I couldn’t help but feel
tremendous pleasure the first time we had sex. He was one of those guys that
you see around a lot, in advertisements, in television and in movies. He was
very handsome and his body was almost genetically manipulated to please any
living human. His pectorals were round and covered in short hairs and his
abdomen was not heavily ripped but enough for anyone to look at him instantly,
if he happened to be wearing no clothes on his upper body. He was that guy, the
guy most of us would like to be like.
Or be with. I had never really
had a type. I had always like a variety of things and traits in men that would
please me in many ways. That’s why I found the question “Is size important?”
such a difficult one to actually respond. For me, it was all about the person.
If the big penis was attached to a person who knew how to use it and who
enjoyed having one, it would most likely end up becoming a very satisfying
sexual relationship. If not, disappointment was not impossible nor very far away
in time.
And yeah, I would maybe call
myself promiscuous. After a long relationship with one person, who ended up
being a lying cheat, I decided that I didn’t really want to commit again,
unless I felt something truly special. That has not happened since then, so
until very recently I happened to use a lot of dating apps on the phones and
websites in order to get dates and casual sex. I would even frequent themed
parties and enjoy myself truly in them, no shame or guilt the next day. That’s
who I am.
When I met Henry, the perfect guy
I mentioned earlier, I was working as an assistant photographer in a very
popular magazine. The place and its people were truly unbearable but I liked
the job and the amount of opportunities it could give me in the future. My goal
was to become an actual photographer and to be able to have my own studio and
work with important people, no matter if they were famous individuals or maybe
prestigious magazines. I just wanted to be the one to make them famous, in a
way at least.
So I was the one to get coffee
and also the one that practically built the set before the actual photographer
came every morning into the studio. Well, it wasn’t exactly morning anymore
when he came in, but you get the idea. I would prepare everything and he would
just change a couple of things before shooting the actual pictures with the
model of the day. It was frequently a female model or some new singer or
actress. The magazine focused its attention on that area, thinking women wanted
to be them and men wanted to be with them. Just like what I thought of Henry
when I saw him.
He came in one morning. He seemed
lost and I actually thought, for a split second, that he was some guy looking
for the employment office. But he wasn’t. Once I was closer, I realized how
tall he was and how big his hands and feet were. Besides that, his eyes were
beautiful and bright and his skin was obviously well taken care of. So he was a
model and I had to apologize for my behavior and then made him come into the
studio. It was very uncommon for a model to come in so early.
I told Henry that Marco, the
photographer, would take a couple more hours to get there. I pretended to look
for a message from him, but I was actually sending texts to Marco telling him
to come at once to the studio. I imagined him sleeping in his nice loft, with
one or even two of the gorgeous models he had met throughout the years. He was
a ladies man and everyone knew that. So I wasn’t surprised when Henry himself
suggested for us to have something to drink, as Marco would take a while.
He waited until I finished with
the set, which took about fifteen minutes, and then I invited him to a coffee
shop just next door. It was very strange because I felt every single person was
looking our way, to Henry to be more precise. And it was true. The girl that
took our order was almost to enthralled to even pay attention to what I was
saying. I remember hoping that she had noted my almond milk but Henry wanted to
sit down as we waited, so we did just that. And it amazed me to realize how
little I actually talk to models.
They were always there for Marco,
so I would only do what he asked and then stay very quiet until the photography
session was over and he left with the models laughing and talking about some
party they had all been together. I would then have to clean everything up and
go home. In the nights I wasn’t so tired, I would contact someone and relax
with them, in a way, with a drink and a night of sex. When the woman called us
to pick up the coffee, Henry laughed because my expression seemed to mark my
minds whereabouts.
He asked about my job and was
very kind about it. I asked about his modeling career and I wasn’t surprised to
know he was very young and had already worked for a lot of big brands. He was
even the image for a perfume! It was then when I remembered his face from a bus
stop and our conversation went on from there, talking about life experiences
and how we each loved our work and how they were both very connected. I have to
say I had a blast talking to him, probably because I would rarely speak with
anyone at work. I needed someone that I could exchange at least some words
with.
Later that day, I learned from
hearing Marco and Henry, that he had signed a modeling contract that would bring
him a big check but would also make him an usual in our studio, as Marco would
become something like his official photographer. He took a lot of headshots of
Henry that first day and I noticed he would look for my gaze in order to lock
his eyes with mine and share a short moment, sometimes with a smile in between
it all. It was nice but, by the next day, I thought it was all in my head.
That was until he stayed after a
photo-shoot, telling Marco he needed our Wi-Fi to talk to his agent on the
phone. What he really wanted to do was something much more direct and that
worked too well for him: he approached me from the back and started touching me
all over. His hands felt like tentacles, not stopping for a single second.
Somehow, I knew that kind of behavior was not appropriate but I have to confess
I decided to go along with it when I realize whom I was about to have sex with.
And we did. It all happened on
the hardwood floor of the studio and when we finished, I had no idea how to
feel. It wasn’t like he did something awful during sex or that he left
immediately. Henry actually stayed for a while, helping me put everything in
order. He joined me in a cab and left me in front of my building. But that
night, when I went to bed, I felt something was not completely right with the
whole picture. I had liked it but maybe not all of it and I was simply too
confused to think about it anymore.
However, it kept happening and
its still happening to this day. He has so many fans and there are even rumors
that he’s dating some girl model that looks like a female version of him. It’s
insane! And I haven’t asked anything about it because I don’t feel I have any
permission to ask him anything about his life. After all, I’m not really part
of it. I’m just the guy he decided to fuck this once and I feel this will end
soon. I even think that it has happened before and I tell myself I cannot care
at all about that.
I have been living in somewhat of
a safe ground for so long. I have fucked whomever I wanted and wherever I wanted.
I called the shots in my life, deciding everything about it, especial how I
decide to live it. I don’t let anyone else take any action in my life. Or so I
thought at least…
Every single time I’m close to
him, I let go of my will to fight back. I know, somehow, that he’s not the right
person for me. He’s simply not, in any way, shape or form. However, I keep
going back. I keep falling and I have to ask myself if when I fall again, is
the ground going to be there to stop me again?
