Over the years, countless young women from the city and the surrounding area have come to me to start their modeling careers or even to branch into adult modeling. Some of the women I have seen through my cameras have appeared in magazines worldwide. Others were discovered by my network of contacts and eventually landed acting jobs at various levels. A few have appeared in major adult magazines, and two of them now have their own adult Web sites for which I will do some photo shoots when they are back in the area.
Because I have always had adult modeling as part of my business, I had never worked with anyone below the age of eighteen – with the exception of Tricia. Her parents and I had been close friends since our high school days, and none of us had left the city: While I was in a trade school and then apprenticing under a well-known photographer, they were attending separate colleges in the suburbs, and we all would spend a lot of time together on the weekends. Justine and Craig had been a couple in high school, and no one was surprised when they announced their engagement, nor was anyone particularly surprised that I would be handling the wedding photography.
Tricia had the best physical features of both her parents. From her father, she had inherited both statuesque height and dark eyes which could pierce a man’s soul. From her mother, she had inherited a long and flowing chestnut mane and lips so plump that one would expect them to gush when she opened her mouth to speak.
Tricia had also acquired her parents’ drive. She was almost a Type A personality, lacking only the impatience and the hostility often associated with that label. If she wanted something, she would get it, and she would almost always work for it.
The biggest “it” in young Tricia’s life was modeling. From an early age, others had seen her as model material, and she had taken that to heart. The dance lessons, the acting lessons, the singing lessons, and even the tennis lessons had all been part of the overall goal of Tricia becoming a good model – not necessarily a catwalk model, but at least good enough to support herself and ideally provide for a family later in life.
Of course, she had worked with more than a few photographers, and she had kept asking me for years why I never invited her to a shoot in my studio and why I had always turned her down when she requested to see where I did my studio work. Finally, when she was about twelve years old, her mother sat her down one morning and explained that not all the work I do is suitable for minors, yet she still insisted, and finally, after a long discussion with her parents, it was agreed that I would do various shoots with Tricia, but that I would use a pseudo name instead of my actual, professional name so that my reputation with adult models would not tarnish young Tricia’s potential for earnings.
For nearly six years, Tricia graced the lenses of my cameras. Since she was the only minor I had ever shot professionally outside of a wedding party, I kept an album of her best photos, and there were evenings when I would lean back in the recliner and once again look through the album, watching the transformation of a young girl and a fine model and a nice friend as she grew into a young woman.
I had to admit that the bikini shoots and the lolita-style shoots were my favorites. Part of that was because those types of shoots tend to sell well, earning money for me and landing various modeling contracts and assignments for her. Part of that was because it was Tricia wearing those bikinis and wearing those cute lolita-style outfits. But an even greater part of that was because, unlike the other women who posed before my cameras, I knew Tricia personally – I knew firsthand that she loved life, that she had a good heart, that she was a good friend.
Across the years, Tricia had asked me about my adult photography, which she never saw either at my home or in my studio. Her main question was, not surprisingly, “What’s it like for you?” I never answered her.
With her eighteenth birthday approaching, she asked yet again as we prepared to shoot her modeling a swimsuit as she played in the sand on a beach at sunset. Again, I did not answer, but as I worked with her that evening, it finally dawned on me:
Tricia was setting me up to do an adult shoot with her. She had been setting me up for this for several years.
As the sun set on the beach, it was also setting on her childhood, and her adult life was about to dawn.
I could not be in town for Tricia’s eighteenth birthday, as I was traveling to handle the photography for a cousin’s wedding. When I finally returned from the airport, however, Tricia was waiting for me on the front porch, smiling enthusiastically and bouncing down the few steps and sprinting to tackle me as I stepped from the car.
Once we had brought my gear and luggage inside, as the A/C was blasting to cool the house again, I ordered pizza and Cokes for us and we only half-watched Comedy Central as we waited. We chatted softly about her birthday and about my cousin’s wedding, and then came The Question:
“What’s it like for you to shoot a nude woman?”
