Her brazen poses really captured the attention of her audience.
I was lying on my back on the chaise longue and its deep black velvet cover felt like heaven on my skin. My left leg was stretched out in front of me and my right leg was thrown lazily over the chair’s side. Look relaxed, he’d said. Frankly I was finding it hard to do that, with the light from the overhead bulb blazing into my eyes, blinding me.
I was cold and my nipples were rock hard as a result. I felt exposed, lying there with my pussy in full view of the photographer and his crew of three. I felt like a piece of meat on display in a deli counter.
My discomfort increased with every snap of the camera. I blinked but didn’t move out of the spotlight; I didn’t want to spoil the shot. I’d had a dry spell of almost a month with no modelling work and no prospects, and I wasn’t about to ruin my only pay day in ages.
The advert in the local newspaper had read: “Models wanted. Young, uninhibited women between 18 and 30 for nude photo shoot. Very erotic poses; open mind required. Good pay.”
Before, I would never have considered taking off my clothes in front of a camera and having my body captured for posterity. What would my mother think if she saw the pictures of her little girl sprawled in some trashy magazine or newspaper? No, I would never have considered something like this, but I was two months behind on my rent and principles were a luxury I simply couldn’t afford anymore.
“Do something sexy with your hands,” Tom the photographer shouts from somewhere behind all the lights. I knew I was supposed to be the consummate professional, producing the necessary emotion whenever it was required, but I was finding it hard to do sexy when my neck was aching from straining and my skin was breaking out in goose pimples from the cold. I lifted my right hand, placed it on my stomach and with slow deliberate moves started to stroke myself, moving my hand delicately over the skin from the top of my mound to the bottom curve of my small breasts. I closed my eyes, trying to do as instructed as I continued the movement, hoping that the mood would catch on if I thought of something sexy.
I focused on my fingers trailing up and down then back again and imagined they were someone else’s fingers. Someone gorgeous, hot and a total stranger to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone I knew seeing me in this predicament, so whoever was stroking me had to be a stranger, someone who knew nothing about me but whom I fancied. I thought of Philippe, Tom’s assistant who had met me at the reception and brought me up to the studio. We had made small talk about the weather but instantly I’d noticed his big, beautiful hands and muscled arms, and the full lips that he constantly wetted with what seemed like an agile tongue.
Eyes closed, in my mind I could see one of his big hands lying flat on my tummy and moving slowly up my torso to rest in between my breasts and then move slowly back down. He would not stop where my hand had but would go further down, much further down, until it brushed through my pubes and found my already swelling clit.
He would take my clit between his middle and index fingers and squeeze, oh-so gently, and release, repeating the motion until I arched my back and moaned in approval. I could feel my body heating up and my nipples were perked up for a completely different reason now. My fingers moved down until they felt the juice flowing from my pussy. I dipped two fingers in like Philippe would do and my pussy contracted around them as they moved in and out, slowly and sweetly taking me higher.
His fingers would come out and seek my clit again, coating it in my juices and making it sleek to the touch. He would rub it between his moistened fingers, squeezing rhythmically until my hips started to move in tune with his nimble fingers. I would feel his other hand on my left breast as he rubbed it hard with his palm then he would pinch my nipple before moving to the next to give it the same rough treatment. His fingers would start to rotate my clit, round and round, faster and faster, pressing hard on it until my hips moved up and down as I felt my orgasm building in the bottom of my tummy.
I bit my lower lip as the molten heat rose, sending my head back and making me cry out in satisfaction. I came hard as my fingers continued to work their magic and my body started to relax again.
After a few minutes I opened my eyes and noticed a silhouetted figure standing over me, blocking out the overhead light. It took a few minutes for my eyes to focus but soon Tom’s face came into view. “That’s the best obedience to instruction that I’ve seen in a long time,” he said. The realisation of where I was and what I had done brought colour to my cheeks.
“No need to be embarrassed, Destiny,” Tom continued. ‘You were brilliant. In fact, I’d like to have you come back for another shoot we’re doing next week.” His phone rang but before he answered it he said, “Make sure you speak to Philippe about it before you leave”. Then he walked off set briskly, chatting loudly.
At the mention of Philippe’s name my cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red and as I stood up to leave the man in question appeared with a robe in his hand. “You’ll need this,’ he said quietly. I couldn’t look him in the eye so kept them lowered to the floor as I mumbled my thanks and took the robe. At a quick pace I headed off for the dressing room.
Revealing Images
Once alone in the dressing room, I faced my reflection in the dresser mirror. My face was flushed and my hair was ruffled. It told the whole story of what I had been up to. However, I noticed that the one thing I expected to feel was conspicuously lacking. Shame. I felt none whatsoever.
I watched a small smile appear on my lips. I felt so sated, so full of life and <so> ready to do that all over again. This was a side of me I’d never seen before: a wanton, seductive side that I knew I could begin to enjoy. I opened my robe and checked out my body. My breasts weren’t big but I’d always liked their petite lushness. I used my fingertips to caress my nipples again, wondering what Philippe had thought when he’d seen me pleasuring myself. I wondered if he’d liked it, whether he’d become hard as he’d seen my fingers plunge into my pussy; whether he’d wished it was his cock making me come, plunging in and out of me, harder and harder until the uncontrollable spasms came.
I could feel my pussy getting wet again and decided I’d better get dressed before I was tempted to masturbate again – the studio probably wasn’t booked long enough for off-set self-pleasuring sessions to take place. Before I could change though there was a rapid knock on my door. I pulled the robe closed with my hands and opened the door. There he was. My fantasy man. Standing outside the dressing room looking utterly hot.
“I thought you’d like to have a look at some of the pictures before you leave,” he said. Sure enough he had some prints in his hand.
