The Fires Down Below

The Fires Down Below

Disclaimer: This story includes sex with a photographic model. It is a work of fiction, pure fantasy!! Please don't mistakenly think this happens regularly at photo shoots. The vast majority of models, about 99.9% are normal, hardworking, but beautiful women who use their good looks to earn a living, or supplement their income. Being beautiful they quite understandably have partners, husbands, etc. already. They are there to do a job, not be the target of your unwanted attentions. If like me you have the privilege to work with models, keep your distance, don't touch unless invited. Control yourself, and don't trash the reputation of all photographers - thank you.

Kerry sat in church listening to the incessant drone of the preachers voice. She was bored, as she was all too often bored in church these days. Bored with religion, but somehow she just couldn't shake herself out of the habit of attending church that had started in childhood. A habit she'd gone along with unthinkingly up until recently, and which had an all too powerful hold on her life. Not only that, but all the friends she had known since childhood were all here today in the congregation. To leave the church, stop attending, would mean losing all these people in her life. She knew exactly what, 'peer pressure,' meant when it came to church. It was just easier to keep on pretending than rebelling.

She wasn't just a regular church goer though, she was deeply and inextricably involved within her church community, volunteering for various activities including Sunday school for the kids. She was seen as a highly respected and admired member of her church. On that hot summer morning she felt anything but holy.

If they only knew what was running through her head, they'd be horrified at what the staunch, and seemingly highly religious church going Kerry was thinking. Sitting there, seemingly deep in religious thoughts and prayers, contemplating heaven or hell, who could have known the true nature of her thoughts?

Kerry smiled secretly to herself, although nothing showed on her face. A clue was seeping slowly but steadily out from between her pussy lips, which were once again demanding her attention. She felt swollen, her pussy twitched with need, so she crossed her legs, squeezing her naked thighs together, stimulating herself even more. She could make herself come, just squeezing her thighs tightly together and stimulating her pussy like that, but here in church it was more a case of stimulating her mind, and keeping her pussy, well...herself, 'on the boil.'

She wasn't wearing tights, (panty hose) her long shapely legs were sun-tanned and required none, but she had decided she would wear panties, although on many previous occasions she had worn none. It excited her to be naked under one of her, 'respectable' and very modest dresses. She reasoned that if she got wet in church again like she had been doing every Sunday for months now, the panties would prove to be substantial enough to stop her flow leaking through. Sometimes it didn't matter, especially with one of her black dresses, but not today.

With the colour of this dress, a mid-blue, it would be all too apparent if that happened. It would be embarrassing to be left with a wet patch on the back of her dress where she'd been sitting. Still... she loved the feel of her juices leaking out, making her wet. Her, 'flow' seemed to increase, and when she uncrossed her legs, she could feel a momentary coolness that told her that her panties had failed to contain her wetness and the inside of her thighs were wet too. She'd need to do something about that, and do it soon.

Sitting at the end of the pew, with her husband and kids, she looked to her right at the side door that led to the more public areas of the building, including the toilets. As the minister's overlong sermon was wound up, she knew she would need to slip out to use the toilet. Waiting, waiting, and then he announced the next hymn, and this was her opportunity. As everybody stood up to sing, she walked the few short steps to the door and, 'freedom,' and closed it behind her, muffling the voices of the faithful raised in song.

The toilets were cool and quiet, and she slipped into a cubicle, hastily shimmying her dress round her waist and pulled the matching blue panties down. There was a sopping wet stain where she had leaked into the reinforced gusset, with a few little white streaks of her secretions where a slightly thicker, 'cream,' had oozed from her. She touched herself, the feel of her fingers, made her breath in sharply. The sensation was wonderful, her prominent clitoris begging for more, and who was she to deny her favourite little, 'love button.' She circled it with the expertise of a woman who knew what she wanted, and knew exactly how to get it.

