As I mentioned in a previous story, when I turned forty, I created an album of twenty-four nude photos of myself. I took these in secret at home on 35mm film using an SLR with a telephoto lens. I didn't have a tripod, so I balanced the camera on a chair, or a stack of books for low-angle shots. I would decide on a pose, then set up the shot, trying to focus on something near where I would be, and taking my best guess at framing the shot. Then I would activate a timer on the camera, and rush to get in the pose. When I had shot a roll I took it to a photo service at a mall in a nearby suburb. I chose it because many young couples lived in the area so I guessed they were used to developing nude photos.

My "official" purpose was to present my wife with an album of nude photos of me, which I did. But frankly, I got a huge thrill (a mixture of sexual excitement and adrenaline) by exhibiting myself to other people, from seeing the photos myself, and from the risk that I might be crossing the line marking acceptable behavior.

The photo service was staffed by two young people, a girl and a guy whom I judged to be eighteen to twenty years old, who did the routine developing and counter service, and sometimes a middle-aged man whom I took to be the manager. I was extremely nervous the first time I collected my photos, even though they were all very modest, taken from behind. The girl was at the counter, and handed me the photos with a big grin. I went to a nearby table, where I had a coffee, opened the packet, and examined the photos, looking up occasionally to see the girl and guy talking while looking over at me and smiling.

Almost all of the photos were unusable, because of insufficient lighting or bad composition or stilted poses. But I was emboldened by getting the photos developed with no hassles, and turned on by the girl's reaction, so I persisted. I gradually realized what lighting situations worked, and learned to focus and compose better. Also, I got bolder in my poses, progressing to shots showing my penis, first flaccid, then semi-aroused, then erect (although I found it almost impossible to be fully erect because my mind was occupied with taking the photo). Each time I went to the photo service I was nervous, wondering if I had finally gone too far.

One day, although I spoke to the girl at the counter, the guy brought the photos over to me. He was very slim, and androgynous looking, with a fancy blond haircut. I suppose he was good-looking in a boyish way.

He smiled and said, "I'm Robin. I love what you're trying to do, but your success rate is terrible. You need a photographer."

"I know, but...," I sighed.

"I'd be happy to help," said Robin, "You can call me here," and handed me a slip with his phone number. I was surprised and didn't know how to respond, but managed to mutter a non-committal thank you, and quickly left.

I thought over Robin's offer carefully. He seemed genuinely friendly, and very non-threatening. And he'd already seen every inch of me on film. But as a straight guy, I didn't think I could get aroused with him present. Eventually, I decided that I'd be mad not to try, because if it worked out I would finally be able to get the high-quality results I wanted, even if my cock was flaccid in them. So I called him. We agreed to try a session at my place during a lunch break.

It was a warm, sunny day. When he arrived right on time, I was already nude, my cock flaccid, or nearly so.

"Oh boy. You're so tall that photos don't do your cock justice," he said with a smile. "You're huge. What do you have planned?"

"Thanks! Let me show the setup for today," I said.

I took him to the bedroom with its adjoining sunroom, where I'd already set up a shot focused on the sun lounge.

"I'd really like my cock to be at its biggest, but I don't think I can get that aroused with a guy watching. No offense," I said.

"We can get to that. But first, I want to get in the spirit of things, and show you a suggestion. Do you mind?", he said.

"Of course not," I replied, although I wasn't quite sure what he meant.

Robin then went to a nearby chair, and removed his slip-on shoes. Then he stood up and took off his shirt, carefully placing it on the chair. Then he removed his pants, leaving only his tiny, bulging black briefs. There was no hair on his body, which was very slim and quite pale but well-toned.

Then, looking me straight in the eye, he slowly rolled his briefs down his legs and stepped out of them.

He's cocky, I thought (literally!). Another exhibitionist. But I can hardly object.

He had a tiny patch of cropped hair at the base of his beautiful flaccid circumcised cock. Although it was smaller than mine, he had much lower-hanging balls, which I've always liked. They were hairless.

"See how clearly you can see my balls?" he said. "You should shave your cock and balls too. They will come up much better in photographs."

"You're right. I love your look. No time to do that today, but I'll do it ASAP," I said.

"Great. Now before we start, why don't you show me the photos you are happy with so far, and I'll give you feedback," he said.

"Good idea," I said.

I fetched the partial album I had assembled, and we sat down on the edge of my bed, and proceeded to view each photo.

Robin made a lot of comments, interspersed with exclamations like "Oh my god!" or just "Mmmmm."

"Great job on that one. I adore the curve of your bum. Jane loves that one too!"

"Very cheeky of you to pose in the nude outdoors! I bet the neighbors love it!"

"Shit, that's hot. I just love your fat semi. We both masturbated over that one!"

"Love the erection in the library, but you're off-center. Let's redo that."

I couldn't help but notice that Robin grew aroused, and his reaction in turn aroused me. It was a mutual feedback loop, culminating for Robin in a stiff cock that curved up with a very prominent head. My cock grew long and thick and hard, pointing out, and visibly pulsing.

"Wow!" Robin said. "Seems we can get the Big One after all. And I love your tight balls. Let's go."

"Thanks. I have to say I love your package," I said. "Really. The low-hanging balls, the curved shaft, the big head. Fucking hot."

