Date: Thu, 9 Feb 2006 20:57:50 -0800 (PST) From: John Black Subject: The Model, Chapter 1 "Tilt your head down just a little and to the right, Jay," the photographer directed. I did as he asked, trying to hold the pose and the sardonic smile this photo lay out needed. The clothing company wanted its models to all have "the look" (whatever that was). I guess it was supposed to be edgy, urban, a little arrogant, but still appealing. In this suit jacket, I looked like a pimp that was down on his luck. I didn't like the way it draped on me. It hid my muscular body and fit like a sack. But, my thick neck, square jaw, and broad shoulders couldn't be hidden even by this baggy, deconstructed (or was it unconstructed) suit coat. However, it was a big deal to get a gig with this clothier, so I smiled mysteriously and took their money. One thing for sure, though. I'd never get caught dead in a rag like this in my own personal wardrobe! What a piece of shit! And for $1500? Are they tokin' Maui Wowie? For that price, I'd get mine tailor-made while I was here in Italy. That is, if I were a suit kinda guy. I'm not. My idea of dressing up is slacks and a turtle neck shirt with long sleeves, and penny loafers (no socks). And the slacks had to fit just right over my high, tight, muscle ass and drape well across my flat, lower abs, and caress my big dick and bull nuts. If you got it, flaunt it. At 5'11", 200 pounds, I was a little too tall and a little too heavy for a male model. But, for showing off well-cut pants or shirts, or casual wear (including beach wear), I was The Man. I got $25,000 for signing the contract and $10,000 a day while posing for the camera, plus expenses (within reason). My agent got me some good gigs in the last three years, so I was making good bread now. But, a face and body like mine don't last long in this business. So, I've been stashing most of mine away in some tax-free annuities that my business manager suggested. Between those two sharks (business manager and agent), they got 20% of what I got (but, not expenses. That was a straight reimbursement handled by my business manager). My degree in accounting kept him from screwing me over and he knew it. I didn't have the time to deal with all the details, so I'd hired him to do all that. But, I did get monthly statements and details of all transactions from him, anyway. "Once more, Jay," the photographer said interrupting my reverie. "Look down this time instead of into the distance." I adjusted my focus, tried to keep the arrogant, but approachable sneer and listened to the shutters click away (he had several cameras positioned about the set). Holding a pose for several minutes can be an agony. It's similar to working out at the gym; but instead of doing reps, you put some tension in your muscles and hold for the count of 1,000 instead of 10. The warm lights, sun, and strain were taking their toll. I could feel the sweat trickle down my back and in between my hard ass cheeks. More sweat rolled down my underarms, despite the anti-sweat pit getter I'd sprayed on. Most of the time, the clothiers wouldn't allow such chemicals near their precious clothing, but as this was for the suit manufacturer, pitting out the shirt wasn't a problem. It wasn't their shirt. Finally, the photographer took pity on me and called for a break. The truth was, my shaved head was glowing with too much perspiration and creating a reflection from the warm sun and hot photo lights. Summer in Italy can be brutally warm and humid. I unbuttoned the suit jacket and fanned myself. Then, finally, I took it off. For a summer-weight suit, it was like a horse blanket. "Who do they think they're kidding?" I muttered to myself. "Rene!" bellowed the photographer, and then nodded my direction. Rene was the make-up artist. He covered blemishes, added lip gloss, powdered shiny spots, added eye shadow, and all that hide-and-disguise shit. And he was very good at it. I thought he was a sleazy toad, but he knew his trade. I respected him for that, but kept my distance. He was always trying to cop a feel when I modeled beach wear, but I'd politely push him away. You don't want to get on his bad side. He can make you look like a raccoon. The sun was getting too warm for the shoot, so the photographer moved us under the shade of a big tree (genus unknown to me) and set up his lights again. At least now, the sun wouldn't be adding its energy to the hot lights. Maybe, I wouldn't sweat as much. I took off the soaked shirt and toweled off, flexing my muscles as Rene dried my shaved head and face, then touched up my