A quick one I wrote in May. It’s unedited, which means there may be typos and errors in the text. Apologies for the mistakes which remain.
In this one, Danny wants to take photos of a hot, mature lady from along the street. he’s heard rumours and has an old 35mm SLR…
I’ve disabled comments and voting because this is supposed to be fun and I’m bored with trolling dickheads who assume they have a voice.
Anyway, all that aside, here ’tis.
Thanks for reading.
GA – Perth, Scotland – 7 June 2021
“I want to take pictures,” I said.
Her eyebrows went up, twin arches of surprise.
“Oh,” she said.
I was trembling, self-conscious and very aware the neighbours could see me on the doorstep. The shopping bag I was holding was suddenly heavy, the weight of the camera distracting.
Anxious she might be upset or offended, I blurted: “I’m sorry, it’s just I heard that you do it. You know, pose for photos and that.”
I saw her face shift as her expression went from surprise to something sly and clandestine. She smirked and folded her arms beneath the thrust of her bosom, my eyes drawn to the deep crease between her breasts while she rested her weight against the front door jamb.
With something like amusement in her tone and behind her eyes, she looked at me and asked: “Oh, you have? Who told you that?”
Panic flashed inside me. “Uh, just some lads.”
“Never mind,” she said on a chuckle as she rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t matter…”
She paused and pushed away from the door while she unfolded her arms.
“It’s sixty quid for a half hour,” she told me.
The thrill of it hit me. She was agreeing to pose, arousal a visceral squeeze when I realised how close I was to seeing her in a bikini and high-heel shoes. That was my thing, what I wanted to capture: a mature, ripe, voluptuous lady in a bikini and shoes. I’d seen it on one of my dad’s VHS tapes, the porn he had hidden in a leather bag in the boot of the car. It was exciting to see naked women getting fucked, but I had a thing for the bikini and heels from the first proper porn scene I’d ever encountered.
There were rumours about Sarah Bennett floating around. I’d heard whispers about her being an amateur model, vague reports of how she’d pose for pictures, some saying she was okay to go naked while others said she’d been in some fuck films before. Sarah lived three doors away from the house I lived in with my parents and sister. I’d see her out and about: bright, smiling, attractive in a pretty, self-confident way, but otherwise entirely normal. Worth a second look but entirely suburban. I fantasied about her posing in the two-piece and high-heel shoes, wanking to a spitting climax as I imagined what it would be like to take photos of my own, reconciling the everyday Sarah with the model who posed for nude photos. I thought about it and had the idea to ask her to pose, aborting the project countless times because I didn’t have the guts to make an approach. I was eighteen to her thirty-something, intimidated by her maturity and the self-confident way she walked past our house as she went about her business. I knew she’d been married but didn’t have a clue about the detail of the divorce. Sarah had a daughter a few years younger than me, at school on the early afternoon I finally knocked at her door.
Sixty pounds was a hefty sum but worth it for half-an-hour with Sarah. Especially if she was in the bikini and shoes.
“Uh-huh, all right,” I managed to say, the words half-gurgled.
I saw her smirk widen into a grin after I said it, amusement sparkling in her blue eyes.
It caught me off-guard when she asked: “When are you thinking?”
After a brief hesitation, I held up the shopping bag. “Uh, now…?”
Sarah glanced over my shoulder and into the street, nodding as she set her attention back on me.
“Okay,” she said, “but you’ll have to give me a few minutes to get tidied up.” Sarah gestured to her hair and then down at her skirt and blouse. “I’m a bit of a mess. I’ll need to fix my face and get changed. Could you come back in … say … an hour?”
I felt the squeeze of disappointment, impatient and eager because she’d agreed and I didn’t want to wait anymore.
“You look okay,” I said, suddenly desperate to get into the house.
Sarah chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, that’s kind but I really do need to get ready. You can’t take pictures of me looking like this.”
Her head canted towards one shoulder; brow furrowed as she looked at me after I said, “yeah, but an hour?”
“You’re Danny, aren’t you?”
I nodded and then there was a pause while Sarah looked at me, expression thoughtful.
She said: “Look, you can come in and wait if you feel better about it…?”
“Can I? You mean it?”
Sarah snorted a laugh. “Of course. Why not? You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
I couldn’t contain my excitement as I said: “I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t believe you said yes.”
She frowned at me again. “Why wouldn’t I? I know bahis firmaları who you are. I’ve spoken to your mum a few times. As long as you’ve got sixty quid, we’ll be fine.”
