I was cruising around the projects, looking for a new model when I first saw Johnny. Now, I gotta tell you, when I’m looking for a model it’s not just to have somebody to draw. I’m looking for a guy that interests me enough to spend some time with, to maybe mess around, you know? I pick up guys that I would like to have sex with, guys that turn me on. Usually that means I pick up a guy that’s smiling and eager looking, one that seems to know what’s going on. Johnny wasn’t even looking up as I drove past. He was sitting on a brick wall, looking down at the ground. He looked depressed. What got my attention was his big frame; he must have been six foot seven. He was slender as a basketball player with long arms and legs. He didn’t have on a shirt, just a pair of tan cotton work pants with a rip right in the crotch, and a pair of canvas gym shoes that must have been a size thirteen, at least. His air of mournful sadness drew my sympathy, but I kept going, looking for a guy who was looking for a good time, you know? There wasn’t much to choose from. I passed up a skinny kid who looked like a crack addict, and one guy that swung his hips like a girl. So, I’m back on the block with the sad guy and thinking I could forget sex, just be glad of the decent looking model and get some drawing done. I pulled to the curb near him and parked. He finally glanced up. His eyes had a round, startled look, but he slumped quickly back into his doldrums and hung his head. I didn’t want to call from the car so I got out and went to sit a couple of feet away, and smiled when he looked up, wary and doubtful. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one; he watched. “You want one?” I offered the pack. He nodded, slow and hesitant, watching my hands. “Here, go ahead.” I held them out. He took them in slow motion, shook one out and handed the pack back to me. “Thanks.” He lit it. Well, at least he was talking. His voice was deep but soft. Up close, he looked even bigger. His wide shoulders were sharply defined and I watched the muscles of his chest and stomach slide under the skin as he moved. From here I could look into the ripped seam at his crotch, see an inch long crescent of dark skin and hair, no trace of underwear. The heavy bulge that ran down his left inner thigh was amazing; couldn’t be less than seven inches; soft. Still, his eyes didn’t connect with mine and he didn’t even try to smile or shine me on. I couldn’t smell any alcohol or I would have thought he was drunk. After a couple of drags on the smoke, he finally looked up, brought his eyes to my shoulder level and said, “You a cop?” “No, I’m an artist. I paint people.” His eyes flickered to mine, weighing my words. “That’s why you looking at me?” “Yeah, I’d like to hire you to model for me, let me do some drawings and sketches.” “Okay.” Still no enthusiasm, just a resigned acceptance. No questions about money? That was a first! I wondered why he thought I was a cop? Guess he’d been hassled a few times. His subdued personality made me wonder if he’d been beaten down or abused, like a dog with his tail between its legs. For a big guy, he gave me an odd need to pat his shoulders, comfort him. I restrained the impulse! “I’ll pay you ten dollars an hour, with a fifty dollar minimum, a bonus if everything goes good. How’s that sound?” “Okay.” He stood up slowly, flipped away the butt. I’d never seen a guy take the proposition so easy. Usually they laughed, asked if they had to get naked, bargained for more money, something. This guy gave me the feeling I could have said anything and he’d still mumble, “Okay”. I wondered when he’d last smiled, and why. He watched the passing scenery without a flicker of interest. We made it almost to the studio before he said anything, then, “Is there a bus that comes out here, or you gonna take me back downtown after you get done?” “Sure, I’ll take you back. There’s a bus route, but I don’t know the schedule. Did you think I’d just dump you off, leave you out here?” I laughed, it sounded so improbable, but he didn’t answer, just watched the road. In the studio I began adjusting the lights, spotting a white wood bench against a white background. Johnny stood just inside the door, watching. “Here you go. Just sit there and relax. If it gets too hot under the lights I’ll put a fan on you.” The bench was low; it made his knees stick up and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, hands dangling loose. He