Tommy
Tommy, who lives over the road came over, straight after I got home, his parents are working interstate for a couple of days, be back at the weekend.
He’s nice, friendly, outgoing. Dark hair, green eyes, broad shoulders. His mum is Italian, he gets his looks from her. He's a bit of a live wire. He said he’s glad schools over, even if he enjoyed it. He’s waiting to go to uni, he says he can’t wait. He’s studying law like his mum and dad. They are both partners in their own law firms.
He came over, last week, when it was hot, in just a pair of white shorts. He's lean, athletic. He wanted to know if he could do anything for me. Big smile. His mum sent him over because I'd helped her out with some stuff. She sent him over to repay the favour. Do some work in my garden. Pull some weeds. I stood and perved at him, he knew it.
“Um… let me see.” I held my gaze on him.
He shuffled on his feet.
“Oh, I don’t know?” I did know, I had just got a new Cannon SLR camera and I wanted to take some photos of this athletic boy.
“Anything,” he said. He smiled sweetly. But, was there an edge to that sweet smile? Was there some intent behind the mask of innocents?
I might as well just come out and say it. Fuck it. “I was just playing with my new Cannon SLR and I wanted a subject to play around with the lens, how about that?”
“Modelling?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I guess.
“Sure, why not.”
I got my camera and took some photos, he posed like a muscle man, messing around, showing off. Then he smiled sweetly, tilted his head, and looked wantonly down the camera.
“You’re a natural,” I said.
He threw his head back and laughed. He slid his clenched fists down over his crotch and pouted. He pumped out his guns. He lay down on the bench and pretended to be asleep. The sun caught his handsome face and the curve of his chest, just so. I switch the camera to black and white and took a whole series of sleeping beauty shots. He's a natural, his eyes drink in the lens.
"You're a natural, the camera loves you."
“It’s fun, I like it,” he said. “When I need a portfolio done, I know who to come to.”
“Yeah, sure, you should do some modelling.”
“I always though I could be an underwear model…”
There was a pregnant pause, when I am sure he wanted to suggest he strip down to his undies, that he was waiting for me to suggest he take his shorts off, but I didn’t, and he didn’t.
He's handsome. Year 12, just finished. He was a Scotch boy. He's a colt, a thoroughbred, unblemished by time, or life. We got talking, he was coy at first, but then he opened up.
“So, what are you going to do with yourself?”
“Law, I got into law.”
“Good for you.”
“Do you like it?”
“Huh?”
“Law, do you like the law,” he asked. “Would you recommend it as a profession?”
“I like it enough, and it pays good money.”
“That’s what mum and dad say.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I wish I’d been a writer…”
“You still could,”
“What are you going to do with yourself until uni starts?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Hang out.”
“You can do that when you live at home, I guess. “Take a break, you’ve earned it.”
“Yeah, take a break,” he said. “I’d take a gap year…”
“I did…”
“But I am impatient to get stuck into the five years I have ahead of me.”
“Put school far behind you…”
“It’ll be funny not having to pull on my school uniform anymore.”
“Will you miss it?”
“My school uniform?”
“Yes.”
“I guess. Maybe. I suppose I won’t even remember very soon.
I could feel the marijuana thick in my head. “You got any pictures of you in it…”
“Huh?”
“To remember it by.”
“No, not really.”
I held up the camera. “Do you want some.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Go put it on then?”
“Sure, okay.”
He headed over to his place to put it on.
I’m a dirty perve, I had to admit it to myself. But, he went and put it on, just like that.
I smoked a joint while he was gone, which probably wasn’t the wisest move, it diminished my judgement considerably.
He came back with his white shirt and tie and blazer, over his jeans. Near enough.
I took some photos of him in his school uniform. I had half a woody as I took them.
Cute as a fucken button, is our Tommy.
"Undo the buttons to your stomach," I said.
He blushed. "I thought you said no dirty stuff."
"When did undoing a few buttons amount to porn?"
He held my gaze as he undid his shirt. He slipped his tongue over his bottom lip as he undid the second and third.
"Have you ever seen Risky Business?"
"Tom Cruise?"
"Yep."
"What about it?"
"Take your jeans off, I want you in your shirt tails."
"What...?"
"Oh, don't be a prude, you were wearing less when you came over here in just your running shorts."
He held my gaze as he flipped open the buttons on the fly of his jeans.
