Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Squirting, Lactation, Pregnancy, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Slow,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - I become a nude model for a professional photographer.
"Hi. Do you mind if I take your picture?", the pretty woman asked. She was holding a large and professional looking camera and had a couple of bags of gear with her.
"No," I said. "Please go ahead."
She smiled as she raised the camera up to her face and fiddled with some of the controls. The camera made a crisp snapping sound as the shutter clicked, recording my image for all posterity.
"What made you want to photograph me?", I asked.
She had busied herself with her gear, rummaging through one of the bags slung around her shoulder.
"Oh, I don't know. You just have an interesting face." She looked up and smiled again, then went back to her rummaging.
"Are you a professional?"
"Yes, I'm a freelance photographer. I take lots of shots hoping to find a few I can sell to magazines or stock photo agencies."
"I often wondered what it would be like to try to make a living as a photographer. Once upon a time I took a couple of photo classes and read a few books, thinking I would become a famous photographer."
"Wouldn't we all! What happened to change your mind?"
"I just didn't have the eye, I guess. My shots were more advanced than holiday snapshots, but nothing really great. A friend of mine who went to a professional school looked at my stuff and told me to keep my current job," I laughed.
"Oh, here it is," she said, producing a piece of paper out of one of her bags. "Would you mind signing this, please?"
It was a model release form. I was supposed to fill it in and sign it. Basically, a model release is a consent form, giving permission for the photographer or agent to use my image without me trying to collect royalties later or sue them for using my picture without my permission.
I filled in my name, address, and phone number, then I signed it and handed it back to her.
"Thanks a lot," she said, taking the paper from me and stuffing into a pouch on one of her bags. "I'll be seeing you."
She started to walk away.
"Hey, wait a minute. Not so fast. I'd like to see my picture when you get it developed. How do I get in contact with you?"
She reached into a pocket and handed me a business card that said "Helen Hunter, Freelance Photographer." The card also listed her address and phone number.
"Just give me a call in a week or two. If I'm not around, just leave a message."
"OK, thanks, Helen."
Helen smiled and turned. I watched her as she walked away. She was slender with a gracefully curved back, tapering to her generous butt cheeks. Her cheeks and gear bags swayed as she moved. I watched her until she was out of sight.
Standing there watching Helen head into the distance, I wondered what she saw that made her want to take my picture. I'm not a model-quality kind of guy by any stretch of the imagination. I'm not ugly or anything, but I don't think of myself as a chick magnet. I've had my share of lovers over the years, but women don't fight over me or drool when they see my picture. So I was curious about Helen's rationale, but it soon faded from my brain.
A couple of weeks had passed and I had forgotten about the photo incident completely. I work for a computer software company as a pre-sales technical support consultant. My job keeps me pretty busy, sometimes traveling all over the country and world. A lot of times I can't even remember what I did that morning, much less something that happened two weeks ago.
I was at home, unpacking from a business trip when the phone rang.
"Moshi, moshi," I said. Ever since I lived in Japan a couple of years ago, I'd taken to answering the phone in Japanese. My friends and family had gotten used to it, but it took anyone else by surprise, especially telemarketers.
"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong number," the female voice said. It didn't sound like someone who wanted to sell me something and in fact sounded a little familiar.
"Who did you want to talk to?", I asked.
"Is this Carlos' number?", she asked.
"Yes, who wants to talk to him?"
"It's Helen Hunter, the photographer who took his picture a couple of weeks ago."
"This is Carlos," I said. "Hi Helen. I'd completely forgotten about it."
"I thought I recognized your voice. But you took me with surprise with what you said when you answered the phone. What was it, mushy something?"
"It's what the Japanese say when they answer the phone - moshi, moshi. It's just like when we say hello. I do it to confuse telemarketers."
"So you speak Japanese?"
"Not fluently, but I know a few words and phrases. I used to live there a couple of years ago."
"Oh, that's sounds very interesting. You'll have to tell me more about it sometime. Listen, the reason I'm calling is to tell you about the picture I took of you."
"It's developed already?"
"Actually, I developed it the next day and submitted it to a couple of agencies. They said they wanted a few more shots of you to add to their listings."
