Jayne's World Pt. 21

A word from Jayne.

My regulars know this but newcomers may be pleased to learn that this is a very long story with numerous characters and storylines. For continuity, it's recommended that it's read in chronological order but each part is a standalone erotic adventure. So, whichever way you read it, I hope you enjoy my world and feel free to leave a comment; I promise to read every one.

I have published this in the lesbian category as I am introducing my initiation into bisexual sex to the readers. However, there is some male/female sex which I hope any lesbian readers will forgive.

HER.

I was trying to work out what to say to Max about Zak. I just couldn't think how to bring up the subject as it would reveal to Max that I had cheated on him by having two gigs with a client I had met through him. And boy what gigs they had been, in more ways than one.

For a start, they were my first paid extras as a glamour photographic model, albeit almost accidental. What I did with the photographer, who was younger than me, was a quite amazing way to start providing extras as he wanted anal and then oral to the point of cumming in my mouth. On top of that, he was entering a photographic competition with a portfolio entitled 'A Touch of Pink' so it's not difficult to work out where he focused his camera mostly during the shoot! But for the offered sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds he could have done pretty much whatever he wanted for all I was concerned!

But, and it really is a bloody big but, it had all gone tits up, as after the second session when I'd tried contacting him to get my money, Zak stopped answering his phone or replying to emails and, shit of all shits, there had been no reply at the flat where he'd photographed and anally fucked me. On top of all that, when I'd gone to the apartment in Knightsbridge that was supposed to belong to his dad, and where we'd done the full oral, the doorman had told me that it was rented out by the hour or day. 'Fuck it.' I realised I'd been scammed so I decided to forget him, and the seven fifty, and not bother talking to Max about it.

I wasn't really all that concerned as to what Max would think or do if he found out that I'd been moonlighting with Zak. My schedule of the 400-miles round trip from London to Leeds that I was now doing at least every other week, and sometime two or three weeks in a row, was just getting too much for me. Although it was fairly lucrative, and I was starting to get my head above water financially after the disastrous consequences with my parents from the credit crunch brought on by the stupidity of the American banks, it couldn't go on. Mickey was becoming more demanding and had now let me use one of his cars, a nice Audi Quattro but, of course that had to be paid for by another afternoon in bed with him where he was becoming ever-more sexually demanding, both in content and quantity. So, I had to be in London for his now weekly Thursday afternoon visits and that put a hell of a stress on my travelling up and down England so something had to give.

For some time now I'd been mulling over providing extras. As a glamour photographic model, it was clearly where the real money was. After what I almost got from 'Zak the scam' as I now thought of him, and following the sex with 'thick as a plank Lee,' I reached two conclusions. The money from providing extras was good and was what I wanted. Actually, with dad now bankrupt and living in Spain my money tap had been turned off probably permanently so money was more than wanted it was essential. The second conclusion I reached was more contentious. That was that giving sex for money wasn't that different from using it to pay my rent or to say thanks for a night out!

The obvious answer was to find a studio or studios nearer to where I lived that didn't have the restriction on extras that Max had at his place in Leeds. What I didn't quite understand was how he could take videos of the type he had of Lee and me having sex, yet I couldn't do that without being videoed. It didn't make sense, at least not to me. He'd explained it to me that if I sold sex and paid something to him, he could be arrested and charged with living off immoral earnings. Whereas if he filmed me and paid me that was quite legit. I can't say I really got it, even after his explanation although I understood that legally that made me a hooker and that made me smile and think, 'I'm Jayne the whore wouldn't mum and dad be proud!'.

I asked a couple of other girls who modelled at Max's studio to see if they knew of any in London and I got a couple of suggestions. More useful though, was the idea to use Google and search for modelling studios. At that time, I really had no idea what Google was, and so I was pleasantly surprised at how many came up when I typed in 'photographic studios'. I whittled these down to those convenient but not too close, a tip from one of Max's girls, to where I now lived just outside London, having moved out from Mickey's flat.