lips and eye shadow. His fingers "accidentally" slid over my right nipple. I flinched, but didn't back-hand him like I wanted to. I didn't need the reputation for being difficult. I already had one (among the other gay models) for being randy as a billy goat. Being randy was okay, difficult was not. The latter could kill your future in the trade. Half an hour later, the photographer was ready for me again. I donned a fresh shirt and the suit jacket and stepped into the scene. "This time, I want you and Denise to look into each others eyes. Don't put love into it or yearning, just staring. Denise, you do the hungry stare, but Jay, I want a little bit of an arrogant sneer like the solo shoot we just did." My "co-star" Denise was a great model. She was slender, athletic, beautiful, and a class act; in other words, she was a joy to work with, a true professional. She was my senior by about five years, but the extra years had been very good to her. I'd been gay all of my 25 years, never even considering bedding down with a woman. But, Denise had unexpectedly gotten a rise out of me. I decided it had to be her athletic, hard body that did it. I'm sure my dick would have wilted if I'd attempted any kind of sex act with her. But, I wasn't about to ruin my reputation with a scandal. She was married and so was I. Okay, that last part is a big, fat lie. I told everyone I was married, the little woman being back in the States. But, I wasn't. I was fuckin' every hot male ass I could get in front of me. I'd used that famous line uttered by some, long-ago actor, "Pardon me if I get aroused during this love scene. And pardon me if I don't." After sprouting some heavy wood a year ago with her on a beach shoot, my reputation was solid. She let it be known to all the models, agents, and clothiers that she met that I was substantially hung and my "wife" was a very lucky woman. Denise is a terrible gossip, and didn't mind sharing her special "knowledge" with anyone who'd listen. But within our close group of gay models, it was common knowledge that I was very well hung and loved to fuck or get sucked off. In fact, between every pose for beach wear or casual wear, I'd leave for the changing room and get sucked off by the Fluffer. The Fluffer's job was to keep a good size to the model's dicks while they showed off the latest in swimwear and beachwear. Some needed more work than others. Mine was the opposite. I hung big, even when flaccid, so any arousal would show obscenely. And being around all those stunning men always gave me wood (unless I'd recently drained my lizard). The few straight men who modeled that kind of clothing did their own fluffing. But, it was commonly known that they could get a good suck from the Fluffer, if they wanted it. The Fluffer that we generally used was a former model who still looked really good. He loved to do his job without clothes, getting us turned on with his hot mouth, beautiful ass, and hard dick. After sucking on us, he'd dry our dick off quickly, stuff us back in our shorts and send us back out. But, for me, he always sucked me off and swallowed every drop. If we had the time, he'd keep it in his mouth to suck out the last dribbles (which could be up to five minutes after a climax). If not, I'd often drip into the shorts, showing a wet spot. The photographer would airbrush those "mistakes" out later. One exasperated photographer had suggested that if my dripping dick couldn't be more discrete, I should wear some kind of diaper on it. I found a head-only condom that fit pretty well and fixed the problem. It didn't even show up in the photos, although I thought it made the head of my dick look bigger. However, if my dick were starting to swell, the head would be at least that big; so I didn't say anything more and neither did that photographer. Gratefully, this shoot ended. I handed my suit to the dresser from the clothing company and headed to my dressing room, grateful to be rid of that rag. The dresser told me that I looked marvelous in his company's suit. I smiled politely, not daring to tell him what I really thought. If that kind of opinion gets back to the wrong people, you're seen as difficult, again. Models don't have opinions; models have bodies. Right on cue, the Fluffer rose to greet me when I entered the dressing room. "Still need some help?" he asked, after I shut the door. "Always," I smiled back at him. I pulled my underwear down and my dick sprang up hungrily. "Yeah, you need some special help," he grinned. He bent over a convenient table and wiggled his hard, muscular butt at me. I squatted