This time, I did finally answer her.
“It’s like creating art, actually,” I told her. “There’s certainly an element of eroticism to it which affects me, sometimes more than others, but I’ve done adult photography for so long that my professionalism keeps my mind in the work, in the camera settings and the positioning of the lighting and the woman’s poses and angles, so that, to be honest, I really don’t ‘admire’ the woman nearly so much anymore. There are moments when I suddenly realize, ‘Hey! I’ve got a naked babe in front of me!’ But generally speaking, through the camera, the woman’s no more real than the marble another artist might use to create a sculpture of a naked woman.”
My young friend seemed to mull that over for a bit, trying to understand. Clearly, I had not given her an answer she had expected. “You don’t ever get horny?” she asked.
I was saved by the doorbell and the arrival of our dinner and drinks.
“You never did answer my question earlier,” Tricia accused as she was preparing to head home. “Don’t you ever get horny shooting so many naked women?”
I smiled and tried to laugh it off. “Horny, no. It takes more than just a random naked woman to make me horny – and I suspect that most guys would tell you the same thing if they were being truly honest. Aroused, yes, but again, as I said earlier, the professionalism primarily keeps my mind focused on the overall work at hand, not the actual person in front of the camera.”
As we shared a final hug on the front porch, Tricia finally asked the question I had been expecting for many years:
“Would you do a nude shoot with me?”
The lengthy flights to and from the wedding had given me plenty of time to consider the pros and the cons of any possible adult photography with Tricia. Before the wedding, I had also discussed this with her parents, and while her mother was somewhat against it, Justine also recognized that if Tricia was willing to do it, adult photography could open more modeling opportunities for her. Being the protective type, Craig was not particularly enamored with his daughter’s womanly anatomy being seen by others, although he did not seem concerned that I would be seeing Tricia’s feminine parts, which was a noteworthy distinction. The major issue the young model’s parents had with this, however, was that none of the photos could be shown to anyone until after she had graduated from high school in early June, which I felt was a perfectly acceptable request.
“Sure,” I agreed, “and I promise to be just as professional with you as I am with any of the other women who come to me for adult photography.”
That earned me a smile and a kiss to my cheek, and as I watched my young friend bounce down the few steps to the sidewalk, I realized that I was anticipating this particular photo session more than any other of my lengthy career.
That night, I dreamed of Tricia for the first time ever. She had been in some of my other dreams over the years, but always as an extra, never as the main character. I dreamed that Tricia was slowly untying the belt of a soft pink robe, then allowing the garment to fall open – all while I took picture after picture. I was aware that I was dreaming, but I was also aware that an erection was forming as my mind imagined my longtime friend baring her body to my camera, to me. From the smile of her plump lips to the gleam in her eyes, she was not performing for the camera – she was undressing for the photographer.
Over the next few weeks leading up to the photo session, there were more and more dreams featuring Tricia. Some featured the young woman stripping off various clothes, some featured her posing naked on a bed or in the grass.
…and the final such dream, the night before the photo session, featured my young friend kneeling before me, taking me into her mouth while I kept taking photo after photo.
“Just like we spoke about,” I told her outside my guest bedroom. “We have all afternoon, so no time constraints really to speak of. Take all the time you need to get comfortable with each step. I won’t rush you in any way, and if you need to stop at any time, there is no shame in saying so.”
“I know,” Tricia assured me. Her smile was as enthusiastic as usual, but her eyes betrayed her, giving me a momentary flash of her nervousness.
“Hey,” I said, spreading my arms. She stepped into my hug, and I could feel her nervousness slowly melt away.
I could also feel the initial stirrings of arousal.
About fifteen minutes later, Tricia joined me downstairs. The idea was that she would be in her bedroom, changing clothes, and that using my guest bedroom, a place she had stayed on more than a few occasions during the years when her parents needed to travel or be out until rather late at night, would help to maintain her calm and fend off the worst of any nervousness.
