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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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I love Dartmoor, I always have. I love its bleak, rugged splendour, its harshness, its bright, clear days, its loneliness, and, oh, everything about it. I'd first fallen in love with the moor when, as a young girl, I spent time there with my grandmother whilst my parents went through their break up. She had a tiny cottage beside one of the narrow little lanes that lead up onto the moor, and I thought it was wonderful.
I think she saw how much I cared for the place because, when she died, she left it to me, skipping a generation and bypassing her own children to pass it on to me, someone -- in her words -- who would cherish it and not sell it on for a sordid profit. That made me unpopular with my family, but I didn't care, I had my dream.
It suited my work too; I'm an illustrator, doing the drawings and paintings for children's books. Nothing spectacular yet, nothing as famous as Jemima Puddleduck or Flopsy Bunny, but maybe one day. That kind of independent work suits me too. One day I'll work from dawn till dusk, and then another I'll go out on the moor and relax, just soaking up its solitude. I know just where to find that peace, even in the height of summer when all the tourists stomp around in hiking boots and anoraks, pretending to be a part of my world.
It's probably just as well that I live in such an isolated spot, because then I can indulge my other little pleasure, sunbathing naked. I use the word naked rather than nude, because nudity tends to be semi respectable. No one bats an eyelid if you say you go in for nude sunbathing, but tell them that you like to lie around naked, and for some incomprehensible reason that's a different matter altogether. Naked has this connotation of mild wickedness, of lasciviousness, even perhaps some sort of gentle debauchery, and it's that implied rebelliousness that I enjoy. So I often relax on the moor naked, not nude. I just enjoy the freedom, and I know where I'm not likely to be disturbed.
I now it'll sound weird, but I like to lie with my legs open so that I can feel the heat of the sun and the cool of the breeze on my pussy. I like it too when the breeze makes my nipples harden and I can run my hands over myself and feel sexy, and yes, sometimes I'll even masturbate out there in the open air. But I can only let myself do all that because I'm confidant that being right out on the moor I have a silly kind of public privacy.
I'm not shy about my body, I'm in my twenties and about as good as I'm going to get, and that's not bad at all, though I say it myself. I'm tall for a girl, about five nine, slim, with pert but smallish breasts and a washboard stomach, a blonde mane that I'm very proud of and an all over golden tan. Yeah, I like the way I look, and why not? But that doesn't mean I want all and sundry to see me.
So you'll understand why, on one Friday nearly three years ago, I was a bit annoyed when I saw an empty car parked by the side of the lane just where I normally leave it to strike out across the moor. Somebody was on what I thought of as 'my' part of the moor, and if I stripped off it would be just my luck for them to turn up and spot me. I didn't want to risk that, and so I took a wander round first to see if I could find whoever it was and see if they were likely to disturb me. That's what I want to tell you about.
It took me a while, but eventually I remembered a bowl shaped depression among the granite rocks that was pretty much out of sight. It's a very well hidden spot and the only reason I don't use it is that it's shielded from the breeze and on a hot day can get just a bit too hot for comfort. I went to take a look and as soon as I got within twenty yards or so I knew I'd found the right place. The unmistakable sounds of sex came to me before I'd even looked over the lip of the bowl.
I don't consider myself to be a natural voyeur, but the sounds of passion were so strong that I couldn't help but creep up to the edge and peer over. There, just below me and only about twenty feet away, were a naked couple making love.
It must be said that I found it a beautiful but startling sight, the paleness of the man's rump contrasting with the dark brown of his partner's legs as he thrust in and out of her. It was the first time I'd ever seen a mixed race couple making love, in fact it was only the second time I'd ever seen any couple making love, but that's beside the point.
It was difficult to tell from my perspective, but the man appeared to be around thirty or so, tall, blond haired and muscular, while his younger partner was slim and gorgeously black. She was clearly in the throes of orgasm, clawing at his back while her feet wrapped around his waist to hold him in, and he was not far behind her, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as his climax drew near. They were both calling out, she in high pitched unintelligible tones and he repeating a gruff, gasping 'yes' as he got near.
I lay behind the lip, peering over at them, half ashamed at my behaviour but totally fascinated and not a little aroused by what I was witnessing. Part of me wished I had found them sooner so that I might have seen more, but I tried hard to put such thoughts aside, remembering how I had been anxious at the prospect of being discovered just sunbathing without clothes.
Then, as I watched, he drew back to gather himself before plunging into her with a deep roaring groan as his orgasm finally hit him. I could see him pushing into her as far as he could, ramming himself at her with each pulse of his climax, until, finally spent, he lay limply on top of her, his back rising and falling as he attempted to regain his breath. She too was used up, her legs slid from his back to lie starfish-like beside his, her arms still around him but her hands now just gently caressing his shoulders.
