I was 19, working for an asshole and living in a flea bitten rat hole. My last boyfriend had just gone to jail for rape so I wasn't exactly enjoying life. Then I saw the ad and thought 'Why the fuck not? It couldn't be any worse than what I was doing now and it might actually be fun'. So I rang the number.
"Hello I'm answering your ad in the Chicago Times. 19, not married, no boyfriend, 135 pounds, 5-foot, 6-inches." I gave them my address so they could send me an application package.
Two days later when I arrived home from work the landlady handed me a parcel weighing around five pounds. I had actually been expecting an envelope. Up in my room I cut the tape and opened the box. In it was a folder, Polaroid camera, six films and three dildos! Even though I was on my own, my face went beetroot red. What did they want me to do?
I opened the folder and read the covering letter:
'Dingle Studios PO Box 143 West Norwood Pasadena
Dear Mrs. Prentice,
Thank you for your recent application for a modeling and acting position with the studio. As the advertisement said, we are looking for erotic models and actresses. Please use the camera to take the photos listed on the next pages and send the results to the above address. We do not expect professional results; all we need is a rough idea of what you look like and what you are willing to do. I look forward to hearing from you in the very near future.
I read the letter 3 times before turning the page. Although I would never admit it, even to myself, I was afraid of what I was getting myself into. I wasn't a prude or anything, but I certainly wasn't a slut. Gingerly I turned the page.
'On the following pages you will find submitted sets of pictures from successful models and actresses. We require a similar set of photos from all applicants. If you feel that this is not for you please keep the camera as a gift. If you do not contact us we will not contact you at anytime in the future. As a rough guide we require the following:
1. All pictures are nude with the exception of stockings, garters, socks, or boots. 2. Your boobs, pussy and anus are completely visible, no demure posing. 3. The dildos are completely inserted. 4. Please make your own choice of the final ten photos, the more risqué the better.
I look forward to reviewing your shots, please remember we are not looking for professional results. So long as the photos are frank and clear that is all we ask.'
I read and reread the instructions, not daring to look at the photos. I chucked the folder on my bed and went out for a burger. When I arrived back I picked up the folder and dropped it into my kitchen bin. That was enough of that.
At 2am I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Finally at around 3 I got up to make myself a coffee. Reluctantly I picked the folder out of the bin; luckily the bin was otherwise empty so the cover wasn't yucky. I sat down at the table with my coffee and opened the cover. Gingerly I turned the two leading pages and began to look at the photos. The first set was of a blond girl of about my age and size. She was wearing a pair of white ankle socks and nothing else. The photos were as follows:
1. Standing, legs together, hands by sides.
2. Standing, legs apart, hands holding up boobs.
3. Lying on bed, legs apart.
4. Lying on bed, legs apart, and pussy lips held open.
5. Kneeling on bed, knees apart.
6. Kneeling on bed, fingers inside pussy.
7. Kneeling on bed, finger in bum.
I put down the folder. Shit, I couldn't do that, not even alone. And then I thought, 'Shit, why not? After all, I masturbated. My previous boyfriends regularly fucked the shit out of me, quite literally and I had been known to go dancing wearing short skirts without panties. I picked up the folder again and turned the page:
8. Lying on bed, legs apart, and dildo in pussy.
9. Kneeling on bed, dildo in pussy.
10.Kneeling on bed, dildo in bum.
11.Kneeling on bed, one dildo in pussy and another in ass.
12.Lying on bed, one dildo in pussy and another in ass.
Then there was a piece of text as follows:
'The previous poses are required from all applicants. The following poses are "Free Expression". Although the exact poses are not required we need at least 4 different poses.'
I looked at the next set:
13. Kneeling in shower, peeing.
14. Lying on bed, legs in air, fist part way into pussy.
15. Doing splits on floor.
16. Kneeling on bed, 2 fingers in ass.
I looked at the next set. It was off a petite, and rather pretty Eurasian girl in similar poses. The third set was of a busty black girl while the fourth depicted a pretty girl with long curly red hair. I spent several hours going through the folder; clearly I could never pose like that. I went back to bed leaving the folder on the table.
