Şub 9, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment
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I was lying on a low, pink velvet chaise longue. I was naked apart from a pair of black, lacy top holdups. The fortyish guy who had introduced himself as ‘just call me Mac’ was kneeling beside it. His shirt was undone and his trousers and underpants were pushed down round his knees. He was stunningly erect and I was holding his erection.
“Oh that’s lovely Sam” he groaned as I slowly stroked his quite attractive dick.
He slid his hand down my body and ran his fingertips across the thin patch of tawny coloured pubes that I had trimmed into a landing strip. He found my clit and rubbed me there. I increased the speed with which I was wanking him.
“Yes” I grunted enjoying the way that he was alternating between rubbing my clit, running his fingertips round my lips and sliding his fingers inside me. “Is this?” I added reaching across and stroking his balls.
“Oh fuck yes.”
“And this?” I asked pumping faster.
“It’s fucking brilliant luv.”
“Are you near Sam.”
“Yes very” I sighed pleased that I wasn’t having to feign anything as I lifted my bum up from the sofa a few inches. He pushed two or three fingers up me as far as they would go and pumped them as he hand fucked me.
“So am I” he told me as I jacked him off with long, slow strokes.
He raised himself up a little. “Can I cum on your tits Sam?”
“Yes” I grunted as my orgasm broke just as he shot a stream of white goo all over and between my small B cup tits.
I am at drama school hoping to become a writer/producer/director in TV or film; I have no desire to be an actor I just could not stand the constant rejections from auditions. I did start a degree course in English and Psychology at Bristol University when I was twenty, but hated it. It wasn’t so much the learning and work, but the people and the student way of life I couldn’t stand. It was all so juvenile and tacky.
You see I am something of a rich, spoiled bitch. Born and raised in Essex my dad was very well off having made a fortune from the Spanish and Portugal property booms. We were great mates, he indulged me and I was a real, blonde haired, blue eyed, good looking even if I do say it myself daddy’s girl. I could no wrong in his eyes. I was good at sports at school. I played for Essex schoolgirls at tennis and nearly at netball, but being only five feet six and slim I didn’t have the height or strength of the dykes that made the team. I took up golf when I was about twelve and dad helped me quite quickly become an eighteen handicapper, which I still am, just.
I found learning at school very easy. I never had to work that hard to get A grades and that suited me perfectly as rich, spoiled bitches don’t like hard work. So I sailed into a pretty good uni in a nice town that wasn’t too far from London so I was able to get back when I wanted. And that’s when things started going tits up.
Dad’s business got into trouble with the sub-prime problems and the US and European property crash. I hated uni and left half way through the second year. Mum and dad went fucking ballistic, but I managed to calm them when I said what I wanted to do and that was drama school. The problem with that was that there was no student loans so it was an all cash up front deal. Dad managed for the first two years, of four, but now I am on my own.
A budding actress at the drama school said as I was bemoaning the fact that my dad was going bankrupt and I might need to leave.
“Why not take up glamour photographic modelling, you’ve got the looks and figure for it.”
So I did.
It started when I posed for amateur camera clubs as they were called. They are clubs where keen photographers meet to exchange bullshit about cameras, lighting, films and all the other nonsense that gets their rocks off. Usually every other week they have a club night where they hire a model who they photograph as a group in varying stages of undress, all of course in the pursuit of art. Yeah right I used to think as their hard ons said to me it’s a bit more than art.
It was good training, but a hundred quid every other week hardly bought the wardrobe of sexy undies needed as a model let alone paid for school and the clothes I so enjoyed.
One of the photographers solved it for me.
“Do you do private Sam? He asked.
It turned that there was a whole cottage industry of studios and models that photographers used. I signed up with a few studios one in North London, Crouch End, one just over the river in Catford and the third in the East End.
The process was simple. A photographer or a wannabee rented a studio by the hour. The studio had a portfolio of models that they could choose from. The models listed what type of work they did and the photographers chose who they wanted partly by looks and partly by what sort of work the girl did. They then introduced the two parties. After that it was up to them. And some of them us girls knew had no idea about photography. They had cheap cameras often with almanbahis adres insufficient lenses for indoor stuff and they had no idea on using the lights and other studio equipment. But what the hell if they are willing to shell out fifty quid an hour for the studio and hundred and upwards for the model so they can spend some time with a pretty girl taking her kit off, who cares? Let them use phonecams if they want was my motto!
