I'm a freelance photographer for casting directors in Rome so I get to see a whole lot of Italian studs. However, I have to be extremely careful how I go about approaching them, as some of them are officially straight. I also have to check their ages carefully to make sure they're at least eighteen. I always have to consider my reputation even if some of them are more than willing to deliver the goods if they think it will get them the job. Especially the curious, so-called straights and the seasoned professionals.

Personally, I don't like the cocksure ones but prefer the shy, fresh-faced neophytes with the hard muscles of a trained athlete. The contrast turns me on.

Recently, I was asked to find at least five of these youths for a TV series on ancient Rome. This gave me a golden opportunity to meet some really cute guys between 18 and 25 and choose those with the most "potential." Naturally, they had to have photos that showed them off to their best advantage and I'm great at doing that. I take the headshots while I'm getting to know my subject and then the full length and torso shots to show off their muscles.

Good-looking men in any country are extremely vain, and the Italians are no exception. Once they get over their initial shyness in front of the camera, straight or not, they soon begin to shed any inhibitions they might profess to have and really enjoy showing you just how fit they are. This of course often means stripping down nearly to the buff.

Football is the number one sport over here so these guys really keep in shape and some of them are really awesome and have the most fantastic bodies. They're also very proud of their dicks and sometimes like to show the camera more than is strictly required. Often I keep the best of these photos to jerk off to but that's usually as far as it goes.

However the last boy to pose for me was particularly muscular and statuesque. He had close cropped hair and a rather off-putting glowering look but he also had the most inviting butt I had ever seen. He was barely eighteen. In fact if he'd been born a month later he wouldn't have qualified. Either that or I'd have been disqualified.

He was training for the ring so first of all I took some straight shots of him in his boxing gear. Then I asked him to put on a Roman toga. He discarded his singlet and shorts as easily as a snake slipping out of its skin. My eyes naturally focused on the tightly coiled cobra in his jock strap. I had only a split second snapshot of that before he turned round to pick up the toga. That's when my camera hand began to shake and my dick began to take on a hardness it had not experienced in quite some time.

The elastic thong of his jock strap brought out the wonderful contours of his anal cheekbones and brought a blush to mine. He took an inordinate amount of time trying to work out which was the back and which was the front of the toga. Then he lifted it up to the light, still with his back to me. This time I had the chance to see the fine body hair on his bronzed buttocks and the clenching of awesome butt muscles as he lifted the toga over his head.

I don't know what came over me but I heard myself asking him, in a voice that was not my own, to hold the position, as it was an "interesting shot". He did as I requested and I prayed that my hand would stay still long enough.

I took some phenomenal anal photos. Then I asked him to give me his profile. He gave me more than that. The toga was the kind Roman slaves used to wear. Short, flimsy and open at the sides. So I got gorgeous glimpses of his perfect pecs and long, luscious legs. My dick grew even harder and I was grateful for the baggy cotton pants I was wearing. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to pick up my digital camera and take a few shots with that before I lost my cool and also the light. I like to work with natural light and in the early evening my studio is bathed in soft golden hues. Today these hues were doing more than ample justice to his magnificent form.

The afternoon sun was filtering through my studio window, and also through the flimsy material of the toga, caressing his body. The long wall mirror was reflecting this to perfection. He was a natural model and seemed to know instinctively how to respond to the camera. At times, the toga was almost transparent but he seemed completely unaware of the fact. After a while I ventured to say I was very pleased with the results but wanted to take a few more.

He said he was gasping for a cigarette. I was gasping myself by now. But for other reasons. I told him to 'take five' and busied myself putting up a tripod, as I didn't really trust my hands any longer. While I was doing that he asked me if he might see the digital photos before starting again. I said I always liked to see the final results myself before showing them to anyone else. Then I noticed the disappointed expression on his face and relented. It took me no time at all to transfer the fifty or so photos to my laptop. They were superb. Absolutely stunning. Sublime in fact. I heard his quick intake of breath and saw the glow of pleasure on his face. "They're really beautiful," he said appreciatively. Before I could stop myself, I replied, "So are you. "

This was about the longest conversation we'd had since the beginning of the photo session. He sat down beside me and I felt the heat of his bare thigh next to mine.

"My name is Valerio." he said.

Even the name sent tingles through my being and made my dick sing.

"Can we see them again?" he asked, seemingly oblivious of my seething body parts.

So we looked at them once more.

He frowned a little and remarked, "You can see my jock strap through the material."

I was about to apologise when he suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Why don't you shoot some more and I'll take it off?"

Without waiting for a reply, he removed the offending jock strap and threw it down next to me. Pungent and potent smells emanated from this intimate garment and it was all I could do not to pick it up and press it to my face in order to inhale the heady essence of him. My senses were swimming. In fact I was just one inch, or stroke, or thought away from coming in my pants. Still, ever the professional, I managed to contain myself as I took photo after photo, tracing the delectable contours of his divine dick with my lens. My legs, and particularly my knees, felt like jelly. No mount of Venus could ever compare with that "mound of penis."

