Cover Boy

"A shot, please, of Russ in front of Troy, with Troy palming Russ's belly. Troy possesses Russ. Troy covers Russ." The two models moved into position and attitude. Troy was the big, brawny, blond football star-looking one wearing a Navy sailor's tunic. Russ was the smaller one with auburn hair with blond streaks in it who looked like the more sensitive, sultry one—more beautiful of face than handsome. He was bare-chested and muscular, but not to a "cut" extent. Troy's hand on his belly was big, manly, giving the impression of possession.

*Click* *Click*"Good," the photographer, Felix, tall, gaunt, sharp featured, with a long, black ponytail hanging down his back, said. "The hand lower now, Troy, if you please. Suggestive of ownership and sex in the next few minutes." Tony dutifully moved the hand palming Russ's belly lower, three fingers disappearing under the waistband of Russ's trousers in front, clearly extending into the top of the smaller man's bush, indicative of intimate privilege.

"Very good," Felix said, "Now, Russ, turn your head up for a kiss, please and thank you. Giving him permission to have his way with you. Yes, like that," *Click* *Click* "Now kiss." They did. *Click* *Click*

"Give Troy a look like you will happily open your thighs for him, Russ—because you are going to." Felix laughed. "Good, very good." *Click* *Click*

Felix was moving around them at different angles. The shooting session was to feed a photo site for erotica book cover images. Final rounds of shots—the carry-through of the models—would be posted to a different kind of Web site. Felix was in worn jeans, barefooted, and bare-chested. His torso was lean, muscular, but in a tight, gnarly way. He had tattoos haphazardly placed around his body. Both Russ and Troy were clean of any tattooing, with smooth, hard bodies.

"Now the same shots without the tunic. Good." He did another round of shots. "Now something sexier. More embracing and looking lustfully into each other's eyes. Troy is about to mount Russ. Good." *Click* *Click* *Click* "Against the wall, I think. Russ's back to the wall, Troy forcing Russ's arms above his head, coming in for a kiss. You're on your way to fuck. Yes, like that. Perfect." *Click* *Click*

"Now, facing Russ to the wall, one of Troy's hands trapping the little guy's wrists above his head. A hint that the other one is doing something else—yes you can feel Russ up, if you want. These are just torso shots, so it's imagination time. You'll be given your chance to make it real. Russ's butt jutted out. A pained but passioned expression on his face. Troy is fucking Russ from behind. All to be imagined. Yes, good. Very, very good." *Click* *Click* *Click*

"Now on the bed, Troy on top, between Russ's legs, and . . . yes, OK, you're stripping Russ's briefs off, Troy. If you must, you must. We'll switch over to the video camera."

Troy, kneeling over Russ, pressing a hand down on Russ's sternum, the latter looking not so happy with where the shoot was going, but, with a nod from Felix, sighing and going with it. The sound of the snap of the condom Felix handed to Troy being put in place and then Troy took Russ's ankles in his hands, wishboned Russ's legs, and came down between the smaller man's thighs.

*Whir, whir, whir* went the video camera, as Russ arched his back, raised his pelvis, and was penetrated by Troy's cock. For the next fifteen minutes, the video camera did its thing in filming a scene of Troy doing pushups on the smaller young man and Russ exhibiting very interesting expressions on his face for the camera.

"And that's a wrap," Felix called out after Troy had shuddered through his ejaculation and the two models had kissed.

Felix was across the room attending to his camera, taking out the video camera, and adjusting the lighting around the bed, preparing for the next photo shoot job.

"Who knew that doing cover photo work could be so exhausting?" Troy said. The two of them were pulling their clothes back on.

"Yes, who knew?" Russ answered, his voice a little stiff, not warming to the conversation.

"But a lot sexier, don't you think?" Troy asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"And it brings up a thirst. Shall we stop off at a bar to lift one before we go our separate ways?"

"Thanks, but no," Russ answered. Not a "not tonight"; a "no. I've got to hit the books tonight." Russ was studying commercial communications at NYU and was about finished with his BA. He wanted to be in front of the camera in broadcasting. He had the looks for it. He'd managed to keep on schedule by selling himself with these cover image shoots—and more so for the videos made at the end of some of the shoots. He was gay, but not as public about it as the cover images implied. He colored his hair and wore different-hued contact lens for anything going beyond a cover-image shot.

