tagIllustratedMILF Model Melody

MILF Model Melody

bygeronimo_appleby©

A fun picture one from me this time. I have the model's consent to use her pictures in this scene. She's a genuine, part-time model from Bedfordshire, England, similar to Melody to as I depicted in the piece -- although she doesn't take it as far as Melody does, this is a work of fiction after all.

OK, in this scene a young man sees a woman he's sure is an internet model. He approaches her obliquely and, when challenged, admits to perusing her nude pictures on her website. Remarkably the model invites him to visit her at home and take a few pictures for himself.

Then it gets a little out of control.

Anyway, as usual, I hope you enjoy the scene -- and maybe the pics help a little too? The model depicted herein may not be to everyone's taste, but just LOOK at those jugs! *grin*

Feedback is appreciated. And, again as usual, forgive any errors that remain in the text, and I hope the image and text justification survives the transfer process from word.doc to Lit's pages.

GA -- Thirsk, North Yorkshire -- 16th July 2012.

It was her. I was sure of it, but I didn't dare just walk up to her and ask her outright, I mean, what would I say? Sauntering up and asking her if she had a website where she posted naked pictures on the internet was out of the question. I was too young and inexperienced for a start, at nineteen I didn't have to confidence to approach a woman in her forties, let alone one I thought was gorgeous and hot and so, so sexy.

Besides, I was meant to be working, stacking shelves in Sainsbury's supermarket -- a summer job before university started -- but nevertheless I still found an excuse to walk past her once ... then twice ... and yet a third time. Just to confirm what I already knew. It was her -- the model, MILF Melody.

It was on my fourth pass that she confronted me.

"Look," she said huffily, reaching out to grab my arm as I snuck by. "Look ... John," she continued, peering at the name tag pinned to my orange polo shirt, "are you following me?" She let go of my arm and confronted me with a belligerent stare. "Well? ... Are you?"

Seeing the ire in her eyes I panicked and shook my head. "Me?" I blustered. "Oh no ... Sorry, but I ... Following you? No."

"Yes you are," she said. "I've been watching you. You just walk up one aisle and down another. Wherever I am, you pop up. So tell me. What do you think you're doing? Or do I have to get a manager?"

It wasn't that I needed the job, I was just working there to get a little extra cash for when my studies began again, but it was handy money. I wasn't desperate for the work but what I didn't need was the embarrassment of having to explain why I was skulking about stalking customers when I should have been sorting through canned vegetables. I had no reason to be across the store, and a short interrogation by the floor manager would confirm to everybody that I was indeed following Melody, the MILF Model.

"All right," I said as I studied my feet. "I was walking past you. I think I ... You ... I think I recognise you."

Melody folded her arms to regard me suspiciously, like a sceptical copper. Her breasts moved beneath her dress and I gulped. A hint of amusement lifted the corners of Melody's mouth, and her eyes sparkled when she said, "Well I've lived here most of my life so you just might have seen me around the place."

"Uh ... well ..." I squirmed and shrugged my shoulders. "It could be that ..."

"Or ..." Melody went on -- she definitely knew what I was struggling with but seemed to be enjoying my discomfit. "... Or it could be that you've seen me somewhere else. Is that it? Do you recognise me from somewhere else?"

I felt my face get hot. "Uhm ... Well ... I think I've seen you on the ... uh ... internet."

I'd been talking quietly, almost whispering, thinking that she'd be embarrassed to be recognised. On her website Melody was in -- and out -- of a variety of costumes, sometimes naked and sometimes with a sex toy wedged inside her. Pretty tame stuff by internet standards, no hard-core pictures, just Melody on her own, apparently enjoying herself; but if I'd imagined she'd be shy about it, I was wrong.

"That's probably because you have," she said, as casual as you like, as though most women got their kit off and showed their big boobs and plump-lipped pussy on their own website. "I model part-time. I've got a career as well but I've modelled for years." Melody grinned at me, adding, "So, what do you think then? You've seen the pictures. What do you reckon?"