had an awkward angularity, an unusual composure. It would be interesting to draw him. Actually, it’d been a while since I got excited about drawing. Most of the time I just drew the guys in a few poses for the exercise, then we got down to the business of sex. It was after sex I got more interested in the work. Johnny was different because he didn’t respond to the situation as an opportunity to hustle me. Most of the guys would already have scoped me out, figured my interest was primarily sexual and then began the game of seduction. That’s what I liked, a guy who would note my game right away and push for the win. They usually figured they could get more money with sex and they were happy to initiate the action. I enjoyed playing reluctant and letting a guy tease me and lead me to the bed; it suited my fantasies. I never liked making the first move, so I set it up for a guy to move on me. Sure, it was just for the money, but it was the only sure method I knew to get a man to make a pass at me! I knew Johnny wasn’t going to play my game. He had no trace of initiative, no energy. Really strange to see a big, good looking guy like him so subdued, even passive. He sat silently while I did a few quick line sketches. I asked him to turn sideways and he shifted without a glance up at me. “Good, now sit up a little. Pull your feet in closer to the bench. There, right there.” I drew for another twenty minutes, a more detailed drawing with some shading blocked in. Too much white background, his dark upper half dominating the page. I ripped off the sheet and laid it aside, then studied him without drawing. “Wanna take a break? How about a drink? Beer?” “Take a beer, yeah. Hot in here.” He wiped his face. I cut off the light. “Sorry. That’s like a heater. I forget how hot it gets.” When I handed him the beer I noticed the sheen of sweat all over his chest and face. I’d left him in the light too long but he never asked for the fan. “Thank you”, he took the drink meekly, wiped his eyes on his arm. “You want a smoke? I’ve got plenty, here.” I offered the pack. “Okay”, and he took one, let me light it but didn’t reach out to steady my hand, just waited patiently. “What’s your name?” He didn’t seem really there with me, off in a day dream. “Johnny Brown”, his low voice was gentle, “I’m thirty two years old. Been out the pen a month on Friday. Can’t find my folks anywhere.” His big dark eyes finally came up to mine. Not exactly the busted dam of words, but a trickle, at last. “How long were you inside?” “Twelve years, four months. Caught me fifteen but they let me out early. I stayed out of trouble, kept it quiet”, he took a drag from the smoke. “I’ll bet you did! Must have been tough, huh?” “No, sir. Not really. I just do whatever they say, bide my time. I never was no trouble maker.” “How long has it been since you heard from your family? You must have gotten letters?” “Yes, sir. Right at the first, got letters. They got slow ‘bout writing, didn’t have no spare change to send me or nothing. I just had to do my time. Weren’t their fault. Ain’t heard from them in a few years, maybe five years, give or take. My letters come back so I knew they moved, didn’t know where they went to.” His voice never gave away the pain he must have felt. He was sad but resigned to facts. I got that feeling, again, like I wanted to pat his shoulder, offer some, reassurance however futile. I sat on the bench beside him and he leaned just slightly against my arm, not avoiding the contact, rather soaking it up. “I’m really sorry, Johnny ...”, I put an arm around him, tentative and easy, but he didn’t tense or shift away. “I wish there was some way I could help you locate them.” “Can’t find nobody I remember. Just gonna have to start over. When you inside, you thinking nothing changes, but you get out and everything’s all different. Real life don’t wait for you.” His philosophy was sound, if less than hopeful. I rubbed his moist back and he relaxed a little, glanced at me, then away. I didn’t know what to say, tried to use touch to convey my concern. He leaned against me with firm weight and warm skin. He needed the comfort, I thought, and I felt guilty for the way my body reacted to his. I couldn’t do this without being aroused. I stood, suddenly. “I better get back to work.” He just nodded, looked at the floor. From behind the easel, I caught a glimpse of him touching himself, maybe rearranging his balls. I put the spotlight back