Ups and Downs

Stranger in the Crowd

When the warehouse doors opened at 6:00 p.m. for the reception, I was still on cloud nine from seeing my sketches on display for all to view…and perhaps to purchase. For 55 minutes, guests and potential customers drifted in until several hundred men had assembled in the massive structure. Some went straight for the artwork, though sales would not actually begin until 7:00, but most just milled around greeting old friends, making new ones, and exchanging phone numbers for subsequent hookups.

Then, at five minutes to 7:00, Aaron mounted a makeshift platform and whistled for everyone to listen up. Aaron thanked everyone for coming and assured them that they could find “that perfect Christmas present for the one you love.” He then acknowledged the presence of some of the artists whose works were on display. Most were from Connecticut or nearby states, but a few had traveled from Europe, Canada, Latin America, Asia, or Australia.

“And last but certainly not least,” proclaimed Aaron as he neared the end of the introductions, “we have the brilliant emerging sketch artist from California, Joe Campbell.” If I had been sitting down, I’m sure I would have fallen out of my seat. “Enjoy the show,” Aaron concluded, and before I could even think to thank him, Woody ushered me back over to the section where my works were hanging, and quite a few men followed us.

As the crowd admired my work, they peppered me with questions. “How long have you been drawing sketches?” “Who are your idols or mentors in the art world?” “Do you also paint?” “Where do you get your inspiration for your work?” “Will you be around all weekend?” “May I suck your dick?”

OK, so that last one wasn’t actually what was said, but I would not be bragging to say that I got hit on a lot, not just then, but throughout the weekend, and if I hadn’t had commitments to Mr. Block, Woody, and Aaron, I most definitely would have taken up some of these men on their propositions. Some of them were fucking hot.

Though I was besieged by fans, I kept looking over to Mr. Block and Woody to make sure I wasn’t needed for some chores, but they kept gesturing for me to stay put and revel in the admiration. By closing time at 9:00, that massive warehouse wasn’t big enough to contain my newly inflated ego.

“The doors will reopen tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock,” announced Aaron, “and don’t forget we will have a drawing session with two gorgeous young models.” I perked up at that announcement. I was not aware of this feature on the agenda, but I accepted eagerly when Aaron asked me if I would come in a couple of hours early to help him set up for the drawing session.

As Mr. Block, Woody, and I were heading toward the exit, Aaron ran up, grabbed my arm, and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have any more sketches with you, would you?”

“I have my sketch book and my tablet back in my hotel room,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, we sold out of the ones we had posted, all six of them, and I’m sure we could have sold more if we had had them.”

“Wow!” That was all I could say.

“Would you mind if I were to swing by your hotel and look at what you’ve got after I close up here?”

“Uh…oh….” I looked to my bosses to see if they had any problems with this plan, and when they nodded their consent, I gave Aaron my room number and rushed back to the hotel to organize my materials for his visit.

Since Aaron didn’t say how long he would be, I decided to take a quick shower after I laid out my sketches for him. The knock on the door came just as I was stepping out of the shower. Dripping wet, I quickly wrapped one towel around my waist and threw another one over my shoulders.

“Come in, Aaron. Please forgive my appearance. I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“No need to apologize, and your appearance looks pretty damn good to me,” he smiled.

Directing him to the sketches I had laid out, I invited him to look them over while I dried off and put on some clothes.

“Don’t bother on my account,” he said. Walking around behind me, he pulled the towel from my shoulders and began drying off my hair and my back. Then he reached around me with the towel and dried off my chest, belly, and arms. Before I knew what was happening, he removed the other towel from my waist and used it to dry off my butt and legs. When he reached around to towel off my lower abdomen and crotch, he pressed his body up close to mine. I could feel the erection growing in his pants, and he could feel the erection I had sprouted from his ministrations.

Gripping my head with his strong hands, he pulled my head back, leaned into me, and kissed me on the lips, slowly at first and then passionately. As he slid his tongue into my mouth, I swiveled around to face him, removed his coat, and then unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a deliciously firm and furry chest, the sight of which compelled me to take a deep breath before attacking his nipples as I fumbled with his belt buckle.

