Bobby's Photo Shoot

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Please share the missing chapters 4-7 here, so that others may enjoy. Chapter 9 cumming soon.

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Bobby was understandably nervous. It was his very first photo shoot. The twelve-year-old boy was about to become a “professional model.” At the Man’s insistence, Bobby had refrained from telling his parents about his new career. The Man was right, they would never understand. And they probably would not allow him to go into “show business,” having read about all the trouble kids like Justin Bieber got into. He knew that lots of “child” stars got into problems with drugs and alcohol and stuff. But as the Man had said, Bobby was very mature for twelve years old. He could handle the pressure and the fame.

Until the Man had approached Bobby at the water park, the slender, beautiful boy had never considered a career in show business. I mean, he had dreamed as most boys do of being famous. He had even put a few videos on YouTube of his singing, but the truth was he was not a terrific singer. At twelve, Bobby wasn’t really too talented at much of anything. Still, a boy could dream. And then the Man had approached him at the water park and told him that he was perfect to be a teen fashion model and actor. He said Disney was looking for boys with his cute smile and charm to star in television shows.

At first, Bobby hadn’t trusted the man. Bobby was no dummy. He knew you didn’t just talk to strange older men. It could prove dangerous, but the Man was easy going and friendly, and he liked the water park just as much as Bobby did. You see, Bobby was a loner. He spent most of the summer by himself. He wasn’t sure why. The other boys were nice to him. He had friends, but he always seemed to end up by himself. He was a bit of a dreamer. He was on the shy, quiet side, and he tended to sit by himself a lot and daydream.

And so it was that Bobby was seated by himself in his swimming trunks, daydreaming at the water park, when the Man came along. The Man was old, maybe in his thirties, but he was very muscular and handsome. The Man was also in his swimming trunks. He looked like he could be a movie star or something. Bobby didn’t talk to strangers, so, at first, he hardly answered the man’s questions at all. Then the Man moved on. Bobby felt funny as if he didn’t want the man to go.

Well, they met again and again. And soon the man and Bobby struck up a friendship. The man kept telling Bobby how handsome he was, and Bobby loved it. Everyone said the twelve-year-old was cute, but no one had ever said he was handsome. It turns out the Man was a talent agent. And he was the agent for some famous stars. When he told Bobby whom he represented, Bobby’s cute little jaw fell open. He asked the Man if he could meet some of his famous clients. The Man said that most stars really love their privacy, but he would see what he could do. Then the Man asked Bobby if he had ever considered a career in modeling or television. Bobby’s mouth fell open again in the cutest little O, the kind of O you just want to shove something into.

Well, one thing led to another, and soon Bobby and the Man were fast friends. The Man treated the boy to lunch. They chatted and chatted, for hours and hours while they swam and sat and walked all the way to the water park changing room. They continued to talk as they changed out of their bathing suits into their clothes. Bobby was shy about his slender twelve-year-old body, but the man had no such fears. He was very muscular and very proud of his physique. He peeled down his bathing suit right in front of Bobby while they talked about the music and television industry. Bobby stood there next to the naked man. Usually, he went into one of the private changing booths to get dressed, but the man was still talking to him, as they stood there next to one of the long benches in the main changing room.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” the Man asked the twelve-year-old boy. “I feel like ice cream. What say, we blow this park and treat ourselves to a double-scoop custard?”

Bobby hardly heard the man’s words. He was in shock. He could not take his twelve-year-old eyes off of the man’s naked genitals. The Man just stood there with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t shy about his body at all not like Bobby. And the man had the biggest dick Bobby had ever seen.

Well, ever seen live. Bobby had seen a picture in a porno magazine that he had found on the street. The picture was of a black man with a gigantic cock. The cock was so enormous that Bobby was sure the thing was photoshopped. Then the black man in the magazine had his huge dick in the mouth of a teenage boy. The young boy’s mouth was opened up as wide as it could go, and still, only a small part of the enormous black cock fit into it.