…or so I hoped.
She appeared in the kitchen with me, wearing a Hannah Montana fitted t-shirt and wide-belted snug-fitting jeans with sandals and dangling star-shaped earrings. Oddly, I had expected a bit of nervousness from her, but what I saw in Tricia’s eyes instead almost took my breath way:
I saw hope in the young woman’s eyes.
A few minutes later, we were in the guest bedroom. Tricia had brought some of her stuffed animals and had put up two of her favorite posters and had strewn some of her clothes around to help the guest bedroom look more like a semi-rebellious young woman’s bedroom. When I surveyed the room through one of my cameras, I was almost convinced that her efforts achieved the desired effect – “almost” because I knew this place extremely well, but I was fairly positive that to anyone who might see the pictures taken in this room in this configuration, the desired effect would have been achieved.
The photo session began rather normally. Given that Tricia and I had worked together for quite some time already, we already had a great working chemistry, and I believe that was key, putting her into a good headspace from the outset even though we would soon be crossing a significant boundary in our working relationship. The lights had been positioned just right, truly accentuating her curves and bringing out the brilliance of her dark eyes. Once again, it was evident that she was not posing for the camera, but for the photographer behind the camera, and that continued even when I changed cameras.
Finally, the moment of truth was at hand. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and as she stood between the bed and the window, she turned around, her back to the camera, and began to lift off the fitted t-shirt.
I thought it was extremely sexy. As the black garment was raised, her creamy skin was revealed, and I took pictures in quick succession as her torso flowed in gentle curves upward from her waist. The act of taking off the fitted t-shirt forced her hair high, which in itself created a nice artistic symmetry, and as the virginal white of her bra was revealed, the professional in me loved the imagery she was creating.
The man in me loved the fact that this was Tricia creating such imagery. The fact that her body was effectively haloed by the daylight penetrating the window gave the moment almost a magical feel, as if this was meant to happen.
Once the black garment had cleared her head, she pulled it aside, looking over her shoulder at me with a smile. The fact that a camera happened to be in the way did not seem to matter.
Her smile was genuine, and her smile was for me.
Tricia’s hair cascaded back down, brushing along her back and mostly obscuring the virginal white of her bra. She kept smiling at me, both through and around the camera, and it was clear that this first boundary had been passed successfully, her eyes practically dancing as she tossed the black garment to the bed.
“Let’s have a slow turn,” I suggested. “A profile shot would be great.”
As she raised her hands to push up her lengthy chestnut mane, she kept her eyes on me, the smile still affixed to her plump lips, and the swell of a breast became more and more noticeable as she turned slowly for me. One picture after another was taken in rapid succession, yet part of me was thinking back to the various dreams of the previous few weeks in which Tricia had been the main character, when her breasts had not been covered.
“That’s great!” I praised her, hoping that male enthusiasm did not creep into my voice.
Of her own volition, Tricia lowered her hands, which allowed her hair to fall once again, and reached for the clasp of the bra behind her, a motion which forced her back to arch just enough to make her breasts quite prominent from the profile view she was giving me.
As the bra straps were brought down her arms a moment later, the backlit profile view also granted me a wonderful view of her right nipple.
More pictures. She looked toward the bed as she cast the virginal white supportive garment to the bed, making it appear that she was alone in the bedroom and a camera just happened to be able to capture this specific moment while she was ostensibly unaware of its presence.
Perhaps because I truly knew Tricia personally and had known her as more than just a model for many years, her topless state affected me. I faltered from my professionalism for a moment, lowering the camera to gaze upon her with unfettered vision. I could not help myself – I was amazed by her willingness to be topless in my presence, and for a moment felt absolutely no shame in the fact that there was a definite stirring within my jeans.
Her eyes raked down my body, settling at the zipper to my jeans. It was slightly embarrassing to be becoming erect in her presence, but as I finally focused my attention through the camera once again, I recognized that her nipples were hardening, and given that it was definitely not cold or even cool in the guest bedroom, the only other logical reason for her hardening nipples was that she saw me and she liked what she saw.
