By Dylan (Illustrated by dylan)
Email: boy18cute@yahoo.com
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute

A Photographers World tour: Portraits

When I decided to start my new project, I did it because I felt empty, exhausted, was on the edge of a burnout. I had done countless shoots for fashion companies, had shot a myriad of pictures to sell make-up or hair-styling-products, had done campaign-shoots for all the famous brands, for all the major advertising agencies.

I was tired of the super-models, male and female alike. They all played their roles all the time, not only while we worked. They acted in front of the camera, played another role in front of their fans, and even more roles for their managers, for their makeup artists, and for me, their photographer. Working with them for some time made painfully clear that most professionals were not ‘real’, but constantly lying, and to me it became harder every day to meet those people, respect them, work with them.

There was a face for every occasion, and everyone knew it. The result, the picture, was key to them. They knew that their make-up, the lighting, and, most important, their photographer decided about their success, their career, so they seemed to do all I wanted, all that was necessary to make me do my best, to achieve the best results.

However, I was sick and tired of the way those models, those divas, behaved.

One face for me, one for a servant, that was nothing I wanted to see and deal with anymore.

I had finished my last lucrative contract, had made sure the product was presented as perfectly as possible, had made sure the model, in this case an already rather famous young male actor, was shown at his best.

On screen the actor presented his well muscled body in action-roles, playing the hero. For me, however, he had knelt without much ado, presented me his well-formed ass right after he had sucked my dick deep down his throat, and I knew what others had also learned first hand: The macho actor was a cocksucker, always willing to do what ever it took to be presented to perfection.

He certainly knew how to ride a casting couch, and he also knew how to please a man.

I came like a rocket, filling up first his ass, then his mouth, much to his surprise. I was not much older than him, he 23, me 35, but he was sexy enough to help me stay hard and go on even though he had just milked my dick dry with his ass-muscles.

However, I wanted something new, something fresh, some adventure.

To finance that project I decided to try a new approach. I wanted to go one step further, not just take pictures, but also write about my experiences, my adventures with boys and men alike.

I planned a diary of my adventures on my trip ‘Around the World in 80 Asses’. I smiled impishly as I came up with that stupid title, but discarded it immediately. I certainly hoped some boys would be willing to give up their round and tight behinds, maybe even give up their virginity to me, to spice up the trip.

I wanted to take pictures of good looking hunks, of boy-men, of the sexy young men who worked their way through their dream of a better life.

I wanted to take their pictures to catch the beauty of 'the' moment, that fleeting second when an unblemished boy takes his first cock.

I soon realized it would take time and effort, some real hard work in fact, to capture those flawless boys before their handsome faces faded and everyone saw the effects of unhinged sex, drugs, and rock’ n’ roll, or, in most cases, hard work and the daily life of a young family-man.

I would not make the distinction between gay or straight. I knew for money and the chance of a little fame many boys were willing to do things nobody expected from them.

I knew I would have fun, enjoying the best boys I encountered while traveling the world.

The first boy, however, crossed my path at home, in New York City, not far from my house. He was a construction worker I saw when my Uber had to slow down in a traffic jam, and I looked out of the window, feasting my eyes on his sweaty body, his muscles working hard in the heat of a summer in the city. He looked in another direction, so he did not see me taking a quick snapshot or two.

I asked my driver to stop, and walked back the few yards to have the chance to take more pictures. He was a real stud, without fake tan and fake makeup, sweaty, unshaven, wearing dirty jeans and rugged gloves. I did not plan to recreate “Fred with Tires”, the picture-series created by a real artist, Herb Ritts. I wanted to capture young men in their prime, preferably even without their knowledge.

I knew it was risky business but, if the pictures worked, I could always come back and approach my ‘models’ to offer them money for their time, and after their signature under a contract they would be mine.

The young worker was open to my ideas. He gladly accepted my suggestion, and soon we used the lunch-break to take a few quick snapshots, often a surprisingly good chance for great pictures.

While he was facing me, I knew I had struck a pot of gold. His face was of classical beauty, and even though he had not shaved and was covered in dirt, I knew he would soon be a well-known model.

However, today a raw diamond was in my hands, and I took advantage of the chance as long as I could.

He was willing, almost too willing. My enthusiasm was waned when he knelt naked in front of me. He was no normal worker, he was just another whore at heart. He was willing to get naked for my camera, and he was willing to suck my dick, right here and in broad daylight.

And I must admit, he was a natural, he had a talent that would certainly help him.

I kept my promise, though. Nowadays he is a well known model, doing commercials for shower-gels and Speedos, perfectly suiting his relaxed attitude and sexy body.

The next few days were full of preparations for the trip. A flurry of activities almost blinded my eyes to the possibilities that lay in front of me, but once again my ‘City That Never Sleeps’ presented me a chance in passing.

The young man was working in a garage as a mechanic. The heat was almost too hot to bear, and he had bared his chest to get a little cool air from a fan that lazily moved around the air around in the back area of a workshop.

Jamal, the young man I captured with my camera, was not shy after I gave him 100 bucks, but he strictly refused to do more than to push down his jeans to show his dick. He was straight, he said, and insisted I stayed at least five foot away.