He'd graduate before turning twenty-one. Not bad for a guy from a coal mining town in West Virginia. "And, uh" . . . just to pin it down . . . "I don't mix work with pleasure. Sorry, that's just too messy."

"Yeah, OK, but I think you're really sexy. I think we could get it on for real, not just for this camera work."

"Yeah, well . . ." It had been real enough for Russ, although he was trying to pretend it wasn't. Troy had been inside him. Troy had fucked him. It had been for pay and part of a job, though. Russ wanted to keep it that way with the other models. He could pretend it wasn't real then.

From across the room, Felix called out. "Could you stay a few minutes longer, Russ. I want to go over your release form again."

"Yeah sure," Russ called back. He looked back at Troy. "Look, I think you're hot too. It's just not a good idea going with a guy you have to work with."

"I think it would make our cover shots steamier," Troy said. "I just think it would be better for both of us if we didn't have to think about doing it for the camera and creating the best camera angles. But OK. If you don't want to now, you don't want to . . . yet." He picked up his duffle bag and headed for the door.

When he was gone, Felix turned and said. "OK, Russ, strip again. Now for some serious filming."

* * * *

"Now jack yourself. Good, like that. You're such a sexy slut, baby." *Whirrr*

Russ was on his back, on the bed, his legs bent and spread. He had a hand wrapped around his cock and was stroking it to the directions being given him. Felix, jeans unbuttoned and flared now, his hips barely keeping the jeans hanging on his legs, his erection pushing out from his curly black-haired bush, was moving around the bed with his video camera, taking it all in.

Felix was licking his lips, his eyes lustily drinking Russ's body in. He was going to fuck this sweet little piece. Soon.

The guys had been paid $300 each for the cover image shoot and another $300 for the sex extension video. Russ was getting $500 for this sex video. He hadn't done this often, but the closer he got to graduation, the more money he needed to get across the finish line. He'd do maybe two more of these and he'd be free. He'd have his BA, he'd get a job in broadcasting far away from here, and he wouldn't do this again. Felix had assured him this was for a very private, exclusive subscription site.

Felix attached the camera to a tripod set on a stand he'd rolled up to and over the bed, positioning it over Russ's thighs. His hands were unsteady, his motions jerky. He could hardly contain his need, his want, to cover this luscious little model, to penetrate him and pin his ass to the bed, sink in deep, and pump.

"Arch your back, look dreamy, and play with your nipples, while I eat you out," Felix commanded, "After a minute grab your cock again and stroke it until I brush it away."

Felix came in below Russ, stroked the young man's inner thighs, coaxing his legs to spread more. "Silky. Nice."

"Open your legs for me, baby," he said, and Russ did so.

He placed pillows under the small of Russ's back to lift his pelvis.

"Roll your ass up and show your sweet hole to the camera," Felix commanded, and Russ did so. He moaned as Felix played with the rim with a finger, pushed it in, and then pulled it out. "Such a sweet, tight hole," Felix murmured. The hole tightened right back up. "Pucker it for the camera." Russ did so. Whir went the camera.

Felix struck his head between the young man's thighs and began to tongue his asshole. *Whirrr* The camera was placed directly overhead, set to pan from where Felix was eating Russ out up Russ's heaving torso to the young man's face to catch his expressions. Russ arched his back, moaned, and fingered his nipples. I didn't require directions to act out his arousal. Felix was doing a very good job on him. After a minute, he ran one of his hands down his torso, through the auburn hair of his trimmed bush, and onto his cock. He slowly masturbated himself, moaning and groaning in a low hum, while Felix ate him out, sucked his balls, and, eventually, brushed Russ's hand off his cock and covered the shaft with his mouth.

*Whirr* went the camera.

Felix rose from Russ, took the camera off the rolling stand, rolled it back off the bed, stripped off his jeans, and came back up on the bed between Russ's spread legs. He held the camera in one hand, taking in the shot of him deftly crowning himself with a condom with the other hand. And then the camera whirred, taking in every second of Felix's hard cock entering Russ's hole. Felix pushed in and pulled out. The camera panned up to Russ's face to catch the expression of his reaction to the penetration. "Priceless," Felix muttered. And it was, indeed, a priceless shot.

The whir of the camera caught the in and out of going into the root, pulling back, and then the fuck itself, Russ writhing and bucking against the pumping cock. It caught the verbalized, "Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Yesss, fuck me good!" Felix's technique was to catch all of the natural sound, including his instructions. His clients' feedback indicated they liked that. They sometimes paid extract to give him directions to use.

