Erotic Photo Shoots

by Jenelle Watson

Becky Wilmington has been my best friend since grammar school. How well do I know her? Well, let’s just say I know what her pussy tastes like.

She’s on the tall side, thin, and keeps her slightly wavy blond hair long. She has large boobs, and a very fetching smile, so guys are really attracted to her. Just being her friend has had certain advantages. Guys that she didn’t have time for became interested in me.

I’m just the opposite of Becky, being short, of Thai background, and small-titted. The only thing I have going for me is my long, straight, black hair that reaches to just above my butt.

Growing up together, we realized early on that we were both certifiably sex-crazy. We talked about kissing, sex, boys, and everything that goes with it, all the time.

Becky thought she’d become a photojournalist. She had a love of photography since she was in grade school, when her father bought her an antique Kodak camera. Soon, she had her own darkroom, and was taking pictures for her friends. Sometimes she’d get paid enough to buy more film and chemicals, although usually that came from her allowance.

Her love of photography was infectious, and before long, my $15 per week allowance was going entirely to film and supplies also. My parents, not being rich, gave me a crappy little 35mm rangefinder camera for my sixteenth birthday. I learned how to put it through it’s paces, and came out with some reasonably good photos.

We often modeled for each other, and I must say, she made me look better than life.

By the end of high school, Becky hadn’t lost her interest in taking pictures. She went to college, studying English and photography. Meanwhile, I got a masters in psychology, another pursuit in which finding a job is difficult. We stayed in touch throughout college, mostly by phone.

You’d think we would have lost our virginity in college, but the truth is we were both ‘nice’ girls. Oh, we talked all nasty about boys and everything, but the fact is, we were rather conservative.

After college we reconvened in Oakland where we grew up. First we stayed with our parents, but hers were going through a noisy divorce, and mine were crying poverty. So, we rented a small apartment together to save expenses, plus we enjoyed each other’s company.

Unfortunately, between the time she got her first camera and finishing college, the whole world had changed. Chemicals were out. Digital was in. But worse, newspapers were quickly becoming a thing of the past. More and more ‘photojournalism’ was done by amateurs with their cellphones.

Becky was working as a cashier in a little diner, and landing occasional small photo shoots, and every now and then I’d land a counseling session. She and I had fliers all over town, advertised on Craigslist daily, and handed out business cards to everyone who came within ten feet of us, yet there was little work. She also tried freelance photojournalism, submitting pictures and articles to magazines, newspapers and websites with dismal results.

Just like me, she had big student loans and was barely making ends meet. Living in Oakland is expensive even when you’re sharing a 400 square-foot apartment. I was getting perhaps one private client a month. Getting a paid position as a psychologist requires 2,500 hours of internship in California before you’re qualified. Interns are typically unpaid. So, that was out of the question. Money had to be made just to get by from month to month. Becky’s fifteen-year-old Toyota was no longer running, and my classic Volkswagen bug needed tires so badly that I didn’t drive it except when I had to.

One day, Becky got a call from a guy who wanted to do something nice for his wife’s birthday. He wanted a photo shoot of her in various lingerie. He didn’t want a man taking the photos, and so he landed on Becky. Not having a studio, Becky had to ride her bike to the couple’s house. She did the shoot, and everyone was happy. I saw the pictures. The woman was heavyset, and had a few years on her, but Becky made her look lovely.

The woman was more than a little bit delighted. She told her friends, probably even showed them the seductive but not lewd photos, and Becky got two more phone calls, resulting in two more lingerie photo sessions. It was starting to look like Becky was on to something. I was a bit jealous of her success.

I needn’t have been. For the next two weeks, nothing more happened. Becky and I started to think it was a fluke. Then the phone rang again, and Becky had one more lingerie shoot.

Another week passed. Becky was still a cashier but both of us had dreams for her. Then, the phone rang again, and again, and again. Three more happy customers.

The mild depression, thinking she was going to be a cashier for life, was starting to lift.

Becky must have suggested me to one of her clients, because I got a life coaching job out of the deal. Not that I was a life coach, but as a psychologist, I could fake it pretty well.

One time, she got a call that left her in doubt. Should she do the shoot? It was from a gay guy who wanted to gift his boyfriend with an erotic shoot.

“Why not?” I asked her.

She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Right.”

She took that job, and as usual, came back all smiles.

“How’d it go?” I asked, hoping for details. I suppose I’m a sort of voyeur. I wish I had been there to see that shoot, just because it was different than a typical husband-wife thing.

“It went well. They were just like any married couple. It was a bit weird seeing the guy in red lacy panties and a bra, however.”

I laughed.

Everything shifted, seemingly overnight. Suddenly, Becky was getting four and five shoots a week. She had raised her price from $100 to $300, and that only seemed to encourage people more. They probably thought that since her price was so high, she must be good. Actually, she was good, very good. She could make the worst people look attractive.

