The rays of the sun caressed his skin as my model posed, the t-strap of the thong disappearing between his asscheeks as he turned and froze at my command. I had just seen the shadows move away as he turned, and now the strap was visible between those hairy mounds of muscle. Taking a couple of shots from various angles, I nodded to Peter, the model, and he started moving again.

I liked working with Peter, as he was one of the few muscular models that kept his body hair intact. So many others, especially the blonds, would remove most if not all of their body hair, leaving their legs or perhaps their forearms still hairy. The strangest clipping I'd seen was on the porn stars, because they'd shave everything above the thighs, then leave thickly covered legs with perfect lines of demarcation where they stopped. I personally enjoyed seeing a hairy asshole, and Peter had a really nice one. He was also relatively new to the business, having only started a year earlier, and was still careful about his sexual orientation and who was lucky enough to have sex with him. Catching another good shot, I barked a command and he froze like a good boy while I took a few more shots. Seeing the sun begin to set, I knew that we were done for the day, and said, "That's all for now, Peter, the sun's going down. Let's meet here tomorrow morning around ten and complete the shoot, OK?" He nodded and hopped into the water to wash off the sun block and sand that had stuck to his body as he rolled around in the sand all afternoon. As he walked back up toward me, I took a couple more pictures, these for my private gallery, and then watched him towel off before pulling on an oversized T-shirt. Reaching under the T-shirt, which covered him to mid-thigh, he pulled off the thong and returned it to me. I watched him pull on a pair of Jockeys, then a pair of worn jeans, tucking in the T-shirt at the end. He slipped on a pair of beach flaps and said, "See you tomorrow, Mike." He walked off toward his truck, and I started packing up the shoot site.

As I drove home, I thought about what a hot body Peter had, and soon my cock, warmed in the sun all day and now allowed to think about Peter, started poking up from my shorts. I held the steering wheel with one hand and adjusted my hard-on, enjoying the feeling as I sped onward. Pulling into my driveway, I noticed a couple of packages by my door and, picking them up as I unlocked my door, brought them inside.

The packages were both from the same company, one containing a contract for a shoot, standard scale for both myself and one male model, and the other containing the company's new product, something called the "hugger." I pulled out five flexible sheets of nylon, three in black, white and a very racy red, one with a tiger print, and one that was nearly transparent. The sheets were slightly triangular, with a small, cupped portion and elastic at the bottom, and small plastic gripper "teeth" at the top and sides. Puzzled, I pulled out the "directions for wear" that came with the package, and nearly laughed myself silly. This thing I held in my hand was a bathing suit that did the thong one better: it had NO visible support of any kind, and had no strings or ties that would "mar the beauty of the male form," at least that's what the advertising slogan said. As I sat with this object in my hand, a slow smile spread over my face as I thought about Peter wearing this object. A plan formed in my head and I packed up both the contract and the product for the following day.

Peter hadn't arrived when I got to the shoot site, so I set up and hid the hugger package under some equipment. I left the contract with the others in the document case, and waited for him to arrive. About twenty minutes later, Peter drove up, bringing with him some bagels and coffee.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he set up the food on the small portable picnic table in front of me, "I thought you'd like some food before getting started, and I know that you're not an early riser." He handed me a sesame bagel with some cream cheese and a coffee, fixed just the way I liked it. Touched by his thoughtfulness, and wondering a little about how he knew so much about my personal likes, I accepted the meal and we ate in silence a few minutes. As if I'd just thought of it, I mentioned the new contract. "Peter, how'd you like to wrap up a quick shoot while we're finishing up this one? It's standard pay and I get to choose the model." Peter nodded, finished his bagel and sipped his coffee. "Sure, Mike, I haven't committed to anything else until a week after this shoot. You know I'm up for it. " Thinking that he'd be more up when he saw the product, I brought out the contract and gave it to him with a pen. He, trusting soul that he is, signed the contract, I penned my own name on the photographer's line, and sealed the contract in its FedEx box. Just a few yards away was a FedEx mailbox, so I sprinted over and dropped it inside before Peter asked more questions.

We set up the portable changing cabana (always used after one of my models had been slapped with an indecent exposure rap) and Peter entered to change into the first swimsuit for the day. By 1:30 we were done with that contract and ready for the new one. I handed him the hugger box and said, "Here they are, go ahead and pull one on." Peter disappeared into the cabana and I chuckled at the sounds that he made as he first examined the hugger and then wondered how to put them on (silly me, I'd "forgotten" to bring the directions!). "What's wrong, Peter?" I called as I moved toward the cabana, "Aren't you about ready?" At his mumble, I entered the cabana (which was big enough for four people, really) and saw him standing stark naked with the black hugger in hand.

"How do you use this thing?" he said, turning it around and around in his hands, 'I can't find any strings to tie it on, and I can't find any directions in the box." Smiling, I said, "Hm, I'm surprised that the company wouldn't have put directions in the box for such a new product, but you're in luck, I've seen these recently."

"You have? How do they go on?"

I took the hugger from his hands and said, "It's best if I put it on you rather than attempt to explain, these things are a little tricky." When he bridled a little, I reminded him that he'd signed the contract. "C'mon, Peter, we're stuck having to do this shoot today. Don't worry, I won't bite." Peter laughed and then, relaxing, stood still.

