Aaa Modeling Agency

This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.

Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the ten chapters of this story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future stories.

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AAA Modeling Agency

Chapter 3

When Callum arrived at Mr. DeMarco's office the next day, he was wearing only a pair of running shorts and flip-flops, just like Mr. DeMarco had directed. The night before, his father had pointedly made a snide comment about him lounging around the house dressed like a boy-whore waiting for a pick-up, so Callum had definitely felt a little self-conscious when he left his house, a feeling that was not lessened by the fact that he had to wear a fanny-pack with his minimalist attire.

Callum had worn his running shorts enough to know that they didn't have any pockets, so he'd stopped at Dick's on his way home the previous evening and picked up a fanny-pack to carry his money, ID, iPhone and his now ever-present bottle of energy supplement. He'd always thought that other dudes looked pretty faggy wearing them, but he figured he didn't have any choice if he was going to do what Mr. DeMarco had suggested.

Callum purposely purchased the most masculine-looking fanny-pack he could find, but he still couldn't help cringing when he looked at himself in the mirror as he was leaving for the modeling agency. It was bad enough that wearing only the running shorts made it pretty obvious to anyone who took a good look at Callum that the boy shaved his legs and the rest of his torso, but the addition of the fanny pack seemed to actually draw attention to how nearly naked he was. And, while the Outdoor Product Elements Waist Pack had seemed pretty masculine when he bought it, Callum didn't think it looked all that masculine seeing it around his own waist. Truth be told, Callum thought he looked pretty faggy.

Callum had almost returned to his room to change into a less revealing set of clothes or at least grab a tank-top to cover his hairless chest, but he knew that Mr. DeMarco would be angry with him if he did. Mr. DeMarco was intent on curing what he saw as Callum's insecurities about displaying his body and Callum knew that if he showed up wearing anything more than the running shorts and flip-flops Mr. DeMarco had prescribed, the man would definitely be upset. Since keeping Mr. DeMarco happy was now Callum's number one priority, the boy suppressed his misgivings and ventured out into the world for the first time in his new standard garb.

Fortunately, Callum's mom let him drive her 1999 Toyota Corolla while she was at work, so he didn't have to take the bus and suffer the stares of all the other passengers, but the only parking place he could find was more than a block from the agency and Callum found it incredibly embarrassing just getting to the office from there.

Callum couldn't believe how many people scoped him out, most of them not making the slightest effort to hide what they were doing. Girls, guys, dirty old men, it didn't seem to make any difference. They all raked over his body with their eyes. And if the attention itself was unsettling, what was worse was seeing the play of emotions crossing the faces of those who were checking out his nearly naked body. Envy and admiration he had expected, but Callum was surprised and unnerved by the number of people, women and men alike, who displayed open lust as he walked by. It made Callum feel completely exposed, as if was actually nude as he walked down the street.

But more unsettling than even the most blatant leers were the occasional sneers of scorn and contempt that he saw on the faces of some of those he passed. It was obvious that at least a number of his on-lookers had concluded that Callum was some sort of flaming faggot parading his almost naked body for the whole world to see. Any doubt on that score was erased when Callum passed a long-haired dude just before he got to the agency's entrance. "Hey, fag-boy, want to suck a real man's dick?" the guy inquired in a voice loud enough to be heard half-way down the block.

Callum could feel his face burning with humiliation, a humiliation made even greater by the realization that, if the situation had been reversed, had Callum been the dude watching a nearly naked teenage boy walk down the street, he might had made the exact same comment. Callum despised faggots and he couldn't imagine any insult that could be greater than being publicly called out as one of those perverts.

Just a week earlier fists would have flown if anyone had addressed that type of comment in Callum's direction. Now, however, painfully aware that he was wearing nothing underneath his running shorts and that his entire crotch was as hairless as a ten-year-old boy's, Callum knew he couldn't risk a tussle in the streets. What if his shorts came off? Callum would be literally exposed in public and everyone would see that his body was completely hairless, that he had no pubes, no body-hair at all. Just thinking about that possibility made Callum's heart pound in his chest.

Lowering his head in shame, Callum rushed past the man, hearing his tormentor cackle in derision as he hurried by, feeling his entire body flushing as he reached the building where the AAA Modeling Agency's offices occupied the top floor. He quickly pushed open the door and virtually ran inside, almost frantic in the need to escape the stares and comments that had enveloped him on the street.

Once inside the relative safety of the building, Callum paused to collect himself. He couldn't believe how hard he was breathing and, looking down at his body, he realized his entire torso was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. Callum stood there, trying to calm down, to put himself at ease. He didn't want Mr. DeMarco to see him so obviously upset. Particularly since the fact that he was so agitated seemed to vindicate Mr. DeMarco's assertion that Callum was overly self-conscious about his body and about what other people thought about him.

Callum's respiration had just about returned to normal when he realized, with a start, that his nipples were fully erect. Glancing down his torso, Callum was mortified to see that his running shorts were clearly jutting out. Callum was totally and obviously boned up. In fact, even as he looked down at himself he saw a cum-spot expanding on the front of his running shorts. Had he been aroused when he was walking down the street? Had all the people he passed noticed his erection and been laughing at him? Had he made a public spectacle of himself, walking around almost naked while sporting an obvious boner leaking cum onto his nylon shorts? Callum felt himself blushing in embarrassment all over again.

And it was at this precise moment that a cough made him look up. There, behind the lobby desk, sat a guard eyeing him with a condescending sneer. "Can I help you....sir?" he asked, putting an inflection on 'sir' that made it obvious that he thought it was an honorific totally unsuited to the person he was addressing.

Callum had dealt with this guard before when he'd entered the building and, while there had always been a certain coolness in his manner, the guard had never before addressed him with such obvious contempt. But, then again, Callum had never before entered the building dressed only in running shorts and flip-flops - and flashing an obvious erection to boot.

"I have an appointment with the AAA Modeling Agency," Callum managed to squeak out, unable to keep a noticeable quaver out of his voice.

"Yes," the guard responded, not even trying to mask the sarcasm in his tone, "I'm sure you do."

With a smile that was more of a smirk, the guard continued. "Would you sign in, please?"

Callum walked over to the guard station, took the proffered pen, and signed his name in the log book, painfully aware that his hand was shaking as he did so. The guard flipped the sign-in book around and stared at Callum's entry. Then he looked up at Callum.

"The offices of AAA Modeling Agency are on the top floor," he informed the boy, "but I'm sure you already know that," he added, now openly grinning at him.

"Yes, sir," Callum quietly replied, feeling incredibly awkward. "I do."

