Lawrence and Elaine in FocusbyInsertitude©
Lawrence Richards was in a bad mood. He was a fine art photographer who specialised in landscape and architecture, but like most artists, he was struggling to make ends meet. Now, he had had to resort to wedding photography to pay the bills and he hated it. Shooting weddings reminded him of crucifixion except that it was slower and more painful, and to add insult to injury, he was shortly to find himself having to accept a commission to shoot some children's portraits. This was not what he'd had in mind when he'd decided to become a professional photographer.
It had been a beautiful day, but the morning and afternoon had been wasted shooting another ghastly nuptial. That was bad enough, but his grumpiness was exacerbated by the fact that it was taking place in a particularly gorgeous area of the Peak District that he would have loved to have been out photographing for the sake of art. Marriage as a procedure and institution was something he increasingly disapproved of, and having to photograph such events kept him from work he preferred.
What he did approve of though was women, and even wedding ceremonies had their little compensations. He was a strong and fit man in his mid thirties, and naturally had a healthy interest in pretty girls; but at the same time, he had always taken a special interest in ladies who did not conform to contemporary standards of 'beauty'. As a photographer, he had honed the skill off seeing what was invisible to others, and he had a rare talent for finding beauty where most people were blind to it.
And so, had the previous seven hours not dragged his mood down quite so low, he'd have bristled when Elaine had approached him to enquire after his professional services. She wanted him to photograph her two young daughters, aged five and seven, and seemed to think he'd be pleased to be asked. But he didn't like children, hated family portraits, and was now in a village hall disco full of drunken idiots and screaming kids, which to Lawrence was at the very least up there with thumbscrews and the rack. She hadn't failed to notice his poor humour, but she was not easily deterred.
"Lawrence, is that right?" she screamed at him in order to make herself heard over the thumping music. There were rather too many people for the room, and everyone was very hot and sweaty. Nonetheless, through the flashing lights and gyrating bodies, Lawrence had not failed to appreciate the curvaceous single mum who now stood before him, her moist bosom and full paunch straining at the red fabric of her dress, which seemed specially designed to accentuate the spectacular voluptuousness of her bottom.
Lawrence nodded, and pretended to compose a shot.
"How's it going?"
He looked at her like it was a strange thing to ask. And in return, she cast him a soft and understanding look of a kind that a maths teacher might give to a student struggling to solve a difficult equation.
"Wonderful," he said.
"Don't lie!" she laughed. Her accent was rather upper class as far as he could tell in all the noise, and she had the air of someone with money — money being something he was all too aware he needed. He forced himself to make eye contact.
He didn't fail to appreciate how quickly she was getting her breath back either. Lawrence ran a lot and tried to keep in shape, and knew good cardiovascular fitness when he saw it. He guessed she was in her mid- to late-thirties like himself, and surmised she ate healthy food, if perhaps rather a lot of it.
"I'm not lying, I'm loving every minute of it!" he replied. She moved alongside him to make way for someone, causing her right breast to rub against his arm. It was surprisingly firm, and very very big with a prominent nipple.
She smiled, apparently oblivious to how much he'd enjoyed that fleeting contact.
"You don't have a poker face I'm afraid, Lawrence," she said with a laugh. "Has anyone offered you a drink? It's so hot in here, you must be parched!"
"No one offered," he replied clumsily.
"Then let me get you one," she said. "I might have another job for you actually so I want a quick word. What would you like to drink?"
"Diet coke please."
"Not something stronger?
He actually felt an uncharacteristic craving for alcohol, and quickly reconsidered. "OK, I'll have a pint of lager then please."
She nodded her head, and started making her way to the bar. He raised the camera to his eye, swifty composed, and cracked off an absolutely first class shot of her derriere as she negotiated her way through the tight space between two sweaty bodies. Lowering the camera, he reviewed the image on the rear LCD, zooming in as though to check focus. He scrolled down the image until her bottom filled the screen.
Elaine returned shortly with two pints of strong lager.
"Would you like to step outside for a moment?" she asked. "I could do with some air!"
"I'm supposed to be working," he said dubiously, although truth be told he was very anxious to get out of there.
"I'm sure you've got more than enough wonderful photographs to keep everyone happy, Lawrence. Come on."
