The Portfolio

Editor's note: Everyone likes to be flattered, certainly I did. When you are told how great you look and they had no doubt you would make a great male model. Well, it has it's attractions.

Sometimes good fortune smiles on you. I'm in my second year of college going for a degree in business administration. That's the degree you pick when you have no idea what you want to do with your life. Anyway, I'm considered good looking, with sandy blond hair, a slim, well-built body, and standing at six foot two inches tall. I had no problem hooking up. The girls just kept coming and I enjoyed the attention and sex. My success with the ladies gave me a much-needed confidence boost.

Recruiters for every profession and industry were constantly seen on campus, trying to convince the chosen few to consider their company upon graduating. I've been approached a few times because I keep my grades up and am a member of two of the more popular action groups on campus.

One spring day I decided to study outside. The weather was exceptional, so I found myself a spot on the grass, and made myself comfortable. I had just cracked open my text book on 'computers and accounting' when I heard a guy ask, "can I speak with you a moment?"

He was in back of me and I had to sit up and turn around to greet him. He was definitely a recruiter, which I didn't mind as I was always open to job possibilities. He was wearing a suit, well groomed, carrying a briefcase, of course. When I turned, he introduced himself.

Extending his hand, he said, "Hi, I hope I'm not interrupting you, but I wanted to meet you. My name is Stanley Graves."

I stood up and took his hand, shaking it I replied, "Hello Stanley, my name is Bill, well, William Lane really, but Bill is better."

"Ok, Bill it is, please call me Stan," He replied. "I was hoping to meet. I've had my eye on you, and I think we might have a proposal that would interest you. Would you like to hear it?"

"Fire away, I'm all ears."

When we had both sat down again, he said, "I represent a top modeling agency." Stopping, he looked at me, "Don't jump to conclusions, we're legit." He began explaining why he approached me. He noticed me and thought I had what it takes to succeed in modeling. They are looking for attractive individuals, starting them in minor shoots for magazines, advertising, and such, but moving on to other, more lucrative shoots as your popularity increases. He went on to say that 'This can be done while you are still studying, which could help with some of the college expenses.' He finished with the statement, "let's face it, you have the look."

I might have turn red, can't say, but I was interested in his proposal.

"If I want to look into this, what's required?"

"Well, we would schedule a photo session, so we know how the camera sees you. If your looks translates on camera, we will compile a portfolio and propose a professional shoot."

"That's it?" I ask.

"Of course, if things progressed to that point, we would offer you a contract as agent."

"This is coming fast. It sounds like a good deal, and, as It wouldn't take away from my studies, I'd consider it. I need to know more before agreeing."

"Tell you what, why don't I schedule a simple photo session? We take some pictures, look them over, then talk, sound good?"

"When do you have in mind?"

Pulling out his cell and studying it for a moment, he said, "what about tomorrow around four-ish?"

"That soon?" Now it was my turn to check my phone. "I've nothing going on. Where are we meeting and is there anything I need to do?"

Handing me his card, he said, "No, nothing special, we will supply several outfits so we can photograph you in different fashions. Let's us see what style suits you best."

I know, it's crazy to agree to this without checking all the angles. Who is this guy, and what agency does he represent? I figured I could work on those details during tomorrow's meeting, at least I planned too.

I was a bit rushed the next day, so breakfast was skipped and lunch was a few crackers I had in my room. My last class was at 2:00 PM, so I had to hustle to shower, and get ready for my appointment. I was hungry, but that was nothing new.

4:00 PM

I'm standing in front of a house in a middle-class residential neighborhood. It's a nice home, but certainly not a studio. While I stood there contemplating this surprise, the front door opened, Stan was standing there.

"Hi Bill, come on in."

Giving the house one last look, I accepted the invitation. As expected, the house looked like a normal residence inside as well.

"Anything to drink?" Stan asked.

"Whatever you have is cool," I replied.

Stan went to the kitchen and came back with two beers, handing one to me he said, "We shouldn't waste time, let get to it. Follow me."

He led me through the kitchen to a side door. When he opened it, I saw it went down to the basement. We descended the steps to a concrete floor. He turned on a light revealing quite a large space. He turn to the left and approach a second door. As I entered, I could see that it was a room about twelve by twelve. He flicked on the lights.

