Climbing the Ladder

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"What I really want to do is be a photographer," he said at one point.

"Really?" I said with interest. "Not movies, with your video experience."

"Nah. Still photography. And not just weddings and families with their dogs," he said. "I want personalized stuff. People being themselves in settings outside the studio. That's why selfies are so common nowadays. But they're so contrived, most of them. I can do better by taking the camera out of their hands."

I smiled. "You wouldn't insist on the teenage girls being topless and making duck lip faces?"

"Duck lips? No. Topless. Probably."

"You realize, don't you, that Abby would pose stark naked for you right now," I told him, referring to our ever-flirtatious evening anchor babe.

Phil shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sure that's how she posed during her interview. Slut. I would be more into the classy stuff. Think...Vogue."

I nodded. "That would be cool. Have you had volunteers for you to practice on?"

"You're the only one who knows," he said bashfully.

"I think you should pursue it, Phil," I said enthusiastically. "I volunteer."

He looked across at me with uncertainty. "Would you?"

"Yep. Think about it and let me know when and where and I'll be there. You'll need some samples for a portfolio, won't you?"

It took a week because of our hectic schedules, but Phil talked to me again and we arranged to meet at his apartment after work one day for the first session. We agreed we would try some outdoor shots and some indoor shots and I proposed bringing a few different outfits, both formal and informal, to vary the theme.

It was fun to see Phil's excitement build the more we talked about it and the closer the day came. I had no doubt he had the desire to make the business work, but I needed to see some samples of his work before making a final judgment. Being the model would make it a little weird, but I hoped to be objective.

I had no clue what we would be doing at that first shoot, if you wanted to call it that. I'd never modeled before. Never even considered it. I was more of the actress type, wanting to be on the stage...in front of a crowd, or, as it turned out, in front of a TV camera. I wasn't sure I would know what to do without a microphone and having to stand still.

If Phil wanted to do this professionally, he'd have to prove to me that he could provide all the answers to my questions and make me feel comfortable, because I figured other people would have the same concerns as me. Maybe not. But I was anxious to see how it turned out.

I met Phil at his apartment on the big day and he suggested we take advantage of the cloudless sky, and oncoming dusk, by starting outdoors. I was in a more casual outfit including a skirt, big black belt, and a short sleeve top with a couple buttons at top. He was fine with that to begin with and I left the other clothes hanging in a closet. Then we drove a few miles to the edge of a wooded park.

It was actually a great setting with opportunities for photos in the open air and in the woods. The sun was low in the sky and the promise of a spectacular sunset made Phil happy. It would test his skills, for sure.

"I want you to have fun with this," Phil said to me as we walked to the first location he had in mind. "I'm open to whatever suggestions you might have."

"Well, you're the pro," I said. "It's not like I can rely on all my experience at this."

"Maybe between the two of us we can figure something out," he replied.

I looked at it as a new adventure and it was unquestionably my intention to have fun. It helped knowing Phil wouldn't get mad if I messed up.

We came to a point where the grassy field we walked across met the edge of a thick wooded area and Phil said he wanted to start there. The sun was setting on the same side as the field, so we had good light unobstructed by the trees.

He had me stand next to a tall tree, the trunk of which was approximately the same width as myself. Quickly, I learned the natural, casual poses Phil preferred. I leaned against the tree, sometimes using my shoulder and crossing my legs at the ankles, sometimes using my elbow with my head in the palm of my hand. I hugged the tree. I leaned against it with my back to the trunk.

The entire time, Phil walked slowly around to catch every possible angle of me and diverse views of the sunset. He encouraged me and I gained confidence, feeling as though I was less mechanical with each passing minute.

Still, I was glad there wasn't another soul in sight. I wasn't ready for public scrutiny just yet.

"Let's go back into the trees just a little bit," Phil said. "The lighting should be very interesting back there."

We moved maybe twenty yards into the woods and it was like we had entered another world. I felt so isolated; so secluded. It might have been the best thing that happened up to then because I felt less restricted in what I could do. There was a very large tree trunk on the ground from a tree long since fallen. I sat on it and Phil loved the new poses it offered.

