tagHumor & SatireFlasher Watkins Ch. 1

Flasher Watkins Ch. 1


They say the eye is the window to the soul. Well I can tell you that when I put my camera in front of my eye, those souls are laid well and truly bare.

Flasher Watkins they call me, snapper extraordinary to all the best top shelf magazines and most of the worst. If a magazine editor wants some hot young lovely draped across his centre spread, it's me he calls. And believe me, nothing warms up a frosty beauty faster than my trusty Nikon pointed between her legs.

Take that posh bit that Harry over at 'Rough 'n Tumble' magazine sent round the other day. They're going to run a monthly series of real high-class girls doing stuff that would give their families mass heart attacks.

So in came Lady Melissa. Hoity-toity, stuck-up little madam if ever I saw one. Thought she was a right rebel, but still wanted to treat me and Donna like servants in her parent's stately home. A lot of them start out like that, but they soon learn that they can't be too demanding with a macro lens focused on the stubble of their freshly trimmed pubes!

Sorry, I dropped poor old Donna in like a nasty smell there. She's my 'photographers assistant'. Funny little thing: small, thin, bony, spiky hair that seems to change colour every week, no tits worth speaking of and a sex drive like a rabbit. I'd like to think she works for me to learn the fine craft of 'glamour' photography at the feet of the master, but the truth is she needs the money and she gets all the sex she can handle. We snap men as well as women and Donna doesn't much care which is which - she swings every way that's going and then some.

Anyway, back to Milady Melissa. She turned up wrapped up in the sorriest excuse for clothes I've seen in a long time. Beige, woollen, baggy and long. Not the most flattering stuff for a would-be glamour model.

Donna took her into the studio to settle her in while I hid out back. My studio can't be described as luxurious, but it serves its purpose. It's at the top of a three-story building. Street level is a greengrocer - handy for props sometimes. An old tart who got too long in the tooth to pull in any passing trade rents the floor below mine. She's got a few regulars who like to get her to tie them up and bash them around a bit, but apart from that, she specialises in phone sex. We often hear her groaning away down there. If only her callers knew!

Right opposite is old Moroccan Marlene's flat where she 'entertains' her gentlemen guests. Or would like to. The old bag is so far over the hill that the last time she saw a trick he wore a top hat and was on a TV special.

I wouldn't change it though. I've worked in London all my life and Soho has got a feeling like nowhere else. Old Compton Street may be seedy and full of battle-scarred strippers, worn down whores and perverts in dirty macs, but I feel right at home.

Anyway, my studio is at the top. It's just one big room where all the equipment is set up - with a big skylight. In summer, we get great natural light. Mind you, the other 48 weeks it's raining. There is a tiny toilet, a smaller shower room and a kitchen that even cockroaches would turn their noses up at. At the back, there is a darkroom. That's it. A grand a month, plus electric and rates. Daylight robbery!

Miss up-yer-arse saunters in and looks around. You'd have thought someone was dead and propped up in the corner the way she looked down her nose at the place. Donna is a pretty good organiser, though, and wasn't having any of that old bollocks. She sat her down in the big wicker chair in the corner.

"Wanna drink?" That was Donna's idea of putting them at their ease.

"Lemon tea with a twist. Okay?"

"Nah, teabags, instant coffee or vodka. No ice though."

"Oh. Black coffee then, please."

When she had her coffee perched in her lap I decided to make my entrance.

"Good morning Miss Upton-Bagshot," I said in my most businesslike manner. I busied myself setting up the cameras. "Are you ready to get started?"

She was plainly having second thoughts now it was time to get down to it. So to unwind her a bit I started snapping away while she sat in the chair drinking her coffee. She soon got used to the idea of me pointing the camera at her and started to relax.

"Excellent, that's it...chin up…tilt your head to the right…eyes wider…beautiful…you're bloody photogenic, darlin'…stand up now…shoulders back…wonderful…you're a natural…can we try it without the overcoat…perfect…these shots are fantastic…slip off the cardigan…YES!!…"

Gradually, I used the Flasher Watkins charm and got her down to her underwear. At least that was a bit more attractive than what she had on over it: a black thong, black hold-up stockings and a black satin camisole top. Looked expensive. Probably all from Janet Reger. Nice. Made a change from the chain store undies we usually get to see. As she got comfortable parading around for me in her smalls I could see she was quite a looker. Long legs, slim but not too thin, medium sized tits, which seemed nicely pointed under that shiny top. And a great tan - probably from laying out on some young toff's yacht. No sign so far of bikini lines.

