sleep sex.

I call it, "Sleep Sex."

Once a month or so, my boyfriend does this.  He wakes me out of a dead sleep, either saying something in full voice, or grabbing me.  Sometimes he'll get on top of me and start dry humping me, or suddenly messily kissing me, or pressing himself into my backside.  He calls me dirty names, tells me that I can do whatever I want to him, or sometimes he says something totally bizarre and nonsensical.  All in the middle of the night.  At first I reciprocated, energized by this sudden burst of passion, and it would go on for a couple frenzied minutes, then he rolls over, and drifts off.  And I do, too.  Being in a quasi sleep state myself, it took about a year of this happening for me to realize that he was doing it in his sleep.  Sleep sexing.  

"What did I say this time?"  He would ask embarrassingly, each time I would relay a new instance of "sleep sex".  

"You said, 'Let's join forces.'  I took it to mean, like, our bodies pressing against each other."  A laugh always followed, recalling the exact odd details.

After realizing that he was asleep, I started to deal with the episodes differently.  I started to lovingly block his attempts, whispering in his ear that it was alright, I loved him, and to go back to bed.  This kind of thing seemed to work, so I eventually got into a pattern of lulling him back to sleep.  But, I missed the passion of our mid-night encounters.  Even if he was unconscious during them.  

"Do I have a boner?"  He asked once about the episodes.  I was ashamed to say, that I don't recall, despite the numerous times this has happened.

"I... think so.  Maybe not?"

"You should grab it.  See what happens."  Of course!  I reciprocated his kisses once upon a time, but I have never actually tried to touch his cock.  Usually it's over pretty fast, and by the time I fully wake up and I'm ready to move on to third base, it's over.  It never had a chance to escalate beyond that.  I make a mental note to check next time.

About a week later, right on schedule, I turn towards him, only to switch sides, and his eyes are open, looking right at me.

"What are these?"  He says saucily, in full voice, not the appropriate whisper, which is my first indicator that he's asleep.  Secondly, he is sensually rubbing my breasts, and the phrase is vaguely cryptic, but I get the gist.  I moan at his touch, arching my back, rather than the instinctive shushing, because I remember.  This time, I curiously reach down beneath the sheets for his cock.  And to my instant arousal, I hold in my hand, a rock hard, curved boner.  Game on.

I start jerking it, and I feel pleasure at even holding the lengthy thing in the hand.  It's not often that I get to manually please my hubby, as things usually move at an exponential pace, and usually get right to the orgasm making moves pretty fast.  But, this time, he lets me.  And, he seems to be enjoying it.  Paralyzed by the pleasure, almost, like it's so intense that his body has completely seized.  Moans, or what may be more accurate, whimpers, escape his mouth that I haven't heard before.  I continue to jerk his beautiful boner at a steady pace, kissing his shoulder and curling into him.  He reacts in such a surprisingly intense way that it doesn't seem like him.  Our waking sex is definitely pleasurable, but never this severely focussed.  He also doesn't reach for his own cock, which he would naturally.  This is a new reaction to my touch, and I like it.  I feel in control of his body, for perhaps the first time ever, and my body is responding, too.  I feel my pussy strain, and my nipples harden.  He almost seems to be struggling with some internal conflict; so much so that I'm inspired to coo into his ear.

"It's okay, baby."  I feel him bucking down, searching for the orgasm, body stiffening.  I take his cue, and get into the role play, as if it's happening against his will.  I stroke him all the tighter.  "It's okay," I hear myself say again, as if it's for his own good.  I play both roles, coddling him with my sweet breath, while gripping him faster and harder.  I venture a kiss, licking his tongue and lips, but he can't seem to give me one back.  His lips are tight and shaking, and I pull him tightly against me with my free hand.  I get a slip of his demure tongue, and my pussy moistens at this small gesture.  I move down, encouraged to take it one step further, and lick his nipples.  I prop myself up on my elbow and move back and forth between them.  Another thing that he wouldn't necessarily let me do for too long, if we were awake, but I know he really enjoys it.  Small sounds escape from his mouth as I wetly lick the hardening nubs, and I feel his body buck.  Usually he warns me of an impending orgasm, but I feel him suddenly spurt, crying out louder that I've seen.  

I lay beside him, satisfied with our new experience, breathing still slightly laboured with arousal.  He blinks, and I can tell he's finally awake.  "Mmm.  Thank you, baby."