Callum walked over to the bank of elevators and pressed the "Up" bottom. Just as the bell sounded to announce the arrival of the elevator, he heard the guard behind him. "And, boy," the guard began. Callum turned around to look at him. "Don't forget to sign out when you leave - no matter how late that is. Understand, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Callum quickly agreed, actually stammering as he did so. As the elevator doors closed, Callum saw the guard actually wink at him. For reasons he couldn't really understand, Callum felt himself blushing yet again. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, Callum tried to figure out what was wrong with him. The guard had just treated him like a punk, like some fucking faggot, and he'd let him do it. He'd even called him 'boy' to his face - and Callum hadn't said a thing. The only difference between yesterday and today had been how Callum was dressed. Yesterday, he'd been in slacks and a Polo shirt; today he was in only his running shorts. That was the sole difference. But it was a big enough difference, apparently, for the guard to think that he could get away with treating Callum like street scum and, what was worse, for Callum to accept being treated that way.

And there, in the elevator, on his way to the top floor and the AAA Modeling Agency, Callum had an epiphany. Mr. DeMarco was right. He was too sensitive about what other people thought of him. Nothing had changed about Callum in the last twenty-four hours - he was still the same straight stud he'd always been. But because he appeared in public wearing only a pair of skimpy running shorts, strangers had made an assumption as to the type of person he was. They were wrong - and Callum knew they were wrong. But he had let them get away with it because he, Callum, wasn't secure enough in who he was. He was too afraid of what other people might think.

'Well, fuck them,' Callum thought, feeling a surge of anger. 'I'm not going to let a bunch of assholes who I don't know and who don't know me keep me from achieving success. They're probably just a bunch of fucking losers, anyway. Let 'em look; let 'em leer; fuck, I don't give a damn if they want to sneer at me. I'm not going to let them stop me from achieving my dream. I'm going to be the next big male model and I'm not going to let anyone or anything sidetrack me.'

Just then the bell rang and the elevator doors opened. Callum, with a new-found sense of self-confidence, squared his shoulders and stepped into the hallway, right in front of the glass doors with AAA Modeling Agency blazoned across them. He pushed one of the doors open and strode across the room to the reception desk where Troy was sitting, just staring at him, making no effort to hide the lust Callum's masculine body was clearly stoking in him. 'Let the little faggot get his jollies,' Callum thought. 'I don't care what he thinks about me. I'm not going to let him or anybody else keep me from making it big. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it. Fuck him. Fuck them all!"

"Hello, Troy," Callum said as he stood directly in front of the receptionist, purposely thrusting his pelvis forward so that his running shorts, with their big bulge, were almost in Troy's face. "I'm here to work on my tan."

The look on Troy's face was almost laughable. He was almost drooling, he was so turned on. But he was obviously flustered, too. He was used to dealing with a nervous and self-conscious Callum; he seemed unprepared for the self-confidence that Callum was now projecting - the self-confidence that Callum was sure any real straight man should feel when dealing with a faggot like Troy.

But, whatever surprise Troy may have felt at first, he quickly reverted to his old form. "Well, hello sexy," he cooed, licking his lips. "Aren't you a sight to get a boy's juices flowing. Or a girl's too," he added as an obvious after-thought. Though Callum had resolved to ignore the little fairy, he could feel himself beginning to redden. He didn't know what it was, but the male receptionist always seemed able to throw Callum off his game. That was just something he'd have to work on, Callum told himself.

Seeing Callum blush, Troy couldn't keep his smile from broadening. He stood up behind his desk. "Let's get you started right away on that all-over tan. It's a beautiful sunny day and I'm sure you don't want to waste a minute of it. Just follow me, sweetie," he added as he turned and started walking towards the door to Mr. DeMarco's office.

'I'm not your fucking sweetie,' Callum raged inside his mind, getting angry despite himself. But because he had already begun learning self-control, what Callum actually said was "You lead the way, Troy." Hearing himself make this response to Troy's obviously provocative remarks made Callum feel good. He felt like he was making good on the resolution he'd formed in the elevator. Nobody, not Troy, not those assholes on the street, nobody was going to keep him from becoming a success story at AAA Modeling Agency.

Troy knocked on the door and then entered, Callum following closely behind. Mr. DeMarco was sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone, but he motioned them in and indicated that they should proceed to the bathroom. Once there, it took less than five seconds for Callum to divest himself of his fanny-pack and his shorts - his only items of clothing. Callum tried to ignore the fact that he was now sporting major wood, despite having jerked off right before he left home but, of course, Troy made a big thing about it. "Aren't you the randy stud," Troy smirked. "I don't know, sexy. Every time I see you, you're throwing a big bone. Must be something here that turns you on. Is that it, big boy?"

Callum suppressed a sarcastic response. He wasn't going to let the little fruit-cake get to him - not with Mr. DeMarco sitting there, right outside the bathroom. "Why don't we just take care of business, Troy," he suggested.

"Whatever you say, sexy," Troy readily agreed. "I'm always ready to take care of business." The little faggot actually wiggled his ass at Callum as he said it. Callum knew his blush was deepening but he couldn't seem to help himself. Something about Troy just seemed to get to him, every time.

Seeing Callum's obvious discomfort, Troy smirked and let a little chuckle escape his lips, but then he turned his attention to the counter on which a variety of different lotions and sprays were arrayed. Troy picked up a tube of sun-tan lotion. Callum noticed that it had an SPF of 30. Troy spread a large dollop of lotion on his hands and rubbed them together. Looking up at Callum, he brusquely ordered him to "assume the position."

Callum was a little taken aback by the abrupt change in Troy's demeanor, but he reminded himself that the same thing had happened yesterday when the boy had begun taking photographs. Mr. DeMarco had told Callum that Troy was a real professional when it came to his office assignments and this was obviously another manifestation of that quality.

As directed, Callum spread his legs far apart and locked his fingers behind his neck. Almost immediately, Troy brought his hands to Callum's shoulders and began applying the lotion liberally. Not surprisingly, the lotion wasn't the only thing Troy was liberal with. His hands seem to float all over Callum's body and, when he was applying the lotion to Callum's chest, Troy didn't miss the opportunity to squeeze and tweak Callum's nipples. Needless to say, Callum's nips were once again fully erect by the time Troy moved on to his abs.

Callum was trying to ignore the fact that his cock had started leaking pre-cum almost from the moment Troy had started lubing him up. He tried to prepare himself for Troy's imminent assault on his cock and balls, knowing that the horny fag-boy would be sure to take full advantage of his opportunity to fondle and molest Callum's junk. So he was surprised when, after applying a thick layer of lotion to the area just below his navel, Troy suddenly squatted down and began working on the lower half of Callum's thighs.

Troy slowly worked his way down both legs, paying particular attention to Callum's ankles and feet. He even worked some lotion in between each of Callum's toes. Then he stood back up.

"Uh, haven't you forgotten something, Troy?" Callum asked. Callum had assumed the whole purpose of having Troy apply the lotion to Callum's body was to make sure that Callum didn't get sunburned. But Troy had left all the previously untanned areas of Callum's body alone. Since these were precisely the areas that figured to be most susceptible to burning, it didn't seem to make any sense to Callum.