on. “Turn back, like you were before, facing me. That’s it. Knees wide. Sit up a bit. Can you lean back on one arm? That’s great. I won’t keep you there long.” I knew he was in a strain, the pose didn’t look comfortable but I liked the way it made the bulge of his crotch stand out. The guy was really packed into those tight pants! I moved the light, aimed the spot low, and, no accident, right at his basket. The little hole in his pants gapped wide and I could see hair and wrinkled skin. I drew as long as I dared ... hoped he didn’t get a cramp in his support arm! “Okay, take a break. Your arm must be getting tired!” He sat up, “No problem. Just…I mean, could I use the bathroom? I need to take a leak.” “Sure, right there.” I pointed at the bathroom door. “Take off the pants while you’re in there. Just wrap a towel around your waist, okay?” I held my breath. “Okay.” No nervous glance, no reaction at all. Just, “Okay”. I worked on the drawing while he pissed. The sound of his urine stream hitting the toilet was loud. He’d left the door open. I saw him drop his pants and I looked back down at my drawing. Forget it. He doesn’t even know what I’m about! He came back and sat where he had been. Quite a view under that towel! His legs were spread wide; he leaned back as before. “Like this?” “Uh, yeah, can you hold it a few minutes?” “Okay, sure.” Incredible fucking view of his equipment! Damn, he had a cock on him! My hard-on was aching before I realized it was happening. I kept drawing, carefully put in the detail in the shaded area below his towel. “Alright, take a break. Sorry about your arm. Get another beer from the fridge if you want. Here’s the cigarettes. I want to keep working a little but you can move around, loosen up.” The composition on this one was nice, surprising. Heavy darks at the top with his torso and arms, his head, the white towel and white background near the bottom of the page were broken up with the complex shapes of his legs and the cave between them. I worked at getting a heavy muscled look to the calves, thick and richly curved. Johnny was standing just behind me, watching. I glanced up and he grinned. “You even drawed ol’ rufus.” “Huh?” “I didn’t know you’d draw my dick, too. It looks funny. I never seen no picture of my dick before.” “Oh. Yeah. Well, I draw naked people all the time. Just part of the body, like a hand or an ear. Bring me a beer, would you?” I really wanted to get the legs right. Johnny distracted me, standing so near. “Sure, okay”, he drawled. “Drop the towel, this time. Just sit down and lean forward on your elbows. Good. Pull your feet in closer to the bench. Look off to my right, over there. Hold.” He’d tossed the towel without any hesitation, no leer or smirk. Just following instructions. So he liked me drawing his dick? Wait till he sees this one! I held him in place quite a while; it was an easy pose. I switched to soft pencil, to better record shape and line, detail. The charcoal was faster, but not crisp. I did an illustration-style rendering. He looked like an athlete, after his what he’d been through, shoulders slumped and mouth loose. His eyes focused distantly, distracted. The convex shapes of his chest and abdomen were a challenge, full of interesting play with the light. His crotch was drawn simply, full and weighty cock laying almost flat on the bench. The legs projected out, knees bright reflectors, calves in shadow, tapering down to huge feet. I liked it. Nice feeling but the distant gaze bothered me; too bland. I tore off the sheet. “A quick smoke and I’ll try that once again. Relax.” Hard to tell the difference when he wasn’t posing. He was always so still. He stretched his shoulders back, though, and raised his arms wide before falling back into a natural slump, quite like the pose. But when he relaxed, his head bent down at the neck, drooping like the weight of sorrow; or else he was studying his dick. I liked it; liked the way his face disappeared into shadow. The gaze at his dick was an intriguing gimmick. I picked up my pencil and started a new sketch. It went quickly. I was getting the hang of his contours and proportions. Very nice. A drawing worth doing, a finished version, with fine shades and precise line work. Still, I wanted to push the concept a little. “Your left hand; pull it back so it touches your dick. Okay. Let the fingers spread out. Good. No, pull back more, don’t cover it up, just... Yeah, that’s it. Hold.” My