For a minute or two they lay like that, unspeaking and unmoving, but then she, no doubt uncomfortable under his weight, moved to wriggle free. At that point, fearing that I might be discovered, I shuffled back from the rim and then, as quietly as I could, made my way back to the path home, leaving them in unknowing peace but with the vision of what I had seen replaying itself inside my head.
I will readily admit that seeing them making love had turned me on, and I'll also admit that I couldn't get it out of my mind for the rest of the day, even to the point where I masturbated to the memory that night before I went to sleep. But then, in the cold light of the following day I just counted myself lucky to have come across them and allowed them to recede into the back of my mind.
I try, not always successfully, to discipline myself to do my work for the week before I take time out, and so Friday tends to be the day that, weather permitting, I can get out onto the moor. So it was also the Friday of the next week, the day being beautiful and my work well ahead of my deadline, that I decided to head out onto the moor once again, the intruders of the previous week having completely faded from my mind. I won't say that I had forgotten them, but thoughts of the couple were far from my thoughts as I picked up my book and set out. I was quite surprised then, as I came closer to my destination, to see that same car parked up in nearly the same spot.
I came to an abrupt and rather childish halt, with a sharp intake of breath and a hand flying to my mouth, as I realised the implications. I couldn't help it, my heart began to race and my pussy responded immediately at the thought that I might see them making love once again. Of course, I told myself, I shouldn't spy on them and that what they did was none of my concern, but all the time I was thinking my feet were taking me hastily towards the hollow in which I had found them the previous week.
I must, this time, have been early in comparison with the previous occasion, for as I reached the lip of the bowl and peeked over, they were there in the middle of the depression taking off their clothes. With a silent sigh of relief and a pounding heart I settled myself down where I could peer between two tufts of grass and waited for them to begin.
This time I was able to see them properly as they disrobed, seeing the contrast between the two skin colours as striking and beautiful. He was, as I'd thought, in his early thirties, tall, probably a little over six feet, and strikingly built, strong and toned without being over muscled. He was very blond, fairer than me, right down to his eyebrows, and I was close enough to see the sunlight shining through the sprinkling of blond hairs that covered his body in a kind of misty halo. He was gorgeous, and I almost felt jealous of the black girl who had enjoyed his body, and, I hoped, would again.
She was younger than I had thought, maybe not even quite out of her teens, as dark as he was fair, her dark brown skin smooth and gleaming in the sunlight. She was of an average height, slim but with a figure that I would die for, wide hips and stunning breasts, high and firm, large but not so that they sagged, and tipped with fabulous long black nipples. She finished undressing before he, bending to place her clothing in a neat pile beside a boulder and presenting me with a perfect view of her tight round bottom, and a little flash of pink flesh that sent my pulse racing once more.
I ought to make it clear that I'm not gay; I've never had, nor wished for, a lesbian experience in my life. The reason that the fleeting glimpse of her pussy got to me was simply that I was dying to see them making love again, and that sight was the first hint of sexual action to come, his limp penis not really counting in the it's current flaccid state.
I wasn't really sure what I expected when they'd both taken their clothes off, I suppose I expected them to find a spot, lie down, and begin fucking, but it didn't happen that way. She made her way across the dip, leaned on a boulder and turned to face him. He nodded and bent to open a large black leather box like container by his feet. For a moment I was perplexed, but then, as he rummaged inside it I understood. Sure enough, he pulled his camera from the case and lined up to take a shot.
For the next half or three quarters of an hour I lay there transfixed by what I saw before me. He took shot after shot of her in all manner of poses, some demurely innocent, but some, especially towards the end of the shoot, that were openly sexual. I must say that the artist in me appreciated the quality of his photography, for never once did he direct her to do anything crudely obscene and yet the whole session steamed hot and sexy, and that cannot have been easy to do, even with a model as beautiful as she was. I could see from my hiding place that the results would be of a high standard, his posing of her was provocative and very professional, but never cheap. She never quite touched herself, never leered at the camera, and never took up a pose that was overtly pornographic, but there was that undertone of implied arousal through the entire time and it was all exceedingly erotic. It was also very explicit, and not a square centimetre of her skin escaped his lens as she posed for him - and I watched it all with an unexpected throbbing in my pussy.
I have no idea why I was so turned on by their work, but by the time he lay down his camera I was almost wishing I had been his subject instead. He had turned skin pics into an art form. I would, I knew, need a little finger play when I got home. And I was not the only one to have been affected by his work, for the photographer himself now sported a very large and rigid erection, his long circumcised cock standing proud and as hard as a rock.