My face burned again. How could I tell her I'd saved images of her and fantasised about spunking over her tits? I think Melody probably had me sussed in that regard as my cheeks reddened and I stared at her, my mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

Eventually I managed a, "Well ..." as my arms flapped ineffectually at my sides. "I think you're ... uhm ... nice. Very nice."

What the hell was that? Nice? What a fucking idiot.

Probably feeling sorry for me because I was just an imbecile who wanked off to porn on the internet and followed women around supermarkets, Melody smiled at me.

"Thanks," she said, touching my arm. And then she turned to move away. I stared after her, picturing her as I'd seen her on the internet.

There was more to it though and I was sorry to see her go. I would've liked to have talked to her for a bit longer, sensing there was more to Melody than big breasts and a cheeky smile. She was an intelligent woman, that impression came across instantly, and Melody intrigued me and I'd wanted to spend a bit more time in her company, perhaps getting an idea for why she did what she did.

At the end of the aisle she paused and turned, and I hurried over to her when she crooked a finger and beckoned.

"Do you have a camera?" she asked. When I nodded, Melody reached into her handbag and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper. "I must be mad. I usually charge sixty quid for half-an-hour, but ..." She scribbled on the paper and handed it to me. "Tomorrow," she asked, "are you working in the afternoon?" I shook my head and Melody left me open-mouthed and stunned, saying in parting, "That's my address. If you come round at one o'clock you can take some pictures."

Of course, as a result of that unexpected invitation I spent the rest of my shift day-dreaming about Melody. Occasional jabs of apprehension pierced my guts, nerves and anticipation of what was to come tomorrow at one o'clock. Was I really going to see Melody naked in the flesh? Was she really going to pose for me and let me take pictures? Would she let me touch her breasts? That was too much to contemplate, I'd masturbated and fantasised about feeling Melody's big tits, but to actually hold them ...

Would she let me suck them? Could I fuck her?

Now I was getting carried away and had to tell myself to calm down, that just meeting her in real-life was enough. To talk to her and actually see her was an amazing stroke of good fortune. That she offered to pose for me, out of the blue, was a miracle. To touch her breasts let alone fuck her was asking too much, but it didn't stop me conjuring scenes in my head that evening while I trawled the net for more images of Melody and masturbated.

"Never mind the photos," the imaginary Melody breathed after greeting me at her front door in lingerie. "I wanted you since I saw you in the supermarket." Even as the door closed behind me Melody was lifting those big boobs out of her corset. "Touch my breasts. Kiss them. Suck my nipples." Melody leaned in and kissed my mouth. "I want to suck your cock," she sighed, eyes bright with desire. "I want you to come all over my boobs and then stick it into me and fuck." A mischievous smile slid across her face and her eyes narrowed. "Would you like to fuck me, John? Would you like to come on my tits ..." Melody paused and massaged her breasts. "... I think you would. I think you're a tit man. You are, aren't you, John?"

As far as Melody was concerned I was an everything man; I wanted all of her from her cheekbones to her thick-lipped pussy, up to her breasts and back down to her biteable buttocks. I wanted her legs around my waist and her hips in my hands and my cock inside her.

Scene after scene reeled through my imagination until I finally groaned out her name and squirted semen all over the keyboard.

When the clock eventually, finally ticked its frustratingly leisurely way around to the appointed hour, I stood trembling outside the front door of the address shown on the piece of paper. I was five minutes early but I couldn't wait any longer -- I had to get this thing started before I died of anticipation.

"Hello, John," Melody smiled after opening the door to my knock. "Come in." She stepped back and invited me in with a sweep of one hand. "I wasn't sure if you were going to turn up," Melody continued as I stepped into her home. At her offer of a drink I accepted a simple glass of water, taking it from Melody's hand with trembling fingers. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Just a bit nervous," I replied.

Melody chuckled and eyed me with her head tilted to one side. I heard the amusement in her voice when she replied, "Don't worry," she smiled. "Just relax."

Melody did her best to put me at ease and we chatted in the kitchen randomly for ten minutes while she drank her coffee and I studied her and pretended to listen.

