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Snap!

By: adoration



It was a wicked East Sussex night, the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was howling. But I looked at the television programmes and they were rubbish – I wasn't interested in some old black and white movie, or how to buy a villa in Tuscany (dream on!) or a quiz programme about sports. So I decided to put on a shiny black plastic mac on over my dress, pulled on knee-high leather boots and made a dash for our local pub. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I'm 32-years-old, single – well, divorced actually, but I'm "available" as it were – and I have a figure that could be considered "generous" if it weren't for the fact that I'm about four inches short of six feet. Which is just as well, because otherwise my 38-inch breasts would look decidedly like overkill. As it is, they look magnificent. Well, that's my opinion and I suppose you'd have to say I'm biased, but I've now got a girl friend who's of the same opinion, so maybe my bias is accurate.

Anyway, to get back to that miserable April evening – what do they say, April showers? This was more like an April monsoon, if there's such a thing as a monsoon in April.

I made the 200-yard dash to the pub – named, rather strangely The Belligerent Badger – and entered the fuggy snugness of the saloon bar. There was only a handful of people there, which was just as well, because I'm painfully shy. About the only person I talk to in the "Badger" is the landlord, Major Phibbs, who was in the Royal Army Service Corps about 500 years ago – and I have my doubts about the "major", but that's none of my business.

He greeted me, his moustache bristling, the regimental tie superbly knotted at his throat. "Terri, my dear, how nice to see you," he beamed, as I shook my hair in a vain attempt to remove the rain which had soaked it, turning it into a mass of curls – it always gets curly like that in the rain!

"The usual?" asked the major, raising a glass to the gin dispenser. "Personally I blame all that A-bomb testing," he smiled, employing a hugely old-fashioned 1950s joke, as he passed me my gin and tonic.

I muttered something inane, and suddenly felt something firm, yet pliant, brushing against the gleaming wetness of my arm in the plastic mac. And then I heard a voice which sent tremors running from the nape of my neck down to my buttocks, and from my nipples to my pussy, a voice which screamed "Sex"!

And yet it was only one word: "Snap!"

I turned and looked into the dark brown eyes of a woman about my height, perhaps a bit taller, her dark brown hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. But she was wearing a mac, I almost said "just like mine" but the only connection between the two were the colour, black.

Hers was made of a gleaming leather with big lapels, big buttons, belt drawn tightly around her middle and at the top a decolletage which revealed a glimpse of breast globes at least as large as mine, if not larger.

"I, I, er, um, I beg your pardon?" I muttered, not able to take my eyes from her hard but extremely attractive face.

And then that voice sent shivers and tremors running through my body once more: "I said 'Snap' – we must have bought our mackintoshes from the same shop. 'Snap' – you know, the card game, you call out before your opponent, you pick up the cards?"

"Oh, yes, I see, oh, of course," I said, my eyes darting to her lower body, past her lush hips and down to her booted feet.

Again, like the raincoat, the only thing her boots and mine had in common was the fact they were both black. Hers looked like you wouldn't get change out of several hundred quid!

"I could say 'snap' as well about our boots," I said, in a quiet voice as the woman next to me handed her glass to the major and said in that super-sexy drawl "Same again, my dear landlord".

The major mixed her a gin and tonic. "Snap," I said, as he passed her glass over.

"Sorry, but I win with the first 'snap'," she said. "The boots and the gin and tonic don't count. Now, come and sit down with me by the fire and tell me what a lovely young woman like you is doing all by herself in a pub on a night such as this."

I walked, as if on air, to the table she indicated, part of me eager to strike up a conversation with her, part eager to drown my drink and dash home because I knew I was trembling with excitement at her presence. She had, oh what's the word? A hauteur about her, a haughtiness which not only screamed money, but also style.

And her "come and sit down with me" had me obeying like a naughty schoolgirl being dressed down by the headmistress. I walked behind her, looking at the glorious folds of the long leather mac swishing against her lush buttocks. If the truth be told, I was already in love!

Seated at the table, I took a nervous sip on my g&t and tried to look confident in the face of her awe-inspiring beauty.

Then she spoke again and her voice was a little lower, and even sexier. "You must think I'm awfully rude," she said, but all I could think was that she was so beautiful.

"Oh no," I stammered, unbelting my mac and allowing it to fall open and reveal the little black dress I was wearing. Her eyes fixed on my breasts and I felt as if a laser was boring into them.

Then she coughed, as if to say "I'm sorry, I was staring" and continued: "No, this is so rude. Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "I'm Barbara Kleinhold, but please call me Barbara."

I looked at her transfixed. Then it all fell into place. "Barbara Kleinhold?" I spluttered, "Barbara Kleinhold? Not the Barbara Kleinhold, Lady Barbara, head of Kleinhold Holdings?"

She grinned, glanced around the bar – but the other four patrons were all engaged in some dreary conversation about whether Wembley Stadium would ever be completed in their lifetime, or something equally banal.

"Well, yes, actually," she said. "I'm afraid my fame seems to have preceded me."

"Preceded you?" I grinned, starting to feel more relaxed with this wonder woman of property development. "Your face peers out at us from every financial page of every paper in the country," I spluttered. "What is it they call you? The Distaff Donald Trump, isn't it?"

"Please," she smiled, placing a superbly-manicured hand on my knee, and squeezing it just momentarily. "Don't mention my name in the same breath as that appalling little man. My dahlink, his hair? How can you take a man with hair like that seriously, I ask you?"

I took a far too large swig on my gin and found it was drained! "Allow me," said Lady Barbara, standing, taking my glass and advancing on Major Phibbs again.

When she returned, I already had my next question prepared. "Lady Barbara," I began, but she cut me off.

"It's Barbara, please my dear – and I already know you're Terry – is that with a 'Y' or an 'I'?"

"It's with an 'I'," I replied, and she gave me a smile which warmed my entire body on this wretched April night.

"Good, I prefer it with an 'I', so much more feminine," she said.

"Barbara," I said, although I had to take a deep breath before referring to such a world-famous businesswoman in such familiar terms. "You ask what a woman like me was doing in a pub on a night like this, but what on earth is a multi-millionaire" – and then she interrupted me again.

"Multi-billionaire," she said, "although unlike the desperate Donald I don't make a song and dance when authors under-estimate my wealth. Sorry, Terri, do go on."

I plunged on. "Well, what on earth is someone like you doing in a pub like The Belligerent Badger on a night like this? I mean, we're out in the wilds of Sussex, halfway between Chapel Cross and Three Cups Corner. What brings you here?"

Lady Barbara sipped on her fresh gin and smiled at me – she could have told me she'd got off the bus at the wrong stop and I'd have believed her!

"Well, to start with I've never heard of anywhere so weirdly named as Three Cups Corner, but that's not answering your question, is it, dahlink? Well, I was on my way to Battle, where I had a meeting organised with a reclusive self-made millionaire who wants to sell me some property he owns in Manhattan, of all places.

"Like an idiot I've given Johnson, my chauffeur the night off for a family birthday party, so I decided to drive myself, and I'd just gone through Chapel Cross, is it, when I got a call on my mobile to say the millionaire had done something unconscionable."

"Gone back on the deal?" I asked, thrilled to even be discussing a business project involving a chunk of Manhattan real estate.

"No, dahlink," said Lady Barabra, sipping again on her gin, "much worse. He died."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, trying to look suitably crestfallen.

"Not half as sorry as I am, my dear," said Lady Barbara. "So I thought fuck it – pardon my French - then I saw the lights of The Belligerent Badger through all the sodding rain and thought, what the hell, I'll call in and have a g&t and wonder about getting back home."

Just then a low ding-a-ling ring on her cellphone went off and Lady Barbara said "Excuse me" and pulled it from one of her coat's deep pockets.

"Lady B," she said, snappily, and after a few moments I saw her looking sharply at me.

"No, Constance," she said, "I have no intention to driving all the way back in this foul weather. I've just bumped into an old friend and I plan on staying the night at her place. And since the Manhattan project is as good as dead and buried, I'm switching this infernal machine off. I'll head on to London tomorrow, see you in the office around midday. Bye."

Lady Barbara looked me directly in the eye and in an earnest voice said: "Constance is my personal assistant and if I don't switch this thing off, she'll call me with news from around my world empire every hour, on the hour."

Then she stood. "Now, I've invited myself home to your place. I see no wedding ring on your hand – are you single?"

I gulped and nodded my head. "Of course I'm single," I heard my voice almost squeaking, as I too stood up.

"Amazing," she said, finishing her gin, "a good-looking woman like you. What's the matter with all the men in Sussex. Gone queer on us?"

"I'm divorced," I heard myself speaking in a whisper.

"That's good," said Lady Barbara, "because I'm available. Now, my Bentley is in the car park. I'll drive you home. Do we have far to go?"

"Only about 200 yards," I told her, "but with you I'd go 200 million miles." I could hardly believe hearing what I was saying.

"That's the sweetest thing I've heard all day," said Lady Barbara, standing and smoothing down her hugely expensive leather coat. "Let's go."

We dashed to the big black Bentley and snuggled into the deep leather seats, then Lady Barbara let out a curse. "Bugger, no wine – you got any wine at your place, dahlink?"

"I've got Bristol Cream Sherry, or gin," I said, sounding somewhat lame.

"I'll run back into the pub and see what the major has for our refreshment," she said. "By the way, don't touch anything, this motor's all geared up to satellites and such shit. If anything goes off we'll have half the East Sussex Constabulary around the thing."

Minutes later she was back with a large plastic bag. I peeped at the two bottles inside. "Moet and Chandon," I said, highly impressed. "I didn't know the major ran to that."

Lady Barbara gave a low, fruity chuckle. "Major my arse, Terri," she said. "I doubt he even made corporal. And yes it's Moet, and it's crap, but it's slightly above mouthwash, although a long way below Krug, but for our first date it'll have to do."

"First date"! The very words sent bells ringing in my ears, then I realised the richest woman in the world was asking me directions to home. I gave directions, she parked in the drive, making my little Mini Cooper look like a Dinky toy in front of her Bentley, and we ran into the house.

Once inside, I snapped on as many lights as I could, threw more logs on the thankfully merrily blazing fire and Lady Barbara removed her leather coat and casually threw it in a heap on the hallway floor. Then I looked more closely at her. She was dressed in a blindingly white, low-cut blouse, her breasts heaving above the upper edge of the dress, tanned and full and firm.

On her hips clung a tight, black leather miniskirt, which must have cost almost as much as her leather boots. Then she bent over, unzipped the boots, deposited them on top of the leather jacket and took the plastic bag from my hands.

"Come on, let's chill these bastards while you fix me a gin and tell me what a woman like you is doing vegetating away in the wilds of Sussex," she said.

Over much bigger gins than the "major" makes – only now I was thinking of him as the Lance-corporal – I explained to Lady Barbara that my husband of two years left me for a younger woman.

She sneered. "Bloody imbecile, but great – paves the way for someone who'll appreciate you," she said. "And what do you do to make ends meet, my dahlink? You're obviously not something in the City, judging by this little cottage."

I lowered my face, suddenly ashamed of my humble home. Lady Barbara seized on it immediately.

"Fuck, my big mouth. Look Terri, ignore that awful crack. It's just that when you're used to beating down men who think they are God's gift to corporate negotiations, I tend to talk too bloody tough. Forgive me, it was totally uncalled for."

I looked at her and smiled. "Oh, that's all right, Barbara, but 10 bedroom mansions don't go with a legal secretary's wages."

She looked at me and smiled, then stood from her seat opposite mine by the fire, lowered her mouth and kissed me very, very softly on the cheek. I inhaled a wonderful perfume – what it was I'd no idea, but I knew it was very, very expensive.  

"I'll lead the way to the kitchen, where I will raid the fridge and cook us something special to make up for my crass remarks," she said, holding her lovely hand out and helping me into the kitchen.

Later over a delicious omelette she had whisked up using tomatoes, spring onions, a can of salmon and all the eggs I had in the house, washed down by the two bottles of Moet, Lady Barbara told me the story of her life.

"Born Dusseldorf, 1962," she started. "Parents moved to England, educated me. I was very bright. University education. Bought a small shop in Brixton – don't laugh – soon had two shops, then 22, and I've not looked back since. That's enough about me, the rest you can get from the Financial Times or Forbes Top 40. Why did hubby leave?"

"Old story," I said, not wanting to go into too much detail. "Traded me in for a younger model. I don't miss him. His sexual appetite for, well, for a certain kind of sex, was beginning to disgust me."

She looked me straight in the eye. "More detail – only not too much," she said. It was kindly worded, but it was an order.

"He wanted to take me in the rear," I said. "And then he demanded fellatio." My voice drifted away and a silence hung in the air.

Lady Barbara made no comment, no cliches like "I'm so sorry", or "You poor thing" but looked at me with those deep brown eyes as if to say "Forget him, he's history".

She then did something that will remain etched in my memory to my dying day. She casually unbuttoned her blouse to reveal her large, 40-inch breasts in a coffee coloured brassiere which thrust them into superb uplift. She threw her blouse to the floor. "What you need," she said, in a voice that brooked no argument, "is a good woman."

Lady Barbara stood and held out her hand. I took it – I wanted to, I wanted her, my body was screaming for her!

She took me through the sitting room, where the fire was still flickering its warm message throughout the small bungalow, and into my adjoining bedroom. I could hardly breath as this lovely, tall woman stepped behind me and unzipped my dress. It fell to my feet and I sensed her kick it away.

Then her hands, warm and soft, were on my back and unclipping my white, oh-so-demure bra. My breasts fell, not much, just a smidgin, into their natural cups and her hands cupped them, weighing them as it were. Her mouth brushed against my curly brown hair.

"Lovely, just the right weight – and oh, the quality," I heard her whisper. Then her hands went to work on my delicate little white panties, pushing them over my bum and down to the floor.

This left me standing naked by the bed, my nipples erect, my pussy pounding.

"Into bed and wait for me, dahlink," she said, quietly, but firmly.

I climbed between the sheets, leaving them pulled back to display my nudity. Lady Barbara felt behind her back and then the coffee colour bra was gone, thrown casually to the floor. Her breasts were bigger than mine, large suntanned globes with pointy nipples. I ached to place them in my mouth. Her leather miniskirt soon joined the bra on the floor, then she was stepping out of her matching coloured coffee panties.

My eyes were glued to her pussy. At her mons was a dark strip, but no hair. It was as if the dark strip signalled that there had been dark, black hair there before she shaved. Her pussy was hairless, but dark brown, almost as if she actually sunbathed with it smeared with suntan lotion.

Lady Barbara climbed up onto the bed, and placed her knees to each side of my head. I didn't know what to do, it was as if the sight of her sensational snatch had struck me dumb.

"Ever done this before, Terri?" she asked in a low voice.

"No," I whispered, "I don't know what to do."

I felt a hand trace across my curly hair. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," she said, comfortingly. "Just imagine it's your pussy, just do the things you'd like to do to your pussy to give yourself pleasure. I'll lead the way, you just follow. Don't worry, I'm going to be so gentle."

I blinked back tears of joy, this was so different sex with David, it was so tender.

Then she was speaking again. "Push your tongue out, let it lick somewhere, then I'll guide you. Stroke my buttock with your left hand if you understand." 

I stroked her lush, firm bum. And then my tongue flicked against her vagina.

"Ah, lovely, that's lovely, Terri. Am I wet there?"

I stroked her buttock with my left hand, tasting the sweetness of her pussy.

"Now move further back – try to reach my anus, just a little love lick, nothing too deep, just on the lips. Do it now!"

I did, tasting the musky slit and feeling it give slightly under the pressure, then I slid back to her cunt. It was sopping wet now!

"Now move forward, run your tongue around my outer labia lips, just flick over them, then dive into the furrow, taste me, suck me gently. Do I taste nice?"

What a silly, silly, question! She tasted divine. To impress on her how delighted I was at being able to drink down her sweetly-nectared minge, I ran my hand feverishly across her lovely buttock cheek.

"Good," said my mistress – because that's what she was now – "now higher to my clit. Flick it, lick it, suck it, then kiss it. Tell me, is it hard, dahlink?"

I flicked, licked, sucked and kissed as per her instructions. Again my hand rubbed urgently across her buttock to demonstrate my "Yes!" response to her question.

Then Lady Barbara's body seemed to relax. "Great, that's the end of the Grand Tour, now just let yourself go, let your tongue and your lips roam and rove around me, and when I ask you to concentrate on my clit it means I'm close to my orgasm, then you can just lick me there till I come.

"Oh, by the way, when I come I get rather fruity – I let myself go and I shout out a lot of rather naughty things. Take no notice of them, it only means I love you and love what you're doing. Now, let's go!"

And my tongue and mouth started on its second voyage of oral adoration around Lady Barbara's sweetly-perfumed pussy, which was getting moister and damper and wetter by the moment as I laved away at her super-sexy folds.


Snap!



Soon my work began to reap dividends and from above me I heard sounds of gasping. I looked up and saw Lady Barbara's glorious globes of breast flesh bouncing around as her upper body writhed and wriggled on my face, the light from the fire sending flickering shafts of light across her slightly perspiring torso.

Then, with a sudden stiffening, she grabbed the wooden headboard at the top of the bed and began to moan a melange of words, all of which stated one thing: orgasm!

"Yeah, yeah, Terri, you're a wonder, you've done this in a previous life you lovely mouthed little slut, don't stop, you slut, you slut, oh you fucking little slut!"

And then with what I took to be a roar of approval, Lady Barbara's pussy pulled from my face and she clamped her thighs together, graunching and grinding her steaming snatch against my firm flesh there, gritting her teeth and grunting "Fuck, fuck, fuck" as she did so.

I almost cried tears of joy, realising I had just performed cunnilingus on what my daily newspaper called "the world's richest woman – and one of the world's best-looking women!". Typical Sun!

Then, Lady Barbara was taking charge again, this time it was her who used her mouth, licking and nibbling at my mouth, inhaling deeply as she obviously caught the aroma of her pussy from my lips.

After a few moist, sexy, tongue-probing kisses, she ran her mouth down my throat to my breasts and then she was sucking and licking at my nipples, tasting me with a slow, steady tempo, occasionally murmuring "What breasts, oh what fucking superb breasts", none of which did my ego any harm at all.

Then her face was on my belly and her tongue was tracing towards my snatch! Thank goodness it had been only this morning that I had given the little thatch of light brown pubic hair at my mons a trim, and shaved around my sex to freshen up there – I simply love the feeling of a shaved pussy on silk or satin panties! It's so, oh, I don't know, what's the word? Decadent!

Lady Barbara then shuffled her beautiful body until she was lying directly beneath my widespread thighs and her tongue was licking against my sex. "Oh, Terri," I heard her gasp, "you are so wet, you wicked, wanton woman. Do you really want me?"

I responded without words, grasping her head and thrusting it against me, then gripping her hair and driving her up and down my minge. I heard the world's richest woman give out a giggle, a girlish giggle, and she pulled back.

I felt a sudden flash of panic. She wasn't going to stop, was she?

Then I heard her from between my thighs, her breath hot on my heated pussy: "I take it you do. All right, I'll shut up dahlink. Now just lay back and think of England – oh no, fuck England, think of me!"

And her tongue began to work its wonderful magic over my sexy bits, flicking and licking, sucking and nibbling, kissing and flat-tonguing, driving me wilder and wilder with passion with every glorious stroke of her lips and tongue.

I lay back not daring to believe this was happening to me, then I dropped all thoughts that this was a fantasy and indulged myself as her ministrations dragged a massive, huge, shouting and screaming orgasm from me.

"Oooooh, fuck, that's it, you've got me, Barbara, you've got me, don't stop – yeeees, I'm coming, I'm coming." Or words to that effect.

My orgasm was so much more intense than when I played with myself, finger fucking the evenings away, it was a thing of loud crashing cymbals, blaring trombones and a screaming choir made up of one singer – me! And thank goodness for the howling wind and slashing rain or I'm sure the locals in the saloon bar of The Belligerent Badger would have heard me!

Lady Barbara climbed from the bed, placed more logs on the blazing fire, turned off all the lights and we sat propped up on pillows, our bodies close together, the light from the fire playing across our breasts.

She leaned down and kissed me on the breasts, then on the mouth. "You are so wonderful, you are such a lovely lover, and I want you – which means I'm going to have you," she announced, as if she was announcing a takeover of some major corporation.

"Now, tell me, Terri, what you do – a legal secretary was it? Where? How long? Do you enjoy it?"

So I told her all about the Hastings law firm where I had worked for four years for the odious Mr Bridgenorth, and the way he was always peering down my blouse, or up my skirts, and his disgusting "If I was 20 years younger I'd teach you a thing or two, m'dear" come-on.

"Well," said Lady Barbara, "forget him, he's history from now on. Tomorrow morning we'll call in, hand your notice in and get a glowing reference for you and then you will come onto my payroll. I can offer you a far more pleasant job."

I didn't know whether to scream with relief, or give her the biggest, most passionate kiss I'd ever given anyone. I settled for a small shriek and a passionate kiss. All of which, of course, led to more intense lovemaking.

We fell asleep in each others arms and were woken around 7.30 by the chirruping of birds and a beautifully bright, sunny Sussex spring day. After showers in my pitifully cramped little en suite, Lady Barbara and I had breakfast of marmalade on toast and Earl Grey tea.

"And tell me," said Lady Barbara, licking a splodge of Robertson's Marmalade off her finger, "what time do you usually get into this hell hole of a Hastings office?"

"At 9am sharp," I told her, "anything later and Mr Bridgenorth goes bananas."

"Well today he can go plantations of 'em," said Lady Barbara, "because we're not going to get there until at least 9.30." And then she added a two-word comment which said everything you needed to know about her opinion of Mr Bridgenorth: "Fuck him."

She drove the big Bentley sedately into the outskirts of Hastings, followed my directions to the office and nosed the big limo into a parking space with the notice "Senior Partner: Do NOT park here".

Striding into the office, Lady Barbara advanced on timid little Trudy, the receptionist, who looked up and gaped when she saw the tall, stunning-looking billionairess advancing on her.

"Can I help you?" she stammered, her eyes flicking towards me, then back to Lady Barbara, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Yes you can," snapped the tall woman. "Bridgenorth's office."

Trudy turned and pointed to his office, and added "But you can't ..." then her voice trailed away as it became clear to her that Lady Barbara could and indeed was going in there. I followed, being tugged by Lady Barbara's firm grip, half fearful, half excited at the coming confrontation.

Lady Barbara barged into the room and Mr Bridgenorth glared from behind his desk and started to rise from his seat. "And who the hell are you?" he stammered.

"Neither here nor there," snapped Lady Barbara, plonking herself firmly into the chair reserved for clients in front of the desk. "The fact is that you're Bridgenorth and that's all I need to know right now."

Mr Bridgenorth sat, his face getting redder and redder, then he looked at me. "Simpson," he demanded – it was always "Simpson", never Terri, not even Ms Simpson, always "Simpson – "just what is going on?"

Lady Barbara weighed in on him. "Don't talk to her, talk to me because I'm acting for her, you scrofulous little excuse for a solicitor, you. Ms Simpson here has given you four years excellent service. She is now leaving."

"Not till she's served out her notice, she's not," said Mr Bridgenorth, starting to feel more in control.

Lady Barbara leaned a leather-coated arm on his desk. Placed an elegant forefinger under her chin and fixed him with a look that petrified me and I wasn't even the target!

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," she snapped. "Now you are going to provide Ms Simpson with a fulsome, praiseworthy reference, something which will reflect all the wonderful work she's done for you over the past four years."

Mr Bridgenorth tried to speak, but Lady Barbara rode on over him: "If she doesn't get that superb reference – and I want it in 20 minutes – I will have my lawyers tie you up in Law Society hearings for the rest of your miserable life defending charges of gross sexual misconduct towards Ms Simpson."

The solicitor's mouth opened, shut and opened again. "But, but .." he said, and Lady Barbara stood.

"But me no buts, Mr Bridgenorth," she said. "At Kleinhold Holdings I employ a team of lawyers who will eat someone like you for breakfast and then look around for afters. So get on with the reference. When you've got it done and copied and signed in triplicate, get your office gofer to deliver it to me across the road in that coffee shop opposite. If it's not there in 20 minutes, I'll call my lawyers and they will start making your life a living hell."

Mr Bridgenorth spluttered, then a look of comprehension wafted over his ugly face. "Kelinhold Holdings? You're Lady Barbara Kleinhold?"

And then his face broke into a sickly grin: "My dear young lady, why didn't you say?"

Lady Barbara was ushering me towards the door. "Because it shouldn't have been necessary. And cut the unctuous 'dear young lady' crap, I'm 44-years-old. Now get on with that reference because the clock's ticking."

And we walked out, across the street to the 1066 Old Coffee Shoppe – what a terrible name, I was ashamed to take Lady Barbara in there – and we sat at a window seat and sipped lattes.

"That was so thrilling," I said, when the waitress had delivered our drinks. "But was it true – all that about a team of lawyers, I mean?"

Lady Barbara fixed me with a steely glare, and then her face relaxed and she put a comforting hand on mine. "Look, Terri, you're going to work for me, so you'd better know that when I'm negotiating with someone, I never – and I mean never – say anything that I can't back up, I never joke about things like that."

"Poor old Mr Bridgenorth," I said, "I almost felt sorry for him."

Lady Barbara sipped her coffee and looked at me. "Fuck him," she said, and glanced at her diamond-encrusted Rolex. "Time's ticking, where's your reference?"

Just then, we saw the poor little Trudy trot across the street, an envelope in her hand. She rushed into the shop and handed it to Lady Barbara, it was her name that was neatly typed on the envelope, not mine, I couldn't help but notice. Typical Mr Bridgenorth.

The billionairess opened the contents and glanced at them. "Excellent," she said, stuffing the envelope into a deep leather raincoat's pocket. Then she looked up at timid Trudy standing by our table and handed her a card.

"Trudy, this is the card of my personal assistant, Constance Cunningham. If you have any trouble over the way I barged into Bridgenorth's office this morning – and I mean any  trouble – then you call Constance and I'll see it's sorted. Understood?"

Trudy nodded so frantically I thought her silly head would drop off.

We drove to London, and Lady Barbara smoothly braked the Bentley to a halt outside a glass-fronted monster of a building on the South Bank. A tall, dark-haired, middle-aged man in a sharp Armani suit, ran down the steps in front of the building, opened the door for myself, nodded to Lady Barbara, said "Thanks for the night off, Lady B, the party was terrific".

Lady Barbara smiled back at him and said: "On the contrary, Johnson, thank you – my party was sensational." And then she took me up to the reception area.

Behind it sat a burly, extremely strong-looking man in a sergeant-major's best blues uniform, the upper breast covered in campaign medals. "Buxton," said Lady Barbara, "this is Ms Simpson who is going to be working for me. I'll get her all security carded and so on, but this is just to introduce her."

Buxton stood and I thought he was going to salute me!

Up in her palatial and pristine office, with great views out over the city, Lady Barbara buzzed a button on her desk and short, flat-chested blonde with frizzy hair walked in.

"Constance," said my new boss, "this is Terri Simpson, she's going to be my confidant. You'll both get along famously."

Constance grinned at me and then in a voice that I took to be part-Cockney said: "Welcome aboard, Terri. But gor blimey, Lady B, she ain't gonna come to work dressed like that, is she?"

Lady Barbara laughed. "Most certainly not, my dear. We'll have Bruce in later to look her over, but first I want someone from security to get her ID and all that – make it Rossiter, he's very efficient."

"Gotcha," said Constance and in less than a minute Rossiter, who was a former member of the Metropolitan Police Force, as I was told, had photographed me, taken a close up of my eyes for a laser scanner entry point in the underground car park, taken a fingerprint for a security pad and tape-recorded my voice saying three times "Terri Simpson". He said he would have my security pass to me in a couple of hours.

When he had left, Lady Barbara made me sit on a couch in front of her desk and she cleared her throat. Then came her announcement. "Right, you are to be my confidant, a sort of super PA, understood, Terri?"

I nodded but said, firmly I hoped: "But how do you know I'm going to be any good?"

Lady Barbara smiled warmly. "Trust me, I know. I have an instinct for these things. Right, you are going to be paid three thousand pounds a week, and I'll arrange for a month's salary in advance to be paid into your bank account. It's in Hastings is it?"

I nodded, my jaw dropping at the thought of all that money. "Scribble the details on this pad," said Lady Barbara, pushing a pad across and a huge black pen. "Add your home address while you're about it," she ordered.

I pushed the pad back to her, and Lady Barbara picked up a phone. "Genevieve," she said, "how's that Sydney project going? Signed and sealed? Well done, you've got that wrapped up quickly. Now for something far less onerous."

And then I nearly fainted when I heard my new employer's instructions. "Right there's this little cottage down in East Sussex." And she peeled off my address. "It's mortgaged to a Terri Simpson, that's Terri with an 'i'. I want the mortgage paid off using my savings account, and I want it all signed off to Terri.

"Oh, another thing. Just down the road from that address is a public house called The Belligerent Badger. I'm pretty sure it's a free house, but it may have some tie in with a brewery. I want to buy it. If you have problems with a brewery – although it may not come to that – buy the brewery. But anyway, I want the pub.

"When you've bought it, I want it signed off also to Terri. And one last thing – the publican or landlord, or whatever the term is in the licensed trade, is a man called Major Phibbs. Find out the arrangement he has with the owner. He must continue to run it and I want him to get a healthy pay rise. OK?"

I was speechless as Lady Barbara put the phone down. "I, er, oh gosh, how can I ever thank you?" I mumbled.

Lady Barbara smiled. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way, Terri. Now let's get you outfitted."

Minutes later, I was standing stark naked in front of a man in his late 20s named Bruce. "Don't worry, dahlink," said Lady Barbara, "he's not turned on by you in the slightest, are you Bruce?"

Bruce grinned at her. "Ooooh, you bitch," he said, in what I was sure was a deliberately strained accent, "just watch yourself or I'll scratch your eyes out, even with all your money!"

Half an hour later, Bruce had all my measurements and was away to order suits, dresses, evening wear, lingerie, shoes and perfume for me.

Then a dark-haired little man who was called Edgar came in, took one look at me and screeched: "Oooh, fuck, Lady B – she's so lovely, but that hair! It's awful. Must have been a shocking accident. Come on, ducky, let's get you repaired, you poor old thing!"

And in a large dressing room attached to the office, was a sort of hairdresser's salon, and also a shower and a bath. Edgar shampooed me, cut my hair, styled it and an hour later I was paraded in front of Lady Barbara.

"Edgar, you old magician, you've worked wonders. I knew she was lovely, but this is beyond my wildest dreams! Take the rest of the day off, you're a sweetie."

When he had left, Lady Barabra announced: "Fuck, I'm famished, time for lunch." She pressed her desk button again and moments later two smartly-dressed waiters were plying us with dishes of lobster bisque and green salad, washed down by a split each of Krug champagne. It was the loveliest champagne I'd ever tasted.

After lunch, Bruce returned with a trolley and hanging from it was an array of dresses, suits and evening wear. Boxes of shoes, packages of stunningly sexy lingerie and several wildly expensive perfumes were also dragged into the office.

"And the watch?" asked Lady Barbara, when Bruce had put everything in a large, walk-in dressing room, on the opposite side of the office to where I had been transformed by Edgar.

Bruce delved into his pocket and produced a little leather box, which he passed to Lady Barbara. When he had left, Lady Barbara handed the box to me and I opened it to reveal a diamond-encrusted Rolex. I gasped and Lady Barbara laughed.

"Look at the back," she said. I turned the wonderful little timepiece over and on the reverse was the inscription: "To Terri, my love, Lady B."

I stepped into her arms and we kissed. "This has been the most exciting day of my life," I said, when our lips disengaged.

"And it's going to get more exciting," said my new boss. She picked up her phone and punched a number: "Constance, scarper, I'm going to be busy with Terri for a while. See you on Monday. And enjoy the Chelsea match."

Lady Barbara then walked to the office door and locked it, then turned towards me. As she did, she removed her blouse, her skirt, then her panties and her bra. The boots, she kept on.

"Strip darling," she said, in a husky, almost breathless voice, "I want you and I want you now."

Although I was standing by the massive window looking down on old London town, I didn't even give it a second thought. In seconds I was nude and Lady Barbara was in front of me, her mouth seeking my nippple-erect breasts. Then she pushed me onto a long, low, white leather couch.

I parted my legs and Lady Barbara knelt before me, her bare back and buttocks on view for anyone in the big office blocks about two miles away who had powerful enough binoculars to focus on us. But all I was focusing on was her wonderful tongue working its magic on my sex.

"Fuck, you taste so fucking gorgeous," I heard her say, as she surfaced momentarily for air, before delving back to my seeping sex trench, her tongue like an electric probe tickling, tormenting and delighting me all in the same movement.

Soon her dexterity had me moaning and sobbing and then my already perfect day was made even more thrilling and as I looked out at the gleaming towers of the city, I was brought to a crushing, crunching orgasm via the mouth of the world's richest woman. I was in heaven!

Lady Barbara then stood, smiled a silly smile as if to say "Haven't we been naughty?" and then kissed me full on the mouth, her lips tasting thrillingly of my moist pussy.

"Now let's see what sort of a job Bruce has done – it's dress up time, dahlink," she said, and we entered the large walk-in dressing room.

Lady Barbara first made me put on a really sexy matching pair of blue satin bra and briefs, which fitted snugly and outlined my curves perfectly. Then she helped me into a white shirt – Italian, I noticed – and a superbly tailored dark grey jacket and skirt. On my feet I slipped black Manolo Blahniks and they felt as if I'd been wearing them for weeks, they were so comfortable.

I stepped in front of the full-length mirror and gasped. "Oh goodness, I look smashing, Barbara," I gushed. "It fits like a glove."




Snap!



Lady Barbara laughed. "So it fucking should, dahlink, Bruce measured every square inch of your body. In fact I'm beginning to have my doubts about young Bruce – he may not be as gay as I thought!"

And then I was undressed and dressed through an array of wonderful clothes. Each outfit made me feel like a million dollars. I was soaring.

Finally, when I was parading in a classic little black dress over some super-sexy Victoria's Secret black lingerie, Lady Barbara put her hand to her chin and commented: "Perfect. You'll wear that tonight. Now I'll get dressed, we'll get Johnson to drive us home and we'll have dinner at my place. You're moving in, and I won't take no for an answer."

I wasn't arguing.

Johnson drove us to an apartment block in Park Lane – he used Lady Barbara's Rolls-Royce for this trip – and upstairs in a sumptuous apartment, my new employer pressed a bell.

A stunningly-attractive black woman, introduced to me as Chantelle, entered the huge lounge with its view over Hyde Park. "Has that crayfish arrived from New Zealand, Chantelle?" my boss asked.

"Oui madame, how would you like it? Mornay, or diced up with a salad?" the woman said in a softly French-accented voice.

"Mornay, and we'll eat in about an hour – bring in some Beluga while I open a bottle of bubbles, there's a pet," she ordered her maid-cum-chef.

"She's French, of course, and the best fucking chef I've ever had. You'll love her cooking," said Lady Barbara.

And that was how my first evening in London with this wonderful woman went. We sipped on Krug champagne as we nibbled on the caviar, and more Krug slipped down with the crayfish mornay. It was exquisite, even nicer than the lobster we had enjoyed at lunch.

"I get the lobster flown in from Nova Scotia," explained my boss, "and the crayfish from Auckland. It's a toss up, but I think I prefer the cray. Either way, I have to exercise like mad to keep the weight down."

"Your weight looks perfect to me," I said, without a trace of a lie.

"Wonderful, Terri – you can stay on," she laughed.

And that was how things went. I lived at the Mayfair apartment, Lady Barbara sent two people down to Sussex to collect my Mini. A week later, she informed me the bungalow had now been signed over to me.

The Belligerent Badger was also in my name and the "major" was delighted at his new wage rise. All he knew was that the pub had been bought by a large London corporation, whose name it was in, he hadn't a clue. I was wealthy – well, far wealthier than I'd been before Lady Barbara had "bumped" into me in the local.

My work consisted of doing odd little jobs for Lady Barbara, finding out weird things on the internet for her – one, for some strange reason, was a book on the history of Manhattan prior to the Dutch purchase of it.

But most of my tasks – if you could use such an onerous word – involved pleasuring my lovely employer. One day, towards the end of the afternoon, I was naked on my knees underneath Lady Barbara's desk, my tongue working slowly but with feeling across her sex trench, when the door opened and in walked Constance!

"Oh, oh fuck, I'm sorry, Lady B," said the Cockney PA and she scuttled back out, slamming the door behind her.

I pulled away from my mistress's adorable quim, my face obviously as red as a beetroot. Tears started to course down my cheeks, I felt such a slut!

Lady Barbara put a hand down and lifted me up and placed me across her lap onto her bare thighs, bare because her skirt had been raised up around her hips so I could access her sweet sex.

"Oh fuck, now everyone will know what I do for you," I sobbed, the tears flowing freely.

Lady Barbara pulled a soft handkerchief from her jacket breast pocket, and wiped my tears.

"There, there, Terri," she soothed me, dabbing at my tears, planting little kisses on my cheeks, "calm down. Everyone already knows what you do for me, and they don't think the worse of you for it."

I snuffled now, like a child wanting to be mollified.

"Let me explain," said Lady Barbara. "This is my European headquarters, as you know, and in my headquarters I surround myself with people I like.

"For example, I like Constance – although the little tart is going to get the sharp edge of my tongue shortly. I like Bruce. I like Johnson. Life's too short to employ people around you who are yes-men, or who suck up to me because of my wealth. So I pick people I like.

"Only I didn't pick you because I like you."

I felt a fresh torrent of tears starting to well up.

"Silly," she grinned, "I picked you because I love you, not because I like you. OK? Now, run along into the changing room and clean up that face, you look like you've walked into a truck."

I did as instructed, and while I was "freshening up" I heard Lady Barbara giving Constance a dressing-down. When I got back in the office, Lady B was on the phone.

"I'm calling the son of the old millionaire who died on me in Battle," she said, "he's in New York." Then she began her conversation.

"Hi Richard, Lady Barbara here, my PA tells me you called. First, my condolences about your father – I only met him a couple of times, but he was a charming man. I'm sorry."

Then the American spoke and Lady Barbara's next response was polite, but there was no doubting its seriousness.

"Right, Richard, that's absolutely in accordance with what your father was going to sell to me for. But listen - I have no intention of getting into a bidding war here. If I find that Trump, or someone else, has bid as much as an extra nickel for the site, I'm off, I'm out of it. I'm not going to be used to hike the price, OK?"

She listened for a while, then said "Right, I'll get my lawyers to do their picky, picky things with the contract and if they tell me it's all OK, then I'll sign on the dotted line".

Then, as an afterthought, she added: "One thing, Richard – why did your father want to meet me in Battle, of all places?"

There was a long pause, then she ended the conversation: "Fascinating – and rather sweet. Again my condolences and as they say in the classics, my people will be in touch with your people."

Lady Barbara ended her call and I raised an eyebrow: "Well, why did he want to meet you in Battle? If it hadn't been for that, we'd never have met."

She smiled. "Nice story. It appears the old duffer's mother was born there. Her parents decided to migrate to the States, and when she was four the ship they were on struck an iceberg in the Atlantic. It was 1912."

She looked at me and I said: "The Titanic?"

"Exactly," said Lady Barbara, "The old millionaire's mum was four-years-old, but was rescued, of course, ended up in New York, married an American and in 1928 had a son – the old millionaire.

"Well, he did quite well, and bought this little chunk of Manhattan, but fell on hard times and decided to sell to me. He wanted to consummate the deal in the town of his mother's birth, so he flew over to England.

"And he died in Battle, the place where his mother was born. Quite a touching little story, I think."

"It's a lovely story," I said, "but more importantly, without his little whim, I would never have met you."

"Precisely, now – where were we before Constance so rudely interrupted. Do you remember?"

Did I remember? I was on my knees in a flash.

Back "home" in the Mayfair apartment, sex was equally as thrilling and often unexpected. One evening, when Lady Barbara had gone through a bad day, shouting at colleagues in Dubai, Sydney, Rome and places west, she was in a particularly filthy mood.

We had hardly walked in the door, than Lady Barbara barked "Strip and into my bedroom, and hurry, you lovely little slut".

The beautiful black bird Chantelle poked her head around the kitchen door and took one look at her boss and pulled back in again, quickly.

In Lady B's luxury bedroom, I stripped and waited nervously, wearing only my Blahniks, as if the added height would offer me some sort of protection from my lady's wrath.

Then she came in, her smart business suit discarded, a black, see-through bra allowing me to sight her erect nipples thrusting into the material, similarly see-through panties revealing her lush pussy lips. Her black high heels meant she towered above me, but she ordered "Shoes off!" anyway.

I obeyed, then watched as she went to a drawer by the massive bed and produced lengths of twine. "On the bed, you sexual young hussy," she said, looking at me with what I can only describe as unbridled lust.

I clambered up onto the luxurious silk sheets, and Lady Barbara proceeded to tie me, face down to the four corners of the bed, the twine quite tight around my wrists and ankles. Then she produced a cruel-looking little riding crop from the drawer where she kept the twine and stepped onto the bed, slipped off her shoes and panties, and sat down at the head of the bed.

"Baby want some of mistress's pussy?" she inquired, in a strange, sort of panting voice, one I'd rarely heard.

"Yes, please, mistress," I whispered, and she squirmed down the bed until her sex was planted firmly on my face. I inhaled the wonderful aromatic feminine scent from her minge and then she snapped: "Suck me, you slut!"

And as she barked out the instruction, I felt the crop rap down sharply across my left shoulder blade. Then the right, then down on my buttocks, first the left, then the right.

I worked my tongue away, wildly performing my oral adoration, hoping that the quicker I gave her an orgasm, the sooner my flogging would be over – although, to be honest, to call it a "flogging" was a bit of overstatement. The blows stung, but it wasn't a flogging, I think I just liked to think of it as such.

But Lady Barbara was awake to my fevered, flickering tongue massage. "Slow down, pet," she said, "slow down. We've got all night!"

And as I licked and laved her at a far more leisurely pace, Lady Barbara's visits with the crop also slowed, until she was hardly cutting into my flesh at all. And then, with a grunting, heaving roar, she came on my mouth and face, sliding and slithering against my sex-smeared features as she cried "Tongue slut, oh fuck, you're such a magnificent tongue slut".

When it was over and she had freed me, Lady Barbara cuddled up to me with the pillows piled behind us. She pressed her bedside buzzer and Chantelle's face peeped round the door: "Madame?"

"A bottle of Krug, please my dear, and some Belgua," was my employer's order.

Then she kissed and made up with me. "Sorry, pet, but today's been one of those days from hell. But to make up to you for my shitty mood, how would you like a trip to the Bahamas in a couple of days?"

I squealed in delight. "Oh that would be wonderful," I said, "where would we stay? One of those luxury hotels?"

"Fuck that, Terri," she said tartly. "I've got a secluded beach place, better than any tourist-ridden hotel. Oh, there's just one thing – we have to call into New York on the way, I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" I said. "I've always wanted to go to New York."

"Well, sorry," she said, "but it's going to be a flying visit. I want to inspect the area around the place I've just bought in Manhattan, sign the papers and then we're off again. We'll only be there a few hours at the most."

"Have you booked flights?" I asked, being the naive little Sussex girl.

"Shit no," she grinned, sipping on her Krug, "we don't fly fucking commercial at Kleinhold. I've got a little jet called 'Ladybird' which we use for such jaunts. I think you might like it."

Two days later, at Gatwick airport, I caught a glimpse of Lady Barbara's "little jet". It was a Boeing 737, painted in pure white, with a large ladybird painted just behind the cockpit windows and the name "LadyBird" just beneath the cockpit. On the tail was a large letter "K", and I later found it was made up of hundreds of little ladybirds.

After clearing customs and all that sort of thing, Lady Barbara led the way up the steps, peered into the cockpit for a quick chat with her captain and his first officer, then we were taken to our seats by a beautiful, tall blonde – a model-type.

"Raewyn, this is Terri," said Lady Barbara. "She's special."

The blonde grinned at me and then her boss and said: "Lady B, all our passengers are special, you know that."

Soon we were taxiing to take-off and Lady Barbara told me about the plane. "It's a comfy little thing, I didn't want one of those wide-bodied things, and I didn't want an executive jet, they're too small.

"But this is just right – and since we don't carry the 100-plus the 737 is designed for, with all the baggage, it means we can carry a much larger fuel load."

The captain came on, told us we'd soon be taking off and it was something like five hours to Newark, New Jersey, and then we were climbing up into the thick cloud above London.

I looked around the cabin. There was luxurious seating for about 15 people, there was a closed off section at the rear and there were couches which could be turned into beds. It was impressive.

When we had reached what the captain said was our cruising height and said he expected a turbulence-free flight to New Jersey, Lady Barbara unsnapped her seatbelt and said: "Come with me, I want you to experience something."

She led me towards the closed off section, stopping on the way to inform Raewyn "A bottle of Krug when we reach half-way, dahlink" and ushered me into the rear part of the plane.

There, dominating the space, was a large bed, with gleaming black satin sheets, black satin pillows and a shower section off to one side. Lady Barbara was out of her shirt, jeans and shoes in a flash and I was only a second behind her.

She pushed me on my back onto the bed and her mouth fastened like a clam around my pussy, still covered by a shiny little black silk thong. Then she sat up and grinned: "Those panties are sopping wet. Off with them, I don't want to drown."

As I pulled my panties down, Lady Barbara got my bra off and soon we were both naked, rolling around in a breast-to-breast clinch on the slippery sheets. But Lady B obtained the upper hand – or upper pussy! – and was soon straddling my face, her sweet-smelling snatch graunching its smoothness across my lips and eager tongue.

