Jee-mie, the Clothes Model

Jee-mie, the Clothes Model First Encounters of a Close Kind by Bill Fore (b4@earthlink.net)

I knew my "D" average in high school wasn't going to get me in to college. Fuck, man... I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself anyway, so what good would it do to go to college. Don't get me wrong. I was good at something in high school. Sports! Oh, yes... and women. The other guys on my teams always called me "Lover Boy" because it seemed like I hogged all the good looking women. Since you don't really know me, and I don't know you... I don't need to shit you. The absolute truth is that in my sophomore through my senior years in high school I actually bagged more than twenty chicks at least one time.

I was the school star running back in football. I was first string guard on the basketball team for three years, and I also lettered in baseball... both pitching and third base. I really trusted my body and could get it to do just about anything I wanted to do, but my brain was another matter. Studying was out. I was poor at English, writing, reading, and whatever else went along with languages. I knew two and two made four, but not much else about math, either.

So... it was the year after graduation and I was working as a clerk in a hardware store and living in a little rented room in the back of an old lady's house. To help pay the rent I mowed her lawn and did other odd jobs around the place. My mom had split a few years before to somewhere, and my dad got a promotion in the summer after my graduation and moved to Anchorage, Alaska. Who the fuck wants to freeze your gonads off in Alaska if you don't absolutely have to? I didn't get along with him all that great anyway, so I stuck it out in Los Angeles.

The hardware store paid a flat five an hour for a hard forty hours a week, which gave me food, not much clothes, and the shelter I told you about. Car? A seven year old Toyota two door with bad paint and thin tires. My buddy called them, "Tijuana Racing Slicks!" Not exactly the kind of car I'd dreamed of having by the tender age of nineteen.

Good thing I was a prize looker or my date life would have been the pits, huh? Shit! Who am I kidding... it was the pits, except for a Friday night movie, a little teasing and grab ass, and about a quick fuck-a-month with the best one available at the time. Most of the really great broads I knew were hanging out with college jocks or the up-and-coming twenty-something's that seemed to be everywhere. It's hard to be competition on five an hour with a seven year old putter no matter how good you are in the mirror or in bed.

I need to explain about how I looked so you'll know why this stuff I'm about to tell you happened to me. Somewhere, back in my past, there was a black guy or gal making love to an ancestor because my skin was a shade or two darker than white. Not quite what they call mulatto, but more like naturally deep tanned. My hair was dark, my cheekbones high, my eyes dark brown, and... as one chick put it... I looked sultry. I was about six foot one and really constructed. Sports, plus a few hours a week pumping iron, made the package pretty good, according to my mirror and the chicks who hadn't left for college. Twenty-eight waist, forty-three chest, and... what I thought they liked best... nine- plus hard inches, perfectly formed, big crimson knob, and cut.

Well... about two miles from the hardware store where I was wasting my life away there was this very big, very famous specialized men's clothing store in a very high class part of the city. It was far more high class than I could afford and they had a very ritzy clientele. The owner... a guy named Omar... was a really different kind of duck. He was tall, middle-Eastern handsome, long dark hair, probably mid-forties, wore very mod, expensive suits, a little too much gold jewelry for my taste, knew every celebrity around, appeared on television, and generally looked like he was one of the rich and famous.

I never went into (or even near) Omar's store, but sometimes I waited on him when he came into the hardware store, and once in a while I saw him working out at the gym. Don't get me wrong... I wouldn't normally work out at the kind of classy gym a guy like Omar would go to, but there was this chick I knew who taught aerobics at this fancy place and often gave me free passes. Anyway... Omar got to know my name somehow and often said, "Jee-mie... you come to my store and I show some perfect clothes for you." I always told him I was broke and couldn't afford any new shit. "Jee-mie... you come anyway and I show you around. You are good looking boy. Maybe I make you model."

She-it! Me, a model? Jocks don't model. That's sissy stuff. Anyway, I put him off but was real polite because Omar was a big cheese and seemed like a very powerful person. It seemed like he liked me, too... and that counted for something.

Old man Johnson, my ornery boss at the hardware store, sometimes bought some clothes from Omar and once told me he thought I should try out for one of Omar's clothes modeling shows. "You work on that body all the time, boy... might as well make it pay for something. You're always broke. A little night job like that could give you extra money." I was constantly bugging him for a raise, but Johnson always said business wasn't all that good, and... he also said that I didn't work all that hard. Johnson was a slave driver who hated to see anyone standing around. Probably a dozen other clerks had come and gone... fired or quit... since I went to work for the old asshole. Well, anyway, Johnson said something about Omar having clothing shows about once or twice a month in the evenings, and the one he'd attended could use a model like me.

Well... one Saturday morning Omar came into the hardware store just after we opened for some light fixture he needed for his electrician at his store. I guess that our store was on the way between his fancy beach home and his clothing store. Old Johnson and I were working together trying to restock a shelf before the crowds came, and so the three of us got to talking. Johnson said, "Omar... I've been telling Jimmy he ought to see you about working in those programs you put on. He's a damned handsome boy, all brawn and no brain, and everybody who comes in here says so, too."

Shit, man... I got red in the face from the unexpected half- way compliment and Omar noticed. "Yes, Johnson... I tell Jee-mie the same thing when I see him at the gym, but he is too bashful." I make a deal with Omar that I will stop by that night at about seven and watch a "showing" as his "special guest".

So... I drag out my one and only three year old suit that's too small because I've put on so much muscle, and I shuffle over to Omar's that night after work in my old Toyota. I parked the damn thing about a block away so he wouldn't see it.

Omar's store is not in my part of town. Walking through the door was even a trip, since everything reeked of class and big bucks. Omar is bustling around, but he's very friendly to me and takes me to a balcony-type area where I can watch what's going on in the beautiful store without having to mix with the crowd. He either knew that's the way I would like it, or he didn't want me parading around in front of his customers in my cheap, out-of-date suit. Old Johnson would have blurted out something critical, but Omar just looked me over, smiled approvingly, and didn't say a thing about my clothes.

More and more wealthy well dressed people... both men and women... continued arriving. There was a table filled with champagne and little sandwiches, and the people milled around looking at the fancy men's clothes on racks and displayed on mannequins. I felt really out of place, so I just hid in the balcony area and watched the going's on. I'd say that there must have been fifty or more really flashy people in the store by around seven thirty. Then, on a small staging area near the back of the big main store, lights go on and Omar gets on the P.A. mike and, in his best "classic" accent, he says everyone should gather around. One by one, four guys come out and show off the latest mod and business clothes fashions while music plays and a voice tells what's happening on the P.A. system and describes what each model is wearing.

The first three guys are good looking dudes... a blond, a guy with very long, flowing sandy colored hair who looked like he could have been Fabio's better looking younger brother, and a muscular black dude. Fuck, man, I can't believe my eyes at what happened next. My all-time number one hero from my sophomore year in high school, Ryan Wilson walks out on the stage. When I was just a pup and trying to get on the varsity squads for different high school sports, the all-time record setting school hero senior was tall, dark, and handsome Ryan Wilson.

God, had I been impressed with him!

I didn't know him personally and hadn't seen him in two years, but it sure as hell was him. He looked fucking great on that little stage below me, too... very self-assured, smiling, showing off a cream colored mod dress suit that must have cost five hundred clams.

Well... there went the wimpy, sissy model idea.

Each of the models would be on the stage for about two minutes, and then would leave to change while the next model came out in something new. They didn't do any silly moves or pirouettes... just walked around, turning, cordially smiling and looking very masculine. About sixty or seventy people were now in the store crowding close to the stage. The models would walk along the edge of the low stage part of the time while customers reached out and touched the fabrics. It looked like the customers were making personal comments to the models, and often there were smiles and easy laughter. The customers looked rich and it was all very classy.

We went through about a half hour of the latest men's mod high dress-up fashions and then they moved on to some sports wear. Ryan was tooling around the stage with about his fifth change of clothes when it finally became obvious that you needed a good body to show this shit off. He wore what looked like a very form fitting tennis outfit, and his muscular legs and arms made the get up look spectacular. I got a vision of me up on that stage wearing the same stuff and knew I'd look great, too.

It got even more revealing when they showed off some swimwear. All four of the dudes were well built, but the black guy and Ryan stole the show... if you asked me. Omar kept describing the suits and the fabrics, and the customers often touched the garments... even the boxer-type and Speedo-type swimwear. The black guy even modeled what they called a "thong"... a tiny swimsuit with nothing covering his ass. It was a cream colored suit and I had to admit, he looked very sexy.

