The Gay Cartoons
The Gay Cartoons

The Triathlete and his Photographer

Writer: Moritz

Designer: Eduardo

My cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen, but the number was not familiar to me.
“Hi, this is Moritz Janson.”
“Hello, this is Miguel Pittmann. I’m calling because I saw you last Sunday during the triathlon competition. You took a lot of pictures there of the contestants. You were wearing a T-shirt that had your web site on it and said that you take photos for free. I have looked at your web site and find your photos very nice. I wanted to ask if you might have taken a photo of me during the competition, and if maybe I could get a few copies. I’d love to have some nice photos of me at this event.”

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I told him, “I’ll have to see whether I took any pictures of you during the competition. Could you please give me the starting number from your shirt? That way, I can check the photos for your number, and see if I’ve got a picture of you. I would then call you back to let you know. Your phone number is on my caller ID. May I call you back at this number?”

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“Sure you can. It’d be great if you could find photos of me. I could even pay you for your time and trouble, a little.
“Please, no payment required, you don’t have to give me anything. I am strictly an amateur photographer. And as you’ve already seen on my web site, I’m all about free photos. Like I said, if I find any with you in them, I’ll get back to you.”

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“Okay, I hope to hear from you.”
The call was over. The caller’s voice sounded really sexy, but you can easily be fooled by the voice. Far too often, I had met people in person who on the phone had had very pleasant voices: their outer layer was far less appealing. Once burned, as the saying goes.

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Anyway, I had Miguel’s starting number in hand and sat myself down at the computer to scan through the photos from last Sunday for his number. I was astonished. I didn’t need long to find photos with Miguel’s number, because on that Sunday I had focused my camera on only two participants: just two young male triathletes who had me really interested. And Miguel, number 5964, was one of the two!
I was very excited.

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What a coincidence that one of the two young men who were particularly attractive had now contacted me and wanted to have copies of the pictures I’d taken of him that Sunday.
This meant that I would now get to briefly speak with him and maybe even get to know him personally. I looked again at the pictures of Miguel much more critically to make sure there weren’t any I had better not show to him.
Some shots were very good and relatively neutral (i.e., not too sexy). These photos I would be able to show Miguel without problems.

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So I pulled up Miguel’s cell phone number and dialed it. Soon enough, I heard his voice.
“Hello, this is Miguel.”
“Hi, Miguel. Moritz here again. I’ve looked at the pictures from last Sunday and there are some really nice pictures of you here. If you want, you’re welcome to come by and look at them here.
If you can bring a USB stick, I can then save the pictures to it for you.”
“That’s great. I have a lot of free time. When would it suit you, then?
“It would be good for me if you could maybe come in an hour, so I have time to prepare the pictures a little bit and optimize.”
“That works. I’ll be there in an hour. Where do you live?”

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I gave Miguel my address and sat down immediately to the computer with three of the most accomplished photos I had taken, to quickly follow up with Photoshop. As always, when I’m optimizing photographs, the time flies by.
Suddenly my doorbell rang. In just a few seconds, I would be standing face to face with Miguel.
Opening the door, I encountered a strikingly handsome young man.
Miguel was about 6’1″ and had dark brown medium-length hair.
His skin was tanned and beautiful. I’d say he was the Mediterranean type.

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Miguel was about 23 or 24. During the competition he was drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his skin. His face was often somewhat distorted due to his herculean efforts. But now he stood with his hair styled and totally relaxed in front of me.
Incidentally, I myself am 32 years old. I’m openly gay, although sometimes that causes problems for me – especially if I want to photograph young men. They automatically assume I’d also want sex from them. But the fact is that very few of the men I’ve photographed in recent years, have I subsequently had sex with.

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More important than sex to me is actually a building a friendship with them. I think there’s nothing more interesting than documenting photo-graphically how a young man grows and changes over the course of many years.
Not until it was much too late did I remember that I should’ve taken down the pictures hanging on all the walls in my hallway and in my living room. Seeing them, Miguel would figure out I’m gay, and that would probably spook him. But there was nothing to do now except open the door and let the chips fall where they may.
“Please come in,” I said.

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Miguel walked into the hallway and looked first at the large-format photographs that I had taken and had hung in the hallway. The photos – only of young men – were pretty erotic, I had to admit.
Some I had taken during sporting events; others, in my makeshift studio.
“Hmm, professional photos!” Miguel said, without going into details.
“Thanks, I do try,” I replied. “Why don’t we go through to the living room, where my computer is with the photos.”

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As Miguel went ahead, I admired his round ass and his muscular thighs.
(Hey, I may be a perfect gentleman, but I’m not crazy.) His form-fitting jeans framed his butt and his legs to perfection. His jeans weren’t skin tight, but damn close. His T-shirt was pretty snug, too. I had to smile.
The nice thing about athletes is that they are proud of their bodies and love to show them off to other people. Regardless of whether they were gay or straight, many didn’t mind all that much if you happened to see them in flagrante delicto, so to speak.
“Do you take photos at these events often?” he asked.
“Yes, whenever I have time.”

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“And do you work only here in Hamburg or also in the surrounding area?”
“Unfortunately, I can only take photos in Hamburg, because I haven’t had a car for 2 years.”
“Really? How come?”
“Well, several reasons. For one, some time ago I was in a bad car accident, so the prospect of driving a car is no longer pleasant for me. Besides, photography is one of the more expensive hobbies, and by
not having a car these days, I can spend more of my money on photo equipment and other technical toys.”

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“Me, I’d be totally up shit creek (oops, sorry) without my car; I need it to get to various competitions throughout Northern Germany.”
“Makes sense. By the way, Miguel, just out of curiosity, how is it that you have a Spanish first name and a German last name?”
“Oh, that’s easy, my mother is Spanish and my father is German.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’ve got some nice photos of you, I hope you like them,” I said, getting down to the business at hand. I had noticed that all during our talk, Miguel had been looking at the pictures on the wall. I was afraid that the erotic nature of the photographs I had taken of these young men, might make him uncomfortable.