One wall was a sheet of white, with a plastic lounge in front and a chair on the side. On the other side of the room were lights, tripods, and all kinds of photographic appliances. At the far end of the room where two racks with assorted items of clothing. On the wall next to it, was a full-length mirror.

Stan had laid several items of clothing on a small table in front of the racks, including two swim suits. The whole thing made me uneasy, but Stan assured me everything's good, and to take it easy. "It's no big deal, it's business," He said. I have to evaluate the pictures before going to the agency.

He ask me to put on the first outfit and see how it fit. That means I had to take off what I was wearing and put it on. I'm not that modest, and although I was somewhat unprepared for this part of the shoot, I thought it normal.

I stripped to my underwear and put on the first combo, a tropical theme. All this time, Stan was adjusting the camera equipment and paying no attention to me. When I was ready, I walk to where the shoot was obviously going to be done and looked at Stan.

"I'm all set, Stan," I said, "what's next."

He flicked a switch and the background lit up with a picture of a tropical beach, palm trees, sand, and waves. It was actually beautiful.

"Now that's impressive," I said.

"Thanks," Stan replied. He explained that the projection is actually from the back of the wall, so there must have been more to the room then I could see from the outside.

The photo session began. Stan positioned me in several different ways, teaching me how to project to the camera. I found it interesting. After the next two changes of clothes and scenery, I was feeling a great deal more relaxed.

Stan changed the image to a swimming pool in a beautiful setting. I walked over to the table, and realized that for the next two sessions, I would be wearing each of the two swim suits he had laid out. They were bikini briefs, not the type of swim suit I was accustomed to wearing.

"Stan, you sure about these suits, I'm more comfortable with the baggy ones I'm use too?"

"They don't relate as well; these give me a better idea of your form. This will look good in the portfolio we give the agency."

"I thought you were the agency?"

"I am, but I freelance for them."

"That's not what I assumed, maybe this is not a good idea." I didn't want to wear these swim suits in front of a camera and, I didn't' want to change into them in front of Stan.

Stan notice my hesitation. "Bill, stop worrying, If this works, you'll be standing in front of a lot of cameras with large crews, including women. You have to get used to it," then with a smirk, he said, "I'll turn around if it will make you more comfortable."

Stan made sense, so when he turned around, I stripped completely and wiggled my way into the first suit. It was red with a 'life guard' badge on it. I had to adjust my equipment so the bulge wouldn't be so pronounced, wasn't easy. Not that I'm so hung, but for some reason, it was difficult. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder. It was skimpy and my ass was struggling to stay in place and not ride up between my cheeks.

When I walked over to the set, Stan handed me a lifeguard rescue tube. He didn't pay any attention to the swim suit, not even to check how it fit. I got into position, and, with a few adjustments, the pool scene was ready.

"We'll take a few photos here. Pointing to the tube Stan asked, "Do you know how to hold it?" I shook my head, I had never held one in my life, and when at the beach, if a lifeguard had one, I never noticed. I do remember watching Baywatch on TV with some hot number running down the beach holding something similar. Anyway, he took several different poses, the last one with my back facing the camera, looking back over my shoulder.

When finished, I walked over to the table, and stripped off the first suit. I stood there naked trying to untangle the second one. When done, I bent over to put my feet in and started to pull it up. I had a much harder time wiggling into this one. I pulled, stuffed, and adjusted my cock and balls, for a good few minutes until everything was in. This suit was different; the front almost resembled a pouch so when I put it on, my penis and balls stood out. The back was not that different from the first suit but showed a little more cheek. I had forgotten to tell Stan to turn around and when I was ready, noticed he was watching me, and watched the whole performance.

I have to stop here for a moment. There was some strange feelings building in me, almost excitement. All the clothes changing, then stripping naked in someone's basement, the tight bikini swim suits, and then posing, it was kind of erotic. A shiver had coursed through me when I stripped naked, or whenever Stan positioned me. This time Stan saw me naked, and he watched me struggle to put the swim suit on, adjusting myself. It made me blush as I walked back to the screen. I had trouble stuffing my cock into the pouch and couldn't understand why until I realized, my cock was reacting to my situation. I didn't want an erection, not now. it was confusing.

