Chapter 2: Pictures

Every week I have lunch with my darling sister, Elise. She was twenty-five, and while only a year older, she was far wiser and more experienced than me. She was infamous within the family for her many illicit relationships. We had gotten together to celebrate the demise of yet another of her disastrous affairs.

"Oh, he had the stamina of a bull. But he had the touch of a bull as well." She sipped the white wine. "And he fucked like a bull too. Maybe I'll call him Toro in my memoirs. No, he wasn't that memorable." We giggled shamelessly.

She wore a lovely white wrap around dress that clung tightly to her feminine curves. The wide, open neckline plunged daringly low and occasionally threatened to expose her pert breasts. It was faintly sheer and teasingly revealed the shadowy outline of her nipples.

"You are just too much, Elise. You must be devastated," I said, nibbling at my salad.

"Oh, yes. Wounded beyond all consolation," she declared. "Whatever shall I do?"

I giggled and shook my head in disbelief. She was incorrigible and I loved, and I envied her so. As girls growing up in the conservative mid-west, she astonished me with her tales of brazen sexual conquests. I wanted to be just like her, but I never had the courage.

"So, I'll tell you what I did," she rummaged through her tote and drew out a picture book. "I had a photo shoot. Wonderful for the ego. You really must try it."

I took the big black book and opened the cover. I gasped when I was greeted with a beautiful, full page black and white portrait of my sister completely nude. I flipped through the first few pages.

"Elise, you're so very beautiful," I exclaimed.

Elise was an aerobics instructor at an exclusive women's gym. We were about the same height, but she was slimmer and far better toned. We had similar hair, chocolate black, though her hair was cropped shorter than mine and she occasionally favored exotic, colorful wigs.

The titillating photographs emphasized her startling blue eyes, and her luscious red lips. Her breasts were a bit smaller than mine, firmer and pointier, with lusciously long nipples. Her belly was athletic with sexy muscles contrasting with her feminine curves.

Several photographs focused on her lower extremities. Artistic shadows played across the sensuous curves of her alluring ass. In many of the pictures she impudently splayed her legs, brazenly displaying her deliciously bare vulva. Some of the pictures graphically illustrated her in the act of self satisfaction.

The pictures of my wanton sister were arousing. The ecstasy on her face, as her orgasm was captured, was particularly stimulating. I felt my juices begin to flow. I wanted to reach into my panties and bring myself to orgasm right there in the little cafe. I wanted to come as hard as she obviously had.

"Well, obviously you like them," Elise said with a mischievous grin.

I closed the book and prayed my excitement was not so obvious. But my arousal was nearly overwhelming. I squeezed my knees together to resist the urge to touch myself. I could feel the sting of my aroused nipples straining against the gauzy blue blouse. I smiled and tried to hide my shame with a sip of wine.

"Oh, come now, Isabeau. You can't hide your thoughts from me." She leaned forward in her chair and took my hand. "Remember those dark nights on the farm? Alone in our bed, our adolescent explorations, the way we shared our first most intimate touches. Remember how you would press your face into the pillow and scream when I made you come?"

I could not help but smile as I remembered those steamy midnight experimentations. Elise was always so very expert, and with just the merest touch, would quickly bring me to exquisite pleasure. I was not as gifted as my sister, but I remembered many dark nights that I made her muffle her own screams.

"You are so very beautiful. Yes, very exciting," I confessed. "So very arousing."

"You should have some pictures taken for Paul. How are you and Paul these days," she asked insightfully. She sipped the wine and smiled encouragingly.

"Paul and I are wonderful," I tried to sound nonchalant and took a drink of wine to steady my nerves.

"Yes, very good then." She took my hand in hers and massaged my fingers tenderly. "And what else?" I had never been able to hide anything from my loving, big sister. She had always had the knack of reading me too well.

I smiled nervously and resigned myself to confess it all. "I fucked his boss." It was out now. I trusted in her discretion. But now she knew I had betrayed my marriage vows, that I was an unfaithful adulteress.

"Oh good for you," she smiled at me and toasted my infidelity. "About time you explored a bit. Does he know?"

I tried to smile. "I told him everything, but he thought I was making up a story to get him aroused."

Elise leaned forward, her breasts almost falling out, and grinned wickedly. "And did it?" She squeezed my hand and I giggled.

"Oh yes, it did. He very much enjoyed my confession," I admitted.

She shrugged as if the answer to my problems was self evident. "Well there you go. All's well that ends well. Now you just need some more stories for your husband. You really should try the photographer. He was no bull." Elise's eyes shone brilliantly with lust.