"Come for me, baby," Felix commanded, and Russ did.

"Yes, yes, yes," he cried out as Felix continued pumping. Then he too tensed, jerked, pulled quickly out, ripped the condom off, and squirted cum on Russ's balls and the base of his cock.

"Turn over and spread 'em," Felix said, in a shaky voice.

Russ did as commanded, spreading his butt cheeks and showing his reamed hole.

"Look at how open it is now," Felix said. "Daddy opened baby up real good, yes he did." Russ groaned as Felix showed he could easily push three fingers up in the passage now and the hole would remain gaping open when he pulled the fingers out.

Here came the only false part of the act, but the clients loved it, so Felix did it. He moved the camera to show him jerking on his cock over Russ's firm buttocks, spread cheeks, and open hole, and he squirted egg white on the hole from a syringe, faking another prodigious ejaculation on Russ's tail.

The camera stopped rolling, Felix said, "Good one, baby. You did good," and slapped Russ on the butt. "Go get a shower now and get out of here."

Blushing, not being able to look at the wall of mirrors on one side of the room as he escaped the bed, Russ went off to the attached bathroom, grabbing up his clothes on the way. He couldn't get out of there fast enough.

He walked the ten blocks to Otto's apartment in Manhattan. He felt too dirty to take the subway; he needed to be out in the cleansing fresh air—as well as cleansing as the air could get in downtown New York. Most embarrassing was that, when they got fully into the fuck, he'd been fully into it.

He lived with Otto, a fashion designer, older than Russ by some thirty years. The good part of that was that Otto didn't want it very often. He was a handsome, elegant man and he made Russ laugh, but, primarily, he provided a roof over Russ's head while Russ was finishing his college work. He couldn't have managed in New York without a sugar daddy of some sort. Otto, interested in sex and beautiful young men but rarely able to get it up, was the best of the opportunities Russ had had. The fringe benefit was that Otto had to have his young man well dressed, and he provided the dressing. It helped in the modeling Russ did on the side, with a good many of the gigs provided by Otto.

Lately their relationship had been strained. Otto's brief opportunities to get it up recently had been expended as much elsewhere as with Russ and, as Russ's last year at NYU was drawing to a close, both of them seemed to realize that so was their arrangement. Otto seemed already to be moving in that direction—which was moving Russ out into someone else's apartment. There wasn't any question the Russ could afford his own apartment, no matter how small.

This impression was borne out to Russ when he entered the foyer of Otto's apartment and heard the sounds of sex coming from the living room. He went to the entrance to the living room and stood there for a moment, watching.

They were on the sofa, the back of which was toward the entrance into the living room from the foyer. Thus, all Russ saw was from their shoulders up. From their shoulders up was bare for both of them, though. Otto was sitting on the sofa, turned away from the doorway. Trevor, a young dancer on Broadway, not more than nineteen years old, who both Otto and Russ knew, was sitting in Otto's lap, facing him. What Russ could see were the naked soles of the dancer's feet, heels rubbing the top of the sofa back on either side of Otto's shoulders, Trevor's hands locked on the back of Otto's neck, a look of ecstasy, natural or faux, it didn't matter to Russ, on Trevor's face, and the young dancer's body bouncing up and down. The interlaced fingers of the young man's hands were opening and closing in rhythm to what obviously was the rise and fall of Trevor's passage on Otto's Viagra-aided cock.

Russ turned and quietly left the apartment—not really in anger. He just didn't want to get into any of this now.

* * * *

"So, is the studying done for the night?"

Troy pulled up the stool next to Russ in the gay bar Russ had gone to after leaving Otto's apartment, not knowing where to go until Otto was finished with Trevor and Russ could pretend not to know what they had been doing. He'd decided he needed a drink. Club 216 in Chelsea had been his first thought.

"No, I can't get to my books."

"Is your apartment building on fire?"

"No, my boyfriend is fucking a dancer on the sofa of his apartment and I'd have to walk right by them to get to my bedroom." Russ had drunk enough to be open and honest. Tory wanted him enough to take advantage of that.

"Ouch. Sorry I was flip."

"Yes, ouch. We don't have an arrangement that permits us to bring anyone home to fuck under the other's eyes. I think my roommate is giving me notice."

"You need someplace to crash for the night?"

