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 7

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be there at 2:00 p.m."

"Who was that, Tay?" Kerry asked from the bed, turning over just in time to see the other model putting the phone down on the night-stand.

"DeMarco," the dark-haired boy answered. "He wants me at the agency at 2:00 p.m. today."

"Fuck," Kerry snorted, sitting up. "You'd think between me and Troy he'd be getting enough action. He screwed me three times yesterday."

"That fucker never gets enough boypussy," Taylor responded as he turned to face the redhead. "And you know I'm on call whenever he feels the urge so I won't be surprised when he bends me over sometime today if he gets the opportunity, but it's not my fuck-hole he's interested in this afternoon. At least not primarily. It's Callum's."

"Say what?" Kerry exclaimed in real surprise. "He wants you to fuck Callum?"

"Fat chance," Taylor responded with a laugh. "He's not going to let anyone near that boy's virgin pussy until he smashes that cherry to pieces. But Callum's not about to lose his cherry today. Today, that asshole's going to be given a crash-course in cocksucking and you're looking at one of his teachers."

Kerry couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Shit," he grinned. "I'd pay money to see that fucker down on his knees sucking dick."

"Well, you're sure to get the opportunity," Taylor assured his buddy. "You know tt's only a matter of time before it'll be posted on the website. The whole world's going to see our favorite homophobe swallowing dick - and lots of it. DeMarco told me Jacks and Cary are going to be there, too."

"Whew," Kerry whistled. "DeMarco's certainly not starting him off with the little stuff. Jackson must be packing close to ten inches."

"Cary's even bigger," Taylor informed the redhead. "His dick isn't as thick as Jacks's but it's at least a full inch longer. I'm going to be Mr. Shorty at this picnic."

"Yeah. Right," Kerry snickered, taking a long leer at the eight and a half-inch throbber jutting out from Taylor's groin. "Some Mr. Shorty!"

Kerry refocused his gaze on Taylor's face and saw a sudden burst of desire that mirrored what he was feeling. "Well, if Mr. Shorty isn't too afraid of wearing himself out, I think I could show him a good time before he heads off to his picnic." With that, Kerry turned on to his side, exposing his already well-fucked ass to Taylor's hungry eyes.

"Oh," Taylor muttered, his voice thickening up, "I think Mr. Shorty can manage that. In fact," he continued, as he slid into place behind Kerry and wedged his rigid cock against the boy's already dripping rosette, "I'm sure of it." With that, he thrust his hips forward, burying his leaking fuck-stick all the way up Kerry's hole where it had spent most of the previous night.

"Oh, yeah, Tay," Kerry groaned in pleasure. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard. As hard as you're going to fuck Callum's mouth later today. Fuck the shit out of me."

"You got it baby," Taylor grunted. Within just seconds they were going at it, Taylor ramming his dick into Kerry's hole while Kerry thrust his ass backwards trying to get every last inch of Taylor's boy-buster inside of him, all thought of Callum forgotten as they reveled in the coupling of two hot young studs in heat. And they kept going at it until Taylor just barely had enough time to get showered and dressed and make it to the AAA Modeling Agency by 2:00 p.m.

Jackson and Cary were already sitting there in the waiting room when he walked through the door. Taylor nodded to them and then at Troy behind his desk. "Where's the asshole?" he asked. "In with DeMarco?"

"He's not here, yet," Troy answered, his face showing the pleasurable anticipation he was obviously feeling. "But don't worry. He's on his way."

Taylor grabbed a seat next to Jackson and sat down. He'd only seen Callum once before and that had been in passing. But, from all that he had heard about the boy from Kerry, he knew he was really going to enjoy what was going to happen. He didn't even mind that he wasn't going to be paid for it. After all, there were times you did things which were so enjoyable that just doing them was payment enough. Taylor had a feeling that today was going to be one of those times.

It was 2:15 p.m. when Callum signed in at the lobby desk, his tan overshadowed by the deep scarlet of his embarrassment. He didn't know what was worse - that he was holding his erection trainer in his left hand for everyone to see or that the entire front panel of his trousers was darkened by a spreading cum stain. The guard at the desk had made a point of noticing both and had all but spit at him in disgust. Either way, though, Callum knew that this wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that he had totally screwed up his audition with Sam Walensky and now he had to go upstairs and face Mr. DeMarco.

But it wasn't his fault. That fat fucker had wanted Callum to suck his cock. Sure, Mr. DeMarco had warned him that Walensky was a faggot and he'd made it pretty clear that, as an untried model, it would be in Callum's interest to accommodate him. And that's just what Callum had done. When Walensky had told him to strip so he could see Callum's body, something Mr. DeMarco had told Callum he was almost certain to do, Callum hadn't hesitated. He'd peeled off his polo shirt, stepped out of his loafers and the lowered and removed his tan slacks. (Mr. DeMarco had advised him that this would be more appropriate clothing for his interview than the running shorts and flip-flops he normally wore.) And he kept his cool when Walensky laughed when he saw the erection trainer Callum was wearing. But that was when the trouble began.

Walensky had walked up to him and run his hand up and down Callum's torso, praising the boy for his athletic physique and complimenting him on his tan. Then, letting his hand move lower until it was actually grasping the trainer, he remarked that it was too bad he wasn't able to see Callum's penis in its natural state. Mr. DeMarco, obviously having dealt many times with this pervert before, had warned Callum that Walensky would probably make that type of comment.

'Actually,' Mr. DeMarco had gone on to say, 'it isn't that unreasonable a request. After all, he's interviewing you for a swimsuit photo-spread and how your cock would look when it was only covered by a piece of thin spandex or lycra is certainly a relevant consideration.' Because he'd recognized that this was a distinct possibility, he'd given Callum the key to the trainer's padlock and told him to give it to Walensky if the situation warranted it. So Callum had told the man he'd had the key in his pocket of his pants if Mr. Walensky wanted to see Callum's cock unobstructed by its plastic sheathing. Of course he did.

Because of the way the padlock was situated it was easier for Walensky to unlock it, so Callum gave him the key. Once the lock was removed and Walensky had begun sliding the plastic off Callum's penis, the model was distressed to note that his cock was literally throbbing in anticipation. On his way over to Walensky's offices he had felt the all-too familiar stirrings of sexual arousal but he had chalked it up to the understandable nervousness he felt at the prospect of this interview. Now as his cock, finally freed from the confines of his trainer, immediately straightened out into an aching and already leaking boner, Callum realized that, at the worst possible moment, his erection problem had re-appeared.

