Last summer I read the paper almost every day, at least if I got to the paper before Susan threw it away. Susan, as you recall, is my lover, the sexiest creature I have ever seen. She works out at the gym every day, she runs, she swims, she bikes, kayaks, climbs, sky-dives, and, as a college nursing school graduate, works as a school nurse in my old high school. She is truly a fox, and I love her. We love sex, we love making love, we just love everything about each other.
Last summer Susan showed me an ad in the paper that I had missed. She brought it home from work; one of the teachers had pointed it out, jokingly, to Susan. It read "Well Endowed Young Male Wanted for Modeling," and it gave contact information. That wasn't a lot to go on and I balked. Susan told me that if anyone should apply, it was me. I have an eleven-inch cock, I'm in great shape, and I look nice. No, not sissy nice like a lot of those male models, but rather All-American nice.
Susan convinced me to call the number, which I did. A woman answered the phone and asked me some information, and I truthfully answered. I told her that I was 22 at the time, 6'2", 225 pounds, body fat around 10%, I had an eleven-inch cock, and I had no disfiguring scars. No, I had never worked as a model before, I had no experience. She asked me about my current work, and I told her that I had enough flexibility in my construction job that I could stop down for an interview at her convenience. She sounded pleasant, professional, and not interested in sex with me. Susan listened in on another line and concurred, it sounded like this was on the up and up.
Two days later I came with a swimsuit in my bag to the appointment. The building was a one-story office building, with a glass front and plenty of parking. It was in a nice part of town, beside the business district, and I felt more comfortable. I walked in and was greeted by a receptionist in her 30s, whom I had never seen in the town before. In a smallish town like ours, it's unusual not to know someone, so I asked.
The people in the office were on a tour trying to find models of all types, and I had responded to one of a variety of ads placed in a variety of papers, magazines, and on the Internet. As we chatted a beautiful 15-year-old girl walked out, thanking the photographer who followed her out. She had just begun her portfolio, had answered the ad, and this was her second session. The people had been there for a few weeks and would be there for the next month or so.
Jim, the photographer, asked me to sit down with him in his office. I glanced at the walls, and I was pleasantly surprised to see many tasteful and a few very sexy photographs of people old and young, male and female, all colors, all body types, and in a wide variety of settings. Jim explained to me that modeling agencies were willing to hire a wide variety of models, depending on what the customer wanted. It just so happened that someone wanted a model with a big dick, hence the ad.
Jim asked me if I was nervous, to which I answered that I was not. He asked me to change in the next room, not telling me what to put on. I blindly went into the changing room and asked him through the curtain what I should put on, and he said, "Just put on a towel."
I dropped my clothes and wrapped a towel around my waist and returned. Jim took me into the back room, turned on the lights and asked me to drop my towel. I did, and Jim professionally looked at me and said, "Well, I see you fit the bill" and called his receptionist in. The woman came back, took off her reading glasses and calmly looked me over.
"Nice." That's all. The woman obviously had no sex drive. Jim was obviously not gay, so I didn't think a thing about it. "Get it hard," she said next. Uh, oh. How do you get a hard-on in front of two people that aren't sexy, act professionally, and you're sweating in the lights nervously.
So, I wrapped my hand around my cock and think of Susan. I think of the great sex we have, I think of how she seduced me when I was still in high school. Damn, that should have given me an extra inch of length, but I remained like a loose sausage, just swinging there. I thought of Roberta, our incredibly sexy neighbor who we have had countless sessions and has the body of a goddess. Zip. I thought of Amy, my friend Brad's girlfriend who belongs in the pages of Playboy. I think of all the girls I have fucked, all the girls in the magazines I have looked at, and even look at the receptionist. Shucks. Nothing.
The woman asks me what the problem is, and I explain I have never, never, never had this kind of problem before. She asked me when was the last time that I had had sex, and I told her about the previous evening. She asks me to tell her about it and I tell her about making love in the shower after work, I tell her about making love with Susan in the bedroom, then how we made love in front of the television, and then, finally, how we had tenderly made love at night in the still and darkness of our bedroom.
