Crystal Clear Ch. 01

Following up on that statement, Crystal and I left Ellen studying her music course and took a motorcycle ride to a backwater '7-11' store. I bought the current and back issues of Penthouse, Playboy, and three other porn magazines. As I paid, the clerk refused to make eye contact but put them all in a paper bag. I also bought a six-pack. Crystal had wisely waited outside wearing her helmet to avoid recognition.

Back at the house, Crystal and I poured through the magazines studying the photography layouts and trying to make a more objective decision. I got a hard-on that wouldn't go away during our 'research.'

"There's lots of pussy shots," Crystal observed, flipping open an issue ofPenthouse on the couch between us so I could see the erotica. "You can't have a photo spread in one of these mags without maximum exposure -- and I mean lips, gorgeous big pussy lips. You can see their labia, and in some pictures even their vagina -- the hole, I mean. Look at this one." She pointed to one particular picture.

I responded, "That's so guys can jerk off with the mental image of fucking the girl in the photo. The competition toPlayboy andPenthouse shows intercourse from every point of view, and more than likely with two, three, or more guys ganging up on one pretty damsel, and that's before we get to the kinky stuff like bondage or sadism."

"Do you suppose they'd let me do a more subdued appearance, one more suitable for a 'girl next door' as you put it?" Neither of us knew the answer to that. Crystal emailed a reply to Terry on her iPad suggesting 'erotic but demure' photography, and asking whetherPlayboy would be interested in something like that instead of an 'all-out frontal assault,' as she called it.

Two days later, we met Terry at the recording studio to rehearse some new songs that had been written by a rising songwriter from Nashville -- Jake Randall. Jake barely looked sixteen, yet he wrote good music: catchy tunes and memorable lyrics. We all liked his work.

Over a break, Terry told us, "I talked with Charlie Spencer,Playboy' artistic director. I passed along your suggestion and request to him, and he said they would remain interested, even without the full beaver and vagina shots. He did tell me that without the beaver shot, the spread would have to be extra arty and in keeping with the intellectual tone of the other parts of the magazine. He also wanted free reign to promote the issue and your appearance in it."

I interjected with a sudden brain flash, "Wait. I know just the person who can take that kind of picture -- any kind of picture. She can even make a beaver shot look artistic and not pornographic. I know her work very well." I had a flash of two pictures that hung in my office -- deeply shadowed nudes of the photographer herself.

Terry and Crystal looked at me; "Huh? Who?"

I turned to Terry, "Brite Reber, the photographer you had take some pictures of me a year ago during my road trip when I was in Minnesota. She's very picky about whom, what, and how the photos come out." Besides taking pictures of me, Brite and I had a passionate few days together; she had a unique way of making love I so enjoyed.

Terry instantly recalled the photos; one had become the cover of my first album entitled 'Road Trip.' He nodded slowly, acknowledging that using Brite might be the smartest move we could make.

"Let me see ifPlayboy will accept her work. We'd give her a byline; of course." Terry disappeared down the hallway, madly pushing the icon buttons on his smart phone. As we finished the next song, he returned and told Crystal, they're more than happy to use Brite's work, but Charlie cautioned that it's impossible to get any studio time with her; he told me he tried not too long ago. They love her work."

Crystal and I spent the rest of the morning scanning through some new music. Terry and some of the Sony Music people had selected possible songs for a new album or albums from Jake's work. Jake would sing the song and play the accompaniment on a keyboard; Crystal and I would get in the spirit of the song; and then we'd work with Jake and a couple of other musicians and drive through the entire song. Often, we'd do each song a few times, working on harmony, pace, dramatic pauses, harmony, and such.

Our approach went along as usual, until I turned the page in the playbook that had been prepared for us, and came to a song entitled 'The Naked Truth.'

I started jumping around the studio in my excitement, waving the first page of the song I'd ripped from the notebook. "THIS IS IT! This is the next album we do. This is the title song. We use some of Crystal's sexy pictures as the cover -- the pictures of her nude ... well, spiced up, or whatever. Lots of albums have nudity on the covers. We call the album 'The Naked Truth.' A couple of the other songs we just reviewed also have titles along the same line: 'Revealed,' and 'In the Light,' to name two of them. You could have a photo per song in an insert on the physical CD." I babbled away, spewing ideas all over the room.