Walensky took a few steps back and just stared at the hard tube of flesh jutting proudly straight up from Callum's muscled groin. Then, slowly, he raised his head until he was looking straight into Callum's blushing face. The hungry desire in the man's eyes was unmistakable. Callum's palpable embarrassment increased exponentially.

"Well, Callum," Walensky observed, "you certainly have big muscles - all over."

"Yes, sir," Callum replied in a quavering voice. He was used to standing naked while he sported wood in Mr. DeMarco's office but this was much different. Walensky was virtually a total stranger and he was standing just a few feet from him, ogling Callum's nude body and rigid man-meat and making no pretense of even trying to hide his sexual interest in the boy. Callum had never felt so vulnerable - and so totally exposed.

Walensky seemed to enjoy Callum's obvious embarrassment. He slowly circled the boy, his eyes once again locked into the hard cock, visibly leaking pre-cum. "Impressive," he remarked. "Very impressive."

"But I hope you realize, Callum," he continued as he stopped in front of the boy. "I'm not casting a porn shoot. Mr. DeMarco told me about your excessive testosterone production and your erection problem but he assured me that it was under control. Looking at you right now, though, that doesn't seem to be the case."

"It is sir," Callum stammered. "At least it was until today. I don't know what's wrong. Maybe it was the excitement of this interview that got to me." Callum found it excruciatingly humiliating to be discussing his erection problem with this man, especially while he was standing in front of him, naked, his cock as hard as a slab of iron. "I'm sure it's only a temporary set-back," he added.

"That may be, but who can say," Mr. Walensky responded. "Anyway, though," he continued, smiling for the first time in the interview, "it was nice of you to suggest that your arousal was was the result of you being in close proximity to me. That was very sweet."

Callum was totally taken aback by Walensky's implicit suggestion that Callum's sexual excitement was somehow related to an attraction he felt for the man. Callum was not a fucking fairy and the idea that he could ever be turned on by any man, much less a man as physically repulsive as Walensky, was grossly insulting. The old Callum would have punched him out right then and there. But, thanks to all of Mr. DeMarco's efforts, Callum was able to restrain himself.

Mr. DeMarco had helped Callum to see that the opinions of other people didn't really matter - the only thing that was important was what Callum thought about himself. And the worst thing he could do was to allow other people's opinions to deflect him from his goal of becoming a world famous male model. Mr. DeMarco had made it clear that while Walensky was a low-life pervert - not in those words, of course - the man could have a major impact on Callum's future career. Regardless of how Callum really felt about him, it was definitely in his interest to cultivate the man. And so Callum swallowed his anger, pasted a smile on his face, and simply nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Walensky nodded back and went on. "While I'm willing to take your word that your present - shall we say, excited - condition is only a temporary problem, it does leave me in a quandary. I won't lie to you, Callum, I like to hire models who have the equipment to truly fill out a snug swimsuit. I have a number of swimsuits here that I intended to have all the audtioning models try on to see how they'd look during the shoot. But, given the market at which the present campaign is aimed, it's necessary that the model's penis be in a flaccid rather than an erect state. I'm afraid that in your present 'condition' I couldn't get an accurate read of how you'd actually look during the photo-shoot. To be honest with you, I'm afraid that's going to adversely impact your chances of getting the job."

"Sir," Callum anxiously intervened. "I could come back, say tomorrow, after I have my problem under control."

"Unfortunately, Callum," Walensky replied, "that wouldn't be possible. I have a full schedule of interviews set up. In fact, to be honest, I worked you in as a special favor to Mr. DeMarco who represents a number of the models we presently have under assignment. I'm a busy man. I just don't have the time to schedule you for a second audition. Sorry."

Callum could feel himself becoming frantic. He couldn't believe he was going to lose out on this opportunity because of his over-active gonads - not after all the efforts he and Mr. DeMarco had taken to bring that problem out of control. Why, oh why did it have to resurface today of all days? There had to be a way to salvage the situation; there just had to be. And then he had an idea.

"Maybe...maybe I could go to the bathroom and take care of my 'condition' and then come back and try on the swimsuits," he suggested.

Walensky seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment but then shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. That's just not feasible. The only bathroom on this floor is at the other end of the building and I couldn't have you walking down there - certainly not in your present state."

"Well...well, I could jack off here...in your office," Callum blurted out. Hearing himself, the boy could scarcely believe his own ears. He was volunteering to masturbate in front of another guy and not just any guy. Callum was proposing to jack himself off in front of a virtual stranger who he knew to be a faggot and who was obviously attracted to him. If he hadn't heard himself suggest it, he wouldn't have believed he'd actually said it. What had he been thinking? Had he pissed Mr. Walensky off by even making the suggestion?

Fortunately, when he looked at the hiring agent, the man did not seem particularly offended. His response, however, was not favorable. "I'm sorry, Callum. I can appreciate how much you obviously want this job - and that's certainly a point in your favor. But, just looking at the state of your arousal" - and at this point, much to Callum's continued embarrassment, Walensky stared at Callum's blood-engorged cock - "it's obvious you're going to shoot off a massive load of boy-cream. It'd spray all over the office and I have a full line-up of interviewees coming after you. God only knows what they'd think if they saw globs of your cum on the carpet."

Walensky's response to Callum's desperate last proposa left the boy devastated. He had demeaned himself by offering to publicly masturbate and even that hadn't been good enough to save the situation. Tears of frustration started in his eyes.

Watching Callum as he tried to keep from crying, Sam Walensky could see why Dean was so big on this one. The kid had a striking face and an absolutely gorgeous body but the real killer was the way he could project such abject vulnerability from behind a macho front. Sam could feel his own juices churning just looking at the kid. He was going to love fucking the boy's beautiful ass but, while Dean had promised him a free go at it, that was going to have to wait. Right now, he had a role to play, one he'd played a number of times before.

"I'm sorry, Callum. I really am," he soothed the boy. "But I really don't see any alternative but to terminate this interview. Unless..." Here, the man paused portentously. He watched amused as Callum's eyes opened wide in renewed hope. "No, no," he hesitated, dragging it out. "You probably be insulted if I even suggested it."

"Suggested what," Callum intervened when Walensky stopped again. "What?"

Making himself look like he was embarrassed for even raising the possibility, Walensky sprang it on him. "Well, I could suck you off and then you could try on the swimwear. That way I wouldn't have to worry about your scuzz getting all over my office."