"Yes, I submitted it to some stock photo agencies and a couple of them want a few more shots, different angles and expressions. So I wondered if we could get together and I'll take a few more pictures of you."
"OK, I guess so. Where? Do you want to come over here?"
"Actually, it would be easier for me if you came over here. That way I don't have to lug all my equipment around. Besides, I have a studio here at my house as well as a dark room and all that. I could show you the picture I took the other day and show you the new pictures after I develop them. What do you say?"
"OK, I'll come over there, then. When?"
"Is tonight alright? I'd like to get the shots as soon as I can."
"OK, what time?"
"How about 7 PM? That'll give me enough time to take the pictures and develop them without having to stay up til midnight."
"I'll see you at 7, then."
I pulled up at the address on her business card a few minutes before 7. It was a 2-story brown- stone building just like the ones you see so often in the movies. Helen answered the door, barefoot wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and cutoffs.
"Oh my god, it's 7 already?"
I had obviously taken her by surprise.
"I'm sorry, I completely lost track of time. I was going to take a shower and change clothes. I'm a total wreck. I've been working like crazy all day."
She closed the door behind me and walked off into the house. I didn't know if I should follow her or not.
"Am I following you?", I asked.
"Yeah, c'mon back to the studio."
I got a good rear view of Helen as I fell into step behind her. Her legs and arms were white as snow, but shapely nonetheless. The shorts were very baggy, as was the t-shirt, and I couldn't make out any other details of her anatomy.
The walls in the hallway leading back to the studio were covered almost floor to ceiling with photographs. Some were framed, but many more were just tacked or taped to the wall.
"Are these all yours?", I asked, stopping briefly to look at them.
"Yeah, that's pretty much a history of what I've done over the past 20 years. Some of them are from my college days, all the way up to a few days ago."
"Wow, these are really great," I said sincerely.
Some of the pictures were black and white, but most of them were pictures of people, kind of like character studies, I guess you'd call them. All the pictures I noticed were so expressive. A few of the faces were so haunting, while others looked so happy they would explode. There were a few nudes, but not the kind to give you a hard-on. Instead, they seemed to celebrate the human form.
"Thanks," Helen said, opening a door and beckoning me to follow her through it.
The walls of her studio were just as covered with photographs as the hallway was, even more so if that can be believed.
"Here's you," Helen said, pointing to a picture hanging on a wire above a table. "I made a couple of extra prints. You can have that one if you want."
I couldn't believe the person in the picture was me. I looked really different, almost good looking, almost like I was supposed to be somebody famous.
"Jeez, you make me look like I should be in the movies. I never thought I took good pictures, but this is -- I don't know what to say, you're really good!"
"As I said to you when I took the picture, I was drawn somehow to your face. So, obviously, are the stock agencies. Why don't you sit on that chair over there in front of the backdrop while I get things set up."
I sat down and stared at the photos on the wall facing me. They were more expressive faces in both color and black and white. But some of the pictures were not of faces. They kind of looked like sand dunes, except too smooth to be real ones.
"Those are a few bodyscapes I was experimenting with a few months ago." Helen was standing beside me.
"Yeah, pictures of people's bodies. I place the lights in such a way and focus on curves of the person's form so it looks like graceful curves. You can see it in this one." She pointed to one of the pictures. "It was a female model. I had her get undressed and lay down on a table. Here's the curve of her stomach and side. Down here leads to her navel, and down here the curve leads to her pubis. You can see the slight rise of her pubic mound and the shadow of where she had shaved off her pubic hair."
I could see it, now that Helen explained it to me.
"Wow," I said stupidly, too stunned by the erotic beauty to think of anything intelligent to say. "And what's this one," I said, pointing to another picture.
Whatever it was, I didn't recognize it, but it was cylindrical or curved, and a little on the shiny side.
"That's an erect penis," Helen said. "The picture was taken mid-shaft so you can't see either end. The guy had shaved, too, so you don't see any hair that would give it away."
"So the idea was to fool the viewer?"
"Maybe not to fool them, but to make them wonder what they were looking at, and in the process give them a different perspective of the human body."
