Photographer's Assistant free porn video

By Teresa Wood

Photographer's Assistant

It had been my mom's idea that I get a part time job, but I certainly
didn't argue with her. I was going to be sixteen in a few months and there
wasn't any other way I would ever get a car. Not that I really needed one. It's
not like there was anywhere I needed to go.
My name is Louis, just plain `Lou' to my friends or at least the casual
acquaintances I've made at school. The truth is that I'm a loner, I just prefer
my own company, and so my list of true friends is pretty short. Not that I'm
disliked or anything. I'm quiet and most of the time I'm just overlooked. The
bullies leave me alone for the most part and the jocks barely know me, as I'm
certainly no competition for them, either on the athletic field or with the
girls.
I'm a small guy, short for my age and no muscle tone to speak of. I am
hopeless at most sports and haven't tried any since I tried out for the cross-
country team as a freshman and almost made the team. I just never bothered to
try out this year. I didn't want the hassle of getting up at 5am every morning
just to run ten miles. I've been out on exactly two dates and have `gone steady'
a few times in school, making all the appropriate gestures expected of me by my
peers without ever coming close to losing my virginity. Not that I really cared
whether I did or not, that's just one of the things that make me different from
everyone else.
I'm a fifteen-year-old guy; I should be obsessed with sex just like
everyone else, right? But I'm not. I just don't seem to care as much as I
should. I hear the stories the others tell and I am aware of the difference
between boys and girls. I've kissed a few girls and enjoyed it, and was excited
when allowed to touch one girl's breast through her clothing, but I don't lay
awake at night fantasizing about them and masturbating like the other guys are
always bragging about.
I once managed to get my hands on a men's magazine, not one of the tame ones,
but one of those that show everything up close and personal, and used it as
masturbation fodder a few times. I can't say that I didn't enjoy it, but the
pleasure of my orgasms just weren't worth the effort or the risk of my mom
finding the magazine. Without the magazine masturbation was hopeless, as I could
never maintain any sort of fantasy that kept my attention. I would try to look
through our school's yearbook for inspiration but even the cheerleader page
couldn't keep my attention for long. Sooner or later I would find myself reading
the bio for last year's `Most Likely to Succeed' and completely forget about my
now-limp dick.
But I was happy enough. Mom always said that I was a late-bloomer, and I had
accepted that she was right. Someday I would be more interested in sex, just not
now. So I concentrated on my schoolwork, pulling in pretty good grades if I do
say so, and occupied myself around the house in the evenings. My only hobby was
taking pictures with my digital camera, and that I could do from my bedroom
window so I rarely needed to go outside. Mom was worried that I was depressed,
because of some article she read in a magazine, or maybe she saw it on `Oprah',
and that was when she came up with the idea of me getting a job. Not for the
money, necessarily, but simply for `my own good.'
Which suited me just fine. My dad had left many years ago, I barely remember
him, and was in prison last time we heard. Mom was chronically sick but worked
anyway, managing just barely to keep the bills paid. She even walked to work, as
she couldn't afford a car of her own. If I had any designs on owning a car, I
would have to do it on my own.
Not that I had anywhere to go, mind you, but still having a car appealed to me
if for no other reason than being able to loan it to my mom so she could avoid
riding the bus all of the time. Everything she did, she did for me and I wanted
to return a little of that love, so I accepted her offer and even pretended to
be excited about it. Oddly enough it took me very little time to find something.
Every family has a crazy uncle and mine was no different. Uncle Ernie was a
trucker who seemed to know everybody. He knew a photographer right in our town
who needed an assistant part time in his studio. He spoke with my mom, who oddly
enough knew the photographer in some distant way, about the job and they both
enthusiastically recommended to me to apply for it. They thought that since
photography was my hobby that I would really enjoy this job. I didn't really
care that much about photography, I just got bored and took pictures some times,
but I appeared to be pleased about the idea and agreed to ride up with Uncle
Ernie for an interview.
Although this studio was more than twenty miles from my house Uncle Ernie's
local truck route passed by both my house and the photographer's studio at about
the time I left school, which gave me a free ride every day I needed to show up
for work, even though getting home would be a problem. Feeling like I was making
everyone happy, I went to meet the photographer.
Harry Stablemeyer was his name and he was a small-time but successful
photographer. He primarily did fashion shots for catalogues and the like, with
weddings and other local projects on the side. He also occasionally did some
porn layouts as well, under the name `Hank Stud Studios', but I didn't know that
then. The day we met he seemed like a harmless enough man, much taller than me
and on the verge of being obese, but a very friendly guy. He really did need
help around the studio and since I knew just enough about photography to
convince him that I really enjoyed it; he hired me on the spot. It didn't hurt
that he knew my uncle and mother either, but that's just the way things work.
Harry's studio was in the basement of his home, which just happened to be on top
of a small mountain. Not that being atop a mountain was all that unusual where
we live here in Kentucky, but it was exciting that he owned the whole thing. The
house didn't reflect any substantial wealth, with the basement studio and the
first floor living room filling almost the entire home. One side of the basement
opened out onto the mountain while the other three were underground. On the
ground floor a small kitchen and bathroom completed the floor plan, with a
second tiny bathroom and two small bedrooms the only rooms on the second floor.
All in all the house looked like a large `A' at the very top of the mountain.
But I don't want you to think we're talking Mt. Everest here. The mountain only
barely qualified for the title but from the gigantic picture windows that
dominated three sides of the home's living room you had a nice view of our town
sprawled out below us to the west, and virgin timber in all the other
directions. It was certainly beautiful.
Harry lived alone, his wife having passed away and his only daughter now married
and living in Virginia. His house was a hopeless jumble of boxes with narrow
paths left to travel through. He told me that cleaning up the boxes would be my
job in between helping him with photo shoots. When he saw me looking askance at
the mess, he explained that as an `arteest', he could get away with being messy.
We shared a good laugh at that one. He was beyond messy by a long shot.
I asked him what was in the boxes, and what he wanted me to do with them and
Harry replied only that they were mostly clothes and that I was do whatever I
wanted to with them. Throw them away, burn them, give them away, take them home,
he didn't really care and said that I should use my own judgment. He explained
that when he did a photo shoot for a clothing catalogue the companies would send
him the clothing they wanted the pictures of and he would hire local models to
wear them. After the pictures were completed, the clothing went back into a box
and was stacked out of the way. Inwardly I groaned; this was going to be
difficult.
My first day was spent looking at some of Harry's photos and admiring his
awards, plus going over what would be my precise duties. I realized that I was
starting to like Harry, who had a truly bizarre sense of humor. I had begun to
think that we might actually become friends. When we had finished our `grand
tour' as he put it, he even offered to give me a ride home if I could wait about
an hour.