After we'd been in the store watching the show for about forty-five minutes, Omar got on the P.A. and started talking about "small group showings of leisurewear, swimwear, underwear and funwear" that happened every evening. He said, "We have special shows in our lounge for the ladies, so that you can decide what to buy your man for those special times... we have shows for men, so they can visualize how they'd look in new and different items... we have shows to give you new ideas about how to dress for your personal fun and games. Our models can even show you the toys to use for the games," he said with a grin. "We're booked about two weeks in advance, so sign up now. Each showing lasts about an hour and a half, and there are only eight guests for each showing with at least three handsome, masculine models."

Omar thanked them all for coming and the show ended. The crowd mingled with the swimwear clad models for a while, and quite a few sales took place as garments were taken from racks, credit cards were whipped out, and cash registers rang. For a long time Omar moved among the crowd while I watched from above, and then... the crowd thinned out and the models went toward a back room. After a while Omar came to the balcony.

I told him I was very impressed. "You think maybe you could do the modeling, too, Jee-mie?" I nodded, wondering how I'd handle my stage fright. "You want to see what the private showing is like? We can sneak in and stand in back. We'll be in the dark and nobody will see us." He explained that the four models were going to do a private show of swim and funwear for some male customers in a few minutes in the lounge in back. "You make big money on the small group showings, Jee-mie. The big show out here in public that you watched... that's the hook. We have fifteen of the small showings every week, and then each model can do private showings, too, for a lot more money. You get a commission for everything your customer buys, and that can add up to many more dollars each night. Almost all our models also do magazine and newspaper ad modeling and other kinds of fashion photography which pays very well. We do almost all of the shows at nights and on weekends, so you can do this and your other job too, if you want." Except for the "Jee-mie" his accent was almost gone.

We went down a back stairway and through a hall lined with clothing racks. He reached a door, put his hands to his lips to indicate we should be quiet, and then we slipped in to a darkened room. There was some music playing, and a deep, masculine voice from somewhere was describing the silk lounge pants that the blond model was wearing.

I looked around. The room was long and narrow, and the carpet was deep and looked very expensive. Along the long wall was the narrow "stage" (about six feet wide)... a floor-level area lighted with soft blue and red spots from the ceiling. Eight very costly looking leather overstuffed "winged-back" arm chairs were lined up facing the stage. From where we stood I could only see feet to know someone was in each chair. The chairs were set about a foot apart. Actually, they were set up so that nobody sitting in the chairs could see who was sitting in any of the other chairs unless they both leaned forward.

According to the voice, the blond model was named Todd. He walked from chair to chair and stood close so that hands could reach out and touch the garment... and him.

The long-haired model (whom the voice called Jeremy) then came out dressed in a silky lounge jacket and matching shorts while Todd was still working the "chairs". After a few moments of walking around to show off the get up, he moved close to the far right chair. Soon, as Todd was just moving to the eighth and last chair, the voice announced Marcus, the black model, and he strode across the runway in an awesome cream colored long satin- silk robe that hung open and showed a matching small brief over his beautiful, gleaming ebony skin.

There was some quiet whispering and joking between the customers and the models as the music played and the deep voice continued describing the garments. Todd left, the other two moved from chair to chair to have the garments "felt", and then... in walked Ryan. Whew! He wore a red satin short robe and matching small bikini. God, he looked good, and the blue and red lighting made his body look sensational! I flashed on myself being in the sexy lounge wear and knew I'd look awesome, too.

The show went on and the models changed to briefer and briefer stuff. Some underwear was actually see-through and, from where I was watching, it looked like many of the customers were actually groping the models. The models would put a leg up on the arms of the chair sometimes. It looked as if they were spreading themselves out right in front of the customers and offering themselves to be probed. I would normally be really pissed at the scene, but I had to face the fact that my all-time hero was a willing participant in what was going on.

I couldn't see everything because of the height and width of the big armchairs, but it sure looked like they were getting a little lewd. In fact, it looked like Ryan had a considerable extra swelling in his tiny shorts on a couple of occasions. Same with the other three!

Before it was over, each one of the models appeared in different types of tiny posing straps, barely covering their expanded equipment. It was obvious that the customers were being teased and loving it, but it all seemed very queer to me... and I was really surprised that Ryan would be doing such a thing. Fuck, man... I didn't know what to think. After all... this was my high school hero... one of the most macho dudes I'd ever heard of or known.

When the customers started leaving there was some friendly chatter and even some more groping as the customers and the models stood around bullshitting. The models were still wearing their tiny little straps and nothing else. Ryan and Marcus looked especially handsome, and both seemed to be about to bust out of the little pouches because of having at least half-hardon's. I realized that they couldn't be too disgusted with their smiles and expanded equipment. Could it be that Ryan had gotten a little light in the loafers?

I stayed in the dark back corner with Omar. He asked what I thought, and I said it seemed pretty far out. "Yes, it is, Jee-mie," he whispered. "And that's why my models make very good money. I pay each of them fifty in cash for this hour and a half, and they made thirty for the stage show out in the store. Each model makes commission on how many of the garments they wore were ordered... maybe twenty or so more. And... they will maybe all get tips, too... maybe twenty or thirty more, depending on how they pleased the customers."

Omar scanned the room for a moment, then turned again to me. "When the models do a private showing it is, as you say, very far out. But... with tips and my cash they make almost two hundred for an evening of only three or four hours. Sometimes it's for the men... and sometimes it's for the ladies, but the men tip much better."

The customers were leaving and Omar called Marcus over and introduced us. He was a real nice guy and very friendly. His dark gleaming lightly oiled body looked even better up close. Even though he wore only a tiny posing strap and was otherwise totally exposed, he seemed very confident and relaxed. Marcus voice was deep and masculine. "Omar said you might be considering joining us, Jim. I hope you do. We're two guys short and there's enough business for four more. It's great money, and it's a lot of fun." I had mentioned to Omar earlier that I was in the same school with Ryan, so... after the last customer brazenly tucked a bill into Ryan's overstuffed pouch and copped a feel at the same time... Omar called him over.

When Ryan saw me there was instant recognition. He got a big, broad smile on his face and stuck out his hand. "Hey, Jimmy Richey, you old fart... how you doin', dude?" I asked how he knew me, and he said he'd watched most of my football and basketball games at the high school in the last two years. It seemed strange standing next to my all-time hero with him almost naked and not seeming to notice.

Omar said something to Ryan about trying to get me to model. Ryan looked me over in the semi-darkness, which meant he maybe didn't see how ill-fitting the suit was. "Fuck, dude... you'd kill 'em. That is, if you're in any kind of shape like you were in your basketball uniform when the high school girls were swooning. The customers would be kickin' down Omar's doors to see more of you."

Omar left to talk with someone else. Ryan and I talked for a few more minutes, and then I asked him if I could buy him a beer. "Man, I had to swear off that shit, but I'll join you for something else." He glanced down at his near nakedness. "In fact, let me put some stuff on to get legal, and then why not stop by my pad since it's clean and I'm showing it off 'cause I just got it." I went with him to the dressing room.

I tried to keep my eyes off his tight, bouncing bare ass cheeks as he walked in front of me. My homophobia was really getting hammered that night. When we got in the models dressing room he whipped off the tiny jock, got a towel and wiped off some of the baby oil that had made his body gleam in the lights, and then put on some expensive looking sports clothes.

He definitely had one hunk of a beautiful body with a healthy looking schlong to boot.

I followed him... me in my old Toyota... Ryan in a new Mustang 5.0 convertible. We wound through the darkened streets for a few miles to the coast. We drove South a short distance to a very nice upscale high rise apartment building by the marina area. In the garage and in the elevator up to his pad we talked mostly about our old high school and sports. In the seventh floor lobby he turned the key on a really beautifully furnished apartment that must have set him back a bundle. God! I was really jealous.

Ryan got out his blender and cooked up two health shakes while I took off my too-tight suitcoat and looked out at the lights of the marina and the boats rocking below in the water. Then we landed in his living room to drink the stuff and shoot the shit some more. I told him about what a hero he'd been to me when I was a freshman and sophomore in high school. He laughed, told me in detail about the games he'd watched me play and how impressed he'd been, and then we traded some war stories about teachers and coaches. It was a very comfortable scene, like we'd been friends for years.

I guess we'd been sitting around almost a half an hour having a really great talk when the subject finally came up. "So... you want to model for good old Omar," Ryan said. "No," I corrected, "It's the other way around. Omar wants me to model for him." "Well, dude... it may not be your bag. I could understand that. Hell, if you like what you're doing and you're making good bread you shouldn't even think about it." I told Ryan I hated the work I was doing and that my boss was about to make "Asshole of the Year." "Damn, Rye... you saw the car I was drivin', man... I'm obviously not setting the world on fire with the big bucks."

Ryan looked me over in my ill-fitting clothes. "You keep in shape since you got out of school? It looks like it." I told him all I did was work and work out, and that I was probably in better shape.