"Don't you worry, stud boy," Troy re-assured him, with a wink. "I haven't forgotten anything."

Troy put the tube of suntan lotion he'd been applying back on the counter and picked up a different tube. Callum saw that this one had an SPF of 15. Troy squeezed a good amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together. Then, taking a step forward, he lowered his hands and took hold of Callum's ball-sac. Smiling up at the taller athlete, he began working the lotion into Callum's balls and cock.

Callum couldn't believe the jolt that ran through his body when Troy's fingers first closed around his nuts. No guy had ever grabbed him by the balls before, at least not in such an intimate and personal way. And when Troy's hands reached up and began massaging Callum's cock, Callum couldn't keep a groan of pleasure from escaping his mouth. Despite himself, Callum could feel his legs shaking and after a few moments he realized, to his horror, that he was on the edge of cumming. Callum could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he contemplated cumming while Troy worked his aroused cock - he just didn't think there could be anything more embarrassing than that.

But then, miraculously, just as Callum was sure he was going to lose it and pop off a load right there, Troy released his hold on Callum's manhood and began working some lotion into Callum's belly and groin. His hands were still way too intimate for Callum's tastes but at least the unbelievable urge to ejaculate had eased somewhat.

Trying to keep his mind off what Troy was doing to his body, Callum asked Troy why he was using a lower SPF lotion for the areas of his body that had never tanned before. "I would have thought that you'd use a higher SPF on those areas, just to keep me from burning there."

"You're only going to be in the sun today for a maximum of three hours, Callum," Troy explained as he moved on to working the lotion into the surprisingly sensitive area between Callum's legs and his inner thighs. "So that works out as an hour and a half for each side. With an SPF of 15 that means that, in effect, the amount of tanning rays you're getting is what you would get if you were lying in the sun unprotected for about six minutes on each side. You'll get some color but you won't burn."

"The reason I used a higher SPF on the tanned parts of your body," Troy continued, now working on Callum's perineum with a stroke reminiscent of that used by Callum when he was fondling one of his girlfriends, "is that I want to slow down your tanning in those areas relative to your untanned areas. What we want to ultimately achieve is an even all-over tan so we want the white areas of your groin and ass to get more sun than the areas that are already darker." As distracted as he was by Troy's insistent massaging of the really sensitive areas of his body - Callum just couldn't shake the sensation that Troy was feeling him up just like he would if Callum was a horny bitch - Callum had to admit the logic in Troy's approach. So he let the receptionist do his thing, even though his massaging fingers once again seemed to be driving Callum closer and closer to an embarrassing orgasm.

For the next few minutes, Troy concentrated on applying the suntan lotion to Callum's lower torso and upper thighs. But again, just as Callum was afraid that he was about to lose it - he was about to pop one off - Troy stopped right before Callum lost control and moved around to Callum's back. Callum heaved an audible sigh of relief.

Troy took his time on Callum's ass, rubbing a lot of lotion onto Callum's muscled butt and not surprisingly taking the opportunity to squeeze and massage the big globes. Then, the boy told Callum to reach back and spread his cheeks apart so that Troy could get his ass-crack greased up.

Callum couldn't help shivering as the boy's feathery fingers worked their way up and down Callum's back-furrow. And when Troy suddenly inserted a hard finger into his butt-hole, an involuntary groan escaped Callum's lips. 'Damn it,' he thought, trying to keep himself under control, 'that little faggot just can't pass up the chance to finger my asshole.' But he managed to keep his anger reined in until Troy roughly jammed a second finger up his butt, causing a searing pain in Callum's virginal anus. That's when Callum lost it.

"God damn it, Troy," he shouted, taking two steps forward, pulling his butt off the receptionist's two fingers. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm just greasing up your hole so you don't get sunburned back there," was Troy's innocent response, delivered in his most grating, effeminate voice.

"Well, just leave my asshole alone," Callum responded, trying to control his rage.

Callum had turned around and was just staring daggers at the little pansy when he heard Mr. DeMarco's angry voice. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Immediately, Callum found himself on edge. He knew he was in the right, but he hadn't wanted to involve Mr. DeMarco in this little contretemps. "It's nothing, sir," he called out. "Just a little misunderstanding between me and Troy."

Mr. DeMarco was obviously unmollified. "Both of you, get in here," he ordered.

Callum exited the bathroom, closely followed by Troy. Mr. DeMarco had finished with his phone conversation and was just sitting there, staring at both of them. He motioned the two of them to move in front of his desk.

Once they were standing directly in front of him, Mr. DeMarco nodded at Callum. "Okay, Callum, you tell me what's going on."

"Well, sir," Callum began, uneasy despite the knowledge that he had done nothing wrong, "Troy was applying the suntan lotion to my ass when he suddenly stuck two fingers up my butt-hole."

"Troy," Mr. DeMarco queried, turning to his receptionist, "is that true?"

"Yes, sir. That's correct. I did stick two fingers up Callum's pussy...I mean his asshole, sir," he quickly amended seeing Mr. DeMarco's angry glare. Despite himself, Callum could feel his face flaring in heat at Troy's characterization of Callum's butt-hole as a 'pussy.' It was bad enough that Callum was being mocked in the streets by total strangers; he'd be damned if he was going to let some fucking butt-muncher impugn his masculinity right in front of Mr. DeMarco. But before he could say anything Mr. DeMarco stood up and began to move from behind his desk, his face firmly set in disapproval.

"Troy," he remonstrated angrily, "I've warned you about using that word before to refer to our model's assholes. It is disrespectful even in those cases in which it is obvious that the model has been the receptive partner in anal sex - to say nothing of situations in which the individual has no interest in such activities. As I assume is the case right now, isn't that correct, Callum?"

"Yes, sir," Callum replied with force, somewhat unsettled that he was being called upon to publicly affirm his masculinity. Then, suddenly uncertain what he had agreed to, he changed to "No, sir." When that elicited a confused look from Mr. DeMarco, Callum tried to clarify his declaration, "I mean, I've never been fucked up the ass, sir."

"Exactly what I thought," Mr. DeMarco said in agreement, turning back to Troy. "Callum hasn't lost his anal virginity yet and it's totally improper for you to imply otherwise, particularly using such a derogatory term."

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy apologized.

"I'm sorry, too, Troy, but your apology is not enough," Mr. DeMarco immediately replied. "You've been warned about this before, but that apparently wasn't enough to make you change your ways. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished this time."

"Yes, sir," Troy quietly replied, letting his head fall slightly.

Mr. DeMarco waited a moment, looking sternly at his receptionist, and then spoke again. "Well, you know the procedures, Troy. Strip completely."

