Andi and the Camera Club

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As per Literotica's rules, all characters in this story are at least 18 years old.

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... Chapter 5 Continued

Thursday morning, after breakfast, Mum and I got ourselves ready. I didn't know what Mum had arranged. I didn't know Mum. Or maybe I did. I just had to try and reconcile the Mum I had always known with the online friend I had made in MomOfTeenDau. It was all very confusing. And yet it wasn't. It was really quite simple. The veils of secrecy had been taken down and we could both be who we truly were. It was beautiful. I just hadn't come to terms with it yet. Mum seemed to have worked it all out ages ago and was much more relaxed.

She drove us to Geoff's place, back to14A Broad Street, above the bakery, so familiar, and he gave us coffee and comfy chairs while he adjusted the lighting he had prepared and readied his camera on its tripod.

"You can change behind the curtain and put on the robes I've set out, if you like. There's a well lit dressing table for you to use for your hair and makeup. Then come out when you're ready and we'll talk about what kind of pictures you want, what mood, all of that stuff, okay?"

It was obvious that Mum had never been to the Club studio.

"That dressing room is tiny, Mum, barely room for both of us to stand up without moving!"

"I'm sure we'll manage, Andi dear, and we're basically ready. You go first to check your makeup and hair, then you can chat with Geoff while I do mine. How's that?"

I went over and drew back the curtain, sat and redid my lippy and cheeks, mussed my hair a bit, and made way for Mum. Of course we would only use the changing cubby one at a time. Why hadn't I thought of it?

I was nervous.

I chatted with Geoff while he finished his preparations, both of us frequently glancing at Mum who I now was seeing almost through the photographer's eyes. She was probably less than ten years older than him, still very attractive which gave me hope for myself twenty odd years on, a maturer version of me, really, though a bit smaller in the chest. Where Geoff was middle height with his brown hair worn short, Mum was darker haired like me with a knockout figure.

Mum joined us and we were invited to step in front of the neutral looking backdrop. We had both opted for white button front blouse and fitted jeans, subtle makeup, minimal jewellery of gold stud earrings, me with knee-high heeled black boots, Mum with black medium heeled pumps.

I sat on the high wooden stool with my knees together to my left while Mum stood behind me to my right, her left hand on my left shoulder. Blinds muted the light from the windows to our right, just beyond our little curtained makeup area, and it felt warm and cosy with Geoff's subtle lighting.

"Nice, lovely," Geoff encouraged us, and took us through a variety of combinations with one of us sitting or both standing.

"Perfect. Come and have a look at them on the laptop."

So we watched as Geoff scrolled through our photo set, each of us commenting here and there about the pictures we liked best.

"Great!" Geoff summarised. "Let's do the whole lot again. Naked this time."

He just dropped that last bit in, the doing them naked. As if it were completely normal. Natural. I supposed that you couldn't get more natural than being nude, but that wasn't the point.

I think my jaw literally fell open. Mum kind of ignored my shock then chided me with, "Come along, dear!" Beckoning me to the tiny changing area.

It wasn't as if I hadn't done it before, but those times it had been my own idea, my own wishes, my own pace. Now I felt like I was being cajoled. By my own mother, no less. Geoff, when I glanced at him, was keeping his face completely inscrutable, which confirmed that they had cooked this up between them. I wondered if they had slept together.

I shrugged. What was a girl to do? I complied, of course.

There was no point in using the modesty curtain since we were both about to be photographed naked, and Mum and I just undressed in the most matter of fact manner we could, both pretending that this was perfectly normal. We didn't hurry, but we didn't take our time either. Geoff, of course, kept taking candid photos capturing the scene from almost every angle,and again I had a suspicion that at some point recently they had had sex.

Once ready, which meant nude, we walked to the set, holding hands, almost shy.

"I think heels, don't you?" Suggested Geoff, and so we returned to the set, again mother and daughter both naked but me with my black boots and Mum in her pumps. It felt naughtier than barefoot, somehow.

At Geoff's instruction we repeated the same poses, and I wondered if Geoff had a Clothed-Unclothed montage in mind. Geoff kept up a saucy provocative banter that made us both feel sexy and uninhibited, including that he, "Could see where you get your great tits from, Andi!" and, "Are you going to let your bush grow as wild as your mother's?"