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I had already pulled up a second chair next to my desktop computer. I sat down in front of the PC and Miguel took the seat next to me. It was quite a struggle for me not to gape at the phenomenal body of the young athlete so conspicuously beside me. So when I did look, I tried at least to be subtle.
Now that he had sat down, the fabric of his jeans stretched around his thighs and afforded me a luscious glimpse of his powerful thighs.
But gathering my wits, I disabled the screen saver and the first photo of Miguel appeared, one of those I had already cropped and optimized.

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“Wow, that photo is fantastic! You call yourself an amateur photographer, but I can’t imagine a professional could have done any better. If you have two or three more shots of me at this quality, I’ll be in hog heaven. And my visit here will have been more than worth it.”
Miguel’s face beamed as he studied the photo on the screen (while I studied Miguel). In order to see the photo on the screen at the best possible angle, Miguel had to sit right next to me and put his left arm around my chair.
His body gave off a light fragrance. I couldn’t tell whether it was his cologne or merely his deodorant, but whatever it was, it was dizzying.

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I clicked to the next image.
“Day-amn, this next photo is really about the limit,” Miguel said. “I think I’d like to have that one blown up and made into a poster. A picture like that of me during a race is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Again, while Miguel stared critically at his picture on the monitor, I used the time to give him the once-over from top to bottom.
His strong upper arms and chest muscles were world-class eye candy.
But whenever Miguel pointed out on the screen which details he particularly liked in a photo, I would avert my gaze from him to look at the computer.

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“How did you manage to get everything in focus so well?” he asked.
“Well, first, I’ve been taking photos now for many years; and second, I have accumulated some professional equipment over the years, like a couple of ultra-fast lenses and an external flash unit. Together, they minimize the exposure time and virtually freeze an athlete’s movements. One of those lenses alone costs more than 2,000 Euros (almost $2,700).”
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“I like this one, too,” he said. Again he pointed out what he thought I had succeeded in capturing the best, but he also showed me a thing or two that he didn’t like. Here, his form was not perfect. There, a shadow was not particularly flattering. All the while, as he stared intently at the monitor, I used the time to study Miguel up close and enjoy his physical proximity.
We looked at a few other photos that Miguel also liked quite well.
“So, did you bring a USB flash drive as we discussed over the phone?” I asked.

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Miguel started to pull the USB stick from his pants pocket. But Because his pants were so tight, this was something of a challenge.
As he valiantly struggled to extricate the USB stick from its sturdy denim constraints, I couldn’t help noticing that the bulge in his crotch was nothing short of heroic.
I connected Miguel’s USB stick to my computer and it copied the images to his flash drive. Miguel was almost beside himself.

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“You’ve really made so many terrific photos of me and loaded them onto my flash drive so I can make some really nice prints of myself. I can even make two amazing posters – and all this without any
payback. Isn’t there some way I can repay you for these photos? It just doesn’t seem right to me that you should give me something so great, while I give you zip in return.”
“Well, I do know one way you could return the favor, if you really want. But if you don’t like my proposal, you can just say no and I’ll understand,” I replied.
“Tell me what I can do for you, and I’ll do it,” Miguel said without thinking.

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“It’s pretty simple,” I said. “Taking pictures is my joy in life. If you still have a little time, I’d like to take a few more pictures of you right here and now.”
“Of course, no problem,” Miguel said. “That much, I owe you.”
Then he looked at a few of the posters I had hanging on the wall in the living room, and he suddenly grinned. “But I hope,” he said, “you don’t expect to photograph me with not much on but my after-shave, like some of these other guys on the wall here.”
Most of the young men were clad only in their underwear. Some Of them were naked, although you couldn’t see their genitalia in any of the photos. Either their crotches were turned away from the camera or the athletes had kept them covered with their hands.

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“No, no, you misunderstand,” I said. “All I want to do is take some pictures of you with your shirt off.”
“Okay, I have no problems with that, as long as you don’t ask me to take off everything. I’d be happy to pose for you, and maybe if a few of the photos turn out okay, you could save those for me on my flash drive, as well.”
“But before we start, I gotta ask, Moritz: are you gay?”
Damn, was all lost? How should I answer him? What did he want to hear? I thought for a moment and then replied, “Yes, I am.”

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“Okay, I figured as much. If you had lied about it just now, I would have taken my USB stick and gone home. Frankly, I don’t care whether you’re gay, bi, or straight. I just want people to be up front about it. So let’s take the pictures. I’ll do my best.”
“Fine, I’ll get my camera right away.”
“You’ll have to tell me exactly what to do,” said Miguel.
Bless thee, Heavenly Father, for what I am about to receive. To begin, I got the light brightener from my study room.

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As I returned to the living room, Miguel asked, “Oh, what’s that?”
“This is a light brightener (or reflector shield). It takes a little of the daylight coming through the windows and reflects it back onto you to help light your shadowed side.”
“Oh. I wondered what you could possibly be doing with a silvercoated screen. Shows how much I know about photography. So what do you want me to do now?”

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“First, I would ask you to stand near the window; that way, I can take advantage of the position of the reflector. I prefer to take pictures without a flash.”
Miguel moved tentatively to the window. “How about here? Is this OK?”
“No, I need you to take one step back. I think a little more distance from the window will be just right,” I said.

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After I had positioned Miguel just where I wanted him, I quickly picked up the camera.
“Let’s start with a few face shots. The important thing is that your face express some emotion; otherwise, you’ll wind up looking like a deer in the headlights. So either you smile friendly, look skeptical, or flirt with the camera. You can also look very cool or thoughtful. But how about a simple smile, for starters? That shouldn’t be too hard.”
Miguel had a real killer smile that somehow went straight to the heart: natural, open, and honest.

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I squeezed the trigger several times and had quickly made a few really good portraits, if I do say so myself.
“Great, we have photographed your “nice” page. Now show me another side of you, maybe your energetic or masculine side.
Facial expression and body language have to harmonize with each other. It’s best to cross your arms over your chest and adopt an aggressive or arrogant expression.”
“So you want me to become – – what, an actor?” joked Miguel.
“Yes, being a photographer’s model has a great deal in common with acting. Through these photos, you and I are telling a story – – one that the viewer will imagine.”

