Date: Mon, 10 Feb 2003 22:54:10 -0000
From: Dan <pav12321@hotmail.com>
Subject: African Photoshoot

I worked as a telephone engineer in Zimbabwe for a number of years while I
was in my early twenties. Although I was often troubleshooting or managing
new projects in the field, I was based in the town of Mangora, a mining
town which served as a hub for the farming community around it, as well as
the local headquarters for various operations such as mine. Opportunities
for physical encounters of the kind I liked were not reliable, and to fill
my "leisure" time, I developed an interest in photography.

In order to stay in shape, I had fixed up a gym in the corner of my large
bedroom, and dressed in a tight vest and shorts, I was just about to start
a workout one evening at about 7 pm, when there was a knock at the door. I
opened it to find a good looking young black guy in his twenties,
broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked into narrow-waisted
khaki shorts, with white socks and trainers. He said his name was James,
and that he was sorry to disturb me but I had taken a passport photo of his
cousin Grace and would I mind taking one for him. I was going to tell them
that I didn't "do" portraits, but realised that he probably had no option
but to make the 60 mile trip to the nearest town which might have a studio,
and besides it seemed a waste of the company of a good looking guy.

From a quick appraisal, he looked about the same build as me - fairly
muscular, a little shorter maybe, with a tight pair of buns and strong
square calf muscles. I asked him if he played any sport and he said he had
boxed, but had decided it was too dangerous, so he played football when he
could and was learning to wrestle.

I asked him if he had worked out at a gym and he said there was no
opportunity to do so, but that he would like to do weights to increase his
strength. I told him I had some weights and his eyes lit up - he said that
my body "looked fit" and he asked if he could see my gym.

My gym was simple - just a rack of weights, a bench with press bars, a
rowing machine and a big mirror - but this was luxurious by local
standards.  On the wall of the gym, I had a few inspirational photos of
body builders, one of which was a discrete oiled nude shot from the rear.
James hefted a few dumbells into biceps curls, and studied the pix on the
wall intently.  Then standing in front of the nude, he said, in a friendly,
matter of fact way:

"I think my muscles are like this one - do you want to photograph me too."

I thought I had misheard, but he was looking at me waiting for an answer. I
was going to explain that I hadn't taken the photo, but the physical thrill
that I felt in my crutch stopped me.

"OK," I said "- like this one, without clothes?"

"I don't mind, " he said, "maybe first with pants," by which he meant
underpants. I felt my cock twitch and willed it not to give me away for the
moment - my gym shorts were lycra and while they might "contain" for the
moment, they wouldn't hide the inevitable - my dick is quite big and gets
rock hard.

"Good," I said, "let me get the camera and some oil - you know the oil
makes the muscles show better, like in the picture - you can strip down."

I put a film in my camera and grabbed a towel and a bottle of Eros oil, my
preferred lube and massage oil.

When I got back, James had shucked his shirt and shorts and was standing in
just a loose pair of white briefs that contrasted with his muscular ebony
body. It was hard to tell what he was packing, but it looked OK to me. The
plates of his nipples were like flattened copper coins on his big chest,
with very tweakable nubs in the middle. I felt another twitch in the loin
and wondered if I was going to make a fool of myself.

I guided him into a pose, easing first his wide shoulders, then his arms
into position. Finally, I put my hands on his slim hips, and pushed them so
that they approximated the pose on the wall, savouring the resistance and
compliance of his musculature. I took a few shots.

I then told him I would like to put some oil on to make his muscles show
better. He smiled and nodded OK and I put the camera on a tripod with a
remote release. Starting with his shoulders, I sparingly applied the oil to
his completely smooth torso. His dark skin took on a deep luminance as the
oil touched it. I worked down his chest, not ignoring his nipples which
seemed to be standing prouder than before, stroking down his washboard
stomach with both hands, taking care to appear matter of fact - I still
wasn't sure how far he would go as his signals so far had been neutral,
though perhaps he was curious.

