3 comments/ 61372 views/ 5 favorites Rebecca's Morning After By: flinchny010 How do I get into these situations? I woke up sweaty and supremely uncomfortable. The pinging headache could be explained from the long night of wild drinking from the night before. The knee under my back, and the hairy thigh across my hips -- these were harder to explain. I cracked my eyes and let in the painful sunlight. I recognized the sloppy decor of the room. I was in my boyfriend's apartment. But this was not his bedroom. I craned my head around and found my boyfriend, Kevin, sleeping next to me. The other guy was Todd, one of Kevin's roommates. And we were in Todd's room. What the heck had I been up to? After a moment of trying (in vain) to remember last night's details, I sat up. Jeez! -- there was a third guy in the bed, and I didn't recognize him. I was pretty interested in recognizing him, because we were lying crotch to crotch, and it was his leg across my hips, and he was naked. I realized I was looking down at this stranger over my own bared breasts. At least I had my panties on. "I wish I had a picture of you right now," said Kevin, as I flopped back down. I shot him a "be quiet!" look. Before I could whisper anything, Todd rolled onto me and nestled his face in my chest. He had me pinned, and I dared not move. Kevin started snickering, shaking the bed. I was afraid he would wake everybody up. "Where's my shirt?" I hissed. Kevin wasn't in the mood to whisper. "I think you left it in the cab. You don't remember 'paying' for the cab ride home?" I was torn between asking about the cab ride, and keeping quiet for fear of disturbing our bed-mates. Todd mumbled something in his sleep -- my hyper-sensitive left breast felt his lips moving against my skin. Then a thread of drool started sliding down the curve to my armpit. I started to whisper, but then Todd moved again. I waited, stiff, as his hand slid across my stomach, and his lips traced down towards my nipple. Kevin's eyebrow raised, his smile growing wider as he watched my conflicted expressions. Then Todd's lips closed over the nipple, which was naturally completely stiff and pointed at the ceiling. After a few sleepy sucks, he started snoring. I tried to prioritize my situation. "Who is this guy between my legs?" Kevin shrugged sleepily. "Last night at the bar, you started talking about how you'd 'Pay my rent' for me. I don't know why he's here. You got him on the street while we were waiting for a cab, and brought him back with us." "I what?" "It's okay. I actually know him from my photography class." "But I don't know him." Kevin put his finger on my lips, to keep my voice from growing more strident. "Don't worry, nothing happened." He laughed quietly. "Well, he did try to give you twenty dollars. And you did take off his clothes. And then yours. And you were going to start playing with him -- but you kept talking. Talk, talk, talk. About how you'd only take ten dollars, though he was going to give you twenty. And then he passed out." "Damn my stupid mouth," I groaned. "Why did you let me drink so much?" "Hey, you're a grown-up," said Kevin. "Don't put this on me." He was right, but I had to vent my embarrassment somehow. "But you were going to let me blow him for ten dollars!" Kevin sat up on an elbow, looking down at me. "So you do remember? You were going to 'sell your mouth' and 'drink cum', but at a 'reasonable price'? And earn my next-months rent that way?" "No!" "If you don't remember, how come you knew it was a blow-job?" "You were going to let me give a blow-job to some guy off the street!" "How did you know?" His voice was challenging. And a little loud. Todd stirred slightly, and began nursing on my nipple again. His damp lips and dry tongue forced my attention to my chest. It was hard to find a response for Kevin. "Answer me," he insisted. "It's my thing," I heard myself say. Oh, how horrible. Why did I drink so much last night? Why can't I keep my mouth shut when I'm drunk? I'm always acting out, it's fucking humiliating. And I never learn. "Your thing?" prodded Kevin. Though I was mostly naked, and spread out in bed with his roommate and a stranger, I felt an odd sense of intimacy towards him. Regardless of what weirdness was happening now, and might happen in the near future when everybody woke up and saw me, I felt very close to Kevin. Of course it helped that Kevin was grinning down at me, interested and listenable. He had sandy hair that stood out in all directions, a stubbly cleft chin, and a very, very wicked smile. Trying to put Todd's mouth out of my mind, and careful not to displace his head, I turned my face to Kevin and whispered, "It's like a fantasy. It's just a fantasy. And when I drink too much I talk it out. I never do anything." That I remember, I added to myself. "And that's why I almost never drink." Except on weekends. Kevin was nodding. "That's only normal, really. I'm the same way. Remember when your friend from high school visited? Andrea? That's why I spent all that time trying to argue her out of her panties." "She wants them back," I said, sulkily. "Nuh-uh. They're mine now." "So you have a panty fetish?" "No. I just generally like girls without underwear. But you," he tapped my lips again. "Who knew? That underneath your organized, A+ outward personality, and then underneath your insecurities and raging daddy-complex, there was this hot, steaming sex goddess?" "Don't tease," I warned. I couldn't sound very threatening with his roommate clamped to my breast like a 6-month-old. Kevin was just getting started. He intoned, "How