behind him and rimmed him out. His clean, delicious, deep ass spread open for my darting tongue. I'd tried using the head-only condom when I'd fucked him before, but it always came off deep in his ass during the fucking. I'd checked twice when I'd first tried it as a real condom. Both times, it had slipped off during our heavy-duty rutting. So, now, I used the traditional Magnum condom to bag my randy dick. It was already lying on the table next to him, the foil covering ripped open and ready for me to put it on. If I ever got myself a boyfriend, this guy would definitely be on the list. For a white boy, he had the sweetest ass, nicest smile (that could melt any heart), and tastiest ass and cum I'd ever experienced. And I'd had a lot of men in my bed. I'd started playing around with other guys when I was 10, graduated to fucking when I was 12 (when a kid from the neighborhood a couple years my senior wanted to feel a big dick in his ass), and rimming and swallowing loads by the time I was 14. One of the local pimps suggested that I go with him and make money doing what I loved most. But, that didn't last more than a couple of months. I liked sex too much. I was giving it away rather than charging for it. And the guys who were willing to pay the full price weren't men I wanted to nut with anyway. So, my desire to be selective and to not charge for my services ended my career as a whore. By the age of 16, I'd been approached twice to be a model. One was to model my body and big dick for some sleazoid I'd not spend time with, even if he were the last person on earth. The other was legitimate, being a representative of one of the local department stores who wanted to attract some ghetto money. I modeled casual wear mostly. Most were in some kind of athletic setting, so I worked out more to be more appealing, adding to my burgeoning genetic gifts. That was also when I found out that posing in good, casual clothes (especially swim and beach wear) got me hard. It seemed that every shot showed off my big dick, my monster crawling across a hip or snaking down a leg. The photographer (at the end of his patience from having to retouch all my photos) told me that I had a career in modeling, but I needed to get my dick under control. He suggested beating off before each session. Finally, I figured out how soon before the shoot I needed to do that (and not leave a big wet spot from the remnants of my jizzy climax). Jason (the Fluffer) was enjoying my lingual stimulation, moaning softly whenever my long, wet tongue penetrated his back door. Although he always bottomed for me, Jason was a true versatile man. He had a nice dick that produced huge quantities of cum (even more than I did). He'd had a string of boyfriends, but they never lasted for the same reason that I never had lasting relationships. We traveled too much, were tempted too much, and couldn't keep our dicks (or asses) in our pants: this particular hook up being a classic example. I loved to ride Jason's ass. He was so good at taking big dick like mine (9" by 6") all the way in and chewing it with his ass muscles until you shot a load. We'd talked several times about barebacking, but with his preference for swallowing a lot of model loads in one day (and me pounding any hot ass that bent over for me), we decided that wouldn't be a good idea. We were still coming up negative with our frequent tests, but neither of us was into exclusivity. So, we agreed to continue to have "bagged" fun instead of going to bareback (which we'd both done and loved; he'd been a top and bottom, but I'd only topped bareback.). In this particular session, my condomed dick was pushing effortlessly into his sweet, tight, white boy ass. We'd been fucking several times a day since the beginning of this shoot; and been spending our free time fucking in his bed (morning and evening at least) and flirting with the "natives" (despite the language barrier). Last night, we'd both scored big (finding a father/son team that took both of us on). Yeah, la dolce vita (the sweet life). I slowly pistoned his hot ass in long, deep strokes, just the way we both liked it. He slowly ate my dick with his ass muscles and I ground in every inch I had into his yielding tunnel. We changed positions (him lying on his back on the table instead of bent over it). I plugged back in and kissed him, chuffing like old, steam locomotives as I pounded his hole. His hands moved quickly to my ass and pulled me harder into him, asking clearly for a faster pace. Considering how much that daddy fucked him last night, his ass was probably