"I really liked that," I respond, watching him clean up.  I continue to hold him tightly, stroking his hair, and wonder what the dream was about. 

We turn back to our sides, and drift back off together.  

next show is may 29th.

stepfather.

Sometimes, my stepfather comes into my room at night.

Ever since my eighteenth birthday, I've been noticing a change in his attitude towards me.  For most of high school, it seemed like my he and mother couldn't get me out of the house fast enough; eagerly looking forward to the time that I would go away to college, but something's changed.  Recently I noticed his lingering gaze or hand on my arm, and he begun to suggest that I go to a local college, or even take a couple years off to think about what I really want to do.  Then, he started this new, weird routine of visiting me in my room late at night.

At first, it started off with my step dad sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking me in for bed.  He would thoughtfully draw the covers up over me, patting the tented fabric down around my body.  Though it was kind of sweet to be finally connecting with my new step father, we both realized the awkwardness of this scene, one night when he asked if I wanted him to read from a book he brought.

"I'm a little too old for that, Daddy," I had taken to calling him, as of late, at his recent suggestion.  

"This book is for grown ups, though," he went on.  "That a girl your age should read."

"Alright.  Well, maybe I can read it on my own," I suggest, not wanting to make him feel silly.  Especially since it seems so important to him.  

"That would be just fine," he replied, handing me the book, entitled, A Guide To Womanhood.  Immediately the title strikes me curious.  Maybe it will reveal some of the questions I have about becoming an adult, that I'm too embarrassed to ask my mom or step dad.  I feel my face blush crimson.  Like questions about sex.  

As soon as my step father leaves the room, I turn on the bedside lamp, and discreetly open the secret book.  And there, plain as day, are drawings of men and women's anatomy, from penises to vaginas.  I enthusiastically read on, the words describing everything from menstruation, masturbation, to intercourse, to pregnancy.  So many questions I have are answered, but it only gives birth to a hundred more.  And, most of all, I still don't know what it all feels like.  I sleepily look up at the clock, and hours have passed since I first laid my gaze on the tawdry pages.  I rub my eyes, and shut off the light, thinking I see something scurry outside my bedroom door. 

The next night, my step father tucks me in before bed, as per our newfound routine.  "Now, did you take a look at the book I gave you?"

"Yes, Daddy," I answer, feeling myself blush, at the thought of the sacred book's content.

"And, did you have any questions about anything?"  Oh, gosh.  A hundred.  But, I nervously bite my lip.

"I don't know."

"No?"

"I can't remember any."

"I see.  But, I'm sure you were curious about the things you read."  I nod.  A pregnant pause.  "Well, if you think of any, Daddy's here," he says softly, patting my leg, only the thin sheet between our touch.  Again, I notice him lingering, his warm, large hand emanating heat, even through the thin material.  I feel his eyes on me, but I avert mine, nervously.  After a moment, he takes the cue, and stands to leave.  I have an urge to call him back; to tell him that I do have questions, that I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but I hear the door click shut behind him.  I click the lights off, adjust to lie on my side, and I notice something.  I'm a little wet in between my legs.  I take a tissue and wipe myself, thinking that I might have gotten my period suddenly, but the tissue remains white as snow.  Also, I notice a very pleasant sensation as I do so.  Remembering what I've learned from the book, I realize that I must be in a state of arousal.  Maybe this is what it means to be a woman, I think, as I suddenly notice parts of my body that I haven't paid much attention to in the past.  

He doesn't visit me for two nights; by then I finish the book, and go back and read it all over again.  I'm tucked in bed, the book beside me, wondering if I scared him off, when I hear the door softly click open.  I can't help but smile, I'm so relieved.  

"Hi sweetheart.  Thought I'd stop in to say goodnight."  I make room in the bed, and he joins me, this time resting his legs up on the bed, as well.  I feel the heat of his body against me, and I kick the sheets off of me, so that we are right next to each other.  My thigh touches his; both of us ready for bedtime in our t-shirts and underwear.  I feel a tingle between my legs, not able to keep the pictures and diagrams from the book out of my head.  For some reason, I think of the picture of a man's erect penis, and my eyes dart to his boxers, wondering now about my step father's.  "What have you been up to?"

"I've been... reading," I offer, feeling the familiar sensation of a blushing face.