“Jeans next?” I suggested.
“Sure thing.” Her voice seemed to waver slightly, but she was already topless – she had already shown me parts of her which no man other than a medical professional or a mate should see – and seemed resolved to push forward with the plan for this session. Tricia turned sideways again and bent down from the waist to unbuckle the straps of her sandals, and that position, with her firm derrière the highest visible point of her body and most of the rest of her having disappeared beneath the horizon of the bed, was also captured by the camera.
The bed was definitely an obstacle, for I did not have a clear view of this young woman as she unbuckled the wide belt and slowly stripped off the jeans, but I worked with the situation, although once the jeans had been cast onto the bed, she turned toward me again, as if proudly displaying her virginal white panty.
“Wow,” I breathed. “Beautiful…”
Words like that coming from my mouth were not unusual in our sessions together. Tricia had an innate way of making anything seem beautiful, whether it was the latest swimsuit or an old bulky winter coat. While I knew that her ability had been honed by plenty of practice over the years, including plenty of practice before my cameras, making clothing appear beautiful was a natural gift she possessed in great bounty.
But in this scenario, words like “Wow” and “Beautiful” coming from my mouth definitely had a different tone: a tone of admiration, a tone of seeing this particular young woman in a new light, a tone of appreciation.
…a tone of desire.
My erection solidified as my non-professional mind recognized what I would soon see. That part of my mind remembered the latest dream featuring Tricia: the dream which ended with my hardened manhood inside her mouth.
My professional mind kept working with her as if she was any other young woman appearing before my cameras. Even as the virginal white panty was slowly removed, my professionalism did not disintegrate, although it did falter briefly several times as I drank in her natural beauty, as I felt truly fortunate to be graced by her presence.
There was a nervousness still evident in her eyes, but it faded as the pictures were taken and we remained on opposite sides of the bed. Tricia turned and posed – mostly of her own accord, occasionally at my direction – and as she became accustomed to being naked in front of someone else, especially in front of a man, the nervousness faded from her eyes, and soon her dark orbs were once again piercing my soul through the camera.
“Incredible.” “Perfect.” “Beautiful.” “Superb.” “Wonderful.” “Excellent.” So many praises floated from my lips to her ears, yet none of them seemed truly adequate for the natural artistic beauty she displayed.
And then it was time for her to dress again in another outfit.
Or so I thought.
The plan was for Tricia to dress again in a different bra and panty, put on a blouse and a skirt, add some thigh-high socks and low heels, and then don a necklace.
Instead, Tricia climbed onto the bed, and I switched cameras and followed her lead. It was a playful time in the session as she rolled about in various positions while I worked. No instructions were needed, for she seemed instinctively to know what would look right in the final images.
She remained on the bed and I moved around the obstruction, sometimes crouching low to get a better angle but very conscious of the lights and the shadows they created. I felt like the photographer in Perfect Blue who became known for being the first to shoot Mimarin naked.
My favorite shot was taken as I crouched beside the bed, with Tricia’s long legs bent over the edge and providing a wonderful view of her barren womanhood. It was clear that the lips of her mouth were not the only plump portions of her anatomy, and after I had taken the shot, I lowered the camera, mesmerized by the vision before me, and suddenly aware of the scent filling my nostrils.
A long silence passed during which neither of us moved – I doubt that either of us even breathed. What remained of my professionalism crumbled quickly, becoming mere dust in the wind, leaving behind only the very male part of my mind which saw an opportunity before me in the form of a beautiful young woman who appeared to be attracted to me and willing to take the unique circumstances of the afternoon even further beyond the plan.
Finally, I rose from my crouching position, my legs and especially my knees protesting the movement, and Tricia slipped to the floor before me. I had enough presence of mind to turn and set the camera aside, and then the young woman was firmly enveloped in my arms.
