Date: Mon, 11 Jan 2016 01:40:39 +0000 (UTC)
From: Tague Micheals <tag.michaels@yahoo.com>
Subject: Photographing Boys III

And so I began.

My father had been an amateur photographer but I suppose he could have gone
professional instead of being one of many bookkeepers in a huge company. He
took a camera everywhere he went, even work, and he had a darkroom in our
home that he called his work area that took up virtually the entire
basement. I had a brother, Michael, who was eleven years older than me and
whom I hardly knew. At twenty three Michael was one of the last people
killed toward the end of the first gulf war and it really took a lot out of
my father and may have been part of the reason he died a year later.  I was
twelve at the time.

In any case I adored my dad and wanted to emulate him so I took up
photography. I had my first little Kodak when I was seven and like my
father I took it everywhere. He taught me how to develop film and by ten I
was allowed to develop my own pictures without his help. He had a large
fireproof filing cabinet that sat inside of a large wooden cabinet in a
corner in his work area. Like the entire work area, he kept the file
cabinet locked. He had carried the keys to it and the work area on him all
the time. He may have showered with them for all I know.

He had told me that a serious photographer always needed to organize as
well as protect his work and that was what he was doing. He taught me his
filing system and had me to put away photos as long as he was in the room
with me. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get into the cabinet. He
gave me my own space in the middle drawer of the 5 drawer metal cabinet
which helped to give me a sense of pride as well as a sense of maturity.

My mother never went into the basement. She was physically and emotionally,
not a strong woman and negotiating the steep stairs was difficult for
her. The fumes from the chemicals that dad used were also a huge deterrent
for her. She had been like that for as long as I could remember but my
brother's death made it worse for her.

Dad would take off about once every month or so and be gone for the weekend
on a photo expedition. Sometimes he would be gone for a week and sometimes
he traveled to Europe for the company he worked for. My mother never
complained or said a word about it. The photos that he took on those trips
were largely of nature but there were some that were of people, buildings
and the like. You know, everyday stuff that surrounds us all.

When my father died of a heart attack I was devastated although not nearly
as much as my mother was. She'd lost a son and now her husband and she
seemed to lose what little energy she'd had. For all practical purposes I
became the head of the house and I was just shy of thirteen years old.

I didn't pick up my camera for over a month after he died and I totally
avoided the basement. When I finally did go down there I cried almost the
entire time. It took another two weeks before I got around to cleaning
things up. Dad had been pretty organized but still there were some projects
that needed finishing, trash that needed emptying and surfaces that needed
dusting, at least in the work area. The darkroom remained spotless for the
most part.

There were a bunch of photos from his last developing job that needed
filing so I went about doing that then took some time to go through some of
the stuff that he had, admiring his camera work. I was looking at things in
the bottom drawer and since I was on my butt I was sort of level with the
drawer and not looking down into it. I thought I saw something in the back
so got a flashlight and shined it in, spying what looked like a button set
into the back of the file cabinet. Being a curious boy I pushed it and
heard a faint click that sounded like it came from behind the wooden
enclosure that the file cabinet was set into.

I stood up and looked all around the cabinet but couldn't see anything out
of the ordinary. In no time at all I heard another faint click. I knew that
it was important because my dad had been a "secrets" man. He'd loved the
ancient gadgetry in the Indiana Jones movies and our house had a few such
things. The fireplace in our living room was surrounded by built in
bookshelves and one part was divided into six small squares for nick
knacks. One of them had a little hidey hole that opened when you pressed on
a certain screw head. He didn't keep anything in it except a little statue
of liberty that I'd gotten him a few years before as a gift. All of the
kitchen cabinets were the kind with magnetic doors that you pushed on to
pop the door open. He would have had secret doors and passage ways if the
house had been large enough. Well, more that what I would eventually
discover I mean.

So, based on that and other things about my dad, I knew that the click
meant something. For instance he also tended toward back up plans. He had
them for all kinds of things. The door to his work area could be opened
from the inside even when it was locked from the outside, kind of like a
walk in freezer because there were no door knobs. The door was closed all
the time, even when we were in it but it also locked automatically if there
was no motion in the room for more than ten minutes. Thinking about that
got me to wondering if the second click I'd heard had to do with something
along those lines.