"The book I gave you?"

"Yes," I admit.  He laughs, jovially.

"Yes, I was quite interested in things like that when I was your age!"

"You were?"

"Oh, yes.  I masturbated daily.  Sometimes, more than once a day."  My jaw drops in shock, recalling the explicit description of male masturbation in the book.  But, it's accompanied but a sensation of relief.  That it's okay to talk about.  That it's normal.  That it's a part of growing up.

"Lately, I thought about..."  I trail off, despite the burst of confidence, getting suddenly shy.

"Thought about what?"  

"I don't know.  Stuff from the book."

"Well, that's good, sweetheart.  You're around that age.  Is there anything you wanted to ask me?  You know I'm here to help."  I think about the last time he asked me that question, and how I couldn't make myself answer.  Well, two days older and two read-throughs wiser, I swallow, and pipe up.

"I want to know... about sex."

"Yes?"

"I mean... I read about it.  But, I want to know what it's like."

"Yes, it doesn't really do it justice on paper," he laughs, but I feel more serious about the subject.

"Like... how does it feel?"

"It feels... well, it's hard to describe.  It's different for everyone, I suppose."  He gestures with a hand, and it lands on my bare thigh.  The heaviness of his hand is so distracting, that I don't hear anything else.  I see my nipples harden through my t-shirt, and cross my arms to cover them.  I remember what I read in the book about female arousal, and recognize the symptoms in myself, for the first time, right now.  Flushed face, genitals engorged, sensitive skin.  The desire to be touched.  

I picture the hand on my thigh moving slightly between my legs, but I can't even fathom what that would feel like.  I long to grab his hand, and force it there, but my extreme uncertainly about this new thing called sex stops me.  But it's normal, I hear him say in my mind.  And he wants me to be open with him about it.  If there's anyone I should do things like that with, it's him.  Right?  I wish I could ask.  

Before I know it, he's patted me on the head, said goodnight, and is almost out the door.  "Wait," I hear myself say.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He says, approaching the bed.   

"Could I have a goodnight kiss?"  There's an expression on his face that I can't exactly read; like there's something going on inside him that I can't see.  Or maybe, it's something on the outside, but still hidden from view.  He slowly sits on the edge of the bed again, and my heart beats so heavily, that he must be able to hear it.  My mouth is slightly open, as if already taking him in, and I tilt my head back, anticipating.  He leans down to me, unsure of where to kiss me, but I show him pretty quickly where I want it.  Something comes over me, and my hand creeps up to his neck, directing his head closer, and his lips to mine.  

His lips are tight at first, but I relax mine, opening my mouth a little, like I've seen girls do in movies.  He immediately follows suit, and I feel his warm tongue enter my mouth.  The intensity of having someone's tongue inside me, makes me very wet between the legs.  I can tell even without touching, because I feel the muscles coming alive down there, almost like they are contracting, wanting to reach out or take something in.  My entire body feels different, in fact; I suddenly feel parts of me energize, like my nipples, my neck, my skin, my... pussy.  I feel like this body isn't mine.  It's his.

He slowly lays down with me, kind of beside me and on top of me at the same time, and I feel his weight against my side.  I feel his stubble against my face as we kiss, and I feel his large leg drift around mine.  I feel something else, too.  I feel the hard thing between his legs that I now know to be his erection.  I picture the diagram from the pages, the one with the plump head, thick shaft, and bulging veins; and I think I can imagine how it would feel inside me now, as my hips naturally tilt forward, pussy engorged and wanting it.  His large hands grab my unbound breasts through my t-shirt, and I feel the tingly tightening again between my legs.  I let my jaw relax into his, and his tongue explores my mouth, then drifts down my neck.  I hear myself utter a small sound, but Daddy's hand goes to my lips, silencing me.  He could do just this all night, as far as I'm concerned, and I altogether realize what those bruise marks were on the girls' necks at school.  I can't believe I never knew about this until now.  All those years spent wastefully concentrating on other marks; the ones on paper.  

