Chapter 14D

Ronnie set me up for my first modeling session on Wednesday afternoon. I was going to be paid seventy-five bucks for an afternoon of work with a photographer that Ronnie knew. That was a pretty hefty sum in those days for a nonprofessional my age, although a pro would have been paid more. The session went well and was similar to posing for an artist, but with many more pose changes and a constant stream of instructions from the photographer. He was a handsome, shipshape man in his late thirties or early forties. There were many boring lighting adjustments between shots, then his motorized cameras would start rolling like crazy for several dozen frames.

I started with clothing, and the clothing got more scarce as the session went on. A couple of assistants were around until the last half hour of poses, when the photographer requested to be alone to "concentrate on the personal stuff." Another half hour of posing nude with only a minor lighting change followed.

It ended with the photographer turning off all the lights in the place except a dim fill on the background. He approached me without a word, and I anticipated another adjustment of the dim background flood, which was the only light on. But the man stood right in front of me and looked down at my cock, which was not aroused, and ran a finger along my thigh toward my crotch. I recoiled, not from recognition of what was happening, but because his touch ignited an instant itch along my leg.

I reached down to scratch the itch, saying, "Oh. excuse me," but his hand grabbed mine, gently, and held it. I thought he was adjusting my pose. But when he didn't move I looked up. He was staring intently into my face.

I asked, "Am I doing it wrong?"

Without stirring, he said, unsmiling, "Oh, no. You're right. You're just right." He gave my eyes a steady stare and I felt his palm sliding up my thigh again.

I stepped back and held up my hands, growing immediately shaky. I said, "Hey, uh, I don't know what I did, but... I'm women only."

He smiled curiously, squinting, and eyed me with a tilt of his head. "You're what?"

I could feel my breath mounting. I was scared as hell. Were those other assistants in the next room? I took another step back, holding my hands up again.

He took a step toward me and said, amused, "Did you say 'women only'? Is that what you said?" He stopped a few inches away from me.

I nodded yes.

His smile faded, and he looked me up and down, and gazing at my cock he said temptingly, "I could make it worth your while. Very much worth it."

I said, gulping, "Uh, seventy-five for today will be just fine."

He gave me a scornful smile and a small chuckle and reached down to pick up a lighting cable and said, walking casually away, "Get dressed."

I picked up my clothes from the chair we used for posing and the guy threw a switch to bring the lights back up. I put on my shirt and pants in the room while he ignored me, and then I left the room, my shirt unbuttoned and my shoes and socks off. I finished dressing in the outer office while the secretary typed up a check and handed it to me. I looked at it. $100 instead of seventy-five. That wouldn't be enough to get me back in there again.

As I left I wondered if the check was good. I jogged to the bank whose address was on the check. I got a single Ben Franklin bill right away.

By the time I left the bank I was no longer shaky. Instead, I was pissed at having felt so terrorized and powerless in that studio.

This being Wednesday, Ronnie would be working at home in the late afternoon. At a phone booth I called Ronnie's apartment and told her I was paid a hundred bucks. She said, "Hey, good work! You got a bonus! I guess he'll ask you back."

I told her I wouldn't have time for another session before I left town, and not to bother setting him up again. That's all I told her.

"So," she asked over the phone, "How'd you feel posing?"

"I'll get used to it."

"No, really. Were you on edge, comfy, or what?"

I lied, "Comfy." I wasn't going to let Ronnie's concern keep me from getting more work. Maybe I could even start a side thing going and extend my stay in New York -- if I could find a way to keep the Memphis school system from starting the Fall semester on time!

Ronnie said, "Hey, call Martha at work. I just got off the phone with her. Remember, we promised we'd call as soon as you finished. Do you have her number?"

"Yeah." A guy passed me on the street, and he seemed to give me the once-over. Or maybe he didn't. Then again, maybe he did.

I called Martha at work. She was miffed at my calling so late and said she had stayed at the office after four because she was worried that I hadn't called. I told her the story about cashing the check, withholding all the other details, and I apologized.

She said crankily, "Get yourself home so we can have dinner. And, Steven, please don't do this to me again. When I thought something went wrong, I was at a complete loss. You had me scared to death."

I apologized again, profusely.