I got to my knees again and pushed the button and heard the click. If
something needed to be done in a timely manner then it stood to reason that
it might well have something to do with the file cabinet itself; but what,
I wondered. A moment later I heard the second click. I did it again and
used the second hand on my watch to time it. Ten seconds exactly; which
meant that whatever needed to be done had to be within easy reach. The open
file drawer was the obvious choice so I reached in and pushed the button
then moved out of the way and closed the file drawer. As soon as it clicked
shut the left side of the wooden structure that the file cabinet was in
popped away from the wall behind it. It didn't open much, only about an
inch but it did so very quietly. I reached into the crack and pulled on the
back of the cabinet and when it was about half way open a light went on
behind it to reveal a small room, the doorway to which had been completely
covered by the wooden cabinet.

There was a work bench with a bar stool type chair and another door but
this one appeared to recess into the wall, a pocket door. Like the outer
door to the work area it didn't have any doorknob but had a small handle
about where the doorknob would normally be. I tried gently to open the door
but it didn't budge. I was smart enough to know that if dad had a secret
room, or what now seemed like two or more secret rooms, there was a serious
reason for it. As such, I knew better than to do anything without looking
around first so I did a quick scan and there on the workbench was an
envelope with my name on it. I sat in the chair and tore it open then read
the letter that it held.

My dearest son Austin,

If you're reading this then I'm no longer in this world. The past few years
my health hasn't been that good, although you didn't know that. After
Michael's death it got worse but that isn't what this is about. I want to
tell you however, that having you in my life made it so much easier for me
to go on. You meant the world to me son, believe me.  So, now you've found
my room and thus my secret but before you do anything at all remember how
much freedom and liberty meant to me.  Love, Dad

I thought about that for a minute then set the letter down and ran upstairs
to the hidey hole by the fireplace and popped open the hidden panel,
snatched the statue and returned to the basement where I unscrewed its
base. I had bought it for dad because it was hollow inside providing
another little hidey hole and in there I found a slip of paper. The paper
had numbers on it but nothing more. I began look though the three drawers
in the work bench and found a hand held calculator. I turned it on,
surprised that the batteries were still in good working order, then punched
in the numbers on the piece of paper.  I didn't hear anything but that
wasn't important. I went over to the other door and tried it and discovered
that it was free to slide open; and I did.

Another overhead light came on as soon as the door was opened about an inch
and fully opened it revealed yet another room, this one much larger, about
the size of our living room and had wall to wall carpeting. Against one
wall was a neatly made bed and in the corner a nice armchair as well as
lighting and shade equipment and an expensive portrait camera on a
tripod. It was a photo studio. I did a quick mental rundown of our house
and property and figured that I was actually under the garage at the side
of the house. Two other open doorways led to a small neat bathroom and what
I figured might have been a small kitchen at one time. I rightfully figured
that originally the rooms had been a bomb shelter that my dad had told me
many people had built during the 50's and 60's in preparation for an atomic
attack by either the "Rooskies" or the "chinks".  Cool.

The kitchen had a huge floor to ceiling steel cabinet on one wall. About
six to seven feet wide, it was maybe twenty inches deep and, split down the
middle, had one door for each side with a drop bar mechanism in the center
that held the doors shut tight. I tried the bar and while it was a tight
fit I lifted it up and opened the left door first as it blocked the right
door. Inside there were eight columns of bins from ceiling to floor, the
top three rows covered by yet another door although this one was actually
divided into four parts. This, or these, doors opened upward from the
bottom and slid backwards between the top of the cabinet and the top row of
bins like the doors in a classic "lawyer's" book case. The bins themselves
were the metal mesh kind so they would hold solid things but nothing small
like screws or nails. Obviously liquid was out of the question unless it
was in a jar or something. Hanging from a bin at my eye level was a small
hand held cassette player with my name on a tag hanging next to it. I went
for the cassette player, ignoring the bins for the moment, and felt my
throat lump up as my heard my dad's voice.

"Austin, my son. I hope you don't think ill of me for my hobby."

For the next three minutes I listened to his voice as it told me about the
secret that he'd kept from anyone who knew him except, as I found out
later, my older brother. Aside from enjoying what he did, it paid him some
good money, money which helped cover my mother's medical bills but also
provided a large stash of cash that I would find in a safe hidden
upstairs. In short my father was a photographer of nudes. He had been a
primary photographer in the nudist or naturist community since his late
teens but he'd also done photography for magazines that were primarily
about boys, naked boys. And I would discover that not all of them were
portraits.

Dad told me to stop the tape there and continue with it at another time
after I was done investigating the bins. I did as he asked and began to
look in some of the bins. Along with what seemed like thousands of photos
were a variety of magazines in both black and white as well as color with
titles like PICCOLO, NAKED BOYHOOD, BOYS BOYS BOYS, BOYS GALORE, and BOY
PHOTO as well as SUNSHINE AND HEALTH and other naturist magazines. Some of
them were in foreign languages. I was astounded, shocked and I felt my dick
get really hard as I looked quickly through some of them.

