This is a work of fiction. Many of the aspects of the story are drawn from real life, but the events are fictional.
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I've been modeling non-professional for some years now. It started when a friend was participating in a fashion show at a cosplay event and needed someone to wear her male attire. Most of her line is Victorian dresses and assorted undergarments, but she does have a few period waistcoats and jackets for men. That's where I came in, and happy to oblige. The following year, a couple of the other designers asked if I'd model their outfits. Of course, I said yes. The next four years I was getting the chance to wear dozens of different sumptuous outfits from the Victorian era.
Wearing several different outfits in each show meant I was changing backstage. The designers and their assistants would help me in and out of the outfits. Since most of the clothing was for females, most of the designers were female, there was always a bevy of female models, designers and assistance around as I stripped off from one outfit to the next. It was a job, and everyone was professional. So, while I was often down to just my briefs, it wasn't an erotic experience. Even the few times I was nearly naked standing next to a female model in the same state of undress, we were both focused on what we were putting on and how to best present it to the audience.
Every one of these fashion shows came with photographers. Without even realizing it I was building up quite a portfolio of images. Eventually, someone mentioned they'd seen one of these photos on a site for professional photographers and models. When I went to check it out, I was surprised to see so many of my photos online. Encouraged by the response these photos were getting, I decided to create my own model profile. I asked the photographers if I could share their images on my profile, and poof, I was a model.
Requests didn't start flooding in, but occasionally I would get a call by a photographer wanted to capture something interesting. These were not paid gigs, but a chance for them to play with taking photos in exchange I'd get some interesting photos of myself to put into my portfolio. They liked my face, as I have a long mustache and neatly trimmed beard, which adds to the 'from a different era' look. Most of these shoots were pretty straightforward, wanting to pose me in various outfits to show off the clothing. It was during one of these shoots that the photographer asked if she could take some shots of me dressing and undressing. "You have a nice body, and I think these would be some interesting photos." I agreed. The camera started clicking away.
A week later I was asked to proof the photos for approval. Normally, at the fashion show, I sign a waiver form, allowing the photographers (and designers) to use any photos they feel appropriate. I seldom get to see any of the images, unless I stumble across them online. However, since this shoot was less about the clothing and more to capture me, I was getting a chance to see all the images.
The photographer and I met at her studio to go over the images. It's a loft in Los Angeles, with a large open room with lots of natural light for the studio. Her desk sits in a corner with a large monitor where she can show off her photos. They are incredible. I am really surprised at how well the photographer used lighting to create moods for each shot. Even with the large windows, she adds lighting to get the right effect.
During the shoot, I was thinking about my poses and not about how much flesh I was shoot. There were several photos where it was obvious I was enjoying the shoot. My bulge was more than a bit prominent. One in particular had me holding a pair of trousers—I can't remember if I was about to put them on or if I'd just taken them off. Regardless, I was holding the trousers in one hand and adjusting the elastic waistband of my briefs with the other. The fingers of my right hand were dragging along the line of my cock sliding it to the right, probably repositioning it so it wouldn't be apparent in the photos when I was dressed. I blushed and apologized. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was, well..."
"No need to apologize. I think it adds to the allure of the photo." She opened another folder—one that wasn't part of this shoot—revealing dozens more images of me undressed. "I took these at the fashion show last year. I hadn't asked for your permission, so I've never done anything with them. But that is when I realized I wanted to get you into the studio." The new photos were not as good as the ones she took in the studio where she could adjust the lighting. Still, there was a raw, voyeuristic nature to the images.
"This one is my favorites." The photographer opens up an image to full screen. I am standing with one leg lifted, hold my foot out for an assistant to slip on a pair of trousers. I'm looking down at my foot, guiding it into place. The assistant is looking up, but not at my face. Even though the back of her head is towards us, it is obviously she is looking at my crotch, and my crotch was responding. The outline of the head of my cock was visible behind the thin cotton briefs. There is another female model standing off to the side, facing into the camera, but, like the assistant, staring at my briefs. "You see," the photographer says pointing at the eye line of both of the females, their attention draws our eyes to the subject of the photo. You aren't naked, but this is a very erotic pose."
"I wasn't intending that."
"No and that adds to the beauty. You are oblivious to the effects you're having on the women in this photo."
Wow, was I blushing. But, I must admit, very aroused by the image.
The photographer switched back to the photo of me holding the trousers. "See, the innocent way you reposition yourself, and yet, clearly excited. Maybe not fully erect, but certainly showing promise."
"No, I was," I gulped trying to think of something casual to say. "I was not full on. I think I would have remembered it if I was more..."
She tilted her head at me. "You weren't aware you were excited?"
"I was aware. I enjoy having my photo taken. I guess part of me is an exhibitionist."
