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Back in the Day

Back in my early days I stumbled onto something that got me more sex than anything I could have imagined.

It started with my father. He was a very good do-it-yourselfer, as was common with men of the 1960s. When I was eight, I snuck down into the basement to admire his metal lathe. In the way a little kid will do, I kind of innocently flipped the switch that turned it on. With a quiet hum, it started spinning. That scared the bejeepers out of me. I went running upstairs to admit what I had done. My father accompanied me back down to the basement, and simply turned it off.

So, when it came time to explore his darkroom equipment, there was no way I was going to touch anything. Until he bought me a camera at age twelve. That thing was practically bigger than I was. It was a 4 x 5 Speed Graphic, the kind newspaper photographers used in the 1940s through 1960s. I don’t know what he was thinking. That huge camera was a real misfit for me. The one in the picture above is very much like the one I had.

Still, he encouraged me to play with it, and provided some film. I learned to take pictures. They weren’t very good, most being too dark, too light, or out of focus.

Of course one of the first pictures I took was a close-up of my little erection. As soon as I developed the negative, I destroyed it, being all worried about it being somehow wrong.

You see in those days, cameras weren’t like the camera on your smartphone. Every picture had to be manually set up. One had to gauge the amount of light, typically using a device called a lightmeter, and then turn a knob to make sure the picture would be in focus. Furthermore, you didn’t just click away, taking several pictures in a series. Oh no, to take a picture, I had to pull out o 4 x 5 inch cover slide, snap the shutter, put the cover slide back in, remove the film holder, flip it over and put it back in, ready for the next shot.

Sure, there were roll-film cameras, and even 35mm cameras by then, but that’s not what he got me. What was he thinking, really?

Then there was the whole developing business. With your digital camera or smartphone, your picture is instantly available, ready to text, email, whatever you want. Not so with photography in the 1960s. I had this big vertical projector called an enlarger. After developing negatives from the film, I’d put one in the enlarger, focus it on an easel on a tabletop, set up the exposure and focus, then put a sheet of paper in the easel and expose it to light from the enlarger for a few seconds. This all had to be done in near darkness. I had a dim orange light called a safe-light, that allowed me to see what was doing without ruining the picture.

I found that orange light very sexy somehow. I spent many an hour not developing pictures, but rather admiring and rubbing my penis in the dim light. My parents never came down to the basement except on wash day.

OK, so was that it? Expose some light-sensitive paper, than take a break to wank? No! Now I had to put the exposed sheet of paper in a tray full of a chemical called developer. I agitated the sheet back and forth with a pair of bamboo tongs. When the picture was fully developed, I lifted it out, and set it in a tray full of another chemical called stop bath, being careful not to touch the tongs to the chemical, since just a drop or two would kill the developer. Next the picture went into a final tray containing ‘fixer.’

Now was I done? Nope. From there, the picture had to be set in a sink and washed with water for 20 minutes, and then into a dryer. There. Now I had a picture!

The reason I’m telling you all this is really about the darkroom. One afternoon I invited my friend Debbie Cornwall to keep me company in the darkroom. While I was working away, she got off the stool on which she had been sitting, came over, and kissed me. You see, the dim orange light, must have affected her the same way.

I was annoyed. After all, I was only 13 years old. What did I know about kissing?

She was not the last girl, or boy, that I invited into my basement darkroom. Even though kids developing their own pictures was not unheard of back in the day, it was rare, and my friends enjoyed watching the process.

Fast forward about five years and at age eighteen, I had figured out what kissing was all about. No longer annoyed, I did a lot of kissing in that darkroom, and eventually lots more, which I’ll tell you about shortly.

I thought of myself as dorky. A kind of skinny techno-geek, and perhaps my friends thought that way too. However, I was such a crazy person that I accidentally developed a winning personality. The car I was driving, my dad’s car, was an old Land Rover, a fun jeep-like thing, which went around mostly topless in the summer. I took to wearing mechanics boots because they felt good and safe to me with their steel toes, and because I thought they made me look like a mechanic, which thought I might like to become. Well, within six months, most of the boys in high school weer also wearing mechanics boots. Then, I got a Stetson hat somehow. I think someone gave it to me as a joke. I started wearing it, along with plaid shirts and bluejeans, and the next thing you know, all the kids had Stetsons and cowboy clothing.



My father’s Land Rover, I drove it more than he did.