He skips my clothed breasts, instead moving his mouth to my bare stomach, where he discreetly lifts the t-shirt.  He also peels down my underwear a little bit, and I feel my pussy produce that mysterious clear substance in anticipation of... I don't even know what.  He wetly kisses my hips, and I feel equally as wet between my legs.  Then, he does something surprising.  He pulls my underwear right down, exposing my naked lower half, which is just as embarrassing as it is arousing.  Even more alarmingly, he puts his mouth on me.  But, not as delicately as it sounds.  He sloppily licks and sucks at my glistening folds, making a wet mess of himself, and the bed.  I feel such an intense pressure on my genitals, that it's almost like when I have to pee.  But, before long, I stop caring about anything else.  I stop thinking about how embarrassingly wet I am, how I must taste and smell, and keep telling myself that it's all normal.  But, how could this be normal?  Are all real women getting their dripping wet pussies practically devoured by men?  It's hard to fathom.  But, if it's true, then I'm glad to enter into womanhood. But, how awkward that we are all bound by this dirty, sloppy secret called sex.

As if that isn't enough, he removes his own underwear, finally revealing the thing.  Thicker and longer than I expected, it bows under its own weight, slightly to one side.  The tips leaks out a droplet of clear liquid, similar to my own, but he doesn't seem shameful of it at all.  Maybe I will learn not to be, as well.  I have so much to learn.  He lay on top of me, though holding his weight on his elbows, and I feel his erection touch my sensitive pussy.  We kiss again and I welcome his mouth into me, but his penis doesn't go in quite yet.  In fact, it feels like he can't find my opening, as it fumbles around my wetness for a while.  I thrust forward, trying to angle myself appropriately, but it continues to slide over my lubricated folds.  He almost drives me crazy with the anticipation, until I realize that that's the whole point of this particular dance.  He knows exactly what he's doing; of course he does, and as soon as I realize it, he slips in.  

"Thatta girl," he utters, lifting himself onto his hands now, but I wish we continued to kiss, as a distraction.  I wish he was back on top of me; I liked that, liked the closeness. I suddenly feel tense and tight, and self conscious of him looking down at me.  As opposed to before, where I could feel everything, now I can't seem to feel much at all.  "Good girl," he says again.  "You're taking that really good for your first time."

"Yeah?"  I ask, encouraged by the compliment.  He knows it's my first time.  He'll take care of me.

"Yeah.  You're really good at taking Daddy's cock."  

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, sweetheart.  You're Daddy's good little girl, aren't you?"  He seems to be enjoying it, and begins to give me more, a little faster, like something's come over him.  His face contorts, and small grunts make their way past his prickly lips.  He thrusts fast and short, then almost seems to move in slow motion, as he pulls his cock out of me, cries out as if in pain, and squirts into my stomach.  It's unlike the clear liquid from before, and has a salty smell.  This sex thing sure is messy.  I almost want to laugh at its absurdity.  

"Was that good?" I ask, still looking for answers about how sex feels, because I'm not sure I did it right. 

"Great, sweetheart," he responds dreamily, kissing me on the forehead, and grabbing a tissue.  "I think you enjoyed it, too.  Didn't you?"  I nod.  I've gone silent again.  "Now, don't tell your mother, do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"If you keep it a secret, then Daddy will show you how to have an orgasm, just like he did," he says while wiping my belly clean. "Well, similar to that.  Girls are different."

"Alright, Daddy."  

"Alright, dear.  Goodnight."  He kisses me again on the hair, then steps back into his shorts, and softly shuts the door behind him.  I take a tissue and quickly blot between my legs, revealing a small spot of blood.  I know from the book, that my hymen broke.  But, it's normal.  

It's all part of becoming a woman.    

professional model (part two).

"All this okay with you?"

"Uh, yeah!"  I answer, enthusiastically.  I feel flattered and excited, while I watch Tom remove his clothing, as well.  I nod silently to myself, trying to accept the fact that not only will I be modelling nude now, but with someone else, too.  It doesn't surprise me that Tom is a popular model, as I see him take off his clothing, revealing a toned, tanned body.  And, if he can help me become a real model, then let's take some pictures.

"Step into the light, both of you," Brian offers, repositioning himself behind the camera.  "And just relax.  Have fun.  Just like before," he says to me, already clicking away.  I feel a little awkward again, with Tom joining the frame, but he's a professional, and I trust him to make this work.  "Closer together," Brain suggests, and I'm thankful for the direction.  Tom turns towards me, and touches my shoulders with his large, masculine hands.  "That's it.  Like you're a couple."

