Becy Does Some Modeling

(This is a continuation of the Becky character from "My Roommate Takes My Girlfriend," and "Becky Goes on Vacation," although they are not necessary to read before this story. -- CO)

I intended to break up with Becky after she had cheated on me multiple times, but somehow I never got around to it. I never found the right time, and part of me was too much in love with her to confront her about it. The few times I thought I could summon the courage, she would always just be taking off her shirt, and we would just end up having sex. I think part of me knew I'd never find a girlfriend as hot as her, and wanted to delay our breakup as long as possible.

And for a few months after she last cheated on me, though, she seemed to behave herself. Attractive guys would leer at her or make a pass, and she would rudely shrug them off. I made myself believe that she had really changed.

But then one night we went to an art gallery that a friend of mine worked at to see its latest opening. One of the artists was named Henri, and the gallery was displaying one of his photography exhibits. His use of black-and-white was very striking, or at least Becky thought so. I'm not really into photography. I was more attracted by his models, gorgeous women who were all either naked or close to naked. I remember thinking that that was a great life, being able to see beautiful women naked all day long as your job.

After we finished looking at the exhibit and were milling around the gallery foyer drinking wine, my friend walked up and asked if he could introduce us to one of the artists. We agreed, and he shouted, "Henri, come over here!"

A very dashing European-looking guy walked up to us. He looked very elegant, although his sneering look turned me off right away. Becky, however, was much more into him.

"Oh, you must be the photo artist! They're so wonderful!" she gushed.

"Thank you," he said, with a slight accent that I couldn't place.

"I've always liked photography," Becky said. "It was a huge passion in college."

My friend said, "No kidding, Becky! I was just telling Henri how you could be a photo model." Becky blushed and giggled at the compliment. "Oh, do you think I have what it takes?" she flirtatiously asked.

I expected Henri to give a definite yes, since Becky looked gorgeous that night, wearing a slinky blue dress that accentuated her firm, C-cup tits, and with her dark brown hair flowing around her shoulders. But to all of our surprise, Henri dismissively said, "No, I do not."

Becky looked like she had been slapped. Her face almost turned white, then red with anger. "Oh, is that so," she murmured.

"Thank you for coming," Henri said, and walked away.

"Oh, he just means for his type of modeling," my friend said, trying to soothe Becky. "You look great, Becky, you know that."

"You do, honey," I said, but I could see in her eyes that Becky had felt challenged. Only later did I learn what that would mean.

---

About a week later, when I got back home from work, Becky wasn't at the apartment. I thought that was weird, since Becky was between jobs at the time, but a half-hour later she walked through the door. She looked incredibly glamorous, with excellent makeup and a sexy low-cut dress. I was about to say something when she beat me to it. "Honey, guess where I was!" she said, and handed me an envelope.

I opened the envelope and a pile of photos fell out. I picked them up and started looking. They were all black-and-white photos of Becky, in what looked like a professional studio. She was dressed in various outfits, some elegant dresses, others a professional blouse and suit skirt. She had different expressions in them, some happy, some pensive, but the camera was clearly lingering on her body, and she was posed in ways that accentuated the curve of her breasts or the sleekness of her legs.

None of the outfits were particularly provocative, until I reached the last few. Becky was just wearing a bikini in it. Although it was conservative, as far as bikinis go, she was doing incredibly sexy poses in it. In one of them she was bending over, exposing a shocking amount of cleavage, with her hair flowing over her face as she gave a pouty look. In another, she was arching her back, pushing out her chest, almost thrusting her breasts at the camera.

Right away I recognized the style of the photos. "Did that Henri guy take these?" I said.

"Yep!" she said. "Remember last week when he said I didn't have it in me to be a model? I called him up and offered him a hundred bucks to take just a couple of photos to prove him wrong. He ended up shooting me for three hours!"

"Wow, that's great," I said. "So he ended up liking you, huh?"

"Yep!" she said, beaming. I didn't realize until then how important it was for Becky that guys think she was hot. And right after thinking that, a thought suddenly popped into my mind. "Becky, how did you change into all these outfits?" I asked.

