Jee-mie, the Clothes Model
First Encounters of a Close Kind
by Bill Fore  (b4@earthlink.net)

     I knew my "D" average in high school wasn't going to get
me in to college.  Fuck, man... I didn't know what I wanted to do
with myself anyway, so what good would it do to go to college. 
Don't get me wrong.  I was good at something in high school. 
Sports!  Oh, yes... and women.  The other guys on my teams
always called me "Lover Boy" because it seemed like I hogged all
the good looking women.  Since you don't really know me, and I
don't know you... I don't need to shit you.  The absolute truth is
that in my sophomore through my senior years in high school I
actually bagged more than twenty chicks at least one time.
     I was the school star running back in football.  I was first
string guard on the basketball team for three years, and I also
lettered in baseball... both pitching and third base.  I really trusted
my body and could get it to do just about anything I wanted to do,
but my brain was another matter.  Studying was out.  I was poor
at English, writing, reading, and whatever else went along with
languages.  I knew two and two made four, but not much else
about math, either.
     So... it was the year after graduation and I was working as
a clerk in a hardware store and living in a little rented room in the
back of an old lady's house.  To help pay the rent I mowed her
lawn and did other odd jobs around the place.  My mom had split
a few years before to somewhere, and my dad got a promotion in
the summer after my graduation and moved to Anchorage, Alaska. 
Who the fuck wants to freeze your gonads off in Alaska if you
don't absolutely have to?  I didn't get along with him all that great
anyway, so I stuck it out in Los Angeles.  
     The hardware store paid a flat five an hour for a hard forty
hours a week, which gave me food, not much clothes, and the
shelter I told you about.  Car?  A seven year old Toyota two door
with bad paint and thin tires.  My buddy called them, "Tijuana
Racing Slicks!"  Not exactly the kind of car I'd dreamed of having
by the tender age of nineteen.  
     Good thing I was a prize looker or my date life would have
been the pits, huh?  Shit!  Who am I kidding... it was the pits,
except for a Friday night movie, a little teasing and grab ass, and
about a quick fuck-a-month with the best one available at the time. 
Most of the really great broads I knew were hanging out with
college jocks or the up-and-coming twenty-something's that seemed
to be everywhere.  It's hard to be competition on five an hour with
a seven year old putter no matter how good you are in the mirror
or in bed.
     I need to explain about how I looked so you'll know why
this stuff I'm about to tell you happened to me.  Somewhere, back
in my past, there was a black guy or gal making love to an
ancestor because my skin was a shade or two darker than white. 
Not quite what they call mulatto, but more like naturally deep
tanned.  My hair was dark, my cheekbones high, my eyes dark
brown, and... as one chick put it... I looked sultry.  I was about six
foot one and really constructed.  Sports, plus a few hours a week
pumping iron, made the package pretty good, according to my
mirror and the chicks who hadn't left for college.  Twenty-eight
waist, forty-three chest, and... what I thought they liked best... nine-
plus hard inches, perfectly formed, big crimson knob, and cut.