"Yes, sir," Troy replied in a small voice. The next thing Callum knew, Troy was squatting down, untying his shoe laces. Callum had followed the exchange between Troy and Mr. DeMarco with a mixture of satisfaction and consternation. He was gratified that Mr. DeMarco was taking action to curb Troy but also more than a little disconcerted that Mr. DeMarco had actually said that Callum had not lost his anal virginity 'yet,' as if there was even the remotest possibility that such a thing could ever happen. But these conflicting emotions were totally overwhelmed by the shock of hearing Mr. DeMarco declare that Troy needed to be punished followed by his order telling Troy to strip.

But the surprises were just beginning for Callum. Troy removed all his clothes without a murmur of objection and was soon standing in front of Mr. DeMarco as naked as Callum. And Callum had to admit to himself that he was impressed. Who would have thought that the little faggot had such a well-developed physique - and a good-sized cock, too? And then, with a start, Callum realized that Troy's body was as denuded of body hair as his own. If anything, that made Callum more self-conscious of the fact that he no longer had any pubes. It seemed to put him in the same category as Troy and Callum didn't like that - he didn't like that at all.

But even before Callum could fully process this new perception of Troy, events were rapidly moving on. Mr. DeMarco looked at Callum and told him to get one of the straight-back chairs from along the wall and move it in front of the desk. When he did so, Mr. DeMarco told his model to sit down. Uncertain what was going on, Callum did as he was told. Then Mr. DeMarco turned back to his receptionist.

"Since Callum is the one you offended, Troy," he informed him, "Callum will be the one meting out the punishment. Assume the proper position over his legs."

"Yes, sir," Troy meekly replied, keeping his eyes cast down. The next thing Callum knew, Troy was draping his naked body across Callum's lap. Callum looked up at Mr. DeMarco in total confusion. "Sir?" he queried, at a complete loss as to what was going on.

Mr. DeMarco smiled grimly at Callum, understanding his uncertainty. "Let me explain everything, Callum. Here, at the Agency, when we have to discipline someone, I prefer to do so physically by way of a hard spanking. The punishment can be administered immediately and, because it is both painful and demeaning, it impresses on the offending party the seriousness of the infraction. On the other hand, it is also over relatively quickly and the disciplined individual can get back to work right away - though, of course, his ass will be sore and bruised for the rest of the day."

"Don't worry, Callum," Mr. DeMarco continued, seeing the look of shock on the boy's face, "if a model is being disciplined we're always careful to make sure that he has no appointments within the next twenty-four hours so that his ass can fully recover beforehand and, if necessary, we'll even postpone his spanking if it might adversely affect a scheduled shoot or personal appearance. But, yes, to answer your question before you ask it, all models here are subject to being physically disciplined if their actions warrant it. It'd probably be a good thing if you remember that in the future, though I'm sure you won't give me any cause for disciplining you."

Mr. DeMarco paused for a moment to let Callum absorb this new information. And then he continued. "Because Troy insulted you by referring to your asshole as a 'pussy,' I think it only fair that you administer his punishment. I know you're right-handed, so what I want you to do is take your left hand, reach under Troy's body and grab a firm hold of his cock and balls."

Seeing Callum blush furiously at this order, Mr. DeMarco allowed himself to smile. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Callum. It's only a cock and a pair of balls, just like you have between your legs and I'm sure you've grabbed you own many times in the past few days. Troy's are no different. So just reach down and get a good grip on them. This will keep Troy from thrashing around too much and also prevent him from falling off your lap and possibly injuring himself while you're spanking him. We wouldn't want that."

Callum wasn't sure what he wanted but he was sure what he didn't want and that was to grab hold of Troy's scrotum. But it was obvious that Mr. DeMarco was not in the mood to brook with any hesitation on Callum's part so he reluctantly reached under the little faggot's body and grabbed hold of his cock and balls. He was disgusted but not surprised to find that Troy's cock was not only fully aroused but leaking pre. 'That's just fucking great,' Callum thought to himself. 'The little prick is probably going to get off while I'm spanking his ass. Some punishment.' But, seeing how agitated Mr. DeMarco already appeared, Callum knew enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

Once he had a firm grip on the receptionist, Mr. DeMarco informed Callum that he was to administer 100 swats to Troy's ass - fifty to each ass-cheek. "Don't worry about keeping track, Callum," the man advised him. "Troy will count out each stroke. You just make sure that each one is hard. I don't want you going easy on Troy out of any misplaced feelings of sympathy. It's important that your hand impress upon Troy's ass the seriousness of his transgression. Do you understand, Callum?"

"Yes, sir," Callum duly replied with confidence. Going easy on Troy's ass was the last thing on Callum's mind.

"Well," Mr. DeMarco said, "once you're sure you have a good grip on Troy's junk you can begin."

As he tightened his grip to make sure that Troy didn't slide off his lap, part of Callum was already regretting having made a big thing about Troy's sticking two fingers up Callum's ass - he should have just let it slide. What was happening now was far more embarrassing than being finger-fucked for a few minutes would have been. Another part of Callum, though, was looking forward to giving the receptionist an ass-thrashing he'd remember for a long time. It was his chance to put the little faggot in his place and show him how a real man could dish out the punishment. He'd let the punk know that Callum wasn't someone who he could mess with without consequences. The little fruit-cake had had his fun - now it was time to pay the piper.

With a grim determination, Callum raised his hand and then brought it back down as forcefully as possible on Troy's right cheek. The sound of flesh slapping flesh crackled across the room. Callum was actually a little surprised at how hard he had smacked the boy's ass, but Troy hardly flinched. Instead, in a firm voice, Troy simply said, "One. Thank you, Callum." While Mr. DeMarco had said that Troy would count out the strokes, Callum was still surprised when he did. But Callum liked it - particularly the part where Troy thanked him for the smack. That was just what a little fag-boy should be doing - thanking a real man for spanking him. Callum brought his hand down just as hard on the boy's left cheek and the sound re-echoed through the room. "Two. Thank you, Callum," Troy intoned.

And so it went. Callum's expression of grim determination was soon replaced by one of obvious pleasure. He was enjoying spanking Troy's ass - he was enjoying it a lot. He had to admit - it was a real turn-on, a chance to pay the little faggot back for all the embarrassing innuendo he'd tossed at Callum over the past week. It was just what the little bitch deserved.

But, as the count mounted and Troy's buns turned from a pinkish tinge to a deep crimson, Callum found himself increasingly frustrated by his inability to elicit any sign of discomfort from Troy. Instead, the boy simply continued to count out the strokes, seemingly impervious to the beating that Callum was administering to Troy's now flaming ass-cheeks. That wasn't what Callum wanted. He wanted Troy to be moaning in pain; he wanted him to cry like a little bitch having her tushy walloped. So, midway through Troy's punishment, Callum found himself increasing the force with which he burnished the boy's butt, so determined to make Troy cry that he ignored the increasing pain of his own hand.