After checking for spiders and bugs, which I abhor, I laid on the log. The feeling was incredible—having Phil take shot after shot looking down on me, or getting on his knees so he was more at my level. I bent one knee and lifted the leg, nearly exposing it up to my panties before timidly tugging down on my skirt.

"Oh, you're no fun, Charlotte. You're supposed to be a model," Phil joked.

In response, I unbuttoned my shirt until I knew my bra and plenty of cleavage was visible.

"There! Pervert," I said.

He just kept shooting and I rolled onto my side. I eventually rolled off the log and wiped what dirt I could from my clothes. Phil assisted until I slapped his hand for helping too much with the back of my skirt.

I saw a very low branch behind us and surprised Phil to no end by jumping onto it and sitting. By now the light was almost gone and he was using the flash exclusively. They were playful shots as I swung my legs, sometimes in an attempt to kick him. I wondered just how much he could see. One last taunt was to lean forward when I jumped off, knowing my breasts were in full view.

To this day, I'll believe it was purely by accident, but I happened to look at Phil's crotch and saw a definite bulge in his pants. My pulse rate doubled. I realized I was turning him on and that was not my intention. But now I had a brand new sense of what the evening could become. And I absolutely loved the idea.

I moved over to another tree, leaned against it and purposely raised my skirt on one side in an obviously provocative and mischievous pose with an expression to match.

Phil took two shots, then lowered the camera and said, "I see you're getting into it now."

I moved over to him, giggling. "Oh, I got into it very early on. Maybe we need to go back to the apartment where the light is better. I also have some other outfits to try, remember."

We were a foot apart. I gently put my hand on his crotch.

"Much more of this and it will get embarrassing," I said softly.

He was getting hard, without question. I leaned forward and kissed him. He returned the kiss. I squeezed his cock and pulled away with a smile.

"Let's go," I said, starting back towards the car.

The tension was palpable on the way to Phil's apartment. I enjoyed the posing far more than I expected to, but I'm not sure I would have felt the same way with any other photographer. I would have given anything to read Phil's mind in that car.

I didn't have to wonder what was on his mind for long. As soon as the door to his apartment was closed, he had me pinned to it with his body, smothering me with passionate kisses which I gladly gave back. Our hands roamed freely, with Phil's ending up on my ass, pulling up on the bottom of my skirt.

I was the first to speak, although it was more like a gasp. "I thought we were going to take more pictures?"

"Oh, yeah," Phil said mischievously. "Why don't we do that."

"I'm going to change, OK?" I asked him, escaping his capture and getting into the closet where my clothes were.

"Good. I need time to set up lights. Don't rush," he said over his shoulder while moving into another room.

I had made up my mind in the car what I was going to wear to start. It was risky, I knew, but I thought Phil would be, at the very least, professional about it.

I used his extra bedroom to change. I stripped down to just my frilly black panties and put on a black blazer, letting it hang unbuttoned over my bare chest. I stood in front of the mirror and smiled from ear to ear at the erotic reflection of myself.

I'll never forget the look on his face as I walked into the living room where Phil was finishing adjusting the lights and placing the tripod. I had to forgive his blatant staring. In fact, I would have been very disappointed if he hadn't.

"You wanted Vogue? I'll give you Vogue," I said with conviction.

"You certainly...did," he said as I came closer. "Cover worthy, I would say."

I could feel my nipples growing harder and rubbing against the inside of my blazer. Part of me wanted to pull the jacket together and button it from top to bottom. Another part of me wanted to fling it completely open. I doubt if Phil had any idea how nervous I was.

"It's your job to hide all my imperfections, you know," I said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, if I find one, I'll hide it."

"Looks like you're thinking about using the couch first?" I said, looking at the lighting setup.

"Yep. Is that OK?"

"Fine with me. Tell me what to do," I told him.

He glanced at me one more time, and seemed to consider something first. Then he said, "Sit on the couch. In the middle with your legs crossed and the jacket pulled together near your lap."

I had a good idea what he wanted and, from his viewpoint behind the camera, it appeared I was naked. He took a couple straightforward shots to get started. Then he came over to me and reached for the jacket, but stopped just before getting to it.

"Do you mind, Charlotte, if I...I mean I might have to move...um...," he stammered.

I laughed. "Phil. Do what you need to do. Don't be such a wuss."