sore. By the end of the night, I was in daddy's ass, daddy was in Jason's ass and Jason was pumping the boy. (That was how we ended, not what we'd done for the rest of the evening.) I didn't ask how old that kid was, but I doubted very much that he was a day over 16. But, in Europe, age 16 is legal in most countries. I'd not bothered to ask about Italy. Working his erect nipples with my fingers, I wound him up to a fever pitch. One of his hands left my ass and jacked his leaking dick. I swatted his hand away, going for what he loved best: a good, hard fuck that pounded the cum right outta his big nuts without having to touch his dick. As much as he shot off, he'd paste both of us with his cream. I didn't mind at all. I'd lick it up as my dick slowly shrank in his ass. But, not yet. I was still pumping him in long, deep thrusts, letting my dick jerk hard with each deep penetration. He groaned loudly with each hammering, begging me to fuck him harder and faster. Anyone listening within ten feet of my dressing room would have heard us. The only people who might be nearby would have to be one of our fellow models. The few women on this shoot were on the other side of the makeshift studio they'd set up for the indoor shots. But, we didn't care. We were fucking like men should: bold, hard, and passionately. The only way it could have been better would be to bareback. "Cum in my ass, Jay! You're the only one who knows how to fuck white boy ass like mine!" Jason bellowed. He was hardly a boy, being a good ten years older than me, but the sentiment was heartfelt. He loved dark dick, especially, the big ones. And I certainly qualified. My heritage is a mixture of black, Native American, and po' white trash. Traces of Negroid features included my full lips, Aquiline nose (but broad nostrils), and a very dark, big dick. I know about the myth that black men have bigger dicks. In my experience, it wasn't true (although I've been more impressed with their dicks than white boys). However, myths of that nature will probably never die. In the meantime, my nuts were pulling up tightly into the base of my pounding dick, signaling a willingness to unload. I'd been able to cum on cue for most of my life. In this case, Jason was going to cum first. He was very close already. The upward curve of my dick was hitting his prostate relentlessly. If he'd been jacking his dick instead of letting it flop on his abs (because I wouldn't let him jack), he'd have climaxed several minutes ago. His dick jerked hard and bubbled out a weak spray of cum. I knew from experience that was a prelude to a gusher. Knowing that, I powerfucked him hard, racing to the peak of my pleasure mountain and crashing into it with a potent series of creamy sprays into the protective sheath. I was matching him squirt for squirt for several seconds. "Fuck my ASS!" he pled. "Fuck it!" he moaned repeatedly. "Yeah, Baby! Take a big load in that pretty ass!" I urged him. His geysering dick sprayed hard at least 6 times, coating both of us in warm jizz. I didn't mind at all. When we were finished, we'd take a little time and lick each other off. His uncapped gusher wouldn't be wasted. With a final shudder, I pulled slowly from his gripping ass. "You gonna pull out already?" he groaned. "There's a lot more where that came from," I grinned down at him, kissing him again. "You know that better than most." "Yeah," he sighed contentedly. "I just wish I were 10 years younger or you were 10 years older, so we could do this all the time, instead of these happenstance meetings that we've had over the last five years." "We'd be competing, never in the same shoots," I corrected him. "Besides, you know what a model's life is like. There's no way to maintain a relationship that isn't superficial. We'd be apart too much to keep it going." "And we're both oversexed and couldn't keep our dicks in our pants. Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I've heard and said all the arguments before. Still, it doesn't change what I'd like." "So, whatcha wanna do tonight for entertainment?" I asked, tossing him a towel as well as cleaning up my own body. "How about that hot blonde number that was modeling with you this morning?" Jason replied. "I know he's gay." "How do you know?" I wondered. He smiled knowingly. "Never mind!" I laughed. The Fluffer knew everyone's secrets. "Any idea which way he swings, top or bottom?" "His ass is too cute to be a top." "What about his dick?" "Average, but really sweet cum, and quite a load, too!" Jason revealed. "Aren't you the fountain of knowledge?" "Stick with