The model smiled at him, and, finding the same spot as the last time, lay herself down with her legs wide and waited for him. Just as before, my position wasn't quite right for me to be able to see her pussy, something I promised myself to change for any next time, but judging from the ease with which he slid into her, she too was turned on and ready.
Their union was short and fierce, purely a release of the sexual tension that had obviously built up during their picture session, and I wondered if they took pictures to turn themselves on, or fucked because the photography made them horny. Whichever it was it worked for me, and by the time they had finished I was unconsciously delving into my panties. God, I was so wet.
But I had no time to attend to my own needs before the couple were stirring and I had to slip away and make my way back home to avoid being discovered. You can probably guess that the first thing I did then was to undress and sink a big black vibe deep into my pussy while my fingers strummed hurriedly at my clit. I think I subconsciously chose my black vibe because of the colour contrast in the couple I'd been watching, but I don't think it would have mattered too much though, for within minutes I had given myself two massive orgasms, watching the images of the photographer and his model on the inside of my eyelids.
I had no idea, of course, if they were likely to be back, or if they would choose a different day, but I made myself a promise that I'd be on the moor the following Friday. I knew I shouldn't, but there was no way I was going to pass up any chance of watching them again, they were just too damn sexy. That week the images certainly didn't fade from my mind, in fact they fuelled several more moments of my own before Friday came around again.
Friday was a beautiful day, the weather was just right, clear and cloudless but not with the heavy heat that sometimes accompanies really sunny days, and with just a light breeze blowing across the moor. I was ready to go out long before the time I expected them to be there, and for some reason that I can't explain, I was dressed much more sexily than normal.
Usually, when I'm off sunbathing I just slip a summer dress, or jeans and tee-shirt, over bra and panties, without taking too much notice of which ones -- after all, I would only be taking them off again. But this time, I suppose in deference to the glamour of my intended targets, I deliberately wore only a tiny pair of pure white panties under shorts and a white shirt tied at the waist to expose my midriff. Don't ask me, I've no idea why, it just seemed right to make a little effort. Perhaps it's a good job that I did.
I was out on the moor early, determined not to miss a thing, always depending on them turning up again, of course, and so, when I got to where they had parked before, I had beaten them to it and the place was empty. I stood there wondering for a moment and then decided to make my way up to the hollow they used, find myself a good vantage point and wait for them to arrive, as I was certain in my own mind that they would.
That's not quite the way it turned out. I'd only just made my decision when I heard a car approaching behind along the narrow road. There was nowhere I could go, so I just stood to one side to let it go past, only to realise that it was in fact the very car I'd been looking for, complete with both people. When it pulled in and parked I was left with no option but to brazen it out, pretend I was just out walking along the lane and then let them set off before following them. I drew level with them just as the car doors swung open.
"Hello." The blond man said as he climbed from the car.
"Hello." I replied, my heart thumping as I tried to paste an innocent smile on my face.
"We're going out onto the moor." The girl explained.
"You'll enjoy it." I told her, congratulating myself on a double entendre that they wouldn't understand, then adding. "The weather's just right for it."
"Are you going up there?" The man indicated vaguely in the direction of his love nest from the week before.
"Not today." I assured him, lying through my teeth.
"Shame. I thought you enjoyed it last week."
My knees wobbled, my heart kicked me in the chest, and my tongue promptly glued itself to the roof of my mouth. I just stood and looked at him with the colour draining from my face.
"I didn't see you." He told me with a wry smile. "But Corrine here did." He nodded to the girl. "She saw you while she was posing."
"I'm... I'm... I'm sorry." I stammered when I finally had control of my tongue. "I didn't mean to spy on you..." The lie sounded false and petered out even as I said it.
"Don't worry." He smiled. "She isn't shy, and an awful lot of people will see the photographs anyway." He hadn't mentioned the sex, perhaps he thought I'd gone by then.
"Oh." I said, not sure of what else I could say.
"Have you ever done a nude shoot?" He asked me.
"Never." My face coloured up at the audacity of the question. What sort of girl did he think I was?
"Would you like to?"
I stood while a fight went on between my brain and my body. My mind was screaming 'no absolutely not', but my body was remembering the stimulation it felt watching them and was yelling 'why not' equally loudly. He could see my hesitation.
"Don't worry. They're only published the other side of the Atlantic, so nobody you know would ever see them."
In this age of the internet I didn't believe a word of it, but that wasn't the reason for my hesitancy. The battle between common sense and arousal was finally coming to a head, and common sense lost.
"All right."
I stood there in amazement, shocked to hear my own voice agreeing to let myself be photographed naked by two strangers. To this day I have absolutely no idea what tipped the scales to make me agree.