Things were going great for her, but not so much for me. I had a grand total of two ongoing clients, bringing me $120 a week. Maybe once a month, I’d get a one-off session from someone who was having relationship problems, wanted some anger management, was concerned about drinking too much, or things like that. I took a part-time job as a cashier.

Becky’s business was building nicely. She found a studio just three doors away from our apartment and rented it. She got her car running again, went to a bunch of garage sales, secondhand stores, and so on, filling her studio closets with costumes. She bought some used sofas and other furniture, and in no time flat, she had a proper photo studio.

She had been expecting business to keep growing, but it started to flatten out. One evening she was crying because it seemed she was over her head with the studio’s expenses. I didn’t know what to tell her.

Business didn’t fall off entirely, it just wasn’t building as fast as she thought it would. The good news is that she had quit riding her bike to do housecalls, and had all her clients come to her studio. They liked pawing through the costuming, putting on leather outfits, antique clothing, big feathers, crazy hats, and the other things she had collected.

She told me about the time a forty-something, balding, fat husband came out of the dressing room wearing absolutely nothing. He assumed that was OK. Becky, flustered, told him to go right back in, and find something suitable. I guess he did, because she didn’t say anything more about it.

Then, one day, she got a genuine request for a nude shoot. It’s odd, thinking back, that she hadn’t had one before that. It was yet another husband and wife, but they wanted to be absolutely nude. Becky was worried. Was it immoral? Was it illegal? Was it just plain wrong?

I worked with her going through each objection. At the end of an hour, she came to the conclusion that nothing was wrong with it at all, and accepted the couple’s request. She shot them nude.

I asked her all about it afterward. I was ridiculously curious about it, and was a bit jealous of Becky for being able to watch the couple. According to Becky, other than the fact that they had no clothes, it was a normal photo shoot.

“Did the husband get an erection?” I asked.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all. Just a nice, sweet couple, hugging together in various poses. Not unlike John Lennon and Yoko Ono.”

I wanted more detail, but there was none. I asked to see the pictures, and Becky, always the professional, said maybe she shouldn’t show them to me. Bummer!

That nude couple had friends, and faster than you can say “fine art photography,” she had more nude shoots.

One day she came home excited. I asked what was up. She told me that a husband, a good-looking one at that, did have an erection, and it ‘set her off’ as she called it.

“What does ‘set you off’ mean?”

“I mean, dear, that I got all horny seeing the guy.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I’m going to masturbate in my room. Want to join me?”

That was the first time my good friend had ever said anything like that, and I was shocked. But something else too. I was shocked at my reaction. I did in fact want to masturbate with Becky. What a spectacular, and forward invitation.

“Um, yes, I’d like that.”

“OK, in that case, there’s no need to go in my room. We can do it right here.” And with that, she pulled off her skirt and panties, top and bra, sitting down as naked as the day she was born, right there on our funky old sofa.

I always thought I was one-hundred percent straight, but at that moment, I learned something about myself, as I felt my knees weaken, and tingles running through my body from head to toe.

I was shocked at Becky’s boldness. She must have been terribly horny, because even though we had talked, even years ago, about masturbation, admitting that we did it, we never took any action. In fact, in all the years of school and everything, I had never seen her nude. Not in the school gym classes or anything.

And, she was really, really attractive! So far as I know, she didn’t work out, although she has always been an active person, but she looked great. No extra fat on her, and well defined arm and leg muscles. Maybe it was all the bike riding when her car was broken.

I liked her tits, much larger than mine. They actually hung down, overlapping her lower chest. Mine don’t do that. Not by a long shot. I decided then and there not to be jealous of my best friend. Especially her boobs. That would be ridiculous. There are advantages to small tits after all. They don’t get in the way of physical activities, bras are sort of optional, and so on. I wondered if she sweated where her tits hung down.

Not knowing exactly how to react, I did what seemed to make the most sense at the time. I took off all my clothes too, and sat down next to her.

The next thing that happened was awkwardness. We didn’t know how to proceed. We were both quite horny and it seemed like masturbating was the thing to do, but how to begin, and not seem weird in some way.

Becky was staring at me. Weird. She was looking right at me, like I was a museum exhibit. Finally, she spoke, “Jen, you’re beautiful.”

I would have probably been less surprised if she yelled, “Earthquake!” I’ve never thought of myself as beautiful in the slightest. But the way she said it, practically drooling with her tongue hanging out, was more proof than any words could be.

She asked me to stand up and turn around for her, much like I had done in some of our shoots together. Except this time, I was in my birthday suit, not some fancy skirt or something. “I love your tight little brown ass,” she said.

We both laughed, but I knew she meant it.