Callum just stood there stunned, staring into space, weighing his response. Part of him wanted to ream the man out for even suggesting such a thing. Callum had pretty much made his piece with getting sucked off at the agency, but there the faggots who sucked him off - Troy and occasionally Kerry - were part of the agency family; they were co-workers you could say. This was essentially a stranger offering to suck him off and Callum didn't like the implication that he might be the kind of dude who would take kindly to such a suggestion from another male.

On the other hand, Walensky had clearly been reluctant to even broach the possibility which at least indicated that he didn't necessary view Callum as a guy who was used to getting blown by fags. Then, too, Callum was pretty much in a bind. It was clearly either let the guy suck him off or kiss his hiring prospects for this job goodbye.

What finally tilted the scales towards letting the old fart blow him was Callum's recollection of just how good Troy and Kerry were at gobbling dick. They had given Callum the best blow jobs of his life and if, as Callum suspected, giving good head was just a natural part of being a faggot, Callum figured to enjoy having Walensky go down on him too. 'What the fuck,' he told himself, 'I want the job. I'm horny as shit. And fags give great head. I'd be stupid not to let the old fairy blow me.'

Callum turned to face the hiring agent. "That would be okay with me, Mr. Walensky, if you could do that."

Walensky made no verbal response. Instead, he just walked up in front of Callum, dropped to his knees, leaned forward and swallowed all hard nine inches down in one fell swoop. Callum couldn't help groaning in sudden pleasure.

It was obvious to Callum that Walensky was no neophyte in the dick-sucking department. The man swallowed his nine-incher without the slightest hitch and he was almost as good as Kerry in working his throat on Callum's boner. He discovered early on, however, not to look down at his cock. While Callum had enjoyed watching both Kerry and Troy work on his dick, they were sexy young good-looking guys, in great shape. Walensky was none of those things and watching the old faggot mouth his meat made Callum feel like a whore - a guy who'd let other guys use his body just to get ahead. And, it didn't help that Callum realized that this was exactly what he was doing. So Callum just stared straight ahead, imagining it was some chick sucking him off.

And that apparently did the trick. In less than five minutes, Callum was geysering a massive load into Walensky's mouth. His cum just seemed to shoot out of his inflamed cock in an almost continuous stream. Callum had to give the old fuck credit, he kept working Callum's prick, gulping down a stream of boy-juice that even Callum had to admit seemed endless. The force of the orgasm left Callum staggering on his feet.

Despite the massive eruption of cum, it took less than three minutes for Callum to feel his dick re-hardening. But Walensky was nothing if not a dedicated dick-sucker. He stayed on Callum's cock and without missing a beat began working on his new erection. It took a little longer but Callum was still impressed by how quickly Walensky was able to tease a second orgasm from the boy that actually rivaled the first. And this time, Callum's dick finally began to soften and Walensky let it fall from his mouth.

Licking his lips to capture a stray globule of boy-seed, Walensky stood up. "Well, let's get down to business," he said, as if nothing untoward had just happened between them.

For the next twenty minutes, Callum modeled a variety of differing swimming attire. They varied in cut and color but were remarkably consistent in one aspect - all of them were skin tight and every one clearly outlined Callum's now tumescent cock lying quiescent across the upper part of his left thigh. Walensky took pictures of Callum in every suit he tried on, informing the boy that while the photos were nothing like the quality that would be taken during the shoot, they would be good enough to help him and the photographer select the model that they wanted to hire.

Things were going well until Walensky pick up an item that could best be described as a minimalist thong. Callum was in the process of peeling off a bright fuscia speedo when he felt a distinct tingling in his cock. In a mere seconds, as Callum watched in consternation, his cock re-hardened. He turned to face Walensky, expecting the man to be upset at Callum's renewed erection but the man seemed completely unfazed. He didn't say a word, but simply dropped back onto the floor, took Callum's joy stick back into his mouth and sucked yet another load out of the boy.

By the time Callum had tried on the last of the suits, he was feeling pretty good about his prospects. Walensky had not only complimented him frequently on how well he filled out the swimwear but had also twice mentioned that Callum seemed exceptionally photogenic, explaining that, while a lot of guys who looked good in real life just didn't take good pictures, that obviously wasn't Callum's problem. Callum had to believe that Walensky's praise boded well for his chances of getting the modeling assignment.

Callum had just stripped off the last item, a mesh swimsuit that was most notable for the way it thrust his entire pouch forward and left literally nothing to the imagination, and was about to retrieve his clothing when he heard Walensky behind him ask if Callum could help him out with something.

"Sure thing, Mr. Walensky," Callum had replied as he turned around, only to discover that Walensky had undone his fly and was flashing a short but thick cock in obvious erection.

"Then get on your knees and blow me, boy," Walensky instructed.

Maybe if Callum's ego hadn't been so inflated by the praise Walensky had been tossing his way, or maybe if Callum had some inkling of what Walensky expected ahead of time, or maybe if Callum had merely taken a few seconds to think out his response, things might have gone differently. As it was, however, Callum blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Fuck no! I'm not a fucking faggot. I don't suck dick."

Callum watched Walensky's face as the man's initial shock quickly changed into fury. "Sorry, Mr. Walensky," Callum offered lamely, realizing that his reflexive response had obviously offended the man.

But Walensky was clearly not mollified by his apology. "Get dressed and get your ass out of here," he ordered. "We're done here."

"Sir.." Callum tried to continue, but Walensky cut him off. "Get Out! Now!" he shouted.

Totally flustered, Callum became almost spastic in his movements. He tried to put the erection trainer on his cock but when he began sliding the sleeve over his penis the damn thing started to harden again. He was still fiddling with it, trying to calm down, when Walensky walked over to where Callum's clothes had been folded on the floor, scooped them up, walked to the door, opened it and threw Callum's shirt, pants and shoes into the corridor outside.

"Now get the fuck out of my office!" Walensky screamed, grabbing Callum by the arm and roughly pulling him towards the open door. The next thing Callum knew he was out in the corridor as the door was violently slammed in his face. The boy was so unprepared for this sudden turn of events that he stood there motionless, basically in shock.

Callum had no idea how long he stood there, trying to process what had just happened. But the boy was jarred back into his present reality when he heard a snicker and turned just as a young guy was edging around him. "Dude, you need to put some clothes on. The cops have been cracking down on whores around here."

With a start, Callum realized that he was out in a public corridor, stark naked and flashing a full bone. Instinctively, his hands went to cover his junk, but that merely elicited another snicker from the guy as he walked by. Blushing furiously, Callum dropped the erection trainer and frantically stepped into his slacks. In a flash, he pulled the polo shirt over his head and slid his feet into his loafers. Callum had just a sufficient presence of mind to remember to pick up the trainer before he literally ran from the building.

