I told every single woman who came to the studio to partake in my "art" photography that it was a revenge project.
My wife of eight years, a wanna-be painter, had done nude modeling off and on and toward the end of our relationship she was back on the modeling. Her outings had gotten longer and longer and she was coming home pretty trashed. When she found a cocaine-dispensing art gallery owner, our relationship was over. I was devastated. At one point during the breakup, she told me that the "art world" (all of it?) was HERS and that she couldn't be with me because I wasn't artistic.
So I decided to be artistic. With nude models. And get a show and sell my work, something she had never really managed to accomplish.
I quickly discovered that I had a knack for mysteriously erotic photography β a career in theater and dance lighting coming in handy. Advertising a bit got me "wannabe" models, usually young women exploring their femininity. In an era of "#metoo" and publicity around the power dynamics between older men and younger women, I was aware that there was some cliche to my choice. Guy With Camera is a pretty common insult in the photography community and everybody DOES assume you're sleeping with the models.
I actually worked on the images. I got a show. I sold some pieces. I got a good reputation. And I didn't sleep with the models. Once with a models chaperone, a bff along for "safety" who walked in like a young Cheryl Tiegs and blew my mind in no time flat. Photography turned into therapy for me, an exploration of my past relationships with women, perhaps of my future? And then I realized that these women were also exploring their own insecurities and going through their own therapy. We were in it together. We talked about relationships with them stretched out before me. They looked into the camera and poured out playfulness or tears and were comfortable for awhile. They sent me "thank you" notes that will be important to me forever.
I had met Haley a year earlier when she approached me for a shoot. At the time, I was struck by her incredible beauty and open nature. Just 18 but with a large portfolio courtesy of a high school boyfriend (lucky SOB!), she wanted to get noticed and do something artistic. We shot a couple times and got great images of her β tanned, athletic and blonde everywhere βand stayed in touch without being able to get our calendars to line up for awhile. She sent friends my way, though, which I figured was a pretty good sign.
Sarah had just come into the studio for the first time a month earlier and I was instantly crushed. A tiny brunette bundle of just-right curves with amazing energy and a determination to be an erotic kitten, I flat-out told her that I thought she was special and that I would be willing to shoot as much as humanly possible with her during what I assumed was the short time she would be available to a guy like me. To my surprise, she said that THAT was exactly what she wanted.
What is "a guy like me"? Hitting 50, tall and approaching overweight status but carrying it reasonably well. I don't work out, have a stressful day job running my own company and a slew of failed relationships due to workaholism, alcoholism and stupidity. A bunch of gorgeous, fierce women in my life who all watched me try different varieties of self-destruction. I had had two years of celibacy, with the one exception midway through.
I had sent Sarah a shot of an old pre-war burlwood-finish piano in my house and suggested we use it as a prop for her. I had a vision of her tied to that piano and her eagerness to visit had that scenario playing on a loop in my head. She wanted to explore? So did I. I thought about why I was so attracted to her and decided that feeling like a fourteen year old boy with a hard-on wasn't the worst thing in the world and that if she wanted to be a muse I would give my best shot at playing the "older man" for her book. The house got a serious cleaning. I hauled my junky old Ikea bed out of the house and installed a very nice one with plenty of places to hold onto. All I could see were those D-cup breasts swinging back and forth in my imagination. And then...things got more strange than I could ever have imagined.
The day before the shoot, I had a text from Haley. She was coming into town and wanted to shoot if I was available. Well, I wasn't. Or was I? Sarah had talked about exploring her femininity, hadn't she? The thought of the two girls posing together...inferno. To shoot that? Once in a lifetime doesn't even begin to describe the idea. Yes, I know...there are photographers who shoot porn or groups of hot girls all the time. But I wasn't one of them. And I thought that both girls were in a place where they might be looking to be experimental. I wasn't wrong.
Sarah drove into town early and we spent the day with hair and makeup, a nice lunch and some shopping for her. A true muse, she enjoyed being spoiled. I definitely enjoyed spoiling her. High heeled shoes and garters...again, totally cliche but they were going to look amazing with her on the piano. We made it back to my house around dusk and I opened a bottle of wine and prepared a simple meal with greens and polenta, some meaty stew more as flavoring. These were girls, after all, not linebackers. Haley arrived in time to join us and promptly produced a bag of weed by way of introduction. I begged off, noting that I needed to use the cameras and poured them wine while they both smoked themselves silly. Lighting was already set up around the piano in the living room and I had lit a fire to keep everyone warm enough. Neatly the girls were the same shoe size and for the next 45 minutes the two played lingerie while moving between shoes. By the end, it was JUST shoes, with the two of them posing in the firelight, wineglasses in hand.
I brought out a last pair of shoes for Sarah, ones I knew she especially had liked, and had added something to the box. I saw an eyebrow go up at the little velvet bag nestled inbetween the six inch heels. "You'll have to have Haley help you with that", I said with a smile. Without even looking inside, she handed the bag to Haley and then put a hand on my shoulder for balance while she stepped into the shoes. Haley had opened the bag and let the contents fall into her hands, a neat pile of weighted clamps. A blush started to work its way up her breasts and into her throat. "But there are more here than boobies!?" she giggled, "unless you want me to put these on YOU!"
"I don't think my nipples are big enough, really, but they can be used other places. Lets start with that chained pair on Sarah? You just need her nipples to be totally erect."
Sarah's small nipples had been erect for a while, her obvious arousal at holding and being held by the tight blonde pretty obvious. I had caught a growing shine on the edges of her perfect peach mound and was positive she was nearly brimming over. Haley, too, was aroused from the contact and her labia, bigger and meatier but no less perfect, were engorged as were her thumb-sized nipples. But I felt myself go weak in the knees when Haley began pinching and tugging at Sarah's breasts to make sure they were as aroused as possible before applying the nipple clamps. Sarah's hand was still on my shoulder for support and it felt as if she really did sag a bit as the clamps were gently tightened. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth open. I didn't dare sneak a peak but thought I could smell a muskier smell in the air, as if her cunt had overflowed. She stayed still for a moment, closed her eyes to savor the sensation and then slowly said, "I think I'll return that favor."