When I was in my early thirties I reached the point where I had been modeling for figure drawing classes at local colleges for a couple of years. Like now, I am slim, trim, and with a fairly athletic male body (albeit with a few more wrinkles and gray hair now). One day after class when I was signing off for my fee for that class, the elderly male instructor asked if I would be interested in a modeling session at his private home studio. Rather than drawing or painting, he wanted some photographs. It would be a camera session. Perhaps looking for a little risky adventure, I said yes. Soon the Saturday morning modeling appointment arrived. He was courteous and polite and after the proper introductions he led me downstairs to his basement studio decorated with the usual curtains, sheets, pillows, and other modeling props. My only disappointment was that I would not be posing with a woman. Anyway, I undressed and he prepared his camera equipment. He used a standard SLR, the typical professional camera in the days before digital. I dropped my robe and we began. I went into a routine with many of my favorite poses. Energetic, relaxed, front, sides, rear, and so on. I've always found the fluttering click of the camera shutter a real turn-on when nude. I guess it's the exhibitionist in me. I was getting hard and probably started to drip a little precum. After another pose he asked if I would lay back in a reclining pose and touch myself. I agreed and started to lightly brush my abdomen and inner thigh. Then I moved to my testicles and penis, first cupping and then slowly stroking and rubbing them. At one point I had my cock squeezed firmly in my fisted hand with the head popping out. There was still the occasional flap from his camera, but I mostly had my eyes closed--enjoying the moment. He then asked if I would cum. The blunt rawness of such a direct sexual question surprised me, but I was seemingly in his command. I was on my way to the happy point of ejaculation anyway, so I kept working at the job at hand. Stroke . . . stroke . . . stroke. I was now ready to pop, and shot my mega-load upwards, falling back into a sticky mess all over my pubic hair and dribbling into my belly button. He commented that I was a "quiet cummer". Well, he was correct. I was not very audible (maybe I should have put on a better show?). He tossed me a hand towel to clean up and that was the end of the modeling session. We said our goodbyes and I asked for copies of the photographs. Well, I never got any photographs from him. My question to the reader is this: Do you think he even had film in the camera?

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