I felt my juices flowing and my knees were still weak. Wow!

I sat back down, and so full of the wonderful compliment that without thinking, I kissed her. Right on the lips.

She didn’t pull away. In fact, she responded very nicely, and we kept on kissing. She put her arms around me, and I pulled her right up close. She was so warm, and it felt so nice. Besides hugging with family, fully clothed of course, I had never hugged anyone like this. All the skin contact was simply amazing.

We kept right on kissing. I couldn’t resist, so I reached out with my right hand, and placed it on her huge left breast. She didn’t mind. In fact, she quietly said “Ooh,” in a way that let me know she enjoyed the touch.

I found her nipple, and lightly ran my finger over it as we continued kissing, now gently pushing our tongues into each others mouths. It came to my attention that Becky was shivering. It wasn’t cold in the room, so it must have been overwhelming sexual excitement. That’s all I could figure. I think it was similar to the weak knees effect I was having. By now, my vagina was feeling a strong need for attention.

Thinking she was probably feeling the same need, I instructed her to lay down on the couch. She complied without a word. Half kneeling on the floor with my other leg stretched out over the arm of the couch, I was able to place my head near her vagina. I was delighted that she was hairless there, the same way I am.

I suppose it’s a girl thing. We depilate down there because we think it’s sexy, yet we’ve never been seen there by anyone.

For a second, my mind wandered to a crazy thought: All this time, she and I had been waxing or depilating, and neither knew it. Furthermore, all this time, we had been masturbating, yet neither had any awareness or participation in the other’s activities. What a shame!

That was about to end forever! With my fingertips, I spread her labia a little bit, enjoying the pinkness. I leaned farther over her, propping my weight with one hand, and brought my lips to her pussy. I gave her a little peck on the top of her slit, right over her clit area. Not only didn’t she seem to mind, I could tell she was very much in favor of my actions.

Given her silent permission, I swept my tongue over her inner labia. I repeated it several times, and felt them parting. Pretty soon, I was pressing my tongue deep into her slot, and bringing it up across her clit, over and over again. Her shivering became more severe. Oddly, I was shivering too. Could it be because of the strength required to maintain this odd position over her on the sofa? Maybe.

I didn’t have time to complete that thought. She started moaning really loud. So loud, I was worried the neighbors would hear us, and think something was wrong. I half expected someone to come crashing through the door to see if we were alright. I had locked it, hadn’t I?

She was moaning, shivering, and arching her back. Then she orgasmed, over and over again. It was almost an ongoing orgasm. I wasn’t sure when to quit licking her, so I kept going until she gently pushed my head away.

My arm was sore from holding myself up, but that didn’t matter a bit. I was so happy for Becky. To have done that for her. Even if I didn’t have an orgasm at that point, it would be fine.

Becky was sobbing quietly, and I knew why. It was an incredible breakthrough, and we both knew it.

When she could speak again, she said, “Oh, why did we wait so long to do that?”

“Well, let’s look forward to how much more we can do it, rather than back to what might have been.”

“Agreed!” Then she sat up and kissed me again. After a moment, she not so gently pushed me down into a laying position on the sofa. She got where I had been, although I think because I’m shorter, it wasn’t quite as cramped for her, and she started licking me. It was much more than I could have hoped for. It was without a doubt, the best thing that had happened to me in my life up until that point.

I was getting close to orgasming, but Becky wasn’t done with me. I felt something besides her tongue working in my slit, and came to the realization it was a finger. She was slowly putting her finger in my canal. I couldn’t believe it, and was loving it! Bang! I orgasmed. But Becky didn’t stop. She kept licking me, until I had my third orgasm. She then slowly took her finger out, while I curled up in a ball on the couch. I didn’t cry, but my eyes teared up. I was full of nothing but joy.

We both slept in my bed that night, hugging together like spoons, and falling asleep easily.

The next day we were so excited! We talked about what had happened, and decided that not only was there nothing wrong with it, but we were both very happy it happened. However, there was a bit of regret, on both our parts, that we hadn’t done it sooner.

Her business started growing again. More and more of her clients were wanting nude photography. She was fine with that. One day, she had a gay couple. She had them posing side by side on some stools wearing cowboy hats, holsters with fake guns, ammo belts slung across their shoulders, and nothing else. What was particularly appealing, she said, was that both were sporting big erections.

Oh, I had to see that, and talked her into emailing me the pictures. Shortly afterward, we had another one of our sessions, which were becoming quite regular, like every couple of days.

The gay couple evidently proudly showed their pictures to friends, because the next thing you know, Becky was practically overrun with guys wanting nude photo shoots. Now, there was very little doubt left, she was in the money!

My counseling business was growing too, but not as fast as hers. Much of it was due to her telling everyone who would listen, pretty much all her clients, how much I could help them. I was becoming a life coach. I figured I only needed ten regular clients to earn a full living, and I already had twelve. I took the bold move of quitting my job. I was so happy!

