Sex and the Girlie Photographer

In my lust-filled and frustrated pubescence, I became quite well-known in my district as the proud owner of a vast library of salacious material. Little, short-trousered boys would come from miles around to pay me one penny for the pleasure of leafing through my library, and my parents always wondered why I was so popular... Of course, my close friends could look for nothing, and many was the time, after trying to seduce Angela Blake into dropping her panties for us, or else chasing all the girls to see what colour their knickers were, and comparing notes, or perhaps even spying on the courting couples on the common, we would retire to my bedroom there to reach up into the disused chimney for a handful of hard-core.

Not that it was very hard. I feel old when I say, 'things were different then,' but they were. Despite the fact that at the age of twelve we were all as depraved as little boys can be, none of us had any clear idea of what a woman really looked like in the nude. Leafing through the pages of Spic and Span was enough to make the hands tremble, and the strongest possible stuff was not much stronger than that. If we'd had Health and Efficiency I think we would have aged prematurely.

Nipples were out. The female genitals just didn't exist. I did have one picture which showed a nude woman, standing there with her legs apart, but the area between those legs of hers had been airbrushed out, and was as innocent of hair as my father's head.

For a long time I thought this doll-like, condition was what women were actually like down there, and had the idea that intercourse must therefore take place up the female anus. See? Get rid of one wicked idea and even more wicked one takes its place. It turned out to be quite a shock when we did eventually manage to seduce Angela Blake into lowering her draws. At first I thought there was something wrong with her...

Nipples or no, genitals or no, we still gained a great deal of unhealthy pleasure out of my tattered collection of magazines and individual pictures. The girl sitting in her chair, looking at the camera, slowly removing her front-fastening bra, was looking at us, her fingers slowly pulling aside the material, saying, 'Very well, if you insist doctor,' or, 'All right, General, to save my brother I will even do that!' depending on our fantasy at the time. The girl standing up in the bath with clouds of absolutely opaque suds surrounding all three crucial areas was saying, 'Why don't you come and scrub my back?' or, 'Oh! You have come into my cubicle, and we are all alone here in the ladies' public baths!' Here were women who would love to have us with them, who would enjoy displaying their bodies for us. It was only chance that had put them at the other end of a camera, but even so, they showed their all for us alone, separated from us only by a fluke of time and space.

This fond fantasy was ruined forever by the tactless comments of Smelly Rogers who, looking at my favourite picture, ('Yes, I am in the wrong bedroom, but please let me stay!') said, 'Course, you know they're a buncha pros, doncha?'

We expressed disbelief.

'Course they are. Stands to reason. Whatcha think they do with the photographers afterwards?'

I talked the problem over with Harry one day, as we sat there gloomily surrounded by my collection. 'Do you think they really do it with the cameraman?' I said. 'They must do, really, mustn't they?' he said. 'You couldn't have a bird there with all her clothes off and not do it. Could you? They'd both feel so sexy they couldn't stop themselves!'

From that time on my fantasies changed. Now I was the photographer. The girl taking off her bra was saying, 'Hurry up and get this picture done, and then you can take me, passionately, on the floor!' The girl in the bed had her hand under the covers, making herself even more sexy.

From that time on, when anyone said, 'What do you want to do when you grow up?' I always replied, 'I want to be a chartered accountant,' while secretly, in the dark recesses of my mind, naked girls writhed and shutters clicked.

As it happened, I did grow up to be a photographer — but on an amateur basis only, and my subjects were trees and flowers rather than naked females. By trade I became a writer, and it was in that capacity that I was approached to write this article. After long editorial discussions the final project was decided upon, and I could hardly believe my ears. With all expenses paid, I had to take as many pictures as possible, get as many models as possible, and see what developed. Apart from the pictures. See whether I ended up in bed with them or not. The sort of project my twelve-year-old self would have regarded as a passport to heaven. To tell the truth, it sounded pretty much like that to my grown-up self as well.

Through the magazine, I rented a studio in Streatham, advertised for models, booked professional models from agencies, and also looked through the pages of photographic magazines for amateur models.

My first girl was a professional model booked through one of the agencies. I was disappointed when she disappeared into a little cubicle to undress, and when she came out, naked and bobbling, I asked her why. 'It's just the etiquette of glamour photography,' she said. 'If I undressed in front of you it would give the whole thing a — sexual basis. If I undress in privacy and come out naked the element of teasing is missing, and the whole thing is less — sexual, if you see what I mean. We always undress privately.'

Sitting there in the nude before me, her legs casually spread, she was showing more of herself to me than a gynaecologist would ever see — but suddenly I saw what she meant. It just wasn't (pause) sexual.

Taking pictures of her, I was thinking more about shutter speed and composition than how her warm curves would feel. After an hour I thought I really should try to get myself a bit more interested. I had read that photographers sometimes stimulated their model's nipples to make them stand out, and I went over to do the same to her. I took the warm nipples in my fingers, stroking them to a full hardness. She yawned as I did so, and surreptitiously looked at the clock.