     Well... about two miles from the hardware store where I
was wasting my life away there was this very big, very famous
specialized men's clothing store in a very high class part of the
city.  It was far more high class than I could afford and they had
a very ritzy clientele.  The owner... a guy named Omar... was a
really different kind of duck.  He was tall, middle-Eastern
handsome, long dark hair, probably mid-forties, wore very mod,
expensive suits, a little too much gold jewelry for my taste, knew
every celebrity around, appeared on television, and generally
looked like he was one of the rich and famous.
     I never went into (or even near) Omar's store, but
sometimes I waited on him when he came into the hardware store,
and once in a while I saw him working out at the gym.  Don't get
me wrong... I wouldn't normally work out at the kind of classy
gym a guy like Omar would go to, but there was this chick I knew
who taught aerobics at this fancy place and often gave me free
passes.  Anyway... Omar got to know my name somehow and often
said, "Jee-mie... you come to my store and I show some perfect
clothes for you."  I always told him I was broke and couldn't
afford any new shit.  "Jee-mie... you come anyway and I show you
around.  You are good looking boy.  Maybe I make you model."
     She-it!  Me, a model?  Jocks don't model.  That's sissy
stuff.  Anyway, I put him off but was real polite because Omar was
a big cheese and seemed like a very powerful person.  It seemed
like he liked me, too... and that counted for something.
     Old man Johnson, my ornery boss at the hardware store,
sometimes bought some clothes from Omar and once told me he
thought I should try out for one of Omar's clothes modeling shows. 
"You work on that body all the time, boy... might as well make it
pay for something.  You're always broke.  A little night job like
that could give you extra money."  I was constantly bugging him
for a raise, but Johnson always said business wasn't all that good,
and... he also said that I didn't work all that hard.  Johnson was a
slave driver who hated to see anyone standing around.  Probably a
dozen other clerks had come and gone... fired or quit... since I went
to work for the old asshole.  Well, anyway, Johnson said something
about Omar having clothing shows about once or twice a month in
the evenings, and the one he'd attended could use a model like me.
     Well... one Saturday morning Omar came into the hardware
store just after we opened for some light fixture he needed for his
electrician at his store.  I guess that our store was on the way
between his fancy beach home and his clothing store.  Old Johnson
and I were working together trying to restock a shelf before the
crowds came, and so the three of us got to talking.  Johnson said,
"Omar... I've been telling Jimmy he ought to see you about
working in those programs you put on.  He's a damned handsome
boy, all brawn and no brain, and everybody who comes in here
says so, too."  
     Shit, man... I got red in the face from the unexpected half-
way compliment and Omar noticed.  "Yes, Johnson... I tell Jee-mie
the same thing when I see him at the gym, but he is too bashful." 
I make a deal with Omar that I will stop by that night at about
seven and watch a "showing" as his "special guest".
     So... I drag out my one and only three year old suit that's
too small because I've put on so much muscle, and I shuffle over
to Omar's that night after work in my old Toyota.  I parked the
damn thing about a block away so he wouldn't see it.  
     Omar's store is not in my part of town.  Walking through
the door was even a trip, since everything reeked of class and big
bucks.  Omar is bustling around, but he's very friendly to me and
takes me to a balcony-type area where I can watch what's going on
in the beautiful store without having to mix with the crowd.  He
either knew that's the way I would like it, or he didn't want me
parading around in front of his customers in my cheap, out-of-date
suit.  Old Johnson would have blurted out something critical, but
Omar just looked me over, smiled approvingly, and didn't say a
thing about my clothes.
     More and more wealthy well dressed people... both men and
women... continued arriving.  There was a table filled with
champagne and little sandwiches, and the people milled around
looking at the fancy men's clothes on racks and displayed on
mannequins.  I felt really out of place, so I just hid in the balcony
area and watched the going's on.  I'd say that there must have been
fifty or more really flashy people in the store by around seven
thirty.  Then, on a small staging area near the back of the big main
store, lights go on and Omar gets on the P.A. mike and, in his best
"classic" accent, he says everyone should gather around.  One by
one, four guys come out and show off the latest mod and business
clothes fashions while music plays and a voice tells what's
happening on the P.A. system and describes what each model is
wearing.
     The first three guys are good looking dudes... a blond, a guy
with very long, flowing sandy colored hair who looked like he
could have been Fabio's better looking younger brother, and a
muscular black dude.  Fuck, man, I can't believe my eyes at what
happened next.  My all-time number one hero from my sophomore
year in high school, Ryan Wilson walks out on the stage.  When I
was just a pup and trying to get on the varsity squads for different
high school sports, the all-time record setting school hero senior
was tall, dark, and handsome Ryan Wilson.  
     God, had I been impressed with him!  
     I didn't know him personally and hadn't seen him in two
years, but it sure as hell was him.  He looked fucking great on that
little stage below me, too... very self-assured, smiling, showing off
a cream colored mod dress suit that must have cost five hundred
clams.
     Well... there went the wimpy, sissy model idea.  
     Each of the models would be on the stage for about two
minutes, and then would leave to change while the next model
came out in something new.  They didn't do any silly moves or
pirouettes... just walked around, turning, cordially smiling and
looking very masculine.  About sixty or seventy people were now
in the store crowding close to the stage.  The models would walk
along the edge of the low stage part of the time while customers
reached out and touched the fabrics.  It looked like the customers
were making personal comments to the models, and often there
were smiles and easy laughter.  The customers looked rich and it
was all very classy.
     We went through about a half hour of the latest men's mod
high dress-up fashions and then they moved on to some sports
wear.  Ryan was tooling around the stage with about his fifth
change of clothes when it finally became obvious that you needed
a good body to show this shit off.  He wore what looked like a
very form fitting tennis outfit, and his muscular legs and arms
made the get up look spectacular.  I got a vision of me up on that
stage wearing the same stuff and knew I'd look great, too.
     It got even more revealing when they showed off some
swimwear.  All four of the dudes were well built, but the black guy
and Ryan stole the show... if you asked me.  Omar kept describing
the suits and the fabrics, and the customers often touched the
garments... even the boxer-type and Speedo-type swimwear.  The
black guy even modeled what they called a "thong"... a tiny
swimsuit with nothing covering his ass.  It was a cream colored
suit and I had to admit, he looked very sexy.
     After we'd been in the store watching the show for about
forty-five minutes, Omar got on the P.A. and started talking about
"small group showings of leisurewear, swimwear, underwear and
funwear" that happened every evening.  He said, "We have special
shows in our lounge for the ladies, so that you can decide what to
buy your man for those special times... we have shows for men, so
they can visualize how they'd look in new and different items... we
have shows to give you new ideas about how to dress for your
personal fun and games.  Our models can even show you the toys
to use for the games," he said with a grin. "We're booked about
two weeks in advance, so sign up now.  Each showing lasts about
an hour and a half, and there are only eight guests for each
showing with at least three handsome, masculine models."
     Omar thanked them all for coming and the show ended. 
The crowd mingled with the swimwear clad models for a while,
and quite a few sales took place as garments were taken from
racks, credit cards were whipped out, and cash registers rang.  For
a long time Omar moved among the crowd while I watched from
above, and then... the crowd thinned out and the models went
toward a back room.  After a while Omar came to the balcony.  
     I told him I was very impressed.  "You think maybe you
could do the modeling, too, Jee-mie?"  I nodded, wondering how
I'd handle my stage fright.  "You want to see what the private
showing is like?  We can sneak in and stand in back.  We'll be in
the dark and nobody will see us."  He explained that the four
models were going to do a private show of swim and funwear for
some male customers in a few minutes in the lounge in back. 
"You make big money on the small group showings, Jee-mie.  The
big show out here in public that you watched... that's the hook. 
We have fifteen of the small showings every week, and then each
model can do private showings, too, for a lot more money.  You
get a commission for everything your customer buys, and that can
add up to many more dollars each night.  Almost all our models
also do magazine and newspaper ad modeling and other kinds of
fashion photography which pays very well.  We do almost all of
the shows at nights and on weekends, so you can do this and your
other job too, if you want."  Except for the "Jee-mie" his accent
was almost gone.
     We went down a back stairway and through a hall lined
with clothing racks.  He reached a door, put his hands to his lips
to indicate we should be quiet, and then we slipped in to a
darkened room.  There was some music playing, and a deep,
masculine voice from somewhere was describing the silk lounge
pants that the blond model was wearing.  
     I looked around.  The room was long and narrow, and the
carpet was deep and looked very expensive.  Along the long wall
was the narrow "stage" (about six feet wide)... a floor-level area
lighted with soft blue and red spots from the ceiling.  Eight very
costly looking leather overstuffed "winged-back" arm chairs were
lined up facing the stage.  From where we stood I could only see
feet to know someone was in each chair.  The chairs were set about
a foot apart.  Actually, they were set up so that nobody sitting in
the chairs could see who was sitting in any of the other chairs
unless they both leaned forward. 
     According to the voice, the blond model was named Todd. 
He walked from chair to chair and stood close so that hands could
reach out and touch the garment... and him.  
     The long-haired model (whom the voice called Jeremy) then
came out dressed in a silky lounge jacket and matching shorts
while Todd was still working the "chairs".  After a few moments
of walking around to show off the get up, he moved close to the
far right chair.  Soon, as Todd was just moving to the eighth and
last chair, the voice announced Marcus, the black model, and he
strode across the runway in an awesome cream colored long satin-
silk robe that hung open and showed a matching small brief over
his beautiful, gleaming ebony skin.
     There was some quiet whispering and joking between the
customers and the models as the music played and the deep voice
continued describing the garments.  Todd left, the other two moved
from chair to chair to have the garments "felt", and then... in
walked Ryan.  Whew!  He wore a red satin short robe and
matching small bikini.  God, he looked good, and the blue and red
lighting made his body look sensational!  I flashed on myself being
in the sexy lounge wear and knew I'd look awesome, too.
     The show went on and the models changed to briefer and
briefer stuff.  Some underwear was actually see-through and, from
where I was watching, it looked like many of the customers were
actually groping the models.  The models would put a leg up on
the arms of the chair sometimes.  It looked as if they were
spreading themselves out right in front of the customers and
offering themselves to be probed.  I would normally be really
pissed at the scene, but I had to face the fact that my all-time hero
was a willing participant in what was going on.
     I couldn't see everything because of the height and width of
the big armchairs, but it sure looked like they were getting a little
lewd.  In fact, it looked like Ryan had a considerable extra swelling
in his tiny shorts on a couple of occasions.  Same with the other
three!
     Before it was over, each one of the models appeared in
different types of tiny posing straps, barely covering their expanded
equipment.  It was obvious that the customers were being teased
and loving it, but it all seemed very queer to me... and I was really
surprised that Ryan would be doing such a thing.  Fuck, man... I
didn't know what to think.  After all... this was my high school
hero... one of the most macho dudes I'd ever heard of or known.
     When the customers started leaving there was some friendly
chatter and even some more groping as the customers and the
models stood around bullshitting.  The models were still wearing
their tiny little straps and nothing else.  Ryan and Marcus looked
especially handsome, and both seemed to be about to bust out of
the little pouches because of having at least half-hardon's.  I
realized that they couldn't be too disgusted with their smiles and
expanded equipment.  Could it be that Ryan had gotten a little light
in the loafers?
     I stayed in the dark back corner with Omar.  He asked what
I thought, and I said it seemed pretty far out.  "Yes, it is, Jee-mie,"
he whispered.  "And that's why my models make very good
money.  I pay each of them fifty in cash for this hour and a half,
and they made thirty for the stage show out in the store.  Each
model makes commission on how many of the garments they wore
were ordered... maybe twenty or so more.  And... they will maybe
all get tips, too... maybe twenty or thirty more, depending on how
they pleased the customers."
     Omar scanned the room for a moment, then turned again to
me.  "When the models do a private showing it is, as you say, very
far out.  But... with tips and my cash they make almost two
hundred for an evening of only three or four hours.  Sometimes it's
for the men... and sometimes it's for the ladies, but the men tip
much better."
     The customers were leaving and Omar called Marcus over
and introduced us.  He was a real nice guy and very friendly.  His
dark gleaming lightly oiled body looked even better up close.  Even
though he wore only a tiny posing strap and was otherwise totally
exposed, he seemed very confident and relaxed.  Marcus voice was
deep and masculine.  "Omar said you might be considering joining
us, Jim.  I hope you do.  We're two guys short and there's enough
business for four more.  It's great money, and it's a lot of fun."  I
had mentioned to Omar earlier that I was in the same school with
Ryan, so... after the last customer brazenly tucked a bill into
Ryan's overstuffed pouch and copped a feel at the same time...
Omar called him over.
     When Ryan saw me there was instant recognition.  He got
a big, broad smile on his face and stuck out his hand.  "Hey,
Jimmy Richey, you old fart... how you doin', dude?"  I asked how
he knew me, and he said he'd watched most of my football and
basketball games at the high school in the last two years.  It
seemed strange standing next to my all-time hero with him almost
naked and not seeming to notice.  
     Omar said something to Ryan about trying to get me to
model.  Ryan looked me over in the semi-darkness, which meant
he maybe didn't see how ill-fitting the suit was.  "Fuck, dude...
you'd kill 'em.  That is, if you're in any kind of shape like you
were in your basketball uniform when the high school girls were
swooning.  The customers would be kickin' down Omar's doors to
see more of you."
     Omar left to talk with someone else.  Ryan and I talked for
a few more minutes, and then I asked him if I could buy him a
beer.  "Man, I had to swear off that shit, but I'll join you for
something else."  He glanced down at his near nakedness.  "In fact,
let me put some stuff on to get legal, and then why not stop by my
pad since it's clean and I'm showing it off 'cause I just got it."  I
went with him to the dressing room.  
     I tried to keep my eyes off his tight, bouncing bare ass
cheeks as he walked in front of me.  My homophobia was really
getting hammered that night.  When we got in the models dressing
room he whipped off the tiny jock, got a towel and wiped off some
of the baby oil that had made his body gleam in the lights, and
then put on some expensive looking sports clothes.  
     He definitely had one hunk of a beautiful body with a
healthy looking schlong to boot.