"Spread your legs a little," I told him, remembering the directions I'd read the night before, "That's good. The first part is easy, but you'll really have to trust me."

He just nodded and I lightly grasped his large balls in one hand, tugging downward and circling the top of his bag with my thumb and forefinger. He gasped a little bit, and I saw his cock twitch a little before it began to fill out. I moved the cup portion under his ballsack and pushed the balls into the hugger. "Hold this and turn around."

His body turned and his beautiful butt turned toward me. I tapped his legs to spread wider, and then grasped the velcro tags on the top of the cup. "I need to make this a snug fit," I said, bringing the tags closer together, "let me know if it's too tight." He didn't say anything, so I overlapped the tags to where I could see the skin begin to wrinkle, and then got up from the floor. "OK, turn around." He turned again, one hand holding the top of the hugger to his front. "Now I need to press the plastic combs into place. This might take a little while, so just relax." The directions were somewhat coy, but told me to press lightly on the edges of the hugger then stroke in and down toward the groin to attach the combs in the pubic hair. "It is normal for some arousal to occur," noted the directions, "but the hugger, when properly anchored, will not come off no matter what force is applied from the inside." Chuckling a little as I remembered that phrase, I began stroking Peter's crotch area, feeling the combs catch but continuing to stroke anyway. Soon I was rewarded with a very thick lump stretching upwards from the base of the hugger and straining outward. But the hugger's manufacturers were right, no matter what force was being applied from the inside, the hugger gripped and wouldn't come off.

By this time, Peter was a mix of emotions, excited from the stroking, embarrassed by the physicalness, and curious about the hugger on his body. I pulled out the folding mirror from the kit and set it up so that Peter could see what he looked like in the hugger. The suit transformed his crotch area into a veiled jungle of nylon and skin. The black fabric merged so well with his pubic hair that you almost couldn't tell that he was wearing a suit at all. As he turned and examined his rear view, the true beauty of the hugger was shown. Legs slightly spread, his asshole was clearly visible amid his body hair, and the thick line from the asshole to his ballsack was like an arrow shaft, pointing to the black pouch that swung gently from his movement. He then practiced moving in the hugger, getting more physical until, after attempting a somersault and still not dislodging the hugger, was satisfied. "Shall we start the shoot?" I said, opening the cabana flap. He nodded and walked out, a vision of masculinity and virility, although his main package was carefully covered up.

We took ten shots before I wanted one of the other suits on him, and we returned to the cabana to remove the hugger. Removal was a bit more complicated, as you had to stroke the opposite way on the panel, beginning from the crotch up to the top of the panel. The pouch had to be held as well, to make sure that the skin under the combs would move, loosening the combs from the pubic hair. I knelt before Peter and, grasping the pouch (and his heavy balls) in one hand, started from the pouch and stroking upward. His cock hadn't quite softened throughout the shoot, and now was rock hard under my palm. I quietly jiggled and squeezed his balls through the pouch as I stroked, and was rewarded by his breathing becoming more ragged. I varied my strokes, and soon had him nearly climbing the walls with the agony of impending orgasm. I had just started stroking the skin between the balls and the asshole when he gave a little yelp and I felt his balls spasm with cumming.

My palm could feel the spurts through the fabric from his cock as the top of the suit released and his cum started flying. I quickly grabbed a towel and caught most of the cum before it could get all over the cabana, and held the towel to his cock head as he pumped man juice out. In a couple of minutes, he had stopped, and his cock started softening.

I turned him around and loosened the velcro tags and slipped the hugger from his balls. Wiping him off, I smiled and reached for one of the other huggers with my right hand as I still held his balls in my left. "Only four more suits to go," I said, as I began slipping the white hugger's cup over his now sensitive balls. He didn't get as hard with the stroking as he did the last time, but I knew that he'd come again after he rested a while. The shoot continued into the afternoon, and about six o'clock we were in the cabana removing the last transparent suit.

I stroked and squeezed him into his fifth orgasm of the afternoon, and after removing the hugger, retained his balls in my hand. "Too bad there's no more huggers to try on," I said, genuine regret in my voice as I looked up at Peter, "I sure like seeing you in them."

When he was slipped into the third hugger, I had seen Peter's eyes widen a little when he saw that I meant to do every one of them today. Now I saw the dawning of the reasoning why I was doing it all in one day. "Mike, tell me something," he said, moving a little forward to allow me to fondle his balls a little easier, "Did the manufacturer really not send those directions, or did you somehow forget to bring them?"

I grinned, and said, "Well, yeah, I forgot to bring them. I'd read them last night, or else I wouldn't have been able to attach them to you." It struck me that he wasn't pulling away from me, nor had he told me to let go of his balls. One hand came down and grasped my chin. "Did you leave them on purpose so that you'd have to put them on me yourself?" I nodded, and waited for him to tell me to go to hell, but all he did was nod and then laughed a little.

"What's so funny, Peter?"

"Here I've been racking my brains for a way to get you to touch me," Peter said, "and all I had to do was send you those silly huggers in the mail!"