Callum's brain was in such turmoil that he scarcely remembered driving back to the agency. And it wasn't until he had parked the car and walked half a block towards the office that he realized that his now throbbing boner had apparently been leaking pre-cum ever since he'd wedged it back into his pants and that his scuzz had soaked through the entire front of his khaki's. Feeling his face again flushing, Callum didn't see how the day could get any worse.

As he rode the elevator up to agency's offices, Callum tried to rehearse how he would explain what had happened to Mr. DeMarco. Callum was sure that Mr. DeMarco would be shocked at how Mr. Walensky had so lewdly propositioned him and agree that the boy had no choice but to refuse his advances. But Callum also knew that Mr. DeMarco had held high expectations for his meeting with Mr. Walensky and Callum was certain that Mr. DeMarco was going to be really disappointed as to how it turned out.

When he entered the agency's reception room, Callum was surprised to see that there were three other guys already waiting to see Mr. DeMarco. A quick glance at them led Callum to conclude that they must all be prospective models - all of them were good-looking dudes and they were all clearly in good shape. He thought it strange that all three of them wore pretty much the same attire - tank tops, shorts, and sandals. It was almost as if they'd coordinated their outfits ahead of time. But Callum quickly pushed these musings aside as he remembered the reason why he was there.

"I'd like to ...." Callum began, as he approached Troy's desk, but Troy cut him off peremptorily.

"You're to go straight in," Troy coldly informed Callum, his eyes glaring at the model. "Mr. DeMarco is waiting for you."

Callum was disconcerted by the receptionist's abrupt manner and could feel the eyes of everyone in the room following him as he walked over to the door to Mr. DeMarco's office, knocked softly, and then entered the room.

As he closed the door behind him, all three of the boys in the chairs broke into broad grins. "This is going to be fun," Jackson said to Taylor. Taylor, remembering all the shit that Callum had shoveled Kerry's way, nodded his head. This was going to be fun. Though not for Callum, that was for sure.

It only took three minutes before they could clearly hear DeMarco through the door. "You said what?" he was asking in a loud, demanding voice. A minute later, the intercom buzzed. They could hear DeMarco's voice order Troy to "Send Taylor, Jackson and Cary in here."

Troy looked up from his desk. "You're on, boys," he smirked. "See you soon."

All three of the models stood up and moved towards the door. Jackson opened it and went in first, Taylor following and Cary right behind him. The sight that greeted them, while not unexpected, was still pretty exciting. Callum was standing in front of them facing DeMarco's desk, stark naked, his legs spread far apart, his fingers locked behind his head, elbows parallel to his torso. It was a position they'd all assumed too many times to count but you never realized how sexy and exposing it was until you saw someone else in it.

Taylor couldn't help but inhale sharply. Even from the rear, he was impressed by Callum's physique. Kerry had told him the boy was really hot but, apparently, he needed to be unclothed to really show it. His back and legs were well-muscled and clearly defined but it was the boy's ass that was definitely exceptional. Taylor had thought that Kerry had the prettiest ass he'd ever seen, but Callum could give him a run for his money. With an ass and body like that, the clients were going to be lined up to fuck the boy and Taylor couldn't blame them. He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about it.

As previously instructed, the three of them lined up a few feet behind Callum and waited for DeMarco to get the show going. And, with only a few seconds hesitation, that's just what he did.

"Boys," he began "I had originally asked you to come by the office so that we could discuss your up-coming joint shoot next week. Well, that's all moot right now, thanks to Callum, here. He had an audition with Sam Walensky at noon, during the course of which he decided to unburden himself and call Sam a "fucking faggot."

"What?" the three of them responded, virtually in unison, each one trying to outdo the others in mock surprise and outrage.

"Sir, that's not really what happened..." Callum began to argue before he was cut-off by DeMarco.

"I thought I told you not to open your mouth unless I asked you a question. Didn't I?"

"Yes, sir," the boy meekly responded, physically cringing.

"So shut up until I tell you to speak," DeMarco snarled, staring daggers at the boy, who seemed to wilt even more in front of him.

"As I was saying," DeMarco began addressing the three of them again, but then he paused. "You know what?" he asked rhetorically. "You're so anxious to speak, Callum, why don't you tell them what happened at the interview. Go ahead. Turn around and tell them what you did, how you put their photo-shoot in jeopardy, how you managed to cost each of them $3,000. Go ahead. Turn around and tell them; I'm sick of looking at your face anyway."

Slowly, Callum turned, obviously reluctant to face the three models. Instinctively, he lowered his hands as he did so. Immediately, DeMarco was on him. "Did I tell you to break position, boy. Get those hands behind your neck. Now."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Callum mumbled, his embarrassment and mortification so palpable you could have reached out and touched it. He stood there in front of the three other models, his head down, his body full exposed, a long strand of pre-cum dangling from his erect cock, his entire body a vivid crimson.

Despite himself, Taylor was impressed and he could tell that the other two models were too. Callum had a spectacular body, a face to go with it, and a fat juicy cock that was even more than you expected. Although his face was now a mask of humiliation and embarrassment, there was still a hint of the over-weaning arrogance which Kerry had described to Taylor; enough to make Taylor want to fuck the hell out of this boy, to show him who was really boss. And Taylor was sure that a lot of the agency's customers would feel exactly the same way. DeMarco had a real money-maker on his hands and he obviously knew it. Seeing him like this, Taylor could understand why Kerry was both attracted and repelled by Callum at the same time.

DeMarco gave his boys enough time to take in Callum's luscious body before he spoke again. Now that Callum had his back to him, DeMarco's face lost its angry cast but his voice still resonated with anger, as he ordered Callum to begin. "You were so anxious to speak, boy, so speak. Tell them what you did."

"Well," Callum began in an almost whisper, staring at the floor, "everything was ..."

"Look at them," DeMarco interrupted. "Look them in the face as you tell them how you screwed all of them out of a job."

Clearly fighting back tears, Callum raised his head and looked at the other three boys who were staring back at him in undisguised anger. Callum couldn't remember having ever felt so miserable and embarrassed in his life as he began recounting what had happened at Walensky's office.

"So you see," he ended after the tale was done, basically pleading for understanding from the three of them, "I didn't call Mr. Walensky 'a fucking faggot.' I didn't. I just said that I wasn't 'a fucking faggot.'"