     I followed him... me in my old Toyota... Ryan in a new
Mustang 5.0 convertible.  We wound through the darkened streets
for a few miles to the coast.  We drove South a short distance to
a very nice upscale high rise apartment building by the marina area. 
In the garage and in the elevator up to his pad we talked mostly
about our old high school and sports.  In the seventh floor lobby he
turned the key on a really beautifully furnished apartment that must
have set him back a bundle.  God! I was really jealous.
     Ryan got out his blender and cooked up two health shakes
while I took off my too-tight suitcoat and looked out at the lights
of the marina and the boats rocking below in the water.  Then we
landed in his living room to drink the stuff and shoot the shit some
more.  I told him about what a hero he'd been to me when I was
a freshman and sophomore in high school.  He laughed, told me in
detail about the games he'd watched me play and how impressed
he'd been, and then we traded some war stories about teachers and
coaches.  It was a very comfortable scene, like we'd been friends
for years.
     I guess we'd been sitting around almost a half an hour
having a really great talk when the subject finally came up.  "So...
you want to model for good old Omar," Ryan said.  "No," I
corrected, "It's the other way around.  Omar wants me to model for
him."  "Well, dude... it may not be your bag.  I could understand
that.  Hell, if you like what you're doing and you're making good
bread you shouldn't even think about it."  I told Ryan I hated the
work I was doing and that my boss was about to make "Asshole of
the Year."  "Damn, Rye... you saw the car I was drivin', man... I'm
obviously not setting the world on fire with the big bucks."
     Ryan looked me over in my ill-fitting clothes.  "You keep
in shape since you got out of school?  It looks like it."  I told him
all I did was work and work out, and that I was probably in better
shape.  
     "You goin' to college?", he asked.  "She-it... my grades
were the pits, man.  It blew all the sports scholarships out the
window and I've never had the brain for the books."  Ryan nodded. 
"Yeah, Jimmy, I know," he sighed. "I went one year to Cal on a
football scholarship... got hurt, blew my grades, fucked up a chick,
and came crawling back with my tail between my legs."  "Holy
shit," I responded, "I never heard about that.  That's what surprised
me when I saw you tonight.  I thought you were a big football star
somewhere."
     We talked more about our lives, and then I asked Ryan why
he was doing the modeling bit for old Omar.  He leaned back and
stared at the ceiling for a moment.  "Well, Jimmy... I guess the
easiest way to tell it is this:  After I blew it at Cal, I spent just over
a year working like a dog at manual labor for seven bucks an hour
because I had no real skills.  Sometimes I made more, but then I'd
get laid off a lot, so I stuck with the seven bucks an hour job
because it was steady.  I tried selling, but couldn't make it go."
     Ryan looked at me closely.  "I had to make good money
because I'm paying two bills a month child support to the chick I
screwed around with up at Cal.  God, dude, I was feeling like a
real big hunk of shit... a total failure.  When I heard about Omar's
gig and saw what you saw tonight I was really bugged.  I sat
around thinking about it for at least four months.  Geez, it was a
hard decision.  Especially since I was such a hung up jock.  I knew
Marcus was a straight shooter, and I knew he'd been doing it for
a year and was making big bucks.  So... I finally made a decision
to get bold and try it out.  Marcus really leveled with me and
taught me the ropes.  I started doing it part time at first... just the
small group stuff and not the private showings.  I was working
only nights and doing my manual labor shit during the day.  It was
rough keeping my body in shape and unscratched and my
fingernails clean while still doing manual labor too."
     Our eyes met as we sat about two feet apart in his awesome
apartment.  "You know, Jimmy... I'd really screwed my life up,
and I was really down in the pits.  I started getting honest with
myself.  All day long I was busting my tail for seven bucks an
hour, bakin' in the sun, freezin' in the rain, taking shit and kissing
everybody's ass to keep my job.  Then, in the evening's I'd go to
Omar's and average about forty or fifty an hour working in perfect
temperatures, takin' no shit from nobody... and everyone was
kissing my ass.  I'm a slow learner, but it dawned on me that for
the next five to ten years I could do the Omar act, develop all the
contacts I make there and get myself set up for life.  Some of them
customers really worship the models, man... it's a trip.  They treat
you like you're a fucking God."
     "Not much for a guy with no college and no special skills
to do to make big bucks," I said.  He nodded.  "You're dead meat,
dude... just like me.  You got a fourteen million-to-one shot to win
the lottery, and about the same odds of making it some other way. 
That's why I had to do the modeling stuff.  It's like there was no
option after I really thought it over."
     He got a smile on his face.  "Now, ah... geez, I work about
five hours a day at Omar's, if you can call it work... and in the last
four months I've done three major fashion modeling gigs up in
Hollywood for really good bread from the contacts I made with
Omar's customers."  "Yeah, Ryan... but, ah... it's... it looks like
those guys... those customers... are kinda queer."  Ryan laughed. 
"That's what I thought at first.  Fuck, man... those are famous
people, multi-zillionaires, bank presidents, owners of big
corporations, executive women, stars, wives of stars, most
everyone's married, most are big timers.  There ain't nobody
without big bucks sitting in them chairs, man... and they're horny,
that's all.  Maybe they're queer horny, and maybe they ain't, but
touching and admiring isn't a sex act.  In the private shows... that's
maybe different, depending on how you look at it."
     I said I'd be really scared and wouldn't know how to act or
what to do if I tried Omar's kind of modeling.  Ryan said that
Marcus had taught him in one day.  "Fuck... you want to do it, I'll
bring some of the shit we model here to the apartment and teach
you.  I'll show you how, and then I'll sit in the chair and play
customer while you practice.  God, man... it's not brain surgery...
it's really simple.  You just gotta be loose, man.  The looser the
better!  If you just walk around and do it straight you don't get any
tips, and you only get some small commissions from garment sales. 
But... if you tease the customers and make them feel really good
you can almost double what you make."
     Ryan started adding it up.  "Like tonight, man... I had three
twenties and two tens in my jock at the end of the show... and all
I did was let 'em touch a little and make 'em think I liked it and
wanted more.  I probably made twenty-five in commissions, I got
thirty cash for the stage show, fifty for the lounge show... it was a
good four hours work... ah, twenty... forty... sixty... seventy...
eighty... plus twenty-five makes one-o-five... plus fifty... one fifty-
five... plus thirty... totals about one eighty-five, and it's all cash
except for the commissions.  Plus, I'll get at least four private
shows out of tonight, too.  At least four of those customers will be
signed up with me and I'll get at least a hundred and a fifty for an
hour and a half doing that, plus some big tips."  
     We talked about some other stuff and then I knew it was
time for me to leave.  It was late, and besides... I had some
thinking to do.  I told Ryan I'd need to get honest with myself and
think it over like he'd done.  "Shit, man... I'm on a dead end
freight to nowhere and it's really starting to get to me," I said. 
"Well, Jimmy... don't fret about it.  It's pretty simple to figure.  If
you can make good bread without kissing anyone's ass, forget
Omar's.  Ninety-nine and nine tenth's percent of the guys in the
world don't have the build or the looks to do the Omar's bit if they
wanted to, so consider yourself really lucky.  At least me'n you
have one thing going for us... we may not be nuclear scientists, but
at least we've got this option.  In this gig you're looking at seven
hundred a week working a few hours a night just doing it straight...
and fifteen hundred to two thou a week if you tease 'em and let
'em play around... plus you can make as much as a grand or two
a month extra in outside modeling assignments most months.  Last
six months I've made over six grand a month working about
twenty hours a week.  And... it's all mine, too.  No thirty percent
to the tax guy."  He looked around the apartment.  "That's how I
can afford these digs.  That's why I got the new 'Stang.  Paid cash
for it!  If you can find that kind of money doing something else
without nine years in medical school, do it... and let me know so
I can do it, too."

     I had a lot of thinking to do after I left that awesome
apartment and landed back in my little hole-in-the-wall room.  I
didn't sleep much that night or the next.  I spent a lot of hours in
front of the mirror taking a long look at myself, too.  Fifteen
hundred in one week is almost two months pay at the hardware
store... especially after taxes.  Life would really change for me if
I could even get three bills a week, much less get fifteen!  
     I called Ryan two days later and said I'd like to see what it
was like to do it if his offer was still open to train me.  He seemed
excited about the idea and said I should stop by his pad.  We
agreed on Sunday noon.

     Ryan opened the door wrapped in a towel, his hair still
dripping.  "Hey, Jimmy, time got away from me.  Come on in. 
Sorry I'm not quite ready.  I got back late from a tennis game. 
One of the customers from Omar's has a tennis court in his
backyard in Bel Air."  Shit... I knew where Bel Air was but I'd
never been there.  He took me to the kitchen and we broke out
some fruit juices.  He seemed much more into health than I was,
but he said he wanted to keep his body and his looks for as long
as possible.  He slapped my shoulder playfully and said, "Fuck,
dude, I'm two years older than you.  I gotta watch it!"  
     I followed him into the bathroom at his request so we could
talk.  He pulled off his towel and dried and brushed his hair.  I had
to be careful of where I looked because he could see me in the
mirror most of the time.  I did get a better view of my high school
hero's wonderful, perfectly proportioned body than I'd had before. 
Six feet one or two, dark brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders,
narrow waist like mine... the perfect all-around jock body.  
     We went to his awesome bedroom and he pulled on the
form fitting red lounge bikini's and the robe I'd seen him model. 
He had a black satin version of the same getup, and he told me to
put them on.  He openly watched me closely while I changed. 
"God, dude, you'll be the hit of Omar's with that body," he said.
     He had a chair in the living room that was a little like the
armchairs in the lounge but without the wing backs.  Ryan told me
to sit and act like a customer while he did the modeling bit.  He
turned on the stereo to get the kind of music they played during the
modeling.  
     I watched as he moved his handsome torso in front of me,
showing me the clothes and his own assets at the same time.  Then,
he sat in the chair and I did what he'd done.  He coached me on
some moves to make it look more natural.  After I'd gotten the
changes down Ryan said he thought I was getting close to being
ready to do it the straight way.  "You really move naturally...
probably because you're such an athlete."
     I said that it was the little posing straps that scared me and
that I didn't know how to act when a customer would touch me. 
Ryan looked me in the eye.  "If you want to make real bread, that's
what you got to do, dude."  "I guess I'd better learn that too, man,"
I said.  "If you really want to learn how to do it for the big bucks,
you can play like you're the customer and I'll show you how, and
then we can switch around again.  That's how Marcus taught me. 
It's no good if you don't play out the whole scene, though.  Forget
it's me'n you, and pretend it's you and a customer... or that you're
the customer.  You got to touch and let go of your hangups... you
know, like forget all the macho jock bullshit we learned all our
lives and just get real sensual.  These high class customers don't
buy the macho stuff.  That's really for the lower class and the very
young."  He looked me in the eye.  "Want to try it?"  
     I felt like I had a fever.  I said I supposed I'd better.  I
knew, deep inside, that I had gone to Ryan's that day for far more
than had already happened.
     We went to his bedroom and he got out two of the tiny
posing straps.  "You know, Jimmy... at Omar's we rub some baby
oil and lotion all over each other so our bodies will look good in
those lights, but we won't need to do that today."  He changed to
one of the little cock covers and openly watched while I changed
to the other.  "How big does that fucker get when it's hard?", he
asked.  "Around nine... little more," I said.  "Holy shit, man... you
will be the hit of Omar's.  I'm jealous!"  