Wasting no time, she let the fingers of her other hand part her pussy lips, releasing a further flow, and then she impaled herself on two of her fingers, slipping them into her slippery hole. She loved to stretch her pussy-lips, adding to the pleasurable sensations, and began to finger-fuck herself rapidly, while her other hand stimulated her engorged clitoris. No time for finesse, she had to come quickly before anyone noticed she was, 'missing,' and came to look for her.

She could hear the distant hymn of praise, and although her orgasm felt close, she stayed alert. Aware and cautious enough of her surroundings to hear if anyone else came into the toilets, but all was quiet part from the wet noises her pussy was making and her breathing. She added another finger inside her, 'cunt,' stretching, harder, deeper, and then she was coming... and coming.

The sensations washed over her in waves, her juices flowed between her fingers. It took all of her willpower not to scream out loud as she was wracked by the pleasures of her own making, and then gradually, slowly, the tremors began to subside. She sat there for a minute or two, slowly recovering, feeling wonderful, before reality, 'bit.'

She hastily used a wad of toilet tissue to dry hersel, the inside of her soft thighs and all around her pussy and groin. Finally, she used another few sheets to soak up some of her juices from the gusset of her saturated panties. Done, she left the cubicle and washed her hands. She must smell of sex she thought to herself, but there was nothing she could do about that, and the thought amused her anyway. Masturbating shamelessly in the church toilets, she'd go to hell for sure, fuck it, she didn't believe in that shit anyway.

After church, her husband stood and spoke to the preacher for a few minutes, while Kerry wandered off on her own towards the carpark. She hoped he'd get the hint that she wanted home. They had planned to drop the kids off at his mother's place for lunch, and head on home for some, 'us,' time. It had been a week or so since they'd been intimate, and she was desperate for some loving. She knew within herself that she needed sex, like a junky needs drugs. She loved that feeling of being wanted, the feeling of her man finding her beautiful, and wanting her in that way was all the aphrodisiac she had ever needed. She was getting wet again just thinking about it.

'Take me to bed,' she pleaded, as they closed the door behind them. Home at last, the house felt cool with the air-conditioning working nicely. The kids were with grandma, and by now she was desperate for some time with her man, but it was not to be.

'We won't have time darling,' he said, explaining that his best friend was coming over. Seems they'd arranged to work on the car this afternoon. It wasn't running just right he explained.

'So, you'd rather fuck about with that old car than fuck about with me?' she said, icily calm, but screaming inside. She reached up under her dress and pulled her panties down and off as he watched looking surprised. She grabbed his hand and guided it between her open legs and made him feel her wetness. 'I need some attention too, now get your, "tool," out and make love to me, even if it's only a quickie.'

She turned and ran upstairs, into the bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind her, unzipping her dress as, she went, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor, leaving her wearing her bra only, which quickly joined the dress on the floor as she reached the bed. She got up on the bed, on hands and knees. 'Don't fuck about, I've been thinking about this since we got up this morning, I just didn't think you'd ask your friend over. Well, I'm ready, and I'm ready now. So put that cock in me and fuck me before he gets here.'

Mesmerised by the sight she presented, her slim hips and bottom, thighs wide apart and her gorgeous, trimmed pussy open and wet with expectation, he unbuckled his belt, and skinned down his pants, releasing his almost fully erect cock. By the time, he took the next two steps to close the distance between them, he was fully hard, and pushed his knob against her pussy lips, which opened easily and obligingly. She was absolutely saturated, her wetness providing easy access to her sex, and he slid into her with one smooth stroke.

'Yes, oh yes,' she moaned, 'now fuck me, do your husbandly duty. I need you, I need this, so fuck me with your big cock,' she encouraged him, demanding, but complimenting him about his dick size at the same time. He stroked in and out a few times, building her towards orgasm already. 'Oh! God yes, I love it,' she moaned loudly, 'give it to me hard, fuck me, fuck me. Be my bad boy, smack me for swearing on the sabbath, for being a blasphemous sinner.' Any excuse, the thought flashed through her head with amusement and was forgotten as quickly, her pleasure demanding her full attention.

