I may only be 19, but I know when a guy is turned on.
You contacted me on MySpace because you were seeking a local glamour model. I'm not a skinny fashion model, and no doubt my photos excited you. How could you resist my long tan legs and tall high heels, my luscious ass, my succulent 36C breasts in silky bikinis and lace bras - and, of course, the cum-hither smile on my naughty lips?
You wrote that my hair looked hot. It works well this way, cut in a medium bob with bangs. The retro-ness of the style is modernized by the fact that I bleach my dark red hair blonde on the outside layer. Depending on how I wear it I can look like a society girl or a trailer park princess, to anything in between.
Your goal for the shoot was to make the cover of a plumbing supply company catalog, and you asked if I was interested in posing with various kinds of pipe and tools. There'd be no nude shots, but possibly implied nudity. After viewing your web portfolio and seeing how you photographed other sexy young models - some topless, one of them tied up - I couldn't say no.
I called you to ask some questions, like what kind of clothes and shoes I should have, and whether you had a makeup artist. Your voice was unexpectedly sexy, yet genuine and comforting. I felt like I could trust you and I immediately wanted to impress you with my best work. I gladly accepted the job.
After we agreed on the details of the shoot and set a date, I kept imagining what you looked like. Were you tall and dark? Did you have fair skin? Was your hair long or short? Were you young? Middle age?
Did you have rough or soft hands? Was your cock hard when I described the sumptuous clothing and lingerie I had? Did you want to jack off when I said I love wearing leather boots and high heels?
Judging by the sound of your voice you liked what you heard. I bet you anticipated me modeling for you as much as I anticipated doing it!
The day of our shoot finally arrived. I was a bit nervous, but I prepared like a professional. I shaved my legs and bikini area the day before to minimize razor burn, drank plenty of water, and used lots of moisturizer all over my body. I had a pedi and a mani, and I didn't wear socks or underwear to insure against lines on my supple skin. My hair and face were made up and I arrived a little early, suitcase and makeup bag in hand.
You appeared in the lobby of your small studio when you heard the door chime. I was impressed as you shook my hand, as much by your soft blue eyes as by your fit build.
"Thanks for coming, Stephanie," you said warmly. Your eyes sparkled.
"It's good to meet you, Steve," I replied, assessing you from your short blonde hair to your crotch. You looked pretty good as you cheerfully pointed out the dressing room and bathroom, as well as the refrigerator that holds snacks and bottled water.
"Help yourself to whatever's in there, except the wine and beer," you said with a laugh.
"I've got a fake ID!" I declared, checking out your butt as I followed you back toward the studio.
"In that case, it's all yours," you joked as you led me down a short hallway. I noticed your wedding ring as we passed portraits of you and your family on the wall. Your wife was gorgeous - red-haired with big tits and a bright smile.
We stopped amidst the lights and other equipment and you asked to see my clothes. I knelt beside you and unzipped my suitcase, feeling your eyes on me as my shirt collar opened enough to expose my tits. You stood close and I was aware that your cock was close to my face.
I held up combinations of bikinis, bras, panties, lingerie, shoes, and boots for your approval, showing off my wardrobe until you selected a skimpy red bikini and glossy red pumps with open toes.
"You can use the changing room while I get things ready here," you suggested.
Closing the door behind me I thanked my luck. While there's often some sexual tension during a shoot, it's usually on the part of the guy. This time I had a photographer who I wanted to perform for. I sensed this would lead to some pretty hot shots, and because you were older and married I didn't worry about you pursuing me.
As I snapped on my bikini top and slipped into those four inch heels, I geared myself up to get you as excited as possible.
Back in the studio you guided me to the set, which consisted of a black backdrop and a large metal pipe wedged between the floor and ceiling. The pipe wasn't straight, though. It had a bend in it like an "s" turned on its side, forming a sort of seat. In fact, that's how you directed me to use it.
"Let's do some warm-up shots and get comfortable, okay?" you said soothingly. You motioned for to me sit on the curve of the pipe, and when my ass touched the cool metal I slid my smooth cheeks side to side to warm it up.
"That's great," you encouraged me, your large digital camera clicking away. "Put your hands behind you and keep doing that."
I placed my palms on my lower back and gazed at you through the camera lens, varying my head position and the angle of my shapely legs as I rubbed my ass around the pipe.
"Very nice," you whispered.
I knew I was having an affect on you. I held the camera lens with my eyes and opened my mouth a bit, my glistening tongue poised behind my straight white teeth. As you focused and snapped, I noticed the growing outline of your cock against your pants. My pussy started tingling when I realized you weren't wearing underwear.
A few shots later you paused, then instructed me to sit on the pipe, facing the backdrop and looking over my shoulders. I did so, with my legs spread slightly, staring at you through the camera as you captured me frame by frame. You asked me to smile big and toss my hair around to show the contrast between my blonde and brunette layers. After a few attempts I asked how it looked.
"Pretty cool. Take a look," you said, coming to stand beside me so I could see the shots.
I complimented the photos, though the way your cock stood out distracted me. My guy friends say that some men jack off to my pictures, and I sensed that you would, too. I had the urge to slide my hand down your waistband and wrap my fingers around your cock. Instead I acted as if nothing was happening, but I felt the heat coming off of you. You went back to your shooting position and suggested I grip the vertical section of the pipe while putting one foot up on the curved part. I had to stretch but I did it easily, and when you knelt down in front of me to snap a few shots you praised my flexibility.
"Thank you," I replied demurely, puckering my lips.