He has hairy legs and has on white Calvins, which were tight on him.
"See, even the Calvins."
"Mum only buys me Calvins. Me and Christopher."
Nice bulge, I caught sight of it as he pulled his leg from his jeans.
He stood there coy in his shirt and tie, the front shirt tail curving over the tops of his thighs – soccer boy legs covered in hair.
I smiled.
He smiled.
I pointed the camera and shot. He danced around a bit. He made funny faces, the super model demure was gone. I got the feeling he felt uncomfortable, so I said we were done.
He took off the blazer and tie wore his white shirt and jeans.
“Roll me a joint, then.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, I’m eighteen now.”
So, I rolled him a joint and we sat in my garden on two foldup chairs silently smoking some weed.
“A break between year 12 and uni is good sometimes…”
“I don’t want to waste a year.”
“It’s good to find yourself, though, because it can change your ideas…”
“Yeah, find myself,” he said. “When did you find yourself?”
“Well, being gay, there is a lot to find…”
“When did you realise you were gay?”
“Oh, when I was young, really, but then you spend more time wishing it wasn’t true…”
“So consciously?”
“Its more hope than a thought out position,” I said. “One day society will lift the pressure, and it already is…”
“When did you come to terms with it?”
“It was a process,” I said. “When I was eighteen.”
We smoked a second joint. “Your mum won’t be looking for you.”
“No, she won’t.”
“Will she be pissed off I am giving you pot?”
“I’ve been going on cams for a year,” he blurted out.
“Oh.” I was taken a back.
“Online.”
“Really?”
“I love it.”
“What do you do on it?”
“Well.” He blushed and smiled at the same time.
“Well, I guess that is what they are for.”
“I’ve realised I am a show off.”
“That’s what I mean by finding yourself.”
“I like the admiration.” He didn't seem ashamed to admit. Good for him, I thought.
“Good for you…”
“It… it…” He smiled nervously. “Turns me on.”
“So… who is you audience?”
“Well, you never know.”
“Who talks to you,” I said. “Who tells you they like looking at you?”
“Well?” He seemed chuffed about it.” “Different people.” He didn't exactly say who, kind of a tease. He smiled sweetly, like he had a secret.
He’s nice, friendly, outgoing. Dark hair, green eyes, broad shoulders. His mum is Italian, he gets his looks from her. He's a bit of a live wire. He said he’s glad schools over, even if he enjoyed it. He’s waiting to go to uni, he says he can’t wait. He’s studying law like his mum and dad. They are both partners in their own law firms.
He came over, last week, when it was hot, in just a pair of white shorts. He's lean, athletic. He wanted to know if he could do anything for me. Big smile. His mum sent him over because I'd helped her out with some stuff. She sent him over to repay the favour. Do some work in my garden. Pull some weeds. I stood and perved at him, he knew it.
“Um… let me see.” I held my gaze on him.
He shuffled on his feet.
“Oh, I don’t know?” I did know, I had just got a new Cannon SLR camera and I wanted to take some photos of this athletic boy.
“Anything,” he said. He smiled sweetly. But, was there an edge to that sweet smile? Was there some intent behind the mask of innocents?
I might as well just come out and say it. Fuck it. “I was just playing with my new Cannon SLR and I wanted a subject to play around with the lens, how about that?”
“Modelling?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I guess.
“Sure, why not.”
I got my camera and took some photos, he posed like a muscle man, messing around, showing off. Then he smiled sweetly, tilted his head, and looked wantonly down the camera.
“You’re a natural,” I said.
He threw his head back and laughed. He slid his clenched fists down over his crotch and pouted. He pumped out his guns. He lay down on the bench and pretended to be asleep. The sun caught his handsome face and the curve of his chest, just so. I switch the camera to black and white and took a whole series of sleeping beauty shots. He's a natural, his eyes drink in the lens.
"You're a natural, the camera loves you."
“It’s fun, I like it,” he said. “When I need a portfolio done, I know who to come to.”
“Yeah, sure, you should do some modelling.”
“I always though I could be an underwear model…”
There was a pregnant pause, when I am sure he wanted to suggest he strip down to his undies, that he was waiting for me to suggest he take his shorts off, but I didn’t, and he didn’t.