I started by offering glamour, underwear and nude posing. When I completed the on-line questionnaire I didn’t tick the boxes that said: open leg, self-touching and orgasm simulation.
Being new I started off like a train, but after a couple of months I ran out of steam.
“You have to offer more Sam” the lessy owner of the studio in the East End told me. “They can get anything they want on the web now so they expect everything from girls like you.”
“Absolutely. I promise you two things, well three actually. Stay as you are and within a few months you’ll be lucky to get a couple of bookings a month. Give ’em what they want, give ’em beaver shots and looking as though you have just been fucked expressions and you’ll be lucky to have time to fill all the appointments” the overweight, peroxide blonde told me.
“Sandra you said you promised three things.”
“Oh yes so I did” the forty something, not unattractive woman said moving close and placing her hand on my arm by my elbow. “I promise you Sammi that if I get you in bed you will have the most massive orgasm possible.”
“Although I had messed around with girls, one in particular Stephanie, at uni, I wasn’t a les nor a committed bi so I passed, well took a rain check on her invitation.
So I posed naked with my legs open, my knees raised and everything on show. I caressed my breasts and rubbed my mound. That was ok for a while, but ‘my market’ wanted more. I acted out orgasms, made out that I had just been fucked. But they still wanted more. I used a vibrator then my fingers in me.
It worked. I did as Sandra had promised have more bookings than I could handle. Often working six evenings a week and fitting a few sessions in during the day between classes I was quickly earning over fifty grand a year, all of which was tax free; and that more than covered my fees and living expenses. But it was too time consuming. I wasn’t doing the reading or practice that the tough course demanded. I couldn’t increase my charges for the posing for they were set by the studios. So I had to reduce the number of sessions, but earn more from each; classic marketing really. There was only one way that could be achieved.
“Sometimes” I said when the forty something quite fanciable client had asked. “Are there extras Sammi?”
That started it. Firstly I let a guy play with my tits, then I rubbed myself until I had a climax as he photographed me. Inevitably I let a customer rub my clit then another finger me until he made me cum. It got more adventurous and more outrageous as I then masturbated a number of guys. It was in the end when Mac said “Can I cum on your tits Sam” that I realised fully that I had given in and had become a sex junky. More importantly I was now making enough money from a shorter number of hours to pay for my school and live the sort of life I had been used to since I was a kid and do my studying.
“That was fantastic Sammi” ‘just call me Mac’ said as he stood up and went to the bathroom. “Hope you don’t mind me going first luv, but I am dying for a pee.
There was still ten minutes or so left of the two hours he had booked so I didn’t get dressed, but wiped the cum from my breasts with a tissue.
“Do want any more shots Mac?”
“No I am finished thanks Sam.”
“I’ll pop to the bathroom then and clean up, you know the way out.”
“Er Sammi could we er, um meet for a drink or something.”
Although he had commissioned me probably four times now, was a very fanciable forty something and we had given each other several orgasms I didn’t dare; it really was the worst thing a model could do. All the studios had strict rules about their models meeting customers for that could potentially lead to them losing loads of business. On top of that most of us didn’t want to mix business with pleasure, although in Mac’s case I wouldn’t really have minded at all.
Despite not knowing his real name I had got to know ‘just call me Mac’ quite well; well you do when you have jerked a guy off several times and have received a few climaxes from him. I liked him and in other circumstances I may well have enjoyed a date with him.
“Sorry Mac we aren’t allowed to date the punters.”
He smiled. “I wasn’t asking for a date.”
“I have a business proposition for you.”
Intrigued I went to the bathroom and cleaned up.
“For Christ’s sake don’t tell Sandra or anyone will you?”
