Modelling for my lover of 55 makes us masturbate and he cums on my tits.
Him.
Retirement was boring. Apart from my affair with Jayne, if it could really be called that, I had no fun, no excitement and little variety in my life. Looking back, moving to Yorkshire where my then wife had been brought up, from London had been a mistake. It sort of worked whilst I was still married but after the divorce it became hopeless. I needed more in my life and that's why I turned to photography, something I'd been quite keen on years ago and it's why the team had bought me a DSLR camera when I retired. I dug it out and started my new hobby.
One thing going for where I lived in Yorkshire was the stunning countryside and I spent ages wandering around taking photos. I joined a photographic club in Leeds and went to the club nights where various experts gave us tips on lighting, focus, using telephoto lenses, how to compose shots more effectively and how to take various types of shot, including still life, animals, sea and landscapes, glamour and nude studies. Also, I went to an evening where a model had been booked and the dozen or so of us there took shots of her in varying stages of undress until she was naked.
At the same time, I was keeping in touch with Jayne mainly by phone but also with occasional emails, by which I sent her some shots of around the house, the 'infamous' back garden and other places of interest, such as the tree under the overhang of which we'd had sex.
It was fun hearing from her and I was thrilled when she agreed to come up for a few days in a couple of weeks' time.
As I had retrieved my camera, I had also found the photos she'd let me keep from that first time we met. They had provided me with some lovely wanking material and had given me an idea. The problem was how to put it to her that I would like to photograph her. As it happens, that was easier than I'd thought it would be.
After collecting you from Leeds station, showing you to the car in the multi-storey and kissing you deeply in the car, when I confirmed that as usual you were not wearing a bra, I had, after looking around to make sure we would not be seen, pulled your top up and ogled your lovely C cup breasts. They were so full and round yet youthfully pert that I couldn't stop myself murmuring, "God Jay I would love to photograph them."
Quick as a flash you came back with, "What, here and now?"
Laughing, I said, "No, but as soon as we can when we get home, okay?"
"Sure, what sort? Like those you nicked from the Boots copying machine?" you said referring to how we met just over eighteen months ago.
Her.
When James had told me that he'd taken up photography and explained that it used to be his hobby, I hadn't for one moment connected that with the photos that he'd accidentally seen when I didn't pick both packs up from the developing machine outside Boots in Oxford Street in London. Most of those had been taken by Barry, an art director with whom I had partnered on a presentation to Lejaby, the French ladies underwear company, for their ad account. There were also a few that my dad had taken a few years previously that I'd forgotten about. I had been clearing out the house before it was repossessed after dad's business went bust, when I came across the film and had popped it into Boots to be developed. I'm often rather hair brained, and it hadn't occurred to me that there would be two packs, but fortuitously it led to us meeting. Actually, it was more than just a meeting that afternoon and now, getting on for two years later, far, far more than a meeting; it was a successful pick-up by a fifty-something man of a twenty-three-year-old blonde Essex girl, spoiled rich bitch. But now in 2010 after the fucking credit crunch, I was more an ex and not so rich a bitch!
As usual when I visited, we had sex pretty much as soon as we got to the house. Although it was never rushed, this time after such a long break there was an urgency and intensity about it that was rather lovely. That said, as always you kissed me a lot, demonstrating your experience and knowledge of what a woman wants from a kiss, and cuddled me to you, letting our bodies reacquaint themselves sexually to each other. Sometimes we undressed each other but today, staring at each other we undressed ourselves before embracing, stumbling onto the bed, laying down and starting to have sex. Sure, we fondled each other. Of course, I grasped your erection and lovingly and lustfully slowly pumped it taking care not to be too energetic or aggressive. Naturally you squeezed, kissed and licked my boobs and chewed and sucked my nipples. And for sure we writhed our bodies together before you slid between my legs that I opened for you and wrapped around your waist. Then and only then did we fuck. And how brilliant it was.
After visiting some lovely heights of sexual fulfilment and following the end of the convulsions of my body, I lay still in your arms with my head on your chest. I realised that your now limp dick was resting on the inside of my upper thigh and I wasn't sure whether it was that or leakage from my lips that was making them wet. But of course, I couldn't have cared less.
With my body settling down and my mind getting back to normality I muttered, "So, where's that bloody camera James?"
"God you're incorrigible," you said, kissing my cheek and grinning.
"Well, it's you who wants to take the mucky pictures isn't it?" I retorted, actually getting a buzz from the idea.
"You really want to do it now Jayne?" you asked, getting out of bed.
"Actually, no love, I haven't had anything to eat yet today, and sex always makes me hungry, so I am starving but there's no time like the present, is there?" I said, also getting up. "Let me have a shower first though? We don't want them to be so mucky as to have your spunk on my thighs do we?"
"I'll rustle up a snack shall I? How about scrambled eggs on toast?"
Him.