One of the magazines I picked up had pictures of boy's with boners. Alot of
the boys were close to my age and like me were just starting puberty. I had
never realized how attractive boys were until I saw those
magazines. Something else I realized was possibly was the answer to why I
was uncircumcised when no other boy that I'd ever seen naked was like
me. Having been to Europe when he was young he saw that boys there were
rarely circumcised and thus decided that I would be left intact.

My dick was getting very uncomfortable so I took the magazine out to where
the armchair was, undid my pants and shoved them to my ankles and sat
down. I thumbed through the magazine while I stroked my rigid dick with a
thumb and two fingers. As I said, I had just started puberty. I'd only been
beating off for a few months, having discovered it along with my best
friend Jessie, who of course loved that I still had my foreskin. We'd
looked at a playboy while we did it and even though it made me hard enough
and it was fun and all it seemed that looking at the boys really got my
blood going.

It didn't take long before I squirted, a single glob of sperm shooing out
onto my flat belly and the show was over. I held my pants in place as I
walked to the bathroom, hard cock jutting out in front of me, and used
toilet paper to clean myself off. That done I retrieved the magazine and
put it back where I got it then continued to go through the bins looking at
pictures and thumbing through magazines.

I found myself comparing my stuff to other boys. Sure there were plenty of
boys that seemed older than me, 14-16 year olds whose cocks seemed way
bigger than mine and some whose big hairy balls seemed to hang halfway to
their knees. But of the boys who seemed close to my age, the 12-13 year
olds, I was right in the ball park by comparison. I'd measured myself about
a week before and was pleased that I was just about to cross the five inch
mark on my red plastic ruler. Of course that was when it was hard. Soft it
looked like a stub some times.  My hairs were starting to come in more, not
that I had a bush or anything, but it was beginning to be more than just a
dozen or so scraggly dark brown strands. My balls were still totally smooth
and while they didn't hang way down like some of the boys in the magazines,
they didn't spend all their time in a crinkled little bag up against my
body either. Well, unless I was cold or something then it seemed like
everything shrunk except my little nipples.

All in all I was mostly happy with my body when I stood naked in front of
the full length mirror that hung from the back of my bedroom door. I was a
slender five foot two inches. I still had some baby fat around my belly but
I knew that as I grew up that would go away. I loved my blond hair and
hoped it would stay that way when I got older. At twelve I'd let it grow a
little shaggy and liked the look. I'd seen pictures of my older brother
Michael in his teens so knew that there was a good chance that I'd grow up
to be somewhat like he was, a rather good looking boy with a narrow and
well developed body. He had worked out a lot, played a variety of sports,
so I'd seen images of him in nothing but workout shorts. One of the best
though was him after he'd taken first at a state wrestling meet. Still in
his wrestling uniform, I really hoped to fill out the bottom part like he
did. Fuck did he have a bulge.

When it came to clothes I wore the popular jeans, Vans or Airwalks on my
feet, and t-shirts that sported the logos of popular music groups. I knew
that because I had my camera with me all the time that I risked being
viewed as a geek so did what I could to counteract that image. I must have
very successful at it because no one gave me shit and I seemed to be
welcomed by most of the various clicks in my sixth grade class. I hoped
that acceptance would carry into my new school when I started junior high
come September.

I thumbed through one of the nudist magazines and, like the Playboy, I was
turned on okay by the naked girls but not as much as the naked boys. There
were plenty of little boys in that one too and they interested me more than
the girls but not the older boys. No, it was boys like me, teenage boys
that made my dick so hard that I took the magazine and went back into the
other room, stripped my clothes off and lay down on the bed to look through
it. I found a handful of pictures of a specific boy that I focused on while
I stroked my boner.

He was cute as all hell, more matured than me with a longer dick and a nice
little patch of hair at the base of his pride and joy. His balls were still
smooth like mine but hung lower. He had a great smile with perfect lips and
for the first time in my life I wondered what it would be like to kiss a
boy. I lay back and closed my eyes and fantasized about doing things with
him. I hadn't gotten to the point of actually sucking a boy's cock; in my
thoughts, fantasies, or real life, so it was more about beating off
together or even just lying naked on a bed together. It took longer than
usual for me to cum of course cuz I'd already done it only about a half
hour before but when I did it felt just as good and I lasted longer. That
was the first time that I'd beat off twice in a day.