lucky am I, to have a secret turbo-slut with an easy on-switch? Someone subconsciously driven to pay all my debts with her mouth? Just put ten dollars in her panties and she'll put your cock in her mouth..." "Shut the fuck up!" I was ticked off now, but the visual image was just too funny. I tried to hide my grin. Kevin's finger ran across my lips, and I looked up at him sidewise. He was still smiling, but there was an intense look in his eyes. His finger traced over my lips, and then pressed in. Slowly, I let him into my mouth, my eyes on his. I held his finger on my tongue, my lips around his knuckle. While I held Kevin's finger in my mouth, I knew he was mine. Maybe it was my general exposure in that strange bedroom, or that I was turning him on while two other people snored inches away. Or maybe because it was because I'd finally told him my biggest fantasy. (Even though I hadn't told him the details that I'd built up in my mind since high school. All the different scenarios, specifically where the cum goes, whose, and how many in one night...) Anyway, whatever the cause, I felt very open, with nothing to hide. So when he crooned -- "You'd suck dick and give me the money? You'd mouth fuck this guy here to pay for my breakfast?" -- I held his gaze and nodded. I wanted him to know that I would. "And you'll do it today, right? You'll put the money in my hand?" his voice was throaty, thick with excitement. I would've done anything for him just then. I nodded again, and so help me, I meant it. He shifted his weight, and I thought he changing positions to put his cock in my mouth. That would have been the topper, after confessing my fantasy and hearing about how I'd tried to act it out. To suck Kevin's dick -- quietly, without moving, and probably for a long time -- would've sent me over. I imagined myself coming in the middle of this pile of torsos and limbs. But Kevin was getting out of bed. "Don't move." With a minimum of disturbance, he was up and walking out of the bedroom. The door, I noticed, was wide open. I lay there taking inventory of my body. Todd was snoring again temporarily, face on my breast -- he'd have a crick in his neck. The nameless stranger, who Kevin knew from class, was a dead weight at my crotch. My legs were spread, but they were also asleep, which never happened. I felt singularly pinned in the pile of heavy, somewhat rank masculinity. Then Todd's hand shifted over my stomach. A guy seems to know, even when he's asleep, when his hands are on a girl. His hot, damp palm moved across the curves of my stomach, then orbited down to my hips, and then came to rest on the mound of my vagina. I tried to stay relaxed and quiet, so that he might stay asleep, mostly. This was more than I'd signed up for, that was for sure. Since when does a girl tell herself, relax into the uninvited pussy grope? Todd's palm seemed perfectly fitted for my pussy. It -- I -- was getting hotter under the weight of his palm, and the slow, sleeping flexes of the fingers. I glanced down, and noticed that the stranger's prick was actually touching me. It was flaccid, but of respectable length, and actually lying across my inner thigh. I didn't know how I felt about that. I thought about being skin-to-skin with some unknown cock, and about how skin sweats and gets sticky. I couldn't be sure, but we might have been stuck to each other. I didn't know how I felt about that either. "Hey, Rebecca," said Todd suddenly. His sudden voice sent chills down my spine, and I tensed up, when I'd actually been relaxing thanks to his hand between my legs. I thought the whole weird morning-thing was broken. But no -- he was groggy, one eye gummed shut, barely able to enunciate. He was hardly conscious. I tried to seem casual. "Hey." He lifted his face to me, "You're in my bed." "We're all in your bed." I tried to think fast. "I don't want to get up yet. Just go back to sleep." A cow-like expression crossed his face. He was trying to think. "I may never get another chance at you..." he said. "Sh." I wrapped my hand around his head and pulled him back down to my chest. "You'll have lots of chances." I stroked his hair, trying to be soothing about it, while he nursed on my nipple and finally started snoring again. The photo shoot I was still thinking about the chills when Kevin returned. Had I been scared that Todd was seeing me like this? Or had they been, like, horny chills? If there had been slightly more pressure behind Todd's hand on my pussy, I would have been amenable. What did that mean? Kevin was setting up his camera on the desk across from the bed. It was the fancy thing he used to take pictures of me for his class. He leaned over and looked through the viewfinder, centering the lens on the bed. "Ameet is already up, studying," he whispered. Kevin's third roommate. "He's one guy at least who is not in this bed." "You know," I whispered back, barely audible, "I thought you were getting me clothes." His grin said it all: Why would I get you clothes, when I can get pictures of you in this horrible situation? Or perhaps I was projecting. Kevin could be very thoughtful, but in day-to-day stuff he reliably followed his own interests. It's part of what I like about him, because it makes him completely predictable. I knew exactly how he'd behave, if there was a picture he thought he could take. He sat down on the floor, with his back against the desk and the trigger in his hand. He looked at me expectantly. Oh. He wanted me to pose. I recognized the look from our photo sessions. He liked me to try some stuff before he actually gave