The poses were the same for these photos, so the shoot went quickly. At the end, Stan wanted to get some shots of me on the lounger. Why not?

"Bill, lay on the lounge, on your back. Put your hands in back of your head and raise you right knee, look relaxed like a day on the beach."

I did as he ask. This time he was holding a camera and taking shots from all angles. Straight down, from behind, in front, on the sides, just clicking away. He then positioned me on my side, taking more photos.

Then he ask me to lay on my stomach, put my hands under my head as if I were sleeping. This request made me uneasy, but I complied. Stan adjusted my legs, spreading them slightly. He took several more photos. I would guess, a model must feel submissive when considering all the touching, and exposure. Two hours of being told how to and what to do.

I was struggling to control myself. I was getting horny and couldn't stop my dick from getting hard. I never thought I would have to worry about that. What the hell am I thinking, Stan is a professional. This is business, why the reaction?

Stan stopped snapping pictures and stood next to the lounger. I just lay there waiting for the next instructions.

"Bill, the suit needs to be adjusted before going on." He wasn't making it up, with all this moving around, I could feel it gathering between my cheeks.

I could have taken care of it, but his fingers got there first. They went under the suit pulling it out from between my cheeks. He then stretched the suit across my ass, straightening out the back. I flinched when his fingers went between my cheeks. My erection was growing, and I couldn't stop it. I was laying on my cock and each move stimulated it. Laying on my stomach, ass up, was also turning me on and it made me uneasy. Did Stan notice my reaction? I hoped not, how would I manage that?

Stan snapped some more pictures and walked back to the camera equipment. He didn't say anything, so I just lay there figuring more picture taking was in store. I was glad I didn't have to get up. My cock was fully erect and there was no way to hide it. I lay there hoping it would soften up, but being nearly naked? Not a chance in hell.

Stan came back to where I was laying. "We're done here Bill; you can get dressed if you like."

I'm not sure what, 'if you like,' meant, but I didn't move. How was I going to get to my clothes without showing Stan my engorged cock. I couldn't hide it; it was peeking out over the suit. Who the hell would wear one of these things in public?

I continued to lay there.

"Are you alright?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, I am, just have a little problem."

"What problem?"

"Never mind, just a problem."

Stan sat down on the edge of the lounge. "Billy, what's wrong? Can I do anything, call anyone?" After asking me this, he rested his hand on one of my ass cheeks. "Can I get you a drink, or maybe and aspirin or something?"

I was embarrassed, his hand on my rear wasn't helping the situation. My cock was rigid and beginning to hurt. I shifted my hips around in an effort to ease the pain, but it wasn't working. At one point I moaned as I tried to move into a better position. Everything was on fire in me. What the fuck was going on. When I lifted my butt to relieve the pressure on my cock, Stan's hand slipped to the side, but when I settled down, it was back on me, this time under the swim suit. I visibly shivered and moaned. It certainly came at the wrong time.

Stan misread my actions and began massaging my ass. I tried to ignore it.

"Hey Bill, calm down, it's ok. I understand," Stan said.

"Understand what?" I answered.

"Understand, you're horny."

"Horny? What the hell are you talking about."

"Just relax. It happens, relax."

Telling me to relax as he feels me up, that ain't going to work, and worse, I had involuntarily reacted to his hand on me. I flinched again when his fingers got close to my ass crack. I continued trying to take some pressure off my cock, which caused my ass to sway. The perfect storm. Stan had quit talking; what was he thinking?

Stan let go of my ass to take hold of the swim suit. He began pulling it off. I could feel the back of the suit slip over my ass, but the front was stuck. I was laying on it and my cock, although sticking out the top of the suit, was resisting. My balls were also firmly held in the front pouch.

Stan noticed the suit was hung up and gently tried to reach his hand underneath me to free it. But he couldn't. After a few tries, he gave up and held the back of the suit down without moving or saying anything. Most likely, he was trying to figure out how to approach the subject. With my ass bare, it would make him even more determined, and me more available.