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“What do you do if you ever want to shoot a man who can’t act? Use Scotch tape to hold his face the way you want it, or something?”
“To be honest, I mostly take pictures of amateurs, which is one of my main problems. But usually, with a little coaching and some imagination, I can get the subject to produce a nice smile for the camera or a telling glance. All I have to do is find the key word or phrase, and most subjects will respond almost automatically.”
“Okay, Moritz, here’s my most evil leer. See if you can guess what I’m thinking about.” Miguel did several poses and facial expressions in quick succession before the camera. I was thrilled.

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“Hey, Miguel, you really kick ass. These photos are going to be fantastic.”
We then took another couple of photos of Miguel in profile.
“Why don’t you take off your shirt now,” I said. My voice cracked a little, just from the idea that I would see Miguel bare-chested. Without hesitation, Miguel pulled off his T-shirt.
The sight was breathtaking. The first thing I got to see was his flat belly and slender waist.
After he took off his T-shirt, Miguel did the first thing many men do: he showed off his muscles. A little male display.

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“And do you find these arms satisfactory?” he joked. “You like what you see?”
“A-a-aah, I seen bigger guns on a tugboat!” I teased back. In fact, his “guns” (his biceps and triceps) would do any battleship proud. What a physique!
“Oh, you spend a lotta time on tugboats, do ya! Wiseguy. You’re probably used to shooting bodybuilder types with mighty, manly mountains of muscle,” Miguel laughed.
“No, not really, but Heaven forbid you should get a swelled head.”

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Nothing is sexier than a man who has no idea how sexy he is. (And nothing is less sexy than a man who thinks he’s hotter than French toast.)
Miguel’s muscular torso would make many professional photo Models spit with envy. We took several shots–front, side, and back.
Miguel stood there with his V-shaped back to the camera, his head turned to one side so I could capture his face in profile.

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After I had photographed his back, narrow waist, and round butt (covered by his jeans), I asked him to turn from the hips more and more toward the camera. His arms hung loosely from his shoulders.
“May I see a few shots?” he asked.
It is always somewhat problematic to show a model all the photos I have taken of him. Any photographic session always produces a lot of terrible shots, which the photographer would prefer not to show the models, lest they get the wrong impression.
Many times the shutter snaps accidentally while a model’s eyes are partly closed, making him look drunk or confused. So it’s always better to show the models only the most flattering shots.

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But Miguel was more than a little eager, so I could only make the best of things. I went up and stood close to him. Then I put the camera in view mode.
“Here, use the dial on the camera to scroll to the next image.”
While Miguel was preoccupied with the results of the photo shoot on the small screen, I looked at Miguel’s robust upper arms and strong chest muscles. Above all, his nipples fascinated me.
“I am really surprised how little effort you needed to create such a great pictures,” said Miguel. “You used only the camera and the reflector, and nothing else.”

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“Well, now: I’ll tell you something that a photographer will usually never admit. How good or how bad a picture is, depends 60% on the subject, and only 40% on the photographer. The SLR cameras on today’s market from 500 Euro up, relieve the photographer from almost all the hard work. The camera takes
care of the exposure and the focus accurately and automatically. All the photographer has to do is come up with an interesting angle And choose the right moment to snap the shutter. The camera does the rest.”
“I think now you’re belittling your talent,” said Miguel.
“Friends of mine have such automatic cameras, and their pictures aren’t half as good as yours.”

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“So I take it you like the pictures we’ve taken so far?”
“Sure, they’re amazing. I’d like to add these to the ones already on the USB stick, if that’s OK. Oh, one thing I wanted to ask you, by the way: what, if anything, I am allowed to do with them?” asked Miguel.
The question made me a little suspicious, because I had assumed Miguel wanted to use my photos only for private purposes.
“Well, since you ask, no, I can’t let you use my photos for just anything you want. You may not sell the photos, for example, nor use them commercially. Under German law, the photographer always retains copyright of his photos, unless he makes other legal arrangements. I am happy to give you the photos free of charge, but only for your private use. If you want to use the photos commercially in any way, you will have to coordinate in advance with me. Then we would have to negotiate a fee,” I told him.

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“All right, that’s only fair, I suppose,” said Miguel.
“What I’d like to do is publish a number of these photos on my web site. I also have a few advertisements on the site, to make a little money on the side. So I don’t know if you’d feel my publishing the photos was commercial exploitation. What kind of fee would you need me to pay?”
He looked at me, a little insecure.
“That’s really a difficult question. I take the pictures just for my personal pleasure and cannot and will not take money for my work. On the other hand, I’d be foolish if I were to allow anyone — anyone to whom I’ve freely given my photos, that is – to profit from them without participating in some way myself. Now, if you plan to publish just a few photos at your site, that’s OK with me. You just need to include a copyright credit
with my name and a link to my own home page. That would be a bit of advertising for me and an acknowledgment of my work. It really hacks me off when I find my pictures anywhere on the Internet without any indication whatsoever that I’m the photographer. This unfortunately happens very often.”

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“Well, with the copyright notice and a link to your web site, I would have no problems,” said Miguel. “But I’d want to show more than just a few photos. I need to earn money and I know your photos would serve to increase my viewership. If you want, why don’t we take a quick look at my site. Can you access the internet on your computer?”
“Of course I can. Let’s have a look.”
I went to the computer and Miguel followed me with the camera in hand. Miguel began calling up his web site as I sat right next to him in front of the computer. This time I couldn’t do much else but admire his bare chest. His pectorals were almost perfect.
He opened Internet Explorer and entered his web address. The home page of his web site surprised me. It was designed professionally.

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It seemed Miguel’s intention with this site was to make some serious money. Basically, it was a kind of athlete’s diary.
It gave the visitor tips and tricks for training and also related incidents and impressions from his own training and competitions.
I was surprised that his web site was cluttered with advertising.
Miguel had already loaded a lot of photos on his site. They were, however, consistently amateurish. He had taken most of them himself, using a timer.
“Okay, I see what you’re aiming for,” I said. “These pictures you took have a certain unmistakable charm (you), but every now and then you need a more professional-looking image. Do you earn much money with this site now?”