"Are you retarded?" Taylor exploded, pleased to note the impact his question had on Callum. "You let a guy blow you three times in an hour and then when you're asked to reciprocate you tell him you don't do that because you're not a 'fucking faggot.' And you don't think you called him a 'fucking faggot?' You've got to be retarded if you believe that."

"Anyway, you asshole," Jackson interrupted. "why didn't you just blow him?"

"Because I'm not a f... a gay. I'm not gay," Callum responded defensively, stunned at the depth of the contempt directed towards him.

"Who gives a fuck whether you're gay not?" Cary asked, joining the fray. "Mr. Walensky didn't ask you if you were gay. He asked you to suck him off after he'd already done the same for you - three times. And instead of just doing it, you use the fucking 'f' word on him."

"How could I blow him when I'm not gay?" Callum complained.

"You are fucking retarded," Taylor growled, shaking his head in disgust. "How do you blow him? You drop down on your knees, take his dick in your mouth and suck on it till he shoots down your throat. That's how you blow him."

"But how could I do that," Callum argued again, "I'm not gay."

Next to him, Taylor felt Jackson take a step forward. "Excuse me," he said, the menace clear in his voice. "Are you saying that I'm gay because I've sucked Walensky's dick? Do you think I'm 'a fucking faggot,' too?"

Callum stared at the big muscled black man standing in front of him, obviously just bristling for a fight. The man was intimidating; there was no getting around that. But Callum could scarcely believe what he'd just heard. This guy, this macho dude, had just admitted sucking Walensky off and was now accusing Callum of calling him a fucking faggot, too. Callum just gaped at Jackson. "You sucked Walensky?" he asked, clearly finding the man's confession hard to believe.

"Yeah, I've sucked Walensky's cock," Jackson replied, inching closer to Callum. "Every time I've gone in for an interview."

"So have I," Taylor volunteered.

"Me, too," Cary added.

Jackson took a quick look on either side of him at his fellow models, nodding slightly, and turned back to glare at Callum. "So what are you saying, boy?" he demanded. "That we're all gay; that we're all fucking faggots?"

The total confusion on Callum's face was almost laughable. Taylor couldn't believe how much fun he was having mind-fucking this asshole. Of course, it probably wasn't as much fun as fucking the real thing, though that would come soon enough. But Taylor managed to keep all traces of the humor he felt under wraps as he bore in on the boy, wrecking havoc not only on Callum's self-esteem but undermining his most basic concepts of masculinity.

"Let me lay it out for you boy," Taylor began, the sarcasm heavy in his voice, "so even a retard like you can understand it. We're all straight. As straight as you are - presumably." This last word was spoken with just enough inflection to make it clear that Taylor wasn't so sure just how masculine Callum really was. Without pausing, however, Taylor continued, "But we're also professional models. We do what we have to do to make it in this business. And if that means we have to suck some dude's dick to get a booking, we drop to our knees and do it. No drama. No 'Oh, no, Mr. Walensky; I'm not that type of boy' crap. We suck his cock and we do a damn good job of it."

"Now I don't particularly give a sow's fart if you're not willing to do that. That's fine with me. It's one less model I have to worry about as real competition for a modeling gig. But when you go in for an interview and come across as some yokel homophobe, that reflects upon the whole agency - that reflects upon me. And when you manage to offend just about the most important hiring agent in this town enough for him to seriously consider cancelling all hiring arrangements with my agency, then you and me - we have real problems."

"I'm sorry," Callum stammered. "I didn't mean to create any problems for anybody and I didn't mean to offend Mr. Walensky."

Jackson gave Callum a withering look and simply said, "Whatever," dismissing the boy as unworthy of any further attention. "How bad is it, sir," he asked, speaking over Callum's head, clearly addressing Mr. DeMarco.

"It's bad, boys," DeMarco replied, putting a note of concern in his voice. "I'm not going to lie to you. It looks really bad."

There was a significant pause and then DeMarco spoke again, this time in a tone more of resignation than anger. "Callum, turn around and face me."

Recognizing the change of tone, Callum was literally shaking as he turned back to face Mr. DeMarco. After his exchange with the other models, it was clear that his relationship with the agency was in dire straits.

"Sir," he began, forgetting Mr. DeMarco's orders not to speak unless asked a question, "I am so sorry. I know I screwed up. Really bad. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I've already apologized but I'll go back there and do it again. I'll beg him to forgive me. Please, sir, give me a chance to make this right."

"Callum," Mr. DeMarco replied in a much softer voice, "you've already tried to apologize and, having spoken with Sam, I can tell you that a simple apology isn't going to cut it."

Just from the tenor of the discussion, Callum knew what was coming - Mr. DeMarco was going to terminate his representation of Callum. The boy's biggest fear was about to become reality. All Callum's efforts over the last month and a half were about to be flushed down the toilet because he'd allowed himself to slip up at a crucial moment. Callum was desperate to salvage the situation. He realized that he really was willing to do anything to avoid being let go - even sucking Mr. Walensky's dick, if that's what it came down to. Swallowing hard, his voice just a whisper, he said it. "I'll do it, sir. I'll suck his dick."

Behind him he heard one of the boys, mutter, "Oh, yeah. Now, he'll do it. Now, after he's fucked up the whole agency, now he's willing to suck him off."

Callum tried to ignore the comment as he kept his attention riveted on Mr. DeMarco's face. The man was clearly mulling it over. But when the man's face resolved itself into a mask of sorrowful resignation, Callum realized that even his offer to suck Mr. Walensky's cock wasn't enough.

"I'm sorry, Callum," he said. "I really am. But the nub of the problem from Sam's perspective isn't that you refused to suck his cock. He could have accepted that. You almost certainly wouldn't have gotten the job, but that would have been the end of the matter. But when you, in effect, called him 'a fucking faggot,' you came across not just as some straight guy who was unwilling to go the extra mile to get a job, but as a raging homophobe. And that's the issue now."

"I've warned you in the past about using that kind of language and tried to get you to purge it from your vocabulary. It's just this type of situation I was concerned with. I know you didn't intend to personally insult Sam, that the phrase 'fucking faggot' just slipped out, but when it did you irrevocably branded yourself in Sam's eyes as a homophobe and, knowing Sam's past as I do, that's one trait he'll never overlook. And now that he sees you that way, if I continue to represent you, he'll see me as fostering the same prejudice. In fact, it's already made him wonder whether the other boys I represent harbor similar feelings - which is why he's reconsidering hiring Jackson, Cary and Taylor for the up-coming photo shoot."