It was fun.

When we had finished, Mum and I stood naked next to Geoff as he again scrolled through the photos after quickly re-ordering them into the anticipated Clothed-Unclothed pairings. They looked sexy, and Mum and I looked pretty good.

"One last set, without the footwear?"

We did as Geoff asked, and went through the poses a third time but with a few extras thrown in.

When we looked through the final collection, we all agreed that the best picture was one where I was just in front of Mum, both with left foot forward, sort of three quarters on mostly facing the camera which was slightly to our right, Mum's left breast and nipple and her tightly curled dark bush visible behind me to my left, both my breasts and trimmed dark bush on show. Mum's right hand was on my right hip, and my hands were relaxed at my sides. It captured us from the knees up, and was cute, charming, beautiful, natural. And we looked great. We also looked like mother and daughter, which was perfect.

"Can you do me a framed print of that one? Large, like a portrait?" Mum asked.

"Certainly, and an e-album and print album of the rest," added Geoff.

Our drive home was quiet, but more companionable than I think we had ever experienced. It was like I had truly got to know my Mum. And I both liked and loved her.

"What are you going to do with that big framed picture, Mum?" I asked just before we got home.

"It's going on the wall above my bed, dear. I'm rather proud of it."

Despite our newly closer and probably more honest relationship, I didn't tell Mum where I was going after dinner. Just that I was going out and didn't expect to be late back.

All the way over on the bus I felt bad about not coming clean, but I knew that I was having difficulty adapting to the new revelations and changes. Perhaps I would confess online to MomOfTeenDau. Maybe even do that sitting next to her on the sofa. Probably not something that her generation was used to.

When I walked into Alice's studio it was evident why Mr. Philips hadn't given me a lift in. He was busy with his own preparations for his Photography Class to record the impending transformation of naked girl into body-painted model. We were supposed to be preparing marketing material to advertise Alice's new class for the next academic term.

I went over to a quiet corner to change out of my loose wraparound cotton dress and put on the towel robe Alice had provided, while she prepared her concoctions like an alchemist about to transform lead into gold, and Mr. Philips corralled his students and gave them instructions on where to stand, what to capture, and some technical stuff I didn't understand but seemed to involve saying F and numbers a lot, though why he couldn't just say fuck, I didn't know.

When it was time, I stood where Alice wanted me on the paint-spattered floorcloth, and took off my robe. There was a reassuring gasp from the student photographers that warmed my insides and set alight the smoldering embers of erotic anticipation.

Alice gave me that look.

"This isn't sexual, you know!" she reprimanded me, but we both knew. We were both turned on. "Though it's a shame your gorgeous cousin isn't here this time," she added.

"I think she feels the same about you," I replied, and we proceeded to have a fun chat about Alice and Sarah and future possibilities. I felt as if I was pimping my younger cousin. It felt good to turn the tables.

While we talked, and the photographers roamed and snapped as they wanted with occasional comments from Mr. Philips, Alice sprayed my boobs white and my pussy a dark blue. She was again incorporating my bush into the design, which she then outlined and accented with brushes and other tints.

"Make sure to get before and after shots of her breasts and pudenda," Mr. Philips helpfully advised his students, "and the bum cheeks, of course," he added, and numerous camera lenses focused on my tits and pussy. It was fun. Alice and Mr. Philips both knew I was an attention junkie and were being generous in indulging my needs. The students were getting plenty of soft porn material. Everyone was happy.

By the time Alice was satisfied with her work I appeared to be wearing a white strapless and backless Basque-type top showing plenty of cleavage and with prominent nipple pokies. It looked quite realistic apart from its unfastened gravity-defying insistence on staying up, and the very low-slung dark shorts were furry in front and showed a lot of ass cheek and plenty of belly.

"How about some pictures again of her in a public place in just paint? No skirt this time, not even that tiny scrap you used for Wonder Woman," asked Mr. Philips.

Alice grinned back at him, clearly enjoying the prospect, and picked up her phone again.

"Bring your camera, Geoff, I have another surprise!"