I wasn’t trying to be cool. It just turned out that the kids thought I was, especially the girls. I was still inviting them into the darkroom, but by then were doing a lot more than kissing. It’s just good luck that no one got pregnant.

One day, my good friend Michael wanted me to take some pictures of him. I was like, “Sure, why not?” But here’s the thing: He wanted to be stark naked. It felt weird to me, but remembering all the photos of naked women in the Popular Photography magazine articles, I felt that’s what photographers do – take pictures of naked people. It didn’t occur to me those were all women, and Michael was a guy.

So I took his pictures. By then, I had a smaller camera that used rolls of film. I developed the negatives, then hung them up to dry. So there was a long strip of 12 pictures of Michael totally without his clothes.

When my dad came home from work, and saw the strip of negatives, he went nuts. This normally fun-loving and mild-mannered guy was all carrying on about ‘homosexuality’ and things I hadn’t really heard before. For some reason, he was mad about Michael’s pictures.

My dad settled down after a day or two, and probably figured his son was going to turn out gay, and maybe that was alright. My dad was always cut and dried like that. It most likely didn’t occur to him that I might end up bisexual, ar maybe even straight, after seeing the pics of Michael.

Mike got his pictures, and to my amusement, he was showing them to the other kids in school. Even now, that’s a super-bold move. He didn’t have an erection in the pictures, but still, they were full-frontal.

John, one of Michael’s friends wanted me to take some naked pictures of him. I was like “No way” after the strangeness from my father. He talked me into it, plus the $20 he offered didn’t hurt. Back than, that would buy a lot of film.

We went out into the woods. He took off all his clothes, and posed this way and that. He was erect the whole time. Silly me, I didn’t really understand that. I mean, sure, I’d been erect many times, even masturbated almost daily, but being erect in front of another guy? Weird!

His penis started to go soft but he wanted to stay erect. He asked me to help him. At first I didn’t understand, but before long, I was touching the first penis in my life that wasn’t my own. It had an almost electric-like shock on me. Within a moment, without intending to do so, I had the tip of his penis in my mouth and was very much enjoying running my tongue around his glans. He came. I nearly chocked, but managed to swallow it all, without really tasting his semen.

I had a lot to think about that night, as I masturbated myself to a crashing orgasm. It became almost an obsession. I wanted to know what his cum actually tasted like. I got that opportunity around a month later. He and I became wank buddies.

Meanwhile, Cindy, a super-sexy, huge-breasted girl that I really admired from a distance, had also seen Mike’s photos. She wanted a nude photoshoot. A girl, a real live girl, was offering to get naked in front of me! Holy mackerel! Of course we arranged that. My parents always went out on Friday nights, so I invited her to my room. She got naked, and I took her pictures.

That was enough for me. I mean, sure I would have loved something more, but I didn’t dare even touch her. What would she think of me? I needn’t have worried. As I later found out, Cincy was a true, card-carrying nymphomaniac. She reached out. She started by suggesting I get naked, show her how to work the camera and she’d take pictures of me. I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but I went ahead with it. It was such an emotional high, or maybe a roller-coester getting naked in front of her. I was scared, horny, everything all at once. I was erect immediately. She reached out, and the next thing you know, I was the one getting a blowjob. Heaven! Except, I came right away. She spent a good few minutes trying to get me hard again, but I was too freaked out. I believe we would have fucked if I had been able to get it up again.

Cindy and I became ‘a thing’ for several months. I was so proud to be seen with her, let alone the feeling of hugging her naked body next to mine for hours at a time after intercourse.

We were young. We broke up. Why? Because I had become so enamored of the girls that I couldn’t keep it zipped up. By now, I had 3 girls a week paying me actual money to take their pictures. Oh sure, most wore bikinis or were otherwise not naked, but I was in heaven, and had plenty of opportunities. I took advantage of those opportunities at every turn.

Fast forward to now: I’m a professional photographer. Photoshoots are no longer $20, and I no longer use chemical photography. I left that behind years ago. My clients are mostly couples. Some want regular lingerie photos. You know, nothing overt, but very suggestive. Some, however, want the whole works. I mean they want to fuck, and they want close up photos of fucking, sucking, even anal intercourse. Especially the guys. I get guy couples, and the occasional single guy who goes all out. In general, it seems guys are less restricted in terms of their sexual expression. Guys or girls, I’m having a great time and being well paid. I never grow tired of this line of work.

Hey Dad, if you can hear me up there, thanks for the Speed Graphic!

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