The next morning I lay in. Fuck it; I'm not going into work. I got up at 10, made the bed, tidied up and had some corn flakes. Sometime during the night something had clicked in my mind and I decided to do it. Not only do it, but I also wanted to put the original models to shame.
I went into the bathroom, if you could call it a bathroom, waxed my legs, and shaved my pussy and armpits. After all, the models were clean-shaven. I dressed conservatively and went out to the shops. When I returned I had a few new clothes and a tripod for the camera. I know I could have put the camera on the table, but a tripod would make things much easier. I striped naked and put my clothes away. Carefully I did my blonde hair up in two bunches with pink ribbon and slipped on a pair of white calf length socks and some trainers. With carefully applied makeup I now looked about 15 years old.
I wasted the first roll of film working out how to operate the camera, set the timer, get the exposure right and position myself just right. However the next two rolls produced the twelve required pictures. I must admit I looked really sexy, and a real slut. The "Free Expression" photos were a lot more problematic. I could pee in the shower, or shove my hand in my pussy but I wanted the studio to sit up and take notice.
Then with a start I stood up. Mick, my last boyfriend, had tried to fuck me with a beer bottle. He hadn't succeeded, mainly because I was being close-minded and wouldn't loosen up for him. It was partially because of this episode that I had dumped him. However, I knew that I could accommodate a beer bottle. I went into what passed for a kitchen and fetched a Bud, which I lubed with butter. Back in the bedroom I lay on the bed and worked the bottle into my pussy. Yes I know it would have been much easier if I had started with the narrow end or if someone else was working it in. But I wasn't about to ask anyone else to bottle fuck me and I wanted a spectacular photo.
It hurt like hell and took a lot of doing, but finally the base popped inside and the rest slid in with ease, right up to the neck. I lay back, exhausted, with tears streaming down my cheeks, but I had done it, right up to the fucking neck. It was difficult getting out of bed and waddling over to the camera to set the timer, but I did it a dozen times. I even managed to change the roll with the bottle shoved right up inside me. In the end I had a wonderful set of photos. Some with the bottle right inside me, some with it partially out, some with only the base inside me and a couple just after the bottle had been removed showing a gaping hole. I had run out of film and was totally drained so I curled up on the bed and dosed.
I awoke around 3 and sat bolt upright. What had I thought I was doing? Taking pornographic photos of myself for someone I had never even met. But it had been fun. Pity the film had run out, still there was a chemist in the high street. I pulled on a white blouse and that short pleated kilt I had bought for Mick, grabbed my purse and headed out the door. I got some funny looks as a walked down the street and not a few wolf whistles. Heading home with 6 rolls of film I passed a sports shop. I stopped dead in my tracks a few steps further on and walked back to look into the window. Fifteen minutes later I was back in my flat with the film, an aluminum softball bat and two table tennis bats.
The next set of photos were great, if difficult:
- Kneeling with the thin end of the bat sticking out of my pussy.
- Kneeling with the thick end of the bat sticking out of my ass.
- Kneeling with a table tennis bat sticking out of my pussy.
- Kneeling with a table tennis bat sticking out of my pussy and another sticking out of my ass.
- Kneeling with a beer bottle stuck right inside my pussy with only the top of the neck showing and a table tennis bat sticking out of my ass.
- Finally, and I don't know how I managed it, but kneeling with a beer bottle stuck in my pussy and another in my ass.
I cleared everything away and spread the photos out on the table. Could I really send them in? No of course I couldn't. I gathered them up to throw them in the bin but instead, and I still don't know why I did it, I put them in the provided envelope, dressed and went out to post the package. I stood by the post box for ages trying to work up the nerve to post the package, but wanting to take it home and burn it.
My nerve was about to crack when I heard a familiar voice, "Hi Doll".