"You goin' to college?", he asked. "She-it... my grades were the pits, man. It blew all the sports scholarships out the window and I've never had the brain for the books." Ryan nodded. "Yeah, Jimmy, I know," he sighed. "I went one year to Cal on a football scholarship... got hurt, blew my grades, fucked up a chick, and came crawling back with my tail between my legs." "Holy shit," I responded, "I never heard about that. That's what surprised me when I saw you tonight. I thought you were a big football star somewhere."

We talked more about our lives, and then I asked Ryan why he was doing the modeling bit for old Omar. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Well, Jimmy... I guess the easiest way to tell it is this: After I blew it at Cal, I spent just over a year working like a dog at manual labor for seven bucks an hour because I had no real skills. Sometimes I made more, but then I'd get laid off a lot, so I stuck with the seven bucks an hour job because it was steady. I tried selling, but couldn't make it go."

Ryan looked at me closely. "I had to make good money because I'm paying two bills a month child support to the chick I screwed around with up at Cal. God, dude, I was feeling like a real big hunk of shit... a total failure. When I heard about Omar's gig and saw what you saw tonight I was really bugged. I sat around thinking about it for at least four months. Geez, it was a hard decision. Especially since I was such a hung up jock. I knew Marcus was a straight shooter, and I knew he'd been doing it for a year and was making big bucks. So... I finally made a decision to get bold and try it out. Marcus really leveled with me and taught me the ropes. I started doing it part time at first... just the small group stuff and not the private showings. I was working only nights and doing my manual labor shit during the day. It was rough keeping my body in shape and unscratched and my fingernails clean while still doing manual labor too."

Our eyes met as we sat about two feet apart in his awesome apartment. "You know, Jimmy... I'd really screwed my life up, and I was really down in the pits. I started getting honest with myself. All day long I was busting my tail for seven bucks an hour, bakin' in the sun, freezin' in the rain, taking shit and kissing everybody's ass to keep my job. Then, in the evening's I'd go to Omar's and average about forty or fifty an hour working in perfect temperatures, takin' no shit from nobody... and everyone was kissing my ass. I'm a slow learner, but it dawned on me that for the next five to ten years I could do the Omar act, develop all the contacts I make there and get myself set up for life. Some of them customers really worship the models, man... it's a trip. They treat you like you're a fucking God."

"Not much for a guy with no college and no special skills to do to make big bucks," I said. He nodded. "You're dead meat, dude... just like me. You got a fourteen million-to-one shot to win the lottery, and about the same odds of making it some other way. That's why I had to do the modeling stuff. It's like there was no option after I really thought it over."

He got a smile on his face. "Now, ah... geez, I work about five hours a day at Omar's, if you can call it work... and in the last four months I've done three major fashion modeling gigs up in Hollywood for really good bread from the contacts I made with Omar's customers." "Yeah, Ryan... but, ah... it's... it looks like those guys... those customers... are kinda queer." Ryan laughed. "That's what I thought at first. Fuck, man... those are famous people, multi-zillionaires, bank presidents, owners of big corporations, executive women, stars, wives of stars, most everyone's married, most are big timers. There ain't nobody without big bucks sitting in them chairs, man... and they're horny, that's all. Maybe they're queer horny, and maybe they ain't, but touching and admiring isn't a sex act. In the private shows... that's maybe different, depending on how you look at it."

I said I'd be really scared and wouldn't know how to act or what to do if I tried Omar's kind of modeling. Ryan said that Marcus had taught him in one day. "Fuck... you want to do it, I'll bring some of the shit we model here to the apartment and teach you. I'll show you how, and then I'll sit in the chair and play customer while you practice. God, man... it's not brain surgery... it's really simple. You just gotta be loose, man. The looser the better! If you just walk around and do it straight you don't get any tips, and you only get some small commissions from garment sales. But... if you tease the customers and make them feel really good you can almost double what you make."

Ryan started adding it up. "Like tonight, man... I had three twenties and two tens in my jock at the end of the show... and all I did was let 'em touch a little and make 'em think I liked it and wanted more. I probably made twenty-five in commissions, I got thirty cash for the stage show, fifty for the lounge show... it was a good four hours work... ah, twenty... forty... sixty... seventy... eighty... plus twenty-five makes one-o-five... plus fifty... one fifty- five... plus thirty... totals about one eighty-five, and it's all cash except for the commissions. Plus, I'll get at least four private shows out of tonight, too. At least four of those customers will be signed up with me and I'll get at least a hundred and a fifty for an hour and a half doing that, plus some big tips."

We talked about some other stuff and then I knew it was time for me to leave. It was late, and besides... I had some thinking to do. I told Ryan I'd need to get honest with myself and think it over like he'd done. "Shit, man... I'm on a dead end freight to nowhere and it's really starting to get to me," I said. "Well, Jimmy... don't fret about it. It's pretty simple to figure. If you can make good bread without kissing anyone's ass, forget Omar's. Ninety-nine and nine tenth's percent of the guys in the world don't have the build or the looks to do the Omar's bit if they wanted to, so consider yourself really lucky. At least me'n you have one thing going for us... we may not be nuclear scientists, but at least we've got this option. In this gig you're looking at seven hundred a week working a few hours a night just doing it straight... and fifteen hundred to two thou a week if you tease 'em and let 'em play around... plus you can make as much as a grand or two a month extra in outside modeling assignments most months. Last six months I've made over six grand a month working about twenty hours a week. And... it's all mine, too. No thirty percent to the tax guy." He looked around the apartment. "That's how I can afford these digs. That's why I got the new 'Stang. Paid cash for it! If you can find that kind of money doing something else without nine years in medical school, do it... and let me know so I can do it, too."

I had a lot of thinking to do after I left that awesome apartment and landed back in my little hole-in-the-wall room. I didn't sleep much that night or the next. I spent a lot of hours in front of the mirror taking a long look at myself, too. Fifteen hundred in one week is almost two months pay at the hardware store... especially after taxes. Life would really change for me if I could even get three bills a week, much less get fifteen!

I called Ryan two days later and said I'd like to see what it was like to do it if his offer was still open to train me. He seemed excited about the idea and said I should stop by his pad. We agreed on Sunday noon.

Ryan opened the door wrapped in a towel, his hair still dripping. "Hey, Jimmy, time got away from me. Come on in. Sorry I'm not quite ready. I got back late from a tennis game. One of the customers from Omar's has a tennis court in his backyard in Bel Air." Shit... I knew where Bel Air was but I'd never been there. He took me to the kitchen and we broke out some fruit juices. He seemed much more into health than I was, but he said he wanted to keep his body and his looks for as long as possible. He slapped my shoulder playfully and said, "Fuck, dude, I'm two years older than you. I gotta watch it!"

I followed him into the bathroom at his request so we could talk. He pulled off his towel and dried and brushed his hair. I had to be careful of where I looked because he could see me in the mirror most of the time. I did get a better view of my high school hero's wonderful, perfectly proportioned body than I'd had before. Six feet one or two, dark brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders, narrow waist like mine... the perfect all-around jock body.

We went to his awesome bedroom and he pulled on the form fitting red lounge bikini's and the robe I'd seen him model. He had a black satin version of the same getup, and he told me to put them on. He openly watched me closely while I changed. "God, dude, you'll be the hit of Omar's with that body," he said.

He had a chair in the living room that was a little like the armchairs in the lounge but without the wing backs. Ryan told me to sit and act like a customer while he did the modeling bit. He turned on the stereo to get the kind of music they played during the modeling.

I watched as he moved his handsome torso in front of me, showing me the clothes and his own assets at the same time. Then, he sat in the chair and I did what he'd done. He coached me on some moves to make it look more natural. After I'd gotten the changes down Ryan said he thought I was getting close to being ready to do it the straight way. "You really move naturally... probably because you're such an athlete."

I said that it was the little posing straps that scared me and that I didn't know how to act when a customer would touch me. Ryan looked me in the eye. "If you want to make real bread, that's what you got to do, dude." "I guess I'd better learn that too, man," I said. "If you really want to learn how to do it for the big bucks, you can play like you're the customer and I'll show you how, and then we can switch around again. That's how Marcus taught me. It's no good if you don't play out the whole scene, though. Forget it's me'n you, and pretend it's you and a customer... or that you're the customer. You got to touch and let go of your hangups... you know, like forget all the macho jock bullshit we learned all our lives and just get real sensual. These high class customers don't buy the macho stuff. That's really for the lower class and the very young." He looked me in the eye. "Want to try it?"

I felt like I had a fever. I said I supposed I'd better. I knew, deep inside, that I had gone to Ryan's that day for far more than had already happened.