She hesitated before answering. "Oh, he had one of those folding screens that I changed behind." She paused for another second. "And I caught him trying to sneak a peek behind it a couple times! Imagine that, baby, some guy who sees professional models naked all the time was trying to sneak a peek at your girlfriend! How lucky are you!"

She smiled angelically at me, I think to gauge my reaction. I smiled back, not wanting to upset her. "I'm very lucky!" I said.

Her smile then turned devilish. "I think so, too. In fact, when I noticed he was looking, I gave him a little peek at what you get to sleep with every night!"

That made me concerned. "What do you mean?"

She started walking toward me, and took on a sexy voice. "Well, when I was changing out of a dress, I looked through a gap in the screen and saw that he was trying to look through it to see me changing. My next outfit was just going to be a bikini, so he knew that I had to get naked before I put it on."

Becky was now standing over me, and she slowly sunk down to her knees and started groping my cock through my pants.

"So I thought, why not give him a sneak look at what I show off to my wonderful boyfriend all the time?"

She deftly unzipped my fly and pulled my cock out. As ashamed as I was to admit it, I was already hard, since the way she was describing this had made me incredibly turned on. I groaned a little as she started pumping my cock.

"So I took off all my clothes, and picked up the bikini, and just as I was about to put it on, I turned so my side was facing him, and I stepped backward just a little...bit...too far," she almost whispered.

"So I stepped all the way outside the screen, and he saw me totally naked from the side!" she continued. "I made sure he didn't get to see much, just maybe the side of my boob. But you should have seen the look on his face! His mouth was just hanging open! He almost saw everything!"

I groaned and starting spurting cum all over her hand. Becky giggled as she kept pumping me through my orgasm.

"Ooh, looks like someone enjoys me showing off," she grinned, wiping her hand on my shirt. "I'm going to go take a shower. Maybe you can join me?"

She turned and headed toward the bathroom, slowly stripping out of her dress. I rushed over to join her, getting hard all over again.

Looking back, I should have recognized that the pattern, but I honestly just thought she was teasing the photographer. I had never stopped her from showing off to guys before, so how could I suddenly stop her now?

---

A couple of weeks later I came back from work to find Becky home, flush with excitement. "Guess what?" she said before I even put down my keys. "Henri called me and offered to take more photos of me, for free!"

She shoved another envelope in my hands and pulled me on the couch next to her. "Check them out!" she said.

I opened up the envelope and flipped through the batch of photos. This time, there was a common theme running through them, which I would describe as "sad breakup." Most of Becky's poses were of her looking sadly out of windows. She was dressed fairly plain, just a few different sets of tanktops or blouses and jeans. Henri knew what he was doing, though. Even with all the clothes on, she looked stunning.

"Do you like them? Henri says I'm the best model he's ever had," she said. "He wants to use me as the model for his next exhibit! He'll pay me a thousand dollars!"

I nearly choked. "That's great!" I said. "Congratulations, baby!" That was actually great news. Becky hadn't been putting in her share of the rent lately, so it was to have the financial issue removed for a while. And even better, I thought with some relief, the photos weren't racy. For a second I feared that Henri was just going to find an excuse to take nude pictures of Becky like he did of the other models in his exhibit.

I shouldn't have rested so easily. A second later, Becky handed me another envelope, this one black. "Also, I took a special photo just for you!"

Feeling uneasy, I opened the envelope. Out slid a single photo. At first glance it almost took my breath away. Becky was laying down on a couch, her head resting on the armrest, one of her legs raised, looking at the camera with a lascivious smile. She was wearing only a pair of panties. The only thing protecting her modesty was her arms, which were crossed over her bulging tits.Her nipples were almost peeking out from her forearm. She had a dreamy look on her face, which gave the whole photo a sexy unreal feeling.

"Wow. . ." I finally said. "This is really hot, babe."

"Aw, thank you, baby! You're so sweet! No showing that to your friends, you hear?" she said, with a mock warning face.

She stood up to leave, but again, the thought struck me, this time much worse.

"Becky," I said, reluctantly. "how did you take this picture without Henri seeing your breasts?"

She turned around, smiling uneasily. "Well...he kinda did, sweetie."