Just as the count hit sixty, Callum landed a particularly vicious slap and was rewarded when an involuntary groan escaped the boy's lips. Three strokes later, Troy moaned again. Soon, the boy couldn't help himself; he was groaning on every stroke, even as the buttocks began to take on a purplish glow. Callum could see the tears in the boy's eyes but he wanted them coursing down his face; he wanted him crying his eyes out like a little faggot should when a real man was beating his ass. But despite the fact that Callum was now pummeling Troy's ass with all the force he could muster, the boy was still refusing to cry.

And that's when the idea hit him. Callum had no clue why he thought of it, but suddenly he wondered whether the boy was close to cumming. Callum loosened his grip on the boy's scrotum and let his hand slide down Troy's hard dick. The shaft was slick with pre-cum and when Callum fingered the crown the boy's entire body shook. Callum had been right. The little faggot was close to cumming.

Suddenly, Callum was consumed with the desire to make the boy cum while Callum was spanking him. That would be so humiliating - shooting off a load while a man beat your ass to a pulp. Even a fag-boy like Troy would probably be embarrassed by something like that. So Callum started doing something he had never done before in his life - something he had never even considered doing before - jacking another dude off.

Callum began stroking the boy's hard cock at a steady pace even while he continued to thrash his ass. And it was soon obvious that Callum's ministrations were having the desired effect - he could feel Troy's dick throbbing in his hand and the slit was now leaking pre-cum in a single continuous flow. Suddenly, Troy turned his head towards Callum. "Please,....don't," he softly begged. "Please." That was all the incentive Callum needed. He really went to work on the boy's dick.

And as he relentlessly drove Troy towards an orgasm, Callum achieved his original goal. The boy began to cry in humiliated frustration. But, at this point, nothing would deter Callum from forcing the faggot to pop-off a load. He stroked and massaged Troy's now super-sensitized cock with a vengeance and, just as Troy counted "Ninety-four," in a voice thick with tears, the boy's dick erupted with cum. Troy began to sob uncontrollably as he writhed atop Callum's lap in the throes of the orgasm Callum had forced on him, his cock spewing spurt and spurt of hot boy-cream all over the carpet underneath him. An incredible feeling of triumph suffused Callum.

The final six strokes were pretty much an after-thought, though Troy obviously had to struggle to count them out and thank Callum for each one. When the full one hundred had been administered, Troy lay quietly over Callum's lap for a long moment, obviously trying to regain some composure. Then, slowly, the pain obvious in his movements, Troy struggled back to his feet and turned to face Callum. While no longer sobbing aloud, the boy's face was still wet with his tears. With an obvious effort of will, Troy forced himself to look at Callum. "I'm sorry for offending you, Callum," he managed to say and then, after glancing quickly at Mr. DeMarco, he added, "Thank you for spanking me."

Now that it was over - now that he was no longer in the moment - Callum was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable about what had happened. He had really done a number on Troy's ass. Callum was actually a little shocked at how discolored and bruised it looked. Callum could feel the heat emanating from the boy's burning melons even though Troy was standing several feet away. And, from the way he moved, it was obvious that Troy was in considerable discomfort - just sitting down was going to be painful for the next few days. And that didn't even take into consideration the obvious humiliation Troy had suffered when Callum had forced him to cum during the spanking. Those effects figured to be even more long-lasting than the physical damage inflicted on the boy's buttocks.

Callum tried to convince himself that Troy had deserved what happened to him. He'd been coming on to Callum almost from the moment Callum arrived at the Agency. Troy deserved to be punished. But even Callum wondered if the punishment inflicted was perhaps greater than was warranted. After all, Troy was just being Troy. A faggot like that probably couldn't help himself when he was around a sexy, real man like Callum. But he was a faggot, Callum told himself, and faggots needed to be put in their place. And he had certainly done that with Troy. The boy would definitely think twice before messing with Callum again.

They were both standing there, warily eyeing each other, when Mr. DeMarco spoke up. "You certainly made a mess of my carpet, Troy." Looking up, Callum noticed that Mr. DeMarco's gaze was fixed on the area of the carpet directly in front of where Callum was still sitting. Strands and globules of creamy boy-seed covered a wide area.

Troy looked at Mr. DeMarco and apologized. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir."

"Well," Mr. DeMarco responded, "you made the mess, you should clean it up."

Troy's face noticeably colored. "Yes, sir," he said in a small voice. Then, to Callum's surprise, the boy dropped to his knees. It looked to Callum as if he was about to get on all fours when Mr. DeMarco interrupted. "Well, don't just look at it. Get a wash-cloth, Troy, and clean it up."

Troy glanced up at Mr. DeMarco with his own look of surprise. "Yes, sir," he replied, quickly getting to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He was back moments later with a damp wash-cloth which he used to remove the evidence of his orgasm. In just a couple minutes the carpet was clean, if somewhat damp. Troy went back to the bathroom to rinse out the now cum-laden cloth.

While Troy was doing that, Mr. DeMarco told Callum to stand up and return the chair he'd been sitting in to its place along the wall. As he did so, Mr. DeMarco walked around his desk again and sat down. Callum came back and stood in front of the desk where he was soon joined by an obviously chastened and still-nude Troy.

Mr. DeMarco looked at the two of them for a few seconds and then returned to his inquiry as to what had happened in the bathroom between Callum and Troy as if nothing had intervened. "So, Troy," he said. "You admit that you stuck two fingers up Callum's asshole."

"Yes, sir, I did," admitted Troy. "I was applying suntan lotion to Callum's....rectal lining," he argued by way of justification. "I wanted to be sure that no unprotected areas were exposed while Callum was working on tanning his ass-crack."

Callum was expecting Mr. DeMarco to reject this obvious fabrication out of hand so he was surprised to hear the man respond "Well, that makes sense."

"But, sir," Callum complained, "his fingers were way up my asshole. There's no way I was going to get sunburned up there."

Mr. DeMarco looked back and forth between Callum and his receptionist. Finally, he turned to Troy. "Go get the suntan lotion," he ordered.

As Troy left to comply with Mr. DeMarco's orders, the man turned to Callum. "I need to see exactly what happened, so turn around and assume the position you were in while Troy was applying the lotion."

Callum could feel himself getting red as he turned around, bent over and then reached behind himself and spread his ass-cheeks wide apart. It was a pretty humiliating position to be assuming in front of any man, particularly Mr. DeMarco. Troy had returned with the suntan lotion and positioned himself right next to Callum's spread-out ass.

"Okay, Troy," Mr. DeMarco directed. "Coat your fingers with the lotion and show me how you applied it."

Callum groaned as first one and then a second finger was inserted up his ass. Mr. DeMarco just watched for a good two minutes as Troy worked his fingers inside of Callum's hole. It was so demeaning to be standing there as Mr. DeMarco watched Troy basically finger-fuck Callum's butt. Finally, Mr. DeMarco asked Callum if what Troy was now doing was what he had done in the bathroom.