We went to his bedroom and he got out two of the tiny posing straps. "You know, Jimmy... at Omar's we rub some baby oil and lotion all over each other so our bodies will look good in those lights, but we won't need to do that today." He changed to one of the little cock covers and openly watched while I changed to the other. "How big does that fucker get when it's hard?", he asked. "Around nine... little more," I said. "Holy shit, man... you will be the hit of Omar's. I'm jealous!"

I sat in the chair and he started showing me how to be sensual and provocative. "Act, Jimmy! Go ahead and do what you saw the customers do.... touch the fabric, touch me... just like you saw the other night. It's no big deal and it's certainly not sex. If you don't really get into it, you'll never learn the big bucks moves."

Geez, what a weird scene. I tried to be cool but Ryan's beautiful body was having some strange effects on me. I mean, this was my high school jock hero in front of me and he was almost bare ass naked and telling me I should touch him... like, right around his privates.

He moved closer and closer as he showed off the tiny soft fake leather jock... and his body. His leg touched mine and it felt like a little electric shock as he stood real close, looking down at me. "I'm gonna talk to you just like I'd talk to the customer, Jimmy. Just let go and play it like we're at Omar's lounge, okay?"

He stood over me, totally bare except for the little pouch holding his family jewels. "Hi, again, Mr. Jones. I hope you're enjoying the show." His voice was soft and he bent forward so I could hear him over the sound of the music on the stereo. "This is for those fun nights at home by the fire. You take a nice long shower with some pleasant scented oil, like the stuff I'm wearing. Then you put this on your hot, sensual body. It's like thin leather, but the inside is all soft and fuzzy. Go ahead and touch, Mr. Jones... feel the fabric."

Ryan put his foot up on the arm of the chair and the shiny black pouch hung less than a foot from my face. I began to touch the outside of the fabric, running my hand over the full pouch.

He ran his fingers inside the narrow straps next to the pouch and pulled it slightly away from his body. "Check the way the straps give... it's a special kind of elastic... very expensive." I touched the straps and his fingers slipped over to mine, pressing my hands back against his skin next to the pouch. I flinched a second, knowing my fingers were inches from his "privates." I kept on with the charade.

"Feel the softness on the inside of the pouch, Mr. Jones. You can wear it all day like underwear and never know it's there." I felt the top edge of the pouch, running a finger inside and accidentally brushing a bit against his cock stem. Fuck, man... I'm with my all time hero doing this shit and it's, like... turning me on a little. "Go ahead, Mr. Jones, don't be bashful. It sure doesn't hurt for me... your touch is terrific. Feel the inside of it a little more." I ran my hand inside, brushing the back of my fingers more firmly against Ryan's cock.

"God, Mr. Jones... you could win tonight's touch award. The one's you love are sure lucky. Don't stop yet, okay?" I felt his cock begin to swell against my hot fingers. "Check the elastic around the leg hole with your other hand, Mr. Jones. See how it firmly and gently gives support. This is the best designed strap we have."

I was now working around his quickly swelling manhood with two hands, knowing that he could see into my lap and know that the same thing was happening to me. "God, Mr. Jones... your touch is sensational. We could do so much more if we had a private showing together. We have some exciting funwear I could show you that we wouldn't dare show with a group around."

He easily pulled slightly away from me. "Don't take your hands away, Mr. Jones... they feel terrific. Test the straps on my hips." He took his foot from the armrest and slowly turned around, backing against my legs. I put my hands on his hips as he'd instructed. My eyes were on my close-up view of his beautiful buns. His head turned so I could hear him. "Notice how the thin elastic fits around the back. It runs down the crack like it's not even there. Would you like to see how it fits between my legs?" For some reason I nodded.

He bent over, and now his tiny brown rosebud asshole was inches from my face. "Notice that there's a little pad where the elastic is attached to the pouch so you'll be comfortable wearing it a long time. Go ahead, Mr. Jones... feel it."

I ran my hands between his legs and touched the pouch right next to his balls. "Oooh, that's a sensitive spot for me, Mr. Jones. Don't rush while you're feeling the way it fits. You can pull the pouch down a bit and see how the elastic works. Slip your fingers inside and see how the soft lining holds the balls." Like most body-builder-type jocks who work out and show their bodies, he had shaved all the hair around his cock, balls and ass, leaving only a small, well-trimmed triangle for a pubic bush. I'd been shaving my body once a week for about six months, too.

I did as he'd instructed, my hands brushing my hero's big, thick, hairless gonads. He bent more and looked at me from between his legs. I could barely hear his words. "In a private showing, Mr. Jones, you can test some of the funwear and toys on me if you'd like to."

He let my fingers linger between his legs, and then he slowly stood and turned to face me again. The little pouch barely concealed his roaring erection. He glanced at my lap and knew I was facing the same difficulty.

Ryan sat on the arm of the chair and turned toward me. "Far out, huh?" I nodded. "It's really exciting, after you get used to it, Jimmy. Obviously I got excited, and it looks like you did, too. When you're modeling you can create any fantasy you want. You can make poor old Mr. Jones, the bank president, into the Queen of Sheba if that's what's in your mind."

Ryan turned on the chair arm to face me. "It may sound weird, but guys are really more easy to model for that women. Sometimes women get grabby and hurt you and you have to pull back. The men seem to know what feels good and what hurts better than the women, even if the women have been married for a hundred years."

Ryan got up and went to the kitchen for some refreshments. I didn't follow him as I'd done before... I just sat in the big arm chair until my hardness finally went away.

From the kitchen he talked with a raised voice so I could hear. "You know another thing about the men, Jimmy... like this morning I played tennis with one of them... Tuesday mornings I play racquetball at the most exclusive place in town with another one. Most of the male customers seem to know that you'll be cool around their family so you act like a business associate and they take you to awesome places and give you big tips in the process. I get paid to play racquetball and tennis. I've been to Mazatlan, Hawaii, Palm Springs, and Dallas on trips for big pay so far. The women? Geez, man, when they leave Omar's they act like they never ever saw you before."

Ryan came back to the room. My mind was spinning from what had just happened. He brought some juice back and we drank in silence for about a half minute. "You act like you can handle this, Jimmy. I think you'll get used to the money, too. With your bod and that telephone pole you sprouted, you can make at least fifteen hun a week after about a month of building up your private showings... that is, if you're loose enough. Actually, if I wasn't so lazy, I could probably book about six to eight hundred more a week."

"What do you have to do in the private showings?", I asked. Ryan sat on the arm of the chair again and our legs brushed together for a moment. "Well, man, that's kind of up to you. Of course, in the private shows you're totally nude. The looser you get, the more you make. Most of the guys use some far out funwear and fancy cockrings and leather stuff that shows everything. I let the customer choose the stuff they want me to model, and then I let them put it on and take it off for me." "Do they ever, ah... you know...?" He interrupted. "Suck, or want to have sex?" "Yeah. That ever happen?" "Sure, man... all the time. You get anyone worked up enough and they'll want to do something like that."

It got quiet for a while and then I asked, "You let them?" Our eyes met again. "If I like the person, they're nice and clean, and I know they're gonna tip big, I certainly let them use their mouth. Everything depends. Sometimes I just jack off in front of them." I asked if it freaked him out. He laughed easily. "Shit, man... no, not anymore. First few times I had a hard time getting a hard on, even with a mouth on my dick. It's a fantasy most people have, dude. We're oral from birth, and after we get through sucking on tits it seems everyone wants to put other stuff in their mouths. I guess the customers like the private shows so much because they get some of their curiosities solved. Women aren't nearly as good at oral stuff as men. It's hard to get some of them to keep their teeth covered."

Again, it was quiet for about thirty seconds. "You ready to play model and turn on your customer, Jimmy, or are you starting to chicken out? Maybe that big money at the hardware store is looking better."

I took a deep breath and stood up. I gave the "let's go" signal. Ryan sat in the chair. "I'll be Mr. Smith, okay? Don't just follow what I did, man... think up stuff on your own. Just make it sexy and sell, sell, sell. Give it your best shot, Jimmy. You should be a super star!"

I began to move around in front of Ryan as if I was on stage. After a few moments I moved up close. I was really scared. "Mr. Smith... great to see you again. I thought of you when I put this on back in the dressing room. I'd like to see you wear one... it's real sexy." I moved closer to Ryan until our legs touched. "The fabric is like silk, sir... it's like you're not wearing anything and it feels really good... go ahead and touch it."

I put my knee on the arm of the chair just as Ryan had done. My fears were almost totally gone by then and I was into the act. Ryan's hand moved lightly over the material. "Oooh, I can feel your touch like I'm not wearing anything." He rubbed some more and my cock stirred a little. "The material is just as soft inside as it is outside, Mr. Smith. Go ahead and touch both sides." I held out the elastic as Ryan had done, and his fingers moved inside to touch the fabric... and me.

We were both having a problem with swelling. "Mr. Smith, you've really got the touch. Go ahead and feel how the pouch cups me and gives perfect support." Ryan's hand slipped further inside the pouch, his warm fingers pressed against my rising sword.