At that, Tom's hands wander to my neck and hair, and all at once this feels intensely erotic.  The fact that we are both totally naked and touching each other comes to the forefront of my mind, and I feel my face blush in response.  I feel my nipples harden, a flutter between my legs, and I wonder if Brian can tell through the lens.  Can he see the mix of excitement, trepidation, and embarrassment?  Will whoever sees the pictures notice them, as well?  The camera clicks away, as Tom brings his face close to mine, like Brian did before.  But, this time, our lips actually meet, and I'm so confident of this being a great moment on film, that I make it the sexist kiss I've ever given.  Brian eagerly snaps pictures the whole time.  "Perfect," he says from somewhere behind the lens.

Then, something happens that surprises me; but what I am surprised by most, is the fact that I'm okay with it, and even encouraged by it.  Here in the bright flooded spotlight, with
the camera on us and white sheet pinned behind us, Tom's mouth moves down my neck, to my breasts.  My jaw may be dropped open, and I certainly look to Brian for reassurance, but the continued clicks of the camera communicate to continue.  I see my chest blush as well, feeling the heat of the stage lights, and I don't exactly have to feign arousal, as I notice my breath clearly quickening.  Then, I'm shocked and amazed to feel Tom's boner, discreetly pressing against my hip.  I once again look to the camera.  Can he see it?  Is it our little secret?  Are we hiding in plain sight?  Or will it be forever on film for all to see?  I try to act natural.  "Great," is all Brian reveals to his models.

Tom's warm, wet mouth works its way across my body, and my manicured pussy is becoming equally wet.  He turns me towards the camera now, bare breasts glistening in the hot lights, kissing my shoulders and upper back, and pressing himself into my butt.  My head leans back into him, wanting more of his mouth on my skin, but I can't help but feel self conscious turned towards the camera like I am.  My nipples are so obviously hard, my neck exposed, and my skin blushing a rosy pink.  I close my eyes in shameful pleasure, and see red through my lids.  The length of his erection finds the space between my cheeks, as my hand runs through his hair.  I play it up; pretending that the arousal is manufactured.  Brian takes exposure after exposure, appearing to be lapping up every bit of it.  

Then, I feel it.  Tom readjusts his cock, pulling his hips slightly away, so that it points at my ass, and I feel the wet tip of it drawing slimy moisture all over my skin.  I open my eyes wide and realize that he is trying to find me.  Trying to find my pussy.  I feel my mouth drop open again in shock, and I quickly and discreetly turn back towards him, so that we are facing each other once again.  Instead of being discouraged by my move, Tom plants a committed, passionate, open mouthed kiss on me, and I forget for a moment that I'm trying to get control of the situation.  I melt into him, getting lost in his powerful embrace, and my breasts flatten into his firm chest.  His cock folds between us, and our pelvises press satisfyingly against each other, until his redirects it again, and almost penetrates me.

Suddenly, my hips retract, and I remember the lights, the camera, Brian behind it, but I also recall his words.  That Tom will help me get noticed.  That his could be a career making shoot.  Tom is back on my neck, as my gaze wanders off frame. I feel his cock probe my wetness, and I keep my hips turned away, my decision unmade, making it difficult.  Difficult, but not impossible.  He cranes his hips far enough under me that it doesn't matter; my moisture so accumulated that he slides in effortlessly, and he's none the wiser of my predicament.  We groan in tandem, and this time when my jaw drops, he mistakes it for an opportunity to kiss me deeper, driving the whole length of his tongue down my throat.  Maybe Brian can't tell, I silently hope.  I try to disguise it, as if we're still dry humping.  Maybe he can't see.  He technically hasn't openly seen Tom's erection yet.

Then, it becomes truly unavoidable.  Tom starts thrusting.  I look away at first, trying to hide my face from the lens.  Then, Brian utters, "Yes."

At that, I feel my pussy tighten in intense arousal.  The fact that Brian likes it, that it's what he wants, gives me the impetus to use this moment.  Use this to my advantage.  Show him that I'm a real model, that I'm professional, that I'll do anything to get the part.  Show him that I can give him the best performance he's ever seen.  Give him the best photos he's ever taken.  