Unlike many boys his age, Bobby didn’t have access to internet porn. His parents had lots of locks and blocks on his computer. But he did hide the magazine in his room and used it to masturbate. Bobby had just started to masturbate a few months ago. He knew lots of the boys at his school jerked off all the time. Some of them played with themselves right in the locker room and cafeteria, or even during class. Boys of that age played with their dicks almost all the time.

Bobby knew that some of the boys had circle jerks. They masturbated together at the home of one boy or other, but Bobby had never gone to any of the jerk-off sessions. Not yet. He was too shy. He had his magazine. He was fascinated by the photos of the young teenage boy, who could not have been much older than Bobby was, licking the man’s big, black, hairy balls. It made him feel funny in his tummy.

The funny thing was when Bobby lay in his bed at night with his pajama pants pushed down around his ankles under the covers so that he could play with his twelve-year-old dick, he never thought about how good it would feel to have the boy sucking his cock and licking his balls. No, instead, he thought about how it must feel to lick the man’s big leathery ball sack and his shiny, wet dark cock with the fat purple head. He imagined he was the one on his knees, licking and sucking on the impressive African American fuckmeat, isn’t that odd?

Bobby, Kyle Stephenson, and Jimmy Belter had paid Kyle’s little sister Emily two dollars once to show them her pussy. She no titties yet as she was only eight, and her pussy was just a small slit. The boys had prodded and poked at it with their fingers a bit, but it was actually pretty boring to Bobby.