We kissed. A naked young model and a suddenly-unprofessional older photographer kissed, and even though the model was the daughter of some very close friends and in fact was a good friend in her own right, I felt absolutely no shame in feeling her naked body pressed against my clothes nor in feeling the tip of her tongue brushing along my upper lip.
When Tricia finally stepped back, we were both breathless, and my brain seemed to be spinning inside my skull. Her demeanor had changed: She was no longer nervous, and she seemed to be perfectly at ease with being naked while I was still fully clothed. I believe that her lack of restiveness was due to having spent a considerable amount of time around me over the years as she wore just a bikini or a tasteful lingerie set or maybe a matching bra and panty set while I had remained professionally perched behind a camera. Whatever the reason for her lack of nerves, I silently thanked all the deities I knew as I took her into my arms again, hugging her tightly, not wanting to ever release this fine young woman from my grasp.
I did release her – just long enough for me to sit on the edge of the bed and for Tricia to straddle my lap. For a long time, we kissed, but perhaps more importantly, we touched. Mostly, I touched her, exploring her body with my hands as intimately as I had been exploring her body with the cameras. The curves which had been revealed to my eyes seemingly a few heartbeats earlier were finally revealed to my fingertips, and she seemed quite content to allow me to tactilely learn her, study her.
When my fingertips finally ventured between her thighs, I was not at all surprised to find that Tricia was wet. It did surprise me a little, however, to hear her sultry moan in my ear, a sound which affirmed for me that the little girl who had grown up before me and before my cameras was very much a woman. The tall teenager whose images graced the pages of magazines and were seen in various catalogues and on their related Web sites was now definitely a true mature adult.
Trailing her wetness upward, I learned this young woman’s clitoris. She clutched me tightly, her face buried in my neck, rocking against my fingertips, reacting very much like the adult she had become. My free hand at the center of her back and gently playing with her chestnut mane, I masturbated her, pleasured her, listened keenly to her soft moans and her contented sighs, reveled in how her arms would momentarily tighten around my shoulders and in how her body would shudder against me, adored the feel of her hardened nipples trying to poke through my shirt to graze against my flesh.
“Oh please…!” Tricia cried out softly, her voice sirenic.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s definitely okay…”
A few heartbeats later, her body stiffened, her voice at a high pitch when she squealed from the surge of her climax racing through her body.
My erection throbbed, jealous and needy and eager to be embedded within this young woman, but I was able to set my own desires aside to instead caress her and kiss her and ensure she knew that I cared for her. She sagged against me, her grip of my shoulders loosening, her breathing slowly returning to normal as she whimpered softly in the afterglow of her climax.
As I held her close, I looked around the guest bedroom and the contrasts struck me. The equipment was evidence of the model she had been for a long time. The posters and the girlish clothes and especially the stuffed animals were testament to the girl she had been. Her nudity and her afterglow were proof of the woman she had become.
Her nudity in my presence, especially with her passion coating my fingertips and her warm breath against my neck, told of a fate which I doubt either of us had expected – I certainly had not expected this fate, not even after having had the dreams over the previous few weeks featuring an undressing or naked Tricia.
I was still quite erect, perhaps the ultimate testament that Tricia was now a woman. As I slipped a hand between us to gently squeeze a soft breast, I throbbed inside my jeans once again. It had been a long time – several years, actually – since I had last been intimate with a woman, as few women really understood my line of work and cared to even consider dating a man who spent a considerable amount of time photographing some of the most beautiful women in the city, especially when those women would be partially or even fully nude during some of those sessions. Having a young women naked in my presence and not actually needing to be truly professional with her in my presence had “allowed” me to become fully erect and to want to join with her in a way I had not done with any woman in a long, long time.
Carefully, I seized her in my arms, and then slowly stood. Instinctively, Tricia’s legs locked around me, but she did not need to do so, for I turned around and settled her on the edge of the bed, then nudged her toward its center where she lay across many of the clothes she had brought with her. Amusingly, the virginal white bra was partially trapped beneath her head, and that brought a smile to my face as I fetched a camera.
