My Portraits

Honestly, I don't know what got into me. Usually a woman defined by taste and decorum, as I entered his studio, I was swept away by tides of emotion as I gazed at the artistic works on the walls. To call them pornography would some how demean the beauty of what I was seeing. To merely call them 'beautiful works of art' would take away from the eroticism so subtly expressed. I found myself entranced, studying image after image, some in black and white, some not even displaying a face, many just individual body parts splayed here and there for my gazing.

"Do you like them?" he asked. I assumed he was James, of "Completely James" from the sign in the shop window. Normally embarrassed to be viewing such sights in front of any man, I felt rather at ease as he spoke with me of different lighting techniques and his love for black and white portraiture. As I love photography myself, it was easy to pass an hour trading secrets and hints. I found myself in the back parts of his studio after he'd turned the sign to 'Closed,' discussing the finer points of the new cameras each of us had purchased. I was interested in some of his more luxurious backdrops - faux mink, soft pink satin, black velvet - and wandered over to feel their textures between my fingers. I could picture myself crouching, animal-like, on the fur; playful and teasing on the pink satin; naughty on the black velvet.

James, ever watchful, noticed the gleam in my eyes as I fingered the fabric and dreamed. "You know, I could take some shots of you, if you'd like." As I shook my head and laughed, his tone grew a little more serious.

"No, really, you are a beautiful woman, and I'd love to see what I could do with you from behind a lens."

Something in his tone, to this day I can't place what it was, something made me say 'yes.' I dropped my purse and sat down on the stool in front of the black velvet. I love black; surely it would show me off to my best advantage. James came up to me, telling me to relax, to smile easily, and not to be self-conscious. He put a stray lock or two of hair down beside my cheek. He unbuttoned one of my buttons and arranged my blouse a little more open, opened the slit on my skirt. I wasn't exactly used to a man showing me this type of attention upon meeting only an hour prior, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and I was able to relax. It didn't take any time before he had me laughing and tossing my head back.

"That's it, you have a beautiful smile. Turn your head more toward me. Now unbutton another button. There you go, lean forward for me a little more."

I knew he could see the tops of my breasts that weren't covered by the lace bra I was wearing, but I didn't care, he made me feel simply gorgeous. Without realizing it was happening, I eventually shed my blouse as he circled me, taking even more pictures. His voice became a lulling symphony of sound.

"Yes, now the other shoulder strap, pull it down, that's it, could you lift your breasts out of it just a bit, there you go, lean back, here, let's just lower it completely, yes, that's beautiful, hold one of your breasts for me, oh, that's really nice, just slide it off all the way, there you go, that's better, now I can see them both."

I couldn't believe I was this at ease with this man, though I was only wearing a skirt at this point. Before I knew it, I was happily shedding even that. I did start to wonder how far I would go when he asked if I would hook one finger in the top of my panties and pull it down just a bit, but all modestly quickly vanished with his adoring words, "How beautiful, so beautiful, that's it, touch your nipples for me, they turn so dark, that is so beautiful, there, lay down, that's it, let me see you, spread your lips for me, god that is so beautiful, did you know you are so wet, yes, arch your back for me, your breasts are magnificent, touch yourself, I want to see you touch yourself."

I lay there, wrapped up in the comfort of his words, head back, fingers playing with my clitoris, other fingers playing with my nipples, legs spread, pleasuring myself for him. I listened to his voice, "Keep touching yourself, your face is so beautiful, oh, it feels so good, doesn't it, look at me, look at me while you touch yourself," and I looked at him and realized he was no longer snapping pictures of me, he was simply watching. I should have been upset, yet the thought of this man so enjoying himself just watching me turned me on further.

I held out my hand and invited him to join me. As he pulled his own clothes off, I laid back on the soft velvet, waiting for him to decide which way he'd best like to take me. But he turned to his camera, positioning it on a mounted tripod, and set the timer for 10-second intervals. He was going to capture this on film. I went wild with passion, engulfing his cock in my mouth as soon as he came back to me. Snap - his long cock down my throat. Snap - his lips on first one nipple, then the other. Snap - his fingers deep inside my vagina. Snap - his cock ready to bury itself in my ass. Snap - his hands spreading my ass apart and his tongue firmly embedded in me from behind. Snap - me squatting above his face, my pussy dripping onto his lips. Snap - on my back, his face buried deep in my pussy. Snap - my legs in the air, his cock rocking inside me. Snap - sitting on his cock, almost bouncing in the air as he thrusts. Snap - thrusting into my pussy from behind. Snap - slapping my ass as I cry out. Snap - grabbing my hair from behind, pulling my head back as he thrusts more deeply into me. Snap - his cum across my back, down my ass, dripping down my thighs. Snap - his lips and tongue sucking my pussy. Snap - my face as I scream out in orgasm. Snap - lying atop me as we come down.

I don't know what drew me into his shop that day. But I'm glad it did. And the pictures? Bold black and whites, gracing the walls of his shop, subtle lighting, rarely showing my face and only then in shadow. Beautiful, simply beautiful.