One day, she texted me from the studio. Did I have any clients for the rest of the day?

I texted back that my afternoon was free. She wanted me to come over. She had accidentally double-booked, and thought I could handle the second shoot. I was delighted but nervous.

As I walked to the studio, I was trying to imagine what was going to happen. I kept thinking I must try to act like I know what I’m doing, and reminding myself that I used to be a pretty good photographer.

I got there, and she handed me her backup Hasselblad. She tried to show me how to work it, but I was feeling kind of klutzy about it. Those expensive cameras are no point-and-shoots. It took me a good fifteen minutes, but I finally got to where I figured I could handle it OK. As I was screwing it onto a tripod, my clients arrived. It was a husband and wife, wanting a lingerie shoot. I was glad and disappointed at the same time. Glad, because I felt less weirdness than if it had been a nude shoot, but disappointed because I had secretly hoped to witness something more sexual.

Becky’s studio was small. It started with a waiting room with a desk and a few chairs, looking for all the world like a dentist’s office, except for the photos on the walls. They were large, framed semi-erotic photos of discretely positioned couples posing prettily.

Behind the waiting room, the studio was one long, narrow, open room, a little office in the back, a bathroom, and a small room that she had turned into costume closets and two tiny dressing rooms. In the main room, she had two areas that she called ‘stage sets.’ One was antiquey, and the other was natural, with a wall that looked like a deep forest, and fake rocks and logs instead of furniture. Both sets could be changed, but she tended to keep then in that configuration most of the time. Her couple wanted the nature scene, but so did mine. I was worried about how to handle the conflict, but my couple graciously decided the antique scene, which looked somewhat like a western saloon, would do just fine.

Introducing myself as ‘their photographer,’ I then instructed them to go to the clothing area, select anything they wanted to wear, then come back and we’d start taking pictures. Meanwhile, the other couple, who had arrived a few minutes before my couple, had already started their shoot. They had opted to be entirely naked. There was a big part of me that wished the nude ones had been my couple.

‘How unprofessional Jen,” I was thinking, ‘Get it together.’

My couple kept surreptitiously glancing at the nude couple on the other side of the room. They whispered something to each other. They whispered a little more. I was wondering what was wrong, hoping that my first ever shoot in Becky’s studio wasn’t going to blow up with the couple arguing then leaving. Becky told me that happened with one of her shoots once. I was also realizing how important this was to me. Fact is, I had been jealous of Becky. I would have loved to be a successful photographer taking erotic pictures of couples. Can you imagine a better profession?

Finally done whispering, they turned to me and asked, “Do we have to pay more to be nude?”

“Oh, of course not,” I said, trying not to sound too delighted.

They headed for the dressing rooms, and came back naked. These two were rather nice looking. I’d figure them to be early thirties. She had some stretch marks, but otherwise was practically a model. He was a large guy, with bodybuilder muscles. He was so built, you could see the veins bulging against his muscles. Seeing that caused me to wonder whether the veins in his penis were visible also. I couldn’t help glancing, and sure enough, they were. It didn’t dawn on me at first, but he was fully erect!

The man kept glancing away. What was he looking at? By God, he was looking at the other man. And what about him? He had an erection, too! I happened to catch Becky’s eye, and she noticed the same thing.

Both wives were either oblivious or didn’t care. We got down to business, and my couple started posing on the bar stools, against the saloon mirror, and in the bed which happened to be part of the saloon scene. Go figure! They were naturals. I didn’t have to do much directing, not that I could have, had it been required.

Becky and I talked about it later. She said some couples are stiff and shy, and others are right ‘out there.’ Furthermore, she said, you can’t tell which is which in advance. She said she had become quite experienced in directing them.

My shoot went well, and the couple went home happy. Becky had another $300, and to my surprise she handed me $60 right away for my help. So, I, too, went home happy.

When Becky came home, she and I talked about the two guys sporting wood, and evidently excited by each other.

“Does that happen often?” I asked.

“It’s never happened. That was the first time I was ever double-booked. I’ve had the occasional couple finishing up when the next one arrives, but I try to keep the new ones in the reception room until the first ones are done.”

“It kind of legitimizes us, doesn’t it?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve been excited by each other, which I mean as a good thing, by the way. So it was nice to see two guys being excited by each other.”

“Yes, it was certainly interesting. Got me horny. How about you?”

“Certainly,” I said, and without another word, we were undressed, kissing, and frigging each other. My client’s erection was in my mind like a song you can’t stop humming. It was front and center, and all I could think of. It didn’t take me long to have a strong orgasm under Becky’s ministrations.

