A Model Affair Page 3

them. Yes, he was always a perfectionist, but he was being extra picky about this shoot. Eventually, after maneuvering me and himself about for several minutes, he started snapping photos. That was a relief. I was beginning to worry that we’d never get it.

  The next shot had me in the same place, only with my feet spread very wide, almost to the point of climbing the curved walls, and my outstretched arms raised so that the tips of my fingers were on an even plane with the top of my head. For some reason, I felt especially exposed in this position. My hands were so far away from my body, so out of reach for a quick cover up. Not that I was the kind of girl who gave a fuck if somebody happened by and caught a glimpse. Remember the guys in the boat? It’d be a scream if those same two fishermen turned up right now. Still, with my extremities so positioned, it felt like a vulnerable way to carry oneself.

  In addition to that, having my legs parted to the extreme degree they were, my snatch was feeling rather out there and abandoned. That was an unusual feeling for an Isaac shoot. It’s not like my thighs were cemented together when I worked for him in the past. He had ample opportunities to view my pussy as I positioned and repositioned myself for various poses. However, unlike some photographers, he didn’t go out of his way to get a crotch shot, and, more often than not, he’d set the pose for, shall we say, more demur imagery below the waist.

  Yet now, as he crouched so low that his knees were getting wet in the shallow waters, he had what must have been an unobstructed view of my unprotected womanhood, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was taking advantage of that. Perhaps just one discreet, zoomed in close-up of my pussy?

  Honestly, it wouldn’t have bothered me if he did. It’s not like it would have been a totally new experience for me. Among everything else, I’d done my share of the so-called fetish modeling. There were a lot of close-up pussy shots in that, oftentimes involving me using my fingers to splay my lips for the camera. Some might call that porn. But I never had sex in front of the lens, either real or pretend, and I didn’t engage in any of the more vulgar behaviors that are the hallmark of the porn industry. So, to my way of looking at it, I was an erotic model, not a porno queen. I was a professional, and they were professional gigs. That’s all there was to it. Nothing more to say about it.

  Isaac never asked me to do anything like that. But, if he had, I’d have had no hesitation. I’ll admit, such a request coming from him would have been surprising. Still, I’d trust him. Trust him to make even a pussy shot a work of art. He was someone I respected. Someone I liked. Someone I wanted to please. I hoped it pleased him when I took my clothes off.

  He did find me desirable, didn’t he? I wanted to think so. I mean, a girl likes to believe she can have a certain effect on a guy, especially if she’s naked.

  Isaac took one final photo, checked it in the camera’s digital display, and announced he had gotten everything he needed. He started toward the side to put away his equipment.

  “Isaac,” I called out. He stopped and looked back. I hadn’t moved since the last shot. “If you’ve got a couple minutes…and, if you don’t mind…could I ask a favor?”

  “Sure,” he responded with his usual congeniality.

  “Could I ask ya to take a couple shots just for me?”

  His face registered a perplexed expression. I’d never asked for such a thing before. I doubt any model had. You simply don’t do that when you’re on a modeling job. The model’s there for the artist’s needs, not the other way around.

  “I won’t charge for the time,” I said. “And, if it’s any kind of imposition, you can deduct it from my pay.”

  The photographer scratched his beard. “What kinda shots?”

  “Something a little more…ya know…sexual. I’m thinking of adding that kind of modeling to my repertoire. And, if I do, I’ll need to have the appropriate pics in my portfolio. You know…for job hunting purposes.”

  He cocked his head and made a sucking sound between his teeth. “That’s not really my area.”

  “But I trust you. And I need someone I trust—this being my first time for those kinds of pics.”

  I was lying. As I mentioned before, I had already done those kinds of shoots and had whatever photos I needed for my professional portfolio. This was just my way of trying to get to something else. Even to this day, I can’t really explain it. But, as I stood there, I had a compelling impulse to do something raw without inhibition.

  “Ummm…” he uttered as he fumbled with his camera, “where do ya wanna do it?”

  “Same place,” I said. “Just a little different pose.”

  “How different?”

  “Just go back where you were and I’ll show ya.”