pencil moved furiously; same basic drawing. My hand was learning. The guy was like a model robot. He never questioned or argued, just did whatever I said. That was a change! Too many guys talked and made jokes, kept up the hustle even when I was trying to work. Johnny just sat there, ready to hold or shift whenever I said so. Gave me an odd sense of power. A very erotic image developed from my drawing, the big guy looking down and fondling his lax cock. It was an image of latent power, a slow-burning fuse. Whew! It was sure giving me a boner! “Break. I got to take a leak. Relax a few minutes.” It was difficult to get the urine started, being semi-hard. I waited and waited, finally squeezed my dick to get it to soften up. Then, when it emptied, it didn’t want to stop dripping. I shook it and milked it, shook it some more. I turned to the door with my dick still hanging out and he was standing there, waiting. “Me, too. I need to piss again,” he explained, but he was looking at my dick. He was still naked and I was caught staring at his dick, too. A tentative sexual current rippled the air. His dark eyes met mine and looked back down at my hand full of meat. I met his glance and then watched the way his cock swung as his weight shifted. I nodded, stepped aside to zip up and wash my hands. He passed close, his hand brushed my ass, accidental or not. I watched his ass while I dried my hands. Beautiful things, fine asses. Incredible how the perfect curve can touch my heart and soul and my libido all at the same time. He flexed his pelvis forward, ending his piss with a couple of strong spurts. His ass clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. His eyes glanced over his shoulder; yes, I’m watching. He grinned, turned around still shaking his dick. “That feels better! Now I can sit still.” I was blocking the door. I didn’t move right away. I watched his hand and touched my own dick through the fabric of my pants. It was getting hard again. His hand kept moving, but slower. Now he wasn’t shaking it, he was fondling it like in the pose, only with movement. My dick swelled out obviously. I squeezed the firm projection. “We better get back to work, huh?” I left it up to him. “Whatever you say. You the boss.” “Sit the same way, head down.” His hand spread over his dick. “But this time, I want you to hold it in your hand. Change to your right hand. Yeah, hold it like you’re about to jerk it off. Tighten up the grip. Can you get it hard? I’d like to draw it hard.” His hand moved with slow caress, the massive cock swelled and lengthened. “Like that! Yeah. You can keep moving your hand, keep it hard a few minutes, give me time to draw it.” “It’ll stay hard, now. Once Rufus come up he stay up.” His voice was a low mutter, almost talking to himself. “I just be thinking about getting me some head, don’t need to jerk it off, it get off on the thinking. Sure likes to have somebody suck on my dick. Back when I’s inside was always somebody wanting to swing wid me. Since I got out ain’t nobody wanted to be with me. Nobody wants a con, no sir. Just think I’m trouble. I ain’t no trouble, no harm a’ t’all. I can get by on my own but it would sure be nice to have somebody to rub up on, somebody to kiss and hug, make me feel good. Sure would.” My pencil wouldn’t move. I think I was hypnotized. My eyes locked onto his hand and huge hard cock, my ears strained to hear every mumbled word. I dropped the pencil. His eyes flickered at the sound. He went silent. Just watched his hand sliding the skin slow and smooth. I stepped around the easel and shed my last inhibition, went across to Johnny and sat beside him, put an arm around him. He leaned low to get his head on my shoulder. His hand still moved, stroking. When I kissed his cheek he sucked in a long breath and let it out slow, shivered a little like he was suddenly chilled. “Johnny?” I whispered at his ear. “Let’s go lay on my bed, see if I can cheer you up a little. I want to be with you, Johnny. I want to rub up on you. Want to kiss you and hold you.” “Okay”, his deep voice rippled through me. “I’d like that, if you don’t mind.” I stood and tugged at his arm, but he remained seated and weighted down. He leaned forward and pressed his face to my groin, wrapped his long arms around my hips and inhaled deeply. “I sure would likes to suck on your dick, too. If that’s okay with you.” “Okay”, I told him. He had me doing it. ................Jackertoo@AOL.com