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I was well and truly intrigued.
“Well, not much so far, but I have made a small amount and there could even be more over time,” grinned Miguel, slyly keeping his trade secrets under wraps. “If I could enhance the site with some
interesting photos of my training and my competitions, that would be help a lot. I also want to publish a few short videos on the web site and also on YouTube. I know some athletes who now make good money on their videos at YouTube. Every time before their videos play, a short commercial runs. The advertising revenue these commercials generate can be enormous, and the athlete gets a small cut of that revenue for allowing them to run on his site.”
“I had no idea people could actually earn money that way.”

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“All that’s missing is someone who can take professional – quality photos and videos at a reasonable price,” Miguel said, grinning at me.
“Well, with my SLR I can also record videos, of course. However, as I already said I cannot and will not accept any monetary payment for my services: I am strictly an amateur. Besides, if I did take payment, I’d also have to register it with the Government.”
“Yeah, I already got the part about how you won’t take money for your photos. But perhaps we can find some other quid pro quo.”

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I was suddenly very hot–and my penis, which had been asleep for quite some time in my pants, grew wide awake with anticipation.
What consideration should I ask Miguel? What was he willing to do?
Just how far was he willing to go?
Miguel smiled at me. That smile differed somewhat from his previous smile.
His face reflected a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. He seemed now quite the professional businessman. But maybe that was only my fantasy.

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Could I ask Miguel for sex in exchange for my work? Would he accept?
Would this even be appropriate? It could be that what I was about to ask could put an end to our friendly cooperation, even before it began.
“I . . . I want to photograph you in the nude,” I said.
“Oh, that. Frankly, for a minute there, I thought you were going to ask me for sex in return,” Miguel laughed. He seemed relieved. “Personally, I have no problem with nudity and naked pictures,” said Miguel.
“The problem is our hypocritical society. Almost everyone searches the internet for web sites with nude photos, and almost everyone is secretly pleased to see them–the sexier, the better; but then they turn around and shake their fingers at the models. `For shame,’ they say in public.

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“To make a long story short, I’m not interested in ruining my career and my reputation over a couple of nude photos. So if you want to take pictures of my dick, then I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. But if by
“photograph me in the nude,” you mean to take the kind of art photos you have hanging here on the wall, then I agree. However, you must promise me that you will neither post the pictures on the Internet, nor permit them to circulate in any other way.
I’ll either keep my crotch covered with my hands or whatever else is handy, or stand sideways to the camera so my penis doesn’t show.
I also want to see every shot you take. If you can live with these conditions, then we have a deal.”

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I must admit I was somewhat disappointed. Yes, I had hoped to be able to photograph Miguel, full frontal nude. On the other hand, 2 hours ago I would never have dreamed that such an attractive young athlete would even consider modeling for me in just his underwear.
“Miguel, I understand your objections–and share them, for the most part. True, I could have done a great many male nudes with genitals exposed and on full alert, but I would never hang photos like that here, because I know exactly what negative consequences this would have for the models.
Nor would I ever post nude photos on my web site. I agree with your proposal.”

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Miguel smiled, “Okay, then we’re good to go. Here: my hand to yours. So do you want to take the photos right now or later on?”
“If you still have time, let’s take the pictures now,” I said.
“About how long do you think it’ll take?”
“Oh … a good hour.”
“Cool, I just have to call a friend and move my next appointment. OK?”
I nodded. Miguel quickly called his friend. I turned away from him and took a couple deep breaths, preparing myself to see Miguel in his birthday suit.
It’s every photographer’s dream to get such a model nude in front of the camera.

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But I was allowing myself to get too excited: I had to calm down a bit.
“Well, where are my manners, Miguel, would you like something to drink?”
“A glass of water would be good.”
“Mineral water or tap water?”
“Just tap water, please. Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
I disappeared into the kitchen and took a few seconds to think. I let the tap run a little while before I filled two glasses with water. I put the glasses on a tray with a bowl of apples and bananas.

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When I re-entered the living room, I almost dropped the tray. Miguel had already taken off his shoes, his socks, and his jeans and was standing at the window, wearing just a bikini brief. What an Adonis! The strong, long legs and round ass were everything an artist could ever want in a male model.
Setting the tray on the table, I let Miguel choose his own glass, so he wouldn’t think I had put anything other than water in his water. When he had chosen his glass, I took the other one and immediately began to drink.

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“If you’d like some fruit, please help yourself,” I said, looking at the considerable heft in Miguel’s briefs.
When Miguel had drunk half the glass, he took a banana. “So … you take pictures of naked young men often?”
I laughed. “Not often enough. No, not very often. These pictures you see here in the house were taken over the course of the past 10 years. Although I’ve photographed many young male athletes, some almost as handsome and fit as you, very few of them would have been suitable as nudes. The men I photograph nude have to have both the right mindset and an erotic aura. You are one of the rare ones, combining looks, fitness, mindset, and aura.”

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After Miguel had eaten his banana, he said, “C’mon, it’s just me, you’ll make me blush. Well, when do we start? You’re the boss-or should I say the director.”
“Actually, you can see from the pictures hanging here in the living room and the hallway that the poses almost all photographers use are basically the same as are many other things in life. Once, a photographer thought of something truly new: he put his nude model in an empty, soon-to-be-demolished factory and smeared him with a little dirt. This was unusual and fresh. But this idea has now been copied thousands of times by countless photographers who want their photos to look `arty.’ These days, it’s old hat.

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“All right, then, here we go. Stand back a little from the window with your legs just slightly apart, hands on hips.”
Miguel quickly complied with my stage directions and soon we had run through a series of standard poses, front, side, and rear.
“Slide your briefs down in the front with your thumbs far enough for me to see the top of your pubic hair. I hope you do have pubic hair: shaved crotches seem, unfortunately, to be common among young men these days.”

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Miguel laughed, “I can assure you, Moritz, my groin fur is exactly as Nature intended.”
To me, pubic hair is always a kind of prelude, a preview of coming attractions as a model slowly drops his pants. I can’t understand why young men today don’t seem to like having hair on their bodies. I believe that body and pubic hair are uniquely masculine features.