I got an idea. "Let me get closer so you can see and feel better, Mr. Smith." I put my other knee on the other arm rest, steadying my body by holding on to the backrest behind Ryan's head. "Now you can use both hands if you want to... see how the elastic fits between the legs... how the pouch holds my balls."

He was groping me with both hands and my cock was starting to push the little pouch out away from my body. "Ooh, you're touch feels so good I think I'm going to have a hard problem." Ryan looked up at me and chuckled. I stayed in character. "You know, Mr. Smith, if we could have a private showing together I wouldn't have to be so discrete. I could show you other things a lot more sexy than this... you could put anything on me that you wanted... or take it off, too."

My cock was now as hard as it could get, and it pushed the pouch so far away from my body that one of my balls fell out and just dangled below the pouch. Ryan's hand was gripping my cock now behind the fabric. "Oooh, Mr. Smith, that feels really great, but we shouldn't do that while others are around. If we met in private, anything like that would be okay."

I got up slowly, as Ryan had done, and slowly turned around. "I'd really like to see you get a few pouches like this, Mr. Smith. That's why I think you should see how it fits from the other side." I bent over, as Ryan's hands stroked my asscheeks. "Go ahead and feel how the elastic band goes down the crack. This is a very well designed posing strap... really comfortable."

Ryan's hot hand began sliding up and down my ass crack. "I showered and cleaned up real good before I came tonight, Mr. Smith, so if you want to touch more or look more closely and see how it fits, you won't be offended."

I backed up closer to Ryan and his finger moved over and around my rosebud for a moment before traveling down toward my balls. "God, Mr. Smith... you're a real turn on. I sure wish we had more time. My name's Jimmy, so if you want, set up a time that's convenient for you and we'll do a whole lot more, okay?" I looked between my legs to Ryan's face, past his upstanding rod. He nodded and smiled. I stood up, and he started clapping.

"God, you're terrific," Ryan said. "We'll have to design a new set of tents for your tentpole to hold up, but you'll be a real star." I sat on the arm of the chair as he had done and caught my breath for a moment.

I was so turned on I was almost on fire... and totally curious. "So, let's say I do that with Mr. Smith and he sets up a private modeling session. If I do this Omar's thing, it's going to be for money, so I'd want to do the private showings right away. What happens when Mr. Smith and I get together privately?" Ryan looked at me a moment. "You really want to know?" "Yes, I gotta know if I'm going to consider doing this." "Well... if you want, I'll be Mr. Smith and show you." I asked Ryan if he'd had Marcus show him how to do the private shows, too. He smiled. "Everything," he said, "almost exactly like today."

Inside of me I knew... I couldn't stop the training session at that point because I was way too worked up. I was also shocked at the scene and at myself. Deep inside, I knew I should run... but I couldn't stop what was happening. I needed to know where my hero would lead me. I sighed, "Yeah, Ryan... you better show me everything. If I'm gonna do this shit, I don't want to do it half way."

"Okay, man... but don't freak out, because if I'm going to show you I'm not going to cut any corners," Ryan said. "I'm gonna train you exactly like Marcus trained me." I agreed. "I want you to, man. I want to know the whole scene. I'd rather find out from someone I know and trust than from some old queer geezer who I'd be afraid of and couldn't say no to."

We went to Ryan's bedroom again. He pulled off his pouch, put it back in the drawer, and indicated I should put mine there too. Our erections had both died down to almost normal, except for that long, dangling fullness you have for a while afterward. Being naked was now no problem.

Ryan got a small suitcase out of the closet. "Come on out and we'll put this stuff on the couch and I'll show you what it is and how it all works." When we got to the couch, he opened the case and pulled out a small brochure of "funwear".

"First of all, Jimmy, let me set the scene. When you first get together with a customer for a private showing you should probably use one of the special rooms upstairs behind Omar's. It's safe there and you won't have any hassles. If you go to the new customer's house you never know exactly what the situation will be. I do about seventy-five percent of my first time private showings at Omar's. After the first time, it's almost always at their house or a hotel." "Do most of your customers repeat?", I asked. Ryan nodded. "Almost all of them. That's where the money gets really good and the scenes get farther out. Omar won't let a customer have a private showing unless he knows exactly who the person is so you really don't have anything to worry about. Omar weeds out the wierdo's, cops and undercover people. It's expensive to have a private show, so these are all very classy people. I've never been with a customer who was dirty or smelly, except for some smell of cigarettes maybe. So... you go to the showing with a little kit like this, and this catalog shows all of the things in the kit."

Ryan kept looking me over as he spoke, and looking me in the eye when he hit the high points. We were both still naked. "If you want, you can be Mr. Jones again and I'll show you the basics. Then, I'll be Mr. Smith and I'll play it pretty strong. I'll be as typical a horny customer as I know how. I'll do exactly what the customer would most likely do. If you want to go along with what I'll try, no problem. If you don't, be real gentle in stopping me so that you don't offend me... the customer. It's all diplomacy and salesmanship, and you've already showed you can do it great."

He seemed like he was getting in to the role of teacher. "Oh, yeah... one other thing. If you do the scene at Omar's, the host gets the customer in the room and comfortable before you get there. If the customer wants one, they're given a big silk robe and can be naked underneath, or they might want to stay dressed. It turns out about seventy-thirty for me... a few of them stay dressed, but most of them... the better built ones... get naked. The rooms have a couch, a chair, and a big soft rug, just like we've got here... so we can set the scene just like it would happen, okay? Oh, yeah... there's also a small bathroom that goes with each room with a shower big enough for two."

Ryan went back to the bedroom. A few minutes later he came back dressed in shorts and a tank top and brought out a robe for me to put on. After I got into the robe Ryan said, "You ready, Mr. Jones?" I nodded yes, so he picked up the little case, walked toward the kitchen, and then back to where I was sitting like he was making a stage entrance.

"Hi, Mr. Jones, great to see you again." He shook my hand and sat down on the couch about a foot from me. I thought Ryan seemed a little nervous. He said, "Geez, Mr. Jones, you're looking great. You been out in the sun?" "Yes, a little, Ryan." "Well, it looks terrific on you, Mr. Jones.... ah, do you mind if I call you Tom?" "No, that'd be fine, Ryan." He caught my eye and gave me a big smile. "God, I feel great, Tom. Just had a really good shower, and I brought some things I thought you'd like to see. Anything I've got with me I'd be glad to model for you, so don't hold back, okay? Let's make this a really great time."

He opened the case and got out the catalog. As he turned pages, he said, "See... togas, underwear, different kinds of small supporters, some leather stuff, some Tarzan-type animal print stuff, some toys, ben-wa balls, dildo's, cock rings, tasty lotions, you name it. Anything you see you'd like to try on me, or have me try on you... just say the word."

He handed me the catalog and moved to sit closer. There were very explicit drawings of how each item should be used or how they looked when worn, and some of them were very far out. I pointed to a thing called a "balls-up-porter", where the cock hung over outside of a little bag that held up the balls. "Yeah," Ryan said, "That's a great thing. If you wear it under your pants it makes you look like you got a bigger bulge. There's no strap between the legs to bind, either. You want me to try it on, Tom?" I nodded. "Great. Why don't you get my clothes off and put it on me."

He stood up in front of me, so I got up and began pulling off his tank top. "Ohh, geez, Tom... I forgot how good your touch felt." I ran my hands over his chest after getting his top off, and then I began pulling down his tight shorts. In a moment his cock sprang free and seemed already to be slightly expanded.

"You want to leave the robe on, Tom?" I shook my head and he reached over to take it off. Once again that Sunday afternoon I was naked together with my all-time jock hero. "God, Tom, you have a sexy body. It reminds me of that song... 'If I told you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?'" He ran his hands over my shoulders so I did the same to him. Lightly he pulled me toward him, and I followed the lead and we embraced. "You the kissing kind, Tom?" I guess I should have said "no", but I didn't. Instead, I nodded. We hugged, then he kissed my cheek and I kissed his... and then our mouths met.

Holy shit!!!

This was a very real training session and my cock quickly sprung to attention. I'd never kissed a guy before... even on the cheek. Ryan's cock was quickly rising and our spears began poking at each other. "Ummm, you're really special, Tom," Ryan said. Kissing had always been a turn-on to me, but this was something far greater. We held each other for a moment, hugging, kissing, and sword fighting with our upraised cocks.