"That's it Terri, lick me off, suck me off, bring me off, faster, faster, oh you slut, you bitch, you dirty, lovely little bitch," she panted and then, with a whoop she came on my mouth, pushing her minge more and more firmly onto my face.

Her groans and moans of delight had scarcely faded, when she moved like a flash down to my pussy and I felt her experienced tongue lapping at my sopping sex trench, the tongue licking into my cunt, delving into my anus and then flashing onto my clitoris in a non-stop assault which soon developed into a mind-shattering, body smashing orgasm.

When I had calmed down, Lady Barbara, rubbed her hard-nippled breasts across mine, and kissed me softly on the mouth. "Ever done that before?" she asked.

"What, in an aeroplane?" I asked.

"Of course in an aeroplane," she laughed, "I know you've made love like a superslut before. Yes – in an aeroplane?"

"Never," I panted, "and it was absolutely fucking marvellous. So I suppose I'm now a member of the mile high club."

Lady Barbara shushed me, dashed to the door, half opened it and called out "Fuck the half-way nonsense, Raewyn, get that Krug in here now" before running back to the bed and leaping onto it beside me.

"Mile high club?" she mused. "Well, since we're cruising at 35,000 feet I guess it's more like the Six or Seven Mile High Club!"

Just then, Raewyn entered the little suite and placed a tray with a bottle of the delicious Krug and two flutes on the mattress. "Enjoy," she said, grinning down at our two naked bodies, "though from what I gather by looking at you, you already have been!"

The rest of the journey was much more restrained, we confined ourselves to one more orgasm each and then the Boeing was on the ground and taxiing to a sector of the airport well away from all its commercial bustle. Customs and immigration officials boarded the plane, cleared us and Lady B and I stepped out into a cool New Jersey wind and there, waiting was a stretch limo almost the length of my street back home.

A black chauffeur Lady Barbara addressed as Mr T, opened the door to let us in and waiting for us on a long leather couchette was an attractive coffee-coloured woman who my boss introduced as Delia.

The striking-looking dark-haired beauty shook me by the hand but on the drive into the canyons of Manhattan ignored me and spoke only to Lady Barbara.

"Here's the papers, sign the last page of each one – there's three of them, and initial the bottom of the other pages," she said.

It wasn't long before we were driving through streets whose names I had only read about in books or seen in the movies – Broadway, Avenue of the Americas, Fifth Avenue, and then the limo slowed as Mr T drove past a large corner block.

"Here it is," said Delia. "It's a prime location. What do you want done with it?"

Lady Barbara peered out of the window and instructed Mr T to drive past the area again. He did three passes in all, until my boss was satisfied and indicated he could return to Newark airport.

"Well, it's a great spot," said Lady Barbara. "I want something that will announce style. Height's not important, build higher than the Empire State or the Chrysler and all you'll have going for you is height. No one can challenge the Empire State or the Chrysler, so don't let's try.

"But I want something that New Yorkers will look at and say 'Shit, that building is so New York!' Get a really impressive architect to design it, I don't have to tell you who I like Delia, you know 'em both, or perhaps that little man in Tokyo."

Delia was taking notes. "Name of building? Kleinhold Towers?" she suggested.

"Fuck no, I don't want anything that can be compared in any way with Trump Towers, or whatever he called it," she said. "In fact you can name it after Joe Torre for all I care."

I looked at Lady Barbara and raised my eyebrows. "Joe Torre, manager of the New York Yankees, dahlink," she said. "In fact, that's a good idea. The code name for the building will be 'Torre Towers' until we hit on something better."

Back aboard the Boeing 737, we strapped ourselves in for take-off and the three-hour flight to Nassau. On arrival, at 3pm on a gloriously sunny afternoon, we were picked up by a grey-haired black man, in a massive air-conditioned Cadillac.

"Terri," said my boss, "meet Mr Constantine. He does the gardening and looks after the pool. He also makes the meanest rum punch – don't go near it, it's got the kick of a mule.

"And Mrs Constantine looks after the house and cooks the most wonderful food. And speaking of which, what's the crustacean situation, Mr C?"

In a deep, dark West Indian drawl, the chauffeur reported: "The lobster arrived from 'alifax this morning, Lady B. The crayfish is due from Noo Zeeland tomorra."

The Cadillac drove into a high-walled large mansion in what Lady Barbara told me was the Lyford Cay area. We stripped off into bikinis and were soon lounging by the large swimming pool, with its magnificent views out to a shimmering blue sea, where the rollers crashed onto a beach. The sand was almost white, as if it had been bleached in the searing sunlight.

I stretched and lay back, basking in the warmth of the sun, and looked at Lady Barbara on her sun recliner, her face shaded by a huge floppy sun hat.

"Barbara," I said, hoping she had not fallen asleep in the sun.

"Babe?" she said, stirring slightly, her gloriously firm body gleaming with the suntan lotion we had applied to each others bodies.

"I'm scared to shut my eyes," I said. "I feel that if I do, I'll wake up suddenly and I'll be back in The Belligerent Badger, the rain will be pouring down outside, and I'll be listening to one of the major's boring 'when I was in the army' stories and this will all have been a wonderful dream."




Snap!



Edited by Rozezwild

Simone's eyes popped wide open, feeling the fingers creeping under the crotch of her panties. Her entire body tensed. Her mind raced figuring the possibilities as to who would be crazy enough to try something like that.

"Kept going motherfucker," she thought. She cocked her knee up slowly, feeling the fingers part her pussy lips. "That's right bad ass, put it on in there," she thought. Her mind was fully alert as the fingers pressed into her moist cunt. "That's right, get happy with it," she thought. She curled her toes and locked her heel as the fingers pumped in and out of her pussy.

"Ha!" Simone shouted kicking back with her heel, catching the perpetrator in the chest sending him flying across the room into the dresser. Simone hopped to her feet and flung her bedside lamp onto her attacker. She grabbed the bat from the side of the dresser, swinging with all her might. "You just made the biggest mistake of your life, motherfucker! Take that! And that! And that! You fucker!"

"Mama ou! Mama please! Mama!"

Tanisha ran into her mother's room turning on the light. Her mother was welding a bat while her brother coward in a corner. "Mama stop!" She grabbed Simone's swinging arm and got flung to the floor. "Mama it's Ray-Ray! You're killing him!"

"Who?" Simone stopped focusing her eyes on her son's swollen face.

"It's Ray-Ray mama!" Tanisha pleaded.

"Ray-Ray! Boy I'll..." Simone dropped the bat and leaped towards him.

Tanisha sprung up in time to stop her. "He's hurt mama, stop!"

Simone saw that her son was in deed badly injured. "Fuck!" She shook her fists.

"We gotta take him to the hospital mama," Tanisha said examining her battered brother.

Simone reached and smacked him on the back of the head with her open palm, and then pulled him to his feet.

"Oua!" Ray-Ray moaned.

"Mama!"

"Shut up and help me get him in the car." Simone drew back and hit him on the back of the head again.

Tanisha flinched. "I think his arm is broken."

"Good! I hope it's the right one." Simone smacked him on the back of the head again.

"Com'on mama, stop please." Tanisha pleaded helping her brother into the backseat.

Simone got in the driver's seat and squealed the tires getting out of the driveway.

"I told you, you were going to get in trouble if you didn't stop," Tanisha said to her brother from the front seat.

"What?" Simone slammed on the brakes at the stop sign. "I want to know exactly what his ass did, and don't Millie-mouth around."

"He um, you know," Tanisha said.

"What, Tanisha?" Simone cut her eyes back at her son.

"He um, humped me." Tanisha tried not to make it sound bad, but there was no use.

"Did he fuck you Tanisha?" Simone demanded an answer.

"Yeah," Tanisha said.

Simone put the car in park, leaned over the back seat, and started slapping him on the head. "That's your sister you horny little fuck! Were you planning on fucking me too?"

"Mama! Mama!" Tanisha grabbed her mother's arms.

Simone turned around and continued to the hospital. The street was empty that early hour of the morning, so her speeding went undetected.

"Tanisha, you should have told me about this," Simone said. "He's nineteen years old. How long do you think you'll be able to protect him? Look at what he's doing. It'll only be a matter of time before he's sitting in jail somewhere."

"It's not his fault," Tanisha said.

"Then whose fault is it? Mine?" Simone asked.

Tanisha turned her head to look out the window and mumbled.

"What?" Simone said.

"I said its both of our faults mom," Tanisha said. "Look at the way we treat him. Look at the way you treat him. You make him hand wash your panties. Mom, com'on. He paints your toes and does a good job. I'm surprised he's not gay. He deserves to fuck both of us!"

Simone snapped her wrist slapped Tanisha hard enough to turn her head. "I don't care how old you are, don't you dare raise your voice at me."

They road in silence the rest of the way to the hospital. The doctors said that his broken arm would heal nicely and the rest of his bumps and bruises looked worse than they were. When they got home, the pain killers knocked Ray-Ray out cold. Tanisha tucked him in bed as if he was a little baby. 

Simone stood back and watched biting the fingernails that she remembered Ray-Ray had just done for her. "Tanisha," Simone whispered. "Is he good?"

"Hu?"

"Ray-Ray, is he good in bed?" Simone asked.

"Yeah ma, he's real good."

Simone left the room.



Snap! Crack! Pop!



Every year around my birthday, my chiropractor's office sends me a postcard offering me a free treatment. This year's card had been sitting in a drawer in the kitchen for a couple of weeks when I came across it and realized I needed to use it soon, before it expires. I wasn't in any pain, but figured I was probably due for a general tune up. I planned to be in their neighborhood that day, so I went online and made an appointment for later in the afternoon.

When I walk into the office I'm greeted by the doctor's cute Filipina receptionist. I've been going to this clinic every few months for several years, and they know me pretty well by now. She's usually a bit flirty, and we often joke around. We chat for a minute and then she sends me off to the warm-up room.

In the warm-up room there are three stools with rotating seats. Part of the warm-up routine is to sit in the stool and rock your hips left to right ten times, then back and forth ten times, then make a circle ten times in each direction, and finally make a figure eight pattern fifty times in each direction. All of this pelvic gyrating naturally leads to dirty thoughts. It's actually a little embarrassing if there are other patients doing it at the same time, all grinding their hips in various ways. Fortunately I am the only patient in the clinic today. But I still feel a bit self-conscious because the warm-up room looks directly through the door into the front office area. The girls who work at the front desk can look right in, and sometimes they do. This time the receptionist is busy, so I'm free to do my exercises and have my dirty thoughts in peace. Until the chiropractor walks in.

"Aren't you modern, making your appointment online?

She asks if I had any trouble using the new system, which I didn't. 

"Slow day?" I ask her.

"Not too many people come in this time of the afternoon. This is kind of the dead time. " 

She sits down on one of the stools and makes small talk as I start my figure-eights. Which makes me a little uncomfortable, though not in an entirely bad way. 

My chiropractor is actually pretty hot: she's from Miami, probably in her early 40s, has a couple of kids but is still in good shape and sexy in that way middle-aged Latin women can be. Especially ones who haven't been laid in a while. She's feminine but has a bit of a tough edge, a no-bullshit attitude. I like that. The last few times I've been in I've noticed she no longer wears a wedding ring, and she never mentions her husband, just the kids, so I suspect they've split up. And she's seemed friendlier, more familiar lately. She maintains her professional boundaries, but it feels like maybe she's pushing them just a little.

She leaves to go do some paperwork while I finish my warm-up exercises. I get done with the pelvic rotations but there's one more thing I have to do. On the wall of the warm-up room there are some eye bolts at various heights, with nylon ropes dangling from them by hooks. The ropes are looped, with foam padding on the loop where it goes around your neck, and a padded steel bar at the top that you grab onto. These are for doing a kind of mild traction to stretch out the vertebrae in your neck. You stand facing the wall, slip the loop around the back of your neck, hold the padded bar to your forehead, and bend your knees slightly so that the weight of your body causes the rope to pull your head straight up. You're supposed to do six long pulls of ten seconds each, followed by sixty short ones for one second each. Again, this isn't something you really want to do when other people are there; it looks like you are fucking someone standing up against the wall, or using a glory hole. 

As I finish I happen to glance through the door and notice the receptionist looking at me, though I pretend not to see her. I walk down the hall to the front of the desk and she gives me a sly little grin as she hands me a clip board with my chart on it.

"Room four."

I walk back down the hall to the treatment room, put my chart in the basket that hangs on the wall outside the doorway, and sit on the padded treatment table to wait for the doctor. She comes in a few minutes later, makes a bit more small talk. She starts to review my chart but drops her pen and bends over to pick it up. She is bent over at the waist and I can't help but look right down the top of her scoop-necked shirt. Her ample breasts are dangling straight down, barely held into her bra, swinging as she fiddles with the pen. 

After a few seconds she stands up, looks at my chart some more, asks what I want done. 

"Just the basics: neck, shoulders, middle back."

"Did you hurt yourself, are you in any pain?"

I assure her that I'm basically fine, just a little tight in those areas.

She has me start off lying face down on the table. She arranges my feet and looks at my hips to see if they are in alignment. And then she reaches for The Machine. I don't know what the real name for this thing is, but it's basically an electric sabre saw, only instead of a saw blade it has a shaft with a hard rubber ball on the end of it, and it pounds your muscles hard and fast. It's really noisy, but feels amazing. It kind of hurts, but in a very pleasant, almost orgasmic, way. And she knows I love it. She runs it up and down my back a few times (never enough). When it hits certain places the muscles involuntarily spasm, which makes my ass lift up off the table. She hits those spots a few times, and I wonder if she secretly enjoys this.

She sets The Machine aside and places her hands firmly between my shoulder blades. I know the drill. I take a deep breath, let it out. When she feels the end of my exhale, she presses down hard. Crack! Ahhh... She moves her hands a little further down my back and does it again. Then she grabs my feet and turns me on my side, leans over me across my waist and pushes my shoulders one way and my hips the other. Pop! Same thing on the other side. Then she tells me to lie on my back, and walks around behind my head. I close my eyes and try to relax, breathe, and loosen all the muscles in my neck. She holds my head and rolls it around gently to find the places where my neck is stuck. When she finds one she holds it in a steady position for a few seconds, then gives it a quick flick to the side. It feels like a jolt of electricity going up my spine and into my skull. Yes! She tilts my head the other way, and finds a tight spot on that side, but it doesn't want to release.

"Let's do a little manual traction on you to loosen things up."

She pulls up a stool and sits down there behind my head. She's holding my head but she's also pressing her fingers into my neck to loosen up the muscles. This also causes my head to tilt back slightly. This goes on for several minutes. She's talking about this and that, and I'm quite relaxed. But then she goes quiet for a long time. All I can hear is her breathing. I open my eyes and find I am looking straight up at the underside of her breasts, which are gently rising up and down with each breath she takes.

Now, this is interesting. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I decide to simply relax and enjoy the view while it lasts. No big deal. But after another few seconds she looks down and sees me looking up at her. Busted! I quickly blink and turn my eyes away, but she doesn't. She keeps looking down at me, like she wants me to look back at her. So I do. She's still tilting my head back, breathing. We hold that look for a while. She clearly wants something to happen. Being a good, compliant patient, I slowly raise my hands, reach behind my head, and cup them around the sides of her tits. Now her eyes close, but otherwise she doesn't move. I begin to slowly rub her tits, gently squeezing them now and then. I notice her breath quickening and her weight shifting as she leans into my hands. Still holding her breasts, I pull her forward, guiding her until she is leaning over my face. I can smell her damp cunt from here. I slide my hands down to her waist and pull the shirt up over her head, drop it on the floor. Tug the bra down and pull it towards me, and her with it. Her tits are now hanging directly above my mouth. I kiss the underside of each breast, still fondling them, lightly tracing my fingers across them, rolling her nipples between my thumbs and fingers.

She lets out a little sigh, so I pull her closer to me and suck a nipple between my lips. She breathes harder, moans a bit louder. I suck the other one as well. I kiss and lick and gently bite them. She reaches forward and unbuttons my jeans. I grab one of her arms and guide her around to the side of the table. She unhooks the bra, steps out of her shoes and skirt. No panties, just a small patch of hair. 

She unbuttons my shirt, kisses my chest, sucks and nibbles at my nipples before she works her way down my stomach. Then she pulls my jeans down below my waist. Buries her face in my pubic hair, inhales deeply. She cups my balls in her hand and runs her tongue up the underside of my cock, from the base to the head. She does this a few times, watches me get a little harder with each lick. She pauses between each one, teasing me. Finally she takes my cock in her mouth, and I let out a little gasp.

"¿Te gusta?" she asks, in Spanish.

"Si, a mi me gusta," I whisper back.

"A mi tambien."

We smile at each other. Like the song says, Spanish is the loving tongue. 

She goes back to sucking me, and as she does she reaches up to pinch my nipples. After a few minutes of this it gets to be too much. I'm not ready to come yet. I grab a handful of her thick, dark hair, pull her face up to mine and kiss her deeply, for a long time. Nothing tentative about it. I let go of her hair and let my hand slide down her back, around the curve of her ass, between her legs. She stands up and spreads them so I can feel her wetness. I slip my fingers through the folds of her pussy, get them wet with her juices, put a finger inside of her and rub her clit with my thumb. She inhales sharply as I put in another finger, and begins fondling her tits, rolling and pinching the nipples, pulling them up to her mouth to suckle on them. Rocking her hips on my hand.

She's moaning more loudly now, getting more worked up. She pulls my jeans off and climbs on top of me and slides onto my cock, hisses under her breath as she lightly drags her nipples across my chest.

"¡Coño!"

"Ah, sí...te gusta mi bicho, ¿que no?"

"Mmmmm, sí sí sí sí...Dame lo..."

She sits up on her knees, my hands holding onto her hips as she rides me. She stuffs the fingers of one hand in my mouth to get them wet, then reaches down to rub her clit. Her other hand plays with her tits, caressing and pinching and kneading them. I can see little ripples move across them as she bounces on my cock. Her noises are getting louder, little yelps and gasps and grunts. 

I push myself up to a sitting position on the table and she wraps her legs around my waist. We are hot and sweaty and close, breathing hard into each other's faces. Our bellies stick together, and make a hollow sucking noise when they pull apart. I like the smell of her sweat, and bury my nose in her neck, her arm pit, suck at her tits, grab onto her ass, her hair.

At some point I glance over her shoulder and am surprised to see the receptionist standing in the doorway, watching us. She has a hand in her pants and a dreamy look in her eyes. It takes her a few moments to notice that I see her. Our eyes meet and I smile at her to let her know it's OK. She grins back and relaxes and leans against the wall, unbuttons her shirt, reaches inside to fondle a small, lovely breast. If she wants a show I guess we should give her one.

I lay "la doctora" onto her back on the table, pull her feet up onto my shoulders, and fuck her slowly at first, then faster, then slower again, alternating between them. Sometimes I pull out and rub my wet cock across her clit, then plunge back into her quickly. She's rubbing her clit, panting, getting closer. She's saying all kinds of things, most of which I can't make out with my rudimentary Spanish, but I get enough to know they are filthy and I'm loving it. Behind her, the receptionist is also getting close. She's managing to not make any noise, but I can hear her breathing and see the hand in her pants moving faster. I focus on the little ripples that go through the doctor's tits each time I thrust into her. Her eyes are closed, in deep concentration. Suddenly they open and stare straight into me, the noises stop, and I feel her legs tighten around my shoulders as her body goes stiff.

"¡Puta madre!"

Seeing her come puts me over the edge, too. I arch my back and push into her as hard and deep as I can, hold it there until the spasms subside, then collapse onto her chest. As I catch my breath I suddenly remember the receptionist, look up expecting to see her, but she's gone. 

We pull ourselves apart, get dressed, kiss one last time. Smile quietly. No words. She heads to the restroom to get cleaned up. I go to the front desk, return my chart to the receptionist. This time we exchange sly little grins as I pay my bill.

"Feeling better?" she asks.

"Much, thank you. And how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It was slow, so I locked the doors for a while and had a nice little coffee break. Would you like to schedule another appointment?"

"No, I think I''m good for now."

"Well, just let us know when you need another adjustment."

"Will do. I was thinking it might be good to get adjusted on a weekly basis."

"I'm sure we can find time to squeeze you in."

"I'd appreciate that, thanks. See you later."

"Come again. Soon."



Snap, Crackle, Pop



WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! 

This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Snap, Crackle, Pop!

Okay, I'll admit it. I was having a bowl of that talking rice cereal, a generic variety, and the unceasing noise reminded me of an incident with a young woman that had the same collection of sounds. It happened before Harriett became the successful businesswoman she is today, but after I'd introduced a few of Annie's friends in the neighborhood to the pleasures of sex. That should give you a rough approximation of the timing.

Being the sharing kind of guy I am, I've typed it into my computer with tender loving care, and published it for your pleasure. Maybe you should grab your earplugs before you start.

* * * * * * * * * *

I rolled over and glanced at the clock. Bright and early on a Sunday. A full bladder interrupted my intention to sleep in. Harriett wouldn't be back until Tuesday, giving me a quiet day off and a lonesome Monday. The house felt eerily silent without the echoes of arguments or the waves of latent hostility. Just before she left for her "Reentering The Business World" seminar in Milwaukee, we had words about her getting a job. It wasn't any macho or gender thing. The thought of dual incomes sounded cash register bells in my head. I just didn't believe she'd succeed, and then I'd be left to clean up the long-term mess. The possibility of working, making money, doing something useful in the real world brightened her spirits, but only mildly softened her attitude towards me. I guess I shouldn't expect miracles.

Just as I cracked an egg into a sizzling fry pan, the phone rang. Maybe I should take out our landline and get an unlisted cell phone, like Annie. "Hello?"

"Harvey, this is Roberta Pasternak. I play bridge with your wife?"

It sounded like a question, along the lines of, 'Do you remember me?' I didn't, but pretended. "Hi, Roberta. Harriett is out of town."

"Yes, she told us. She was so excited. But, she rarely makes it to our games anymore. Do you play?"

Around? Yeah, with a couple of babysitters and some of Annie's friends on their birthdays. Bridge? Not since college, and then not well. I never could get the hang of bidding with signals. I always wanted to announce 'One false club.' "Not for a long time."

"You should sit in for Harriett some time. I think you'd enjoy it. I know we would."

Sitting at a card table with three women, only communicating through a formal but imprecise bidding protocol? Not my idea of snappy entertainment. Now, if bridge were a strip game, at least there'd be breasts to look at-

"I have a favor to ask," she continued. "My daughter MB is going to be in the senior dance show and I'm having trouble getting her costume put together. Harriett always told us how handy you were, when Anna was growing up."

Handy? "Me?" Harriett paid me a compliment?

"You'll help MB, won't you?" Her voice was pleading, oozing with honey.

A young woman whose costume falls apart? Possible trouble, but her mother was asking. "Sure."

"Great! I knew I could count on you. She's on her way over-"

The doorbell rang.

"Was that yours? I'll let you answer it, its probably MB. I told her to co-operate and not to make things hard for you. Take good care of her, okay?"

Not make things hard? Can't be avoided with me and young women, in most cases. Take care of her? Didn't she mean the costume? "Yeah, fine. Bye."

MB was at the door in polo shirt and shorts carrying a cardboard tube. Her costume? "Hi, Mr. Marcus. Did Mom call?"

"Yeah, we just got off the phone. So what's the problem?" I stood aside so she could come in. Her hips swayed as she passed me. Nice wiggle, whether intentional or unconscious.

"So, I'm in this dance number. Modern. Mom tried to get my costume glued together but it wouldn't stay."

"Is it in that tube?"

"Uh huh. Do you want to see it?"

"Let's do it in my office upstairs, where I have my tools and stuff." The tool in my pants was perking up at the thought of having this young lady alone in the house. I hoped she wouldn't notice but after all, I still had only pajamas on, not the best way to camouflage an erection. Could I avoid sexual stuff? Maybe.

"Mom says you've got the right tool to handle me."

Strange way to phrase it. Not 'You've got the right tools to handle the situation.' The sexual innuendo of Roberta's words delivered by MB was distracting. I uncapped the tube and spread the contents onto my work area, a card table hand-me-down from Harriett. There were two identical cutouts of transparent plastic that crackled as I unrolled them. The shoulder edges were stained with a white glue residue. Remnants of tape, clear, dotted the edges. Roberta had done a poor job of assessing the proper solution. "Hang on." I fetched some rags from under the laundry tubs and wiped away the remnants of MB's mother's attempts. The plastic sounded like radio static with even the slightest movement.

From the bottom drawer, I grabbed some corded tape, the strong kind used in packaging with fibers embedded. I mused how I would feed in bed, embedded in MB's pussy. God, why do these thoughts come to me? Cum? There it was again.

After I got the edges clean, I dried them and brought them over to MB. "Stand up." She shot from the side chair like a soldier getting commands from a sergeant. MB stood, hands behind her back, her breasts thrust out. The buttons strained on her shirt.

I handed MB the front piece of her costume. "Hold this." She clutched it to her chest. Crunch. I walked around back, cut a couple of short pieces of tape, held the back against her shoulders and taped the front and back together at the shoulders. I walked around to the front to see how it fit. At the bust line, the front piece stuck out, pushed away by MB's breasts. "Are you sure your mother cut this right? It seems small."

MB looked down at the problem. "Maybe its because I don't wear a blouse under it."

I swallowed hard. I prayed the answer wouldn't be 'Nothing.' "What do you wear?"

"A leotard."

Dodged that one. "Did you bring it?"

MB shook her head. "It's in the wash at home. Mom got glue all over the shoulders and sides."

I rubbed my chin.

"I can take off my blouse," she offered.

Damn. She was willing to undress in front of a perfect stranger? Well, I guess I'm not perfect, but I was sporting a perfectly functional erection. "Are you okay with that?"

"Oh yes. Mom said I should cooperate completely. She says you're good with girls like me."

Good with costumes, or in the sack or what? How did MB's mother know, anyhow?

I undid the tape and placed the two parts on the worktable and waited. MB unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her arms. The bra held her breasts high on her chest, up-thrust and perky. I knew from just looking that even without the blouse, the problem wouldn't disappear.

MB placed the blouse on the back of her chair. "I should probably take off my bra, too. I wasn't wearing it when Mom measured and cut out the pieces. The dance instructor insisted we don't wear them under our leotards." Without waiting for permission, MB reached back and popped the hooks. Her breasts leaked out from under the loose garment. I was shocked at how much her young tits sagged. Weren't all young breasts naturally uplifted? Why, even Harriett's breasts didn't sag until years after we were married. When they'd been firm and forthright was a waste, however, since I'd gotten slapped every time I tried to nuzzle them or use my mouth on her nipples. 

Given MB's nude profile, I understood why her mother's measurements and cutting were fine. Without high-placed tits, there was sufficient material along the sides to glue and still fit her daughter's torso. I heard a snap. MB had opened and slid her shorts off while I was contemplating the design of her outfit. "We don't wear pants either," she explained.

So now I was face to face with a nubile young woman only in panties, standing straight as a soldier, waiting for my next request. 'Jump onto the bed and spread your legs'? Why do I do this to myself? And better yet, why do I do it to them? "Let's try another fitting, shall we?"

This time, MB held the front part against her chest, squishing her nipples against the plastic. It crunched with contact. I brought the other piece around back, surveying her nice round ass. It was half covered by bikini panties and hadn't fallen a millimeter. I reattached the packing tape and came around front. The outfit lay fine around her body. Roberta's words had sounded like she expected her daughter to get laid.

"You're not going to leave it like this, are you?" MB's face showed dejection.

Her mother had tried glue. "I can add more tape. Is there a reason it has to be attached differently?"

"The dance teacher was very explicit. No tape. The overhead lights will make tape stick out like a sore thumb."

MB's lack of clothing was quite explicit, with almost all of her showing. And I was sticking out, longer than any thumb I'd ever seen. "Not tape, hmm?" I thought for a moment. "I know! Epoxy."

"Is that expensive?"

I laughed. "Nope. I have the stuff right here." I strode over to a thin woodened cabinet with half a dozen drawers. It took rifling through various tapes, glues and miscellaneous adhesives before I found the two glass bottles in the bottom drawer. I removed the tape and placed the two parts of the costume on the table. I applied a thin bead of part one along the edge of the front piece, skipping the neck hole and bottom. The backside got the other gel. I waited the requisite minute, glancing over at MB for most of that time. She smiled, feet together, and those hands going behind her back. Her breasts remained in a sagging position.

With as much precision and concentration I could muster with an almost nubile young woman in the room, I joined the front and back and pressed the edges together. The chemicals in the two gels warmed as they bonded. It would take at least fifteen minutes for them to cure sufficiently to test. I took a chair down across from MB. "Sit. We have to wait."

"Okay."

The silence was more than awkward. What do you say to an almost nude woman, obedient and willing? "So tell me about your dance."

"Can I show you?" She was all smiles, almost jumping out of her seat.

"All right. Is there enough room here?" My office was extremely cluttered with magazines, boxes of mementos, all of which Harriett called "Harvey's crap." Good thing I had my own room, or my stuff would have disappeared a long time ago.

MB moved her chair out of the way and stood, arms to her sides, chin up, legs straight and together. She took a stiff step forward, like a march, but just once. Then she stood. And stood some more.

I didn't mind having an excuse to look at her naked form, but I was also curious. "Is this dancing?"

She came out of her statue stance. "It's an interpretive number. We're chess pieces, on a board. The stage will be painted as squares. I'm a pawn."

In my game of seduction? Perhaps her mothers? "Okay."

"There are other pieces on the board, and they interact. That's what you're not seeing. You could help."

"How?"

"You can be the knave."

To the best of my memory, there were no knaves in chess. Knights, rooks, bishops, yes. "Okay. What do I do?"

"Stand there, over to the side, on a diagonal." I stood in the spot she pointed to. "Great. Now, we wait while some other pieces move."

It was difficult to concentrate, with MB standing there in only her panties, arms at her sides, breasts exposed, rising and falling with each breath.

"Okay, now take a step towards me." I did, looking down at her, the slope of her breasts, the smell of her hair, herbal. And something else. Was she gooping her panties? Something smelled like sex.

"Now, take me."

"Huh?"

"Take me, silly."

I accepted her direction, scooped her up in my arms, one hand behind her back, one under her legs. Her eyes went wide, as I moved my face forward to kiss her.

"What are you doing?" she shouted.

I stood embarrassed with an unclothed young woman in my arms. Best idea was to put her down. "You said 'take me' and I thought-"

"Not that kind of take. Chess take, like of the board. Bumping." MB stroked my arm. "Don't feel bad. I'm flattered."

My face felt like it was on fire. Their words were accidents of speech, not an invitation for sex. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Come here." She dragged me back to my position facing her. 

My cock pushed the crotch of my sleeping pants out. No way could she ignore that. "Now what?"

"Push against me, like a knave taking a pawn in chess."

I leaned forward. My erection touched her first, followed by my stomach and finally my chest. "Like this?"

"Uh huh." MB rocked back and forth, bumping her lower body against my hard cock. Then she sidestepped away. "Now turn around and face the audience."

I spun one hundred and eight degrees.

"Perfect. That's my part." She giggled and pointed to my crotch. "And that's your part."

I looked down. My penis had escaped, splitting the flap in front. I adjusted my sleeping pants, tucking my erection back inside." "Sorry."

"That's okay. Mom said you might show me your penis."

"She did? And why would I do that?"

"Because you might need to demonstrate something. About sex. I've been having big trouble with boys." 

So, maybe I was wrong. Roberta expected me to be a knave and seduce her daughter. And she advised her daughter to be willing. "You want to talk about it?" Oh please.

"Guys don't like my tits." Her eyes teared up. "As long as I keep my bra on, everything is fine. We kiss and touch and, well, you know. But if they insist I take my bra off, or they lift one of my tits out, they get grossed out." She escalated to crying. "MB is short for Mary-Beth, but guys call me Mushy Breasts." Now she was sobbing, covering her chest. "This shouldn't happen until I'm way older. Hell, I'm only 18."

That confirmed her age and her physique.

"They're quite lovely. Every woman's body is unique. You're very attractive, because of your breasts, not in spite of them." Color came into her cheeks and she smiled. "Stand up."

She did as I asked, but kept her tits covered. By her wrists, I pulled her hands wide to get access. I lifted her tits gently, and bent over to kiss them. I ended my attention with a suck of each nipple. 

MB snaked her hand into the fly of my pants and took my cock in hand. "How does it feel?"

"Better when you're touching it."

She smiled and moved her hand up and down. "Like this?"

"Have you given your dates hand-jobs?" I asked.

"Uh huh. The first time I tried, he came all over his pants and car seat. It was a mess. Now I make sure I have a wad of tissue. "

If she kept stroking me, with some skill I might add, I'd shoot my wad. "Feeling better?" I know I was. My fingers caressed her tits. Occasionally, they'd flick her nipples.

"Mom said you were a nice guy." She put her arms around me and hugged. I lifted her against be, holding her weight and her ass in my hands. My fingertips toyed with her crotch. She kissed me, repeatedly. Tongues resumed their darting and probing. My cock bounced against her.

"You want to do it, don't you?" She took one hand from around my neck, reached down and grabbed my prick. "You want to make me a woman?" She slid the head of my penis along her pantied pussy.

My knees trembled. "Yes. Oh yes, so much."

"Mom said you would. She told me I could trust you."

How would good old Mom know that? "Did your mother say how she knew me, as being trustworthy I mean?'

"Uh huh." She held onto my prick for dear life. "She plays bridge with some of the moms in the neighborhood, and they told her how good you were with their daughters." 

Other mothers, whose daughters I'd fucked? Was that why MB's mom told me to take good care of her? Was she offering her daughter to me? Is that what the women in the bridge club talk about while they play? How nice it was for good old Harvey Marcus to fuck their virgin eighteen year olds? "What kind of good?"

MB dropped my cock. "Do you think the glue is done?" she asked.

Oh yes, her transparent costume. "I'm sure the epoxy has set by now. Let's check."

Sure enough, the two pieces were permanently bonded. "You should try it on."

She stood straight, nude, arms up. The plastic garment crackled as I pulled it over her, but it stopped, stuck on her head. "Oops, the opening is too small."

"Can you fix it?"

"I can make a small seam in back, so you can get it over your head."

"Okay."

I found a scissors in the top drawer and cut a slit down the back of the costume, starting at the collar. "Let's see if this is enough."

MB struck the spire pose, hands above her head. It took significant concentration not to focus the curves and beauty of her body. The opening just barely allowed her head to slip through. Her ears flicked as the garment passed. "It's too tight."

I expected she'd say the same thing if I attempted to slip my dick into her. "Let me make it a little longer." My cock was as long as it had ever been, teased by the proximity. I extended the back slit by a couple of inches. There she was, a sexy shrink-wrapped young woman. I stood directly in front of her, my naked cock dancing, pointed at her belly. Her sagging breasts perked a bit, and her nipples were red and pointy. 

She inhaled sharply. "Can we practice the dance again?"

We're both aroused from mutual stimulation and she wants to practice that stupid dance? "Sure."

"But you should take your pants off."

Aha! I was being set up. I'd be naked below the waist, and we'd be bumping bodies. I slid my elastic-waist sleeping pants to the floor. My erection bobbled and pulsed in the open. "You want to start from the beginning?"

MB stared at my cock, mouth open.

"MB? Dancing?"

She licked her lips. "Oh, yeah. From the start."

I backed off and let her take her one step. Then I waited for my cue. It came in the form of a finger wiggle. I stood adjacent to MB's position. "Now?"

She nodded. I closed the gap and stood in front of her. Then I leaned against her. The plastic crackled as my cock poked her belly. She giggled. I did it again. Crunch. Our chests made contact to the sound of a thousand tiny firecrackers. Unlike last time, she put her arms around me, drawing me even closer. She went up on her tippy toes. My erection slid lower, towards the sweet spot between her thighs, but with her costume as a barrier.

"Take me," she whispered.

I bumped against her with more force. We sounded like butter sizzling in a hot pan.

"Take me!" Her voice was more insistent.

Being held, it was impossible to bump so I rocked forward. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. "Will you take me already?"

I felt dense. She wanted my original take on taking. I scooped her up, kissed her, and carried her into my bedroom. "Let me help you." We reversed the slip-on procedure. I was left standing directly in front of her, holding the plastic costume over her head, both of us with our arms up. I laid the plastic costume on the floor, out of the way. 




Snap, Crackle, Pop



She lay on the bed, bent her legs, and opened her thighs. "I want to kiss some more." She opened her arms as an invitation to join her. Soon, I'd join with her.

I climbed above her and started with her face. My lips on her forehead, cheeks, then her lips. We sampled each other's lips with brief parries, then a long, trembling smooch. I licked her. She licked me. I flicked my tongue against hers. Our mouths opened, and we continued tongue-play, back and forth. I moved down to her neck, exploring. Then her breasts, two morsels I'd sampled before. I cupped them in my hands, kissing, licking, adoring. She moaned every time I grazed her nipples. She arched her back when I sucked them. I moved lower, her hands on the back of my head. I kissed her navel. She chuckled. Ticklish. I rubbed my face against her crotch. She slid her panties off while I removed my t-shirt. I fluffed her sparse pubic hair. 

She rocked from side to side. "Are you going to kiss me down there?'

My reply was to dip my head down and push my face against her pussy. It was moist, juicy. My tongue slid between her labia, back to front. She growled. I kissed and sucked each lip, and then spread them with the flat of my tongue. Although the penetration was minimal, I poked at her pussy, as deep as I could. MB held my head at her groin, rocking her hips against my attack. Her breath became short inhales. I waved my tongue all around, lapping her pussy like a dog drinks water, then plunged again into the wet crease. MB shrieked, hips off the bed, then collapsed, legs splayed.

"Wow! No guy has ever gone down on me."

"Never?"

"Nope. We never get that far."

So, it was decision time. If no one got past oral sex, then MB was a virgin. She'd had an orgasm. My cock was still hard as rebar. But would taking her cherry be proper?

MB yanked at my cock. "You're going to show me, aren't you? Like you did with the others?"

My reputation was clear. She wiggled my cock up and back, searching for the proper angle. I was leaking, which should have made penetration easier, but it wasn't. Before we broke the mood or she changed her mind, I flipped over on my back. "Climb on top."

She threw one leg over my hips and got into position. With one hand, she spread herself, and guided my cock with the other. "Like this? Is this right?"

I added my hand to hers, adjusting the angle and the location. "Yes, right there. Remember, you're in control."

She squatted, and I felt a pop as the head moved past her labia and into her cunt.

"Ooh, maybe its too big." She wiggled her hips, swaying my erection.

"Go deeper only when you're ready."

She squeezed her vaginal muscles. "It doesn't fit."

I wasn't going anywhere. "Lean towards me."

She changed her inclination. I hefted her breasts, fingering them, caressing them. Her pussy relaxed, and I slid a bit deeper. She clenched. "You're stretching me."

"A little. Your muscles are young. They'll snap back." I wasn't sure they would, but this was no time to tell her that from today forward, any cock smaller than mine would be a sloppy fuck.

MB dropped her hips and I slid in a bit deeper. "God, I feel all full inside." Her cunt clamped down.

I was certain that at this depth, I'd popped her cherry. I glanced at our joined crotches. There were still inches to go. "You don't have to take the whole thing. Just enjoy this much. Up and down."

MB's thighs were strong enough for her to crouch over my groin, raising and lowering. She moaned with every drop.

I coached MB's movements. "That's it. Keep going."

"What? You thought I was going to stop?" She huffed. "Not when it feels this good." She leaned forward, bringing her sagging tits within range of my mouth. I held them still and attacked her nipples, nibbling them, sucking them. Her movements became wilder, throwing herself down onto my cock. I helped by lifting my hips every time she plopped down. With just a few more penetrations, she'd essentially bottomed-out. 

"Good girl." Each stroke was a full, deep penetration. I held her ass and guided her to a smoother motion, a bit slower. Each thrust was deliberate, sensual. MB moaned with each push, and inhaled with each withdrawal. I needed to cum real bad or be left with a bad case of "noshoot-eth balls-full". "I want to try a different position."

"What do you want me to do?"

Great. Still subservient, still trusting. "Get on your hands and knees. And keep your legs spread."

She'd led the way so far, but I wanted control of the big finish. She climbed off and assumed the position. I took my place behind her. That would give me control over speed and depth. I teased her pussy with my cock, sliding it around the opening.

"Put it in already."

I toyed with her, making shallow thrusts, lots of them. The head of my cock tickled. I bottomed out a couple of times and resumed short dips. My arms came around her sides. One hand played with her breasts, hanging free to wobble. The other diddled her pussy, rubbing her mound just ahead of her entrance. 

"God, this is great. Fucking is great. You're great. Mom was so right."

My cock tingled, throbbing with anticipation. Another set of deep ones, grinding against her pubic area after each. Then a rush of short pops, the entrance to her pussy caressing my glans. The rush was on. I thrust deep and spurted. Once more back, and a second shooting probe. Did I have a third? Oh yes. I panted, gasping for air. My fingertips brushed her breasts. I rolled to the side, my slick cock dragging free. "Do you think that's what your mom wanted?"

MB collapsed, face down on the bed. "Oh, I think she'd absolutely die if she had sex like that."

I didn't mean what she thought I'd asked, but it raised a question: Would Roberta be a future willing partner, or was her interest merely as an agent of the deflowering of her daughter? Maybe one day, if Roberta and I were alone somewhere - like that would ever happen - I'd find out. "As long as you enjoyed it!"

"Oh, Mr. Marcus, it was awesome. It's exactly what Mom promised. And you delivered." She rolled to her side facing me with her legs spread and ran a finger through her cunt lips. A strand of cum dangled from her finger. "Boy, did you deliver!"

I invited MB to use the shower to clean off, while I packaged her dance costume.

When she came out, all squeaky clean and dressed, bra-ed breasts high on her chest, I handed her the cardboard roll. "So what will you tell your mother?"

"That you were everything she said, and more. You were kind and considerate and gentle-" She paused. "And a terrific lover. Or shouldn't I tell her that?"

Roberta expected that we'd have sex, but there was no reason to give her more ammunition to spread. "Why not let that be our secret? Don't lie, but don't give up any of the details." I expected that Roberta's imagination was vivid enough to concoct a sufficiently raunchy tale. Or maybe too raunchy. "On the other hand, honesty is the best policy. You should never lie to your mother."

"Thanks, Mr. Marcus." MB kissed me on the cheek. "For everything." She patted my crotch. My dick reacted, as usual.

I wondered how the conversation at bridge club would go next time, and how much they spoke about their daughters and me when Harriett was present? Not at all, I expected, since I was still alive.

###

An Original H M Tale 

I'm always interested in reader feedback. What are the best and worst parts of these stories? Tell me what you think via email.

Copyright (c) 2009, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved. 



Snap Decisions



Author's Note:

This story is long - definitely not my longest but please be advised that the first sexual encounter happens about halfway through this story's 9 pages.

I simply can't thank my readers enough for continuing to provide support, feedback and ideas as I develop these stories. Writing them is fun, but hearing from you all is what makes the effort worthwhile. I'm always available. Enjoy!

*****

Chris might have called today a pretty uneventful day if hadn't been for the familiar 'bloop' of an e-mail hitting his personal inbox that afternoon. In fact, many of his days went like this each week. He'd be doing his thing, trying to get his work done before getting out of the office and then... 'bloop.'

She always liked posting a photo sometime around when she got home from school. Either she was going out with her friends or maybe wearing a new workout get-up - where that girl got her seemingly endless supply of clothes only Chris's bank account knew.

Regardless, his daughter Nicky was really starting to put her dad on edge lately with the photos she posted online. He'd been keeping an eye on her, as any responsible parent does, since the rambunctious brunette was in her early teens. She'd started developing a more mature, feminine body and every passing day Nicky seemed to be proudly showing it off more and more.

"She's just growing up and getting a little attention," his wife, Carol, would say anytime he brought it up, "since when were you such a tightass? I wasn't much different when we met in our teens."

Carol was MOSTLY correct... He would never say it, but Chris's memory was pretty damn good and he would certainly put his daughter a bit higher than the teenage version of his wife when it came to beauty - speaking strictly as her father, of course. And he could swear that the clothes his daughter and her friends wore now-a-days HAD to be more revealing, but maybe that was just the overly protective father in him coming out. Carol certainly seemed to think so.

He and his wife didn't agree on much anymore, they'd gotten married early, too early in Chris's opinion and now things were just as steady as they could keep them. Nicky was obviously a bright spot in their relationship, as was their younger daughter Jocelyn, who was just starting to come into her own at about fourteen. All in all, Chris spent a lot of time left to his own devices, and every other minute she'd allow, he spent with Nicky. Jocelyn was in the phase where she spent all her time with her gal-pals; she didn't have much time for her dad at that age.

The familiar sound coming from his computer was exactly what he had expected it to be. "Nicky Bennett has posted a new photo," it read. He opened the email and clicked on the link, expecting to feel his blood pressure rise when he saw her post.

His 18-year-old was in front of her mirror at home, wearing a frustratingly low and perfectly tight pair of jeans, plus a black tank-top that left about 6 inches of skin bare between that and her belt. Chris could swear that he hadn't seen a single post of his daughter that had covered that God-forsaken jewel on her belly button since her mother had taken her to get it when she was sixteen.

He knew Nicky's post wasn't something to cause a scene over, but he just feared what guys who saw the photo would be thinking. She was too pretty - with that cute smile and the toned little body... he didn't want them looking at all. At 5'-4", all of 110lbs. and with a perfect soccer player and cheerleader's frame, he simply wished she would wear a burlap sack every day and be done with it.

