The Use & Abuse Of Models

Over July 4th weekend I was perusing the ads for Adult Gigs on Craig’s List. Since I’ve been fairly successful at soliciting models that way, I thought, why not look there and see if anyone might be advertising for someone like me? That way I could earn a little extra spending money for our trip to Disney, coming up later this week, continue to get experience in front of the camera, and use a portion of my earnings to pay more models.

Alas, there was nothing ready-made for short, hairy, slightly out of shape Hispanic men in their mid-40s. But I ran across an ad that intrigued me. The title was “Need Male Talent?” I can’t remember exactly what the rest of the ad said and, now, I can’t even find it, but someone with experience was advertising himself for use in print and video work.

"Hmmm. I could use someone like him," I thought to myself. So I contacted him.

I e-mailed him, explained who I was and what I was doing. I also made sure to tell him upfront that we are a start-up company and couldn’t afford what the big studios paid but would he consider being persuaded to do it for less? Especially under the circumstances.

After several e-mails and a couple of calls, the guy showed up this past Wednesday. Earlier than the agreed upon time, even!

His name is Damian. As in “The Omen.” Although spelled differently, his energy was such that I wanted to go to him. I want to touch him, lick him, bite him, suck him, fuck him, suck on his balls and tug on them and make him moan. His lips have this petulant curve that . . . oh, man . . . (moan, shiver) . . . made me want to kiss him incessantly, chewing on his lower lip.


Damian is a self-proclaimed swinger with a big, fat cock. He is mostly straight, despite his penchant for the occasional male. Ex-military, ex-bodybuilder, naturally smooth, tanned skin, and a killer smile. He was wonderful to shoot, easy-going, open-minded and a delight to work with. He more than made up for the no-show.


And after all was said and done, I kept humming to myself, “Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”

Now here I am, Saturday evening, about 5:30. The cats are meowing for their food and the dogs eyes are fixed on me as if their lives depended on my next move. And all I can do is think about the hot men that have walked through our front door, gone up the stairs and crossed the threshold into our bedroom. Every time I think about them, and the ones that have yet to lay in our bed, it makes me tingly all over.

I’m not enjoying this too much, am I?

I guess from the things I’ve heard others say, I’ve been lucky thus far. I mean, other than the no-show, the guys I’ve filmed have all been a lot of fun to work with and have made this journey a breeze. I hope my luck continues.

There is one cloud, though. Well, maybe cloud is the wrong word. Perhaps more of a concern. It’s come to my attention over the last couple of days by someone who needs help and I can’t help but wonder. What if one of the models one day just . . . shows up? What if he knocks on the door looking for place to crash because he’s got nowhere else to go? What if we come home one day and everything is gone? How responsible should I feel over the turn of events of someone else’s life who has touched mine?

You see, as much fun as this has been, there’s still a part of me that feels I’m taking advantage of the models. Maybe not the Damians or Ethans who were more doing it for the fun of it. But the others. The ones who might be a bit more pressed for money.

I don’t know if any of you understand what I’m saying and, quite frankly, I’m not sure that I myself totally understand these feelings. I only know that I have sensed a slight undercurrent of desperation, a certain amount of need and desire for money that is not about greed but necessity.

In those moments, when the light bulb flashes somewhere in the back of my mind, and the knowledge, the realization hits me that I have the power to exploit, thrills me beyond any hard-on I’ve ever gotten. I mean, these men, all boys really, are right there, naked and vulnerable in front of me. I can make them do what I want!

And almost aways there’s been yet another light bulb that flashes. This one in my heart. It shows me that I can reach out to them and try to help them. Even while sitting or laying before me and the camera, sexy in their vulnerability, I know that the next step of their lives depends on me and how I treat them. That the money they are earning will help them through something else just as the money I’ve earned has helped me past my stumbling blocks.

Am I totally crazy and sensing something that isn’t there? Or is there really some sense of morality even within something that is considered to be immoral?

Yeah, yeah. I know. I think too much. I also analyze everything to death. I think it's a Libra thing. In fact I have frequently talked myself out of doing something simply because it was too much work, or I put too many obstacles in my own path, or simply didn't believe in what I was doing.

So, instead, I'll just take another deep breath and exhale. I'll let it go. Instead of worrying about taking advantage of the models I'll think about how much fun I'm having.

And I'll get off on the sexual fantasy of using and abusing the models for my own perverse physical pleasures . . . after they leave; once they've walked out the door and I am left with their moving images to remind me.