Gratefully accepting the beer held out to him, he even managed a smile and turned to squeeze towards the rear exit, following her lead. She could flirt without being flirtatious, he observed.
Outside the sun was setting, and they sat at a picnic bench.
"Bloody hell, that noise," she groaned, taking a swig of beer.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"No, definitely not!" she said. "But Jenny and I were at school together, so I want her to think I'm enjoying her wedding. I'm so happy for her of course, but weddings are not my scene."
"Nor mine," he said, grimly.
She laughed. "Blimey, you're in the wrong line of work then, Lawrence!"
"I know. I'm actually a fine art photographer, but there's not much money in it."
She seemed interested. "Is that where you photograph naked ladies?"
"Some people do. I tend to stick to landscape and architecture."
Elaine laughed. "I like your work," she said. "Jenny showed me your wedding portfolio."
"I can make a decent photograph of anything."
"Including naked ladies?"
"Can't say that I've ever tried," he said. He was lying, but certainly hadn't done any nudes for a long time. "Anyway, what can I do for you? Someone said you wanted some portraits of your children, is that right?"
"Yes it is. Would you be willing?"
"Of course," he said. "But I ain't cheap."
"That's OK, I ain't poor!" she chuckled.
"My studio is near Buxton."
"That's nice," she said, "but I'd rather you did the shoot at my house. And afterwards, I'd like you to photograph me."
"Naked?" he quipped.
To his surprise she seemed to think. "Maybe," she mused. "I want you to make me look sexy. I might wear something revealing."
Unsure whether to be shocked or delighted, the photographer held her gaze. "OK," he said, "but you don't seem the type."
"Because I'm not pretty?"
"Because you just don't seem the type!" he reiterated, and knew he'd sounded more caustic than he'd intended. "Trust me, I see things."
"I'm sure you do," she said, plangently. He suddenly felt a little bit sorry for her, and began to hope he hadn't put her off.
"What will you do with the kids?" he asked. "You can hardly do a sexy photo shoot with them there."
"If you can fit me in next Saturday, their father has them in the afternoon. You can do the family stuff in the morning then do me afterwards."
She was hard to read. Again, he wasn't entirely sure whether the double entendre was a slip of the tongue, so Lawrence just smiled at her and sipped his pint. He found her interesting on a number of levels, and despite having a strong desire to be left alone and not to have to shoot any dreadful family portraits, he was finding himself increasingly glad he'd met her. A tall brunette with a full curvaceous figure who could flirt without trying, was apparently single, and who seemed to have an urge to explore some naughty side of her, represented an opportunity he could hardly pass up on.
Although he sensed that a dark and powerful sexuality boiled deep down inside her beautiful rounded belly, Elaine was on the surface somewhat reserved. Even though she was at a wedding and wore an expensive red dress, it was conservative rather than sexy, and she wore only the barest minimum of makeup. Her complexion was nice but by no means perfect, and she clearly didn't care about a few small wrinkles and other natural blemishes: she could have hidden them under a layer of makeup like most of the other women there if she'd wanted to, but she either hadn't noticed them or simply wasn't bothered, or else didn't see the point of trying to beautify herself. Furthermore, wafting on the cool night air, above the subtle scent of her expensive perfume, he could just detect the faint whiff of her sweat. And as his brain processed the information that the smell he was picking up was her body, it also came to his attention that she had aroused him to a full erection.
He shifted uneasily in his seat, and she had no trouble detecting his discomfort.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"You seem ill at ease."
"As I say, I'm not keen on weddings and it's been a long day."
"Is it that you don't want to photograph me or my children?" she asked, returning her gaze to him.
"On the contrary, I can hardly wait."
"Say it like you mean it!" she laughed.
"Of course I mean it," he said. "I'm a professional, and I look forward to plying my trade."
She had a way of keeping him on the hook: "Yes, of course," she smiled. "But you mustn't enjoy it too much, being the seasoned pro that you are."
Then he made a mistake: whenever he found himself feeling nervous or anxious or in any way agitated, he always stood up and paced around. He did just that, and of course Elaine couldn't help but notice that his penis was erect. It had tented his trousers uncomfortably, and rather than reach down to readjust it, he bent forward slightly to try to accommodate it.