     I sat in the chair and he started showing me how to be
sensual and provocative.  "Act, Jimmy!  Go ahead and do what you
saw the customers do.... touch the fabric, touch me... just like you
saw the other night.  It's no big deal and it's certainly not sex.  If
you don't really get into it, you'll never learn the big bucks
moves."  
     Geez, what a weird scene.  I tried to be cool but Ryan's
beautiful body was having some strange effects on me.  I mean,
this was my high school jock hero in front of me and he was
almost bare ass naked and telling me I should touch him... like,
right around his privates.  
     He moved closer and closer as he showed off the tiny soft
fake leather jock... and his body.  His leg touched mine and it felt
like a little electric shock as he stood real close, looking down at
me.  "I'm gonna talk to you just like I'd talk to the customer,
Jimmy.  Just let go and play it like we're at Omar's lounge, okay?" 

     He stood over me, totally bare except for the little pouch
holding his family jewels.  "Hi, again, Mr. Jones.  I hope you're
enjoying the show."  His voice was soft and he bent forward so I
could hear him over the sound of the music on the stereo.  "This
is for those fun nights at home by the fire.  You take a nice long
shower with some pleasant scented oil, like the stuff I'm wearing. 
Then you put this on your hot, sensual body.  It's like thin leather,
but the inside is all soft and fuzzy.  Go ahead and touch, Mr.
Jones... feel the fabric."  
     Ryan put his foot up on the arm of the chair and the shiny
black pouch hung less than a foot from my face.  I began to touch
the outside of the fabric, running my hand over the full pouch.  
     He ran his fingers inside the narrow straps next to the pouch
and pulled it slightly away from his body.  "Check the way the
straps give... it's a special kind of elastic... very expensive."  I
touched the straps and his fingers slipped over to mine, pressing
my hands back against his skin next to the pouch.  I flinched a
second, knowing my fingers were inches from his "privates."  I
kept on with the charade.
     "Feel the softness on the inside of the pouch, Mr. Jones. 
You can wear it all day like underwear and never know it's there." 
I felt the top edge of the pouch, running a finger inside and
accidentally brushing a bit against his cock stem.  Fuck, man... I'm
with my all time hero doing this shit and it's, like... turning me on
a little.  "Go ahead, Mr. Jones, don't be bashful.  It sure doesn't
hurt for me... your touch is terrific.  Feel the inside of it a little
more."  I ran my hand inside, brushing the back of my fingers
more firmly against Ryan's cock. 
     "God, Mr. Jones... you could win tonight's touch award. 
The one's you love are sure lucky.  Don't stop yet, okay?"  I felt
his cock begin to swell against my hot fingers.  "Check the elastic
around the leg hole with your other hand, Mr. Jones.  See how it
firmly and gently gives support.  This is the best designed strap we
have."  
     I was now working around his quickly swelling manhood
with two hands, knowing that he could see into my lap and know
that the same thing was happening to me.  "God, Mr. Jones... your
touch is sensational.  We could do so much more if we had a
private showing together.  We have some exciting funwear I could
show you that we wouldn't dare show with a group around." 
     He easily pulled slightly away from me.  "Don't take your
hands away, Mr. Jones... they feel terrific.  Test the straps on my
hips."  He took his foot from the armrest and slowly turned around,
backing against my legs.  I put my hands on his hips as he'd
instructed.  My eyes were on my close-up view of his beautiful
buns.  His head turned so I could hear him.  "Notice how the thin
elastic fits around the back.  It runs down the crack like it's not
even there.  Would you like to see how it fits between my legs?" 
For some reason I nodded.
     He bent over, and now his tiny brown rosebud asshole was
inches from my face.  "Notice that there's a little pad where the
elastic is attached to the pouch so you'll be comfortable wearing it
a long time.  Go ahead, Mr. Jones... feel it."  
     I ran my hands between his legs and touched the pouch
right next to his balls.  "Oooh, that's a sensitive spot for me, Mr.
Jones.  Don't rush while you're feeling the way it fits.  You can
pull the pouch down a bit and see how the elastic works.  Slip your
fingers inside and see how the soft lining holds the balls."  Like
most body-builder-type jocks who work out and show their bodies,
he had shaved all the hair around his cock, balls and ass, leaving
only a small, well-trimmed triangle for a pubic bush.  I'd been
shaving my body once a week for about six months, too.
     I did as he'd instructed, my hands brushing my hero's big,
thick, hairless gonads.  He bent more and looked at me from
between his legs.  I could barely hear his words.  "In a private
showing, Mr. Jones, you can test some of the funwear and toys on
me if you'd like to."
     He let my fingers linger between his legs, and then he
slowly stood and turned to face me again.  The little pouch barely
concealed his roaring erection.  He glanced at my lap and knew I
was facing the same difficulty.  
     Ryan sat on the arm of the chair and turned toward me. 
"Far out, huh?"  I nodded.  "It's really exciting, after you get used
to it, Jimmy.  Obviously I got excited, and it looks like you did,
too.  When you're modeling you can create any fantasy you want. 
You can make poor old Mr. Jones, the bank president, into the
Queen of Sheba if that's what's in your mind."
     Ryan turned on the chair arm to face me.  "It may sound
weird, but guys are really more easy to model for that women. 
Sometimes women get grabby and hurt you and you have to pull
back.  The men seem to know what feels good and what hurts
better than the women, even if the women have been married for
a hundred years."

     Ryan got up and went to the kitchen for some refreshments. 
I didn't follow him as I'd done before... I just sat in the big arm
chair until my hardness finally went away.  
     From the kitchen he talked with a raised voice so I could
hear.  "You know another thing about the men, Jimmy...  like this
morning I played tennis with one of them... Tuesday mornings I
play racquetball at the most exclusive place in town with another
one.  Most of the male customers seem to know that you'll be cool
around their family so you act like a business associate and they
take you to awesome places and give you big tips in the process. 
I get paid to play racquetball and tennis.  I've been to Mazatlan,
Hawaii, Palm Springs, and Dallas on trips for big pay so far.   The
women?  Geez, man, when they leave Omar's they act like they
never ever saw you before."  
     Ryan came back to the room.  My mind was spinning from
what had just happened.  He brought some juice back and we drank
in silence for about a half minute.  "You act like you can handle
this, Jimmy.  I think you'll get used to the money, too.  With your
bod and that telephone pole you sprouted, you can make at least
fifteen hun a week after about a month of building up your private
showings... that is, if you're loose enough.  Actually, if I wasn't so
lazy, I could probably book about six to eight hundred more a
week."
     "What do you have to do in the private showings?", I asked. 
Ryan sat on the arm of the chair again and our legs brushed
together for a moment.  "Well, man, that's kind of up to you.  Of
course, in the private shows you're totally nude.  The looser you
get, the more you make.  Most of the guys use some far out
funwear and fancy cockrings and leather stuff that shows
everything.  I let the customer choose the stuff they want me to
model, and then I let them put it on and take it off for me."  "Do
they ever, ah... you know...?"  He interrupted.  "Suck, or want to
have sex?"  "Yeah.  That ever happen?"  "Sure, man... all the time. 
You get anyone worked up enough and they'll want to do
something like that."  
     It got quiet for a while and then I asked, "You let them?" 
Our eyes met again.  "If I like the person, they're nice and clean,
and I know they're gonna tip big, I certainly let them use their
mouth.  Everything depends.  Sometimes I just jack off in front of
them."  I asked if it freaked him out.  He laughed easily.  "Shit,
man... no, not anymore.  First few times I had a hard time getting
a hard on, even with a mouth on my dick.  It's a fantasy most
people have, dude.  We're oral from birth, and after we get through
sucking on tits it seems everyone wants to put other stuff in their
mouths.  I guess the customers like the private shows so much
because they get some of their curiosities solved.  Women aren't
nearly as good at oral stuff as men.  It's hard to get some of them
to keep their teeth covered."  
     Again, it was quiet for about thirty seconds.  "You ready to
play model and turn on your customer, Jimmy, or are you starting
to chicken out?  Maybe that big money at the hardware store is
looking better."  
     I took a deep breath and stood up.  I gave the "let's go"
signal.  Ryan sat in the chair.  "I'll be Mr. Smith, okay?  Don't just
follow what I did, man... think up stuff on your own.  Just make
it sexy and sell, sell, sell.  Give it your best shot, Jimmy.  You
should be a super star!"  
     I began to move around in front of Ryan as if I was on
stage.  After a few moments I moved up close.  I was really scared. 
"Mr. Smith... great to see you again.  I thought of you when I put
this on back in the dressing room.  I'd like to see you wear one...
it's real sexy."  I moved closer to Ryan until our legs touched. 
"The fabric is like silk, sir... it's like you're not wearing anything
and it feels really good... go ahead and touch it."  
     I put my knee on the arm of the chair just as Ryan had
done.  My fears were almost totally gone by then and I was into
the act.  Ryan's hand moved lightly over the material.  "Oooh, I
can feel your touch like I'm not wearing anything."  He rubbed
some more and my cock stirred a little.  "The material is just as
soft inside as it is outside, Mr. Smith.  Go ahead and touch both
sides."  I held out the elastic as Ryan had done, and his fingers
moved inside to touch the fabric... and me.
     We were both having a problem with swelling.  "Mr. Smith,
you've really got the touch.  Go ahead and feel how the pouch
cups me and gives perfect support."  Ryan's hand slipped further
inside the pouch, his warm fingers pressed against my rising sword. 

