4
A few days later, Dunc asked me if I was up for doing some shots of some of his tattoo designs. No problem. There were three guys that he'd asked, he told me, and he'd arrange for them to come round the next evening.
I needed to set up a backdrop, so I got Alan to come over and hang one wall in the playroom with crimson velvet curtains, and the opposite wall with a plain white screen. We moved some strong lighting into approximate position and taped down the power cables to avoid accidents. He helped me to dismantle the sling and hanging chains. No point in putting the punters off. When I explained why I wanted the curtains, Alan started getting randy, and we ended up spending the rest of his time on the bed.
Duncan brought the three lads round just after he closed the shop at six o'clock. They were all students at the Art College, and were eager to earn a bit of extra money. Dunc was paying them for the tattoo pics, and had promised to reimburse me if I had to pay them more for some more `artistic' shots. He was fannying about like an old hen when they arrived. It was unlike him and it got on my wick. I told him to piss off and leave us to it. As he left, I gave him a hug and a big wink to indicate that there were no hard feelings -- except in my groin.
I'd sorted out who was who by this time, and organised how we were going to do the shoot. Andy was blond, long and thin with an aquiline nose. Dressed neatly but not flashily. Kieran had bright ginger hair cut in a No.2. grade. He was dressed in bleached jeans and black boots and looked quite tough. Brian was a sweetie. He looked younger than the others, although they were all final year students. I didn't think that he'd need to shave very often. He had a good build, and two gorgeous dimples in his cheeks and a ready grin.
The lads weren't too keen on the idea of getting any of their kit off together, so we agreed that I'd do them one at a time. Andy said he couldn't stay long, so we left the other two in the kitchen drinking lager and listening to some music, while I took the first lamb to the slaughter.
Duncan hadn't told me anything about the tattoos each of these lads had got. Just that he wanted some good clear shots to go in his catalogue, preferably without faces to save the blushes of the guys when potential customers were looking at designs. If I got lucky in persuading them into more candid shots, he would have a market for them through contacts of Pavel up in south London.
In the cellar, I asked Andy to tell me about his tattoos, so I could get some idea of the best way to pose him. He's got a star-burst across his shoulders and upper back, and an angular abstract design on one hip that spread across here - and he gestured to his lower abdomen. Right. The back and shoulders first.
I got him to slip off his shirt and stand facing the white screen. A couple of shots of him half length, and then closer shots of the actual artwork. Nice clean muscle-lines, but not too bulky. No moles, no hair and no spots. Just a dozen or so black outlined stars across the flesh. I was close enough to smell the citrus soap and deodorant that he used. As we worked, I got him talking about his plans for the evening. He was meeting a group of other students for a drink, and was hoping to get off with a girl called Jenny.
Matter of factly, I suggested that he take off his trousers. He turned towards me. And I was surprised not to be able to see any evidence of the tattoo that he had said `spread across here' above his waistline. He bent over, the bones in his spine showing neatly in a line down his back. He was unfastening his shoes. I told him to hold it there and took a couple of quick snaps. As he unsnapped the buttons of his fly, I clicked the camera again.
"'Ere! That's not on. You're meant to be taking pics of my tattoos not the rest of me."
I explained that the way the light and shadows fell across him made an interesting composition, and that I wouldn't be showing the shots to anyone, just keeping them in my portfolio.
"Am I gonna get paid extra then?" he asked with a leer.
"Sure," I said, "Just depends how many I take and what of." He nodded understanding, and I was sure he knew exactly what I meant.
Assuming that I now had permission for some photos suitable for Pavel, I suggested that Andy push his trousers down a little bit. He did and stood there defiantly staring at the camera erotically, with one hand half-inside his open fly. Then he took the trousers off and folded them neatly over a chair.
He stood there in his tight white briefs. I'd only been bullshitting earlier when I talked about light and shade, but his thinness did actually make him an interesting subject, quite apart from his male attraction. There was just a small scattering of hair round his nipples and on his calves. He stood there with one elegant foot resting on top of the other and one hip thrust forward. I assessed the jagged black and white abstraction running from under his boxers to just above the right knee.