"I think you succeeded very well."
"Yeah, I did. The agencies snapped them up right away. They've already sold several copies. I hope to do more of this type of photography as soon as I find more models."
"Why not use the same models?"
"I guess I could, but I like to use a variety of different models, just to get different views and shots. OK then. If you would just turn a little this way."
Helen turned me this way and that way until she had me posed just right, then snapped a few shots. She had me turn around a little more, and snapped off another series of exposures. We continued this way for about a half hour. All in all, Helen must have take over 150 pictures.
While she was busy taking pictures, I took the opportunity to examine Helen as much as I could get away with. Her baggy sleeveless t-shirt came open every now and then to show me she was not wearing a bra. Her breasts were a little on the smallish size, but it looked like she had large enough nipples to make up for any perceived lack of breast size. The way the lights were shining made it difficult for me to see if her nipples were dark or light in color, but I could see the center nub extending from the middle of her ample aureoles.
When Helen crouched down to make adjustments to the equipment or to get a shot from a lower angle, her cutoff shorts rode up her vee a little bit. I couldn't tell if she was wearing panties or not, but I could easily see that her vaginal area was both wide and long. I hope she didn't see that my penis was beginning to awaken in my pants.
"OK, that's it for the camera. Now let's get the rolls developed."
Helen picked up this tube-looking device and opened a little door in one end, placing one of the rolls of film inside.
"What's that for?", I asked.
"It's a film developer. I fill the reservoirs with developer solution, fixer, and stop bath fluids, then turn it on and let it go. It only takes a few minutes for each roll. I can develop these 10 rolls we just took in about 30 minutes without having to use a darkroom or spend the time doing it."
Helen picked up two more developers and repeated the process with two more rolls. As I was looking over her shoulder, her t-shirt came open in the front and I could see that her nipples were light beige in color. From the side I could see that her breasts were a little bigger than I at first thought. There was a side cleavage about 2 or 3 inches long. All of the skin I could see was as white as I first observed when I arrived earlier. It seemed to give her an innocent and fragile look and I found myself irresistably drawn to her.
"Pretty ingenious. What do you do next?"
"Then I'll make contact sheets from the negatives so we can look at the pictures quickly."
"Photography sure has come a long way since I took those classes years ago."
"How long ago was that?"
"I guess that was in 1971 or '72. I was in college then."
"So that makes you about 48 or so?"
"Try 50. I just turned 50 back in June."
"Could have had me fooled. I figured you for over 40, about my age, 43, but not 50!"
Helen turned to her work and I started examining the photos on the wall again. I was especially interested in the bodyscapes. The first one I had looked at before was very erotic. I found myself becoming aroused as I followed the contours of the model's body, down to her pubic mound. I could indeed see the shadows where she had shaved her pubic hair away. The picture ended right where I imagined her vaginal slit would start.
I never would have guessed that the tubular looking shiny thing was a guy's penis. But now that she had told me what it was, I could see the ridges and rises identifying it as someone's dick. I'm not a homosexual, but I have to admit I was aroused by this picture, too.
Some of the other bodyscapes were easy to discern, now that I knew what I was looking at. In one of the pictures, Helen had focused on a woman's thigh, capturing the curvature of it as it flowed up to the model's crotch, stopping at the hollow between the top of the thigh and the bulge of her outer labia.
"What an enormous turn-on," I thought to myself, as I stared open-mouthed at the picture, my penis pulsing rapidly in my pants.
"That's probably my favorite of the series," Helen said. "I was going for maximum erotic value with it."
"You were definitely successful," I managed to blurt out.
"Really? What does it do for you?"
I was taken by surprise by her question, and I didn't know quite how to answer it at first.
"Well, it took me a few seconds to figure out that it was a woman's thigh. Here's the part right above the knee. Here's where the quadricep muscle curves up towards the pelvis. And here's the top of the thigh where it meets her crotch. The edge of the picture only suggests what could be seen if the lens had been wider at that side. But you make sure the viewer knows what's just out of sight by showing just the slightest bit of the model's large vaginal lips."
"OK, that's what's in the picture, but I asked to know what the picture does to you."
"Well, if you must know, it makes me aroused."