And for the rest of the week I behaved as well as I could. After all, something had indeed gone wrong, proving that Martha was right about my not knowing my way around New York. I was a real sweet kid when she came home from work looking tired and flustered. I got the bed ready for her, started making coffee and breakfast for her again in the mornings, and pampered her every night to the point of getting the bed ready and sweet talking her into getting more rest.

I couldn't blame Ronnie. As far as she knew the photographer was on the up-and-up. When I had lunch with Ronnie on Thursday I still made no mention of the photographer.

Ronnie said, "You know, since he paid you extra, he must have been satisfied with you. Maybe we could wrangle a couple of prints from him. That's really the way to set it up, with some photographs of you."

I said quickly, "No, he said he was going out of town. I don't have enough time left in New York to keep track of him."

Ronnie said, "Well, I guess you're right." She chewed her shrimp salad and swallowed and said, "We having dinner with Martha tomorrow night? As usual?"

"Yeah," I said. "The usual Friday night dinner, I guess."

She said, mischievously, "And extended dessert afterwards?"

I grinned and said, "Yeah. The usual Friday night dessert."

But it wasn't the "usual" Friday night.

It started out that way, with dinner at the same inexpensive joint on 86th Street, and a lazy stroll home. We went to Ronnie's apartment instead of Martha's, and I was surprised to see what her bedroom looked like in its normal state, with that weird bed of hers pulled out of the wall and properly set up.

While the three of us we were getting undressed in her darkened bedroom I asked Ronnie, "Isn't it a pain in the neck to move all your stuff around this room and set up the bed?"

Ronnie said, unhooking her bra, "I haven't had anybody pose for me in a while. It doesn't happen that often."

I said, pulling off my jeans, "Next time I pose, why don't you just let me move all that stuff for you?"

She smiled at me as she pulled her panties off. "Aw, that's sweet. For that, you get a reward tonight."

I feigned a fearful grimace and kidded her, 'Uh-oh. A reward. This one won't make me go blind, will it?"

"Well," she said, teasing, "like the joke goes, you might need new glasses."

Martha stood naked in the bedroom doorway and looked around. She said, "Ronnie, you want candles?"

Ronnie said, "Oh, Martha, yes. We need candles."

"Where are they?"

"Come on, I'll show you," Ronnie said, and as they disappeared into the bathroom Ronnie said, "Anyway, I wanna talk to you again for a minute."

Martha argued, "Again?"

Ronnie said, "I just want you to show me one more time."

Martha said, "Oh, Ronnie..."

I lay naked in Ronnie's bed, wondering what the two women were up to. I could hear them talking in the bathroom but couldn't make out the words, and in a moment they came into the bedroom and Martha had a big green candle. Martha said, "Oh, this is one of those nice ones that we can't find any more," and Ronnie said, "I know, I've looked everywhere for them. We got them for Christmas, you know." Martha set the candle on a small table beside the bed and said as she struck a match and lit it, "These smell so good. Not like those overdone, sugary things."

Ronnie turned out the light, leaving us in the warm glow of the slow flame from the fat green candle beside the bed.

"That looks nice," Martha said, sitting up on her legs beside me on the bed. "Like it, Steven?"

I said, "I like it near the bed like that. The flame glows in your eyes."

"Yes," she said, looking at my eyes. "Yours too. That'll make it very sensuous."

Ronnie reached under the bed and pulled out a drawing tablet and said, getting into the bed with me and Martha, "I was working on these this week. Steven inspired me. Steven, I hope they don't embarrass you." Ronnie sat up on the side of the bed nearest the candle, her legs folded under her, with me between the two of them, and she held the big tablet on her lap and opened it.

Martha whispered, "Oh," and I saw a pencil drawing of a young man that looked a lot like me. The figure reclined and was shown in a side view, from the head to just below the hips. He was dressed in what appeared to be shirt and jeans, though this was suggested rather than drawn in great detail. It was a figure in profile, details suggested by variations in shape and line. The young man's head was thrown back a bit, chin up, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, and at the belt line the jeans were undone and a slender feminine hand reached into the picture from the left and enclosed the figure's long, erect cock.

I blushed profusely, and Martha grinned at me. "I guess it was too much to expect Steven not to blush."

"I know," Ronnie said, and she smiled at me, "He'll probably never pose for me again."