Becky started hiring me more, and more, and I was quite happy with the whole situation. Finally, I could give up my job, and get new tires on my car, too. I was even making progress toward the student loan that had been hanging over my head for years. Her studio was getting crowded, with ever more double-bookings. She hired an interesting fellow, a guy named Craig Whitcomb, to be her receptionist. I don’t think she paid him much, but he seemed happy to be there.

Craig didn’t often participate in the actual shoots. He did the photos, however, since part of his job was selling additional prints to the customers. Craig was rather short, being maybe two inches taller than me, rail-thin, but wiry, with neatly trimmed curly light brown, almost blond hair and a matching beard. Oh, and he was as white as I was Asian. He probably seldom saw the sun, judging from his very light complexion.

He and I would get to talking from time to time in the rare moments when there wasn’t photography to be done. He had a weird hobby. He liked starting with black and white prints, and coloring them with transparent oil paints and colored pencils. He told me it was an antique process dating from the days when color photography was still in its infancy. But now, it’s an artform. He can subtly or glaringly change colors, which creates entirely different moods in the pictures. He had taken to showing his portfolio to our clients, and Becky was fine with that. I gathered he was making good money on the side by doctoring up black and white reprints of our clients. Who would have figured that anyone would want that?

I found Craig to be a quiet-spoken, likable guy with a quirky sense of humor. He liked playing with words, and didn’t mind saying whatever goofy thing that came to his mind. Some were plain stupid, but some were so funny he’d have all three of us falling on the floor laughing.

One late afternoon, Craig asked me on a date. Me! I didn’t see that coming. I was instantly flattered, and accepted.

Knowing his budget was probably about the same as mine, when he suggested a local Michelin star restaurant, I suggested Applebys. He went with that, and we had a great evening, talking until they closed the place. Being a warm evening, we abandoned his car, and walked the mile or so to the neighborhood where we both lived.

As we approached, I sensed that something good could happen. But would it be at his place, or mine? Since Becky would be home, I was hoping he’d invite me to his place.

It didn’t turn out that way. He walked me to the door, gave me a light peck on the cheek, and said “Goodnight, Jen.”

I was so disappointed I just stood there for a moment, stunned. I was starting to really like Craig, but evidently, he didn’t feel the same way.

The next day at work, even though he said “Hi” to me when I arrived in a very chipper way, I could hardly make eye contact with him.

I had an interesting client, a guy named Salmon, of all things. Like the fish. He was tall, young, thin and definitely athletic. He wanted something unusual. It was such a weird request I had to consult with Becky.

She said “Go for it! It might be fun, or at least interesting.”

The guy wanted to sit in the ‘saloon,’ on one of the bar stools, purposely get hard, and jerk off while I took pictures. He wanted extreme closeups as well as full body shots. How weird is that?

I asked Craig to hang out in the studio as much as he could when the waiting room wasn’t busy, because I didn’t entirely trust Salmon. Craig was fine with that. Salmon, wasn’t so fine with it.

When Salmon came sauntering back from the dressing room, he was all smiles, and his defoliated penis was already half hard. I rather liked what I saw, and got the all too familiar twinge in my lower belly and pussy. Then Craig walked in, and Salmon looked suddenly disappointed.

I didn’t understand until he said, “I’m not sure I can do this in front of a man.”

“Sorry, I’ll leave,” was Craig’s immediate response. I wasn’t worried, because he’d be at his desk on the other side of the thin wall that separated the reception area. He’d hear if I had to scream or anything.

“No,” Salmon, said, “I think it will be OK. Might even be better – if I can get it up, that is.”

“You’re sure?” Craig asked.

“Let’s try it. Oh, and call me Sal.”

Salmon took up his spot on the stool, and started working to bring his now wilted penis back to life. I started clicking away, knowing all the first photos would be deleted. But our cameras had huge memory cards. It reminded me of my childhood days when I had to make my $5 allowance cover my film and supplies, and every click of the shutter cost significant money. Things were sure better these days.

It didn’t take him long to get hard. Oddly, during the whole process, he was talking with us, just like it was an ordinary day, and as if everyone was clothed and doing normal things. But there he was, jerking off right there in front of us while he spoke.

He told us that he’s currently straight and single. His girlfriend left him. He said it was because he’s too gentle, and she preferred a wilder man. Someone dangerous that she could tame. I doubted that, but didn’t interrupt. He volunteered that he didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, and wasn’t religious. He thought that his qualities were a rare combination, and I had to agree. I was also quite impressed.

Craig uncharacteristically spoke up, asking Salmon, “Why the photo shoot of yourself jerking off?”

“Some day, I’m going to be old. Right now, I’m young and have a high libido. In case I forget how things were someday, I’m going to want a reminder.”

Weird, but true. I mean, would you want photos of yourself masturbating? But evidently Salmon did. Each to his own, I say.