When she had gone it didn't seem as though I'd had a naked female in there with me at all.

The next thing was a knock at the door. I answered it to find two beautiful girls there, one blonde and one black-haired. Gorgeous. The black-haired one spoke. 'Ve haf com,' she said, 'about ze advertisigment in ze window for ze glamour girls.'

I invited them in. They turned out to be Danish girls over here for a holiday, and when I heard this I was sure I was onto a good thing. Or would be. I said I wanted to take pictures of them in the nude, but they didn't want to know.

'No, no,' said the blonde. 'Zat we cannot allow. Pia and me, we are not liking zat. Ze raised skirts perhaps, but nekked — nol' 'Anna is right,' said Pia. 'We do not know you — vat kind of mens you are. You might be reppist, ha?'

When they had gone, I felt more frustrated than ever.

My next assignment was a private address — a house in Dulwich. The lady had advertised in a camera magazine that she was willing to do posing for glamour photographers, and something about the advertisement made me think that it wasn't Art which was foremost in her mind.

Her ad had only given a phone number, and when I phones she stressed that I could only come round during the day. This suited me — any time was all right

She turned out to be well over thirty, but all right. I wouldn't kick her out of the studio.

'I have dressed up for the session,' she breathed. 'I hope you like what I am wearing. I've got a black bra, on, then under this dress I'm wearing stockings, with black panties and black suspender belt.' Her voice became positively throaty as she catalogued her clothes, and she even lifted her skirt to show me.

We started off doing pin-up shots, and gradually got more and more daring. In the end she was down to panties alone. This was more like it. It was becoming clear that photography was getting further and further from our minds, and things were definitely becoming (pause) sexual. 'I'll just make your nipples stick up a bit,' I said to her, acutely conscious of my erection as I walked over to her. 'Yes,' she sighed, 'do that.' I took her full nipples in my fingers, stroking them into firmness. She sighed, and wriggled as I did this. I opened my hands, spreading them over the soft, warm flesh of her breasts. As I did so, her hand came up to close on my bulging trousers, sending a flash of delight through the. I lowered my lips to hers, feeling her soft lips parting, the gentle touch of her tongue. I pushed my tongue slowly and sensually into her mouth, sliding it against hers.

At that very moment there was a noise from downstairs.

'Jesus bleeding Christ!' she cried, biting my tongue in her agitation.

I recognised that note of alarm. I'd heard it before from married ladies. I grabbed my equipment and made for the only exit — the balcony. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and the kind of voice which always seems to come from big blokes, calling, 'Where are you, dear?'

Painfully levering myself over the balcony, I dropped to the ground, twisting my ankle as I did so. I escaped, hobbling out the back way, vowing never to do anything like this ever again.

Sitting back in my studio I counted my losses. So far all I'd had was pain and frustration. Admittedly, I'd got some erotic photographs, but in my present state that just made things worse. My afternoon was completely ruined by the re-appearance of the two Danish girls, who called to ask if one of them had left her bag, and departed, trailing clouds of perfume, leaving me in a state of utter lust.

The next day things improved a bit, I had a telephone call — a deep, husky, sexy voice, and a girl said she would like to offer herself — that sounded nice — for a model. I told her to come round, put down the phone, put on that sexy deodorant, and had another shave. I wasn't taking any chances.

Ten minutes later, Sexy arrived. If I tell you she was at least twenty stone, that gives you no idea at all of what she was really like. She moved through the studio like a battleship. 'Some photographers have felt I was a little on the plump side,' she told me, While I reassured her. 'Plump' to describe her was like using 'tallish' to describe the Empire State Building.

She quickly stripped off, revealing acres of soft flesh. Seeing her in the nude was certainly an experience if you were looking for the unusual.

When she started making up to me, I found myself, with horror, responding. The trouble was, since I'd started this photography lark it had been so long since I'd had any ...

In the end I just resigned myself to it, and grasped one of her monumental breasts, my hand disappearing into undulant flesh.

She wanted me naked, and she was too big to argue with. I didn't exactly have a raging hard-on, but she leaned forwards and took me into her mouth, sucking me very effectively, and restoring my erection to its correct angle.

In the end she positioned herself, and I rammed into her, feeling like the harpoon that buries itself in the whale. It felt nice, though, being cushioned by all that flesh.

But as I plunged in and out, and the immensity of her quivered and shook like a felly, I asked myself what I thought I was doing. Here I was having intercourse with a bird I wouldn't normally have looked twice, merely because I was so frustrated with taking pictures of naked ladies. Mind you ... all that soft flesh felt pretty good when I thought of it. And my frustrated prick enjoyed her vagina like a

thirsty man with a bucket of water. It was a strange sensation, being surrounded by all that billowy flesh. As I moved on her it was even stranger, because as I drew my prick back it felt just as nice as it did inside her vagina, because now it was held by the soft flesh of her thighs. So moving it in and out, it felt as though it was in her vagina all the time.