I said, "I wouldn't say that." Not only was I embarrassed, but the drawings were very arousing.

Ronnie turned the page, and Martha said, "That's a nice one, too."

The second picture was like the first, except that the figures were more sillouhetted, and coming into view at the left side was a young woman's head and neck, hovering over the erect penis as the female fist seemed to be rubbing the tip of the male's erection. I began to see a pattern of certain lines forming in the picture. A loose end of the undone belt on the young man's jeans hung loosely in the air, curled upward. It was matched by the curves of the upturned face and nose, and the slight curl of the thumb of the woman's hand on the cock; and echoed again in the curls of the woman's wavy, curly hair and her slightly parted lips, and her eyelashes had another form of the same curly lines.

Ronnie said jokingly, "Martha, Steven's wondering what the hell's going on here, with these two nekkid broads and the dirty pictures."

Martha said, "Dirty pictures is a poor description, Ron. They're done so well. Just because they happen to be very erotic."

I pointed at the curled end of the belt and said, "This," and I pointed at the curled thumb and the eyelashes, and said, "And these."

Ronnie said, "Yes. Very observant."

Martha said, "What's he pointing to?"

"These shapes," Ronnie said, pointing to the same ones.

Martha said, "Yes, I noticed that, too."

Ronnie said, "No fair, Martha, Steven saw 'em first."

She turned the page. The third drawing was similar, except that the woman's hand was farther down on the guy's dick and the girl's silhouetted face was looking slightly down, the eyelashes more curled and obvious now, and her eyes seemed to be watching the first, curling spurt of cum that slurped from the cock's tip into the air. And I noticed in the picture that most of the broadly curled lines were more exaggerated and active.

In the fourth drawing, the woman's silhouette extended into the picture, her head looking down. Her breasts and clearly delineated nipples, which were larger than Ronnie's, hovering directly over the penis as ejaculate zoomed upward, a long curl of fluid caught in midair, and another on its way up. And again, every curled line in the picture from the woman's wavy hair to the arching ejaculate was more alive, The picture seemed to bristle with a frenzy of excited curves.

Martha breathed. "Oh. Ronnie. This one's very powerful."

Ronnie said, "You think so?"

"Just right," Martha said.

The fifth picture had a similar activity, but now the woman's nipples dripped a slurp of cum, and the woman's mouth seemed to be opened more as the face looked down, as if the woman were saying "Ah" as she watched a new, thick, very long curl of sperm splash upward toward her breasts, and two smaller slurps dripped from the woman's nipple. This series of drawings was seriously turning me on. I felt an uncomfortable tightening in my crotch.

In the last picture the emotionalism of the curls and curves had settled. The woman's hand still held the cock, but now only a single, thin slurp hung suspended from the nipple, and the woman had lowered her head to give the erect tip a light kiss, and the male's silhouetted, undetailed face seemed more at ease.

Ronnie said, "That's all. So far."

Martha said, "Ron, they're beautiful. Really. If only someone would publish these."

Ronnie said, her voice distant and quiet as she gazed at her own drawings, "Oh, there are people who would. But not the way they're supposed to be published. Anyway... they're private right now. Between you and me. And him. Very private. Just for here and just for tonight."

Martha said, "Let me see the one before it again."

Ronnie turned the page back, to the most emotionally charged of the pictures, the one showing the height of the orgasm and the cum spurting and dripping.

"Yes," Martha said, "that one." Martha looked at the picture for a moment, her eyes seeming to reach out to it. I glanced at Ronnie and saw her staring at her drawing, her eyes growing intense.

Martha asked, "Is that what it was like for you. When it actually happened?"

Ronnie whispered, the hint of a smile on her lips, "Yes."

Martha said, "It's a very exciting picture."

Ronnie whispered, "I *was* excited. And Steven had his head thrown back like that. I tried to capture all of it."

I said to Ronnie, my throat a little dry, "If I remember, you didn't seem all that excited."

Ronnie said, her eyes on the picture, "Oh, I was," and she put her hand on my knee and squeezed and said, "I was very excited." Then Ronnie pointed to the squirting sperm and asked quietly, "What does that feel like? When it spouts up like that?"

I started to laugh at that one, but I sighed, seeing that she was serious and intent, and I answered lightly, "I really don't know how to explain it."