Buuuuut she didn't. A couple times a week, around the same time of the day, Chris would hear the fateful 'bloop' that would signal the recurrence of his five to ten minute session of worrying and frustration. It was getting tiresome, and Nicky wasn't getting any less bold.

A couple weeks ago, Chris had posed the issue to a few of the dads he knew after their weekly pick-up game of basketball. He waited for a few beers to lighten the mood, and asked if any of them had daughters who were doing the same shit as Nicky.

"Yeah, but I put an end to it right away," his friend Bill said. "She may post on other places I can't see, but outta sight outta mind, right?"

His other friend Karl had a different perspective, saying that the more he tried to manage his daughter, the more she disobeyed him. He said that she didn't do it as much anymore, that maybe Nicky was just in a phase. His friend Jim, who had a daughter he might have considered attractive were he 20 years younger, didn't say much on the subject, which was a bummer. When they were a few beers deeper and the conversation had shifted to women they found attractive, someone brought up a singer that was around Nicky's age. Jim did weigh in then, saying he tried not to think of any girls that were near the same age as his daughter.

All in all, it seemed Chris was on his own. His wife wasn't going to go to bat for him, his buddies were all over the board, and when Nicky posted another photo two days later of her with some guy's arms around her from behind, wearing a shirt that had two buttons too many undone near her chest and that same strip of skin visible around her midsection, Chris made up his mind.

"Nicky, I've been meaning to talk to you," he said as she was scampering around the kitchen a few days later, "will you quit running around for two seconds," he said jokingly.

His pretty daughter bounced over to the seat next to him and perched on it with near-mocking enthusiasm.

"Yes daddy," she said.

"I know you like posting your photos and all, but I feel like you're forgetting some of the things we taught you about not attracting too much attention online."

Nicky's smile waned, "you think my photos attract too much attention?" she asked.

"Well honey, I don't think you know everybody who sees them do you?" Chris asked in return.

"No, I guess not. But nobody's ever like... harassed me or anything because I posted a photo."

"Well I'm glad to hear that, you know I'd kick some ass if that ever happened right?"

Nicky's smile returned. Her dad could be overprotective sometimes, but for the most part it was sweet and it made her feel like she'd always be safe as his daughter.

"I know dad, and I'm sorry if my photos made you mad." She said sweetly, feeling a little confused at the realization that her beloved dad was one of the guys who looked at her photos.

"They don't make me mad sweetie, I just want you to keep in mind that some boys... some men don't always act appropriately when they see a pretty girl. And please don't forget that your younger sister looks up to you."

Nicky wanted to lighten the mood a little; she got his point. Putting her hands on the table and perking up she batted her eyebrows and said, "Does that mean you find me pretty daddy?"

Chris couldn't help but laugh at her childish act. He told her to knock it off and gave her a kiss on the forehead before ruffling her hair and going about his business. It felt good to get it off his chest, and he was hopeful that his daughter would put a bit more thought into what she posted.

That didn't last. The handful of photos that came in the next week started as 'acceptable' in his book and ended with a picture of Nicky in one of her spandex running outfits stretching out tantalizingly on her bed. Even he, her father, couldn't avoid making the connection between what one is meant to do on a bed (other than sleep) and the gorgeous young brunette that lay on it.

One of the comments on her photo was from some guy who had to be closer to his own age than Nicky's and with a shirtless profile picture exhibiting his tattoos. If Nicky ever brought a guy like that home, he would move to a rural town in Arkansas and devote his life to keeping her away from guys like that until he was dead. 'Well... maybe that would be a little extreme,' he thought, but then he read the horn-dog's comment.

~Hey smokeshow, send me a message and I'll show you what a real man can do with that body.~

Chris had seen that kind of thing before when browsing the internet before. He'd seen all manner of crude comments on photos of beautiful women; this was probably tame as that kind of commentary went. BUT IT WAS HIS OWN DAMN DAUGHTER. He had no idea who the guy was. He prayed to GOD that Nicky didn't either, and it sent him into a fit of paranoia that there could be 100 or so guys just like him that noticed his daughter's cheerleader outfit on the bed that had her school's name on it.

"Nicky!" Chris yelled upstairs when he got home from work that day. In truth, he'd hardly been able to focus on anything after seeing his daughter's post and the comments it had received.

The little brunette appeared quietly, and took each stair with the kind of apprehension that only a teenager who was about to get a tongue-lashing from their father could know. She'd seen the comment too, and had deleted it very quickly as she'd done in the past, but her dad must have seen it this time.

Nicky felt guilty; he was probably right that it was not good to attract that kind of attention from guys she didn't know. After her dad yelled at her the week before, she'd set her account to allow a smaller circle of people to see her photos, but that guy kind of slipped through the cracks. There had been a couple more comments she deleted today, but no doubt the "real man" comment was the one her dad had seen.

"I really don't want to have to keep going over this Nicky... why don't YOU tell ME why I would be pissed off today."

"...because of my post?" Nicky said quietly.

He was fired up, "I mean... come on Nicky! Did you see the first comment on your picture? Who the hell is that guy? Do you know him?"

"I'm really sorry dad! He's works at the pool Taylor lifeguards for and I met him ONE time when I was picking her up. I swear he didn't seem like that when I met him. I unfriended him as soon as I saw it!" She was genuinely apologetic.

"Erghh, but that's my point! You never know how these guys are. You never know what they're thinking... if they could find you."

Chris could feel his temper up too high and he remembered something he'd read on a forum sometime after his daughter's latest post had set him to worrying about her.

'At some point, you've got to realize that you can't control everything your daughter does or posts online. Some girls like the attention, and it's doubtful you're going to beat that out of them. With all the promises of becoming a fashion blogger or an internet sensation, many girls even post with the hope to somehow profit from social media too! Statistically, it's unlikely, but you can't stop her trying without taking away all privileges, and even then, your daughter is probably much savvier than you and will find a way.'

He looked at his daughter, cowering in the chair and still looking absolutely beautiful. He wasn't going to be able to take that away from her and he didn't want to at all. After all, she HAD seemed to be aware of the inappropriateness of what her random commenter had said. She had even known who he was and had taken steps to prohibit him from seeing her photos again.

He sighed, seeing his daughter's eyes just beginning to glisten with tears. "I'm sorry Nicky; I don't mean to yell at you." He walked over to her and put his arm around her. She resisted for a moment, probably mad at him, and then he could feel her relax and wrap herself around him too.

"I know I worry too much about you, I just forget that you're not my little girl that needs me to tie her shoes for her or pick you up at school because you pushed a boy down at recess."

Nicky laughed in his arms, which caused a tear to fall down her face and soak into his shirt when it hit.

"Maybe that should be a comfort to me - that you used to beat on the boys in grade school who pissed you off."

She laughed again, and Chris gave her his typical kiss on the forehead before releasing her.

"I'll be more careful dad. And I know I probably showed a little too much in that photo..."

"A little huh?" Chris asked, "I think you know what I'd have said if you asked me about that outfit first."

Chris watched his daughter puff up her chest, flex her arms and saying in as deep a voice as she could muster, "You march right back upstairs missy and put on..."

Chris quickly reached out and clasped his hand over his daughter's mouth playfully - her impression of him was just too ridiculous and it had them both laughing.

When he released her, Nicky looked deep in thought. After a moment, she continued meekly, "If you really want me to, I could send you my pictures before I post to see if it's okay?"

The striking teenager didn't really know how she came up with the idea, but it just seemed like the easiest way to avoid fighting over her posts and, though she didn't always like to admit it, he was probably a far better voice of reason than she.

"Well... I wasn't going to suggest anything that drastic, but if you're willing to check with me before you post something... I guess... well we wouldn't have to be seeing any of these anymore would we?" Chris asked, thumbing away one of his daughter's tears and seeing a smile return to her face.

She looked up at him with those vibrant green eyes of hers and the adorable face she'd surely gotten from his side of the family, "Okay daddy... I think I can do that. BUT... you have to promise not to say no to every single one!"

Chris rolled his eyes, "I know you're trying to become some big celebrity or something like that, and I won't stop you. Just please try and remember that when a girl is as pretty as you are sweetie, you've just got to be more careful is all."

"Alriiiight dad," Nicky drolled, scrunching up at his instruction that was also kind of a compliment.

It was settled, and once again Chris felt better about the way he'd left things with his daughter. Maybe it was a little unorthodox, but it seems like their plan could work. She was the one who had suggested it, and if his daughter was willing to let him be the deciding factor on whether a photo was tasteful or not... by all means!

It took a few extra days before Nicky worked up the nerve to prepare another post. Her friend Chrissy had asked her to post one of the necklace she was wearing so she could send it to her boyfriend for a birthday gift suggestion, and a boy she kind of liked in her chemistry class had 'friended' her a day before. Feeling a little bored in her free period, Nicky decided she was due for a new pic.

Over the past few days, Nicky had thought a lot about the arrangement she'd made with her father. On one hand, her friends would probably give her endless crap for getting "daddy's approval." A lot of them also thought he was cute "for a dad," and said so often. Imagining telling her friend Rachel about it over lunch, Nicky could just hear the relentless blonde's voice in her head saying that if she were in Nicky's place she'd definitely send a 'nudie.' Nope, she would NOT be telling Rachel about her new arrangement with Dad anytime soon.

On the other hand, Nicky felt a strange pang of excitement when she snapped the picture and held her phone in her hand with a message prepared to send to her father. It wasn't anything she even considered risqué, so it wasn't fear that he was going to shoot her down. Unable to pin down her feelings on the matter, Nicky clicked the send button..

Chris's phone dinged in his pocket as he stood in line for coffee that morning. He opened the message from his daughter, completely forgetting his new responsibilities when it came to her.

~I'm bored daddy, =/ can I post this?~

It was just a close up shot of his daughter in a light purple sweater that was unzipped all the way with a blue tank-top underneath. Her mouth was upturned in a cute frown with her tiny chin scrunched slightly. Combined with her big, puppy-dog eyes her expression was breathtaking. She had on a necklace he'd seen her wearing a lot lately.

Compared to her last post it was very tame, with the school books that were on her desk marking the bottom of the frame just below her breasts instead of displaying her whole body for the pleasure of its potential viewers. Still, seeing just the tops of his young daughter's breasts in the scooping neckline of her top made Chris thump harder for a few beats.

He had half completed a text to his daughter that she did NOT have his approval, when he stopped... and erased the typed words. Nicky could do so much worse than this photo, and after all, she'd gone to school wearing that outfit.

Chris sighed, looked back at the photo of his baby, and told her it would be alright if she posted it. She had that adorable look of boredom on her face, and Nicky looked pretty even though she probably wasn't even trying to. He couldn't prohibit her simply looking stunning all the time, no matter how hard he tried, nor did he want to! Though Chris found himself shielding his phone so that nobody would see him looking at a picture of his pretty young daughter, he actually felt glad to have the new line of communication with her.

When Nicky received his response, a big smile wiped the boredom right off her face.

{Sure Nicky, though you better not be doing that during class!}

~Of course not, I'm in my free period. See you after work?~

{Looking forward to it! Love you sweetie.}

She beamed for the next two periods. Any reminder of how much her dad loved her, which he gave her no shortage of, always made her giddy. Nicky posted her photo and continued on with her day, but the fact that her dad had seen it first made it strangely different. She was definitely glad that she no longer had to fear that she would disappoint him with her post.

When they finally saw each other after school, Nicky made sure to find her dad and kiss him on the cheek, showing him that she appreciated the slack he was cutting her. To Chris, it was almost like deja vu to see Nicky in the same outfit she'd sent him a picture of.

They went for a walk together with the dog when Chris got home, a routine they usually played out whenever the two of them were available before dinner. It was nice; they'd been a little tense the last few weeks with their arguing, so they hadn't walked together in a while.

The thirty or so minutes they were out reminded Chris of why he always looked forward to that time alone with his daughter. He put his arm around her and looked down at the familiar piece of jewelry around her neck, briefly catching a glimpse of the neckline of her shirt that he'd noticed earlier. 'God she was pretty, and when the heck had she developed those breasts of hers?' Chris remembered when his young daughter didn't even need a bra, and now she must have been approaching a C-cup, or even a D. It was a wonder too, because she was quite thin. He diverted his glance as quickly as he could, smiling when his little girl looked up at him.

"I know you hate my posts and all," she said at one point, sounding a little shy, "but thanks... for saying my picture was okay today."

"I don't HATE your posts honey," Chris replied, "I'm just trying to look out for you is all. Don't forget that I'm young enough to have grown up with social media too, even if it wasn't as universal as it is today."

Nicky looked to be deep in thought. "Yeah, you and mom did have me really young... Speaking of which: what the heck dad! You were like twenty when you had your first kid, and you're freaking out about boys commenting on my pictures when I'm eighteen?!"

"Okay, wait a second, I know I'm saying that some things weren't that different when I was your age, but some things are. I would definitely say you should not be planning to have kids a soon as we did!"

"Oh, so I was an accident then?" Nicky goaded.




Snap Decisions



She kept backing him into a corner; Chris had to laugh at how quick his teenager could be. "No, that's not what I'm saying. Jeez, I can't even keep up with you anymore. Come on, tell me you know what I'm talking about."

"Yeeeesss daddy, I know what you're talking about," she drew out, "and you're not even forty yet, so I'm pretty sure you can do more than keep up with me. Some of my friends parents are, like, ten years older than you."

"Well thank you for stroking my ego honey," Chris replied, wondering if Nicky was just prepping him to ask for money or something like that - maybe another picture he wouldn't otherwise approve of. Apparently, that wasn't the case; she was just being sweet as usual.

"Think you can still beat me back to the house?" Nicky asked when they were about a block away.

"Nicky, honey, if there's one thing I know, it's that I could get back there and have time to post a picture of you coming in second."

Without warning, Nicky took off running, the dog in tow.

"You little..." he said, starting about four strides later than his pretty brunette.

Sure enough, Chris was about to pass her but threw his arm around her instead, lifting her up off the ground with her long legs still pumping. He almost did so gracefully, but took a few stutter steps with Nicky flapping wildly under his arm before stumbling, daughter and all into the grass in front of their house.

The two of them came to rest with Nicky lying beside her dad, both fighting for air. They were laughing hard and looking straight up into the sky while they got their wits about them after the spill. Chris hugged his daughter close, immensely glad that they were back to normal, even if normal came with a new dynamic in their relationship. The dog licked at Nicky's face, causing her to squirm around and turn toward her dad. They shared a long, loving smile before getting up to go inside for dinner.

Chris could not imagine loving his daughter any more than he did in that moment, and Nicky felt exactly the same. Somehow, something that could have been awkward between them only made their bond stronger.

Friday afternoon saw a new post from Nicky. Chris was sitting at his desk when he received a text from her and this time, he knew what to expect. He was not disappointed to see a picture of Nicky in her bedroom mirror, looking gorgeous as ever. She had her sandy brown hair straightened and over one shoulder, and was wearing a bright-white sweater with a v-neckline plunged down deep enough to make Chris roll his eyes. It left a little bit of her tummy visible, but for once in far too long, it hung low enough that he could not see the piercing! The jeans she wore looked like they must have been difficult to get into. He could see right through the gap between her thighs and she looked... well... sexy.

~I thought I'd wear something that covered a little more for you when I go out tonight. Is it okay if I put this picture up?~

Again, he went through it in his head. Yes, he could see more of her breasts than he cared for any man to be able to, but otherwise she had on long sleeves and pants. Yet again, she could do far worse. He wished she didn't have to wear a bra that pushed her tits up to look so full in the neckline of her sweater, but he couldn't exactly say as much. It was a nice touch by his teenager that she was wearing it "for him," he thought. The little devil was as smart as she was pretty; the flattery worked.

{Well, it's not a turtleneck, or better yet a jumpsuit, but you've got the green light. Have fun tonight sweetie and please be safe.}

Nicky giggled when she got his message. Thinking about the 'turtleneck' phrasing, she looked down at her tits and felt a bit naughty that it had been apparent she was showing them off in the picture she sent to her dad. She wondered why it didn't bother her that her dad was obviously looking at some of the features she was usually only proud to show the boys from school. Instead of fixating on it, she replied and finished getting ready to go out.

~A jumpsuit... really? I don't think I could look good in that no matter how hard I tried.~

{Maybe, but judging by that picture I'm not so sure. Home by midnight, don't forget.} Chris complimented her.

Nicky had to read the message over twice to make sure the big smile it put on her face was the appropriate response. She read it again when she was getting in her friend's car to go out. Even though a bunch of the comments people made on her photo over the course of the night were complimentary, none of them put quite the warm feeling in her chest right about where her dad's eyes had inevitably been looking in the photo she sent him.

She thought of his words a few times that night, wishing more than once that the boys who she caught staring at her boobs could show half the maturity and appreciation for her that her dad did. He definitely set a high standard.

Nicky woke her dad up that night as he dozed on the couch. He'd plopped down there after going out for drinks with his wife and some friends, thinking he would stay up the thirty minutes or so until his daughter got home, but not making it more than ten in front of the TV.

He opened his eyes and felt lips come gently into contact with his own, leaving a sweet residue behind.

"You should probably go up to bed daddy," said his eldest daughter. "Want me to carry you up?"

Chris laughed tiredly. "Ha, yea, wouldn't that be a sight."

He opened his eyes to see a much better sight. Once more, it felt somewhat secretive to be seeing his teenage daughter for the second time in her outfit, though this was the first time he'd seen it in person. Her breasts were even more prominent than he had deduced from the photo, and Chris was glad the picture hadn't done them quite the same justice or he would have spent the night worrying much more. The way he could see her tapered midsection leading to her perfectly rounded backside... even in those clothes... it made his head swim.

Chris threw his arm over his little girl, feigning like he needed her help up the stairs before she gave him another kiss-on-the-lips goodnight and they went their separate ways. Yet again, Chris felt the familiar regard for his beautiful daughter, and Nicky went to sleep thinking about the way he'd complimented her via text, and then the look of sheer admiration in his eyes when she woke him up just then.

~Hi daddy! I'm going to a concert outside today, and it's gonna be pretty warm, can I wear this...aaaand post a picture??~

The text came Saturday while Chris was on the golf course in the afternoon. Nicky was turned away from the mirror, showing a halter top that only covered her slender back with a tie around her neck and her lower back. As far as jean shorts went, the ones she was wearing in the photo at least went down below her butt, though they did nothing to hide that it was round and pert.

Seeing so much of her skin revealed was a little jarring. Of course it was all tan and smooth like the rest of her body was. She was also arching her back and sticking out her butt just enough that the pose nearly made Chris veer off the cart path.

{Damnit Nicky! There's hardly anything in the back, what does the front look like?)

His response somewhat surprised her. She had suspected this one might be a bit much for her dad to handle, but did her dad want Nicky to take a new photo just for him? She turned towards the mirror and snapped another photo, propping up her chest involuntarily so it looked good in the picture.

~Some of my friends are wearing bathing suits, do you want me to wear one of those instead?~ asked Chris's mischievous little girl.

Chris got the photo of his teenager along with her text, and felt slightly more comfortable with the fact that the top did a decent job of covering up her chest. He realized upon receiving it that he'd essentially asked his daughter for another photo, and hoped he hadn't crossed any lines.

{HELL NO! I guess you can wear it, but can you at least post the second photo instead of the first?}

Nicky considered it for a second and agreed to post the second photo. Somehow the fact that the first one had been too revealing for her dad, and yet it would stay saved on his phone was a bit naughty; she wondered if her dad would delete the picture or not.

{You look very pretty, but we should really buy you some new clothes sweetie.}

Nicky grinned wide when she got his text.

~Aww, thanks daddy. Wait...are you saying you'll take me shopping???~

Chris couldn't help a smile appearing on his own face. Looking down at the photo of his daughter, he felt certain that he wouldn't mind taking her out shopping at all. Maybe they could even get her some clothes that didn't always leave so much of her alluring body to his watchful gaze, and so many more men and boys she might encounter at her concert. The only way he could get back to work was to put his phone away and trust that his little girl would be responsible and make sure the guys around her kept their hands to themselves.

He was able to stash his worries that night, thankfully, and caught a movie with his wife before getting to bed relatively early. Chris fell asleep with the hope of going shopping with the pretty brunette who had smiled back at him each time he sneaked a glance at her photo over the course of the evening.

On Sunday, Chris awoke quite unpleasantly for his tastes. That was, until he realized that the commotion at his feet shaking him awake was actually his teenage daughter sitting on him and calling "Daddy...daddy... come on wake up."

As his vision cleared, he looked down to the foot of the bed where Nicky was perched. She had on one of her typical crop tops, though this one was a good deal smaller than her usual number and stopped maybe 6-inches below her breasts. It had zig-zag stripes of red and white and a big, wide neckline clinging to her shoulders just where they curved.

What's more, the tiny white shorts she wore were incredible. They had four buttons right up the center, making it look almost like it was just a strip of white denim his daughter had wrapped around her and buttoned together that morning. They didn't cover more than a few inches of her gorgeous, tanned legs, which looked even more stunning as she kneeled at his feet. It was all Chris could do not to imagine his daughter perched like that on top of him for a far more nefarious reason.

"First..." started the little brunette, "can I post a photo in my outfit? And second, can we go shopping today? If we go early enough this morning we'll miss the crowds."

Her adorable voice was racing. Nicky was actually terribly excited to go shopping with her dad. Sure, she knew that the outfit she'd chosen that morning would be way too sexy for her dad to let her post a photo online, but she couldn't help herself picking it - it was a teasing bit of rebellion that gave her a thrill.

Chris processed her words, shaking off his slumber and sitting up in bed so she could see he wasn't wearing a shirt. That voice of her friend Rachel briefly materialized in her head, 'does he work out? It totally looks like he works out!'

"First..." Chris mimicked, "I'm going to pretend like you didn't even ask that first question." He watched as his daughter's face hardly changed. She knew it wasn't appropriate, and yet she HAD worn it. "And second, next time you decide you're going to jump on top of me while I'm sleeping, bring coffee!" He joked.

"I didn't JUMP on top of you! THIS...is jumping on top of you."

With that, Nicky pounced from her spot at his feet and dove forward at her dad. Whether she intended to give him a kiss or to simply annoy him, she didn't exactly know. Either way, he handily caught her with his hands around her bare sides before she could come down on him. They wrestled, both laughing while Nicky squirmed around on top of her father and he started to tickle her where his hands had landed.

Chris couldn't deny the feeling of having his hands on his baby was... nice. He'd eyed her slender midsection the second she woke him, and now he was dancing his fingers all over it while she writhed and gasped for air. Her little behind and those pretty legs of hers were straddling him and wiggling about, not unlike the way he'd imagined her for just a second when he first set eyes on her that morning. Feeling guilty, he tossed her to the side, though he didn't relent tickling her; the sounds of her squealing and begging him to stop were too damn adorable.

"That was cruel," Nicky huffed once he let up.

"Cruel huh? Cruel like waking your dad up from a nice sleep at..." Chris looked over to the clock, "7:14 AM!"

Nicky smiled and turned towards him with one arm propping her head up. "But don't you want to spend time with me, daddy?"

Her tone was just a shade charged. Something about it triggered her father to give her whole body an up-and-down scan with his eyes, as if that might be the reason he'd want to spend time with her. It wasn't true; he loved her more than anything and would spend every moment she'd allow together if he had the chance. But as his eyes gobbled her up, Chris wondered if he wouldn't mind watching her meander around the department store and model new outfits like the one she was wearing in bed with him.

The sprawled brunette saw him look. It was quick, but too obvious for her to miss. Her dad had totally just checked her out! She HAD laden her words with a little flirtatiousness, but she didn't expect that to earn her a hungry gaze from her own dad! Maybe she was overthinking it. Their eyes met, and Nicky wondered if he knew she'd seen him look. From the way he just went right on talking she thought that surely he hadn't been looking at her with anything but fatherly intent.

"You've got me there little one," he said, calling her by the nickname that she sometimes hated and sometimes loved. This time she was okay with it. "Will you give me about ten to fifteen and then we can go get some breakfast?"

Nicky agreed enthusiastically.

They hit their favorite breakfast spot and sat in the same booth her dad always insisted on. He got two eggs, bacon and buttered wheat toast - the usual. Nicky went with the granola-yogurt meal, extra honey and a small side of pancakes. She didn't worry as much about what she ate in front of her dad.

As usual, Nicky had to sit by while her dad subtly flirted with their waitress. They'd been coming there for years, and Miranda, the relatively pretty middle-aged blonde seemed to spend plenty of time filling their coffees. Sometimes, it embarrassed Nicky. Today, she actually felt a little jealous. Chris saw his daughter roll her eyes when he chatted with Miranda after she'd filled their coffee for the fifth or sixth time. He quickly ended the conversation with their waitress, seeing his 18-year-old's frown switch to a satisfied grin as they both knew she'd gotten what she wanted.

Next it was on to the department store. They debated a few times over what was appropriate and what wasn't but Chris quickly caved on just about anything his daughter wanted. He did put his foot down on a see-through top that Nicky tried to reason didn't show her bra THAT clearly underneath. In the end, she picked out two new tops, a new pair of those ridiculous jean-shorts she loved and a dress that he knew he wasn't going to like.

On the way to the dressing rooms, they passed through the swimsuit and lingerie section. No matter how many times he found himself in that section, whether it was with his wife or daughter, Chris would always feel out of place. Of course, his daughter stopped to look at a few, giggling when her dad would grumble as she held this one or that one up to her chest.

Chris browsed, looking as disinterested as he could muster, while flicking through a few tops and walking around aimlessly. He was hoping his daughter would wrap up soon so he didn't look like the creepy old man in the lingerie section.

His young brunette picked up one too many bathing suits that looked more like a thong, so Chris suggested a simple white one across the aisle. Nicky walked over to him and picked it up off the rack, grinning devilishly.

"This one dad, really?" She asked, clearly knowing something he didn't. "This is not a swimsuit, it's a push-up bra."

"Oh well SORRY. I guess I'm not as fluent in the skimpy pieces of fabric you call clothing today."

Nicky chuckled and leaned against her dad, "It's okay daddy. I like this one anyway; I think I'll get it."

Chris muttered something under his breath that she couldn't hear, but they both caught each other's eyes and Nicky could see he wasn't mad, if a little embarrassed. She picked out her cup size, which her dad noted was 32D, and beckoned her dad to the dressing room.

Sitting on the bench by the entrance to the room, Chris waited for his daughter to try on her outfits in the stall nearest him. He was reflecting on some things he had to take care of at work the next day when he saw those shorts his daughter was wearing hit the floor around her feet. The zig-zag top followed.

Try as he might, Chris's brain lost the battle not to imagine what Nicky looked like within the walls of the booth. She must have been wearing a strapless bra or something of that sort given the neckline of her top, and he knew from helping his wife with the laundry now and again that his daughter had nothing but the tiniest pairs of panties. He'd already seen enough of her body in that outfit today, but now his mind was conjuring up images of his teenager stripping it all off not ten feet away from him.

A few minutes later he was treated to a view of Nicky's first outfit. It was the dress she picked out, an Aztec-print black and white number that hugged every little curve of her body. The bottom of it hardly came down past her round little ass as she spun for him. Of course, there were big voids in the sides of it that left her trim midsection bare, with only a single two-inch strap around the waist that split each of the spans of her tan skin in half. Chris could clearly see as he gazed at her just how impressive his daughter's figure was.

"Well, what do you think?" Nicky asked, after a few seconds had passed with her dad's eyes on her.

Chris tried to hide any appreciation that might be un-fatherly, "You look very beautiful sweetheart. It fits you well. One question though, is it necessary that it be so short?"

Nicky turned around and stuck her pert backside out towards the mirror, consequently giving her dad a wonderful profile-view. She didn't seem fazed by it at all. Inside, Nicky was a little excited that he'd noticed.

"I don't think it's that short daddy; you can't see my butt or anything," She reasoned, proceeding to bounce her bubbly little ass a few times to be sure everything held in place. Chris's eyes widened as he watched his daughter move in a way that he thought for sure he wasn't meant to ever see.

Chris grumbled his usual acceptance and watched his baby disappear back into the dressing room. He couldn't take much more of this, and he scolded himself for not doing a better job of keeping his daughter's body a secret. As her dress hit the ground again, Nicky's father attempted to gather himself and prepare for further onslaught of his beauty's fashion show.

By the time she got to the third outfit, Chris was a little better off, though he was troubling himself with the question of whether other dads like him found it inappropriate to go shopping with their teenage daughters. The third outfit was reason enough to question whether he'd need to prohibit further shopping sessions with his rambunctious brunette.

"So... do you want to see the 'bathing suit,' you picked out for me?" Nicky asked with air quotes and a toothy grin.

"Absolutely not! And I swear to God if I ever see a picture of you posted online in that thing Nicky..." He was trying to be playful, but Nicky could tell he meant it.




Snap Decisions



"Oooh," Nicky mocked, pretending to be scared though she knew damn well her dad was capable of scaring her plenty.

In the end, Chris caved and bought her everything. The dress was fucking expensive, as he should have expected. Still, looking at the items she'd chosen he knew they could have done a lot worse. It was a feeling he was getting all too familiar with and he wondered how long the thought that 'she could be wearing less,' would remain true. He was imagining Nicky in the white bra and panties he'd seen the attendant place in a special bag and hoped the day never came where that 'outfit' looked modest.

'It was the most amazing day,' felt Nicky, who was still energized by the time with her dad, and it was almost half-way through school on Monday now. She'd worn the white lingerie her dad had picked out that day, and was sooo tempted to send him a picture of her that morning, taunting him by asking if she could post it. She already felt like she'd pushed the envelope yesterday at the mall, joking that she would model the bra and panties for him if he wanted. It was kind of a nice feeling to be wearing the push-up that her own dad had chosen and then see boys stealing peeks at her throughout the day. 'If only they knew that daddy picked this out for me,' thought the mischievous teen.

Her dad was being decidedly unrevealing in his attitude towards her; she wondered if he felt the same subtle difference in their relationship that she did. It was nothing more than an extra spoonful of love, Nicky reasoned... though a tiny part of her wondered if that was entirely true.

Chris had to admit to himself that he was actually disappointed when his daughter didn't send him any pictures to approve that week. His phone dinged a few times in the afternoon, and Chris found himself reaching for it quickly, only to be let down when it was just his sports app giving him an update on the score of the baseball game. Though he felt terribly guilty afterward, Chris did go back and look at the last few pictures Nicky had sent him when he felt lonely that week.

On Friday, Nicky was in the zone and getting ready to go out to a bonfire her friend Mark was throwing at his parents' place. It was the perfect night for her dress, and she checked herself out in the mirror remembering the wide-eyed look she'd gotten from her dad when she stepped out of the dressing room.

Simply by habit, Nicky snapped a picture and posted it to her profile. It wasn't until she was out the door and walking to her friend's house for a ride that the teenager realized she'd forgotten the all-important protocol. She checked her phone, expecting a missed call or text message from her dad about the fact that she'd posted without his permission. She just hadn't thought of it; he'd bought her the dress and seemed not nearly as concerned about it as he was about the third outfit she'd picked out. It simply wasn't risqué enough for her to have taken the picture and felt it was a questionable post.

Nicky was definitely nervous when she got in the car, worried she was going to spoil the good thing she had going with her father and get into a fight with him when she got home.

On the other end, Chris was sharing a happy-hour beer with a few coworkers when his phone buzzed. He didn't check it until he was taking a leak about twenty minutes later.

"Nicky Bennett has posted a new photo," said an e-mail.

Chris was a little pissed. He stood in the stall, buzzed and wondering what the heck had happened that his daughter decided she wasn't going to ask his permission anymore. He opened the e-mail, and the picture of his daughter appeared.

'Well,' he thought, 'I did buy it for her.'

It was a photo of his beautiful daughter in that sexy dress that his wallet knew of best - nothing too over-the-top. Any anger he was planning on harboring melted away as Chris remembered fondly the smile on his daughter's face when he complimented her on how she looked in it... how it hugged her toned frame just right and showed just how much she'd developed by 18-years-old.

The fourth gin-and-tonic that Chris just finished probably acted for him. He pushed the thumbs up button next to his daughter's photo and put his phone away. He hadn't really done something like that before, but he thought that Nicky would appreciate that he'd seen the photo and wasn't mad at her.

"Love the photo Nicky," said Rachel when she caught up with her at the party, "and the dress. Damn girl, you're going to be swatting guys away tonight. Real quick, who is cbennett78?"

Nicky knew that username well, "It's my dad, why?"

Rachel laughed out loud, "Oh my god, your DAD liked a photo of you in that dress??"

She started to repeat the same phrase when Nicky clamped a hand in shock over her friend's mouth. Rachel was laughing into Nicky's palm.

"Shut up!" she scolded, "he probably doesn't know that anyone can see that he liked it. He bought the dress for me - he's just being nice!"

Rachel could see the look of disdain on her friend's face, "Okay okay!" she relented, prying the brunette off of her, "I'm not saying I wouldn't be gaga over it! Your dad is so hot will you please, please, please set me up with him."

Nicky growled and walked away, Rachel following quickly after her. "Oh come on Nic', why do you always get so mad at me when I talk about your dad?"

"Because he's my DAD! What do you want me to do, agree with you when you say how badly you want to get on him?" Nicky asked, feeling a little less protective and sensing the first sips of her mixed drink finally getting to her.

"Well, that's a start," Rachel joked, "you could ask him to check out some of my pictures too, or maybe you could just give me his number and I'll send them myself!"

Nicky gave her friend an eye-roll and a push. She'd had enough of Rachel's incessant fawning over her dad for the night. Still, it was tough not to think of her dad and try to connect what Rachel found so attractive about him... he was a good-looking dad to say the least. Nicky decided to be simply proud of that, and felt a warm sensation in her chest as she thought of the fact that he'd liked her photo instead of yelling at her. She'd have to reward him for that later.

Chris got to ask a few of his buddies that night about their own daughters. One of them, in a response that denoted exactly how much he'd had to drink that night, actually said that "having a nineteen-year-old was next to impossible when your wife isn't giving it to you anymore." Chris stayed quiet, but knew exactly what the inebriated dad meant. He sensed that a few of the other men they were with might have felt the same. It was comforting to know that he wasn't alone, or some kind of pervert.

The bonfire was fun, but Nicky decided that she was going to make her way home rather than stay at the house of one of the boys whose parents were away for the weekend. Sometimes, weird things tended to happen at those sleepovers, and she didn't feel like lying to her mom and dad about where she was staying that night.

When Nicky got home, her mom was already asleep and her dad wasn't even home yet. He was never short of energy, she thought. This wasn't the first time he'd outlasted her on a night out. Feeling more than a little buzzed, Nicky stripped off her dress and looked in the mirror. The bra and panties her dad had mistakenly picked out were definitely her new favorite set. Her tits had never looked better, or bigger than they did now. She reminded herself to hit the gym tomorrow due to the beers she'd enjoyed that evening.

For some reason, the combination of a few things had the inebriated brunette reaching for her phone as she sat down on her bed. Earlier that day, she'd put on the bra and panties, feeling naughty that her dad had chosen them for her. Rachel had done as she usually did, inserting thoughts into Nicky's head about banging her dad. And then, she always did get a bit frisky when she'd been drinking.

Thinking about how he'd liked her photo earlier that day, Nicky subconsciously took a photo of herself in the mirror, legs slinked over the bed, back arched and nothing on but the white push-up bra and panties. She knew she looked incredible, and whatever part of her it was that kept getting excited every time she sent her father a photo, typed out a message and hit send without her thinking twice.

An agonizing silence followed.

At the bar, things were winding down and Chris was sensing that nobody was willing to head to the late-night dive a few blocks away with him. He didn't think to check his phone until he was in the cab on his way home.

The preview of the message from 12:47am read:

~HOpe you're having a fun night with yoourfriends daddy! CanI post this one before I go to bed??~

It was laden with enough errors for him to know his daughter had been drinking. Still, Chris was not at all prepared for what he saw when he unlocked his phone. He sat there, definitely too many drinks deep to think straight, and a few too many more to react appropriately to what he saw.

Nicky was sitting on her bed, lit dimly by the lamp next to her, wearing only the white bra and panties that he'd suggested by accident at the store.

His mouth dropped open.

He'd seen her in a bathing suit; but this was fundamentally different. He'd never seen something so sexy and captivating as her in his whole life. He zoomed in instinctively to get Nicky's body to fill the whole frame. The panties were so tiny; they almost disappeared with her legs crossed over the edge of the bed. Her breasts were...ohgod they were perfect. Pushed up in the bra they looked bigger than he'd ever seen them before, just the right size though he always thought they were generous for a fit girl like her. Every little bit of her was smooth and tan and Chris found himself not only shielding the phone as if the empty seat next to him might peek, but shielding his crotch as well for something had stirred there he couldn't control.

She'd taken that photo just for him. Nicky knew damn well that her dad would never allow that online, and even at her densest moment, she was far too smart to post something that provocative. The photo of his little girl was intimate, inappropriate, and perhaps the most exhilarating sight he could recall seeing for a long time.

His fumbling fingers typed of their own volition:

{Not in a million years... You do look beautiful in that like I thought you would baby. even though you might as well be wearing nothing.}

When her phone finally buzzed almost thirty minutes after she'd sent the photo, Nicky jumped in bed. She couldn't hope to fall asleep; her drunken-self was simply too anxiety-ridden about how her dad would respond to the message she sent.

His response floored her. Like before, she had to read it over almost five times before she was sure she hadn't taken it the wrong way. Her lithe little body buzzed with excitement - her thumping heart, the butterflies in her stomach, and a needy little tingle beneath her bottoms. There was only one appropriate response to her dad's message...

~So... this would be out of the question then?~ said the words that appeared on Chris's screen before he swiped his finger to open the message.

If he had been floored before, this time Chris couldn't contain himself. He told the taxi to stop immediately - he needed some air. The driver obviously thought his passenger was about to hurl as Chris overpaid him by about $20 nearly a mile short of their destination and bounded out of the car to the sidewalk.

He stared down at the image, putting his face entirely too close to the screen. Nicky was on the bed as before, but she had turned sideways and there was something significantly different about her clothing.

The tiny white bottoms she'd been wearing were halfway down her thighs and her legs were tucked underneath her. She was perched on the bed and only a perfectly placed shadow concealed the most unholy place a father could ever see of his own offspring. Likewise, her bra had been unclasped, and the arm that wasn't snapping the photo of her was all that held it in place on her unbound breasts.

Whether he would have admitted it to himself while sober or not, Chris looked at the photo with more lust than he could recall ever feeling towards his wife or any other woman. This wasn't just him hungering for her over some online posts she didn't even know he'd seen. It wasn't Chris silently admiring how his daughter looked in her cheerleading outfit or swimsuit. Nicky had sent HIM a photo directly - one so seductive and entrancing that he couldn't tear his eyes from it. He couldn't withhold his desire for her. She was an adult now, she always reminded him, and this was his gorgeous, adult daughter teasing him with more of her body than he ever hoped to see.

And yet, Chris was still, above all things, a father. He couldn't just send back what he might have if Nicky wasn't his own little girl - 'why don't you take it all off and wait for me to get home,' or something like that. He kept it together as best he could.

{Dear God Nicky, you're going to give me a heart attack at 38! I swear you are in so much trouble if that photo goes anywhere but my phone!}

This message came back to her sooner, she was immensely grateful.

~Don't worry daddy, for your eyes only...~

{Good. Now quit tormenting me and get some sleep, my beautiful daughter.}

Once again, her body begged for attention. It wasn't hard for her to come to the realization that the attention she wanted that night was from the man she was sending naughty pictures to. Maybe it was just the booze talking, but she couldn't get the fantasy out of her mind that her dad might barge in and help her take the dangling lingerie off the rest of the way.

He didn't send anything else, and neither did Nicky. Chris was afraid of what he might say. The two pictures and words weighted with taboo and desire were enough for that night. He didn't need to bring his phone into the bathroom with him as he showered off the smell of the bar; Chris knew every inch of his daughter's body well enough to imagine that she was right there next to him.

With the steamy-hot water of the shower cascading over him, and the erection that had existed since first opening Nicky's message, Chris soon found himself stroking himself up and down. With his eyes closed, he imagined his teenage daughter just as she had been in the photo - just as she likely was in her room nearby... just as she wanted him to.

Likewise, Nicky fidgeted about in bed, rubbing her legs together against the covers and thinking of her father in ways she knew she wasn't supposed to. After she heard him come home and regrettably not come in to kiss her goodnight, Nicky simply couldn't help herself. She kicked her covers down furiously and pulled her bottoms all the way off.

While Chris pretended it was his daughter's hand stroking him instead of his own, or perhaps something naughtier, Nicky firmly rubbed her clit and dreamed it was her father's fingers upon her. Her young pussy was already dripping wet, and when she began to rub it, the slick sound of her fingers moving needily were present in the room.

If he were to merely walk a few steps over to the bedroom across the hall, Chris knew what could be in store for him. His knees spasmed just thinking about what he and his daughter might accomplish together.

If Nicky were to merely text her dad that she needed him to come to her room, she could allow him to find her the way she was now - knees up on the bed and in perfect position for him to do any number of things she could beg him to.

The two of them masturbated with unstoppable lust, unknown to each other but knowing they'd started something forbidden and undeniable between them. Nicky's back arched, her hips lifting off the bed and her fingers moving relentlessly over her pussy while she struggled not to scream. Her father's body tensed and his head rolled back, feeling orgasm wrack him.

It was so bad, and she knew it, but nothing had ever made her cum harder than she did that night. Nicky had to roll over to the other side of the bed and change her sheets in the morning because she made such a wet, naughty mess thinking of her dad that night. With a twinge of shame and a refusal to shake his baby from his thoughts, Chris held his hand firmly at the base of his cock, imagining it buried deeply while he ejaculated an impressive amount to the shower floor. His head found his pillow with surprising relief, feeling the alcohol lull him into a deep sleep.

------------

Both of them woke up the next morning thinking the same things. 'What the heck happened last night?' and 'What got into me?' Chris was wondering if he had simply imagined it all, he tended to have some crazy dreams when the bottle got the better of him on a night out. As soon as he got the chance to have a quiet moment to check his phone, he opened up his messages to see Nicky's pictures from the previous night.

It was no dream. Seeing them in the light of day did little to dissuade Chris of his daughter's beauty, but reading his own messages stung him deep. He cursed himself for being so forward with her. He remembered getting himself off in the shower before going to bed and was frightened at how easily his base desires had taken over. He owed Nicky more respect than that and he wouldn't blame her for sending him a picture that he'd enjoyed too thoroughly.

Nicky felt a little guilty too, but not so much as her dad. That was, at least, until they met that morning over breakfast. He was different - still all smiles and asking her about what she was up to that day, but he was distant.

The part of Nicky that had gone to sleep tickled that her dad had appreciated her photos so much ached for his attention. She didn't necessarily want him to come strip her down right there in the kitchen, but some extra affection would have been nice.

He didn't give it to her, no matter how badly they both wanted it. They shared breakfast together, she told him about her night and he did the same, and when Nicky tried to bring up the late-night exchange, her father rebuffed her handily.

"You were out late, huh daddy?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah, those guys I work with can be rowdy; I bet you've seen that once or twice." He replied

"I know, but you can be rowdy too! I bet you were the one trying to stay out instead of going home swapping text messages with your daughter." She suggested, looking at him expectantly.

"Maybe, but it was time to come home," he said.

She tried one more tactic, "Sorry I forgot to ask your permission to send that picture of me in the dress. I guess I knew it was a lot more acceptable than the other photos I sent you last night."

Chris saw what she was trying to do, but he simply couldn't play into it that morning. Whether he intended to put an end to what was developing between he and his daughter or not, Chris hadn't decided, but the intense feelings he had towards her the night before simply couldn't be ignored. If Nicky was feeling anything near what he had, Chris knew he was going to have to be the voice of reason when the first picture came through with his daughter wearing nothing at all. He responded to his teenager with a non-committal laugh and said it was okay that she'd posted.

'This sucks,' thought Nicky when she and her dad parted later that morning. She found herself getting angry at him - frustrated that he could act one way the night before and totally different the next morning. She threw herself on the bed, seeing the sheets she'd bundled up next to her and feeling embarrassed instead about the pure ecstasy she'd clung to the night before as she howled into her pillow to keep quiet.

Chris was no dummy. He could feel it as she sauntered by him later that day on her way out to run. She threw some one-word answers his way anytime he saw her after that and her father was vividly reminded of the moods his wife used to get into when they were arguing at an age not far off from Nicky. One thing he did remember about those moods, is that his wife was usually just looking for something from him. All it might take is a little display of affection and perhaps Nicky would return to the spunky little firecracker that she had become in the last few years.




"Snap" Frozen in Time



Everyone knows about Deja vu, but there are other times that you just know something just isn't right. Have you ever been walking down the street and it felt like someone can see through your clothes? Have you ever had your clothes all of the sudden just don't feel like they are on right? How about the time your panties or bra just suddenly feel uncomfortable? Unlike Deja vu, there may be an explanation as to your uneasy feelings.

Have you ever wondered how you can be standing still in a crowd and your panties suddenly feel a little bit twisted? Has your bra come unlatched suddenly without warning while you stood in a crowd? Have your panties suddenly crept deeper between ass cheeks? Have your nipples suddenly without warning became hard as a rock and tender? Have you been in a crowd and suddenly felt wet between your legs?

I may have an explanation for some of you. I have an ability that could explain a lot. I'm sure I'm not the only one in the world that can do what I do. Please let me give some explanation. When I was a teenager I discovered the ability to freeze time. It started with a dream, more like a premonition. I woke up one summer morning and just knew that I was gifted with the ability to snap my fingers and everyone around me would be frozen in time, while I was free to walk around them unnoticed until I would snap my fingers again and everyone would continue on.

