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Creampie

The following stories claim to be the autobiography of Nicky, a boy model in the 1960s. The reader will have to decide whether they are fiction or autobiography. In some places, Nicky wrote about real people and real places, almost all of whom (by 2021) are either dead or in hiding. He narrates events and actions which were illegal then and are illegal now, and if you do not wish to read about sex between men and boys, you should stop now–especially if your place of residence has laws against reading such material. None of this material is intended to encourage anyone to break any laws anywhere. You have been warned.

If you enjoy this, you may contact the author at ail The full series of Nicky”s life has already been written, and will continue to be posted.

Will you join your fellow authors and readers to support Nifty? To contribute discreetly to the continuing operations of the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website using a credit card or other methods of donation, go to Nifty.

Nicky writes:

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Back to 1965: When swimming season was over in late March (I was eleven), Uncle Ted took me to my first photographic studio, and real photographic shoot (the previous trial run with a friend of Ted”s was more amateur). Ted told me what to expect: these men would be in charge, and I was to do everything they said without any objection, resistance, or asking why. That made is sound a little scary but also very grown up, and I was excited when the day came. It was a Saturday, so we would have all day. It was April, and a warm day, and on the way we stopped at Ted”s because he wanted me to change into my thin running shorts, low socks and shoes, and running shirt that left my mid-riff bare. He said that these men would like to see me in that. I later learned that this was almost a kind of uniform, and that men liked to see me dressed that way.

On the way from Grosse Pointe to the Ypsilanti area, Ted told me the arrangement: they were going to shoot me for several hours. He would drop me off and return later with a friend of his that wanted to see me. This all sounded very grown-up and serious and yet it seemed it was going to be fun. I really did not know what to expect. I was eleven and I did what I was told–that”s the way I had been brought up. (Told by Gretchen, for example.) Ted”s car was nice and warm in the sun and I was warm even in my very thin outfit; by the time we arrived I was relaxed and even sleepy.

We drove into a more rural area around around Belleville, just off I-94 on Belleville Lake, a long thin lake created by a dam. Back then the area was quite rural; it has since been built up. We were going to meet Edward Quirk. (His real name!) Mr. Quirk”s house was on Quirk Road, and he seemed to be wealthy. His big house was set back in trees and landscaping, with a couple of small outbuildings. It had a very private back patio hidden from the road, and a high fence around the back yard. Across the road a private path ran down to a small boathouse on the Lake.

When Ted pulled the car up to the house, Mr. Quirk came out to see us right away. He was a large, friendly man, round and middle-aged, mostly bald. He was wearing a shirt and tie although it was Saturday. Later I learned that he always dressed like a banker. He was very interested in me. He and Ted talked and soon another man, Mr. Curtis came out to join us. I felt shy, and said little. Ted left me with them and drove off to Ann Arbor to see his friend; we went into the house. Ted had told me to be very respectful: I always called them just Mr. Quirk and Mr. Curtis and they called me boy, and I learned from them that all boy models are just called boy no matter what race or age. They knew my name; “boy” was both affectionate and reinforced their adult authority.

Neither Mr. Quirk nor Mr. Curtis ever called me by my name or said “you,” they always just said “boy” (or “young boy” if another older boy were present).

The studio was in one of the outbuildings of the house that seemed like some kind of converted stable with few windows. The other outbuilding, I learned, was the darkroom and office where all the photographs were stored and filed in big flat drawers. In the studio the focus was on a low platform. Various pieces of furniture were off to one side. The studio lights was hung escort ankara from the rafters or on tripods and could be adjusted many ways; backdrops could be white, beige, or black as desired by pulling them down like window shades. There was a backdrop of white louvered, hinged doors that could be set up many ways.

Mr. Quirk got to work right away: he gave me a letter-board for me to hold with my name, the date, and my (accurate) birthdate. I stood facing him on the platform and he took first pictures that would firmly identify who I was later on. He began to shoot me from all angles and with different lighting; sometimes a close-up of part of my body, sometimes my whole figure. He used both a camera on a tripod and a hand-held smaller one. He had me hike up my shirt a little so that my abdomen was more exposed, and had me sit on the stool with my legs open so he could get a good crotch shot. I was still clothed, such as my clothing was.

Meanwhile Mr. Curtis was adjusting the lights and the set –a black backdrop, a white backdrop, the stool, or a chair, or a leather sofa, or a box, Then he said, let”s take a break and “boy can get ready.” I could predict what that meant.

Mr. Quirk told me straight out that in the future I should strip totally and leave my clothes neatly folded on a table or on hooks by the door. (He pointed to the table, the hooks.) He said a boy should always be nude in his studio and if he wanted me to wear clothes, he would give them to me and tell me how to put them on. He said this in a really sweet, direct way, not at all bossy, as just something I would want to know. I stripped just as he told me to.