After a while, I asked him to turn round. I wanted a contrasting mirror shot of the hardness of his high cheekbones and the soft cushion of his butt cheeks. Intuitively he seemed to know exactly what I wanted and began pulling the toga slowly, very slowly, over his head. My shutter and I shuddered with delight as my insatiable lens devoured more and more of his divine body.

Now I saw he knew exactly what he was at and that maybe he'd been teasing me all this time. But I still wasn't sure so I sought safety behind the lens and took some more digital shots.

He let the robe fall back into place and ambled over to see the results we had achieved together. In doing so, his dick came into contact with my shoulder, gently and almost imperceptibly. By now, the sun had gone down. Which, by the way, was exactly what I wanted to do. But he wasn't going to let me off so easily. He noticed that with the disappearance of the sun the robe was sadly no longer transparent.

"Maybe we'd better help it along. Give it a few contours of our own." he said wickedly.

The fact that he used the plural form of the verb was a double turn on especially as he began to touch himself through the cloth. The robe did indeed take on new contours. And what contours. It wasn't just the size; it was the exquisite form of it. It stood tall and proud and reached far above his navel and seemed to lift the toga from off his body.

Then he let the garment fall to the ground and I beheld the perfect erection.

The blood rushed to my head and to my dick. And all that was pagan in me wanted to rush to worship this golden phallus of his. I threw my camera on the sofa and caution to the winds and literally zoomed in on him.

"You certainly took your time" he said as he tore off my shirt, ran his tongue thirstily over my pecs and made a beeline for my armpits. The result was tremendous. He made me want to produce milk and honey at one and the same time. Not to mention a big bowl of cumcream! I lost all sense of decorum and professionalism. I just let my body go with the flow and let out a low groan of pent up pleasure.

His hands moved down to the bursting bulge inside my pants.

"Wow," he said, "you're certainly full of surprises!"

Then he really went to work and was soon giving me one of the finest blowjobs I've ever had. And as my dick lunged into his mouth, his fingers plunged into my ass crack.

He massaged and manipulated his way into my butt preparing the way for greater things to cum. I had a feeling my fondest fantasies were finally going to be realized. And over and above my expectations. I lay back and experienced the sheer joy of utter satisfaction. Overcome by the speed and dexterity with which he did everything seemingly simultaneously. Like plugging both my ass and my mouth at the same time. Don't ask me how but he did.

Of course, it needed a little support and dexterity on my part too but I soon supplied that. Surprising what you can do when you put your mind (and ass) to it!

It was great. Mind boggling and butt fucking great. It had never occurred to me that all the time I'd been taking his photos I'd actually been turning him on and that now he was just as hot as me. In fact, later he told me that he couldn't wait to get his dick inside me and couldn't understand why it had taken me so long to get down to the final close-up, which was us. Strange isn't it that when you really like a guy and would love to get in his pants, more often than not, you try to tell yourself either that he's straight or that he couldn't possibly feel the same about you. Well he did and we came as one.

Most of his jizz stayed inside me and irrigated my ass but I came all over him and me and everywhere. Presently he wiped his mouth and then spread my creamy cum liberally over my nipples and chest and licked and sucked it all up until he almost drove me wild. As we consummated the sustained lust of that long horny afternoon I knew I was on one of the greatest highs I had ever experienced. We grabbed a quick shower, grabbed something to eat and then grabbed each other and fell into bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night to find he was feeding off my dick and chewing my nuts. He smiled and said it was time for him to get his ass into gear and, turning his beautiful buttocks towards me said, "Your call." I lubed up my fingers and tried his butt out for size. It was very tight. " Believe it or believe it not, I've never done this before," he said shyly. "I've been saving it for you."

I said nothing. I decided to let my fingers talk for me.

I oiled his virgin orifice gently with an explorative finger. I felt him go tense and then relax. I penetrated a little further and his ass began to respond to my touch. I inserted the finger a fraction more, then removed it. He moaned and writhed his hot cross buns against my dick. I lubricated my fingers again and this time inserted two into his yummy, yielding, yawning butt. I pushed my way in as far as I dared and then swirled and swished my fingers around inside him. He moaned again and drove his ass down on them. I removed them. Once. Twice. He sucked them back in again. Then I viciously pinched his nipples to distract him and shoved my dick right up his succulent shaft.

His whole body froze and then shuddered. He let out a Neanderthal moan and his butt clenched my dick as if he never wanted to let it go. I dug right in there and with each thrust his ass seemed to beg for more until I feared it was going to swallow me, balls and all. A kaleidoscope of digital images flashed before my eyes as I recalled the horny eroticism of that afternoon and I tried to communicate it to his ass with my dick. I wanted him to feel high-powered flash bulbs going off inside him and flood his rectum with hot shots of cum. I wanted to explode his senses with a whole gamut of glaring, glittering colours and charge up his batteries and zoom browse his sphincter and rev up his shutter speed and open it wide as we rode together to a phosphorescent photo finish which enveloped us in transparent solutions of instantaneous jizz.

We lay there, hot and sticky like newly developed photographs, and he whispered, "That's the best photo session I've ever had. Let's have another one soon." And we did. All night. And the next day. And the next night. And we have lots of fucking photographs to prove it.