I had to try out my new found gift, so I snapped my fingers and moved to another seat in the house and snapped my fingers again. My family would just stare at me in confusion, unbelieving. Of course I never told anyone about my new ability. I had to practice and see if I could find the limits to my new abilities. I would snap my fingers and see if it would wear off on its own, or stay frozen until I snapped my fingers again. So far, I've found that it doesn't wear off on its own, I have all of the time I want.

Next I tried freezing time and touching others, to see if my touch would set them free from my power. Once again, nothing, I could touch them, move them, and carry them without them knowing. My next attempt was to be touching someone when I snapped my fingers, this time to my surprise, they didn't freeze like the rest, so I quickly snapped my fingers again so they wouldn't know what was going on. This had to be my secret.

The next day at school, I had to try my hand at a bigger crowd of people, how far reaching was my time freeze? In the middle of my first period English class I was bored out of my mind, so "Snap". The class froze in their tracks, I got up and wondered around the school, and to my delight, so was everyone else in the entire building. Being in high school, I used this time to get the answers to my English test. I returned to my class, took my seat and "Snap" everything continued on as before.

As the days and weeks passed, I pondered about what I wanted to do when I stopped time. I could stop time and take money from the bank and have all the money in the world, but that thought quickly faded as I thought about having to explain where the money came from. I could walk into any car dealership and grab the keys of any car I wanted, but again, I would have to explain where I got the car, so no new car. Of course I could use the time to get the answers to all of my tests and ace school, which I did.

It was at our school's homecoming that I found the true use of my abilities and started my life long obsession, the ultimate in voyeurism. The school was filled with the football team wearing their jerseys, and the cheerleaders wearing their cheer outfits. I decided that I would freeze time and see exactly what the cheerleaders were wearing under their short skirts! Walking down the hall between classes, I came across a group of cheerleaders and thought "This is my chance". I snapped my fingers and as before, everyone froze where they stood. I walked up to the closest cheerleader and touched her shoulder, just to make sure she was frozen and wouldn't come back to my reality of time. She didn't move! I reached down and lifted her skirt and revealed her red cheer pants. I must admit I was disappointed, they were actually kind of short shorts, not panties at all. Not wanting to risk getting caught, I stepped back and snapped my fingers and set the world in motion again.

This went on for a few years and I got more and more brave. A few times I would be walking past the girl's locker room and would freeze time and walk in to see the girls in the shower and in various stages of undress, checking out who was wearing sexy bras and panties, who shaved their pussies, and who was going natural. I learned a lot about anatomy in those high school years, but my true voyeurism was only beginning to develop.

It was after graduation that I stopped by a local mall. People were everywhere, when suddenly I saw her. Tall brunette, long legs, and wearing a short black skirt walking towards me. Her stiletto heels clicking as she walked across the tile floor. Flowing loose curls of dark brunette hair framing her face, flowing down across her shoulders. The top of her dress revealed ample cleavage, making me wonder what she wore under it. This was my moment, I snapped my fingers and froze time, leaving only me to walk up to her and discover the secrets she was hiding beneath her dress.

I walked up to her and touched the hem of her dress. Time stood still, so I lifted her skirt slowly up her toned thighs. I gasped as I lifted her skirt above her waist revealing to my inquisitive eyes the unknown fact that she wasn't wearing any panties! I stood holding her skirt up, staring at her neatly trimmed pubic hair and her clean shaven pussy lips. Still holding her skirt up, I knelt down to get a close up view of her most private, intimate secrets. I leaned in close and inhaled the sweet perfumed aroma of her exposed vagina. I studied each neatly trimmed pubic hair and the delicate folds of her pussy lips.

I stood back up so I could open the top of her dress and view her breasts. I slid the material down her shoulders, revealing her bra. Stepping around behind her, I released the clasp and eased the straps over her shoulders and down her arms. I stepped back around to view her now exposed breasts standing firm for my personal viewing pleasure. Her nipples were dark brown and perfectly rounded. I reached out and cupped her naked breast, feeling its weight and firmness. I pinched her nipple and rolled it in my fingers, to my surprise it reacted by getting hard and extending to just larger than an pencil eraser as goose bumps appeared on her areola.

Fearing she would awake from my time freeze, I stopped and put her bra back on her shoulders and hooked the clasp behind her back. I pulled her dress back into position on her shoulders and stepped several feet away, so I could see her reaction when I started time again. Would she feel the excitement I caused to her nipples? I just had to see her reaction, so with a snap of my fingers, time resumed. I watched as she went back to her walk, but within seconds, she got a strange look on her face. She looked around and fidgeted her shoulders, it was apparent that she felt something wasn't right. She did her best to look nonchalant, but she took a moment to adjust the straps of her bra. I watched as her face flushed nervously as she walked past me and on with her life.

This went on for the rest of my day at the mall, several women unknowingly had been viewed in various stages of undress. It was a short redhead that I had the most fun with. When I froze time to look at her, I found she was wearing a thong, I adjusted the thong to part her pussy lips before I started time again. Imagine her feeling, in mid stride, her lace thong was now buried deep between the lips of her pussy and tightly pulled between her ass cheeks. When I started time, she almost tripped as the feeling of the lace crept deeper. I almost laughed out loud as she did her best to walk the material back into its previous position. A strange look crossed her face, combination of confusion and pleasure, mixed with embarrassment.

Over the years, I have used my ability to stop time as a voyeur's dream. I can at any time in any place view any woman naked. I enjoy their reactions after I start time again almost as much as I enjoy looking at their private parts. That's when it hit me, I could exploit my abilities and interact with them afterwards. I took the role of a magician, performing so called magic tricks. One of my favorites is also a crowd favorite.

I ran across a group of women on the street and I asked them if they would like to see a magic trick. They all looked at each other and giggled "yes". 

So I began to explain my trick to them. "I need 2 volunteers, one to hold her purse tightly closed and one to stand still while the others encircled her"

They discussed amongst themselves and decided who would hold her purse and who would be in the middle of the circle. To my delight, the most attractive of them was set in the circle, while a prudish looking woman boldly clutched her purse and glared at me.

I snapped my fingers and stopped time so I could take the panties and bra from the woman encircled by her friends and place them in the tightly gripped purse. I had thought about leaving her naked, but not this time. I removed her panties and took my time admiring her exposed pussy. I removed her bra and saw that her nipples were pierced. Returning all of her friends to the tight circle around her, I removed the purse from the prude's grip, stuffed the undergarments inside and clasped her hand back into position.

I returned to where I was standing when I started my "magic trick" and snapped my fingers again. The attractive blonde let out a shrill scream as she realized that she no longer had her bra or panties! All of her friends were shocked at her scream and I could see she didn't know what to say to her friends. Just as everyone turned to look at me, I asked the prude woman to show her friends inside of her purse. She turned to her friends and opened her purse. This time they all screamed and looked at their friend, still safely surrounded by them. All she could do was nod as she flushed to a bright red.

They looked at me for answers, some looked mad, some looked confused, and one looked at me with intrigue. I told them that a magician never reveals his secrets. They continued to press me for an answer, but I thanked them for playing along and advised them to get their friend somewhere where she could get herself back in order. I started to walk away when one of them caught up to me and bet me that I couldn't do that to her!

What was she thinking, was she wanting me to see her naked? Did she know how I removed her friend's bra and panties? What was her plan? So I agreed to do my "magic trick" again for her. She picked another friend to hold her purse tight as she gathered her friends into a tight circle around her. I uttered some stupid magic word and snapped my fingers as they all froze in time. I parted the circle of friends and started to undress the more than willing woman when I found out her plan. She wasn't wearing anything under her dress! No bra and panties for me to place in the purse.

Now I had a decision to make, after all it was her bet, I couldn't disappoint her. I thought about taking one of her friend's bra and panties and putting them on her. Maybe I would turn her dress inside out. Nope, I was going all out. I removed her dress, leaving her totally nude and stuffed her dress into her friend's purse. With a snap of my fingers, time resumed and all of her friends let out a collective scream as they were now circled tightly around their friend, totally nude. They tightened their circle, blocking me from seeing their friend in that condition. Her other friend opened her purse and pulled out the crumpled dress and handed it to her friend.

Once her dress was back covering their friend, they asked me why I did that. I explained that it was her bet that I couldn't remove her under clothes and place them in the closed purse, well that's all I did. The woman didn't even blush as she walked up to me and smiled. She settled her friends down and explained that she was okay and it was just all in good fun. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek and asked for my number. I declined to give it to her, I didn't want her to call the police and report me, or whatever she had planned. With a pout, she returned to her friends as they went on their way.

Night clubs were another great place for me to practice my "magic". There are always women willing to let me perform some kind of illusion for them, and they are more than willing for it to include a sexual element. One of my favorites is the "instant orgasm" trick. Every club or bar has several women willing to let me try to give them an instant orgasm without touching them, or at least without them knowing it.

It's always easy to set up, find a table with several women and offer to buy them drinks if they let me show them a trick. It's almost guaranteed that one of them will be willing to let me. I ask one of them to hold out their hand and while all of them watch I offer to give her an orgasm by touching only her wrist. This is one of my favorite tricks, and one of the most difficult.

I take her hand and tap lightly on her wrist a few times before I snap my fingers. Once time is stopped, I move to her and rub her clit through her clothes until I feel her pussy lips start to swell. Then I go back to my seat and with a snap of my fingers, I tap her wrist again. I can hear her breathing change and see her face blush as she feels the sensations in her clit begin. Normally at this point, she looks at her friends and they can tell she feels something. I snap my fingers again and now slip my hand into her panties and go back to playing with her clit until I can feel the moisture start from inside of her pussy. With another snap, I am back tapping on her wrist. By now her friends can see her getting excited and they get stuck somewhere between amazement and jealousy.

I know that now is the time to finish, so with another snap, I finger her clit and pussy until I feel her pussy start to pulsate and spasm. With one last snap of my fingers, I am back tapping her wrist as she succumbs to the orgasm in front of her friends. Without fail, by now, at least one of her friends is asking me to do that to her too. Normally I decline and just buy them a drink to say thanks for playing, and leave them to discuss what just happened and let them wonder how some of her pussy juice is now sticky on her wrist where I was tapping.

Lately I have just had more fun finding random women and as they go about their normal day, I will snap my fingers and once I've seen their pussy or tits, I will twist their panties or bra strap and watch as I restart time to see their reaction to the change in the way their panties or bra feels. I have untied bikinis on the beach letting their tits fall out as they walk along to their towel. I have left zippers open in a crowd, leaving them open for someone to see.

Oh how may "wardrobe malfunctions" I have personally caused. How many embarrassing moments have I caused? I can remember unbuttoning a woman's blouse just as she started to bend over in front of a group of men letting them get a good look at her exposed breasts when I started time back. How many countless women have I stopped in time to strip them totally naked and start time for a few seconds, just long enough for them to realize they are totally naked, then stop time again to dress them before they can react to what just happened? I can see the look on their face, wondering if it really happened or was it a bad dream in the moment.

Another favorite is when I had to a conference with a public speaker. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but she was quite attractive in her own way. Standing at a podium in front of a crowd, I could see she was already nervous, but determined to do her job. I was bored so I decided to have some fun with her. About 2 minutes into her speech I snapped my fingers and went up to her at the podium and pinched her nipples until they were sticking out hard and proud. I returned to my seat and snapped everyone back into time. She choked on her next sentence as she realized that her nipples were turned on and sticking out. Like a trooper, she kept on with her speech. A few minutes for her to settle back in, and "Snap". This time I decided to get her all hot and bothered. As I lifted her business suit skirt and pulled her panties off, I saw that her pussy was shaved smooth. I couldn't help myself, I gently licked the smooth lips of her pussy and flicked my tongue across her clit.

I pulled her panties back into position and returned to my seat. "Snap" this time her face flushed and her knees wobbled under her. She had to stop and find her place in her notes, looking around, frustrated and embarrassed. She made small talk as she found her place and tried to continue, all the while wondering what was going on with her body. "Snap" I was back at licking her pussy. This time I removed her bra completely. I sucked on each nipple, caressed each small breast, and put her shirt back on, keeping her bra in my pocket. "Snap", this time she stopped talking and looked at the crowd intensely, searching the room for any explanation of what was happening. I could see her fidgeting around, realizing that she no longer was wearing her bra. She looked off stage for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued with her presentation.

It was time to step it up. "Snap" this time I removed her soaked panties and decided to lay them on the podium in front of her, to see how she would react. After a few more minutes of me licking her clit and fingering her pussy, I once again returned to my seat. "Snap", she stopped in midsentence as she looked down at her own panties on the podium instead of on her as they were a moment ago. She looked down at herself, I assume to make sure she wasn't naked. With another deep breath, she attempted to continue on with her presentation. I watched as she took her panties and tried to hide them under the podium in front of her as beads of sweat started to form on her forehead and temples.

"Snap" I returned to playing my game. I walked up on stage and stripped her naked. I considered leaving her like that for a few seconds, but I wanted to have some other fun with her. This time I took her hand and pushed her fingers inside of her soaking wet pussy. I used her fingers to pleasure her tight pussy and cover her fingers with her sweet juices that were starting to drip down her inner thigh. I dressed her again, and before I returned to my seat I placed her fingers directly below her nose, like she was trying to squelch a sneeze, but knowing that she would smell the aroma of her own pussy juice.

"Snap", I watched as she inhaled deeply and got the scent from her fingers. I thought she was going to pass out, but trying to be a professional, she composed herself and returned to the point she was trying to make. "Snap", I returned to the stage and once she was naked again, I bent her over the podium and taking my now fully erect penis, I pressed the throbbing head of my dick against the opening of her pussy. She was tight, but so wet that with a little effort I was soon pounding my cock into and out of her pussy with deep strokes. I reached around and pinched and twisted her nipples as I fucked her hard from behind. Just as I was about to cum, I pulled out and dressed her again. "Snap" this time she was moving her mouth, but no words were coming out, instead, all that the audience heard was her letting out a loud moan of deep, intense sexual pleasure. When everyone in the audience gasped, she realized that she was in trouble. Standing center stage, only a small podium to hide behind, she didn't know what to do. Now she was frozen, she couldn't move or speak for several long moments.




"Snap" Frozen in Time



A true professional, she excused herself and went back to attempt finishing her presentation. This time I let her settle in and continue for several minutes. I sat enjoying the fact only she and I knew that she was naked under her business skirt and blouse. Only we shared the knowledge that her pussy was dripping down her legs and her nipples were sore. Once she started to wrap up her presentation, I was ready for my finale. "Snap" I once again stripped her naked. I licked, sucked, and fucked her to an intense orgasm. When I felt her smooth, tight, pussy start to spasm, I bent her knees, kneeling her down in front of me. I jerked my cock until I shot a thick load of hot cum deep into her mouth and throat.

I dressed her again and stood her behind the podium, tilting her head back, so that when I snapped her back into reality, she would swallow my load. "Snap" as time started, the attractive presenter, swallowed hard and almost choked as my cum drained down to her stomach, leaving its salty flavor in her mouth. Her legs shook beneath her as she felt the orgasm take over her body. She clutched the podium for support as she tried to figure out what was happening to her.

Once it was apparent that her orgasm subsided, I snapped my fingers so I could return her bra and panties before she walked off the stage, or better put, stumbled off the stage. I often wonder how that experience affected her the next time she was asked to give a speech, or get up in front of a crowd. All I know is that she was one of the best woman I've ever frozen.

There are so many other stories, so many other women that I could tell you about, maybe one of them was you? Maybe someone you know has been frozen and admired by me? Have you ever had a strange feeling that someone has seen you naked? Have you ever been in a crowd and suddenly your clothes don't feel right? Have you ever had a wardrobe malfunction? Have your nipples suddenly become sensitive and hard? Have you suddenly become turned on and didn't know why? 

Maybe, just maybe we've met.



Snap Shot



CHAPTER ONE

It was the walk up the stairs I seem to remember most. Simply thinking about it always sets my heart to thumping. I find myself, mostly late at night, but too, at the oddest and occasionally in the most public of situations, succumbing to the daydream and reliving vividly everything about each step, from the creak of that one loose board to how her hair looked in the afternoon light and the way her dress moved as I followed, watching her from behind. It was one of the most singular events in my life, so alive, so indelible, imbued upon me with a level of immediacy and intensity, I'm sure, something akin to the scale of awareness and anticipation a condemned man must experience, when he takes that last, long walk.

Her name was Cynthia, but I almost always called her Cynth. We were neighbors. Neither one of our homes was very much by today's standards. We lived in one of those lower middle class neighborhoods, which seem to sprout amongst the cracks and fringes of every big city. Except for the occasional pink, plastic flamingo displayed in the small plots of lawn out front, or perhaps a slightly different color of paint on the shutters or door, it was virtually impossible to tell one house from any other, row after row after row.

That day, I'd found her out on her porch. Summers here were always so hot, and come about late July a heavy boredom always set in. Our neighborhood was always quiet, even more so now as lots of families were away on vacation, at the beach, the mountains, anywhere they could find a cool breeze or breath of fresh air. For those who remained, the hours stretched out interminably to where it seemed one could easily count from one to ten between each tick of the second hand. Ironically, during these dog days even the neighborhood animals seemed to have fallen prey to the monotonous languor, and it became rare to hear a dog bark, or for that matter, to see a car drive by and momentarily disturb the heavy hush hanging over the streets. The very stillness of the air and the emptiness of the haze lingering in the sky were all just elements of the doldrums of summer.

I'd come outside and noticed her right off. She was wearing one of those summery, cotton dresses. I can still recall, for a fact, it had a pattern of little, blue flowers sprinkled across a light, yellow fabric. Cynthia Marshall, two and a half years older than me, and an effortless beauty with soft brown hair and lips so rich, so sweetly pink, when she smiled those bright, green eyes of hers just seemed to melt my heart and snatch my poor breath away.

We'd known each other forever; you can't live fifteen feet from someone else's driveway all of your life and not get to know them. When I was little, Cynth used to trick–or–treat with my older brother and me, the two of them holding my hands between them as we ran from door to door. Our families would sometimes share Easter egg hunts between our houses and bar–b–ques on the Fourth of July. She'd always been sweet to me, but in a big sisterly way. Yet, she'd been the one, through the luck of a spin, to endow me with my first real kiss, when we both found ourselves playing a game of spin the bottle during a neighborhood birthday party. Even before that unforgettable afternoon, when that empty Nehi bottle spun our way, she had been the featured highlight in every fantasy of mine ever since I could remember.

But most things change as we grow older; and she'd become one of the girls who ran with the big kids long before I ever did. I came to know about her, more than I knew her. I remember lying in bed, in the room I shared with my brother, Mark, and listening awestruck to stories about Cynthia ringing people's doorbells and running away, or teaming up with other kids to cause feuds between the cranky old ladies at the end of the block by switching around or stealing their prized ceramic garden gnomes and molded cement figurines. She was rare for such a beauty, because she was fun, maybe even what some people might call a little rambunctious. I never remember having seen her out on the street when she wasn't either running or skipping, her long pony tail flying as she passed. And as she began to mature, she was one of those girls who just suddenly blossomed. By the time she was in her middle teens, there wasn't a boy I knew who didn't hope she'd turn a smile his way. Yet, along with her budding physical charms, she was one of those girls possessed of a rare nature, which complements a sincere sweetness and an ease of confidence about herself. And later, when she was a senior in high school, and I was just a gangly freshman, there wasn't a person I knew who didn't think she was someone entirely special. Unfortunately, for all the rest of us waiting breathlessly in the wings, her boyfriend, a guy who owned a car and was a sophomore in college, was the one who was lucky enough to be the apple of her eye.

But that afternoon, that became our own. It will always stand out so freshly in my mind. The frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel won't endure as long or shine as clearly in time as does the clarity of this memory. I remember being bored, so bored I wandered outside, as that in itself was something to do. Seeing her out on her porch, I let the screen door slam a little too loudly and was rewarded when she sat up and looked my way. Sitting down on my porch railing I waved, and she waved back. Crossing my feet at the ankles, I hitched my thumbs in the pockets of my shorts, nowhere to go and nothing to do.

"Hey!" She called out, making another quick wave, beckoning over her shoulder with her hand. "Jimmy! Jimbo! Come on over!"

No sooner had I stepped up on her porch than she halted her swinging on the porch glider and scooted over, patting a spot for me to take a seat. "How've you been doing there, Jimbo?" Her voice was as warm and friendly as if we'd spoken only yesterday. "Haven't seen much of you this summer."

"I haven't seen you either," I came back. There simply was no feeling uneasy around her. With some friends you haven't seen much of, it sometimes takes a bit to get the awkwardness out of the way and get back on track. But there was something just so easy about everything with Cynth, so amiable, so sincere, totally at ease and completely disarming. "Where's your boyfriend, Cynth? I haven't seen him around much either."

She kicked out, setting the swing going in an easy arc. "He went with his folks to the mountains. They're going to be gone 'til Labor Day." Even her acting out an exaggerated childish pout couldn't fall flat. "He left me here to wilt while he goes plays chess with his dad and fishes for bass with his brothers. More likely though, he's just lying around like a big lout drinking beer all night and sleeping most the day."

"Sounds like the life," I replied.

"Yeah." That little half smile of hers was distant and wistful, and her eyes looked so far away. "I miss him."

We sat like that for quite awhile, maybe an hour, maybe more. Who knows? Time didn't mean a thing on such a sleepy summer's day. I hadn't really even said ten words to her in months, only "Hi" now and then in passing. But like old times, we fell back into ourselves, and before long we were remembering the old stories and recalling kids we used to know and things we used to do, just kicking back and chatting, again the best of friends. After a bit she went inside and got us some lemonade. We talked and sipped at our straws, laughing, as she could always make anyone laugh. And when my lemonade was gone I sat back, sucking on the ice cubes and just listening to her ramble about nothing of any importance, which was exactly what I was in the mood to hear. 

"How's that brother of yours doing?" She asked out of the blue. "Does Mark still have that same cutie girlfriend?" She spiraled a hand above her head. "The one with all that hair?"

I wasn't really focusing on anything, just looking off across the street, but seeing her little pantomime got me to laugh again. "Yeah, I think so," I grinned. "Last I heard of, anyway. You know, he's going to be graduating from college next semester." She gave a quick whistle, her lips forming a note of genuine surprise. For some reason my eyes were spellbound by the shape of those lips.

"Where'd time get off to?" She asked after she'd let the whistle trail off. "Seems like forever since I last saw him, Christmas I think it was." She hitched her feet up under her dress, cross–legged, planting her hands down in the center of the spread of her dress and letting me swing the swing. "I'm glad next fall I'll be transferring to a college that's reasonably close. I'll be able to get home weekends and holidays. I get real lonely so quickly being away from everybody. I guess I'm just a hometown girl at heart. Mark though, who knows where that guy will end up."

"He's just a ramblin' kind of guy," I came back, feeling good about getting a laugh out of her.

"I forget," she asked. "What's he studying?"

"Photography," I answered, "just like my dad did. When he graduates the plan is he's supposed to work at my dad's portrait studio for a while. But he really wants to get in with an agency, in New York or LA and do some advertising photography and maybe even some freelance or artistic stuff. He's been shooting weddings to make a little extra cash." I raised my eyebrows and leaned in close to confide to her in a whisper. "He even did a boudoir shoot a couple of months ago."

"Boudoir?" Right off, her eyes lit up, and she leaned into me nudging me with her shoulder. "Isn't that," she started slowly, "isn't that where women pay to have pictures taken of themselves in sexy lingerie or bathing suits ... like for their husbands or boyfriends?"

She was so close, almost nose–to–nose; and the way she looked at me. It was as if the air around us had gone suddenly still and the heat had grown up around us. She was staring right into me, and I could see she was thinking of something. In a bit of panic I couldn't believe I had let that slip. I wondered what I could possibly have been thinking to have been so stupid as to have blurted that out. Mark, I'm sure didn't want it getting around. Even though it was 1965, and Playboy had been around for quite a while, some of our local Neanderthals could still get pretty up in arms about that kind of thing. Mark had told me about it when he was home over Memorial Day. I hadn't seen the pictures, but I knew he'd had to borrow my dad's private darkroom to develop the negatives and make the prints, as he probably would have gotten arrested had he tried taking the shots to a regular lab.

Suddenly Cynthia leaned back and planted her feet, stopping the swing. She slapped her hands down on her legs and stared back at me with that Cynth wildness in her grin. "You still shoot photos, too, don't you?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I just got a new 35mm Ricoh for my eighteenth birthday last month. It's got a 28mm wide angle lens, f1.4, and my dad even got me a 100mm to go with the stock 50mm." I was always proud of any opportunity to talk about my cameras. I scooted around a bit to better face her. "It's got a flash, too! My dad's been helping me get the knack of it; flash is tough though. But you need it if you want to get an indoor shot just right. Of course, my dad he knows it all. He's got a full set of background lights with filters and gels, and he uses a system of umbrella strobes he's got synched to his large format Hassleblad."

She locked a hand down on my knee. "You've got film and stuff, too, right?"

"Sure, color and black and white." Her hand on my knee made me suddenly conscious of how close we truly were. Maybe it was the air had changed, but we seemed very alone together out on that porch. And up close, like this, I became aware I could smell her too. There wasn't any particular scent or flowery fragrance to her, just fresh, a breath of Cynth, clean and sweet.

She took her hand back and swiveled a bit more to face me straight on. She started to say something, but didn't. Maybe it was the heat, but her cheeks looked hot and flushed.

When she didn't say anything I asked, "What?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Come on, Cynth," I pressed. "It's me, Jimbo. What were you going to say?" I recall thinking she'd probably come up with one of her infamous gags or jokes to play on someone.

"I don't know." She pulled her feet out from under her skirt and let her legs swing down, twining her ankles and locking her knees. "I just kind of had a goofy idea." She shrugged and cocked her head, looking awkward for the first time I could ever remember. "You know me."

"Yeah, I know you," I came back. I must have been crazy because another wild admission came flying out of my mouth. "You're the one who gave me my first kiss."

Her mouth fell open, for but a moment, then the most wonderful smile came across her, and she laughed. "You remember that?"

I fell back in the glider trying to show her I was devastated. "Remember! Remember?" I stammered. "Are you kidding? Does a Texan remember the Alamo?"

Those emerald eyes of hers were positively afire. "I had no idea, Jimbo. I'm flattered." She pressed a hand lightly to her breast, as though stunned. "Was that really your first kiss?"

I nodded. It was my turn to lock my knees and twine my ankles.

"Well, well, Jimbo. I'm sure it wasn't your last."

Now I really was embarrassed. It seemed there was nothing I wanted to look at right now more than my sneakers.

"Don't worry about it," she said, obviously sensing my discomfort. "You've gotten to be quite a handsome guy. Wait 'til you're a senior this coming semester, then everything will change." She again put her hand on my knee. "You're gonna be a real lady killer, mark my words. You've got everything it takes. You're good looking." She noticed my chagrin and gave me a playful little shove. "You are! Don't sell yourself short, Jimbo. But most of all you're a good guy, and let me tell you," she locked her eyes on me, "that's something. That, coupled with that bod of yours, what else could a girl want?"

I looked up at her. I couldn't tell which made her seem to shine more, that she so honestly appeared to care or the candidness of the sincerity which rang in her voice.

"Hey!" She suddenly clapped her hands. "I'm going to ask you to do me a favor, a big, big favor."

Right then I would have run across a busy freeway blindfolded had she had asked me to. "Anything," I came back. "You name it."

"I'd like to send my boyfriend, Peter, a picture of me, not any old snapshot, but something nice, professional looking. You know, remind him what he's missing when he's gutting some fish instead of giving me a kiss. Do you think you could help me out?"

I sat up. "Now?"

"Sure. I mean, if you're not doing anything. I want to send something to shake that boy up."

I remember hardly even hearing the last of what she said. I was already thinking about where, indoors or outdoors, flash or no flash, wide angle lens or long focal length, sharp depth of field or soft focus.

"Hey, hey!" She jiggled my knee. "What do you say?"

I jumped up and flew off the porch. I was already across her driveway when I yelled back "Don't go anywhere, I'm getting my camera!" In a heartbeat I was back, camera bag slung over one arm and tripod in hand.

Standing with one foot on the stoop, I panted breathlessly. "Where do you want to do it?" Right off I knew how stupid that sounded.

It's a shame I didn't have the camera already set up because the charmed way in which she smiled back at me from where she sat on the glider was priceless. Her elbows on her knees she spread her hands. "Hey, you're the photographer; you tell me." She got to her feet, striking a pose without even thinking about it by just stretching out an arm to lean against the roof support. "I'm all yours, Jimbo."

"I'm all yours!" The words rang in my head. Ten thousand ideas sprung into my bedeviled mind all at once. But thankfully, I had a clarity of moment. "Hold it right there!" I blurted out, fumbling and dropping the tripod as I unslung my bag. "Just hold it. Don't move. Don't move!"

My fingers were trembling so wildly the lens cap flipped away like a wild shot in a game of tiddlywinks. Where it went I didn't even give a damn. I kept looking back up at her as I frantically tried to get the camera set on the tripod. When the camera was mounted, I fumbled around for my light meter, convinced that if a fugitive wanted to never be found all he had to do was find a way to hide out in a damn camera bag, and he'd be able to completely disappear. I finally found the thing and ran back up the steps waving it about as if I could possibly remember what I was doing. The whole time Cynth kept that pose, just relaxing into it, and her amused expression at my fluster and confusion was just about as perfect as it could be.

"Okay!" I yelled. "All set." I jumped back down and carefully set the shutter speed and f–stop. Walking around behind the camera I looked in the viewfinder, amazed at the picture I saw, then came back to myself and adjusted the angle to get her framed just right. I wasn't about to cut off this girl's head. Gripping the shutter's cable release, with my thumb poised, I thought about telling her to say: "Cheese." But on quick second thought decided I didn't want to do anything to upset the perfection of an almost classic Mona Lisa quality smile. "Be still," I called out, then counted: "One, two, three!" I pressed. Nothing!

"Did you get it?" She asked. "I didn't hear a click."

I looked down, bewildered. Everything was right: shutter speed, 30; f–stop set at 5.6; film speed indicator on 100. Then it hit me when I saw the frame count; I'd forgotten to advance the damn film. "Hang on! Hang on!" I cried out. Advancing the lever with my thumb, I then had to reset the framing in the viewfinder, and felt a wave of relief when I pressed the button and heard the shutter's click.

Cynthia had heard it too, as she pulled away from the post, standing and stretching with her arms up and her hands out. She winked at me. "I guess like a kiss, the first one's always the toughest."

"Do you want to take some more?" I fired back.

She dropped her arms. "Got more film?"

"Half a roll."

She stepped down and came walking over. There was something so feminine about how she looked in that dress, how she appeared to cross her knees with an easy, lilting step when she walked. The way her hair, it looked auburn in the sun, seemed to frame the lines of her neck and shoulders, and how the two buttons left undone at the top of the dress just allowed a hint at the fullness of her breasts concealed below. For the first time, too, I noticed I was now taller than she was, quite a revelation.

She reached out and tousled my hair. "You just tell me what you want me to do."

In the next hour I began to learn the unique thrill any photographer must enjoy when presented with a beautiful and willing model. Little by little, I started to loosen up and apply what I knew. I did one shot using my long focal length, 100mm lens. Moving back at a distance I had Cynthia stand next of one of the Mulberry trees, which ran down the city sidewalk in front of every house. Compressing the depth of field so that an entire block's worth of trees appeared only inches apart, I had her peek around the side of the closest trunk, kicking up one foot and stretching out her skirt while her hair fell away to the side. I took another shot with her sitting on the hood of a car and another up in a tree. It was so much fun, even a bit of a thrill to have her so willingly comply and follow my every command.

But then, I had a revelation. I told her to lie down in Mrs. Wilbun's flowerbed and face the camera. Doing just as I asked, she spread her elbows on the grass, propping up her chin in her palms. I came in for a close up, lowering the tripod and changing to my wide–angle 28mm. Lying as she was, the tops of her breasts were framed demurely below her hands, adding a spice of sensuality to an otherwise picture postcard pose. Kneeling in front of her, maybe I lingered too long taking in the view, because she momentarily broke the pose to look down, having followed my eyes. My ears caught fire when she saw what I was seeing. But to my surprise she didn't get angry at all. Instead, she sat up and gave me that wild, door–ringers smile I'd heard about, cocked her head in a "what the hell" salute, and reached down and popped one more button loose. Then she lay back down, moving so her breasts were pressed out by her weight against the ground and said, "How 'bout this? Is this a little more of what you were looking for?"




Snap Shot



The sleek sports car slowly backed into the dark unauthorised car park with the low hanging leafy trees providing ample protection from prying eyes. The low purr of the motor was quickly shut off just as Jessica whipped off her safety belt and slithered over to the drivers' seat, which was occupied by Brent's muscular frame. Jessica slid her arms around her partners' neck as she brutally locked her lips onto his already parted mouth. Her hot tongue slipped over Brent's teeth and into the warm cavern that was his mouth. Their tongues locked for a brief moment as they savoured each other's sensuous taste. Jessica opened her mouth a little wider so that she was able to explore deeper into Brent's hot and inviting mouth, she swirled her tongue around and pushed it in as deep as she could. 

Her fingers ran through Brent's short and wavy hair as she continued to probe a mouth that would provide her so much pleasure soon, very soon. Jessica begrudgingly unlocked their lips so that she could feel the heaving chest that was providing enough heat to burn her up. Her long brown hair gently slapped Brent's face as Jessica flicked her head back so that she could get a lungful of air. The batting of long and carefully maintained eyelashes ensured that the glint in her hazel eyes was quite visible and promised very exiting and erotic times to come.

The moonlight that shone through the slightly tinted windows showed the outline of Jessica's round and pert breasts straining against the soft fabric of her short-sleeved shirt. Her black knee length skirt had already twisted itself awkwardly around her trim waist and firm ass and was just screaming to be removed. The moonlight made her look more devilish as she smiled a smile that promised so much. 

Jessica wasted very little time in unbuttoning and untucking Brent's already creased shirt; she wanted so desperately to feel the heat from his chest against her lips. With the shirt open wide, Jessica ran her long and manicured fingers through the small tufts of hair on Brent's wide and firm chest. Her fingers quickly found one stiff nipple; Jessica slowly rolled the stiff bud between her thumb and forefinger and listened as Brent let out a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Jessica lowered her mouth down to his other nipple, her hot breath made the bud moist with anticipation. Jessica's tongue snaked out from her soft lips and gave the nipple a slow and twirling lick for a few moments. She then opened her mouth and completely covered the nipple; the hair around it was wet from her hot mouth and was matted against Brent's chest.

Jessica was becoming impatient, she needed to be kissed, licked, stroked, and eventually fucked senseless, she was already wet, her juices dripped through her flimsy underwear and onto her skirt. She needed to be filled with a hot and throbbing cock, she wanted Brent's cock deep inside her hot cavern. Brent realised that Jessica needed more that just caressing, so with that thought in mind, he gently motioned her off his chest. Brent lifted Jessica up slightly and slid over to the passenger's seat, the gears of the car jabbed into his thigh as he attempted to make himself as comfortable as possible in a very tight and awkward position. 

Brent raised Jessica onto his lap as his hard on bulged against his slacks; her skirt bunched up around her waist and exposed her skimpy underwear. Brent caressed her ass through her knickers and kneaded her firm cheeks roughly causing a moan of pleasure to escape Jessica's lips. The confines of the small car was causing both of them to perspire, droplets of sweat slowly ran down Jessica's neck and down onto her breasts. Brent removed his hands from her ass and raised her up for a few moments so that he could slide her skirt and knickers off; the skirt was quickly discarded to one side as Jessica repositioned herself onto Brent's still clothed lap. 

Brent resumed his erotic explorations of her now bare and slightly sweaty ass, his fingers slipped past her ass and down to her wetness. Jessica's entire mound was clean-shaven and made for easy access for Brent. He slipped a finger past her swollen lips and into her lustful heat evoking a small whimper. Her juices had spread and had lubricated her entire crotch and the tops of Jessica's thighs. The heat from her lust was burning her insides and was seeping out from her pores and now mingled with her sweat to create a heady aroma in the sports car.

Jessica peeled her shirt and bra off with minimal effort leaving her dressed only with a necklace, earrings and a wicked smile. Her pert breasts were clammy from the heat and her nipples were so stiff that they ached for attention. Brent continued massaging her ass as Jessica leaned forward and offered her breasts to his open and waiting mouth. Brent's tongue slipped past his wet lips and slowly twirled around one of Jessica's engorged buds. His tongue flicked over her sensitive tip, which sent waves of pleasure throughout Jessica's already heated body. Brent opened his mouth and engulfed most of Jessica's breast into his mouth, all the while his fingers twisted and twirled her other nipple. Jessica felt as if both of her breasts were on fire and there seemed no way to quench the fire that had built up inside of her. 

Jessica detached herself from Brent's tacky body and fumbled with the zipper on his pants and after a few moments she finally managed to undo the zipper and had unbuttoned Brent's pants. Jessica struggled with the trousers for a few moments until she finally managed to get them past Brent's hips and down to his ankles. Brent slipped out of his shoes and helped Jessica remove his pants and underwear. Brent sat back down onto the leather car seat and slid instantly forward a few inches because of the sweat on his ass. 

Jessica smiled and climbed onto Brent's now naked lap, his hard thick cock stood upright, proud and waiting, the tip of his cock glistened with pre-cum. Jessica reached down between her legs and grasped the hot and solid shaft, her hand slipped up and down its length a few times to ensure that Brent was ready to penetrate her hot hole. Jessica positioned the tip of Brent's cock at the entrance of her wet and wanting pussy, her swollen lips parted slightly as the cock started its upward journey. 

Brent's cock head glided easily into the hot and sopping grotto, Jessica's juices dripped down the length of the shaft, which slowly filled her tight cunt. Jessica felt every inch as it moved into her, every vein of Brent's cock rubbed against the insides of Jessica's inflamed hole. She let herself down until the cock was firmly embedded inside of her. Jessica clenched her cunt muscles so that she could savour every inch of Brent's hardness deep inside of her. 

Jessica leaned forward and offered her hanging boobs to Brent's waiting mouth, she needed to be fucked and sucked simultaneously, and she desperately needed to cum. Brent accepted one of her boobs and quickly gave a nipple a sharp nip which sent waves of pleasure and pain down to her filled cunt. The taste of Jessica's sweat had combined with her strawberry body lotion to create a true taste sensation; Brent seductively licked the delicious beads of sweat that now dripped freely down her chest and onto her flat stomach. 

Brent moved his hands over her hips and grasped her ass so that he could assist Jessica in moving atop of him. Jessica squirmed in absolute delight at every downward thrust she made on the thick cock. Her cunt lips spread lewdly around Brent's thick tool, her ass rested against Brent's sweaty thighs as she wriggled her ass so that she would feel the cock moving deep within her. Jessica tossed her head about wildly as she rode Brent's cock, her long hair flicked across Brent's face and brushed his chest, the ends of Jessica's hair flicked Brent's stiff nipples and made him writhe in the now slippery seat.

Jessica felt the first waves of her orgasm start from the very pit of her stomach; the tremors spread throughout her entire body and made her tingle all over, her nipples tightened, her breasts engorged and her toes curled. Jessica closed her eyes and rode wave after glorious wave as her cunt muscles clenched and unclenched around the cock that was still lodged deep within her. Jessica opened her mouth and scrunched her eyes shut and let out a long low guttural scream that came from deep within her.

Brent felt every muscle tighten around him, which took him over the edge, his fingers dug deeply into Jessica's hips, he thrust harder and faster, his cock expanded and spurted out streams of hot steamy cum into her still spasming cunt. The feel of his hot, sticky cum being deposited deep into her gave Jessica her second orgasm. Jessica once again wrapped her arms around her new lover and kissed deeply. The hot cum dripped from her well-used pussy and down Brent's deflating cock.

Neither one of them noticed the instant snap of them in the throes of orgasm. It had been placed under the windscreen wiper whilst they were enjoying each others bodies. It showed Jessica with her eyes shut and her mouth partially open as her orgasm ripped through her naked and sweaty body.

The photo was from an instamatic camera and was quite clear. But neither of them had seen a flash of light when the photograph had been taken as they were too engrossed with each other. 

Brent continued to trail kisses down Jessica's sweaty neck, he licked and nipped at her earlobe and listened to her squeal in delight. It was only then that Brent saw the photo beneath the wiper. With all his effort, he pushed Jessica off his lap and crawled back into the driver's seat, where he hurriedly slipped back into his pants. He left his underwear off as he couldn't' find them amongst the pile of clothes on the floor. And what he saw was more important than wearing jocks at the moment.

Brent opened his door and raced around to the front of the car and lifted the wiper, he plucked the photo from the windscreen and looked at it again. It was a very clear shot of him and Jessica, and it had been taken at close range. But how could have neither of them seen a flash of light as the flash went off. It was too dark to take a photo of this clarity without a flash.

Brent wandered back to his side of the car and got in. Jessica had managed to get back into her knickers and put her shirt back on. She looked sexier than ever, her shirt was still unbuttoned and revealed her well formed breast, her nipples were still stiff from all the action that they had received not long ago. Her tousled hair only added to the look. 

Brent showed Jessica the photo that had been left on the windscreen of the car. She took it from Brent's hand and looked at it for a few moments. "Well, it looks like we were enjoying ourselves." Jessica laughed. How on earth could she laugh in a situation like this? And more to the point, how could he be getting another hard on already. Just by looking at Jessica in her half naked state aroused him to the point of no return.

Brent grabbed the photo from her and flung it onto the dashboard of the car. He brought her closer so that he could feel the heat of her lips again. Brent ran his fingers through her hair as he drew her even closer. His lips crushed hers and he parted 

She parted her lips slightly as soon as she made contact with his; her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and urged him a little closer. With their lips locked, Brent was unable to utter a single word and let her know that he was confined by the belt, but that didn't seem to bother Jessica. She slid a little closer to him and deepened the kiss.

Jessica let out a small groan as Brent backed his head away for the briefest of moments, only to recapture her upper lip between his teeth. He playfully nipped and nibbled at her lip with his tongue flicking over her bottom lip the times that he wasn't nipping.

She felt like a teenager on a date, she was giddy and flirty. She was also horny as hell. She felt her own wetness and Brent's cum between her legs every time she moved. Even though she had just ended a blinding orgasm, she knew that she had to do something about the condition she was in, and she had to do that something very soon. Jessica grabbed Brent's hand and moved it down towards her heat. 

Jessica reclaimed his lips with a desperate kiss as Brent's fingers found her swollen clit. With deft fingers, he played with the swollen nub, getting the results he wanted. A low moan from Jessica that echoed inside of his own mouth. Brent continued his erotic exploration downwards and parted her swollen lips. Her excitement was more tan evident, it was dripping. Brent slipped in a finger and rested the ball of his hand against her clit.

He continued to slowly stroke Jessica and at the same time applied pressure to her love button. 

Jessica felt the first wave of her orgasm start, form the pit of her stomach it thundered its way downwards. Brent moved his free hand up and cupped her breast, feeling its heat and its weight in his hand made him even harder. Her stiff nipple longed to be toyed with. Not needing an invitation, Brent pinched her stiff nipple between his fingers and applied enough pressure to take Jessica over the edge.

Her heart raced as her muscles spasmed around his finger and the pressure against her clit took her to that place that she needed to go. Jessica broke their kiss and buried her face into Brent's neck. Her cries of ecstasy and joy sounded like cries of pain, but Brent knew that they were cries of sheer pleasure. 

Jessica called his name as wave after wave racked her body with pleasure. She tried to bury her face deep into his neck so that her cries wouldn't be heard outside of the car. But it didn't matter any6more, Jessica was too far gone to care about anyone seeing or hearing them. She was one step away from heaven.

Her orgasm seemed to last forever. It was quick and desperate. It was something that Jessica needed then and there, and Brent hadn't failed her. She felt like a school girl fumbling in the front seat of a car. But she couldn't remember ever receiving so much pleasure in a car with anyone. School age or older

Brent looked up once again and peered out of the front window, and what he saw came as no surprise. Underneath the wiper of the car, was another instant photograph of Jessica in the throes of orgasm. Perhaps it was where they were parked that made someone want to take happy snaps, or perhaps it was something a little darker. Neither Brent, or Jessica would ever know, they not only had their erotic memories to remind them of their sexual interlude, but they now had two photographs.



Snap Shot



I would like to thank Amela for making this more presentable.

*

It was wrong, she knew it was even while she planned it. Married for over seven years, Ritty had never been completely satisfied. It didn't help that Jake stayed out of town most of those years. His job made him travel constantly, leaving her home all alone night after night, week after week. She thought back to when she had started her new job. When she became good friends with her boss it helped take her mind off the long nights by herself. What had started out as two lonely friends hanging out had escalated into something she never would have imagined. 

It was all innocent at first. They would cook dinner together, watch movies, go shopping, do everything together. Do all those things that best friends do. Until Till the night they both got drunk at a party and one thing lead to another. They woke the next morning in each others' arms. Ritty shivered at the memory of their hot passionate sex they made again that morning. From then on, they didn't deny themselves the pleasure of one another's bodies. They'd feed it like oxygen to flame. 

It had been different at work, she couldn't deny that. There had been more tension at first as they worried about their coworkers catching on. Luckily, no one did and before long they had become a perfect team. They breezed through projects, gained new clients and, under it all, their passion and secret blazed. She lived in fear that any day would be their last. Just one time of Jake coming home or a coworker finding out and it would all end. She had decided a long time ago to ride it out and see what would happen. Live for today and worry about tomorrow when it got there. 