While he was re-loading his main camera and fussed around with other stuff, I began to look at some of the framed photographs of other boys on the back wall of the studio. Many were older and body-builders or contestants in the annual Mr. Michigan competition. Some of the photographs were much younger boys, like me, all nude, but only a few showed their soft penises.

Following his instructions, I stood on the platform again, and held the name board, facing him but this time full frontal nude. I could feel my penis start to stiffen. He noticed this, and said to Mr. Curtis, “boy gets hard easily.” Then: “boy put your arms up, hands behind your head, spread your legs a little.” I went fully hard when they started to measure me (I was eleven!): height 5″0″ weight 100 lbs chest 25″ waist 20″ and so on all the way to penis: 4″ hairless. Eventually I saw this all typed up neatly on a rolodex card. They were both handling me like I were a kind of mannequin: here, there, touching me, feeling my penis, weighing my balls in their hands, running the hands up and down my back, my front, fingers through my hair.

When they were done measuring they began to talk about what kind of poses I should do (“boy should do”), and what colors would suit me best. My skin was pale, slightly tan, and I had a noticeable tan line on my legs from running outside (when I had to wear running shorts, of course). Mr. Quirk handed me a cut-away-midriff Michigan t-shirt, and said, yes, boy looks better with dark blue. So they took pictures of me with that shirt on, bare legs and penis, and then the reverse with a yellow (properly maize) Michigan athletic short shorts and no shirt. I sat on the stool, I sat in the chair, on the box, I laid out on the box, on the floor, on the sofa, all the while with a penis between half and fully erect. Then we took another break while they re-loaded their cameras and talked about where boy should lay now.

Since it was such a beautiful sunny day, and warm for May, they decided to shoot me outside on the patio. I thought this was great: I always liked to be outside nude. They had a nice cushioned lounge chair that I could stretch out on, fully erect and smiling, no squint because they used a white photographic shade umbrella to diffuse the direct sunlight. I was enjoying this a lot, a boy at the center of their attention.

I was surprised but not shy when a fully-dressed, middle-aged woman walked out of the house, who turned out to be Mrs. Curtis, and asked if I would like something –I just asked for a glass of water and an apple (I was hungry again, as usual). She did not miss a beat, and seemed completely unsurprised to find a boy with esenyurt escort a firm erection laying on a lounge chair on her patio –I suppose it was all in a Saturday for her. After I ate the apple, Mr. Quirk and Mr. Curtis and I moved upstairs to a bedroom they had set up with lights and they took a lot of shots of me on the bed in different positions, including curled over as if I were trying to suck myself.

Mr. Quirk talked to me easily, encouraging me, kidding me, getting me to smile, and to enjoy showing off (though I needed little encouragement for that!). His manner and total facility with his camera really helped set and keep a mood of both fun and work –and even though he always called me boy, and made sure I knew that he had the power, he was easy for me to deal with. I was used to grown-ups telling me what to do, and I knew my place.

Mr. Quirk seemed really happy with their work and Mr. Curtis took the cameras and said he was going to develop the first rolls right away to see how the photos turned out. We went back to the studio and I looked at more of the photographs of other boys. I asked Mr. Quirk, who seemed nice, why did he want to take pictures of me, since I did not have muscles like that? He smiled and told me that they mainly photographed body builders, but he and Mr. Curtis also had a side line in “chicken” –I had to ask him what that meant (young boys). He then showed me several photographs of other boys about my age, or a little older, some playing with older teens either sexually, or just wrestling or tossing a ball or something. He asked if I would like to do that with another boy–I said sure, that sounded like fun.

Just then Uncle Ted returned with his friend, another very well-dressed older man, whom Ted introduced as Mr. Frank Shelden. He wore glasses and seemed very relaxed and nice, and immediately reached out to touch me –my shoulders and back and legs. Ted did not shoo him away; the three seemed to treat him with a lot of respect and acted like he was important to them. (I later found out how wealthy he was.)

He asked me to sit next to him on the sofa, which I did, and he put his arm around me and stroked my hair. I quickly went hard but otherwise sat quietly while the men talked about me as though I were not there. They agreed I should go to California, to Florida, and to New England –they seemed to know men who would want to photograph me. Apparently I really impressed everyone. Then it was time for us to go –Mr. Shelden (Frank) was going to stay; Ted and I had to go back to Grosse Pointe because I had the end-of-season swim team dinner that night. At first I was just going to get back in Ted”s car nude, but then he told me I had to wear something, so I put on my shorts and shoes, and they all laughed. It had been a great day.

On the way home Ted told me I should just say to my mother that I was sitting for a photographer that day. True enough, though back home I was happy to strip again and got out a few my old toys to play, just for comfort. It was soon time to get dressed for the team dinner, anyway. It was funny to be in a restaurant”s buffet room all dressed up with the boys I had usually been nude with.