He started really getting into it. His hand was moving up and down really fast. He was breathing heavy, and I figured it was time to move in for the action shots I knew were coming. Becky had come over with the other Hasselblad, and was clicking away too. Suddenly, it happened. The first spurt went about two inches straight up into the air and landed on his hand. Three or four more spurts followed suit, then he was done.

What a smile! Upon completing his task, Salmon had the most spectacular smile. I, meanwhile, wanted to go jill myself as soon as possible. I was so horny seeing that! If you can imagine, here I was a virgin, and witnessing a good-looking and friendly man jerking off, up close.

Becky and I transferred the images to the main computer on Craig’s desk. There, all four of us gathered around, quickly sorting through them and commenting now and then. We were saying things like, “Nice cumshot!” and “Looking Good, Sal.” Even Craig chipped in with “Wow, Dude, that looks hot.”

I didn’t expect that from Craig. Then, I suddenly realized. He’s gay. He must be gay. That’s why he didn’t follow through on our date.

Three days later, I got a call from Sal. Did I like pizza?

My response was so quick and loud it surprised me. “Hell, yes!”

We arranged a pizza date for that evening, while I was lounging in the waiting room. Craig was there, and seemed to be paying no attention. However, for the rest of the afternoon, he was quieter than usual, and not wearing his usual Mona Lisa smile.

“What’s up with him?” I asked Becky, and got the weirdest response.

“Girl, if you don’t know…”

I ate pizza with Craig and we talked, and talked, and talked some more. He was a good listener. I found out that he’s a policeman. That seems like a good profession. If I were to marry someone, a policeman would be a good choice. They tend to have good values, and I’d always feel protected.

We hit it off, and I thought we might fuck. Now, at that point, I was still a virgin. I hadn’t been in a hurry, knowing I’d find the right guy some day. Oh, I wasn’t being all prissy or anything. I just wasn’t in a hurry. I think my activities with Becky were part of the reason. I found her ‘company’ very satisfying.

We found ourselves out in the parking lot by our cars. We kissed. Then we kissed some more. It felt very nice being hugged by this man. We discussed where to go. So, it was going to happen. Obviously, it would have to happen at his place, because Becky was at my place, and I couldn’t just parade him in front of her.

The problem was, he had a roommate also, and didn’t want to bring me home, thereby surprising his roomie.

I was suffering a flurry of mixed emotions. I was so close to losing my virginity, which I was so willing to do with Sal, even though it was our first date. I could tell he was just right. But then it seemed it wasn’t going to happen, I was so frustrated I was almost angry with him. But then it dawned on me, what if he and his roommate are like me and Becky, you know, masturbating together, or worse?

Despite the flurry my mind was in, we couldn’t make it happen. We kissed, hugged, assured each other we’d get together in the next day or two, then went our separate ways.

When I got home, Becky was already asleep in her room. I tried masturbating myself, but was sad. So sad, I couldn’t manage an orgasm, and fell asleep to disturbing dreams.

I dreamed that I was very old, and still a virgin. In the dream, my vagina had grown huge, and sloppy, so sloppy I could no longer retain my pee, from 50 years of unfulfilling continuous masturbation. I woke up thinking I had wet the bed. Thankfully, I hadn’t.

Arriving at the studio for a 9am shoot, I was met by Craig who wanted to apologize. I didn’t understand.

He explained that he had been grouchy. I asked why.

“I like you, Jen. I mean, I really like you.”

“So?” I know that wasn’t a very nice response, but that’s what I said.

“Well, it kind of bothered me to see you going out with that perv.”

“He’s far from a perv.”

“Oh, you’re right. I just want to think of him that way.”

“Huh?”

“Because I messed up with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, the other day, I really, really wanted to take you to my place, but I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You know, I suppose the truth is you scare me.”

“How can I possibly scare you?”

“Jen, don’t you get it? You’re too perfect. I mean, what man wouldn’t just die to get with you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m just an ugly little stick-figure.”

“Oh, Jen, I hope you don’t really see yourself that way. You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did he really feel that way, or was he joking? Was he fucking with me? Looking at his sincere expression, I believed he was serious. Well, what do you know! My whole day brightened.

After my shoot, I came by his desk, and we couldn’t really talk because there were customers in the waiting room, but I smiled at him, and he smiled back. That’s all the communication we needed for the moment.

That very evening, he took me on another date. This time it was to his house, for a home-cooked meal. He tried making Thai food, in honor of my heritage. It wasn’t very good, but I admired that he tried. Afterward we talked for a while. It was awkward but neither of us quite knew what to do. I not too patiently waited for him to make the first move.

“Want to watch a movie?”

I practically yelled “Fuck, no!” but instead, I quietly said, “I had something else in mind.”

