STRAIGHT BOY SPECIAL

Manager: Can you go nude for a photoshoot?

Me: Nigga, what are you on about again?

Manager: (LOL) I got a really great offer and I think you will love it.

Sky is my manager. Or more accurately, a friend who fancies himself my manager. And whenever he talked about a great offer, you knew he was in for a killing.

Back in our university days, Sky and I were the most prominent social butterflies. From departmental parties to school pageants, we were the go-to guys for organisation and the generation of hype. I think the years took its toll on me and I sort of became a recluse after school. Sky however never changed. He is still as bubbly in his mid-twenties as he was when we were teenagers.

The problem with Sky is that he is “cursed” with multiple talents. He’s a dancer, rapper, host, Instagram skit maker – and a legion of other unfathomable things. Late last year, he decided to add me to the list of his unending projects and started managing me.

You should know that I’m not a model. Just a well-built guy who loves to work out. And somehow, Sky felt as though that was enough to fetch us some largesse in the world of modelling, and since then, he’d been talking up a storm about ways we could blow. I humoured him by always paying attention to his delusional suggestions, chipping in a word or two to make him happy. Sky may have delusions of grandeur, but he was a real G that always had my back.

So, on that day, I was in a pretty good mood. My celebrity ex was back to liking my pictures. And I was feeling great and thinking of the perfect time to slide into his DM, when I heard my phone beep, notifying me of the receipt of a message on my WhatsApp.

Sky: So, guy, you fit go nude? I got us a sweet deal. You’ll like it.

Me: What is it?

Sky: It’s a Valentine photoshoot. An international company is shooting in Nigeria and they’re using Nigerian models. I sent in your pictures and they loved them. They want you to be part of the shoot.

Me: What’s in it for me?

Sky: No worry, guy. You know I got us covered. They’ll pay well.

Me: Guy, my ass will be the thing hanging out (literally). I gotta know what’s in it for me.

Sky: I’ll send you the number of the guy in charge. Holler at him. He’ll give you all the details. There will be plenty naked girls too. Na enjoyment galore.

Sky knows everything about me, right down to the color of my briefs. But he’s not been able to figure out that I am gay. Sigh.

He sent me the contact and I made the call. He didn’t lie. It was indeed an international photoshoot. Judging by the thick European accent of the man on the other end of the call, I could guess he was a Frenchman. My knowledge of French was all I needed to win him over, and we were soon talking to each other like long-lost acquaintances. He agreed to the fee I charged him and after he asked and I told him I was dark-skinned, he told me he needed another guy who is light-skinned. He’d already gotten enough girls for the shoot.

And I immediately knew who to ask.

Charles is a walking, breathing mannequin. Six feet two and ripped like a stallion, he looked like what Ramsey Noah and Van Vicker would contribute their sperm to reproduce.

When I approached him with the deal, he agreed almost at once.

“All these yeye girls wey dey chop my dick for free, wetin I don gain?” he said with the arrogant smirk of one who existed for girls to throw themselves cheaply at him. And boy, did they.

Charles and I had been workout buddies for two years. Though I had a crush on him, we’d never gone past the pleasantries and small talk. However, as we sat there, chatting and cracking jokes about our potential foray into mini porn, I wondered why it’d taken this long for us to be this comfortable in the company of each other.

Monday couldn’t come soon enough. With my knapsack hanging from my back, I gave the boyfriend a kiss and proceeded to the bus station where Charles was already waiting. Being next to him as he stood like an Apollo with many wandering eyes gawking at him, for a moment, l felt shabby as we waited for our car to fill up.

When other passengers filled up the car, Charles and I took the front seat. He was wearing shorts and a white Polo with a skull design. The shorts rode up his legs as he settled into his seat, affording me a look of his light-skinned, slightly-hairy thighs. I had to catch my breath when his right knee casually rested against mine, his pleasant smell and the heat emanating from his body sending my sensory neurons into overdrive.

It was around 5 PM when we arrived in Lagos. I was trying to figure out how to get a hotel where we could freshen up, when the Frenchman called. He told me the shoot had been moved up due to time constraints and he’d like us to be at the studio that night, as the other models were there already.

I stopped a taxi and boarded with Charles. Charles would never pay for anything, even if you held his mother captive. Despite the fact that he’d be earning more money than I would from this shoot, as I’d have to split my take with Sky, Charles was hellbent on not contributing anything to this journey and I was too dick-struck to confront him on that.

We arrived at the studio at around 6 PM. It was a very large studio with lots of equipment; I’d never seen a studio that large before. There were lots of models swarming the place, the girls hovering around the makeup section and the mostly-shirtless guys testing their costumes.

One girl caught my eyes. Her name is Vivica.

Even a gay man like myself could admit she is a bombshell, and the light whistle from Charles confirmed that he too approved. Vivica is a 5 ft 9 sex symbol. Her long legs and the way she thrust her firm breasts out when she walked commanded attention. She was naked except for a well-placed red silk fabric covering her breasts and held in place over her crotch by a gold-coloured belt.

The Frenchman came over to welcome Charles and I. He was a small-statured man with a dignified persona that enlarged his presence. When we conversed in French and Charles was obviously lost, a little part of me felt happy. (He was hotter but I knew French! Me – 1, Charles – 0. Ha!)

The shoot was a Valentine special shoot, inspired by the Greek mythology. Vivica would represent the goddess of sex and Charles and I would represent her two lovers, the dark force (me) and the white force (Charles). And the other models, in various states of undress, would play the lesser gods.