At her mention of my mother I felt a quick stab of panic. “You wouldn’t tell my mum?”
Sarah scoffed and said: “What on Earth would I do that for, Danny?”
I shrugged and shook my head, pulling a face to match my bewilderment. The conversation was twisting and turning, confusing me as the desire surged through my core.
“You think your mum would be happy with me for stripping off in front of you?”
That seemed to out the idea in her head. Sarah frowned and folded her arms again, expression intent as she stared at me.
I nodded quickly when she asked: “You’re old enough to do this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said, worried it was all going to evaporate.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “In February.”
I told her when Sarah asked: “What year?”
Then she paused again like she was making her mind up.
“I suppose it’s all right,” she said. “As long as it doesn’t come back to bite me on the backside.”
“It won’t,” I said. “I promise. I won’t tell.”
“What about your mates? You’ll show them the photos, won’t you?”
“No,” I told her. “If you don’t want.”
“Look, come in. We can talk inside. Better than out here. We can talk where every busybody, nosy-parker can’t see us.”
Which is how I found myself in the living room with Sarah, an unnecessary mug of tea in my hands as I sat on the sofa while she sat in the big leather armchair with a cup of her own.
Silence ballooned as Sarah just sat there looking at me. I started to feel the awkwardness, tongue-tied and stupid, the heat flaring in my cheeks again as the seconds went by.
Sarah sipped her tea.
Then, fixing her gaze on me, she said: “So, what now?”
“I … I’ve never done this before. It’s just … Uh, well, I dunno what to do.”
“You give me money and then take pictures of me,” Sarah said through another grin. Then she chuckled and shook her head, her demeanour about how she thought it was funny. Then she sighed and softened, face showing sympathy. “All right, I get it, you’re probably all nervous and excited. You’re young. Yu want to take pictures of a naked woman … Am I right, Danny?”
I felt the blush arm my cheeks.
“Uh, not naked especially,” I managed to say as I looked down to my trainers. The fire in my face only made the embarrassment more acute. “I … I just wanted … uh … Do you have a bikini?”
“A couple,” Sarah said. “Is that what you want?”
I squirmed, face on fire under Sarah’s scrutiny. It was surreal talking about it. For me every nerve tingled while she seemed calm and at ease.
“Uh, yeah, just a bikini,” I said, mumbling it out.
I shrugged and glanced at her before my eyes went back to the carpet between us.
“If you like,” I said, unsure about why I thought she’d be angry at me for saying it.
“You’re paying me, Danny. You can have me in clothes, a bikini, or nude. You’re the boss.” Sarah gave a half-shrug and added: “I’ll do whatever you say for thirty minutes.”
Excitement churned in the pit of my stomach. My cock was hard, solidly erect just from being in her orbit like I was, desire making me reckless and bold.
She nodded when I blurted: “And high-heels. That’s what I want. Bikini and high-heel shoes.”
I saw a mix of amusement and curiosity in her expression when I looked at her.
“That’s quite specific. Why a bikini and heels?”
“I … I just like it,” I said.
“What are you going to do with these photos? If you plan on selling them, you need a model release.”
Sarah explained about I’d need her consent to publish photos of her.
“Uh, no, I’m not gonna send them to a magazine,” I said.
She smirked and said: “Just for you? Something to look at while you…?”
I blushed hotter when she mimed the wanking action.
“Oh, Danny, I’m only teasing,” Sarah continued with a low chuckle. “Don’t look so worried. That’s fine. They’ll be yours to do what you want with them. It’s all right, you know. I mean about wanking off. Everybody does it. Well, most people anyway. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
With embarrassment curdling my guts, I winced and nodded.
“Look, just so you know and don’t feel embarrassed, I do it, too. I’m divorced. I like sex. It’s not that simple at my age. I get a lot of interest from men, but … well … there are some nutters around. I don’t have a bloke at the moment, not that I’m looking, but I do need to get some relief from time-to-time. I masturbate too.”
I was gawking at her as I took the information in, my erection pulsing inside my jeans, a distant distraction to what she was saying.
“So, you see? There’s no need to be embarrassed about it, Danny. I understand. I have likes as well. If you want photos of me in a bikini and shoes…? No problem at all.”
As I processed it, Sarah stood up.