Thankful not to have to walk down the mountain I accepted, and started looking
through the multitudes of boxes stacked around his living room to kill the time
while he finished up some things in his dark room. The first box I opened was
filled with blue bib overalls, such as I vaguely remember my grandfather wearing
before he died. These were new, however, and didn't appear to be antiques. I
laughingly refolded them and replaced them in the box, noticing that by doing so
I had much more room in the box than when they had been randomly tossed in.
The second box was nearly empty, containing only two men's dress shirts, one
still in its original package, a dirty plate that may have once held spaghetti,
and an apple core. I dropped the plate into a sink of soapy water to soak even
though I doubted it would ever be useable again, and tossed the molding apple
core in the trash. I refolded the one shirt and placed both of them in the box
with the overalls and then broke down the second box. This may take awhile but
it wasn't going to be hard work. It might even be fun as I began to view each
box as hidden treasure, truly enjoying the anticipation of wondering what I
would find in the next one.
I managed to clean out three more boxes before Harry called for me. The first
one held only a woman's winter parka, which I set aside to take home to mom. The
third one was crushed nearly flat with the weight of several random
encyclopedias stacked atop it. I returned the books to the shelf I had
discovered behind the boxes then opened the crushed box only to find it empty.
The last box I opened was filled to the top with what I at first took to be
swimsuits until I lifted a couple of them out. They were really bikini-type
thong underwear for men, or so the tags on some of them said. Slightly grossed
out by the thought that male models had worn some of these, I closed that box up
and set it aside just as Harry called.
I took the parka and the collapsed boxes with me. Harry showed me where to store
the boxes until they could be taken to the recycler and waved away my questions
about the parka, assuring me that he meant what he said about taking anything I
wanted from the boxes.
About twice a week Harry would call and the next day I would catch a ride to his
house with my uncle. Each time I came was different. Sometimes I merely fetched
cameras or more film for Harry as he took pictures of someone or something. Once
a studio light support arm broke and I had to hold the light in place while
standing on a stool for two hours, so Harry could finish the shoot. Another time
we went to a local mall and took pictures of whoever wanted us too, then sold
them packages of the photos to be mailed to them later.
In between those types of duties I worked on the boxes, which filled not only
the ground floor and much of the basement, but both upstairs bedrooms as well.
Harry told me he usually slept on the couch or on a cot in the basement. There
were even some boxes stacked on the stairs and on the backs of the toilets. I
truly enjoyed my job, as it was never the same thing twice, and after four weeks
I had cleared out enough boxes so that Harry was able to see the original color
of his living room carpet. It was purple. The pathway where he had been walking
was somewhat brownish by contrast.
Harry and I did become friends as well. He taught me a lot about proper
lighting, and shutter speed, and the different uses he had for the dozen or more
cameras he owned. I got to meet some of the models he used. One guy named Ray
was called in just to wear a pair of brown leather gloves for Harry to
photograph. He could have put them on a manikin to do the shot, that was how
little you saw of the model. One older lady was brought in to sit in a wheel
chair and smile, pretending to be enjoying the freedom her four-wheel drive
chair gave her. It was like a big game of make-believe, and I was having the
time of my life.
The boxes were stubbornly giving way and I laughingly noticed that the deeper I
dug, the older the fashions were in the clothing I found. Not that it was only
clothing. I found a portable CD player in one box and was giving away backpacks
to people at school. Harry didn't want any of it.
One Thursday afternoon when a model didn't show up, Harry said that happened
more often than you'd believe, I was left with four uninterrupted hours to work
on cleaning out the boxes. I was trying to keep track of the stuff, putting
similar products in the same box and marking them. I had an idea that Harry
might be able to use some of this clothing on his models. He thought that was a
good idea so I was clearly marking the boxes as I filled them so he could pick
what he wanted to keep.
That day I was stuck in a rut, and had guessed incorrectly on three straight
boxes as to what the contents would be when I opened them. I knew one was shoes
by the way it rattled but I predicted men's dress shoes and found it to contain
six pairs of high heels. The next box was heavy, and I predicted winter coats.
It turned out to be filled with packages of panties and bras with a, get this,
small iron anvil! Harry said he wondered what had become of his door holder. I
laughed so hard at that one; I knocked over some boxes and had to refold the
blue jeans that were in them.
I carefully folded and put away everything, combining the boxes as I could. I
had three boxes of overalls now and Harry didn't want any of those. Inside
several boxes were garment bags filled with dresses that I didn't want to just
dump back in them, they looked really expensive, so those I hung in the closet
of the unused bedroom upstairs. It wasn't long before I had given enough clothes
to mom to keep her in new outfits for a year, and I had plenty of new stuff for
myself as well. I began taking a box or two home with me whenever I could, just
to drop off at the goodwill store. I didn't give everything away, however.
I felt kind of odd when I considered donating the boxes of underwear to charity,
because it was often impossible to know which ones had been worn, so those were
set aside for the time being. The sexier lingerie I convinced Harry to keep, as
he might be able to use them in his occasional nude photos. Eventually I have
moved everything Harry might need to the basement and filled one of the bedrooms
with dresses and boxes of underwear. Most of the rest went into the donation box
or the trash, as I felt necessary. It took me several months to clean that house
out, but I finally managed to make it look livable.
My duties for Harry never amounted to much, but we enjoyed each other's company.
He never let me work on nights he was taking nude photos, which in that first
year was only twice, but otherwise let me experience everything there was to
know about his business. He even introduced me to his daughter and her family at
Christmas. She was very complimentary on the job I had done on the house, and
Harry gave me enough of a bonus that I was able to buy that car.
Not a great car, of course, but it did move when I wanted it to. I was able to
stop bumming rides back and forth from Harry's now, but without the clean up
work he didn't need me quite as often. Now twice a week was the absolute maximum
I would get to work, which was too bad as I now looked forward to my visits.
Still I did manage to earn enough to pay my own insurance and occasionally put
gas in the car. That meant a lot to me.
Things went along uneventfully until one Thursday afternoon in early
February. It was about six o'clock and I was vacuuming the carpet in Harry's
living room. Just as I turned off the vacuum, I heard Harry swear. As that was
the first time I had ever heard him swear, I was naturally concerned.
I hurried down the stairs to Harry's `office', a desk shoved in one corner
of the basement, and found Harry staring at his computer with the handset of his
telephone in his hand. I asked him what was the matter.
He pointed to his monitor with the telephone as he explained the problem.
A big-time magazine wanted him to do an emergency photo shoot and it had to be
done by first thing Monday morning. They were willing to pay him a sizable bonus
for the timing, and he explained to me that another photographer had contracted
to do the layout but had bailed out on the publisher at the last minute. When he