At the word "naked" Jake had perked up, casting a leering glance at Crystal. Crystal struck an obvious sexy pose for him, pushed her ass clad in only those Daisy Duke shorts at him, and then stuck her tongue out in his direction. We all laughed. She said, "I expect you're all going to get to see me naked, but only after you buy the Holiday Issue ofPlayboy. Now, get all those nasty thoughts out of your head." She waved her hand at all the musicians and laughed.

Terry had started to take notes on some of the three-by-five cards he always carried in his shirt pocket. Every time he looked up at me, he nodded enthusiastically, urging me to keep talking. I was on a creative roll. We talked about doing a couple of song covers for other artists too; songs like 'Do You Think I'm Sexy' (Rod Stewart), 'Naked' (Avril Lavigne), and 'Naked' (Celine Dion). Jake was jumping around with the idea too, also adding that he could 'country-fy' any of the songs we picked as covers.

If you looked for a sexy, feminine, human dynamo, Brite Reber would fill the bill. She lived outside St. Cloud, Minnesota, and for the past five years had done business on her own terms. She commanded top-dollar for her photo sessions, and last I knew you had to book her at least two years in advance.

"Jimmmm," she crooned into the telephone, responding to my name popping up on her caller ID. "I've missed hearing your sweet voice, and, of course, I've missed your warm and naked body next to mine."

"I've missed you too, Brite," I teased in a throaty voice. "Maybe we can fix that warm body issue, and I might even bring along a friend or two so we could surround you. As I recall, you're happy to go both ways."

"Oh, goody! Your girlfriend, Crystal? That'd be really fine. Does she like to play our kind of games?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it, if she didn't." Crystal sat beside me on the sofa, and she punched my arm. She leaned to the phone and said, "Hi Brite; this is Crystal. I'm listening too ... and I know ALL about you and Jim, so don't worry about anything like that." After a pause she added, "And from what I've heard, you and I would have a lot of fun together."

She laughed at our mutual teasing, and then asked, "OK. OK. You've got me worked up, and it only took you two a couple of sentences. Now, what's the real reason for your call?"

I explained, "Playboy wants to do a shoot of Crystal -- centerfold stuff for their holiday issue, only we're a little skittish of revealing too much pubic to the public. We don't want all those conservative country music fans out there to black list her for showing her pussy; we're not sure what the limit is or what'll be acceptable toPlayboy if it's too demure, but we need your advice, counsel, and superb lens work to make this happen."

"That's all?"

"No. Earlier today we decided to do a new album entitled 'The Naked Truth,' so we also need a cover and insert photos for the album, probably using some of the same pictures. Terry, our agent, likes the project too, so the album looks as though it'll be a mix of Crystal, me, and the two of us doing duets. We've already started rehearsing a few of the tracks."

Brite responded with a lilt, "Oh, this sounds like fun, in so many ways. Will it just be Crystal and you, or will others come along? Terry?"

"Terry and Crystal's sister Ellen could be talked into coming up there for part of the photo shoot. I know you know Terry. By the way, they like the same kind of games we like too."

"Now you've really got me cranked up; I may even have to jill off after we hang up. But back to business, hold on, let me work on my calendar a minute." The line went silent; however, I could hear the clatter of her typing into her computer. I could visualize her sitting at her desk in the studio. I'd even fucked her in her office chair one afternoon, so she'd always have something to remember every time she sat there.

In her office were four large photographs, two revealing photographs of Brite, her nude body coated with shiny oil. She'd given me copies of those prints, and they hung in my den. I got hard every time I looked at them, partly because seeing them made me recall the sex-filled time we spent together a year earlier. Opposite them on another wall in Brite's office hung two high contrast photographs of me, tastefully done and posed so no one could guess who the model had been. The photos were revealing, yet artistic.

"How about in two weeks. Arrive here on Friday afternoon, stay over at the house and studio, and we'll finish by Sunday evening. I've got to be in Washington to do portraits of the First Lady, so I'll have to leave first thing on Monday morning at the latest."

"I'm impressed. We'll be there, and I'll email you our travel plans. Hey, maybe we can give you a ride to DC, and you can join the mile high club."

Brite laughed, "And what made you think I haven't already joined?"

