.” Click.

“You’re very handsome, you know…”

I smiled. “Thanks.” I didn’t know why I said thanks.

“I’m not just saying that.”

I smiled without saying anything. I bet you say that to all the boys, right before you ask them to take their pants off, was my guess.


“Can you take your shirt off?”

“Sure,” I said. I pulled my t-shirt over my head. Click, click, click.

“Look at me.” Click. “Arms folded across your chest.” Click. Look away.” Click. “Now, look as though you are alone in the world.” Click. “Just you and nobody else.” Click. “Stare into space.” Click. “Yes, lovely.” Click. “You have a nice chest.

“Um, thanks.” I had to stop thinking him. It was nerves. I was pretty sure it was nerves.

“Is it warm enough in here for you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Can you turn to me, look directly at me. Spread your legs a bit, crotch square onto me. Yes, lovely.” Click. “Stare into the lens.” Click. “Stare down the lens.” Click. “Yes, lovely, can you hold that?” Click, click, click. “Very nice,” he said.


“Undo your jeans. First just the waist button.”

I did.

“Yes, just like that.”

Click, click, click, click.

“Undo the zip.”

“It’s buttons.”

“Even better. One button at a time.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Another button.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Another button.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Yet me see your undies.”

Click, click, click. 

“Yes, more.”

Click, click, click.


He put the camera down on a wooden chest and walked into an adjoining room.

He reappeared wheeling a clothes hanger on wheels over. He got something from the hanger.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really have a change room.” He handed me a small pair of blue speedos. “I’ve had the heater on… might as well start when it is the warmest.”

Another joint appeared as if out of nowhere. Henry lit it.

I have to admit, I was getting half hard, that Viagra was working. Henry knew what he was doing.  This is it, this is where I get to be the dirty little exhibitionist I have lurking inside me, I know that, but usually for guys my own age, couples, actually, I love getting dirty with couples. Threesomes, the perfect number for sex.

No change room, and half a mongrel, is this where Henry gets to see my dick.

Henry handed me the joint. I puffed on it and then handed it back to him.

“No. Have some more,” said Henry. He pushed his hand through the air. I smoked more of the joint. I handed it to Henry.

I took my jeans down. I could feel the weight of my cock. I could feel it bending up. I turned my back to Henry. 

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

I pulled off my jocks and then pulled on the speedos. Jesus! Were they going to fit me like this? I pulled them on as best I could. They were tight, they weren’t roomy, shall we say.

“Do you want to lay back down on those beach balls?”

I did. My cock was bulging up my speedos like a banana.

“Do you want to smile?”

I smiled.

“Look happy.”

I did.

“Serious.”

I did.

Carefree.”

I smiled again.

“Pensive.”

I think, I pouted.

“Serious.”

I did.

“Do you want to put your hands behind your head.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, just like that.” Click, click, click.

“Do you want to massage the front of your speedos?”

The speedos were tight. I could feel my half hard cock and my balls squeezed into them.

“Rub with you palm down. Close your eyes.”

I was touching myself up in front of Henry.

“Can you pull the front of your speedos down?”

“Down?”

“Right down.”

“Right down?”

“Yes.”

The pot was really hitting me hard. I wasn’t sure that I had my eyes open. I was really turned on, I have to admit. It was the exhibitionist in me, I knew that. I grabbed the waistband and peeled the front of the speedos down, until my cock popped out, rising up like a pole and gently laying down on my stomach.

“Rub your cock down so it flips over and points down your leg. Yes, that is it. Look into the camera. Nice. Nice.”

I ran my hand up and down my downward pointing cock.

“Can you take some lube from the bedside table and rub it all over your penis.”

I got a handful of lube and I wiped the glistening jelly all over my now hard cock.

“Can you masturbate for me?”

Oh, really? I don’t know why I was surprised by that. I started to pull my cock slowly. There I was laying back on the beach balls, or cushions that looked like beach balls, or whatever the fuck they were, pulling my now rock hard cock. Click, click, click.

“Yes. Yes. Make… it… har… Oh, yes, yes.”


Henry came over. “Fuck you have a beautiful cock.” He took a handful of lube and took my cock in his hand, rather unexpectedly. 

“Oh?”

Unexpectedly, I say? Really? How unexpected was this, come on? Really, I’d come to have my cock worshipped, it was true, who was I kidding. I was going to be the sexy, young thing again, like I’d been all those years ago, as a 20 year old. How long since I’d felt that? I was still the hot young thing. Henry thought I was delectable, he told me so. He pulled my hard cock, it felt good. I was the centre of attention, it was all being done to me. His hands felt good massaging my dick. He squeezed it just hard enough, there in that dark studio where it was just Henry and me.

Oh, did I want this, I suddenly thought. I wasn’t sure.

“Shouldn’t you be taking photos?” I said.

“I want to make you cum,” said Henry.

“If you keep doing that you are going to.”

He pulled my cock with both hands, the old guy was going to make me squirt my jizz.

“You have to stop.” I tried to peel his hands off me.

“Why do you want to stop?” Henry relaxed his hands momentarily.

“Because you are going to make me cum.”

“But that is what I want to do.” And Henry’s hands grabbed my cock harder.

“No! Hey! Wait,” I said. I tried to pull away.

“We’ve come this far,” said Henry.

“Oh… wait… no… hang on.”

Henry’s hands grabbed my throbbing cock hard, like he wasn’t going to let go. “You’ve led me on, you can’t stop now.” He seemed to have four sets of hands.

“Oh, what? I can. I think I can,” I said. My head spun. 

“Come on, I want to see you…”

“No! Stop!”

Henry stopped.

“It’s too much,” I said.

Henry looked at me with what I can only call contempt.


Henry picked up his camera again. “Look at me.”

“What?”

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

I sat on an exercise ball, feeling like I might plummet off it at any moment. Naked. Hard. Sweating. My head spinning.

Henry knelt at my feet.

“Look at me.”

I looked down at him.

“Pout.”

I thought I was.

“Lovely,” Henry said. He threw my t-shirt at me. “Put that back on.”

I pulled the t-shirt over my head.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Yes. Pull it down with both your hands.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Stretch it over your dick. Yes.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

Henry threw my jocks at me. “Put them back on.”

I pulled my jocks back on.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Lie on your stomach over the ball.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Push your gorgeous arse up... in the air.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Further up.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

Henry threw my jeans at me. “Put them back on.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

I pulled my jeans back on.

“Sit on the floor, over there.” Henry pointed to the side of the room. “Back against the wall.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Look at me. Serious. Pout.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Look sexy.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Look sexier.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Even sexier.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Lovely.”

I didn’t know what I did. I think I was just out of it.

“Okay. We’re done,” said Henry. He threw his camera into a chair.

“Oh, okay,” I said.

“That’s it,” said Henry. “I’ll get your shots to you as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” I said. “When do you think…”

Henry walked out of the room.


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