“Johnny this is Jace. If you’re free lets meet at the library at 2pm,” says the text I received.
Luckily, I have no class later this afternoon. I’ll just have to cancel the date I’m planning with one of the cheerleaders who has been flirting with me for a month now. Meeting Jace as soon as possible is my priority.
My name is Johnny, a 22 year old college junior majoring in Physical Education. I’m running to be the president of the school’s Student’s Sports Council for next academic year and it’s currently campaign period for us candidates. I like sports and I’m very athletic. I’m part of the university’s basketball, volleyball and triathlon team. And since I’m graduating next year, I had to make sure I become a student leader aside from being an athlete. Apparently, aside from having good grades (which I have) and athletic abilities, leadership experiences as a student gives a graduate an edge over others in terms of getting absorbed in better jobs in the corporate arena.
A part of our activities for this period is to create campaign paraphernalia and distribute them to student voters to increase our exposure and popularity. This is where Jace comes in.
Although I’m pretty sure that I’m going to win because I am already popular in school due of my involvement in sports, I just want to take this campaign seriously. I’m going against Ryan Cruz, the tennis and martial arts team captain, who also has a pretty good reputation at school. I have limited funds for my campaign and getting some people to work for me without having to pay them would be a big help to save money and use them for some more important things. It’s more difficult to look for resources since I’m an independent candidate and I have no student leader party to back me up.
Jace Marcus is a senior student at the university, majoring in graphic arts. I don’t really know him nor have met him before. A teammate just referred him to me and told me he was willing to help out. My teammate gave my number to Jace now he just texted me to meet him. Jace is a photographer and a visual artist and he’s going to help in creating the posters for my campaign.
“Okay, see you at 2pm,” I reply.
“I’m here at the photo exhibit section. I’m wearing green,” he texts as I am a few steps far from the library entrance.
It’s a good thing the university library isn’t such a very well visited place in school. There are roughly fifty students scattered in the whole place as I come in. So finding him won’t be so difficult. I go directly to the photo exhibit section. The area is enclosed and the walls are full of frames with weird pictures in them. There are a few tables inside and there are only two people seated inside, one wearing red, and the other green. Mr green guy seems to be sketching something on his desk. He notices me as I walk to him.
“Hi Jace, I’m Johnny Ark,” I offer my hand.
He looks at me with exasperation and shakes my hand weakly, “I know who you are. Jace Marcus. You’re late.” He says blankly.
I pause and look at him intently. He’s about 5’10” with unruly black hair under a baseball cap. He has side burns and a thin beard that seems unshaven. He wears round spectacles resting on a pointed nose. His lips are thin and curled to the side. He wears an oversized green jacket, khaki shorts and chucks. I steal a glance at the paper at his desk. There is a caricature of a man who looks like him with Z Z Z Z’s.
I look at my watch. It’s 2:40pm. Yes I am late and this guy can rub it to me if he likes to.
I am a bit surprised though. Usually when I make minor faults like this, people don’t bother to complain. Well, first, I am Johnny Ark, a school sports hero. And it’s rare to find someone in school who’s at least as big as me. I’m 6 foot 2 inches tall and all muscle from the athletics I’m involved with. And nobody can just talk back sarcastically to me like how this guy did. People at school know I had beaten a few bad guys who tried to have their way with me during taekwondo classes.
“I’m sorry dude, my last class got extended” I apologize as I sit in front of him. Of course, I wouldn’t get mad at his sarcasm. I need him more than he needs me.
He just sighed and went back to his sketching.
Unsure of how to respond, I say, “Uh thanks for doing this for me for free, dude. Uh, this means a lot.”
He replies without breaking eye contact from his scribbles, “well, it’s not as ‘free’ as you think it is. Well, I’m not gonna ask you to pay me, but I am gonna ask you for something,” his voice edgy.
I nodded, “okaaaay… What is it?”
“I just need a certification that I’m doing this for you for free. You know for future references when I find jobs in the future. And I need you to feed me during our photo shoots and editing sessions,” he demands.
“Okay that seems fair, I’m good with tha—”
“And one more thing,” he cuts me, “I need you to be my model for another photo shoot outside this campaign.”
Photo shoot Beşiktaş Escort outside this campaign, my mind echoes, trying to think of the implications of saying yes to this would be.
