Straight lad caught on camera

I slid a book across the coffee table to him and he picked it up. Opened it, looked at a few pages and then closed it again.

‘Oh,’ he said blankly.
‘Not your kind of thing?’ I asked with a smile.
‘Not really mate. Got any with naked women?’
‘I only photograph male nudes.’
‘Oh.’

He changed again, became more uncomfortable and looked at his watch.
‘I should go,’ he said and started to stand.
‘Calm down,’ I said with a laugh. ‘You’re quite safe. I turned off the hidden cameras before you came.’

He looked at me in shock and then decided that I was joking and a ladish grin spread across his face.
‘Finish your joint first,’ I said. ‘Or have another if you like.’

He did. Half way through the second one, when we had been sitting in silence for about five minutes, he suddenly sat upright.
‘Are you o.k.?’ I asked, concerned in case the dope had made him feel sick.
‘You’re a professional?’ he said it more as a statement than a question.
‘Yes I am,’ I replied indicating the book on the coffee table. ‘I have published several volumes all over the world.’
‘Would you take a picture of me?’
‘I don’t do holiday snaps,’ I laughed. But he was serious.
‘No, I mean like them in the book.’
‘Nude?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well I could do.’ I had no idea where this sudden interest had come from and assumed it was the dope talking. ‘What would Marie say though?’
‘I wouldn’t tell her.’
‘So what would you use the pictures for?’
‘I dunno. Forget it.’
‘It’s up to you. I’m happy to do it, if you want.’
‘How much would you charge?’ he suddenly realised that I might want paying. It was, after all, my job.
‘We’d work something out,’ I said and lifted my foot onto the sofa again.

This time he looked into my crotch quickly and kept his eyes there. I shifted my left leg and knew that he could now see up the leg of my shorts. If I was hinting at something he knew what it was. I could feel cool air whisper around my semi hard cock that now lay against my inner thigh. He slid back in his chair and it was my turn to look at the front of his shorts. The white material fell back against his groin, defining the shape of what lay beneath. His legs, stocky and hairy, were pushed out in front of him and he crossed his ankles, his dusty boots resting on each other.

‘That would make a good shot,’ I said. ‘Try putting your hands behind your head.’
He gave me a quizzical look and then his cheeky grin returned. ‘Yeah?’ he asked. ‘Like this?’
I nodded. With his hands behind his head his body was fully stretched out. His tee shirt, now dry, had risen up from his shorts and revealed a line of dark hair running down from his navel. His stomach looked as though it had once been taught but was now slightly flabby from beer and a sedentary lifestyle. But his face glowed, his eyes were half closed and he looked like some young teenager waiting for his first kiss.
‘Don’t move,’ I said.

When I came back from my studio, camera in hand, he was in the same position. The only thing that had changed was the look in his eyes. They had closed further and he looked stoned.
‘Open your eyes a little,’ I instructed as I set the camera.
He did and they were red. That was o.k. I was using my digital camera and set it to black and white. 

‘Now what?’ he asked after I had taken a couple of shots.
‘Pull your shirt up a little,’ I switched from looking through the view finder to looking directly at him, keeping my professional attitude.
‘Like this mate?’ He kept one hand behind his head while he used the other to drag his shirt up to his chest. He was playing with me, being as seductive as he could but not making a very good job of it.
‘No, put your palm flat on your stomach, that’s it. Now slowly draw it up so the shirt gathers on your wrist.’

The movement revealed his flesh to me slowly. Tanned, covered with a slight matt of dark hair. He looked down at what he was doing.
‘Look at the camera,’ I said.
He looked at it and smiled a tourist’s false smile.
‘Relax,’ I laughed. He frowned.
‘What?’
‘This isn’t one for the family album. Imagine that the camera is some girl you’re trying to pull, flirt with it.’

He snorted, coughed and said, ‘alright darling?’ directly to the camera.
‘O.k.’ I put the camera down. ‘This isn’t going to work.’
‘Oh no, come on mate. I’ll try harder. Just tell me what to do, talk me through it, o.k.?’
‘O.k.’

I checked the room, where would be a good place to photograph him?
‘Follow me,’ I said and went into the hall.
When he came from the living room, staggering a little and giggling, I was standing by the bathroom door. I nodded my head in the direction of the bathroom.
‘Straight up?’ he said incredulously.
‘You want to do this right don’t you?’

He shrugged and stepped inside. The bathroom was large. It had a marble corner bath with gold plated taps and a shower over it. The whole room was carpeted and lit by tiny spotlights hidden in the ceiling. He whistled admiringly as he went in.

‘Here we go,’ I said, my professional voice returning. ‘What I want you to do Mark, is this: put one foot up on the edge of the bath and start to undo your boots. That’s it, look this way. Turn a little away from me.’
This movement accentuated the shape of his arse, his football shorts pulled tight around it.
‘You’re a soccer star just off the field. You’re gunna take a bath, get yourself ready for a night on the town with the girls, o.k.?’
‘Sure.’
‘So, undo the lace, take the boot off and drop it, that’s it. Now, change sides and do the same with the other. Let me get a close up.’

I crouched down in front of him and pointed the camera to his foot. His hands were trembling on his Doc Marten boot, grey from street dust.
‘Relax,’ I reminded him. ‘Let the dope do its work and let yourself go. You just won the game, no need to be nervous.’
‘Sorry mate.’

I panned out. In the view finder I could just see the hem of his shorts. I tilted upwards and snapped the front. No bulge, nothing showing. A dead shot. I stood back a little.
‘O.k., now the fun part. Lean over and turn the shower on. It’s the knob there.’

He did as he was told. As he reached across the bath his shirt rode up at the back revealing the base of his spine. I saw a smooth back with no hair, the top of his arse crack just visible from the top of his shorts. Water started to pour out from the shower.

‘Give it a moment to warm up and then get in.’
‘What?’
‘Get in the bath.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yup.’

He did and stood there facing me with the shower pouring into the bath behind him.
‘O.k. Mark, do exactly as I say and we’ll have you on the front cover of Esquire.’ For one horrible moment I thought he believed me, he nodded keenly like an obedient school boy.
‘Lift your arms to your head and clasp your hands behind. That’s it, now tilt your head back and get it wet. Further.’