"Good girl." His face cracked in a broad smile. "You've got just the right sort of build too. Don't worry, you'll enjoy it, honestly. I'm Brett and this is Corrine."
"Lisa." I mumbled, petrified at what I let myself in for. My pussy was agreeing with his prediction, but my mind was still in shock.
"Come on then, we'll go to the same place as last Friday."
He reached into the car and hung his camera bag over his shoulder before setting off up the slope without another word, Corrine and I trailing along behind.
After the first twenty yards or so spent in silence, Corrine reached out and took my hand.
"Hey, lighten up." She giggled as she spoke, amused by my frightened face. "It'll be okay. He's a good photographer, really. And he won't ask you to do anything you're not happy with."
I nodded without speaking, vaguely wondering if she thought I'd be as happy as she was to get myself shagged.
"Is he a real photographer?" I asked her, concerned that I might have found myself a pervert masquerading with a camera.
"Oh yes." She giggled again. "He's real, and he's good. But you know he is, you saw him working with me."
I remembered then just how erotic I had found his work. "That's true enough." I admitted.
"I've worked with him for more than a year, and he's always produced fantastic results." She gave my hand a little squeeze.
"Does he usually pick up strange girls to model for him?" I asked Corrine, still a little fazed by what had happened.
"Not often." She looked at me and smiled guiltily. "I put him up to it when I saw you before. I could only see your face, but you have that sort of quality about you that a camera would love, and I just hoped you'd have a good figure."
"Well, I'm sorry I didn't live up to your expectations in that department." I told her, glancing down my rather flat frame.
"Oh, but you do." She squeezed my hand again. "You are beautiful."
Inside my head a little voice warned me that maybe this girl might prefer her own sex, and that wasn't my bag at all.
"Thank you." I forced a smile in return. "So are you." That much was very true, she truly was gorgeous.
We reached the hollow, Brett's outdoor studio he called it when we mounted the rim, and then he gave me the best reassurance I could have had as to his bona-fides.
"Just a couple of things before we start, Lisa." He called me over to him and pulled a printed form from his camera bag. "I just need you to sign this model release form. And we need to agree a fee."
That was something that had never even crossed my mind.
"How much do you usually pay?" I asked him, completely out of my depth.
He named a price that sounded generous to me, and I signed his form. In return he wrote me a cheque and I was, for the moment at least, a professional glamour model.
"I think I ought to warn you." He said, as he passed me the cheque. Here it comes I thought. "That I make it a habit to take my own clothes off if I'm asking my model to undress; I think it's only fair."
"Yes." I managed a smile. "I know. I saw everything."
"Hmm. Yes, I suppose you did -- in both senses." He smiled back, completely unconcerned.
He stood looking about him for a moment or two and then seemed to make some kind of decision.
"Right girls. If you'd like to get ready." I knew what that meant and the randy surge that I had felt earlier fled rapidly, chased away by abject fear. "You can leave your things beside this boulder, and then they won't get into shot."
I looked at Corrine and gave her a wan smile, trying to look at ease and failing miserably. She smiled back, whispering that it would be fine, and began to undo the belt of her jeans.
I'd been naked on the moor many times, but never in the company of two naked strangers, and I felt extremely vulnerable when my virginally white panties finally joined the little pile of clothing by the rock. Through my own fault I was wearing less than the others to begin with, but I had deliberately taken my time in undressing so as not to be the first to be naked. It hadn't occurred to me that the others could then stand and watch me hook my fingers under my waistband and push my panties down my legs.
"Very nice." Brett commented, his eyes giving my nakedness a once over. "You'll do nicely. I'm glad you're a proper blonde, we can use the contrast between yours and Corrine's colourings."
In his words there was not a hint of racism or vulgar insinuations. It was simply a professional observation, and it helped me immensely.
"Ready girls?"
Both Corrine and I nodded our agreement, she with much more willingness than I.
Our first pose was on the top of a large granite slab, where he had us sitting propped on one arm with our legs folded beside us like bookend versions of the little mermaid statue in Copenhagen. There were several versions of this first pose. In some we faced each other, in others we looked away over our shoulders. The only thing they all had in common was that they required no physical contact between Corrine and I.
I assume he chose this position purposely as it let me ease myself into posing without displaying too much, and I was duly grateful. As I have said, I'm not shy about my body, but as yet I was not sure what was required of me and how well I could deliver. Such a toe dipping introduction was just what I needed. It was, however, the only pose in which we would not be in contact, from then on we posed together.