Ritty had been cleaning all day, prepping the house and herself for their evening together. Jake had called earlier in the day to check in. He was still several hundred miles away and not due home for another week. She could tell he missed her when they chatted. He never wanted to end the conversation, clinging to her till she had to lie to get off the phone. She knew he loved her as much as she loved him. She had never doubted his love, but that didn't change the fact he was never home. She wasn't sure if she regretted what she was doing. She had found out more about herself in the last few months then she ever would have imagined. It had opened her up in so many ways. She felt loved, adored, even needed now. To have someone in your arms to hold at night, whisper in their ear, kiss along their neck till they shivered in ecstasy. She missed that with him, and desperately needed it. She had found it again. Even though it was forbidden and would inevitably be short lived, she would savor it for all it was worth for as long as she could. 

A pair of headlights flashed through the living room window. Shadows danced along the walls under the bright lights. It surprised Ritty how much she still reacted when that car showed up. Heart thudding and breathless with excitement she almost ran to the door and opened it. She watched as her boss came walking up to the door. Taking the bouquet of flowers, she leaned forward and they kissed deeply, passionately. It was past ten and her neighborhood went to bed when the sun went down. Knees weak and lightheaded from the embrace she looked up. "I'm glad you made it Lacey. How did things go with the ex today?"

They made their way into the living room where Lacey plopped down on the couch, sighing she laid her head back and closed her eyes. Ritty continued on into the kitchen and grabbed a vase for the flowers. Placing it on the table, she returned to the living room and sat down beside Lacey. She knew she had to be exhausted but she never saw it on her, just sensed it. 

Taking a deep breath, she started her rambling. "I don't understand it. What part of "I don't want to be with you" can be so confusing? I have told him time and again I don't want his lies or his excuses or his dangerous life anymore. Yeah, I knew what I was getting into when we decided to go steady but when me and my family started getting threats then I'm out. I don't need that bullshit falling down on us. If he wants to risk his life for his fucking titty bar then so be it. I'm not. He can shove that bar and all his gangsta friends up his royal American ass." 

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute." Ritty broke in. "What is going on? Who is threatening you? Antonio runs a, and I quote, "titty bar"?" She was confused. Lacey had never told her this much before.

Lacey bit her lip, unsure if she had revealed too much. Whatever was bothering her, she hoped it wouldn't follow her. "When me and Antonio got together, I found out he owned Richard's Treasures. Have you heard of it? It's on the other side of town." She waited while Ritty thought about it and nodded her recognition. 

"Well, not long after we got together, I found out some other good jollies. His partner had become associated with some rather nasty people. He had borrowed thousands of dollars to pay off his gambling debt and used the club as leverage. Antonio knew of it and was helping him straighten it all out...Until his idiot partner went and shot one of their men. Any hope of saving the club or the owed money went out the window and his partner killed himself. They came after us. They almost killed me twice. We left for two years. The boss was eventually killed and we returned. He got the club back and I got my business back but by then the damage was done. I live in fear every day that it will start up again. I left him six months ago, right after we returned. Around the same time, me and you meet. I don't want that life anymore. I don't want him. The bastard just won't give up." She sat back on the couch, exasperated by the whole tale. Ritty sat opened mouth on the couch, shocked beyond belief. All this time who would have know that Lacey had been mixed up in shit that deep?

"That's some heavy shit. I always sensed something mysterious about you. But never that!!" As scary as it all sounded, Ritty couldn't help thinking it was hot. All that adrenaline and danger mixed together like an intoxicating drink. No wonder Lacey had balls of steel when it came to the competition, to people. She knew how to twist the dagger to get exactly what she wanted out of the helpless victims. Ritty had seen Lacey at their conferences, she was ruthless. 

"I only hope it's done and over with. I don't need any more drama in my life right now." She reached over and grazed her fingers along Ritty's collar bone. Ritty shivered at the feather light touch. Picking Lacey's hand up, she traced her tongue along her slender fingers, nipping at the manicured tips. Lacey leaned forward on the couch and grabbed a fist full of her hair. 

Roughly, she pulled her in for a kiss. More demanding then the one outside. Their tongues danced, jewelry clicking against each other in their fight for supremacy. Releasing Ritty's hair, Lacey slid her hand between them, cupping Ritty's tender breast. Massaging it till the hard nipple strained through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Moving her mouth down, she took it between her teeth and nibbled. Ritty moaned as she licked till the wetness of the material hid no detail. Ritty fisted Lacey's hair. Lacey only continued teasing and sucking her nipples. Reaching to take her shirt off, Ritty stopped her. 

"Let's go to the bedroom. I have a surprise for you." Lacey looked a little frustrated but stood up and held out her hand for Ritty. She knew the house as well as Ritty and lead her down the hallway to the closed bedroom door. She stood aside and let Ritty open it. Ritty had worked for at least an hour in here getting it ready. Rose petals coated the room, soft music echoed and a stick of vanilla incense still burned on the mantle of the lit fireplace. The warm light flickered and flowed around the small space. 

"It's beautiful. I can't believe you did all this for me." Lacey's smiled and the desire in her eyes was all the encouragement she needed. Ritty pushed her onto the velvety bed, falling on top of her. They laughed as they embraced and started kissing. As they kissed Lacey undressed Ritty. The shirt landed inches from the fire place, shorts the end of the bed and the underwear she didn't know or care. She did the same with Lacey. Scattering her clothes throughout the room heedless where they landed. 

Naked and kissing, they let their hands roam free. They knew what turned each other on. Lacey ran her nails down Ritty's body. Shivers shook her while she bit and licked Lacey's neck and shoulders. They teased and tortured each other. Leaving the heaven of her lovers mouth, Ritty kissed her way down her creamy skin. She teased Lacey's nipples between her thumb and forefinger as she continued her slow path south. Lacey moaned and arched her body, pressing her body so she could feel more, opening herself for Ritty. 

Ritty would not be rushed. She slowly and steadily kissed and licked till she was inches from the junction at her thighs. All around it she touched, she breathed hot air over it, gently kissed around it. Feather light touches that had Lacey moaning and fisting Ritty's hair. She tried to pull her closer but Ritty only held back more. Opening her legs wide, Ritty traced her tongue up and down the crease, her tongue barely touching the smooth lips. Licking below it, she teased her perineum, licking then blowing it with her cool breath. Lacey was trembling, moaning and thrashing her head. Juices were starting to trickle out of her wet pussy but Ritty wouldn't allow that sweet nectar to go to waste. She ran her tongue up the tight passage. Lightly at first. That only lasted a couple seconds. Ritty wanted more.

Lacey cried out as she felt Ritty's tongue. "Oh yes...more, please, I want more!"

Warm and rough, probing and demanding more. Ritty held nothing back. She licked, she sucked, she gently nibbled on every inch of Lacey's exposed pussy. Lacey cried and thrashed and held on to the sheets and Ritty's hair for all she was worth. The room spun, colors scattered behind her closed eyes. She was losing all control as she let the sensations wash over her. Lacey's cries only added to Ritty's passion. She knew she was getting Lacey close. Her sweet juice flowed constantly covering her mouth and her nose. She had to gasp for breath to keep from drowning in her lovers' pool. 

"I don't think you're wet enough. We need to fix that." Bringing two fingers up to Lacey's mouth, she let her lick them, suck them till they were wet and slick with her saliva. Lacey leaned up on her elbows and watched her as Ritty slowly slid them in. Lacey opened her mouth to let out a throaty cry when she felt them inside her tight channel. Lacey tried to keep her eyes open but as Ritty slid her fingers in and out, she could only close them and let her head fall back. As Ritty increased the tempo, Lacey bucked and moved in rhythm. She fucked her for what seemed like forever. Speeding up then slowing down till she was almost not moving. Lacey moaned and cried, begging and pleading for more. Sliding a third finger in, she curved them slightly to the ceiling and hit the spot. Lacey's arms went out from under her and she let the orgasm take control. Ritty didn't stop. She fucked her harder. "Cum for me baby, fill my mouth with your sweet cum." She leaned down and licked her clit as her cum sprayed her face. 

"Ohh..fuck yeah baby, don't stop, don't ever stop." She had Ritty's hair balled so tight in her fist that she almost cried out in pain. She just bit her lip and continued her tongue lashing and finger fucking. Exhausted, Lacey fell limp, panting and sweating on the bed. Trembling, she massaged Ritty's head where she knew she probably got more than a little rough with her. Ritty lay between her legs still slowly moving her fingers in and out. Enjoying the way Lacey's pussy clamped around her fingers when she came. When she wiggled her fingers a certain way she would make Lacey jump and cry. She gave her a couple minutes of a reprieve before increasing the tempo. 

"Not again, I don't think I...ohh god." Ritty wouldn't let her finish. She had already started again. She decided this time she wanted to spend more time teasing her clit. It didn't get enough attention the first time. While her right hand fucked her pussy, her left hand pinched and played with her swollen clit. She held the tiny bud between her fingers and licked it. Slow circles while flicking her tongue at the same time. It was hard to keep a good hold of it while Lacey bucked and thrashed on the bed, but she did it. It didn't take nearly as long this time as it did the first and Lacey was screaming and cumming again. She opened her mouth wide and drank as Lacey filled her mouth with her sweet essence. Lacey closed her eyes and let the ecstasy wash over her. Ritty had never made her cum so hard before. It was overwhelming, to say the least. 

Before she could recover again, Ritty reached in the top drawer of her night stand and grabbed Waldo. Her and Lacey used him quite often in their nights of passion. All eight inches of his fake fleshy shaft. Lacey was drenched in her cum so he slid in effortlessly. Ritty fucked her hard, shifting her angles with him. This way and that, twisting and turning. Furiously, she fucked her till she was rocked over and over by orgasms. She turned the vibe on full blast and aimed it right for the g-spot. Lacey literally lifted her ass off the bed as she came, squirting all over the bed and Ritty's open mouth. Lacey's hands cramped from the effort of holding them so tight. Her legs shook, her pussy and clit throbbed. She lay there gasping for precious air. But now it was Ritty's turn. 

Lacey sat up, grabbed Ritty by the shoulders and shoved her down on the bed. She spent the next forty five minutes licking, nibbling and teasing Ritty. She took her time savoring her body. Ritty came several times before she decided to let her fuck her with her favorite toy, Titan. A bit larger then Waldo with ribbing circling the body. As much as Ritty liked it, Lacey couldn't handle the thickness of it. They lay in bed panting, sweaty from their love making. 

They dosed for a little bit. She couldn't tell how long. Minutes, then maybe an hour or so. The fireplace had died out long ago, allowing the once warm room to get chilled. It didn't take long for them to start shivering. 

Lacey sat up and grabbed her shirt. It had landed on the floor beside the bed so she didn't have to reach far. Sighing, she looked over at Ritty who was still laying on the bed. "I'm going to have to leave early tonight. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning with our new clients. Come in your regular time. I'll fill you in when you get there. I had a wonderful evening. Thank you for everything." She leaned down and kissed Ritty on the forehead. She knew if she kissed her on the mouth she would want more. She was well beyond exhausted and still had a long drive to get home. 

Ritty smiled, still savoring the aftershocks of cumming, she just purred. "Yes, it was a wonderful night. I needed that, needed you. I wish our nights never had to end." She giggled as she stretched along the bed, loosening her tight muscles. Lacey giggled with her. She smacked her on her ass as she grabbed her clothes and got dressed. Ritty threw on her silk robe and walked with her to the door. 

The night was definitely cooler. Dew had settled on the ground and coated most of the plants and windows. For it to be in the middle of summer they still had really cool nights, tonight being one of them. Despite the thin robe, she had to rub her arms to try and keep warm. Stepping out onto the porch, she felt something weird under her feet. It was dry and smooth, it crinkled, not like it should have been. The foot mat was rough and scratchy and should have been damp like everything else. She stepped back and looked down. It was a tan envelope with well worn edges. Her and Lacey looked confused but Ritty leaned down and picked it up. Stepping in the house for light, she opened it up. Ritty and Lacey's screams echoed, the folder fell to the floor and the photos scattered along the kitchen floor. It's them. Snap shots of them at their most intimate moments. One from last week, a month ago, tonight. Glancing at each photo, she remembered each and every touch, caress and kiss the photo had captured. Who would do this? Why? She looked at Lacey. They both shared the same expression. Fear. Pure stark fear. They both jumped and screamed as the phone rang. With trembling hands, Ritty picked up the receiver and answered.

"Hello" she knew her voice quivered but she tried to sound calm. 

"Mrs. Michaels, how are you?" A warm male voice filled the line. She recognized it but didn't place it right away. 

"I'm fine. May I ask who is calling? It's late and it's a bad time to talk right now." She breathed in deep, trying to calming her racing heart. Stranger or not, she didn't want to be questioned on her mood.

"You don't recognize my voice? What a shame. I visit so often I would have of thought us to be good friends by now." As she listened, she caught the hint of his accent. It was her neighbor.

"Monty! Oh I'm so sorry. It's been a crazy night is all. Like I said, you caught me at a bad time. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything. What do you need, hun?" He had a way for calling at unusual times for something unusual. 

"I think you know what I want Ritty! Or, at least, I know what you want!" Her heart raced. Him. Was he the one that sent the photos? She looked down. They were all shot outside, or maybe... Her bedroom window was in all of them. She ran to her room and stopped at the door. Starring through the gape in her curtains, she saw him watching her from his room. A tripod silhouetted in the darkness. A flash blinded her for a second. But not before she saw the look of satisfaction on his face.

"What do you want? Do you honestly think you can scare me with a few photos? It's not like you can do anything now that you've sent them all to me." She tried to look calm since he was watching her every move. Lacey heard and picked up the other receiver. She was in another room but still covered the mouth piece. 

He laughed, a cold menacing laugh she had never heard from him before. "Do you honestly think I would be dumb enough to send you all the photos I have? I have all those plus a whole folder full of negatives. Those were my best shots. I thought you and Lacey would like to have a few for your own collection. Hell, I even framed some and put them up in my living room. You two make a sensational appearance. So, when is the hubby due home? I'd like to invite ya'll over for a cook out or something. I'm sure he would love to see my new living room décor."

She was furious now. Who was he to threaten her like this? "Don't you dare. Listen here, you sorry son of a..."

He cut her off. "Now now now, no need for such talk like that from such a lady like as yourself. You think I enjoy doing this?" He paused and acted like he is thinking about it. He started laughing. "Yeah, I do actually. You know, I don't think you would be dumb enough to doubt me. You can keep your dull lifeless marriage and your little girlfriend, too...if you do as you are told. Lacey can keep her boring job and not have to worry about the consequences of seeing one of her employees. Yeah, that's right Lacey, I know you're listening. I can hear your breathing on the line. I must admit, though that you do seem a bit calmer then Ritty."

She decided to break her silence. "Fuck you, you creep. You don't have shit on either of us. You would be the laughing stock of the whole town. Besides, those photos are not very clear. There is no proof that those two women are even us. Nice try, jack ass, but go find a couple other girls to harass." She stepped beside Ritty in the bedroom window so he could see her. She was afraid but would never let him see. 




Snap Shot



The satisfying grin left his face. He was losing his patience. They watched as he walked across the room. He turned on his TV and inserted a DVD. There on his wide screen they watched in shock. He had filmed everything they had did tonight. What was worse, he zoomed in on Ritty's new tattoo. Her husband had already seen it when he came home last week. He would recognize it. It had his damn name on it. He angled up and zoomed in on Lacey's face. To the earrings that Jake had helped her pick out to give her boss as a Christmas present. The sorry son of a bitch even settled the camera on the picture of her and Jakes wedding photo on her bedside table. He let it play clearly, enjoying it. He even reached down and started rubbing his growing erection through his pants.

"Stop, stop. We will do it. Whatever you want, we will do it." She screamed it through the receiver like she was in the room with him. 

He didn't even jump. He just turned around and walked back to the window. Still rubbing his cock through his pants, he grinned. "I thought you would see it my way."



Snap Shot



I'm at a photo shoot. I want to be a nude model. I'm young, just nineteen and I'm keen to break into the industry, lured and dazzled by the bright lights and glamour. I know my face and figure are perfect, but I'm still slightly nervous; I haven't done anything like this before and I don't know what to expect.

The studio is light, modern and luxurious, with large windows and a cream deep-pile carpet. The photographer is handsome and older than I am, possibly in his thirties; he looks professional, confident and says little. Tall, with jet black hair and a rugged complexion, he is very handsome; his well-toned body is clearly visible under his white silk shirt.

His shirt is open to the chest, and his flesh glistens in the summer heat. The windows are open to let in some air, but there isn't much of a breeze and we're both glowing. I stand in the middle of the room feeling awkward and clumsy, while he sets up his equipment. I can't help but stare at him as he works, his shirt sticks intermittently on his hot, tanned skin revealing the movement of his strong, hard muscles working beneath. He knows I'm watching him and I glimpse a slight smile on his full, moist lips.

Finally he finishes what he is doing and turns to look at me. He asks me to sit on the solitary chair that stands in the middle of the room. I do as he bids. I wait patiently and study him as he adjusts the spotlights. I like what I see and it makes me feel slightly horny. I bite my lip and try to concentrate on the business at hand. Satisfied with the lighting, he picks up his camera, walks towards me and starts to shoot. The camera obscures his face, but I can still see his gorgeous, soft mouth and strong, chiseled chin beneath. I begin to relax as he keeps telling me how beautiful I am and how much he is looking forward to this session. I am wearing a short denim skirt, a simple white T-shirt but no bra or panties. My feet are dressed in black, strappy, high-heeled sandals. He asks me to flick my hair back and look sexy; I stare directly into the lens, wet my lips with my tongue and pout. He smiles, his generous lips parting to revealing pristine white teeth. I want to kiss him instantly and am suddenly aware that I am staring at his mouth. I lower my eyes, embarrassed.

Next, he tells me to lift my hair off my shoulders. I do as he directs. Now exposed, fresh air rushes to the soft, sensitive flesh of my neck, giving me goose-bumps. A shiver of excitement runs down my spine. I like the attention he's giving me and I'm physically drawn to him. He navigates around me and my body automatically follows, giving him signals he can read clearly.

He asks me to raise my top so he can see my boobs. I feel a little self-conscious, but comply, I take my hands out of my hair and slowly lift the shirt up to reveal my pert, ripe breasts. Taking the camera away from his face he watches my every movement, he seems to enjoy my discomfort. Smiling he instructs me to take the top off. I do as he asks and pull the T-shirt over my head. My long dark hair cascades down my back and over my shoulders as my top falls to the floor. I arch my back and stick out my chest. I know my body is beautiful and I can tell the photographer thinks so too. Moving closer, he prowls around me taking shots of my breasts. We almost touch at times; I can feel the heat of his body on my naked flesh. I try not to look at him, but I can't help it, I see him licking his plump, red lips as he hides his eyes behind the camera.

My body is scorching and my breasts are beaded with sweat. There's tension in the air, building between us, it's so strong I can almost taste it. As he glides around me the urge to reach out and touch him is unbearable.

Suddenly he stops and lowers his camera, "We need ice for your nipples," he comments, "I want them to stand out."

He leaves the room to fetch the ice, I watch him go, feeling abandoned. He returns a second or two later, empty handed.

"I have no ice. You'll have to play with them," he suggests. His pale, blue eyes are full of hunger.

I reach down and touch my nipples. I feel nothing. I can see him watching me intently and can think of nothing else. I'm far too nervous, and self-conscious around him to let myself go. 

Again he smiles, "Well it looks like it's up to me," he announces. Stepping towards me he leans forward, I can feel his breath on my breasts before he takes my right nipple between his lips. I gasp from surprise and pleasure. My body reacts immediately and he pulls away to admire his work. He stoops again and this time takes my left nipple in his mouth. I feel his tongue circle my bud and the cool, damp touch of his lips on my skin. As he sucks I arch back and push my breast towards him. Just as I think he is going to grab my right breast he stops, draws back and starts taking pictures again. I can feel him smiling from behind the camera.

"Now take off your skirt and open your legs," he commands. I hear the challenge in his voice and am curious as to how far I am willing to go. Steeling myself I stand boldly in front of him and strip. The skirt slides down my legs and onto the floor around my feet, I step out of it and sit back on the chair. "Spread your legs," he orders. I open my knees as far as I can. I feel totally exposed, I can feel his eyes all over my body and my pussy throbs in response.

He licks his bottom lip and my clit twitches at the sight of his tongue. "Right, I want to see you wet. Play with your pussy," he charges.

Gingerly I tug at my pubic hair; a shudder of pleasure quivers up my spine, hardens my nipples and ricochets back down again. I like the sensation and want to feel it again. I yank at the hair a second time.

"More," he murmurs, moving closer to get a better view. I start to frig myself with my right hand, slowly and deliberately. I'm beginning to feel in control, teasing him, showing him what I like.

"Let's get you wetter," he suggests. I take my hand away and meet his gaze; his eyes are full of lust. Falling to his knees in front of me, he puts his camera on the floor next to my feet. Smiling, he licks his lips before he grabs my thighs and buries his head between my legs. I'm totally surprised and utterly delighted, my pussy is getting really juicy and I can feel my desire warming my buttocks. His tongue is greedy and excited, exploring me, eating me, gobbling me. He pushes my legs further apart with his big broad hands, his fingers digging into the soft pale flesh of my inner thighs. I grab his thick dark hair with my hands and guide him to where I want him. I moan as he runs his tongue along my snatch, to my clit, sucking, licking, and lapping, he gorges himself on me. Suddenly he stops, takes his mouth away, releases my thighs, picks up his camera and takes pictures of my pulsating pussy. 

Abruptly he stands, towering above me. My body is shaking with anticipation and frustration; I bite my lip and clench my fists in an effort to control myself.

"You're good," he comments. My pussy flinches at the praise he gives me. "Now get on the floor and open your legs. Put your arms behind your head. I want you to look like you've just been fucked." His voice is deep and masterful; he knows exactly what he is doing and what he wants - we both do. I rise, move away from the chair and lay on the floor. The carpet is soft against my skin and I stretch out fully on it.

He walks around me, looking down on my outstretched body, naked apart from my heels. I hear the shutter of the camera snapping and then it stops. He is standing between my legs. "It's no good, I'm not getting what I want," he says, his voice thick with desire. "But, I've got the perfect solution. I have just what you need." Placing the camera on the chair I vacated he sets it to automatic, I can hear the clicking, then he unzips his jeans and falls to his knees. "I want to see what you look like when you have just been screwed and this is the best way I know how." He grabs my hips in his strong hands and raises them off the floor. 

I can see the flash of a smile as he drives himself deep inside me. I gasp - he's enormous. He fills me completely. The camera is snapping, taking pictures of me being totally fucked in my strappy sandals and I don't care. I stretch my body out totally for him, and he helps himself to my breasts, sucking and pinching my nipples hard. My legs are open really wide to accommodate him and I feel totally exposed. He takes his dick out and rubs my clit with it, up and down toward my wet pussy, just letting the end slide in, before he pulls it out and rolls it over my pleasure button again. I feel my toes curl and the muscles in my legs convulse. My clit twitches and my pussy throbs, as waves of pleasure course through my body. I close my eyes and see flashes of light against the backs of my lids. 

He rams his cock back into me, hard and urgent and with every thrust of is huge shaft my body gets closer and closer to climax. It isn't long before I cum, letting the orgasm take the whole of my body as I cry out loud. He quietly smiles and stuffs his dick further into me hard for some serious fucking. He is rough and brutal - and I love it. I feel the whole of him banging against my pussy. His hands grab my buttocks so tightly they hurt as he explodes inside me and fills me with his hot spunk. I feel the sweat from his hair fall on my throat and breasts, but he doesn't fall on me. He pulls out, sits back on his haunches, zips up his trousers and collects his camera off the chair. He points the camera up the length of my body paying particular attention to my now dripping pussy, where I can feel his spunk seeping out.

I'm aware that I am just another conquest and that these photos are as much for him as they are for the magazine. I also know I'll get the job - he wants to see me again. I can tell by his smile and the way he's licking his full sensual lips.



Snap Shot



I nodded and swallowed dryly. Feeling emboldened, I came over and knelt down with my light meter, my trembling hand bare inches from her breasts. But she held still, only following me with her eyes, and smiling, always smiling. Coming back to the camera, I mounted my polarizing filter on the lens and stepped the aperture all the way down, intending to squeeze out every bit of ambient light the sun had to offer. As a last thought I even set my flash to use as a fill. I wanted to capture her up close, but full frame, surrounded in an explosion of color and vivid detail. I then knelt down and took my place at the viewfinder, again taking my time. She was so beautiful like that, yet something more. She knew I was looking at her, and I knew it! I could sense it as much as see it in her, and the most exciting aspect of it was I could tell she liked it. She liked posing like this, knowing I could see. It was my last shot on that roll, and even as the shutter clicked, I knew it would be one of my best.

CHAPTER TWO

"Out of film," I called out, rising up from behind the camera. I ambled over to help her up, and gave her my hand, forgetting not to blatantly look when the top of her dress swung out.

She caught me, red–handed, but only smiled that smile. She rebuttoned that one button and then began brushing the grass and twigs from the front of her dress. "Do you think you got any good ones?" She asked.

I was so flustered, not just from her catching me peeping, but from the excitement of the last hour. "Are you kidding?" I blurted out. "You just wait. You just wait until I develop these and make us some prints. You'll see." I repeated myself. "You'll really see. That last one's going to really be something."

She plucked a bit of grass that was clinging to the curve of the front of her left breast. That wild spark hadn't even begun to subside one bit. "Do you think I'll be able to send that one to Peter?"

"Why not?" I replied without thinking. "It's going to be great!"

"I don't know." She playfully pushed my shoulder. "I couldn't see what you saw in your lens, but from what I remember, he might be real curious to know who took it."

I hadn't thought about that. But right now, nothing could have dampened my enthusiasm.

She seemed a bit breathless herself. "You really got all worked up, Jimbo. I don't think I've ever seen you like this. You were like a..." she paused as she sought for a word "...like an artist behind that camera. So forceful. You'd say: 'Cynth, move your head,' or 'put your arms back.'" She had deepened her voice in an attempt to sound like me. Then she laughed again. "Now that was what I call fun!"

"It just came to me," I replied in rapid fire. "At first I was a bit nervous. I mean, you're so beautiful, and you just ... I don't know, you just come alive. Does that sound silly?"

It was her turn to surprise me by showing a bit of a flush, and now it was she who suddenly seemed interested in the tips of her toes. There was a long silence, and then she said quietly, "It's a shame we have to stop just when we were going so well."

"I think all I have left is one roll of black and white." I fished around in my bag. "Yeah, just one roll of black and white." I turned it over and read the box. "And it's a faster speed than the color I was using. It's really best for indoors."

That wild look came back, and with it the flush in her cheeks and neck bloomed. She locked her eyes on mine and said hesitantly, "What if we did one of those boudoir shots?"

My mouth instantly went stone dry, and I know for a fact my heart skipped two beats.

Surely, she'd noticed my distress, because she instantly added, "Not one of those, you know." She was twining her fingers, knotting them into a cats cradle at her tummy as she wound her arms and spread her elbows apart. "I mean, I'd wear my nightie."

Stupidly, I stood there gaping, brain freeze on a sweltering July afternoon.

She unraveled her hands, slapping them to the sides of her thighs. "What am I thinking?" She said apologetically. "I must be crazy." She held her hand over her eyes. "Must be the sun."

An alarm went off in my head, and my instinct for self–preservation screamed, "Do something, you big dummy!"

"No, no!" I yelled, way too loudly. "No, you're not crazy!" Something, probably that voice from within, thankfully took over. "I could really do something nice, you know, soft and beautiful. Black and white is so arty. It would be really tasteful, especially with black and white." For a moment I was sure she had changed her mind; I'd never seen Cynth look so sheepish. I pulled my light meter from my pocket and took a half step closer holding it near her face. "What color is your nightie?"

"Blue," she said. "I thought maybe I'd wear my blue one. I have a yellow one, but it's longer. The blue's kind of..." she let her hands fall down to indicate a hem halfway up her thighs, "...a shortie."

"Blue's great!" I choked back a hard swallow as my imagination jumped too far ahead. "Blue will be just fine."

"But you said your film is black and white? Color doesn't matter?"

I nodded then shook my head. "It does somewhat. The light's what's most important. The thing is where should we shoot the picture?"

All traces of her earlier reluctance had vanished. That mischievous smile was back full force, and there was no escaping the contagiousness of her excitement. "My room'll be the best. I've got a skylight, and my window faces west. With the afternoon sun, I get a lot of light. We could even use the curtains to help with the lighting, you know, if you'd think that'd help?"

Again I swallowed, just the thought of being in Cynth's bedroom with her dressed only in her nightie made my palms go cold. Somehow I managed a smile and a nod.

"Come on." She grabbed and tugged at my wrist. "Get your stuff. My mom's not going to be home 'til at least six and my dad never gets home from work before seven. We've got a couple of hours at least."

I remember zipping up my camera bag and picking up my tripod, her last words, "A couple of hours," going round and round in my head. It was almost too much for my poor brain to handle. Not only was I going up to Cynthia Mitchell's very own bedroom, but she was going to be wearing her nightie, a shortie, and letting me take pictures of her!

The next thing I knew we were in her house. Like coming in and out of a trance, I could see the family room, though I don't even remember going in the door. They had one of those big, wooden ships over the mantle. Her dad's leather recliner was empty, facing the TV, with a newspaper spread out on the floor. Then, we were on the stairs, and I stepped on that loose board. It squeaked, and she looked back. "My dad should really fix that step."

There we were. It was then that it really hit me. The warmth of the afternoon sun was streaming in from the family room windows. At that moment my thoughts stopped, and right then and there I snapped my own timeless snapshot, a permanent image silvered on my mind's eye 'til at least the day I die.

When we arrived up at her room I was a mess, almost catatonic, but she didn't seem to notice. She went right to her dresser and fished something blue out of an upper drawer. I, of course, stood right where I was. She stopped, holding the nightie balled up in both hands.

"Are you all right?" She asked and reached out to touch my cheek. "You look like you've got a fever."

I mumbled something; whatever it was it must have been okay, as she patted me on the shoulder sympathetically and stepped past me. I remember smelling her again, that same fresh, clean, Eau de Cynthia, though now, somewhat more real, more hot and earthy than when we'd been sitting out on the swing eons ago.

"Why don't you get your camera set up?" She called back, hanging for a moment in the doorway. "I'm going to take a quick, cold shower. I won't be but a sec."

She left me alone. I stood there, listening to the clock until I heard through the walls the sound of a shower begin to run. Coming back to life, my strangled mind began to make sense of where I was. Two walls were done in wallpaper, a print with some bluebirds and robins. The others were a pastel green. Surprisingly, her furniture was antique, not some white girly stuff. She had a mahogany dresser with a few old letters pressed under a glass top, a vanity, and a queen sized bed with a light green bedspread made neatly between the matching headboard and footboard.

Little by little I found myself coming back to life. I went into her closet and changed film in the camera, the smell of Cynthia seeming to come alive around me as I fumbled in the dark with the film. I made double sure, then triple sure, the color roll was sealed and put away before daring to come back out.

She was right; the light was good in her room, the skylight adding just the extra amount of brightness to where the flash probably wouldn't be necessary unless I really stepped down the aperture. Too, it wasn't hot, like outside in the sun. The window was open, the lacy, white curtains moving now and then under the glance of a subtle if not sporadic breeze. And she had a ceiling fan overhead. The slow swing of the blades was providing a gentle wash of moving air. I had the time to look around a bit. There were those letters, I guess special to her; she had them pressed under the glass on the dresser. And there were lots of photographs, pictures of family, snapshots and school pictures of Cynthia at all ages, and surprisingly, one including me. I picked it up. We were kids in swimsuits, playing with a garden hose in my back yard, maybe a summer day just like today, but long ago. I couldn't have been more than five or six. Cynthia was wearing only a little two–piece and, of course, that smile. I put it back and wandered over to look at one wall. It was plastered over entirely with awards, and framing her new high school diploma she had honor roll ribbons and certificates for best in just about anything imaginable.

I heard the running of the shower stop, accompanied by the squeak from the turn of a handle as the water was shut off, and suddenly realized I hadn't really begun to get ready. The first shot, what was I going to do? I still had my bag slung from my arm. I put it down on the dresser and prepared the camera and tripod, spreading the legs and locking the knobs. Pulling my light meter from my bag, I began to walk around gauging the light from every available angle. Somehow going through the motions helped calm me and return me to some semblance of normalcy. Then the door opened, and all that vanished.

Incredible! There she was, standing framed in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her head. For a moment she looked so shy, but then that smile came back to her face. I noticed her eyes; they were dark, the first time I could ever be sure that Cynthia Mitchell was nervous.

"I feel better," she said, stepping in.

Our eyes touched for a moment, and instantly we both looked away.

She walked over to the vanity and unwrapped the towel, tossing it on the bed. I watched spellbound as she took a brush, and with her back to me, she faced the mirror and began brushing her hair.

"So?" She said. "Did you think of any good shots?"

"Uh, yeah," I croaked. "I think so." With each forward stroke of the brush, the hem of the little, blue nightie rose up, revealing her legs and a lacy pair of panties. The top's fabric was sheer, but not completely see–through. The darker color of her panties was easily visible, but from behind there wasn't any trace of a bra. Suddenly I forgot why I was even here.

She was looking back at me through the mirror. "Hey," she called back. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I started. "Just stay like that." I stepped behind the camera. "I'll get one from behind, using the reflection of you in the mirror. You know, kind of artsy."

She stopped her brushing and looked back at me. "Do you want me holding the brush?"

Even through my own nervousness I really sensed the trace of anxiety in her voice. Just realizing she was nervous, too, did a lot to help me settle back down. "Yeah, with the brush," I called back.

Moving the tripod, I reset the f–stop and shutter speed according to the reading I remembered from my light meter. "Okay, hold it like that. But don't look at me. Look in the mirror. Look off to the side like you're thinking about something, something pretty."

"I'm so nervous," she said. "I can't seem to think of a thing."

"That's fine. Don't worry about it. Just give me a little smile. Yeah, like that." It was incredible how Cynth just naturally seemed to respond, enhancing whatever feeble idea I imagined. "Raise your arm a little," I said, never looking up from the viewfinder. "There! Stop!" I called out when I could see the top of the elastic of her panties framing a slice of her skin revealed below the draping hem of her nightie's top, and with the click of the shutter, with that first shot, so much of my own fear and anxiety melted away.

She turned around to face me and leaned back, gripping the edges of the vanity with her hands. Her hair seemed to just flow down over her shoulders with a slight natural wave, thick and full. Her cheeks were flushed; this was all natural, not an effect of any rouge. In fact, I doubt she had any make up on at all. It was something about her, or her bedroom, or maybe it was the quality of the light, but her skin appeared softer, whiter, yet those eyes of hers were every bit as bright and richly green as they had been out in the sun.

"Hang on," I said coming forward and holding my light meter out as though it were a compass guiding my way. "I'll get a shot right there, just like that." I stepped right up, happy to be able to keep focused on the meter's needle and relieved not to have to let her look into my eyes.

"I had no idea you were such a pro," she said, her nerves now definitely showing through with the occasional dry crack and tremor in her voice. "You know," she spoke in almost a whisper, "I wouldn't think of doing anything like this with anybody other than you, Jimmy."

I was trying to concentrate on reading the needle, but being so close to her it seemed even my hair had begun to sweat. I stepped back in two longs steps and readjusted both the shutter speed and the aperture, then put a Wratten filter over the lens. I wanted to drop out the wallpaper in the background and feature just her, standing just like that in crisp focus. Looking into the viewfinder, I noticed something I somehow hadn't seen before. I looked up, taking a moment to let the vision sink in.

She fidgeted slightly. "Something wrong?"

"No." I shook my head. "Just give me a minute, I need to think." She was so absolutely stunning. What had me flustered was I could see the outlines of her nipples showing through the sheer material of her nightie. The wispy blue tint of the fabric changed the flesh color slightly, but I could see they matched the gentle, pink hue of her lips. And with her posed as she was, the scalloped hem of her top was only covering half way down her panties. The way the lines of the lacy edges came together and disappeared down into the fold where her thighs came together was enough to make me terribly aware of just how hard I'd become. In contrast, it seemed my knees had turned to rubber. And not even aware if I had the shot framed completely right, I pressed the release.

Instantly, she came away from the vanity, and stepped right up to me, putting her hand on the camera. "Jimbo, I mean Jimmy, I know I don't need to ask, but this is just between you and me right? You wouldn't ever show these photos to anyone else, right? We're just having fun, right?" She nodded. "Right?"

Again I swallowed. Up close it was almost impossible to not look at those nipples. The hints of her breasts were so alluring. I couldn't truly make them out, but that in itself made the whole experience even that much more tantalizing. "Yes," I stammered. "I mean, no. I mean I wouldn't show them to anyone. I'll give you the negatives and the prints. You know I wouldn't ever do anything to be mean or hurtful to you, Cynth. Not you. This is something just between us. Okay?"

Maybe it was that a cloud had passed outside, but it seemed the whole room lightened. Any last vestige of her anxiety seemed to pass, and that wild smile returned.

With her mischievous grin back, she let go of the camera and reached out and ran her finger down my cheek. "You can keep a set of prints for yourself. The artist deserves to see his own work." She suddenly jumped, bouncing back and causing the lamps on the nightstands to shake when she landed. She spread her feet and raised her arms, drawing up the lower line of her top almost to her naval. "What's next? You just tell me what you want me to do." She dropped her hands and bending over clasped them in a knot at her stomach. Looking up at me she said, "This is so much fun!

Poised like that her breasts hung away, the circle of the top of the neckline only just hiding them from full view. I know my mouth was open, because I became conscious of how stupid I looked when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

"I can see you're having fun, too," she said, coming back up and waggling her finger. She then put her hands at the back of her head in her hair so her elbows faced forward. She twisted back and forth. Her voice had a playful little sing–song snap to it. "I don't know if you know, but I can tell."

The hem of the top had again come up, this time rising to above her naval. Her matching blue panties were dark, but still somewhat sheer. I could easily see the darker outline of the delight which was hiding within. Instantly, I became aware it was she who was watching me, able to recognize everywhere my eyes were focused. Feeling my own flush wash over me, I quickly looked back to my camera.

She dropped her arms, her hands slapping the sides of her thighs. "How 'bout a couple of shots on the bed," she offered. "We can't have any self–respecting boudoir shots without at least a few on the bed."

"Sure," I replied, the words "On the bed" echoing through my mind. "You go lie down, Cynth. Let me move the camera around."

We had to scoot past one another so she could get by, and when she actually brushed against me I know I almost dropped the tripod. It seemed she filled the room. The scent of her, the color of that blue, the pink of her lips, the heat of her breath, the flush in her cheeks, the way her hair moved, everything, she seized my every sense and so much more. I was more wound up than anything I had ever known. Yet I managed to keep a grasp of reality telling myself this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I had to concentrate and stay focused if I could ever hope to record any of this on film. But concentrating was hard; I was hard. I resolved, despite the distractions of how she was teasing me, I was going to maintain some level of sanity and do my best to try.

I turned back from resetting the camera to find her settled down in the center of the bed, sitting with her knees drawn up. The look of naughty playfulness she cast back at me was almost spellbinding. My response was such she even broke character and laughed at my distress. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she was positioned slightly sideways to me, the hem of her top cascading down in an arc around her thighs. Had I been able to see her panties framed from just a slightly different position, I might have had a melt down right then and there. As it was, the curves of the side of her right breast were in full view through the gaping armhole, and I knew she knew it.

Angling the camera, I was a bit unsure if the light was too bright. It was behind her as I was now facing the widow. I stepped right over, whipping out the light meter, and held it next to her shoulder. Standing as I was at this angle I could see almost her entire breast. Trying to concentrate on reading the needle I heard another little laugh.




Snap Shot



I stepped back. "What?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

"No, come on," I said, hiding myself back behind the camera.

"Well," again she sounded a bit sheepish. "It's just ... it's just I noticed how excited you were, just then. And I wanted to tell you, I'm flattered."

I knew it. I had been intensely aware of my erection ever since she first appeared in the doorway, but something in my fluster hadn't allowed me to realize she, too, could see the bulge in my shorts.

Again, she was so sympathetic to my obvious reaction. "Don't worry about it, Jimmy. I think I'd be disappointed if you weren't excited." She paused, her fingers strumming while she held them clasped to her shins. "To be honest, I find all this tremendously stirring, too. It's just I'm a girl, and you can't see it as easily with me. But I do want to do this." Now there came a forceful huskiness to her voice. "And I want to do it right. Don't you hold back either. If you want me to do something, just ask. I'll do whatever you want. That'll be our little game."

"Okay, Cynth," I managed to come back. "Just give me a minute, let me think."

At this stage, I was getting to the point where it was becoming difficult to remember the formulas for setting the camera. Sitting on the bed like that she was so absolutely stunningly feminine, everything about her cried out to me. I didn't want to just see her. I didn't want to just capture her on film. Truthfully, I wanted to touch her. I wanted to tell her to take that top off and those panties, too, to let me see her completely naked. My heart was thumping, my palms were sweaty and cold, and the bulge in my shorts was absolutely like a rock. It seemed the room was becoming a blur. Yet somehow I managed to hold back and keep control. I reset the f–stop and tried to focus on the image in the viewfinder, but the light from outside was shining in her hair, making her seem to glow. My hand trembling, I snapped the shutter and then heard myself ask her to lie down and turn to face me. She did just as I asked, stretching out languorously and raising one knee. Everything about how she moved, the way the nightie clung or didn't cling to her, she was most definitely showing herself to me, teasing me. Going for broke, my mouth stone dry, I stepped over and looked down at her.

She smiled up at me and said, "I told you, just tell me what you want."

"Here, let me do it," I said. "Stay still, just like that." I saw my hands reach down, and I took the soft lace of the neckline in my fingers pulling it so it slipped over her shoulders. "Move up on your side," I instructed. "But keep you legs the way they are. Yeah, there, just like that." Then I tugged the top down just a bit more until her cleavage was exposed where her breasts pressed together. I stopped, for some reason panicking when the edge of her left nipple came into view.

"That's okay," she said looking down and then back up at me. "I told you go ahead, do what you want."

I tugged it down a bit more, my fingers actually brushing her body. I didn't want the entire nipple to show, just the top. Somehow I knew it'd be better like that. But I did reach down and smooth the fabric of her panties around her hips causing the creases between her legs to stand out that much more. Then I fled back to the camera, checked the viewfinder and somehow got the shot.

We took two more, in slightly different positions on the bed, each time my hands and my eyes growing bolder as she so willingly let me pose her and adjust her nightie just how I wanted to get the fullest effect. Then in an inspiration, I had her sit on the window sill, and turn, so the light shining around her breasts illuminated the nightie and all but caused it to disappear. Then next, I had her stand up, spreading her arms and legs so the light shone through all around her. For this shot I decided to use the flash, to fill in the full frontal detail, which would have been obscured in the shadow of the contrast of light and dark. In the image I saw flash in the viewfinder, Cynth might just as well have been completely naked before me. I vividly remember the shadow image of the outline of the tuft tucked between her legs.

It seemed the whole time my excitement kept building and building into something on the verge of going out of control. The way we talked, the way she acquiesced to my every suggestion, yet made suggestions of her own, it started to become like a dance between us, with her trying to see how she could move, how she could pose, how she could tease me, gauging her success by watching my reactions. Too, I'd been so hard for so long, it seemed it was becoming difficult for me to breathe.

I checked the exposure count. "I've just got two shots left."

Cynthia stepped away from the window and came right up to me, way too close. Lightly she put a finger on my shoulder. Her eyes had changed. When we first started shooting, outside, earlier, they were a light, almost pastel green, but now they had gone to a lustrous, fiery emerald hue, like that of a dragon or a mermaid pulled fresh from the sea.

"Tell me if I'm wrong." Her finger had slipped down and was tracing a circle on my chest. "But I imagine with that last shot and the light behind my nightie," she took her other hand and tugged up at the fabric between her breasts. "You could probably see right through this material, couldn't you? It was just like I was naked?"

I didn't need to reply. She could so easily read my face.

"You're going to develop these yourself, aren't you? You're not going to take the negatives to any lab?"

I vehemently shook my head.

Cynthia traced that finger around and around on my chest. "Then what if we take those last two au natural?" She locked those jade eyes on mine. "You know, go for broke. All the way. I'm game if you are?"

I don't know how I managed to speak, but something came out. "Yeah," I stammered, my own voice sounding so dull and dry in my ears. "Sure, if you want to."

She pulled that finger away and stepped back. Continuing to look me in the eye, I could sense some queer type of satisfaction she had in looking into me. "You have to ask me," she said breathlessly.

I swallowed, and the feeling left my fingers, becoming a cold tingle down in my toes.

"Take your nightie off for me, Cynth," I said. Even now, I can think of those words, and how it felt to come out and say them. "I want you to let me see you ... let me see you naked." And then, how she responded by giving me that smile; nothing could ever be any more exciting than that. "Do it for me, Cynth," I said. "Take it off. Let me see your body."

Without saying another word, she crossed her hands at the hem and slowly, luxuriously pulled up the top. I saw the top of her panties, her naval, the bottoms of her breasts, her nipples, her throat, then she had it off, dangling it momentarily over her head, before just letting it fall to the floor. Cynth dropped her hands to her sides and pressed her breasts together between her arms, hooking her thumbs in her panties and twisting back and forth playfully from side to side. "Do you like my breasts, Jimmy?" She teased. "Do you like being here in my room and having me show them to you?"

