Terry Richardson is a fashion photographer with street credibility. He has no time for regrets, and if he asked a model to touch his penis, and she touched it, he certainly has no regrets. Maybe they didn’t want to touch it, and felt pressured. Whatevs. Don’t fucking touch his scabby, smelly cock. What does he care? You think he’s not a fag? I mean, c’mon. He is just telling you to touch his cock because he is trying to get you loose, for the sake of the photo. He wants to bring something out of you. Any fool can take a snapshot. Uncle Terry is trying to capture a piece of your soul, not to sentence you to eternal damnation; but because he knows that pictures like that are what grabs the public’s attention. It will make you both rich and famous. So don’t touch his homosexual penis. It doesn’t mean he’ll never work with you again. Hell, he might even book you for many, many, more shoots, hoping he will one day get you to touch his penis. Not because that’s necessarily his thing, but just because it is a challenge. And even if he doesn’t take a picture of you touching his penis—-if and when you do decide to touch his penis—-it will show up on your face in the next photo.
Like, what do you fuckin’ suppose made the Mona Lisa crack that twisted smile?
Here’s a link to a model that would’ve have done a lot more than merely touch his pathetically tiny and soft penis, if he had asked. She is a lot lizard, which is many rungs on the totem pole below even a lowly Capp Street Crack Ho. A lot lizard is a prostitute who works at a truck stop. Can’t get much lower than that, whore-wise.
Uncle Terry Bags a Wild Lot Lizard
If you don’t like it, talk to the complaint department. I only have one thing to say to you: