Not long turned eighteen, I was travelling home from boarding school in England to Belgium, where my father was stationed. I usually flew as it was paid for, but this time I'd fancied a change and got the train to Dover on the South Coast and the ferry to Zeebrugge. It was train journey after that, followed by a short metro, to get home. I’d taken the ferry a bunch of times, and it took a few hours, plus the time either side. There wasn’t much to do other than sleep or play fruit machines, so I took a seat by the window and waited for the boat to leave.
A guy sat opposite me, maybe late twenties, cropped red hair, white t-shirt and tight jeans. I was tall and blond, and much smoother and slimmer than I am now. I was in ripped jeans, a plaid shirt, and Dr Martens boots. Of course I was; it was the Nineties! We struck up a conversation, and we explained our situations. I explained how I was heading home, and he – his name was Mark – was going to Amsterdam for work. He was a photographer for a swimsuit company, it transpired.
After a while, Mark said, “Look, I know this might come across as a bit weird, but do you swim? You look like you do, and I think you’d be a good model for swimming trunks.”
Actually I did swim, I was on the school team, and the flattery wasn’t unwelcome. I don’t have the best self-esteem, and while I find taking compliments a bit difficult, I do appreciate them. Who doesn’t?
“Erm, yes, I do. But how do you know? I’m pretty skinny. I thought you had to be ripped to be a swimsuit model,” I offered.
“For the wider angle shots, yes, but a lot of the modelling is actually closer up, it’s from the waist to the knees. You’re pretty much the perfect build for those, from what I can tell,” Mark replied.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll take your word for it!” I blustered.
“Look, I’ve got all of my camera and stuff in the cabin – because work is paying for the trip, I get one even if I don’t need it, and it’s worth it just for stashing my stuff. I tell you what, if you want, I’ll take a few test shots – and I’ll pay you for them – and if they come out well then you could earn some cash on the side. What do you think?”
If I’d been a bit more savvy, I’d have seen red flags all over this, but I’d led a pretty sheltered life, and he seemed genuine. I was a late bloomer, so although I’d kissed and touched girls up by the age of eighteen, I was a bit of a novice and pretty naive. “Erm, I’m not sure,“ I replied. “I live by the adage that if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.”
“Fine, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. It would take about 20 minutes, and I’ll pay you fifty pounds. I’ll give you my card, and if you give me your contact details I’ll be in touch if my boss is interested,” Mark said, looking to reassure me.
“Ah, whatever, it can’t hurt, can it, and the worst case scenario is that I walk away with fifty quid. Let’s go for it.”
“Perfect, let’s see how it goes.”
I followed him down two flights of stairs, below all of the entertainment and catering decks, down two corridors and to a room on the right. He opened the door and we went in; I could see that it was a single room with a desk and chair, and a window out over the sea. The curtains were open. We’d left Dover and there was nothing out there except water.
Mark opened up a bag on the bed - it was full of cameras and lenses - and proceeded to put a set together.
“Okay, let’s think about the light. The daylight and the uplighters are okay, but not quite enough. This desk light should top it up,” he said, switching it on and turning it towards the wall. “Stand against the wall, facing the windows and let’s see how it looks.”
I leant back against the wall, smirking a little self-consciously.
Mark encouraged me: “Loosen up, Rich. Take a breath, drop your shoulders. Move your legs slightly apart. Yep, that’s better,“ he cajoled, and began to take pictures.
“Okay, turn around, legs slightly apart again. Can you lift your shirt slightly so I can see your waistband? Perfect, turn right a bit, ace. You’re doing well. Hang on, the shirt is getting in the way. Can you take it off, bung it on the chair?”
I took off my shirt, and again leant back against the wall.
“Wow, a six-pack, nice. Let me get a bit closer, fill the frame a bit,” enthused Mark. “Great, turn again…arms up, put your hands behind your head. Yep, good. Okay, so kick off your shoes and socks, and then pull your trousers down just a touch so I can see the waistband, it’ll show off your torso nicely.”
I did as I was told, and loosened my belt and button to let my trousers hang down a little as requested. I was feeling pretty good about myself; the compliments and scenario were giving my confidence a boost. I was also starting to feel a little horny; the attention was quite intoxicating.