“What’s the photo shoot about?” I ask suspiciously.
He shrugs, “I actually don’t know yet. It’s a part of my thesis before I graduate. I haven’t really figured out what to do and the professor hasn’t given out the theme yet. I just need people who would be willing to model for me for free too.”
I take a deep breath. Well, I don’t see anything wrong with his conditions so far. Although the uncertainty of the photo shoot theme scares me a bit.
“Okay, as long as the shoot won’t hurt my dignity and reputation, I agree with your conditions,” I respond.
He smiles finally. Although it seems more like a grin to me.
“Good,” he hands me a small paper, “email me your ideas for the campaign posters and your free schedule. Then when we agree on what to initially do, let’s do the photo shoot at my house. My email and home address is in the card.”
After exchanging emails within the next two days after we first met, Jace and I agreed on a concept for the posters and decided to meet on Saturday 9am. Our talks through email were formal and straightforward. We discussed our business and brought up nothing casual nor personal. So, I figured our relationship won’t really go beyond transactional.
Ever since Jace’s frankness about my tardiness, I planned to be more mindful of our agreed upon schedules. He lives in a small unit in the second floor of an apartment a few blocks from my place. Bringing with me some pancakes I bought from McDonalds, I arrive up at his place thirty minutes earlier from the time we planned. I stand in front of his unit but as I am about to knock I realize that the door is not completely shut. From the small opening I hear guttural noises.
Overwhelmed by curiosity, I push the door slowly and lightly and peek inside. And then I inaudibly gasp at the sight.
I see Jace in the middle of a space crowded with many things. He is sitting in front of his PC wearing only his spectacles and his red briefs which was already on his knees. His body is smooth, his skin fair. I totally underestimated him in his oversized jacket when I last saw him. The guy actually packs muscles. He’s not as muscular as me, but he sure is lean and built.
But what awes me really is his cock being held by his right hand. My guess is that the erect tool is nine inches long and looks a bit thick too.
So here I am with my jaw down, staring at my photographer, while his eyes are glued on the screen and masturbating. I can see his muscles tense and a thin sheet of sweat that covered his entire body that made him shine under his unit’s low lighting. From his computer speakers I hear a man and a woman groaning. Looks like Jace woke up today with a bad morning wood that he needed release 30 minutes before we meet and decided to do it while watching porn.
From my limited view, I see his face menacingly contorted with pleasure while roughly beating his humungous meat. I have never seen anyone jack off so passionately. His hand seems so masterful in touching the right places of his penis. Somewhere in my mind I wish that I could sit beside him and jack off with him. The thought of his rough hand doing my cock comes to me. I feel my own penis press against my pants. I am so hard, and this is only after under three minutes of watching him masturbate like a voyeur. Instinctively, my free hand travels in front of my jeans and squeezes my throbbing member.
Should I wait for him to cum? I ask my weirded-out self.
I shook my head firmly to snap myself back to reality. I’m lucky that after five minutes of peeping, Jace had been so engrossed with making love to his dick that he never noticed me there the whole time. It took a lot of willpower for me to step back and silently walk away.
I struggle to find my way out of the apartment building. I sit down on a bench by the sidewalk. I am still in shock. I firmly close my eyes but I still can’t get Jace’s image out of my head. My erection still hasn’t died down.
The weirdest part is that I am not gay. I’m actually what one would call a macho straight alpha male, an athlete and a ladies man. I’ve had my fair share in dating girls and getting in bed with them. Aside from being a potential student leader and an all around sports boy, I also have a good reputation for being a chick magnet and an amazing fucker. I even have a date with a girl from the swim team later, and for sure I’m going to get laid with her.
After a few deep breaths and sighs, my hardness finally subsides. I look at my watch: five minutes to nine in the morning. I can’t believe it took me that long before I could recover. I decide to go back to his apartment unit. And this time, I knock.
The door opens and there stood Jace, wearing an over sized shirt and khaki shorts. His expression looks milder and Beşiktaş Escort Bayan cordial compared to our meeting in the library (and the contorted one I saw while he was beating off). He doesn’t smell sweaty at all, he probably took a quick bath after his session.
“G— good morning,” I manage to say.
“Hi Johnny,” he looks at his watch, “right on time.” Then he smiles.
I smile back. Then I put the food up, “breakfast?”
