0 comments/ 48779 views/ 2 favorites Posing By: budnging2000 When she came to him it had all been arranged by phone. Discreet and private, he promised he could meet her needs. She wanted a portrait for herself, a picture of how she was now so she would never forget. A nude, but it was to be more, it was a reminder of when she found her own wants surface. A gift from when she finally became herself, not someone else's version. It was to be black and white. She wanted classic but nothing shy, demure. She had worked hard to look good and was willing to show it, and besides she thought, it was always for her to decide who saw it in the future. When she went in she was surprised to see him bent over a desk, a calculator humming his books. She half imagined a photographer always behind a lens or huddled in the darkroom, his potions calling up the images he stole. She smiled, loving that image of the wizard calling up the souls taken just as tribes thought in stories she had read. They shook hands, idle chatter about weather, her clothes, fees. Satisfied she was directed to the changing room, a robe prepared for modesty. She breathed deeply once more, asked if she was ready, and stepped in to begin. The room was simple like all studios, designed for space and ease of use. Music piped in from overhead speakers, soothing and cool as she had asked for. She saw that the walls could be covered by sliding panels, backdrops that slid down from the ceilings to change the view. She had described what she wanted in the most general terms. Whistling to himself he directed her to a chair to wait, then wheeled in a small stage. He explained he had made this just for her shoot, he hoped she liked it. It looked old to her, like something from movies about gangsters and speakeasies. Small lights rimmed the edge, the cubbyhole for the giving of dropped lines in place. It was flanked by large columns, the swag of fabrics held back by grinning small demons. Plastic she was sure, but she did not like looking at the little faces, leering at her like they could see under her robe. She thought the overall effect was beautiful, a place of display and desire. He seemed pleased by her whistle of approval, slipping film in without looking up at her. He took her hand and arranged her on the chair placed stage center. For the first series she gripped the chair back, her legs open as she leaned in. she felt the velvet of the seat hitting her labia when he moved her, arched her back more to kick her posture up. The fabric seemed to kiss her as she felt it wet under her. Her face started to blush as she realized what was happening, wondered if anyone else had left themselves on this same chair. Her mind buzzed as the image poked in her head, she could see the stain spreading with each breath, her eyes locked on the lens. 'Point your toes, point' he repeated to her when she relaxed and forgot. She moved as he asked, turning first one way then another. Each time he moved to her it was cool, clinical. She knew that he had seem women, had looked at the examples in his book. But now it was her being moved, handled, posed. She found the detachment appealing. She looked at him again, his lines, the angular face, her eyes tracing a bulge as he brushed against her to place her hands as he wanted. He never spoke more than few words, 'Hand up, down...leg right, point dear, back arched, more, more'. Each command she felt herself smiling more as she posed for him, her role as muse to his creativity a new thrill she had not imagined. She turned the chair around, facing him now. Her nakedness seemed to be an afterthought to her as she opened herself up, her lips crimson. She asked him to look at her again, to stop a moment. He placed the camera at his side, staring as asked. " Do you like the way I look?" "Yes, very much" " Do you want me?" "Yes" "Keep going, keep taking pictures" She leaned back again, her legs pulled up to place her heels on the wet fabric. She kept her eyes on his now, no longer looking at the lens. Each time he clicked the shutter; each whir of the drive pushed her to do more. She wanted him to stop now, to place the camera down, come to her, and she wanted to get this on film at the same time. Each time she moved he loved the picture more, and kept going, pushing her to come out. She caressed her breast, again never looking away from him, teased herself from practice. She had always liked rough play, pulling up on herself, her breathing increasing as she twisted with both hands. When she felt herself about to scream she dropped them, the release of blood causing a ripple in her sex. She knew her clitoris was hard; each time she crossed and uncrossed her legs the brush thrilled her. Her right hand went down now, no longer caring about posing, drawing him to her instead with her mouth, her lips wet. Her clitoris felt like a pebble under her fingers, harder that she had known before. She was afraid to touch at first, her need to great. 