When she came it was like a volcano. The mountain of flesh heaved and quivered, while a soft, babylike voice cried in ecstasy. I came myself, shooting into the heap of blubber, the sheer sensuality of it overtaking me, so that I gripped her tightly, relishing her, my fingers sinking into her soft body.

After we had dressed, she said 'goodbye,' and gave me a soft, wet kiss.

I staggered to my bed, sure that I would sleep for a week.

But the next day I was up in time for my next appointment, which was with another professional model. When she arrived, she was a lovely brunette, with a trim little figure. She looked not unlike a girl in one of those treasured pictures I had admired when I was twelve. I felt my prick stiffen, just looking at her.

This one never seemed to have heard of 'the etiquette of glamour photography' and pulled her sweater over her head, revealing a well-filled bra. Fascinated, I pretended to be adjusting my camera, while she performed an entirely unselfconscious striptease. A pair of large, firm breasts came into view, with luscious nipples like strawberries. And then, finally, she pulled down her pants, revealing golden curls, and a deliciously prominent mount of Venus.

I took pictures of her, with each shot, becoming more and more excited. As I arranged her pose, my hands became more and more daring. Finally I could stand the sight of her, and the warmth of her body no longer. I sought her breasts with my hand, and placed my lips firmly on hers.

We had a long, sensual kiss, her nipples erecting under my hand, our tongues sliding together with a slow friction. I felt almost as though I were coming in my underpants, something I had not done since I was fourteen, and

Angela Blake accompanied me round the back of ... But that is another story.

I slid my hand down the warm smooth front of her body, down to the dampness of her crutch. Our kiss finally came to a slow and shuddering end. I was about to push her onto her back and take slow delightful possession of her, when she pushed my hand away, and said, 'Oh, I am sorry. I want to, really I do. But I can't. Last week it would have been all right. But, You see, I've just got engaged ...

Ten minutes later she was gone. My erection would not go down. I felt like kicking the camera. One thing was sure. In future I would stick to flowers and trees — it was altogether less frustrating.

Then there was a knock at the door.

I opened it, and the two beautiful Danish girls stood there. The blonde spoke first.

'Pia and me, ve haf been talking. Ve decide you are quite okey-doke. All right for the photographigs.'

And with that they walked into the studio.

'How you want?' said dark-haired Pia. 'one on the own or both together? You want us denuding each other?'

I could only nod soundlessly.

Pia started undressing her friend by unbuttoning her blouse. Her friend began to undo Pia's suspenders. The shutter began clicking more and more frantically as more and more of the girls was revealed. The girls had a way of caressing each other as the clothes came off that really got me going. My trousers felt exceptionally tight.

'I vill make ze nipples standing,' said the blonde, and started twiddling the other girl's nipples with the palm of each hand. Both the girls had a glassy look in their eyes, and gasped as this manoeuvre went on.

'Perhaps more erotic photographigs if we made aroused,' said Pia to me. 'Please to make kissings with us.'

I went over, fastened my lips against Pia's, and proceeded to make kissings with her. Meanwhile Anna was undoing my trousers, her long fingers unzipping me slowly and exploring inside.

Soon we all naked, and were

lying on the floor. I had one of Pia's breasts in one hand, and one of Anna's in the other. Both girls kissed me on the mouth simultaneously, and all three tongues became shamelessly intertwined in the most erotic possible way.

Eventdally I came to be lying on my back, while Anna sat on me, my prick disappearing into a lovely pouting slit, surrounded by light pubic hair. She bounced up and down, giving vent to little sighs of delight. Meanwhile, Pia was sitting on my face, and I had my tongue buried in her pubic hair, sliding between the lips, trying to get it in as far as possible. Her hips were oscillating as she slid her wet and tender organs all over my mouth. The two girls were facing each other, and were kissing erotically, sliding their tongues into each other's mouths, and playing with each other's breasts.

We all came at the same time, me shooting into Anna, and Pia flooding all over me. The sounds of our mutual enjoyment filled the air.

Next time I made it with Pia. I entered her from the rear, having a lovely view of her rounded bottom as I did so. Anna lay under Pia, her head in such a position that she had a worm's eye view of what was going on, and my balls kept knocking her on the nose. As I thrust in and out, Pia was delicately performing cunnilingus on her friend, smacking her lips with an enthusiasm which thought was just the least bit indelicate.

Making it with these two lovely girls I felt all my frustration dropping away from me in an orgy of erotic delight. Before I let them suck me off, taking it in turns to slide their mouths over my prick (I came in Anna's mouth) I ensured that they had left their addresses and phone numbers, and that we had arranged to meet the next day.

They left the studio looking rather tired. While they had been there, I'd had them both twice over, and our energetic threesome had gone on for over two hours. It was all my childhood fantasies finally fulfilled.

Smelly Rogers would have been proud of me.