A few more shots to get the detail of the lower reaches of the tattoo. And then it was time for him to drop the covering so that I could see the rest of his skin art. The lightning flashes of the ink stabbed across him between his cock and his belly button. I stepped back to get the full length of the tattoo in focus. Then in close to get the abdominal detail, I thought.
"I want to get in close," I said. "I'd like to get a profile view of that belly button ring."
The perfectly flat stomach had a nice green ring sticking out from the navel, a really nice line against the sharpness of his pelvis. I crouched and focussed the zoom lens. As I pressed the shutter release, I noticed that Andy's dick was starting to unfurl. As I stood up, he grabbed his penis and waved it a bit, and it grew steadily.
"Yeah. I thought you'd like that," he said as I urgently took another couple of frames. "But I'll have to come back another time for you to concentrate on it. I'm late already, and Jenny'll be ready for some of this. He gave his growing hard-on a last loving caress, and reached for his clothing.
Well, at least there would be another day.
"How much do you reckon I owe you?" I questioned.
He thought for a moment,
"Dunc's giving me £15, and you took more for him than for you, but yours were more personal like. Say £25."
No sweat, I thought; Duncan will make more than that back from Pavel, and I paid him.
I let him out into the street, and went back across the courtyard to the kitchen. Cute Brian was flicking through the sports section of the paper, and Kieran was definitely suffering from attitude. He had an angry nature to go with the angry red of his hair.
"That took you long enough," he stated as he clumped down the stairs behind me. "Right. Where do you want me?"
He flopped onto the chair that Andy had dumped his clothes on and sat with his legs splayed. An angry young man all right, but with a nice package swelling out the front of those bleached jeans.
He started unbuttoning his shirt, while I fiddled with the camera. Unobtrusively, I managed to get a couple of shots of him. The shirt was dropped carelessly on the floor, and I decided to let him stay where he was, even though the red of the curtain clashed strongly with his hair. But it contrasted beautifully with the chalky white of his typical red-head's skin. Probably has a pink willy and pubes, too, I thought dismissively. Get this over and done with.
I was puzzled. No tattoo to be seen on his front or upper arms. Nice big biceps though. Strange he hadn't adorned them since he was into ink.
"On your legs then, is it?" I asked bluntly.
"Nah. On me back innit." And he stood and turned round before sitting down again astride the chair and facing its back. Cute bubblebut in those jeans, too, I noticed. Great. We were off. Quickly, I took the required frames of the Celtic patterned multicoloured cross on his back and asked if he'd got any other tatts that I was supposed to record.
"Nah, but Dunc said to ask you if you'd mind doing a couple of shots of me piercin'. If yer don't mind."
Kieran's piercing wasn't visible above the collar; indeed, I couldn't see it with his shirt off. That could only mean one thing . . .
"Um. Where is it then?" I asked naively.
"In me dick, innit? Wanna see?"
He stood and turned round to face me again. OK, I thought Dunc's a devious bastard, but I'll sort it out with him later.
"I'll 'ave to take me boots off though, cos me jeans are that tight I can't just shove 'em down a bit," he explained. Taking the boots off provided me with a few more secretive shots of the lad. And it took an age, as he carefully loosened the laces in each and every one of the eyeholes that led up the front of his boots to just below the knee. More shots were taken as he wriggled around to ease the tight jeans off his sturdy thighs and bulky calves. As I had thought. No hair on his legs at all. Like many people of his colouring he had a little underarm hair and that was it. Well fit, though.
He dropped his tight underpants and kicked them to one side -- click, click - and then just stood there, legs spread and hands on his hips.
"Wha' d'you think?" he asked proudly.
I was confused. I couldn't see a piercing. And I was wrong about the pubes, he got dark red curls trimmed back to just a little patch above his pride and joy.
He saw my confusion and laughed. Almost giggled, in total contrast with his angry attitude earlier, which had been shed with his clothes.
"'Ere," he said, taking his white, white flaccid member between thumb and forefinger and pulled back his loose foreskin to reveal an almost purple helmet.
It wasn't a Prince Albert, that ring that goes down the piss slit and comes through beside the joy-string. It wasn't an ampallang, one of those excessive bar jobs that pass through from side to side of the glans, just showing two studs when erect, like Kyle had. No. It was a dinky mauve ring that went through the frenulum, the joy-string, from side to side, right where the helmet met the shaft. I bet that caused some nice friction.