He delicately opened the blazer to show much more cleavage and returned to the camera. A few shots later he said, "Put your legs together in front of you. Knees touching. Hands in your lap."

That was that last innocent picture of the entire evening.

"Stand up," Phil instructed.

Once I was on my feet, he said, "Put your feet as far apart as your shoulders and put your hands on your waist, inside the jacket. Shoulders back."

I thought I was going to hyperventilate standing in front of this gorgeous guy in my panties and more than half of my tits showing. The bulge was back in his pants and I could feel my pussy begin to throb.

As he started to take new photos, I twisted to provide more angles. There was no doubt in my mind that at least one of my tits, and probably both, were exposed during my movement.

"Perfect," Phil said in encouragement without taking his eye from the viewfinder. "Keep going, Charlotte."

I held the front of the jacket and pulled it open, but kept it close enough to my chest that I could hold the two sides against my breasts, stopping just when I got to the nipples.

"That's it. Move," Phil told me.

I turned to the side and looked across my shoulder at him. That's when I finally did it. I pulled back the jacket on that side and showed him the breast. I held it for a moment and then pulled the jacket a few inches off my shoulder.

"Perfect," he said again. "Just like that."

I drew the jacket back on both sides and wrapped it around me halfway down my back. I turned to face the camera directly, both breasts now bared completely. I was trying to make my smile as natural as possible, but my nerves had to be showing.

I let my arms fall out of the sleeves and held the blazer at my side, the other hand on my hip. Then I flung it over my shoulder and turned as if walking away.

"Fantastic," Phil uttered. "You sure you've never done this before?"

I laughed and tossed the jacket onto a chair. Now it was only a matter of how far we'd go. I knew what I wanted to do and Phil's expanding erection made me think it was OK with him.

"Wait," he said suddenly. "Let me get the camera off the tripod."

This only took a second or two and then Phil was moving around me, getting close-ups. I started with hand bras, but eventually let my arms fall to the side again.

"I think you're enjoying this a bit too much, Phil," I said, letting my eyes finish the thought.

"Oh, shut up and pose. You chose the outfit," he countered.

He was behind me and I instinctively put my hands on my ass. Realizing that probably wasn't what he wanted, I slid my hands inside my panties and pulled them together so that more of my cheeks showed. That was when I moved us to the next level, which was going to happen eventually anyway.

I bent over just slightly and let one hand slide onto my pussy. When Phil walked around so that he was more in front of me again, I removed my hand in the back and slipped it inside my panties in the front. I was standing straight up again, even arching my back a little when my fingers found my aching clit.

I stared right into the lens and used both hands to push my panties down to reveal half of my pussy.

"Turn around," Phil said quickly.

The panties were tight against my ass. I inched them lower and lower. Finally, they were below my cheeks.

"Turn again."

No matter how much I thought about it as posing and Phil getting experience shooting, I was still stripping in front of a man and it was, well, nerve-wracking. I put both hands onto my pussy with my legs together. Then I got naked.

Damn, I was intimidated...and horny...and self-conscious.

"Use the furniture, Charlotte. Relax," Phil said.

"It's hard to relax. And I think it's really unfair."

"What is?"

"I'm the only one undressed," I said.

"I'm not the model," Phil quickly replied.

"What if I said it would make me more relaxed?"

My look convinced him. He grinned in defeat, put down his camera, and pulled off his shirt. I stifled my giggle when he took off his pants, displaying the hard on under his briefs. When he was naked, I wasn't laughing any more. I was staring in awe at his fantastic, thick cock as it stuck out like a pole.

"Are you relaxed yet?" he asked derisively.

"Much better," I said. "Now what?"

"I said use the furniture, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

I moved to the arm of the couch and sat on it, one leg hanging over the side while I leaned back. I was no longer in Vogue mode. This was pure Playboy. The camera clicked incessantly as I rotated, rolled and reclined on the couch. I ended up on my back with one leg on the back of the couch, one hand fondling a breast and the other massaging my clit. I rarely looked at the camera; my eyes were glued, instead, on the persistent erection between Phil's legs.

I was masturbating more than I was posing. When I finally realized it, I stood up and walked over to Phil.

"Put the camera down, Phil," I said, wrapping my fingers around his cock. "The session is over."