me, Kid," he grinned back at me. "I'll teach you things you never knew existed." "I'll bet you could, too," I allowed. "Did you just fluff him or get a load? Oh, wait, you already answered that. So, he's either gay or bi. In either case, I'll bet I could bed him. But, what are you gonna do for a date?" "I'm gonna call Daddy from last night," Jason said. "He's an incredible fuck and I could use a rematch." "I know he's a good bottom and seemed to know what to do when he fucked you and the boy," I agreed. "Do you know where this blonde Adonis is staying?" "I'll have to check, but I think he's near our hotel." "I'm sure you have your sources. Do you know if he's still hanging around the set?" "I saw him watching you and Denise earlier, so he was here then." "So, he's probably still waiting for the car that takes the rest of us back?" "More than likely," he said. "I don't think he walked back to town. You da star, Man!" Jason laughed. "That boy's gonna hang around just to watch you." "You think he knows?" "He didn't hear it from me," Jason insisted. "You gonna try that old routine of letting him seduce the straight, married guy?" "Hasn't failed me, yet!" I smirked. I'd scored many times with young, gay models, letting them think I was as advertised: straight, away from the wife, horny, and approachable. I'd already laid the groundwork with a smile, a wink, and a companionable squeeze of his shoulders as I told him about how this photographer worked. I'd also mentioned that this photo shoot had a Fluffer. Obviously, he'd availed himself of that fringe benefit. I'd find out later how grateful his gymnast body would be. As is standard for all gigs like this, I brought a small bag with me. In it were a change of clothes, some toiletries, lube (of course), and other essentials. So, in the ride back to town in the limousine, I sat next to him and found out more about him. I asked him if he had plans for the evening and he said that he didn't. When I suggested we have dinner together to discuss additional tips of the trade, he jumped at it. Gotcha, I chortled to myself. He was even bold enough to suggest that I could shower and change at his hotel and we'd dine at a restaurant he'd tried last night and found to be terrific. Of course, I considered that for a moment before I responded with a reluctant yes. This is so easy! His hotel was older, but in good repair. His room wasn't large, but was bigger than many I'd been in at the beginning of my career. The bathroom was well lighted, but the exhaust fan (as usual) was lame (Shane, the blonde surfer model I was gonna fuck, informed me). An infant could suck better than that fan, he'd added! I smiled knowingly and left the door open. As I stripped out of my sweaty clothes and stepped in to the shower, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Shane could easily see me from either of the beds. How very convenient! I rinsed and began to soap up. I glanced in the mirror occasionally to watch him. He was staring boldly. Might was well give him a show, I smirked. My dick was already hanging heavy. I worked my fingers over my pecs, causing my nipples to plump and stick out. My swelling dick demonstrated the clear connection between my nips and my hardening manhood. Checking the mirror again, I saw him rubbing his shaft within his pants. I grabbed a handful of dick and bull nuts and waggled them in his direction. "Hey, Shane," I bellowed. "Could you get me the shampoo from my bag?" Might as well help things along, I decided. He jumped up from the bed, rummaged through my bag and pulled out a plastic bottle of special shampoo I'd scored from my barber at home. He said it was specially made for my kind of hair. Whether that was true or not made no difference to me. It felt good on my scalp when I used it and gave my hair a healthy sheen. "This what you needed?" he asked, staring blatantly at my rising dick. He licked his lips and groped himself casually. "Yeah, thanks," I smiled back at him, taking the shampoo. "You gonna shower, too?" "Uh, yeah," he finally said looking up to my face instead of at my nearly hard dick. "Better get your ass in here then," I suggested. "The water is already cooling. It'll never be warm enough for you by the time I finish." He couldn't tear his clothes off fast enough. He jumped in the shower and rinsed off in front of me. Shane acted like being in a shower with another boned up man was no big deal. In fact, my dick hardened to full sail when I checked out his naked ass and throbbing dick. Shane stood about 5'8", had maybe 170 pounds on his