Always reluctant to hit her he nevertheless smacked her arse cheeks quite hard, and began to ram his cock into her soft wetness as she requested. She screamed out, not in pain, but with pleasure, whimpering and moaning, feeling his cock slicing into her vulnerable hole. It was fast and urgent fucking, not the pleasant, lingering, afternoon delight she had been looking forward to, but it had a definite, more primitive appeal at that precise moment, and she felt the first faint tremors of her orgasm on its way, approaching rapidly.

'Yes, oh yessss... I'm coming, I'm coming, give me your load, come for me, fill me....' And then the white heat of her orgasm took her again and again, washing over her, draining all her worries and tensions away, hearing him groan and the pulsing of his cock as he came too, and filled her with his hot come. The both stayed where they were, motionless for long seconds. She felt his cock wilt, and dwindle in size, softening, and as he pulled out she wished he could stay hard forever. She fell forward on the bed, satisfied at last, feeling his come begin to flow back out of her.

She knew she would sleep for an hour or so now, he could go and fuck about with his car, she didn't care. She crawled further up the bed, found her pillow and turned on her side, feeling their intermingled juices sliding out of her pussy, her last thoughts were, maybe it's time to be a bit more open to the possibilities that come along. She'd brushed aside so many opportunities to stray from the marital bed over the years but had always rejected the idea. Now she had come to the realisation that she needed more, there was more to life than going to church, and the occasional perfunctory fuck. Mentally pushing that idea away for now, she pulled a blanket over herself, and went to sleep.

Over the next few weeks she gave her decision a lot of thought. If she was going to go, 'rogue,' she needed to think it through completely. Most of the people she knew were involved with the church, and she decided what she needed was a whole new circle of acquaintances. She didn't want to shit on her own doorstep, so to speak, and start messing around with guys she knew already.

The husbands of women she knew through her church work were out of bounds, and that was a whole can of worms she didn't want to open up. It would all be a bit too incestuous. Besides, it was imperative she keep it secret, and well away from people she knew in her everyday normal life. She couldn't quite figure out how to accomplish that, but quite by chance she was thrown an idea that was absolutely ideal.

One of the other church committee women, her friend Marnie had a pet charity, 'trafficked women' or some such, and had arranged a few charity events to raise money. One of these events was a fashion show, and she asked Kerry to be one of the models. Kerry was at first slightly reluctant having no modelling experience, but Marnie had convinced her that she would be ideal and look great. After all, Marnie pleaded, Kerry was the only one who looked anything like a real fashion model, being very tall, and very slender too.

Once the seed was sown, Kerry looked up modelling on the internet and much to her surprise found out that women like her were quite in demand. She had always though that fashion models were aged from 18 to 25 years old, but discovered there was a lot of interest in what was known as the, 'mature,' model. Women from their late thirties even as far as mid-sixties were much sought after. Not just for fashion work but a whole range of modelling styles including full on erotic work. Just thinking about it was getting her wet, but honestly she thought to hersel, it didn't take much to make her wet, and when she got wet she just had to do something about it, which is where her trusty vibrators came in. Or rather were pushed in!!

Well, it turned out that the fashion show was quite a success, and left Kerry on a high. She told her husband that she had loved it so much, that she was thinking of taking this modelling idea and running with it. This sudden new found enthusiasm was all part of her plan of course, and truthfully she had really enjoyed the modelling, but it was also because she could see it opening up a whole new world for her. A world of horny photographers and maybe horny male models too. A world completely divorced from her normal friends and acquaintances, where she'd be able to indulge her fantasies and sexual needs more freely.

Her husband just thought she was being unrealistic, what with her being in her forties and all, until she showed him the information about mature models she had collected online. She censored the information about erotic work before showing him, because quite naturally, she didn't want him to think there was any way she'd be doing that. He was still dubious, but decided to humour her, thinking she needed to get this nonsense out of her system and things would settle themselves down again when nobody wanted her.