"Nice to know," he said with a smile. Then I arranged myself on the sun lounge, and Robin composed the shot, and helped me to adjust my pose.

"But you can get harder, right? Let me help you," he said.

"Er, I'm straight," I said. "Not sure about that."

"Nonsense!" he said. "You jerk off, right? My hand is just a different male hand, and it knows what to do, believe me," he said. “Move over to the chair. I need better access.”

I did so. He came over, put a cushion on the floor, knelt between my legs, and wrapped both hands around my erect cock, with one thumb subtly rubbing my frenulum, while he looked into my eyes. It felt great, and he knew it.

"Close your eyes, and concentrate on the sensation," he said. "It will be easier for you."

I did as he ordered. One hand soon strayed to my balls, caressing them exquisitely. The other moved down my cock. Soon I felt the head of my cock enveloped by a wet warmth, and a rough wet persistent friction on my frenulum. Electric currents were rushing up my spine, starting from my asshole, which itself was deliciously teased. I was already as hard as I'd ever been, and then I felt an amazing suction which proceeded up from the frenulum over the cock head to the tip, then down again, slowly, persistently, over and over. I could feel a massive orgasm building.

"Please!" I said.

Robin stopped. “Get on the sun lounge,” he said. I did so, he moved to the camera, and took the shot. The head of my cock is purple. I'd never seen it bigger.

Robin came back over, and said, "Let's make the best use of the remaining time. I figure thirty minutes. Back on the chair, beautiful.” I obeyed, and he knelt between my legs again. This time my eyes were open. He looked straight into them, smiling confidently, and thus began one of the great experiences of my life.

He pursed his lips and put them over the tip of my cock. Then, maintaining a tight seal, he slowly enveloped my glans, moved over the corona, reached the frenulum with a squeeze, then moved his head slowly down the shaft. Throughout this, his hands steadied the base of my cock, and played with my balls, and occasionally moved down to tease my asshole. His tongue moved back and forth. But to my surprise (and itself a tremendous sexual kick) unlike the first time, he did not reverse after his lips passed my frenulum. Instead, they kept slowly gliding down, still sealed around my shaft. I realized he was not stopping and my whole cock was disappearing.

I could feel the head of my cock swelling and becoming engorged with blood, and my shaft throbbing against his tongue. The sensations of pure electric pleasure were incredible, and then I felt my throbbing cock's tip push past something (his tonsils?) and find his throat, with a little "whoosh" sensation. The enveloping feeling went from a soft squishiness to a tight compression. On top of this was the visual sensation of seeing the disappearing act. My brain could barely cope with the extreme pleasure.

Robin seemed to start feeling some strain (breathlessness?), then his lips started to slowly reverse their course, moving back up the shaft. Again, the head of my cock felt a delicious pressure change, then I became aware of the sensation of his tongue on my shaft, and then the frenulum. His lips passed over the corona and reached the tip of my cock. My glans was as tight as a drum and deep purple.

I was delirious with pleasure and not knowing what would happen next.

Then his lips started moving very slowly but steadily down, over my glans, past the corona, squeezing the frenulum, and continuing down the shaft. I realized he was repeating the journey, and could barely cope with the mounting pleasure. When the head of my cock once more passed into his throat and was tightly squeezed, I was overcome by a rumbling tsunami of pleasure shooting through my whole body, and I spurted hot semen straight down his throat, my cock and balls pulsing violently, my asshole contracting strongly in time with them. The visceral realization that Robin was swallowing my semen as I orgasmed was indescribable.

After being overcome by prolonged spasms of pleasure, I became aware of Robin's lips moving back up. As I regained conscious control of my thoughts, I expected he would pop off the head of my cock, and regain his breath and recover. But when his lips reached the tip of my cock, they paused, teasing. What was he doing? Then they slowly began to move down once again, and when they popped over the corona, I realized he was continuing the deep-throating process, relentlessly. By the time he had gone all the way down and back again, my cock was fully hard again, and I was experiencing pleasure that was even deeper if possible, if less insistent.

Down and back, down and back, down and back, very slowly, inexorably. I had by now passed beyond my normal conscious experience, into an anti-hell of infinite extreme uncontrollable and irresistable pleasure. I felt a tidal force building in me. I presume Robin could sense this too, because this time he did something different. He moved his lips up my shaft so that the head of my cock was resting on his tongue, which rubbed my most sensitive area persistently. At the same time I became aware of a probing pressure on my asshole, then something pushed through it, found my prostrate, and mercilessly stimulated it.

My mind shut down. I became a being of pure pleasure-experience. I spurted uncontrollably while he sucked vigorously and swallowed. This was a prolonged experience, with the sucking and the accompanying jolts of pleasure continuing even after the spurting stopped. That's all I can remember. I think I lost consciousness briefly.

I next remember looking at him smiling at me. I looked down to see my cock resting, soft and exhausted, but fat and flushed. Robin went over to the camera and took what is my favorite photo of myself, naked and stupidly contented.

I was far from fully conscious, and remained in the chair.

"Time for me to get back, champ," he said. "Thanks for the delicious lunch!"

I couldn't manage to speak. I watched him get dressed, with feelings I can only describe as loving. He let himself out. It was a good half hour before I managed to summon the will and energy to get out of the chair.