I'm just playing around and I'm not sure if any of you will like this story. It's a play within a play within a story. Maybe too convoluted?
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I'm a fashion photographer. No, my name isn't Andre or Carlo or Stefan or Antonio or some other artsy European name. It probably would have helped in this business if it was, but my name does have a ring that none of them have. Kirk definitely sounds better at the end of sentences like "Please fuck me _____" or "Ooohh god oooh yes fuck me ooohhh god I love how you fuck me _____". It just flows off the tongue better, don't you think? But I've already digressed. As I said, I'm a fashion photographer. My cross is that I photograph some of the most stunningly beautiful women in the world, frequently in revealing fashions, and then they just go away. Poof.
I direct their poses for a few hours, all the while flattering their positioning, raving about their facial expressions, adjusting their clothing, and most of all stroking and praising their beauty. It's not surprising that they have such high opinions of themselves. Every agent, photographer, designer, and flunky that touches their lives provides the constant reinforcement almost impossible to ignore. They are gorgeous, but nobody could be as beautiful as they think they are. You might correctly conclude that I love their looks, but that I almost never meet a model worthy of respect for modesty, intelligence, or thoughtfulness. I don't regret using them as thoroughly as I do.
My reputation, which I do nothing to refute, is that I take brilliant photos but that I push my models further than anyone. Some say I push them too far. I'm a blue-collar fashion photographer, and the only way I fit into the fraternity is that I can see and almost feel a great photograph. The best recognize it even before they snap. Most recognize it immediately after they snap. I don't recognize it until the photos are developed, but I do recognize it. When I have many photographs to search, my odds improve; but that's not the reason I demand so much from my models.
I push them to their physical and emotional limit primarily because most of my best work has been the result of fatigued models (and a fatigued photographer). Exhaustion brings forth the rawest emotions, and the body language is compellingly natural and real. The entire spectrum of feeling, including joy, frustration, anger, bewilderment, disdain, shock and fear, is reflected in their faces and in their body language. The expressions captured on film are more interesting when they are genuine.
There is a secondary reason for pushing them, however, and when I am honest with myself this is actually the dominant factor—their will to resist declines as their muscles tire. Lust is one of the emotions that bubbles up through the façade of these supermodels, and they will let me photograph bare breasts and uncovered vaginas at a rate far higher than they will when they are fresh.
When they start showing their tits and their cunts, some of them get turned on. I am an occasional benefactor from this method, and I am enough of an egotist to believe that when one of them yields her pussy to me, she leaves satisfied. I do occasionally get to hear Kirk at the end of a stream of words from one of these supermodels, and those words invariably indicate a high pleasure level.
Their availability and willingness to work with me again and again attests to their satisfaction with my photography. The ones into whom Kirk has dipped his wick respond with even more eagerness, and the rapport improves between the handsome photographer and the beautiful models he has fucked. Yes, I'm the handsome photographer Kirk. No, you don't need to worry about my self-esteem. I'm not sure how, but the vast majority of these girls seem to ignore my charm, my savoir-faire, my striking good looks, my …. As I said, I bear the cross of frustration born on the disappearance—poof—of these girls after I have seen them in tantalizing situations for protracted periods.
I run a little sideline business—almost a hobby—alongside my primary livelihood. I photograph aspiring models and actresses interested in putting together a portfolio, a curriculum vitae (CV). My photographs have provided the impetus to move some girls into big money modeling careers. If the girls have the raw material from which quality photos can be made, I can make them. Of course, just because they photograph well does not give any indication as to how well they can act, so my photographs can only open the doors that lead to successful acting careers.
As you might expect, my success rate seducing girls trying to break into the business is considerably higher than my success rate with the very highly paid models. While most agencies don't insist on nudes, they do need to insure that there are no stretch marks, scars, warts, moles, birthmarks, corns, bunions, etc. on the girls that would prevent them from wearing every possible fashion. Naturally, this requires that a whole lot of skin is visible in the photos, and these swimsuit/nightgown/lingerie shots are my specialty.
I push these aspiring models and actresses just as hard as I push the supermodels, but I also can tilt the playing field further in my direction by keeping their wineglasses filled. When they are tired and the alcohol has worked its magic, I can often talk these girls into modeling nude. Some agencies do consider nudes to be a plus, and the more wine they've slipped down their throats, the more likely they are to listen to the reasons.
I don't think I take advantage of them in getting them to model nude. My theory, not exactly on a par with Relativity and one which is common among photographers, is that most beautiful girls fantasize about being naked in front of the camera, and lowered resistance is a convenient excuse to strip off the last bits of nothingness they are still wearing. It is assuredly a sexual fantasy, and modeling nude is a very sexual experience for every girl I've photographed. Taking advantage of them after they are nude? That's a different story, and it's another of my specialties.
Actually, it's not a difficult specialty to master. Nature's course is straightforward when gorgeous, turned-on naked girls collide with aroused men, and my occupation places me in the path of this collision frequently enough to fuck many of them. The nature of the business attracts men who believe they can satisfy the most gorgeous women in the world, and I am one of them. As I'm sure you are aware, it also attracts men who believe they can satisfy the most gorgeous men in the world. I am not one of them.
This is the story of one such girl, and she kind of fell in my lap. Most of my portfolio work is the result of recommendations from girls already in the business or from modeling agencies, but every now and then the Yellow Pages bring in a diamond. Gina is the Hope Diamond, brought to me as a gift from her husband Andy. He knew nothing of my reputation, but he was impressed enough with my credentials and my awards to set up an appointment to look at my work.