directions. I knew what I was supposed to do. Find where the light is. Figure out what the purpose of the pictures is. The light was full on me, coming in through the open, uncurtained window in front of the desk. Four feet out from the window was another open window, which opened onto the stairwell of the next building. If my luck kept going the way it was going this morning, there would be people walking past it soon -- and stopping, doing double-takes. As for the purpose of the pictures, well, that was to capture the atmosphere on film. I didn't know why Kevin was trying to be so artistic about it. A few snapshots uploaded to a school bulletin board usually satisfied my last boyfriend, only I didn't like it when he showed my face or posted my school email. I still get messages from those pictures. About those pictures -- they're not as good as Kevin's but they're all over the place, which is good exposure for me. I've come across them on different websites, and so have my friends, work buddies and classmates... Try explaining a total frontal nude as a desktop background to your boss someday: "Oh, no sir, I don't mind. It's from my portfolio after all. Yes, sir, of course I can put it on your laptop too. Why, yes, I do have more. Sure we can look at them together." And why don't you stand behind me and breathe down my fucking cleavage for the next two hours. Oh and be sure to get your golf buddies in here too, to make bad jokes about me. And be sure to expense the lunch where you buy me martini after martini. Why, no, I didn't know you're an amateur photographer. I sound sarcastic, but actually that turned out okay, because I might pose for him at one of his poker nights, free food and booze, as much as I want, and I'd get paid $7 an hour! But back to Kevin -- good film, good light, good exposures -- he wanted this scene captured in a big way. He wanted me really on display. There's a modeling thing called surrender, where you inhabit the situation. With Kevin, I seemed to have to practice that a lot. I felt a blush spread down my neck and to my chest. I like to think I am a good model, that I can minimize myself for my photographers. I didn't like that I was blushing, I should've just been giving Kevin his pictures. But I'm a catalogue model, and the raciest thing I've done, for the mass public, is lingerie (apart from Kevin's class pictures). For this shoot, I was to be the focus instead of my clothes, which made this either high art or porn. Me and two guys... I skipped over that thought quickly. I had to trust Kevin. My hand went back to Todd's head, stroking his hair. I turned my face away from him in a sort of abashed look, which I was actually feeling. *Click* went Kevin's camera. I held Todd's head closer, and soon he stirred enough to take my nipple back in his mouth. That nipple was getting a workout this morning! It was stiff, and just full of blood and sensation. I was using poor Todd's mouth as a prop, for my posing. But it was also getting to me a little. As the sounds of his smacking and sucking were the only noise in the bedroom, and I couldn't get off the fact that he was munching down on a delicate part of me. Sure, guys might get a glimpse during the day, especially at work, as I don't need a bra and my shirts are low and loose -- casual fit. And maybe once every few days someone might cop a feel on the subway, but only a once on the bare skin when my breast had been peeking out for I-don't-know-how-long (since class? during class?). I had remembered the sudden zap of the stranger's palm on my nipple for a long time. But this was all different -- this was on the verge of becoming sexual. Somewhere inside me a string was getting tighter. My back arched, and I went with it. My mouth opened with a sigh, and I grabbed my other breast with my free hand. I pulled it cruelly, something I usually never do in front of guys, because they'll get the wrong ideas and be too rough. I turned to the camera lens, and beseeched it with my eyes, cupping my breast to the viewfinder. Kevin's camera kept on clicking. Kevin's personality seemed to change whenever he took pictures of me. He seemed to disassociate himself from me, to sort of view me as posable meat. He could be very cold to me, and the guys he brought in to pose with me, but afterward he would be normal again. Artists. I'd done all I could do with poor Todd's mouth, and with making faces at the camera. But I didn't want Kevin to start issuing instructions. I knew what I could do next, but I don't know if I wanted it. I did it anyway. My hand didn't feel like my own, as it slid down my waist to my panties. Todd was not fully asleep, and his palm was closing and opening on my mound. When he was relaxed, I quickly pulled the front of my panties down. I saw Kevin's sudden interest, so I knew I was on the right track. I stretched the panties away from my sex, and stared at the ceiling -- I didn't trust my eyes for this. Todd's hand slipped from the top of my panties and landed on my pussy. Then I could feel how wet I was, as his fingers slid around. I tried to think, For the pictures, for the pictures. I seemed to feel every detail of Todd's hand between my legs, how his fingers curved around and sank into me. Careless if he was awake or asleep, I let the panties snap back over his wrist. With his hand buried in my snatch, I went through the poses and expressions again. But this time I was feeling more scattered and discomposed. Before long, my eyes weren't focusing correctly. I was breathing too hard, and forgetting my light source. I had the feeling of a