"I'm sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable aren't I," she said gently.
"I'm fine," he said again, but he was embarrassed. His cock was big and he knew that she'd seen it. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair and sat down again, talking a long drink of beer, feeling he'd lost the upper hand.
"Tell me about Mrs Lawrence," she said.
"There is no Mrs Lawrence."
He shook his head. Then it was her turn accidentally to go a little too far: "Well, I can see you're not gay...!" She drew a breath to continue, but then failed to speak and just blushed.
"No I'm not gay," he said, acknowledging that he knew she knew she'd given him a hard on. "I just like my own company. What's your excuse?"
"Divorced. I was unceremoniously dumped for a younger woman."
He wanted to tell her he was astonished; but he just made a sad face, shook his head gently, and got back to his beer.
In fact, she liked his reaction and she liked him. Tall and good looking in a rugged sort of way, his dark eyes betrayed an inner softness that offset his gruff demeanor. And having seen that his penis was hard, she was now in the early stages of sexual arousal herself. Her ample boobs were swelling, their large nipples hardening, and her vagaina had moistened. Had she been alone she would quickly have masturbated to orgasm.
The professional photographer was observant, and noticed the dilated pupils a moment before the hard nipples poking proudly into her dress. Her breathing was a little more rapid now. Elaine, being who she was, either didn't know how to hide her arousal or didn't care if anyone noticed, he wasn't sure which. She shuffled her bottom on the seat, and leaned back a bit. It was neither an overt display of sexuality nor an effort to hide it.
"Let me photograph you now," he said.
"Now? It's getting dark."
"I'll use a bit of flash."
She saw no harm in it. He raised the camera and peered intently through the viewfinder. Satisfied with the composition, he tripped the shutter and the flash fired.
"One more, but standing up please." He composed and shot again. "Now turn around and look over your shoulder towards me."
Twiddling the controller he moved the autofocus point to the centre of her bottom, and took a deep breath as he studied her beautiful big behind and flared hips. The tool of his trade locked focus and he shot once more.
"I must go," she said at last. "It's past the kids' bedtime."
"And I'd better get back to work. Here's my number," he said, and handed her a card.
He put the camera down on the table and she spotted her moment, putting her arms around him and hugging him. He wasn't expecting that, but was now quite relaxed about the fact that his cock was pressing hard into her soft belly. The sensation of her nipples poking into his torso would stay with him for the rest of the week.
Next Saturday, Lawrence drove over to Elaine's house as they'd arranged. He was to arrive at 10:30 in the morning, and do the family photos before the children's father came at lunchtime to pick them up. He wondered if that might be an awkward moment: even ex-husbands could be trouble, but he needn't have worried.
In fact, the whole shoot went more smoothly than he'd imagined. The late spring morning was warm and sunny, and the two little girls seemed to love every minute of it, posing for the photographer like little filmstars. They did whatever he asked, posing in the living room, in their play room, outside in the garden, and even Lawrence had to admit to himself that he was quite enjoying making the mundane kitschy images that would no doubt be the result. In fact, he gladly humoured the girls when they asked if he'd photograph their toys!
"You were very good with them," said Elaine with a warm smile, when the girls had gone. It wasn't lost on her that this was not the photographer's scene, and she was relieved that it had gone so well.
Lawrence laughed. "They're naturals in front of the camera," he said. "They did everything I asked straight away and then seemed to know instinctively that they should hold still while I shot. Kids are usually a nightmare!"
She beamed with pride, and busied herself making some sandwiches. They had decided they'd have lunch before doing their own little shoot, and she reasoned that a large glass of dry white wine would help ease the tension.
Much as he had expected, Elaine was dressed plainly in jeans and a simple white blouse, and as far as he could tell, wore no makeup. He could smell the same beautiful perfume she'd worn at the wedding though, which immediately evoked the high sexual temperature of their first encounter. She'd left her long wavy hair loose, and it was neat although not overly styled. She wore white trainers on her feet.
"Smoked salmon and cream cheese, is that OK?"
"Lovely," he said.
She went to the fridge and took out the bottle of wine that had been chilling since yesterday, and poured two glasses. He watched her bottom as she bent over.