“Of course,” I said, stepping aside for him to enter. He walked straight to the dresser and placed the prints on it. I closed the door, going to stand next to him and as I did so I caught a whiff of masculine cologne that made me pussy salivate further.
He spread the photos on the dresser – there was about ten of them – and I saw myself in vivid colour, spread-eagled like a woman absolutely gagging for it. I saw my face, looking blissful with my eyes closed, my tongue visible as I licked my lips and my long hair spread in disarray over the arm of the chair. Tom must’ve taken a picture of my pussy right after I had come as there was a close-up picture of it looking wet, swollen and begging to be fucked.
“Wow.” I said. It was all I could manage as I stared, fixated, at the raw sexuality exuding from the pictures.
“Yes, they’re beautiful,’ came Philippe’s low voice.
Then he leaned over until I could feel his breath against my forehead. He bent his head and whispered in my ear, “You’re beautiful”. And there was an unmistakeably lustful tone in his voice.
Final Development
I was elated and so excited that my breathing was stunted. My eyes moved away from the pictures to his groin and I could see his cock straining his jeans, eager to be freed. I felt lost at sea, unable to control my hand as it reached out and caressed his bulging cock. He groaned loudly and took my head with both hands, crushing my lips with his, his tongue finding mine in the way I imagined it would do the same to my sopping pussy.
He pushed the robe off my shoulders and slid his hands down my back, grabbing my bum and lifting me so my pussy was rubbing against his straining, denim-clad cock. My hands were around his neck holding on for dear life as he lifted me onto the dresser, his lips leaving mine only to travel down my shoulder, biting and nipping hungrily.
I ran my hands through his hair and guided his head to my aching nipples, arching my back as he grabbed both my breasts and started to suck on them with a ferocity that made me moan with a carelessness I’d never displayed before. I didn’t care who heard us, I wanted that man to fuck me and to do it immediately.
He sucked and bit, but I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” I moaned, unable to articulate what I wanted.
He lifted his head and kissed me again. “Please what?” His question was said against my lips even as his right hand moved from my breast and travelled down my stomach to cupping my throbbing pussy. I strained toward his palm, opening my legs wide and placing my hand over his in encouragement.
“Please let me feel your tongue inside me,” I gasped out, my boldness increasing my sexual verve. It obviously had the same effect on Philippe. He growled and promptly fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around the back of my thighs, his hands coming over my hips to spread my pussy lips so he could take my engorged clit in his mouth.
I bucked and moaned wildly, holding his head in place with my hands as my hips dancing in unison with his tongue. His tongue exploration was a glorious thing. I closed my eyes as he plunged into me again and again before coming back to suck hard on my clit. He then slid two fingers into me and started pumping in sync with his tongue. I slammed my pussy against his beautiful fingers and felt myself coming in hot, hard spasms that made me cry out in unreserved pleasure.
I bucked as he continued to suck on me and finally I pulled his head away when I couldn’t take it anymore. He stood and returned to kiss me, and I tasted myself on his lips. I’d long thought such a thing would be disgusting, but I found it so sexy, a celebration of the beauty of my orgasm written all over his gorgeous lips.
Not yet finished, Philippe unbuckled his belt and I helped him unzip his trousers, pushing them down and over his hips, taking his boxer shorts with them. His cock was standing to attention, pre-come making the tip glisten and my mouth water. I wanted to taste him, to know what it would feel like to wrap my lips around it as he filled my mouth and rubbed it against my tongue.
I leapt off the dresser and knelt down before him, in my eagerness, not giving him a chance to settle down on the dresser before taking his cock in my hand and licking the head enthusiastically. He moaned and strained toward my mouth. I obliged him by putting it in, stroking and caressing his member with my greedy tongue.
My headed bobbed as his hand on the back of my head guided me along his shaft. His moans told me he was loving my lapping and I traced his member’s veins with my tongue, moving down to take his balls in my mouth as well. First one, then the other, I sucked as my hand continued to pump his shaft. Enthusiastic to no end, I only stopped when he suddenly held my head still. Looking up questioningly through my lashes he hoarsely explained, “I need to fuck you now.”
Helping me up, he fished in his jeans pocket for a condom. I aided him in putting it on, still savouring the feel of his glorious cock in my hand, and he turned me around to face the mirror, bending me over the dresser, sideways, so I could see him enter my pussy from behind. He plunged into me, right to the hilt, filling me so completely that I cried out loudly.
It felt so good as he withdrew and plunged in again and again, finding a steady rhythm that had me pushing my bum back onto his shaft frantically. He was kissing my back while his hands grabbed my breasts and caressed them roughly. There was no decorum to it. He just fucked me, his cock ploughing into me so hard I had to hold on to the dresser and watch my pictures fall to the floor like a disordered testimony to my lust. I felt myself about to come again and lifted my leg, my hand finding my clit and rubbing it wildly. As Philippe’s cock continued to be rammed into my sopping core, I looked at him in the mirror, seeing his eyes closed in concentration and sweat making his face glisten. In the throes of passion he looked even more beautiful. Then I came, my whole body erupting into tiny pieces of pleasure and the heat in my blood making me forget everything except the cock that made me feel so good.
He came with a loud groan and thrust into me one last time, promptly collapsing on my back as I leaned onto the dresser. “Wow,’ he said.
“Wow,” I repeated in breathless reply, and thought to myself that I’d ask to keep the pictures on the floor as a reminder of the best fuck of my life. [icon]
[PQ1] I caressed my nipples again, wondering what Philippe had thought when he’d seen me pleasuring myself.
[PQ 2] He was kissing my back while his hands grabbed my breasts and caressed them roughly – there was no decorum to it
