The Photographer

This story, and all my stories, contains fictionalized characters from long ago memories and recent events of my life.

I am a 60+ year old Black BI woman. My stories are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. I am submissive by natural inclination in most relationships, sometimes extremely submissive in sex. If you like kinky mature bi women I hope you will like my stories and please comment to help me improve.

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Do you think a 63 year old woman is too old to learn photography? Read on and find out. The people in this story are real but of course, for no reason really, the names have been changed...... or not.

His name was Jason. We met when he moved into the house next door to mine. The two lovely men who own the house had put it on the rental market while they went west to deal with family health issues. As Jason and I talked on that first day I learned a lot. He is 31, half my age, and works for a consulting firm. He helps companies with government contracts navigate the tangles and complexities of regulation. Jason told me he loved the construction business and worked his way through college and grad school doing construction work. His body seemed to show the definition acquired through hard physical labor. Looking at his chest and his "guns" seemed to prove it.

Jason explained, almost to just make small talk, the many reasons why he likes his job. The pay is great and when he is on a contract the company leases him a nice car, gives him a rather generous per diem allowance and rents him a nice furnished home to live in.

For the next six months he would be my neighbor, assigned to the west coast of Florida for the planning stages of an off shore energy project. (Don't ask, I didn't.)

Jason, it became apparent, did some research on the town he would be living in and found that it is relatively upscale for central Florida, probably because of its proximity to the beach. It's why, in fact, I chose to live here. Upscale, near the ocean, who could ask for more? The population is very diverse which is one of the things as a black woman I also like about Florida and my neighborhood in particular. Jason mentioned that he thought the town has a significant Gay/Lesbian population. He laughed and said "not that there is anything wrong with that." I confirmed, because he did everything but straight out ask, that I am a single at the moment, lesbian. I wanted to see where this would go so I did not tell him I am actually bisexual.

Jason claimed to be a mutt of sorts. A little Spanish, a little Cuban, a little French, a lot of mid western America . His blend was quite obviously Caucasian. Jason, as if to tell me that he is safe to be around, volunteered that he is straight. I felt that I could tell just by the way he looked at me, seldom my eyes, often my body, that he is in constant search of a woman, any woman even an older woman like me I hoped. A woman to dine with, to walk the beach with, to work out with and of course to make love with.

Jason.....

I did a drive by on the day before I was to move in. I found a nice house, one of four pretty much identical houses one row up from the beach. The next day the realtor gave me the key and when I asked about the neighbors she smiled and said, "Three widows." "I don't know what you were hoping for but this probably will not be party central."

When I arrive there is a car in the driveway of the house next to mine that I hope says a lot about my neighbor. A late model black on black on black BMW M convertible. License plate reads VOODOO. Immaculate! I'm thinking "I want to meet any widow driving that."

I leave my car in the drive and go inside to drop my bags and to make a list of everything I need before heading to the grocery store. I'm not in the house very long and when I leave there is a remarkably attractive older Black woman with legs that go from the ground to heaven climbing into that BMW. The thighs, oh the thighs! As I watch I catch a glimpse of heaven covered in red. She sees me, flashes a great smile and backs out and drives off with a slight chirp to her tires. Ok, if that is a widow in central Florida I'm sold!

When I return I'm unloading bags when Voodoo lady returns. As she gets out she leaves no question about those great legs exposing more thigh than the law allows. I can't quite figure out what she is wearing but it appears to be a very short skirt and I again see a flash of red between her legs. It's hard not to notice that this Black woman has the most beautiful brown skin, the color of dark chocolate, I have ever seen and silver white hair. She sees me, catches my eye and shouts out "Hey Cowboy, if you drink beer come on over when your done and introduce yourself."

