A Very Good Day
“Can I put this thing down yet?”
“Not yet. Let me get a few more shots. Keep still!”
“It’s hard,” Michael complained reasonably.
Simon laughed, having seen how hard Michael’s cock grew simply by being naked for his lover, even in this strange pose. Likewise, Michael knew he found it tricky photographing the reflection in the object without ending up in the shiny surface, himself, so he strove to be patient.
“Why’d you want me for this, anyway?”
“Because you have an extraordinary body that makes random objects appear striking.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather be struck by you.”
“Is that so?” Simon put down the camera, furthering, “Then come here.”
Standing put the spotlight on Michael’s uncut cock instead of his modestly crouching profile. Simon sighed, beckoning with a crooked finger. With a coy tilt of his dark-haired head, Simon backed into a chair and sank into the cushions. Michael stared at the inviting lap and nearly dropped the strange, metal, whatever-it-was.
In reality at an art gallery weeks from that day, Michael felt a presence at his side. It wasn't Simon.
“I know the artist, you know.”
Pleasant memories fading, Michael was brought back to the present at hearing that unfamiliar voice. He turned his head and looked toward the speaker. The stranger looked at Michael with a superior expression, not realizing he addressed the exhibited artist’s muse.
“You know Simon Montague? Really? What’s he like?”
His listened vaguely as the art gallery patron strung lies with enough fact to almost be plausible. The man had met Simon exactly once, Michael decided.
Ah, Simon, he thought wistfully. The things you did to me that day.
In his memory, Michael quickly bent over Simon’s thighs, neatly pressed material a soft counterpoint to the stiff erection pressing into Michael’s slim belly. A solid palm smacked his upturned behind. The strike immediately stung, a sensation enhanced by another slap. Michael yelled his love’s name as his arousal heightened. He so appreciated the barehanded spanking that he didn’t even bemoan his neglected erection.
“That’s enough. I don’t want bruises on this lush ass for the rest of today’s poses. First things first, though.”
Michael hummed when fingertips traced his crevice, lips leaving a damp trace on his hot skin. One finger submerged itself in his anus, and he growled deep in his chest, unwittingly mimicking the extinct Earth tiger. Having hoped for this very turn of events, Michael inserted lubricant earlier. Simon appreciated the gesture.
“You’re all slick, almost ready for me. I like it. Let me turn off the studio lamp and join you in the bedroom.”
Clearly directed, Michael stood with slightly shaking hands and quivering smile. Very shortly he was trapped on their bed between Simon’s powerful legs and making all sorts of pleasured sounds into his pillow. Sheer friction inside got him ready to explode and a friendly clasp upon his bobbing cock triggered the cataclysmic event. Simon pulled his long hair, enhancing Michael’s pleasure as he flooded the spasmodic innards of the ecstatic male.
Back in the here and now, a welcome touch met his elbow. He looked into warm eyes, so dark he could see both his face and that of Mr. What’s-his-name.
“Ah, Michael, I see you’ve met Mr. Jordanson. We attended a dinner meeting last week to discuss this very fundraiser. His company’s support was very generous.”
Michael looked with delight at the discomfited Jordanson. The man stammered something about how he’d been so busy admiring the lovely print that he hadn’t even introduced himself.
“Then allow me,” Simon graciously offered. “Mr. Steve Jordanson, this is Michael Blanc, my muse extraordinaire. It’s his handsome face you can’t see in the ‘Everyday Objects’ series.”
Without skipping a beat, Michael said, “I had a lot of fun posing for him.”
“Yes,” Simon agreed. “This one in particular represents a very good day.”
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