"Sure, I could send you back over there and you could offer to suck his dick. But that wouldn't fix things because the real problem isn't that you refused to suck his dick; it's that your own words have indelibly branded you as someone who despises gays. He'd see your offer to suck his dick not as an indication that your real feelings have changed but simply as the attempt by a homophobe to get back into his good graces. If anything, he'd be more insulted by the offer because he'd see it as implicitly suggesting that he could be hoodwinked by anyone who was willing to suck his cock."

"I'm sorry, Callum," Mr. DeMarco concluded, "but I don't see any alternative but to terminate our professional relationship."

Even though he was afraid it was coming, hearing the words devastated Callum. While he managed to stifle a sob, he could feel the tears starting in his eyes. Breaking position he quickly brought his hands to his face. The last thing he wanted was to have the other models see him crying.

As Callum was trying to handle the news of his dismissal, DeMarco glanced at Taylor. Taylor acknowledged the signal and took a small step forward. "Does this mean that our photo shoot is going forward, sir?"

"I wish I could say that it did," DeMarco replied. "But, to be honest with you, based on my discussion with Sam, I have my doubts. The incident with Callum seems to have really shaken Sam's faith in this agency. I really wouldn't be surprised if he cut all ties with us."

"Shit," Jackson exclaimed.

Taylor paused for a moment as if he was wracking his brain for suggestions. Then, as DeMarco had instructed, he made his proposal. "There might be one way for the agency to recover, sir. It'd even help out Callum, too, though to be honest I really don't give a shit about him."

"Well, go ahead," DeMarco urged when Taylor paused.

Taylor went on. "I think we're all agreed that the real problem now is that Walensky thinks that Callum is a homophobe - which he well could be, for all I know. So what we need to do is convince Walensky that, despite what Callum said, he's not."

"Yes, Taylor," DeMarco agreed with a hint of impatience. "I think we all agree with that. The question is how do you propose to do that?"

"By having Callum tell Walensky that he's gay, too. He'd explain that he's been struggling with an attraction to other men his entire life, even though he was raised to think that such an attraction was sick and perverted. Callum would tell him that when he lashed out at Walensky it was only a defensive mechanism to keep Walensky from suspecting the truth - that Callum was just as gay as he was. And Callum would say that, as a result of his confrontation with Walensky, he's been forced to finally face what he is and he's decided to come out of the closet and start living his life as a gay man and he wants to thank Walensky for helping him make that decision. If he believed Callum, that would get Callum off the hook and, by extension, the agency as well."

After a significant pause, DeMarco responded. "You know, Taylor, that just might work. It's the type of argument that would appeal to Sam and it might actually change his anger towards Callum into a sort of sympathy for his situation. But the first question is whether Callum is willing to do it."

Callum had been standing there pretty much ignored as Taylor talked. At first, he hadn't really listened to what the other boy was saying, being too much consumed by his own dejection. But when Taylor had mentioned that he'd thought of a way that might salvage Callum's career as a model, Callum had begun following what Taylor was saying with a glimmer of renewed hope. Needless to say, he was shocked when Taylor ultimately proposed that Callum present himself as a closeted gay man. Callum had been prepared to suck Mr. Walensky's cock in order to retrieve the situation, but Taylor's proposal took that to a whole other level.

Just the thought of telling someone else that he was physically attracted to another man - that he, Callum, was a perverted fag - was enough to make him almost physically ill. He almost hoped that Mr. DeMarco would reject Taylor's proposal out-of-hand so he wouldn't be faced the choice of either being let go by the agency or pretending he was a fairy. But Mr. DeMarco thought there was a real chance that Taylor's plan might work so now it was up to Callum to choose.

Callum could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him as he weighed his options. If he said no he was gone, that was clear. Mr. DeMarco had already expressed his intent to end their relationship and the only way we would relent was if Callum agreed to Taylor's plan. Until the present choice had presented itself, Callum hadn't believed that anything could come close to outweighing the value he'd placed on his relationship with Mr. DeMarco. But with the alternative being having to pass himself off as a faggot, the balance was perilously close to even.

In the end, though, Callum reasoned that one was just make-believe and the other was real. Walensky might believe Callum was gay - hell, Walensky had to believe it for Taylor's plan to work - but Callum would know otherwise. He had to treat it just the way he treated those losers at the gym that mocked him because he shaved his crotch and wore an erection trainer. They didn't know shit and their opinions just didn't matter.

On the other hand, his professional relationship with AAA Modeling Agency was real. It was his lifeline to a real career, to making something out of himself. He looked at Mr. DeMarco and with all the confidence he could muster he replied, "Yes, sir. I'm willing to do it."

Callum was pleased to see Mr. DeMarco smile slightly when he heard Callum's response. He knew the man always had Callum's best interests at heart and seeing the pleasure he took in hearing Callum agree to Taylor's proposal just proved it. Mr. DeMarco was obviously happy that Callum was willing to play the faggot and stay with the agency.

But what Mr. DeMarco next said, did give Callum pause. "I think that's the right choice, Callum," he started off, "both for your career and for the agency. But I want to make sure you understand what you're getting into. Once you present yourself as gay to Mr. Walensky, there's no going back. It can't be gay today, straight tomorrow. You'll have to act gay in front of him from now on. That means you'll be expected to comment upon good-looking males and express the desire to have sex with them, that you socialize with gay guys, that you go to gay clubs and act like you're having a good time."

"And it won't be just for Walensky's benefit. The modeling industry is pretty small and in-bred. Word will spread quickly that you're gay. So you'll have to act as if you're gay on all your assignments. That means no dating women and definitely no shacking up with one."

"Are you saying I can never have sex with a woman again," Callum asked, the shock obvious.

"I'm not saying never again. But not for awhile. Not until everyone in the business accepts that you're gay. Not for at least the next two years. After that, you might be able to play the 'bi' card and say you're just interested in trying straight sex out. But definitely not for a couple of years."

"Fuck," Callum exhaled.

"So, Callum, do you still want to do it?" Mr. DeMarco asked. "I'll tell you one thing, if you can carry it off, it'll show not merely that you are completely committed to your modeling career but also that you have the makings of a great actor. I think that acting is something you should have as a possible ultimate career goal and playing the role of a gay model in your day-to-day life would certainly be a good preparation for immersing yourself in different character roles in movies."

Callum probably would have agreed to go for it anyway, but Mr. DeMarco's last remarks about it serving as preparation for an acting career cinched it. "I'll do it, sir."

"Good boy," Mr. DeMarco replied, favoring him with a full smile for the first time that day.