Bobby was daydreaming again. His parents said that his daydreaming would get him into trouble. He was daydreaming while he stared at the Man’s long, thick, dangling pink dick. It was just about as big as the black cock in the magazine except the Man’s cock was not even hard. It was hanging there soft with lots of extra skin. It hung there over a set of testicles at least as big as those that the boy in the magazine was licking. Bobby got a funny, dry feeling in his mouth. The Man turned to look at something, and his huge dick and balls swung and slapped his muscular thigh. Then the man’s head snapped back, and he smiled, almost as if he had caught Bobby staring at his fucker.
“Aren’t you going to get changed?” The Man asked again.
The Man did not pick up his clothes, his towel or anything. He just stood there totally naked. Bobby still did not move. This was one of his problems. He sometimes just froze. It happened at school. It happened at church once when he was supposed to give a recitation in front of the entire congregation. Then the man moved and put one of his large feet up onto the bench. He studied something on one of his golden tan legs, brushing something off of his thigh. But the move, the move of putting one foot up on the bench caused his massive wrinkled ball sack to swing back and forth. And it made his long thick dick swing as well. Bobby was hypnotized. Without thinking, Bobby licked his lips; they were so dry. He heard the man chuckle.
Perhaps at this point, I should briefly describe Bobby to you. He was twelve, as I have said, but whereas some boys at twelve have gangly, awkward bodies, Bobby’s form was perfectly shaped. His feet were not too large, but they were beautifully arched. His legs were well formed, smooth and without a single hair. His tummy was flat and his torso slender. He had a mop of dark hair, beautiful brown eyes, a cute boyish button nose, and a wonderfully warm smile. He also had freckles. Men like the Man like a boy with freckles. Freckles are special. They make the adult male dick hard. The Man also especially loved Bobby’s ass.
At the point of the changing room experience, the Man had not yet seen Bobby’s twelve-year-old ass naked. But nonetheless, he knew the kid had a prizewinner. He could tell from the shape of the young ass meat in the boy’s swim trunks. It was one of those small, perfectly formed smooth young asses. He knew it would have a deep crack. He also knew there would, as of yet, not be a single hair around the asshole. No need to pluck this boy clean. When Bobby walked across the water park grounds, his ass globes rose and fell hypnotically. The man had trouble concealing his almost ten-inch hard-on, as he walked with the boy. He had to work hard to keep his massive boy fucker down. Bobby was a find all right.
The Man also enjoyed the little lump in the front of Bobby’s trunks, the boy’s just starting to grow dicklet, his wank meat. He could tell the boy had just reached puberty. He had probably had his first wet cum only a few weeks ago or at the most a month or two before, and consequently, he was masturbating continually, shooting his wad three or four times a day. He loved boys in this fresh, highly sexed up condition.
I should add that the Man was also taken with Bobby’s tits. The man was a connoisseur of boy tit. Some boys of Bobby’s age still have nothing but pale discs for titties, but Bobby had nice soft brown little nubs. The man could start to work on those almost at once. He would soon have them so sensitive, that the little bitch, Bobby, would hardly be able to wear a shirt. The tits would be almost raw, and so would the little boy’s twelve-year-old dick head. The Man used a fine grade of sandpaper among other things to keep a boy’s cocklet head and tits so raw and sensitive that the boy couldn’t tolerate the feeling of cloth against them. That way, the boy was in constant sexual agony.
What did the Man covet from young Bobby, you wonder. Well, you shall see in time. He wanted many things, most of them utterly obscene.
The Man had asked Bobby twice. He stood there, one large foot up on the bench, his ball sack and dick swinging, and asked the boy if he was going to change. Bobby couldn’t just stay frozen forever. Bobby had to do something. Bobby had to change. He looked around. There was no one else in the changing room at the time. For some reason, his thin young tan legs felt weak. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trunks and tugged them down. The Man watched as Bobby’s tiny and slender dicklet, so small and pale next to the Man’s huge penis, came into view. Bobby wanted to turn away, but he knew that was childish. He was ashamed that his dick was so tiny. His little balls were so small as well, and he had no hair on the sack. He had no hair anywhere.
This pleased the Man tremendously. He hated boys with hair. Once a boy developed prick or ball hair, the man was through with him. He thought it was gross. The Man had hair, of course, manly pubic hair and ball hair except when he shaved, but boys like Bobby have no business having hair. They are too perfect. Not a single hair on the body anywhere to blemish the perfection. The Man sometimes worked with younger boys, boys of eight, nine or ten because they were so smooth and hairless but there was something special about catching a boy at just the moment he begins to cum, and his balls are working full time, and yet, he still maintains that little boy perfection. Bobby was perfect in so many ways. Now, all the Man had to do was reel him in.
Bobby wanted to cover his twelve-year-old dick and balls with his hands, but he knew that would be childish. After all, the Man didn’t cover himself. He was proud of his body. He had chatted with Bobby about how he liked men and boys who were proud of their bodies. Who weren’t “sissy boy faggots.” Those were the words the Man had used. Bobby had been shocked at the words, but they fell so naturally out of the Man’s mouth that they seemed somehow right.