Martha said to Ronnie, "You do ask tough questions, Ron."

Ronnie said, unfazed but acknowledging Martha and me with a fleeting, apologetic little shrug, "Well, but... I mean, just this coming out of you like that. Can you physically feel it?"

I rubbed my forehead, searching for words, and said, "I don't know if there are words for that. It... well, I do feel it kind of boiling up from under my testicles, that's where it starts, but--"

Ronnie murmured, "Testicles, I hate that word."

I went on, "Well, boiling up from down under, and then... I don't really feel it going through me, but I do feel it in the slit, the little slit in my tip, because the skin around the slit has nerves." I shrugged. "That's the only way I can describe it, I guess."

Martha said to Ronnie, "This is my argument for the value of sex education in schools."

Ronnie said, "Oh, they only talk about hormones and cells in sex ed, they don't talk about orgasmic pleasure and emotions."

Martha said, "They would if I taught sex education."

Ronnie touched Martha's shoulder and said gently, "That, Martha, is why they don't let you teach it." Martha nodded, conceding the point, and Ronnie looked back at the drawing. She said absently, "I know about the pulses, it's very exciting to feel that, but..." Ronnie sighed resignedly and said, "Oh, I'm making this too complicated, I guess."

Martha interrupted to help me out, telling Ronnie, "The guy feels a lot of internal movement in his scrotum, that results from the muscle action down there where ejaculate is collected, and it forces the fluid out. It's very pleasurable. A lot like water going down your throat when you're really thirsty, only it's in reverse." As Martha spoke I recalled telling her the same thing, years ago, in the Lauderdale Courts.

Ronnie glanced at her, "You learn this in sex ed class?"

Martha said, "A guy told me. He also told me guys don't really care to talk about it, or they don't know how."

Ronnie sighed again. "Well, the sight of a strong male orgasm is so... so much more stimulating than I thought it would be."

Martha asked Ronnie, "And what were your feelings? What did you feel seeing this, and drawing it?"

Ronnie said, looking up and pondering. "Oh, I felt... when the cum flew up and landed on me, you know, these heavy drops jumping up and striking me, so softly but so, mm, so strong, it was... it was exciting, but at the same time it was soothing, it was... comforting, and very dark, very... primitive..." Ronnie smiled weakly. She closed the book, saying, "I guess Steven's right. I don't think there are words for it."

Martha said, prompting her, "There was a sense of power? Remember? You said the guy always seemed to be in control, and you wanted to experience that yourself."

Ronnie admitted quietly, "Yes. There was that. There was so much more, though. Steven gets so involved in his orgasm..." She sighed and she rose to her knees on the mattress and said, "It was feeling, all feeling. I don't have words. I just draw it." She gently pitched the big paper tablet away from her, and it floated lightly away and landed flat on the floor near the bed.

We relaxed on the bed, Martha telling Ronnie that the pictures were wonderful, and Ronnie lay on her side facing me, her head resting on a pillow and one arm crooked behind her head, and I lay on my side facing Ronnie, propped up on one elbow, and Martha sat on her folded legs on Ronnie's other side.

Ronnie looked up at me. She said calmly, "I read that during orgasm there's a vibration in the sex organs. It's like a note on a tuning fork that plays at a frequency of eight cycles per second. And terror is a feeling very similar to it."

I murmured, "Yes. That's below the threshold of audibility.

Martha said, gazing at the candle near her side of the bed, "When I have an orgasm, it's a series of events. There's a tension that builds for a long time, and it's very pleasing, which is why I like to hold onto it as long as I can. It increases the pleasure. And I feel this great... this great need to be filled with something, this need to open up and be filled with... with something. Then there's a... a softness, I guess. It's like a heavenly softness that caresses and fills my whole body, and it builds inside me and it just seems to fill me."

Ronnie said quietly, "Yes. I feel something like that. It really is difficult to describe, isn't it?"

Martha said quietly, looking at the candle, "Yes."

Ronnie looked up at me, her eyes finding mine. "What's it like for you, Steven?"

I said, I don't know."

She smiled. "Come on. Try. Let me know what it's like for you, so I can make it better."

I sighed deeply, thinking. I let my eyes glance around, Ronnie's eyes being too distracting while she looked at me. I said, "Well, there are so many external sensations. Too many, I can't get even get into all that --"

Ronnie said softly, "No, not the externals, I can guess about that. I mean, inside. Tell me."