He sat down on the chair again and spread those meaty thighs. His balls were quite small and were riding high in their bag, which meant I could see right up to his tight rosebud anal pucker. He flopped his peeled helmet back on to his belly and waited. I stepped in and raised the camera. My hands were a bit unsteady, and he noticed.
"Can rest yer elbows on me legs, like," he suggested. Nice thought, so I did. A couple of clicks, and the job was done, as I told him.
"I fort you might want a couple of action shots," he said. "It's summat or nuffink when it's just 'angin' there."
Sure enough, his cock was beginning to swell. Flaccid, it was just over four inches I suppose, and not very thick.
Erect, it was just on six inches, so about average, but very broad seen full face and quite narrow seen in profile. The ring looked surprisingly good --nibbleable -- against his engorged dickhead. I took pictures from the side and in front. Then we really were done, and I set the camera down and got to my feet. That's when the major surprise came.
"Have to toss this off," he said suiting his actions to the words. "I'll never get them jeans back on otherwise. And you might as well use the camera, like yer did when I wasn't noticin' like."
Shit! Caught in the act as a perv, but he didn't mind!
His action was jerky, all from the forearm, and full handed, with just his helmet poking out of his fist. It soon became shiny with dick juice, but he was very slow reaching orgasm.
"Sorry bart this," he grunted. "Dunno wot's slowin' me down. Wujja mind holdin' me balls for me?"
Mind? Back on my knees, I reached forward and touched his scrotum, fondling the orbs within. With the other hand, I continued to hold the camera. I didn't want to miss the cum-shot when it came, but didn't take any pics that might have my hand in view.
Soon he was grunting with anticipation. I slipped a finger under his sac and pressed against his perineum and tickled his hole. Recently shaved by the feel. That did the job and as his knees began to tremble with the onset of orgasm, I drew back and waited with camera ready. Quickfire, I took a dozen shots as his cum leaped out past the bouncing mauve ring and splatted thickly onto his contracted belly. Hopefully at least one of them would catch some cum in mid-flight.
He shut his eyes and just massaged slowly as he came down from the high of his ecstasy. A couple more shots of that. I pulled a tissue out of my shirt pocket and offered it for mopping up, but Kieran shrugged and just smeared it across his belly with a broad palm.
"Cum smells better'n that pouffy scent of Andy's." He wriggled back into his jeans and shirt as I negotiated payment with him for the `extras' he had provided. Another surprise.
"Don't want nuffink," he said, "Dunc's paid me, 'n' I got off didn't I?" He hadn't put his briefs back on when getting dressed.
"Usually go commando," he boasted. "Only wore 'em for you." And he chucked them at me. I caught the smell of fresh boy sweat and randy crutch, and felt a bit of dampness on the front. The little bastard had known exactly what he was getting into, and had been turned on by it. I opened the toy cupboard and chucked his pants inside for later investigation.
Back in the kitchen, Kieran spoke to Brian, "Yer don't need me to 'ang about, do yer? I wanna pint before last orders." With a wink and a "See yer later," he was off out the door.
I apologized to the remaining cutie, and led the way down the stairs. He was smiling nervously, the dimples deepening in his youthful cheeks. His head bent forward bashfully, and the dark hair swept aside from his very straight parting swung across, shielding his eyes.
"I'm a bit nervous about this," he explained. "I was when Duncan did my tattoo as well. I hope you don't mind." Just the one tatt then.
I got him another can of lager and just talked as I made unnecessary adjustments to the furniture, the red curtain and the screen. I wasn't sure what the tattoo was, but given his simplicity, I wondered if it was a heart on his shoulder with the word Mum inscribed underneath. I ought to have known not to prejudge people after the recent experience with Kieran.
"You'd better show me your tattoo," I hinted, still expecting him to pull up the short sleeve of his shirt.
He didn't. He blushed and hesitated.
"It's not an issue. Just show me, I've seen it all before. I'm not going to laugh at you." He hesitated some more.
"You might," he said. I shook my head from side to side.
Brian turned away from me and the movement of his arms indicated that he was undoing his flies. He turned back to me with a face as red as the hair on Kieran's head. Sticking out from his fly was a flaccid cock with a blue and green curly pattern tattooed right round the shaft, in a band about an inch wide.