Whilst this was going on, and I was regularly posing at Max's studio in Leeds, I was missing so many opportunities to provide extras as I estimated that at least one in three or maybe even half of the punters asked for something.

At the same time, I had an enormous piece of luck. Without going into too much detail, dad had built a flat over the treble car garage at the 'family mansion' in Essex just outside London. After he went bust, it turned out he'd put that in my name, bless him, so the people sorting out his company's bankruptcy affairs couldn't repossess that at the same time they had the house, so I now had somewhere to live, that is until the legal wheels finished their slow turning and they could reclaim it.

I had an almighty row with Mickey when I told him I was leaving, especially as I lied and said I was moving to Leeds. "Why the fuck d'you want to go up there, they all speak funny and fly fucking pigeons," was his typically, unthinking response. Despite that, and me being slightly scared of what his repercussions might be, I moved out and set up home over the garage. That meant I had to buy a car and pay the utilities on my 'granny flat,' so I badly needed a larger income.

After probably twenty phone calls I narrowed the potential studios down to a short list of five and started meeting the owners. Four of those were men and the other was Kate, a middle-aged woman whose studio was on the ground floor of a fairly large detached house in a secluded area in southern Hertfordshire, about an hour's drive from my new home. Prior to this, I'd seen two studios and was becoming a little depressed as both were nowhere near the size or standard of what I had become used to in Leeds with Max. I was, therefore, pleased at Kate's place which was large, well-furnished and fully equipped with lights and the other technical stuff needed for photography, little of which I understood. Also, I liked her and almost immediately felt comfortable with her especially, when after showing me around she told me, without me having to ask, "There's no CCTV or hidden mics Jayne so, what goes on in the studio is completely your business, if you get what I mean?"

"Yes, I think I do," I replied, hoping that she was telling me that I could offer extras. The two other studio owners had both told me in more down to earth ways that they allowed extras, so it seemed that Max was the exception rather than the rule.

She was a striking looking woman. Taller than me, she was slim with fairly cropped fashionably grey hair and long, slender legs encased in black leather. Not classically beautiful, as her nose was on the large size and she had thin lips she did though, have piercing blue eyes that seemed to drill right into me as she held my gaze, which she seemed to do quite often.

"So do you want us to find you clients Jayne, or do you have your own?" she asked when we sat down at a desk and she poured us each a glass of white wine. Both the other studio owners had asked the same question, so I had an answer off pat.

"I do have a couple of clients but in the main Kate, I would like the studio to provide them."

Looking me right in the eye and again holding my gaze she replied. "Well with your looks lovey, that shouldn't be too much of a problem but I'll need to see the rest and take a few shots."

"I've got some here," I replied, showing her a memory stick of my portfolio shots.

"Yes that's great thanks but I want see you in action and see how you pose and love the camera, okay?"

"Yes sure."

"Well stand up and undress down to your undies please, love."

Although I was used to undressing for photographers, I had always found it strange to be naked or near so for Max, and that was also the case with Kate watching me undress. Thanking my lucky stars that I'd worn some of my prettier underwear, I slid out of my jeans and top and stood before Kate in my black, lacy boy shorts.

"Mmmmm, nice, and no tats I see, good. Turn round dearie."

I turned for her and stopped when she said, "okay Jayne stay like that for a sec please." It seemed to be a very long sec before she went on, "that's great love, you have a gorgeous bum, let me see more of it please."

"Want me to bend over or take the panties off?"

"No just roll them down so I can see all of it please."

I rolled my panties down so that they were around my thighs but beneath the cheeks of my bottom and exposing my bare pubic mound.

Being so close to a female stranger who was clearly inspecting me to see if I was attractive enough to pose for her clients gave me some strange feelings. I felt a combination of shyness and embarrassment with a sort of arousal that was not that different to what I usually felt when posing, and a nervousness that I put down to being viewed by a woman. I couldn't understand just what it was and what was causing it, but the feelings increased when she moved forward, stood close to me and whispered, "and now the bra please love."

I was surprised when I reached behind my back to get to the clasp of my bra that my fingers were fumbling, but I got it undone and took my bra off just as she walked around me and stood facing me from less than a yard or so.

