Nonchalance

A married woman's crush on her photo teacher develops into an interesting relationship.

Cynthia

I'm a middle-aged woman, more or less happily married, with two sons off living their own lives out of town, and one dog and a cat. We live in a suburb of Los Angeles and except for the occasional traffic jam, seem to have a fairly happy existence. My husband is a retired engineer and a good fellow, and although we do seem to live somewhat separate lives, I love him very much and would never leave him. Since he had a heart attack three years ago though, our sex life has dwindled, and while he seems content with this arrangement, sometimes it can be difficult for me, as I've always had a very strong libido.

I'm a retired teacher and to pass the time, I often take workshops and seminars. One weekend I was taking a photography workshop in San Francisco. I was really trying to improve my photography. I've always been more of a verbal type, but I find, with effort, that most things do come along for me if I try. I was determined to advance out of the league of a snap shooter to a fine advanced amateur, and even had hopes of selling some of my photos online through a stock photo agency.

The second day at the workshop, I attended a lighting class, which was excellent and very helpful. A slightly younger photographer taught it, who proved to be thoughtful, very handsome, and extremely talented. I was sexually drawn to him immediately but for the sake of discretion, kept the day's events focused on photography.

In the evenings at the workshop, the classmates and instructors often went out for dinner and drinks, and I would have to restrain myself from throwing myself at Evan, since I was so strongly attracted to him.

For his part, he seemed totally nonchalant. I did know he was married and assumed he was faithful. I also wondered if he were bisexual, since he both men and women seemed to be strongly drawn to him. Generally I had to struggle to focus on the workshop and not completely lose it to my ever-intensifying crush.

When the workshop was almost over, he met with the students and invited them to email him photos of their work from time to time so he could keep an eye on their progress and advise them further. I was thrilled to have his personal email address, and upon returning home, I sent him a note with my contact information and some new photos I had taken. I thought were much better than my previous work. He lived and worked in the Los Angeles area as I do, about half an hour from where I live.

I didn't hear back from him for a few weeks, but finally couldn't help but pick up the phone and call his office. He answered after a few rings, and I found myself stumbling over my words, embarrassed to be talking to him.

We made small talk and then he asked me if I wanted to pose for him. He said he had some new equipment he wanted to try out and needed a model. I said that would be great, and we arranged a time in a couple of days for the photo shoot.

When the day arrived for the shoot, I dressed very attractively, making some effort with my hair and make-up, and finally convinced myself I looked pretty good, although it wasn't easy. I arrived about five minutes early, and his assistant showed me into the studio and soon he came in.

Just seeing him again made my head spin but I was determined to behave professionally and asked him what I should do. He said just relax while he got his equipment set up. After a few minutes his assistant said she was leaving and he said, "OK lock up will you Stephanie?" She said sure and soon we were completely alone in his studio.


He had a collection of props and put a very pretty red velvet chair out for me to sit on. It was a beautiful chair, and he said, "Just make yourself comfortable, would you like anything to drink?"

"I'll take a glass of white wine, please." He got me a large tumbler of some delicious cold white wine, and then starting getting ready to take some pictures.

At first my photos were fairly straightforward, he told me to pose this way and that, and move my hair, etc. After a few minutes though, he said, "Cynthia, you look beautiful, would you like to take off your shirt?"

I looked at him, completely surprised, aroused, and very curious, and nodded a little, and slowly did so. He took pictures all along and gently encouraged me and said I looked very pretty. After about twenty minutes, he softly said, "Touch yourself, baby, I want to see you cum." I was very surprised, but he must have known how much I wanted him, so I did, opening my legs wide for his camera and moaning, touching myself desperately, and eventually having a long, intense orgasm while he recorded everything with his camera. When I was done I was fairly ashamed, but also very aroused and confused, and he came over to me and hugged me and said, "Good girl." He then busied himself with his equipment once again and I wordlessly got dressed, finished my wine and then said I had to get back, and I left.