timer running down. I didn't know what to do next, and Kevin wasn't talking. I wanted to give him his finale, but he seemed perfectly content to wait until Todd brought me off in his sleep. Maybe that was his finale. The stranger joins in "Oh, hey, dude," said the guy between my legs. I froze -- I'd been moving too much without thinking about it. My hips grinding Todd's hand, rocking against the stranger's cock. It had been steadily lengthening, and I'd ignored it, or not cared. And I also didn't realize -- until later that morning -- that Todd's hand stopped at exactly the same time. The fucker had been awake, playing with me... or rather, letting himself be used. Since he was a guy, he wasn't thinking about the artistic side. He was only thinking, tits, vagina, or some guy thing. I'm still not able to convince him it was about creating an atmosphere on film. Whenever the story comes up, he brags about finger-fucking me on camera. Which is so not the whole story, but try telling that to a group of fraternity guys while Todd is producing the pictures from his wallet. "Hey," Kevin answered. In a barely intelligible and still-drunk voice, the guy asked, "My forty minutes still going? With the chick?" "Sure," said my boyfriend. "Have at it." I wasn't shocked that Kevin said that. Like I said, he was predictable, and just then he wanted his pictures. And I am not sure I wouldn't have said the same thing, to change the static situation with the posing. But the other, non-model part of me was thinking: I gave him 40 minutes with me? And, what does Have at it encompass? Todd had an aversion to naked male flesh, even in his sleep. I was too overwhelmed to think about it when he accommodatingly rolled off me. For a moment I was free and unencumbered -- arms open, back arched, breasts pointed at the ceiling, head thrown back, gasping slightly, and my pussy lips seeming to grab at the cloth of my panties with the same throbbing rhythm of my whole body. If this hadn't been a photo shoot, you would have thought I was primed for penetration. As the guy crawled clumsily up my body, Kevin's camera went *click* *click* *click*. "You can't use my face," said the guy automatically. I remembered that he was a photography student too, so maybe he had qualms about Kevin projecting these particular photos on the screen for his next assignment. But then he wasn't a model, like I was. "Then don't look at the camera, because fuck yeah, this is going in my project." I was glad for the feedback. But I tried to keep a professional demeanor, like, Yeah, we have a good thing going here. Kevin added, "And don't cover her up." Rebecca's Morning After Then the stranger started tipping to the side, and I steadied him over me. "Stop moving, cunt," he said. "I'm trying to help you," I said, "and don't call me a cunt." He grabbed my breasts and leered down at me. "What about 'whore'?" "No!" I said. With my hands on his ass, I guided him up on me. His half-erect cock slapped my stomach, and his balls rested against my panty-covered mound. He had to release my breasts, and he wrapped his arms around my torso, bringing his face to my chest. He gnawed at them, mumbling, "Whore, whore, whore..." I sent a look at Kevin, who was no help: He gave me a thumbs-up. "Good expressions! Try to keep that sort of sad anger thing going. Like you're loathing this. Jay-Jay, leave a little space over her body, will you?" To tell the truth, it wasn't so hard to project loathing. "Jay-Jay" wasn't my type to start with -- flabby, pale, and definitely unwashed. His over-enthusiastic mouth worked its way up my chest and neck, leaving a trail of saliva glinting everywhere it went. Not photogenic. I stopped it the only way I could think of. Grabbing him by the ears, I moved him to my mouth, where he immediately fastened on my lips. "Move your hands!" Kevin said sharply, "you're blocking his face." I let go, and Jay-Jay mostly managed to make do. He was rocking from side to side, his eyes unfocused and even pointing in different directions. Boy was he drunk. I had to crane my neck to keep my mouth on his. And if I hadn't done that, he would've been kissing air because it seemed like it didn't matter if I was there. As it was, I just kept my mouth open and followed him around. And he was reaming it. Chewing my lips, licking my cheeks, bodily lapping in my mouth. Before long the lower half of my face was slick with his saliva. During this forever-seeming interlude, Kevin snapped one of my favorite pictures. In the photo, if you can get past my splayed legs and my nipples on his chest, and the pussy lips sticking out past the wet panties -- and not many college guys usually can get past that -- and if you can wrap your mind around the artistic disjunct of my solid body, with my cut abs, and Jay-Jay's pillowy flesh, you'll see what I like about the picture. In it, my mouth is open to his tongue, but my eyebrows are gathered and my eyes are angry and piercing. Kevin's professor also pointed this out during class -- my mouth "is a welcoming receptacle," but my eyes are solid disgust. I was in the class that day, like I often am for Kevin's projects, and the professor seemed to look at me with a real respect. The professor also seemed to evaluate my figure under the short silk jumpsuit I was wearing that day. Now I think he may ask me to pose too. That's the whole point of my loose, comfortable outfits -- they don't hide secrets, and you never know when you'll pass a photographer on the street. So, yeah, in that way they're sort of an invitation. In the mornings, when I dress, I think