I call back "Yes ma'am, be right along." I put my groceries away wondering if I might have offended her by using the word "ma'am." I head out the door. I had just bought a cold six pack of Schmidicks Irish and brought it along. Voodoo widow came to the door and greeted me with a big smile and a warm hug. She smells wonderful, not a scent but Ivory soap wonderful. She releases the hug and puts her hands on my upper arms. I become aware as she leans in and offers me her cheek that she is doing more than just touching my arms, she is squeezing my biceps. I kissed her on her cheek almost as though she had commanded me to.

Pulling back slightly she asked "What's your name cowboy? I'm Robin."

I answered her simply "Jason, nice to meet you Voodoo lady."

Voodoo lady smiles and says "ah, you noticed my tags. Long story for another time."

Robin changes the subject and says "You brought me some fine Irish beer. You have good taste."

With that she ushered me into her home. As we passed through the kitchen she picked up two beer glasses and an opener and led me through the dining area out onto the patio overlooking her pool.

Voodoo lady has a beautiful home. The pool is illuminated and small twinkle lights hang from the lanai. It wasn't dark yet but it would not be long. I complement her pool and she laughs "Now if only I knew how to swim. Maybe you could teach me sometime."

Robin was dressed in the shortest black skirt imaginable. She also had on a starched crisp man's white shirt pulled up snug and tied under her breasts. Around her neck a gold chain and a solitaire diamond pendant hung to just where the swell of her breasts is visible. As I looked at her and we chatted it became obvious that she enjoyed showing off her body and she had a very nice body to show off. I would later learn she was 63 years old. I would have guessed younger, much younger. Sitting at the high boy on a stool gave her no opportunity to hide that body. I could just make out the change in those chocolate thighs as they curved up into her butt. The shirt was unbuttoned down to the knot in the shirt tails. As I watched her move I could almost see the edge of her Areola and of course her braless nipples pushed hard on her shirt fabric seemingly becoming more pronounced as the afternoon wore on. It was impossible not to notice her unrestrained breasts move as she shifted in her seat. Turning she once again exposed red panties between those marvelous thighs. If you the reader have not figured this out by now I'm a leg man.

VooDoo lady, Robin smiled when she caught me gawking. At that moment when our eyes locked I really noticed her eyes for the first time. I initially thought and expected that her eyes would be brown. They were not. They were unmistakably green. The deepest darkest green I had ever seen.

I would later learn that she had just returned from a tennis lesson and that explained the skirt. I would also find out later that she wore doubled up sports bras to play tennis but those bras because they were so very restrictive were shed almost the moment she walked in the door.

The beer flowed freely. When we finished what I brought along Robin announced a wide variety and multiple brands to chose from. We settled on Sam Adams Summer Ale. I was nursing my sixth beer when Robin brought out her "night cap" beverage, Jack Daniels Single Barrel.

Robin......

I thought this Jason was a cute young guy and I needed the male company. It had been a very long time since I last wrapped my brain and body around a man. Did I hope for more? Perhaps.

As we talked I learned all about his job but more importantly about his passion, photography. As soon as he told me about how he took pictures of the places he visited and the people he met I had lots of questions and was distracted, for the moment at least, from the need, the heat, I was feeling.

He took out his phone and opened the photo app, showed me a picture and began to tell me the story of the picture. In the next few days I would learn that with Jason there was always a story for every picture.

"I was just about to give up and leave the docks in New Orleans when I spotted a redhead woman moving in the crowd nearby. How could I have missed this woman not thirty feet away? I always thought that red hair added a lot of interest to color photos. I took a quick candid shot from where I was standing."

"Just as I was about half way to the woman and lining up for a second shot an 8 or 9 year old girl with her mother's flaming red hair stepped out from behind her and into the image. It was then that I noticed their green eyes. The young girl was holding up a fish half as long as she was tall."

"There was something about the combination of red hair, green eyes, sun tanned skin and great smiles that was just crying out for more pictures. I took several shots just as fast as I could frame them."

Really great photography. As I expressed an interest in seeing more we made a date for the next day when he promised to project the pictures on the large screen of my TV. I walked him to the door and opened it for him. He thanked me for a great evening and said he looked forward to our "photo shoot" tomorrow. I corrected him and said "You mean our photo show, right?"