Instinctively I shoved the package into the slot. Mick could never know what I had done. A little while later I had managed to get away from my ex. It hadn't been easy. After all, I was dressed like a slutty schoolgirl, pink ribbons in my hair, white semi-transparent shirt, kilt up around my ass-white socks and trainers. What had I been thinking going out dressed like that, twice?
I disposed of the processing packs and rubbish from the film rolls and put the camera away. The next day, Thursday, I went back to work. The boss was just as obnoxious as usual and shouted at me for taking the previous day off. There was no way I could work for him for much longer. On Friday evening, I hadn't been home more than a few minutes when the bell rang.
I opened the door and a rather distinguished man of about 35 wearing a black suit and bow tie asked, "Ms Prentice", I nodded, he continued, "Hello, My name is Joshua Dong, may I come in?"
I just stood there. I don't know what I had expected but it certainly wasn't this. We were sitting in the living room sipping coffee. We had been exchanging pleasantries about the weather and the state of the neighborhood.
Finally he said, "Ms Prentice, I received your photos this morning. Quite frankly I couldn't believe them. You are very pretty and quite uninhibited, if I may say so. No, please, don't get embarrassed, I see lots of photo sets, but quite frankly not many as good as these. However, I find it difficult to believe that you actually did the things in your 'Free Expression' routine; they could have been some sort of trick photography. No please let me finish. If I am sure that you did these things (and he spread the photos on the coffee table) especially this (pointing to the twin bottle photos) I am prepared to offer you a contract right here and now."
"What kind of contract?" I asked.
"Initially, four weeks erotic modeling for men's magazines at $10,000 a week."
I just sat there with my mouth wide open. If this was for real I would earn more in a week than I did in a year working for Mr. Obnoxious.
Finally I stammered, "How can I prove that I actually did it?" (I'm not that dim, I knew what he was going to say)
"Why, by doing it again and letting me watch", he replied.
"No I couldn't."
"In that case, good day Ms Prentice," and he started to stand up.
"No please, sit down. All right, I'll do it. But it hurt like hell and I had to struggle to get them in. Will you help me?"
"Of course my dear," he said. So...
I collected the bottles and butter before leading the way to the bedroom. I couldn't believe what I was about to do in front of a complete stranger. I lubed the bottles and sat them on the nightstand before stripping. Shit, what was I doing? What I was doing was lying on my back, legs wide open and stretching my pussy lips while Mr. Dong worked the Bud bottle into my pussy. It hurt like hell, but not as much as when I did it by myself. Finally it was all the way in and I lay back panting. When I had recovered somewhat I knelt up, pulled my ass cheeks apart while the second bottle was worked into my hole.
Shit, why on earth was I enduring this pain. I was just about to shout enough when the base slipped in and the bottle slid inside me all the way up to its neck.
Mr. Dong stood up and said, "Incredible. You know I didn't believe the photos but you really did it."
And with that he took each bottle by the neck and slowly began to fuck both my holes, one in, the other out. Shit I actually started to cum, and cum, and cum. I had never ever cum like that. Mr. Dong appeared pleased.
When I had recovered a little he asked, "Can you walk like that, if I help?"
"Not really, I can waddle a little."
"Could you walk if we removed the bottle from your ass?"
"I think so," I replied.
So, ever so gently he eased the bottle out of my rear and I got, rather unsteadily, to my feet.
"Put on something sexy", he said.
So I put on the short kilt and blouse, handing him the white socks and trainers. There was no way I could put them on myself.
"Incredible. You look like a 15-year-old," he said. "Now if you can make it to my car we can be off."
"What about my things and my job?" I asked.
"Are they worth $40,000?"
So I sort of wobbled out to his car. Thankfully, the lift was working for once; I couldn't have made the stairs.
Car he said. It was an enormous white stretched limo. I climbed in and sort of sprawled across one of the seats. Less than an hour later I was clambering (waddling) up the steps of his private Lear Jet. As we climbed out through the cloudbank we toasted my new life in Champagne.