It was then that Jackson spoke up. "It's all well and good that Callum, here, is willing to try to pass himself off as a closeted gay dude. But what if he fucks it up? What if he lets another 'fucking faggot' slip out? What if he bites Walensky's dick while he's sucking him? We might end up worse off than we would if we just canned the asshole now and took our chances." He finished his little diatribe facing Taylor, knowing that's where the response would come from.

"Well, first off, Jacks," Taylor began, relaxing now that the tough part was over and the good times were about to begin, "once Callum presents himself as gay if he slips up and uses the 'f' word it won't be that big a deal. Among themselves, gay guys use it a lot and don't take offense, just like black dudes can throw around the 'n' word without generating anywhere near the response that a white guy would get."

"Don't give me that look, Jacks," Taylor adlibbed with a smile when he saw his friend raising an eyebrow. "You know I'm right. I've heard you and Emerson jawing back and forth and I couldn't believe the shit that came out of both of your mouths. It's just the way it is. When one gay guy calls another gay guy a 'faggot,' it just doesn't have near the emotional punch that it does when it's a straight dude using the word. That's all I'm saying."

"But," he added, now facing DeMarco and enjoying the moment as he moved in for the kill, "Jacks does have a point about him biting off Walensky's dick. For a straight guy, it takes a lot of work learning how to suck cock. It's not as easy as it looks. It takes a lot of practice for a straight guy to get good at it. Gay guys, on the other hand, seem to somehow have a natural knack for it; they pick it up real fast."

While Taylor was pretty sure that what he was saying was a load of bull, he wasn't totally certain. After all, Kerry had picked up sucking cock almost overnight and he was great at it. There might actually be something to it. But whether or not it was true that gay guys were naturally-born cocksuckers wasn't particularly important right now. What was important was the Callum believed it was true.

"Now, Callum, here, I would guess, has never sucked a dick before," Taylor continued, stopping to give Callum a chance to respond.

"No," Callum affirmed with vigor, upset by even the suggestion that he'd sucked any dick in the past.

"I didn't think so, judging by your reaction to Walensky's request, but that could be a problem. If you make a total mess of blowing Walensky that could undermine the entire scheme." Taylor turned back to DeMarco. "Jacks was right when he said we could end up worse off if Callum fucks this up. We need to know whether he can carry it off. Callum has to be a good enough cocksucker that he could pass as a gay guy to another gay guy, taking into consideration that Callum will be admitting that he's new to the gay scene. He doesn't need to be perfect but he's got to at least be decent. I think we need to find out how good a cocksucker Callum is and whether he can get up to speed in any reasonable time-frame before we contact Walensky."

"I'm looking around, Tay," Jackson retorted, "and I don't see any gay guys who could let us know whether Callum's sucking technique is good enough to pass for gay. Do you?"

"No," Taylor admitted, turning to answer his buddy. "I don't. Not in here. But there is a gay dude sitting right outside this office and I suggest we make use of his talents." This, of course, was a total lie. Everyone in the agency knew that Cary was gay as a goose. Everyone, that is, except Callum. But DeMarco wanted Troy in on this, so Cary's sexual orientation was straight as far as Callum was concerned.

Finished, Taylor looked back at DeMarco and waited for him to make the next move. A moment later, DeMarco reached down and pressed the intercom button. "Troy, could you come in here?"

Minutes later, Troy stood there passively as Mr. DeMarco explained why he had been called into his office. When Mr. DeMarco asked him if he was willing to assess Callum's cocksucking skills, however, he replied with enthusiasm, "Yes, sir." When he turned around and stared at Callum, the model could see that, though Troy's face held a noncommittal expression, there was a discernible glint in his eyes.

Still, Callum was stunned when Troy ordered, "On your knees, cocksucker," in a gruff and commanding voice as he unzipped his fly and fished out his cock. His good-size meat was already noticeably hardening. As Callum dropped to the floor, he was struck by how, in a matter of seconds, there had been a total change in Troy's demeanor. Over the last few weeks, Callum had noticed a definite waning of the flamboyancy that had been such a hallmark of the receptionist when Callum first joined the agency. But the contrast between that fluttering queen and the domineering stud who now towered over him was startling.

Of course, Callum told himself, now that he was on his knees all of the boys in the room towered over him. Yet even Callum knew that it was more than that. There was something about the way Troy had taken charge of the proceedings that unsettled the model. He couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling, but an objective observer would probably call it the stirrings of fear. Callum was beginning to feel afraid of Troy and, as he was soon to discover, such fears were not off-base.

Troy stared at him for a moment and then growled, "Well, what are you waiting for boy? Suck my dick."

Callum bent slightly forward at the waist and reached out a hand to grab Troy's dick. Troy's hand flashed in the air, striking Callum's left cheek with a loud retort. "No fingers, boy. When you suck cock you use your mouth, not your hands."

Callum stared up at Troy stunned. The slap had really hurt. He nodded in acknowledgement and was leaning forward to take the receptionist's cock in his mouth when Troy delivered another stinging blow. "Boy," Troy snarled, "when you're on your knees blowing a man's cock and he gives you an order, you respond 'yes, sir,' do you understand?"

His anger surging inside of him, it took all of Callum's self-control to refrain from jumping to his feet and pummeling the receptionist. But, at the last moment, he managed to stop himself. It had occurred to Callum that Troy was merely treating him the same way Callum had treated Troy in the past, the way Callum would treat any cocksucker. And Callum reminded himself that's what he was in the process of becoming: a cocksucker. This is what Callum had decided he was willing to become - what he had to become if he wanted to keep his career going. He might as well get used to it as soon as he could. If he was going to play the faggot cocksucker Callum knew he had to make it believable. So Callum forced himself to look up at Troy and respond, "Yes, sir."

"That's better, boy," Troy smirked. "Now get to work on that dick."

Callum leaned forward again and opened his mouth wide. The moment he got his lips around Troy's cock-head, the receptionist thrust his hips forward. Callum gagged and instinctively his hands rose to Troy's groin. Another quick slap echoed through the office.

"God damn it, Callum," Troy exclaimed, "keep those god-damned hands down."

"I'm sorry," Callum replied, cringing inside at the realization that he was on his knees, apologizing to this fruit-cake, "but they just seem to move almost on their own."

Troy took a step back and turned towards Mr. DeMarco. "Sir," he asked, "do you have any rope. I think maybe if I tie Callum's hands behind his back he'll get used to sucking dick just with his mouth, like he should do."