I didn't hear from him for about a week. After that he called me one afternoon and said he wanted to show me our photos. I said OK and we arranged to get together the next afternoon.

The photos were strikingly beautiful, artistic black and whites, with beautiful lighting, and I had never looked more alluring or desirable. I was hooked.

Over the next few months, I continued to model for Evan, getting more and more brazen as I began to relax more and enjoy the process. He was a wonderful photographer and made me feel truly beautiful. We explored all kinds of scenes: black and whites, colors, more abstract effects, with me in various stages of undress and arousal. It got to the point where I could and would do almost anything he asked if his lens was turned on me. I could tell he appreciated my bravery and creativity in front of his lens. We made some beautiful images together, and he told me he was going to sell them in a gallery with which he was affiliated.

However, I was getting more and more frustrated with the lack of sexual outlet. I found it very much a turn-on to be photographed erotically, and Evan sensed my frustration. He asked me one afternoon after a particularly free and sensual photo shoot, "Cynthia, would you like to be photographed with another model?" I asked him about it, and he said he had an actor friend who was a beautiful black model and actor. He thought we would make some beautiful images together. He said we could just have a shoot one afternoon, and I could do whatever I wanted, it could just be a straight photo shoot or whatever I wanted to do, he would leave it completely up to me.

I thought about it for a minute, then I said, "What the hell, sure." Evan made all the arrangements for me to meet Vince, who was an up and coming LA actor who had recently gotten a small role on a network TV show.

The day when Vince and I were to shoot together, I was feeling unusually sexy. It was a beautiful day and warm and sunny, one of the first days of summer. I wore a very sexy outfit, and asked for some wine when we started to get set up. There was no one else in the studio that day except for Evan, Vince, who was a strikingly beautiful, very dark, tall black actor, and me.

At first it was just a regular photo shoot, there was a sofa bed covered in a white sheet, and as Evan photographed us, I silently began to come on to Vince, and he didn't object. I could clearly see his huge cock getting even larger and longer, and stared at it like a woman crazed. I took off my clothes slowly, and then got down on my knees and sucked Vince's cock. It was rock hard, thick, long and chocolate brown. It felt so good to have a man's cock in my mouth again! Then I asked for a condom because I very much wanted to make love to this handsome man as Evan watched and photographed us. It was like my mind was on another level of eroticism. I was so turned on I couldn't help but live out the moment, and I have no regrets, although I suppose my friends would be shocked. However, I knew Evan would make beautiful, erotic images and that turned me on even more. Eventually Vince and I made love in several different positions. His thick, long cock filled me to the brim and it was incredibly sensual and satisfying for us both. In the end, Vince came on my body as I orgasmed for the forth or fifth time that day, it was so intense I had lost track of how many times I came.

When the session was over and Vince was gone, and it was just Evan and me again, I started to cry. I was so ashamed! What was happening to me? Evan calmed me down and said, Cynthia, you are a beautiful, sensual woman, you should be proud of yourself, not ashamed." He said the photos he was taking were some of his best work ever, and in the world of art, there are no rules or limits to what is proper or respectable, the only rule is beauty and we had that.

After that afternoon things seemed to change with Evan. He sensed I was becoming more and more comfortable with my sexuality and exhibitionism, and began to suggest scenarios for me to participate in.

By now we had a regular weekly photo shoot on Thursday afternoons starting promptly at 2 pm. Each day I would come in, have some wine, talk a little, and then we would get started. One afternoon Evan dressed me in bondage gear, put a ball gag in my mouth, and made me wear high, leather black heels, and a very sexy skimpy leather outfit that showed off my body to incredible effect. He gave me a vibrator to work on myself as he photographed me loudly getting myself off. That was a very fun, intense shoot, and he said he got some great images from it.