Bobby used one hand to cover his twelve-year-old pecker, as he set his swimsuit on the bench and reached for his underpants.
“Don’t you need to piss?” the Man asked. “If we’re going for an ice cream, we’d better take a piss first, don’t you think? Come on.”
The man took his foot off of the bench and walked toward the section of the changing room where the urinals and stalls were located. Bobby stood there watching the large muscular ass globes of the man roll as he walked. Slender twelve-year-old Bobby didn’t know what to do. He had never felt this way in his entire life. His whole body seemed to tingle and tickle. It felt like someone had hit his crazy bone, but instead of his elbow, his entire body went nuts. Bobby didn’t know if he had to piss or not. His dick sure did feel funny.
“Come on, stud,” the Man said in his deep, smooth voice, standing in front of one of the porcelain urinals.
Bobby padded over on his bare twelve-year-old feet. He felt so inadequate. One of the Man’s devices was to keep a boy feeling inadequate. That way, the Man could do almost anything he wanted with the boy. What do I mean, almost? HE COULD DO ANYTHING HE WANTED WITH THE BOY. And what the Man wanted, believe me, was beyond any of your imaginations. In his mind, the Man could already picture young Bobby with heavy weights hanging from his boy tits and a rod shoved up his little boy pisshole and large dildos in his tiny boy ass, and that was just for starters. He had a special chair at his studios for his boys to sit on. In the center of the seat, on the special chair, there was a place where large artificial cocks, cocks of every size and shape, could be screwed into the seat.
The man recorded a boy’s progress on film and with photos. The boy progressed from small uncomfortable plugs to gigantic rubber and wooden dicks. Soon this would be Bobby’s chair. They would start small and work their way up. After all, if the boy was going to take the Man’s ten thick inches—comfortably or uncomfortably, he had to be opened up, right?
Oh, the man enjoyed a nice tight fresh little boy hole, make no mistake, but he didn’t want it so tight that is constricted his fuckmeat. He liked some anal give in the boy’s cunt, and to get that anal elasticity, the extraordinary boy chair, and certain other devices were employed. Bobby’s twelve-year-old rectal sphincter was soon to undergo a significant alteration. His tiny puckered boy hole would never be the same again.
All of that was in the future. First, the Man had to lure the boy into his confidence, and then he had to seduce the boy with promises of fame and fortune. He had to set up “model photo shoots.” He had to pose the boy and film him, clothed, then in swimsuits, then in underwear, and finally naked. And he could make a pretty penny peddling these photos and films to perverts around the world.
Many lecherous men would drool and wank over photos of Bobby. They would imagine doing unspeakable things to the boy, but only the Man—the Man and his friends—would do those things. And they would film them and sell those films of the complete corruption of an innocent twelve-year-old boy for even more money. The Man had to work slowly and carefully so Bobby’s mommy and daddy would have no idea their darling’s son’s ass was being opened, fingered, and fucked. They would have no idea their boy’s face was being fucked by dick after dick. He had to make sure they did not smell the piss on the boy’s breath or notice the cum leaking into his underpants from his twelve-year-old fucked ass. He would soon begin to look kind of sickly and tired from the constant fucking and sucking. The Man had to make sure the parents thought it was just Bobby going through growing pains, not anal stretching pains.
But the Man was very good at these things. Sometimes, he even became chummy with a boy’s father. On several occasions, he had also gotten a boy’s dad to fuck his own son. That was special. Those films sold well. The Man bought a Ferrari car with the films of one handsome twenty-eight-year-old father fucking the shit out of his ten-year-old son. The Dad had a background of drug use, and all the Man had to do was get the father hooked again. Soon, the dude was deep in debt and had no way out, except to fuck his own son. And this particular father was really well hung, so it was quite hard on the little boy. But it opened the kid up for the Man’s dick and the dicks of the Man’s numerous friends.
The Man, over six feet tall and all perfectly muscled, stood before the urinal. The slender twelve-year-old boy stood next to him, shy and trembling. The boy kind of turned away from the man, so his sweet naked, fuckable ass became visible. It was everything the Man dreamed about in boy ass and more. The Man smiled. Bobby stood there with his tiny dick in his hand, unable to piss from nervous excitement. The Man took a step back from the urinal. He placed his hands on his hips and turned slightly to give Bobby a better view of his long, thick dangling cock.
The Man thrust his hips forward, and without touching his fucker, he began to piss. Bobby could not help but stare. I mean, who wouldn’t. A heavy spray of strong yellow piss shot from the tip of the cock and splashed against the porcelain wall of the urinal. The Man stood there pissing, two feet back from the urinal so the boy could see the entire function. He reached down with two fingers and gently lifted the heavy fuckmeat. He moved it so that the cascade of piss made patterns on the porcelain.
Bobby’s breathing became heavy. His dicklet tingled. Even his little ass felt funny. Bobby kept thinking of the big black cock in the magazine and the young boy sucking on it.
‘How did a man’s dick taste,’ he wondered.
Never fear, Bobby, you will soon find out!