Model Men

by Neil Plakcy

  The assistant with the clipboard smiled at him. “When you get the proofs, take a good look. Then you decide what he meant.”

  Greg practically ripped Jesse’s clothes off that night. “I’ve been hard for you all day,” he said, propelling Jesse into the bedroom.

  Jesse’s apartment was little more than walk-in closet-sized, but he did have a bedroom with a queen-sized bed that took up almost all the floor space. It looked like Greg intended to give the bed—and Jesse—one hell of a workout.

  Not that Jesse minded one bit. He’d managed—barely—to keep from embarrassing himself at the shoot. The minute he’d heard Greg’s knock at the door, Jesse’s cock decided it was time to take over.

  Greg hadn’t called, he’d just shown up at Jesse’s with a six-pack of beer and a smile that would have melted steel. He’d taken one look at Jesse’s crotch, and the beer had gone in the fridge. That was for later. Now was all about sex.

  “So, did I do it for you?” Greg asked in that same sultry voice he’d used on the phone.

  Greg was spread out on top of Jesse, bare chested. He had the kind of muscular body that Jesse only dreamed of having one day. Not that Jesse was a slouch in that department, but his own body type ran to lean muscle, not washboard abs.

  Jesse grabbed Greg’s hand and pressed it down on his aching cock. “What do you think?”

  Greg chuckled and squeezed, and Jesse moaned. “I think I like when you call me up and talk dirty to me,” Greg said.

  “Even if I get you all hot and bothered?”

  “Especially when you get me all hot and bothered.”

  “Like now.”

  “Lover, I am beyond bothered now.” Greg squeezed again, then he let go of Jesse just long enough to strip off his own jeans.

  Jesse hadn’t been exaggerating, at least not much, when he’d said Greg had a cock the size of Milwaukee. Jesse didn’t think of himself as a size queen, but Greg was built. Long and thick and cut, Greg’s cock was a thing of beauty to behold. He could have made a fortune in the porn industry. Jesse had no idea what Greg saw in him, other than a pretty face. As far as Jesse was concerned, Greg could have had his pick of any of the people at the gym—men or women.

  Jesse leaned forward and took Greg in his mouth, just like he’d promised. The man had saved his ass this afternoon. Giving the man a good blow was the least he could do.

  But after less than a minute, Greg pulled him off. “You know what? I don’t think that’s what I want. Not tonight.”

  Greg had never said no to a blowjob, but if he wanted something else, Jesse was happy to oblige.

  “Tell me what you want,” Jesse said.

  “Uh-uh.” Greg sat back on his heels. His cock jutted up from his lap, still slick from Jesse’s mouth. “That’s not how tonight’s gonna be.”

  Most of Jesse’s blood was in his own cock, which made it hard for him to think under the best of circumstances, but tonight Greg was really confusing him. “I don’t understand. Are you annoyed with me about today?” What if he’d interrupted something important when he called? “Did I…did you get in trouble because of me?”

  “Nope. But you called me because you needed something from me. Now I need something from you.”

  Okay, fair was fair. “What do you need?”

  “The real you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been with actors before, and I’m never sure who I’m with. You all make a living playing parts, I get that. I even get that you’ve been playing a part with me. You might not know you’re doing it. Most of the time I’m okay with that.”

  Greg thought Jesse was playing a part? “What part?”

  “The pretty boy slut who can’t wait to catch a ride on the next big cock in town.”

  Jesse blinked. Greg thought he was a slut? “That really hurt.”

  Greg shrugged. “Didn’t mean for it to. Look, we hook up and we fuck. Like I said, I’m okay with that most of the time. I thought I’d be okay with it tonight, too. But this afternoon I got a glimpse of the real you.”

  “Because I talked dirty to you on the phone.”

  “Nope.” Greg leaned forward and grabbed Jesse’s hand. “Because you babbled to me on the phone about being scared of fucking up your job. That’s the real you, and I like it. Just like the real me’s more than my big dick.”

  The words would have stung if Greg hadn’t said them gently and with a grin on his face.

  “Careful,” Jesse said. “We actors tend to be a big bag of insecurities and neuroses. You let that genie out of the bottle, I might not be able to put it back.”