This was so much more than I had ever, ever fantasized. In my wildest and hottest dreams I had seen us kissing, maybe even making out. In a few of my wet dreams, which had occasionally come upon me and always left me drenched, I had never even made it this far. The culmination of my excitement always came before I could even dream it. And that had been enough, more than enough. And now there she was, Cynth, wearing but a pair of panties and smiling at me, at me! Then, even before I could take it all in, she simply bent down and pulled her panties down, stepping out of them and just leaving them crumpled on the floor.

CHAPTER THREE

I'll always remember it seemed there really was a haze in the room, time stood still, and there was no sound at all other than my heart in my ears. In my private reality, the one I'll always cherish, there was no more world, only this ravishingly beautiful girl standing stark naked before me.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat. "Mr. Photographer? Is this what you had in mind?"

I'm sure I heard her words as I remember them. But I was fixated on her breasts. They were everything I could have imagined, each standing away as soft as they were firm. She wasn't as large as in my fantasies, but in reality there wasn't any need for her to be. She was perfect. Her nipples were pink, an exact match to her lips, and not flat on her skin as I had imagined, but full and rounded with the dark pink flesh of the areola itself bulging out slightly. It was as though the very tips of her nipples were drawing the rest of her flesh out, pertly standing up in the center, tight and stiff, each with the trace of a tiny indentation right in the middle. I finally let my eyes fall, down, down past her navel, down to where the wisps of hair became thick and the creases of her legs came together. Standing there, the light from the window framing her body, she had her legs pressed together, crossed a bit at the knees. Between her thighs it formed a tight Y, filled with the same auburn hue as the curls at her shoulders. I don't know how long I looked or how long she let me look, but when I came back to myself and we again touched eyes, I could see my own wonder appreciated and reflected back to me.

"You certainly have sized up your model," she said. "I don't know if it's more titillating for you to look at me, or more exciting for me to let you look."

I remembered all this later, every detail, but for right now I wasn't even sure if she was speaking English.

She stepped right up to me and shook my shoulder. "Jimmy. What do you want me to do? You have to tell me."

For some reason, I was then and there completely washed over with a sense of what we were doing. In a flash I embraced the heart stopping reality that I was here, in Cynthia's room, alone with her, and she was naked, completely naked, and willing, very willing to do whatever I asked. I think what I experienced is exactly what is called an epiphany, a rush of reality. Thankfully, though, I snapped out of it, and just as quickly the shot appeared in my mind. "Go sit on the edge of your dresser, by the mirror. And turn a bit so I get a reflection in the glass."

To this day, I don't know where that idea came from. But she did exactly as I asked her. She glided right past me, easily as alluring seen naked from behind as from the front, those legs, her hourglass hips, the way her cheeks came together below the curves of her bottom, merging into the dark center right up between the creases of her legs.

She turned and slipped her bottom up on the edge, her legs coming apart for just a moment as she scooted up. "Like this?" She called back to me.

"No, here." I stepped forward. "Put your arms down, behind your back." I actually touched her, and she let me help her into position. I could really smell her now. Our closeness was incredible. The experience had been one thing when she was wearing her nightie, but now that she was naked, my exhilaration was on an entirely different level. I reached up and moved her hair, so it fell across her shoulders and then took her chin in my palm moving her head over just so. Then falling back, I stood by the camera and took her in. Even right this very second, I can see every detail, every grain of that image. The way her legs came together, how the dark triangle of her pubic hair filled the soft creases to the sides of her legs. Her naval, for some reason was so alluring, too. She was all so completely naked, so open and exposed to me. And her breasts, they were exactly as though she was holding them out for me, presenting them to me. The rounded globes forming her areolas, I seemed to fixate on the fullness. Then it was the tips of her nipples which captivated and held me. How each stood out, her pleasure so readily apparent at this angle, and all enhanced by the soft color of the late afternoon light. And the expression Cynth gave me was truly indescribable, a subtleness of her features with her eyes revealing every bit of her erotic thrill and yet innocence, too, and anticipation. We were being so much more than naughty; I had thought about what would happen if the door was to open right now and her mother was to walk in and catch us. We weren't just fooling around. This was sex, even if we weren't actually touching. Cynth's delight in her indulgence of being naked for the camera and for me was showing through, as openly exposed as her body. It was all there. I could see it. She knew full well what it did to me to look at her, and she delighted in my thrill. I think the crowning touch was when I had her perform a last gentle twist with her body. She now really appeared to be presenting herself to me completely, offering herself for my appreciation two fold with her body reflected in the dresser's mirror. The glass caught the angle of her entire left breast embodying her true size and form in how the flesh curved and stood away from her body. 

I know how my hand trembled when I performed the final adjustments to the camera. I remember her saying in that shaky voice, "My, my, aren't we nervous, Mr. Photographer? I think you like my being naked for you, don't you? I know you can see that I'm all girl. Maybe you need to take a bit more time? You sure you're going to get the shot? You seem to be shaking."

Shaking? I was sweating; my hand was trembling. "Just be still," I replied. Gripping the shutter release in my right, I held up my left hand and said, "Don't look at the camera. Look at my hand." Then I took one last moment to absorb the image in the viewfinder, looked up and held my breath before pressing the button.

Cynth held herself like that for me, lingering a moment more, and then it was gone. She unwrapped her legs and slid down. She came right over to me, standing right with me, so close. Again, the awareness of her nudity was so overwhelming. I just could not believe it, even looking at her. It was so much to comprehend, but here she was, alone with me and entirely willing to do whatever I asked. But I wondered, would she truly do anything, anything I asked?

"Last shot," she said. "Let's make it a good one."

Again, an image rushed into my mind. "Get on the bed," I instructed. "Lie down for me."

Without even a trace of hesitation she stepped over and got on the covers, but didn't lie down, instead standing up on her knees. "Do you want me on my tummy or on my back?" She asked. "How about like this?" She turned around and bent down onto all fours, so she fully presented her bottom to me and her breasts, seen underneath, dangled away from her body.

I've thought about it since, many times, and suspected she really knew just how completely she was exposing herself to me. The lips of her vagina were tucked so wondrously between her legs. With the slight spread in her knees, she was completely open to my view. It was incredible, Cynth looking around back over her shoulder at me, her hair hanging down, and the way her breasts changed shape and both her nipples seemed to point down toward the covers. But as alluring and erotic as she was, I had something else in mind. I twirled my finger around. "No, lie down on your back."

"You sure?" She asked. She wiggled her bottom. "This feels good."

I stepped up. She was looking back at me, but I only had eyes for those lips. I had the strongest impulse to run my hand up between her legs, all the way up to her naval, and then draw my hand back dragging my fingers through those folds. Somehow though, the urge translated itself into a slap, and I spanked her soundly on the right cheek, leaving my hand where it was and momentarily relishing the feel of her flesh, before drawing it back threateningly. "Do you need a spanking?" I wanted to sound authoritative, but my voice was quivering. "Or are you going to be a good girl and do what I ask?"

There actually was a red mark on her skin, an outline of my hand. She had let out with a surprised little yelp with the sound of the slap, but it had sounded anything but angry. "Ooh, I liked that," she said. "Do the other side."

I complied, giving the other cheek a swift spank. There was no mistaking her thrill; she even shivered. But I knew what I wanted. "Lie down!" I ordered. "On your back. I want you to look up at me."

She lay down for me, smoothing herself against the covers and raising her hips up a couple of times before putting her legs together and placing her hands down flat on her tummy. "Like this?" She asked.

In my eye I could appreciate how the weight of her breasts had changed, now lying fully against her chest, so different than how they had hung down a moment ago. And too, the darkly rust colored hair between her legs, in this light and at this angle, seemed to be a bit lighter and more sparse, revealing the dark line of the hidden crease running down the center.

I was already adjusting the camera. "Put your head back, Cynth."

She shifted slightly and again asked, "Like this?"

"Yes," I came back. "And move your left arm so it crosses your tummy, and put the other behind your head."

As though she was able to see into the vision in my mind she complied, doing just as I needed her to. Then, I couldn't believe it when I said what came next, but it just came out. "Open your legs for me?"

I looked to her; there was something which passed between our eyes. For a moment I thought she wasn't going to do it. But along with that quick trace of unease at my request, I'd seen a flash; that wildness was still there. It was my turn to witness a revelation through her eyes, the flash of her enjoyment, the thrill she found in doing what I wanted, in presenting her body to me exactly as I wanted to see her. Still, I couldn't believe it when she suddenly raised her knees and spread her legs wide.

She had to clear her throat and still her voice would barely come. "How's this?" Her fingers had unconsciously clenched up into fists. Her breath was ragged, almost panting.

"No, no," I had to back pedal. "Not so much." I remembered I was startled right down to my core. She was wet, incredibly wet, her little lips slick and glistening. But it was more than her vagina, so open, so completely exposed to me. It was something about how she did it, how she looked back at me; it took me years of thinking about it to fully appreciate and understand what she did. "Put one knee up, Cynth" I instructed. "Keep the other leg flat, but twist a bit. Now just a bit wider. Yes, there, hold it! That's perfect. Don't move!"

She looked so alluring, so ready. I knew this was but a preview of the treat her husband would enjoy on their wedding night. She was completely offering herself. The light angling in caught the darker hint of the crease in the center, and the folds of the edge of her vagina were framed against the light skin of her thighs, not too blatantly exposed to my eyes, yet not too little. A hint, a tease, and a promise, too. There is nudity, and there is nakedness. I seemed to be learning that it was necessary to capture them both. There was a refinement of vision necessary to attain and portray the excitement and subtleties of the essence of her body. Cynthia lay on her own bed, naked before me, a girl giving her body to me, as exposed to me and my lens as any woman, ever. Yet what dawned on me and drove me almost wild was how I felt. I could smell, could even taste her enjoyment of it, and she seemed to feed off and derive her own intense pleasure from the excitement in my eyes.

The words came to my mind, and I almost didn't say it. But it came out anyway. "You know, Cynth, you have such a truly luscious body. I've never really seen a girl's vagina before, at least not like this. A moment ago, before, when I spanked you, when you had your bottom out to me, I was so tempted to touch you. I wanted to put my fingers on you. I wanted to draw them between your legs. I wanted to feel your wetness, feel it on my fingers."




Snap Shot



"Why, Jimbo," she came back. "I don't know what to say. You really like my pussy?"

I had always known Cynth as a bit wild, and here she was naked on her bed. But hearing her actually speak the words, "My Pussy," for some reason damn near sent me over the edge. I had never even heard a girl say that word before, much less smile at me as she did.

Cynth cleared her throat and scooted a bit. "I think you better get your shot while you can. You look like you're going to pass out there, Jimbo."

It took a few moments to get the camera positioned. I wanted to get it just right, with an angle off to the side and looking down. I took my time, I did. And it was almost with a sigh of regret that I snapped the shutter. The last picture was taken, the roll spent. Instantly, I flipped the rewind switch and turned the crank to roll up the film, wanting to make sure it would be safe. Then, with that important detail accomplished, I looked up to find that she was still positioned exactly as she was posed when I had snapped the picture.

"That was the last shot," I said. "I got it." I'll get these over to the darkroom, and when my dad goes to lunch, I'll develop the negatives." I sensed something about her in the way she looked back at me. Don't worry, Cynth, you'll get the negatives." I had to stand back and take her in. "God, you are beautiful."

She sat up a bit, her chin almost on her chest. "I'm not worried about the negatives. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. But I want you to come here."

"What?" I said as a reflex, though I'd heard her all too well. I believe I remember touching my finger to my chest. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she came back. "It's your turn to do what I say. You take those shorts off. You're not going to leave me like this. God, you've lit a fire in me, and you're not going to get out of here until I've had my look, too."

CHAPTER FOUR

I stepped up, still with the camera in one hand. She sat up and snatched my shorts and underwear down in one pull. I was so stiff; it just seemed to stand away. But I stood there, letting her look, once again feeling I was in some kind of hazy dream. And then I saw her raise her hand and felt her touch me.

"Get on the bed and kiss me," she said. "I've done just what you wanted all afternoon, and now you're going to do what I say." She didn't even wait for me to comply, but grabbed my hand and pulled me down.

I remember her pulling my shirt off, but I don't remember taking off my shoes. I do remember being on top of her, naked, her skin wet with sweat against mine. I remember her lips, her breasts, those nipples, how I craved them and exactly how each one felt in my mouth. And those lips of hers, down low, I touched them. She let me slide my fingers in, all the while kissing me and stroking me. And I remember my excitement taking over, so quickly, and my coming, losing control, even as I was trying to enter her. But it didn't seem to matter. Moments later, still panting and my face on fire, she kissed me and then held me to her. I was shaking, absolutely shaking, when Cynth moved and rolled me over, leaning over me on one elbow and looking down at me. That smile, she wasn't the least bit upset, in fact she looked pleased even sweetly flattered.

"Slower," she said. "Go slower, Jimbo. Let the excitement build."

I'd just come a few moments ago. I'm sure it was still between her legs. I know I was wet, and yet, not really even softening; and here she was, so beautiful, that green fire in her eyes and telling me to, "Go slower." Slower! As if such a thing was even possible? God, she was so beautiful. The telltale stirrings of another erection were already beginning to rise.

She kissed me, long and slow, her lips moving across mine to the point I couldn't think of anything else. Then she leaned back and looked into my eyes. "Now you do the same for me. Kiss me. Kiss me like I just kissed you."

The way she leaned over me, the stiff tips of her nipples were teasing me, grazing lightly across my chest whenever she moved. I flashed my eyes down. I just had to see, and in seeing her breasts, with those incredible, pink nipples tickling my skin, I felt the flush come over me as wildly as it had before.

She laughed, just a little softly disarming sound of amusement with my all to apparent pleasure. "I can see we're going to have to take this in steps. Just lay back and do what I tell you."

She moved her elbow out and lay down with her head in the crook of my arm, snuggling in until the full front of her body was pressed against me. I could feel her pussy on my hip, and yes, the wetness, my wetness was there.

"Now kiss me," she said. "It's your turn to do just as I say."

I kissed her, just leaning my head forward until our lips touched. She wouldn't let me press hard, somehow managing to help me control my passion through the subtleties of her touch. Little–by–little, we moved into a rhythm, the build up of it, the tension, the slow way she opened her lips and moved her tongue; she was inviting me and yet holding me at bay with the alluring promise of passion to come. Through her taste on my tongue, the smell of her breath, and the pounding pulse of the heat coursing through our young bodies, we kept ourselves pressed together, and I became as hard as I had ever known. Deep down every fiber of me was charged, stiff and standing erect. And she knew, that girl knew. Her eyes were closed, as were mine, and her hand came over to touch me, lightly, gently; but still I shivered with her initial contact with my erection as if a bolt had passed through my body.

"Good," she whispered, momentarily drawing away her lips. "Be still. It's my turn. Lay back. Let me touch you."

She was so gentle, yet so insistent, just grazing and glancing along the tip of my swollen penis with the tips of her fingers, then brushing her way down and up again, moving along the sides and the curve of my arching shaft using her palm and even the softness of the back of her hand. All the while she kept me sane through the touch of our lips, knowing when and how to draw my consciousness back and forth between the touch of her fingers on my erection, and the play of her lips with mine. It was maddening, yet so absolutely fulfilling. Caught up in it, like a dream that just goes on and on, I brought my own hand over and cupped her left breast, tracing my thumb across her nipple, thrilled to find she was every bit as stiff as I.

Cynth pulled back from our kiss, letting her tongue linger for a moment, then opening her eyes. "That's right, Jim," she breathed. "Touch me. Touch me as I touch you."

She pursed her fingers together, just tracing them ever so lightly around the very edge of my swollen crown. And I did the same, taking her nipple gently but firmly between the press of my fingertips and caressing it just around the edges at the tip. In response she arched her back, pushing her mound even more tightly against me, and at that letting slip with a soft, little moan. Driven by that sound, I was so completely focused on her, her body, the nipple in my fingers, the crush of her pussy so tight against my leg. It was the unconscious heat in that moan which caused an instinctual shift in the object of my desire. I wanted her, but mostly I wanted Cynth to enjoy me. And now I did kiss her. I kissed her exactly as she had kissed me, dragging my lips over hers, teasing her with my tongue and letting her taste my breath as she breathed me in.

Even today in my memory's imagination I can see us, feel us, smell us. Every sense was so alive. We were on her bed, on Cynth's bed, lying, pressed together, amid the folds and creases of those rumpled and sweat–soaked sheets. The ceiling fan overhead was circling lazily above, as at times, with us unaware, the curtain's lacy edges fluttered with the breath of a breeze. Our sweat so sticky sweet, yet slick between the press of our bodies, the heat all around, pouring out with each gasp for breath and with each kiss renewed. I released the touch of her nipple and let my hand trace down, down along her stomach, down past her naval to where her skin shivered to my touch and where her softest curls were snuggled against my hip.

Cynth moved back, peeling herself away. She was wet, so wet, wet with so much more than sweat. A new aroma came into my awareness, the rich and salty musk of my come, which had stayed pressed between her legs all the while we fondled and kissed. Instinctually, following the heat, I let my fingers slide down and in between her legs.

This was all so different than any of the wild encounters I had previously known in the back seats of cars or in a borrowed bedroom during a party. The fumbling, the fright, it had been replaced with what she was teaching me about the appreciation of slow and careful attention to every detail. Cynth had opened her legs to me. How she had posed up on the dresser and shifted her hips towards me so I could see what she held between her legs had been a promise, and this was the essence of that promise fulfilled. Cynth was letting me touch her as I had never touched any girl before.

Taking my time, enjoying it, enjoying her enjoying me, I'd drew my fingers lightly around the edges to either side of her vagina, along where her opened lips grazed her thighs, sliding between the sweated creases where her curls touched her legs. Then slowly, haltingly, as much for my pleasure as hers, I'd run my fingertips, like the glance of a feather, up the very center where her folds were soaking wet. Up and then down, I, as much as she reveling in the shivers caused by so gently sliding just the very tips of my fingers over the stiffness below the silky hood enfolding her clitoris.

All the while she kept her own fingers to my erection, hypnotically stroking me, then momentarily gripping, and sometimes letting her hand fall completely down to cup and caress my balls. The passion, it became something which had grown between us, a physical expression of what Cynth had been thinking as she'd openly exposed her body to both me and my camera, and of how I had hungered to have her while feasting upon her body with my eyes.

I finally slipped my finger within her vagina and began to probe her as deeply as I could. Curling my finger up to rub and press against the most intimate recesses of her pubic bone seemed to drive her wild. I could feel Cynth's pleasure of it with each new clench of her muscles and ensuing gush of wetness. She was so wet up inside, so hot, and tight, tight around my finger. Testing her, I began sliding in and out, stroking her back and forth, imagining it wasn't my finger but my erection, the one she held in her hand. And I knew it when we'd both gone to far and again we were nearing a frenzy. We couldn't seem to touch, to kiss, to probe, to squeeze, to stroke one another deeply enough.

Drenched in sweat, I remember being sodden from head to toe, and I do remember her taste, her smell. The aroma of Cynthia that afternoon will always be with me. It was passion and love, fire and water, caressing and groping for anything more; we just seemed to tumble and tumble until the covers were completely torn from the bed. Cynthia cried out, coming first, shaking and shivering with me following and losing my control, too. It was all so intense, just bursting out of me in deep, long and deliciously drenching gouts which shook me down to my very core.

Her face, I can see her clearly every time I wake from the memory, whether it's day or night. Cynth's eyes were wild, her cheeks and throat flushed a crimson red. With her free hand she held my finger within her, not daring to risk my letting her go. Her legs spread, insistently she clasped the flat of my hand, pressing it to her pussy, grinding her clitoris against my palm. And with her other hand she gripped me, cupping the head of my erection and gathering in every warm jet and pulse. Inside her I could feel her own innermost throbs, the muscles of Cynth's vagina contracting and gripping with every pulse of her orgasm. And too, I know she could feel me, through every long, deep and delicious rise and fall. I know I fed off of her, coming and coming, caught up in an explosive chain reaction of release unlike anything I had ever known.

It took us both a while to even begin to get our breathing back. Remembering it, even now, always gives me a flush and causes an uncontrollable smile to edge my lips. Over the years, while riding in a plane, just daydreaming or feigning attention during some boring meeting, I wonder how many people have witnessed that glazed look in my eyes, that tracing of a grin, never having a clue as to what scene is actually playing in my mind? Again and again, until it's become a cherished secret, I've fallen upon the memory of what we did with each other, touching each other as we did. And all the while the memory is made even that much more sweeter in knowing it was something we had caused within in each other, and that surely Cynthia has to remember it as vividly and as often as I.

Shaken, drenched, her bed in ruins, all we found was a brief respite. Such is youth. Even after an orgasm such as what we had just experienced, all I could find in my mind was the desire to be inside her. I'm sure she felt the same as I. No sooner had we begun to kiss, lightly at first, but with a quickly mounting passion, than we again found our hands upon each other's body. It's a dream, a haze of vignettes forming my complete recollection, but I had become hard again, not as quickly as before, but with a decidedly equal strength and vigor. I was on top of her. Cynth had opened her legs, drawing in her feet and raising up her knees in anticipation.

Before, after I had first come, she had told me to go slowly. But we were beyond any of that now. It was so natural, yet so wildly astounding to feel myself slide within. The knowledge of it, the awareness, the irrevocable change to my life in that one simple move was a moment of moments. I was over her, my back arched, my elbows locked. We both had our eyes wide open. Looking into to her I pressed myself down, not pumping wildly, but holding myself within. And she smiled. She smiled that Cynth smile, and reached her arms up around my shoulders, clasping her fingers behind my neck, and with her pussy she gave me the most delicious and wonderful squeeze.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, Jim."

That was everything to me, that simple and beautiful expression of acquiescence, "Yes, Jim." If I hadn't loved her before I certainly did right then. There was Cynth, the girl next door; she was looking up at me, smiling, her eyes full of that fire. I could see her face, her throat, her body, her breasts, the nipples I had been fondling just moments ago. How a day like this could come about I would never know, but nothing would ever, ever be the same.

No more words were necessary. I let go with my elbows, settling down atop her, with Cynth kissing me even before I could kiss her. It must have been the spending of the previous passion, but I found the clarity to make love to her for what seemed the longest time. We stayed together, her thighs around my hips, her breasts against my chest, the both of us moving in concerted unison so that we could best experience the intimacy shared in every penetrating stroke of my erection. Finally though, I pressed in and held myself, just feeling her and knowing she too, was feeling me. I was so deep and she was so warm and wet. Then I withdrew, only to enjoy the sensation when I reentered her, and began boldly stroking, working up our passion until her legs and feet were stretched up and out.

She was there, her voice wild and frantic. "I'm coming. Jim!" Her body tensed, her fingers so tight against my shoulders.

Hearing my own name, her eyes, her body, I cascaded down into a fit of pleasure, which just flooded out of me and into her. I'm sure I cried out, too. It had to be. But everything after that was and will always remain a wildly dizzying haze. I'm sure if I had been older my heart would never have survived. I just came and came, shuddering in wave after wave. Then, little by little, I seemed to come out of it. I was lying atop her, and Cynth's arms were still wrapped around my back. When I moved, she nuzzled her face into my neck obviously not wanting to let me go. Finally though, she released her hold on me and let me slide off to her side.

After that, as young and as impassioned as we were, we found a quiet time of soft and innocent sensuality as Cynthia lay naked in my arms, her body against mine, and her lips pressed against my neck.

It was she who heard the car door slam. I know it was her because she sat bolt upright. "Jimmy!" She stared right at me. "You've got to go!"

Like a fire drill I was up, not even sure when I had my shorts on if they were inside out. I gathered up my shirt and stuffed it in the camera bag. In a panic I heard her mom's voice downstairs.

"Cynthia, I'm home, honey!"

Cynth was getting dressed, too, pulling on a dress she'd grabbed from a dresser drawer. "You can go out the window," she said. "Take your camera bag. I'll get the tripod to you tomorrow."

I think I jumped over the bed, because with the thump of my feet, her mother's voice called out: "Everything all right up there?"

"Yeah, Mom!" Cynthia called out. "I was just taking a nap. I dropped something. Be down in a sec!"

I stepped out onto the roof wearing only my pair of shorts, my shoes in one hand, my camera bag in the other.

"There's a lattice work around the back," she said pointing. "Just be careful going over and climb down." She held a finger to her lips. "Don't make too much noise."

It struck me. I suddenly wondered how many times she had sent her boyfriend packing like this. But I didn't have time to dwell on it. I made it, and two days later while my dad was out to lunch, I lived that thrill all over again as I saw those images appear in the darkroom tray, one by one. Hanging the prints up to dry, and walking along and reliving it all step by step had my heart to pounding almost as it had up in her room.

There she was in that yellow dress with the blue flowers up on her porch. I could look at each print in order and see the progression, which had led us up to her bed. She was laying near the flowerbed, smiling up at me, having unbuttoned that extra button, and the tops of her breasts were open to the camera's view. And in her room, wearing that blue nightie, brushing her hair before the mirror. I was right, the photograph of Cynth framed in the window, the light had washed in behind her body exposing the tuft between her legs and causing her little nightie to all but disappear. But it was the one of Cynth naked and sitting on her dresser, which captivated me. I'd been so nervous at the time it had been impossible to truly appreciate the view. She was looking off, her hair on her shoulders and her arms behind her back. She had her knees held together, framing the pubic hair exposed between her legs, at the point where her thighs came together. And there was something so intrinsically feminine about Cynth's breasts with those firm nipples, even if the image I was looking at was in black and white. Her left breast was seen from the front, and yet also, reflected back in the mirror. Again letting my eyes follow the plump curves along the base and side brought to mind the feel of her breast when we had been on her bed and I had, at last, I held her cupped in my hand.

The shot of Cynth on the bed, lying there naked was a key to releasing the memory of how we had made love. I could see so many images, which weren't captured in the photograph, but were captured in my mind. How she had opened her legs so wide for me when I had asked her to, how she had pulled my shorts down and first touched me, how she had kissed me and how I had kissed her, and how it had felt to be buried so deeply inside her, all of these memories were there, but only for me to see.




Snap Shot



While looking I became so excited, my face and ears were flushed red and my erection stood in my pants. I'd only just got them down and put away when my dad came back, and still he noticed, even asking if I felt well and commenting about the color in my face.

The next day, out on her porch, Cynth and I went through them together. I was so apprehensive about it, but as always there wasn't any being anxious around Cynthia for long, and her interest was every bit as keen as mine. And when we got to the one of her on the dresser and then the bed, there was a heat and a silence between us. And then, without a word, she led me back upstairs, and Cynthia, that beautiful girl, she made love to me again, and as before we took our time with no panic, no frenzy, taking it soft and slow. We went on for hours and hours, becoming spent and then coming back to life, playing with each other, enjoying each other and me learning, learning everything a man needs to know. I think those few weeks before she went off to school were easy for us as it wasn't about love; we were already good friends. Our sex, our lovemaking was about passion, about enjoyment and pleasure in each other with no overtones or demands about commitment. We were free to be free with each other.

During one lull, when we were just talking, she revealed to me that it was her mother who had been the one to take her to the doctor and have her get on the pill. It was a revelation, which changed my perspective of her mother. And over the next few years, when Cynth was away at school and even after she came home engaged to her new boyfriend, I'm sure Mrs. Mitchell wondered why I would never accept any payment for cutting her grass or washing her car.

Here it is some forty years later. As a professional photographer I've traveled the world and photographed thousands and thousands of incredibly beautiful women. Somehow, that ended up being my forte. Little do they know that all the critical acclaim, all the awards on the wall in my studio, and all the times some of those women have held me in their arms, that it all harks back to that one afternoon in 1965.

I do know Cynthia sent the shots we took on her front porch to her boyfriend; what she did with our private snapshots I don't know. I do know Cynthia married well. I even took a special joy in photographing the wedding. It was that trademark smile of hers; I'd seen it before. But we did lose touch. As our memories were always between us, I think it was better that way. I believe she has three kids and lives somewhere in California, though I couldn't be sure.

It was a tragedy a few years ago when there was a fire in my studio and so many of my precious personal prints were lost; the worst of the tragedy being the loss of the copies of my set of prints from that afternoon. Luckily, there was one, my favorite, the one special shot that stood out above all the others. It was of her, Cynth, presenting her naked body to me while posing on the dresser. As much as seeing her so openly exposing herself to me, I've always cherished believing that I know what was going on behind those green eyes.

I had kept the photograph at my home, always near me, and it was saved. From time to time I've toyed with the idea of trying to contact Cynth, to see if she still has her prints and maybe even the negatives, but decided to just leave well enough alone, for now, anyway. Besides I have the one, the best, that single snap of the shutter, which caught the essence of that afternoon, the essence of Cynth. I've had it here before me as an inspiration while I wrote this little memoir. Of course, Cynthia Mitchell isn't really her name. I hope though, if by chance she ever reads this she'll recognize herself in these snapshots held in my memories from that unforgettable afternoon. I think she'll be flattered. In fact I know she'll be flattered, and I'm sure she'll smile.

This is my snap shot of Cynthia. Want to see it!?! I do have it. But you have to ask.



Snapped!



As I gazed from the entrance of the parking garage to the marble floor of the catwalk, all I could think of was the heels I was wearing. Being a pharmaceutical representative, I had to attend many a conference and meet with local doctors and fellow nurses. The convention this quarter was in a suburb of Chicago, and this meeting would allow me the opportunity to reconnect with fellow colleagues, maintain good working relationships with current buyers, and try to attract new buyers. These heels would do the job -- they were my lucky heels, and many a deal had been signed in boardrooms across the country with me in my business suit, wearing these beauties. Unfortunately, the stairs of my building had taken its toll, and now my lucky heels were a bit on the loose side. 

The catwalk, overlooking the hundreds of zooming cars of the roadway below, was the first challenge of the day. The marble reflected like glass and I took a deep breath, trying to curb the hesitation of my journey. As I stepped onto its veined coolness, a feeling of adventure washed over me...this was going to be an extraordinary day! The clicking of my 4.5", accountant-blue, spiked heels echoed throughout the long corridor, and the feeling of give caused me to have a heightened sense of position, tension and timing. The feelings, the sounds, the sense of vulnerability were all quite arousing, and as I crossed the marble water, I breathed a sign of relief that my favorite heels had succeeded in navigating the treacherous path, but I also felt a heightened sensual tension. 

While it did not show through the layers of my business suit, my breathing was deep and full, my breasts rose and fell in a way that stretched the cups of their bondage to full capacity, and I could feel my hardened nipples rubbing, trying to poke through the lace of their confinement. Walking into one of the many ballroom/conference rooms of the Center, I signed in, applying my nametag to my lapel, and found my seat for my overcoat and briefcase -- my mission was to mingle, to network, to make every moment a moment for people to remember and to market the products that would affect an industry. My mission was not to sit.

Hours went by like minutes, and friends, colleagues and clients old and new placed more orders and had many questions that I was able to answer. The end of Day 1 was approaching and, indeed, it had been a day to remember. My lucky heels had carried me through the miles I walked in the ballroom, and my mind lingered for just a few seconds on what it would have been like to dance in this room -- no doubt, my poor heels might not survive a twirl on this surface -- walking had proved to be possible, but I was ever mindful of the possibility that they would snap at any moment. 

I said good-bye to all remaining -- a scant few, and picked up my things to go. It was a good day, but because of the constant mindfulness of my cherished heels, the sexual tension of the day had continued to build. Oh to touch and be touched! As I walked along, my journey brought me, once again, to the hardness of that slick marble floor. I smiled this time upon seeing it, and tentatively stepped out onto its surface. Night had come and the lights of the passing cars spotlighted every step of my heels. I walked, ever mindful of the movement of my heels -- was that a creak? No, perhaps it was my imagination.....and then it happened - SNAP!! My left heel snapped from its sole in a thunderous noise, made even more thunderous by the marble and echo of the corridor! I tried to compose myself in this glass-enclosed hallway.

I reached down and picked up the separated heel, my fingertips brushing the deep-veined, cool marble floor beneath. Standing, I straightened myself up and came face to face with the most handsome man in all the world -- where did he come from? How did I not hear him? "Hi", he said, as he stood before me, "Are you all right?", he asked. "Yes", I replied, "But my heel broke.". I was muttering, flustered, completely consumed by his presence. With the tension of the day, the resounding snap of my heel and this man - I was in a vulnerable situation. "Perhaps I can help? Is it completely snapped off? Maybe I could try to put your heel back on?, he asked. I nodded, afraid to even look at him, knowing that he would be able to see the smoldering arousal in my eyes. "Let me help you to the garage, and then I will try replacing this heel." 

He handed me my overcoat, took my briefcase in one hand and took my elbow in the other. Leading me the rest of the length of the catwalk, my mind tried to make sense of these last few moments. The snap had sent a thunderbolt of electricity within me, and then I stood to find him....I couldn't even speak. He supported my arm as we walked to the parking garage. I came to find that his name was Jim, and he too had been attending a conference in a nearby ballroom. He was going back to his car when he heard the thunderous SNAP! of my heel and ran to see what had transpired. He ran there in time to see me picking up my heel from the floor. We arrived at the garage -- virtually empty, because of the lateness of the evening, and as I braced myself against the wall to give him leverage, he tried to reattach my broken heel. 

Holding my ankle, he measured up the nails of the sole with the holes of the heel and gave it a quick twist. Within a moment, he'd fixed it to being standable. Little did he know that in his ministrations, I drank in the scent of him, the feeling of his breathing as he labored to reapply the heel, the strength of his arms and the power of his legs....he was amazing. My body was on fire for him , though I tried to maintain some sense of decorum - I did not want to offend him if he was not interested in me -- after all, the only things I really knew about him in these few moments amounted to the fact that he was a perfect gentleman. 

He asked where I was parked and suggested that he escort me the rest of the way to my car. "After all, " he said, "You never know what might happen between here and there." Though I assured him that I was ok, I relished a few more moments with him. 

As we approached my car, I moved ahead of him a little bit, using my remote to open the back door of my car to place my things in -- and, in a split second it all happened - SNAP! SNAP! -- the force of my snapping heel caused me to lunge forward, snapping the second heel!! The force was incredible as I reached the door of my back seat just in time to catch myself from falling! Two broken heels, the echo of the parking garage and Jim - I was electrified!! Jim ran to my side, catching the flying heels on the way and swept me in his arms! Locking me into his embrace, he kissed me with all the passion and intensity possible. My fingers in his hair, I gave him all that had built up in the course of the day -- the excitement, the arousal, the foreplay of loose heels and the climax of the snaps! Feeling him, drinking him into my pores and through every sense, the rest of the world did not exist - it was only he and I in that moment - I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as my hardened nipples begged to be released from their gates to graze on his chest, his firm abs, his strong shoulders and powerful legs, and his hardness - steel manhood that stretched the confines of his trousers almost to the breaking point. His kiss was intoxicating as his lips pressed to mine and our tongues danced to a song all their own! 

My lower body sought out his firmness as his fingers massaged my aching nipple tips, my hands felt his broad back -- strength of the ages, he carried the world on his shoulders! He was the perfect definition of masculinity with a hidden vulnerable core that spiraled through and touched my heart. My tongue tracing the outline of his ear, down his strong jawline, I could not help but want to give him every pleasure for his goodness to me. Reaching behind me, I fumbled for the door handle and opened the door, still locked in his embrace and kiss. I turned us, so that he would have the opportunity of sitting and he moved onto the seat, waiting for me to join him. 

From my bag, I reached in and removed my backup heels -- showing him the brilliant stiletto 5 inch heels that I had packed in case my favorites snapped. His eyes lit up as I handed him the heel and asked his help in placing it on my foot -- with me outside the door, and him in the middle of the seat, it afforded me the perfect opportunity to stretch my leg to receive the gleaming heel and to press and outline his ever-growing hardness with it -- his eyes glazed over and closed and his grown of pleasure was unmistakable. I teased his manhood with the gleaming heel, and turned my foot inward, allowing his crown to sense the opening between my foot and the insole of my heel. He could no longer be held in this confinement, and slowly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. He was magnificent! The plum purple head of his silken crown, glistening with drops of his wetness, his manhood at full attention -- firm and hard, and his jewels -- handfuls of luscious sacks just waiting to be licked and suckled. I could resist him no longer and as he lay back on the leather seat, I followed, closing the door behind me. I wanted this man -- this man who was the thunderbolt to the SNAP! -- this man who had joined me in lighting the fire of desire that would consume us both. 

As I straddled him, he began undoing the buttons of my blouse, his nimble fingers working quickly, and spreading the two halves apart, he molded his hands to my yearning breasts, running a thumb over the erect point of my nipples. Rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger, he tugged ever so gently, then slightly more -- testing my ever decreasing willpower of the silken material. Slowly, he undid the front clasp that held me in place. The air was cold, and if I thought that my points could not become any more hardened, I was wrong. He worked magic in the coming moments, as I worked to massage his manhood with my silken thighs. Running my heels up and down his legs, his manhood had sought out and found the wet circle on my silken panties. Moving together, his manhood moved the edge of my panties over, and just as I descended to kiss his kips, his manhood kissed my entrance. Bathed in my wetness, he began the dance of the ages and another, intimate journey began. At the moment of truth, we looked into each other's eyes, and without a word, I bent my leg behind me to allow him to catch onto my heel and hold on. Stabilizing myself with one leg, his manhood growing within me, his jewels tight between us, we began to climax, pulling the heel with him and SNAP!! The electricity between us real and incredible, I swear that the car glowed! There could never have been a more perfect moment.

Spent, we embraced for a moment. In the heat and humidity -- the electricity of that moment -- we caught our breath and embraced. Looking up, sunrise had begun, and the adventures of a brand new day welcomed us in ways we could only imagine!! 



Snapped: A Shemale's Story



Camilla took a few steps out the door of her balcony to get a feel for the temperature. Thankfully it was cool out. It had been a hot day, which meant a cool night was welcomed.

She closed the door and pulled out a pair of gold hoop earrings. She was suffering from a mild case of the jitters. There was a date on the agenda tonight with a guy she'd been seeing for a couple months now. Camilla kicked a pair of high heels out of her closet while fastening the earrings.

A date was a big deal for Camilla. Even though she'd been out of school for about a year, she hadn't done much dating in her life. Not because she wasn't pretty, she certainly was. Many people mistook her for an Islander because of her long black hair and dark complexion. Camilla was tall and she had an attractive thickness to her body, mostly due to her full breasts and wide hips which branched out into her shapely and often-admired posterior. A guy friend of hers liked to call her Dubble Bubble, and I shouldn't have to tell you he wasn't talking about the bubble gum.

There's one simple reason for why she's been a little shy to date and often politely declined offers from many hopeful young men. Camilla's a shemale. She has a penis; a big one in fact - not that men would more easily accept a small one. It took Henry a few tries before he could convince her to go out. They'd met at her job; Camilla was a bank teller and Henry would purposely wait in her line even if it was the longest one there.

Henry was cute and nice too, though a bit of tough guy; or at least, that's how he carried himself. She thought he was the kind of tough guy who'd just never been taught that he wasn't yet, and Camilla thought that was sort of cute. One thing she knew for sure, with every date, Henry was getting more and more sexually aggressive.

He made no secret of his desire to get into her panties. Each time they saw each other he seemed to be more determined than the last time. That prospect was a little scary to Camilla. Henry wasn't going to find a pussy inside her panties, instead he'd find a big hard cock. How would he react to that? Camilla wasn't sure she was ready to find out the answer to that yet.

Still, when she got dressed, she felt drawn to the sexiest lingerie she owned. Camilla chose a beautiful red dress which showed off enough leg to be risque at the fancy restaurant he'd chosen to take her. Camilla figured Henry wanted to spring for an expensive meal in an attempt to guilt her into putting out. He could be silly like that. 

Camilla applied a deep red lipstick to her full pouty lips in the mirror. She put on a little eyeliner then flung her hair back until it collected in the right places to give her the look she was most fond of. Camilla just had time to slip her heels on before Henry buzzed the phone. He was downstairs waiting. 

They greeted each other with a peck on the lips that left his red from her freshly applied lipstick. She rubbed it off and giggled. That's red lipstick for you. Henry complimented how she looked throughout the entire ride to the restaurant. The words beautiful and knockout were used more than a few times.

The two got a premier table at the restaurant. Henry made it a point to slide her chair out for her. He was a perfect gentleman at the restaurant and they were having a great time. The wine started flowing. It seemed like every time Camilla finished a glass, Henry would be filling it up again.

They had plans to go elsewhere after dinner but after Henry opened the car door for her. She got in and he kissed her; Camilla eagerly returned the kiss. She felt like a lush after all the wine she'd consumed and it caused some of her inhibitions to go out the window. Her guard was officially down.

When she could pull his tongue from her mouth, she spoke, "Baby weren't we going somewhere?"

He tried to attach his lips to hers again instead of answering but she gently avoided it. Slightly frustrated, he answered, "I'd rather go back to your place. I'd take you home with me if my roommate weren't home."

She didn't have long to think about before his lips had found her tender neck. He sucked down to her collar bone. Camilla threw one leg over the other in an effort to hide her growing erection. It really was feeling good. "I don't know if that's a good idea." She said with her voice shaking. Henry kissed lower on her neck.

He pulled his lips from her and then gave her a kiss on the forehead. He looked her in the eyes. Henry ran his hand through her hair lovingly as he spoke, "Don't you trust me?" 

Camilla's resolve was wavering; her strength shrinking. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Camilla looked at Henry's boyishly handsome face and gave him a reassuring smile. Her lips sought his and they shared another tender kiss. "I do trust you. Henry I do."

He smiled back at her like a little kid on the first day of summer. He ran over to the other side of the car and got in. Henry stole another glance at her as he started the car almost to make sure she was still there. Thoughts of how fantastically beautiful Camilla was and what she might allow them do back at her place filled his head. . .

Henry's body was pressed up against hers as she fumbled through her purse for the keys to her apartment door. Camilla could feel his bulge try to pull the full cheeks of her butt apart. It was quite distracting! So much so that she dropped the keys once she'd finally found them. Camilla ground her ass against his erection as she reached down to pick up the keys.

He was on top of her before she even got the door open. Henry kicked the door shut behind him. Camilla fell backward onto the couch and he followed. They necked for a couple minutes, with Henry's penis desperate to squeeze between her legs and Camilla desperately trying to hide hers.

"Come on. Let's go to the bedroom." Henry told her in a smooth voice.

She kissed the side of his mouth and looked up at him happily. "What if I don't want to go? Are you going to carry me?"

Henry was going to say something sarcastic about how he didn't want to throw his back out, but Camilla closed her lips around his before he could. They kissed and rubbed one another's body passionately. 

He eventually grabbed her arms and tried to lift her up in the direction of her bedroom. She wasn't budging. "I've never seen your bedroom before. Tonight's the night. You don't have to worry - I'll take care of you!" He said enthusiastically. Henry could finally feel her move. She gave him another kiss and then let him lead her to the bedroom. 

Camilla teased him a bit, pretending to give him a mini-tour of her room, but he was only interested in the bed. Before long they were both on the bed; both shedding footwear and clothing fast. Henry was pulling his clothing off and revealing his cute little scrawny body to her just as quickly as he could. His red cock popped out of his boxer shorts and then Henry began tugging at the straps of her dress.

Camilla started to get a little panicky as her dress came off. How would he react to the surprise between her legs? Her heart had been racing from their steamy smooching, but now her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest. Camilla started to think about how she trusted him. She said she did. He said he'd take care of her. Maybe she should have sat him down beforehand and had a discussion in which she explained - 

"What the fuck?" She heard him whisper, to himself at first. Once he'd gotten her dress off, the bulge was obvious in her panties. Henry couldn't comprehend it for a good few seconds. Camilla had a cock? Were his eyes deceiving him? Henry knew that they weren't. Camilla did have a cock! 

"Baby." Camilla said softly, reaching out to him.

Henry jumped up and once the initial shock disappeared, he was angry. "You have a dick! Why didn't you tell me you weren't a woman!" He said with a disgusted look.

"I am, I am a woman. Baby come here. Let me explain." Camilla reached out for him but he dodged her hand. 

"Get away from me! You have a fucking dick!" Things were happening so fast. Henry hurried around the room and tried to collect his things. Camilla could feel the pit in her stomach grow.

"I do but please don't go." She was on the verge of tears. " Let me explain. Just lay back down honey and give me a chance explain." 

Henry pulled his pants up. He said, "Don't ever call me again. Looking at you makes me sick."

"Looking at me makes you sick." Camilla muttered the words back to herself, tears now freely rolling down her beautiful face. Henry grabbed his shirt and bolted out the bedroom door. Camilla had fallen back on the bed. She tried to ignore the cotton feeling in her throat and burning hot tears streaming down her face.

As she mulled over what he'd said, something happened. She thought about how he was the one who pursued her. She'd only agreed to go out on a date with him because he wouldn't quit asking until she did. Just tonight he asked her if she trusted him and she'd foolishly answered that she did. Henry said he'd take care of her only minutes before telling her that she made him sick. He'd gotten her drunk with the express purpose of sleeping with her!

In those moments of reflection, the old Camilla, the one that was too shy to look most men in the eye, was replaced with something else. Camilla snapped. The weak Camilla was gone. She got up from her bed and wiped the tears away. She was in nothing but the sexy lingerie when she rushed out of the bedroom door. 

Henry was still at the door to the apartment, slipping on his shoes when she spotted him. Camilla grabbed him from behind. "What, what are you doing to me! Let me go!" He yelped.

She didn't answer, preferring to let her actions do the talking for the time being. Camilla hauled him back to her bedroom. Henry fought but he couldn't get free of her hold. "Let me go!" He shouted again as she dragged him to the foot her bed. 

