She stood in front of me in a short tight skirt and sleeveless shirt tied in front, mid-drift. Her legs covered in fishnet stockings and the tight skirt extenuating her round supple legs and buns. Her name was Argemone, an old Greek word meaning flower, as she'd once told me, but she liked to be called Damsel.
"Shoot the picture," she said. She arched her back looking back at the camera, pouting slighting for me as I shot away three more. It was no secret she was driving me crazy, but I dare not touch her. Not if I wanted to see my money.
She was a good client, always paid me well for my time, always insisting on multiple copies of the photos, sometimes even if there was no difference; she wanted every one of them. I always gave her exactly what she wanted only keeping a few for my portfolio.
We shot in her basement, which she used as her studio for her work at home projects. I think she did some kind of customer service or marketing. I don't know, she made good money and paid me well.
We did all matter of shots – artistic, historical, gothic, horror, sexy, even sleazy at times. She'd call me with a new idea and flirt with me on the phone to book an afternoon shoot. I always gave her my absolute best work, and upon her insistence the bad shots, either lighting gone or blurred – she took all of them.
My best work - was actually more of a testament to how crazy she made me. She was in my dreams and all my fantasies. Her gorgeous brown eyes, her beautiful smile, and her goddess of a body! Fuck! I couldn't hold a regular job; I'd always think about her with enthusiasm and some hopelessness and never get a fucking thing done. She wasn't a model or some skinny rail with giant tits that was a marvel as to how she even walked. No, she was a real flesh and blood – beautiful, desirable woman. I took her pictures because I wanted her and a picture was the closest I could get. The money was just to pay the bills and for the film.
"Rob," she said sweetly. Her deep seductive voice was like a symphony to my ears and I felt like one of those little winged cupid-bastards dancing around as two lovers walked together in the artwork of years past. "Shoot the fucking shot, ROB!"
I took the picture, looking down to see the memory card was full. I looked at my watch and saw nearly 2 hours had past. I couldn't believe how fast time flew and I was now sitting on over 1000 new pictures.
"We're done," I said.
"Change the card."
"Your two hours is up," I said, beginning to pack away my camera and turn off the lights.
"Rob, I have some other ideas for our shoot."
"I have another shoot across town," I said. I was a bit taken by how quickly the time had passed, was I really so obvious? Had I been so enamored by her I couldn't even focus on shooting nearly 1000 shots?
"Rob, cancel the other shoot," she begged. "I'll pay you extra," she bit her lip, saying this. She won. I would have pulled my heart from my chest had she asked for it.
"Damsel," I said. "I have other clients and I do run a business. I'll cancel my 4 'o'clock, but I have to be at the 6 'o'clock – wedding pictures, and they booked me three months in advance."
"I'll make it worth your while," she said as she smiled. "Just give me a few seconds, change your memory card or something."
It didn't matter what I said at this point, it wasn't at all intelligible. She did this to me. It made me a complete blob of jelly to even speak to her. Once she flashed her smile and I got caught in her gorgeous brown eyes, my thought process was done. What's worse, I think she secretly enjoyed having that power over me.
Not that I'm complaining about being able to serve and having the attention of a good-lookin' lady, mind you. Definitely not, Damsel was a goddess of desire and beauty. But I'm pretty sure she could tell me I was a roast beef sandwich and I would nod my head in agreement.
"Rob," she said from the other room. "Can you give me maybe a softer or darker light, maybe a blue backdrop?"
"Sure thing, hon." I changed the lights out and pinned the blue floral pattern background. She came out in her robe and set a barstool down in front. Everything was lit. The shoot was on. Damsel sat down in her robe and began to remove it slowly. "Start shooting," she said. I began hitting the button, 2, then 5, then 7 shots in, making my way slowly up to 30 and 40.
The first flashes of skin were her legs; I loved her legs and could probably spend an entire day kissing on them. They were shapely and fit, naturally beautiful running up her back leg to her butt. Damsel had an amazing butt and I often had to make myself not stare at it.
Typically, Damsel would wear some kind of tight shorts or skirt, but this time, she wore nothing. She turned slightly to the left and let down her dark hair which tumbled over her right shoulder, then twisted her head so that it flowed down behind her.