"Yes, sir," Callum quickly affirmed, shocked that Mr. DeMarco had let Troy continue to finger him for so long. But then he was thunderstruck when Mr. DeMarco declared, "Well, I don't see what your problem is, Callum."

"But, sir," Callum complained, "Troy's got two fingers way up my butt!"

"Yes, he does," Mr. DeMarco agreed, looking at Troy's two fingers wedged tightly into Callum's hole. "But he needs to make sure that the upper area of your rectum does not get sunburned. That would be incredibly painful for you - far more painful than having a pair of fingers massaging your back-hole."

"But how would that area ever get sunburned?" Callum asked plaintively. "There's no way that my asshole is going to be exposed to the sun."

"That's where you're wrong, Callum," Mr. DeMarco immediately corrected him. "You're going to be spending a good amount of time on the roof on your stomach, working on tanning your ass. As we've already discussed, it's absolutely essential that your ass-crack be as tanned as the rest of your body. With your big, muscular, bubble-butt, the only way your ass-crack is going to be exposed to the sun is if you hold your cheeks far apart, just like you're doing now. But when you do that, you stretch out your anal rosette - I can see that clearly from where I'm sitting - and that will allow sunlight to stream in on the upper part of your anal passage. If that area isn't coated with suntan lotion you could well get a nasty burn back there. Troy was just being careful. He wasn't doing anything wrong. You were the one at fault."

Callum could feel his face burning as he heard Mr. DeMarco's words. He was the one who had been in the wrong. His actions had precipitated the entire scene in Mr. DeMarco's office and Mr. DeMarco had concluded that Troy hadn't been doing anything improper when he'd stuck two of his fingers up Callum's virginal butt-hole. Part of Callum just couldn't believe what he was hearing but another part wondered whether he had overreacted, whether he'd been too quick to assume that Troy was taking advantage of him. It sure didn't feel right - the way Troy's fingers were stuck so far up his butt - but Mr. DeMarco who could clearly see how they penetrated his hole from where he was sitting seemed convinced that it was Callum who was at fault.

A minute later, he heard Mr. DeMarco tell Troy to remove his fingers from Callum's 'hole.' The receptionist immediately did as he was told. Slowly, Callum straightened up and then turned around to face Mr. DeMarco. Seeing the look of obvious disapproval on the man's face made Callum feel even worse. "I'm sorry, sir," Callum quickly offered.

"Troy is the one you should apologize to," Mr. DeMarco immediately pointed out.

Callum turned to the still-nude receptionist who was standing just a few feet from him, his flaming ass still exuding heat from the terrific battering Callum had administered to it. "I'm sorry, Troy," Callum said, feeling very much ill-at-ease.

Troy looked up at him with a mixture of anger and triumph in his eyes and just stared at Callum. It was obvious that he had no intention of acknowledging Callum's apology until Mr. DeMarco expressly told him to respond.

It was clear that Troy had to force the words out and that he didn't believe them for a moment, but what he said was "That's okay, Callum. I accept your apology." Then, turning to look Callum straight in the face, he added, "but you should have asked me why I was doing it and I would have explained that to you. You should have asked."

"Yes, Callum," Mr. DeMarco immediately agreed. "You should have asked Troy. But instead, you assumed the worst and responded accordingly. If you had asked Troy we all might have avoided the unpleasantness that just occurred."

Callum looked at Mr. DeMarco and then back at Troy. He had clearly screwed up and, despite all his best efforts, had disappointed Mr. DeMarco and possibly jeopardized his modeling career. He knew he had to somehow try to retrieve the situation. So, tamping down an upsurge of fear, he spoke up. "I'm sorry, sir, for my actions." Then, taking a deep breath he continued, "if you think I need to be disciplined, sir, I'm willing to accept my punishment."

Next to him, Callum could feel Troy perk up. Dean DeMarco let a flicker of surprise cross his face. He peered closely at his naked model. He had to admit that seeing Callum spanked would be a definite turn-on, particularly since he knew that Troy would really do a number on the model's ass. Dean had been shocked when Troy popped off a load while being spanked. Troy really didn't like being spanked and he almost never shot a load of boy-cream while he was getting his butt burnished, not even when his dad was working those hard little globes over.

Dean knew that Troy wasn't faking his embarrassment over that - the boy had really been humiliated when Callum forced him to cum and that wasn't something his son was going to let pass without exacting a painful revenge. But it was just a little too early in Callum's training for a spanking, particularly for as hard a spanking as Troy was sure to give the model. That would come soon, but not yet. Troy would just have to wait for pay-back, though Dean was sure that, when it came, Callum would pay in spades for today's little humiliation. But right now, Dean had a different humiliation in mind for Callum, one that would actually advance his training along pre-planned lines.

"I'm glad to hear you accept responsibility for your actions, Callum," Mr. DeMarco finally replied. "But I'm willing to let your mistake pass this time. Of course, should it happen again, I won't be able to be so forgiving. I trust you understand that."

"Yes, sir. I do," Callum immediately replied.

"Good," Mr. DeMarco responded. Then, looking at his watch, he remarked "we've lost a lot of good sun time already so Troy should take you upstairs to get started. But, before he does, we have to do something about your erection, Callum."

With the conversation turning yet again to his erection problems, Callum could feel his blush deepening. "I'm sorry, sir," he temporized, "I'm jacking myself off all the time, but that doesn't seem to help. I'm hard pretty much 24/7 now, even right after I've worked out a load."

Mr. DeMarco eyed his model closely. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he responded, "Well, if that continues, we may have to take a totally different approach to controlling your excess testosterone. But, right now, we need to take care of your boner and we need to do it quickly."

Mr. DeMarco turned to his receptionist. "Troy, take Callum's cock in your hand and jerk him off," he directed.

"But, sir," Callum sputtered in open-mouthed shock, "I can jack myself off."

Mr. DeMarco turned back to Callum, his disapproval obvious. "Yes, Callum, I'm sure you can, since you just told me you're doing it all the time. But we're pressed for time here and you're the main reason for that. Troy will be able to get you off faster than you can yourself. So just assume the position and let Troy do his job."

Then, turning to Troy, Mr. DeMarco curtly ordered him to do what he'd been told. Given Mr. DeMarco's direct order and seeing the man's anger, Callum quickly spread his legs far apart and locked his fingers behind his neck. Troy, making no effort to hide his enjoyment at the unexpected turn of events, quickly stepped forward and roughly grabbed Callum's fully-erect cock, eliciting a loud groan from the model. In just seconds, Troy was working on Callum's dick with a vengeance.