     I got an idea.  "Let me get closer so you can see and feel
better, Mr. Smith."  I put my other knee on the other arm rest,
steadying my body by holding on to the backrest behind Ryan's
head.  "Now you can use both hands if you want to... see how the
elastic fits between the legs... how the pouch holds my balls."  
     He was groping me with both hands and my cock was
starting to push the little pouch out away from my body.  "Ooh,
you're touch feels so good I think I'm going to have a hard
problem."  Ryan looked up at me and chuckled.  I stayed in
character.  "You know, Mr. Smith, if we could have a private
showing together I wouldn't have to be so discrete.  I could show
you other things a lot more sexy than this... you could put anything
on me that you wanted... or take it off, too."
     My cock was now as hard as it could get, and it pushed the
pouch so far away from my body that one of my balls fell out and
just dangled below the pouch.  Ryan's hand was gripping my cock
now behind the fabric.  "Oooh, Mr. Smith, that feels really great,
but we shouldn't do that while others are around.  If we met in
private, anything like that would be okay."  
     I got up slowly, as Ryan had done, and slowly turned
around.  "I'd really like to see you get a few pouches like this, Mr.
Smith.  That's why I think you should see how it fits from the
other side."  I bent over, as Ryan's hands stroked my asscheeks. 
"Go ahead and feel how the elastic band goes down the crack. 
This is a very well designed posing strap... really comfortable."
     Ryan's hot hand began sliding up and down my ass crack. 
"I showered and cleaned up real good before I came tonight, Mr.
Smith, so if you want to touch more or look more closely and see
how it fits, you won't be offended."  
     I backed up closer to Ryan and his finger moved over and
around my rosebud for a moment before traveling down toward my
balls.  "God, Mr. Smith... you're a real turn on.  I sure wish we
had more time.  My name's Jimmy, so if you want, set up a time
that's convenient for you and we'll do a whole lot more, okay?" 
I looked between my legs to Ryan's face, past his upstanding rod. 
He nodded and smiled.  I stood up, and he started clapping.
     "God, you're terrific," Ryan said.  "We'll have to design a
new set of tents for your tentpole to hold up, but you'll be a real
star."  I sat on the arm of the chair as he had done and caught my
breath for a moment.  
     I was so turned on I was almost on fire... and totally
curious.  "So, let's say I do that with Mr. Smith and he sets up a
private modeling session.  If I do this Omar's thing, it's going to
be for money, so I'd want to do the private showings right away. 
What happens when Mr. Smith and I get together privately?"  Ryan
looked at me a moment.  "You really want to know?"  "Yes, I gotta
know if I'm going to consider doing this."  "Well... if you want,
I'll be Mr. Smith and show you."  I asked Ryan if he'd had Marcus
show him how to do the private shows, too.  He smiled. 
"Everything," he said, "almost exactly like today."

     Inside of me I knew... I couldn't stop the training session
at that point because I was way too worked up.  I was also shocked
at the scene and at myself.  Deep inside, I knew I should run... but
I couldn't stop what was happening.  I needed to know where my
hero would lead me.  I sighed, "Yeah, Ryan... you better show me
everything.  If I'm gonna do this shit, I don't want to do it half
way."
     "Okay, man... but don't freak out, because if I'm going to
show you I'm not going to cut any corners," Ryan said.  "I'm
gonna train you exactly like Marcus trained me."  I agreed.  "I
want you to, man.  I want to know the whole scene.  I'd rather find
out from someone I know and trust than from some old queer
geezer who I'd be afraid of and couldn't say no to."  
     We went to Ryan's bedroom again.  He pulled off his
pouch, put it back in the drawer, and indicated I should put mine
there too.  Our erections had both died down to almost normal,
except for that long, dangling fullness you have for a while
afterward.  Being naked was now no problem.  
     Ryan got a small suitcase out of the closet.  "Come on out
and we'll put this stuff on the couch and I'll show you what it is
and how it all works."  When we got to the couch, he opened the
case and pulled out a small brochure of "funwear".
     "First of all, Jimmy, let me set the scene.  When you first
get together with a customer for a private showing you should
probably use one of the special rooms upstairs behind Omar's.  It's
safe there and you won't have any hassles.  If you go to the new
customer's house you never know exactly what the situation will
be.  I do about seventy-five percent of my first time private
showings at Omar's.  After the first time, it's almost always at their
house or a hotel."  "Do most of your customers repeat?", I asked. 
Ryan nodded.  "Almost all of them.  That's where the money gets
really good and the scenes get farther out.  Omar won't let a
customer have a private showing unless he knows exactly who the
person is so you really don't have anything to worry about.  Omar
weeds out the wierdo's, cops and undercover people.  It's
expensive to have a private show, so these are all very classy
people.  I've never been with a customer who was dirty or smelly,
except for some smell of cigarettes maybe.  So... you go to the
showing with a little kit like this, and this catalog shows all of the
things in the kit."
     Ryan kept looking me over as he spoke, and looking me in
the eye when he hit the high points.  We were both still naked.  "If
you want, you can be Mr. Jones again and I'll show you the basics. 
Then, I'll be Mr. Smith and I'll play it pretty strong.  I'll be as
typical a horny customer as I know how.  I'll do exactly what the
customer would most likely do.  If you want to go along with what
I'll try, no problem.  If you don't, be real gentle in stopping me so
that you don't offend me... the customer.  It's all diplomacy and
salesmanship, and you've already showed you can do it great."
     He seemed like he was getting in to the role of teacher. 
"Oh, yeah... one other thing.  If you do the scene at Omar's, the
host gets the customer in the room and comfortable before you get
there.  If the customer wants one, they're given a big silk robe and
can be naked underneath, or they might want to stay dressed.  It
turns out about seventy-thirty for me... a few of them stay dressed,
but most of them... the better built ones... get naked.  The rooms
have a couch, a chair, and a big soft rug, just like we've got here...
so we can set the scene just like it would happen, okay?  Oh,
yeah... there's also a small bathroom that goes with each room with
a shower big enough for two."
     Ryan went back to the bedroom.  A few minutes later he
came back dressed in shorts and a tank top and brought out a robe
for me to put on.  After I got into the robe Ryan said, "You ready,
Mr. Jones?"  I nodded yes, so he picked up the little case, walked
toward the kitchen, and then back to where I was sitting like he
was making a stage entrance.
     "Hi, Mr. Jones, great to see you again."  He shook my hand
and sat down on the couch about a foot from me.  I thought Ryan
seemed a little nervous.  He said, "Geez, Mr. Jones, you're looking
great.  You been out in the sun?"  "Yes, a little, Ryan."  "Well, it
looks terrific on you, Mr. Jones.... ah, do you mind if I call you
Tom?"  "No, that'd be fine, Ryan."  He  caught my eye and gave
me a big smile.  "God, I feel great, Tom.  Just had a really good
shower, and I brought some things I thought you'd like to see. 
Anything I've got with me I'd be glad to model for you, so don't
hold back, okay?  Let's make this a really great time."  
     He opened the case and got out the catalog.  As he turned
pages, he said, "See... togas, underwear, different kinds of small
supporters, some leather stuff, some Tarzan-type animal print stuff,
some toys, ben-wa balls, dildo's, cock rings, tasty lotions, you
name it.  Anything you see you'd like to try on me, or have me try
on you... just say the word."
     He handed me the catalog and moved to sit closer.  There
were very explicit drawings of how each item should be used or
how they looked when worn, and some of them were very far out. 
I pointed to a thing called a "balls-up-porter", where the cock hung
over outside of a little bag that held up the balls.  "Yeah," Ryan
said, "That's a great thing.  If you wear it under your pants it
makes you look like you got a bigger bulge.  There's no strap
between the legs to bind, either.  You want me to try it on, Tom?" 
I nodded.  "Great.  Why don't you get my clothes off and put it on
me."  
     He stood up in front of me, so I got up and began pulling
off his tank top.  "Ohh, geez, Tom... I forgot how good your touch
felt."  I ran my hands over his chest after getting his top off, and
then I began pulling down his tight shorts.  In a moment his cock
sprang free and seemed already to be slightly expanded.
     "You want to leave the robe on, Tom?"  I shook my head
and he reached over to take it off.  Once again that Sunday
afternoon I was naked together with my all-time jock hero.  "God,
Tom, you have a sexy body.  It reminds me of that song... 'If I
told you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?'"  He
ran his hands over my shoulders so I did the same to him.  Lightly
he pulled me toward him, and I followed the lead and we
embraced.  "You the kissing kind, Tom?"  I guess I should have
said "no", but I didn't.  Instead, I nodded.  We hugged, then he
kissed my cheek and I kissed his... and then our mouths met.  
     Holy shit!!!
     This was a very real training session and my cock quickly
sprung to attention.  I'd never kissed a guy before... even on the
cheek.  Ryan's cock was quickly rising and our spears began
poking at each other.  "Ummm, you're really special, Tom," Ryan
said.  Kissing had always been a turn-on to me, but this was
something far greater.  We held each other for a moment, hugging,
kissing, and sword fighting with our upraised cocks.  
     Ryan gently pushed me back.  "Tom, why not put that
supporter on me and see how it looks.  I'll get it out."  He turned
and bent to pull the garment out of the case, giving me a close-up
view of his asshole.  After a moment he turned and handed it to
me.  I had him step into it, and then... with a little difficulty
because his seven and a half inch cudgel was not very bendable...
I got it put in place.  He moved around in front of me, turned, bent
over and mooned me, and then turned around and faced me again,
stepping close.  "Check how it fits, Tom.  It's a good bit.  You
should get some."  I felt around the supporter and brushed often
against the hard, upraised staff that stuck out of it.  "Oooh, that
feels good."  I was supposed to be playing customer, so I fooled
around some more, completely mesmerized by our little training
session and the awesome body I was touching.
     "I thought I noticed you looking at the dildo's in the
catalog, Tom.  One's rubbery and flexible... kind of my favorite. 
Should I get it out?"  I nodded.  Ryan got an flesh pink eight inch,
rubber covered, cock shaped instrument out of the case along with
a small bottle.  "This one's great, Tom... very relaxing."  "How
would you use it, Ryan?"  
     It was an honest question and it just slipped out.  Ryan
smiled at me.  "Oh, Tom, you devil.  There are lots of places to
rub it or put it, and you know where they are.  You just want to try
it, right?"  I could hardly believe he wanted me to shove it in the
only place I could think of.  "Well, ah... Ryan... ah, I'm not sure..." 
He interrupted.  "You didn't think that I'd like you trying it on
me?  Well... I'm open to anything if you go slow and you're
careful, Tom.  Just play around with it, and if you want to try
putting it inside, use your fingers for a while first and put on some
of this."  Ryan reached into the case and handed me the small test
bottle of "Motion Lotion".  I took it from him and popped the lid
open.