I smiled and said, "Well, no, I'd have to sort all that out. We could be here for days."

She said, "That's all right," and she reached out and laid her palm on my thigh, which was near her hip. She said, "We'll listen."

I said, "That's a large order. I was thinking more in terms of the overall sensation, the main feeling."

"All right," Ronnie said, her nails casually stroking my thigh and her eyes watching me, her eyes increasingly attentive.

Martha prodded me, "Tell her, Steven. Try."

As I thought about it, Martha rose from her spot on Ronnie's other side, and she walked around the end of the bed while I spoke, and she got onto her knees just behind me on the mattress and touched my shoulder and back while I said, "There's a pressure that builds, as you say. And then I feel that vibration you talk about. It's funny, the pleasure of that vibration is so strong and yet I can't... can't say exactly where it happens. It's not exactly in my penis, it's... it just seems to be spread all through the organs, not in any one place. But that feeling leads to the release. And the release is... the best part is the pouring out, the... the spurting."

"Yes," Ronnie said. Her finger kept stroking a little spot on my thigh, and Martha leaned closer into my back, her nipples against me, and Ronnie's eyes tracked mine as if her eyes were trying to feel what my words were saying.

Martha said to Ronnie, "The spasm, Ronnie, the squirt, it's like the cervix clamping. You know? Only shorter and faster."

"Right," Ronnie said, her eyes still watching me.

I went on, frowning with the difficulty of the thought, "But it's the ejaculating, it's the..."

Ronnie winced, shaking her head and muttering ruefully, "God, the words they thought up for this. Ejaculate. Scrotum. And they say that words like squirt and balls are ugly. Can you believe it?" She opened her eyes. "Sorry, baby, go ahead."

I said, "If I had the pleasure sensation, but the emptying was missing, the spurting, then I guess the orgasm wouldn't feel complete. Although that vibration really does feel good."

Martha said, her face on my shoulder, "So it's the emptying, the release of pressure. Mmm. That explains a lot about the first time I saw you cum. That's why it's so different when I would hold you back from finishing."

I nodded yes, and Ronnie surprised me when she asked Martha, "You gave Steven an orgasm before? In Memphis?"

Martha tensed a little, averting Ronnie's eyes, and said, "Well. A while ago."

Ronnie smiled. "I thought so. And it must have been very exciting, both of you so young and innocent."

Martha blushed, "Not very innocent. And it was a long time ago."

Ronnie said, "But it's still exciting." Her eyes lit up and she gave a tight, girlish grin. "Steven, Martha showed you how to cum? Way back then, she gave you an orgasm?" And Martha and I blushed, Martha conceding, "Well, yes." And Ronnie opened her mouth wide in amazed delight and gaped at us, and then her mouth closed into a soft smile. "Oh, that's so exciting! And very dark. Oh, so very dark." Ronnie looked at me again and said, her voice growing lazy and sensual, "And so that's why you and Martha let the pressure keep building... Stronger pressure, stronger release."

"Yes," I said. I saw Ronnie watching me, and she seemed almost enraptured by the images in her own head, and she whispered, "So that's why you and Martha like it so slow. Very clever."

I shrugged. "Well, that's as close as I can get to a description. Give me a couple of months and a thesaurus, and I'll write you a nice, long report."

Martha chuckled. "Mister Kinsey beat you to it."

I looked down at Ronnie, who didn't laugh with Martha, and who still studied me with her eyes and stroked my thigh with her nails. She said, as if she meditated on each word, "The guy feels complete being emptied, and... and gals enjoy being filled."

"Yes, " I said. "Convenient little design, isn't it?"

"Very," Ronnie said. Her hand stroked higher on my thigh. I was sitting with my legs under me, my knees against Ronnie's hip, and I let my palm caress her thigh while her fingernails inched up my leg toward my lap. And Martha's lips and nails on my back weren't making my dick any smaller. It was sticking up and lying back, to just below my navel.

Ronnie said, "I'm disappointed. I thought my pictures would have you after me like gangbusters."

I nudged my lips forward, considering it. "That could still happen."

She glanced at my cock and back at me and her smile widened a little. She said, "I want you bigger. You're not there yet."