He takes it, “thanks. Come in.”
So, I enter his unit. It’s a studio type. A bed on a corner, a dining table in another. Computer in the middle. There’s a photography studio set up that took most of the space of the place, where there lights and reflectors and stands and everything.
“I’ll munch on these pancakes first then we’ll start,” he says, “want to eat with me?”
“Nah, I’m full,” I respond.
He allows me to sit on one of the stools while he ate standing beside his dining table. I just stare at him while he eats his pancakes vigorously. He must have been
so tired from his passionate self-service earlier. I start to get the tingle again in my loins as I remember the image. I shake my head to brush it off.
I peer at his face and think, at first sight, he seems so innocent when he’s dressed up yet he looks so wild when I saw him masturbating earlier. Looks can be deceiving indeed.
“Do I have something in my face?” he asks, snapping me back to reality.
“Uh, oh, no,” I stammer, thinking of an excuse. “I am just amazed at how you can eat so quickly.”
He chuckles, muffled with foodstuffs in his mouth, “oh, you know. I don’t have the luxury of long meals. I’m kind of a busy guy.”
I sigh in relief. Well at least he doesn’t act like the same uptight guy I saw in the library yesterday, “I know you’re really busy that’s why I’m really grateful that you’re doing this.”
He laughs. “Stop patronizing me, you’re not even sure if you’ll like my work yet.”
The first theme of the photo shoot is me in my basketball uniform. After changing, I stand in front of him. He instructs me to just do some poses he clicks away. He probably notices how stiff I am so he coaxes me by chatting.
“I’ve seen you play in court when I was asked to cover some of your games,” he mentions, “I don’t know much about basketball, but you play really well.”
I blush, “thanks.”
“Johnny, you don’t have to fold your elbows so much. Your arms are so big already. No need to flex them anymore,” he instructs, “I want the people to notice your face in the campaign. Not your guns.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He smiles, “no need to apologize big guy. I mean, if I had the same body as yours, I’d flaunt it and flex away my life. Haha. But for this campaign, you’re the potential school leader, not a men’s health model.”
I nod, “makes sense. But your body isn’t that bad. I think it’s quite solid.”
He stops clicking. He looks at me with eyebrows crossed, “how would you know that?”
I swallow. He doesn’t know I’ve seen him naked.
“Uhm, well… Now that I uhm, look at you, you don’t seem like an unhealthy skinny guy nor an obese guy either,” I reply tentatively.
“Nah, I’m still nowhere near the hottie campus heartthrob hunk that you are.” He starts clicking again.
Did he just say that he thinks I’m hot? I say to myself. I usually don’t get that kind of compliment from guys, unless they’re faggots, which I usually just ignore. Hearing Jace say that makes me stir a little. Oh Johnny, snap out of it!
Then I change to my volleyball gear. He takes a couple of shots and then I don my triathlon uniform. It’s a mix of school colors, lime green and yellow. The lightness of the color and the fit of the singlet is a bit skintight. So, it’s easy to make out the cuts in my body when I’m weariing it.
“Nice,” he says with a smile and clicks.
It’s kind of weird wearing this uniform now that I am not really competing. Wearing such a revealing piece of clothing in front of the guy who I just saw in his intimate moment feels kind of erotic in a sense.
In between shots he inquires, “is it hot here? You’re sweating.”
I stutter, “uh, ah. Yeah. A bit. I’m sorry.”
I feel tightness in my crotch area. Oh my god. Why am I getting excited? I think of disgusting and unpleasurable things like rotten food and homework. But nothing helps it die down.
Jace stops and scratches his head. He appears embarrassed. Looking away, he tentatively says, “uh, uhm Johnny. I can’t uh… We can’t… Take pictures of you if you’re uhm… Excited. We want to make your campaign uhm… as general patronage as possible.”
My cheeks go crimson, “I- I’m sorry. I’m not usually… I mean, I don’t know.” How do I explain that the reason for this erection is the guy taking my photograph?
“Some girl gave you a case of blue balls?” he asks nonchalantly, “you got to shake the image off.”
His coaching is not helping. If only he Escort Beşiktaş knew that he is the reason why I have the blue balls. Gawd. I don’t want to look at him anymore. He’s clothed, but my mind persists on his near naked image. Standing there holding a camera in front of me in just his briefs with a tenting bulge like mine. What is happening to me?
