Note: this is a repost from the MasculineCurves blog archives and one of my favorite moments as a photographer. One of the things I love most about this art is the interesting situations my pursuits put me in. It's hard to believe this experience was three summers ago.
I spotted him on West 25th. We made small talk as we sat there waiting for the bus. He oozed an undeniable sensuality. The question was at the tip of my tongue, but I hesitated as I always do in these situations.
The light conversation was a polite way to pass the time as we both brewed with frustration over the tardiness of the number 20. Still, I hesitated. Time passed. The small talk dwindled. And still no number 20. A half-hour had passed and the diversion of conversation was only occasional at this point.
He was rough and rugged. All street, I suppose. I feared he'd perceive my softness, so I hesitated. The bus came.
I don't know where I found the courage to do what I did next, but when I saw him pull the string I hopped off. This was a different neighborhood. It was a neighborhood that suited him. I called his name, or at least the name he gave me on West 25th. He turned and looked at me with a hard glare... I put myself out there, and it was too late. I could no longer hesitate... It was the question I had been wrestling with for the past 40 minutes.
"Hey man. Can I take a picture of you?"
At first, my only intention was to snap a few shots for my street portrait series. But his loose fitting tank and the low-riding boxers revealed the allure of sun-kissed Latin skin. Without hesitation I asked another question:
"Do you mind taking off your shirt?"
It was all so spur of the moment....
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