Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 14

"Yes Paul," I croaked as my orgasm rapidly built up. I love seeing men wank so what Paul was doing was an added ingredient in my sexual excitement.

We were both near, that was clear from the way he was slowing down and taking long strokes of his cock. It was also clear from the look on his face and the deeper breathing.

"Oh yes," he moaned, "are you near Sam, are you cumming?"

He reached out and held my hand squeezing it reassuringly and consolingly when I whispered.

"Yes I am."

He moved forward positioning himself so that his pumping hand and thrusting erection was hovering over my body. He pointed the thick end of his cock at my right breast, it was just inches away from it. He nodded at me.

"Can I Sam, can I come on your tits?"

My body and mind were now in total free fall. I was climaxing very strongly. All reason, all inhibitions, all moral standards, all thoughts of what I shouldn't do and all restrictions on what I should let him do left me. I was his to do with as he wished.

I managed to croak "yes," just before I nearly blacked out with sensations. As that happened, I felt the warm, splatterings of his sperm on my breasts.

Chapter 3

All the way home, all through that night, at college the next few days and practically every waking hour for the next week or so I worried myself silly. I agonised and contemplated the situation from every angle. I weighed the pros, not that there were many, and considered the cons. I evaluated what I had done, I assessed the circumstances that had caused me to do it. Yes, I thought of little else, my mind rarely strayed from the subject for more than a few minutes and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. That thought, that subject, that idea was that I was now as good as a hooker, for Paul had pressed a fifty-pound note into my hand when we'd parted saying.

"Thanks Sam, that's for the extras."

I could have refused it or given it back, I could have said no, I could have told him I didn't want it. But I did, I did want it, but not for mercenary reasons. No, for some reason I couldn't fathom, I wanted that money as a reward, as a recognition, as a symbol, as thrill money, if that makes sesnse!

I felt between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I didn't want to admit to myself how easily I had let him turn me on and masturbate, yet on the other I didn't want to admit that the idea of "doing it for money" appealed. But the latter did appeal, more so than the former. Maybe one was a justification for the other?

A week later I was in that very same studio, I was in almost the same outfit and almost the same pose. I was on that sofa, my hands were on my body and I was simulating masturbation. But this time the photographer was Brian. Average height, build, looks and demeanour, he was a real Brian. Wearing glasses, sporting a moustache and in his early forties, I imagined, he was badly dressed in unstylish clothes and had that annoying habit of turning everything into a joke, he also had a most annoying giggle. I didn't get in the slightest way turned on by him and when he said.

"Do you offer extras Sam?"

I had no difficulty or hesitation in saying, rather sharply.

"No."

A similar thing happened later that week at another studio. I didn't fancy the guy so I had no temptations, he said nothing and nothing untoward happened. The following week, however, I was again asked about extras. I was easily able to say that I didn't offer any, for he was fat, bald, ugly and in his fifties.

Obviously, though, many models did offer extras. After all, I had modelled one to one four times and extras had come up on three of those occasions! That got me thinking, but so did a call from Sandra.

"Paul wants you again Sam, you must have really impressed him."

My heart leaped when she said that.

Chapter 4

"May I?" he asked.

I couldn't speak, so I nodded my agreement. I sighed as his hand cupped my breast, I grunted as he pinched my nipples and I revelled in the feelings going through me. Surges of arousal as I caressed my clit, pangs of sensation as my fingertips ran round the outside of my pussy lips and frissons of feelings as this man played with my breasts.

"Oh God Sammi, this is amazing, you're amazing," he grunted as I watched his other hand sliding his zip down. I couldn't reply, but watched, as good as, mesmerised as he pulled his fully hardened cock out from his trousers.

He leaned further forward, running his hand down my body towards my sex.

"Oh God he's going to finger me," I thought, half concerned and half so thrilled at the prospect.

The session had gone in a fairly similar way to last time. He'd gradually got me to strike up more and more intimate poses; holding my breasts, pinching my nipples and shooting from behind, pulling my cheeks apart. On my back, naked apart from stockings, with what he asked for in a husky voice, "that fuck me now" look on my face.

"Play with yourself, Sammi," ho croaked. "Look at me as if you've just been fucked."

I did as he asked, knowing full well that it would arouse me. Unlike last time, I didn't fight it. I simply went with it, I just let the feelings boil up, I just let him excite me, I just let the whole thing excite me, the slight fancying of the photographer, the being alone in a studio with him, being naked and touching myself and the knowledge that now I was selling this. It was that which was the biggest turn on, I think.

His hand found my wet pussy at about the same time his mouth found my nipples.

I was again lying on the sofa, this time full stretch. He had one knee on the seat, his body was bent, his trousers and pants were now round his knees. His handsome cock was reared to its fullest hardness just a few inches from my arm. As he sucked my nipples and alternated sliding two or three fingers up and down my streaming pussy with rubbing my clitoris, it seemd such a natural act. It felt right, it felt as though I should do it, yes reaching out and grabbing his cock seemed to be exactly what I should do. So I did just that. And like that, as he masturbated me, I wanked him until his sperm again shot all over my breasts.

This time there were two crisp fifty pounds notes pressed into my hand.

Chapter 5

"Yes," I said.

"What are they, may I ask?"

"Hand relief is fifty, touching me and hand relief is a hundred."

Over the next month or so, the topic of extras had come up a lot. I'd discussed it with Sandra and another couple of models I had got to know and had decided to go for it. That was their advice and my inclination. So I did. I had even worked out a sort of menu and that was what I was explaining to this new client.