I put my hands on Tom's shoulders, and wrap one of my legs around his hips.  When he's ready, I hop slightly, so that he's carrying me.  He grabs my ass in his big hands, and bounces me and up and down on his cock, weight forward, in his hips.  I feel the slick length of him work in and out of me, and I picture the moisture on his member reflecting under the lights.  He puts me down so that he can lift one of my legs up over his shoulder while he fucks me; good thing I'm flexible.  At this angle, Brian can see his cock being swallowed up by my pink shaven pussy. Good thing I got a bikini wax.  Then, he flips me over so that he can fuck me doggy style, with my breasts slightly swaying with each thrust.  I moan and groan sexily, making faces at the camera.  I feel my pussy get wetter and wetter, engorged by the excitement of exhibition.  Then, I feel Tom slow slightly, grabbing my hips, controlling the thrust.  I hear him grunt behind me, he suddenly pulls out, then I feel the hot sperm on my ass.  I pant visibly afterwards, and my face grows hot.  

"Any chance you want to be an actress in movies, too?"  Brian inquires.  

professional model (part one).

I scan the online classifieds looking for discount photographers.   I scowl, realizing that even students will still cost me over a hundred dollars, plus prints.

Despite not being exactly busting with funds for such a venture, I decide that I need to finally get my headshots done, and make a real go of being a model.  If I keep waiting until I'm in a better financial position, then I'll never do it.  Because, let's face it; I'm always going to be living pay check to pay check at the minimum wage jobs I'm currently eligible for.  I figure that when I make it big as a model, I'll pay back it all back.  Regardless, I circle the cheapest one I can find.  I call to make an appointment, and the man on the other end of the line tells me to bring formal wear, something casual, as well as a bathing suit.  

I descend steep stairs to the dark basement studio, if you even want to call it that; it being nothing more than a dingy bachelor apartment with white sheets hung in a corner.  Dirty dishes in the sink, empty beer cans on the counter, and soiled clothes on the floor.  I remind myself that you get what you pay for, and pleasantly introduce myself to the photographer.  Brian is lanky, with shaggy hair, and a worn flannel shirt, and he gives me a lazy handshake.  But, this could be my first connection to the business world of modelling; you never know.  Never burn a bridge.  

He has me sit on a stool near the kitchen for now, and I peruse his portfolio while he adjusts the camera and lighting.  Despite the shotty set-up, his photos are good.  Really good.  One after the other of high class looking, fashionable, couture, professional models.  I begin to second guess the second rate wardrobe I brought; that maybe I should have waited until I had more money.  I keep flipping, to some artful nudes.  Classy, tasteful, beautiful work.  I wonder what he has planned for me.

"Let's see what you brought," he offers, and I lug my bag onto the table.  I take out the dress, t-shirt and jeans, and one piece swimsuit I brought.  His brow furrows.  "Anything else?"

"Ah...no.  Sorry.  This was all I thought..."

"Hmm.  First time modelling?"

"Uh.  Yes."

"Let me see if I have anything."  He suggests, rubbing his chin, and turning on his heels.  I watch him disappear into the vortex of clothing I believe is a closet.  In a minute, he emerges.  "Try this."

"Right.  Will do." I look around for a change area, but remember that models are naked around the crew all the time.  Every time a model leaves the runway, a handful of costume people strip her naked and hurriedly dress her in another of the designer's new, hot looks.  A real model wouldn't be shy of her body, so I decide not to be either.  I brazenly remove my shirt and pants, taking one last anxious look at Brian adjusting the camera flash before taking off my bra and underwear as well.  He doesn't even seem to notice.  I feel the dampness of the basement on my skin, evaporating off of me, and giving me a chill, my nipples standing erect.  It's only now that I look at what he's given me.  An oddly tiny bikini with several thin pieces of twining fabric joining the two parts together.  I'd have to see it on to tell what exactly it will look like, but I vow to trust the fact that he knows what he's doing.  He's a professional, after all.  I've seen his photos.  