"Okay, I will." She told him coldly while lifting him up and then throwing him down on the bed. Henry was disoriented and he couldn't understand what she doing. He tried to get off the bed, but before he could, Camilla had jumped on top of him. 

Henry fought and kicked his legs as hard as he could. It was no use as Camilla outweighed him by a good bit. "What are you doing? Get the fuck off me!" He could feel her entire body against him; her big soft breasts and yes, her hard cock.

Then she started to wrestle his clothes off. He opened his mouth to say something but she shoved her tongue into his mouth before he could. Camilla whipped her panties off so fast that her dick sprung up like a diving board. Henry renewed his fight when he felt the tip of her cock tunnel between his legs and press against his vulnerable asshole. She was going to fuck him! And do it without lubricant! He worriedly thought.

Henry was actually relieved when he felt the tip of her cock discharge precum. Camilla's cock could create enough natural lubricant. It felt so thick, he didn't know how he'd take it. The realization that she was going to fuck him and there was nothing he could do about it hit him hard. That thought caused him to fight as hard as he could, again to no avail, she was bigger and stronger than him. His pleading and his crying were both muffled by her mouth. Camilla rubbed the big tip around the opening to his asshole and then roughly pressed it inside him.

The unrelenting tightness of his anus created the most pleasurable feeling of Camilla's life. Once she was inside him, she couldn't stop until every inch was stuffed up that little ass of his. Camilla plunged the length of her penis into the depths of his unprotected asshole and let out a long moan. 

On the receiving end of her cock, the pain was immense for Henry. He couldn't fight her off. He couldn't do anything but lie back helplessly as she reamed his virgin orifice. Henry whimpered under her. He could tell by the look in her eyes how good it felt. He was ashamed that his asshole was giving her this gratification. Henry's body flailed around on the bed as she pounded his defenseless butt. 

Camilla pulled her lips off his and looked into his eyes while her cock hammered into his virgin hole. "You shouldn't have walked out on me." She said as her hips rocked forward and caused her cock to bury all the way inside him. "This could've happened easier. I was actually going to let you fuck me. I know - hard to believe now. Now that you're nothing but Camilla's bitch." Camilla's cock withdrew just to be slammed back in. The sheer size of her penis and the strength with which she pummeled him took Henry's breath away.

He wasn't going to escape, but he had to stop trying to push her out of him. The friction it created was just making it more painful for him. Henry tried to relax his throbbing asshole. Instead of fighting her, he forced himself to stop trying to push her out. His eyes focused on her big breasts. They bounced around on her chest in time with her thrusting. He finally managed to stop his hole from spasming uncontrollably around her. 

Camilla felt his body go limp under her. He wasn't fighting. "You're not trying to stop me anymore. You made this happen Henry. I think you wanted to cling to Camilla's big strong womanhood with your tiny little cock-glove of an asshole from the beginning. Didn't you?" She drove her dick inside him with every ounce of strength in her body.

"Ughmm. . ." He sputtered. 

"You've probably fantasized about being taken by someone like me. A girl like me with a cock so much bigger and better than yours. Haven't you?" Camilla was close to blowing her load. She'd never done this inside a man. She was so excited; so overtaken by lust. "Haven't you, you little dick-taker!"

"OOOOHAhummm. . . Camillaaaaa!" He squealed.

Camilla rammed her cock inside him and gave into her orgasm. "Oh shit! Fuck YESSS!" She hissed, her dick beginning to spurt. The load was massive. Camilla ground her cock hard as the thick fluid filled him. Every inch of her monster was buried inside his tender walls, and now, every drop of her cum was dumping out deep into his body.

Her body was dripping with sweat. She collapsed on top of him. Camilla's soft breasts covered his face. She withdrew her shrinking cock with a pop from his gaping hole then rolled over on the bed. Henry took that as his opportunity to leave. he got up on the bed but his legs were so wobbly. Camilla grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"You stay. If you go home you'll just wash all of Camilla's sweet cream out. I won't fuck you anymore. . . tonight." Camilla pulled his face against her tits. She held him in her arms, waiting for him to nod off to sleep. Whether Henry liked it or not, getting fucked takes a lot out of a man. The aching in his ass started to dull as he began nodding off. She felt his breathing slow and finally closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep once she was sure he'd done the same. . . 

Camilla woke up the next morning to find her bed empty. A puddle of ejaculate which must have dripped from his ass while they slept had formed on her bed sheet. Camilla chuckled to herself. She'd given him quite the load. She staggered into the bathroom and washed the sleep from her eyes at the sink. She took a shower after brushing her teeth and it almost felt like she could still feel Henry's little spasming asshole around her cock. It was going to be a long time before she forgot such a feeling. Especially since she had plans to feel it again real soon.

After her long shower she picked up the phone and dialed Henry's number. His machine kicked on and Camilla could hear Henry's voice say, "Hey, it's Henry. Leave a message if you get a chance - oh and if this is Camilla, I'll be there to pick you up at seven. We're going to have a great time tonight. I've got it all planned out. Anyone else - just leave your message." 

Camilla decided to leave a message. "It's Camilla. I did have a great time last night. Call me back when you get the chance lover boy." She teased.

Camilla got ready for work and braced herself for a boring day at the bank. She checked her messages at lunch and saw that Henry hadn't called. Camilla was talking to a customer when she got the devilish idea to go over there tonight and surprise him. The bank was usually pretty deserted in the afternoon which meant there wasn't much for her to do. She straightened up in the back while counting down the seconds until her shift was over.

The long work day finally ended and she found herself outside Henry's door. She knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked louder. Still no answer. Camilla was pounding on the door with her fist before she stuck her ear against it and listened quietly. There seemed to be someone inside

"Henry, are you in there?" She shouted. "I wanted to thank you for the wonderful time we had last night. And you know, I think you're gonna be a lot looser next time. It shouldn't hurt nearly as - "

The door flung open. Henry stood in the doorway and pulled her into the apartment. "That isn't funny!" He whined. Henry was mortified that she shouted about such a private matter, about something he'd rather forget if only he could, so loud that the whole building might hear. 

She chuckled at him. Camilla took a look around his apartment. His roommate wasn't home. That made Camilla a very happy girl. "What's wrong with everyone knowing about our love-making bliss? You're telling me you weren't going to go bragging to your friends about it if you'd fucked me?"

Henry shut the door behind him and hoped no one had heard her outburst. "What do you want Camilla?"

"You weren't planning on skipping town or anything, were you?" Camilla sat down on the couch and put her feet up. "My dick hasn't gone soft since last night. It just remembers being inside you - it wants to go back there again. I told you I wasn't going to fuck you anymore last night and I didn't. Unlike you I actually mean what I say. But I never said I wouldn't want to fuck you today."

Henry's face turned red. He looked at the beautiful woman whom he'd longed to get into bed for months, the same one who pulled a cock from her panties and fucked him once they finally did get in bed. "I let you stick your thing in me once. I'm not gonna let it happen again. I'm asking you to leave Camilla."

She calmly processing his words. A broad smile played out over her full lips. Camilla stood up and got within inches of Henry. "You let me? I don't remember you having any say in the matter." Camilla suddenly grabbed his arm and locked it behind his back, he didn't try to fight as she pinned him up against the wall. "I took you then and I can take you anytime I want." 

Henry groaned because he knew she was right. He couldn't stop her then and he certainly wouldn't be able to stop her now. Henry felt her erection against his backside as she held him pinned. It pressed against his sore ass. Getting fucked again in the ass so soon would really hurt.

"Camilla. Please. My ass still hurts after you, after you made me yours last night. Can we let my asshole rest so it'll feel better the next time? We can try something else. Please." He told her in a soft, hopeful voice. Henry realized he was going to play by a different rulebook if he'd survive Camilla.

She started to nibble on his neck. She rubbed her hardened womanhood against his butt and gave a low moan in his ear. "I won't hurt you baby. Camilla just wants to feel good is all. Do you think you can make Camilla feel good?"

"I can, I can. I promise." Henry squeezed out of her grip and turned toward her. He gingerly pressed his lips against hers. They were so soft and full. Her mouth tasted sweet as their tongues met. How could she have a penis? Even though he knew it was true, he had felt every inch of it throbbing inside him, as he stood there kissing her, it still didn't seem real.




Snapped: A Shemale's Story



They kissed for a long moment, each just enjoying the feel of the other's body. Then Camilla broke the kiss and gave Henry an expectant look. He saw the look of lust in her eyes and knew she was intent on him helping her get her rocks off. Camilla led him by hand back to the couch and sat down on the middle cushion. She spread her legs apart and started to unzip her pants.

"Wait. My roommate could come home. Let's go back to your place. I'll be able to do whatever you want me to really good there." 

Camilla continued to unzip her pants. She fished the mass of flesh from her panties and let it stand up proud. "It'll be like a couple weeks ago when we had dinner with my mom and you kept trying to slide your hand down the back of my pants. There's a thrill to almost getting caught. I want you to suck my cock Henry. If you do it real good, you might be done before your roommate comes home. Then he won't have to find you with my prick shoved down your throat." Camilla grabbed her cock by the base and pointed it toward him.

The prospect of being found out by his roommate was terrifying. He would never live that down. Henry sunk to his knees between Camilla's legs and looked up at the twitching piece of meat. The contrast between the thick, masculine tool and Camilla's feminine, beautiful body was striking. Henry looked at her penis and didn't know where to begin. "I don't know how to suck cock Camilla." He said.

With her cock still in hand, Camilla grabbed a handful of Henry's hair and pulled his face against the tip of her cock. "You'll know how by the time we're through." Precum rubbed off on his cheek and glistened. The flesh of her cock was warm against his face. Camilla aimed her cock head at his lips and pressed it over their surface, leaving a trail of precum. Finally she pushed into them and felt his lips stretch to fit around the tip.

The inside of his mouth was warm and slippery. She fed him her cock with the grip she had on it. His lips stretched as far as they could as the inches of her shaft began to disappear.

"Uhmmm. . . mmmmuuhhhmm." He choked around her cock.

Camilla just smiled, taking in the fantastic sensation of his tight mouth. "Your mouth is so unbelievably hot. This feels fucking amazing." She felt his tongue slip and slide around the underside of her shaft as it tried to move out of the way. Judging by his face, she could see that she'd hit his gag reflex. "Close your cheeks down on Camilla's nice cock. I want a vice grip on it Henry."

He responded by sucking on her cock like a vacuum which caused his cheeks to collapse in around her penis. Camilla rubbed his head and ran her fingers through his hair. She let go of her cock and allowed Henry to bob his head up and down on the shaft. Henry had gotten more used to the idea of a penis in his mouth now. He concentrated on bringing her the most pleasure because he wanted this to be over before his roommate got home.

"You're such a sweet thing Henry. Why didn't you ever introduce me to this side of you before? Oh jeez - keep sucking. Mmmm. . . that feels so good baby."

He brought both hands up to her balls and rolled them around in his fingers before tickling the soft skin which encased them. He couldn't fit all of her in his mouth but he tried to make what could fit feel as good as humanly possible. It struck him that just last night these inches had been stuffed inside his ass and now they were poking against the back of his throat. Henry felt her balls constrict. Her shaft was swelling between his lips.

"OHHH shit! I'm gonna CUM!" She cried out. Just like that her cock started to flood his mouth. Shot after shot of ejaculate spilled down his throat. Henry swallowed as fast as he could with his mouth overflowing. He tried to pull a few inches of her penis from his mouth but Camilla wouldn't let him. She kept her hands firmly in place on his head as she came.

"Henry swallow it all. It's just like the load I shot up your ass. Swallow the treat Camilla brought for you. Taste it. Oh Henry I can feel your throat tightening around the head of my cock." She told him in between moans.

Henry did his best to swallow every drop that spewed from her cock. When her cock had finally stopped spitting out gobs of jism, she left the tip in his mouth and told him to nurse on it. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Camilla pulled her sticky cock from his lips. Henry stayed bent over on his knees before her.

"I suppose you should get cleaned up." She remarked about the cum dripping from his chin.

"Alright." In that moment he felt so cheap.

"Unless you wanna fuck me?" She suddenly said in a cutesie voice.

"What?" His eyes shot up to hers. She smiled at him sweetly for the first time since last night. "You'd let me do that?" He croaked.

"We were going to do it last night before you freaked out. Remember? So yeah, I think you've earned it. If it's what you want." Camilla stripped her pants off and sat back down on the couch. She pulled her panties up her legs and then hooked her arms under her calves so that she was spread open and accessible. Henry could see below her balls, the darkened skin around her anus and the beautiful little hole peeking out between her cheeks at him.

"Yes I want!" He gasped. Henry's pants were down around his ankles in an instant.

"Hold on lover boy. If you want to fuck it, you have to kiss it first. That's the rule." She giggled.

"Deal." It wasn't much to give up considering how appetizing her little hole looked. Henry grabbed a handful of each big cheek in his hands and spread them wide. His tongue poked out of his mouth and touched her tiny pucker. His face slid in between her big cheeks. Their warm softness covered the sides of his head. Henry slid his tongue right over the wrinkly opening. He could feel it tense against his touch.

"Mmm. . . that feels nice Henry." She said as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off. Her bra followed next.

Henry pursed his lips and started to plant kisses all over the little hole. Camilla pushed her ass against him, she braced herself as his tongue stiffened and pressed hard against the soft opening. It slowly started to give until Henry was poking his tongue inside. Camilla took a deep breath and he could feel her tense then relax around his tongue. He started to shoot his tongue in and out of his mouth against it like he was fucking her with his tongue. He could hear her moans even with his face stuffed in her ass.

No more than a few minutes had passed before Camilla grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted his head up. She looked at the silly grin on his face and giggled. "I think you're starting to like this Henry." Camilla pulled him up her body until his face was digging into her breasts. "Here I'll help you." Before Henry could say anything she'd licked across her hand and grabbed his cock with it. Camilla gave his stiff dick a few strokes and then lined it up with the opening of her asshole.

Just as the tip of his cock pressed against her sphincter, Camilla asked him, "But what if your roommate comes home? Do you really wanna get caught with your dick up my shemale ass?" 

"If it means getting to fuck you then yeah." Henry eased his cock forward inside the incredible tightness of her asshole. She grunted and moaned, getting used to a cock being in her ass for the first time. His pubes were rubbing against her balls by the time he'd fit every inch of his average-sized cock inside her. Henry could feel her soft slippery insides squeeze his shaft.

It wasn't long before he started thrusting harder inside her. Camilla felt the pain slowly subside. Henry shook his face between her tits and took her hard nipples into his mouth while he fucked her. She could feel his cock flex against her prostrate, which made her moan. Henry realized every time he hit that spot that she couldn't help but moan and give his cock an extra squeeze. He used her breasts as leverage to dig his cock as deeply as possible inside her asshole

"Ohhh. . . Henry, this feels nice too. It feels good to you too, doesn't it? Yes. . . fuck Camilla. Give it to me!" 

"Yes!" Being inside her was everything Henry had hoped it would be back when he thought it was her pussy he'd be fucking. Henry didn't have too much experience in the bedroom department, but he'd been with a couple girls. Camilla's asshole felt so much tighter than anything he'd felt elsewhere. This was better, he thought as pressed her tits together and kissed them. He kissed up her breasts and neck until his lips found hers with his cock pulsing inside her. 

Camilla's cock was as hard as a rock. It was pinned between them and leaked precum. He grabbed it and she moaned. Henry started to stroke it; he realized he was rapidly losing control as his orgasm neared. His cock pounded into her slippery tunnel again and again.

He peeled his lips off hers just long enough to say, "Camilla. . . can I cum?"

"Yes baby. Mmm, fuck Camilla and CUM!" 

Her words were music to his ears. Henry drove his dick to the hilt in her ass, squeezing her tits as hard as he could. Ropes of cum shot from his cock and landed inside her ass. More and more exploded from his balls. It was the biggest load of his life. Even once she'd taken every drop of cum, he could still feel Camilla's strong anal muscles massage and milk his cock. . . 

Camilla and Henry said their goodbyes before his roommate could stumble home drunk. It was the next night now. Henry and his roommate had some friends over for the playoffs - not the good ones since it was already June. Things began to feel normal again for Henry. He was having guy time. No one knew what he'd been through the last two days. 

But Henry couldn't pay much attention to the television as he kept thinking about Camilla. He couldn't get her off his mind. Henry couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he had overreacted on the night he tried to walk out on her. He pulled a picture of hers from his wallet and looked at her pretty face. Did it really change anything that she had a big fucking dick?

Camilla's erection chafed in her pants. She walked up the stairs in Henry's building and smiled to herself as she heard commotion from inside his apartment. She burst through his door. There was a room full of guys in the living room huddled around the television with chips and beer. They looked at Camilla with puzzled expressions.

"Get these people out of here Henry." 

"What are you talking about? We're watching the game." Henry piped up, surprised to see her and not wanting to look like a wimp in front of them.

"This is my apartment too!" His roommate told her, turning up the volume on the television. 

"Fine. They can stay." Camilla came up beside Henry on the couch and grabbed his arm. "But you're coming with me." 

"Where?" Henry batted her hand away and tried to feign confidence in front of the guys.

"To the bedroom." Camilla lifted him up to his feet.

A couple of the guys started to laugh. "You're whipped," one of them said. 

"She must be really horny. Can't get enough of Henry." Another one laughed.

Camilla pulled Henry into the bedroom and started kissing him. "Let's go back to your place." He offered hopefully in between kisses.

"I need you now. Mmm," she moaned. "I missed you."

The words made him feel wanted by her. He started to kiss her back and said, "Okay. But we have to be quiet."

She pulled him to the bed and smiled. "Unless I want to make you scream."

They were pulling each other's clothes off when Henry asked, "You locked the door, right?"

"No. What's the matter? You don't want to get caught with Camilla's dick plugging up one of your delectable little holes?" Camilla ripped her panties off and began rubbing her womanhood against the inside of his thighs.

"Just let me lock the door. Please. They'll be able to hear us in here." 

Camilla didn't let go of his arm. "I want you to ride my cock." She told him in a voice that meant no funny business. Henry shrugged.

She watched as he obediently straddled her hips. His scrawny body hung above her thick cock. Camilla spit in her hand and rubbed it on her shaft. Henry grabbed it right afterwards and pressed the tip between his cheeks. He spread the tip around his hole to smear her precum. "I'm still a little sore. Go easy please."

Camilla moaned as she felt the head of her cock pass through his tight sphincter. "I'm not going to do the work. You're gonna ride Camilla's cock like a good little cowgirl for her."

Henry grabbed her breast flesh in his hands and started to gently lower himself down on her cock. He was impaling himself on her penis. The inches of her length started slipping in with more ease than they had on the first night. Henry found himself humping up and down on her before he'd even taken the entire length. Camilla finally felt his butt cheeks meet her body. Every inch was buried inside him.

"Now ride me baby. Make Camilla feel good and she might just make you feel good." She moaned.

Camilla could see Henry's half-hard cock bounce up and down as he did; it thumped against her stomach with a loud smack. Henry pounded his body down on her cock. He was paranoid that one of the guys might take a quick look in his bedroom and see what was happening. Henry didn't want to get found out, but he couldn't help moaning. It felt too good.

"Mmmm, you like that Henry. You like riding Camilla's cock! I wonder how your friends would feel about you if they saw this? They'd know you were mine." Camilla reached behind Henry and grabbed his round little cheeks in her hands.

"I love it Camilla! It feels sooo good. You're so big. Please don't tell on me." Henry didn't even know what he was saying. His entire body was concentrated on the pleasurable task at hand. When he heard their flesh slap together again, he pulled his hips up until only a few inches remained inside him, then threw all his weight back down.

Camilla wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down on top of her. She started bucking on the bed. Her cock dug deep inside him. "Your little asshole is so sweet that I may just keep it as my secret. Fuck! You make Camilla feel so good baby."

Camilla knew she was going to cum soon. What she didn't know was that Henry was thinking the same thing. They both had to cum. Camilla squeezed him so tightly against her body that he felt her grip would never cease - and at that moment, he couldn't have cared less if it didn't. They were experiencing a special kind of bliss which didn't come around every day. The sexual bliss attained by a shemale and her man when her dick is so deep inside him that it damn near becomes part of him.

"Ohhhh, oh fuck! Camilla is gonna fill you up with her seed!" She shouted.

Henry couldn't help it as his cock started shooting cum between them at the very moment hers began spurting. Camilla held the man she'd made hers two days ago and planted every last drop of ejaculate her balls could produce inside him. Their bodies writhed together in orgasm. It didn't matter whether anyone walked through that bedroom door and found them out, Camilla and Henry both felt this was more the beginning of something than the end of something.

Something which never would have existed if not for a shemale snapping.



Snapper Times Two



This is a true story of something amazing and confusing that happened to me a long time ago between, myself, my girlfriend and her "church mouse" girlfriend/roommate. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. All of us were over 18 at the time.

*****

I met my girlfriend Sharon when I was racing off road in District 37 in the southern California desert. She was the sister of one of the guys in the club. She was 19 and shy but incredibly sexy and as I came to find out, a virgin. We met on the Saturday night before the Sunday Hare and Hound race. 

We hit it off right from the start. We spent most of the night talking, flirting, and really getting to knowing each other. I forced myself to be a gentleman and not get too forward with her because she seemed shy. 

It was hard to believe such a beautiful girl could be that shy. She had the most amazing body of any woman I have ever seen. She was not tall and she was not short. She stood at about 5'6" and not an ounce of fat on her. Her figure was to-die-for. She taught aerobics but she was not emaciated like some of the exercise freaks at the gym. She had big tits that were so firm I thought they might be fake at first. She also had a small waist with a tummy that was hard as a rock. Her hips were in perfect proportion to the rest of her package with the tightest ass I have ever had the pleasure of stuffing my face in... 

When she wore tight shorts, her puffy pussy lips made a mouthwatering camel toe. However, I am getting ahead of myself. After the race on Sunday, her brother invited a couple of us back to his house for a BBQ. 

Sharon and I were inseparable. It was as if we were glued together. As things wound down, I asked her brother Jack if I could crash on a couch since I had had a few beers. He set me up in a loft in the attic. Sharon grabbed some sheets and blankets and said she would make the bed. 

As we were making the bed, she hinted that she wanted to stay with me. I was surprised but enthusiastic. After a lot of petting, the inevitable happened. That is when I found out that she was a virgin. It was a challenge to get my dick in her the first time. We ended up seeing each other for about 6 months until the story you are about to read happened.

Snapper Times Two

It had been a week since I had seen Sharon and I missed her company. She had a way to make even the most sour personalities smile. The phone rang and when I answered it, her breathy voice said, 

"Why don't you come over tonight and eat me for dinner." 

It was not like her to be so graphic. The way she said it made butterflies in my stomach. Then she added, 

"I want to smother you with my pussy." 

I thought she might have had a couple of drinks but I did not ask for fear of ruining the mood. I took a quick shower, jumped in the truck, and headed her way. I spent the entire drive puzzling about what had gotten in to her. I fantasized about all kinds of things, which kept my cock hard for most of the hour's drive to her house. 

Sharon lived in a one-bedroom apartment with her girlfriend Lucy. Sharon and Lucy had been best friends since elementary school. Lucy was a gorgeous blonde with an athlete's body. Not much in the tit department, but an ass that any man would love to eat. 

Lucy was a conservative, intelligent girl with a winsome personality. She was devoutly religious, going to two bible studies a week and church on Sundays. I figured she was the rare type of beautiful girl who wanted to wait until she was married. Little did I know how wrong I was. 

Both girls slept in the bedroom in separate twin beds. On the nights I stayed over Sharon just put a sock on the doorknob. That way when Lucy came home, she would sack out on the couch. When Sharon answered the door dressed in a thong and black 4" heels, I figured Lucy was away that weekend. 

With my cock being hard all the way to her house, I wanted to bend her over and fuck her until she begged for mercy. However, she would have none of that. She said, 

"No touching until after we eat dinner." 

The only thing I wanted to eat was her pussy. She had a romantic candle light dinner set up with a delicious selection of Sushi. She sat me down and poured me a glass of wine, leaning over to let just the hard nipple of her right tit brush my arm. When I started to react, she pulled away and sat down. 

We ate a light dinner and had a couple of glasses of the wine. It was hard to not stare at her gorgeous body and maintain any sort of intelligent conversation. She acted as if it was normal for us to have dinner with her naked and I fully clothed. 

I suddenly was not hungry for food anymore. All I wanted to eat was pussy. She stretched our dinner to the point that I was ready to cum in my pants without being touched. She did all the sexy licking of her luscious lips, sucking on strawberries, Etc. until I would not take it anymore.

I stood up, grabbed her by the hair, and led her to the middle of the living room where she had a mattress pad and silk sheets laid out. She got down on her knees and proceeded to pull my pants off. 

I do not wear underwear and when she got my pants down past the end of my cock, it sprang up with such force that it hit her chin with an audible smack. It was as hard as it had ever been with the big veins bulging out and the head purple and angry. It was pulsing with my heartbeat and looked like it wanted to rip somebody apart. 

I laid her back and proceeded to eat her gorgeous pussy. I went as slowly as my aching balls would permit. I started by licking down her gorgeous flat tummy to the top of her pussy just far enough to feel the swell of her mound. I repeated this until she was squirming. I moved lower so that I could access her whole twat. I started by licking her outer lips so that my tongue just barely made contact. 

Occasionally I would let my tongue glide over her engorged and exposed clit. She was dripping wet, literally. When I figured I had gone almost to the breaking point, I put my mouth around her magnificent clit and sucked hard. She came immediately squirting all over my face. She was a bit of a squirter if she was horny, but this time she almost drowned me. 

I lapped up as much as I could while jamming my finger in her and massaging her G-spot. She let loose again with a stream that I was able to catch in my mouth. God she tasted good. My cock was so hard it hurt. It felt like I could cut glass with it. 

Just as her orgasm seemed to be subsiding, I raised her legs above her head and pressed the head of my cock at her entrance. Normally I have to be careful on the first penetration because I have a very big cockhead with a pronounced corona and her puss is very tight. It usually makes a popping feeling when passing through her lips. 

I sensed that she was looking to be fucked hard, so as soon as my cockhead was wet from rubbing her lips, I arched my back and jammed my dick all the way to her cervix. Her eyes widened and she let inhaled so loudly it sounded like she was coming up for air after being held under water. 

She looked at me as if she was wishing she had the dick and was jamming it in me. Then her expression changed to that of someone in a contest of life or death and she started fucking me back as I have never experienced in my life either before or since. 

She writhed and wiggled on my cock with her vagina beginning to squeeze and retract in a rhythm with her thrusting, banging her cervix into my cockhead until it almost started to hurt. I could tell she was almost ready to cum because the contractions were getting faster and faster. This sent me over the edge and I said, "Get ready to drown in sperm." With her pussy squeezed my cock like a vice, cum squirted out with such force that it felt like my cock would rupture. 

I pushed in her as far as her little pussy would let me forming a seal between her cervix and the end of my cock. Cum was forced against her cervix with such pressure that I am sure it went through the tiny opening in her cervix and splattered her womb. 

Her vagina never let go squeezing with such pressure that I swear it felt like a very powerful hand wrapped around my dick. I must have squirted at least 12 or 13 hefty shots. 

Looking into her eyes, she looked like a wild creature trying to bring down an animal much bigger than her until the orgasm faded and she passed out. Her pussy loosened up and was contracting and releasing, gently milking the last drops from me. Never have I been fucked like that either before or since.

I just laid there feeling her pussy pulsate on my softening cock until it subsided. As I pulled out of her, she opened her eyes, smiled, and said 

"wow." 

We both laid there for a while cuddling. I was massaging her beautiful tits noticing that her nipples never went down. She wiggled her but against my semi-hard cock asking me without words if I was ready yet. To which my cock answered by getting rock hard and pressing into the crack of her firm ass. 

What happened next was something that I will never forget as long as I live. She rolled me on my back and smiled a wicked smile lifting her body up high enough to place my cockhead inside her. With one swift motion she impaled herself on me cock until the head hit her cervix so hard I thought it would break my dick. Her eyes became glassed over and she proceeded to fuck me by lifting up until just the head was at her opening then sliding down in a smooth controlled decent all the way to the bottom of her pussy. 

Just as her puss started to contract, the front door opened and her girlfriend walked in and turned on the light. Sharon's back was to the door. She was frozen at the top of her stroke with my rock hard dick glistening with her juices exposed to Lucy's gaze. Sharon looked at me not knowing what to do. I jokingly said, 

"Well you might as well get naked and join the party." 

What surprised both of us was that she said 

"hell yeah. 

She shut the door and whipped of her dress as fast as possible kicking it out of the way so hard that it landed on the dining room table. Sharon smiled at me and proceeded to continue her trips up and down my cock. 

Lucy turned off the light, came around, and squatted on my face. She had a gorgeous pussy that tasted like honey. She was gently rubbing her lips against my tongue occasionally sliding far enough to touch her clit to my tongue. 

Sharon and Lucy both started to increase the tempo at the same time my cock got that feeling of reaching the point of no return. Lucy leaned over and started French kissing Lucy with ferocity. We all three came at the same time with me being drowned at both ends in female ejaculate. 

When we untangled ourselves, nobody said a word. Sharon leaned towards Lucy and they kissed for a long time. I just laid there watching as they proceeded to make love to each other. My cock never went soft. 

Lucy was laying on her back propped up on her elbows watching Sharon eating her puss and me stroking my rock hard cock. Lucy broke off and changed places with Sharon. She was on her knees eating Sharon with her gorgeous ass facing me. 

I looked at Sharon to try to read her but she was enjoying being eaten too much to care. I crawled up to Lucy's ass, stuck my face in her twat, and breathed in deeply. She started to squirm on my face and uttered the first words since she walked in the door. Looking up from Sharon's pussy with her face drenched she said 

"I want that big dick of his in me." 

Sharon looked at me and said "go for it."

I got to my knees and started rubbing my cockhead on her puss to wet it thoroughly. She looked incredibly tight. I lined up and pushed hard but it would not go in.

I tried several times pushing harder each time but her puss would not yield. Lucy said 

"just jam it with all you got and don't worry about hurting me." 

Therefore, that is what I did. As the head passed in with a distinct pop, her lips stretched so thin I thought they might tear. She gasped loudly and said, 

"Fuck me hard."

She was wet so I pushed into her all in one thrust with the head ramming into the bottom of her cuny and still had 2 inches left outside. As soon as I hit bottom, her pussy started snapping on my dick so hard that it did not seem possible. 

I felt so blessed to have two genuine red snappers in one night let alone at the same time. Even after cumming twice already I could not hold back. With her pussy clamping and releasing my squirting cock I emptied what felt like a gallon in her. 

Sharon came again on Lucy's tongue and she squirted a stream into her open mouth. Lucy caught most of it and swallowed. 

After everyone's orgasm subsided, we lay there panting, dripping in sweat and ejaculate, and happy. No one said a word. There was no awkwardness. The satisfaction was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

We all dozed off for a while and I woke up with my cock in Lucy's mouth. The night seemed to go on forever. I must have cum at least eight times and I lost count of how many times the girls reached orgasm. 

We finally stopped and fell asleep at around 4:00 AM exhausted. When I woke up the girls had both showered and were quietly cleaning up the apartment and cooking breakfast. I got up and went into the shower feeling like a stud. 

I got dressed in the bedroom and went out to the kitchen. Both girls were sitting at the table waiting for me before eating. I felt a real tension between them that made me sad. I tried to break the ice by saying that last night was the most memorable thing that I have ever experienced. 

I said that it was something that I could not even imagine in my wildest fantasies. Neither one of them said a word. I said I hoped the situation would not affect their friendship in a negative way. What happened was beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. Again, neither of them said a word or even acknowledged me. After we finished breakfast, Lucy went into the bedroom and laid down. Sharon cleaned up and said that I should probably go. I did not know how to respond. 

I made one last plea to try not to let it affect her friendship. I said if anything, I would think it would be something you and her could reminisce about when you were old and grey. She just said 

"I will talk to you later and closed the door on me."

I drove home in a mess of emotion. The wonderful experience of the night before had a cloud of sadness hovering over it. I never saw Sharon again. She refused my calls. I sent her flowers with a long letter urging her to let it be and to work out her feelings with Lucy. 

I told her that I hopped that she would remain friends with her. I never mentioned our relationship because it was obvious that we were done as far as she was concerned. I have never felt such conflicting emotions in my life. Therefore, the two red snappers have been filed away in my memory banks to be revisited when I am too old to do anything but think about the good old days.



Snappy Phone Sex



"Just dial the number before I think up something else!" Mindy snapped. She was not happy at the moment and since I was the one causing her unhappiness I figured that it was best to do as she said.

The only problem was that I was having serious trouble dialing her phone. She had me on her bed, on my knees with my face pressed into the mattress and my ass in the air. My hands were tied to my knees and my knees were stretched wide and tied to the legs of the bed. There was no way I was going to be able to dial the phone and she knew it. I think she set me up to fail so that she could use it against me later.

Eventually she realized it was hopeless, took the phone, dialed the number, put it on speaker phone and placed it on the bed near my head.

"Just ask the questions we went over and you'll be fine" she said as the phone was ringing.

Eventually the ringing stopped and someone answered.

"Thank you for calling the Trojan company. This is Anna on a recorded line, how may I help you?" She had a sweet voice and I immediately regretted ever agreeing to do this, but Mindy would never let me off the hook at this point.

"Hi Anna, my name is Luke and I just had a few questions for you about your condoms."

"That's what I'm here for, what's on your mind?"

"Well...my girlfriend wanted me to ask you a few questions."

"That's usually how it is Luke" Anna responded. "Safe sex is very important and usually the girl is the one concerned about it. Is she there? I can just talk with her if you like."

"That's ok Anna...you're on speaker phone and she told me to ask you the questions myself."

"Haha, ok...ask away. I've heard it all before you know, working at a condom company and all."

"Well we were using your condoms in a bit of a different way and just wanted to make sure it was alright"

"Different how? And could you speak up it's a bit tough to hear you."

"Sorry about that Anna, kind of lying down at the moment."

"Just sit up then, it'd make it much easier."

"Wish I could, but I'm kind of tied up at the moment." With that comment Luke blushed and Mindy gave his ass a good slap leaving a pink hand print. The slap rang out and there was no way that Anna could have missed the sound.

"Oh really?" she asked with a bit of a smile in her voice. "Was that a slap I heard?"

"Yes" Luke mumbled as he tried to burrow into the bed.

"And when you said tied up, what did you mean exactly?" Anna asked excitedly.

Luke described the situation; immobilized, naked, head down, ass up, knees spread wide.

"Now I'm really curious Luke. What did you call me to ask?"

"Well we like to play games sometimes, but wanted to make sure we wouldn't break the condoms."

"Tell me what you are doing with them and I'll let you know if it's ok."

Just as Luke was about to speak Mindy gave him another slap, Anna heard it and giggled.

"Sounds like you are being a bad boy Luke" Anna chided "better tell me what you are doing before you get in more trouble."

"Well, I'm not doing anything, but Mindy likes to spank me a bit. She got this idea to hold the tip of a condom against my butt, stretch it back as far as she can, and then let it snap. It left a nasty little welt and I didn't like it. Told her it was a bad idea, not what the condoms are made for and she told me to call you and ask what you thought."

"Hmmmm....interesting. Definitely not what the condoms are made for but I don't know...Mindy are you there?" asked Anna.

"I'm here" replied Mindy, speaking for the first time.

"Good, I'm not sure what to say though. Think I'll need a demonstration before I can decide. I want you to really try to stretch the condom until you think it will break and then let it snap back."

"Anna, you dirty girl" Mindy laughed. "Coming right up" As she said this Mindy held the condom against Luke's right butt cheek, stretched it back and let it go. Anna could hear Luke sucking in his breath and then a seriously loud crack as it exploded against Luke's ass. He panted for a few seconds and then swallowed hard trying not to make a sound.

"Mindy?" asked Anna.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I heard the snap but no yelping. Tell me what happened."

"Well Anna, I did what you said. Left a nice mark on his ass but he managed not to cry.

"Hmmm...and how is the condom?" she asked.

"It's fine."

"In that case you'll need to try again. Make sure to really pull back this time."

"You got it." Mindy muttered as she focused on stretching the condom as much as she could. This time it was resting against Luke's left butt cheek. She let go and it snapped back even harder than before. Luke lost his breath, bit his lip, and grunted, then started to gasp for breath but still did not make a sound.

"Mindy, I can't hear a thing, tell me what's going on." Anna demanded.

"Well, I did what you said. Two nice marks on his ass, and he's panting like he ran a marathon with a layer of sweat all over, but he's biting his lip and keeping his mouth shut. The marks are deep red. One on each cheek and the way I have him tied his ass is spread wide open and his balls are dangling there, swinging back and forth. The condom is fine by the way."

"Hmmmmm...tougher to make a decision than I thought. I have an idea though. You said his balls were swinging back and forth. Put your hand on the small of his back to stop the motion. Then cup his balls and get him hard. Place the tip of the condom right against the back of his scrotum and pull it back as much as you can. Let's see what happens then." Anna said with an evil glint in her voice. Mindy could just hear her deeper than usual breathing over Luke's panting.

So, Mindy reached out and placed her hand on Luke's back to stop the swaying. She cupped his balls and reached around for his cock. Luke was soft due to the pain and distraction and it took some work to get him hard. "Come on Luke. You know we just need to do this so Anna can let us know if it's ok for the condoms. Get hard right now or we will have to stop without an answer."

Luke buried his face in the bed and focused on Mindy's hand. He managed to get hard and felt her let go, then really began to get scared. The more he thought about what was going to happen the harder he panted. Mindy placed the tip of the condom against his scrotum and pulled back.

One summer, when she was much younger, Mindy had gone to overnight camp and taken up archery. She remembered back to that time and drew the condom as tight as she could, stretching it from Luke's balls back to her cheek. Fuck this is going to be good she thought as she watched Luke squirm in anticipation trying to bury himself in the bed. Ok...she counted down in her head...three...two...one...and then breathed in and let it go.

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She heard Luke yelp as his balls ricocheted back and forth like a pendulum. Then she saw him go limp and fall forward, only supported by the ropes around his knees.

Luke had no memory of what happened. He felt the pain then woke up hours later in the bed, curled in a ball with the blankets pulled tight. Mindy told him that after that last snap Anna decided that it probably was not ok for the condoms to be used like that but that she would need to ask her manager Sarah. She said that Sarah would be in tomorrow and recommended that they call back then if they really wanted answers to their questions. "Of course Sarah might have a few questions of her own." Anna warned.

Mindy then whispered to Luke "Obviously, I told her that after all that hard work we definitely wanted answers."



Snaps



I arrived at the hotel late on Sunday afternoon. The conference wasn't due to start until the following afternoon and, as far as I could make out, most of the delegates were not planning to arrive until the Monday morning. Still, being one of the few early arrivals suited me fine. I'd had a hectic week, followed by only a day to tidy up my conference presentation and then a long drive. I was looking forward to a quite evening with a couple of glasses of wine and a good book. At least that was my plan until I walked through the lobby bar and almost straight into Cathy Harris.

'Hi,' I said. 'Here for the conference?'

'Yeah. I thought I'd get here early for a change.'

I didn't know Cathy that well. I'd met her through a mutual friend and we'd subsequently bumped into each other at a couple of conferences. I wasn't even that sure what she did – something to do with change management, I thought.

'You're looking well,' I said.

'Thanks.' 

She was looking well, too. In her late 30s and good looking in a slightly chunky way, she was the kind of woman you noticed when she walked into a room, even when that room was a reasonably a crowded room. 'I was just about to have a quiet glass of wine,' I lied, nodding towards the bar. 'Could I persuade you to join me?'

'That would be nice,' she said.

She was wearing a well-fitting pair of jeans, with a simple scoop-necked T-shirt and a red leather jacket that looked as though it had cost plenty.

'White?' I asked.

'Whatever,' she replied.

I asked the barman for a bottle of sauvignon blanc and a couple of glasses. He said he'd bring it over, so Cathy and I found a quite table in the corner.

'This hotel's quite interesting,' I said, kicking off the conversation.

'Yes,' she said. 'Apparently the design is based on a Spanish palace. I don't remember which one.'

'You've been here before?' I asked.

She nodded. 'Just once.'

'Yet another bloody conference,' I suggested.

Cathy hesitated. 'Ah, no,' she said. 'I came here with my friend Jennifer. To take some photographs.'

'Oh. So you're a bit of a photographer then?'

'I'd like to be,' she said. 'At this stage I'm still learning.'

'Do you specialise in architecture?' I asked with an expansive hand gesture that included the bar and beyond.

Cathy frowned slightly. 'Architecture? Oh, I see what you mean. No. I came here to photograph Jennifer. She wanted some photographs of herself to ... well, to send off to a magazine actually.'

'So you're a published photographer,' I said, beginning to see Cathy in a whole new light.

'I suppose so, 'she replied.

The barman brought our wine and poured a glass for each of us.

'Cheers,' Cathy said.

'Cheers,' I echoed. 'Would I have seen any of your photographs?' I asked.

Cathy smiled. 'I suppose that rather depends on your taste in top shelf magazines.'

For a moment I was almost thrown. Had she said top shelf? 'Your friend Jennifer is a, umm, a glamour model then?' I said.

'Good heavens no,' Cathy said, almost choking on her wine. 'She's the administrator for a rather staid firm of estate agents.'

'I'm confused,' I said.

Cathy laughed. 'It's a long story,' she said. 'Where shall I start? Jennifer's 45, 46. Quite good looking – although hardly a Page Three girl. Mind you, who is in their mid-40s? But she's OK. She's got a bit of a tummy and gravity has more influence on her boobs than it once did, but, no, she's a good looking woman. She dresses well, speaks well, and lives in a nice house in a nice village. Most people would probably say she's got it made. Except about six months ago, her husband – to whom she'd been married for almost 20 years – suddenly announced that he was leaving to set up house with a 23-year old fashion model.'

'A bit of a shock?' I suggested.

'Totally out of the blue,' Cathy said. 'Actually, he didn't mention the 23-year old at first. That came out a bit later. But, no, for a few weeks there, Jen was just devastated. But then, I don't know, a couple of months after Mike had moved out, Jen phoned me and asked if I would take some photographs of her. It was the first time anyone had actually asked me to photograph them. I was chuffed. So I said yes, I love to, did she want me to come over to her place or what? And she said, no, she wanted to go somewhere really exotic. And then she told me she'd seen some pictures of this place in a magazine and she wanted me to photograph her here in one of the suites. So I thought, hey, what the hell!'

'What the hell, indeed,' I said.

'Anyway, Jen makes the bookings and we come down here on the following Saturday. And I have to tell you, the suite we had was something else again. Talk about luxury. Anyway, we arrive at about four o'clock and get unpacked, and then Jen asks me if I'd mind getting room service to send up a bottle of wine while she has a bath. So I organise the wine and Jen disappears into this bathroom that's about the size of a small ballroom. About five minutes later, Jen walks back into the sitting room part where I am – stark naked – her not me – and says "What do you think?" Well, I'm not sure what to think, so I say "About what?" "My snatch thatch," she says, pointing to the neat triangle of salt and pepper pubic hair sitting atop her clef. "I gave it a bit of a trim. I thought smooth lips – because I bet that's what she's got – but a little triangle to remind him that I'm proper grown up woman." "Right," I say – or something like that. Frankly, at that stage, I had no idea what she was talking about.' 

'But this wasn't quite what you had expected,' I suggested.

'No, not at all,' Cathy said. 'Mind you, I didn't know Jen that well. Anyway, that wasn't the end of it. You see we hadn't actually talked about what Jen was going to wear for the photographs. But, since she'd gone to all the trouble of arranging a stunning designer interior for the backdrop, I assumed she would want to wear something classic – a little black dress, for example.'

'But no?' I said, sensing a surprise.

'Well, there was black and it was little, but no, it was not a little black dress. Jen's wardrobe choice for the occasion was a low-cut lacy black bra with deep red satin inlay panels, a matching red and black thong, black lacy-topped stay-ups and the kind of shoes that are designed to be worn only in the bedroom.'

'Blimey.'

'As you say. From sedate estate agent's bookkeeper to sex on legs in the time it takes to have a bath.'

'So what did you do?'

'I got my camera and I got to work,' said Cathy. 'What I hadn't appreciated was that Jen wanted the pictures to show Mike – her ex – what he was missing. So that's what we took: pictures to show Mike what he was missing.'

'And did they?' I asked.

'Oh, I think so,' Cathy said, laughing. 'We took some seriously dirty pictures.'

'How serious?' I asked, getting more and more interested all the time.

'Oh, serious,' Cathy said. 'In the trade I believe the term is "showing pink". In fact, I was a little worried that we might have gone a bit too far. I thought the magazine that Jen wanted to send them to might find them a bit too strong. But no, Jen sent them in and they ran six of them as a double page spread. And, of course, Jen got a copy of the magazine and sent it to Mike and his new girlfriend.'

'And how did you feel about it all,' I asked, '– shooting porn to order, as it were?'

Cathy took a big sip of her wine. 'To be honest, I found it all a bit of a turn on,' she said, '– especially when Jen abandoned her knickers and started giving herself a good seeing to.'

'While you were still photographing,' I said, wanting to make sure I understood.

'While I was still snapping, as they say,' Cathy said

'Blimey,' I said.

'And what made it even more interesting,' Cathy continued, 'was that Jen turned out to be a bit of a gusher. When she cums, she sprays everywhere.'

'Blimey,' I said again.

'Is that the only thing you can say?' Cathy asked. 'Blimey.'