She looked up at me, looking through the camera at me, smiling softly with her lips and with her eyes as I straddled her, positioning and then taking the shot. Only then did I tell her why I had the camera in my hands again, and she laughed quietly, reaching with a hand to find the bra and tugging it gently, which in turn prompted me to take several more photographs as she toyed with her own bra, a supportive garment which was not actually supporting the breasts at the base of the shots. Her free hand moved, but my professional mind was focused again on these new shots of her, of this new position and the new “toy” partially trapped beneath her head.
My hands faltered as I felt her free hand brush across my thigh. My erection throbbed insistently as she boldly stroked the bulge at the front of my jeans, and I found my professionalism once again dissipating like dust in the wind.
I set the camera aside, still on the bed but well out of the way, and allowed Tricia to stroke me. The partially-trapped bra was essentially forgotten as she explored me through my jeans, her touches soft yet still able to send shudders of pleasure up my spine. For my part, I touched her as well, focusing my caresses on her forearms, occasionally brushing the back of a hand, but mostly, I was allowing her to set the pace, even though I was dripping with desire and lusting for the warmth of her youthful body.
“I can’t believe this is happening…” she whispered with awe surfing her words. “I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough for this to be happening…”
“Same here,” I assured her. “Same here…”
I retracted my hands from her forearms and, taking a chance, I began to unbutton my shirt. I started at the top, as usual, and to my surprise, Tricia tugged the shirttails up from within my jeans and began to unbutton the shirt from the bottom. Our hands met at roughly halfway, bumping against each other, and I allowed her to release the final button and spread my shirt wide as I held my arms back so it could slide down my arms and off of me.
That was when I changed position, settling atop the young model. Her breasts felt warm and inviting against my newly-exposed skin, and her arms felt incredibly sensual as they wrapped around my bare back. With her height, my erection was lined almost perfectly with her clitoris, and as our lips met once again, I rocked gently, not wanting for the semi-rough denim to hurt her sensitive bud as she mewed with renewing pleasure into my mouth.
Soon, somehow, we rolled, resulting in Tricia laying upon me, lifting her head long enough to brush her hair out of the way before briefly kissing me again as she rocked gently, almost as if she was trying to balance her weight on my throbbing length. My arms wrapped around her again, but after a few moments, she lifted herself from me, sliding down my body and off the bed, standing between my spread legs, looking at me with desirous eyes as her hands worked at my belt, and soon she had to step aside as she lowered my jeans and my underwear in tandem, ultimately leaving me in my socks.
Her eyes settled on the thick manhood pointing toward my navel. It was almost amusing to watch Tricia’s eyes growing large at the sight of my dripping length. It was evident that this was the first time she was seeing an erection, and she sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively reaching toward it as if she was attempting to pick up a snake which might try to bite her.
The feel of her fingertips directly on my exposed arousal sent another shudder of pleasure up my spine. I may have moaned softly at her touch, because she turned to look into my eyes, and once again her dark eyes pierced me, connecting with something deep inside me.
She repositioned herself on the bed, and with her face directly over my groin, she dipped her head, her lengthy mane unfortunately obscuring my view…
I first felt her fingertips brushing and then beginning to knead my testicles. Tricia was being very careful, very gentle, but mostly she was being very tentative.
Then her tongue slithered along my pulsing length from base to tip, moving slowly, teasing me, tasting me. Certainly she was receiving a healthy dose of my natural musk, and I was almost positive that she was aware of the throbbing within my engorged anatomy – a throbbing which called to her because of who she was.
I breathed her name softly, then lost my breath as her lips closed around my tip. Using only her lips, she took me into her mouth, bathing me with her tongue, tantalizing me, suckling me. When I regained my breath, I was moaning softly, my hands in her hair gently nudging her head forward to take more of my thick length into her mouth, the semi-hard roof of her oral cavity contrasting greatly with the ever-moving softness of her pointed tongue.