Now that there was a bit more of her on display, I quietly signalled to Donna to put some film in the cameras. There's no point wasting it on the preliminaries. Melissa was posing quite well for an amateur and I figured it was time to find out if she was really up to the job.

"Slip your top off now, love, lets get some real glamour poses."

She looked like she was about to pout for a moment, but then shrugged and pulled it over her head. Not bad. Perky little devils, conical, firm and upward pointing. She didn't need ice cubes to add interest - her nipples were some of the longest I'd ever seen. And I've seen a lot! They stuck out about an inch and a half, and half an inch thick, in a lovely shade of light brown. I could see that Donna was interested too, but we both knew better than to frighten the kid off.

"Oh beautiful," I admired, "award-winning stuff. Now, arch your back…that's right…turn sideways…yes…lean forward…push them together…pout your lips…great…yes, wet your lips…seduce the camera…oh babe, that's perfect…"

She might have sunbathed topless, but I doubt she'd ever showed off like this before. Our little Lady Melissa really began to get into it. You can always tell when the exhibitionist inside starts to come out. Her movements became bigger, her smile wider, her pout sexier and she started to ask questions.

"Like this? How about that? Are my nipples hard enough? Do they really look good?"

All the time Donna fussed around her: powdered her face as she 'glowed' under the lights, arranged her long dark hair, helped her achieve the right pose. And Donna didn't fail to steal a surreptitious feel here and there. It was no wonder Melissa relaxed into the mood; the amount of contact Donna gave her. I thought I would help her out.

"OK Melissa, I want a really sexy shot now…put your hands under your breasts…lift them up for me…lovely, but not quite what I need…Donna, can you show her…"

Donna smiled at me behind Melissa's back and reached around, let each globe slide into her tiny palms, pinched those incredible nipples and presented them to the camera. Melissa was too astonished to react. Donna let go and casually went back to her work, leaving Melissa totally confused about what had just happened. I didn't give her time to dwell.

"See…that's what I want you to do…ready…we don't have all day…good…GOOD…you've got the idea…now make them harder for me…stroke them…that's right baby…pull them out…"

All the time I was snapping away, thinking, 'Christ, this girl is hot.'

And hot she was. For fifteen or twenty minutes, we snapped tit shots from every angle and pose I could think of. As the poses got more complicated, Donna had to 'help' more and more. Melissa was got very comfortable in front of the camera, and pretty soon even started to ask Donna for assistance. That was the point I knew the day was going to be worthwhile. Maybe a pro can separate her mind from her body, but with all the teasing nipple action our ice girl had thawed out and it wouldn't be long before the crotch of her very expensive panties gave the game away. It was time to move on.

"Melissa, bend over the arm of the sofa … that's right … push your bum higher … lovely … open your legs a bit … no, don't bend them, keep 'em straight … perfect."

Her thong rode up her arse crack and made a fantastic shot. It separated her smooth cheeks and displayed them to perfection while her most intimate treasures remained hidden. I had to work fast because even Harry's grubby magazine wouldn't print pictures of a girl with an obviously wet gusset.

We snapped a whole roll of close-ups of Melissa's black-covered crotch. I doubt if anyone had paid her that much attention down there with the lights on. I had to stop when I asked Donna to help pull them up even higher. The thin material slipped between the lips of Lady Mel's pussy and a dark stain started to spread through the silk.

"Donna, help Melissa off with her knickers, love."

Donna didn't give her time to think; she just unceremoniously pulled them down. I deliberately ignored her, reloaded the camera with my back to them. When I turned she stood rather demurely with her hands crossed in front of herself, not quite sure what to do next.

"Excellent!" I said in my working bluster. "Now we can shoot the pictures you really want."