He appears to alsp feel the awkward air. “Uhm, if you want you can place your… uhm… manhood at a six-o-clock position. So, it won’t be too uhm, obvious?”
I turn my back on him and comply. I insert my hand inside the cycling shorts. My cock is hot and hard and throbbing. I push it facing down with difficulty. Took a deep breath and face him again.
“Better, I’ll take quick shots so that we can end your misery,” he says jokingly as he proceeds to take twenty more shots of me.
He instructs me to dress up after the last shot. I bolt to his bathroom to dress up quickly back to my casual clothes. My cock is still hard and straining against my jeans. I’m still hot and sweating. I feel like jacking off really fast inside the room, but I don’t want to disrespect Jace’s place.
“I’ll edit this and call you when I’m done creating your PR materials, so we can negotiate on how I can improve it based on your ideas,” he discusses as soon as I got our of the room.
“Uh, Ah yeah,” I stutter, “j-just take your time buddy.”
“I like to hang out with you more,” he says then looks at my crotch, “but I really think you’ve got a bigger problem down there.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that, dude. I really look scandalous,” I apologize. My face turns crimson red, “I hope this doesn’t upset you. I feel so embarrassed.”
He laughs, “don’t worry buddy. We’re young men. I get that all the time too. But you’ve got to release it man.”
I can’t take the jerk-off talk any longer, “yeah. I’m really sorry, I gotta go now, Bye!”
I slam the door of my rented apartment unit as soon as I got home.
My cock stayed hard the whole time I sprinted to my place. My body feels so hot. I decide to take my shirt off. I face the full length mirror. I loot at myself. Unkept jet black hair. Gray eyes. My upper body is packed with muscles. Hard, plump pecs. Ripped six pack abs. Huge arms. My torso is smooth and hairless. Because of my excited walkathon heading home from Jace’s place, my body glistened in sweat.
I kick my shoes off then I hurriedly pull down my jeans and set them aside. I stand with only my white ankle socks and gray bikini briefs. I have always liked wearing skimpy briefs as underwear. First, I feel comfortably supported by the tightness of the undergarment. Second, my lady partners say that I look hellishly sexy in them. Now that I am looking at my reflection, I do look and feel sexier in them.
My mind thinks, I wonder if Jace’s brief is this type. I recall the red brief that was in the middle of the thighs of Jace while he was jackin of earlier. I imagine him standing before me like me, sweaty and bothered in just his undies.
What is happening to me?! I’m no queer! But these images of Jace are making me hot!
I look at the very obvious bulge straining in my briefs. It can barely contain the seven inch of meat inside. But my manhood is puny compared to Jace’s 10 incher. The front of my briefs is already soaked and wet from all the clear sticky juice from my cock that has been continually flowing since during my photoshoot earlier. I even have some of the clear liquid seeping out of my briefs into my thighs.
I move my right hand to my aching bulge. But as soon as I touch and grab my meat it starts spewing cum into my briefs and my palms. I cum too much that some drops out of my hand and down to the floor. The explosion is so intense that my right knee just falls to the floor. I breath heavily and irregularly.
Fuck, this is not good.
I spray my juice all over Kathleen.
After our fucking session, I immediately get my clothes from the floor and dress up.
She sits up and grins, “wow Johnny boy, you’re so pumped! You were a fucking machine today!”
I sigh. Little does she know that while my eyes were closed when I was fucking her minutes ago, I still can’t stop thinking about Jace. His face sexually contorted with pleasure while masturbating. His lean, smooth body. His smile. His huge dong.
Even after two days since we last met, I still think about him. Beat off to his image. Since then I’ve hooked up with three girls. I still get turned on by women. But somehow somewhere within the sex the thought of Jace pops up in my mind. Women still satisfy me. But I am overwhelmed by this new hunger.
God, I have to do something about this.
“Thank K, I gotta go,” I say nonchalantly as I go out of her place.
I receive a text a few seconds after I got out, “Johnny, your PR mats are ready. Can you come to my place now so we can finalize them?”
I know I just came a few seconds ago. But boy my cock goes hard again at the thought that I’ll be seeing Jace again.
Jace opens the door seconds after I knock.
He’s wearing a plain white thin cotton t-shirt and baggy pants. Seeing him again makes me more sexually tensed.