had received the email offering him the job, he had immediately called the
publisher to verify the details.
"So what was the problem?" I had asked him. Do the layout tonight,
overnight the photos, and collect the money. Seemed easy enough to me. Then he
told me the details.
First off, these photos weren't the kind he normally did, so he felt that
he was in over his head in some ways. The layout was to be of a nude male and
female, Harry didn't usually do male nudes, in some very suggestive poses. What
was really odd was that the layout's primary focus was the man, not the woman.
Both models had to be fit and attractive, and that was one of Harry's
problems. He told me that he would have to find the models and get them here
tomorrow to do the layout, which might be impossible as the few available models
that fit the qualifications and were willing to do nudes were limited in such a
rural area. Then he would have to take the photos and email them to the
publisher for acceptance while the models waited around. Then he would need to
overnight them to make sure they arrived in Chicago by Monday morning. He was
concerned that there were too many variables to accept the job.
I suggested that he stall the publisher long enough to check on the availability
of a few models, and he agreed that was a good idea. He called the publisher
back and explained the situation, then got out his Rolodex. Six calls later and
he was getting frustrated, as none of his female models were available and he
had not even begun to think of where he might find an appropriate male model.
Harry said he guess he'd just have to be his own model, and we shared a good
laugh at that. As overweight as he was he would be only marginally a better
model than I would, being only sixteen and a runt besides. At least it was legal
for him to be the model. In desperation he recalled the first model again, and
was happy to catch her at home. She was his first choice anyway and had no
problem at all doing nudes. Her name was Carrie and she was a nude dancer. When
Harry explained about the lack of a male model, she assured him that she knew a
local guy that would fill the bill nicely and would be happy to bring him along
with her tomorrow.
Harry really wanted the money, so against his better judgment he agreed that
Carrie could bring her friend, then he sent an email advising the publisher that
he would take the job. As he was desperate, the publisher was very thankful for
Harry `pulling his nads from the fire' and promised to be there at his desk the
next evening to approve or disapprove each photo as Harry emailed them.
I jokingly asked Harry if he would need me the next day and he laughingly
refused, saying he didn't want to go to jail for letting a minor see him do a
nude photo shoot. I told him he should still consider being his own model, and
offered to take the pictures for him and he pretended like he was looking for a
gun to shoot me, so I hurried out the basement door to my car. That was the
first time I realized that a winter storm was blowing up.
It had rained a little that day, but the temperature was high enough not to be a
problem. Sometime along the way the temp had dropped below freezing, and all
that water had turned to ice. What made it worse was that more ice was still
falling, and the trees were already beginning to be covered. Harry's twisting
driveway was already a solid sheet and I wasn't sure if my ten-year-old Taurus
would get me to the bottom of the mountain safely.
It didn't. Halfway down I `bit the ditch' and with no other options I returned
to Harry's to use the phone. AAA just laughed at me. "See you tomorrow, k**,
maybe," the guy said.
Of course Harry let me stay the night and school cancellations were already
being broadcast over the radio. He told me to take my pick of the bedrooms and
so I did, leaving him the one I considered as his and taking his daughter's old
room for myself. It was now a storage room for the most part but I had no
problem reaching the bed. Mom was very understanding when I called her, and
thanked me for letting her know that I was ok.
Morning came late, as usual, the mountains to the east block the sun until mid-
morning. I woke up and showered, changing into new clothes from among the boxes
I had left there just in case. Harry and I were both grateful the electricity
was still on, and that the water hadn't froze, and that the telephone lines were
still up. None of those things were guaranteed during a winter storm in
Kentucky. I fixed Harry and me some breakfast as he snored away on the couch and
ate mine looking out the huge picture windows at the frozen countryside. I might
have to live up here for a month.
Harry slept until after noon, and then arose to grumpily eat his cold breakfast.
He looked out his windows at the frozen terrain and sadly shook his head. There
was no way his models would be able to make it up a mountain I couldn't make it
down. He explained to me that he really needed the money as business had been
off of late. I tried to sympathize with him, but being as poor as mom and I was
I probably wasn't as sincere as he believed. He thanked me and I felt guilty. We
spent the next few hours watching television.
It was just after three when we heard a vehicle engine, and rushed outside to
see what was happening. At the limit of our vision we could just make out some
type of vehicle, probably an SUV or something similar, throwing snow and ice a
mile into the air in an effort to climb the slick road. Progress was slow, but
within just a few minutes it began to look as if whoever had braved the mountain
was actually going to make it up to us. By the time we could clearly see that it
was indeed a four-wheel-drive SUV, the vehicle slid from the driveway and
bottomed out in the ditch.
"I hope that's my models," Harry said, grabbing a shovel and heading down to
help his visitors. I agreed, secretly hoping to watch the photo shoot when the
time came.
Harry received half of his wish. It was one of his models, a handsome young man
by the name of Craig. He was extremely good looking and obviously lifted a lot
of weights. Unfortunately he didn't seem to be overly smart, because when Harry
asked where Carrie was the guy said he was supposed to meet her here. Harry
asked if Carrie had a four-wheel-drive SUV and the guy just laughed, saying she
only had an old Pinto. He seriously never thought about picking her up and
giving her a ride to the shoot.
Harry was livid, I could tell. His hopes of earning that money were fast
disappearing. What was worse, we couldn't begin to get that SUV out of the
ditch, it was buried to the axles and more ice was beginning to fall. When our
teeth started to chatter, Harry suggested we walk back to the house.
Now we were three men trapped in that house. After a couple of hours Harry and
Craig had stopped talking to one another; Harry because he was mad and Craig
because he wasn't much on conversation. Craig wasn't stupid, but he wasn't very
bright either. We watched TV until the signal went out, the ice must have
damaged the satellite dish and had to start watching videos on the VCR. Harry
didn't have a DVD. It was just about dark when Carrie called to say that she had
tried, but just couldn't make it.
Harry and I went into the basement to talk over the options, and quickly
narrowed them down. The publisher wanted the guy upstairs to be the focus of the
pictures, but had wanted a woman in on the `periphery'. We didn't have a woman
so I suggested that Harry go ahead with the pics of Craig and explain the
problem to the publisher. Harry conceded that it was worth a try and picked up
the phone to call the magazine, only to find out that the phone lines were dead.
Another casualty of the ice storm.
I had never seen him so upset. He must be in worse financial condition than I
knew. He tried his Internet phone line and found that it was still working, and
that calmed him down somewhat. He hurriedly sent off an email to the publisher
and then sat at the computer refreshing his inbox every few seconds until he
received a reply. The publisher was skeptical but desperate enough to give it a
try.
Now all that was left was to see if the `idiot upstairs had the goods,' Harry
grumbled before sending me to get Craig. Harry had somewhere along the line
decided to allow me to be there for the photo shoot, despite my age. I had no