Her hands didn't stay there for long. The first thing I did was tell her to put her hands behind her head and give me a couple of old-fashioned body shots. She was a dark horse, our Mel: it was clear that she had been busy with the shaving foam and Donna and I openly admired the view. Her pubic hair was well trimmed into the thinnest little black stripe. Her lips were bare - just the way I prefer them – and a darker colour than the rest of her body. Her inner lips just protruded and glistened.

"You are beautiful, darlin'," I said. "Now let's get down to the real work."

We did lots of 'glamour' shots: legs together, legs apart, bending over, one leg up, sitting down, squatting. All the usual stuff. Donna stood by with a large box of tissues to dab away any sweat that appeared on Melissa's forehead under the bright lights. I wanted a series of shots sitting down in the armchair with her legs getting wider apart, but I knew that the obvious wetness between her legs would make the shots unpublishable in England.

"Donna, I need you to use your tissues down there. Dry her off so we can do the open shots."

"What …" Melissa came back from whatever planet she'd been on.

Too late. Donna had a wad of Kleenex between Mel's legs faster than you could say 'what the fuck!' Faster than Mel could, anyway.

"Don't worry, babe," Donna said, "most girls get a bit wet. It's nuffing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed. It's just…"

"That's alright then. Oh look, there's a bit of tissue stuck to you." Donna leaned over and delicately parted Melissa's pussy lips so she could pluck the offending scrap of tissue away. "Okay Flash, she's dry as a bone. Best be quick though."

I managed to get a roll or two off before nature started to take its course again. This girl was so worked up with the excitement of showing herself off that I just knew we could push thing a lot further.

"Great…you are too beautiful. Now lie back in the armchair…put one leg up on the arm…lovely…you really are very pretty there you know…now the other leg…yes that's right, on the other arm…you look so good…good enough to eat…only joking…yes, now think sexy thoughts…perfect…touch your breast…that's right…now the other hand on your pubes…lovely…so sexy…"

"Aren't I, you know, wet again?"

"Yes, you are Melissa. We've got all the shots we need for the magazine. We could stop right now. But I'm sure you'd like some special ones for you to keep. Maybe to give to your boyfriend. Do you want to stop? Or shall I carry on? Its up to you."

Melissa sat on the chair; legs stretched wide apart, pussy lips parted and glistening and considered what I'd said.

"I can't pretend I'm not enjoying this can I?"

"Not really," Donna smiled at her, "and you should know that I am too."

"Fuck it, tell me what you want me to do."

"You won't regret it. Now, relax and move your fingers down on yourself…yes, your clit…that's right…stroke it…its so fine…now use your fingers on your pretty pussy…no, not like that…Donna, show her…"

This was the moment Donna had been waiting for. Her hand snaked out and covered Melissa's.

"Let me show you what he means."

Donna's fingers dipped into the damp folds of Melissa's pussy, and gently opened her up for the camera to examine. And examine I did. Smooth coral pink, shiny flesh surrounded by crinkly brown folds, framed by darker pink, pouting lips, with Donna's clever fingers dipping and sliding in all the right places.

"You've got to love yourself for the camera. Don't just feel nice, show that you feel nice."

Melissa was so concentrating on getting things right that she didn't care that I was now snapping a lesbian session - a long way from the tame centre-fold shots she had come here for. Donna knew exactly what she was doing and her wet little fingers played with Mel's tits while I took close-ups of Mel feverishly pleasuring herself.

"Nobody has ever watched me do this before. God! I feel so sexy!"

My little studio was filled with the familiar musky smell of a woman aroused. Melissa was way past the point of no return, but I didn't want her to come yet and spoil the spell.

"Stop what you're doing Melissa!" I spoke roughly to get through to her.

"Wha? Why?"

I moved so that my erection was rather obvious.

"This hasn't happened to me before, darlin', but you are so incredible, I am so excited at the sight of you. I see naked girls all the time, I don't normally get like this, but you are so special." If she believed that, she'd believe anything.

Her eyes didn't leave my crotch.

"Oh, God," the girl gasped, "Get that thing out. I want a cock in me."

"So do I," said Donna as she quickly stripped off her work clothes – thigh length black skirt, grungy T-shirt and running shoes. No bra or knickers for this girl – she likes to be ready for anything. Even though she is built more like a boy than a grown woman, her appeal was very real. Her sexual voracity just shines through.