hot, blonde, muscled, slender, surfer-dude body. His dick was probably 7" long, nicely thick, and pointed nearly straight up. Mine was sticking straight out at his ass. Shane turned his wet head and checked out my body, especially my dick. He smiled, and said, "You have an incredible body, Jay. Too bad they didn't see it in this shoot." "Thanks," I smiled, but checked out his muscled, broad back down to his bubble butt ass. "You look good, too. They'll never see this in those horrible suits we were wearing," I smiled slowly as I patted his ass. "You really think I have a hot ass?" he cooed turning around. His hard dick throbbed and jerked as it pointed upward between us. Dick dew drooled from the big head. "And a very hard dick too," I laughed. "I have that impact on some guys." "You sure do on me," he sighed. "You don't mind that I'm gay?" "Damn, Man! How could I mind in this line of work? Most of the men are," I pointed out. "I'd never work as a model if gay men bothered me at all." "I'll bet you've had a few of them come on to you, too." "Yeah, it's happened." "Your big dick is huge," he observed, making a pretense of lathering up. "It seems to like me." "My dick likes to be out of clothes. I'm constantly horned up. I haven't been home in five months now." "You use the Fluffer?" I hesitated to answer that question, but decided I'd go ahead. "Yeah, but not for the reasons you think." "What?" "Uh, you see, I have the opposite problem," I began. "My dick doesn't want to go down most of the time, so it's too big for anything that might be kinda tight on me. So, I get the Fluffer to get me off and my dick goes down to a more reasonable size. I hope that doesn't offend you." "Gawd, NO!" he smiled, his knees starting to shake with sexual energy. "So, you've been sucked off by him?" "Uh, yeah. But, you understand that a stiff dick has no sexual preference, right?" I defended, staying well within my straight, married persona. He nodded blankly, his mind and eyes on my hard dick. The water continued to pound on his back. But, my dick started to drip precum just like his was. Unconsciously, he reached out and squeezed my dick, stroking a big drop of precum on to his fingers. I moaned with pleasure. Shane looked up and smiled. "You liked that, didn't you?" "What's not to like?" I breathed. Emboldened, he stroked the full length. My hands went to his shoulders to steady myself. He took that to mean he should get on his knees. That works too, I decided. His lips closed over the big dickhead and my hands went to the back of his head. He pushed forward, taking several inches of thick shaft into his mouth. My dickhead hit the back of his throat and he swallowed. This guy had experience! Shane's hands cupped my big muscled butt cheeks and swallowed my manhood whole, his lips munching on my trimmed pubes. "Damn!" I moaned. "The Fluffer's not even this good," I lied. Shane renewed his delightful assault on my hard dick. I reached over his back and shut off the shower. "Water's getting cold, but you sure aren't. Damn, Boy!" I squeaked, pulling him off my dick. I didn't want to cum yet; and he had me dangerously close to spraying his throat with a hot load. He looked up at me, disappointed. "Didn't you like it?" "I liked it too much," I assured him. "I didn't want to cum, yet." I smiled down at him. "How about we dry off and take this to the bed?" Shane quickly exited the shower and snared towels, tossing one to me. "You ever done more than let a guy swing on your dick?" he asked. I lied again. "No, just the Fluffers, and now you." "Have you ever thought about doing more?" he pressed. "Such as?" "Let a guy eat that beautiful ass of yours, for instance?" "Why would you want to do that?" I wondered innocently. "Because it feels so good," Shane exulted, "to the guy getting rimmed as well as the guy doing it." "Really?" "Oh, yeah," he nodded enthusiastically. "Your wife never played with your ass when you did a 69 with her?" "Well, she rubbed her hands over my butt when we 69'ed, but she never stuck her tongue in my butt," I lied some more. "You ate her out though, right?" I nodded like I knew what he was talking about. "This is the same kinda thing, only better." I looked dubious for his sake. "You sure?" "Yeah, I've done both men and women and loved it, at least as much as the woman or man I was rimming," he confessed. I gave him another doubtful look. "You know how much women loved to be eaten out, how crazy they get?" Again, I nodded. "Well, you enjoyed doing it to her, too, right?" Another nod. "Well, you're gonna love this then," He assured me. By now, we'd