     We both laid on the sft carpet on the floor facing each
other.  Ryan still had the balls-up-porter on, and both our cocks
were hard as rocks.  I noticed that even though his was about two
inches shorter than my staff, it was thicker and had a lot more
veins showing.  
     He showed me how to turn on the vibrating dildo, and then
I ran it around his body a bit... over his nipples, and down toward
his cock.  "The only places you shouldn't try it when the vibrator
is on is around your balls.  Some people don't like it on the head
of their cock either, Tom.  Sometimes that can hurt."  I ran it over
his throbbing cockstem and down between his widespread legs. 
Ryan rolled toward me even more and we held each other as my
right hand ran the dildo up and down his back and over his ass
cheeks.  Every time I got near his ass he'd moan and move a leg
up over me so that he was spread open to my touch.
     He kissed my cheek as we held each other, and then we
kissed on the mouth again... clearly initiated by me.  "Put some
lube on your fingers and work it in back there if you want, Tom. 
Then the dildo will go in easy."  He added, "I washed pretty deep
inside when I showered."  For some odd reason the whole idea of
entering Ryan's asshole was an extremely big turn-on for me.  
     I poured out some very slippery oil into my hand and began
to rub it up and down his asscrack, getting closer and closer to the
hole.  "Oooh, your finger feels really great, Tom.  You really know
how to touch.  Go ahead and go inside... I know you want to."  I
don't know how he knew.  Possibly it was my nine-plus incher
pressing against his washboard stomach as we laid together, or
possibly it was the total attention I was giving the project.  No
matter which, he certainly was right... I wanted to.
     I said nothing.  I just moved my slippery finger to the target
and began a light pressure.  Almost instantly, it slipped in.  "Oh,
geez... that's wild, Tom," Ryan said.  We lay together in each
others arms for a while... his hands running over my overheated
body and my finger probing inside his rectum.  "If you use two
fingers and get it real slippery, you can use the dildo easily."  In
less than a minute I had two fingers inside the rectum of my high
school sports hero.  I'd never done anything like it before, but it
was so exciting to me that my cock was leaking cum on Ryan's
stomach.  
     "You can go ahead and use the dildo if you want, Jimmy." 
I picked up the rubber shaft and pressed in to the spot my fingers
had just vacated.  His body quivered against mine as the instrument
slipped in.  "Oh, God," he breathed against my ear.  Slowly I ran
the gadget further up his tight asshole, moving it around and doing
what I felt would feel good to him.  We clung to each other with
his fingers stroking up and down my asscrack as I continued to
prod him.  I don't know what he was feeling, but I was almost
about to cum.
     "Jimmy... maybe we better get on to some other stuff in the
catalog before something explodes, okay?"  I slowly pulled the
rubber cock from his slippery channel and we parted.  

     Ryan got up, so I followed.  "Okay, Jimmy... you did great
as the customer... now want to be the model?"  I really needed to
go to the bathroom and get rid of a load, but that was probably
what was making me get deeper and deeper into the training with
my hero.  "Yeah, Ryan... I'm ready."  
     There was no sense in me trying to act like I was not
personally involved at that point.  I knew that both Ryan and I
were doing something much more than just having a training
session for Omar's.
     Ryan pulled off the sexy supporter and put it back in the
case.  He reached for the robe and put it on.  "I'm going to be Mr.
Smith, Jimmy, and I'm going to play the ultimate horny customer." 
He looked at the clock.  "We've got time to do the hour and a half
full private show, so let's make this just like a real one, okay?" 
"Sure... that's the way I'll learn best," I said.  
     I guess that I'd lost all reason.  What was happening with
my hero was clearly queer stuff but I had no thought of stopping. 
Also... for some odd reason Ryan's cock had wilted to almost
normal but I was still totally hard.  Ryan suggested that I go in the
bathroom and put on my tank top and tennis shorts, and as I was
about to leave he handed me the small suitcase.  "When you come
back I'll be your young businessman customer, Mr. Tom Smith, for
the next hour and a half.  Let's play it as we have been until the
time is up, okay?"
     I got myself back together, brushed my hair into place, and
put on the shorts and tank top.  My heart was racing again.  I'm
sure it was not only because of the wild things that had already
happened that Sunday afternoon, but also in expectation of what
was next.  I sensed that "Mr. Tom Smith" was going to be a pretty
wild "customer".  
     I took a deep breath, adjusted my now softened cock in the
tight shorts, picked up the samples case, and walked out of the
bathroom.  When I got to the opening for the living room where
Ryan was, I knocked on the wall.  "Who is it?", he asked.  "It's
Jimmy, the Omar's model."  "Come on in."  He got up from the
chair and came to meet me and shake my hand as I entered the
room.  "Jimmy, you doll... great to see you."  "Hi, Mr. Smith...
you're looking great... I'm glad to see you."  "Come and take the
load off, Jimmy... I just got out a bottle of champagne and some
glasses."  He turned to me.  "Here, let me take that case... and call
me Tom or Tommy, okay?  That Mr. Smith stuff sounds so
formal."  
     He had indeed gotten out some champagne and two glasses
while I was in the bathroom, and we sat together on the chair...
Ryan in the seat and me on the arm... and he toasted me and the
success of our little "party" together.
     "God, Jimmy... I'm sooo glad to see you.  I've been
dreaming about that big cock of yours ever since I saw you model
at Omar's lounge last week."  Ryan sounded a little strange...
almost a little queer.  "I could hardly wait to get together with you
too, Tommy.  I brought all kinds of stuff you might be interested
in."  He reached for my shorts and massaged my cock through the
thin material.  I jumped at first, and almost pulled away.  "You did
bring something I'm very interested in, Jimmy."  
     I opened the case and pulled out the catalog.  "Well,
Tommy... we could get started by modeling some of this stuff."
     Ryan took the catalog from me and started leafing through
it.  "Oooh, a leather cock ring... that sure looks sexy," he said with
that same affectation.  "Want me to get it out and you can put it on
me, Tommy?"   "Yes, Jimmy... let's start with that."  I got the
leather ring out of the case.  "I guess we should really start with
you taking these things off me, Tom."  "De-lighted."  We stood and
Ryan began taking my tank top off.  "Oh my, you're even more
beautiful than I remembered," he exclaimed.  He put his hands
inside the edges of my shorts at the hips and pushed them slowly
to the floor.  "God, Jimmy... you are a prize!"  "Thanks, Tommy...
you're spectacular, too."
     As soon as he had my shorts off of me he started touching
my body... over my stomach, over my hips, down my legs, and
finally brushing my cock and balls.  Ryan sat on the chair in front
of me, still fingering my flaccid penis.  "God damn, child... how
big does this fucker get?"  "Well... if you want you can measure. 
A little over nine, I think."  "Oooh, oooh," he exclaimed.  
     He continued fondling me and I began to quickly expand. 
"Want to try the leather ring, Tommy... here it is."  He took it from
me and started putting it on.  By the time he had finished fumbling
and fondling to get it snapped in place I was fully hard, with my
pointer just inches from his face.  "Holy shit, Jimmy... I died and
went to heaven!"
     He sat back down in the chair and pulled me in front of
him.  He touched and fondled every hot spot I ever knew there was
on my body in the next few minutes.  "I can't believe this thing
you've got here, Jimmy... it's the best all day sucker I've ever
seen.  Fuck, it's like an all-year sucker."  
     Ryan bent forward and put his lips to the tip of my cock. 
I was totally surprised that my old sports hero would do that, even
if the script called for it.  His robe fell open and I was surprised to
see he was still soft.  He licked my cockhead and little electric
shock waves raced through my body.  "Holy shit," I exclaimed.  He
started licking more and more, and soon his hot lips slipped over
the bulbous head.  He sucked the whole head for about a minute,
his tongue swirling around and around the tender membrane.  Then,
he took his mouth away from it.  
     "Jimmy, baby... put a knee up on each arm of the chair." 
I did, and it put my groin right in front of Ryan's handsome face. 
I was spread wide in front of him, and one of his hands began
searching between my legs... over my balls and up my asscrack. 
"I'm gonna make you feel wild, Jimmy.  You're gonna think old
Tommy is the best cocksucker on the whole damn planet."  
     His lips returned to the tip of my turgid staff.  His other
hand held the base of the lengthy shaft as he once again began
licking and sucking the inflamed cap of my long stem.  With the
cockring holding both my cock and balls up and out, it seemed like
I'd grown beyond the advertised nine-plus.  His lips moved down
the stalk, his tongue swirled round and round, and his hands
worked over my balls, my asscrack, a finger rimming my rosebud,
and down my thighs and over my sensitive lower stomach at the
base of my root.
     My hands held the back of the chair as I looked down and
watched Ryan work.  I noticed his own staff was still not fully
hard.  I didn't have time to wonder why because of the
unbelievable feelings his hands and mouth were creating.  "Oh,
God, Tommy... I can't believe how it feels."  
     I knew no girl had ever worked me over like this.  Every
time I felt an explosion was about to happen, Ryan used his hand
to do the squeeze play on my schlong and held it until he knew it
was safe to begin again.  After that happened about three times, the
sensations became so intense that when he began working me over
again I almost screamed for release.  "Oh, shit, Tommy... I can't
stand it... it's too wild... geez... oh, shit... I gotta cum... holy shit..."
His hands flew over my body, probing my asshole with one
slippery finger, pumping my bursting stem, fondling my balls,
holding my buns with one hand.  
     His mouth moved up and down my throbbing pole until I
felt the tip slam against his throat.  Shit, man... this had to be it! 
I was about to go wild!
     And then, it happened!  I tried to pull out, and I warned
him.  "Johnny, I'm... Johnny, look out... I'm gonna cum... I can't
hold it... Rye... I'm serious..."  He continued feverishly sucking as
he held me to his mouth by his hands on my asscheeks.  I
moaned... I yelled some more... and then, I blew.  Wad after wad
of my steaming juice flew down Ryan's throat as he continued to
suck.  
     I partially collapsed on his shoulders as his mouth continued
to work over my super-sensitized cockhead.  No experience in my
life had ever come close to the intensity of that moment.  All parts
of my body except one were limp from the hours of build up and
the final, huge release.  Ryan licked me clean, and his hands
continued to roam over the hot spots on my spent body.
     After a few moments Ryan lifted me up and slid with me
to the carpet, holding me so that I would land under him.  His robe
was open, his cock was hard now, and he spread himself out over
me and wordlessly rubbed my awakening body with his whole
torso.  We were cock to cock, chest to chest, and face to face,
kissing and hugging.  My hands slipped under the open robe and
began to massage up and down his back and over his tight buns.  
     My cock never began to soften after the huge explosion, and
now it was throbbing again as Ryan's washboard stomach and cock
was sliding back and forth against it.  We kissed as passionately as
I'd ever kissed a girl, which really surprised me afterward.  I had
never thought I'd be able to handle touching another man's lips
with mine.
     Ryan began to lick my face, and then moved to my neck. 
My hands found his tender back door entrance, still slippery from
the prior probings I'd given it with the lube.  I moved a finger in
a bit, and I felt Ryan grind his pelvis against mine in reaction to
the feelings.  I remembered what was supposed to be happening. 
"Oh, God, Tommy... you make me feel soooo good."  
     He raised up enough to begin licking my chest.  His lips
found my nipples, and soon they were roaring hard as his teeth
nibbled and he licked.  We rolled to our sides, and he again made
it easy for me to explore his hot, slippery asshole.
     We rolled around in our building passions, him licking,
kissing, and fondling my spear... me nibbling and kissing as my
fingers massaged his asshole and his engorged harpoon.  We were
both moaning and groaning a lot, and breathing hard.  "Jimmy... if
you can reach your case, get some more of that slippery stuff."  I
reached the little bottle and put some in both of our hands.  "Use
it back there, stud.  You're goin' riding in a minute, and you need
to get the chute prepared."  He spread the stuff from his fingers to
my randy cock and massaged it in until I was writhing in ecstasy. 
Then we rolled so that he was again on top.  
     Ryan spread his muscular legs to straddle my stomach and
knelt above me.   He reached behind him and began again to stroke
and lube my hardness.  I was using two fingers on his hot, slippery
entry.  He backed up a bit as he straddled my body.  I felt my
cockhead brush against my fingers that probed his hot hole.  "Use
your cock now, Jimmy.  Put it where your fingers are."  I looked
at Ryan questioningly.  "You sure, Rye... ah, Tommy?"  He looked
down at me and smiled.  "Why you suppose I called this meeting,
boy?"
     I slipped my fingers from Ryan's body and his hand held
my slippery cock.  "Let's go easy, Jimmy... it's bigger'n that dildo! 
I want to take the whole thing, but nice and slow."  He guided my
cocktip to his tiny entrance, and it lay pressed there for a few
seconds.  Then he settled back more against my pulsating sword. 