I got down on my knees and licked harshly at the pretty pussy displayed for me. What a flavour! My tongue danced over her soft, smooth folds, savouring the glorious taste and breathing deeply of her feminine aroma. I was getting lost in the moment when Donna's fingers found Mel's clit and gently rubbed. I sank my tongue in deep. Not to be left out, Donna moved around and took over. She immediately closed her lips over Mel's swollen clit. Mel just pushed her fingers into Donna's spiky hair and desperately pulled her tight onto her gaping cunt.

My own clothes joined Donna's on the floor. With my cock unleashed and at its full length I presented it to Melissa's sighing mouth. She was so hot that she just sucked it in and grabbed my balls. She knew exactly what to do - no lessons were needed this time. Her finishing school in Paris or Zurich or wherever had evidently given her some kind of useful education. She drew me deep into her mouth, all the time moving her tongue around in a most unexpected and interesting way.

Donna moved up, straddled Melissa's waist and played with the posh girl's tits. Then, lowering herself slowly down, she ground their clits hard together. That got Mel's attention! Suddenly she stopped sucking me, pulled her mouth back and let out a stream of language that would have made her family disown her forever.

"Ohh, fucking good you little bitch, yes…yes…do that…ohh…someone get this cock inside me…NOW!!!…"

I was presented with a wonderful dilemma: give Mel what she wanted – hard fast and deep, or slip it into little Donna's upturned pussy and let the posh cow wait. No contest. Posh got it. All the way, in one. Donna was squashed between us, but she quickly scooted up to present her own, too-long ignored pussy to Melissa's face.

Mel was so worked up that her mouth closed over Donna's clit and I could hear the lovely wet sounds as her tongue brought obvious pleasure. I reached up and grabbed Donna's tits, rough and hard, just like she loves it. I twisted each nipple viciously while I slammed my thick cock, like a pile driver, into Melissa's tight cunt.

Melissa screamed and came hard and fast. I think Melissa must have bitten on Donna's clit in her excitement because little Donna shuddered and groaned straight after. With the girls temporarily satisfied, I took a moment to rearrange them so that I could slip my cock from one to the other. This was the best of both worlds. I slipped out of Mel and straight into Donna. Two, three strokes, then back to Mel. This was fun, and the girls were busy too. They rubbed their tits together and groaned into each other's mouths. Mel seemed to be having a whole series of mini orgasms.

Well, I might be a randy bastard, but I'm not superman. It didn't take much of that before I felt the familiar tightening of the balls that let me know I wasn't going to last much longer. I couldn't decide which girl to finish in, so I let the artist in me have full reign. At the last possible moment, (I was in Donna, by chance), I pulled young Flash out and covered both pouting pussies with the old Watkins developing fluid. That set Donna off into one of her shuddering, juddering climaxes, which always make me, think she's having a fit. While they were relaxing with my creamy stuff slowly running down their intimate parts, I grabbed my camera and shot off a few choice frames for my personal collection.

After that, I let Donna carry on playing with Mel, who had lost a good deal of her hoity-toity attitude. They were by now very happily laying on a rug, getting to know each other better, and both completely oblivious of me. I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. When I came back, Donna was dozing on the rug and her ladyship was getting dressed.

"Well, Melissa," I said cheerily, "I think we've got some great pictures for the magazine. Have a cuppa and we can chat about your next session."

"I don't think so," she relied rather frostily. "One set of your pictures was quite enough. Anyway, I have got Donna's phone number if I feel like a bit more rough. And don't even think about using some of the other shots. I want all the copies and the negatives or my brothers and I will be paying you a visit."

With that, she breezed out of the studio and clomped down the wooden stairs. I was left to wonder just who'd had who. It would be a shame to part with some of those pictures. Still she hadn't noticed the video camera hidden in the studio wall. Donna and I would have a lot of fun watching that one.

* * *

In Chapter two, Flasher and Donna mix in circles above their station, Flash is in awe of a male model's endowment and Donna has fun with whipped cream.

I do hope that you have enjoyed reading about Flash and Donna. Please don't forget to cast a vote. Thank you.

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