Actually, it was just beginning.

I got on my knees and slid my tongue up the entire length of Phil's shaft. I teased him for way too long, letting my tongue linger on the underside of the large, pink head. I watched his cock twitch in anticipation. Then I kissed the tip one time and put it between my lips.

I sucked Phil and played with my clit until we both moaned out loud. Precum seeped onto my tongue and my fingers were wet from my own juices. I took him deep into my mouth a couple more times and then stood up.

I put my body against his and said, "Fuck me, Phil. I need you so bad."

I thought we would do it standing up we kissed for so long and his cock was so hard against my belly. But he laid me down on the couch and crawled between my legs, spreading my knees with his hands and putting his cock in place. The lights shined down on us and I felt like I was in a movie.

All other thoughts fled my mind when I felt Phil's cock begin to enter my pussy. Oh my God it was wonderful when he lowered himself onto me and my pussy was spread wide and then filled with his cock.

"Ahhhhhh, fuck yes," I said almost to myself.

I wrapped my legs around his waist. He lifted me by the ass and put a tit into his mouth. I cried out when he lightly bit the nipple. Phil was thrusting his cock into me harder and faster, telling me, "You're so wet, Charlotte. So fucking tight and wet."

We stayed like that for several minutes, just enjoying the feeling of each other. Then he asked me to get on my knees facing the back of the couch and he entered me from behind. I clung to the cushions and rubbed my clit, begging him for more. He clutched at my tits and squeezed them, causing even more jolts of pleasure in my pussy.

"Oh God, Phil. I'm almost...oh fuck, yes...I'm almost there," I cried out.

"That's it. Cum for me, Charlotte. Cum for me!"

I put my head on the cushion and screamed, "Now! Now!"

My orgasm started and I just hung on the best I could. Phil heard my muffled groans and there was no doubt he could feel my body shaking from head to toe with the long, long climax. He held me by the waist, continuing to fuck me until he, too, announced his orgasm.

His cock pounded into me with less frequent, but harder, thrusts as Phil poured his cum into my pussy. Each of his grunts brought a new shot of cum that combined with my own juices and ran out onto my thigh. The sound of our bodies colliding echoed in the living room and, in the end, our panting was all that was left.

We collapsed together on the couch.

Later, I would be on top. Then we stood and I leaned on the arm of the couch. In all, it lasted most of the night and I couldn't begin to tell you how many times I came. Poor Phil—if that's an appropriate term under the circumstances—had to call it quits when he said it hurt to get hard again.

That was the start of me and Phil. To this day, he is my companion and absolute best friend in the world. And he's still fantastic in bed, but does that really matter?? (Hell yes it does)

Chapter Three: The News Director

The relationship between Phil and I survived an awful lot of tests over the years. I guess it shows the strength of the bond, because, God, did we get tested sometimes.

The first came within a year of the 'modeling' episode and involved the station's news director, a woman named Rachel. She was about forty, pretty but not gorgeous, with long, brown hair and a very average body. Phil and I liked her for her vivacious personality.

Neither Phil nor I knew her husband, John, very well. I knew him to be a fairly good looking guy—mainly from the one photo of him on Rachel's desk—but he didn't come to the station much.

Talking more and more to Phil made it clear to me that he kind of had a crush on Rachel. Phil was in his early thirties by then and I was in my late twenties. I kidded him endlessly about his infatuation with her, and it was all in fun as long as it didn't come between us.

One night it finally came down to a conversation about whether or not he'd have sex with her and, of course, he said he would if given the chance. That led to the hypothetical agreement that I could have John in return. Luckily, the chat resulted in some really fun sex as we imagined what it would all be like.

I was one of Rachel's 'projects', I always thought: the young reporter destined for the anchor chair. I was always good at kissing up to my bosses and got along well with Rachel, despite Phil's obsession with her. Still, it came as somewhat of a surprise when Phil and I got invited to Rachel and John's house for dinner one night.

Phil agreed to behave himself and he, rightfully, asked the same of me. Neither of us could claim total innocence in some of the things that had happened in our lives and I couldn't deny reasons for him to be suspicious of me after our relatively short time together. As is normally the case in most relationships, neither of us knew the other as well as we thought.