"No, Troy. I don't," his father replied. "But I do have something else that might work." He reached down, opened a drawer in his desk and fished around for a few seconds. "How about these?" he asked, suppressing a grin. He was holding a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs.

"Those will do fine, sir," Troy answered not even bothering to hide his amusement from his dad.

"Hands behind your back, boy," Troy ordered as he turned back to face the model kneeling on the floor. He walked directly in front of Callum and leaned over him to grab his wrists. He jerked them up forcefully, forcing a little squeal of pain from the model, and tightly encased both wrists in the cuffs, firmly restraining Callum's arms behind his back. During this entire procedure, Troy's hard cock was pressed roughly against Callum's face and Troy made sure to rub it back and forth, knowing how much that would humiliate the model.

Troy stood back and looked down at the boy. Having his hands cuffed behind his back really made Callum's chest pop. He looked really sexy kneeling on the floor. And vulnerable, too. It was time for Troy to begin paying Callum back for all the shit he'd dumped on Troy over the past six weeks, and Troy was sure that Callum was going to learn the truth of that old maxim: Payback is a bitch.

From his position on the floor, Callum could see the obvious pleasure on Troy's face and, with his arms pinioned behind his back, Callum realized that he was completely at the boy's mercy. He was glad that Mr. DeMarco was in the room. Callum was sure Mr. DeMarco would keep Troy under a tight rein.

Troy gave his hard cock, which was now leaking some pre, a few quick strokes. Then, to Callum's surprise, rather than forcing Callum to immediately begin servicing it, Troy turned back to Mr. DeMarco. "Sir," the receptionist began, "this might get a little messy. Do you mind if I take off my clothes."

"No, of course not, Troy," Mr. DeMarco replied. "Make yourself comfortable. After all, you're doing all of us a favor, here, helping Callum learn how to suck dick. So by all means make yourself comfortable."

Moments later, Troy once again stood in front of the kneeling Callum, now completely naked. Seeing the unmistakably masculine physique looming in front of him, Callum was forced to really confront the reality of what he was doing. He was sucking off another dude. He was going to let another guy stick his hard cock in Callum's mouth and work it like a cunt until the dude poured his fuck-seed down Callum's throat. The enormity of what he was doing, of how he was debasing himself, struck Callum with the force of another smash to his face. But before he could even reconsider the choice he'd made, Troy stepped forward and grabbed the hair on the top of Callum's head, painfully forcing Callum to look up. "Open wide, boy," Troy sneered. "Time to start sucking dick." And with that he rammed his cock into Callum's mouth and gave the boy his first feel of dick in his throat. Callum didn't like it.

Twenty minutes later, Callum sank back on his heels, his mouth, now held open by a spider-gag, dripping saliva in virtual syncopation with the drip of cum down his throat from the load of scuzz Troy had shot off in his mouth. Callum's left cheek still burned from all the slaps it had received during the first part of the blow job, when Callum just couldn't seem to keep his teeth off Troy's cock. That problem, at least, had been solved when Troy had stuck the spider-gag in Callum's mouth. But the gag was uncomfortable and Callum hated the way he couldn't keep from continuously drooling. Now that the blowjob was over, Callum wanted Troy to remove the gag but when he tried to ask him to do that, the words were all slurred. Callum's frustration at not being able to make himself understood just added to the humiliation he felt now that he'd completed his first blow-job.

Above him, he could hear Troy and Mr. DeMarco discussing his performance. Despite all his efforts, Callum was not getting rave reviews.

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy was saying. "But you asked my honest opinion as a gay man and I have to tell you that Callum's technique wasn't simply bad - it was terrible. It was, possibly, the worst blow job I've ever had. There's no way, right now, that Mr. Walensky would ever be fooled into thinking Callum was gay. No fucking way."

"Okay," Mr. DeMarco replied, the disappointment obvious in his voice. "I accept your judgment, Troy. But what I asked was whether you think Callum could improve his technique sufficiently to pass for gay."

"Over time, maybe." Troy answered. "Fuck, he could only get better. But in the short time-frame we're faced with, I don't see how. It's going to take a lot of practice and with different-sized dicks, too, before there's any hope that Callum would prove even passable."

"Sir, if I could make a suggestion," Callum heard Taylor intervene. "I'm willing to let Callum have a go at my cock and I'd bet Jacks and Cary would be, too. After all, our jobs are on the line here. And I don't think that any of us have any pressing business this afternoon. We could have Callum suck us off one after the other. We could compress a lot of dick-sucking into one intensive session. Troy says he needs a lot more experience; well, we can provide him with just what he needs."

"I'm in, sir," Callum heard Cary add, "if you think it's a good idea."

"Me, too, I guess," Jackson added, reluctantly. "I'm not anxious to do this asshole any favors, but it is my job on the line, too, like Tay said, so I'll let the boy practice on my dick."

There was a slight pause as Mr. DeMarco considered their offer. For his part, Callum's mind was just reeling. It had been hard enough agreeing to suck that faggot Troy. Now, if Mr. DeMarco concurred, he'd have to suck off three other models. And these guys were straight. Somehow, sucking off other straight dudes seemed even more demeaning than going down on a faggot. It made Callum feel more like a faggot, himself. But, with the gag in his mouth, Callum wasn't even able to voice his concerns. Instead, he had to just kneel there, drooling all over himself, as he heard Mr. DeMarco agree to Taylor's proposal.

"I think that's a really good idea, Taylor," the man opined, "and I'm grateful to all of you for your willingness to sacrifice your afternoon just to help Callum out. The only thing I'd suggest is that you all might want to strip down, too. We've all seen what a mess Callum can make when he's sucking dick."

"Yes, sir," they all agreed. Callum could hear them stripping off their clothes as he wearily righted himself on his knees. Mr. DeMarco had always warned him that being a model was hard work but, until now, Callum had never realized how much work it would be.

The next thing he knew, the three models were lining up in front of him, with Taylor positioning himself as the first to have a go at Callum's mouth. Looking at the model's cock, Callum was shocked to see that it was almost as big as his own monster. Glancing quickly to the other two models, Callum was horrified to see that Taylor's dick was the smallest of the three. He couldn't imagine taking any of them down his throat. But, before he could even consider what was happening, Taylor grabbed a shock of his hair, pulled Callum's head forward, and rammed his big cock halfway down Callum's throat. Callum's training as a cocksucker had begun in earnest.

As it turned out, Callum needn't have tried to imagine how it would feel to swallow such massive cocks down his throat; by the time the afternoon ended, Callum had experienced those sensations multiple times and he was sure his throat would never recover.