     My hands went to his asscheeks as if to guide the
impalement.  The fighting muscle gave way and the head popped
inside the hot, tight cavern.  "Ooof," escaped his lips.  He seemed
to be pulling me deeper, so I guessed the pain wasn't too bad. 
God, the feeling of having my palpitating cock in that tightly
constricted, steaming channel was absolutely unbelievable.
     Ryan began to settle back more and more on my hard love
muscle.  My hands began to stroke him from his asscheeks up his
back.  I felt his balls touch my stomach and soon I knew he'd
completely engulfed me inside his burning passage.  Slowly be
began to rock up and down... short strokes at first, and then longer
and longer ones until little more than the head was inside of him
before he pressed all the way back down.  Ryan groaned as I filled
his cavern with my meat, and his head began to bob as he started
riding my intruder more quickly... almost like he was riding a
bucking steer.
     I'd almost forgotten that this was all a charade.  When it
came back to me I started telling "Tommy" how awesome and
wonderful the feelings were.  Fuck, man... I wasn't lying.  I was
deciding that a well-muscled asshole with an educated sphincter
will beat the tightest pussy in the world for feelings... and this was
certainly a well-muscled ass working me over.  
     I found his half-hard cock and began to stroke it in time
with his movements.  It hardened a bit in my hands, and then...
without much notice... Ryan's body began to shake, he stopped his
movements and just sat on my throbbing cock, and then cum
started flying all over me from his spongy hardness.  Wads of his
hot juices flew everywhere... all over my chest and stomach, and
some landed up on my cheek.  Watching Ryan have a violent
orgasm was really wild.  Every muscle of his awesome body was
flexing in a most erotic manner as his cock oozed its final drops. 
Even though I'd blown my own wad only minutes before, I could
feel the excitement begin to build deep in my groin.
     Without disconnecting or missing much of a beat we rolled
to our sides.  My waist was still clasped between his legs, but now,
as Ryan began again to slide his ass up and down on my cock, it
was easier to meet his movements with thrusts of my own.  After
a few moments we rolled so that I was on top, and he moved his
legs so that they'd be over my shoulders.  
     "Fuck me, Jimmy... you're in control now, so go for it."  I
began to thrust steady strokes nine and a half inches deep into the
ass of my hero.  We were both sweating.  Ryan's hands were now
on my asscheeks, pulling me into him with a powerful tug on each
downstroke.  
     Our bodies were now slamming together... sweat was
pouring from us... and the air was turning blue with the heavy
language of a really good fuck.
     "God, Jimmy... fuck me, man... ram that piston deeper." 
"Holy shit, Tommy, I've never felt anything this fucking good
before."  "Slam it in, fucker.  Fill my hot ass."  And then, my tune
changed.  "Oh, God... I'm gonna cum."  "Do it man... give me
your load."  Slam, slam, slam.  
     I was pumping my piston into Ryan as fast as my hard,
athletic body could move... aided by the hard pulls from his hands
gripping my asscheeks on each downstroke.  My boiling caldron of
cum quickly spilled over... "OOOHHH!"  It was like I was driving
each shot of my man-juice deep into his gut with every stroke.  His
sphincter squeezed the juices from my spewing snake as our violent
movements reached their zenith.  
     Again, I collapsed on top of Ryan, gasping for air.  We
stayed connected as he lowered his legs from my chest and we
rolled to our sides.  We just laid in each others arms, holding each
other and kissing... our tongues slipping lightly in and out of each
others mouth.  It must have taken us at least ten minutes to calm
down and get our breathing back to normal.  
     Slowly, my still half-erected love muscle was slipping from
it's deepest moorings inside my hero.  When we talked with each
other it was still in our model and customer characters.  "Whew,
Tommy.  I've never felt anything like that before."  "Same here,
Jimmy.  I think you've probed deeper than anyone has gone
before," Ryan said, smiling.  We adjusted positions and my cock
finally slipped out.  After a few minutes Ryan suggested we shower
together.
     We continued the charade, each washing the other both
inside and out... exploring each other as deeply as our fingers
would allow.  I was shocked to discover how erotic Ryan's
probings of my asshole could be.  Nobody had ever rummaged
around in my asshole before... except for me on a couple of curious
occasions a few years back.
     We still talked with each other as "Jimmy" and "Tom", but
I knew that the tremendous eroticism was coming because it was
Ryan's awesome body that I was playing with.  I never ceased
having a full erection throughout the showering process. 
     Before we got out of the shower, as we were rinsing, Ryan
got out baby oil and we rubbed it all over each other.  When we
dried each other afterward with the big towels our bodies gleamed
with their oily film.  God, what a sight we made in the huge, full
wall bathroom mirror.
     We went back to the living room floor and laid together
hugging and kissing some more.  My cock felt like it would burst. 
It still wouldn't go down, even though Ryan would lose his
erection if I wasn't stimulating him.
     Then a beeping watch alarm went off on the table nearby. 
Ryan stopped kissing, pulled back a little from me and smiled. 
"Okay, Jimmy... now I'm Ryan again."  He moved slightly away. 
"I hope it wasn't too much work in the last ninety minutes.  You
passed the test with flying colors."  
     Ryan had a gleam in his eye as he continued.  "God, dude...
I'm amazed at how well you could act for such a long period of
time.  For being shocked, and for not being interested in any of
this, you had one hell-of-a huge hard on for almost the entire time
you were with 'Johnny'."  
     What could I say?  I couldn't think of anything that would
defend myself so I just laid there next to him, my fingers still idly
running over his chest in an absent-minded gesture.
     We laid on the padded carpet together, inches apart, still
naked, and talked for another hour.  Ryan said that Marcus had
"trained" him in the same way he had just worked with me. 
Marcus had wanted him to experience the ultimate thing that could
happen with a customer so that he would never be shocked and
could always know what he would and wouldn't do.  "Actually,
I've been invaded by a real cock only once before, Jimmy... almost
a year ago.  I was curious after my wonderful experience with
screwing Marcus, knowing that he enjoyed it a lot, and then trying
out some dildo's.  So... one night I let a very rich guy I'd known
for a while and done three private shows for put on a nice thick
condom and plow my ass for a quick five hundred.  He's the guy
that just took me to Hawaii for five days for five hundred a day."
     Ryan paused and looked at me, thinking.  He continued, "I
plowed him a few times on the trip but he never nailed me again. 
Actually, I was worried with you because you're a couple of inches
bigger and thicker than he was.  I've heard that everything on the
human body can stretch a lot, and damn, it really does!"  He
paused, looked at me and then smiled.  "I'm surprised that I felt
almost no pain.  It was quite an experience."  
     We talked a lot about what was and was not queer.  Ryan
said it was all business to him and that labels didn't matter any
more, since he still loved women.  He got up on an elbow and
looked me in the eye.  "Jimmy... If you can make big bucks and
have this much fun, who cares what people think?  I've never in
my life experienced more touching and caring than I have since I
went to work at Omar's.  Handsome, rich men and women who
need some love and attention pay me to give it to them, and they
give it right back.  Almost all of them really appreciate what I give
them, too... and there's no strings attached.  It's been awesome! 
Why get all hung up and act like it's the pits?  I never let anything
happen I don't want to happen.  Nobody will find out the full truth
anyway.  The customers won't tell.  It could ruin their reputations. 
So... people can only suspect what's going on.  The only one's that
really know what's happening are us... you and me."
     After our long and very honest discussion, I knew the
training was over and that it was time to leave.  Even though the
charade was over we hugged each other hard and I thanked Ryan
for everything (more than he knew) before I left.