I cleaned myself up, got dressed and put the magazine back. There were too
many bins for me to go through in one sitting so I stopped doing that part
for the time being and went back to listening to the tape my father had
left me. It proved to be very illuminating.

"Okay Austin. If you followed my directions I'm sure you took the
opportunity to look through some of the material and probably masturbated
at least once."

I knew that my dad had been a pretty smart guy but I sure didn't expect to
hear that from him. He went on to say tell me about the security
system. The top part of the steel cabinet was actually a series of holding
tanks filled with acid. If the cabinet in the work area was opened in any
way except how it was supposed to be it acted like a primer for the acid
tank and if the second door was forced the tank would let loose with the
liquid which would pour down through the steel meshed bins and destroy
anything that wasn't metal and do it quickly. The bottom of the steel
cabinet was actually a drain. The acid would empty into another holding
tank and thus not harm anyone-the anyone in all probability being the
police, but also the public in general.

"You see son, all of this material is dangerous to have. Before the mid
1970's they were legal, and as you can see by the number of magazines this
type of material was quite popular. The laws changed and such photography
was banned, even though most of it was innocent and not of a sexual
nature. Possession of them can cause a person a great deal of problems
including prison time and a designation as being a pedophile, a child
molester, or a sexual predator which would last for the rest of the
person's life, assuming he made it out of prison alive. Being a murderer in
our society is generally acceptable but committing, or even being charged
with a sexual crime, even against an adult, is not."

"If you decide to keep all of this or if you decide to follow in my
footsteps you must be extremely careful and I cannot stress that enough. No
one should be allowed in this area unless of course you are using the
studio and even then they should never be allowed to come in through the
house." That got my attention.

He went on to explain those procedures for two other ways into house, one
primary and one back up. As I said, my dad was a back-up plan kind of
guy. They were somewhat elaborate but the odds of someone stumbling onto
either passage ways practically nil. He ended the tape by telling me where
the safe was, the combination, and the fact that there was additional
information in there that would be very useful to me. I looked at my watch
and decided to end my explorations for the time being and left, taking one
of the nudist magazines with me.

The magazine proved useful to me in a variety of ways, the first being as
personal jack off material. I used it for that almost daily. The second was
that it was great for getting my friend Jessie to jack off with me. Sure
there were plenty of more hard core stuff on the market but two 12 year
olds, at least us 2, didn't have the connections for them. The playboy was
cool and all but the nudist magazine showed people of all ages. Jessie
didn't mind looking at the boys but was quite taken with girls who were
just starting to hair on their pussies and had little titties while I of
course liked the boys in the same age group.

I also liked looking at Jessie. He was behind me in terms of
development. His cock was smaller and he only had two or three hairs
growing on his dick but he was a live boy. I really liked sitting side by
side on my bed with our pants down, legs spread, with the magazine between
us while we played with ourselves. My friend seemed to like looking at my
dick as much as I liked looking at his and I guess it was mostly just about
the "live" part and not a magazine.

"Dude, your dick is getting so big I can't believe it," he told me one
night, "and you already know how much I love that you have your
foreskin. He was staying the night with me and we were in my room behind a
locked door, our clothes in a pile on the floor. "Man I hope my dick starts
growin soon," he said, adding "It looks so hard too. Can I like, touch it?"
he asked. He could do almost anything he wanted with it as far as I was
concerned, not that I had any ideas about what that might mean.  My answer
was to take my hand off it and spread my legs. Jessie took hold of me,
first with his thumb and fingers then wrapped his fist around it. Fuck that
felt so awesome, having someone else touching me and I groaned slightly. He
let go and cupped my nuts commenting on how soft they felt and how nicely
they hung down. His were still smaller but like mine had dropped into
hanging mode. Truth be told I liked his balls too.

He finally let go and said I could do the same to him so I did. It felt
weird, the hardness of his 12 year old cock yet the softness of his
skin. And it was warm too. I stroked him a few times, felt up his balls
then let go.

"That feels fuckin great doesn't it?" he asked then suggested we might jack
each other off. I had no problem with that so we moved closer together and
lay the magazine on our legs and took hold of each other's rigid boy
cocks. I wondered for the first time about sucking his dick. I wanted to
feel my mouth around his shaft but there was no way I would suggest it. We
kept on jacking each other's dick and seemed to get where we wanted to go
about the same time.