I must admit that I don't recall all the details of all the poses he put us through, there were so many. I just remember him giving instructions, circling around us, taking shots from all sides, and from above and below, so I don't remember everything. It was too intense, too erotic and too bewildering to take it all in, and I'm left with just the highlights, snapshots of our amazing afternoon. I've seen the photos, but even they don't convey it all.
I do remember very clearly, however, the first physical contact of any kind between Corrine and myself. We were still imitating that famous little mermaid and he directed her to move behind me so that we overlapped and she looked out over my folded legs. I remember then the soft gentle touch of her hand resting on my thigh, and the smooth velvet feel of her skin under mine. I glanced down at it, mesmerized by the contrast between the paleness of my skin and the rich brownness of hers, only to be reprimanded for moving. But he was right that we would compliment each other with the difference.
I also remember him making us raise one knee, so opening our legs and exposing our pussies. For Corrine this was probably no big deal, but for me it was. I'd never had my pussy photographed before, not even by a boyfriend, so it was quite a serious thing for me. Even so, as he lined up and took that first picture I got a hell of a buzz from hearing that shutter click. It meant that somewhere in the world men, who I had never met and never likely to, would be staring at my bits and maybe even wanking over them. I closed my eyes briefly and took in a deep breath as I contemplated that exposure and felt the thrill it generated. I'd got over any inhibitions I have had and now I could pose anyway Brett wanted.
Still on top of the slab, he then had me sit cross-legged with Corrine kneeling behind me, shooting her first with her hands on my shoulders, and then letting her move closer to put her hands around my waist, making me aware of the soft cushion of her breasts and the hard buttons of her nipples against my back. I sighed again within and felt my arousal awaken once more. I'm not into women, but I couldn't help but be turned on just a little by the intimacy of that sensation.
I think he was alert to my mood for he then had her move her hands, this time to cup my breasts in her palms, letting my nipples peak out from between her fingers. Was he testing me? I'm not certain, but I wasn't about to complain, that's for sure. She squeezed my breasts, holding them out as if presenting them to the camera, smiling out over my shoulder while I gazed passively down at those dark fingers around the pink of my nipples. I wondered, maybe hoped, if he would have me doing the same to Corrine.
We went through more postures and positions atop of that granite slab, none of which I remember clearly simply because none of them had the same impact as that little series of 'firsts' for me, but by the time we slid back down onto the grass we were used to feeling each others hands on our skins, resting sensuously on legs, around waists, on shoulders, even interlacing platonic fingers like sisters. He had posed us with knees drawn up, legs extended, open and closed, all the time moving around us, camera pointing and clicking, recording our nakedness, our vulnerabilities, for some unnamed American magazine. I was beginning to wonder just how many positions we could find ourselves in.
He led us over to a large granite boulder that he used as a backdrop, our smooth brown and white bodies standing out in beautiful contrast with the mottled grey of the granite behind us. It was there that he had us in what I still think of as his best, most erotic pose. I stood on one leg leaning back against the granite, gazing up with an arm thrown out above my head, and the other leg bent with the foot planted flat against the surface of the stone. Corrine knelt at my feet, gazing up at me, her hands around the thigh of the leg I stood on, as if holding me up. I remember feeling the soft feel of the hair on the back of her head resting against my raised thigh and the sensation of her cheek just, and only just, touching against my pubes.
I realised quite suddenly that her face was literally millimetres from my pussy, my naked and very moist pussy, and that if she wished, she could turn her head and kiss me in that most intimate of places. She didn't, of course, but I also realised that if she had, I wouldn't have stopped her. I was already turned on, and the thought was only serving to heighten my arousal. My only concern was that she would smell my aroused pussy and sense how horny I beginning to feel. I'm pretty sure I blushed, but with my head tilted back and my face averted, I got away with it.
Brett then reversed our positions, as he had with several previous poses, putting us in the same positions but with Corrine standing and me kneeling before her. Her thigh muscles felt firm under my hands and her belly soft against my face, especially when I deliberately nestled my cheek onto her pubes. I don't think either of them really noticed, but I had, of course, done it to check. I wasn't absolutely certain, but I was pretty sure that the heady musk of a randy woman reached me from between her legs, and it was nice to know that our session was affecting her as it was me.
More moves, more positions, more contact between us, and then we were standing together in front of the grey of the granite, black girl and white girl, arms around each other in a close embrace, our breasts pressed tight and our faces turned to the camera, cheeks pressed together. As we were in this pose Brett bent into his bag, searching, I think, for a lens filter, and I felt a smile crease Corrine's face while Brett wasn't looking.
"This is exciting, isn't it?" She asked in a whisper.
I wasn't quite sure exactly what she meant, but I nodded anyway, whispering my simple agreement back.