Although at twenty three, coming from a wealthy background and having just left uni, but still studying almanbahis adresi I have had nothing to do with the business world, I do feel that I have got a good commercial head on my slim body. Alright I may be a natural (shoulder-length) blonde and yes I do have lots of fun and prefer diamonds, but I don’t think I am dizzy or dumb. So when ‘just call me Mac’ who as part of my agreeing to the drink told me his real name was Rich as in short for Richard, McDonald and he was from the infamous clan, outlined his suggestion I was all ears.
He wanted to start a boudoir photographic agency. I had heard of these from Sandra during one of the late evening chats we had after I finished a session when she usually tried to seduce me. She had explained and Rich confirmed that these were becoming very popular. What they are is a service for men, women or couples to have romantic, intimate or erotic photos taken of themselves.
“Why on earth would they want that?” I had asked Sandra who replied leaning forward so her top gaped and she flashed most of her big tits at me.
“As presents and mementoes.”
“Present? Presents for who?”
“Each other, mementoes to look back on as they get older and particularly” she went on looking me right in the eye and softly resting her fingertips on the back of my hand. “Gifts to their lovers.”
“Er right” I’d replied making my excuses and leaving for I was becoming a little worried about my resolve as the wonderful times with Steph at uni flooded my mind.
Rich explained his idea. It turned out that he and his wife owned a few hairdressers, a couple of nail shops and several beauty parlours. “Oh eight or nine in all” he’d said casually when I asked how many. He went on. “There’s a nice big flat on two floors above the beauty parlour in Queen’s Road” he told me mentioning a trendy shopping area in Buckhurst Hill, the next town to where I live. “It would make a perfect studio with several settings, say a sitting room, a bedroom and of course a bathroom with a shower” he went on naming the sort of sets often found in studios.”
He told me that he would set up a website, fit out the studio and manage all the admin, bookings and cash and that I would be the main photographer although he would happily help out when required. “Some guys might be more comfortable with another guy.”
“What sort of shots?” I asked.
“Really whatever the customers want, whatever their heart’s desire” he smiled.
“But Mac er Rich I’m not that experienced as a photographer.”
“I know that and it’s not an issue.”
“You know posing, you know what’s erotic, you’re good at lighting, I can teach you the rest. Modern cameras and PCs are so easy, just aim and shoot really.”
Opening up his laptop and logging on he said. “Have a look?”
He flashed through some very stylish and elegant yet erotic and sexy images.
“Wow they are good aren’t they?”
“Have a good look when you get home, just google boudoir photography, there’s loads of them.”
When I got home I did as Rich suggested and was amazed at the number and the quality of the sites. I was also surprised at what some of them offered. This not only included individual and couples, one studio even offered ‘groups of up to eight,’ in glamour poses, but also ‘tasteful nudes.’ Some went further and offered beauty treatments, hair styling, make-up and nails before the session and one or two had a range of lingerie and other stuff that could be bought or rented. The more I cruised the sites the more amazed I became, silly really given how I earned my money. Some described them as ‘saucy shots’ others as ‘most intimate’ and one as ‘We will record whatever you wish to show us.’
Rich and I reached an agreement very quickly. I visited the premises and agreed that they would be perfect, saw his mock-up of the website and agreed that he would fund the venture and I would do most of the work. The business would pay a rent for the studio, he and his wife, Moira would keep all the income from the other stuff, hair, make-up and so on and I would get a fee per session and we would split the profits equally between us. It all sounded very grown up to me when he said that we would have to start a company and that Moira, he and I would be the directors. “But don’t worry Sam there will probably be stacks of cash.” I didn’t really get what he meant by that, but didn’t say anything. He had a lawyer friend draw up an agreement that I hardly bothered reading although Rich suggested I show it to my lawyer. I didn’t like to say I hadn’t got one.
A couple of weeks passed. I went to college most days and did a few photo sessions. Rich phoned me most days and kept me up to speed with the company formation and the progress in the studio and website.
“We should be ready to go within a month so I hope to launch the website in about two weeks. You will have to meet Moira soon.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“Look Sam we need to get you going behind the camera so how about almanbahis adres we do a session soon.”
“Sure, I don’t have a lot on for the next few weeks.”
“We’ll need to use Sandra’s place as we won’t be ready.”