Ryan gently pushed me back. "Tom, why not put that supporter on me and see how it looks. I'll get it out." He turned and bent to pull the garment out of the case, giving me a close-up view of his asshole. After a moment he turned and handed it to me. I had him step into it, and then... with a little difficulty because his seven and a half inch cudgel was not very bendable... I got it put in place. He moved around in front of me, turned, bent over and mooned me, and then turned around and faced me again, stepping close. "Check how it fits, Tom. It's a good bit. You should get some." I felt around the supporter and brushed often against the hard, upraised staff that stuck out of it. "Oooh, that feels good." I was supposed to be playing customer, so I fooled around some more, completely mesmerized by our little training session and the awesome body I was touching.

"I thought I noticed you looking at the dildo's in the catalog, Tom. One's rubbery and flexible... kind of my favorite. Should I get it out?" I nodded. Ryan got an flesh pink eight inch, rubber covered, cock shaped instrument out of the case along with a small bottle. "This one's great, Tom... very relaxing." "How would you use it, Ryan?"

It was an honest question and it just slipped out. Ryan smiled at me. "Oh, Tom, you devil. There are lots of places to rub it or put it, and you know where they are. You just want to try it, right?" I could hardly believe he wanted me to shove it in the only place I could think of. "Well, ah... Ryan... ah, I'm not sure..." He interrupted. "You didn't think that I'd like you trying it on me? Well... I'm open to anything if you go slow and you're careful, Tom. Just play around with it, and if you want to try putting it inside, use your fingers for a while first and put on some of this." Ryan reached into the case and handed me the small test bottle of "Motion Lotion". I took it from him and popped the lid open.

We both laid on the sft carpet on the floor facing each other. Ryan still had the balls-up-porter on, and both our cocks were hard as rocks. I noticed that even though his was about two inches shorter than my staff, it was thicker and had a lot more veins showing.

He showed me how to turn on the vibrating dildo, and then I ran it around his body a bit... over his nipples, and down toward his cock. "The only places you shouldn't try it when the vibrator is on is around your balls. Some people don't like it on the head of their cock either, Tom. Sometimes that can hurt." I ran it over his throbbing cockstem and down between his widespread legs. Ryan rolled toward me even more and we held each other as my right hand ran the dildo up and down his back and over his ass cheeks. Every time I got near his ass he'd moan and move a leg up over me so that he was spread open to my touch.

He kissed my cheek as we held each other, and then we kissed on the mouth again... clearly initiated by me. "Put some lube on your fingers and work it in back there if you want, Tom. Then the dildo will go in easy." He added, "I washed pretty deep inside when I showered." For some odd reason the whole idea of entering Ryan's asshole was an extremely big turn-on for me.

I poured out some very slippery oil into my hand and began to rub it up and down his asscrack, getting closer and closer to the hole. "Oooh, your finger feels really great, Tom. You really know how to touch. Go ahead and go inside... I know you want to." I don't know how he knew. Possibly it was my nine-plus incher pressing against his washboard stomach as we laid together, or possibly it was the total attention I was giving the project. No matter which, he certainly was right... I wanted to.

I said nothing. I just moved my slippery finger to the target and began a light pressure. Almost instantly, it slipped in. "Oh, geez... that's wild, Tom," Ryan said. We lay together in each others arms for a while... his hands running over my overheated body and my finger probing inside his rectum. "If you use two fingers and get it real slippery, you can use the dildo easily." In less than a minute I had two fingers inside the rectum of my high school sports hero. I'd never done anything like it before, but it was so exciting to me that my cock was leaking cum on Ryan's stomach.

"You can go ahead and use the dildo if you want, Jimmy." I picked up the rubber shaft and pressed in to the spot my fingers had just vacated. His body quivered against mine as the instrument slipped in. "Oh, God," he breathed against my ear. Slowly I ran the gadget further up his tight asshole, moving it around and doing what I felt would feel good to him. We clung to each other with his fingers stroking up and down my asscrack as I continued to prod him. I don't know what he was feeling, but I was almost about to cum.

"Jimmy... maybe we better get on to some other stuff in the catalog before something explodes, okay?" I slowly pulled the rubber cock from his slippery channel and we parted.

Ryan got up, so I followed. "Okay, Jimmy... you did great as the customer... now want to be the model?" I really needed to go to the bathroom and get rid of a load, but that was probably what was making me get deeper and deeper into the training with my hero. "Yeah, Ryan... I'm ready."

There was no sense in me trying to act like I was not personally involved at that point. I knew that both Ryan and I were doing something much more than just having a training session for Omar's.

Ryan pulled off the sexy supporter and put it back in the case. He reached for the robe and put it on. "I'm going to be Mr. Smith, Jimmy, and I'm going to play the ultimate horny customer." He looked at the clock. "We've got time to do the hour and a half full private show, so let's make this just like a real one, okay?" "Sure... that's the way I'll learn best," I said.

I guess that I'd lost all reason. What was happening with my hero was clearly queer stuff but I had no thought of stopping. Also... for some odd reason Ryan's cock had wilted to almost normal but I was still totally hard. Ryan suggested that I go in the bathroom and put on my tank top and tennis shorts, and as I was about to leave he handed me the small suitcase. "When you come back I'll be your young businessman customer, Mr. Tom Smith, for the next hour and a half. Let's play it as we have been until the time is up, okay?"

I got myself back together, brushed my hair into place, and put on the shorts and tank top. My heart was racing again. I'm sure it was not only because of the wild things that had already happened that Sunday afternoon, but also in expectation of what was next. I sensed that "Mr. Tom Smith" was going to be a pretty wild "customer".

I took a deep breath, adjusted my now softened cock in the tight shorts, picked up the samples case, and walked out of the bathroom. When I got to the opening for the living room where Ryan was, I knocked on the wall. "Who is it?", he asked. "It's Jimmy, the Omar's model." "Come on in." He got up from the chair and came to meet me and shake my hand as I entered the room. "Jimmy, you doll... great to see you." "Hi, Mr. Smith... you're looking great... I'm glad to see you." "Come and take the load off, Jimmy... I just got out a bottle of champagne and some glasses." He turned to me. "Here, let me take that case... and call me Tom or Tommy, okay? That Mr. Smith stuff sounds so formal."

He had indeed gotten out some champagne and two glasses while I was in the bathroom, and we sat together on the chair... Ryan in the seat and me on the arm... and he toasted me and the success of our little "party" together.

"God, Jimmy... I'm sooo glad to see you. I've been dreaming about that big cock of yours ever since I saw you model at Omar's lounge last week." Ryan sounded a little strange... almost a little queer. "I could hardly wait to get together with you too, Tommy. I brought all kinds of stuff you might be interested in." He reached for my shorts and massaged my cock through the thin material. I jumped at first, and almost pulled away. "You did bring something I'm very interested in, Jimmy."

I opened the case and pulled out the catalog. "Well, Tommy... we could get started by modeling some of this stuff."

Ryan took the catalog from me and started leafing through it. "Oooh, a leather cock ring... that sure looks sexy," he said with that same affectation. "Want me to get it out and you can put it on me, Tommy?" "Yes, Jimmy... let's start with that." I got the leather ring out of the case. "I guess we should really start with you taking these things off me, Tom." "De-lighted." We stood and Ryan began taking my tank top off. "Oh my, you're even more beautiful than I remembered," he exclaimed. He put his hands inside the edges of my shorts at the hips and pushed them slowly to the floor. "God, Jimmy... you are a prize!" "Thanks, Tommy... you're spectacular, too."

As soon as he had my shorts off of me he started touching my body... over my stomach, over my hips, down my legs, and finally brushing my cock and balls. Ryan sat on the chair in front of me, still fingering my flaccid penis. "God damn, child... how big does this fucker get?" "Well... if you want you can measure. A little over nine, I think." "Oooh, oooh," he exclaimed.

He continued fondling me and I began to quickly expand. "Want to try the leather ring, Tommy... here it is." He took it from me and started putting it on. By the time he had finished fumbling and fondling to get it snapped in place I was fully hard, with my pointer just inches from his face. "Holy shit, Jimmy... I died and went to heaven!"

He sat back down in the chair and pulled me in front of him. He touched and fondled every hot spot I ever knew there was on my body in the next few minutes. "I can't believe this thing you've got here, Jimmy... it's the best all day sucker I've ever seen. Fuck, it's like an all-year sucker."

Ryan bent forward and put his lips to the tip of my cock. I was totally surprised that my old sports hero would do that, even if the script called for it. His robe fell open and I was surprised to see he was still soft. He licked my cockhead and little electric shock waves raced through my body. "Holy shit," I exclaimed. He started licking more and more, and soon his hot lips slipped over the bulbous head. He sucked the whole head for about a minute, his tongue swirling around and around the tender membrane. Then, he took his mouth away from it.

"Jimmy, baby... put a knee up on each arm of the chair." I did, and it put my groin right in front of Ryan's handsome face. I was spread wide in front of him, and one of his hands began searching between my legs... over my balls and up my asscrack. "I'm gonna make you feel wild, Jimmy. You're gonna think old Tommy is the best cocksucker on the whole damn planet."