“Nice,” was all he said, as he got up from his chair, came over to me, and gave me a nice kiss on the lips. That turned into a French kiss, and soon, he was fumbling with the buttons on my blouse.

Then he stopped, and said, “What about Sal?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. Nothing happened with us.”

He was visibly relieved. He returned to my blouse buttons, but wasn’t doing very well with them. I took over, and in a moment, my blouse was thrown unceremoniously on his living room floor, as he started removing his shirt.

He stopped again, as I was sitting there in my bra and bluejeans, and he in his pants, and asked, “Is it OK?”

“Very OK!” and then we quickly took off everything else.

For a white guy, he was very good to look at. His penis was already hard and sticking up. It was larger than I would have expected for a short guy, and big in diameter also. I had a fleeting thought that it might not fit in me. That thought caused a horny chill to run throughout my body. I was certainly ready for the challenge!

When I was out of all my clothes, he practically jumped on me, pushing me down on his sofa. Then, thinking better of it, he took my hand, and led me into his bedroom.

We laid down in unison, and found ourselves rolling back and forth on his queen size bed, hugging like there was no tomorrow. I felt his hard penis pressed between us, and it felt very appealing. I wanted that thing inside me!

“Take it easy on me.” I said.

He thought for a second, then said, “Oh, you’re a virgin?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“Oh my. You’re sure you’re alright with this? We can wait.”

“No!” I practically cried.

He then surprised me by saying, “I am too.” Somehow, I liked that.

We resumed hugging for quite a while. We both knew what was coming, and wanted to savor every part of the experience.

Finally, he backed away, sat up, and started rummaging around in his nightstand drawer. He found a small packet. I knew what it was immediately, although I had never seen one in person. He tore it open, and then took quite a bit of time trying to put it on his dick. First, he had it upside down, and it wouldn’t unroll. He truly was a virgin!

By the time he got it on, his penis was only half hard. We hugged again, then he started pressing his penis against my vagina. It wasn’t going in. That was partly because he wasn’t hard, but also because he was pressing in the wrong place, way too high.

I put my hand on his penis, which was now soft as a noodle, and tried to put it in the right place. It wasn’t happening.

In the dim light, I could see he was quite distressed.

“I read somewhere that this is common the first time with guys.”

He seemed visibly relieved.

“Here,” I said, and reached forward, taking the condom carefully off his penis. It had been so big earlier, now it was just a little shriveled thing. I thought it might be a good idea to put it in my mouth. That’s what they do in the movies, right? Putting my head down in his lap, I kissed the tip of his penis, then slowly sucked it in. I just held it in my mouth, then started swirling my tongue around the tip. It felt quite natural. It wasn’t as if I was doing something ‘naughty’ for the first time. I was more like this was exactly the right thing. And more than that. I felt almost like I was born to suck penises. I literally sucked more of it into my mouth, then I sucked very hard for a second to see what would happen. My cheeks caved inward a bit, and it felt nice.

He said, “Ouch,” and explained I had scraped him with my teeth.

Being more careful, I continued to play with his dick in my mouth. It was starting to harden up nicely. I was amazed how much it filled my mouth, and at the same time, I tried to get it in deeper. It felt nice, but then I went too far, and gagged a bit. Readjusting, I continued to suck, and now, it was fully hard.

Suddenly, he shouted, “Wait!”

I backed off immediately, but it was already too late. I saw several spurts of white liquid coming out the tip.

“Oh no,” he exclaimed. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

“Oh it was,” I assured him, even though I was horribly disappointed to still be a virgin. “Can you get hard again?”

“Um, no. Well, maybe in a while.”

We just hugged on his bed for a while. The next thing I knew, his clock said it was around midnight. We had both fallen asleep. He stirred, saying “Hello, Jen” in a soothing, mellow, loving voice.

I wanted to try something, and without asking, I just did. I repositioned myself in the bed, and placed my mouth on his penis again. In a couple of minutes he became hard. Knowing better this time, I quit while I was ahead.

Rummaging around on his floor, I found the condom I had taken off earlier. It was pretty obvious it wasn’t reusable. I asked if he had another.

“A whole box full,” he said as he dug another packet out of the drawer. He tore it open and applied it to his penis, more expertly this time.

To my delight, his dick stayed hard. We arranged ourselves on the bed and again he tried pressing it into me. I had become quite wet, as I always do. I have heard that most women don’t get as wet as I do. Hell, I make puddles on the bed when I masturbate. So, lubrication wasn’t a problem. But our position was wrong.

Remembering something about ‘missionary position’ I figured it must be the easiest, so I rolled on the bed so I was facing up, and indicated by kind of pressing him around, that he should lay on top of me. In a moment, he had that large penis of his lined up properly, and in another moment, I felt stretched out like I never have before. Boy, did that feel nice! I thought it was going to hurt, but nothing of the kind, It felt, well, fulfilling.