The model was wearing a white, short-sleeved blouse with a faint jig-zag pattern. A skirt with a ruffled hem and floral pattern fell to a point a couple of inches above her knees, while white shoes completed the ensemble. As she chattered away, telling me about her family, modelling career and, surprisingly, her day job as an accountant of all things, I couldn't help but drift away on a reverie of the previous night's masturbatory delight.

How could I reconcile this cosy domestic scene with what was going to happen very soon. My stomach flipped when I thought of this woman divesting herself of that blouse and skirt and underwear. What would her tits look like there in swaying, three-dimensional reality?

A flare of something deep and primitive burst in my guts when finally, after all the ball-squeezing anticipation, Melody put her cup down and said, "OK, shall we get started?" I followed her the short distance from the kitchen to living room. "Right," Melody said and sat on a black, leather sofa. She arranged herself in a demure pose, hands upon her knees with the skirt pooled beneath her.



With my hands still shaking I tried deep breaths in an effort to bring myself under control as I blinked through the viewfinder and snapped Melody sitting there. It suddenly dawned on me that I didn't have a clue how to direct her. What was I supposed to say?

"Uh ..." I said. "Uhm ... Could you ..."

A laugh tinkled from her while Melody grinned and, with an elbow on one knee and a forefinger along her cheek, she teasingly opened her thighs and flashed blue panties.

"It's all right," she said. 'You just take the pictures, I'll move around for you."



I gulped and stared at the bulge of Melody's pudendum before, after a gentle reminder from the model, I took the picture. And so it went on. My MILF model would strike a pose and I'd point the camera at her and take the shot. It was an excruciatingly tantalising strip, with Melody suggestively posing and slowly, ever so teasingly, revealed her body to me. My penis was stiff inside my jeans, pre-cum dribbling from its eye, and I could hear my own heartbeat solid and thumping in my ears as I pointed and clicked, pointed and clicked.

"Fuck," I groaned when, eventually, Melody unbuttoned the blouse and stood in a corner, hands against the walls. The blouse gapped open and I could see her big breasts bulging over the blue bra.



"You OK?" Melody asked when she saw my agitation. "Getting a bit too much for you?"

My voice jumped with concern when I replied. I thought Melody was going to end the session right then, perhaps with fears for her own safety due to my trembling and perspiring and the spreading wet patch at the front of my jeans.

"I'm ... I'm OK," I gasped. "It's just that you're ... Shit ... I mean ..."

Melody grinned at me, saying, "It's all right. It's not the reaction I get from professional photographers, they don't give a shit ... it's actually quite refreshing to ... to see a proper reaction." Melody then smiled and added, "More?"

Her thumbs went to the straps of her bra at my eager nod.

Oh shit, I thought. Here they come ...



And indeed, there they were; Melody's big boobs exposed. She gave me a sultry look and pressed her hands to her breasts, tight nipples between scissored fingers.



Big, tanned tits, I thought as I suppressed, somehow, the urge to launch myself at Melody and maul and suck her breasts. I wanted to feel them in my hands, test their weight and slide my cock between them. An image of Melody's throat splashed with my semen came to mind. Unbidden pictures of spunk sliding down those slopes, shivering ropes of gooey cum dripping from Melody's taut nipples flashed across the screen of my imagination.

"Fucking hell," I groaned.

Melody laughed at me and reached down to her skirt. She unhooked the stays and eyes and slid the garment down her legs.



The skirt pooled around Melody's shoes as she leaned and grinned at me, her breasts in her palms.

"Over to the sofa," she trilled; and I followed the half-naked model the three steps to where she sat.

With the camera forgotten I stared, desperately hungry for her tanned breasts and areola while the woman positioned in a three-quarter arrangement on the settee.



I heard a noise and then realised it was a low moan escaping from me.

"Oh wow," I gulped. "Fucking hell ... Melody ..."

"You're getting a bit hot and bothered, aren't you," she said when, without realising what I was doing, I pawed at the front of my jeans. "You'll have to sort yourself out in a minute."

Sort myself out? What did that mean? I managed to take a quick picture of Melody on the sofa before she moved.