  “I think I can handle your insecurities. I did pretty good this afternoon, didn’t I?”

  Jesse looked down at Greg’s hand holding his. They’d never held hands before. Had he read what Greg really wanted all wrong? Fuck buddies didn’t hold hands or talk about their feelings and insecurities.

  “Yes, you did wonderfully,” Jesse said. “I almost came right in my expensive Fortunadi men’s trousers.”

  “I did cum in mine,” Greg said. “Good thing I was in my car.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened. “You were driving?”

  “Oh, hell, no. I was in the parking garage next to the gym. I just drove myself back home and cleaned up before I went back to work. Smiled real nice at my favorite client....”

  “I thought I was your favorite client.”

  “My favorite middle-aged housewife client, and she forgave me for being late.”

  “She probably has a crush on you.”

  “Probably. But she tips me well.”

  Jesse squeezed Greg’s hand. “Would she tip you as well if she knew about this?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not about who we are out there.” Greg gestured with his free hand to Jesse’s tiny bedroom window. “It’s in here, when it’s just the two of us, that’s when I want you to feel like you can be yourself.”

  “And you can be yourself.”

  “Absolutely.”

  A new idea occurred to Jesse. “Have you been playing a part with me?” Greg didn’t have any acting aspirations, at least none that Jesse knew about.

  “The personal trainer with a big dick, you mean?”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly what Jesse meant. “Something like that. Maybe.”

  A slow flush rose to color Greg’s cheeks. “You got me there, but in my defense, I do have a big dick. Besides, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  And Jesse had thought Greg only wanted a pretty-boy fuck buddy. “Man, are we pathetic or what?”

  “At least we’re talking about this shit.”

  True.

  Jesse glanced down at Greg’s lap. His big dick wasn’t quite as hard as it had been a minute ago, but it was still pointing out its interest in Jesse. “So, are we going to do more than talk tonight?”

  Greg grinned at him. “I wouldn’t be sitting naked on your bed if all I wanted to do was talk.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Let me show you.”

  This time when Greg leaned Jesse back on the bed, it was with a tenderness he’d never shown before. Greg cupped one hand on the side of Jesse’s face and kissed him for a long time. Deep kisses. Unhurried and thorough, and with a kind of gentle passion Jesse had never experienced.

  That was just the beginning.

  Jesse couldn’t remember the last time someone had made love to him, but that was, without a doubt, what Greg was doing. His hands moved up and down Jesse’s body in long, flowing strokes that excited Jesse more than he would have thought possible. Greg didn’t go near Jesse’s cock, even though Jesse was so hard he desperately needed to be touched. Instead, Greg kissed nearly every square inch of Jesse’s body except his cock.

  “You’re driving me nuts, here,” Jesse finally said. He was squirming on the bed. He’d tried touching himself, but Greg had captured both his wrists and was now doing amazing things to his bellybutton. If Jesse lifted his hips just the right way, t
he tip of his cock grazed Greg’s hair. That was only serving to drive him more insane with need. “If you want to see me, the real me, beg for it, here I am.” He lifted his head and looked Greg in the eyes. “Will you please fuck me already?”

  “No,” Greg said. “But I will make love to you.”

  He lifted Jesse’s legs on his shoulders, then pushed them back until Jesse’s ass lifted off the bed. Jesse felt thoroughly exposed, but he didn’t care because the next moment Greg’s mouth was on him and his tongue was in him. Jesse shouted with the pure, raw, live-wire amazing sensation of it all.

  Jesse’s cock was dripping on his own stomach by the time Greg pushed himself inside. Jesse was pretty far gone, so wrapped up in the sensations running through his body, he couldn’t have pretended to be anyone else other than who he was. Greg was unraveling him, bit by exquisite bit. When Jesse finally came, eyes rolled back in his head, his entire body felt wrung out. He wasn’t even sure when Greg came or when he rolled off, or how Jesse ended up enfolded in Greg’s strong arms.

  They both napped, or at least Jesse thought they did. When he woke up, Greg was still holding him.