     And so, I joined the modeling staff at Omar's.  I didn't quit
the hardware store right away because I wanted to be sure I could
handle it.  The first night on stage was pure terror for me, but the
customers seemed to love me and Ryan said my panic didn't show. 
By the third day I was pretty much over my fright and starting to
really pour on the charm with the customers.  The stage shows
were the hardest for me, but the runway shows in the back room
were exciting and a snap.  I was a big hit with the customers and
got a lot of attention the first few nights.  I began to really like the
touching and the attention.  Omar seemed really happy with me...
especially since he was about three models short at the moment and
business was really booming.
     I booked one private show that first week, or rather I should
say... Ryan and Omar booked it for me.  Because Ryan knew the
customer, I did it at the guy's multi-million dollar home in
Brentwood.

     John Robert was a very wealthy, grey haired businessman
of about sixty years.  He was the major stockholder in many major
corporations according to Ryan.  He was also one of the few
customers that was openly homosexual and had broken up with a
live-in boyfriend about six months before.  Ryan had been his well
paid escape from the sadness he'd been experiencing over the loss
of a twenty year relationship.  Rye wanted me to get involved
because he thought the guy was falling in love with him.  
     Well... John Robert loved me, too, and he also loved my
body that night for over two hours.  He licked and sucked me in
every conceivable place and in every way, draining my gonads
twice in the process.  At his request I preened and posed for him
and he complimented me a lot.  I even fondled his six inch prick
for a few seconds and was rewarded with a handful of his juice. 
As I said, I'd delivered two loads of my own to his hot mouth
during the evening.  It had all felt really terrific.  When I left I was
four hundred and twenty dollars richer.

     The next morning I walked in to Mr. Johnson's cluttered
hardware store office, handed him my keys... and quit!

     Business boomed at Omar's.  Ryan and I became the
absolute best of friends.  Ryan said that one of the big
disadvantages of working at Omar's was that it was hard to keep
a girlfriend.  (They didn't understand the business, he said.)  I
didn't have a steady at that time, either, so Ryan's companionship
fulfilled a lot of my needs.  Also, handsome black Marcus became
really close and often joined Ryan and me for a just-before-work
restaurant dinner whenever he had a chance.  
     I made over nine hundred dollars my first week on the job. 
Pretty hefty, after a year of taking home one hundred and fifty-six
a week!  Omar was thrilled with me, since he often said he'd make
money if we did.
     Life totally changed!  I stopped trying to cook and ate all
of my meals out because I always had a roll of bills in my pocket. 
I also started a very fast growing savings account.  I had renewed
energy at the gym to keep my body beautiful and tanned an extra
half-hour a day. 
     At the end of my third week at Omar's I bought a two year
old bright red Camaro in good condition.  They gave me four
hundred for the old Toyota.  Omar gave me some terrific sports
clothes.  Ryan and Marcus recommended him, so I even started to
pay a guy to carefully trim my body hair and shave my cock and
balls once a week.  Even that was a very sensual experience.  
     I laid awake almost all of one night thinking about my new
life.  I wasn't dating, but I wasn't missing it either.  I guessed it
was because I was dumping at least two loads a day and getting
lots of attention.  
     Ryan was right.  Modeling for women wasn't nearly as
financially rewarding as it was doing shows for men.  The women
were all rich, and most were nice, but the males treated the models
like fine china.  The women acted like they wanted to get away
when the show was over.  The guys talked about booking again,
and made offers of trips and other things.  A private show for a
woman was always a one time experience.  A guy could easily
become a weekly or twice monthly regular (at $150 to $250 or
more per session).  Where a woman might tip a one or a five at the
"chair shows"... the males used tens, twenties, and sometimes even
fifties.  I was surprised to discover that probably more than half of
the men were married and went home to their wife and kids after
the show.  Often, private shows at home were timed for when the
wife and kids were on a trip.  Many of my "private shows" were
staged in the rooms of Los Angeles' finest hotels. 
     It was all like a dream!  I got along great with all the other
models.  We spent a lot of time together in the little dressing room
and shower... bare ass naked, oiling and moisturizing each other
and being very caring.  It was becoming very erotic for me to
touch the other awesome bodies and I began even having troubling
dreams about having experiences with other guys... especially Ryan
and Marcus.

     Ryan called me at home with a proposition one day.  He
said he'd done a few "dual" shows with Marcus for a customer in
Malibu, but Marcus was tied up and he'd rather do it with me than
with Todd or Jeremy.  I asked what was involved.  He said we just
had to put on a "love act" since the customer only watched and
didn't get involved.  "Kind of what we did the night I trained you,
Jimmy."  
     It was wild!  The customer sat in a chair, watched and
jacked off for over two hours while Ryan and I hugged, kissed,
caressed, fondled, licked, sucked and finally fucked each other.  I
licked and fondled Ryan everywhere, got my first taste of another
guy's high protein cum, and again plowed Ryan's ass for a very
long time.  I walked out of that huge house six hundred dollars
richer.  Of course, Ryan got six hundred, too.  (That's six hundred
for each on top of what Omar got for the booking!)
     On a whim Ryan called Marcus on his car phone... car
phone to car phone.  (I'd never even dreamed of a car phone.) 
Marcus had just finished his gig, too, so the three of us met for a
midnight supper at a famous Hollywood coffee shop.  Marcus
kidded about us all having a three-some sometime soon.  Ryan
looked at me, then at Marcus, and said, "It'll happen, you guys. 
Sometime soon somebody will want that."  Marcus grinned, "I can
hardly wait!"

     Less than a month later, after a lot of conversation about it
between us, I moved in to Ryan's pad and his bed.  It was
unbelievable!  Dumb old Jimmy Richey, living in the marina in a
very beautiful high rise apartment with my all-time jock hero and
now... all-time best friend.  We lounged together naked... talking
by the hour and reasoning with each other like I'd never had the
chance to do before with anyone else.  We slept together naked
and, from time to time, we fondled, sucked, and occasionally even
fucked.  Sometimes one of us would have a "sleepover" with a
customer and be gone for the night.  Those times were very lonely.
     One day two very rich customers in Bel Air called Omar
and set up our little three-way show.  It was strange.  They
specifically asked for the three of us.  I knew about it for about a
week before it happened.  At first I was a little scared, but then I
began to look forward to whatever experiences I'd have with my
handsome black friend.
     We're doing that show tonight!

                -0-

There are quite a few of my "First Encounters of a Close Kind"
stories in the Nifty archives.  Look under "Miscellaneous," then
"Prolific Authors," and then scroll down the alphabetical list to me,
Bill Fore.  Let me know if you like (or don't like) these stories. 
Your comments are fun to read.  My E-mail address is Bill Fore at:
b4@earthlink.net