"Yes."
"You have a nice body, it feels good."
"So have you." I wasn't about to agree that she felt good, even though she actually did. I didn't want the poses to get too explicit.
Her hand came up to my face and unexpectedly turned it towards hers, holding me there just long enough to plant a quick kiss on my lips. I know my eyes shot open in astonishment and I was about to protest, but at that moment Brett brought us back to the job in hand.
"C'mon girls, hold the pose." He admonished us.
"Sorry." Corrine whispered to me in a tone that said exactly the opposite. "I couldn't resist."
"Well, do." I whispered fiercely. "I'm not like that."
We returned to our required poses, smiling at the camera with our cheeks once more together and our arms around each other as if nothing had happened. The contradiction between being open to having my pussy kissed just a little earlier and then not being cool about a brief peck on the mouth didn't occur to me until later.
"Okay." Brett called out after taking the same shot several times. "Stand a little more facing the camera so that I can see your fronts."
We hinged ourselves open to about forty-five degrees, Corrine feeling for my hand as it slipped from her shoulder.
"I'm really sorry." She whispered again. "It's just that I'm getting really turned on."
"So am I." I whispered back, a look of amnesty on my face. "But not quite that turned on." I used my eyes to indicate Brett. "And we're not on our own, either."
Brett was sporting an erection. His tumescent cock standing proud and obvious from its nest of curly blond hair.
Corrine smiled, choking back a little giggle. Brett seemed unaware of our gazes.
"That's it; now just cup each other's boobs."
We did it automatically, getting our wrists tangled as we reached out. I was surprised at how nice her breast felt in my hand and, more especially, how erotic it felt to have her rock hard nipple nestling in my palm. Her breasts were bigger, fuller, and heavier than mine, more womanly to the touch.
Brett took a number of shots from different angles, the time he spent giving me the chance to become used to the sensation of a woman's breast in my hand and to having my breast touched. The sensations were unquestionably pleasurable, and both added to my arousal. I think it was the fact that I was in such an intimately erotic situation with another woman and that nothing was actually happening between us, but I remember wondering if I should be enjoying it quite that much.
From then on the poses became more and more blatantly sexual. Both of us were photographed with our legs wide open, everything we had in plain view -- and I enjoyed every moment. There was a pervading atmosphere of sex about the shoot now, as if it had gone beyond purely business and had become mostly for the pleasure of three randy young people.
Eventually Brett had me lying on my back, my open legs facing his lens, and Corrine sprawled beside me, propped on one arm and with a knee raised to show her pussy.
"Okay." He told us. "That's good. Now Corrine, run your hand down Lisa's stomach until you just reach over her pubes."
I shivered slightly at the thought of her touching me there, the first time either of us had been told to touch each other that intimately. Corrine was gazing down at me with excitement shining clear in her dark eyes, and just for a moment I thought about objecting. I still didn't really want to be touched by a woman, although God knows, I was getting horny to the point where I needed touching by somebody - anybody.
Her hand slid down my belly, travelling deliberately slowly and softly, skating temptingly over my skin. I looked up at her, my nerves showing, and we stared into each others eyes until I felt her fingertips reach and brush over my bush. I speculated briefly on how far down she would go, but then she stopped with her longest finger just, and only just, making contact with the hood of my clit. Even so, I could not repress a little gasp that was half pleasure and half anxiety.
"All right?" She whispered down at me, wary of my hesitation.
"Yes, fine." I licked my nervous lips, my heart beginning to race as I wondered just how far Brett would take the shoot. His camera was clicking rapidly, preserving forever the spectacle of me with a feminine finger so nearly touching my clit.
"Good. Now, spread her out."
Corrine understood what was required long before I did, and it was only her two fingers sliding down inside my labia that gave me the clue, but by then it felt too nice for me to care. When the fingers scissored open and Brett's shutter clicked again it was too late to complain, and I just lay there and let him come in for a close up of my wet and wanting pussy held wide to his view. Almost without thinking I reached up and laid my hand on her back, stroking the smooth brown flesh as she touched me so intimately.
"Okay, now straddle her and hold her legs open."
Corrine did as she was told, her naked bottom presenting itself to my view, as she hooked her hands behind my knees and spread me wide for the camera. The shutter carried on clicking.
"Now pull her legs back."
Corrine rolled me back so that my bottom was on display.
"Just dry it a bit, will you."
Brett passed Corrine a tissue and I felt my face flame as she leaned forward to wipe my own juices from around my anus. The humiliation of my arousal so graphically revealed almost eclipsing the embarrassment of having my bottom wiped for me. But to give them their due, they both performed the deed professionally and without a trace of a snigger, and Brett went back to his camera once more. At least now they both knew how turned on I was.