“No monkey business, man!” he said, making sure “No weird stuff!” happened.

I took a few pictures, made him sign an assignment notice he never read, and walked out with just two pictures that were worth the hassle.

The next day I was on a plane to Germany.

I knew a young man in Berlin who had answered my call and was willing to work with me on the project. He was no professional model, a major part of my project, but he was willing to have his pictures taken.

Kevin was radiating a natural beauty and sexiness most models have long lost, and he was eager to please me. He found a ‘lost place’, an old, abandoned building, and the pictures I took were breathtaking.

I knew he was willing to put out, and he did not hesitate to open my jeans and take my cock out. He was just like I remembered, enthusiastic, fun, sexy.

He took my dickhead , wrapped his lips around it, moaned as a first squirt of precum hit his taste-buds, and swallowed my hardon all the way, sucking me off eagerly.

Much to my surprise all we did was that blowjob. Kevin told me he was ‘in Love’ with a ‘Daddy’ I never met, and he would not ‘fuck around anymore’. His words, not mine.

His ass, he told me, was off limits nowadays, since his ‘Daddy’ was a jealous type and would punish him in the event he cheated.

I must admit the naive way the boy told me all this was heartwarming but also highly amusing. Kevin had been a good fuck in the past, thanks to his simple mind and eagerness to please, but now someone had stolen his heart and had the exclusive right to fuck his tight little ass, and I respected that.

In a way it even made my self appointed task easier. My next flight was booked, my destination Lisbon, Portugal.

There I knew a man with a lot of contacts.

Helder de Sousa was a teacher, a coach at one of the local colleges, and he had placed an advertisement after I had called him. He was not opposed to sample some fresh fruit, and I knew he had young students under his wings, figuratively speaking, young men just legal, good-looking in that southern European way.

The next few days were full of activity, and in the end a ton of material was stored on my hard-drives and uploaded into my Cloud.

I must admit I was exhausted. Helder had made sure not only the best looking young men had signed up to be photographed, but just boys that liked sex and were willing to put out.

The boy Julio was the only exception. I took some test-shots, but he was not even willing to open his jeans. However, he was good-looking, and even though he would find his way into my book or my bed, it was fun to work with him.

Another boy I met in Lisbon was a completely different story, though. Antonio was already 22 years old, but looked younger. He was an orphan, had been raised in a monastery and maybe would have remained in it, but a not so pleasant encounter had made him reconsider his choices.

I never learned more of this story. However, he was enthusiastic in bed and always willing to do his best to please men, and for a few days, please me.

Helder de Sousa, my contact in Portugal, later made sure Antonio found a very fulfilling job in the hotel industry and now is an assistant manager of a huge hotel.

Not every boy that bared his assets was made to be published. João was one of them. He was slim, almost too slim, and he lacked the classical beauty I was looking for. He had one or, actually, two talents that had already made him quite famous, and I heard later that he did a few films with a major gay porn film studio. His specialty, his greatest asset, was his humongous dick.

He was a wonder of nature, a young man of only 170cm of height, equipped with a cock of more than 30cm of length. He was virile, healthy, had the heart of a horse with that horse-cock, and always got his dick as hard as steel, even during a photo-shoot that took ages, or the filming of several scenes in a row.

His most impressive ability, though, was his flexibility. He was able to suck his own dick.

While I adjusted the lights during his photo-shoot, he evidently was a little bored and decided his dick needed some attention. So, without prompting, he simply bent over, sitting down and did it. He first licked, then suckled his own fat long cock.

I was too busy to see it, so I have no good pictures of it, but my trusted video-camera that always captures the whole room at least caught a glimpse of his tongue.

I maybe was the first photographer that took a picture of the act that was later to become his trademark.

‘Horse’ João was later a rising star in gay porn film heaven. He rose, shone, and burned out in a few short years.

I left Lisbon, and Portugal, right after this week of photo-shoots. I had met some old friends and some new boys, and my portfolio slowly but surely looked promising.

Now I needed a little exotic flair, so I took a plane to Mação. The former Portuguese colony promised a sexy mix of European and Asian genes, and I needed more rough cut workers for my book. A friend of mine had already placed an advertisement, and he sent me promising news.

Fong was a professional fighter. He was much more muscular than the average Asian man, very well hung, and he was used to showing his body, in cage-fights as well as to rich tourists.

I booked him for one night to meet him and thank God took some pictures. He had a big fight coming up, and he joked I should better capture his beauty before it was too late.

I am sorry to say that he broke his nose and lost a few teeth that night. Oh well. My book will capture the beauty of the moment, as my pictures always do.

Another young man I met was ‘Joe’, presumably not his real name. He grinned when I asked him in a bar, guessing I wanted to ask him for a night of debauchery in my hotel.

He was 24 but looked younger, and he was smooth and hairless, muscled and hung, and maybe, together with the boxer Fong, one of the best-looking Asian models I ever had.

However, while very talented in bed, he lacked that specific "Je ne sais quoi" I was looking for, so, besides a night of hard and hot fucking and one picture for the book, this endeavour was fruitless.

The other guys I saw in Mação were not appealing, and I am not into gambling, so I left ‘Eastern Las Vegas’ after a few short days to fly to Australia.

But this will be another chapter…...