Thank you for your wonderful response to my first two stories. "Looking for Mr. Wells" and "My Cross Country Adventure". This story finds me getting involved in another unusual relationship, this time with an older gentlemen.
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Chapter 1. Locker room flirting.
It was all I could do to keep from getting aroused in an obvious way. I was already plenty excited as the man watched me towel off in the locker room, and I fought to keep from having what would have been a very embarrassing erection in plain view of one and all.
Fortunately, there was no one else in the locker room at the gym except myself and the mystery man, who was a middle aged gentleman I had noticed quite frequently while working out. I remembered him for a few reasons, the main one being that it seemed whenever I happened to look in his direction, he was looking at me.
A second reason was that, despite his thinning scalp, the rest of his body was absolutely covered with hair. Thick black hair from the neck down, a rich pelt that I found extremely attractive despite the fact that the man attached to it was likely close to three times my age. He was shorter than I was, and had a very trim and slender body.
The other reason was that no matter what time I arrived or how long I worked out, when it came time to take a shower, there he was. He was usually playing around with things in his locker while I undressed, and when I emerged from the showers he would be dressed and buffing his shoes.
I found this all fascinating, although what I really wanted to do was to check him out in the showers like he was doing to me, but he never did take one. This forced me to use my imagination, but I didn't let that stand in the way of letting him look all he wanted, since it was a lot of hard work that had turned me from a roly poly kid into a guy with a decent body.
It was my body that I assumed got the gentlemen's attention, and I admit that a body like mine wasn't something you saw every day. At 5'10" and about 165 pounds, I had packed a little muscle on my previously soft body. Nothing all that exceptional mind you, and not the feature that merited any attention I got.
I had begun shaving all of my body hair a few months earlier, but not because of any weightlifting competition or anything. I had long been embarrassed by the pitiful amount of body hair I had been blessed with during my teenage years anyway, and had finally decided to make myself fully smooth.
It was no big deal to do, as I had but a wisp of hair under my arms, a very modest tuft above my genitals, and a few stray hairs on the insides of my lower legs. Barely a minute and I was smooth as a baby. Shaving also made my penis look larger as well.
I say that with tongue firmly in cheek, since my dick is only a couple of inches long limp, and about twice that when fully aroused. Sadly, there is no thickness to speak of to made up for the lack of length either, so no amount of groundskeeping would make me look even so much as average.
This had led to a great deal of fear and shame during my school years, as I spent my time trying to get girls and then trying not to let them see how shortchanged I was. It was fortunate in a way that I had very few chances to humiliate myself.
The previous summer, as I hitchhiked across the country to get to college, I had been picked up by an elderly gentleman who introduced me to a whole new way of life. He treated me like a man, and taught me so much during the course of that evening that I still can't believe it.
When school started I had gotten into a relationship with Doc, a graduate student who also gave me confidence in myself, and allowed me to learn some more. That relationship had ended a month ago, and now I was very single and very confused.
I was still attracted to girls, but these two experiences with men had been incredible, so I was torn between these two worlds. Was it possible to feel this way? Being 18 in 1975 and far from home were not the best conditions in which to figure these things out.
One thing I had figured out was that somehow over the past few months I had become an exhibitionist of sorts, which was really strange considering how exceptionally modest I had always been in the past. Now here I was drying my hair with the towel, and letting my little tool wiggle around brazenly in front of my anonymous audience.
Chapter 2. Anonymous no longer.
After dressing I gathered my things and headed out into the brisk evening air. Standing outside, to my surprise, was my voyeuristically inclined gentleman admirer, and when I stepped outside he approached me.
"Hello," the man said as his eyes darted around nervously. "I hope you will forgive my being so forward, but I couldn't help noticing you as you worked out. You come here rather often, don't you?"
"Yeah, I try to make it in a few times a week, Mister ...."
"Anthony, I'm sorry. Please forgive me," he said while extending his hand. "Anthony will be fine."
"Okay Anthony, I'm Timmy. Tim," I said correcting myself.
"Very nice to meet you, Tim," Anthony said. "I'm sure that you're a busy fellow, but I wanted to ask you whether you would be interested in doing some modeling. You see, I do some sketching from time to time, and I thought that you might want to model, seeing as you have such a well developed body."
Oh brother! You're an artist, and I'm well developed, I thought to myself. I thought the whole thing absurd and just wished he would come right out and say what was on his mind. I knew what he wanted and I was ready to say yes, but instead I played the game.