She started walking toward me, adopting her seductive voice again. "You're not mad, are you? I wanted to do something for you, so when we were done with the shoot I asked Henri if I could take a sexy photo for you. He suggested this pose, and I thought, why not? I wanted to show off for you and make you happy that you have such a sexy girlfriend!"

She roughly grabbed at my zipper again and in an instant had my cock out. Before I could utter a protest, she engulfed it in her mouth and sucked me until I was hard, which didn't take too long.

As I shuddered with pleasure, she pulled her mouth off my dick. She started stroking it while she continued. "I was going to cover up before I did the pose, but then I thought that maybe you'd like knowing that he saw my big tits. You love it when I show off my big, firm tits to other guys, don't you, baby?"

Without letting me answer, she wrapped her mouth around my dick again and started blowing me for another few seconds. I was powerless to object. The delicious warmth of her lips kept me silent, except for the loud groans.

She pulled her mouth off me again. "So I told him, sure, that sounds like a good idea, and I pulled off my shirt. I could feel him staring at me like a dagger, but I just calmly undid my jeans and pulled them off. Then I looked him right in the eyes, and I unsnapped my bra and shrugged it off. And I let him just stare right at my bare boobs. He couldn't stop staring at them! It was like he was memorizing every detail of my naked tits!"

She started pumping me harder. "Does that turn you on, baby? To know that that jerk saw every inch of your girlfriend's big, naked boobs?" She clasped her lips over my cock and gave it a final few thrusts, which was all I needed. I almost screamed as I pumped load after load down her throat.

She let me catch my breath for a minute, then got up. "I'm glad you get so turned on when I show off for you!" she said. I tried to murmur that my feelings were more complicated than that, but before I could get it across she was gone.

---

Becky ended up doing the photo shoot the next week. When I asked her how it went that night, she was much less talkative than before. "It went fine. I did some poses, he paid me. That was that."

I tried to press her, but her answers were all dismissive. I thought, maybe hoped, that her sexy photo for me was the furthest she had gone in exposing her body to Henri. So I put it out of my mind.

A month after that, we received the invitation to be "honored guests" at the opening night of the photo exhibition featuring Becky. When I told her about it, she again murmured that it was no big deal and we didn't even have to go if I didn't feel like it. I thought she was being modest, so I insisted, and we RSVP'd.

The night of the exhibit, as we were getting ready to go, I noticed that Becky was being much quieter than usual. She had dressed in a simple black dress, with very little makeup, almost like she was trying to avoid attention.

We drove to the exhibit with minimal talk, even though I tried to bring up how excited I was to see all her photos. It wasn't until we were walking up to the gallery that she blurted out what was on her mind.

"Baby, there may be a nude photo or two." she said.

"What?" I said. "Of you?"

"Listen, it's not a big deal, okay?" she said. "It's art. Let's just be adult about it," and she left it at that.

I was flabbergasted at the news. The topless picture she took for me, I understood, but I thought that she would draw the line at having a nude photo for anyone else's viewing but mine. Even weirder was how she told me. The other times she had told me in a sexy, teasing way while had jerked me off or blown me. Why was she suddenly being so quiet and reluctant this time?

We entered the gallery. We were a little late, with most of the crowd already into the exhibit. I saw my friend as we passed the foyer. He grinned at Becky and said, "Hey, Becky, great job!" Something about his grin made me furious. I looked at Becky, who just looked guilty.

We entered the first exhibit room and immediately I was surrounded by photos of Becky. As in the photos I saw before, she was posed in a hundred different ways, all of them looking sad and forlorn. Some of the were really beautiful, even I could recognize, but mostly they were unexceptional.

We wandered through the gallery with the crowd, in room after room. Slowly I began to notice a pattern. Becky was wearing less clothing in each set of the photos. There were so many that the clothing loss was almost undetectable, but after a set she lost a necklace, then her belt, then her earrings and bracelets, then her blouse started losing buttons.

I started walking through the rooms faster and faster, angrier and angrier, fearful and yet slightly anticipating what was waiting at the end. In another room, Becky had her blouse totally unbuttoned, dangling open, almost exposing her bra cups. Again she had that sad look, which didn't even make sense to me anymore. Who strips when they're sad?