'Well, you must admit ...,' I said. 'Were you perhaps, well, tempted to join in?' I asked, hoping that I hadn't overstepped the mark with Cathy.

'But of course,' Cathy said. 'Who wouldn't be? After about 20 minutes of watching Jen do her thing through the lens, my own knickers were sopping. So I took them off and joined the party. I don't mean with Jen,' she said hurriedly. 'I just mean that I gave myself a bit of a seeing to, enjoyed my own orgasm.'

'Blimey,' I said for at least the third time.

'There you go again,' Cathy said. And then, after a bit of a pause, she asked: 'Would you like to see some of my photographs?'

'You mean of Jennifer?' I asked incredulously.

'Well, yes, I've got some of Jen. I've also got some other stuff I've done. I figured if Jen wanted X-rated stuff of herself, there were probably other women who might also like the idea – and it seems there are.'

'And you've got some of these photographs with you now?' I asked.

'Up in my room,' she said, smiling. 'We can go and have a look now if you've nothing better to do. Given that the pictures are supposed to be erotic and arousing, I'd appreciate your opinion. We can take the rest of the wine with us if you like.'

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. 'Well, yeah. Why not?' I said.

Cathy's room – like my own – was quite spacious. Aside from the king-sized bed, there was a good sized desk, a couple of armchairs and coffee table.

'Why don't you put the wine on the desk there,' Cathy said, 'and then I can put my laptop on the coffee table.'

I did as she suggested, topped up our wine glasses and then sat myself in one of the armchairs. 

'Let me see,' Cathy said, returning from the closet with her laptop and a black-leather art folio. 'Most of my stuff is on here, but I printed off some of the better ones and mounted them.' She unzipped the folio and lifted out a stack of mounted prints which she started to spread out, face down, on the coffee table.

Cathy turned over one of the prints. 

'Jennifer,' she said.

Her friend Jennifer was as Cathy had described her. Curvaceous but not overweight, her body was the body of a mature woman who kept in shape. Her ash blonde hair was cut in a stylish bob, and she had a generous mouth and bright smiling eyes. 

'That was one of the early shots,' Cathy said. 'I quite like the way it suggests a quiet sexuality. I also like the way the soft curves of Jen's torso contrast with the geometric patterns behind her. And, I don't know about you, but I think the cropping works quite well. I like the way that the figure is not quite – but almost – overwhelmed by the background. What do you think?'

'I think it's great,' I said. 'You're good. You're very good.'

'Thank you,' she said. But then she added, 'But you're thinking it's hardly top shelf material.'

'Well... tasteful top shelf material perhaps,' I said.

'You're right,' she said. 'The real stuff starts here.'

Cathy put the first photograph to one side a turned over another two from the stack. In one, Jennifer was reclining on geometric patterned sofa. Her breasts were partially out of her bra, the red and black knickers were mid-thigh, and her knees were spread slightly. The well-manicured fingers of her right hand were toying with her prominent labia. Cathy was right: Jennifer was definitely showing pink.

'More what you were hoping for?' Cathy asked.

In the next shot, the knickers were down around her ankles and her knees were spread wide. Smiling straight at the camera, Jennifer was leaving nothing to the imagination. This was the shot to remind Mike of exactly what he was missing. Her freshly-shaven outer lips were looking plump and puffed; her frilly pink inner lips were parted and glistening. And I could almost imagine myself parting them still further with the head of my stiffening cock.

'So ... what do you think?' Cathy asked. 'Is that a ten out of ten pussy shot, or what?'

'It certainly is,' I said.

'And is it having the appropriate effect?' she asked, nodding in the direction of my crotch.

'Well, um, yes it is,' I admitted.

'Good,' she said softly. 'Are you going to show me?'

'What?'

'In the interests of research,' she said. 'I need to understand how well my work is, well, working. After all, they're intended to aid masturbation. I need to see how well they work. Come on.'

'Oh, they're working,' I assured her.

'I'd like to see for myself,' she said. 'Don't be shy. You're not going to tell me you've never jerked off in front of a woman before, are you?

'Well, I've never jerked off in front of you before,' I said.

'Then this would be a good time for the first time. It's a pity to waste the opportunity.'

'You're serious, aren't you,' I said.

'I certainly am,' she said. 'I'm certainly not going to waste the opportunity.' And with that, she unzipped her jeans, pushed them to her ankles, and stepped out of them. 'Come on,' she said, 'get your cock out and start enjoying yourself.'

I didn't need a third invitation. The ten-out-of-ten pussy shots of Jennifer, together with the sight of the real life Cathy sliding her hand into near-transparent knickers, were clearly doing wonderers for my circulation. I couldn't recall the last time my cock had been so hard. 

Cathy looked across at my erect cock and nodded approvingly. 'They are working,' she said. 'Excellent. I've got another 60 or so pictures like this so there's no need to rush.' She turned over another couple of mounted prints. Two more knock-out photographs; one of which captured Jennifer in mid gush.

After a couple of minutes, Cathy withdrew her hand, hooked her thumbs in the sides of her knickers and slid them to her ankles.

'Torn?' Cathy asked.

'Torn?' I echoed.

'You don't seem to be able to make your mind up. Dirty pictures ... or the real thing.'

'Couldn't I have both?' I asked.

'Why not,' Cathy replied. And with that she moved her chair to the other side of the coffee table to face me square on. 'There,' she said, sitting back down and spreading her legs wide to give me a better view of her fingers disappearing into her hair-fringed minge. 'Now you can look at my dirty girls and watch me,' she said. 'And, of course, I can watch you. By the way, do you want something slippery for that lovely-looking cock?'

'Do you have something?' I asked.

Cathy made a quick trip to the bathroom and returned with a jumbo-sized bottle of lube. 'Not just slippery, but also tingly,' she said. 'I use it when I play with my arse. It's great. It feels cool and hot at the same time.' She squirted some on her fingers and smeared it deep between her shapely buttocks. 'Here, try it,' she said.

I squirted some of the clear goo into the palm of my hand and then slowly stroked my cock from the tip all the way down to my balls. Cathy was right. It felt great – cool yet hot at the same time. My cock twitched and grew another centimetre or two.

Cathy's next 'dirty girl' was a fit-looking redhead. 'Andi,' she explained. 'She wanted some photographs as birthday present for her girlfriend.'

'Girlfriend?'

'Girlfriend,' Cathy confirmed.

Andi was kneeling on the seat of a leather armchair. She was wearing what looked like a short black t-shirt. Nothing else. Her back was to the camera – or at least her shapely, toned backside was to the camera – and her thighs were parted, exposing her ample, meaty pudenda. Again, I could imagine my cock ploughing her sweet furrow.

Cathy turned over another mounted print. Andi again.  This time she was sprawled back in the chair, her legs spread, lining up one end of what I believe is known as a double dong with the entrance to her pretty pink pussy.

'Also part of the birthday present,' Cathy explained. 'And somewhere ... Ah, yes ....' Cathy turned over yet another print and this time one end of the dong had disappeared deep inside Andi's now-not-so-secret place. The fingers of her right hand appeared to be working her clit while the fingers of her left hand were wrapped firmly around the alien shaft, making it look as though she had somehow grown an impressive cock of her own. From the expression on her face, she looked to be approaching the vinegar strokes.

It was about this point that Cathy started making little mouse grunt sounds and I realised that she too was on the verge of an orgasm. I increased my own stroke rate. Cathy's top shelf photos had done their job. But as I entered the home straight, I must confess my focus was on the real live Cathy. Her shapely legs. Her soft rounded breasts, gently bouncing beneath her silky shirt. And, yes, her beautiful cunt. Her beautiful, sexy, wet cunt.

Within 15 or 20 seconds, Cathy was making more noise than the fat lady in the last act at the opera. And I was shooting further than I had in a very long time.

For two or three minutes afterwards neither of us said anything. Then Cathy smiled across at me and said: 'You know that I've got another 50 or so shots on my laptop. But maybe we should get something to eat first.' And so we did.



Snaps



UK English is the rule: if the spellings Mum, arse or colour annoy you, don't go any further, for the rest of you enjoy.

*****

I was home from Uni and my final year was approaching, I needed to get a move on with my portfolio. I was studying Photography at St Martins and really needed a "WOW" factor in my final submission. I had an idea but didn't know if it would work or indeed even how to get it get started. I wanted to focus on the human form and the effects of aging, I had seen some other peoples work from previous years and wanted to build on what they had started.

We were sat at the dining table in the kitchen, me, Dad, Mum and my sister. Also our Nan, Mums mum, as she was staying for a couple of weeks. We waited for Nan to sit down and then dug into a Roast with all the trimmings. I poured wine and we toasted the Summers approach. We ate a superb meal that Mum and Kate, my sister, had cooked. After dessert I asked if I could get some help with my portfolio, as I really needed real people in my submission.

"As long as it's not porn!" my sister chirped and they all laughed, I flushed red.

"Well it's not porn, but there is nudity," I said, looking down at the table.

"Ray, there is no way I am going to flash my bits for you to snap!" Kate laughed.

"Ray, you can't expect your family to pose naked for you," Dad said and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Well you see it's only the girls really. I want to contrast their skin as it ages, sorry Nan, but there's a lot of changes between teen and older ages and I want to highlight those changes." I said looking round at them.

"Well you'll certainly get a lot of wrinkles from me," Nan said with a twinkle in her eye, "What's the theme."

"Well it's mothers and daughters and the changes from generation to generation. So like Kate and Mum, then Mum and you, and lastly all three of you. It would be figure work, but I also want faces, hands, arms, that sort of thing."

"I bet you'll want tits and bums too." Kate challenged.

"Yes, that too but it's things like how your hands change, facial lines, hair, everything. I need a lot of individuals. But I really need to start soon."

"I'll do it," Nan said, "I've never let anyone but George see me naked, so I think I'll get right outside my cosy world and try it. What harm is there, I might get cold, but I expect you to keep the place warm to avoid that." She smiled and looked at her daughter.

"Mum, you can't be serious, Ray and Kate haven't seem me naked, as far back as I can remember."

"Jude, do it, you look fabulous anyway, and it might make our son famous, and think of the celebrity status that would bring."

"Hey hang on, are you all mad, are you all seriously going to give Ray oxygen for this absurd scheme. No way am I joining in, I'll be a laughing stock at school."

"Kate you're a babe, I think you are hot, and I'm your brother, so why hide the body of a goddess, you'll be the gold standard."

"Sod off Ray, no way, ever, ever." She stood to leave. but Mum grabbed her and held her tight.

"Ray how many models do you need?"

"Really, as many as possible, but I can't think of a way to do it without attracting some real weirdo's. Which is why I started here, if you can find some others I would be really grateful."

"Ok, what about our friends and family?"

"Cool Mum, who are you thinking of?"

"Well Jackie and Sue, they're family so Mum can be with them too, Louise and her two girls, you know Becky and Lisa, the twins. Mrs Golding and Sarah, Lesley and Claire Cummings, let me make some calls, and Kate I want a word with you in private." She marched Kate out the room. 

"Well there you go young Raymond, looks like you might get this thing under way after all." Nan laughed and stood, "Meanwhile I think you and Geoff have some washing up to do." 

Dad and I grinned and began stacking the dishwasher and filling the sink. Twenty minutes later the dishwasher was humming, we'd dried the last of the pots and dishes too big to go in it and I wiped the surfaces down and threw the soggy tea towel into the washing machine, shutting the door with a flourish.

In the lounge Mum and Kate were laughing with Nan and seemed to have worked out a plan. I looked at them and ran upstairs to find my camera. sneaking back in I snapped a few quick shots and checked the results.

"Hey perver, what you got?" Kate sidled up to me and I showed her the shots. She nodded and smiled. "Well not bad for an amateur."

"Yeah, they'll do as an introduction. Look can you grab Mum and Nam and ask them to come into the kitchen, I've got an idea."

I walked out of the lounge and into the kitchen, I cleared the flower vase off the table and found a clean white cloth. The girls came in followed by a curious Dad.

"Hi, can you all arrange it so your hands are flat and palms down on the table next to each other. Yea, that's it, Hmm not quite what I wanted, Nan can you grip Mums hand and Kate can you put your hand on Nan's wrist, that's it, great, thanks that's great." I circled round and noted how close they were, I snapped a few more catching their faces as they stood next to each other. 

"Can you move closer so your faces touch, but so that I can see all you faces, like that, don't move, brilliant."

I checked the shot, with a bit of cropping it would be perfect. Might just unsharpen it a bit as a preface photo. The girls crowded round, so I angled the lens downwards so they could see the shot in the view screen. They cooed and told me how good it looked. Dad nodded wisely and clapped me on the back.

"Well Ray, you might just have something, they look beautiful," he said seriously.

"They do don't they," I said, " This might well be the first photo in the series, it's perfect." I added and smiled.

"Ok perver, you win, I'll do it, if you can make all of me look that good."

"Cameras never lie Katey, you just need to believe in yourself a bit more." I hugged her to me and kissed her forehead.

Two days later Mum pulled me to one side as I slipped into the kitchen to check the fridge for goodies.

"Ahah, just the boy, just heard from the last of them, this Saturday, we'll have a full house, with at least two if not three generations of each of the invitees and no one's said no. they're all fascinated. You seem to have struck a chord within the group young man, well done." she ran her hand over my face and kissed my chin. "Now out there's nothing here for you until tea time, out." She pushed me away and slapped my bottom. I yelped, although it didn't hurt and trudged out.

Over my shoulder I shouted,

"Can you tell them not to wear underwear or tight clothes from when they get up on Saturday, and to bring a dressing gown, I don't want strap marks and stuff, I need natural skin."

"Don't push it buster, but ok." she shouted.

I spent the week phoning round several studios trying to book space, with little success. In the end Dad and I sketched out how we could re-arrange the lounge to accommodate a viable studio type area, with room for the others to hang around. Then suddenly Saturday came and the girls, women, mothers and grandmothers began to arrive. I counted over twenty, all ages and sizes, perfect. They disappeared with Mum and reappeared in dressing gowns, and headed for the kitchen for coffee and danish, my Mum having been to Costco early and wiped out their bakery section. Dad was clearing and cleaning up, ensuring endless hot drinks were available and opening more packs of cakes and biscuits.

When we had everyone assembled I explained what I was going to try and do. There were whoops, cheers, whispers and mutterings and a lot of red faces, however we had to begin somewhere, so I asked Mum, Nan and Kate to start. 

I positioned them side by side slightly staggered then asked them to undress. Nan's robe came of and a gasp went up, she was beautiful, her breasts, which were smaller than Mums, hung down from her chest, her nipples, long and pointy, stood out from her rich brown aereola. a criss cross of creases showed at her cleavage, but the breasts themselves were full and round,white and creamy with a fine light blue tracery of veins here and there under the skin. Her belly was a small bump, slightly puckered in places but mostly round and smooth, her thick mat of pubic hair a steel grey colour. She was freckled with age spots on her arms and chest and her white bottom sagged slightly. 

Mum followed and there were a few cheers as she slipped off her robe. Her breasts were large and also hung down, with her nipples lighter but larger than Nan.Her breasts were also mainly white but freckled like her arms and face, where the sun had caught them. She had a pot belly larger than Nan's and small puckers and creases showed in the flesh. There was only a thin tramline of pubic hair over her large labial lips, so she obviously trimmed regularly. Her legs were long and shapely, since she keeps up a daily walking regime.

Kate took a deep breath and unwrapped her robe and threw it at me. There were claps and cheers for Kate and she blushed, her pert small breasts high up on her chest, nipples hard and tight to her boobs, her slim tanned curvy figure had a washboard flat stomach and no pubic hair at all allowing all of us to see her large lips protruding down dark and fleshy. She twirled in delight and I saw her amazingly tight untanned buns flash past my eyeline. 

I had them link arms and close up together. Then I put Nan on a stool and had Mum and Kate stand either side, then kneel beside her. Nan put her arms round their shoulders instinctively and I had some great shots of their contrasting skin tone. Perfect. They stood and I asked for the next volunteers. A Mother and her daughter came forward, they asked Nan to come back. 

By now Nan was a natural and had the angles right each time. Behind me I heard the whispering and encouragement bandying back and forth. Looking up I noticed Mum and Kate were still naked, and quite a few of the others had shed their robes. I felt a bit self conscious until I saw Kate smile and give me a thumbs up. I smiled when she sidled up to me and whispered in my ear between shots.

"Hey perver, why not show your own commitment and strip too," she laughed and her hot breath tickled my ear. I jerked upright and looked at her aghast.

"Girls what do you think, we're all naked, why not Ray, shall we ask him to disrobe too?"

There was a general murmur and shouts of "Get 'em off" from some of the younger girls, my Mum went red but nodded. I shrugged, this was going far better than I imagined, so in order not to spoil the mood I put the camera down and pulled off my t shirt, then stepped out of my loafers, pulled my socks off, then my jeans, standing now in my boxers.

"What the hell, we're all friends and family," I said and pulled my boxers down to a massive cheer and lots of clapping.

I picked up the camera and asked for another group to come forward. Louise and the twins appeared and took up positions and proceeded to glide through the set, I saw the twins were shaved bare, but Louise was hairy as hell, under her arms too. I asked her and the girls to put their hands behind their heads and stretch their elbows out so their armpits were on show. I felt awed by their proud looks and Louise's haughty face. Her breasts were large and full, sagging slightly, with small pink nipples and barely discernable aereola. Her stomach was flattish but a small mummy pouch sat over her hairy pussy. The hair was so thick you couldn't see anything down there, just this large lush forest of crinkly brown hair.

Next I asked Auntie Jackie and Sue to pose with Nan. Auntie Jackie was taller than Mum, her boobs were significantly smaller, but definitely not saggy, standing firm and proud, she had a flattish stomach and was bare down over her pubis. Nan stared down then raised an eye, Jackie laughed and whispered in Nan's ear. Nan went red then laughed and smacked Jackie's bottom lightly. Jackie laughed and kissed Nan's forehead. Sue was shorter than her Mum, had glasses and mousey brown hair. Her boobs were ultra small and her stomach was rounded and full, her pubis was a mass of hair , but her fleshly lips showed between her legs. They grinned and moved into position and we soon had their set wrapped up.

Gradually working through the groups I made sure everyone had posed. There was a knock at the door, Dad went I heard whispering then the sound of a baby and steps on the stairs. I shrugged and carried on. I had all the Nan's group together and link arms, then the Mums, then the daughters. Then I asked the Nan's to stand together, their daughters to kneel in front of them, then their grandaughter's to lie in front of their mothers with their heads in their laps. 

I had just finished when the lounge door opened and my older sister Gwen came in naked with Jane her five month old daughter also nude. I laughed and jumped up to kiss her and hug her. She smiled, I asked her to hold on a moment, did the whole group and said we had finished, but asked Mum, Nan and Kate to hold on. 

The others milled round the edges, wondering what would happen next. I sat Gwen on the stool and asked her to put Jane to her large full breasts, the dark areola puckered and bumpy and her thick nipples started to drip milk, Gwen pulled a "sorry" face. I waved her concerns away.

"Gwen that's what they are there for, and it makes a great picture, you look beautiful, hold that, ohh great, perfect. Okay, Next..."

I got Nan to stand behind the stool, then asked Gwen to stay sitting and nursing Jane, whilst Mum and Kate knelt either side of Gwen. I took several shots. then asked Nan to sit on the stool, and hold Jane to her breast, whilst Mum stood behind and set the girls on either side. Then switched so Kate sat, Nan and Mum either side and Gwen behind. Kate tenderly held Jane to her breast and I felt a lump in throat, she looked so perfect. 

I took several shots, then asked Mum to sit and hold Jane with Nan behind and flanked by her daughters. I felt my eyes burning and tears rolled down, someone must have sensed it for two of the grandmothers slipped either side of me and put their arms round me. I gulped and nodded, before taking a last shot. Then asked everyone again to group round my family. I took the last group shot, with Gwen nursing Jane and our family close in on her surrounded by the friends who all looked so natural and poised. 

As I put the camera down, I bowed. 

"I am so very grateful to you all, I have been very privileged to be amongst you. You are all very beautiful thank you. Thank you for trusting me, thank you for taking part and thank you for helping me so much with my portfolio. I hope that you will all be able to come to St Martins to see for yourself how truly beautiful you all are, thanks"

I choked and turned away and sobbed. Mum and Nan came and held me, whilst the other chatted and took turns holding Jane. Recovering and thanking Mum and Nan I took my camera into the kitchen and was surprised that no one had dressed or covered up. They were once again devouring the buns and coffee. That's when I noticed that Dad was also naked.

"I thought it best to get with the flow, they seem to appreciate it, is that all right?"

"Brilliant, actually I have an idea, come on," I dragged Dad into the lounge and asked Gwen for Jane, I slipped her into Dads arms and sat him on the stool, I shot a few quick test shots then closed in on his arm cradling Jane.

"Gwen, Katey, come here please." I heard my sisters behind me. 

"Quick go and kneel by daddy and put your arms round him." 

They went over and did as I asked. I took a few more shots, then asked Gwen to take Jane, but then sit on Dads knee, with Kate on the other, then Mum stood behind and Nan sat in front. I got Aunt Jackie and cousin Sue to stand either side and had a perfect family shot, with multiple generations and sexes. The perfect end. 

The others clapped and cheered as I lowered the camera again. Kate came over and asked for the camera, then she pushed me onto the stool and stepped back, 

"Open you legs Ray and cross your arms, that's it, like a football team photo." she shot again and again,then took the camera from her eye.

"There you go Bro. now you've got your shot for the cover, the artist himself."

I grinned and took the camera, kissing her cheek and wrapping an arm round her waist. We looked over her shots,

"Hey not bad at all sis, you should think about joining me at St Martins, you'd do well."

"Really?"

"Yeah, honest."

Well it seemed that no one wanted to either dress or be the first to leave, but eventually people slipped on their clothes and left, leaving just the family. We were bizarrely all still naked, but it didn't seem to matter. Uncle Roger had turned up, gasped then skinned out of his clothes, giving us all his traditional bear hug greeting. Roger, Dad and I returned the lounge to order, and the ladies draped themselves over the furniture. I took a few more shots. Auntie Jackie wanted one of her Uncle Roger and Sue together, then with Nan. I shot away. 

I took one of Gwen and Kate bending over Jane's Moses Basket, as she settled down for another sleep. It's one of my favourites, my sisters, naked and bending down towards little Jane's sleeping face.

Later I was sitting in bed, trying to work out which shots to use, when Kate knocked.

"Hey you."

"Hey yourself, OK."

"Yeah, got to admit I had a blast today, it was cool."

"Good I have so much material now, more than enough to mount an exhibition, I am so pleased it came off. Look?"

I showed her the one of her and Gwen bent over the Moses Basket.

"That's my favourite, You, Gwen and little Jane, and look at this one, you looked so perfect holding Jane to your breast, I was welling up."

"It was weird, she was trying to suckle, it felt so nice, I know now why Gwenny feeds her, it must be so nice, so comforting, so rewarding." Kate sighed and sat on my bed.

"You're going to be a great Mum, you looked so at ease so, so, well maternal."

Kate laughed and slipped her arm round my shoulder. That's when I realised she was naked. 

"Where's your nightie?"

"Don't need it, by the way I was so impressed all those gorgeous women and you didn't get a hard-on." 

"I did, but my cocks so small no one noticed."

"Liar, it wasn't that small, and yes I did look, and at Uncle Rogers and Daddy's too."

I laughed and kissed her cheek. Mum came in, also naked, weirder and weirder. 

"Well I guess we're so used to each other nudity by now, we just don't see it," she said, "you kids ok?"

"Sure,"

"Yes mother."

"Ok Dad and I are going to bed. Nan's in the spare room. Jackie, Roger and Sue are camping in the study on the put-u-up and the inflatable mattress, Gwen's in the lounge with David on the sofa and Jane's in her Moses Basket, so it's a full house tonight." 

"Night Mum," we chorused as she closed the door.

I put the camera to my eye and pretended to photograph Kate again, she joined in and threw up some comical poses and faces. We giggled, she took the camera and put it on the chest of drawers, coming back to stretch out in bed with me. We snuggled down and she turned the light out. We soon dropped off, waking in the early morning, spooning together her breasts and belly pressed into my back, legs contouring mine. She kissed me then got up to go to her room, I thought. But she needed a pee and came back into my bed. I cuddled her and she wrapped an arm round my waist. we drifted off again. Until Mum burst in with a cup of tea at eight. 

"Ohh there you are Kate, did you stay all night?"

"Yeah we we're talking and must have dropped off, sorry,"

"Oh don't worry, it was just I was mystified where you were, well we'll need to get on soon, breakfast then lunch, hope we've got enough beef to go round." she said as she wandered out, I looked at Kate.




Snaps



"She's still not put any clothes on," I said, and nodded at Mums naked back wandering off.

"Good that means we don't have to either," Kate sat up, her breasts peeking over the duvet, "Pass my tea bro, thanks."

She sat sipping her tea. I sat up further and took mine, we sat in silence and drank, Dad walked past, 

"Morning, you sleep together last night, if we'd have known we would have put Sue in your room, must remember that for next time." and he disappeared.

"Hi, can I come in?" Sue stood in the door without a stitch on and holding a mug of steaming coffee.

"Sure, budge up Kate, we moved over and Sue slipped in next to me.

We sat there sipping our drinks lost in our own thoughts, til Sue, sighed and took my free hand.

"Thanks for inviting us to the photo session, I've never seen my Mum naked before, nor my Dad, but now I have and I love it. Thanks for letting us see each other as if it was just the first time. I think we all looked cool. All shapes and sizes, but all together, so together." she giggled and squeezed my hand.

"I don't know what to say, it was just a thing I wanted to explore the effects of aging on skin and the tendency of children to have the characteristics of their parents and siblings. It went so much better than I hoped for, I have so much material, I think I can do this in one hit, and mount an exhibition with it."

"Good, when will it be on show?"

"Next year, unless I decide to hold it earlier."

"Hold it earlier, then invite us all down."

"I'll see what my tutor says."

We got up and took turns to shower and gradually the house woke up, we had breakfast, walks were organised, but I wanted to get on with my work, I really felt inspired. I had a rough layout in my head and wanted to play around with the images and try to weave a story line into the sequencing.

When I returned to Uni, I spoke to my tutor and showed her some of the shots, she seemed impressed enough to ask me if I thought it would be OK to put them into a collection and exhibit it in the College, where we had galleries for this type of event. I agreed and in the Autumn we set about mounting the prints, poster size in the larger gallery, I used as much as I could with the final two pictures the group shots, with and without Gwen and Jane. 

Then my tutor insisted the shot of Gwen, Kate and Jane belonged there as well. I phoned Mum and Dad and told them when the exhibition would open and asked if they'd organise it for all the models to be present on the opening day. 

Opening day and the College was full of excitement and anticipation. The "models" were all here, in their finery and looking very glamorous. I was so thrilled, everyone had made it. The Vice Chancellor opened the exhibition, and we walked into the gallery. I stood back and watched them see themselves on the wall, everyone naked and glorious, they were completely stunned and a few shrieks and gasps abounded. I was so proud of them all. They had taken a gamble on my abilities and I thought I had done them proud.

Kate came over and stood by me, taking my hand,

"Thank you Bro, I am stark naked, and hung in a gallery... I love it, you make me look sexy and gorgeous,"

"You are Katey, you really are, but you know what; every one of you looks sexy and gorgeous because you all are. Do you know I've changed my concept after seeing you all naked. I now look at it as a testament to beauty, whatever the age."

"Thanks Bro, oh, ohh, here come the models." She held my hand tightly.

They came over and told me how beautiful everyone looked and how I had captured something luminescent in everyone and could they have the picture when the exhibition was over, I agreed, I was even asked to sign their copy as a keepsake. Apparently there were going to be a lot of houses with nude posters of the females in it on the walls. I laughed and kissed and hugged them all. 

Mum and Dad came over with Nan, we hugged and kissed. Then Gwen came with Jane, she handed me Jane and I cuddled and kissed my niece. Gwen burst into tears, saying she looked beautiful in my pictures and Jane slept on in my arms. I told Gwen that I thought she and Jane were always beautiful and I had been lucky to have that moment to capture it. She hugged me and kissed me sloppily, I grinned. 

Then the Vice Chancellor announced the exhibition would be here for three months in order to allow all the advance sales to be accommodated. A newspaper reporter wanted an interview. His colleague rounded up some of the models and asked them to recreate their poses beneath their portraits. The whole thing was a whirlwind. Finally we left and the folks went home after we had a meal at a local restaurant. Kate and Sue stayed over for the next couple of days, my roommate had vacated to organise his own portfolio. 

We took some beers to my room and got naked, then chatted for hours, until we just flopped out, waking the next morning feeling completely knackered. Sue and Kate wanted to shower, and agreed to share, their screams and shrieks as they grappled with the antiquated plumbing making me laugh. I took the camera and got a few shots of them dodging the alternating cold then scalding water. The bathroom was soaked. they grabbed the camera and took shots of me trying to shower, left with only cold water. Sue got a good one of my shrunken cock and balls, which they printed off and hung in my room. We had a great time, meeting up with the rest of the group who had stayed. Going over to the Gallery and answering questions from visitors. I was offered serious money for the prints, but said they were already sold. Sue asked who had bought them, I said no one had but that I was going to give them to the people in them when I had finished.

Their two day stay over went too quickly, Kate especially was unhappy about going, she had met George yesterday and he was instantly attracted to her too, they were thrown together but clicked immediately. Now on the last day they had spent a lot of time in each others company. I was pleased as George was a good mate. Sue seemed to like the boys in the group too, but had not taken to any one in particular.

"Promise me you won't say anything, especially to Mum, but I'm gay, I've known since I was eleven, and I like that girl with the red hair." 

Sue had sad eyes and I hugged her quickly and kissed her on the lips, she shrieked and hugged me raining kisses on my lips.

"Tell your Mum, she'll understand, as for Eve, I have no idea which way she swings, but why don't you just go and ask her."

"I can't, it would be so embarrassing if she was offended and..." I pushed Sue over to Eve.

"Eve, this is Sue, my cousin, Sue this is my friend Eve, bye see you both later."

Eve smiled and touched Sue's arm, then turned away from the group she was with, they spoke in whispers leaning into each others ears, and then I saw Sue reach down and hold Eve's hand. Well that answers that question then I thought. Later George and Kate, Sue and Eve ended up at my place, we had a few beers and then some serious tonsil hockey broke out. I excused myself and wandered outside.

Nancy from our course was outside leaning against the Dorm wall.

"Oh hi, what are you doing out here."

"Well my sis and cousin are upstairs in my room with their other halves and I felt like the proverbial gooseberry sitting there. So I decided to give them some space, they go home tomorrow morning." I shrugged helplessly.

"Hahh, poor you, well my rooms empty, I came out to take a break, but I'm feeling a bit cold now, want to come up for coffee?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"No of course not, and in years to come I can brag I had you come in for coffee, you know Ray Parker, the famous photographer, yeah really." She giggled and slapped my arm. 

I grinned and followed her up to her room. We talked for hours, then I said I should go, she said I didn't have to, I thought it over, and stayed. At the half term break she came home with me to meet Mum and Dad, and Kate. She and Kate were so similar it was uncanny. Later in the week we went to her folks and I met Kevin her brother, my twin. We had a ball. Then back to Uni to finish it all off. 

For the final shindig Sue and Kate came to be with Eve and George respectively and I was with Nance, it was an epic evening and we awoke in the morning with monumental hangovers, but managed to find breakfast and end up in the pub all afternoon and evening. Later, Sue, Kate and I staggered back to my room. We got naked and shared our remaining alcohol out, Nance arrived with some wine, seemingly unfazed by the naked bodies, she stripped off and sat down. Then Eve and George turned up with more wine, they stripped off and we set about demolishing the remaining alcohol. We roared on into the early hours before crashing out. 

The next morning we all felt as if we'd been chewing cardboard all night and all our heads were pounding. Gradually after copious amounts of coffee and a whole box of Anadin had been consumed we felt almost human. We organised showers by drawing lots, just for fun. I showered with George, Sue with Nancy and Eve had Kate as her partner. The showers were a torrent of laughter, squeals and screaming. We dressed somehow and took off for breakfast. Later we ended up in the Gallery, as it was time to take the exhibition down. People had turned up to claim their print. When asked I signed discreetly in a corner and dated it. There were hugs and kisses, tears and lots of handshaking. 

Then suddenly it was all over. We sat in the almost empty room and thought about the future. Sue and Eve were moving in together, George and Kate would be trying to keep a long distance romance alive, as Kate's Uni was about two hundred miles from Georges post graduate work. Nancy and I hadn't really thought things through. She had several offers, as I had. I also thought about setting up on my own or freelancing. We sat holding hands, unable to speak. I reached over and pulled her to me, we kissed and held each other.

"Don't worry, we'll make it work," she said, and somehow I knew we would.



Snapshot



Synopsis: Written by a dominant, a scene in the life of a domme & sub relationship

The chair was right by the bed. I sat there, watching you tremble on the bed before me.

Last night's encounters were still fresh in my memory. They were tender, passionate and sweet. I was almost weakened for a moment. I lost control when I saw you kneeling in front me, submitting to my power, eyes downcast, with a determined look on your face to do everything you could to give me pleasure. I pulled you to your feet and kissed you. We fell in bed and made love. It was complete pleasure for you and me. To see the love and devotion in your eyes when you came inside of me was the best part. When I woke up in the morning I found you cuddling against my chest, sleeping peacefully. I smiled and kissed you on your forehead. I stood up and tied you, spread-eagled to the bedposts. I sat on my easy-chair looking at you waiting for you to wake up. After several minutes, when you woke up, you tried to reach me but found yourself bound. You struggled for a moment and then looked at me. I replied with my naughty smile in one sentence, "So, now we start again."

You were hardening nicely and I also felt wet. I opened my legs and stroked my outer lips. You were constantly looking at me while I used one hand to pinch my clit and the other hand kept rubbing against my inner walls. I thrust my fingers in and your cock throbbed in pace with my moans. I sped up and after several hard strokes I started cumming, watching you helplessly staring at me with hunger to touch, while I give myself pleasure, took myself over the edge. I came hard, eyes closed, hips grinding my fingers.

When I calmed down, I looked at you. Your eyes were closed too. I saw your cock was straining for my touch. I stood up and came closer, a gentle kiss on the head and you were shaking. I loosened the binding from your ankles and kissed my way up to your wrists. You were moaning. I set your wrists free. You stayed in bed for some minutes to compose yourself. I gave you my hand to help you stand up smiling at your condition, and you tried to hold me and kiss me. It felt nice but was something that you should never do without having been permitted. I thought you need to be reminded that I'm your mistress and everything around here worked my way. I was not going to let you go without paying for breaking my rule. You had been very smug with me lately. I clutched your balls hard in my hands. You moaned loudly in my mouth and I broke the kiss. I turned around and told you to get showered and be downstairs naked in our play-room in 15 minutes.

You came and waited outside until I noticed you and told you to come in and stand in front of the mirror, hands behind your back and feet shoulder-width apart. You obeyed instantly. I picked up a cane from the table. It tapered from a thick hand-grip at one end to a point at another. I rose and walked towards you. I swished the cane through the air. It was a wicked sound and you shivered imagining feeling it on your flesh. I stroked the cane across your face, dragged it down over your chest. I flicked the tip against your nipple and you flinched with the delicious sting. Your nipple glowed red. I whispered in your ear, "Tell me, what are you?"

"I'm your servant, your slave, your slut. I'm your property to do with as you see fit. I'm nothing but a fucking piece of meat for you to use, however you choose." You replied feeling excited by this self-abuse. 

I asked loudly with again a swish in the air, "Perfect. Tell me what I must do to you?"

"You must punish me, take me, fuck me, torture me, anything you want. I exist only for your pleasure." By now you were squirming with desire. 

I dragged the cane down to your groin, pausing only to tease your cock. I put the tip of the cane near the slit and pushed it in. You closed your eyes and moaned. I sharply flick it on your balls hard enough to make you scream. The blow was harder than usual.

"Haven't I been sweet and gentle?" with a hard smack on your inner thighs, "Haven't you received pleasure with me?"

You nodded your head, with tears in your eyes. This was something that you had not expected. You looked at me questioningly.

Swish! A hard blow on your ass cheeks, "If I'm sweet and gentle it doesn't mean that you could break any of my rules."

Swish! On your cheeks again, "If I'm giving you pleasure it doesn't mean that you could have it whenever you want."

Now you understood that it was happening because of your morning attempt to kiss me. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. I am deeply sorry, It will not happen again, I swear." You said hurriedly with clasping your hands behind your back tightly. For a moment you looked at me and then you closed your eyes praying I wouldn't be too hard on you today.

I asked, "Now tell me, what do you deserve?"

"Anything you wish, ma'am.", You sounded a little scared.

"Right. And that is what you are always going to have. Everything that I wish to give you." I said in a cold voice. "Lay face down on the couch. You are going to have thirty lashes from my belt. Count each one and thank me for giving you this much attention."

You lay down and immediately placed your wrists beneath your head. I took my belt, cracked it in air. You were shaking, gritting your teeth in preparation, wondering how hard I could be and how long you could bear the pain. I doubled it in a loop and began your punishment, bringing it down hard on your ass cheeks.

Wham! "One. Thank you, ma'am." Wham! "Two. Thank you, ma'am."

At around fifteen lashes your counting became quieter and more drawn out. The pain of the nylon belt was affecting you. I didn't let up. I obviously did not want you to be too comfortable around me. 

"I can't HEAR you!" I barked. "I want to be able to hear you counting each stroke!"

"Sixteen, thank you Ma'am!" You screamed. "Seventeen, thank you Ma'am!" The blows continued until we finally reached thirty, when your body relaxed and shook with sobs.

When I ordered you to kneel before me again, I noticed your lip was bleeding. I had seen that before. It mostly happened when the pain had gone beyond your limits. I dropped the belt to the side, then took you into my arms and cradled you.

"Thank you for training this slave with the belt, Ma'am," You whispered.

"Good boy," I kissed you as you cried gently on my shoulder. "Now I know you won't let me down again."

You had taken my punishment well. You were shaking in my arms when I first held you. I kissed you long and I felt your erection pressing on my thighs. Throughout the punishment your already hard cock had gotten harder. I was also aroused. The point of punishment had been made, and I was going to reinforce it with some pleasure.

I held your hand and took you up to the bedroom, telling you to lie down. You shook with pain when the sheets touched your tender ass. Slowly I rolled you over. I sat down beside you, taking some baby oil in my hand, and gently rubbing it over your reddened cheeks. From shoulder to legs, I gave you a very warm massage. I knew from your moans that you liked the magic my fingers were doing. Actually I did it because I also liked exploring your body. I kept it up for some time until you were relaxed and all your muscles had loosened. I stood up and told you to turn. I bring some scarves and bind you the same way as that morning. I looked at you and I saw love and affection. I smiled and changed my position, moving to between your legs. 

I traced my finger down your chest, with delight as you squirmed at my touch. By the time I reached your stomach, and I could feel you trembling. I dragged my fingers across your groin, my nails gently scratching the skin. 

"Mmmmmm." I said, as I traced my fingers along your inner thighs, watching your cock respond. "I love seeing you hard, it's such a beautiful sight."

You blushed deeply, looking at me, not replying. I bent down, raising my hips in the air, pressing my head down near your crotch. I leaned down and shook my head, my bushy black hair cascading over your cock. I laughed as I drew my head back, my soft hair gradually tracing over your stiffened cock. 

You moaned softly, arching your back as I did that again. I laid down beside you, my head on your chest. I started talking to you as I traced my fingertip along the underside of your cock. "You are such a delight. I like seeing you nice and hard for me. You like what I'm doing, don't you?" Waiting for your answer, I sucked on my finger, tracing my wet fingertip along the underside of your cock, stopping to swirl it around just below the head. You let out a gasp as I touched the most sensitive spot on your cock, resulting in a smile from me.

"Please." You said softly.

"Poor baby," I teased, "You know you belong to me." I continued twirling my fingertip along the head. Now I was looking up at you, watching your responses, the effects of each touch. I kissed you on your neck and continued, "You know you'll do whatever I ask, and like it."

You responded by bucking your hips, trying to get more contact, but I simply pulled my hand away, waiting for you to stop. I whispered, "And I know what you need and you don't get it unless I give it to you." You took a long, deep breath and stopped all the attempts.

"Mmmmm," I moaned, I had taken my hand, licked my palm before wrapping it around your rock-hard cock. My hand tightened around you, very slowly slipping up along you, almost squeezing it out of my hand. The sensations shot through every inch of your cock, causing you to buck and squirm, whimpering involuntarily. 

"Please." You begged.

I smiled at you, slowly shaking my head. I wrapped my hand around you again, this time holding it still, not moving it, but squeezing, slowly, but firmly. Your whimpers turned to groans, and then pleading as my hand slowly began to move, higher and higher, grabbing tighter and tighter. You became lost in me, seeing how much I was loving what I was doing to you.

The feeling started to build, deep inside of you, and suddenly, my hand was gone. I could feel your frustration. You tugged frantically at the bonds, your cock twitching and bouncing on the verge of cumming. Just the smallest sensation was all you needed. 

You looked at me, eyes wide. "Please, please, mistress"

I didn't reply to your pleas. I stayed back down between your legs and leaned forward. You felt a rush of hot, moist air and looked down and saw my mouth open to suck your cock, but my lips not touching. Your cock was just surrounded by my hot breath. As you moaned, I pulled away.

"You are so responsive this morning," I said, smiling in approval. "I like you this way. Now it's time for my turn."

I raised myself and squatted down on your face. You reached out your tongue and started flicking against my outer cunt lips. I hovered slightly above you as your neck craned forward trying to make contact. Then without warning I came down, smothering you. I know how much you like that, and I liked it even more, feeling your lips kissing my cunt, slowly separating the hood that covers my clit. I stayed in that position as your tongue probed my moist crevices. You eagerly started licking my juices. I bent forward and loosened your restraints. You wrapped your arms around me, hugging my wet crotch to your face. 

As your tongue licked and sucked, I began to lose my resolve. My head was spinning, and my legs felt like jelly. If you had let go of me, I would have just collapsed on your face. Waves of pleasure washed over me as you worked your hot mouth on my slit. You began to stroke between my ass cheeks, rimming my rear hole with damp fingers. My breath quickened, and you increased your strong grip to compensate for my now buckling knees.

I arched my back, desperately grabbing my breasts and squeezing my nipples to quicken the release and end the agonizing pleasure. I was thrashing now, and you had to use all your strength to hold onto me as I built up higher and higher. You sucked and bit gently on my clit and I screamed out in pleasure as I came, now totally supported by your arms.

Breathing heavily, I slipped down and rested my head on your chest. I licked my dry lips, shaking a little as the last of my orgasm coursed through me. You gazed at me adoringly. I opened my eyes and looked at you. You saw satisfaction in my eyes that reminded you of your need. You closed your eyes unable to look into mine. I smiled, I would complete your due pleasure. 

Once again I started caressing your chest. Electric waves of passion ran through you as I continued to kiss and lick your body, putting you in ecstasy. Finally, I got to your rock-hard penis, and slowly began to kiss around it, showering your stomach and inner thighs with little butterfly kisses. You were so excited by my touch that in spite of your unbound hands, you just laid still, at my mercy. I then kissed your balls and rolled my soft tongue around them, and you almost came right then, driven into frenzy by my moist tongue and wet lips, but you managed to stop just short. 

After that I took your balls in my mouth, continuing to snake my tongue around the sensitive skin of your scrotum. I began to suck softly, as you moaned in passion from my loving touch. While I gently sucked on your balls, I reached up and begin to caress your throbbing penis, running my hands up and down your shaft, paying extra attention to the sensitive skin underneath, rolling it between finger and thumb. You began to moan louder, trying your hardest to not cum.

Once again you started begging, "Please, Mistress"

You were so aroused that you almost did not even notice when I took your balls out of my mouth and switched positions, massaging your balls with one hand while kissing and licking your shaft with my lips and tongue. You only knew that it felt better than anything that you could imagine. I guided my mouth to your head, where I licked off the sizable amount of pre-cum that had gathered there, and took your head in my mouth, my active tongue darting all around it. I slid my lips down the shaft, making sure you felt my soft, wet mouth as every inch of your cock entered it. 

You were shaking and moaning, unable to hold yourself. You whispered some words that I knew I would hear, "Please Mistress, let me cum." 

I let your cock slip out of my mouth and told you, "Calm down, dear. I'm not done yet."

After several minutes, you softened a little and again my tongue darted around your shaft, circling it and rubbing it up and down as I again continued to slowly go down on your cock. You began to moan louder, coming ever so close to cumming in my mouth as I continued to suck around every inch of my cock. 

Just then I reached the base of your cock, continuing to swirl my tongue around your hard, throbbing shaft. I began stroking up and down around your cock, making soft sucking sounds as your shaft entered and exited my mouth. You had to grit your teeth to keep from cumming.

After two or three minutes of stroking, I looked at your pleading face and decided that was the time. Without touching your cock I began to massage your balls harder, ultimately squeezing them between my fingers, saying the words, "Cum. Now." 

You let go, and began to orgasm loudly. Spurt after spurt, you shot your hot semen on my naked body. You gasped and moaned in orgasm, as your entire body tensed, focusing on the incredible feeling of pleasure in your loins. Finally, when your orgasm subsided, you lay back down, relaxed beyond your wildest fantasies. You looked up at me. My body was a mess, with cum covering me. With one hand, I wiped the traces of cum from your cock and licked it off of my finger. My breasts hovered over your face as you reached up with your tongue and started licking off your cum. Then I kissed you deep, our tongues swirling your cum; I pulled back and with a smile on my face I said, "That was delicious."