to myself: "If a guy really wants to see me, will he be able to?" Eventually I stopped caring about the mouth-stuff. It became a background botheration, like Todd's knee in my side, or his hand creeping in to fondle my chest. I stopped caring because I finally had my pressure. Jay-Jay's lower torso was grinding between my legs, sending waves of feeling up to my stomach. Flashes of pleasure alternated quickly with jolts of pain. At times it felt like he was digging at my panties with his cock. I kept forgetting my light and my face, as I winced and gasped alternately. "Man, this is surreal," said Todd, who was now propped up on his elbow next to me. He was tugging at my nipples with his free hand. "Jay-Jay is, like, mauling her." Jay-Jay paused, breathing hard in my face. "Hey, I'm on the clock. And when am I gonna get a fashion model again, huh?" Todd shrugged. "This isn't sex, it's an animal attack." Only my 'professional demeanor' kept me from kissing Todd's cheek. But then he ruined it, adding, "And you might get a chance the next time Rebecca drinks. Ha!" But Jay-Jay wasn't listening, he was talking: "I mean, every assignment, Kevin puts this chick up on the wall, twelve feet high. Her tight puckered ass, her fuckin' slammin' body, her huge tits that point straight out." "I don't need a bra," I told him. It was true; boyfriends had been telling me this since high school. And non-boyfriends, but that was usually unsolicited advice. "Sure, baby," he said. "No way in hell should you be wearing a bra, ever. And this chick is always there, in class, or waiting for him afterwards, and everybody is checking her out. She's in some fuckin' flip skirt and six inch clogs, and never any top that keeps her tits in. Never a top that stays up, or doesn't flap open, doesn't get poked by her nips, or doesn't stretch into... erm... see-thru-ness. One day I pass her in the street, and she's in this black sweater thing, stretched so tight, I swear her nipples were sticking through the yarn." I had a black sweater that was like a wife-beater, but nobody had ever complained about it being too tight across my chest. His crotch started grinding mine as he spoke. He was up on his arms now, staring down at my wetted, open mouth and my tits as I listened with sick fascination. The camera forgotten, his eyes were all over me, talking himself into harder and more urgent pushes. I wondered how it could possibly be, that what he was seeing matched what I was. "And then, like a dream," he continued, "there she is on the sidewalk at 2a.m., making a scene. Her tits popping out of her lingerie top, her little skirt unzipped and sliding down her legs. Yelling about how she's going to suck someone's dick. Cum, one dollar a swallow. And out of all the people gathering to watch, she drags me into the cab. And she's fuckin' throwing her clothes out the window, up in the front seat with the cab driver. And she's letting him cop feels off her. And she's riding his hand with her face stuck through the opening, telling me to put my fingers in her mouth..." He started to say something more, but then his mind seemed to slide back down his body to his cock. His member, now very hard, was nestled between the lips of my pussy -- on the far side of my panties, thank goodness. But every time he moved we could hear the wet sop, sop, of my sex, and my panties, loose, wet and stretched, were letting my pussy seem to reach out and grab at him. He threw his head back, gave a few galvanic thrusts. I felt his cum hitting my belly, hot sprinkles that soon slicked from my belly button to the top of my mound. Kevin's camera running hot, I came just from the mere pressure of this guy on my clit. I tried to hide it, wanting to remain professional, but I heard my low squeal as if from the next room. When I could think again, I remembered what Jay-Jay had said about putting his fingers in my mouth. That was a pose I hadn't thought of. But I'd use it next time. Kevin snapped a few more pictures as Jay-Jay pulled off me. He took one final look at my sweaty, disheveled body on the tan sheets -- Kevin's picture showed my dark tan, and the contrast of the cum on my stomach. I was, in every area, wet -- from the sweat beading my skin, to my slicked down hair, to the saliva on my face and neck, to the cum, to the wet panties. Jay-Jay seemed to shake himself. "Sorry about that," he mumbled. He pulled on his pants, ignoring his underwear, and cast around for his shoes and shirt. "It's okay, really," I told him. I watched him leave the room, almost running. "Poor guy. That won't be in your project." Kevin shrugged vaguely. "Maybe we can do a book, all about you. I know the other prints I've done are selling fast enough." I thought how good that would be for my career -- a whole book about me! But then I felt guilty about being so mercenary. "Whatever you think is fine." Then Todd rolled off the bed quickly. I thought he was queasy about Jay-Jay's fluids all over me, but no -- "You have an audience." Safely away from the bed, he jerked his thumb at the window. There, leaning through the far window, were three high-school guys with awestruck expressions on their faces. "Shit," I said, suddenly annoyed. I stood and gave them a hello, dorks wave, but they weren't ashamed enough to move on. I tried to ignore them. "Did we do good, Kevin?" Kevin was shooting the last of his film at me. "Oh, yes. I had no idea it would be as good as this. I didn't have high hopes for this film." "You should know better," said Todd. "Rebecca always delivers." "Thanks," I said. I glanced down at the mess