"All models are exhibitionists by nature."
"I'm just glad I wasn't all the way. It's embarrassing enough as it is."
"Don't be embarrassed. It's beautiful. If you're ever interested in having your photo taken in a more 'engorged' state, let me know."
We continued to look through the photos and my arousal continue to grow. I tried to not squirm, but my cock was not cooperating. Eventually, I had to reach down and readjust. I grabbed by crotch and tried to reposition myself to the right.
Even though I was standing behind her left shoulder, the photographer noticed "Are these images arousing you? Should we do another shoot?"
"Yes." I couldn't deny my arousal.
"Which, are you aroused or do you want another shoot?"
"Uh, the first. Yes, they are definitely getting me going."
"What about them do you like?"
"Well, I don't know about the photos so much. I'm not sure I have an eye for that. But certainly the idea that you captured me so often semi-erect is erotic."
"Good. That is their intent. For me too. Here, let me show you my favorite." She clicks on another folder and opens up an image of me. This was is a close up of my briefs, with my cock stretching out to the right. The outline of the entire shaft is visible, with red hair peeking out along the top and legs from the briefs.
"When did you get that close?" I said feeling the proximity of the camera staring at my crotch.
"I have a zoom lens. I can stand ten feet away and still get up close and personal."
"Yeah, that's pretty personal."
"It's a lovely shot, but again, you're not fully engorged, so it only hints at possibilities."
I look at the photo and it looks like I'm leaking precum. There is just a hint of a wet spot right at the tip. I gulp.
"If you're looking at the wet spot, don't worry. You weren't being that bad. I photoshopped that in." The photographer reaches up with her finger to point out the edits on the screen. Running her finger along the tip of my cock in the photo, I could swear she was doing it in real life. I don't remember how she said she did the technique; I was too engrossed in the moving of her hand.
"Wow, I'm, uh, these are going to be posted anywhere, are they?"
"No, they are just for my personal collection. Besides, you have approval to deny publication of any of the photos we took the other day."
We finished looking through the photos and I gave my approval for a couple dozen less embarrassing photos for her to use. As we walked out of the studio, I noticed she had a number of boudoir photos of women hanging on the wall. "You are good at capturing the same sort of intimacy with your female models."
"Sometimes. It really depends on the model. Some, like you, get into the modeling and their passion comes across on film. Others may be incredibly aroused, but you'd never know it from the photos. Women feel more comfortable with a female photographer, so they are more willing to let go of their inhibitions."
One of the photos was a woman laying on a bed, one leg slid under the satin sheets, with the other knee cocked up to the side. One hand was behind her head grabbing a fist full of hair, while the other was slide down to her crotch, a finger buried in the folds of her vagina. Her nipples were incredibly erect. "I image she was definitely feeling it."
The photographer chuckled. "Oddly enough, she wasn't. She's just good at presenting the pose." She steps closer to the three foot wide image. "Her nipple are erect, but we opened the windows in the studio that day, so it was pretty cold. See, there are little goose pimples along her side. Plus," she says pointing at her hand between her legs, "if she were really masturbating, the fingers would be blurry. She would be moving and yet, the detail on the fingers, the pubic hair, everything is in crystal clear focus. It isn't until we move up her body that the depth of field causes the image to soften."
"I don't think I could do that pose. Too much temptation to finish."
"I think you'd be surprised. You're pretty professional, focused on the task at hand. It's why I enjoy working with you."
"That's just it. I'd be focused on the hand."
Again, the photographer laughed. "If you ever want to test your theory, I'm happy to be the photographer."
I grab at my crotch again, needing further adjustment. "I'm not sure today would be the right day to test that."
"On the contrary, what better way to test it than when you're already feeling aroused. It would really prove whether or not you can control it."
There was nothing on my schedule for the day, and it was obvious the photographer was willing to do the shoot right now. She stood facing me, not angled toward the door as if escorting me out, or angled toward the studio, urging me to do another shoot. This was clearly my choice.
I bit my upper lips and resisted the urge to grab my crotch again. "What would I wear? I'm not really dressed for a shoot today."
"I was hoping you'd be willing to go without."
Yeah, there was no avoiding another crotch squeeze. My cock was pulsing with the idea of being photographed nude. As I grabbed and squeezed, the photograph softly smiled. I accepted her offer.
We headed back into the studio, but instead of staying in the main room, she turned left into the back area. "This is the 'apartment' setting for my boudoir shots. I have a bed and a bathroom with the lights all setup."
The room was an open space. One corner had the back wall of a bathroom, with tile behind the shower and a large mirror over a sink and a toilet. The other corner of the room had a large bed, with a window off to the side. "The window isn't real. I have lights behind it to give any effect we want, but people like to have boudoir shots of them standing at a window. It has that exhibitionist feel."