interest in seeing a naked guy but the whole situation was just new enough to be
interesting, so I was glad to be a part of it. Besides, if Harry needed the
money that badly, I wanted to help him if I could.
Craig was more than willing to do the shoot, claiming that he had always wanted
to be a nude model. He was sad that Carrie wasn't there, as they were apparently
occasional lovers. He stripped down right there in front of us, not even
bothering to use the offered dressing room. I guess he figured it didn't really
matter, as he would be nude in front of us anyway. Craig was very well muscled
with not an ounce of fat on his body. When he dropped his briefs to the floor it
was abundantly obvious to me that Harry need not have concerned himself with
whether or not Craig `had the goods'. The man was enormously endowed.
I was very embarrassed. Craig was not much taller than me, but his trim muscular
physique made me feel woefully inadequate even before he revealed his monstrous
cock. Even hard my little dick is almost hidden inside my fist when I
masturbate, and here was Craig with a cock so enormous I couldn't have hidden it
behind both my hands even when it was soft! No wonder I wasn't all that
interested in sex, or that women weren't interested in having sex with me,
obviously I didn't have what it took to please a woman.
Craig was not a creative model, but he did sit where Harry told him to and move
his legs or hands as instructed without any problems. The bed we had set up was
a little too feminine for a guy, and his facial expression remained somewhat
neutral. The best he could do was to remain absolutely without expression or to
smile broadly. He had a winning smile, and I liked him better when I saw it, but
it was a little much for this type of photo shoot, so Harry told him not to
smile.
I adjusted the lights and so forth as Harry took some `concepts' with a cheap
digital camera. Once he had a dozen shots he retreated to his desk to email them
to the publisher. I followed along with Harry, as I felt uncomfortable with
Craig, who chose to wait for us sprawled across the bed. He didn't even bother
to put his underwear back on, or grab one of the robes I had laid out for the
model's use.
Attaching the photos to an email took only a moment and the concepts were soon
on their way to the publisher.
Harry and I spoke quietly as we waited for the reply, and he revealed to me some
of his monetary concerns. Without the extra money this shoot would bring, and a
few more like it in the coming months, Harry was concerned that he might lose
his house or have to bring his elderly mother back from the nursing home to live
with him; he couldn't swing both payments right now. I felt so guilty listening
to him speak of his financial troubles. I could only think that if he hadn't
been paying my salary the last few months, that he might have had enough money.
It was amazing how easily he read my mind. Harry explained that the piddling
amount he paid me each week more than paid for itself with the time he saved,
allowing him to take more smaller jobs as a supplement. Plus the amounts he owed
on the house and the nursing home were substantial, and my wages would not have
put a dent into either one. I smiled like I believed him, but I still felt very
guilty.
Finally the reply came, and I peered over Harry's shoulder as he read it aloud.
"Male model acceptable but need some feminine presence."
"What does that mean?" I asked, unsure what the publisher meant by `presence'.
"He means that while his magazine shows some nude men, they need to have at
least one female in the shots as well or be branded as a `gay' magazine. The
woman doesn't have to be in every shot, or even be nude, but she has to be there
to justify the nude man," Harry explained, his shoulders drooping. This was
exactly what he had feared.
I felt so bad for Harry; I didn't want him to lose this job. "Isn't there
anything we can do?" I asked.
Harry just mumbled something under his breath and lowered his head into his
hands. Normally this meant he was deep in thought but now it looked like he was
about to give up. I tried to suggest that he might be able to take some pictures
of women he had shot in the past and crop them into the photo's of the man, but
Harry shot that one down. He told me that he would need the female model's
signature on a release today or he couldn't legally use them, and besides he had
nothing available he hadn't already used before.
I wanted to cheer him up so I placed my hand on his shoulder and said that I
wished that there were something I could do. He patted my hand in return,
lifting his head to look sadly back at me when he suddenly froze in place,
staring at me as if he had never seen me before. His grip on my hand became
strong, even hurting a little, and I began to get a little scared.
"There might be something you could do..." he began, releasing my hand and turning
to stare into my face. I tried to ask what but the words stuck in my throat as
he continued to stare at me.
"Wh...what?" I finally stammered.
"You could be my model," he said, hoping appearing in his eyes for the first
time that day."
"Me?" I squeaked. "You've already got a male model! I'm not a girl! Besides, I'm
u******e," I added desperately, not really wanting to know what it was that
Harry had in mind.
"I'd pay you a big bonus," he said, smiling up at me.
"I'm not a girl!" I said loudly, stepping back.
"That's ok, I could take care of that," Harry laughed. "A wig, some makeup, you
have the right facial features to make it work."
"Hell no!" I yelled. "I'm not dressing like a girl and I'm not taking pictures
with a naked man. People will think that I'm gay!" I continued, my words running
into one another in my haste to make all my thoughts known. I was already
embarrassed but the sound of Craig's laughter from the other room made it worse.
Harry stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder, patting me in an effort to
calm me down. "Look I just need you for peripheral shots, you wouldn't have to
be lying on top of the guy or anything. I would never show your whole face
either, just a profile, or your lips, or your hands. You won't even have to
touch him! It'll be easy, I promise, and anytime you want to stop, all you have
to do is say so."
I have to admit it; I was petrified. I had already backed against the far wall
with Harry following along behind me, making valid point after valid point in
his effort to convince me while my own efforts at argument were easily brushed
aside. I never actually agreed, but Harry finally broke my will with his
pleading. He did need my help, and I did owe him a lot. Somehow I found myself
nodding my head as he explained what he needed me to do.
A quick shower with a hair removal gel stripped me clean. I didn't have much to
begin with. Next I wrapped myself in a decidedly masculine robe and returned to
the basement and sat in a chair indicated by Harry. Keeping up a fast-paced
banter of small talk, Harry tried to keep my mind off what he was doing to me.
In truth he did very little. A little makeup and a lot of lipstick followed by a
platinum blond wig that hung down nearly to my behind. Last he applied nail
extensions and a coat of nail polish to match my lipstick and he declared me
finished. I looked at myself in the mirror and had to admit that I looked
somewhat like a woman. At least enough that I wasn't quite so worried that
anyone would recognize me so long as Harry was as careful with the pictures as
he repeatedly promised that he would be.
So in a nutshell I found myself converted from male photographer's assistant to
a boy wearing boxer shorts, long nails, makeup and a wig. Harry promised that he
could do what he needed without anything more. I walked onto the set trembling
at Craig's smirk. Oh what he must think of me!
Harry tried to move us along quickly, both to get the shots he needed and spare
me as much humiliation as possible, I believe. We repeated many of the same
poses with Craig as before only now I was there to lay a hand on his shoulder,
or would stand between him and the camera so Harry could take a picture of the
back of my head. All were completely innocent on my part until Harry told Craig
to hold his cock in one hand as if offering it up to me. Harry then told me to