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Miguel made a real show of gradually teasing his briefs down. On his face played a fireworks of emotion. He looked alternately absolutely innocent, then aggressive, seductive, etc. He could easily have been a world-class actor.
“Somehow I get the impression that this isn’t your first time at bat,” I laughed. “Now slip them down from the sides with your thumbs the same way.”

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“These photos will go on my Web site-if any of them turn out-only when my viewership and revenues threaten to go completely into the basement,” Miguel quipped.
He pulled his briefs down as far as he possibly could, revealing just slightly the base of his penis. Very sexy.

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“OK, please take a book off the shelf and lie down on the sofa, as if you were reading.” We took a number of shots of his fantastic legs in various positions. Above all I wanted to emphasize his runner’s thighs.
“All right, now go sit on the bank, your legs bent forward slightly and your elbow supported on your thighs.”
Click, click, click . . .
This position naturally emphasized his muscular upper arms and chest.

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“Now lean back and spread your legs as far apart as you can.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty suggestive pose,” joked Miguel. “My poor old grandma would be shocked.” He seemed completely at ease now, relaxed and having fun in front of the camera.
“Well, let’s really open the old girl’s eyes, then. Take your underwear off.”
“It’s obvious that you are a born photographer. So why not do that for a living? Why wouldn’t you want to make money with it?”

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“Oh, that’s simple. If I took photos for a living, then it wouldn’t be fun anymore: it would be a job. I’d also have to shoot people whom I don’t find interesting from an artistic standpoint. If photography were my livelihood, then I’d be obligated to take pictures of anyone willing to pay for my services. And then there are the people who complain about everything, who want the camera to make them look younger or thinner when they are older and fatter. As an amateur, a hobbyist, I’m not beholden to my photographic subjects: I’m free to photograph whatever and whoever interests me. And to pack up and move on when I feel like it. For example, women have often asked me to photograph them. I’ve always said no. The female form just doesn’t interest me.”

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“So all the photos you have hanging here on the walls are of guys you found interesting and inspired you artistically?”
“Exactly. I have to have a connection with the people I photograph, and they have to like being photographed, too. I remember once I had begun photographing a really good-looking young man, only to discover that he was arrogant and autocratic. His inner ugliness overshadowed his outer appearance: it came straight through the camera. After half an hour, I made the first excuse I could think of and sent him on his way.”

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“But does my work ethic really interest you, or is this merely a delaying tactic? Have you changed your mind about our arrangement?” I joked.
Miguel smiled at me. “Well, I have to admit, the situation is unusual and strange. After a race or a workout, it’s one thing to peel off my gear and hop into the open showers bare assed with a bunch of other naked guys; but to strip down stark naked in front of another guy while he takes pictures is another thing entirely. But no, I’m not getting cold feet. A deal’s a deal.”

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With that, he stood up, turned his back to me, pulled off his briefs, and casually tossed them onto the pile. As he did, I admired his perfect round butt cheeks. Now naked, he held both hands over his crotch. Then he turned to me, grinning and a little embarrassed.
“OK, boss: now what?”
“Up on the wall are all the classic and popular body poses, each of which I’ll be asking you to assume. Basically, all you have to do is copy the poses you see on the wall. I suggest we start with the simple pose on the extreme left of the wall and work our way from left to right.”

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Miguel said, “Ah, now I see what the artwork is for. Pretty clever of you to hang such a practical manual right on the wall. I gotta tell ya, it’s not so easy to follow directions when you’re naked and have to hide your private parts.”
This time I had to grin.
“You don`t have to cover your crotch. For me it would be ok.”

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“Yeah, really funny.”
Miguel looked thoroughly at the first picture, “Well, where should I stand? Window again?”
“No, this time we use this wall over there as background.”
Miguel and I played with different poses; at first his primary concern was to make sure his crotch was covered, either with one or both hands or by strategically lifting one leg or the other.

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His skittishness lasted a little while, but once he realized that lightning was not about to strike him dead, he found his confidence again completely. Soon we had gone through all the various poses I wanted to capture, and the photo shoot was drawing to a close.

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“I’m starting to feel like I’ve been naked since last Tuesday. You got any other nude shots you want to take, or are you satisfied at last?” Miguel said, half joking and half serious. I noticed, he now wanted to come to an end.
I could have continued for hours taking pictures of this beautiful young athlete; but Miguel was clearly growing tired and uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to antagonize him.

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“I think I’ve done enough pictures for today.”
“Thanks,” he said, stretching. “Man, I thought triathlons were a bitch! OK, I’d like to see all the photos, as we agreed. Could I have the camera?”
I gave him my camera, which due to the large, light-sensitive lens, was a little difficult to hold and operate with just his right hand.

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But his normal inhibitions had returned once the shoot was over, and his left hand was once again officially in charge of covering his crotch.
Or so I thought. But then he did something I’d never have expected. With his left hand, he casually stroked his penis until it began to grow in length and girth.
Preoccupied with the camera, Miguel now afforded me a clear view of his genitals.

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His already impressive dick continued to grow.
Unlike many other men, Miguel did not have a large, low-hanging scrotum. He was instead compact: his testicles fell just slightly below his penis.
Both as an art photographer and as a gay man, I have seen many penises in my day; but somehow each one was unique. The variations seemed infinite. Miguel’s penis was long and slender, with a flared glans.
His penis mirrored his slim, athletic proportions. Suddenly, I realized Miguel was grinning at me.

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“You’re really fascinated with my dick, aren’t you? You can’t take your eyes off it, I can tell!” he laughed. “It’s all right, look as much as you want. I don’t mind displaying the family jewels, as long as it’s ‘eyes only’. Go ahead, sit in the chair and I’ll stand a little closer. As a photographer, you’re always looking for the best angle, aren’t you?” he joked.

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Miguel’s directness made me blush like a schoolgirl caught hiding in the boys’ locker room.
Miguel had to laugh again.
“Moritz, don’t be embarrassed. This is part of our agreement, one I hope will benefit us both for a good, long time. Since you won’t take money and since I don’t have any to give you, boldly taking you where no man has gone before will have to be payment in kind. At least until my Web site goes viral and I make my first couple of millions.