His lips returned to the tip of my turgid staff. His other hand held the base of the lengthy shaft as he once again began licking and sucking the inflamed cap of my long stem. With the cockring holding both my cock and balls up and out, it seemed like I'd grown beyond the advertised nine-plus. His lips moved down the stalk, his tongue swirled round and round, and his hands worked over my balls, my asscrack, a finger rimming my rosebud, and down my thighs and over my sensitive lower stomach at the base of my root.

My hands held the back of the chair as I looked down and watched Ryan work. I noticed his own staff was still not fully hard. I didn't have time to wonder why because of the unbelievable feelings his hands and mouth were creating. "Oh, God, Tommy... I can't believe how it feels."

I knew no girl had ever worked me over like this. Every time I felt an explosion was about to happen, Ryan used his hand to do the squeeze play on my schlong and held it until he knew it was safe to begin again. After that happened about three times, the sensations became so intense that when he began working me over again I almost screamed for release. "Oh, shit, Tommy... I can't stand it... it's too wild... geez... oh, shit... I gotta cum... holy shit..." His hands flew over my body, probing my asshole with one slippery finger, pumping my bursting stem, fondling my balls, holding my buns with one hand.

His mouth moved up and down my throbbing pole until I felt the tip slam against his throat. Shit, man... this had to be it! I was about to go wild!

And then, it happened! I tried to pull out, and I warned him. "Johnny, I'm... Johnny, look out... I'm gonna cum... I can't hold it... Rye... I'm serious..." He continued feverishly sucking as he held me to his mouth by his hands on my asscheeks. I moaned... I yelled some more... and then, I blew. Wad after wad of my steaming juice flew down Ryan's throat as he continued to suck.

I partially collapsed on his shoulders as his mouth continued to work over my super-sensitized cockhead. No experience in my life had ever come close to the intensity of that moment. All parts of my body except one were limp from the hours of build up and the final, huge release. Ryan licked me clean, and his hands continued to roam over the hot spots on my spent body.

After a few moments Ryan lifted me up and slid with me to the carpet, holding me so that I would land under him. His robe was open, his cock was hard now, and he spread himself out over me and wordlessly rubbed my awakening body with his whole torso. We were cock to cock, chest to chest, and face to face, kissing and hugging. My hands slipped under the open robe and began to massage up and down his back and over his tight buns.

My cock never began to soften after the huge explosion, and now it was throbbing again as Ryan's washboard stomach and cock was sliding back and forth against it. We kissed as passionately as I'd ever kissed a girl, which really surprised me afterward. I had never thought I'd be able to handle touching another man's lips with mine.

Ryan began to lick my face, and then moved to my neck. My hands found his tender back door entrance, still slippery from the prior probings I'd given it with the lube. I moved a finger in a bit, and I felt Ryan grind his pelvis against mine in reaction to the feelings. I remembered what was supposed to be happening. "Oh, God, Tommy... you make me feel soooo good."

He raised up enough to begin licking my chest. His lips found my nipples, and soon they were roaring hard as his teeth nibbled and he licked. We rolled to our sides, and he again made it easy for me to explore his hot, slippery asshole.

We rolled around in our building passions, him licking, kissing, and fondling my spear... me nibbling and kissing as my fingers massaged his asshole and his engorged harpoon. We were both moaning and groaning a lot, and breathing hard. "Jimmy... if you can reach your case, get some more of that slippery stuff." I reached the little bottle and put some in both of our hands. "Use it back there, stud. You're goin' riding in a minute, and you need to get the chute prepared." He spread the stuff from his fingers to my randy cock and massaged it in until I was writhing in ecstasy. Then we rolled so that he was again on top.

Ryan spread his muscular legs to straddle my stomach and knelt above me. He reached behind him and began again to stroke and lube my hardness. I was using two fingers on his hot, slippery entry. He backed up a bit as he straddled my body. I felt my cockhead brush against my fingers that probed his hot hole. "Use your cock now, Jimmy. Put it where your fingers are." I looked at Ryan questioningly. "You sure, Rye... ah, Tommy?" He looked down at me and smiled. "Why you suppose I called this meeting, boy?"

I slipped my fingers from Ryan's body and his hand held my slippery cock. "Let's go easy, Jimmy... it's bigger'n that dildo! I want to take the whole thing, but nice and slow." He guided my cocktip to his tiny entrance, and it lay pressed there for a few seconds. Then he settled back more against my pulsating sword.

My hands went to his asscheeks as if to guide the impalement. The fighting muscle gave way and the head popped inside the hot, tight cavern. "Ooof," escaped his lips. He seemed to be pulling me deeper, so I guessed the pain wasn't too bad. God, the feeling of having my palpitating cock in that tightly constricted, steaming channel was absolutely unbelievable.

Ryan began to settle back more and more on my hard love muscle. My hands began to stroke him from his asscheeks up his back. I felt his balls touch my stomach and soon I knew he'd completely engulfed me inside his burning passage. Slowly be began to rock up and down... short strokes at first, and then longer and longer ones until little more than the head was inside of him before he pressed all the way back down. Ryan groaned as I filled his cavern with my meat, and his head began to bob as he started riding my intruder more quickly... almost like he was riding a bucking steer.

I'd almost forgotten that this was all a charade. When it came back to me I started telling "Tommy" how awesome and wonderful the feelings were. Fuck, man... I wasn't lying. I was deciding that a well-muscled asshole with an educated sphincter will beat the tightest pussy in the world for feelings... and this was certainly a well-muscled ass working me over.

I found his half-hard cock and began to stroke it in time with his movements. It hardened a bit in my hands, and then... without much notice... Ryan's body began to shake, he stopped his movements and just sat on my throbbing cock, and then cum started flying all over me from his spongy hardness. Wads of his hot juices flew everywhere... all over my chest and stomach, and some landed up on my cheek. Watching Ryan have a violent orgasm was really wild. Every muscle of his awesome body was flexing in a most erotic manner as his cock oozed its final drops. Even though I'd blown my own wad only minutes before, I could feel the excitement begin to build deep in my groin.

Without disconnecting or missing much of a beat we rolled to our sides. My waist was still clasped between his legs, but now, as Ryan began again to slide his ass up and down on my cock, it was easier to meet his movements with thrusts of my own. After a few moments we rolled so that I was on top, and he moved his legs so that they'd be over my shoulders.

"Fuck me, Jimmy... you're in control now, so go for it." I began to thrust steady strokes nine and a half inches deep into the ass of my hero. We were both sweating. Ryan's hands were now on my asscheeks, pulling me into him with a powerful tug on each downstroke.

Our bodies were now slamming together... sweat was pouring from us... and the air was turning blue with the heavy language of a really good fuck.

"God, Jimmy... fuck me, man... ram that piston deeper." "Holy shit, Tommy, I've never felt anything this fucking good before." "Slam it in, fucker. Fill my hot ass." And then, my tune changed. "Oh, God... I'm gonna cum." "Do it man... give me your load." Slam, slam, slam.

I was pumping my piston into Ryan as fast as my hard, athletic body could move... aided by the hard pulls from his hands gripping my asscheeks on each downstroke. My boiling caldron of cum quickly spilled over... "OOOHHH!" It was like I was driving each shot of my man-juice deep into his gut with every stroke. His sphincter squeezed the juices from my spewing snake as our violent movements reached their zenith.

Again, I collapsed on top of Ryan, gasping for air. We stayed connected as he lowered his legs from my chest and we rolled to our sides. We just laid in each others arms, holding each other and kissing... our tongues slipping lightly in and out of each others mouth. It must have taken us at least ten minutes to calm down and get our breathing back to normal.

Slowly, my still half-erected love muscle was slipping from it's deepest moorings inside my hero. When we talked with each other it was still in our model and customer characters. "Whew, Tommy. I've never felt anything like that before." "Same here, Jimmy. I think you've probed deeper than anyone has gone before," Ryan said, smiling. We adjusted positions and my cock finally slipped out. After a few minutes Ryan suggested we shower together.

We continued the charade, each washing the other both inside and out... exploring each other as deeply as our fingers would allow. I was shocked to discover how erotic Ryan's probings of my asshole could be. Nobody had ever rummaged around in my asshole before... except for me on a couple of curious occasions a few years back.

We still talked with each other as "Jimmy" and "Tom", but I knew that the tremendous eroticism was coming because it was Ryan's awesome body that I was playing with. I never ceased having a full erection throughout the showering process.

Before we got out of the shower, as we were rinsing, Ryan got out baby oil and we rubbed it all over each other. When we dried each other afterward with the big towels our bodies gleamed with their oily film. God, what a sight we made in the huge, full wall bathroom mirror.