"So, shall we talk about the shoot?" she said.
She stopped what she was doing and looked baffled.
"What do you mean?"
"Just let it happen. In fact, I want to start now," he said, reaching for his camera.
"Don't be daft," she said. "I told you I wanted you to make me look sexy! I'll have to get changed into something else at the very least!"
"No you won't," he told her. "You're naturally sexy."
"Rubbish!" she exclaimed, and for a brief moment sounded a bit annoyed.
"Put the wine back in the fridge."
"Right away, sir!" she joked, her good humour returning instantly. She screwed the lid back on the bottle and obediently went back to the appliance and opened the door. The photographer composed, timed the decisive moment to perfection, and tripped the shutter.
"What on earth are you photographing me putting the wine away for," she laughed.
"Because it's incredibly sexy," he said. He was already studying the shot on the rear LCD and secretly congratulating himself on the bang on focus and perfect composition. "Come and see."
She went and looked. "Blimey, my bottom's enormous."
"It's beautiful," he said. In the photo she was bending over, her legs straight, her bum sticking out, and her large heavy breasts and belly hanging down fulsomely into her loose blouse. "Just let me shoot, and I'll show you how sexy you really are. You won't have to try."
"But I wanted to dress up a bit," she protested. "Perhaps even undress a little!"
"And you can," said Lawrence. "And I'll take photos while you do it!"
"Can we really not do it my way? Me being the client and all!"
"You are client, but I'm the photographer and I want you to trust me," he replied. "My job is to show you how sexy you are. People think photographers primarily make images; I say that that's what amateurs do! Real photographers see first and foremost, and simply know how to capture what they've seen."
Genuinely intrigued, she handed him a plate of sandwiches and sat at the table opposite him.
"So you've seen my sexiness have you?" she laughed. "Some hidden sexiness that's lost on everyone else, myself included!"
"I don't care whether other people have seen it or not," he replied. "I can see it and I know how to show it."
"You must be a very talented man," she said.
"I probably am," he agreed, but laughed. He took another shot as she began to eat a sandwich and then another as she sipped her wine. She smiled radiantly and he captured that too.
"So what's so sexy about me putting something in my mouth?" she asked.
"Everything! Just keep eating!"
After lunch and two glasses of wine, Elaine insisted she knew far more about how to look sexy than the photographer did, and announced that she was going to get changed.
"You can if you like, but I want to photograph you while you do it."
A line was crossed.
"OK," she said, finally betraying a little nervousness, and he followed her to her bedroom.
With her back to him she took off her blouse while he shot and then bent down to wriggle somewhat clumsily out of her jeans, for they were rather tight. He photographed the procedure earnestly, moving with alacrity to get the shots he wanted. Elaine made no attempt whatsoever to sex up the procedure, but she really didn't need to. Now standing in just her underwear, the photographer took a final few shots before putting the camera down and standing in awe of the woman before him. She just stood there looking back at him, arms by her sides, not sure what to do next.
Her full curvaceous figure was simply amazing. Her legs and thick thighs swept up to her wide hips; and through her simple white cotton panties he could see a thick mass of pubic hair, some of which poked out of the sides. Between her legs, in the gusset of her knickers, hung a lovely big mound that betokened a substantial clitoris and labia. And above that was the beautiful paunch over which he had already lusted, pale white and marked with the stretches of childbearing; the plain bra which didn't match her panties supported large heavy breasts that were only just about in proportion to her body, and he could see that these too had been stretched and suckled.
"You're incredibly beautiful," he said, making no attempt to hide his breathless awe.
She looked a little sad. "I'm not," she said. "Nature's had its wicked way with my body. You'll have to work your magic, I'm afraid. There's always Photoshop!"
He took another few pictures, but she could see that he was losing interest in shooting. That was very out of character and she honestly hadn't expected that. It was very endearing, and once again, his arousal caused her to become aroused herself.
"Take your bra off," he said.
She quickly and efficiently unfastened it, and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were epic, marked by stretching but vital and full of life. Her sizeable red areolae were beautifully textured with abundant follicles, and her nipples, clearly hardened through arousal, stood proud and erect. She could almost have been lactating.