  “Just so you know, I can’t be Neil Patrick Harris,” Jesse said. “Not that I want to be, but you get my drift, right?”

  Greg nuzzled Jesse’s head. “Out there doesn’t matter. All I care about is what happens in here.”

  “Well, here’s me being me being insecure.” Jesse took a deep breath. “The photographer thinks I could have a career as a model. Not as an actor. As a model.”

  Greg had begun to trail one hand up and down Jesse’s arm. “What do you think of that?”

  “My acting career’s going nowhere fast. To Hollywood, I’m just another pretty face, and pretty faces are a dime a dozen. I don’t do comedy well, and I don’t get callbacks for anything with a decent budget. I could probably get by on the kind of work I’ve been doing and go on and on into obscurity and no one but my mother would care.”

  “I’d care,” Greg said, and he placed a kiss on the top of Jesse’s head.

  “You have to care,” Jesse said. “We’re no longer fuck buddies. Non-fuck buddies have to care. It’s in the handbook.”

  Greg chuckled. “So you think you might be interested in fashion modeling?”

  Jesse wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure they call it fashion modeling if you’re a man, but yes, I think it might be good to keep my options open.”

  “Smart man,” Greg said.

  “Well-fucked man.”

  “That all?” Greg sounded disappointed.

  “Well-made-love-to man,” Jesse said.

  The smile that stole over Greg’s face warmed Jesse in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. “Most definitely,” Greg said.

  Jesse did keep his options open, right up until the Face of Fortunadi Fashions billboards started to go up and the fall catalog hit the stands. According to the trades, Jesse had “cheekbones to die for” and “a bedroom stare that would set any girl’s panties on fire.” Jesse and Greg had a good laugh about that last one.

  When Jesse’s agent started fielding twice as many calls for modeling jobs as acting jobs, Jesse took the hint. He was pretty good in front of a still camera by then. All he had to do was think of Greg making love to him. After all, he had a lot of firsthand experience to draw on.

  He might never be Neil Patrick Harris, but Jesse was okay with that. He had Greg, who showed every sign of wanting to stick around for the indefinite future. So what if he didn’t have the acting career he’d dreamed of. Spending a few hours a day in front of a still camera was way better than pretending to die over and over again at the hands of the deranged killer of the week in a movie so forgettable it would never be released on DVD. Going home at night to Greg was even better.

  Fortunadi Fashions flew them both to New York for the unveiling of Jesse’s billboard on Times Square. Jesse looked up at the thirty-foot version of himself, all bedroom eyes and come-fuck-me stance, and was flat-out awestruck. He’d seen the proofs, but the real thing was overwhelming. The only thing that kept him grounded was Greg’s strong hand in his.

  Just be yourself with me, Greg had said. As it turned out, being himself was a damn fine thing to be. If he’d gone with his first love, acting, he’d never be able to hold hands with his actual love in the middle of Times Square. It was all just a matter of adjusting his attitude.

  “Bite me, Neil,” Jesse said to the New York City night.

  Greg turned to look at him. “You say something?”

  Jesse shook his head and smiled. “Nothing important.” He squeezed Greg’s hand, and Greg squeezed back. “Nothing important at all.”

  TEDDY IN MY BRIEFS

  R. W. Clinger

  Teddy Crew’s bulky crotch was next to my face by accident, which prompted me to take in his pungent, sweaty man-smell that I found sexy. The guy would try anything on for attention. He found my navy Aussiebum briefs in my dresser, liked them, undressed down to his bare bottom, and put them on. Before I knew it, he was standing on a desk chair for my inspection. Teddy accidentally bumped his pounder into my mouth, sort of chuckled, and teased, “Hey, dude, watch what you’re doing down there.”

  Problem one: Teddy was major straight. Even though all the dudes in my queer circle imagined him with a harem of hot girls, that wasn’t so. Teddy wasn’t getting busy with anyone, including me: Evan Donnelly at your service, his blond college roommate who won this year’s Tightest Ass award down at the Queer Factory, a gay bar on Rosensteel Street.

