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Private Shoot
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Private Shoot "So what was the big deal?" Lyssa muttered under her breath as she shut the door to the dressing room. All of her model friends had seemed both envious and coy when she told them her latest assignment was with David Gunto. Rumor has it he is the next big thing, her friend Niki had said with a knowing smile. Very big, agreed Linda between giggles. Awesome . . . fucking awesome, Jill had chimed in; and then all three girls had burst out laughing. Yes, the shoot had gone extremely well; but she was always professional and most of her assignments went smoothly. At first, Gunto's insistence that she forego the usual entourage of make-up artist, hair stylist, dresser and assistant had made her a little nervous. Even the artistic director for the catalog was banned from the studio. Her booking agent had not seemed concerned, so Lyssa chalked it up to artistic temperament and agreed to the restrictions. He had done her make-up himself, clipped her hair back in a simple but flattering style, and left her alone to change clothes. Once the actual work began, she found herself relaxing to the classical music that filled the studio and his quiet, encouraging voice as he directed her poses. Comments of "lovely", "very nice" and "beautiful" fell from his lips naturally, with none of the vulgar overtones she had encountered at other shoots. In fact, she felt a keen appreciation for his ability to make her feel like a beautiful woman, rather than a sexy mannequin. Still, she could not reconcile this pleasant but non-threatening attitude with the suggestive remarks her friends had made. Lyssa shrugged off her bewilderment and began to carefully remove the little see-through slip she had modeled last, part of an exclusive collection for Macy's. The fine silk slid sensuously over her skin, causing her nipples to pucker slightly. Lingerie shoots always made her horny. She kicked off her high heels and sat on a padded ottoman to take off a pair of sheer black stockings, then crossed the room to drop them in her tote bag. Lacy black panties joined the other wispy garments that she would drop off at the office on her way home. Before putting on her street clothes, she stopped automatically to check her body in a full-length mirror against the wall. At five foot five, Lyssa was a little too short for runway work; but four- or five-inch heels gave her an illusion of height in photos. She had long, well-defined thighs, a tight little ass, and softly rounded hips that flared out from an impossibly tiny waist. Her 36-C breasts - all natural - were too large for high fashion, but perfect for intimate apparel. They were still firm with just the right amount of bounce. She had a long delicate neck and a heart-shaped face dominated by full lips and large turquoise eyes that glowed against her golden tan. Her shoulder-length hair was wavy and medium brown, with an interesting mixture of amber and auburn highlights. She would never be a famous super-model, but she worked steadily and commanded a respectable salary. She removed the clips from her hair and brushed it out into a soft frame for her face, then peered more closely at the mirror. The subtle make-up job made her eyes look larger and her lips, fuller. After one last critical examination of her body in the mirror - and a mental notation to fight Nature with a few more sit-ups every day - she turned away to get dressed. Just as she was about to step into her own panties, a sudden cool draft warned her that the door had opened. David said nothing at first, but merely eyed her up and down like an artist admiring a statue, while she stared back in surprise. He was kind of nerdy-looking, really; about five foot seven, thin and pale, with unremarkable features and soft, delicate hands. His black hair was liberally streaked with gray and cut in a bad 70's shag style. He wore a shapeless black sweatshirt that was two sizes too big, and baggy gray sweatpants, and his feet were bare. The look in his brown eyes and his slight smile were not menacing at all, but rather speculative. In one hand he held three cameras by their straps, and from the other hung what appeared to be a silk robe. Unconsciously Lyssa straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance, unaware of how provocative the stance was. He came right to the point. "Would you consider posing for an erotic layout?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Spiegel and J C Penney would blackball me if I showed up in Playboy." He snorted disdainfully. "I don't mean Playboy - or any of the other jack-off pulp. Here," he tossed her the robe, "put this on and have a seat while I explain." She obeyed, albeit a little reluctantly. At least she was no longer naked, she thought as she sat on the edge of the footstool. He opened a cabinet at the side of the room, and soon presented her with a glass of red wine. "I work with art dealers whose patrons are interested in erotica: paintings, sculpture, literature, photographs. These people have a strong appreciation of the beauty and sensuality of women. They admire the female form as Nature made it, not the plastic results of surgeons. I put together portfolios of ten, maybe twelve portraits. Each book features one woman and follows her along a path of self-pleasure. But rest assured, these photos go directly into the private collections of respectable patrons. They won't turn up later to embarrass you." "How much?" "I get sixty percent of the sale price. You get ten percent of that - I would guess $2500 for an hour's work." Lyssa choked on the last of her wine but said nothing. He rose and refilled her glass, giving her time to think. When he returned, she took a long sip as she studied him over the rim of the glass. "You want me to masturbate for the camera." "Yes." He offered a slight smile in acknowledgment of her calm reaction. "Why