I didn't make very much sperm and Jessie made even less but the feelings of
cumming at someone else's hand was incredible and I managed a couple of
squirts, the first one shooting all the way to just above my belly
button. Jessie was mighty impressed with that while his offering was more
of a droplet that just appeared suddenly at his pee hole. Still and all
judging from the moaning and groaning and Oh fuck-ing it must have felt as
good to him as it did to me.

Jessie and I would have a whole lot of experiences together. It was Jessie
that would eventually get me to suck cock, which I loved from the get
go. He was also the one who suggested that I start photographing boys we
knew that would, or at least might, pose. It was worth a shot to try and
Jessie said he'd start thinking of a way. He knew I couldn't approach
anyone about it because it would be way too weird. But if someone else was
suggesting then that would be a whole different story.

The topic came up one afternoon a few weeks after I'd first shown him the
magazine. Jessie had seen plenty of my work, some of which he thought was
very good and he knew that I developed my own film.

"That's a big part of it Austin," he said after making the initial
suggestion. "Because I know that nobody else would ever see the pictures,
I'd even pose for you."

"Serious?" I responded, a little bit surprised by the suggestion in the
first place, and Jessie's offer in the second place.

"Sure," he said, jumping up off the bed and mimicking a variety of cheesy
poses in the middle of my bedroom. We were both still naked from having
jacked off about ten minutes before so my friend's animation made his
softened cock bounce around as he went from standing before me with his
narrow hips thrust out at me seductively, to turning and bending over to
show me his puckered little butthole, to putting his hands behind his head
and doing a sort of hula combined with a stripper's bump and grind.

"Go ahead, shoot me baby," he said mockingly so I grabbed my camera and
began shooting him while he pretended he was a model and went from one pose
to another. Jessie didn't stint on the sexual poses either. There was
plenty of him playing with his cock, holding it as if it was an item that
he was showing or demonstrating for a customer, pretending he was jacking
off even though he was still soft. On that one he added some facial
expressions as if he were all hot and sexy like. We stopped after about ten
minutes and he asked when I would develop them so he could see what they
looked like.

"Fuck, right now," I said with a huge smile. Jessie had watched me develop
film when my dad was alive so knew how to behave in the darkroom and had
even helped me from time to time.  Later, when we looked at the finished
product, we were both pleased with the work although when Jessie looked at
the shots of him pretending to jack off he said he wasn't sure that he
liked how they looked.

"That looks so fake, ya know what I mean? I think that it would be better
if I was like, you know, really beating off." I gave him a look that said
are you kidding. Goddamn if he would actually do it, jack off I mean, and
let me shoot it; that would be really amazing.

"Seriously Austin; don't you think it looks like I'm fakin it?" I had to
agree with him. "So, you're going to have to take pictures of me while I'm
really doin it." Jessie was ready to do it right then and there but I had
things I had to do so we put it off, agreeing that we'd try it the first
real opportunity we had.

One would have thought that, at almost thirteen, having a stash of nudie
magazines and pictures available would have found me spending as much time
as possible pouring over said magazines and pictures all the fucking time
but I didn't. During the summer I had lawns to mow as well as chores around
the house which included quite a bit. My dad had insisted that I find work
to do during the summer months saying that the experience would be good for
me. Honestly I didn't mind. It gave me extra spending money but also gave
me an opportunity to take portrait pictures. Most people were willing to
sit still for me or at least take pictures of them going about their
business.

Amol interrupted me at that point.

"I need to use the facilities please." I directed him to the bathroom while
I brought two more bottles of water from the kitchen. When Amol was
finished I used the bathroom and returned to the living room.

"You said that the naturist magazine was useful for three reasons and you
told me two of them, what was the third."

The third reason was that it gave me more of an education about my own
body, or the male body. At that time I hadn't used a hand mirror to check
out the more difficult to access parts of my body. The photos and magazines
gave me access to other boy's bodies and thus my own. Because of the
various poses I got a more clear understanding of butt holes for instance,
or what a boy's sac looks like from underneath and how that little seam of
flesh goes all the way from one spot to the other like it was sewed shut or
something. I saw wrinkled bags and ones that hung low. I got a better
understanding of butts and how the cheeks are designed to keep the butthole
hidden away unless you went out of your way to show it. Seeing boys sitting
down and facing the camera with their legs open show where the butt crack
begins, how some balls hang low enough to almost cover the butt hole but
don't quite make it. I noticed that a butthole isn't really at the very
bottom of the body but slightly back and a little higher which explained
why the occasional skid marks in my briefs weren't right at the bottom.