This is when I made the wrong move. I lifted my ass to take the pressure off my throbbing cock. Stan took advantage and reached under me to free my equipment from the suit. When he pulled my balls out of the pouch, I was going to protest and lay back down, then he took hold of my cock. That felt good, so I held myself up while he adjusted my cock; I almost came in his hand. He then pulled the swim suit down to my knees. My legs were still slightly spread, so he brought them together and stripped off the swim suit.

My situation was overwhelming me. I'm laying naked on a lounger. I was vulnerable, exposed to Stan. I was so confused; I couldn't think. The heat in me grew to a level I feared couldn't be managed. Before, I was afraid of showing my erection, well, now I was afraid I'd cum all over the lounger.

"Time for some more photos, you're definitely ready for it." Stan said.

What! Fuck no, is he kidding.

In my confuse state, all I squeaked out was "why Stan?" But he didn't answer me.

It felt impossible to say anything. I laid there, stuck in my horniness, my cock rigid, giving me trouble. I tried not to move, willing it to not bust.

"Spread your legs a little," Stan said softly, but I couldn't respond. Taking my silence as tacit approval, he took hold of my feet and spread them to the sides of the chair. The camera clicked away. "Could you look back at me over your shoulder?" He asked, but again, I couldn't do it, and just shook my head.

"Ok, I understand, let try a different position. Can you get up on your knees and move to the foot of the lounge?"

This time I had to speak up. "What the hell, I'm not here for this, I'm naked and all worked up."

"Bill don't think about it, relax. Come on, I'll help you up."

"No, you won't," I said as I, for some reason, pushed myself up from the lounge to a kneeling position, my cock sticking straight up. Maybe, I didn't want Stan to touch me. He stood behind me, so I turned my head to confront him. I never got the chance.

"Hold it right there, wow, great." Stan exclaimed, while snapping several more photos. "Move back a little more."

"Stan, this is not good, you've taking advantage of me right now. It's not good."

Still on my knees though, I moved to the bottom of the chair. The way the lounger was built, it held up even with my feet hanging over the bottom edge. Stan was still behind me when I felt his hands between my legs, pressuring me to spread them apart.

"Stan, are you listening to me?" He didn't responding.

"Now, turn your head and look back at the camera."

"Stan, I ask....," but he cut me off.

"Billy just do as I ask, and don't be afraid of posing nude. These pictures will be exceptional. You look so damn hot."

I knew what it must look like, and damn, it was getting hotter, I can't explain why, but being photographed in the nude, I was horny as hell.

After several photos, Stan came up behind me. I couldn't see him and didn't try to look. I expected him to position me in some other way.

Instead, Stan's rested his hands, between my legs. As his hands moved up the inside of my thighs, I shivered. When he reached my crotch, his hand took hold of my ass. His middle finger was ready, I could feel it penetrating my ass cheeks, searching. I couldn't help but shake as he drew closer to my anus. When he found it, he circled a few times before slipping his finger in me. I moan when he entered me and immediately scolded myself for letting it escape. His finger easily slipped in, and I suspect he had lubed it when I wasn't paying attention. His free hand reached around and cupped my balls massaging them, before moving on to my cock and jerking me off, all while he continued to finger fuck me.

"You like it, don't you Billy?"

"Let's not talk," I said. I was ready to bust like I never did before. I was on edge when he spoke up again.

"I'm going to fuck you."

Boiling in ecstasy, I couldn't talk right. "What, no, how can I, no. I can't get fucked, no."

"It feels better than my finger," Stan said amusingly. "Come on, you want it," he continued, and then said, "Think about it, your cock exploding as my dick slides up that beautiful ass of yours." That was the first time he brought it into focus.

"Damn it Stan, will you cut it out," I shouted.

"Ok, ok, but you want it, come on, let's do this."

"Shut the fuck up Stan, I'm not getting fucked."

"Ok Billy, but in your state, I think you need something more than my finger."

I had been bearing down on his hand as he continued to fuck me, but he didn't use more than one finger. He continued to jerk me off and I was so close; I felt my head coming off. I was fighting it, but knew I was totally possessed by the heat and the feeling. Even while I protested, I moved my ass as his finger kept taking my asshole for a ride.