"No, thanks. I'll think of something."

"Come on back to my place. It's nearby."

"I'll be fine."

"Come on back to my place. My performance earlier today doesn't reflect what I can do in private. And we can just do nothing, if that's what you want. Your call. But you need somewhere to crash tonight on short notice."

"And you probably have only one bed," Russ said.

"Was I really that bad in the porn scene?" Troy asked. His wounded tone probably was genuine. He wasn't used to being blown off.

"No, you weren't bad at all," Russ acknowledged.

"There's a couch."

"The bed will be fine," Russ answered, flashing Troy enough of a smile to show he was good with it.

"For sure?" Troy asked. "You were—"

"Yes, for sure. I've just been on edge recently. Sorry. I appreciate the offer."

Troy fucked Russ up against the wall of his living room, just inside the door. He had Russ cheek and chest against the wall, arms raised above his head, trapped there by Troy's hand gripping Russ's wrists. Troy's other hand was palming Russ's belly, pulling the young man's pelvis and legs back, away from the wall. He was thrusting up inside Russ's passage. "Shit this is good," he growled in Russ's ear. "I wanted to do it like this back where the photographer was positioning us for the cover shots."

"God you're big!"

"Yes, I am. But I'll bet you tell that to all the boys."

Troy was bigger than Felix was and definitely bigger than Otto ever had been, but Russ wasn't going to tell Troy about that. Russ was so off beat with Otto that Troy didn't really have to pressure him to go into the clinch.

Troy fucked him on his couch, Russ's belly on the arm, Russ facing a large window overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Troy behind Russ, grabbing the young man's wrists and arching Russ's torso back toward him, as he crouched over Russ's buttocks and pounded away inside him.

And Russ rode Troy's cock in Troy's bedroom, again looking out onto a different view of Manhattan from the high-rise window wall behind Troy's headboard. Troy lay on his back on the bed with Russ straddling his pelvis, facing him, and Troy lifting and lowering Russ's passage on his thick, long, hard shaft. When they had both come, Russ just collapsed on top of Troy and they both drifted off into la-la-land.

Before they zonked out, Troy whispered, "Sorry for the onslaught. I'd just been dreaming about you for some time."

"It was all good," Russ murmured. And it had been all good. Russ had been suppressing his arousal for Troy because they worked together and Russ couldn't deal with more than one boyfriend at a time. Still, when Troy's hand with to Russ's cock and was playing it even though both men were exhausted from the earlier sex, Russ put his hand on Troy's and moved it away. Troy didn't seem to mind; he immediately went to sleep.

Russ didn't notice until the morning when he lay in the bed, watching Troy at his bathroom sink through the open bathroom door, shaving himself, that this was a really nice apartment. Troy was standing at the sink, naked, exhibiting why he made money as a model. But he couldn't make enough money as a model to afford a nice one-bedroom apartment like this.

"This is really is a nice apartment," Russ said as Troy came out of the bathroom and stood there, body magnificent, cock in half erection.

"Yes, it is, and you look really sexy lying there on your belly like that, with your sweet ass smiling at me. And sorry, last night you could stay, but the apartment's booked for tonight, so we'll have to think of something else for you."

"Booked? Think of something else?"

"You don't really want to go back to your boyfriend's apartment to live, do you?"

"No, of course not. But it's what is for a couple of more months. I need someplace to stay until I graduate from NYU and pin down a job somewhere else. But you said the apartment is booked for tomorrow night—not that I was thinking of crashing with you," he added.

"Yes. You're right. I can't afford an apartment like this. The agency provides it for me."

"The agency?"

"The escort agency. They provide a place for me to bring clients. Men. This is my office as well as my home. I have to keep it looking nice. And I can't have my boyfriends staying here."

"Boyfriends?"

"Close enough; working on it, I hope." Troy climbed up on the bed and stretched out on top of Russ. There was no talking for a while—only moaning and groaning and grunting and loud exclamations of the taking, as Troy went fully erect, nudged Russ up on his knees, penetrated him, reached up to grab the young man's wrists and trap them over his head, and started to pump inside him.

Afterward, as they lay there, Troy still inside Russ, languidly moving his pelvis and Russ moving ever so slightly with him, Troy murmured, "You could get an apartment like this. You could earn more than enough to finish out your decree. I can set you up with an appointment this afternoon. You could be out of your boyfriend's apartment by tonight."