He said "Maybe both if you are willing. I would love to photograph you."

I smiled and said "Bring your camera, cowboy and maybe Voodoo lady will let you get lucky. We'll see what happens."

He leaned in slightly, he was taller than me, and moved to kiss me on the cheek. I misunderstood his intention and kissed him. As our lips touched his eyes opened wide and he started to apologize. He told me he knew I was not into men I told him "Nothing is certain, see you tomorrow cowboy."

When I returned after tennis the following day he was sitting on my porch with his iPad and camera. Jeans and a white tee shirt. As we entered the house I offered him a drink and he settled on a Sprite. I brought him out to the pool and excused myself telling him I would be back after I showered. "Five minutes, I promise."

I left him by the pool and went into my room to shower and change. I took a chance and glanced back. He was watching me walk away.

As I entered my room, and just to test, I left the door open slightly. I stood in my room facing away from the door I saw him in the mirror. Just the right angle almost as though I had planned it. I could see him watching me but he could not see his own reflection. The camera! Cowboy was holding his camera!

I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. I had on panties I usually wore for tennis, kind of a tight granny panty in red. They held my panty liners up tight and close and caught any leaks. I hate getting older and needing that liner. I pulled those panties down and touched the liner. It was wet but not with pee. I turned so he could see and held the panties to my nose and sniffed. It was my scent, pungent and womanly and not for the timid. I loved my scent after a work out and would normally spend time on my bed pleasing myself but now is not the time to linger. I let them fall on top of my skirt. Turning back facing away from him, I stepped back toward him and bent at the waist with a slight squat to pick up the panties and skirt. I turned and stood sideways to him and stretched both hands, yoga style, together toward the ceiling. I had on my usual double sports bras. They did a great job of bounce control as I played tennis but when I got home I could not wait to get them off.

As I pulled them over my head my breasts of course spilled out. I dropped the bras on the floor in front of me. I knew he could see me as I massaged my breasts and again stretched out both hands over my head. As I bent in profile to him and my breasts hung down toward the floor I could almost hear his camera in overdrive.

My walk-in shower is really an extension of my bathroom. Two shower heads are straight ahead and two are at right angles to the shower area. In addition there are two overhead rainfall shower heads above. The drain is actually in the center of the entire bath area. I thought I felt him enter the room but couldn't be sure. I showered, toweled off and went back into the bedroom and dressed.

White sports thong. White underwire push up bra I had found and loved. When I first found it and showed a girlfriend she nicknamed it the booby shelf. It gave my breasts support and fullness, created cleavage while still giving the appearance that I might be braless. I put on faded low cut jeans with holes and tears in all the right places and a favorite white mens dress shirt tied off just below my breasts, no buttons tied. My really old Top Sider boat shoes completed the outfit.

As I took my soiled clothes off the bed to put them in the hamper. I removed the liners from my panties. As I may have said I always double the liner to play tennis, always! As I went to pull the soiled liners and toss them one was missing. Jason had been a busy cowboy while I was in the shower. He and I would talk about this before the day was over. Did I mention I like kinky.

My color is I think my favorite part of my own sexuality. I am very dark. A good friend, a white girl, once told me I was the color of Hershey Dark Chocolate. She then spent two minutes trying to convince me it was the ultimate compliment. The truth, only known to my lovers is that depending on the season I can be three different colors. The sun does darken my skin except where bathing suit covers my breasts and between my legs. The bottoms of my feet and the palms of my hands are always the lightest color. In summer I have had lovers of all races tell me how much they love exploring my color.

I did nothing to tell him I knew he had taken pictures of me changing. That would come later.

We sat in my den and he set up to show pictures on my TV. He started with a stunning picture of the Golden Gate Bridge shrouded in clouds. He continued with pictures of bridges and buildings he loved.