on my belly and saw that my panties were covered in Jay-Jay's stuff, dripping downward from gravity. A little disturbed, I pulled my panties down and let them fall, kicking them over to one of Todd's trash piles. Then I had a new problem with the cum running into my pussy, so I was trying to spread it around where it could dry more evenly. At that point, the high-school guys, overcome by all this, cheered through the window. "You're so immature" I told them. When that had no effect, I flicked them off. "What am I supposed do do with this cum? You better not be here when I come back." Guys like that make me appreciate Kevin all the more, and even Todd, I guess. Post-shoot I walked into the kitchen. I wasn't thinking about getting clothes -- no, something much more important. I wanted coffee. It's often like that, for a model doing photo shoots. The self-consciousness is at the beginning, but by the end you can stay naked and hardly care. There were times, after Kevin's shoots, that I didn't ever get dressed again. And we'd sit around in the main room, with his roommates and friends, or even the models, and we'd drink into the night. One time, people started coming over for an impromptu gathering, and I was too tired to move from the floor. I just pulled up my panties because I thought my pussy looked too red and swollen from the shoot. And the whole night I just let them step over me, or sit beside me and poke at the love bites and carpet burns I had all over. Even then, I would have put on a t-shirt, but Kevin had whispered he might do more pictures. With so many male "models," he didn't know when we'd have another scene like that, almost a "crowd" situation. So the night got a little raunchy and silly, with me taking and allowing some liberties I normally wouldn't have, except that Todd kept bringing me drinks. I kept trying stuff to see anything would spark Kevin's interest: Body shots, writing words on me with eyeliner pencil, acting really drunk. We finally played the game, "7 Minutes In Heaven," where you go into the closet with somebody, and anything goes for seven minutes. Except we laughingly renamed it to "10 Minutes On Rebecca," and we played it in the middle of the floor. That got Kevin interested, and he finally got his camera out. One of the guys from that first night was a web master, and he is now building a website to show the pictures. They all said they'd share the money, whomever was in the pictures with me, provided that internet people would actually pay to see the pictures. And for me, I would get lots of professional exposure for my portfolio. I thought that was fair, because male models never have a chance to make money. The first Friday of every month we do more pictures. So there must be hundreds now, waiting to go online. These pictures are very avant garde, if you understand, and the scenes get very real sometimes. By that I mean, more often than not, my co-models cum on me -- I just roll my eyes at Kevin, but I don't say anything to make them feel bad. Professional models wouldn't lose control like that. But now that I'd confided my for-money fantasy with Kevin, I realized, I could start taking that cum in my mouth. Kevin always wanted that for his portfolio, but I always pulled away at the last minute and took it on my face. I grinned a little, thinking about being able to surprise Kevin. And since I have an imagination, I also thought: Maybe I should confess my "naked in a crowd" fantasy, or my "bachelor party" fantasy, my "blindfolded-strangerfuck" fantasy, my "glory hole" fantasy, my "triple-X theater" fantasy, my "crowd-grope Mardi Gras" fantasy... nah. I decided to keep those for the future. Doing blow-jobs for money would be more than enough to keep us busy for a while. Consider that less than two months ago, I'd never done a nude photo shoot! And now I'm a model who has to deal with cum on her stomach -- I'll bet there are not many top models who can say that. The third roommate I was brewing coffee, when I noticed Ameet in the living room. He was staring at me fixedly, probably shocked out of his mind. He was always working or studying, so we didn't know each other very well. If I tried hard enough, I could imagine what he was going through -- here was his roommate's girlfriend, normally just a friendly, anonymous face, but now worn out, hung over, cum-spattered, and totally naked. Wouldn't anybody be a little curious? And what better chance for me to get to know him? As he watched me fiddle with the coffee, I was thinking hard. I felt it was important to establish that he shouldn't be embarrassed. Nah... that was just an excuse. The last thing I wanted now was a serious talk, or to make inane excuses for myself, or do anything at all except drink coffee. Mostly, I didn't want to have to go find some clothes ugly boy-clothes to put on, and I certainly didn't want to run shrieking out of the kitchen, fake-surprised. I decided to see how cool he could be with nudity (some people are prudes), and so I pretended I wasn't naked. "Hey, Ameet," I said, walking in. "You're already studying? In the morning?" It took a moment for him to find his voice. "It's one o'clock in the afternoon." "Oh, shit," I laughed. I perched on the couch beside him, careful with the cum on my body. "We were out partying late last night." "I know, I heard you fucking that guy in Todd's room, for the porn site." He didn't say it meanly, it was just matter of fact. I didn't bother to explain what was really going on. I glanced at the coffee table and saw piles of glossy photos. "Whoa, these are Kevin's