I felt blush racing to my face. "Oh, you didn't," I exclaimed.

"Really, can you imagine that I wouldn't?"

I flipped through the book once more admiring the amazing erotic pictures of my sister. The pictures were more than just images of my sister's nudity. They were her lust and passion captured in time. My heart raced with the possibilities. A little idea began to take root.

The next morning I called work and told them I was sick. The photographer's receptionist had suggested that I avoid wearing any binding clothing, such as tight undergarments, for several hours prior to the appointment. So I decided I would spend my day lounging, watching porn and fantasizing in the nude.

Eventually it was time to get ready. I found a cute, very short, sheer yellow sun dress that hung loosely on me. I pulled it on and noticed immediately that my nipples and the dark patch of pubic hair easily showed through the thin material.

It was perfect.

I pulled on a pair of tan strappy sandals, grabbed my hand bag and set off. It was exhilarating to walk onto the steamy summer streets of Brooklyn in such a provocative outfit. I turned heads, both male and female, as I walked down the busy sidewalk, past the deli to the corner of 3rd Avenue. I raised a hand to hail a cab and the short little dress rose up, exposing my naked ass to the onlookers in the deli. I was, however, pleased at how quickly I obtained a cab.

Crossing the city I noticed the cabbie staring at me in the rear view mirror. He didn't need much imagination to undress me with his eyes. Suddenly I started wondering just what was I doing. I was a married woman. I desperately loved my husband. Unlike the incident with Paul's boss, this was premeditated. I was planning to go model for erotic, maybe even pornographic pictures and then I hoped to actually fuck the photographer. I had consciously decided to be unfaithful. I could not do this. What was I thinking? I was not that kind of woman. I had to turn the taxi around and go back home to my loving husband. There was still time to do the right thing. I was not that kind of woman.

Then the taxi pulled to the side of the road. We had arrived. The moment had come.

I found myself standing on the side of the street. Window diners in the pizzeria were pointing at me. Drivers honked at me and made rude gestures about the vulgar things they wanted to do to me. So many people were staring at me, their eyes lingering on my breasts, my legs and lord knows what else. A teenage boy with a lusty sneer actually tried to lift my skirt for a closer look. I wanted to scream at them all. "I'm not that kind of woman," I whimpered.

I felt naked. I practically was naked. I felt shameful. I wanted to cry. What was I thinking? What have I done?

I decided to flee into the studio and cancel the appointment. I would explain that I just was not that kind of woman after all. I just couldn't go through with it. They would surely understand.

On shaking legs I hurried down the block to the studio. I had to ignore the leering stares, whistles and lewd comments or I would cry. A strong gust of wind blew my dress up around my waist exposing my nakedness to everyone. A couple of men snapped pictures with their camera-phones. A few others pointed and grinned. A business man asked how much I cost. I frantically struggled to pull my dress back down and almost gave in to panic.

I grasped the door handle and ran into the studio. It was cooler inside, darker and calmer. The terror I had felt on the street slowly subsided as I looked around. There were beautiful family portraits adorning all of the walls.

I inhaled deeply. "Just breathe," I told myself. "It's almost over. You'll be safe at home soon." I went to the reception counter. "They would understand," I said to myself.

There was no one at the reception counter. There was no one in the waiting room. I leaned over the counter to see if I could find someone and my short little dress raised up to bare my naked bottom. I was grateful no one else was in the lobby to witness me exposing myself. There was no one there. I could just turn around and leave.

I started to do just that when a side door behind the counter opened. A man in his mid thirties entered. He was around six feet tall, had short dark hair and a fine, stubbled beard. His eyes were like brilliant blue gems. He wore a crisp, white collared shirt that gently hugged his chiseled chest and powerful biceps. His faded jeans gripped his powerful legs and teasingly exposed the silhouette of his prominent manhood.

"Hello, I'm Matt, the photographer," he said in greeting. Then he smiled. His smile was devilishly alluring, innocent, and confident. "I hope you're Isabeau."

I had wanted to tell him something. It had been important. I had forgotten what it was.

"Um, hi. I hope so too," I stammered meekly. I would be whoever he wanted me to be.

"Wonderful to meet you Isabeau." He walked around the counter with the simple grace that is the product of strength and confidence. He took my hand in his.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," I muttered. An all too familiar hunger awakened between my legs.

"The studio is all ready for you. Let me show you around. Then we'll get started."

I smiled like a love sick schoolgirl and followed him. I stole glances of his solid ass flexing beneath the tight jeans. I kept thinking there had been something important I was supposed to have told him, but all I really wanted was to get my hands on his tight ass.

