WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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This tale comes after "Through The Lens Ch. 1", where Mr. Marcus polished his skills at photography while polishing his knob in the vagina of a Wonder Woman look-alike.
In a previous story ("Double Birthday"), Mr. Marcus was volunteered by his daughter to take some photos of Vonna, a classmate and olive-skinned beauty. Their original interaction lightly explored the consequences of two lovers sharing the same birthday. During the shoot of pictures for her boyfriend, he dumped Vonna over the phone. Vonna took revenge by posing for increasingly erotic photos of her with Mr. Marcus, culminating in the ultimate seduction. Vonna seemed to like sex with Mr. Marcus. A lot.
This story reunites Mr. Marcus with that former school classmate of his daughter for another photography session. Vonna has a chance for a modeling contract and trusts no one but Mr. Marcus to take the pictures for her portfolio. Another roll in the hay for Mr. Marcus? I shutter at the thought.
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Armed with minimal new skills on photography but plenty on model management, I had arranged to visit Vonna at her condominium the next day, one day after my lessons with Viktor and Angie. Thanks to Angie's generosity, I had a professional camera and supplemental lighting and rollout backdrops for Vonna's shoot. To borrow, not as gifts.
As I opened the trunk of my car and schlepped out the loaner equipment and camera bag, I promised myself that the intimacy I'd shared with Vonna the last time I'd photographed her would not repeat. Watching Angie seduce her female clients by using drugged punch was creative yet despicable. It was a liquid version of Lillian Mutzman's artificial pheromones; the stuff that got me into Saroya Zenellis's panties just after her company went under. [AUTHOR: See story DOTS AND DASHES OF COLOR CH. 10a]
I wouldn't have agreed to this shoot in the first place, except for Vonna's instance that I was the only photographer she could trust. After all, it was my shots from our original session that kept her in the running for the modeling opportunity. Maybe I did have a good eye behind the lens. Or maybe I just appreciate the female form.
I remembered the route from the entrance of her condo building to her front door. Vonna answered, in a bathrobe. The mystery of what she was or wasn't wearing peaked my curiosity.
Her eyes were wide. "Thank you so much for coming." She spread her arms as if to offer a hug but instantly backed away like a lion tamer facing an angry wild cat. It was just as well we didn't embrace. Too much temptation to hug, then kiss, then, well, you know.
I followed her, taking a few steps past the entry closet, into the living room. I was shocked. All of the artwork, paintings and sculptures that had adorned her place were gone. So was most of the living room and dining room furniture except the infamous couch where we got carried away. Well at least she did. I just sat there while she pistoned to orgasm on my cock. "What happened?"
"Oh yeah, you haven't been here for a while." Vonna hugged herself. "The only reason I could afford this place was my aunt. She was my benefactor. You know, picking up the rent, giving me money for food and clothes. The art objects were part of her personal collection. She loaned them to me, to dress the place up." Vonna plopped down on our couch and crossed her legs. The robe parted, up to her thighs. Her legs were more toned than the last time I'd seen her. Vonna continued, "But she's had it rough. Her business was bought out, and she's had to sell off everything. So that's why I have to get this modeling job, so I can afford someplace to live. She's got this condo on the market already, looking for a buyer."
For a split second, I considered inviting Vonna to move into my house. Annie's bedroom was empty. Oh shit, Harriett was bringing her assistant VVV to live with us. They'd arrive tomorrow, the same day XXX wants me to help her niece and Smith wants to bowl. Vonna and ZZZ probably wouldn't enjoy sharing a bed. "I didn't know things were that bad. I'm sorry. Give me a few minutes to set up the backdrop and lights. I want to do the best I can for you."
"I know you will." She stood up, gave me a peck on the cheek and then shimmied off to her bedroom. Past the open door, I saw piles of outfits strewn all over the bed.
Besides backdrops and lighting, Angie lent me a high-end digital SLR, the same kind she'd used while shooting Daphne Prim. Instead of memory cards, this model accommodated miniature removable hard disks, so I could shoot almost forever at high resolution and not miss a beat or the perfect pose. I had experimented with the settings the previous night. Just for fun, I set the camera up facing out the front window, to take a picture every thirty seconds - time lapse. From 10 PM to 7 AM, the camera accumulated the comings and goings on my block. While I at breakfast, I watched the results, 1,080 photos in all, which I played back at half the standard 30 frames per second. Streetlights flickered, and cars appeared and disappeared in an instant. Except for one, with "A Hot Piece" flashing in neon on its roof. It stayed at the curb in front of my house for four full frames before vanishing, which meant it had been parked outside for a full two minutes. Was it my pizza lovely, or just a coincidence, a neighbor getting their fare share of my favorite flat food?
I returned my attention to Vonna's shoot. The backdrop I chose was neutral, so the colors of the clothes would stand out. I set up my tripod, lights and loaded my camera with a fresh miniature hard disk. My new digital camera was capable of single shots rapid fire series as well as movies of moderate quality.
Vonna came out in a plain black dress that looked anything but plain on her figure. For a starving artist, she'd filled out. Her hips were wider, her breasts larger, or maybe she was wearing a special bra. The dress length was modest, past the knee. However, it clung just right, so Vonna's curves were explicit. When I directed her into a profile pose with her head turned, I couldn't believe at how desirable she looked. I remembered my promise - no sex - and kept shooting.
I coached her through a series of poses. She had a tendency to drop her chin and slump with bad posture. I admonished her to keep her head up, proud, and her shoulders back. An added bonus was witnessing her tits pointing directly at me. Actually, at the camera.
I let her take a break and examine the shots I'd taken. If I wasn't capturing exactly what she wanted, I needed to know that sooner rather than later. Her smile and hug of my shoulder told me I was doing well. The aroma of her body was exotic, either natural or from some herbal soap.
A simple grey skirt suit over a white blouse followed the black dress. I couldn't help myself and requested that Vonna remove the jacket and sling it over her back. It was a sassy pose and showed a black bra under the white blouse. Her breasts had definitely grown.
The next outfit was a wedding dress in pure white, with intricate lace trim. Vonna came out of her room, clutching the bodice. "I can't zip it myself." She turned, exposing a naked back all the way down to a black thong.
I carefully zipped her up. The front came straight across, her breasts dual suns rising above the horizon. When she slumped, her tits almost poured out. I commanded her to stand straight, which forced those same tits tight across the bust line of the dress. Of course, I had to unzip her after those shots were complete. The dress slid down as she walked, exposing the upper curves of her ass. The same ass I'd watched rise and fall over my lap as she bounced on my cock during my last visit. God, the situation was intense. Fortunately, all of the items seemed to be regular clothing, not nightgowns or anything that exposed her body in full. I could handle sneaky peeks at bits of her, couldn't I?
A housewife dress in a button-up-the-front blue gingham checks fit her fine, maybe too fine. And the hemline was just above the knee, the shortest outfit so far. I set the camera to fast shoot and asked for some action. She spun and twirled, and the dress flew up. It was as if she wasn't wearing a skirt, I saw so much of her legs, all the way up to her thighs. Was she still in the black thong? Her spins weren't fast enough to inform.
After each series with a particular outfit, Vonna would retreat to her bedroom end change, always closing the door, but never shutting it all the way. With each subsequent change, the door was left more open. Was she trying to tease me into sex? Well, not this time. There was no reason for revenge against her boyfriend, no motive. I focused on my equipment, not Vonna's. I completely ignored the opportunities to catch a glimpse of Vonna between outfits. No stealth depravity on this visit.