We went back to the living room floor and laid together hugging and kissing some more. My cock felt like it would burst. It still wouldn't go down, even though Ryan would lose his erection if I wasn't stimulating him.

Then a beeping watch alarm went off on the table nearby. Ryan stopped kissing, pulled back a little from me and smiled. "Okay, Jimmy... now I'm Ryan again." He moved slightly away. "I hope it wasn't too much work in the last ninety minutes. You passed the test with flying colors."

Ryan had a gleam in his eye as he continued. "God, dude... I'm amazed at how well you could act for such a long period of time. For being shocked, and for not being interested in any of this, you had one hell-of-a huge hard on for almost the entire time you were with 'Johnny'."

What could I say? I couldn't think of anything that would defend myself so I just laid there next to him, my fingers still idly running over his chest in an absent-minded gesture.

We laid on the padded carpet together, inches apart, still naked, and talked for another hour. Ryan said that Marcus had "trained" him in the same way he had just worked with me. Marcus had wanted him to experience the ultimate thing that could happen with a customer so that he would never be shocked and could always know what he would and wouldn't do. "Actually, I've been invaded by a real cock only once before, Jimmy... almost a year ago. I was curious after my wonderful experience with screwing Marcus, knowing that he enjoyed it a lot, and then trying out some dildo's. So... one night I let a very rich guy I'd known for a while and done three private shows for put on a nice thick condom and plow my ass for a quick five hundred. He's the guy that just took me to Hawaii for five days for five hundred a day."

Ryan paused and looked at me, thinking. He continued, "I plowed him a few times on the trip but he never nailed me again. Actually, I was worried with you because you're a couple of inches bigger and thicker than he was. I've heard that everything on the human body can stretch a lot, and damn, it really does!" He paused, looked at me and then smiled. "I'm surprised that I felt almost no pain. It was quite an experience."

We talked a lot about what was and was not queer. Ryan said it was all business to him and that labels didn't matter any more, since he still loved women. He got up on an elbow and looked me in the eye. "Jimmy... If you can make big bucks and have this much fun, who cares what people think? I've never in my life experienced more touching and caring than I have since I went to work at Omar's. Handsome, rich men and women who need some love and attention pay me to give it to them, and they give it right back. Almost all of them really appreciate what I give them, too... and there's no strings attached. It's been awesome! Why get all hung up and act like it's the pits? I never let anything happen I don't want to happen. Nobody will find out the full truth anyway. The customers won't tell. It could ruin their reputations. So... people can only suspect what's going on. The only one's that really know what's happening are us... you and me."

After our long and very honest discussion, I knew the training was over and that it was time to leave. Even though the charade was over we hugged each other hard and I thanked Ryan for everything (more than he knew) before I left.

And so, I joined the modeling staff at Omar's. I didn't quit the hardware store right away because I wanted to be sure I could handle it. The first night on stage was pure terror for me, but the customers seemed to love me and Ryan said my panic didn't show. By the third day I was pretty much over my fright and starting to really pour on the charm with the customers. The stage shows were the hardest for me, but the runway shows in the back room were exciting and a snap. I was a big hit with the customers and got a lot of attention the first few nights. I began to really like the touching and the attention. Omar seemed really happy with me... especially since he was about three models short at the moment and business was really booming.

I booked one private show that first week, or rather I should say... Ryan and Omar booked it for me. Because Ryan knew the customer, I did it at the guy's multi-million dollar home in Brentwood.

John Robert was a very wealthy, grey haired businessman of about sixty years. He was the major stockholder in many major corporations according to Ryan. He was also one of the few customers that was openly homosexual and had broken up with a live-in boyfriend about six months before. Ryan had been his well paid escape from the sadness he'd been experiencing over the loss of a twenty year relationship. Rye wanted me to get involved because he thought the guy was falling in love with him.

Well... John Robert loved me, too, and he also loved my body that night for over two hours. He licked and sucked me in every conceivable place and in every way, draining my gonads twice in the process. At his request I preened and posed for him and he complimented me a lot. I even fondled his six inch prick for a few seconds and was rewarded with a handful of his juice. As I said, I'd delivered two loads of my own to his hot mouth during the evening. It had all felt really terrific. When I left I was four hundred and twenty dollars richer.

The next morning I walked in to Mr. Johnson's cluttered hardware store office, handed him my keys... and quit!

Business boomed at Omar's. Ryan and I became the absolute best of friends. Ryan said that one of the big disadvantages of working at Omar's was that it was hard to keep a girlfriend. (They didn't understand the business, he said.) I didn't have a steady at that time, either, so Ryan's companionship fulfilled a lot of my needs. Also, handsome black Marcus became really close and often joined Ryan and me for a just-before-work restaurant dinner whenever he had a chance.

I made over nine hundred dollars my first week on the job. Pretty hefty, after a year of taking home one hundred and fifty-six a week! Omar was thrilled with me, since he often said he'd make money if we did.

Life totally changed! I stopped trying to cook and ate all of my meals out because I always had a roll of bills in my pocket. I also started a very fast growing savings account. I had renewed energy at the gym to keep my body beautiful and tanned an extra half-hour a day.

At the end of my third week at Omar's I bought a two year old bright red Camaro in good condition. They gave me four hundred for the old Toyota. Omar gave me some terrific sports clothes. Ryan and Marcus recommended him, so I even started to pay a guy to carefully trim my body hair and shave my cock and balls once a week. Even that was a very sensual experience.

I laid awake almost all of one night thinking about my new life. I wasn't dating, but I wasn't missing it either. I guessed it was because I was dumping at least two loads a day and getting lots of attention.

Ryan was right. Modeling for women wasn't nearly as financially rewarding as it was doing shows for men. The women were all rich, and most were nice, but the males treated the models like fine china. The women acted like they wanted to get away when the show was over. The guys talked about booking again, and made offers of trips and other things. A private show for a woman was always a one time experience. A guy could easily become a weekly or twice monthly regular (at $150 to $250 or more per session). Where a woman might tip a one or a five at the "chair shows"... the males used tens, twenties, and sometimes even fifties. I was surprised to discover that probably more than half of the men were married and went home to their wife and kids after the show. Often, private shows at home were timed for when the wife and kids were on a trip. Many of my "private shows" were staged in the rooms of Los Angeles' finest hotels.

It was all like a dream! I got along great with all the other models. We spent a lot of time together in the little dressing room and shower... bare ass naked, oiling and moisturizing each other and being very caring. It was becoming very erotic for me to touch the other awesome bodies and I began even having troubling dreams about having experiences with other guys... especially Ryan and Marcus.

Ryan called me at home with a proposition one day. He said he'd done a few "dual" shows with Marcus for a customer in Malibu, but Marcus was tied up and he'd rather do it with me than with Todd or Jeremy. I asked what was involved. He said we just had to put on a "love act" since the customer only watched and didn't get involved. "Kind of what we did the night I trained you, Jimmy."

It was wild! The customer sat in a chair, watched and jacked off for over two hours while Ryan and I hugged, kissed, caressed, fondled, licked, sucked and finally fucked each other. I licked and fondled Ryan everywhere, got my first taste of another guy's high protein cum, and again plowed Ryan's ass for a very long time. I walked out of that huge house six hundred dollars richer. Of course, Ryan got six hundred, too. (That's six hundred for each on top of what Omar got for the booking!)

On a whim Ryan called Marcus on his car phone... car phone to car phone. (I'd never even dreamed of a car phone.) Marcus had just finished his gig, too, so the three of us met for a midnight supper at a famous Hollywood coffee shop. Marcus kidded about us all having a three-some sometime soon. Ryan looked at me, then at Marcus, and said, "It'll happen, you guys. Sometime soon somebody will want that." Marcus grinned, "I can hardly wait!"

Less than a month later, after a lot of conversation about it between us, I moved in to Ryan's pad and his bed. It was unbelievable! Dumb old Jimmy Richey, living in the marina in a very beautiful high rise apartment with my all-time jock hero and now... all-time best friend. We lounged together naked... talking by the hour and reasoning with each other like I'd never had the chance to do before with anyone else. We slept together naked and, from time to time, we fondled, sucked, and occasionally even fucked. Sometimes one of us would have a "sleepover" with a customer and be gone for the night. Those times were very lonely.

One day two very rich customers in Bel Air called Omar and set up our little three-way show. It was strange. They specifically asked for the three of us. I knew about it for about a week before it happened. At first I was a little scared, but then I began to look forward to whatever experiences I'd have with my handsome black friend.

We're doing that show tonight!

-0-

There are quite a few of my "First Encounters of a Close Kind" stories in the Nifty archives. Look under "Miscellaneous," then "Prolific Authors," and then scroll down the alphabetical list to me, Bill Fore. Let me know if you like (or don't like) these stories. Your comments are fun to read. My E-mail address is Bill Fore at: b4@earthlink.net