"Oh fuck," I sighed. "Oh fucking hell ..." Melody had swivelled on the seat and eased her hips off the sofa. What I now saw before me was the model with legs akimbo and the slit of her pussy visible. Melody's underwear was a taut bowstring around one ankle and her other shoe. "Ah, shit ..." I groaned while, holding her breasts in her fingers, Melody regarded me through the frame of her panties and upraised V of her legs.

"What a reaction," the model said as her body sighed over the cushion and she squatted on the carpet. "How about this?"

I took the pictures somehow, one of them featuring Melody, breasts compressed between her arms as she held herself open with her thumbs.



"I've never ..." I gasped as I stared at Melody's scarlet cunt gaping at me. "I'd love to fuck you ..."

"Well, you do have a look of Ewan Mcgregor," Melody teased. "... And I fancy him ..."

"You mean ... I can ... We can ... I can fuck you?"

Melody laughed and shot the soaring hope out of the sky.

"Oh, no," she said. "I don't go that far. This is just a bit of fun. But you can sort yourself out in a little while." Melody mimed a wanking motion with a closed fist and rose to her feet to step out of her underwear. "Come on then," she said as she moved to the corner of the room again. "A couple more to finish off with."

"A wank," I muttered to myself in a low voice laced with bitter disappointment. For a moment, just a heartbeat or two, there'd been the promise of actually penetrating Melody's cunt with my stiff cock. What I wouldn't have given for that experience; to stab into her with my pulsing cock, to feel her cunt grip my shaft as I pumped and thrust and squirted semen into her.

Melody posed for me, nude except for the white shoes, her navel jewellery and a watch. She positioned herself for the final few frames, showing me her tits until, in the last photo, she leaned forward at the waist, her brisket like a greyhound's while her jugs hung suspended in front.



"All right," Melody said. "I think you probably got a hundred pictures there. She walked over to me as though nudity was completely usual. Uninhibited by her nakedness, Melody stood close by my side, so close I could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body. Melody peered at the screen on the camera's inverse side. "Let's have a look at a couple, she said." I pressed the buttons and Melody perused a few frames. "What do you reckon?" the model asked after handing the camera back to me. "Will you be using them later on ... in private?" She winked at me and I felt the heat rise in my face.

"Probably," I croaked. "It ... I ... I mean I've never seen a naked woman before. Not like this." I was ready to confess all, lust and desire making me reckless and loose-tongued. I was babbling and could hear myself jabbering away but was powerless to stop myself. "It's so ..." I sighed and pawed at my hard-on through my jeans again. I didn't have the words to tell Melody how I felt.

There was a desperate, yawning hunger in my guts. I was fraught with desire. My limbs still trembled and I saw myself pushing Melody back onto the sofa and forcing her legs apart before I buried my face between her thighs and tasted her cunt.

"What?" Melody began, apparently surprised by my admission, "you've never seen a woman in the nude before?" I shook my head, licking my lips and staring at her breasts. "You ... you mean ... you're a virgin?"

"Yes," I sighed as I closed my eyes. "I am." I nodded and opened my eyes and saw Melody looking at me with an odd expression.

"Do you ... Would you like to feel my boobs?" She offered the fruit to me after I nodded. "Go on then," she finished and lifted those big things in her palms.

My fingers closed over Melody's breasts.

"Shit," I moaned. "Wow ..." They felt spongy, so soft and yet so taut, firm and pliable and with the hard points of Melody's nipples against my palms. "Big fucking tits," I sighed. "Big and heavy ..."

Then Melody yelped a laugh and, chuckling, pushed my face away from her boobs.

"You bad boy," she chided, amused after I'd leant in and, unable to stop myself, sucked at one long teat. "You'd better sort yourself out now, before you come in your jeans."

"I'm sorry," I gasped, appalled at what I'd done. "I ... I ..."

The blonde smiled at me despite my lunge, the areola of one nipple slick with my saliva.

"It's OK," she said. "Don't worry about it. Just unzip and sit in that chair." Melody pointed to a single-seat counterpart to her sofa. "We'll soon have you feeling better."

I unzipped my flies and reached into the aperture to ease out my tormented length.

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