For those of you who haven't yet run across it, there is a web page whose name shall remain anonymous which advertises itself with this logo (which I've paraphrased to maintain the anonymity): "Where Models meet Photographers".
So, basically, the web site is patronized by gorgeous models, the lucky bastards that photograph them, and lurkers.
I haven't modeled since baby pictures at Sears, I don't own a camera that's not a disposable, so that puts me squarely in the 'lurker' category. Hey, it's a hobby.
Well, one day about two years ago, having freshly discovered the web site and killing a chilly Autumn evening, I came across Kerry's profile. You know how you can be cruising pictures of many beautiful women, but there's suddenly one who makes you stop and say, "Wow!" and make your dick twitch? Well, Kerry was a double 'wow' and a triple dick-twitcher (try saying that if you lisp).
The fact that she lived on the other side of the country did not deter me from writing to her, expressing my sincere and gentlemanly admiration of her charms. I, of course, did this by writing an erotic story in her honor. Hey, it's another hobby.
Well, lo and behold, Kerry seemed flattered by the fact that I would take the time as a long-distance admirer to put my fantasies down in words. We rather quickly developed an electronic relationship that was beyond steamy, including taking each other's 'pop' sex quizzes.
Kerry was smart and creative and sensual and occasionally downright filthy and kinky, and she graciously augmented most of her correspondence with various photos of her in various stages of undress. My favorite was the one with a strand of pearls protruding from her shaved swollen pussy, but that's a personal taste.
She also professed to having the ability to churn her kegel muscles so that she could induce her own 'hands-free' orgasms at any time or place, which is always an endearing habit that would undoubtedly win most talent shows.
These are the vital numbers and dimensions, as listed on her port: 49 years old, long blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned, 36-24-36, D cup, 5'7' 125 lbs., dress size 4, bellydancer, eligible for erotic, fitness, or bodypainting photos. And, believe me, as yummy as that sounds, she was even better to see. Kerry was a wet dream's wet dream.
We escalated into periodic and spontaneous 'sexting' and phone sex, and the anticipation escalated with each communication. We made plans to meet for a weekend, with me flying coast-to-coast, and shared explicit, vivid descriptions of what we would do to each other while finally together.
And I backed out, lost touch, got cold feet, all of the above. Career got in the way, mom got sick, and as John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making plans"
Then, magically, more than eighteen moths later, I ran into her photo and profile again in another venue, this one a professional networking site. Though she was fully clothed and conservatively attired in this photo, quite candidly, she looked more sensational than ever. Triple dick-twitching sensational, one might say, if one didn't have a lisp, of course.
So, I contacted her electronically, sent her another suggestive story and further suggested a liaison, offering to fly her to Philadelphia for a weekend. Though cordial and classy as always in her response, her initial reply was somewhat an unequivocal 'no chance'.
It read, "Hey there. I must say it was a surprise out of the blue. Not a bad surprise, I do enjoy your writing style as much as ever. I do have to tell you I am in a committed relationship right now with a guy I adore. We are very well connected in so many ways. I do so hope that you are content at least with your life as it is now."
Now, I've been in committed relationships before, but that's not quite an binding as a marriage. Yes, admittedly, it probably would have been valorous to leave good enough alone, but as Otter so famously uttered in Animal House, "I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part."
And I was just the guy to do it.
So, I did something I hadn't done before. Really, I hadn't your honor, I swear.
I sent her a cock pic. Two, actually. Hey, you have to play to your strengths, right? Thank goodness for my endowment. It's just over seven-and-a-half inches, very thick, with a disproportionately large mushroom head that apparently massages all the right places, or so I've been told. Numerous times.
Since Kerry had been kind enough to send me many past photos of her own incredible attributes, why not forward pics of my own charm, I reasoned, as I hit 'send'. I included a brief disclaimer. "I'm happy for you regarding your relationship, I truly am. But.... I have a disposable camera. Why not just tell him that you're going on a photo shoot?"
This time, her response was more receptive. "Hmmmmm. A photo shoot. Now, why didn't you phrase it like that to begin with? How about the weekend of the 24th? And, may I take pictures of you? We'll call it quid pro quo."
Now, I confess, up until now, over the last two years, I had not sent Kerry's photos to anyone. She never asked me not to, it was just an implied gesture of trust. However, with her visit approaching, I did send a photo of Kerry to an on-line friend of mine, a fellow 'Lit' author, a lovely French-Canadian woman with whom I'd been corresponding and sharing sexual ideas with over the last half-decade.
My pen pal wrote back after seeing Kerry's full frontal nude photograph, highlighting her rippled torso, gravity-defying tits, and muscled, athletic thighs. "My God, that's the most incredibly beautiful specimen of woman I've ever seen. She'll crush you, lol!"
I responded by sending back my cock pics, so I guess now I was becoming a serial-cock-photo-sender. My French female friend replied back, "Wow! Sacre bleu! Holy shit! I take that back. You might crush her. Why didn't you tell me you were walking around with that thing!?!?"