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“Look, do you really think I didn’t notice that each time we sat in front of the computer, you took the opportunity to check me out from top to bottom? I have no problem with it. It’s a price I’m more than willing to pay, and you’re worth it. And besides, somehow I have to keep you well entertained, and the visitors to my Web site (and I hope also soon to YouTube) coming back for more. So have a seat: show’s about to begin.”

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I sat there, Miguel in front of me. Again he laughed, “Moritz, I’d never have guessed that you were such a shy guy. C’mon, why don’t you spread your legs a little farther apart, and I’ll move in even closer.”
So I did, and Miguel moved up until he was about 6″ from my face.
“Oh, just one thing,” said Miguel seriously. “Look, but don’t touch.”
I nodded. Then he began poring over the photo display while I stared at his genitals. At this distance I could even smell the subtle fragrance of his natural musk.

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As are many German males, Miguel had been circumcised in such a way that his foreskin barely covered the glans.
After some 5 minutes I asked Miguel, “Maybe you could even pull your foreskin all the way back so I can see the glans?”
“Hey, now you’ll really outrageous!” he said sharply, startling me. Then he smiled again and said, “Relax, I’m just kidding. I think I can do that.”

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With his left hand he pushed back his foreskin. “Just for you, Moritz.”
This young man really had energy and strength. He knew exactly what he wanted and how far he would go to get it. He was joking and teasing with me now, but beneath the surface he remained a strong-willed young man.

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After I had ogled Miguel 7″ flaccid penis for about 5 minutes up close and personal, he shook his hips so his penis would swing tantalizingly back and forth. Then he turned to the side so I could look at his amazing ass cheeks, his penis, and his testicles in profile. Shortly thereafter Miguel had finished going through the shots. Apparently having no complaints, he resolutely handed me the camera and stepped back.

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“Moritz, congratulations: you pass! I stood here more than 10 minutes bare-assed with my matching three-piece set inches from your face and you still followed the hands-off rule. I bet most other gay guys wouldn’t have that much integrity and self-control – no way. They had just grabbed what they desire. I know now that I can really trust you. You’re a man of your word. We’re gonna make a hell of a team, Moritz!
“For my Web site, the nudes are of course a non-starter, but I still want to have copies of them. Never know when they might come in handy as calling cards,” he joked.

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“Seriously, I’m really happy with your work, how the nude shots turned out. In none of them can anyone see my junk, just as you promised. Well, a little pubic hair shows here and there, but no big deal. And I think you’ve made me look pretty good butt-naked, even if my grandma might not approve. If we can stick to our agreement, we’ve got a win-win situation here. You’ll get full credit for your amazing finesse with a camera, and the popularity of my Web site will grow and grow. All I have to do is keep my visitors satisfied with new and interesting shots and angles.”

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Then he casually nudged my calf with his bare foot and said, “Course, to get those, I guess I’ll also have to think about how to come up with new and interesting ways to keep my photographer, and new business partner in a good mood. But now I really must hurry, otherwise I’ll be late. How about you copy the photos for me while I put my clothes back on? That would be nice.”
As I quickly copied the photos for Miguel, running through my head over and over was what he had just said: That he would always be trying to think of new ways to keep me happy. Did he realize what he was saying?

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With a promise to call me later, Miguel went on his way.
Alone, I loaded the photos from the camera memory card to my computer in order to watch Miguel nude on the big computer screen. Seeing his fantastic body, I felt my penis springing awake and demanding my attention. As the series of photos of Miguel’s body, nude and as perfect as God’s own design, appeared on the screen one by one, my own clothes began to fall away.

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With pre-seminal fluids literally dripping from my penis, I closed my eyes and tried to recall the situation when I had Miguel`s dick and balls directly before my face. How I kept myself from touching it, tasting it, and taking it into my mouth as it called to me, I’ll never know. But thank God I had kept my word, or that would have been the end.
Both my hands took over in a well-practiced counterpoint of movements, and soon every muscle was tingling in anticipation as I exploded in what had to be the best, the most intense, and definitely the most productive orgasm I had had in weeks.

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I continued gazing at Miguel’s images flashing across the screen, and within minutes I had a second orgasm, almost as intense as the first.
I’ll admit that, from a technical, photographic perspective, the shots I had taken of Miguel today were not my best work-but they were certainly the most exciting and erotic ones. He was just so damned beautiful.
But just then I got a phone call from a friend and we talked for quite some time, so I had a little distraction as I silently cleaned myself up. Otherwise I would still have been sitting in front of the computer, rubbing my penis raw and ecstatic to be doing it.

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After the call I turned the computer off, even though it took all my willpower. No more photos of Miguel today, I silently vowed.
Instead, I thought it best to go for a short run to renew myself and get my mind off things. My normal route was a little over 12 kilometers about 7½ miles) and usually took me 70 minutes to complete. But this time I was still a little weak in the knee, so I ran only about 5K. And it was a good thing, because as soon as I had gotten back into my apartment, the phone rang.

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“Hi, Moritz, it’s only me, Miguel. I have posted your photos from the race on my Web site already-and don’t worry, I also included a credit line for you and a link to your site. My friends and I all think your shots are terrific! Just too bad you haven’t taken even more. Actually, the photos for the site don’t all need to be perfect, it is more important that they are authentic and capture the essence of the competition.”
I was taken aback and had to consider: Should I tell Miguel now that I had actually taken a lot more photos than I had let on?
“Hey, Moritz, what’s up, you’re so quiet. Did I say something wrong? What’s the matter?”
“Well, to be honest, I did take more photos, a lot more photos.”
“Well, why didn’t you just tell me about these photos and shown them to me earlier?”
“Miguel, you were honest with me from the very beginning: this is a commercial venture for you, a smart way to make money. I understand and accept that. So now I guess it’s also time for me to be honest with you.”