Other than hugging me after the shoots, Evan would never touch me, and as badly as I wanted to make love to him, I sensed he didn't want to, because he was my teacher after all, and we were both married. I knew it must be frustrating for him too, and one day I asked if I could suck him off. He said no, he didn't want to be unfaithful, so I dropped it, and we never mentioned it again.

However, for me, he was my sexual ground zero. I would have frequent, intense fantasies about him, and I was certain the heat of our photo sessions derived in large part from my huge crush I had on him. He seemed to sense this and I think it amused him, although we never spoke of it directly.

My husband knew nothing about all this, he assumed I was out on errands or shopping on Thursday afternoons.

One afternoon Evan asked if he could spank me, he wanted to see my ass cheeks pink and swollen, and although I've never been sexually punished before, I found it wildly erotic and very intense. Evan took dozens of photos of me being erotically punished. He had set up a tripod so he could spank me while his camera took pictures. It was incredible how hot the pain and embarrassment of being spanked got me. While I was being punished, although it turned me on wildly, I was thinking, "Why can't I have a normal love life like any other woman? Why does this humiliation turn me on so much? Why can't he love me? I was close to tears again, and I knew it was because of Evan. I wondered, how could I be subjected to such depravity and degradation, yet experience such huge, intense orgasms from these sessions? It was all intense, erotic, and confusing -- an emotional roller coaster.

After about five months of our weekly sessions, after another powerfully sensual photo shoot, Evan said we had to talk. I got dressed and went to his office and sat down. He said, "Cynthia, I'm sorry to say this project is coming to an end and I don't need you to model for me anymore." He said he was preparing a show for the gallery, and when it opened I was welcome to come and bring anyone I wished. He also promised to give me a selection of the photos for me to keep, and he thanked me profusely for my dedication and enthusiasm.

I fought back the tears and left his office soon after, and went home and had a strong one. I also knew we had to end it. I was going to go mad from frustration or my husband would find out, and he is not as open-minded as Evan. I called Evan the next afternoon and told him I agreed that I was going to have to stop seeing him. He understood completely, and said he would prepare a set of photos from our sessions for me that I could keep. He told me he would call when they were ready to be picked up.

In about two weeks, he called me and told me the photos were ready. I went to his studio to get them, dressed to the nines and looking as attractive as I could. They were large murals and were stunning. Black and whites mostly, with a few color shots thrown in. They were erotic, visually striking, very impressive, with beautiful lighting. I couldn't believe they were me!

When I left his studio, I was on the verge of tears but managed to hold myself together until I got to my car a couple of blocks away. Once inside my car, the floodgates opened and I started crying profusely. Why do I have to go through this? What is wrong with me? Why doesn't he want me/love me?

After that I didn't hear much from Evan, but about six months later, I received a very fancy invitation to the gallery opening where the photos were being displayed. Evan called himself and invited me, and we arranged to go to the opening together. His wife was busy and my husband was out of town on a business trip.

We walked through the gallery together, admiring his work, and the opening was a huge success. The photos sold extremely well. As I looked at Evan toward the end of the evening, I could almost die from frustration, as I still had a very intense crush on him. He seemed to sense that and was very gentle with me.

After that last evening at the gallery, I haven't seen him again, but I do occasionally email him some of my own photos, which are steadily improving. I don't regret anything I've done though. My photography is much better, and my sex life, although still somewhat limited by my marriage, has seen a huge boost. I'm glad I had the courage to explore this unusual relationship fully.

Evan

Cynthia was beautiful -- so wild, and so free, I loved her from almost the start, but due to our marriages and my job, I couldn't touch her, couldn't show her my true feelings. It was all I could do to keep my hands off her. Many times after our sessions I would have to cum, looking over the photos. I knew I was getting obsessed with her, and knew after the photo project was done I would have to let her go. It really hurt to do so, it was like a small death, but my life would be destroyed if I didn't. She was wonderful to photograph though, and gave me some of the best, most erotic work of my career. And although we never spoke of it, for my part at least, it was love. It was always, always, love.