'There' she thought, 'just a touch'. It was like she had lit a match and stubbed it out on her skin. She jumped, a wave of release hitting her as she rubbed. Each convulsion was recorded, a picture of pleasure. They went on like that for two more rolls; each time she came he filmed it. She was no longer posing for him, no longer cared what he did, she just wanted to keep going, drive the feeling up higher. She was limp in the chair finally, her head lolled as she tried to focus her eyes again, no longer hearing each 'click' as he finished. His own eyes were blurring, had been for an hour. He had not known she could be so rapturous, blissful. She was beautiful but this was different. It was raw, animalistic in freedom as she bucked, her hands pulling and pushing her body on. He dropped down, his face inches from her labia. He stared, drinking her in. When he reached out and held her thighs she smile down at him, no longer speaking. He could smell her; see the traces of her cumming on her thighs. His first taste was what he had dreamed of when she first walked in to make the appointment. That musky tart cream that is a woman, on his tongue finally, finally. He slurped lewdly, not caring how he sounded. She was a rag doll by then, each swipe of his tongue another wave like the rest. But as he pushed in, kissed her and drank down her sex she pumped back more. Each little ripple of orgasm building her hips shook, she felt him again. She had imagined she was spent, unable to go one. His fingers inside her said she lied. First one, then two, and then three. As simple as that, he was inside her, his tongue buzzing happily on her clitoris. He curled up, wanting to feel that spot inside. There, right under her clit, the one thing he needed from her. It was a small pad, like a rough cats tongue. Each swipe of fingers and tongue she shook again, a feeling she did not know building. Her eyes watered as she fought back her scream. She had not felt this before, wanted him to stop, it was too much. She felt the need to pee, to cum, to scream all boiling in her mind at once. His hands held her and her cries to stop went ignored. She thought she heard a cracking sound, her eyes fluttering as she finally did scream, the squirt of her juices flowing finally out to his mouth. This was it, the prize he had been drawing out, pushing her to give. It was warm, hotter than he remembered, but he thought that every time he felt it. And every time he was amazed like the first. He opened his mouth, trying to drink. It washed him, her cries no longer words, just repeated grunts as she gripped her chair seat, trying to make the feeling stay and afraid it would. She came back to him the next week, the contact sheets arranged. She saw the ones he had already circled, the favorites. Her eyes went wide as she really saw herself finally opened, how her mouth curved into a smile as she came, the flush of her body when she slumped waiting for a new wave of orgasm. She saw the woman on the page and tried to connect it to herself. They seemed to be alien and comforting in the same beat. When she saw the last roll she looked inside herself. That was the woman she wanted to be, that girl who dreamed as she rode her pleasures. It was the last few frames he had taken, her head back, wisps of hair sticking to her as she sweated under the lights, her fingers buried where it blurred but was plain to see. That picture was of her, she knew that, accepted her. She was pointing to it and drawing the grease marker down when he slipped the picture to her. It was her choice, already completed, the same one he had chosen to show. She paid him, collecting all his work as arranged. She kissed his cheek and slipped out, her soul returned. Posing During my first year of college, my best friend from high school and I were roommates. At the end of the academic year, we both headed back to our hometown to work and earn some money. Steve had caddied for years at the most exclusive country club in town and wanted to go back there for the connections, the outdoors, and the money. I was less directed and had no idea what I wanted to do. Times were tight and I couldn't find much interesting, so I went to work delivering pizzas. Since my job involved working mostly evenings and nights, while Steve caddied all day, we didn't get to see much of each other. I don't know what did more to kill our plan of a summer of wild parties: our schedules or living with our parents to save money. One Saturday afternoon in June I stopped over at Steve's house, actually it was a duplex. He had taken the day off and we were going to go catch a movie before I had to go to work that night. Steve's parents were divorced and he was living with his mom, Angela. She was just eighteen herself when she had Steve, a few years later her husband left her and she had raised Steve and his younger brother Eric by herself although her ex-husband was still around and took Eric on the weekends. Throughout high school I had always had something of a crush on Angela. It's not that she had a perfect body or anything, she was just so much younger than everyone else's parents I knew that she seemed more like someone my own age. I don't know that many other people would have found her attractive except for her dirty blonde hair and large