He was in his mid forties I guessed, as most seemed to be. Not unattractive and not unappealing he wasn't, though the sort of guy I'd fall for. But then in an hour or so posing, men's personalities don't come through that much, so getting to fancy a new client was unlikely. Thus, one of my earlier beliefs had been dumped. I didn't have to fancy them to sell sex to them, I merely had to not find them distasteful.

"What about full sex?" He asked.

"No, I don't do that."

"Oral?"

"What on me?"

"Yes, well both ways really."

"With a condom."

"If you insist," he smiled.

"I'm afraid I have to."

"How much then for that?"

"Tell me again what you want?"

"Ok I want to play with your tits, suck them and your pussy and have you suck me until I cum. OK?"

"Yes fine," I said, hopefully sounding cooler and more relaxed than I felt. "Hundred and fifty," I blurted out.

"Great, I'll undress then, is that Ok?"

Looking back, it seems amazing how matter of fact such conversations had become to me. The mere idea of discussing financial terms for selling sex would have been anathema to me just a few months ago, but here I was now, lying naked apart from a suspender belt and stockings as a guy undressed before me, negotiating a package of sexual services. It was, actually, rather exciting.

I had found that if I put everything else out of mind and focused completely on the man I was with, then the sex usually became quite pleasurable, it always was exciting. The mere thought that I was doing whatever it was on the menu he'd chosen for money, gave me such a turn on, I just couldn't explain or understand it. As Mark lay down beside me and took me in his arms pressing his erection hard against me, I didn't need an explanation and didn't want to understand it. All I wanted was a satisfaction of the sexual hunger that flaunting my body at him during the photographic session had caused.

And that I got.

His mouth on my breasts, his teeth chewing my nipples and his fingers on my clit and sliding in and out of my steaming pussy he made me cum, quickly. I couldn't help thinking that hookers shouldn't do that, but he didn't seem to mind me moaning and groaning, arching my back and gripping his cock far harder than a sexual caress requires.

"Yes Sammi, yes, come on," he croaked in my ear, thoughtfully holding me tightly through the most severe traumas of the strong orgasm

"Yes cum for me cum," he whispered his lips finding mine.

I hadn't kissed Paul, he hadn't tried and I hadn't offered. I didn't know whether it was right and proper, whether the etiquette of hooker client relationships required it, or frowned on it. But as the climax that Mark was giving my reached its peak and began to subside a little, so feeling his on mine and his tongue in my mouth seemed so perfectly natural. But then, once I had become aroused during a photo session if the man wasn't a total waste of space and if he asked for extras, then all the sexual thing seemed so natural. That scared me a little.

Although I have been involved in the sexual actions of posing for glamour photo shoots for a while and have had a number of both male and female lovers, I have never really had a particularly strong sex drive. It hasn't bothered me hardly at all to go weeks and even a couple of months without a shag. I have never masturbated with the frequency or regularity of girls I know or those I have read about in girly mags and books.

Sure, I had a period with DD, the forty year old lecturer I had an affair with at uni., where we were bonking nearly every day for a few weeks and once I'd had three different sexual partners in a week, but generally it was not like that. Generally, there was a partner around who I would have sex with every now and then and generally I'd get worked occasionally and hand fuck myself rigid for a couple of days, but I did not have that strong an urge for much more than that. So now, finding myself becoming so turned on by even pretty ordinary guys that I was having paid sex with them, enjoying that and finding it to be "perfectly natural" was a new world for me. An odd world as well, for it was confined to the inside of photographic studios, with men I usually didn't know who paid me to have sex.

I hadn't meant to take his bare cock in my mouth. I hadn't meant to lick and suck him without protection, but I did. I couldn't seem to help it, stop myself or prevent my hand reaching out and pulling his hardness towards me as his face went between my thighs that I, now willingly, spread for him. His tongue felt fantastic on my, post orgasm, ultra sensitive pussy lips and clit. If that felt fantastic then I don't have the words to describe the sensation I got from sliding his erection deep in my mouth, that was simply indescribable. Indescribable but incredible.

I'd sucked only a few guys before, but never in "my new career." That, I think, made it even more special and even more fantastic. But then, maybe it felt like that because Mark was doing such amazing things to me with his tongue and fingers. It could also have been, I rationalized later, that it was due to the circumstances. The, sort of detachment from my normal world, the diversion from reality that having sex for money with a virtual stranger in a studio brought about was, without doubt, a huge contributing factor to both the excitement I felt and the enthusiasm with which I was sucking this man's cock.

I started to cum again. It was unusual and pretty quick for me to start climaxing again just a few minutes after a big orgasm, but I did and that unhinged me a little. I cast discretion to the winds and lost the tad of inhibitions I still had. I went at his cock like I'd never attacked one before. It became the centre of everything. All else faded into oblivion. His cock was all, it was him, it was me, it was us and it was sex. It became the object I yearned for so much and milking that cock until it was dry became the all encompassing objective in my life at that moment.

How long I sucked, slurped and licked at it I don't know. He responded awesomely. He shoved three or four fingers up me as his tongue teased and stimulated my clit. At the same time he started thrusting with his hips. He was now fully fucking my face with his cock while he fucked my cunt with his fingers.

I have no idea how it came out of my mouth. Whether even in the hold of the strongest sexual arousal, sense can prevail and I pulled him our or, whether he was the ultimate gentleman, I don't know. What I do I know is that as his fingers and tongue sent me crashing to my second orgasm, so his spunk splattered all over my face and chest and I earned my first one hundred and fifty pounds set of extras. Deep down I knew that was just the start.