Porn Model

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Drunk/Drugged, .

Desc: Sex Story: Boy meets girl cute.....and sexy.

(originally Still Life in Blue)

It's funny how people react to what I do. Usually, it happens at parties when one of my friends tells a small group, a couple of drinks after I arrive. Actually, it pisses me off a little, as though taking pornographic pictures was my life's work. I've always figured I'd go on to something else, after I build up a nest egg, which is easy to do. There aren't that many good guys in the business, so if you can focus well, understand light and filters, and have a little imagination, the dummies that run the business are nuts for your work. It's big money.

But that isn't what people care about. All of them, men and women alike, get this look in their eyes, a combination of curiosity, excitement, and edginess. They find a lot of different ways to talk to me about it. Some women will just come up and ask "What's it like taking pictures of people fucking?" Not many, but when that happens, and they're good looking, I know I have a prospective model. Men are most often blunter, starting with something like "Do you get to fuck 'em?" or "What's it smell like?" I tell 'em yes, and sweaty. It's what they want to hear. The smell actually depends on the perfume the models wear.

Most women tiptoe around it. They try to be subtle, cool, but for some reason the anxiety, the stimulation, always shows. I guess I'm Temptation, in the flesh. It's rare that I get an ear beating, though not unheard of. But it's very hard to get me angry. When you spend your working hours with beautiful naked women, rarely missing a day without fucking at least one of them, you are very placid. The only trouble is, I have this tendency to undress them mentally. And they all know I'm doing it. I've missed getting to know some very nice ladies because they walked off in a huff.

Some men are almost hilarious trying to hide their envy. "Must get old after a while." "Seen one, seen 'em all, eh?" I tell 'em no, every pussy is different, every woman a new experience, every session a surprise. That pisses 'em off. My buddies like watching all the different reactions. Most of them have watched a session or two, though never one of the steamier ones that ends in my getting laid. They think that happens, because I do boast a bit when I get sloshed, but it's fun to keep 'em guessing.

Denise was one of the women who came up to me the minute she found out my vocation and bluntly asked "How much does a girl get paid to pose nude?" I have a pat answer for that, since it's a sliding scale, depending on how pretty she is, how big her tits are, how good her body is, and how willing she is. My first session with a woman, when she's a Net virgin, I usually make a deal with her that she'll get a minimum, and more if one of the slick magazines likes her look. You know, Playboy, Penthouse, those. If she's willing to do a fuck series, that excludes the slicks, but the money's a lot better, particularly for someone fresh and good looking. When I told Denise she could probably make ten g's for two hours work, if her body was as neat as it looked, her eyes lit up. "How can you be sure?"

That party was at Joe's house, the one up in the hills with the neat patio around a swimming pool. She was a tall, full figured brunette in her mid twenties, in a loose black chemise, but nicely made up, with long legs. Her face had a dark, sensual aspect that was often hard to catch in photographs, but with her wide mouth, large eyes, and deep tan, she was a good prospect. It was about ten, and most people would start drifting home soon, since things start early in tinseltown. "Wait 'til things clear out, and skinny dip for me." I said, in my best matter of fact tone. She looked at me in a calculating way, then just grunted "Okay" and walked off.

By midnight, there were three naked girls in the pool, and Joe and Arthur were after them. But the girls were just teasing, you can tell, and I was about to head home when I saw Denise come out of the pool house. Her hair was still up, she had her three inch heels on, but aside from that, true to her word, she was bareass. You could see she worked out. Her hips were slim, those long legs beautifully formed, and her tummy was flat and rippled a little as she walked toward the shallow end. It was her tits and pussy that made my cock jump most uncharacteristically. I mean, I'm supposed to be a professional.

Her boobs are just the right size for porn, big, firm, with small nipples that get hard real easily. I have a keen eye for surgery, and she hadn't had any. They were italian naturals, the best there is. There was no tan line at all on her chest. She had her pubic hair shaved in a thin rectangle, then nude underneath, with a very deep slit. There was a pale triangle there. She stopped at the set of steps that led down into the pool, and looked at me. She glanced at the others, who were preoccupied with the nymphettes in the deep end, then faced me, spread her legs, and pulled her outer labia apart.