chest because she definitely had a few extra pounds, but she carried herself confidently and with a subtle eroticism that captivated me. When I arrived, Angela met me at the door. "Hi, Tom. Steve's running late as usual. He's just up in the shower. He should be ready in a few minutes if you want to wait inside." "Thanks," I said and went into the living room where Angela sat with me while he waited. After exchanging pleasantries, I asked Angela how her summer was going. "Great," she said. "Did Steve tell you? Now that he's gone off to college I have a lot more time so I've been taking some classes. I want to graduate from college before I'm hoping that by the time Eric is ready for college I can be in a better position to help out financially." "Wow, that's great!" I said. "What kind of classes have you been taking?" "Well, I'm working on getting my program's fine arts requirement out of the way this summer by taking a class on drawing the human form. Hey...stay there, I'll be right back!" She darted off and returned with a sketch pad and some charcoal. "Let me sketch your profile," she said. "Alright," I said and sat staring at the wall while she sat across the room from me and drew. A few minutes later she announced she was done. Just then, Steve came downstairs and we left for our movie. * * * As the summer passed, Steve and I hadn't been able to do much together at all. So, a few weeks later, we both planned to take a day off and spend it at an amusement park. I went to pick up Steve bright and early one hot and humid morning and knocked on the door. Angela answered. "I'm sorry, Tom. The president of the country club called this morning and asked Steve to caddy for him and offered him a lot of money. He didn't feel like he could say no. Why don't you come inside for a few minutes before you turn around and drive home." As I went inside, a blast of cool air from the air conditioning greeted me. I sat down on a couch in the living room. "I'm really sorry. You must be pretty disappointed." "Well, our schedules really haven't worked out all summer. That's okay, we'll see plenty of each other back at school this fall. How have you been?" "Not bad. Work's keeping me busy, then my class too." "How's that been?" "Better," she frowned. She didn't have the glow of excitement that she did just a few weeks ago. "I've been struggling with the class, and I don't really have the time to work with the models on my own. Actually, I'm kind of worried I'm not going to pass." "Well, I'm here and I have the whole day free. How can I help?" Angela looked taken aback. She hesitated, "Oh, I couldn't ask you..." "Sure you can," I interjected, "you did a great job drawing me before. I'm happy to help!" "No, you don't understand," she replied. "Right now we're working with nude models. I couldn't ask you to let me draw you." "Look," I said, "I'm already here and I offered to help. If you want me to help, I will." Angela peered out from under bangs, biting her lip, "Really? Are you sure? You don't have to do this, you know." "I know," I said. "But I will." "Alright," Angela said. "I'll get my things together. Why don't you just wait here in the living room and relax for a minute." As she disappeared, I wondered whether this was really happening or whether it was a big joke. It all happened so fast, and I just wanted to help out, I didn't appreciate that I was agreeing to take off my clothes in front of my friend's mother! I was starting to get nervous and to develop a sinking feeling in my stomach. When Angela returned, she carried an easel with her, arranged it opposite the couch in the living room and set a large sketch pad up on it. "Okay, I just need another minute to get my supplies together here...Oh, and I turned off the air conditioning so that it will warm up in here for you. Now first things first, do you want a robe?" "I don't really see the point. I mean, you're going to see me anyway so what difference will it make," I said. "Well, whenever you're ready then." "Oh, my God, this is really happening," I thought to myself. I sat down on the couch and took off my socks and shoes. I took a deep breath, stood up, and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Angela was sorting through a box of materials and not looking over at me as I undid the snap on my shorts and pulled down the zipper. This was it the moment of truth. In one quick motion I pulled down my shorts and underwear. I was standing naked in Angela's living room as she finished getting organized. A moment later she looked up. I felt a wave of embarrassment and for a moment wondered how I ended up in this situation. "What I'd like to do first," Angela said, "is to just draw you standing straight. So, if you could just stand up straight and put your arms at your sides, let me know when you're ready." She was all business. "Just so you know, too," she added after a brief pause, "I really appreciate this, and it may take awhile because I just feel like I need to spend a lot of time working on my technique, so whenever you're ready." I took a minute to get comfortable—as comfortable as I could under the circumstances—then