I loved her dark hair and had seen it short and long during the time we'd know each other. Under wigs, tied in braids, slicked back – it didn't matter to me. Her dark hair made her lovely brown eyes sparkle. There was always that sparkle in every picture she took. I made sure of it when I handed them over to her each time. And to be honest, there were very few shots of her where you couldn't see her eyes, just the occasional blink, or blur, or maybe she moved before a shot.
Her smile, I could easily write another ten pages about it. Her smile made me fall in love with her the first time I saw it. It made me happy to see it and want to come up with excuses to make her smile each time I saw her. If she'd asked me not to charge her and then smiled, I'd be a poor starving photographer, but a completely content one, at that.
Bent knee, she twisted both legs right and began exposing her chest, while the robed dropped down her back, hanging off her arms. Her porcelain breasts made the hair on my neck stand, this was the sculpture of a Greek goddess coming alive before me and my duty to her was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on.
She shook her hair and it tumbled over the left half of her face. She turned more to the right dropping more of the robe as I shot her naked back and shoulder. Finally, the robe huddled around the small of her back, she turned to look at me, "You gonna shoot the picture, Rob?" She said, raising an eyebrow.
I immediately dropped the camera and grabbed at her, pulling her off the stool as if she were a cherry blossom floating in the breeze. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I kissed her. The robe dropped to the floor as I pinned her to the basement wall kissing her in a furious storm, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her hands eagerly tore at my shirt as I grabbed her beautiful plump ass, running my hand up the small of her back. I dropped her down on her feet, turning her around to face the wall as I bit and kissed down her back. Pausing as I bit and kissed her butt, something I had wanted since the first day we'd met. My fingertips ran up and down the backs of her thighs as I bit, kissed and nibbled my way up her spine, kissing her on the back of her neck and shoulders.
I thought about how long she'd teased me and flirted with me as I would stand in the shower after each session, beating off for nearly an hour. I worked my way down her back, seeing goose bumps on her skin as my hands reached around her, cupping her breasts. I turned her to suck on her tight budding nipples, rolling my tongue around the areola, kissing back down her stomach and around the edge of her right hip.
My lips moving back across her buttocks, I bit her hard, to which she moaned and giggled with pleasure, turning around to face me and lifting one leg onto the barstool. Her legs were smooth, smelling faintly of a softly baby-powdered rose petal as I buried my face in her crotch seeking, with my togue, the tender most warm spot I could whilst enjoying her juices. She tasted sweet and warm and I let my tongue flick across her clit and deep inside her as she writhed around making some whimpering sounds. Each time I went back, it was as if I hungered for her, no longer allowing my passion to impede me, I overwhelmed her with pleasure and tenacity each time.
"OH GOD! ROB! JESUS FUCK ME ROB!" she cried out as my tongue touched her clit again, swirling around in figure 8's and circles, with no real rhythm. I sucked on her wet nub as it became engorged and ever more sensitive. She ground her face into me as I slurped hard, wrapping my tongue around her, making my whole face wet from her as she continued whimpering, cursing, and begging god she not cum yet. I would toy with her as she had me, her hips grinding into my face with the rhythm of my tongue, only to stop and change against her. My chin dripped with her sweet carnal nectar as she let out yet another cry. I inserted a finger while as I caught my breath against her forceful pushing hands.
"FUCK ME," she cried out again with increased sounds of whimpering and an almost begging whine as I, again, buried my face into her. My tongue bringing her an all new rhythm, drinking her juices as they flowed freely from her, my head of hair held tightly in her fingers, nearly ripped out as she moaned loudly again. At that moment, I could feel my dick was hard; I thought my pants would split the seams.
"DEAR GOD, ROBBBBBBBB!" Damsel screamed nearly taking handfuls of hair as she tried to push my face back in. But I wasn't going to give into her this time. I picked her up in my arms and very nearly slammed her over my work table, knocking over lighting equipment and gear to wrap her firmly over the table's edge, spread eagle. I jerked the belt loose, very nearly ripping my fly open as a thin trickle of juices ran down Damsel's naked leg from her pussy.