me?" "You have unique coloring. There are a dozen earth tones in your hair and your skin. In that black robe, with a green background, you represent a perfect autumn day. And your eyes, a flash of clear October sky. Stunning." She could not suppress a chuckle. "You really do see this as art, don't you?" He did not reply, but merely waited for her answer. What the hell, she thought. The wine had eased her inhibitions, not that she had that many to begin with. The money was good; the photographer was good; the story sounded legitimate. Besides, she was still horny, and had been planning to get herself off as soon as she got home, anyway. "All right, you have yourself a model." Appearing not at all surprised, he led her into a different studio. Lengths of shimmering moss green velvet had been draped over one wall and across an over-stuffed sofa. The ambient lighting in the room had a golden glow, rather like an autumn sunset. One spotlight of clean white pooled on the center of the sofa. Soft music played in the background. While he took readings and adjusted his equipment, she sat quietly in the circle of light and tried to relax. "Okay," he finally said, holding the first camera ready. "We'll start with some simple poses, and then you'll just do what comes naturally. Loosen the belt of the robe, and lean your head against the back of the sofa." The black satin parted over the full globes of her breasts. Click. "Now put your hands behind your head and stretch . . . arch your back just a little more . . ." The robe fell to either side, revealing slightly puckered nipples, a flat stomach, and neatly trimmed, reddish-brown pubic hair. Click. "That's beautiful, Lyssa. Extend your arms all the way back, stretch every muscle in your body." Her feet came apart as her toes pointed. Her breasts thrust upward, rosy peaks pointing toward the ceiling. Click. "Now slide your hands - slowly - down your body. Feel how silky your skin is. That's right, over your breasts." Click. "Now down across your tummy." Click. "Over your thighs . . . along your hips and up your sides to your breasts." Click. "Cup your breasts for me, honey. Feel how round and heavy they are. Yes, that's fantastic." Click. Her eyes were closed, and she was clearly getting caught up in her own arousal. David darted forward and pulled an oversized pillow of darker green satin from behind the sofa. He placed it against the arm of the couch and continued to coax her in a soft, hypnotic voice. "Turn just a little, and lean back this way. That's right, sweetheart - keep one foot on the floor, lift the other one up onto the sofa . . . move your hands over the inside of your thighs, feel how soft the skin is there . . . " Click. She really did not need his instructions anymore - his voice, and the click of the shutter, had blended with the background music into a pleasant drone. In the back of her mind she knew she was being observed, and that seemed to add to her excitement. Her hands stroked over her thighs and back up over her abdomen to her chest. Again she cupped her breasts, squeezing gently and then brushing her thumb over the taut buds of her nipples. A shiver ran through her, and she felt the<b> dampness </font></b>starting between her thighs. "That's perfect." Click. "Lick your lips for me." Her parted lips glistening now, she continued to fondle herself, lifting and squeezing, and pinching her nipples into sensitive points. Surrendering to her own masturbation routine, she raised a finger to her mouth and coated it with saliva, then used it to wet each nipple in turn. Click, click. Her eyes closed as she circled the slippery tips over and over, and tremors of excitement caused her stomach muscles to ripple noticeably. Click. An aching need was growing between her thighs. She ran her hands lightly over her abdomen, spreading her legs, bending her knee and pressing it into the back of the sofa. From far away she heard David saying "Slowly, baby, slowly," and the faint whirr of the camera's auto-advance. Yes, slowly. Both hands rested on her inner thighs, and then moved together to cup the heat emanating from her pussy. Her fingers brushed over the satiny, shaved outer lips and pressed them together. One index finger traced the line of her slit repeatedly, pushing just a little deeper each time until it slid easily in the wetness gathered there. Oh yes, that felt so good! Raking one fingernail lightly over her throbbing clit, she gasped at the electric sensation that shot through her body, forcing her hips up off the couch. Click. "Watch what your hands are doing." Through half-open lids she looked down at herself. One hand was holding her lips apart while the other stroked up and down, shining with her juices in the spotlight above. For a moment she concentrated on her clit, rubbing back and forth and then pressing her fingers together on either side of it. Another tremor ran through her, but it was not enough. One finger traced the O of her hole; another finger joined it, and both slipped into her hot channel. Click. Oh, what she would not give to have a big hard cock right now. Somewhere in her sensual haze, she thought of David and turned her face toward the sound of the last click. "Later, I promise," he whispered from behind the camera. "You're doing beautifully all by yourself. Finish it, honey. Let yourself fly." Opening herself fully toward the camera, she thrust two fingers deep inside, expertly locating her G-spot and stroking it rhythmically. Small moans filled the room. Unaware that David had switched to a close-up lens and was focusing solely on her face, she began to pump her hips in time with her fingers. She could now feel the climax growing within her, and the index finger of her other hand went to work on her clit. Oh yes, almost there. With three fingers now twisting rapidly inside her pussy, she concentrated on rubbing her clit until the spasms began. Her back rose off the sofa, and her head fell back in total