  “Earth to Evan, did you hear me?” He bumped my mouth with his cock again, pushing the navy-colored briefs into my face. The briefs had brought out the naughty in him. He seemed to turn into a completely different person as soon as the fabric touched his succulent package. He managed a couple thrusts forward, bouncing his six inches of limp rod against my face, teasing me.

  I was ready for whatever the twenty-year-old jock with the aqua-blue eyes and suntanned skin wanted to surprise me with. I opened my mouth, wrapped lips around his cotton-covered protein and held his hips with my palms, ready and willing to carry out some naughty stuff that gym buddies just might carry out together after maybe drinking too much beer.

  Problem two: Teddy had a history of modeling underwear in local newspaper ads, and the things were his weakness. Thongs. Briefs. Boxers. Jockstraps. By Papi, Body Tech, Clever, Rufskin, Diesel, Mundo Unico, Candyman, and Aussiebum. Whatever the style or brand, Teddy liked to try them on. His gigs paid well too, from what I understood. Enough to pay his college tuition. Plenty for him to go out on the town and spend a fortune drinking.

  “You’re being naughty, Evan.”

  “Stop pushing your cock in my face and I won’t.”

  “You know you want to lick it.”

  “I really don’t. I have cock all the time,” I said, which was total bullshit.

  Problem three: Teddy was a tease, with both the guys and the girls. The dude was a pure angel, inside and out. One hundred percent moral and decent. Mormon all the way. Just because he modeled part-time didn’t mean he slept around, even if he had the rocking body for it, of course. My roommate was a flirt. You could look at him, but rarely could you touch him, if ever.

  We were both crossing a line by my manhandling. His six inches of semi-hard beef popped out of the cotton’s elastic rim and greeted my lips. I took advantage of the situation and licked his cut head and caused him to grow fully hard. Before I knew it, Teddy sported a nine-incher that was all mine.

  He let out a sudden moan, pulled the briefs down a little, pushed his cock into my mouth, and confessed, “These briefs are amazing.”

  I sucked, licked, choked, and gagged. Teddy thrust forward and backward, held onto my blond hair and head for balance, and moaned like the wind outside. He crammed all of his nine inches into the depths of my throat, pulled out, slapped my cheeks with the beef, laughed down at me in a crazy-sexy manner and…

  The desk chair cracked, giving out under
his jockish weight. He fell away from me, toppling on his bed like a semi-naked gymnast. As the chair splintered to the floor, I rated Teddy’s landing a 5.9 mark and said, “That was so hot, dude.”

  Positioned on his back and holding his cock, which had warily deflated, Teddy inquired, “What was hot, the blowjob or my fall?”

  “Both,” I supplied, studying the splintered chair. I then apologized for my impromptu action and said, “Teddy, I don’t know what came over me. A guy gets in front of me and I tend to go crazy with my mouth.” I wiped my lips with the back of my right hand and eyed the jock’s rocking body.

  He ignored me and pushed his goods into the briefs. He asked, “Do you think they’re too small for me?”

  “Briefs can never be too small.”

  “Will you let me try these out for a day?”

  “I want a full report tomorrow morning over breakfast.”

  Teddy saluted me from his bed, shared a beaming smile, and slipped into his gym shorts as quickly as I could remove them.

  (Click: I always took pictures of him, making him my model. I lusted for his skin, hungry for what he had to offer me as a man, even if he was straight. My personal junior at Yullin College. My meat. I didn’t want him any other way. I took pictures of him when he was asleep, firm between his legs and with dots of pre-ooze on his Timoteo red classic briefs. I focused on his swollen and sleeping package and perspiration-covered chest and semi-parted lips. I took pictures of his muscular chest and underarms: narrow patches of blond hair in both areas. I took pictures of him...)

  The next morning Teddy was walking funny, which made me believe that he had spent a hot night with a sexy Russian guy named Sasha he had been talking to at the bar. That wasn’t the case, though. Teddy complained that the briefs were a little too snug and he needed a larger size.

  “Let me check for any marks on your ass,” I supplied, happy to help.

  Before I knew it, he was stripping off his running shoes, jeans, and even his cotton T-shirt. He stood in front of me, posing with his legs slightly separated.