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“First, I don’t go to sporting events to take photos because I’m interested in the sport. I … I go because it gives me the opportunity to photograph young, athletic, good looking men. If I tried doing the same in the shopping malls, I’d wind up getting arrested. But at sporting events, there are always lots of photographers, and people expect that pictures will be taken, so the problem goes away completely. Besides, at most sporting events, the athletes usually compete in skin-tight, sexy gear, which is of course more interesting. To me, I mean.”
“Fine, Moritz, I get that. You like to see young male athletes running around in Spandex. No big deal, lots of people do. But I don’t see why you wouldn’t show me the other pictures. When I asked you point-blank if you’re gay, you were honest and said yes, and that’s OK with me. So holding back a few pictures doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
So I explained, “Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I see that my being gay doesn’t bother you; but I couldn’t know that before. I can take care of myself, but I’m not crazy enough to put myself in a locked room with a guy who could easily break me in half if he thought I was attracted to him.

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“Which brings me to my second reason. During your last triathlon, I spent the entire event, almost exclusively, focusing on only two athletes: you and another guy. When I photograph, I can become obsessive; I sometimes take hundreds of photos of the same subject. If I’m attracted to a man, I can’t stop myself. I can shoot for hours.”
“I see, Moritz, but so what? Hell, I’m so focused when I train, it’s scary. I still don’t see exactly where the problem lies. How many pictures of me did you take, anyway?”
“More than 400.”
“What, 400 shots? Holy shit, that’s a ton! So can I also see them, or is there some reason you don’t want me to have a look?”

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“Miguel, now that I know how easily you deal with all these issues, I have no more problems with showing you everything. I just didn’t want you to get the impression that I’m some kind of stalker who followed you at every turn during the race and photographed you constantly.”
“But wait a minute, wait a minute: if you took more than 400 pictures of me during that event, then you must have been all over the place. During a competition that’s not so easy.”
“Yeah, but I also took a lot of photos before the race—and after.”
“Aha, the plot thickens! Now I can’t wait to see what my photos look like—today, if you have time and don’t mind. Mainly, I’m interested in seeing what you did because I’d be willing to bet my shorts—and yours—that there are still some good shots I can use for my site. Would it be OK with you if I came over again?”

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“No problem, why not now?” I said.
“Fine! I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”
Whew! Not much time to shower and straighten up the computer area, but I managed (barely).
Approximately quarter of an hour later, Miguel rang my doorbell and I let him in.
“Huh, Moritz, you know you are one strange dude. Don’t you know there wouldn’t have been any problems showing me the other pictures?”

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“I know now, but hindsight is always 20/20,” I said. “There are certain men who get belligerent when they realize there’s a gay man photographing them during a competition. So I had to play it safe. Anyway, I now have all your photos into a folder and you can watch on the computer.”
“Man, this is gonna be great,” Miguel said. “If I like some of these photos (and I know I will), can I also get copies to post on my site?”
“Sure, why not?”

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“And what payment do you ask in return?” asked Miguel.
A return? I hadn’t thought any kind of payment at all. All of this had happened so fast. Miguel read the confused expression on my face and smiled.
“Chill out, buddy. Relax! We can settle the bill after I’ve looked at the photos. But since I now know how glad you are to see me, why don’t I make a small down payment,” he said as he took off his T-shirt.

cu088

 

Miguel managed once again to surprise me.
With equal speed, he slipped off his shoes and socks, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down and off. That left him in just his low-riser briefs.

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“I’ll keep these on for now,” he said, and sat down at the computer. This time I did not sit next to him, but stood beside him, so I had a better view of his body.
“Typical photographer, always looking for the best view,” Miguel quipped, looking up. “Or are you afraid to get within striking distance?”
Miguel looked at the pictures with the eyes of a champion athlete. Based on his reaction I realized that most of the pictures fit quite well into his concept for the site.

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He made the non-verbal grunts and groans of satisfaction. I think he was astonished at the number of candid shots I had taken of him before, during, and after the race.
Finally, he grinned at me and said, “How could you possibly have taken as many photos as you did, you sneaky little devil? It’s surprising but more to the point, how could I not have noticed that you were photographing me constantly?”

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“Well, I just try to stay severely in the background when I take photos. As I said, some athletes become greatly annoyed when strangers—except For the official photographers hired by the event organizer—take pictures of them. More than once, I’ve gotten into real trouble with an athlete.”
Miguel had to laugh out loud, “Strictly speaking, that’s a development I’d never have thought of. Anyway, I’m really glad you’ve confessed to me that there are a lot more competition photos. I can also use quite a few of these on my Web site. They’re exactly what I need. Now we just need to decide what I must give you in return.”

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Miguel looked at me curiously.
“So, what do you imagine for a consideration,” Miguel asked me.
This time I put everything on one card and gave up my reserve. If I had not tried it at least once for what I really want, I would regret it later, maybe. I took all my courage together looked into his eyes and tried to look at him as innocent as I could.
“I´d like to give you a blow job.”

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“Huuh, what a great desire. Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen. In exchange for some photographs? Now you’ve’s still very finite. Then I lay with my assumption earlier but not so very wrong.”
“I’ll take that as a `maybe,’ then,” I laughed, knowing he was being facetious.
“Best I can do is put it on your wish list for like when hell freezes over. From a business standpoint alone, giving me a blow job would be way too much return on your investment. Your photos are really great, but they’re still in the `look, but don’t touch’ area of the catalog.”

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“Let’s talk about the instructional videos you’re going to make of me and for me. I think that’s where the real money is. Since I will be happy to work with you a little longer and have to offer some interesting
consideration, I can´t give the big prize away now. How am I supposed to keep you in line.”
Something I sassy replied, “oh, you would keep me quite happy, if you’d let me give you a blow job every time after a job of your project is done.”
Miguel laughed again.
“Sorry, but a blow job today ain’t in the cards. What would be your second biggest wish?” Miguel wanted to know.
“Because I have to think, it’s hard to pack in a sequence. I would like to photograph you naked with a hardon.”
Miguel laughed again, “Okay, I’ll even think about it and put it on your list. What other wishes do you have?”

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“I would like to feel and touch your naked body while standing in front of me with an erection.”
This time Miguel chuckled,
“I also put this on the list. Something else? It seems you did overcome your shyness at least. That´s good let us speak openly.”
“I would like to photograph you naked with a flaccid penis.”
“Okay, well I put this also on the list and will think about it. Honestly, I am not interested in another photo shoot. I will think seriously about everything you have suggested. When do you had time to make the training video – to shoot with me and get it done? When the first video is ready and like I imagine it, then I will not let rags and will show me generous.” He grinned.