open my mouth like I was going to suck it.
Naturally I balked at that one, but Harry explained to me that I didn't have to
get closer than eighteen inches away from Craig and that he would take care of
the rest. I managed to get through it after making Harry promise to show it to
me before he sent it off. Once he agreed I leaned over the end of the bed and
opened my mouth while Craig pointed his cock at my lips. Harry took the shot
from over my left shoulder, so that he got a partial profile of my lips
apparently descending onto Craig's dickhead. With my approval, he sent that
picture off as one of the latest concept photographs.
The reply came back immediately. The publisher loved the new pics but wanted to
see more of me in them. He really thought that I was a female, thanks to Harry's
skills with the camera and the makeup. Harry replied that the female model in
the pics wasn't interested in further exposure, which seemed to make the
publisher mad.
Emails began flying back and forth, with the publisher sending them faster than
Harry could reply at times. He wanted me more fully in the shots or he wasn't
going to accept anything more from Harry ever. After twenty minutes of this I
resignedly told Harry to say that I would go a little further. Harry looked
awfully sad as he passed the info along. The publisher was of course very happy
to get his way. Wait until he sees a boy wearing a wig in the picture. I bet he
would change his mind then.
I was trudging slowly back to the set where Craig still lay totally nude and now
snoring loudly when Harry placed his hand on my elbow and steered me back to the
chair. He explained that we would have to do `a little more' now. What could I
do? I'd already said that I would, so I sat down and cooperated.
More makeup was applied, this time Harry did his best to make me look like a
girl. I wondered where he learned to apply makeup so well but figured that he
must have picked it up doing photo shoots.
Once my face was as good as he could make it, he applied two very realistic
breast forms to my chest and glued them into place. He used another type of
makeup to conceal all traces that the breasts weren't real. I decided that they
certainly felt real as I held them in place to dry. He had me put on white silk
stockings, showing me how to do it without destroying them in the process, then
he handed me an undergarment who's name I didn't even know, although I had seen
women wearing them in magazines and on the internet. It pushed my new breasts
upwards, giving them `support' Harry said, and then ended just above my hips.
Garters hung down from there and Harry snapped those to my stockings before
handing me a pair of white silk panties that matched the rest of my outfit. When
we looked into the mirror even I didn't recognize me. Except for the small bulge
in my panties, I even thought that I looked like a real woman.
Craig was groggy when he first awoke and then had to be given a few moments to
recover from the fit of `guffaws' he had when he caught sight of me. He didn't
help my embarrassment very much, what with the running comments he kept making.
He called me `honey', and `darling', and teased me about being all hot over his
cock. I don't believe he necessarily meant to be cruel, but he hurt me just the
same.
The poses that Harry placed Craig and me were even worse than before, although I
know Harry tried his best to take it easy on me. More and more of my body was in
the shots now. In some I knelt behind Craig, leaning over his shoulder with one
hand placed possessively on his chest as I stared down in `amazement' at his
half-rigid tool. In another I lay on the bed with my eyes closed as Craig knelt
between my legs, his cock in one hand like he was about to use it on me. From
the angle Harry took the shot, you couldn't even see my panties, much less the
bulge of my real sex. All in all it was not much fun but I managed to survive.
That is until the last picture. I thought for sure that I would die when Harry
explained it to me.
"You want me to hold his cock?" I shrilled, my voice breaking at the thought. "I
don't even want to touch it, Harry!"
It took Harry fifteen minutes to talk me into it and less than thirty seconds to
take the picture, so I suppose I should have just given in and gotten it over
with but, holding another's man's cock... that wasn't something I wanted to do at
all. Still, Harry got the shot, with me kneeling between Craig's spread legs and
taking his limp cock in hand. I was disgusted at the thought but the reality
wasn't quite so bad as it felt like nothing special. Then he started to get
aroused.
Harry was sighting in his camera so I looked up at Craig and demanded to know
what he thought he was doing. He just laughed at me, again, and said his cock
had a mind of its own when someone was holding it in their hand. A second or two
later he had to ask me to ease my grip a little, as I was squeezing too hard.
Probably because I was so angry with him, or I could have been squeezing too
hard out of embarrassment. Either way I let up on my grip and Craig's cock
promptly inflated to tremendous size. The picture shows my mouth in an `O' shape
only a few inches from the tip of Craig's hard cock, although Harry was careful
to get as little of my face as he could help in the shot.
I dropped Craig's cock like it was a snake as soon as Harry gave the all clear.
The guy was still laughing at me as I ran to the bathroom to wash my hand, make
that scrub my hand, where it had been in contact with his erection. I was nearly
sick while I was in there but came to the realization that it hadn't been the
end of the world. Yes I had held Craig's cock in my hand but that was it,
nothing more. I had not caught any diseases from the action, no one would ever
know I had done it. I would survive.
With the breast forms in place I saw little use for changing so I settled on
just putting on a robe. I chose the plainest one available; it was a dark brown
and covered me down to my knees. When I finished in the bathroom I returned to
Harry's office to see if he had heard back from the publisher yet, pretending
that I didn't notice Craig's self-satisfied smile as he watched me walk past. He
was just so smug!
Harry was happy, at least. The publisher was raving about the photos and wanted
to go ahead with the shoot. I had thought that holding another man's erect cock
while someone took pictures of me had embarrassed me to the limit of my ability
to be embarrassed, but the publisher proved me wrong with repeated compliments
about the beauty of Harry's model and her `sweet ass'.
I think the work I'm looking for is `mortified', and that is what I was. It was
bad enough to be wearing women's clothing, really just underwear, and having my
picture taken with a nude man without some publisher in another state actually
believing that I really was a woman. I nearly cried as Harry read that part to
me. I don't think he noticed, as he was excited about getting the go ahead to
shoot certain of the poses for real.
Harry and he exchanged a few emails to finalize the details so I took the
opportunity to go upstairs for something to drink. I politely asked Craig if he
wanted anything and he asked for `something diet'. I returned with the drinks
and took his too him, he still hadn't stirred from the bed, and noticed despite
myself that his cock had remained semi-hard through the break this time, and was
actually re-inflating as I approached.
"Thanks Babe," Craig drawled as he took the drink. Seeing the look on my face he
changed that to a quick, `uh, buddy'. I tugged my robe more firmly closed and
walked away without responding. I noticed that Harry was getting up from his
computer, so I went to see what news if any he had.
"Well it's like this. I have the go ahead to take some of the pictures now, but
he needs to speak with some of his board members before going ahead with the
others. He said that those could be taken in the morning if necessary, but that
he still needed them overnight-ed to him by Monday morning."
I congratulated Harry on his good fortune, but in truth my heart wasn't really
in it. His good news meant that I was going to have to return to the bed with
Craig and his hard cock and begin taking the photos again, for real this time.