With his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, I dived at his cock, impaling my throat with his long, thick shaft. Practically disabled by the sensations emanating from his groin and surging through his entire body, he moaned with delight and finally managed to sigh, “My turn.” He lifted me up off my knees and threw me backwards onto the bed, where he lunged on top of me, returning the attack on his cock by virtually swallowing mine.

I was hungry to feel his big cock burrowing into my hole, but Aaron had a different idea. With me on my back, he straddled my body and sat on my stiff pole. I relished the vision of him bouncing up and down on my rod, as his face contorted with the impact of his prostate against my steel rod. I loved the sight, sound, and feel of his man meat slapping against my belly as he rode my cock like a wrangler. I delighted at seeing and hearing him gasp for air as his broad chest heaved with the strain of working so hard for his orgasm as well as mine. We had begun the exercise with drops of water covering my body, and now it was his body wet from perspiration that gave it a salacious glow.

As he leaned forward to kiss me, beads of sweat dropped from his forehead onto my face, some landing in my mouth, invigorating me with its salty taste. As he beat down on my cock, I met his actions half way, shoving my hips upward and my cock deeper and deeper into his hole.

His moans turned to screams as his prostate orgasm ignited the juices boiling up from his balls before they exploded from his hands-free cock, spewing white magic all over my face and body. My own orgasm quickly followed, blasting my gooey seed deep inside his thirsty guts.

With my firm cock still deep inside him, he collapsed forward onto my body, squishing his sweat and cream between our bodies. My dick plugged his hole for several more minutes before slipping out, releasing a torrent of white spooge cascading over my balls. I wanted to stay that way all night, but there was still work to be done.

Rising from the bed, we showered together, raising more temptations that we forced ourselves to resist.

“These are marvelous,” gushed Aaron as he assessed the sketches I showed him. “What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the set of four sketches I had drawn from my initiation at the Block estate, each one from a different perspective. There was my view of Tyler as he fucked me really hard, his view of me as I squirmed from the banging, and one view from each side.

“These are marvelous,” he gushed. “Is that you in the center?”

I confessed that it was, and he replied, “You know, this gives me an idea. Can I borrow these tonight?”

Of course, I did not object, though I did wonder what he had in mind.

The next morning, Aaron swung by the hotel to pick me up two hours before the day’s opening of the art show. He didn’t say anything about the sketches, he just went right to work. He showed me piles of lumber that had been stacked up in the back of the warehouse. “These are the modules of the platform that the models will stand on,” he explained. “We just have to move them over to the center and fit them together,” which was really quite simple. We also set up a couple of dozen folding chairs, placing a lap board on each chair.

Since I had a few minutes to kill before the doors were to open, I strolled over to the area where my sketches had been and saw that Aaron had replaced all the sold pieces with the four depictions of my initiation.

“I thought I heard familiar voices,” I said as I greeted Mr. Block and Woody, who had just entered the building with the crowd who had been waiting patiently outside.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Block asked Aaron, who was engaged in an intense conversation with a very handsome young stud.

“Ward is here,” he said, motioning to the stud, “but Dimitri, the other model I had hired, just called to say he can’t make it. Something about car problems.”

“Can’t you just go with Ward?” asked Mr. Block.

“I suppose,” said Aaron, “but I advertised that there would be two models, and I hate like hell letting down my customers.”

“Well, it seems to me like your solution is staring you right in the face,” advised Woody, directing his gaze toward me.

“Who, me? But I’ve never done any modeling before.”

“It’s really not hard,” said Ward, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’ll go on alone for the first half hour. Just watch what I do, and then do the same thing—or whatever feels right—when it’s your turn. You’ll do half an hour, and then after a short break, we’ll go on together.”

I looked to Woody for his approval, but since it was his idea…. Then, I looked to Mr. Block, who just smiled.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” affirmed Aaron. “Ward, would you show Joe to the changing room?”