“Great, turn round again, arms up again. Hang on, don’t move, let me just move that…and move you round a little,” Mark ordered. He pulled my trouser waistband down a little, and then touched my skin for the first time, which felt intimate somehow. It also made me stiffen – my cock – I was eighteen, after all, and even riding the bus made me hard.
“Perfect, we’re very nearly done. Just four or five more shots and it’s a wrap. Just drop your trousers – remember, this is for swimsuits so I need to know how your butt looks. Yep, great, thanks…nice, you’re a natural, I was right, you’d be great at this. One more shot, don’t move a muscle, you’re in the perfect position, I need to just see your bum, take a pic, and we’re done.”
Mark stepped forwards and hooked a finger from his left hand into my waistband as he was holding his camera with the right. As he pulled down, though, my pants got snagged on my boner. Mark didn’t seem to realise what the problem was. He reached round and tried to free the front, and his hand brushed across the top of my cockhead.
“Oh! That’s unexpected. Well, it’s not the first time!” he exclaimed.
I was mortified, really embarrassed, and went to hide myself. “Sorry, this is really awkward,” I stammered.
“No, don’t be, it’s fine. It's actually quite common,” he replied. “I’m impressed, too, that’s quite the cock you have there, by the looks of things. Look, it’s one more picture, then you’re done. So drop them quickly, we’ll take that last one, then it’s all over. You’ve done super well, and I think my boss will like the pictures.“
This reassured me, at least a little. Put somewhat at ease, I pulled my pants down and turned, but not before Mark had taken a good look at my erection.
“Okay, arms up again, legs slightly apart. Turn left a bit, no, a bit more, yep, that’s it…hang on,” Mark said, before I felt a hand on the inside of my right thigh. “Move that leg out a bit, yes, perfect, nearly there,” Mark ordered. As he removed his hand, he moved it upwards, no more than a few inches, and it brushed against my balls, which made me even harder.
“Right, we’re done, Rich, that was brilliant,” Mark said as he packed his camera away while taking a sideways look at me and my tumescent penis. “It looks like you need a little help there, he’s VERY awake!!”
I laughed slightly nervously. “What do you mean by a little help?” I asked.
“Well, a boner is a sign that you need release, and I’m guessing at your age that’s at least a daily requirement,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong; once or twice a day was pretty standard for me then. “Haha, okay, I’ll go into the bathroom,” I offered.
“Oh, don’t bother, I’ve seen it now, it’s a bit late for modesty. If you want, I’ll give you a hand,” he replied, looking me dead in the eye, reaching forwards and wrapping his fingers around my cock, rolling the foreskin gently back and forth.
I groaned. At that moment, I was lost; there was no other way out, not that I was looking for one. The need to get off was inescapable; if I wasn’t going to do it there, I’d have to go off to the toilets and take care of myself. “Okay,” I croaked.
“Mmm, nice. You’ve such a beautiful cock,” Mark said. Cupping my balls with one hand, he rolled his hand up and down my rampant penis. It felt amazing.
“I know what’ll hurry things along. Close your eyes,” Mark told me.
I did so, and soon felt his warm mouth enveloping my cockhead. It felt divine. I kept my eyes closed, and felt him move his mouth up and down slowly to start with, while he placed one hand on my lower belly and continued to play with my plums with the other.
Mark started taking my cock deeper and deeper, almost all the way in, and the sensations were like nothing I’d felt before – warm, wet, intimate, insanely erotic. This was light years ahead of the fumbles and wanking I’d experienced with girls at parties and so on.
It unsurprisingly didn’t take me long. I felt that sharp, deep tingle that built like a bubble of ecstasy in my belly, and then suddenly I was cumming, pumping and pumping over and over.
Mark held my cock in his mouth and I could hear him swallowing my load until there was nothing left.
I opened my eyes.
“Well, that was a bit unexpected!” he exclaimed, standing up. “What a nice surprise. That felt like it felt good,” he laughed.
“It was amazing,” I mumbled. “I’ve never had a full blow job before.”
“I’m honoured, Rich, it was lovely.”
It certainly was.