I almost trotted to the next room, pulling Becky behind me. "Slow down," she said, almost apologetically.

Finally I reached what I thought was the final room. It was full of photos of Becky, in just a bra and panties. I scanned around the walls. Most of them she was standing up, a couple of them she was laying down or sitting, but none of them were topless or nude, and most of them she wasn't overtly sexy.

I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, it was bad, but it was nothing people didn't see her in when she was on the beach. "They look really good, honey," I said.

Then I heard the bustling up ahead. Looking down the hall, I saw there was one more room, with almost the entire crowd inside. With a feeling of utter dread, I stormed down the hallway into it.

There on the wall was a huge photo of Becky, standing and facing the camera. She was completely naked. She had an arm behind her back and another grasping a stand of hair; she was hiding nothing. Her breasts, magnified to wall-size proportions, were enormous, beautiful and pendulously hanging from her thin frame. Her eyes had a pleading look, almost as if she was begging the audience not to stare at her tits, her flat, tight torso, or the light tuft of her bush.

I stood there, dumb-mouthed, while the crowd around me pushed and jostled me for a better look. They murmured appreciatively, a few even wolf-whistled. I turned to look at Becky, who was blushing with embarrassment...or was it excitement? All I felt was mortification. A whole roomful of people now knew exactly what my girlfriend looked like naked. A few of them were probably even taking pictures, so they'd always have the image of my Becky naked, accessible whenever they wanted.

I wanted to tear down the photo, to stop all the staring eyes, when a glass clinked and we were all ushered into the main gallery, where thankfully there was no photos at all. Henri stood at the head of the room, and when the crowd saw him they burst into applause.

He started speaking about his art, but I couldn't hear anything, I was so angry at him. It was only when he mentioned Becky that I focused on what he was saying.

"Finally, I would like to thank my wonderful model Becky," Henri said, and gestured to Becky. Everyone turned to my beautiful girlfriend and applauded. Becky blushed even harder. This whole room of people had just seen her completely naked and were now staring at her live and in the flesh.

I turned back to Henri and through the crowd I swear I saw him look directly at me and sneer. I turned back to Becky, but people were swarming around her, congratulating her and offering her more modeling gigs.

I stormed away, unable to deal with any of it. I couldn't go back into the exhibit room, so I went into one of the side offices and sat and fumed. It was then that I caught out of the corner of my eye a camera case. It was open, showing the camera and a bunch of photo storage disks.

Quietly, I walked over to the case. It was clearly Henri's case, it even had his name on it. I started poking through the storage disks and quickly found one labeled "Becky."

I walked back to the door and locked it, then slipped the disk into the camera and turned it on. It took a bit of fiddling to figure out how to work the camera, but finally I figured out the playback option and opened the disk. I flipped through the photos. They were all the ones in the exhibit. That bastard didn't leave a single picture out of his exhibit.

But the worst part of the night was when I noticed a video file at the end of the photos. Not expecting anything, I clicked on it.

Immediately Becky popped up on the screen. She was standing in front of the camera, wearing a flowing summer dress that I didn't recognize from the photo shoot.

"Wonderful, wonderful," I heard Henri say from behind the camera, as Becky adopted a different pose. "These are coming out great." I realized that Henri must have switched the camera into movie mode instead of photo mode. Becky didn't realize she was being filmed.

"Becky, you're stunning, just stunning," he said. I rolled my eyes. He was laying it on thick.

Becky was looking right at the camera, obviously looking at Henri but giving the impression she was looking directly at me. She smiled. "Well, I'm glad I changed your mind. I didn''t think you were interested in a plain girl like me."

"Okay," Henri said. "We have gone through all the outfits. I think that should be it, unless you have any other ideas."

He let the idea hang in the air. Becky paused, and even through the camera I could see the gears whirring in her mind. She gave a sly smile, then suddenly reached up and pulled out a small string on the neck of the dress. The whole thing collapsed to the floor, leaving her standing in only a dark green bra and panties.

"Oops!" she said with mock embarrassment, and pretended to cover up, wrapping an arm around her chest and between her legs. It was so sexy even through the camera that I was started to get hard, even though it was to the sight of my girlfriend exposing herself to someone else.