"Mmmmm, very nice dear, they really are gorgeous," she said in low voice as she stared unashamedly at my breasts.

As I stood there topless with my panties around my thighs, and seeing her eyes boring into my boobs, the intensity of the feelings increased. I suddenly realised that they were very similar to those I usually got when posing. The feelings that gave me a tingle all over, those that were like an arousal, and yes, those that made me feel as if I wanted to be fucked. But this was different. Okay, I was in a way posing, but Kate wasn't a photographer, she wasn't a punter paying me to 'flash my bits' for the camera, and most of all, she wasn't a man. Kate was a woman and a striking and sexy one at that, I suddenly found myself thinking, as I ran my gaze up and down her slim body. What was happening to me, I was wondering, as she said in what had become like a husky whisper, "oh yes baby, they'll love it," as her gaze focused on my body. I felt awkward and embarrassed, but being an exhibitionist and fairly vain, as models need to be, I also felt pleased and rather excited that this very experienced studio owner liked me. Almost without thinking, I felt myself adjusting my position, and I realised I had begun to pose for her, and not just undress. I had straightened my back and pushed my boobs out. I pulled my tummy in a little, flattening it completely and I crossed, uncrossed and opened my legs as I moved. All this made me think, 'what the fuck's going on with me?'

Kate solved that for me by whispering, "You really do have the most delicious tits, darling, just cup them for me please," as she put the camera to her eye.

That surprised me, as I'd sort of forgotten that I was posing for her to decide if I was up to the high standard she'd said she demanded for her retained models. I clicked into my full posing mode and ogling the camera I cupped, lifted and squeezed my breasts, sending shivers of something through me, a sort of lust was it, or maybe sexual desire? It increased as she clicked away, zooming in and out on my hands and boobs as she muttered, "pinch your nipples babe, they look as if they need it."

I knew immediately what she meant, but I couldn't resist looking down as I took them between my forefingers and thumbs and confirmed what I realised with guilt: that they were hard. I knew that and Kate knew it as well, but what did it mean?

I wasn't into women. I didn't lust for their bodies, fantasise about having sex with them, have crushes on female pop or film stars or look at them and imagine what they looked like naked. Okay, like most girls my age I had messed around a little in my late teens and early twenties. I had snogged a few and performed dirty dancing at clubs and had some mild sex on beds at house parties. Yes, I had kissed and been kissed, I had fondled and been fondled and one fairly drunken night I had fingered and been fingered. But none of that was really serious; it was just experimenting, a sort of testing-the-water to see whether I wanted to plunge in or be in a take it or leave it state. And to my relief, I guess, I had found that I liked cock too much to plunge in. But here I was with a, probably, fifty-year-old woman, getting so very, very turned on and wondering if she had noticed. And of course, she had noticed, of course she was perfectly aware of what she was doing to me, and what was happening to me. And as equally of course, she was going to enjoy what she was doing to me.

"And they do need it, don't they Jayne, they need it quite badly, don't they?" she said softly, staring into my eyes as I continued pinching my nipples. I didn't reply so she continued in the soft, smooth tone that was almost mesmeric to me, that was almost hypnotising me and without doubt was almost seducing me. And she knew that as well as I did, as she said in a near whisper, "Harder lovey, pinch them harder, pinch them for me Jayne, enjoy it."

Almost as if on an auto-pilot sort of thing I did as she said and pinched them harder, nearly, but not quite, hurting myself but finding exactly the right amount of pressure to avoid any pain so I just enjoyed the pleasure. "Is that good Jayne, is that what you need and want?" she continued, as we held each other's gazes. "Is it darling?" she persisted.

