Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I should have known that it would get out of hand. I get carried away you see. What happened was this:
It was coming up to Christmas and Dave, my husband, and I said we could do with some extra cash. Then I saw the ad in the local paper for photographic models. The local amateur club were auditioning young women for nude work. I phoned, the pay was good, I went along for my interview and got the job. I didn’t tell Dave at first – I wasn’t sure he would approve. I told him I was going out with my girl friends.
It was actually quite boring: three hours of sitting or lying in various poses for minutes on end while they fiddled with lighting and lenses. I found that I was quite disappointed when the session ended. All of the poses had been side on or with my legs up to hide my pussy so that all the pictures were extremely impersonal; artistic but not erotic. I don’t know what I’d expected – gang banging? mass lechery? Anyway, I was paid and walked to my car having been booked for the same time the next week. All very harmless.
During that week I found myself reappraising my body. I exercised every morning and, the evening before my next session, shaved my armpits, my legs, and trimmed and shaped my pussy hair. That evening we went through the same routine as before. One or two of the members had changed and there were now ten; nine men and just one of the women. At nine o’clock, with an hour still to go, the woman packed up and left. This wasn’t unusual as the previous week she, and one or two of the men had left before the end. Now, though, it struck me that I was naked and alone with seven men looking at me. This is the stuff fantasies are made of and lying there stretching my body for them I started to daydream.
Whereas my tits had behaved themselves this week so far, they now stood erect as I imagined various members of my audience with enormous erections, unable to control themselves at the sight of my body stretched and sinuous. I felt terribly naughty and, as I was asked to change poses, gebze escort I let my legs drift apart as I turned, briefly giving them a full frontal of my pussy lips.
I saw an eyebrow twitch but that was it. There was the usual mass of clicking as they took the required shot. Then that was it for another week. By now, of course, we had had two weeks of conversation and got to know each other so I got up and, still naked, walked amongst the cameramen to get a cup of coffee and admire their (camera) equipment. After my earlier prank I wasn’t in any particular hurry to get away – I felt like teasing them a bit longer.
One or two left quite quickly and left me with just five photographers. I asked how many different poses they could take before they ran out and was met with a barrage of technical answers about lighting and film. Ugh! “You’re never tempted to take naughty shots like in the men’s magazines then?” I asked.
I was met by a horrified look from two of them and an expression as if I’d been sacrilegious. But the others grinned and admitted they’d love to but had never had the courage to ask a model to pose that way. It would have been too easy to volunteer now! I decided to prolong their misery and said simply “Oh.”
I finished my coffee and strolled away from them to get dressed – making sure that my hips rolled in what I hoped was a tempting way. As I was again walked to my car my escort – in as calm a voice as I think he could find – asked if I could stay for an extra hour the next week… at overtime rates of course! “Yes, of course”, I replied innocently, although both of us knew that it would be far from innocent!
The next week, the usual three hours of impersonal poses passed very slowly. I behaved myself but all the time was wondering what sort of display would be called for later and my tits spent most of the evening taut and prominent as a result. At ten o’clock, Alan, the one that had walked me out last week, spoke to me quietly and explained that gümüşhane escort “only a few of them” would be staying for the extra hour, by which I understood that the rest hadn’t been told that things would get a bit hotter. I drank my coffee slowly, watching who was leaving and who was packing up very slowly. Eventually only the five that had shared our conversation the last week were left. One went and locked the door and Alan said “We’d like to show you something.” With that he took out a number of top shelf magazines from his bag and showed me where he’d put little post-its in.
We started at the first one where the model was bending over with her back to the camera, her straight legs framing her pussy lips while she peeked round and pouted at the camera. Then, other poses followed. What surprised – and disappointed me was that I felt just as impersonal about these new poses as I had about the “artistic” ones.
Then, after about forty minutes, the guys were discussing the next pose so I idly picked up one of the magazines and started to read the confessions section. BLOODY HELL! My nips thrust upwards, my fanny contracted and I started tingling all over. Then, in the midst of my reverie, I was asked to take up the next pose. As they sat me down facing the camera I decided that a bit of “free expression” was in order. I said:
“Look, this is all a bit dull for me. I’ve been looking at some of those pictures. Why don’t I just move about and you snap away as I do. You’ll get more variety and I won’t get bored.”
There was a general murmur and a few shrugged shoulders and I moved to the radio/tape player and turned up the smoochy tape that one of the lads had put on. Then I went back to the podium and stood there in the middle.
Slowly, I spread my feet apart. I ran my hands up my hips and tummy, pushing my boobs upward as I rolled my nipples in my fingers then letting my breasts bounce clear as I threw my head back, my lips slightly apart and my eyes smouldering izmir escort at the cameras.
This was more like it! I ran my hands up though my long hair, holding it above my head as I turned my body to the left and right. Then, sinking to my knees, I leaned back so that my hair hung down behind me and my breasts pointed up to the ceiling, my mons proud between my thighs. Slowly, I spread my thighs apart and ran my hand down my belly towards my pubic hair. It’s at this point that the poses became even too much for those magazines.
I was well gone now; I ran my fingers deep into my bush, my other hand coming up to cup my left breast. I pushed my thighs further apart so that the cameras could see my fingers working my labia.
Grabbing a large cushion, I leaned back, slipped my legs from under me and placed my feet wide apart and flat on the floor. I leaned hard on my shoulders, raising my bottom off the floor as I stirred my finger into the syrup of my vagina. I moved my other hand down and, holding my lips apart, slowly inserted the fore and index fingers of my right hand into my gushing fanny. Slowly, at first, I pushed in and withdrew, rubbing my clitoris back and forth. Then, as I closed my eyes and licked my lips, I increased my pace. I thought about my audience, imagined their erections and heard the frenetic clicking of shutters and I managed to bring myself off.
My hips bucked and I cried out, thrusting my fist as far up me as it would go. Then, as I came out of my reverie, I heard the odd click of a shutter as the guys moved around me taking shots of my glowing, trembling body.
I opened my eyes and looked up – straight into a lens as it clicked. I grinned; “That alright then?” I asked huskily. My answer was a block booking for the next two months!
I know it’s going to go further. I just can’t help it; I need something new to turn me on. I want them to photo me being fucked. I once saw close up pictures of a penis entering a cunt and I want to do that; I just don’t know a man who will volunteer to have his prick on film.
Incidentally, don’t be concerned about Dave. He gets wonderful sex when I get home. I have a quick swill of gin as I arrive home and blame my sexed up state on the booze. He now actively encourages me to go out on a Thursday night!
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32