said, "Okay, I'm ready." I stood up straight and let me arms fall to my sides. Then Angela moved the easel up so that she was about eight feet away from me and pulled up a chair. Once she sat down, I felt the full weight of her stare for the first time as she studied my body. She wasn't drawing yet, just studying. She started with my head and after a few minutes her gaze slowly rolled over the length of my body, lingering for equally long periods of time over my chest and stomach before reaching my dick. Up til now I had been semi-erect, mildly turned out by the situation but trying to suppress my arousal and not embarrass myself. When Angela's eyes hit my cock, though, it leaped to attention with a sudden jolt before settling into a slightly less than fully erect stage. Simultaneously aroused and embarrassed, I closed my eyes but could still feel the weight of her stare. When I opened my eyes, Angela's eyes had drifted down to my legs. My erection started to fade a bit and I relaxed and let out a breath. As I grew more comfortable I was able to bring myself to look at Angela's face as she turned from me to draw on her paper and then back again. I started to remember why I had developed a crush on her. She had pulled her hair back and her blue eyes reflected a glint of light from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses as she turned from her easel back to me. She was wearing a pink pullover top that matched her complexion and a pair of loose fitting jeans cuffed to reveal her neatly pedicured and painted feet. As the time went on, I could tell when she was focusing on different parts of me: my hands, my chest, my hair. Sometimes when she would turn, I could make out one of her large breasts straining against her top. Nonetheless, with some concentration I remained mostly flaccid until I was able to tell that Angela had started focusing on my cock. She intently studied it from behind her glasses and slowly I grew harder and harder until my dick ached and I thought I was going to come just from the constant strain. Angela, though, remained focused on her work and eventually she moved on to other regions of my body. She seemed so into what she was doing, and I was sufficiently shy even though I was exposed to her, that we didn't speak at all while Angela sketched. Awhile later Angela focused more intently on the easel and glanced at me only occasionally before finally announcing that she was done. "You should sit down and rest," she said. "That was forty-five minutes, I should have given you a break." I hadn't even noticed the time, but after collapsing on the couch, I felt spent, my back was sore, and my dick was now leaking pre-cum. It probably had been for some time, but I hadn't had the chance to look until now. "If you don't mind," Angela said, "I'd like to do one more pose, but I promise to go faster this time—or give you a break." "Thanks," I replied. "I didn't even realize how much time went by. We've come this far, we might as well do another one." "Great! I really appreciate this. In my class, we do a series of quick sketches and I never get a chance to study our models for this long. This is such a big help." As Angela started preparing for the next pose, she brought her easel and some of her supplies closer to the couch where I was sitting. "Relax, Tom," she said, "you've earned it. Why don't you lay down while I get organized here." I stretched out on the couch on my back and folded my arms behind my head as a pillow. When Angela looked over, she exclaimed, "That's a great pose...don't move!" I froze in that position as she arranged the easel just beyond my feet that were hanging off the arm of the couch. When she finally got settled and started drawing, I realized that Angela was significantly closer than during the last pose: about six feet from my head and even closer to my cock. Just the thought of it made my dick jump. With the easel slightly off to the side, Angela was examining my body whenever she looked up. And this time, as my erection grew, there was no way that my dick wasn't the focal point of her work. It seemed like every time Angela's eyes left the canvas my dick twitched and soon a pool of pre-cum had collected on my stomach. I was now totally into having her studying my body and would have posed for her all day if she wanted. Finally, she finished. "It's getting late. I think we'll have to stop," she announced as she began to clean up her supplies. She didn't turn away from me and didn't over me a towel or anything to clean up the mess that had formed on my stomach. I reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a handful of Kleenex then told her I was going to go to the bathroom to clean myself up. I closed the door and quietly locked it behind me. And with about two strokes I had an incredible orgasm during which I came for several minutes. I did my best to catch it and clean myself up before heading back to the living room to retrieve my clothes. Now, my dick was only semi-erect. When I walked back into the living room Angela looked up. I walked over to my clothes and, instead of turning my back to