As it turned out, the so-called ‘changing room’ was really nothing more than a storeroom that had been drafted into use. Actually, it reminded me of the storeroom at my dad’s hardware store, which brought back vivid memories—some positive and some not so much.

I returned to the main area of the warehouse just as Ward was mounting the platform. He struck a variety of poses, changing about every five minutes, for the two dozen or so artists who were drawing his form. Occasionally one of the artists would ask that he turn one way or another or that he touch a particular area of his body in a particular fashion. It was all very professional but also very erotic.

Following a brief break, Aaron mounted the platform to introduce me, but he said something that surprised me. He introduced me as a “fellow artist” who had drawn the sketches that had all been sold out. “Because of the demand,” he added, “we have posted four more of his sketches which will be auctioned off tomorrow afternoon as one set. Bidding will begin at $400.”

That announcement just compounded my nervousness as I ascended the steps to the platform and took my position center stage. However, Ward stood amid the artists who were sketching me and encouraged me with his facial expressions and gestures. Every once in a while he would adjust his own stance or reposition his hands and arms to coach me.

Periodically, I glanced into the audience to see how they were responding, and apparently they were enjoying it very much. Mr. Block also had a big grin on his face, the kind of look my father used to give me when he was proud of something I had accomplished. Woody looked at me with his characteristic deadpan face, but I had been around him enough by then to know that his stoic mask was actually concealing a very satisfied smile.

When my solo time was up, the assembled artists surprised me with applause. I looked again to catch Mr. Block’s and Woody’s reactions, but they had both turned their heads to chat with another man whose face I could not clearly see. Every once in a while one of them would shift his stance, and I would catch a glimpse of the man. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t really tell.

“Fifteen minute break,” announced Aaron, “and then our two gorgeous models will return for a joint appearance.”

During that intermission, I was besieged by artists who wanted to compliment me on my posing or my artwork. Several handed me their business cards, which I could only hold in my hand since I had no pockets, and some asked if I would sketch them. When Aaron called Ward and me back onto the stage, I handed the cards I had amassed to Aaron, who had offered to hold them for me.

Ward was a real hunk and a sweetheart. In so many ways, he reminded me of Jeff Sullivan, Mr. Sullivan’s son and my mate on the football team, but even more so he reminded me of Viggo Sorenson, one of the Bel Ami Boys: handsome, athletic, agile, confident, passionate, affable (with a smile that was simultaneously boyish and devilish), hung, and a downright fucking hot stud.

As Ward and I stepped onto the platform, I once again scanned the audience, and still Mr. Block and Woody were engaged in rapt conversation with the man whose face I could still not make out.

Despite my initial anxiety, I felt very comfortable working with Ward. He was a natural. We started with simple poses—one of us sitting in a chair with the other one standing beside or behind him, reclining positions, etc.—until one of the artists asked if we would kiss. I assumed we would kiss “politely,” but Ward surprised me when he put his whole being, including his tongue, into it. His kiss was so passionate that I had a very hard time maintaining a frozen pose. I just wanted to grab him and jump his bones right there in front of everyone, and in reflection, I don’t think anyone, including Ward, would have minded if I had done just that.

Naturally, my cock refused to obey the rules of stationary posing. It sprang up and rubbed against Ward’s beautiful dick, which was also erect at that point. “Ignore it,” he whispered to me. “The crowd will love it.” The sensation of his breath on my ear just aroused me even more.

The artists may have called out other poses for us at that time, but frankly, I had already tuned them out. Ward and I just followed our instincts and did what came naturally, which was immensely provocative, and the artists apparently did love it.

“Thank you, everyone,” Aaron called time as Ward was about to lie on top of me. “Now go buy some artwork.” I think Aaron was afraid that Ward would actually enter me, and I must admit that I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t get the chance.

As Ward and I were about to descend from the platform, I glanced again toward Mr. Block and Woody just as Woody shifted his body enough that I could clearly see the stranger they had been chatting with. He was not a stranger at all. He was Eric, my brother.

To be continued