Callum couldn't believe how quickly Troy got him to the edge of ejaculation. The feel of the other boy's hand rapidly stroking his cock, firm but sensuous, was unlike anything Callum had experienced before. Troy seemed to know instinctively how to manipulate Callum's male organ to maximize the model's pleasure. Of course almost all the girls he'd fucked in the past had worked on Callum's dick during his sexual forays with them but none of those bitches could hold a candle to Troy in the effect their hands had on him. Despite himself, despite the intense embarrassment Callum was feeling as he was publicly masturbated by another man, Callum realized that he was beginning to violently undulate his crotch in a frantic fucking rhythm that replicated the rapid up and down movement of Troy's hand on his throbbing penis. Slowly, Troy's grip grew tighter and his jacking motion increased in speed until Callum could stand it no longer. With a scream of release that surprised even Callum, his dick erupted with hot, viscous semen.

The moment Callum began shooting, Troy bent the model's cock upwards, towards Callum's body. Spurt after spurt of creamy boy-juice splattered on Callum's writhing torso as the spunk continued to shoot from his cock in a seemingly endless stream. Eventually, though, after shooting a load that impressed even Dean DeMarco, Callum's massive orgasm tapered off. He stood there, his hands still locked in position behind his neck, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his entire torso splattered with cum.

Troy gave Callum's softening dick one final hard squeeze and the released his grip. "Not bad, big boy. Not bad," he said in a voice heavy with sarcasm but also tinged with a hint of surprise, as he stepped away from the model.

Now that his orgasm was over, Callum stood there, staring down at the floor, overcome with embarrassment at the reality of what had just occurred. He couldn't believe that he'd let some other dude - no, not some other dude - he'd let Troy, that flaming faggot, masturbate him while he just stood there. What self-respecting male heterosexual would ever let a faggot jack him off - the mere thought was disgusting. But he'd done just that. He'd let Troy masturbate him until he shot what might have been the biggest load of ball-juice he'd ever pumped out in his entire life. How sick was that? And Mr. DeMarco had witnessed the entire sordid spectacle. He could only imagine what Mr. DeMarco thought of him now.

Even as these thoughts ran through his head, he heard Mr. DeMarco telling him to look up. Steeling himself for the contempt he knew he'd see in the man's eyes, Callum slowly raised his head. But when his eyes finally met Mr. DeMarco's gaze, Callum was surprised, and intensely relieved, to see that Mr. DeMarco was looking at him as if nothing untoward had just happened. If anything, the man seemed to be pleased by Callum's actions. Reminding himself that it was, after all, Mr. DeMarco who had ordered Troy to jack him off, Callum could feel some of his intense embarrassment dissipating. He had done what Mr. DeMarco ordered and the man was apparently pleased by Callum's obedience. Maybe he had regained some of the ground he'd lost because of his thoughtless objections to Troy's actions in lubing up Callum's asshole. He could only hope.

Then he heard Mr. DeMarco begin speaking. "That was a pretty big load, Callum. Are you sure you've been taking care of business like we'd discussed the other day - jerking off whenever you get aroused?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. DeMarco," Callum replied, immediately on the defensive again. "I jack myself off whenever I get hard, just like you said I should. It's just that, like I said, I seem to be hard all the time. I'm jacking off pretty much all day. My dick is actually sore by the time I get to bed and it's painful to work it. But I do, just like you told me to."

"And you jerked off this morning, too?" Mr. DeMarco asked.

"Yes, sir. Three...no, four times before I even got here, today."

"So that was your fifth load of the day?" Mr. DeMarco asked, not hiding his surprise.

"Yes, sir," Callum affirmed.

"Well that was a pretty massive load for the fifth time today," Mr. DeMarco observed.

"Yes, sir, it was," Callum admitted, looking down at his chest and seeing that the cum was beginning to drip down his torso. "Sorry about that, sir."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Callum," Mr. DeMarco reassured his model. "But," he continued, "like I said earlier, if this excessive sperm production continues, we may have to take more drastic measures." Then, seeing the look of apprehension on Callum's face, he continued, "but for now, Callum, we'll stick to the program. Just keeping jerking off as soon as possible after you become aroused."

"Yes, sir," Callum quickly assented, relieved that, at least for the present, Mr. DeMarco didn't feel the need for 'more drastic measures.' Callum didn't know what those measures might be but just by the fact that they were described as 'drastic' made Callum pretty sure he wouldn't like them.

Mr. DeMarco turned to his receptionist. "Okay, Troy. You can get dressed and take Callum up to the roof."

"Yes, sir," Troy replied, walking over and stepping into his slacks. In less than a half a minute Troy was fully dressed. Troy turned to Callum. "C'mon, Callum," he said, "I'll show you the way."

Callum couldn't hide his shock. "I can't go like this. I mean," he explained, seeing Mr. DeMarco's frowning face, "I'm naked and I'm covered with cum."

"Well," Mr. DeMarco replied after a moment's thought, "insofar as being naked is concerned, you're going to be sunbathing in the nude so I don't see what the problem is. Besides, the area on the roof where you'll be lying down is closed off and no one can see you as you catch the rays. But you're right about the cum. It's just dripping down your body."

Mr. DeMarco paused for a moment as if he was considering options. Then he turned to Troy and instructed the receptionist to go get a towel and wipe Callum off.

"But, sir," Troy immediately objected, "if I wipe Callum's cum off his body, I'll also be wiping off all the lotion I just applied."

"You're right, Troy," Mr. DeMarco quickly agreed. "I hadn't thought about that." Mr. DeMarco leaned back in his chair and just stared at Callum, obviously trying to arrive at some solution to the problem. Finally, he just sighed.

"Callum," he ordered. "Assume the position. Troy, work Callum's cum into his body. We've already wasted enough time here in the office. It's time Callum actually started getting some sun."

Disguising his dismay at this turn of events with an effort, Callum slowly raised his hands and locked them behind his neck and spread his legs wide apart as Troy moved in front of the model. With Mr. DeMarco in the room, Troy didn't say a word. But then again, he didn't have to - the leering smile on his face spoke volumes. Callum tried to maintain a stoic expression as Troy raised both hands to Callum's pecs and began to roughly massage the fresh cum into the skin. After he'd fondled Callum's chest for a good half-minute, paying particular attention to Callum's aroused nips, he moved his hands up into the boy's armpits, making sure they were well-coated with Callum's ball-slime, before moving higher and spreading part of Callum's copious load onto the model's shoulders and neck

Having completed his job on the upper half of Callum's torso, Troy next moved his hands down to Callum's belly. First he rubbed Callum's load into the model's abs and stomach and then, after giving Callum a quick glance so that he could see how much Troy was enjoying playing with Callum's body, Troy moved his hands down to Callum's groin. That area had become much more sensitive to the touch since he had started shaving off his pubes and Callum emitted an audible gasp as Troy began to stroke and knead Callum's crotch like he was some street whore he'd picked up in a dingy alley. Callum tried to maintain his composure but he couldn't keep from squirming as Troy's fingers played over his now-denuded crotch. But Callum's discomfort quickly turned to consternation when Troy's fingers moved on to the model's cock and balls.