Our Learjet touched down at the St. Cloud Regional Airport just after three o'clock on Friday afternoon. As we turned onto the taxiway and headed to the general aviation parking ramp, I could see Brite standing on top of her hardtop Jeep CJ-6 taking photos of our plane. A lineman waved batons to guide us into a parking place.

As the engines spooled down, our pilot came back and spoke with the four of us, "Ms. Lee. Ms. Lee, Mr. Mellon, and Mr. Ross, we'll be here late Sunday afternoon to pick you up for a five o'clock departure. If you need us before then, please call. Don't worry if you're late, we won't mind waiting." He thrust a business card into my hand, and gestured to the small terminal building. "I'll have your luggage in a minute."

He opened the door and deployed the stairway. When the stairs were secure, the pilot motioned that we could descend.

As I exited the door of the plane, Brite yelled to us, "Jim. Crystal. Stand in the doorway. Smile. Wave. That's it. Now, slowly come down the stairway ... Jim, help Crystal the last few feet. Good. Kiss at the bottom of the stairs; good. Again! Swing her around -- that's it. Act like you're greeting her." I could hear the continuous snaps of the shutter on her camera as she instructed us. She had another camera hanging around her neck that she occasionally used too. We spent a couple of minutes 'arriving' for her cameras.

Brite had dressed in khaki shorts that revealed her trim legs. She wore lightweight hiking boots, and a matching khaki shirt that she'd tied beneath her breasts so it revealed her trim abs and the curve of her taut breasts. When Brite went braless, the world thought it a blessing even though she had at least ten years on me.

As we walked to the Jeep, Brite hopped down onto the hood of the vehicle, sat, and slid the short distance to the ground. She walked out to meet us.

"Jim, I am so glad you thought of me for this shoot." She turned to Crystal, "And, it is such a pleasure to meet you. I am a fan of your music -- both of you -- although I'm partial to your song 'Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl' from a couple of years ago. I still play it." The pair hugged.

Terry and Brite hugged as they joined us, and Ellen got her welcome hug too. After all the greetings, I hugged Brite in a polite gesture, as a few others around the airport watched us, obviously guessing we were celebrities by the presence of the private jet.

The first officer of the Lear brought our bags over and put them in the rear of the Jeep as we squeezed in. He gave us a crisp salute; we got in, and wove our way between a few planes to get to the exit gate from the ramp.

At her farm and studio, Brite gave everyone a quick tour and showed us to our rooms. By agreement, we reconvened in front of the barn and studio ten minutes later.

Brite explained that she had a slide show she wanted to show us; "I went through my work and scanned the Internet for pictures that might be like the type you're hoping to have forPlayboy and your album by the end of the weekend. I picked only one hundred, so take a look." We filed into the darkened barn where Brite had a projector attached to her computer. We stretched out on a couple of sofas sitting at angles to one another and facing the screen. Brite dimmed the lights, not to darkness but just a soft glow in the studio.

The first picture that she showed revealed a gorgeous model wearing a red bustier. She left it up and prodded us, "Come on, speak up. Like or not like, and why?"

I spoke first. "As a reader ofPlayboy, this is too tame. No breasts and not even a hint of pussy. I could go to any beach in the world and see ten times more skin." The others agreed.

The next photo was of the well-known porn star Jenny Lee. She was reclining on a bench and had a muscular man in front of her. His cock appeared to be on the outstroke from her cunt. Jenny had a look of ecstasy on her face from the penetration and sex.

Crystal spoke first on this one, "Now, I wouldn't mind that in my private collection, and I'd positively enjoy a rod like that.Playboy would reject it as too coarse and obscene." The others agreed with laughter.

Brite laughed; "Well, we bracketed two ends of the spectrum, plus I woke you all up."

Brite sequenced through the rest of the pictures she'd selected, making notes as we commented about suitability, poses, lighting, and the percentage of breasts and genitalia exposed. Generally, as we moved through the pictures an increasing amount of skin and sexual parts became revealed.

The last third of her pictures included one or two other people in each photograph. Several were obviously Sapphic; beautiful poses of two women obviously in love and horny. The rest contained a man, or a man and woman, all nude, heavily shadowed, and in poses suggestive of an unfolding threesome. The pictures were hot.

We were a hot and bothered group after our hour of screening photos. I wondered for a couple of seconds what would happen next, but Crystal solved that for us. She stood in the dim light and walked over to Brite, planting one hell of a kiss on the small woman's lips. We all watched. Brite responded enthusiastically, moving immediately to unbutton Crystal's blouse and bare her breasts.