He's handsome. Year 12, just finished. He was a Scotch boy. He's a colt, a thoroughbred, unblemished by time, or life. We got talking, he was coy at first, but then he opened up.
“So, what are you going to do with yourself?”
“Law, I got into law.”
“Good for you.”
“Do you like it?”
“Huh?”
“Law, do you like the law,” he asked. “Would you recommend it as a profession?”
“I like it enough, and it pays good money.”
“That’s what mum and dad say.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I wish I’d been a writer…”
“You still could,”
“What are you going to do with yourself until uni starts?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Hang out.”
“You can do that when you live at home, I guess. “Take a break, you’ve earned it.”
“Yeah, take a break,” he said. “I’d take a gap year…”
“I did…”
“But I am impatient to get stuck into the five years I have ahead of me.”
“Put school far behind you…”
“It’ll be funny not having to pull on my school uniform anymore.”
“Will you miss it?”
“My school uniform?”
“Yes.”
“I guess. Maybe. I suppose I won’t even remember very soon.
I could feel the marijuana thick in my head. “You got any pictures of you in it…”
“Huh?”
“To remember it by.”
“No, not really.”
I held up the camera. “Do you want some.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Go put it on then?”
“Sure, okay.”
He headed over to his place to put it on.
I’m a dirty perve, I had to admit it to myself. But, he went and put it on, just like that.
I smoked a joint while he was gone, which probably wasn’t the wisest move, it diminished my judgement considerably.
He came back with his white shirt and tie and blazer, over his jeans. Near enough.
I took some photos of him in his school uniform. I had half a woody as I took them.
Cute as a fucken button, is our Tommy.
"Undo the buttons to your stomach," I said.
He blushed. "I thought you said no dirty stuff."
"When did undoing a few buttons amount to porn?"
He held my gaze as he undid his shirt. He slipped his tongue over his bottom lip as he undid the second and third.
"Have you ever seen Risky Business?"
"Tom Cruise?"
"Yep."
"What about it?"
"Take your jeans off, I want you in your shirt tails."
"What...?"
"Oh, don't be a prude, you were wearing less when you came over here in just your running shorts."
He held my gaze as he flipped open the buttons on the fly of his jeans.
He has hairy legs and has on white Calvins, which were tight on him.
"See, even the Calvins."
"Mum only buys me Calvins. Me and Christopher."
Nice bulge, I caught sight of it as he pulled his leg from his jeans.
He stood there coy in his shirt and tie, the front shirt tail curving over the tops of his thighs – soccer boy legs covered in hair.
I smiled.
He smiled.
I pointed the camera and shot. He danced around a bit. He made funny faces, the super model demure was gone. I got the feeling he felt uncomfortable, so I said we were done.
He took off the blazer and tie wore his white shirt and jeans.
“Roll me a joint, then.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, I’m eighteen now.”
So, I rolled him a joint and we sat in my garden on two foldup chairs silently smoking some weed.
“A break between year 12 and uni is good sometimes…”
“I don’t want to waste a year.”
“It’s good to find yourself, though, because it can change your ideas…”
“Yeah, find myself,” he said. “When did you find yourself?”
“Well, being gay, there is a lot to find…”
“When did you realise you were gay?”
“Oh, when I was young, really, but then you spend more time wishing it wasn’t true…”
“So consciously?”
“Its more hope than a thought out position,” I said. “One day society will lift the pressure, and it already is…”
“When did you come to terms with it?”
“It was a process,” I said. “When I was eighteen.”
We smoked a second joint. “Your mum won’t be looking for you.”
“No, she won’t.”
“Will she be pissed off I am giving you pot?”
“I’ve been going on cams for a year,” he blurted out.
“Oh.” I was taken a back.
“Online.”
“Really?”
“I love it.”
“What do you do on it?”
“Well.” He blushed and smiled at the same time.
“Well, I guess that is what they are for.”
“I’ve realised I am a show off.”
“That’s what I mean by finding yourself.”
“I like the admiration.” He didn't seem ashamed to admit. Good for him, I thought.
“Good for you…”
“It… it…” He smiled nervously. “Turns me on.”
“So… who is you audience?”
“Well, you never know.”
“Who talks to you,” I said. “Who tells you they like looking at you?”
“Well?” He seemed chuffed about it.” “Different people.” He didn't exactly say who, kind of a tease. He smiled sweetly, like he had a secret.
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