Giovanni Photgrapher

Giovanni is not my real name. I am a highly respected photographer in Milan’s thriving fashion industry and my work is published and recognised all over the world.
I live in a huge loft in the centre of Milan, near the cathedral. While I don’t go out socially very often, my passion for photography does lead me out and about almost every night…
In 1995 I started my “Bites” project. For quite some time I’ve had a deep longing to create something lasting, something that will endure beyond the transience of fashion photography. In this field photographers actually have very little opportunity to be truly ‘creative’. Everything has to follow certain pre-set procedures; any mistake can mean a huge run-up of costs. The only thing that counts is the final product. In “Bites” the opposite is true – what counts is the mood or atmosphere of the session and the result is an expression of that feeling.
On evenings and free weekends I regularly ask these young male models and those I’ve scouted if I can take nude photographs of them. Surprisingly, more often than not, they enthusiastically accept.
Once in my studio or wherever we are shooting I describe the way I work and define rather specifically the artistic style that I am working toward. I always guarantee that their face will not appear in the final print. For all my models, famous or otherwise, anonymity became the key to our collaboration.
I set up lights, ask them to take off their clothes, tell them they can take a shower, relax, have a drink, a smoke, whatever… They get ready, sometimes do push-ups, sit-ups. Quite often they seem a bit anxious. I closely observe them, compliment them on their “assets”. I do their make up, style their hair, oil their bodies. Sometimes I trim a bit of their hair and sometimes I shave it all off.

16.1.09

After the Game


By Brock Archer

On the field, he moved like a gazelle—swift, confident, strong. Fans and teammates loved and respected him. Opponents respected and feared him. Cameras adored him. Advertising executives coveted him, especially for underwear clients.
In the locker room, men envied him. Some wished they had his endowments instead of their own. Others wished they had his endowments next to their own... or deep inside them.
In the shower, they envied the water as it flowed down his lean, muscular body, caressed every centimeter, cascaded over his pronounced pecs, and rippled over his six-pack abs. Like almost everyone else, the water worshiped him. Some of his teammates took daring glances while others gawked openly as his powerful hands massaged soap over his dark pubic bush, his commanding cock, and his massive balls.
In the bedroom... well, aside from a very lucky few, they had to content themselves with their fantasies. But oh, what fantasies!


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