Ellen gestured for me to come over to the couch and sit on the opposite side of her from Terry. When I did, her hands immediately went to our crotches and started to massage our tumescent dicks through our pants. As she did this, she would turn and passionately kiss one of us before devoting her attention to the other.

The three of us on the sofa watched Crystal and Brite remove each other's clothing. As they did they continued their passionate make-out session.

Terry and I helped Ellen out of her blouse and bra, and then her designer jeans and thong. She put her spike heels back on, knowing that the two of us like the erotic way it made her look, and then worked on pulling off key parts of the clothing Terry and I wore until we were as naked. She paraded in front of us briefly before rejoining us in the middle on the sofa.

I pulled her nearest leg over mine, and Terry did the same on the other side of her. This left her pussy wide open for our tactile enjoyment. Ellen held both our cocks and pumped them continuously as we kissed and tongued her from breasts to ears to mouth. Our hands roamed all over Ellen's body, often focusing in on her pussy -- an errant finger often penetrating her vagina. Several times, Terry and I both had our fingers in Ellen simultaneously, stroking her G-spot and clit. Ellen went into orbit. Her eyes got all glassy as she writhed between us, her hips often coming up off the sofa to meet the assault of our hands and fingers. She started panting and begging in a small voice for one of us to fuck her.

When neither of us reacted right away, she leaned over to me and inhaled my cock into her mouth. I'd reached maximum hardness, so she had a lot to work with. Ellen was skilled, and soon had my entire shaft down her throat.

Terry pulled Ellen's body around slightly, and I watched as he slid his cock into her pussy from the back. We both heard Ellen sigh and moan in delight. Plus, we were putting on a good show for Crystal and Brite.

I watched Crystal and Brite as they moved to the other sofa. A vibrator and a double penetration dildo had been added to the sex play. Brite was thrusting the dildo in and out of her own cunt as the other end of the toy oscillated out and in of Crystal's pussy. Crystal wielded the vibrator mostly on Brite's clit. Both women squirmed in delight, and I watched as both came within a minute of each other.

After their climaxes had passed, Brite rose and came over to where Terry, Ellen, and I were playing. "I would love to change places with Ellen if you'll let me. I want to be played with by two men, and I want to see you and Crystal play."

We uncoupled, and Ellen went to play with her sister. Brite spread herself between Terry and me, the way Ellen had only a few moments earlier -- naked with a leg over each of ours, her pussy spread wide to the world, and her breasts eager in anticipation. We pelted her with kisses -- the wet, sloppy kind with lots of tongue. Brite's large breasts got pawed repeatedly, and we could tell she loved the attention.

Again, the male hands roamed over Brite's body, especially around her cunt. Fingers stroked and penetrated, often simultaneously by the two of us. Brite's body twisted and turned between us in delight. The sound of her moans and enthusiastic participation filled the room.

She moved to Terry's cock, pulling his shaft into her mouth and running her tongue around the mushroom cap. As she moved around, I held her hips and ran my cock up and down her slit. After several passes, I slowly sank into her cunt.

Brite panted, "Oh, fuck. I have so needed this ... you ... the four of you. I just want to fuck all weekend." I assured her that we were all willing to satisfy her wish.

Terry and I traded a willing Brite back and forth between us. Eventually, Terry christened Brite's ass with the help of some Astroglide she produced. As she lay back against him with his cock penetrating her ass, I moved in front of the pair and sank my cock into her cunt again. Terry and I found a comfortable rhythm where neither of us fell out of Brite, she went into some hedonistic outer space of pure pleasure, and the two of us got closer and closer to our orgasms.

As Terry held Brite's breasts, fingering her hard nipples, I heard him say, "I'm less than a minute from shooting."

I panted "Me too."

Brite said, "Fill me guys. I'm there."

Terry blasted into her ass, and I could tell by his gyrations and sound that he'd cum. I followed, hurling jet after jet of raw man-juice into Brite's body. Brite came with a squeal. She grabbed a hold of me and pulled me into her body, so deep that I could feel Terry's cock pulsate on the other side of her peritoneum. She held Terry's hands to her breasts with one arm and me in the other. We kissed, driving our tongues deep into each other's mouths.