"I don't think I can get a decent angle on it with your trousers in place," I pointed out. "Every time you move, about half of the tattoo is hidden by your zip." Reluctantly, Brian started to loosen his waistband.
"Now I'm sure you're going to laugh," he muttered. Why the insecurity? Well, I thought the reason was apparent, as his trousers slid down to his knees and he pulled his shirt up out of the way.
Although his legs were very hairy, there wasn't a single hair to be seen at the base of his cock or round his balls. Shaven. Shrivelled up as it was at the moment, it looked like the equipment of a lad rather than a man, and I was almost ashamed to be looking at it. It turned out that wasn't the thing that Brian had thought I would find amusing.
"It's just that I've got a bit of a problem with control," he said, standing there with his hands hiding his crutch.
"What? Do you mean you dribble pee, or what?" I asked, feeling sure that I knew what he actually meant. Brian giggled and moved his hands. His boy cock was rising. I'd have to revise my opinion. It was certainly a man's dick. Up it rose and curved towards his stomach; finally straightening out like a ruler parallel with his flat belly.
"That's no laughing matter," I said. Brian giggled again.
I took pictures of his cock from all round. For some of them he was standing, for others he was sitting, as I moved around him with my busy camera. Eventually, I told him that we would have to find some way of making it go down, since I wasn't sure that Duncan would be able to display a picture of a hard-on in his catalogue. Brian giggled again.
"I knew you were going to say that," he said.
Then he confessed. "While you were taking ages doing Kieran's pictures, I crept down the stairs. The door was shut," he added hastily, "I didn't see anything. But I did hear the sound of someone wanking and then Kieran asking you to hold his balls."
"You don't mind?"
"Course not. It's only bodies. It's only natural." He giggled again. "I went straight to the bog and tossed myself off quick so I wouldn't have a hard-on for you. But now look." And he waved his rock-hard prick at me. "I told you I've got a control problem."
His admission set me free to take whatever pictures I wanted. We got him totally nude. Sat him on the chair with legs apart like Kieran. Made him sit astride the back of the chair with his cock sticking out through the slats. I had him lean against the wall, supporting himself with one hand and pushing all he had back between his thighs.
When he sat down on the chair again, he raised one heel to the seat, and pulled his foot up close to his bum, as he openly wanked on that wonderful cock. I was down on one knee taking shot after shot of the action when he raised his elegant foot and placed it deliberately on my crutch and wiggled his toes. He wanted to see what I've got.
With one hand, I pulled out my throbbing and dripping prick and balls and let them hang there. His eyes widened at the sight of my P.A. and his foot came back, lightly touching my balls and moving away. With one hand I grabbed his ankle and brought his foot back. I raised it to my lips and kissed it. Then I fellated his big toe and licked between each of the smaller ones. He was really getting into it now, his hand moving really swiftly on his rod.
I pushed his foot down into my groin and pressed my cock into the cleft between the big toe and its neighbour. Brian groaned and hunched. I only just got the camera on him in time as he convulsed. Cum dribbled out generously from his slit to anoint the back of his hand. Looking brazenly at me, he raised his hand to his lips and licked away the deposit of creamy cum. And the camera clicked again. I set it aside, needing to deal with my own urgent need for orgasm.
Brian's foot pushed my hand aside. He walked his toes up the length of my dick and nudged at the P.A. The other foot joined in, toes moving on my scrotum. I took them in my hands and pressed them together around my thrusting cock, making a tunnel so that I could fuck between the arches of his feet. A few seconds later, and my cum was shooting and shooting onto his beautiful hairy ankles and up onto one calf.
I raised one of his feet and then the other to my lips, and kissed my own cum into my mouth, feeling his wiry hair rasp on my tongue. I swallowed and sighed. "That was great!"
"It sure was. And I want to do it again when I've recovered," said the no longer shy or nervous Brian. He bent forward and hugged me.
I kissed one of his dimples and then the other, and he just grinned. "Where's the bedroom?" he asked, and pressed his lips to mine to taste the residue of my cum.
"Not yet, tiger," I said sternly. We've got to get the pictures of your dick for Duncan, while it's still soft.