Not only did I get an idea about how many different sizes and shaped of
cocks there are I also got my first glimpses of uncircumcised cocks which
was a total novelty to me. I had no idea. Those were generally in the
magazines from other countries and what I saw was that there weren't any
boys at all that were circumcised. So I learned about what a boy's cock
looks like with the foreskin on it, how the skin comes backwards to show
the boys cock head. There was much more but all in all they provided a heck
of an anatomy lesson, one that I wouldn't have gotten for some years.

Between the time of my first discovery and photographing Jessie I went
through more of the bins and I checked out the safe that my father
had. There was some fairly shocking news in there. First off there was a
savings account in my name with $86, 959.00 in it and to make it more
interesting it was in Switzerland. There was another $10,000.00 in cash,
most in hundred dollar bills but also plenty of 50's and all in neat the
little bundles like when they come from a bank. There was also a key which
I would learn was a post office box and another for a safe deposit
box. When I finally checked it I found that the safe deposit box contained
another $25,000 as well as US savings bonds and paperwork for certificates
of deposit, all in my name. When it was all said and done my father had
left me just under a quarter million dollars. The photography business paid
him very well indeed.

There was a notebook that contained all of the people, companies and
magazines that he'd had dealings with over the years. It showed the
business that had transpired as well a various bits of useful information,
at least to him, and I guess for me too. It now appeared that dad's hobby
was more of an actual business. There was another cassette tape and a
variety of other things of his. He said that in no uncertain circumstances
was any of the money to go to my mother that her and my support had already
been taken care of.  There were other things that I won't go into
now. Suffice it to say that I would be able to spend time developing my
photography skills and probably make some good money at it when I became an
adult although by age 15 I was already selling my work overseas.

The bins provided more excitement than I had imagined as well. I had been
approaching them methodically, like my dad had taught me to approach most
tasks. Initially I had simply opened a bin and did a cursory check then
went to another one. For a thorough investigation I started in one place
and worked my way down starting at eye level on the left hand column and
worked my way down one column then repeated the action on the next column
and so forth. There were about three rows of bins across the top of the
eight columns that I couldn't reach without a chair or stool of some kind
so I'd saved those for last.

So one rainy Friday morning in late July, Friday being one of the two days
that my mother spent at her church helping with clean up and such, I went
down to the basement with a kitchen stool that my mother had used to reach
the higher shelves in our kitchen. I immediately discovered why the top
door was split into four separate pieces. Being made of steel like the rest
of the cabinet I would never have been able to lift it.

I found that the first column of bins contained nothing but
negatives. Organized into manila folders of various sizes I guessed that
they belonged to all of the images contained in the bins below. A closer
glance later would confirm that guess. Column two was where the fun really
started; at least after the initial shock wore off for the first bin was
full of images of my brother Michael.

The first bin started when Michael was about my age, thirteen I guessed
since he was about my size. His dick was bigger than mine and he had a
small patch of hairs growing on it. Many of the photos had been taken in
our house although not in the studio. There were some of him partially
dressed, in his underwear and of course the nudes. While many of the images
were clearly posed, some seemed to catch my brother going about the daily
business of being a boy, although a boy without clothes on. The camera
caught him in every conceivable pose or posture imaginable including
standing on his head in a corner of our living room.

The benign photos were followed by sexy ones. He proudly displayed his hard
young cock for the camera in a variety of ways; pointing it, cupping his
nuts with his hand while a thumb finger separated his rigid dick from the
rest of the package, the list goes on. The images of him jacking off were
great, the camera picking up the feelings he was experiences through the
expressions on his smooth cute face. My dad caught his cum shots pretty
good too, one of them being a stream of sperm in the air still connected to
his cock head. The expression on Mike's face was a mix of pain, pleasure,
and just plain awe at what was happening to his body. I knew that those
same expression had been on my own smooth face when I cummed before.

There were also images of Michael with two other boys, both of whom were
very cute and one that had a really big cock. The boy didn't have much more
hair than Mike but man oh man his dick had to be at least seven or eight
inches long when it was soft. Hard, it looked big and thick. Like the
others, there were plenty of innocent images, boys just being around the
house or somewhere out in the country. There were many boner pictures as
well as the boys sucking each other's dicks. The ones of Mike sucking on
that other boy's big cock made my own dick go ever harder than it already
was. The expression on Mike's face told me that he was hot as a fire
cracker fart with his mouth wrapped around the rigid shaft and the
expression didn't seem to change when the boy shot his sperm out onto my
brother's face. I took those out into the other room and practically ripped
my clothes off and lay on the bed. I stroked my stone hard young cock as I
watched my brother and as I squirted my cum out I wished that it was me on
the other end of that dick, wishing I could feel the warmth and hardness of
the boy and the wet gooey mass of his young sperm as it splattered my
face. I wished too that I could have sucked my brother's dick.