The Frenchman, Mr. Francois, instructed us to go get ready as the shoot would start any minute. I excused myself to go the restroom as I’d been holding back a full-to-bursting bladder for the most part of the day. When I was done and stepped into the dressing room we were assigned, I met Charles giggling over something.

But his amusement wasn’t what held me spellbound at the entrance of the dressing room.

Charles’s nakedness was.

He was standing there as bare as the day he was born, his dick moving about in between his legs as he laughed. Causing mine to harden instantly.

“Guy, come see costume,” he said when he noticed me.

I turned and locked the door of the dressing room, before approaching him, all the while trying and failing not to look at his dick that was within touching distance of my hand.

“Where is the costume?” I asked.

“You’re looking at it,” he said as he handed me three pieces of carefully-strung linen held together by a golden belt. Aside from the piece of linen that did very little to cover our penises, we would be practically naked in these things.

I had to join Charles when he burst out into laughter.

“Well, we’ll be getting paid for it,” I said. “We should hurry up and get dressed.” I added mental finger quotes around the word ‘dressed’.

“I know,” Charles replied. “It’s just funny that the man said costume when it’s basically a rope.”

Charles proceeded to do some pushups to make his body look more superb and I stood there, watching his muscular ass rise and fall. I had to think of making love to my grandmother to deflect my rising penis.

We were immediately the centre of attention when we joined the others in the photo studio. We strutted in confidently even though we were practically naked. Chests bouncing, thighs vibrating. Mr. Francois complimented my physique.

“Nice, very nice,” he said, sparing no compliments for Charles.

Ha! Two for me, zero for Charles.

We took to our places. The lighting in the studio was reduced to give an erotic feeling to the atmosphere, and the cameras began to shutter. We did many poses, each leaving us a little bit more naked than we were (if that was possible). One of the cameramen, the amorous, slightly less professional one, kept eyeing Vivica lustfully. The model herself kept the attention mostly on herself with the show of her beautiful breasts.

“Vivica, your nipples are exposed,” the main cameraman would chide.

“Oh sorry,” she would say with the giggle of one who had intended for her nipples to be exposed.

We shot till 4 AM, often taking off a few minutes to catch our breath, refresh and eat light food (no bulging stomachs for us, no sir.) For our last shoot, which was now just Charles, Vivica and I, Mr. Francois instructed us to take off our costumes and be totally naked. For the pose, we would embrace each other, Vivica in the middle, entrapped by light and darkness. We would be naked, but only our sides would be shot. None of our privates (nipples, dicks and pussy) would be in the shoot.

I used the opportunity to cup a feel of Charles’ buttocks. All through the shoot, his presence had been some kind of torture for me. Watching him stroll casually about with no care in the world, eating small chops as his beautiful derriere bounced up and down, definitely agitated me. He was totally oblivious to the discomfort he was putting me through.

So, when the main cameraman told us to embrace and began clicking his lens away at us, I made use of the opportunity to grab Charles’ ass and held it through all the takes.

And either he didn’t notice or he didn’t think it was a big deal, because he never showed any sign of discomfort not did he try to shrug off my touch.

Finally, we were done and ready to go. I was basically a sleepwalking wizard at this point. My head was pounding and my eyes felt grainy from the lack of sleep. One of the crew members offered to drop us at the place where we would get a suitable hotel. I knew an ex whose father was a hotelier in that area and I called him. Luckily for me, he was in town and he offered me his personal suite with an agreement that we would see when it was daybreak.

We were about to leave when I discovered that Charles had vanished. I felt responsible for him (I mean, I brought the damn guy to Lagos), so I begged the guy who wanted to give us a lift to give me a few minutes for me to find my friend.

I didn’t need to search long. I soon found him cloistered in a corner with Vivica. I didn’t need a clairvoyant to tell me those two had been up to no good.

“Higwe, my brother!” Charles hailed as he pulled me into a hug, causing his body heat to drive up my intoxication levels. “Were you worried about me?”

I tried to put up a mien of displeasure, but failed woefully. One couldn’t stay angry for long with a charmer like Charles.

I asked Vivica if she had anywhere to be and she said no. So, we ended up taking her along. Our board for the rest of the night would be a suite after all.

When we got to the hotel, my ex, Jamie, was there to welcome us. And his attention was expectedly rapt on Charles the moment he sighted him.

“Damn, hon, how did you manage to land this piece?” he said sotto voce to me as he eyed Charles admiringly.

My head was clanging and I desperately needed sleep, so it was not wise for me to scoff at the person providing us with comfortable shelter. I simply told Jamie that it was a long story, that I’d give him all the details after I’d gotten some sleep.

“We don’t even need to see anymore. Just send that guy to my room and you’ll get a free one-month stay at the hotel,” he replied jokingly.

Ten for Charles, two for me. Sigh.

We were soon in our room. I knew from their body language that Charles had already fucked Vivica back at the studio, but I still wanted to be courteous. I told Vivica to take the bed and that we would sleep on the floor. She protested, saying it was okay for us to share the bed, that it was big enough for the three of us. I told her that it wasn’t right for a woman to be in the same bed with two hefty guys she barely knew.

Eventually, she acquiesced and soon, we’d all fallen into heavy slumber. I don’t know how long I slept before I was woken up by some noise coming from the bed. I sat up from the floor and looked over at the bed, and lo and behold, there was Charles fucking Vivica, his muscular ass contracting and expanding as his big balls slapped against her thighs.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Higwe