I struggle to figure out how exactly it goes on, and I desperately hope that Brian isn't watching this awkward girl fight with a bathing suit on her first model shoot.  When I think I have it on correctly, I take a breath and step into the light.  He looks at me through the lens, and clucks his tongue once or twice.  "May I?"  He asks, gesturing vaguely to my body, and I professionally nod, not exactly sure what he's asking.  He then takes one of the straps, and moves it over my head, to the other side.  That feels a bit better.  He readjust the top, so that my breasts practically spill out over it.  He methodically attempts to squish them together, shaking the material aggressively until they fall where he wants them to.  I hope my face doesn't register the shock of him touching my breasts in this way, like I'm a piece of meat.  He doesn't even look me in the face as he does it, perhaps picturing me like the product in an advertisement.  It's all business though, as he then squats behind me, and does the same thing to my ass.  To my continued surprise, he pulls the bottom of the bikini right down, so that my bare ass is in direct line with his face, then places the material back up where he wants, moving the seat of the bikini slightly in between my butt cheeks, so that they peek attractively out the sides.  He stands then, in front of me, and takes my long hair into his hands behind me, so that his face is very close to mine, almost like he is going to kiss me.  I smell cigarettes on him and notice the aroma of his aftershave, as he finger combs my hair, placing pieces deliberately across my forehead and in front of my face.  

Hoping that I now look like one of the models in his portfolio, I feel ready for the shoot.  But, that confidence quickly fades as Brian starts taking shots.  I assumed that he would pose me or direct me in some way, but he leaves me to figure it out on my own.  Or, maybe he wants to stay still for now.  I feel myself start to sweat, and pray that he doesn't notice.  I try not to look at the camera.  Or maybe I should.    

"Hmm.  This isn't working," he mumbles, looking around.  "Looks like we should just do some nudes.  You cool with that?"

"Uh.  Yeah.  Of course.  No problem..." I trail off, trying to sound like I've done this a hundred times.  Nudes.  Right.  Just like the girls in his portfolio.  I'm a professional, now, so I better be alright with things like this.  If some photographic genius has an idea; if I inspire him in some way, and he wants to suddenly switch gears, then as a professional, working model, I have to just go with the flow.  I fight with the tight straps of the bathing suit once more, as I attempt to remove it.  He doesn't look at me exactly, but through me, as he passes me a bottle of moisturizer.  I apprehensively squirt a dollop onto my hand, even getting embarrassed by the farting noise the plastic bottle makes.  I pretend to know what I'm doing, even now, completely naked, I reason that he doesn't want my skin to look dry.  I begin to rub myself with the cream, bending to moisturizer my legs.  He looks through the lens.

"Much better," he remarks, taking some shots, and I feel myself relax.  "These pictures are supposed to show off your assets, so nudes are definitely what I would choose for you."  I smile a little, and he captures it, rapidly firing about a dozen shots.  "That's great," he says, finally offering his opinion.  "Just try to relax."

I feel myself open up, and am actually able to do some poses that he seems to like.  I work a lot better with encouragement.  The lights warm my skin, and I get lost in the moment of success.  Maybe I can do this after all.  I'm a natural.  Perhaps Brian will tell someone about me; this new and budding talent, and agents will fight to scoop me up before someone else does.  

"I'm going to bring in someone else, now," he says from behind the camera, and my jaw drops slightly, a little disappointed that it's over so fast.  Brian excuses himself to the next room, and begins talking in hushed tones to someone.  I look around at a loss, wondering if this is my cue to get dressed and see myself out.  A photographic genius maybe, but his bedside manner is awful.  

But, Brian re emerges, with an equally rough looking individual, but in an attractive way; a guy with a couple day's stubble on his face, a square jawline, and an elastic band tying his hair back.  I instinctively move to grab something to cover myself, but there isn't anything around, so I just use my hands.  "Oh, no need to cover up," Brian assures, and I instantly feel shameful of my newbie move.  "Tom here's a professional model as well."  As well as me?  Did he just call me a professional model?

"Nice to meet you," he says in a warm, manly voice, and reaches for my hand.  I feel weird shaking his hand while standing here naked, but I pretend that it's normal.  Tom then begins to disrobe, but Brian distracts me, continuing.

"When I see real potential in a model, I often ask Tom to step in, and do some duo shots with them.  He's a renowned professional, and can often boost other model's popularity by working alongside them.  All this okay with you?"

mistress leila.

She fastens me into the device, hog tying my feet to my hands, behind me.  I feel the cool metal of the table on my exposed belly, squished breasts, and warm face, which all rest against it.  

