The Model 1

Author’s Note:
This is my seventh story! I haven’t written one in a while, but I felt like doing one the other day and here is the result. Hopefully it is the start of a hot new series! Anyway, read it and PLEASE review. Another thing – I’m really interested in doing “requests”. If you’ve got a story you want me to write, a fantasy of yours or whatever, I’d be happy to do it! Just give me an email! Thankyou, and enjoy…

My story begins soon after high school. I was an average student, bright but lazy, and the teenage temptations of parties, alcohol and girls beckoned much more enticingly than books. I finished my finals with fair marks, enough to get me into a reasonable university institution. I considered my schooling, on the whole, a monstrous success – I had not only achieved the required marks in my final exams, but I had had a good time as well.

This “good time” was mainly due to the fact that I was good-looking. I know it’s rude to boast, but I’m not joking; I was a very attractive young man. My eyes were blue and piercing; my lips a rosy red, my cheeks flushed, my nose a perfect shape. I had messy, tousled blonde hair, and I was tanned all over, all year round – my lounging on the beach during summer gave me a tan that seemed to last much longer than others. I liked my sports, football mostly, and as a result I worked out – my body was strong yet not stocky – I was muscular and athletic rather than buff and meaty. Tall and handsome, I exuded sex, and relished any opportunity to have it during those years; this horny disposition was complimented by my generously-proportioned uncircumcised cock, which measured in at a tick over eight and a half inches.

Consequently, I was the subject of many a girls heart, which was something I exploited – I never really saw the need to stay too long with a girl. None of the girls I fucked during high school seemed special; there were certainly some hotties, but nothing that made me want a long term relationship. Despite this, I never had the reputation as some kind of male slut – almost every girl wanted me, from the most, to the least popular. This was helped by the fact that I seemed to have some kind of reputation – even after I’d dumped girls, they’d still vouch for me, telling other chicks that I had a nice dick and had made them feel pretty wonderful in bed. Girls were not in short supply and it was a rare Saturday night, especially in my final year of school, where a naked chick wasn’t in my bed.

Anyhow, university came along and frankly, I was excited at the prospect. To me, it seemed almost the equivalent of high school – yet indeed slightly better. The range of women would be enormous, and I knew that soon, I would find someone special – someone that gave me pleasure more than others, someone sexy, yet beautiful at the same time. The best thing was that I didn’t have to work hard – I was charismatic even without saying a word. The girls came flowing in soon enough, and before long, it was as if high school had never ended.

One afternoon, after a strenuous morning of class, I decided to go into town and buy myself some new outfits – I needed something sexy to wear on the weekend, as I was planning on clubbing at one of the city’s famous nightspots. I discovered a boutique menswear store and began perusing the shirts on offer, when suddenly a man tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, am I interrupting?” he asked. He was about thirty, of medium height and build, with black hair and a pale face. His skin was clear and seemed to shine somehow. One thing I noticed was that he was wearing an impeccable suit – in fact, I nearly thought of him as attractive. Shovelling this thought out of my mind, I thought of telling him that he was interrupting, but decided to act politely. “No, you’re fine. What is it?” I replied.

“Excuse me, this might seem a little odd,” he said, grinning slightly, “but my name is Angus Cooper. JA Male Modelling Agency.” He offered his hand out; I took it and shook.

“Elliot Dawson,” I responded. “Er…university student…” I managed a nervous laugh. Even though in retrospect the situation seems seedy, I had no thought of that at the time.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said nonchalantly. “Look, as I said, I’m from a modelling agency, and…well, I was just shopping in here, when I saw you. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re quite an attractive young man. Ever done modelling before?”

‘Quite an attractive young man’…the words hung in my head. It was something I had known all my life, yet something I had only really taken advantage of to get girls. I honestly had never thought of modelling; I had probably dismissed it as a gay, sissy sort of thing; but all of a sudden, it seemed right then to be a perfectly normal thing to do. I was good looking, I was young…modelling would be perfect for me.

“No I haven’t,” I replied, becoming more and more entranced by the agent, “but I’d like to.” The dark-haired man smiled in reply – he seemed satisfied that he’d found and convinced me. He handed me a card. “Call me after three o’clock this afternoon. We can arrange for a screen test later on. If you’re judged to be good enough, we can give you a contract. We’re a top modelling agency, and we offer models to our clients for photographic advertising. Hope to hear from you soon.”

He left me with the card, and walked out of the shop, the silhouette of his expensive suit slowly fading out of sight. The agent had had a profound effect on me – I had not thought of him as gay, but for him to consider me attractive seemed, to me, quite an honour. The lure of modelling grew in my mind, and that afternoon, I rang Angus back, and organised a screen test for the very next day, at 3pm that afternoon.