The Model 1

The solo shots were quick and easy. Robert, the photographer, seemed to have a knack of making me feel relaxed, despite his ratty appearance. My poses, as contrived as they were, seemed to please him. Suddenly, Angus walked in, with an incredibly good-looking man following him. It was Yves.

My suspicions were correct. Yves was beautiful – I nearly blushed as I thought it. He wore a tight black turtle-neck, and visible pectorals bulged from underneath. He was not overly huge – but everything seemed in proportion. Everything about him was easy on the eye. I wanted to touch his body. I then wanted to slap myself for thinking that.

“Elliot, this is Yves Floreant. He’s one of our top models. French parents, but born and lives here. Won a competition recently – you might’ve seen his picture at reception. Yves, this is Elliot Dawson.”

We shook hands, and what seemed like electricity rushed through my body. I managed a weak smile, to which he returned a friendly grin. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, in a slight French accent. He was probably no older than I was, yet I felt small and pathetic next to this Adonis.

We were instructed to strip off and I again was intimidated by the beauty of the man’s body. Seeing his amazing torso in the flesh gave me another rush of excitement. I had never found a man so sexually exciting. Soon we were both naked, and as Angus handed us each pairs of designer undergarments, I could not help but glance at his cock. A flaccid beast of a thing, it must have been 5 inches, completely limp. I was growing hornier by the second, and turned away to put on my boxer briefs before I got a boner.

The shoot then began. It was far from the relaxing experience I had had earlier. The presence of Yves made me nervously horny. At one point, when Yves stood behind me, and took my chest in his hands, virtually straddling my arse, I could feel my cock growing rapidly in my shorts. I was almost glad when, seemingly hours later, the shoot ended – I had certainly enjoyed the company of Yves but had also felt daunted by his sheer beauty. The photographer and Angus left, having given me some pay details, and Yves and I were left alone in the room.

“First shoot?” he enquired, moving towards his clothes.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“You did a good job,” he said. “You’ll go far. I think you’re a very nice looking man. For me, this is a fun job. So easy! All you have to do is wear clothes…” He grinned, and then pulled down his underwear. His great, lolling cock rolled out, even bigger than before, perhaps slightly harder. I was transfixed. I watched it sway around, his crotch enormous, and could feel my own growing.

“What is it?” he asked, and he moved towards me. I could hardly believe what was happening. “Angus, the others…they told me you were straight.”

“I am…” I stammered, not knowing what to say. “I just don’t know anymore. I…I think you’re so…”

“So what?” Yves said, rounding on me, smiling, his cock growing larger. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I spat it out.

“So – so sexy. So hot. I’m sorry, I just think you’re really hot. And believe me, I’ve never said that to a guy before.”

Yves laughed nonchalantly. “I can tell,” he said. “Well, Elliot, you will be saying it a lot. I’m going to give you a lesson in gay sex.”