The bin contained photos Michael as he grew, the last ones probably taken
around fifteen or sixteen I would guess. By then he was one hell of a hunk
of boy, his body well toned and defined, heavy pecs and a tight flat belly
with an ass to die for and a cock to match. He was easily as big as the boy
in the earlier photos, his cock when soft hanging gently between his
thighs. Hard it was a delight to behold stretching past his flat belly
button when he was on his back. He must have shaved his balls because they
had no hair at all on them at all and the heavy low hanging eggs drug all
the wrinkles out. His cum shots when he got older were pretty cool too,
pools and streams of the stuff.

Unless his bright blue eyes were half closed in lust, which happened a lot,
his toothy smile and playful postures told me that he loved what he was
doing; posing for the camera and being a sexy boy. Often he was captured on
film with at least one other boy, often two or three boys and all drop dead
cute. The combinations of sucking and fucking were many and varied although
there none of Mike getting fucked, it was always him fucking another
boy. There were many shots of him with a particularly beautiful and small
statured young boy who couldn't have had hair on his cock the month before
the photos were taken. A close up of his cock and balls showed a half dozen
scraggly light brown strands of hair and of course his puckered pink
asshole was nothing but muscle and skin.

My dick got hard again as the series of images showed Mike licking the
boy's hole, licking and sucking on his smooth balls and then the boy's rock
hard five inch cock. There were plenty of images of the boy doing the same
thing to my brother and the ones with Mike's big fat cock filling the small
boy's mouth were incredible. I knew that Mike had cum in the boys' mouth
because his sperm was leaking out around his cock and running down the
boys' chin.

The ones with Mike's hard cock shoved all the way inside the boy's butt
were beyond incredible and the expression and the very slight smile on the
little boy's face told me he was lovin every bit of his lovin. The boy was
on his back and the camera caught every possible angle of Mike's cock deep
inside of him or almost all the way out. Pictures from behind the two
showed Mike's smooth hairless hole when he was almost all the way out of
the boy, his heavy smooth balls in full hang and then his balls all mashed
up when his big dick was as far inside the boy as nature would allow.

The camera caught the boy's cum shot, a tiny pearl of sperm on the tip of
his dick and then Mike's cum shot. He'd pulled out of the boy and jacked
off and when it was over the front of the little boy's body was literally
awash in my brother's sperm. I figured he must have left his cock alone for
a week before those pictures were taken because his cum reached from the
boy's slender neck all the way down to where the last oozing of Mike's
sperm had dripped down onto the boy's smooth hairless balls. I jacked off
again.

I fell in love with my brother, or at least the image of him, by the time
I'd gone through the huge stack of photos. I wanted to be held by him, to
be loved by him. I wanted him to fuck me. That was really my first
realization that I didn't care one whit for girls. I decided then and there
that I had to find a boy to be with and while Jessie would do for the time
being, I wanted an older boy and hopefully one with some experience. I
would eventually find one of course but it would be some months before that
happened.

I won't go into detail about the rest of the collections of images,
although I may well refer back to them throughout the story, suffice it to
say that I got my entire sexual education from them. Not only were there
photographs but there were some magazines with sexual articles along with
them. There were even a few boy girl magazines although I wasn't sure if
dad took the pictures until I saw one with my brother and another boy
fucking a young girl. It caught my interest and rounded out my education
but that was all. I sure didn't waste any of my sperm on them.

Other magazines showed every possible combination that three or even four
boys could get into and a couple of them showed teenage boys with preteen
boys. That was interesting but didn't make me feel as sexy as the ones with
just teenage boys. I came away from that experience wanting to try it all
including having my body spattered with cum from a half dozen boys jacking
off on me. I would get it all too. Having seen what's possible I would use
what I'd seen to direct the boys who would eventually pose for me, not that
many boys needed any direction. I would find that boys tend to be very
creative in their own right and more than willing to try new things,
especially when their dicks were full on hard and they were all up in a fog
of hotness from being sexy. My teenage years were going to be one hell of a
roller coaster ride and my camera would document it all.


I had to piss again and so did Amol so we both got up and stretched then
took turns in the bathroom. When I finished I found him standing out at the
back of house on what would be a back porch, this one completely enclosed
in mosquito netting.

"It's getting late Austin," Amol said," and I'm sure there's much more to
your story." I nodded my head and said it would take another couple of
hours to finish.