Just like when he was applying the suntan lotion, there was something about the way Troy's fingers manipulated his sex organs that seemed to immediately stimulate them. To his horror and intense embarrassment, Callum could feel his big cock beginning to harden. 'This is ridiculous,' he told himself. 'I just shot an incredible load not more than five minutes ago. How the fuck am I getting hard again? What the fuck is wrong with me?'

Callum's cock was almost at half-mast before Troy lowered his hands further and began spreading Callum's scuzzy load onto to the model's inner thighs. He worked the cum into them for a good minute before raising one hand to add a similar coating to Callum's perineum. Troy seemed to sense that Callum found the rubbing of the area between his legs particularly stimulating and purposely lingered there, rubbing his fingers back and forth, fondling the model in a manner which could only be viewed as obscene by any observer, actually causing Callum to whimper at the unwanted sexual excitement.

Then, having aroused the model to the point of full erection, Troy began to move his finger even further back between the boy's legs. Callum's thighs began shaking uncontrollably as Troy's fingers inexorably made their way backwards towards his ass-crack. The next thing Callum knew Troy was fingering his hole, coating the puckered rosette with the model's own jizz. And then, before Callum could even prepare himself, Troy jammed a hard finger straight up the boy's ass-hole, all the way to the knuckle. A high-pitched squeal escaped Callum's lips. Hearing himself, Callum couldn't help blushing a beet red - he'd sounded just like one of those bitches he fucked when he first drove his big throbber deep into their pussies.

Troy diddled him for a good minute. Callum wondered why Mr. DeMarco was allowing his receptionist to take such liberties with Callum's body but, in light of his verbal outcry when Troy's finger had first plundered his hole, Callum was too embarrassed to even look at the man. Besides, considering how the day had gone since he arrived at the Agency, he didn't want to make any more waves. So he just stood there and let Troy have his fun.

Finally, though, Troy removed his finger from Callum's butt-hole. He ran his hand a few more times along Callum's perineum before standing back. "All done," he proclaimed.

Far from being relieved, Callum's face was once again crimson with embarrassment. Thanks to Troy's ministrations, even though Callum had shot a monster load not more than ten minutes earlier, his cock was once again fully engorged and standing straight up into the air. Not only that, but looking down at it, Callum could see that the entire crown of his dick was covered with pre-cum.

"Are you kidding me?" he heard Mr. DeMarco exclaim. Forcing himself to look up, he saw that Mr. DeMarco was glaring at his aroused cock with undisguised frustration.

"Sorry, sir," Callum blurted out in a voice that was almost a whine. "I just can't help it."

Mr. DeMarco looked Callum directly in his eyes and muttered, "just how straight are you, boy?"

The effect of this last question on Callum was electric. Immediately Callum could feel not just his face but his entire body flushing. He couldn't remember ever having been so embarrassed in his entire life. Despite himself, he actually felt his eyes tearing up.

Mr. DeMarco gave Callum a long, searching look which only added to the boy's humiliation. Then, with an air of disgust, he turned to Troy.

"Take Callum up to the roof. Once he's in position, masturbate him again but this time just let the cum dry where it lands on him. We don't want to take the chance of you exciting him again. You might spend the whole afternoon up there with Callum if we're not careful."

Troy looked at Callum with undisguised glee. He was so clearly enjoying the model's palpable embarrassment. He turned back to Mr. DeMarco. "If you say so, sir. But Callum's cum is so thick, it might actually block some of the sun's rays and result in a blotchy tan."

It was at that precise moment that a long string of Callum's pre-cum dripped off the tip of his cock. It stretched down a good two feet towards the floor and just hung there, swinging slightly, between the model's widely-spread legs. Callum didn't think it was possible but he could actually feel his skin get hotter.

It was all Dean DeMarco could do to keep from laughing out loud at the sight. The boy looked so pathetically embarrassed standing in front of him, too mortified to even look at his agent. This scene was going so much better than even Dean had foreseen. Some of his subscribers had already expressed a desire to see the boy on the auction block merely on the basis of the single nude photo they'd put up as a promo. Once this episode hit the internet, the clamor would be deafening. This boy was going to be an incredible money-maker one day but Dean didn't want to move too quickly. That last thing he wanted to do was scare the boy off before he had a chance to peddle Callum's boytwat to his horny subscribers. So he was going to continue to break down Callum's inhibitions at the same slow, methodical pace he'd set so far. Besides, the longer he made his subscribers wait, the higher the price Callum would bring when he was finally made available to them. But, in any event, it was time to bring this session to an end.

Callum was just standing there, looking at the floor, wishing there was some hole he could crawl into when he heard Mr. DeMarco call his name. "Callum," he heard again. He forced himself to look up, terrified of the condemnation he was sure he'd see in his agent's eyes. Instead, he was surprised to see that Mr. DeMarco was looking at him with almost an air of sympathy. "Yes, sir," he heard himself respond in a quavering voice.

"Do you think you can rub your cum into your body without exciting yourself after Troy jerks you off on the roof?"

"Yes, sir," Callum gratefully answered, too relieved by the prospect of avoiding another session with Troy's hands roaming all over his body to even question the fact that Troy would be masturbating him again, this time outside, on the roof. "I'm sure I could do that."

Mr. DeMarco smiled at his model. "Then that's what we'll do," he agreed. He waited a few seconds as both boys stood in front of him - Callum, still crimson in embarrassment, completely naked, the strand of cum hanging down from his fully-engorged cock slowly stretching down towards the floor; Troy, once again clothed, scarcely hiding the pleasure he felt by being afforded another opportunity to publicly masturbate the good-looking homophobe. Finally, Mr. DeMarco broke the tableau. "Well, get going, you two. We're wasting good sun."

Without another word, Troy turned around and headed towards the door. Callum immediately unclenched his hands from behind his head and hurried to follow him. Even though he was incredibly embarrassed by the state of his body - fully boned and dripping cum - the boy made no attempt to cover up his aroused cock even though he was about to be paraded through the AAA Model Agency's offices. Callum knew Mr. DeMarco would see that as just another manifestation of Callum's insecurities about his body and, given everything that had transpired in his agent's office that afternoon, Callum didn't want to upset the man further in any way.

But, as he reached the door, Callum came to a stop. He was suddenly aware that a weird smell was assaulting his nostrils. With a start, he realized that what he was smelling was cum - his cum. He was covered with it now and the stink of spent spunk surrounded him. Knowing he was the source of the malodorous reek made him feel incredibly dirty. He could only hope that, in the fresh air outside, the stench would dissipate. With that hope in mind, he hurried to catch up with Troy.