I hadn't for one moment thought you would suggest that I take photos right after us having sex. It somehow didn't seem right, as I rather thought of you posing for me as a prelude to us making love. In my mind, I would take increasingly erotic photos until we were both at the boiling point of arousal and then satisfying that would become a simple inevitability. But if that wasn't how it was going to be, then so be it; capturing you on film was the priority, not the how and when. The idea of having a light meal first seemed sensible, so after getting back into my clothes I rustled up the eggs and toast and made a pot of tea, preferring that to tea bags.
As I made my way back to the bedroom with the meal on a tray, one of my lessons came to mind and I suddenly thought that the light is so much better in the conservatory, so I mentioned that and you agreed.
You really were a vision of erotic beauty lying naked on my bed with the tray on your lap as you gobbled down the meal as if you hadn't eaten for an age. After that you had a couple of calls and I had some emails to send, so it was a couple of hours later that I suggested we go down to the conservatory.
"You ok with me like this or, should I put some knickers on?" you asked, grinning as we went into the conservatory.
"Christ yes love, you look fantastic."
Her.
You asked if I would put on black underwear and black holdup stockings and asked, "What other clothing did you bring with you?"
Never knowing just what we would do or where we might go on one of my visits, I had brought several changes of outfit with me, so I said, "Have a look, you choose."
You selected a short, pleated, kilt type of skirt in a red, green and black tartan and a white cotton blouse. With the hem of the skirt being well above my knees there was no way I would wear that in public with holdups for as I moved, I flashed my stocking tops. I realised, of course, that was what you were after and you took quite a few shots of me showing them. That almost made me giggle at how stereotypical men are with their sexual likes and fantasies! At your direction I gradually opened the buttons on the blouse, until the bra was clearly displayed. You then took some of me lying on the floor, the camera shooting up my skirt and more with you standing and kneeling as I bent over and sat on the sofa with the hem of the skirt going further and further up my thighs.
As the session went on, I felt that you seemed to be more adept at posing me than I had imagined you would be, and that's when you told me that photography was your new hobby. So far, your style was more erotic than porn, or so it seemed to me, for you appeared to prefer suggestive poses and outfits rather than the more obvious and basic ones. During the first spell of half an hour or so, we didn't do any nude stuff, but focused more on revealing poses. I wore two different skirts, a really clingy dress and the tight jeans I had worn on the trip up. Most of the time you had me pull the hems up, have the zip on the jeans undone or pull my tops up, down or to one side so I was flashing goodly expanses of my legs and most of my boobs. You posed me with nothing on under the tight dress and the jeans, with no panties under the skirts and no bra under the tight, slightly see through, cotton blouse.
I guessed that you were taking shots which, when you looked at them after I had left, would provide good masturbation material for you, and that quite thrilled me. But then the whole posing thing was doing that. Just as it had when I had done it before.
When I had posed for Barry, the art director I was paired with on the pitch for the Lejaby underwear account, it had been for genuine research purposes. I needed to understand why women bought such expensive erotic underwear. To produce the copy for the presentation, I had to know how they felt, what it was like buying the bras and panties and the reasons they chose such skimpy and revealing garments at such high prices? So he and I decided that I would wear some of the samples we'd been given and he would photograph me posing for him. Although Barry had come out and was married, I got aroused as the session went on. At one point when I was just wearing a pair of beautiful, pale blue silk knickers and I felt he was focusing on my boobs, I got a strong surge of sexual feelings. I suddenly wanted to be fucked. Actually, it wasn't that specific for what I really wanted was to cum. I needed to climax to purge myself of the sexual need. It was the combination of wearing the gorgeous underwear, posing for a camera and the somewhat deviant thought of turning a gay man back to straight sex that was doing it. Luckily, we finished shortly after that and I was able to go into a bedroom to get dressed and sort out my problem with my fingers.
It had been so different the first time I posed in my underwear for a photographer. But then that's not surprising as my dad was the photographer. I still don't know precisely why we did it, but the feelings I had experienced when he asked if I would pose for him, and then when I was in my underwear as he took the photos, were as near indescribable as it's possible for anything to be.
Like many daughters, I had fantasised about my father for several years, probably since I had become sexually active. It wasn't, though, something we talked about although mum made several pointed remarks that made me think she might have suspected something, but I didn't know what that could be. Maybe I showed my attraction to him rather too obviously or perhaps their pillow talk after sex had drifted that way and he'd said something to make her suspicious. Whatever it was surfaced in me when dad said, "Maybe without the bra now, Jay?"
I didn't know what to think, say or do, but like the loving daughter I was feeling that I was, I simply unclipped my bra, slowly removed it and stared at him as his eyes seemed to be devouring my bare boobs with their exceedingly stiff nipples.
Whilst I was hugely aroused and wanted sex so badly, other feelings were also playing their part. The most significant amongst those was my love for him. That was overriding all else and was hiding or more subjugating any feelings of guilt I had for wanting my father to fuck me.