There had been some couples in the studio that fucked right there in front of our cameras. So, I had seen what it was like, but had no idea how nice it felt!

Pretty soon, Craig was pushed all the way into me, and started kind of rocking back and forth an inch. In a moment, it was all over. He moaned, and I think I felt a minor pulsing feeling inside me. Then he collapsed on top. He was heavier than one would have thought. I had a bit of trouble breathing, but wasn’t going to complain.

In a minute, I felt a little movement, and realized his penis was shrinking. A few seconds later, pop, and it was out. He continued to lay on me, and although I was enjoying it very much, there were two little problems. He was starting to weigh too much, and even though I was no longer a virgin, I was still horny.

Craig is quite a gentleman, but I already knew that. After a moment, he rolled off me, then, to my surprise and delight, he started kissing my vagina. Soon, he was lapping up my copious juice, and stroking my inner labia and clit with his tongue. I felt his rough whiskers on my outer labia and between my upper thighs, and although sandpapery, it was very, very comforting. At the same time, I was getting that shivery effect, and knew an orgasm was coming. Not only that, I could tell it was going to be a big one.

And it was. When the orgasm hit, it was really, really big. I practically passed out. It was just one orgasm, but it was huge, and lasted a long time. Afterward, I held him tight, and we fell asleep again.

The next day at work was all smiles. I think Becky must have instinctively known what happened, and she was smiling like a chesire cat also. I was glad she was happy for me, because I could imagine she might be jealous.

Craig and I wanted to get together again the very next evening, but unfortunately, he had a dinner planned with his parents.

So that night, at home with Becky, I told her the whole story. Her eyes were all sparkly. She was super-supportive even though she said she was just a teeny bit jealous.

The next day, Craig and I were definitely going to get together again at his place. About three in the afternoon, Salmon called me, and I took the call in front of Becky and Craig. I had to burst his bubble right away. I was kind, but told him I had been falling for another guy, was just confused when he and I got together, and wished him well. He was cool.

An hour later, Craig picked up the phone, and it was for Becky. He had a weird smile as he handed her the phone. I paid no attention.

A few minutes later, Becky came back out to the waiting room, and said, “Jen, I have to ask you something.”

I was instantly curious. Her tone of voice was strange. “What?”

“I’m getting the impression you’re with Craig. Can I say that?”

Perhaps my cheeks turned red. Craig’s did. “Yes, true enough!” and then I smiled big, as did he.

“Well, guess who just called and asked me out?”

Craig was smiling but didn’t say anything.

I took a crack at it. “Salmon?”

“Right-o!”

“And you want to go out with him?”

“You bet, he’s a catch!”

“Really? Well, yes, certainly. That’s great!”

Now everyone was all smiles.

That evening, Craig and I practiced our new skill again. He was positive that we could work the timing so we could have orgasms at the same time. He started by licking me again, and once I got close, he put on a condom and fucked me like an expert. The guy learns quick. We didn’t have simultaneous orgasms, but it was close.

The next day at work, Everyone was smiles again, including Becky. When I had a chance, I pulled her aside, and because we are such good friends, I just came right out and asked, “Did you do it?”

Her answer was an even bigger smile. So, she, too, was no longer a virgin.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into years. I became a regular at the studio. Somehow, my psychology days were over. I was a photographer, and these days, I was more of a videographer. Becky had bought a former warehouse, and turned it into a huge studio. There was plenty of money, so she had it remodeled into a place with eight separate settings. She had a dungeon, a great outdoor scene with an artificial pond and waterfall, a small replica of a football field, an old English sitting room complete with a baby grand piano and four-poster bed, a cloud scene, and several more settings. She even had showers, a sauna, and hot tub. She had twelve employees. Craig and I were still among them. Becky was very generous with the profits.

Craig and I married. A year later, Becky and Salmon married. He is now a detective. They have two daughters. Craig and I have a son and daughter. Yes, the kids know all about the studio, and don’t seem to care. In fact, as they grow older, we hope they will care, because we we’d like them to take it over some day. But who knows with kids, right?

Becky and I still do sexual things together sometimes. The guys don’t mind a bit. Often they participate. In fact, they often ‘do’ each other while Becky and I are going at it. I have also fucked Sal, and Becky and Craig have had their kicks too.

A typical day after the studio closes is that the four of us get together in the studio hot tub, all naked of course, then maybe Craig will fuck me, while Becky gives Sal a handjob. Then Sal buttfucks Craig while I reach under Craig and give him a handjob. Then I try to fist Becky’s ass, which we’ve not yet quite managed, and on and on it goes. After an hour or so, we come home to the kids, give them lots of love and attention, then after their bedtime, we go to sleep, looking forward to another great day in the studio.