That same night she signed herself up to a models and photographers website, specifically designed to bring models and photographers together, but first she had to get some photos to show what she looked like. She bought a couple of fashion magazines, and cut a few pictures out to make a scrap-book of poses she liked and could copy.

Her husband was pressed into service to take the initial photos. He had been interested in photography in high school, but never taken it further than a few family pics, a lot of shots of the kids, and birthday parties, etc. He was cut above the average family guy with a camera, and the photos he produced of her were good enough to show her face and figure, fully clothed of course. She had very long legs and had often been complimented on them, so she got him to do a couple of more playful shots showing off her legs a bit more than was strictly necessary.

After browsing through the website a couple of times she knew there were photographers and models of all abilities, from complete amateurs like her, to full time professionals. The secret she figured out straight off was to find good quality photographers who could give her professional quality pictures. If she could collaborate with a few of those, working on some swap deal kind of arrangement she would have a small portfolio of pics to show her modelling potential, which in turn would attract other photographers to book her.

She thought it might take a while, maybe a month or two, but excited as she was, she was in no hurry. There was still her trusty vibrators, and the occasional and mostly very satisfying sex with her husband, but just not enough of it to keep her urges and need for excitement satisfied.

She was totally unprepared for the volume of messages that arrive in her inbox in that first week.

A lot of the replies were obviously idiots who more or less propositioned her right there and then, despite her stating in her profile that she didn't do nude or topless work. These guys obviously thought with their balls rather than their brains, she just blocked them so she wouldn't have to deal with them in future. Some went so far as to offer her hundreds of dollars for sex, they too were blocked. Likewise people who offered her some other sort of photographic services. Predominant among these were the 're-touchers,' people who for a fee would work on your photographs with, "Photoshop," and make you look like a plastic doll. Blocked!!

She finally managed to sift out all the idiots, and was left with about a dozen of what appeared to be genuine photographers. She again sifted through these, lookin for what she thought were the best photographers. She had some photographic experience too, which was handy because she could see right away that some of these guys may be photographers, but the quality of their work was amateurish to say the least.

Basic mistakes like cutting off feet at the ankles, huge amounts of empty space around the model, instead of having the model the centre of attention. Badly lit, with the lights placed too low. That wasn't called "Dracula" lighting in the film and photographic industry for nothing. Mistake after mistake, and so she dismissed them. She was left with about four, possibly five photographers she would consider working with, and she replied favourably to these.

After a few messages back and forth she arranged her first photo shoot. Thanks to a last minute cancellation from a model leaving the photographer unexpectedly free, she was offered the opportunity to step into the breach and take the new time slot tomorrow afternoon. She jumped at the chance, after all she was relatively inexperienced, and here through sheer chance she was being offered a photo shoot with a top class professional photographer. She could hardly contain here excitement, and set about looking out a few outfits for the shoot. She included some scandalously skimpy lingerie, and although the shoot would be a commercial and lifestyle job, if things worked out the way she hoped, then her lingerie may well be on view.

Kerry arrived at the studio slightly before the appointed time. She wanted to make a good impression and besides, she wanted to check the place out. It was a small, converted warehouse unit, and as she entered the reception area the photographer was sitting behind the desk, typing away on a computer. He looked up as she entered and smiled.

'Hi Kerry, you're early, but that's great. You look wonderful,' he said, looking her up and down. 'Would you like tea, or coffee before we start?' but she held up a bottle of water and told him she was fine thanks. He got up and opened a door to one side of his desk. 'Okay, let's go through to the studio, and I'll show you around,' and he led her into the main part of the building. There were a few different photographic backgrounds and a bedroom set, plus quite a few studio light on stands with soft boxes. He explained that he used the bedroom set for the 'Boudoir Photography,' part of his business, although he often shot that in his own house too he added.