"Yes, Kate yes, it is," I whimpered, feeling hopelessly inadequate as she moved closer and ran her fingertips across my cheek, over my eyelids and along my bottom lip. That felt so incredibly intimate making me wonder why no one had done that to me before, but then I had never been in such a situation with a woman before. Just as I had never had a woman close her hand around mine that was cupping my breast and squeezing it. And just as I had not had a woman slide their other arm around my waist and pull me against them as they whispered, "And is this what you want, lovely Jayne?" I didn't answer, not because I didn't want to, but more because I simply couldn't, because I felt bewitched. So much so, that as her face moved slowly yet purposefully towards mine in the way that many men's had in the past, I still didn't move. Even as her lips brushed against mine, as her hand rested on the cheeks of my ass, as she squeezed that malleable orb and as her lips covered mine, I did and said nothing. Then she was kissing me. Light and easy at first, as presumably she tested the waters again but then, finding no objection, more persistently and deeper. She removed her hand from my breast and slid that arm around my shoulders, pulling my face closer to hers so that our mouths were more tightly clamped together and my naked breasts were squashed firmly against her. I felt any resistance I had leaving me and to my amazement, shock and, I suppose, guilt after a few moments, I began to kiss her back. As her lips squirmed against mine, so I writhed mine back and as her tongue probed against them, mine fell open seemingly of their own accord. Her mouth was everywhere on mine. Licking, sucking, and gently nibbling. I was certain I had never been kissed so passionately and, I guess, professionally before in my life. It took me over completely and I found my arms going around her. I was gone. I had lost all control and any resistance I had when I had slid my panties down and removed my bra had disappeared. I became putty in her hands.

Somehow, since there was no resistance from me, she manoeuvred us towards the bed, which seems to be a standard prop in studios, and laid me on it. Looking down at me as she started undoing the buttons on her blouse she muttered probably the most erotic phrase that had ever been said to me. "I want to make such complete lady love to you Jayne. Is that okay?"

I had no idea really exactly what she meant by complete lady love but it sounded perfect and so sexy that I had no other idea than to nod and mutter, "Yes Kate."

*

HIM.

One of the problems with having a young girl friend was that when I couldn't see her, I missed her and missed sex with her so much. Pre Jayne, I would go weeks without sex, but now I had occasional sex with her, and because what we did really was mind blowing, when I didn't see her, I missed it so very, very much. Also, I guess I was in love with her which added to how much I missed her. So, I had to find another source for sex and that became massage parlours. I tried a couple in Leeds and Bradford but then saw one advertised in Manchester that offered two girl massages. After a fairly long and friendly phone call, I found out that the girls would both be in their late twenties, would be very attractive and ultra-friendly. It took me a few minutes to work out how to ask the 64 thousand question but when I did the answer was encouraging. "They are very close friends and they show that when they massage you." So, I booked a two-hour session the next afternoon.

Everything the receptionist had told me about the cleanliness of the place was correct. She showed me into a neat and tidy though rather small cubicle that had a massage table in the middle and a small table against one wall on which there were several bottles and a couple of bowls, a pile of towels and several other bits and pieces, and in the corner a shower cubicle. It was pleasantly warm and smelled clean and fresh.

"Okay James?" the plumpish but attractive receptionist, whom I could easily have fancied, asked.

"Yes great thanks," I replied, for some reason holding her gaze in a clearly suggestive stare as I thought, 'you never know and just in case.'

I did as she told me and undressed, had a shower and I was wrapping the towel around my waist when there was a tap on the door and two visions of both beauty and sex walked in. They were about the same height as Jayne and they introduced themselves as Cassie and Ros. Both had longer hair than Jayne with one being blonder than her and the other a deep brunette. They were wearing white coats, tunics really like dental nurses I suppose, which had buttons up the front with the top few left undone so that their cleavages were on show, making me wonder immediately if they were wearing bras or not. The coats had short sleeves and ended well above their knees so I saw masses of tanned, bare leg flesh in addition to that on their chests and arms. Being in a small room, next to a massage table, holding a towel around my naked body with two tasty young, provocatively dressed women was quite something and I could immediately feel my whole genital area starting to tingle as the effect of the double dose of Cialis I had taken started to kick in.

One of them said in a fairly broad Yorkshire accent, "Don't bother with that James," nodding at the towel. "Just lay on your front and we'll cover your bum with it."