As I worked down his front, however, I thought his briefs looked a bit
fuller than before, though it could have been my imagination - I know what
I wanted to believer! I poured some oil into his hands and told him to do
his arms while I did his back. Stepping behind him gave me a good look at
his V-shaped back musculature, which tapered into the waistband of his
jockeys, which clung tightly to his clenching butt muscles. I definitely
felt the stirring in my pants and thought - down boy, just hold it for the
moment until we know where this is really going.. James then bent forward
to oil his legs - Hosannah I thought, looking at the tempting jockey clad
mounds before me. James ran out of oil before he had covered his legs, so I
oiled both my hands and squatted to finish the job. I rode my hands from
his thick calfs up to his thighs, long gliding strokes, letting my hand
creep gradually higher with each stroke until I was grazing his crutch
through his briefs. He readjusted his footing, spreading his legs slightly
to give me better access, and I could tell that this wasn't unpleasant for
him. I finished the other side in the same way.

I wiped my hands and returned to the camera, not really concentrating on
the poses, but on the oiled ebony physique in front of me, with a definite
bulge now in his jockies. I decided to escalate things and asked him if he
wanted to try the nude shot from the back. He looked a bit shy then, and,
smiling, he said he would be embarrassed to take off his briefs.  I told
him that we were both healthy men, that our reactions were natural and to
be expected, and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, and I said
I would strip too if it made him feel more comfortable. He thought about it
for a few seconds and then, looking at my crutch, said that would be OK. I
peeled off my gym shirt and then rolled down my shorts and my thickening
dick bounced loose at last.

James did the same - he was in the same state as me, his thick dick curving
to the right - I guess he was right handed - and angling increasingly away
from his tennis ball size ball-sac.  Once our pants were off, we stood
there, grinning at one another, while our dicks completed their inevitable
testosterone fuelled trajectories. I tore myself away and turned back to
the camera. James turned around to echo the picture on the wall. But where
his briefs had been, there was no oil. I told him this and, with a friendly
laugh he said, "it's much better when you put it on for me". Green light,
or was it?

He was still standing with his back to me as I poured some of the silky
liquid into my hands and smoothed the oil around his carved buttocks, in as
matter of fact a way as I could. He spread his legs slightly and arched his
back with a kind of a sigh. I worked the oil into his butt crack, then
between his legs and then round his hips to the front, one hand on either
side.  As I did so, my dick grazed his butt, and I waited in anticipation
for a signal of rejection, but instead, he let out a deep sigh of lust and
pleasure. I continued to move my hands round his waist, stroking over his
hip bones until, inevitably, both my hands slid round to the base of his
rigid throbbing dick. I was now in full contact with him, my pecs and
stomach against his strong back, my 8.5" hard dick naturally finding a
place between his legs, massaging his ass crack, perineum and balls.

He pushed back against me with his whole body, his silky torso tingling my
sensitive nips. It was a great feeling and I rubbed my hands back and forth
over his smooth pubes - my excitement was so great and his crutch so warm
and tight, it made me wonder how long I would last. I finally wrapped my
hands around his thick curved penis, and slid them slowly up its length as
he gasped with pleasure. As my hands reached the helmet of his slimy pole,
the excited boy just lost control and, with a yell he tensed his legs and
erupted, shaking, thrusting forward - thick strings of cum shooting out and
covering the wall, his body bucking away, then back, as I held him by his
dick and pressed him to me.

As he orgasmed, the pressure of his tensed crutch squeezing my dick took me
over the top, and I too came, jets of gism shooting between his legs like a
second orgasm. God, that felt good, his muscular oiled body tensed against
mine, taught with erotic tension!  James kept thrusting his body, my hands
all the while wrapped around his jerking member.

I knew that man-to-man affection might be taboo to him, so I broke off
earlier than I wanted and went to get a towel.  When I came back he was
starting to pick up his clothes, and wouldn't meet my eyes. Oh, oh, I
thought, here it comes, but he straightened up and gave me a broad
satisfied smile.

I offered to towel off the oil, but he put his hand up to stop me.

"Would you like to wrestle with me now?" he asked.

-----------------------------------

February 2003

If you like this let me know.
Dan at pav12321@hotmail.com