I now know that many photographers that worked in the “physique” line also shot boys and young teens on the side. Like Metecue, they rarely or never sold those photographs in the mail –you had to know someone, or introduce yourself, and if you couldn”t visit them, a trusted courier or mutual friend would deliver the photographs. (Ted did that when we travelled.) As a result I have never found any of those original Metecue photographs although I did see a few –later that next week Ted showed me a couple, and just said, the camera sure loves you, kid.

I now also know that Frank Shelden (Francis Duffield Shelden) was a key figure in much of what happened in my life in the next several years, but largely behind the scenes. Shelden was really wealthy, had a private airplane, owned an island in Lake Michigan, and knew everybody who made or distributed pictures of boys. He was an environmentalist, a real estate speculator (if those two aren”t antithetical), and later wound up in serious trouble legal trouble. He was involved in an enduring scandal about a boy”s home and boys on that island, and he had to leave the country. eskişehir escort He”s still a figure in a bunch of conspiracy theories.

That wasn”t the Frank Shelden that I knew, however. Apparently soon after our initial meeting that May Saturday afternoon in 1965, he called friends in California who invited Ted and I to visit for as long as we would like when school was out. I believe that he funded a lot of our travel so that he could share me with his friends.

I returned to Metecue on Memorial Day weekend that year (as well as several times in the next two or three years). While my first shoot was solo, Mr. Quirk brought in other boys to sit with me and we could play around, wrestle lightly, and generally have a good time while he took pictures. I was not physically shy about being nude with them, of course, but at first I was not sure what to expect. Thanks to Mr. Quirk”s skill, the sessions went very well. Sometimes we boys were more sexual than others. That first session I was with Mike (Mike Bannion) who at the time would have been about 15 or 16 and already quite muscular –a shorter (5″5″) blond very Irish kid from Royal Oak with a brother named Sean. Mike was already experienced with Mr. Quirk”s photographic sessions, and with modeling with his brother, a year younger than I. Mike apparently helped Mr. Quirk in the darkroom a lot.

Mike quickly put me at ease –by picking me up. As soon as we started physical contact, I went totally hard, and he soon followed. Mr. Quirk loved that, because we could both stay hard for a pretty long time. It just happened naturally that Mike was quite “dominant” and I was more submissive, especially since I was younger and not nearly so muscular. Mr. Quirk wanted us to kiss but Mike said he only did that with his brother. I believe they had sex a lot, including times when Mr. Quirk was photographing them. I have not found any of our photographs, although I have found many of Mike that were published, starting in later 1966, but that were taken a year earlier or so.

In 1966 it was still “illegal” to display an erection; later in 1968 Jay Donahue (Jeremiah Brian Donahue) published more from the set that show exactly what Mr. Quirk wanted but could not distribute publicly in 1966. I was in several series like this, both with Mike, and then Sean, and solo. Mike and Sean both made short “erection” films each about five minutes; the one of Mike survives and I have seen a copy. (Sean”s is listed by Gay Erotic Video Index as “draped,” a concession to his age at the time, I am sure. If he was really draped, I”m sure there was an undraped version.)

Sean was a second Mike: also muscular, an inch shorter, and a slightly smaller erection, but much more fun. Sean was always cutting up and rarely followed any of Mr. Quirk”s directions very well. Mike was the dutiful older boy; Sean was a clown.

When I was at the Metecue studio several times in the next couple of years, I played with Ed Rickert, Gary Black, Andy Tillson, and John Connelly. Many of their pictures were published in 1970 of later, well after they were taken. John was “straight” and an athlete from the University of Michigan, and his photographs exude a sense of straight charm. I don”t believe the Mr. Quirk or any other photographer ever had sex with him –but he sure liked to play with me (I was nude, of course) and loved it when I would suck him, and I was very happy to do so.

The nicest sex I had at Metecue was with Bucky Straub, who was a hockey player for the University of Michigan. Bucky showed up early in my time, and then was gone for quite a while, but returned about 1968. He would never allow himself to be photographed solo completely nude, but he sure liked to play with me, and in the later time he was there, he fucked me beautifully (off-camera). I am sure that solo photographs of him nude and hard existed, but were never published.

Around 1969 my mother expressed some concern to Ted about how older men could hurt me when we were having sex. In response, Ted arranged for an older boy to fuck me while mom watched. This happened at Frank Shelden”s big house outside Ann Arbor. Mr. Shelden chose Bucky to fuck me, so Mom could see how it was for me when a strong man fucked me. We really put on a show for her. Bucky fucked hard, long, and really well: he made me cum more than once without using his hands (or my hands). For the record, Mom was quite impressed.

Mr. Quirk was a great introduction to the world of professional photographers –and I”m sure that”s exactly why Ted wanted me to start with him. I really moved on to Zodiac and others that I will describe in other chapters.

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