Her inner lips were nicely formed, not wrinkled much, and she had an outsize clitoris. From my distance, about ten feet, I couldn't see if it had a head, but it stuck out a good inch as she used a finger to pull the hood up. She must have practiced in the mirror, because you have to know what you're doing to get just the right pressure so all the flesh doesn't flatten. My cock lurched again, she saw it, smiled, and took her hands away. Then she stepped into the pool, wading in, submerging to the neck, then turned, wiggling her nice ass as she walked back up to her shoes, slipped them on again, and quickly disappeared into the pool house.

She was back in five minutes, her face a little flushed, but dressed, looking put back together nicely. A little tendril of hair had dropped across her brow, and my cock twitched again. It was a hell of a look, the sophisticated lady a little sexy. "Well?" I realized I'd been holding my breath as she walked up to me, and exhaled. "Sure, baby. Ten grand, no problem. But listen, you have a great body, we could do a glamour package, try for the slicks, maybe make a career for you. Once you've been fucked on the Net, you can't go back."

She was watching me with that calculating look. I suddenly realized she was smart, holding my eyes, knowing the effect she was having on me. Her arm came up to my elbow. "Nope, just a one time thing, but I want the money in advance, okay? I mean, the day I do it. And it has to be before next Friday. Give me your number and I'll call you in the morning."

It isn't that girls rarely do this to get quick money. That's probably thirty percent of them. But rarely are they willing to jump right into hardcore, and pretty ones almost always want to try more legit, less raunchy things first. As I fumbled with my business card, which reads "Guillaume, Fashion Photography" she kept hold of my elbow. When she glanced at the card, her eyebrows raised. I smiled, and told her "Guillaume is French for William. Bud jou kin call me Bill."

She grinned for the first time that I had seen, and stretched up to kiss my cheek lightly. She did it in that confident way women who are sure of their beauty have. "You're saving my life, Bill. Will you be there by ten?"


We did the shoot the next Tuesday afternoon. I had three glamour sessions in the morning with girls who were fucking a couple of the Mafia guys who controlled several porn sites, and one of them wanted to get it on with me, but I ducked her. I was hoping to get lucky with Denise. She came in as I was sitting at my desk near the door, chomping on a Pastrami sandwich, thinking there might be money to be made if you could fly the real thing in from New York.

She looked completely different. She had on very heavy makeup, purple eye shadow, false eyelashes, black lipstick, like a whore. Her hair was hanging down, over her shoulders, but had a freshly waved look. In a set of tight lime pants and a halter, she could have been a lot of the models I had worked with, except better loooking. I suppose my face lit up when she came in, and she smiled at me. "Like the look, babe?" But her hand holding what looked like a makeup case was tight and tense. The other hand shook a little as she pushed hair out of her eyes.

I stared at her a moment, wondering if the way she was made up was what I needed, until I realized she wanted to hide her identity as best she could. That's not unusual either, and she was obviously knowledgable enough to use makeup well. She sensed my question, and whispered "I worked on seventh avenue years ago. In separates. Before..." Then she stopped. Before I got married, I suspected she was going to say. But I left it alone.

The guy who had advanced me the cash on my word about how good looking she was hadn't wondered about anything but the size of her tits. So he wasn't expecting the Denise I had first met. But her nervousness was a problem. I pulled my drawer open and quickly grabbed a reefer. It's the best for making first timers relax. I lit it, and handed it to her. "Hi Denise. You look great, terrific. Can't have you edgy, though. Do this whole thing. It's good stuff. The dressing room's over there, take everything off, and rub the lines from your pants away. Then find one of those black loose things that fits. We'll do some solo shots. Danny's coming about two thirty."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Mult / Drunk/Drugged /