her, faced sideways so she could see the effect the day had had on me. Once I was dressed I told Angela that I was glad I could help her with her class. "No, really, Tom, I am so grateful. I want to do something really special to thank you. I'll have to give it some thought." With thoughts of every young man's sexual fantasies racing through my mind, I stumbled to say anything intelligible in response. She cut short my discomfort, though. "Would you...do you think...you wouldn't mind helping me again, would you?" she asked. "Maybe next Saturday morning." "Of course not," I replied, beginning a week of wild anticipation. Posing I'd been busy doing as little as possible and was looking around the front garden to see if there was anything I needed to do right away. I was quite satisfied that everything would survive quite happily without me doing anything and was about to go inside. I could hear a cold beer calling to me and thought I'd better answer. That's when I noticed Jan tripping down the road, a skip in her step and a smile on her face. Quite a pretty young woman, Jan. My guess was that she was about twenty. Quite popular with the opposite sex and it was easy to see why. I paused for a moment, deciding to say hullo. Talking to a pretty girl is never a hardship. "Afternoon, Jan," I said with a smile. "Going shopping?" It was an easy guess. She was nicely dressed but in casual clothes. She also had her big handbag with her and was heading in the direction of the local mall. "Christmas," she said with a sigh, casting her eyes heavenward. "The shopping never ends." Yeah, she looked really despondent at having an excuse to go out and spend some money. "Gets us all," I agreed. "Of course," I added innocently, "some of us do all our shopping early and are able to avoid the crowds." "Some of us," she returned, "get their sister to do their gift shopping for them." She had me there. Sisters are useful at times. "Well, happy spending," I said, and then a thought struck me. What women ever had enough money to spend? A naughty idea sprung to mind, fully formed and wanting to be acted on. "You know, you're a very lovely young lady," I said thoughtfully, as though I'd only just noticed. "You know I do photography as a hobby? How would you like to earn a hundred by posing for me for an hour?" She looked startled, the idea obviously never having entered her mind. "What, me? Why would you want to take pictures of me?" "I just told you. You're very lovely and I'll bet you're really photogenic. I'd like a few shots of you." "So you're offering me a hundred dollars just to pose for you for a short while?" she confirmed, sounding cautious. "That's the idea," I confirmed. "Of course there will be a couple of conditions but on the other hand there will also be that hundred dollars." "And just what would those conditions be?" "Well, the first one should be obvious. I'd want to include a few nude shots." She bridled a bit at that, looking doubtful. "I'm telling you that up front so that it doesn't come as a nasty shock," I explained. "You have lovely long legs. Very shapely. I'm betting the rest of you measures up to those lovely legs." She didn't laugh or deride the offer or go stalking off in a huff. She was seriously considering it. Shopping with extra money was a big incentive. "How do I know that you won't try anything if I pose naked?" she asked. "That is the second condition. While you're posing nude I reserve the right to pull you down onto the nearest bed and ravish you." "Ravish me?" "It's a gentleman's way of saying rape you. That's me - a true gentleman." She looked at me as though I was nuts. "Hold on. You're saying that if I agree to pose for you, you'll expect me to have sex with you? Why on earth would I agree to that?" "Because you're getting paid to pose," I said innocently. "The sex would be incidental but extremely interesting. In my opinion, anyway." I unlatched my gate and let it swing open, moving slightly to the side as though expecting her to walk through it. She was chewing on her lip. The hundred dollars for the posing she could handle, even if she had to be nude for some of it. The sex she wasn't so sure about. "Um, I don't mind posing," she said finally, "but I'm not agreeing to have sex with you." "You don't need to agree to have sex," I pointed out. "I said I was willing to ravish you. That means I would force myself upon you and take you without your consent. You'll just be the innocent victim of my lust." "But, but that still means I have to sleep with you." "Oh, Jan, if you manage to sleep I'll be dreadfully disappointed in my sexual prowess. My ego might never recover from such a blow." "You know what I mean," she snapped. "I do, but you won't be agreeing to sex. It will be forced upon you and you can remain the complete innocent." I shut up at that stage and let her persuade herself. If she was going to say no she would have done so already, laughing off the whole thing as a joke. "Um, look, I'll pose for you, but that's all I'm agreeing to," she finally said. I still kept my big mouth closed and just made an after you gesture. She walked down the path