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“This weekend we could take the video to attack.”
“Great, that’s a word. Do you have another sexual fantasy that you want to try with me? “Miguel said, grinning at me.
“I have to disappoint you,” I said, “My sexual fantasy are limited to handsome men in skintight jeans, tight bathing suit or tiny underwear, and otherwise always comes to take pictures.”
“It surprises me now, but really. I would have thought that now there is a whole range of sexual variations to light.”

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“Oh, you give up so quickly? I would have thought you fight a little more at this important price. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that Fortune favors the bold? Well, perhaps we can agree on an attenuated variant and combination of what you’ve already suggested, and I have put on your wish list. How about, for example, if you were allowed to touch me anywhere and everywhere. However, I will keep my underwear on. You may not remove my underpants or reach inside them.”

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“Okay, that is to say, I can also feel your genitals, but only through the fabric of your briefs?”
“Right. Oh, and because you are sometimes obsessively so, and you look for things that you enjoy many hours at a stretch invest, we should set a time limit, say 20 minutes. Otherwise I would be here for hours
or even probably have to spend days on end,” Miguel said, and laughed loud and intense at his own joke.
“Just so we both understand each other clearly: I can touch you anywhere I like, anyway I like, with whatever I like, for 20 solid minutes?”

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“Exactly,” said Miguel. Now, however, was somewhat skeptical and raised an eyebrow. “I won´t let you hurt me.”
I have no idea what he fears seemed to have suddenly.
“Well, then we have a deal.”
After my quick shower I had just pulled over a sweater, a pair of pants and a baggy jeans.
It benefited me now. I took off my sweater and this time it was Miguel who looked surprised. “What is that supposed to be now?” he asked.

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“Wait and see,” I said and put my jeans and my briefs off too.
Miguel looked at my naked body and was just a little unsure what to make of it.
“Are you nuts? I never said you could take off your clothes! I don´t want to have sex with you” said Miguel bit shocked.
“Well, Miguel, if you make a deal, one must remember always the small print. In this case you have neglected to prescribe my clothing for this event or what parts of my body can and cannot touch yours.
Too bad, but that’s business. Now stand still, I have work to do and only the next 20 minutes to do it.”

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“Okay,” Miguel said, “but you think of our agreement. No part of you goes inside my briefs.”
I could tell Miguel was wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into, especially with me now totally naked. He now felt somewhat uncomfortable. The thing had taken a somewhat unexpected turn for him.
He got up and stood next to me head.
We were only about 30 inches apart.

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The first thing I began to feel his face. I felt his forehead, his nose, his ears, his mouth and chin. I then touched his neck and powerful shoulders.

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My hands slid further to strengthen his upper arms. They had exactly the curves that you want. A well trained front with hard biceps and backside big triceps. Then I let my hands slide to his powerful chest muscles. I felt especially his two nipples until they were hard.

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Then my hands made their way slowly down to his slim waist and his narrow hips.
I knelt down, until I was at eye level with his crotch.
At first I felt with both hands, his strong buttocks.
His strong thighs followed.
I let my hands slide down on his knees and touched his short strong calves.

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Then I had my hands on the inside of the powerful legs of the young athletes up again.
I felt again his powerful thighs before I brought my hands slowly toward the crotch.

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Miguel’s dick and his balls were clearly visible both in his briefs.
I felt and squeezed his genitals for a moment with my fingers.

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Then my fingers wandered back to his ass cheeks and I pressed my face into his soft genitals very slowly.
“Damn,” Miguel said, “You have tricked me. I had not expected that.”
This time I had to grin.

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Since I knew the clock was running, I allowed myself this pleasure only a few minutes. Then I got up and hugged Miguel. The hug was a surprise for Miguel too.
My face pressed gently against his face. With my hands while fingering his back, his shoulders and his upper arms.
Miguel was totally surprised by this massive body closeness and intimacy.
He had not imagined the whole.

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My erect penis pressed against his flaccid penis. I rubbed my stiff cock to his crown jewels.
I slid off my face with Miguel’s face down to his neck and shoulder. Then I broke the embrace and stepped around him. Miguel was surprised and unsure what would happen next. He said nothing.
Even if all he likes, perhaps should not, he had to admit that what I was doing everything within our agreement moving.

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I stood behind Miguel and hugged him again. My body pressed against his. Again I pressed my face into his face with my hands again as I felt his genitals.
Then again I had a hand slide along his body upward. I touched his flat stomach and chest. With the other hand, I still felt off his member and his nuts. I pressed again and again very close to Miguel’s body.

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My erect penis pressed between his strong round ass cheeks. My touch and movement were, as always, gently and without haste. I breathed in the scent of young athletes.
After a few minutes, I also broke the embrace and took another step around him. When I told him again faced head-on, I looked him straight in the eye. Miguel was uncertain.
Again, I embraced him and pressed my body close to his. My penis is pressed firmly against his penis which now feel like I could no longer was limp.

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After a few more minutes, I reached down to my face back down into his crotch to press.
With my hands, I felt again his powerful thighs his strong butt.
This time it was Miguel’s voice cracked with something when he said,
“you have it about 3 more minutes.”

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I got up and pressed my face against his face. I let my mouth slowly from one side of his face to the other side walk with our two mouths and only briefly touched slightly. It was not a kiss. But it was great.
With one hand, I grabbed one of Miguel’s hands and held it while I touched his face with my face. Holding hands with Miguel was great.
With my penis, I felt that Miguel’s penis was not erect while, but larger and stronger than at the beginning of my touches.

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Then I took Miguel’s other hand and led him to take my erect member. He had now found my penis in his hand and I moved my hips slowly.
Quietly whispered Miguel, “the time is up.”

 

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Both of our hands let go and Miguel let go my member and made a small step backwards to move away from me.
We both looked into the eyes.

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He said softly, “that was surprisingly intense, that I had not expected. Would you now please dress again.”
“If I can do you a favor, I do it,” I grinned.
“By the way, you’re pretty fit as I could see and feel for a photographer,” he joked.

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End Of Story

Thanks For Your Visit

 

Writer: Moritz

Designer: Eduardo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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