As we looked at pictures and talked he told me a story of how he had met a couple in Key West that he had taken pictures of every year for their anniversary. He had been doing it for four years but they had done it for many years before with other photographers. Their idea was to pose for exactly the same picture every year to illustrate their life growing old together. I asked if I could see those pictures and he hesitated. I assured him that I knew no one in Key West and he relented.

The couple was seated. Her in front of but just to the side of him. Both were Caucasian. They were both naked and seated in such a way as to leave nothing to the imagination. She was on his left with her right hand on his right thigh. Her arm stretched across his abdomen and just below her arm his penis and testicles were clearly visible. A gifted man. Her arms were open in a way that left her breasts exposed and her legs were spread wide enough to reveal the shape of her shaved vagina. They were indeed a beautiful couple.

Jason showed me many of the pictures of them he had. The first from when they were obviously much younger. Two showed her very pregnant and unshaven. He was working on an electronic album for them and they had given him all the pictures they had and he had digitalized them all.

I had to ask. "Do you often take pictures of naked people?"

He explained that he was surprised at how often people wanted their picture taken naked, especially younger women in their twenties. He told me that just as often women of all ages want "boudoir" pictures to give to their husbands or lovers.

As we looked at naked pictures I was amazed. Women of all ages, none under 18, but all ages all races, all sizes and several in their 80's, one 93 he said. All beautiful women and photographs. Amazing, I stood and looked at some more closely. I realized I was getting wet. I never thought I would get aroused by photographs but I was.

Jason mentioned that he had other pictures of couples and asked if I would like to see them. Of course the answer was yes. I rejoined him sitting as a picture of two white women appeared on the screen. They were standing facing each other profile to the camera. Both average but embracing so as to leave no question they were lovers. There was some humor in this picture because both had their hands firmly holding the others butt cheeks.

The next picture was a black woman with a white woman. They were sitting side by side holding hands.

It could have been me and my, now deceased, lover Beth but there is no way he could know about her.

The resemblance was so striking that I had Jason stop and I told him of the my love for Beth and how we met.

Beth and I learned a great deal about our sexuality together as adults. We clung together to each escape our own abuse and abuser. We moved away together, first to my beach cabin in North Carolina and later to this home in Florida. In that beach cabin after days away from those we knew we came to an understanding of our needs and wants both as individuals and as a couple.

My sexuality centers on the softer side of sex, women, with an occasional man in my life, perhaps but not always between my legs. Beth's sexuality had no center. She loved me, of that I am certain, but she had much more of a need for the hard side of sex, dominant men, often abusive men. In the five years we were together I never drifted from her. She on the other hand drifted from me every time a man came into her life only to return when she needed to heal. It was one of those men who gave her the disease, from which she could not heal, that took her from me.

Jason thanked me for sharing my story and then spent some time searching his albums. The next picture was of two men standing side by side. Both were in jeans, barefoot and naked from the waist up. They were holding hands. I asked, because the question begged to be asked. Jason said "Yes it's me. A long time ago with Carl."

I pressed the question. "I thought you said you were straight?"

Jason smiled and said "I think I am but every now and then my straight encounters a curve. Carl was one of those curves."

I was sitting next to Jason. I put my hand on his thigh and asked him to tell me about Carl.

He seemed hesitant but finally said. "It started with me taking boudoir pictures of his wife. She was very assertive and we ended up having sex. She suggested that I should take pictures of her and her husband together. She told me that Carl knew about her and I having sex. Taking his picture with his wife giving him oral sex was very erotic. She was making picture suggestions and long story short Carl and I ended up in their bed and had oral sex while she took pictures."

I asked him if he often had sex with those he photographed. He admitted it happened twice with women doing a boudoir shoot. Something about having their picture taken partially clothed made them very aware of his reaction to them. Both he claimed gave him an obvious erection.

He found that if he became at all aroused by them and they noticed it they seemed to want to push it further. Jason laughed and said "hey I'm only human."