abandon as a long moan signaled her orgasm. Click. For a few minutes Lyssa lay back against the pillow, waiting for her breathing to slow. Then she felt her hand being lifted, and her eyes flew open just in time to see David raising her fingers to his mouth. Eyes fixed on hers, he carefully licked each of her fingers clean, and then placed a warm kiss on her palm. "That was quite impressive," he told her. "It was a privilege to catch so much passion on film. How do you feel?" From where she sat, the bulge in his pants was right at eye level, taunting her. After taking a deep breath, she reached out and placed her hand over its throbbing length, then smiled up at him wickedly. "How do I feel? I feel hungry." Before he could reply, she untied the drawstring and pulled his sweatpants down to his ankles. Now she understood her friends' envy. This skinny, geeky man had the biggest cock she had ever seen, at least seven inches long but probably closer to eight. Fascinated, and horny all over again, she wrapped her fingers around it; her index finger and thumb barely touched. It throbbed in her hand, and she could see that the head was already dripping pre-cum. Without even looking for his reaction, she leaned forward and ran her tongue over the very tip, then took the first two inches into her warm, wet mouth. She felt him sigh and then shudder, and his hands came to rest gently on the back of her head. Bobbing her head up and down, she used her tongue and lips to wet as much of the shaft as she could. Then she licked one palm and used a circular stroking motion on the top half while she tongued the lower half. Cupping his balls in her other hand, she drew them forward and bathed them as well, all the while stroking the cock that seemed to be growing harder and hotter in her hand. Finally, she took just the head into her mouth and sucked steadily, rubbing her lips over the ridge and tickling the tiny hole with her tongue. Groaning, David twisted his fingers in her hair to pull her head away, then caught her shoulders and raised her to her feet. Without further ado, he turned her around and pushed against her upper back. Grinning, she bent forward and braced her hands on the back of the sofa, shaking her ass at him. His hands smoothed over her ass cheeks, then down between her thighs to widen her stance. Caressing her lower back with one hand, he pressed close and slid his long cock back and forth in the fresh juices that were pouring out of her. The head rubbed against her clit, and she moaned her excitement. His hands came around to cup her breasts, his fingers brushing over her sensitive nipples. The head of his cock felt huge when it lodged against her opening; he pressed forward, giving her the first inch but no more, and she shifted her ass to encourage him onward. He pulled back and teased her slit some more, bending forward so his face was close to her ear. "Make it good and slippery, so I can slide it all into you," he whispered, and she shivered with her eagerness. "That's what you want, isn't it?" Her only answer was a low moan. He was squeezing her breasts and pulling on her nipples, causing sharp twinges of delicious sensation to shoot down into her pussy. Still he made no move to enter her. After several minutes of this teasing she thought she might go mad. A small whimper escaped her lips. "Are you ready for all of me?" he asked. She nodded her head violently. He positioned his rod at the entrance to her pussy, and held still for several seconds, heightening the anticipation. Lyssa moaned and tried again to push back against him. "Do you want me to make you come?" "Yes! God, yes!" Rolling her nipples hard between his fingers, he thrust his hips forward and buried his entire length in her warm, moist sheath. She came immediately, crying out as her whole body shook with a short, sharp orgasm. Her vaginal muscles contracted spasmodically, making her all the more aware of how large he was. He remained unmoving inside her until she slumped forward to rest her forehead on the back of the couch. Grabbing her hips, he held her in place as he fucked her slowly and steadily. As she recovered, she began to move with him and soon their combined gasps filled the air. He knew he would not last much longer, but was determined to make her come one more time. One hand returned to her breasts, plucking alternately at each nipple. The other hand snaked around her hip and pressed against her mound, intensifying the sensation of each thrust. His middle finger pushed between her parted lips and found her clit, engorged and very wet. Delicately he rubbed it. She went wild, thrusting back hard against him and rotating her ass. He held on tightly, continuing his fondling and giving her fast, hard strokes. She was moaning, one long continuous sound, when he felt his balls swell and then contract. With his finger working fast and furious against her clit, he pulled all the way out and then thrust deep, burying himself all the way. She screamed and convulsed around him as he shot his load with a triumphant cry. After a long minute of combined ecstasy, they both fell to the sofa. Exhausted, Lyssa watched him pull his sweatpants up from around his ankles. He had not even taken his shirt off, she realized with a silent chuckle. Now he was licking his finger and smiling at her. "I love how lingerie models always get so damned horny at a shoot," David told her. "Next time someone asks which photographer you want to work with, keep me in mind." "I may even recommend you to my friends," she promised cheerfully. "And please, let me know next time you need to shoot a private collection."  "Sex is emotion in motion." |
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Just decided on a new hobby. Off to buy a sexy camera. Sir Teezalot WAR IS ABSURD
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3/18/2007 6:17 pm |
Provocative, and masterly written. Bravo. Dr G.
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