pictures!" "Yes, they were all spread out this morning, when I started to work. I hope you don't mind, I sorted them into the different shoots." I nodded, "That's the way they should be. I guess Kevin was showing them to somebody again. Did you see them?" I glanced at him, and he slowly dragged his eyes off my chest and nodded. "I like these the best," he said, tapping one of the piles. "The other ones are hot, especially the ones where all the guys are lined up... but these are actually beautiful." He'd picked up one of Kevin's first projects, from before we were comfortable with each other. I remembered that night well. Flashback: My first photo shoot with Kevin We had just started working together. I'd pulled Kevin's phone number off the bulletin board, he had a posting up about how he needed "avant garde" models for "edgy" pictures. I had been amused and a little turned on to hear about what Kevin wanted models for. All sorts of compromising situations, which were not what an incoming freshman, new to New York, would do. I told Kevin that maybe he should get someone older, more world-wise. He said he didn't have a lot of options, and so I told him exactly how far I would go. Our goals overlapped a little, but not much. He said he was happy just to get a chance at me... it turned out he'd noticed me around campus. And, as it turned out, I went a lot farther than I said I would. I'm a careful girl, so I met him at a well-populated dorm party. Only he was a little late, and guys kept on getting me drinks. I was feeling no pain when, after a much-interrupted conversation, we decided to do the first shoot that night. He had me snag a guy on the way out, and we went to the guy's dorm room. The idiot guy almost blew the deal for me. As we staggered down the hall, Kevin was walking behind us with a judging look on his face. The guy kept talking about how he'd "do" me, how he'd heard I was "good at" this-and-that. I don't even think he realized Kevin was with us. I kept trying to explain how it was not about "doing me hard," but rather that we had to do exactly what Kevin told us, so Kevin could get the shots that he wanted. I was using a theatrical whisper, to make sure Kevin knew I was on board with the plan. And as it turned out, I was a lot less drunk than the dork with his hands all over me. Kevin stopped us when the dorm room door was open, and had us do what he called a "slow peel" in the hall. It was me Kevin gave instructions to, as we tried to portray some tension in the representation of foreplay. I remember how it really was -- basically like a genial struggle between two drunks, him unbuttoning, unzipping and even tearing my clothes, and me trying to slow him down. Only Kevin with his camera kept the scene from being totally humiliating, as passers-by paused to offer suggestions. It was a shoot, I had that, at least, to protect my dignity. And the pictures turned out great -- they captured the desperate, devil-may-care urgency of a drunken college hook-up, as if that was what had happened. I was quite relieved when we finally got into the dorm. My shirt was at my chin, my skirt was at my knees -- it was high time to move it out of the bright lights and crowds of the hallway. Inside, the dork finished stripping me and threw me on the bed. "I don't think he's on the same page as us," I told Kevin. "I know," he laughed. "He's nuts. But you're handling it really, really well." That compliment got me through the next phase where the dork got his cock out, and I had to "artistically" roll a condom down his throbbing length. I complained that the only light we had was from the open windows, and asked Kevin to turn the lights on. That was the only artistic input I gave. "He's not gonna strip," Kevin observed, as the dork climbed on me with his cock sticking through his fly. "Just work with it." Believe it or not, there is a lot a model can do when she's naked, and her co-model is fully clothed. There is a lot of tension in those pictures. Eventually it got to look too much like a struggle, even in Kevin's pictures, and I parted my legs enough to let the dork in. I don't know if Kevin knew I was getting fucked, but he was very vocal about how good I looked. I was eighteen and a half at the time, and the dork was only my fortieth sex partner, but I considered it a good exchange. I know -- I can be sordid and mercenary at times. And it was a lot more pleasant than some lays I've had in the name of fun. Afterwards, the dork got up and zipped himself in. "You were great," he said, completely without irony. "I'm gonna tell everybody at the party..." He staggered out. Kevin was watching my face, and burst out laughing. That was when I decided I really liked him. Another guy would have been concerned or nurturing, but Kevin was on my side, laughing at how ludicrous my situation was. My anger turned into a shy smile. "You were a real trooper," he said. He was standing up, taking his clothes off. "Thanks," I said. "That was a difficult and very personal shoot for me to..." "Now we're gonna do it right," he interrupted. "The camera has a thirty second timer. So you have that long for each pose." "Um, okay," I said. I got ready for him, trying to dry the crack between my legs on the pillow, fluffing up my nipples, tensing and relaxing my muscles so they'd bulge. I felt a little queer doing something like this for a shoot, and doing it in the full light of the dorm room. I was barely into my second semester in college, and I was doing really grown up stuff. "Just do me one favor? Can you shut the door to the hall again? Those