to my front door, chatting nervously. What sort of poses did I have in mind? Artistic ones, of course, showing off the human body without necessarily revealing anything personal. Definitely not anything pornographic, I assured her. She'd probably be quite happy showing off the finished photos to her mother. (Not her father. He'd go spare at the thought of his precious baby doing nude photography, no matter how artistic.) Where I was concerned the posing was well to the rear. My first intention was to get her naked and into bed. Or on a couch, against a wall, over a chair, whatever it took. I wasn't kidding about doing photography as a hobby. I'm quite expert and I have a couple of excellent cameras. I also have Photoshop and I'm quite skilled in the use of it. I also have a spare room fitted out as a small studio, complete with a green wall. I took her through to the studio. The studio was originally a bedroom and still had a bed in it. I do use it as a bedroom occasionally. Jan spotted the bed as soon as she walked in and went slightly pale. She was plainly having second thoughts. She stood in the middle of the room, nervously plucking at her belt, casting suspicious little glances towards the bed. "If you'd sit on the stool in front of the green screen," I suggested, picking up one of my cameras and also switching on the lighting. "I want to try a couple of shots to see how they come out." I fussed about, having her sit just so, then took a couple of trial shots. With that I flicked off the lights and, connecting the camera to my computer, I opened up Photoshop. I love green screens, Photoshop, and standard scenes. Do you remember the scene in Jurassic Park where the lawyer is sitting on the toilet and the T-Rex knocks the walls down, leaving him in the open? I'd long ago removed the lawyer but the rest of the picture was there. A few practiced sequences and Jan was on her stool, sitting looking up at the T-Rex. And quite lovely she looked, too. She really was highly photogenic. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the picture, giggling at it, and wanting a copy. I promised her I'd get her one. "Can you take the stool again," I asked, flicking the lights back on. Jan was a lot more relaxed now and promptly sat and waited for direction. I gave her some consideration and then spoke up. "Um, perhaps the dress?" I suggested. She hesitated, but I wasn't asking for full nudity, just the dress. She slowly unbelted and slipped her dress off, laying it on the bed. After that she scurried back to perch on the stool. Like I thought, she was just dressed casually for a shopping trip. Mismatched bra and panties and, in my opinion, rather ugly ones. "Ah, Jan," I said, "I am not taking pictures of you wearing those. I'm sorry, but they just won't do. Either take them off or put your dress back on, but those undies are not going into any of my pictures." "What's wrong with them?" she demanded. "Nothing really, I guess. I'm pretty sure my grandmother has panties like those. I'm not taking pictures of her either." OK, the panties weren't that bad, but they sure weren't designed with seduction in mind. Same for the bra. It undoubtedly did the required job but there was a reason it was covered by a dress. Jan glared at me. She'd braced herself to take off her dress and now I was suggesting she put it back on. "You're going to want me to take these off sooner or later, aren't you?" "I am, but not until you're comfortable with the idea. If you're all embarrassed and self-conscious it will show in the photos. I need you relaxed. We can continue with the dress for a while." "I'm not embarrassed," she said, sounding a little annoyed. "If you say so." "I'm not." She gave a sigh. "OK. I'll take them off." Mentally I was jumping in the air and punching a fist skywards. Outwardly I accepted her decision calmly. I didn't even look at her while she stripped off her panties and bra. At least not directly. I had a very nice view in a mirror on the wall, and I could see that she was watching me and noticing that I wasn't looking at her strip. She seemed a little narked about it. I turned back to her when I saw she had finished undressing. She was standing in front of the stool with her hands vaguely covering her private areas, looking rather nervous. I ambled over to her, taking her hands and moving them away. "Let me just take a look at you," I said, smiling gently. She swallowed, looking even more nervous, but didn't protest. "You really are quite lovely," I said with great sincerity. "A little nervous about being naked but that will pass, especially after I've made love to you." As a reminder I ran a hand over one of her breasts, making sure I was scraping against the nipple as I went. "Ah, hold on," she said quickly. "I said posing was all that I was agreeing to. Nothing else." "I know," I conceded, both hands now rubbing her breasts, while her hands hovered nervously, wanting to push mine away. "But I said that I would be raping you once you're naked. You wouldn't want me to go back on my word, would you?" Yes, she would, if the expression on her face was anything to go on. I