Quite some time passed as a good friend gave me a pleasure I had not enjoyed in far too long. I had practically forgotten just how good a woman’s mouth could feel. I had practically forgotten how wonderful it felt to give myself so selflessly to someone else.
I had definitely forgotten just how quickly time can pass when one is enjoying the intimate attentions of another. I suddenly recognized just how bright it was in the guest bedroom and realized that it was because the sun was positioned just right in the southern sky, illuminating much of the bed but not yet shining in my face.
Tricia released my manhood from her mouth and turned and lifted her head. Our eyes met and connected on that deeper level yet again.
“Cum on me,” she requested, “just like I’ve seen online.”
I knew exactly what she meant, for I sometimes went online in search of porn. Facials were amongst my favorites, and the sizeable external hard drive of my personal desktop computer was about twenty percent filled with facial images collected from numerous online sources over the years – images which I sometimes used as a screensaver, and one of those images was currently my desktop wallpaper.
I smiled, already envisioning Tricia’s face and hair streaked with white. I would love to have a picture of her splattered face as my desktop wallpaper.
We changed position again so that the young model could rest her head on a pillow, flanked by two of her stuffed animals. Straddling her once more, I leaned forward, my hands gripping the headboard of the bed as Tricia used her hands to guide my throbbing erection back into her mouth. I moved slowly, never forcing her mouth to take in more of me than she was able to do comfortably, and her hands stroked and kneaded the rest of my needy sex. In breathy whispers, I praised her efforts, encouraged her, and as I felt the approach of my release, I groaned several times, my voice seemingly loud in my ears.
At the point of no return, I suddenly withdrew from her wonderful mouth, looking down at her sweet face as I stroked myself to completion. Several long, hard blasts of white launched from me, and she visibly flinched with each impact to her face, squealing happily as my warm seed marked her.
And then I could no longer see, my eyes clamped shut as my climax consumed me, my voice still seemingly quite loud. Her hands were on the backs of my thighs, holding me in place as the last of my hot lust befell her face.
Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Tricia looking up at me with awe and amazement. She had clearly enjoyed having me shoot my lust on her face, and as I tried to regain my breath, I answered her smile with my own, my heart soaring at the vision of her.
“Stay there,” I instructed her, the professional in me recognizing an opportunity. I reached for the camera, and a few moments later I had the true money shot.
…the shot I could never sell, at least not as long as Justine and Craig were still alive, for they would skin me alive if they knew that I had been sexually involved with their daughter. But I could at least use that shot as my desktop wallpaper, and I was already looking forward to turning on the computer in the morning and seeing Tricia’s smiling and splattered face greeting me.
I once again set the camera aside, watching Tricia intently, admiring her for the big steps she had taken in such a short period of time. Having known her since birth, I had already been fairly fond of her, but after the events of the afternoon, that fondness had blossomed beyond expectation.
“Will you give me that shot?” she asked quietly, her hands gently rubbing up my sides, her face still beaming with pride as she wore my lust.
“Absolutely,” I assured her, “but that can wait. I think you’d better go clean yourself so we can finish the planned session and actually be able to tell your parents that the plan was indeed accomplished.”
She giggled softly, and as I watched the naked young woman saunter toward the bathroom a few moments later, I had the feeling that in time, there would be more such money shots taken of her. I just hoped that I would be the lucky photographer selected to create and take those money shots.
We finished the session as planned, and while Tricia was freshening up in the guest bedroom’s bathroom, I was in the kitchen trying to decide what to prepare for us for dinner if she wanted to stay a while longer. When she came to me, she was wearing the Hannah Montana fitted t-shirt and the wide-belted snug-fitting jeans with sandals and dangling star-shaped earrings.
“Should we start the session all over again?” I joked.
She smiled. “Why not? But this time, you could leave your professionalism in the hallway.”
Dinner waited, for that was exactly what we did.