guys in the hallway are giving me the creeps." Rebecca's Morning After To my dismay, Kevin ended up fucking me too. Welcome number 41! But then he asked me out on a date, I realized everything was perfect. I could fuck a boyfriend, not a client. So I said "yes," and was surprised and happy when we worked out as a couple. Back to Ameet I'd heard that talking about yourself is a good way of putting people at ease. But when I'd finished this story for Ameet, he seemed more tense and nervous than before. Perhaps it was that I was messy. I'd been leaning against him, almost cheek to cheek, as I took him through the pictures and related what was going on. I'd tried to keep my messy stomach away, so it was mostly my tits rubbing against his arm, but maybe I'd slipped. Or perhaps he was nervous because Kevin was leaning against the door to the living room, grinning at us. "Ameet has seen all your pictures before," he said. "He's promised to be the website's first paying customer." "Huh!" I feigned outrage, and touselled Ameet's hair. "You didn't tell me that." "He's your biggest fan," added Kevin, with a meaningful wink at Ameet. "Oh, yes," said Ameet quickly. "You're my favorite of... all the models I know." I played along with Kevin's teasing of Ameet. "Well, maybe Kevin will give you something to remember me by. I'm sure if you pick out a picture, Kevin will let you have it. I'll even sign it!" Ameet shyly indicated the one he wanted. It showed me, spreadeagled underneath the dork. I liked how I looked well enough -- my head thrown back, lips just parted, a look of serene joy on my face (and the muscles of my arms bulging). Unfortunately, it also had the guy, who was making a thumbs up for the camera, with a goofy face. Moreover, it was one of the ones that showed how fully he was penetrating me. "See, this one is a rarity," I said, trying to cover my sudden embarrassment. "As hard as I was trying to pose, his cock is still in me. That's a no-no. In class, Kevin was called a pornographer for this one. So it wouldn't be in any public collections, even though he's sold some to private collectors." I signed it 'To my special friend Ameet, Rebecca'. "So it's special." "I'll say," said Ameet. "Thanks." But what about the fantasy? I was back in the kitchen, finally pouring my long-awaited coffee, when Kevin embraced me from behind. "You know, you still need to earn me me that ten dollars." I turned to him in outrage. "Shit! Jay-Jay left, and didn't give me the money!" He was laughing at me. "Nope. And he thinks he fucked you in the bargain." "The fucker!" I looked at the drying patch of cum on my stomach. "I didn't even get my money, after all that." "You can stop him on the street again and demand cash for bringing him off." "Don't think I won't!" I finished pouring the coffee, and then started giggling at the image. "I can scream like a ho, and you can be next to me in your pimp hat." "If I'm going to take you on the subway back to your place, we need some money." I stirred my coffee slowly. "We can't take the subway for free," I agreed. My voice was so low even I could barely hear it. We were both playing the same game, you see... I lived only six blocks away. Exactly one subway stop. We could walk the distance in fifteen minutes. "Todd's in the shower," said Kevin. "But Ameet..." He waited until I finished, thoughtfully: "But Ameet is in the next room. And he's already sitting." Kevin laughed softly. "You're going to be my slut?" Coffee forgotten, I turned to him. I remembered how unguarded I'd felt with him earlier that morning, and I wanted to hold him close. "You think I can be? It's going to be a big change for me." "I think you'll be able to manage it," he said, with one of his mysterious smiles. His finger traced along my lips again, just like when we were in bed together. I opened my mouth obligingly and he stared at it. I liked how intense we were becoming. "I want this mouth wrapped around his cock in the next five minutes. I want you to give me the ten dollars." I nodded slowly. "You know what my expenses are? You're gonna have to suck two guys a day just for my film. Sixty a month for my share of the rent." "Because New York is expensive," I agreed. "Your mouth is going to be very busy," He teased. I grinned up at him. "A line of guys leading to my dorm room. Special parties where I'm the main attraction." I gave a shuddering sigh. "This is a big step for me." He turned me towards the living room, and patted my ass. "You always deliver, Rebecca." My mind felt loose and disconnected as I padded barefoot to the door. "Ameet?" He looked up from the pictures in his hands, and gave me a long stare from my toes to my face. One thing was certain -- I'd never have to worry about clothes again in Kevin's apartment. The thought made me grin as I asked, "If I suck your cock, will you give me ten dollars?" I felt a gush of excitement as he nodded. There was nothing about him I liked. He was not my type of guy. Except now he was, because he held the money in his hand as I went down on him. I might be a little strange, I guess. But I've had this fantasy a long time, and I felt exactly like I thought I would when I made it come true. I came almost as Ameet shot off in my mouth. I immediately wanted to do it again. Maybe two more times today. I'd have to run that by Kevin, and see if he was on board. I was sure I could find the guys -- at work, my boss, my classmates, people in my dorm. Nothing seemed impossible. A model deals with sexy things day after day, and she can only hold back and stay professional for so long.