“All right, I’m going upstairs kaçak iddaa to get ready. I might be a little while, so if you want to watch some telly…”
I said I’d be fine as I was and then Sarah left me alone. I heard some moving around upstairs, my head full of what was going to happen, the arousal and excitement mixing inside me in a swirl of impressions as I continuously looked at the clock on the living room wall. The minutes passed like hours and I was impatient to start. I was anxious and edgy, nerves wound tight. The erection subsided but left a gloopy wetness inside my underwear, the goo cold whenever I shifted around on the sofa.
Then, with the clock showing twenty-five minutes had passed, I heard Sarah coming down the stairs.
A surge of anticipation rushed through me when the door opened, disappointment on me when I saw the fluffy, pink towelling robe, the garment incongruous because I could see she was also wearing pink high heels, a ribbon and bow arrangement around her ankles.
“Okay, so, money,” Sarah said.
I’d anticipated there’d be a price and my post office savings were lighter by a hundred quid. I stood up and took the notes out of my pocket, handing over two twenties and two tens. Sarah took the money and placed it down on the coffee table like it was pocket change, her focus on me, eyes wide and enquiring.
“All right, David Bailey, this is your time.”
I was about to ask who David Bailey was when the words jammed in my throat, my eyes on Sarah as she loosened the belt around her waist and shrugged the robe from her shoulders.
“Come on,” Sarah insisted. “Thirty minutes.”
I gawked for a few more seconds, cock fully tumescent as I took in the detail of her body, her figure exquisite in that mature, slightly thick-at-the-middle way I’d anticipated. Sarah was very full at the bust, large breasts rounded and thrilling to look at, tit-flesh bubbling over the cups of the bikini bra the same hit-pink as her shoes, her shape feminine as I let my eyes roam down over her waist and the swell of her hips. I loved the effect of the heels on her calves, the muscles tensioned perfectly for my tastes, the heels adding three inches to Sarah’s height.
“Take a photo,” Sarah said, smirking as she put her fists on her hips. “It’ll last longer,” she added.
My hands were trembling when I fished the camera out of the bag.
“God, somebody’s nervous,” Sarah said, trilling a laugh. Then, when she saw the camera, she added: “Wow, old-school.”
“I … I’m sorry,” I gasped as I managed to snap a frame.
I wound the film on, taking another picture of Sarah n her Amazon pose, fists on her hips, frontage presented to me.
“It’s sweet,” Sarah said kindly. “Settle down, Danny. Don’t rush it. You’ll end up with nothing but blurry pictures else. And I have to ask, where did you get that camera? It’s all digital these days.”
“It was my dad’s,” I said. “He gave it to me when I had a project at school.”
“Where are you planning on getting the film developed?”
Her eyes went wide when I told her I could do it myself.
“Do it at home,” I said. “I just set up in my bedroom.”
Well, aren’t you clever,” Sarah said through a kindly smile.
“You’re lovely,” I said, the words clotted and thick with my need.
“Aw, thank you,” Sarah said as her smile broadened. “So, how do you want me?”
I didn’t have a clue about directing the model, so I shrugged and shook my head, eyes all over Sarah’s lush curves.
“All right, I understand,” Sarah said.
I told her I had 3 rolls of film, 36 exposures on each when she asked, nodding when she said: “Listen, I’ll just do some standard stuff and you take the photo — okay?”
And then we started. Sarah moved to the sofa, sitting down facing me, her upper arms against the sides of her breasts, the precipitous crease between them a deep crevasse which drew my attention.
After a couple of shots, I gurgled: “You’ve got great boobs,” the words coming out without me knowing I was going to say them.
“Uh-huh, I’ve been told before,” Sarah said through her devilish smirk.
Then she moved and knelt on the sofa, swivelling around to look at me over one shoulder, her hand on one buttock as she spread herself and the bikini bottoms slid into the cleft and exposed both those cheeks.
I gulped, swallowing down on the surge of arousal as I stared at Sarah creased at the waist, her large breasts swinging in the hammock of her bikini top, their shape in three-quarter profile.
“Camera, Danny,” she said, laughing it out. “God, darling, you’re supposed to take pictures, not just gawp.”
“I’m sorry,” I said before I managed to catch her in that pose with a couple of frames.
“Stop apologising,” Sarah said as she moved again. “You’re fine. Don’t worry. I know you’re nervous.”
“I am,” I said while Sarah arranged herself.
It took the first roll of film to settle me a little. Sarah moved into position, pausing as I took the pictures, the excitement inside me still swirling while kaçak bahis my cock stayed rigid.
There was a pause as I wound the film back into its casing, fingers fumbling when I snapped the back of the camera open and switched the cartridges round.