Then Harry asked a question that shocked me. The publisher wanted to fax us some
release forms for the photo shoot and needed to fill them out as completely as
possible before he sent them. What was my name?
Harry quickly explained that I didn't need to give a real name, that the porn
industry was used to fake names but he did need a feminine one for me.
I almost said `Lou', as silly as that sounds. I guess I could have said `Betsy
Lou' or something incorporating my own name but I wanted something as far from
Louis as possible. My mind was blank for several long seconds before I blurted
out `Beth'. I have no clue why I chose that name
Harry told me he needed to touch up my makeup so I again sat in the chair and
allowed him to work his magic. He worked on the wig some and added a pair of
high heels to my ensemble. Finally he told me to stand while he inspected me
more critically so I did, tottering in the heels as he studied me with lips
pursed and a finger on his chin. Finally he smiled and asked if he could do just
one more thing.
How could I refuse at that point? What dignity did I have left? I barely
murmured when he explained that the bulge in my crotch needed to `go away'. What
bulge? Surely he didn't mean my puny little cock? It barely made any bulge at
all and I was really looking. Sure enough, that was what he meant and he quickly
showed me what he had in mind. I followed his instructions, amazed at how easily
my genitals disappeared up inside my body. Next Harry placed a small piece of
plastic wrap in a strategic place and covered it all with clear tape. When I
replaced my panties, there was little doubt at just how feminine my crotch now
looked. Harry really seemed to know what he was doing.
These new arrangements really made it difficult for me to walk back over to the
bed but somehow I made it without falling off my high heels or turning my ankle.
Craig didn't help by shouting `strut it baby' as I did so. I was just about to
join him on the bed when Harry took me by the elbow and led me a few steps away.
Harry began whispering in my ear, urging me to treat this whole nightmare like I
was an actor, actually he said actress, and to forget about the embarrassment
and dwell on the positive aspects, such as the money I would make. I could see
in his eyes that he was sorry for the position I was in and in some detached
corner of my mind I knew he was right. If I had to go through it anyway, I might
just as well make the best of it.
I climbed onto the bed next to the naked, and very aroused, Craig and waited
with hands between my legs for Harry's first order. Even as I watched Harry
fiddling around with his equipment I could see Craig's member bouncing slightly,
bobbing up and down and twitching just inside the corner of my eye. Was he doing
it on purpose, to see if I was looking? Or just to embarrass me further? Either
way I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of allowing him to know I had seen
his gyrations so I concentrated on Harry's movements.
Who was I k**ding? Myself mostly. I wasn't interested in Craig sexually but felt
an unreasoning curiosity concerning the man's cock. Perhaps it wasn't so odd to
be curious, I mean I certainly had never seen anything that size before. In fact
I had never seen any other man's dick while erect before, except mine, and that
one didn't even begin to compare with the boner Craig was sporting. As the
minutes d**g past I found myself sneaking peeks at it, secretly wanting to
compare it with my own but not wanting to encourage more laughter at my own
expense.
Finally Harry was ready, and the real work could begin. He started off by having
Craig put on a pair of faded denim jeans on with a plaid work shirt. A yellow
hard hat completed the ensemble. He left my outfit as it was, adding only a
short white silk nightshirt that didn't even adequately cover up my panties. Our
first pose was in front of a front-door set. When you looked through the door
you could see a suburban summer scene of blue sky, trees, and green grass. Craig
was supposed to be some type of construction worker knocking on the door while I
was the horny housewife laying in wait for him.
We began with the door open, my hiding behind it and Craig standing on the
threshold. Harry told me to put a `fake-surprise' look on my face and he began
taking pictures. After a few of those I emerged from the behind the door and
invited Craig in. Harry considered that enough preliminary stuff and next had us
move together as if about to kiss.
Craig wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight to him, our lips no more
than a few inches apart. This didn't bother me too bad, after all I had already
had my face this close to his erect cock while holding it in my hand no less, so
I didn't freak. Harry asked us to get closer and to open our mouths like we were
about to kiss. I moved closer, waiting for Craig to freak out over almost
kissing a guy but then the world turned upside down as he fearlessly placed his
mouth onto my own.
I froze in fear. Craig was kissing me! Not french-kissing or anything, but his
lips were definitely touching mine. My face was glowing red in embarrassment and
then Harry somehow made it worse by next asking me to pull back slightly and for
Craig and I to just extend our tongues and let them rest on one another.
Why was I not throwing up all over the place? I wondered. I should be so
disgusted at touching my tongue to Craig's that I should be running away in fear
just from being asked, but strangely I wasn't. My mind kept going back to
holding Craig's cock in my hand only a few inches from my mouth. Somehow that
seemed to me to be a moment of such importance that kissing or tongue-wrestling
a man paled by comparison. If I would do that, and likely would do it again very
soon, then how could I be upset by touching tongues? With the weirdness all
seemingly justified in my mind I was able to relax while Harry darted about with
various cameras doing his job.
The photo shoot continued with me opening Craig's shirt and running my hands all
over the muscles of his chest and stomach. Later I dropped to my knees and
placed my cheek to one thigh while gripping his obvious bulge with one hand.
Slowly I opened his jeans and pulled them down while all the while Harry was
taking pictures and shouting directions in the background.
Slowly the pics progressed. Me kissing Craig's naked thigh while the head of his
cock peaked above the band of the tiny underwear he had on. Then me dragging the
underwear down to reveal his monstrosity and finally taking it in my hand as if
dying to wrap my lips around it. All the while I kept looking surprised at the
size of the meat I had discovered. I lowered his thick rod downward as far as I
could in order to point the head at my painted lips. Harry urged me to use both
hands so I did so, pulling in right to where it would need to be if I really was
going to suck it. My mouth open wide with the cockhead merely inches away from
my lips. My tongue extending towards it as if I were trying to get a quick taste
before swallowing the monster down my throat. All standard porno fare.
It was while kneeling there before Craig as I gripped his hard cock with both
hands and held it close to my mouth that I first had the thought of wondering
what it would feel like to actually put it in my mouth. Naturally I rejected it
immediately, angry with myself for becoming so complacent as to think of
something like that. I had to hold my tongue extended out towards Craig's cock
for almost five minutes as Harry moved around, taking the pictures he wanted
from various angles and with different cameras.
Things were going well even though my mouth was drying out from holding it open
for so long. I was reasonably sure we would be allowed a break soon and was
looking forward to it, as my knees were getting a little sore. Then Harry spoke
up saying, `please move a little closer'. I judged the distance between my
tongue and Craig's cock to be about two inches, so I felt like I could safely
give Harry an inch or so. Unfortunately Craig thought Harry was talking to him,
and judged the distance about the same as I had. So basically what happened was
that I leaned forward at the same moment that Craig did, and the result left the
end of Craig's cock lying on my extended tongue and brushing against my upper
lips.