Since it was early evening and warm, we walked from the School to a nearby pub, one that hosted, I was told, the local chapter of a well-known Fetish association. The class of photography students had been sent ahead and it was just Alice, Mr. Philps, and Geoff accompanying me. Two guys, two girls. Quite natural. Alice in scruffy paint-smeared work clothes, the two men looking like the photographers they were with cameras slung from neck straps, and me in my sandals and body paint. I supposed I looked like their fashion model.

I was made to go to the bar to order, where the bar-man suddenly stared when he realized that I was actually topless, my painted nipples hard and almost staring at him.

Memories of that earlier camera club shoot for Geoff, being the barmaid, stripping for charity, serving naked, flooded my mind and warmed my insides, prompting a desire to repeat that lewd exhibition.

Clearing my head, I smiled sweetly at the barman and carried our drinks on a tray back to our table.

As had been no doubt planned, with my hands occupied carrying the tray I had no way to cover myself and I was very conscious of my naked painted tits wobbling with every step, my ass cheeks bouncing.

People soon worked it out, and plenty of phone cameras were capturing everything. While the class captured the capturing, recording the reaction to my 'outfit', and Geoff recording the class recording the reaction. It was probably very artistic.

After a while, the Manager asked us into the back, just the five of us: Alice, Mr. Philips, Geoff, me and the Manager. Since the photos were being taken in his bar, he wanted to see what the fuss was about. See it up close. Very close. Me on a table, the others watching.

The manager really did want to see and got very close indeed, making me stand with my feet wide while he looked at how Alice had painted my pussy, while she gave him a commentary on the process as if this were an Art class and she was explaining the technique.

She even told me to pull my pussy lips open so he could see how she only painted the outer lips, that I was still pink inside. Then she told me to turn ass-to, bend, and spread, showing him my pink sphincter.

It was utterly humiliating, made more so by having Mr. Philips and Geoff observing and probably taking discreet photographs. I was dribbling. I could feel it trickle down my thigh, prompting Alice to explain how difficult it was to body paint a girl's pussy and bum when she kept getting aroused like a wanton slut and letting her cunt juices interfere with the paint surface. Alice even pointed out the lines of body paint streaking down my legs where my arousal had made it run.

"Her cunt really is sopping wet!" observed the Manager, "come closer guys, you gotta see how wet this slut is!" And so there I was, bent forward while standing on a table with feet spread wide, leaking pussy juice copiously while two male photographers, an unknown man, and the woman artist all stared at my naked genitals.

"Angel, slut, you may ask for permission to masturbate for us," offered Alice.

So help me, I did.

"Please Ma'am, Sirs, may I masturbate my horny needy wet pussy for you?"

"It really does look like a very needy pussy," commented the Manager.

"So long as her fingers don't get in the way spoiling the camera angles," added Mr. Philips.

"You have your instructions, Angel slut. You may masturbate for us but make sure we can clearly see everything."

And so I followed Alice's instructions.

My fingers crept under my body and found my button of joy. Right hand, of course. The left was on my left knee keeping me in this bent-over-legs-spread position, pussy lips open on their own, while my business hand diddled my clit so that I could follow Alice's orders and leave my goodies in full view of eyes and camera lenses.

"Very nice, slut, but your cunt needs attention too, I think." And Alice immediately followed her words by plunging what I assumed was two fingers deep into my wet and needy vagina. Not just in. In and out. With the associated slurping noises screaming SEX to all present. Not that they needed the announcement. The whole situation was winding me up higher and hornier. I was being watched by four adults, three men, of whom one was a stranger and two were photographers, while naked and masturbating and being finger fucked by a woman. It was wonderful. And I could feel my orgasm building.

All the while the grown-ups were talking. About me. About what they were watching. About seeing me diddled. It was obscene. I loved it.

It didn't take long for my orgasm to hit and Alice didn't tell me to slow down, so I just let it wash over me, the tightening, the suspense, the fluid release, the clenching around invading fingers, the tummy tightening. I cummed. In front of my audience.

"Oh fuck!" I muttered, eloquence itself.

"That was truly beautiful. A real work of Art!" commented the Manager when I was climbing down from my high. He helped me to physically climb down, too. Such a gentleman.