"You mean, you get a hard-on looking at it?"
"Yes," I said, somewhat embarrassedly.
"Good, 'cause that's the effect I was after. I wanted any man who looked at it to get a hard-on, and any woman who looked at it to cream herself."
I have to admit I was surprised to hear Helen say this, not because I'm a prude, which I'm not, but because it was just so surprising for our conversation to have headed off in this direction. I was getting harder by the minute. I wanted to throw Helen down and fuck her brains out. But I didn't dare, gentleman that I am. And besides, I'm way too timid to force myself on anyone.
Helen got back to work taking the developed rolls out of the developing tubes, or whatever they were called, and unrolling the negatives. She had a special squeegee device that quickly took any excess fluids off of the negatives.
"OK, now into the darkroom to make the contact sheets. C'mon with me."
I followed Helen into a small room at the back of the studio. She closed the door and turned on a red light.
"Did you ever do darkroom work back in your college classes?", she asked me.
"A little bit, not much."
"So maybe you'll understand what I'm doing then."
Helen cut the rolls of negatives into strips of 8 negatives each, then arranged the cut strips on 8-inch by 10-inch enlargment paper. The negatives were in direct contact with the paper, hence the name "contact sheet."
Each sheet was placed in turn in the enlarger and Helen turned the light on for a few seconds. The sheets were then placed in the three development solutions until finally the contact sheets were finished and hung up to dry. The whole process took only about 15 minutes.
I stood looking over her shoulder while she worked, hoping to get another view of her breasts. But the darkroom was too dark to really see anything. I had to content myself with enjoying the faint but sweet aroma of her perfume.
Our work completed, Helen turned the lights on and started looking closely at the contact sheets with what seemed to me to be a jeweler's loupe.
"Yes, I think I've got a few here the agencies will like," Helen said, browsing the small images on the contact sheets. "Here," she said, handing me the loupe. "What do you think?"
I couldn't believe that the person in the pictures was me. I never would have guessed that any of the shots would have come out like this. I looked like I was a totally different person, not just because of all the different poses Helen arranged me in, but all my facial expressions were not typical for me, at least I didn't think so.
"I'm stunned," was all I could think of to say.
"What feeling do you get from looking at the images?"
"That it's not me. That it's somebody else."
"What makes you think that?"
"I just don't think of myself as looking like this. You've captured something that either isn't there, or maybe is there but I didn't know it was there. I'm not sure I'm making any sense."
"No, you're making perfect sense. Here we are, almost perfect strangers. Other than a few cursory details I know practically nothing about you. Maybe what you see is what you get?"
"I don't know about that, but I'm stunned by what I'm seeing. I don't know what to think or say."
"Do you like what you're seeing?"
"Oh my, yes. These are the best pictures anyone has ever taken of me. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like all those natives were right when they accused the photographers of stealing their souls."
Helen laughed. "I guess I can take that as a compliment then?"
"Heavens, yes. These photos are amazing and wonderful. You make me look better than reality."
"Don't downgrade yourself. I just make pictures of what I see."
I almost was willing to believe her, that somehow other people saw me as something I didn't see in myself.
"I hope you will let me have copies of all of these?"
"Oh sure. I just can't give you the negatives."
"That's all right. I just want the pictures. You're a genius, Helen."
"Would you like to pose for more pictures sometime? I think you'd make a wonderful model for a new series I've been thinking of."
"Sure, I guess so. I'm flattered you'd ask. What kind of pictures?"
"Kind of like those bodyscapes you were looking at earlier."
"You mean I'd need to take my clothes off?"
"Yes, but no one would be able to tell who you were. You'd be completely anonymous."
"You'd be able to see me though."
"Of course, I'd be taking your pictures. But I'm a professional photographer. I've had lots of nude models."
"I guess it would be OK." Actually, I was pretty aroused by the thought of being naked with Helen. She was a good looking woman and I wanted to see her naked, too."
"Good, but don't think it would be anything other than a professional relationship, nothing sexual."
"Right," I said. But I was hoping for something different than just a photo shoot. "When do we start?"
"Let me finish this project and I'll give you a call in a few days."