We both froze in surprise, my eyes going wide as I looked up at Craig to see the
same emotion etched upon his face. We both pulled back from the contact and not
a word was spoken but the blood rushed to my face and my stomach grew queasy.
His cock had touched my tongue! It had almost been in my mouth! It may have
seemed like an hour, but couldn't have been more than a second at most. Harry
had not even noticed, or at the least didn't say anything. I was pretty sure
that Craig hadn't done it on purpose and could only hope that he felt the same
way about me.

We finished the shots there by the door with Craig taking off my nightshirt and
playing with my `breasts'. They looked real enough I guess, Harry even had him
open the front-clasping bra and suckle them. I found myself somewhat turned on
by that, for no reason I could put a finger on. Not that it did me any good with
my dick where it was. No danger of an erection for me. Thankfully Harry called a
break after that so I refastened by bra and went to stretch out on the bed for a
moment to work the kinks out of my sore knees.

I lay there for a few moments with my eyes closed, trying hard not to think
about what had happened by the door. Craig's cock had touched my tongue! It was
impossible to get out of my mind. My mind was in turmoil over the incident and
my emotions were all over the place. Some part of my rational mind knew it had
been an accident, and just as much my fault as his, and what harm had it really
done anyway? It wasn't like I was now required to start sucking dicks for a
living or anything. It had been an accident, nothing more. Another part of my
mind believed that Craig had did it on purpose, that he thought of me as a girl
and not a guy, and had not respect for me at all. Another part wanted to throw
up. Yet another couldn't help dwelling on the taste of the cock on my tongue, a
taste that was still there. That was the side of my mind that bothered me the
most. It hadn't really tasted bad or anything, and I felt like it should have,
particularly with the bead of fluid that had dripped onto my tongue during that
brief instant of contact. Had that been pre-cum?

I had heard of pre-cum, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. I barely came at
all when I masturbated, just a few globs of thick cum that dribbled over the
side of my dick and it wasn't at all clear like that drop of Craig's had been.
Somewhere during these mental debates I must have drifted off to sleep, because
when Craig woke me I was in the middle of a dream where I was begging Craig to
let me suck his cock and he was refusing me, teasing me with it but not letting
me get so much as a finger on it. I looked up at him sheepishly when he woke me,
hoping that I didn't talk in my sleep.

I guess I didn't, because Craig didn't act like anything untoward had occurred.
He told me Harry wanted me to change clothing. I thanked him and went to find
Harry, wondering at both my dream and the fact that Craig had obviously been
staring at the crotch of my panties when we were talking. Perhaps he was
wondering where my cock had gone, or wondering if I had been a girl all along. A
jolt of electricity shot through my body at this last thought. Why would
thinking that make my heart beat faster?

Again Harry worked on my makeup, fussing mostly with my eyes, and then had me
exchange my bra for a strapless pushup see-through one. He stayed with the pure
white colors he had been using on me, laughingly referring to them as
`virginal'. I didn't find that very funny but didn't say anything.

After a fifteen-minute break I once again joined the nude Craig on the bed. This
time we began with Craig `working' on me for the camera. I lay on my back with
his face between my legs, the crotch of my panties pulled aside. Harry was
careful not to reveal my manhood and Craig didn't seem too upset about doing
what he was doing. Of course there was no way that I could suddenly thrust my
dick into his mouth when he wasn't looking either. He pretended to eat my
`pussy' and I pretended to be in orgasmic bliss. This part seemed to fly by
because I really didn't have to do anything too bad beside lay there and pretend
to moan.