completely dried off and were headed for the bed. He convinced me (willingly) to get on the bed on all fours. Shane got behind me and put both hands on my hard butt cheeks. I flinched a little, just to remind him how straight I was. I nearly laughed out loud. He didn't bother with preliminaries, but dove in, his tongue spearing my tight sphincter and liberally wetting it down. His attempts to pry my back door open made me moan, despite myself. "See, I told ya you'd love it!" he crowed. I pushed my ass back into his face, giving him more reason to think he'd converted me. Of course, I also loved what he was doing. "This is so great," he whispered when he took a breath. "You have the best ass I've ever eaten! You've gotta try it!" "I can't eat my own ass," I smirked. "Eat mine, I meant," he laughed. "I really get into it." "You sure? You won't be freaked if I don't like it?" "You'll love it, if you love eatin' pussy. This is MUCH better," he assured me. We switched places and I tentatively worked at spreading his beautiful, blonde bubble butt with my dark hands. I wanted to dive into his ass so badly, but I knew I had to play the reluctant married guy or I'd not get what I really wanted: his surfer ass eating my hard dick. But, I played the part and slowly approached his butt with my tongue. "I'm just supposed to stick my tongue in your hole?" I queried. "Kiss it, lick it, stick your tongue in it, slurp on it, whatever you like, Jay," he moaned. "Just do it!" I kissed it gently, and then pulled back. "Not bad," I said. "It doesn't taste nasty like I thought it would." "A hot, clean ass is better than any pussy I've ever eaten out," he confirmed. I was going to take his word for it, having had no experience (nor wanting any) in that sexual area. "Work it for me, Please!" he begged. I went back to work, getting bolder with my lips, and then my tongue. He loved it. His ass wiggled in my face, he moaned with pleasure, and finally pushed his ass back into my licking tongue with his hands on the back of my head. "Yeah, Baby! Eat my ass out!" It was a great ass for eating. This guy had all the good moves I loved from a talented bottom. I paused. "I had no idea it would be like this. Obviously, I like it. My dick is as hard as it's ever been! Look at it!" I marveled. "Damn! That beauty has to go up my ass. You gotta fuck me, Man!" he groaned, pulling gently on the thick shaft and squeezing the spongy, swollen dickhead. His fingers were quickly coated in dick dew. He licked his fingers. "Look at that big dick, Man. It wants me. All that precum wants to lube my ass tunnel!" "But, I don't have any condoms," I lied again. "I'm the first man you ever fucked, and you're married and have been faithful to your wife," he concluded (based on no valid information). "I love to be barebacked, and you got the perfect dick to screw my ass and load me up with gallons of your baby-makin' sauce. You can't knock me up, so there's no problem." "How do you know I'm not lying to you?" I ventured. "I don't think you'd lie to me just to get into my ass," he averred. "You could have it anytime you wanted it. You da MAN!" Duplicitous slut that I am, I felt slightly guilty, but my hard dick over-rode any reasons not to take this guy and fuck him REAL good. Besides, I was negative. And I loved to bareback! But, eventually he was going to find out. Did I want my carefully honed reputation ruined for a good, quick fuck? Hopefully, it wouldn't be quick; nor would it be only one fuck. I wanted to pound his ass several times during the night. "Look, Shane," I finally said. "You gotta use protection. You don't know me. You don't know my sexual history. I really wanna fuck you; and I have since I first saw you three days ago. But, for both of our sakes, I need to wear a condom." "Are you positive?" "I'm not positive, but I'm sure we need to do this." "But, I really want your load in my ass, several of them if I can get them," he protested. "There will be other times for that, after we get to know each other better," I suggested. "But, you're safe!" I hesitated. I gotta tell this kid, I finally decided. It'll come out eventually, and that's never good. "Look, Shane, I'm not married," I confessed. "I'm not even straight!" Shane paused a moment, then smiled. "Thanks for being so honest with me, Jay, but I already knew." "WHAT?" Conclusion to follow. Flames ignored; constructive comments welcomed at blackhunk33@yahoo.com No part of this story may be reproduced without the author's consent. All disclaimers apply. This story is semi-fictional. Your life isn't. Be safe.