He showed me around his place. Behind the reception desk a door led to a short hallway. There was a spacious dressing room, complete with mirrors and make-up tables, and clothes hangers. There was even an iron and ironing board. Across from the dressing room was his small office. It was messy like a man's office should be. We did not linger there long.

The studio comprised most of the space. It was a generous space with several large light fixtures, a camera and props.

I realized there really was no one else there. "Where is everyone," I asked.

Matt frowned. "Yours was the last appointment and my receptionist wasn't feeling well so I sent her home," he explained. "If you're uncomfortable being alone with me, we can reschedule your appointment."

I shook my head and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Oh, I really don't think that's necessary, Matt." I had him all alone to myself, to use as I pleased. The ache between my legs began to throb.

He took me by the hand and led me across the studio. "Have you modeled before," he asked.

I chuckled. "Me? No, of course not."

"Oh, I assumed a woman as lovely as you must be a model." His eyes sparkled. His smile was so charming and innocent, confident and strong.

I giggled. I could not help it. I giggled like a little girl. I smiled and thanked him.

"Some models prefer to work slowly to the more explicit session. Some start in street clothes and then lingerie before finally disrobing," Matt explained. "But I see you are quite bold and comfortable with your body." His eyes slowly flowed across my body, inspecting my figure through the sheer dress. "What would make you most comfortable?"

I inhaled deeply. I wondered what it was I was supposed to have told him.

I pushed the shoulder straps down my arms. It seemed important that I tell him something. All I knew, was that I wanted him to see my body, to touch me, and to touch him. My sheer, little dress fell to the floor, puddling around my feet. There I stood, completely naked, before this beautiful, strange man. He unabashedly stared at my naked body and it sent thrilling shivers through my body.

He raised a hand to his chin and nodded appreciatively as he brazenly evaluated me. His eyes practically caressed my body. His gaze lingered upon my breasts and my nipples hardened into tingling points. Then he lowered his gaze to my pussy. I had trimmed the thick patch of dark, curly hairs to my bikini line. He grinned, like a school boy that just unwrapped a christmas present.

He exhaled slowly with a soft whistle. "You truly are beautiful, Isabeau." I noticed that beneath his tight jeans, the profile of his cock lengthened considerably.

And then we began. He put his warm hand in the small of my back, tantalizingly close to my ass, and escorted me to a small stool. The leather was cool to my naked bottom, and perhaps it helped to calm my craving, to focus me on the task at hand.

He walked around me, setting up lights, checking angles and being very professional. Soon he raised his camera and my heart began to beat faster and the room became much warmer. I was supposed to have told him something important. He pushed the camera button and the lights flashed.

"See, nothing to it." He smiled warmly. "Deep breath and relax. Have fun and enjoy yourself."

"Easier said than done. You have clothes on," I said.

His laugh was soft. "Would it help if I were naked, too"

My pussy throbbed. "Damn right it would." But rather than taking me serious in the proposal he laughed harder.

He approached me slowly with a big smiled and placed a hand upon my back, leaning me a bit forward. Once satisfied, he gently placed a finger on my chin and turned my face. He nodded his approval and returned to his position. He raised the camera and the lights flashed.

I guessed I would just have to get used to those brights lights flashing.

"You're very beautiful, Isabeau."

I felt the blood rush to my face and I tried not to smile. Flash! My heart was racing. Flash! I looked him in the eyes. Flash! I could not help but grin just a bit. Flash!

Matt set the camera aside. "You are a natural at this. You should model nude all the time."

I giggled despite myself. "You just want me naked," I teased.

His face lit with a huge, cheesy smile. "Oh, but I have you naked."

He put a hand against my back and the other against the front of my shoulder. He sat me up straight and I felt my breasts thrust up and forward. He gathered my hair and laid the ends across my shoulders and smoothed the long strands across my breasts. I shuddered when I felt his hands upon my breasts.

"I'm sorry. Did that offend you," he asked and withdrew his touch.

I looked up into his deep blue eyes and shook my head. "No, it's okay," I whispered. I took his hand and pressed it firmly against my breast. My nipple swelled against his palm. He squeezed ever so slightly.

He smiled and nodded. He picked up the camera. Flash! Flash! Flash!

"Touch your breasts," he commanded.

I grinned sheepishly and raised my hands. I cupped my breasts and looked up. Flash! I squeezed and kneaded them. Flash! I touched my nipples. Flash! I pulled on the pink tips until they ached. Flash!

I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to feel me. I wanted him.