Role Model

"That's a wrap!" the photographer shouted after taking the last shot. He quickly packed up and left without a word for his next big gig. These big-shot photographers often put on airs. No socializing, not even talking to their model outside of giving instructions on how to pose. Fine by me. At least they were professional enough not to put their hands on the merchandise.

That left the rest of the crew to scurry around to disassemble and pack up the rest of the equipment. Actually, just one man, since the other "important" crew members already picked up their own belongings to run after the popular photographer.

I smiled at him. He was the nicest of the lot. He may not be a photographer or an artist but he handled with care like tools of his craft. All except but one piece of equipment. After he had packed all of the other stuff, he finally stood in front of me. I stayed still on my seat and looked blankly as he touched my body all over, groping my cock underneath the white briefs I was modeling and fishing it out to pump it to hardness.

"You know the drill," he said. "Activate program alpha dash zero six nine."

I sat up straight and said in a different and flatter voice than my normal, "Command received. Starting sex program. Initiating fellatio function." I opened my mouth as the man immediately rammed his thick cock into it. He pressed my face into his groin to push his penis deeper into my throat. I didn't gag nor gasp for air. I am just a modeling robot, a machine programmed to be used on and off the set.