As it turned out I didn't get the chance to have a long and meaningful talk with Mum, either in person or as MomOfTeenDau. When I got home I had a message from cousin Sarah ordering me to be ready for collection bright and early in the morning. James would be coming to collect me before he headed off on his own errands, and I was to spend the weekend with my collected cousins again.

After a shower and some hasty and fairly spontaneous packing, I collapsed into bed exhausted, yet mind whirling knowing that I would have to give a full account of my recent activities to Sarah since Alice was bound to inform her anyway. Those two seemed to have formed a quite close friendship, or alliance, or whatever, quite apart from me.

As soon as James dropped me off in the morning, Sarah was scolding me for being late and hurrying me to get ready because The Event was going to start soon. The annual charity run inspired by a movie. The Naked Mile. She had me report downstairs when ready in trainers and a belted bathrobe for the drive to campus. She herself wasn't taking part, no surprise, but she and her brothers would watch and support and cheer me on. She had already registered me for the race, confirming Prof Ames initial sponsoring and, apparently, my page on the website had received enough 'likes' to allow me to run. It had been no surprise that in my absence my younger cousin had sorted out my race entry without my agreement by confirming that I would take part.

Sarah came with me to sign in as present for the actual run, which was just as well given the confusion of crowds of spectators and participants, but we followed the signs and found the Runners' Tent. The queue was out the doorway but moved fairly quickly, each runner giving their name, being checked off the computer list and issued with a number worn on an elastic wrist bracelet with another tag bearing the same number on a loop, and ushered out a different doorway where supporters were sent in one direction and us runners in another.

Having received a reassuring kiss on the cheek from Sarah and waving a hasty goodbye to her, I milled about in the throng of similarly dressed participants. They were all undergraduate students, I reckoned, a fairly even mix of men and women, and although I felt like I was conspicuously the youngest, no one challenged me or gave me much attention. There were a few older students acting as Marshals and answering nervous questions, and soon a PA system called metallically for the runners to approach the start line.

We all gathered in a throng with me towards the back, simply trusting that those in front knew where they were going. The same metal voice instructed us to fix our numbers to our robes to make it easier to reclaim them after the run. In my case I used one of the belt loops having seen a few others do that. I was feeling pretty good. I would be just one of many. Not conspicuous. Hardly noticeable. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"WE'RE COUNTING DOWN TO THE START, EVERYONE. SPECTATORS GIVE THE RUNNERS ROOM. THREE! RUNNERS GET READY!" the PA blared. We all shuffled forward.

"TWO! UNDO YOUR ROBES!" Although I knew that was going to happen it still caught me by surprise. I untied the cloth belt and loosened my robe.

"ONE! DROP YOUR ROBES!" This, I was now prepared for thanks to the previous announcement. I let the robe slip from my shoulders, but as it fell to the ground I realized that the nearest female shoulders around me had straps on them. Bra straps, bikini straps, swimsuit straps. Looking wildly around I noticed that the guys I could see all had swim trunks or jock straps.

I was the only runner I could see who was actually naked.

"RUNNERS GO! GO! GO!" It all happened faster than I could tell it, and suddenly we were running. Hemmed in as I was there was no way to go but forward, and with my robe left behind and probably trampled by the runners behind me, I had no cover except the people surrounding me.

At first, I hid successfully in the tightly crowded pack, but that started to thin out fairly quickly as the race route took us from the open space of the start to a roadway between University campus buildings.

The running area was taped off with spectators lining the route, some with their phones held up, and as we all raced past I felt very exposed as the only one in sight actually naked. Well, naked apart from my shoes.

The run seemed to be an important fund-raiser because wherever we ran, on roadways or in buildings, up some stairs or down again, there were spectators. And although my sense of direction isn't brilliant I got the feeling that we were doing a fairly circular route, a feeling reinforced by recognizing a few of the phone-wielding photographers from earlier parts of the run who must have dashed across the middle. And I was getting a lot of attention with every leg-parting, tit-wobbling stride. Attention and photos and cheers. I should have been mortified, but my fair cousin Sarah knew me too well and I reveled in it, my sanity rescued by the knowledge that nobody here at the University actually knew me.