Next Harry had me get on top of Craig and had me kiss my way down his body. It
took nearly fifteen minutes for him to get what he wanted as all the while I lay
atop Craig's legs with his erection jabbing me in the chest, my lips planted
against his muscular stomach. Then Harry had a sudden inspiration and had me lay
back on the bed, and told Craig to kneel behind me. This left his cock hanging
next to my cheek and one testicle brushing against my temple if some movement
caused Craig to jiggle. Strangely I said nothing about this, pretty much
resigned to such small indignities if it would make this whole nightmare pass
more quickly.

Harry had me reach up with one hand as if lovingly stroking Craig's cock.
Unfortunately Craig overbalanced and fell forward slightly, slapping his
erection across my face. Before he could even finish his mumbled apology, Harry
was shouting something about, "Great, Fantastic! Stay right there!" And so I
held perfectly still, Craig's massive cock lying across my left check with its
head resting on my chin. At one point it even crossed the corner of my mouth and
I could feel my lips lightly brushing against it when he moved. Again I didn't
say anything; Harry was already taking the pictures.

After an eternity Harry finally allowed Craig to remove his cock from my face
and I was again told to get on top. We were quickly directed back to what must
be Harry's favorite position with me lying between Craig's spread legs with both
hands wrapped around his dick and my wide open mouth only an inch away from
swallowing his cockhead whole. Harry had me move around a little, sometimes with
one hand holding the dick and one stroking his chest, other times I cupped his
balls in one hand, but always I was told to keep my grip on Craig's hard member
with at least one hand. I was disgusted to realize that holding his cock was
almost becoming routine. Finally Harry said that he needed only one more series
of photos before contacting the publisher again. By now it was almost midnight
and I couldn't wait to get out of these girly clothes... what little I was
wearing!

He put me back into the position, kneeling over Craig with his cock almost in my
mouth, and then told me to look up at Craig lovingly. I tried to do so, trying
to pretend to be an actress. It must have worked on some level, because I felt
Craig's cock swelling even larger as we held this pose. Then Harry nearly
stopped my heart when he asked me to `put it back against your cheek.'

I was dead inside; I must have been, because I didn't even argue. I flopped
Craig's erection up against my cheek as if I really wanted it there and cupped
it to my face with my hand. If possible the big thing grew even larger in those
moments and I wondered what Craig was thinking. Perhaps a former girlfriend had
done that to him, and he was thinking of her.

One more time Harry asked me to return to my almost-sucking position, mumbling
about not being able to get the shot to suit him. I held the cock up to my lips,
mouth open and waited. I glanced down at the cock, something I had tried to
avoid doing most of the evening, and found myself studying it, as I had wanted
to do earlier. I realized that I could look it over very well from that angle
and not worry about Craig catching me at it.

It was still hard, and was throbbing faintly in my hand as I studied the angry
red head and the thick ropey veins that passed through it. It was soft, I knew
from holding it and feeling it against my face, but hard underneath in a way I
found virtually unreal. My cock wasn't a third this one's size, and I could
never get this hard without shoving a steel rod inside me. Why was there such a
difference between his dick and mine? Very confusing.

"You're squeezing me too tight," Craig said in a whisper, almost a groan. I
guiltily eased up my grip, embarrassment washing over me anew. Craig thanked me
but I barely heard him, having returned to my study his cock. This would be the
last time I ever had the opportunity to study one up close, and I wanted to
satisfy my curiosity once and for all. I was admiring the texture of his cock
around the little hole, looking at the tiny network of cracks in the stretched
skin of the head, when without warning another drop of that clear liquid emerged
and remained there, poised on the end of his prick.

The site of his pre-cum oozing out brought back to mind the taste of the droplet
he had left on my tongue over by the door. The flavor of the drop roared back
into my mind, my memory so clear that I was almost able to taste it. It was
salty, but not bad at all. In fact, my memory told me that it had been
delicious, but I rejected that as not being true.

I was going nuts from the pressure that was all. There was no way that Craig's
pre-cum had tasted good. My brain was divided again, and I felt the clear and
unmistakable urge to reach out and lick that droplet off, just to remind me of
the foul, bitter taste of it so that I wouldn't have weird dreams about wanting
to try it again. Naturally I rebelled against that notion. Last time had been an
accident, and there would never be a next time. Then something happened to take
the choice out of my conscious mind and left it with my subconscious.

The drop of pre-cum had grown slightly as I posed for the pictures and waged my
internal war. Finally the drop grew too large to remain poised there atop his
cockhead and began to slide off to one side. Before I could think of anything
else I reached out with my tongue and caught the droplet before it could fall.

Again I froze, shocked at what I had done. I peeked up at Craig to find him
smiling down at me and then using his muscles to cause his cock to throb in my
hand. Harry's nonstop chatter had ceased, so I knew he had seen what happened as
well. I could feel his eyes on me but I didn't look at him, returning my gaze to
the cock I still held in my soft little hand.

There it was, another drop of precum appearing even as I stared. No one was
saying anything, as if waiting for me to take the next move. Harry started
asking me if I wouldn't mind placing just the head of the prick between my lips,
or allow it to rest on my tongue for a few quick shots. I stared at the cock and
tried to block out the roaring of emotion that filled my mind. Without conscious
thought I leaned forward and took the head of Craig's hard cock between my lips.

Harry danced around, excitingly taking more pictures. I just lay there, my body
as stiff as a board as I tried not to think about what I was doing. Craig's cock
was not only in my mouth; I had put it there! "Look up at Craig again," Harry
said, moving in for a profile. Guiltily I looked up at the man's face, expecting
to see a condescending smile or a look of outrage. Instead I saw a man
thoroughly enjoying the pleasure of the moment.

We took more pictures of Craig's cock held tightly between my lips before moving
on to me with my mouth open and the dick lying directly on my tongue. Finally
Harry had me refresh my lipstick and then return the cock to my mouth, asking me
to slide it in as far as I would to live a ring of lipstick on the shaft. I did
so obediently, even willingly although I still wasn't admitting that even to
myself, and left my mark about halfway down. I then slid my mouth back up until
just the last couple of inches remained in my lips and waited for Harry to take
the pictures.

"Suck in the sides of your checks, so it looks like you really are sucking it,"
Harry said, squinting through his camera. I snuck a peek up at Craig's face, my
heart pounding at the hopeful and expectant look on his face. I couldn't deny
the pleasure I was feeling, or my newfound love of the glorious taste of the
precum now leakin