As he had done before, as soon as he had taken the shots he wanted, Brett had us reverse our roles, so that it was Corrine lying down with me running my fingers through her pubes before spreading her pussy with my fingers. This was the very first time I'd ever touched a girl there, but it wasn't as bad as I thought. I could certainly smell her scent this time, and her labia were spread wide by now from their own puffiness. Her pussy was already like an opened scarlet flower and really my touch was simply for the camera, I did little to open her any wider.
Her pussy was beautiful, it must be said, her colouring shading from the milk chocolate of her legs and belly to the dark chocolate of the swollen labia that surrounded the deep shiny pink of her slit. She was aroused to the point where her vagina gaped open, and her large clitoris stood erect and full, just waiting to be touched. I was tempted, oh, I was tempted, but Brett's presence and that of his ever busy camera helped me resist.
Just as he had asked Corrine to kneel over me, so I had then to straddle her, holding her legs wide for Brett to get his close shots. This time I wasn't looking at Corrine, I was staring at Brett's cock. I'd seen before that he was gifted in that department, but now that he was fully aroused it looked huge. I don't mean stupidly huge or abnormal, just very large and very, very hard. I felt a bit like a cat gazing longingly at a carton of cream, wondering and wishing. I tore my attention away and back to the shoot.
Again like Corrine, I was instructed to bend her legs right back so that he could capture both holes, and I couldn't help but feel embarrassed once more to see that her little black pucker was not covered in wetness as mine had been. I was, I guessed, even more turned on than she.
"Right." Brett's voice interrupted my reverie. "Turn around now and face the other way."
I looked at him a little uncertainly, not quite sure what he meant.
"I want you to kneel on her, as if she was a man and you were riding his cock."
I turned around clumsily, my toe catching on her nipple quite hard as I straddled her the other way, mouthing my apologies as I lowered myself down onto her.
"That's okay." She smiled. "It's my fault they're standing up like that."
I suppose it was, but mine were also just as hard and just as erect and I wouldn't really want them to be kicked.
"Now lean forward a little with your hands on her breasts." Brett ordered me, completing the pose.
"There you go." Corrine grinned. "Now you can stroke it better."
I giggled softly and did just that, feeling the rubbery texture of her nipple moving between my fingers.
"Keep still." Brett told us off as Corrine wriggled a little beneath me.
"You really are sopping wet." She told me, pushing her pubes up against my pussy. "I can feel it on my stomach."
"Sorry." I told her, as Brett circled us, his camera to his face and his cock bobbing up and down in front of him.
"Don't be, it's nice and sexy."
He took a few more shots with Corrine reaching up to hold my breasts in her palms, and then he asked me to kneel on all fours over her. I didn't think this pose would make a very good picture, but I did as I was told anyway. But to my surprise - well, to my momentary surprise, Brett carefully put his camera down and approached us without it.
"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Corrine asked, looking up with unexpected anxiety in her eyes.
"I think so." I answered, feeling pretty certain that I was right. My heart pounded with anticipation.
"He's going to fuck you. Do you mind?"
"No." I shook my head eagerly. "Right now I need a good fucking."
She smiled sexily. "Shame you don't go both ways."
I almost agreed with her. In fact I had been almost on the verge of cumming since sitting on her and feeling her pubic hair rubbing so erotically against my pussy. I was as hot as I can ever remember being and the prospect of that cock inside me was taking me even closer to the edge. I raised my bottom into the air a little in readiness and waited, my heart racing and my pussy throbbing with need as I gazed down into the eyes of my modelling partner and his usual lover.
Corrine opened her legs to let Brett kneel behind me, and I felt him shuffle into position, placing one hand on my rump as he lined himself up. My lips were apart and I was panting like a bitch in heat when I felt the tip of his cock touch against my crack, I couldn't help it. I was so damn hot and I wanted fucking so damn bad.
He found the entrance to my vagina and eased himself just inside, leaving me suspended in limbo, wanting him deep inside me but a little bit in awe of his size. He was already stretching me with just the tip inside me, or so it felt. For a moment he paused, making me think that he was worried if I could take him and making wanting to scream yes, but in fact just setting himself ready to thrust. I was trembling with anticipation, holding my breath, my pussy pulsing and my chest pounding. I gazed down at Corrine, looking for support I suppose, and finding a much needed smile of encouragement.
The he pushed forward, slipping easily straight into my wetness, sinking right to his hilt without pause and making me groan in sheer ecstasy. He pulled back and suddenly slammed himself at me, his cock sliding full length until his pubic bone hit my bottom and tipped me over the edge into sudden orgasm.