"Modeling? Me?" I asked in surprise. "I've never done anything like that before."
"Not really much to it," Anthony said. "All you need to do is be able to stand still for an extended period of time. I'm sure that a young man such as yourself could handle that."
"I guess."
"Oh, and it would be nude, of course," Anythony added matter-of-factly. "But I assume you realized that."
"Oh, uh... yeah. Of course."
"Student, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm a freshman."
"High school or college?"
"College," I said rather sharply.
"Sorry. Meant no offense," Anthony quickly added. "You have a very young appearance. Then I take it that you are 18?"
"Yes."
"Splendid!" Anythony exclaimed, and within a couple of minutes we had made an appointment for me to come by his place to be a model. Timmy Wells, a model?
Chapter 3. Anthony's place.
Anthony's 'place' was a condo in an expensive downtown neighborhood, and was on the top floor of a five story building. He buzzed me up when I arrived on time on Saturday evening, and to say I was surprised at seeing the lavish apartment was an understatement.
I was a student, living mostly on ramen noodles and happy hour munchies from bars, but just because I couldn't afford nice didn't mean I didn't recognize it when I saw it. This Anthony was doing quite alright for himself, and after he greeted me warmly at the door and made me a drink, he brought me over to the picture window for a stunning look at the view.
"This is incredible!" I gushed as I sipped the vodka and tonic Anthony had given me, looking over the rim of the glass at the city in twilight.
"Yes, things do look a lot nicer from up here," Anthony said, and I had to admire the black satin robe that he was wearing, a stylish and elegant number that covered him from neck to toe.
I pulled my eyes away from the window to look around the immediate area, and noticed that there were numerous pictures on the walls. To my amazement, it dawned on me that this Anthony was really an artist, and while it probably wasn't his main source of income, to my untrained eye the work looked very professional.
It also dawned on me that while there were several drawings of landscapes and bowls of fruit, the primary subjects were men. Naked men, drawn with incredible clarity, and I then realized that there was a good chance that I was going to end up on the wall too. The thought both thrilled and terrified me.
"Care for another drink before we get started, Timmy?" Anthony asked, and I eagerly accepted in hopes my nerves would settle down.
Finally, it was time for me to strip down and prepare for my first and probably last modeling session. I got naked under the careful watch of Anthony, who took my clothes from me as I disrobed and folded them neatly before setting them aside.
There I stood under a bank of bright lights, totally naked and scared. I had initially feared that I would get a hard-on, but I was so nervous that instead of being aroused my little dick was shyly shrinking up even worse than usual.
"Here's what I want to try first," Anthony said as he positioned me with my hands clasped behind my head with my right leg a little in front of my left.
"Perfect!" Anthony exclaimed as he repositioned my arms just so. "It gets hot under these lights, so if you feel faint or anything just let me know. I'll get comfortable myself too, if you don't mind."
Anthony shrugged off his robe as he walked away, and underneath it he was only wearing black satin shorts. Although I had seen him dressed pretty much the same way at the gym before, the sight of Anthony's hairy body got my heart pounding a little bit. Even his back was coated with a mat of black hair, and I thought about whether it was soft or coarse to the touch as he went to his easel.
Standing still for an extended period doesn't seem like a tough thing to do, but after about ten minutes my muscles started to ache and sweat began trickling down my body. Anthony came over and handed me a towel a couple of times, and after what seemed like forever he announced that the session was over.
As I went over behind his easel, I saw what he had done, and was startled at how much it really did look like me, and complimented him on his work. He was even generous about my unit, blessing me with a little more than was actually there, I thought. Artistic license and all that. I reached for my pile of clothes as Anthony handed me a drink.
"You don't have to go just yet, do you Timmy?" Anthony asked. "I like to make sure my models are well taken care of, and I know how much your muscles must ache right about now."
4. My first massage.
Anthony brought me into another room, where there was a massage table set up, and motioned for me to hop on. I climbed aboard and reclined on my back as directed, while Anthony brought over a bottle of oil.
"You seem like a Mandarin kind of man," Anthony said. "Or do you have another preference?"
"Uh, I don't know," I said. "I've never had a massage before."
"Really?" Anthony exclaimed. "That's wonderful! Just relax and enjoy."
Anthony began at my feet and then gradually worked up to my calves, expertly kneading and rubbing them, and the soreness melted away as he worked.
"How does that feel Timmy?" Anthony asked.