"Perhaps we could do it in the morning. I'm a fairly early riser thanks to
private school." I nodded my head and he went on to ask what I had in the
house for breakfast and when I told him he said that would be perfect.

"So can we get up early and finish the story over breakfast?" I nodded my
head. "Good. Now; if it's not too much to presume, I'd like to spend the
night here so we can start early. Is that okay with you?" I was a little
stunned but held it well. While there was a second bedroom there wasn't any
bed and the sofa wasn't exactly what I would call, sleeping on material.

"If you don't mind, I don't mind if we sleep in the same bed. I'm thinking
that it would be easier for you and for me if we get the subject of
speculation of my body out of the way so that it doesn't interfere with
your ability to focus your attention me and not just my cock. I don't mind
admitting that sword cuts both ways Austin. So let me say that, yes I'm
gay, yes I'm interested in males bodies and yes I'm curious about
yours. None of that means that sleeping together equates to sex. Perhaps
sometime but that sometime isn't tonight. Does that suit you?"

"That sounds both fair and alright with me Amol. I understand your thinking
and I would have to agree that getting that part out of the way at the
outset wouldn't be a bad idea and you wouldn't be the first boy I'd slept
with and maintained a hand's off policy. I'm curious about what your family
is going to say about you sending the night away from home." He went on to
say that his mother was back in Europe and the servants didn't question is
comings and goings and in any case he was the master of the house.

My stomach was all kinds of jumped up over the prospect of seeing this God
of a boy without a stitch of clothing to cover his body. I turned the
lights out and we went into the bedroom and began the disrobing process
which didn't take all that long. We both started with shirts, Amol draping
his over a chair and mine going on a hamper in a corner. Amol pulled the
drawstrings of his pants while I simply dropped my shorts. Amol looked at
me and smiled. Since I didn't have any underwear on I stood before him,
naked, almost eight inches of thick cock hanging gently between my legs. I
kept myself trimmed up so my dark blonde moss was confined to my flat pubic
bone and not spread out like most males after the age of eighteen. My balls
were totally smooth as well, the large sized eggs hanging low, my cock
draped over them.

"Nice," Amol said. He was still in his sport briefs but they didn't hide
the tube that seemed to snake down into the leg. He hooked his thumbs into
the waistband and tugged them down, bending over to free up his leg. I
could see parts of the snake although his arm blocked me from getting a
clear view. He finally got them off and stood before me, a slight smile on
his smooth brown face. The boy had every reason to be proud.

"Christ," I thought to myself, "the kid must be twelve inches long." I
tried not to stare but it was pretty much impossible. His entire body was
incredibly well developed, small creases separating and underscoring his
pecs as well as his individual abs. His lower belly curved where it was
separated from his hip creases and slid down in a classic V that contained
a nice neat little nest of pitch black tight curls. His cock was a long
thick dark tube that looked totally unnatural on his slender but perfect
body and of course he was uncut although the pink head was poking out
slightly from under his foreskin. His balls hung underneath, eggs about the
size of mine hanging one below the other in a smooth and fully hairless
sac.

"Ten and seven eight's inches," he said as if he'd heard the question
before. "It might be eleven inches; I haven't measured it for a
year. "You're developed pretty well to Austin," he said.

"Well Amol you're probably the most perfect specimen of boyhood I've ever
seen." He smiled and thanked me then did a slow turn, allowing me to gaze
on an ass that was to die for, twin globes that arched out gently from his
lower back. I felt myself stir at the idea of burying my face between those
chocolate orbs. He returned to facing me then he stretched, reminding me of
a prize cat, ending with a yawn.

"Shall we," he said, nodding at the bed. What could I do but nod my head in
return. We each went to a side and climbed in and faced each other under
the thin sheet. There was enough light coming through the window so that we
could see each other's faces.

"I think this is going to work out well Austin," he said. "I really have
been thinking about it for a long time and I believe I can trust you. Now
give me a kiss and let's go to sleep." He leaned forward and put his lips
to mine and gave me a light brotherly kiss on the lips then rolled over and
backed into me.

"Can you hold me," he asked so I draped an arm over his chest and he took
hold of it and held it softly to his body. "Mmm, that's nice. You feel good
Austin," he said, his voice already dropping into sleep.

"It feels nice to me too Amol but honestly I hope my cock doesn't embarrass
me." His delicious ass was pressed against my bush and the base of my
dick. He chuckled.

"Don't worry about it; I'm sure we're both going to see each other in such
a state before it's over. As long as it stays where it's at it will be
okay." His voice had gotten even softer so I barely heard the "for now."