I hadn't expected to cum that easily or that quickly. It was an orgasm that simply exploded inside me, hot pleasure erupting in my pelvis and flashing along all my nerve pathways in wave after glorious wave. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as if in pain, which in a way I was with such a sensory excess, and let it flood my through my body until, as quickly as it had cum, it departed, leaving me gazing down at Corrine in shock.
"Did you just cum?" She asked me, softly, awed by my sudden climax.
I nodded, my head hanging a little as I was pushed back and forth by Brett's forceful strokes. "Yes." I gasped out. "And I will again yet."
He was not pounding me then as he had Corrine the week before. Instead he was fucking me with long powerful thrusts, pulling back almost until he fell out and then sliding swiftly back in until he could reach no further, gripping my hips to hold me steady. I just knelt there and let him, looking down into the lovely brown eyes of the girl beneath me.
She looked back up at me, one shoulder making tiny rhythmic movements that had me wondering, until I realised that she had reached down between us and was masturbating under me. We locked eyes, staring into each others depths, both intensely stimulated by what was happening, both swept away by the eroticism of our afternoon, the sheer sexual excess of it. I could feel another orgasm slowly budding inside me, but my first had taken the edge and this one was building much more slowly.
All the time that he fucked me she lay there and masturbated, her eyes never once leaving mine, a little smile of pure enjoyment playing over her mouth, until her movements started to become erratic and she licked her lips, a far away look in her eyes. At the same time my own orgasm became more urgent, and Brett too was once again repeating the sibilant 'yes' that had announced his climax with Corrine. I thought, hoped, that we could all cum together, a trio of wonderful orgasms that played off each other to make each stronger than on its own.
But that didn't quite happen. For all that I'd already cum once, I was so aroused by the afternoon that my climax surged forward and would not be denied. Put simply, I was too damn horny to hold back. This time it wasn't an explosion, more an eruption. Pleasure simply grew more and more intense until the sensations spilled over and flowed through me, overloading my nerves and making me cry out with the power of it. This time it lasted, going on and on until I thought I could take no more, almost wishing that Brett would shoot his load so that the sensations might end.
Finally it did end and I found myself still kneeling, held up more by Brett's powerful hands than by my own trembling limbs, gasping for breath, shivering and sweating, and still gazing into Corrine's dark brown eyes.
She was close, so very close. I wanted to speak to her but I don't think she would have heard me. I felt that somehow I had to let her know how much her presence was adding to the experience, and so I did what I never expected to do. I lowered my head and kissed her on the mouth, a full-on open-mouthed kiss that lasted as long as my breathing would allow. Her eyes cleared and she grinned happily, reaching up with her free hand to hook it around my neck and pull me down to her once more.
Neither of us had the breath to kiss continuously, but we kissed, broke for breath, and then kissed again, and again, enjoying the strange intimacy of it. In the end she gasped that she was cumming and gripped my shoulder, pulling me hard against her, gasping into my ear as her climax took her. I knelt passively, letting it happen, feeling Corrine squirming under me just as Brett pulled back to gather himself for his own climax.
It was the most intense and satisfying experience of my life, to be kneeling over an orgasming woman while being flooded by spurt after spurt of semen from a man's cock. I couldn't possibly convey how good it felt. Brett came just as strongly as Corrine, slamming himself hard and deep into me, the sensation still good even after two of the most powerful orgasms I had ever had. His cock, large though it was, seemed just to fit perfectly into my tunnel, spraying my cervix with his cum, so much cum that I leaked for ages afterwards, walking home with lovely little runnels of it trickling down my legs. I was conscious that I'd let him cum inside me with no protection whatever, but somehow I just didn't care.
We got dressed quietly, each wrapped in their own thoughts, as if the afternoon had not been intended to go that way, and maybe it hadn't, and we went our separate ways with only insincere promises to keep in touch. Brett told me that I could pose for him anytime he was on the moor, and I told him, truthfully at the time, that I'd love to, just so long as Corrine was there. For some reason Corrine was important, she was the first and only woman I've ever kissed or touched, and I wanted to keep it that way.
The next week I looked for his car, but it never came. Nor did I see it the week after, or the week after that. In fact I've never seen either of them since. His cheque was good, although I half expected it to bounce, and a full set of prints came through with a compliments slip a week or so later. So I have mementos of that wonderful afternoon, except that nobody took any shots of him fucking me with Corrine lying beneath us masturbating. I would have liked a shot of that magnificent cock of his, especially a shot of it inside me.
But not to worry, because I do have something tangible by which to remember him cumming inside me. I have a wonderful two year old son, a beautiful blond haired son. His name is Brett too.
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