bent and kissed her breasts, taking a nipple into my mouth and sucking lightly. At the same time I dropped a hand to her mons and started rubbing against it. She was moving restlessly under my touch, pushing at me, even if not pushing too hard. I let her push me back for a moment. "I mean it," she said quickly. "I am not agreeing to have sex with you." I winked at her, at the same time pulling off my t-shirt. "That's the nature of rape," I told her, letting my trousers drop. "The non-consent." Reaching out, I pulled her towards me, holding her against me. I could feel her breasts rubbing against me and I knew damn well that she was very much aware of my cock pressing against her. It was standing up, begging for attention. "So, tell me," I said, "are you just going to lie down when I tell you and suffer my advances or are you going to try to resist?" "What, I'm allowed to resist?" she asked. "There's no need for sarcasm," I said. "Of course you're allowed to resist." "It would," I observed, "be fun to spank you first. You've got a very spankable bottom. The trouble is a bright red bottom wouldn't look so good in the photos so we'll have to leave that until another time. Right now, the bed is nice and soft." With that I scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed, moving fast so that I was on the bed next to her before she stopped bouncing. I moved fast so that I could slip a leg between hers before she could stop me. Who wanted to be in a position where I had to pry her legs apart? Then I had to move even faster, catching her wrists before she did me some damage. It appeared that she had decided that fighting was the order of the day. I pinned her wrists above her head, then started paying some attention to her breasts, kissing and sucking on them. She squirmed angrily but I had her nicely pinned. After a while I moved her wrists together so I could hold them with a single hand, allowing my other hand to roam free. I alternated between playing with her breasts and rubbing her mound, slowly building up an arousal. She was wriggling and trying to toss me off but with zero effect. And despite her struggles she was being aroused in spite of herself. The interesting moment came when I decided it was time to enter her. That was fun and games. She'd wait until I was getting lined up and then wriggle her bottom, shifting out of position. It took me several attempts to actually get cock connected to vagina and I was silently cursing her. I also couldn't get rid of the notion that she was silently laughing at me. At least, once I had made the initial connection things were easier. I just had to push until I was home, right? Wrong. She would NOT stop wriggling about under me, and I was more certain than ever that she was laughing. I was reduced to easing in a tiny bit at a time, taking advantage of her twisting and turning to give a little push every time she paused for a second. Slowly, inch by inch, I took her, finally being in a position to slide in those last couple of inches with no problems. I leaned hard against her, our groins firmly pressed again, breathing hard. I was gratified to see that she was breathing just as hard. Both of us, I think, were busting a gut to keep our faces straight. What I felt was triumph, but I sensed it would be dangerous to let her see that. What she felt, I had no idea whatsoever. I pulled back a little and returned firmly. A second stoke and she was pushing up against me, doing her share. I suspected that now I had established dominance she was going to let it be and ride with me. I released her wrists, wanting both hands free to play with her breasts, wanting to feel them while I took her. At the same time I increased my actions, taking longer drives, establishing a nice rhythm, finding her adjusting to it and keeping up with me. From that point on things went a lot more smoothly. Now that Jan was actively participating she was proving to be a passionate little thing, clinging tightly to me while her hips pumped against me with a great deal of enthusiasm. On my part, I was also pumping against her with just as much enthusiasm, driving in as deep as I could with each thrust. We bounced energetically for quite a while. At least, it felt like quite a long time while the action was taking place. It was also proving to be quite a noisy interaction. The slap of flesh on flesh was to be expected. Likewise, the occasional grunts I made as I drove into her. Her squeaks and squeals and cries of pleasure were hoped for and gratifying to hear. What was unexpected and a little embarrassing was the damn bed, with the springs noisily singing out a song, telling the world what was happening on it. I'd never heard such a racket. Things finally wound to a conclusion. I was bouncing happily, climax on the horizon but not yet there. Jan seemed to be bouncing just as happily and then she just lost it. Her climax took me completely by surprise, me not quite being ready, and I had to step on the gas to catch up with her. Still, all good at the end, and we slipped apart and lay on the bed. The bed that was now, thankfully, quiescent. I was going to