  He waded back to the spot from which he’d taken the other photos.

  I had already moved my feet in to a more normal standing position. It was close to the first pose Isaac had me strike, although my thighs weren’t touching. I wanted some space to allow for my shaved pussy to be noticeable. Then, as I’d done before, I extended my arms outward. But, instead of leaving them all the way out, I bent them at the elbow and brought my hands to the underside of my breasts. I cupped a handful of tit in each and lifted my 38Cs a few inches toward the sky.

  “Like this,” I said. “Take one like this.”

  Isaac sucked in a gulp of air. I could sense a touch of tremor in his breathing. He raised the camera to his eye and squatted to frame the shot. Then he clicked off about a half dozen.

  I experienced a thrill as I heard the shots clicking. For the first time with this man—this man with whom work had always felt so asexual—I was doing something that felt erotic. And I liked the way it felt to do it. I liked thinking that he liked it. And it made me want to do more.

  “Now like this.” I dropped my arms and spread my feet, not as far as I’d done earlier, but just far enough to give my twat a good airing. With my fingers, I pressed against the fleshy sides of my folds and pulled outward.

  The photographer said not a word. He seemed almost afraid to talk, but clicked shot after shot as I stood there trying to look my most provocative.

  Without giving further instruction, I turned and bent a bit at the waist in order to present my ass. As I held the pose, I twisted my torso so I could aim my head in Isaac’s direction. My mouth fashioned what I hoped was a devilish smile as he continued shooting.

  This was going well. Better than I had hoped. I was truly enjoying putting on a show for him, and I could tell by the way he licked his lips that it was having its effect.

  “Come closer,” I said as I turned to face him.

  He inched in my direction.

  “Closer still,” I directed.

  He was now only a few feet away. I lowered myself to the pipe’s floor. The cold water on my bare ass sent shivers through me, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from striking my next pose. I spread my thighs and raised my feet, each of my hands clasping an ankle.

  “You think this is a sexy pose?” I purred. “You’re a man. Would it make a man hot to see me this way? To see me so wide open?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” he whispered as he clicked away. “Extraordinarily beautiful.”

  It wasn’t easy to tell from his crouching position, but I think I detected a bulge rising in his pants. That made me smile.

  I released my ankles and sent my hands back to my snatch. I allowed my middle fingers to brush over my inner lips.

  “Ooooh, it must be a sexy pose,” I said. “My pussy feels so wet.” I got even more bold. I took hold of his left wrist—the one that wasn’t attached to the hand holding the camera. “Feel how wet I am down there.”

  He didn’t move. So I reached up, took his hand, and placed it on my crotch. His mouth dropped open. Even after all the seductive poses, it was obvious he wasn’t expecting anything this brash. Shocked though I expect he was, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed his fingers to remain on my slippery recess. At this point, I knew what must happen next. What I needed to make happen.


  “All the times you’ve seen my pussy,” I cooed, “and this is the first time you’ve ever touched it. Was it worth the wait?”

  He didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted my pussy? Wanted it for more than just a picture? Wanted to put down the camera and…”

  His fingers began to rub me. I moaned under the sensual touch.

  “I want your dick.” I rubbed the bulge on his trousers. “I want it so bad.”

  He moved backwards. At first, I thought I’d scared the shit out of him and he was on the retreat. But then I watched as he placed the camera with care on a dry rock outside the pipe. The moment the camera was safe, he returned, already unbuttoning his shirt. I went right for his belt. As soon as the belt was undone, I unzipped his pants. He had his shirt off by now, and we both tugged to get his jeans and boxers clear of his feet.

  Now as naked as I, he moved atop me, my back submerging into the inch of water that flowed beneath us. The cold trickle didn’t quench the fire I felt within as I saw him aiming his manhood. He had a nice dick. Not exceptionally long, but thick and hard, with a bulbous set of balls dangling beneath.

  I felt the tip of his cut cock slide down my clit, through my inner folds, and into my waiting abyss. He grunted as he filled me. That seemed so out of character for him. But fucking his model in a drainage pipe was hardly characteristic, and I wasn’t complaining.

  “Fuck me,