Rich brought a couple of cameras and his laptop to the studio where I was waiting. Fortunately Sandra was on holiday for I didn’t really want to see her knowing what we were about to set up; I knew that she would go apeshit when she found out.
I did know a fair bit about cameras and lights and of course how to pose, but Rich taught me a lot about focusing and camera angles.
“You must always remember” he said as we stood looking at some boudoir sites. “There is so much you can do on the laptop after you have taken them.”
“Ok let’s try a few shots shall we?”
“What me taking you?”
“Do you really think I am going to get guys book sessions? I can see girls doing it, but blokes?”
“Believe me Sam, we will.”
I set the lights up, pulled a white backdrop down and posed him in front of it. He was wearing a dark grey, vee necked sweater with a white tee shirt under it and black, denim jeans with flip tops; real Essex chic. He actually looked good.
“Ok what we’ll do is I’ll take up a few poses and you adjust as you see fit then shoot say a dozen or so then we’ll look at them on the PC.”
“Fine let’s go” I said probably sounding more confident than I really was.
Rich struck up some poses front, side and back onto the camera. He used his hands imaginatively, which is one of the most difficult things when posing.
“Well they’re damn good you hardly need me” he encouraged me when we looked at then on the laptop. I was pleased with both what he said and myself for the fifteen or so shots did look pretty good to me. He gave me a few tips on focusing and using the telephoto lens more effectively then suggested some more posing.
I had him pose against a brick wall sitting and leaning on an armchair. I was enjoying it and think Rich was too.
“Bit different this side” I said clicking away at him as he sat and crossed and uncrossed his legs letting his flip flop dangle from his foot, a gesture I found, for some reason very sexy.
“And I can tell you Sam it’s bloody different being in front rather than behind.”
We did a few more sets with me doing as he had said with the photo and lens and also adjusting the lighting. Rich liked them and again complimented me. I was beginning to relax and feel good.
We had been going for an hour or so of the two he had booked.
“So you up for some boudoir stuff” he asked as we sipped glasses of white wine provided by the studio, to help both parties relax.
“So how do you want me?”
“Hadn’t thought of that” I laughed to hide my nervousness that had now returned. I couldn’t help thinking of the other sessions where the shoe was on the other foot and he directed me. And of course I couldn’t help thinking of the extras we had both enjoyed.
“Ok then, shall I take the sweater off?”
“Yes do that” I said taking a few shots as he removed it getting what I thought was a good shot as he had the sweater over his head and the tee had ridden up showing his flat stomach. I knocked off a few of him moving around in the white tee then said softly.
“And the tee now Mac.”
“Ok” he said grabbing the hem and lifting it up quickly.
“Now come on you’ve seen me and I assume others taking their tops off and it always has to be done slowly.”
Smiling he replied as he let it fall back into place. “Just testing.”
“Yeah right you’re just an old flasher admit it” I replied as I took a series of shots of him removing the tee.
“Mmmmmm you may well be right in that” he replied holding the tee by his side.
“Hold it like that” I said sharply seeing a neat shot.
“It really is something else you know Sam.”
“What is?” I asked as he came and stood next to me so we could look at the shots on the laptop.
“Being photographed and you may be right about me being an exhibitionist.”
“Don’t worry about it, we are like that when we get in front of the camera.”
“I guess that’s how this boudoir photography thing has got going.”
“Probably, most people, or so I am told at college lose their inhibitions after a while when being snapped.”
“Do you Sam?”
I looked up at him and smiling said. “After what you have photographed of me Rich I wouldn’t have thought you would need to ask that.”
“Mmmm true I suppose.”
“They really are bloody good Sam, I do believe she’s got it” you said mimicking Professor Higgins.
I laughed and said in a posh accent. “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.”
I went to the control panel and played around with the lights creating a dim, moody and what I thought was an intimate and quite sexy atmosphere.
“So how are your inhibitions Rich?” I asked pointing out where I wanted him to stand.
“I imagine some of the male clients, if we get any that is will want undressing, underwear and maybe nude don’t you?” I asked my voice sounding thick I think as I looked at my business partner and ex-client.
“I would assume so Sam.”
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