As I tried to concentrate on the task, I heard Sarah chuckle and say: “You’re a refreshing change. Not had a tog like you before.”
I looked up and felt the shock of it all over again as I saw her in the bikini and heels.
“Photographer,” she said when I asked what a tog was. “They’re okay if they’re professional, but the amateurs can get a bit grabby.”
I got the new film set on the spool and asked: “Grabby?”
Sarah grimaced. “Yes, you know…” She held up both hands and made squeezing actions with her fingers. “A bit touchy-feely. Like they think because they’re paying me that they can touch me, too.”
“Oh,” I said because I had nothing else to say.
“But you’re okay,” Sarah went on. “You’ve got manners.”
Then she moved again, posing for a few more pictures until I was at the final ten shots in the roll.
It was when she was sitting upright, shoes on the carpet and her rump on the sofa that she did it, when Sarah smirked and looked at me, lower lip then held between her teeth as she crinkled her nose at me.
“You must want some photos like this,” she said, shocking me by casually shoving the bikini top down to expose her breasts. “Yes, Danny? You want to see my tits?”
Lust squeezed my vitals as I gazed at her breasts, their size and shape bringing forth a moan of desire, my attention on the pale saucers of their areolae, nipples thick teats of elongated flesh she teased with her fingers when she hefted the weight of those orbs in both palms.
“Come on, take your pictures,” Sarah said, teasing me with her eyes and her tone as she said it. “Do you like my big tits?”
The trembling was obvious as I held up the camera to take the first photos. Sarah grinned and posed, pouting and flirting with the camera as I snapped off a couple of frames.
She encouraged me to move in close, the lens near her breasts until she told me to lie on the floor and take a couple of shots from that perspective.
Then Sarah stood over me, feet either side of my hips as I aimed the camera upwards, the underside of her breasts in the frame, her bikini briefs tight against her vulva so I could see the indentation in the pink fabric.
“Dirty pose for you,” Sarah said, muttering it out while she hauled the gusset aside. “Pussy pic,” Sarah added, giggling when I croaked in surprise. “Come on, Daddy, take the picture,” Sarah went on after a couple of seconds of me staring up at her meaty folds.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I took the pictures.
“Thought you might like a few of me showing some skin,” Sarah said as I fumbled around with the final roll of film.
I was up on my feet, fiddling with the camera while Sarah just stood nearby, calm and casual with her breasts exposed, the bikini bottoms down so her vulva was in plain sight, the tiny tuft of what remained of her pubic bush at the apex of her slit, the labia bare.
As she said it, Sarah stepped out of the briefs, hands on her hips, her full frontage towards me.
“Fuck, you’re just lovely,” I said, gasping it out as my dick seeped pre-cum into my underwear.
“Oh, keep talking that way,” Sarah said through her grin. “I can take those compliments, Danny.”
“I mean it,” I said on what was almost a groan. “Your body … You’re just so pretty.”
Sarah chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Big tits and I’m showing you my quim. You’re just randy, Danny.”
“I want to touch you,” I moaned.
Reckless with desire and hot with need, I hadn’t meat to say it. The words just cane out in a quick rush as lust boiled inside me.
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, expression suddenly feline, a slyness behind her eyes.
“Oh, I bet you do,” she said on a murmur. Then she thrust her chin at me. “I can tell by that wet patch on the front of your jeans.”
I looked down, appalled to see the coin staining my jeans, the excitement seeping through my underwear and the denim.
“Uh, I’m sorry,” I said, gurgling out in shame.
Sarah surprised me by blurting a laugh, head moving side-to-side as her eyes flashed with amusement.
“There you go again, apologising,” she said.
Then she guffawed once more, the action setting her breasts swaying and jiggling when I repeated the same apology.
She said: “It’s fine. Don’t worry. It’s understandable that your body would react that way. You’re young. Excited. It’s natural, Danny.”
“I can’t help it,” I said.
She nodded, expression shifting to sympathetic. “Of course not. I know that.”
Sarah held up a hand, palm out when I opened my mouth.
“Do not tell me you’re sorry again,” she said.
I gulped down against desire, nodding while gasping: “I won’t.”
I looked at the camera when Sarah asked: “Last roll?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I looked up and saw Sarah staring at me, that sly, clandestine look in her eyes again.
“All right, so, how about we take a few photos where, if you want, I pretend to suck your cock?”
I boggled as I tried to process what she’d just said, disbelief in my head.