replace that noise machine as soon as I got a chance. After we'd both got cleaned up a bit I managed to sweet talk Jan into continuing posing. She proved to be a lot more relaxed about it now, even going so far as to make suggestions. We'd stop and review what I'd done every so often, with Jan insisting that she get copies of all the pictures. She didn't seem at all worried about her continued nudity. Eventually I brought the session to a close, putting the camera aside and assuring Jan that I'd print her some decent copies. Standard for most of them but a couple of big prints would be included. She was reaching for her clothes when I stopped her. "Hold it a moment, Jan," I said, taking her arm. "What?" she asked, looking slightly startled as I moved towards the bed. "It's spanking time," I said affably, sitting down on the bed and pulling her across my knee. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded, then yelped as my hand came down firmly upon her bottom. "I told you earlier that you had a very spankable bottom," I reminded her. "I didn't spank you then because I didn't want a red bottom in the photos. No more photos so the red bottom won't matter." "You can't do this," she protested, which was rather silly of her, the way my hand was bouncing off her bottom proof that I could. "But I haven't done anything," she protested. I paused for a moment at that. "What difference does that make?" I asked her. She spluttered for a moment, searching for an answer, while I admired my handiwork. "Well, let's get on with it," I said when she couldn't seem to find a reason. I resumed spanking and she resumed protesting. You should have heard her protests when I started including her pussy in the spanking. From the sound of it she wasn't just upset, but furious with me. Ah well, all fun times but cease. I spun her to her feet, rising at the same time. She was facing the bed and I moved up close behind her, crowding her forward, resulting in her bending over the bed, using her arms to prop her up. "Hey, give me some room, will you?" she snapped. My trousers were already descending as I moved even closer, my erection pressing between her legs, leaning against her mound. "What the fuck?" she managed to get out, and my cock was revisiting the play area, sliding smoothly into a hot, wet, willing passage. I know it was willing because she was pushing back against me, taking me deep. "Your bottom and pussy are probably stinging from the spanking," I pointed out. "You need a gentle massage to help soothe the pain." She said a rude word but didn't resist as my arms went around her to claim her breasts while I started the gentle massage. And it was gentle, being nothing like the frantic need we'd displayed earlier. I just eased in and out, while Jan muttered something about horny bastards who don't know when to quit and moved with me, gently rocking on the spot. This time we went for somewhat longer, the gentle pace helping to draw things out. It needed to, because my batteries were still recharging and I didn't want to rush Jan to the finish and find myself left with a hard-on and severe disappointment. Slow and easy would win the race this time round. I fondled her breasts and took my time. Jan was breathing hard, making soft little sounds of appreciation, apparently enjoying her massage. I listened a little harder this time, trying to catch any change to her tone that would indicate the onset of a climax but she seemed happy to just meander along with me. Eventually the pleasure signals began to accumulate. My libido was starting to demand satisfaction so I started increasing the pace. Jan was still moving with me, happy, even eager, to accept the change in pace. I stepped it up again and Jan started pushing even harder against me. She also started sounding off and demanding more. It seemed to me that she was just about ready and so I gave her more, driving in harder and faster, putting some real gusto into my efforts. This time I climaxed first, but the sensation raised by me climaxing were enough to help send her over the edge, shuddering and giving a muffled scream. "You know something," I observed as we lay collapsed on the bed again. "Yes. The damn bed doesn't squeak if you're just leaning against it." She was right, but that wasn't what I meant. "True, but I was thinking that we're going to need to practice if we're going to climax at the same time instead of one of us rushing to catch up." She did a face palm and gave me a look. "You seem to be forgetting that you raped me. Both times," she grumbled. "You don't think I'm going to make a practice of being raped do you?" "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Don't let it worry you. I'll work something out." She didn't seem too impressed by that, but I would. I'd managed to get her to do one session of posing. All I had to do was sweet talk her into a second session. Posing She left shortly after that, keen to spend her extra funds on her shopping. It seemed to me that if I delivered her the photos when I knew her parents were out things might become interesting. I'd have to give that some consideration.