If you've read the previous eight parts you'll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.
Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.
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Part 9: Back Home and a New Life
Chapter 1
"Ok love, can you take the panties off now please?"
My hands were shaking so much I literally couldn't at first, but then I managed to pull myself together. I slowly slid the black lacy thong down my legs, stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up and placed it on the table to one side, just as I'd been taught.
I felt so nervous, so very, very nervous that for a moment or two I wondered whether I could go through with it.
As I looked straight ahead it wasn't just nerves that I felt. In addition to those I could also feel the atmosphere in the room changing. It was now heavy with sexual expectation and laden with erotic anticipation. Everything was focused on me, concentrated on my naked body, my bare breasts, my nipples, my bum, my thighs, my pussy and pubic mound. I felt so vulnerable, so alone, so exposed, so embarrassed; I also felt so fucking aroused it would have taken hardly anything to make me cum.
I heard a sharp intake of breath, a quiet low moan and a shuffling of feet, but nothing was said, no words of encouragement, praise or support. No, the ten male photographers simply stared at me as I stood before them totally nude waiting for their instructions.
Chapter 2
Things at home, now I'd left university, were not at all as I'd anticipated or hoped. They weren't like they were before when I was still at school, but then things do change don't they? They especially change between a mother and daughter when the latter has seen her mum holding a young man's cock in her hand and bowing her head in preparation to, presumably, sucking it. It's inevitable that things will change when the daughter has seen the mother kneeling bare breasted across from that young man, her personal trainer, her tennis coach and the daughter's one time lover. It was tough for me to relate to my mum in the way I once had now I knew for certain, what I'd suspected for some time, that she liked to fuck young men. But then, hey, to each their own, I suppose.
Dad was much moodier and sharper with me and mum than ever, maybe having also found out I sometimes speculated, and continually had a go at me for leaving uni. There were loads of remarks along the lines of.
"All the money you've cost."
"Throw such opportunities away."
"Should want to make something of your life."
"I try to give you what I didn't have and look what you do."
There were loads of rows and lots of bitchiness between him and me and him and mum. He seemed to be working harder and longer than ever and she seemed to dress younger and younger. She was spending more and more time playing tennis, having lessons and working out with her personal trainer, or, as I suspected fucking him. It wasn't a nice atmosphere as it always had been before I left for college some eighteen months ago.
The worst thing, though, from my point of view was that he cut my allowance down to almost nothing.
"How am I supposed to live on that?" I snarled at him when he announced what he was doing.
"Get a bloody job like all college drops outs have to."
I'd tried explaining that I couldn't work out what I wanted to do and didn't just want to get any job, but something that interested me.
"You should have thought of that before you walked out then shouldn't you?"
Mum did try and help. But that was just by slipping me the odd fifty quid now and then. She wasn't, as she'd never been, really that much help with advice and guidance. But then when a mother knows that her daughter has seen her with her tits out holding a guy's erect cock in her hand, moral guidance is difficult to dispense I guess.
I did try to get jobs and I even managed to get a few over the first six months after leaving Bristol. I worked in a PR agency and in a publishing company; I did some bar work and got a job as a sales executive training to sell Porsches. But I just couldn't settle down. I was restless, got bored easily, found it crazy that I had to work forty hours a week for such a pittance; a sum that could hardly buy me a good dress let alone a full outfit.
At one of the agencies I registered with I did, though, meet Adam. He was a thirty something aspiring actor who I bumped into at one of the interview coaching sessions the agency laid on to help us get jobs. We were paired up in a role play that was suppose to make me better at being interviewed; in fact all it did really was make me better at pulling men, Adam in particular..
I rarely go for a guy's looks, but Adam was absolutely drop-dead, fucking gorgeous. We hit it off right away. We worked well together in the role-play, we laughed at the same things, we didn't, unlike most of the others, take it too seriously and we built an instant rapport. We finished the role-play, chatted in the agency, went for a coffee, stayed for dinner and drinks and then went to his flat and fucked each other all night long.
This was quite some diversion for me. Although I have a great interest in sex and hold no moral views on what's right or wrong and how long a "nice girl" should resist a guy's advances I'd never had a proper one-night stand and had never, also slept with a guy after knowing him for such a short time.
It wasn't really that I was too concerned about being thought by a man to be easy, for generally I couldn't care less what he thought. It was more that I just wasn't that interested enough in sex; more that I'd never met anyone who intrigued or excited me enough to bother; more that I simply wasn't that concerned with sex to feel the need. Why I slept with Adam that first time I still don't know? Something different, a first time for everything I suppose, but then he was drop dead gorgeous so that may have had a bearing as well.
It was Adam that put the idea into my head, along with putting several other parts of him into several parts of me.
"You like English, you enjoyed doing the play at uni why not go to college for the theatre?" he suggested one afternoon as we lay naked on his narrow bed in his room near Russell Square.
"I couldn't stand the rejection of being turned down at auditions," I replied, idly stroking his cock that just moments ago had been shagging me.
"I didn't mean that, I meant the production side of it," he explained pinching my nipples as his erection returned.
After we'd done it again he explained in more detail.
A day or so later I met him at the college that was not far from his bedsit in Bloomsbury. He introduced me to the administrator who explained about the three year course the college offered in stage and film production. From the moment it was explained to me I was hooked and I knew that was what I wanted to do.
I hung around with Adam and his group of friends for a few weeks as I found out more about the course, including the price, which was horrendous. I went to several parties with him, meeting a number of his friends who were also at the acting school, where, as it happened, he did some teaching.
I sort of got in and felt very in tune with this acting fraternity; I felt at home with them and I loved it. I guess there were ten or so of us that met quite often.
"I do some modeling," to help pay for it one of the girls told me one night when a group of us were in a bar just off the Kings Road in Chelsea.
She went onto explain that she did glamour modeling for amateur photographic clubs. She explained that there were clubs like that all over London and that most of them would have a club night or afternoon most weeks where they would hire a model for their members to photograph.
"It's mainly underwear stuff, but of course there's topless and nude as well," she advised, adding with a wink and a smile, "and of course you can always offer extras if you like."
This was in my mind when dad agreed that I could go to the stage school. I remembered that Steph had said she'd also done some modeling when she lived in London so I rang her. She gave me the number of a woman, Sandra, who'd helped her a lot.
"I think she now owns a couple of studios with her husband, but I don't think they're still together," she explained.
"Do you reckon she'll be interested in me Steph?" I asked.
"Oh yes, of course Sammi, she'll be interested, I can promise you that," she said in a strange tone before adding, "I'll phone her and tell her all about you."
"Perhaps not all Steph," I said pretending to be stern, "after all some things should be just between us so maybe just my good points eh?"
"Don't worry Sam, Sandra will know what I mean and yes I'll tell her about your good points, after all nice tits are essential for topless and nude modeling aren't they?"
"You'd know all about that Steph, with what you carry around," I laughed.
"Well Sandra liked them and I'm sure she'll simply adore yours. Got to go though lover, come and have me soon please."
So I had a plan that was starting to come together that would help me get to the stage school. At first that had seemed unlikely for my dad had stated, very firmly.
"Until I see you're going to stick at it, I'll pay half and you pay the other half," he told me.