I said, "That could happen, too."

Ronnie's humid but calmly waiting eyes told me she meant it. Or maybe it was our nearness to the candle, only a few feet away this time instead of across the room. The steady flame of the candle seemed to be reflected in her pupils.

Martha slid her nails around to my tummy and said, "Ronnie, I think you set up your pictures just to get Steven revved up."

"Me?" Ronnie said innocently. Then she admitted to Martha, "Of course I did. What do you think? My drawings always get me turned up. I figured they'd have Steven in a dead heat by now."

I said "I'm heated, all right. But I like the pressure to build up. Not always, but most of the time." I bent down and gave Ronnie's neck a couple of light kisses.

She put her arms around my shoulders and said, "Mmm. I like those," and then I started kissing downward toward her nipples. But she lifted my head and placed her palms at each side of my face, and she began to cover my face and neck with wet, warm little kisses and tongue strokes. And they seemed hungry, those kisses, small but hungry, and coaxing, and then she sucked a love-bite onto my shoulder, and then she held my face in her hands again. She looked at me, her face calm and half smiling as it almost always was, but there was something hot in her eyes, something torrid and determined. She asked in that curiously unruffled, steady voice of hers, the voice she used while her eyes blazed with a different story, "It's my turn to do what Martha did last time." I frowned, not knowing what she meant, and she said, "Sit on the edge of the bed. It's my turn this time."

I got onto the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, and Ronnie knelt between my knees, and Martha knelt beside me on the bed. Ronnie held my cock with one hand, and with the other she cradled my balls. She looked up at me and said, "Just a little work on the pressure, okay?" I smiled down at her and she squeezed my dick, pulling up, and she saw the bead of cum ooze out and she said, "Mmm. Already." Martha leaned against me and stroked my arm and watched Ronnie put her tongue on my tip and licked off the precum and swallowed it, and then she put her mouth around my tip for second, and then Ronnie's head went down very slowly.

Martha said, "Good, Ronnie. Good, do it slow."

Ronnie's head came up, and I closed my eyes, and then Ronnie's mouth went down again, and her tongue caressed my underside as her head pulled up and then let me go, and I opened my eyes and sighed inward for a little air, and I saw Ronnie looking up at me. Her eyes were getting smoky the way Martha's did sometimes, and I wondered if all women had that same look, if their chemistry actually affected a change in their eyes when they got hot.

Ronnie said in a hushed voice, her blue eyes lusty and shadowy, "Now, don't cum. Don't cum in my mouth, okay? I'm gonna suck it and get you really hard, and then I want you inside me. Is that okay? Can we do it like that?"

I nodded yes, not finding much to argue with; and figuring that if I had to use a condom with Ronnie, maybe getting me all fired up would afford me a better chance at cumming inside the pesky thing. And so it was just a matter of enjoying Ronnie's turn with her mouth at the steering stick, as it were, while Martha's lips and fingernails did a number on my body. And then I'd finally get inside Ronnie and cum.

Ronnie's mouth took its next trip down my cock my starting at my tip and sliding her thin, petal-like inner lips around the corona and around and around and around and around until my cock throbbed. Then she parted her mouth slightly as it went down and down and down, and the farther down she went the slower she moved, until my cock was almost in there, almost, almost, and it began to twitch and in my head I shouted Take it in your mouth and suck, and when I finally panted brokenly, "Mm. Oh!", her mouth sucked, loosened, and sucked without moving, and the technique actually soothed me in a crazy way, for at least I didn't get more delirious. Then she paused, and then I gave a deep sigh as Ronnie fell into slow, leisurely up and down suck, a little slower than the sucking Martha usually did on me. It was a unique sensation, the way she did it; for somehow her mouth seemed to be saying, this won't make you climax, this just makes you feel good, and I let my eyes open and I was getting my breath back while Martha kissed my neck and ears and ran her nails over my chest and tummy, and then Martha kissed downward and her lips found my nipple and sucked it. I looked down at Ronnie, at her pretty face framed with wavy black hair, her eyelids closed as her mouth nursed my erection into a new, pleasant, lewdly itching hardness. I found the pleasure of the feel of her mouth and motion making me grin devilishly, and a thought flashed through my head that kept saying this lady really knows how I like to be sucked, she really knows.