The machine around my pelvis doesn't naturally make contact with me; that is, with my pussy or ass, but if I tilt my pelvis forward, which is difficult considering the pose she has me in, then I feel both graze my sensitive flesh.  These two latex prongs, attached to the harness, both vibrate, as I can hear their buzz, and feel them slightly, when I rock my hips forward enough.  The temptation to do this is irresistible, even though I'm not usually a fan of anything touching my ass.  Mistress Leila, of course, has set it up this way, on purpose.  She intends to break me.
"Comfortable?"  She walks around me to deliver this saucy line, right to my face, winking, her heels clicking on the concrete floor.  "Now, darling," She says to me affectionately, taking my face in her delicate hand.  "Don't be cross with me.  I just want to open you up to a while new world of pleasure."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Shall I get the oil?"
"Yes, Mistress."  She takes the glass bottle, inverting it over my exposed ass, and I feel the cool liquid run between my ass cheeks, down to my pussy.  The coolness of it gives me goosebumps, sending a shiver through the core of me, and I feel my nipples harden against the table.  I long for Leila to touch me; rub it in a little, probe my crevices with those warm, womanly fingers, but she denies me that humanly pleasure.  Instead I feel it pool beneath me, and I instinctively thrust into the table, allowing the vibrating tendrils to momentarily and simultaneously make contact with my clit and ass.  I instantly shy away from their vibrations, unused to the one that so coyly tempts my asshole.
"Mmm," I hear her moan, watching the oil glisten off my flexing butt.  She, no doubt, must long to touch me, as well.  "That's right, my dear.  Don't be afraid of the harness.  It can give you so much pleasure."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Will you try it again for me?"
"Yes, Mistress," I answer obediently, but unsure of my ability to proceed.  Yes, I trust Leila with my body; she knows me better than anyone, yet the thought of anything entering me anally, is enough to make me clench.  But, I crave the clit vibrator so badly right now, and want her please her equally as much, that I ultimately concede to put myself in her hands.  Or rather, her harness.  I once again tilt my pelvis towards the table, hands and feet bound behind me.
"That's lovely, my pet," she coos, eyeing my bare ass cheeks tightening again.  I do it quickly, almost believing, through the sheer power of my will, that the anal probe won't be there the second time.  But, I feel it tickle my asshole again, and I retract almost as quickly.  "Try to linger there, my love. It's nothing to be afraid of.  I'm here with you, after all.  Aren't I?"
"Yes, Mistress." I have such strong feelings for her, such an immense build up of trust developed over the course of our sessions, that I'm willing to do almost anything for her.  Even if I have an aversion to it, I know that she is ultimately doing it for my own good.  I try again, feeling the now familiar sensation of the pulsating protrusion near my anal opening.  I let it stimulate me there, choosing instead to concentrate on the vibrator nearing my clit.  If I can just focus on the pleasant pulses emitting from my pussy, then I can almost bear the rest.  I surprise myself, by employing this, rotating my hips against the table again, and I almost forget about the anal probe.  My pussy's wetness mixes with the massage oil on the slippery surface of the table.  I test this theory again, thinking only about the sensual stimulation on my clit, and the anal vibe seems to fade into the background.  Not only does it eventually recede as I get used to the sensation, but after a half dozen thrusts or so, it almost seems to enhance the experience.  I hear moans release into the air, thinking at first that they belong to Leila, who is enjoying the delicious presentation before her.  But, after catching a glimpse of my mistress, I realize that they aren't coming from her lovely mouth at all, but from my own.
I let the anal vibrator enter me as I force my hips against the clitoral one, hands and feet bound and hindering, rather than facilitating.  Leila softly hums and crosses her arms, enjoying my sensual struggle.  I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple, as I taste salt from my lip as well.  She's making me work for it, this time.  Equally bound by my respect for her as the corporeal restraints, I continue to thrust, secure in knowing that it's what she wants me do.  "That's it, my dear.  I'm not letting you go unless you come."
"Yes, Mistress."  I answer, allowing myself to finally feel the flutter of the urge to come.  With the probe in my ass, my instinct is to shy away from the feeling, but I remember Mistress Leila's desire for me to experience this new and intense pleasure, and I try to open myself up to it.  I relax my ass, allowing my hips to melt into the table, and therefore, the buzzing vibrator against my clit.  I feel myself buck, and cry out both muffled and echoed by the metal table.  I both tense and relax at the same time, welcoming everything to contract at once, from my ass, to my pussy, to my clitoris.

"See, my dear?  That's a good girl."  And, I do feel good, even if the process felt a bit foreign.  Very good, indeed.