The Intimate Photo Session

Author's Note:

This is a re-post. It is original work written by me. If you have read this before and did not enjoy it, you are forewarned to move on. If you are a new reader, welcome in! I hope you enjoy some of my words.

A handful of readers have offered very good and constructive criticisms, to which I am truly grateful. This is also another Father-Daughter short story with different characters.

As always, if you have anything constructive to say, please do so. I will read and appreciate your words. Thank you!

*****

The Intimate Photo Session

"Dad?" It was Heather, my 22 year old daughter, calling from her apartment. "Do you still have that Polaroid of yours?"

I cradled the phone and sighed once. Glancing at my wife, I said, "Yeah, hon. I still have it. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking some pictures for me."

I gave a soft chuckle. "I probably could, but it would be difficult to find film for that one, hon. It's been many years since they made any. You know, they have this thing called digital now, right?"

She gave a patient huff over the line. "Whatever, dad. You know I don't know about those things. Can you bring your camera, or whatever it is you're using these days?"

I gave my wife, Claire, a wink and a smile. "Sure, Heather, whatever you need. What's the occasion?"

"I just want some photos taken. When can you come over?"

"Uh," I shrugged and covered the mouth piece. Then, speaking to Claire, I said, "Heather wants me to bring my camera over to take pictures. She's asking when I can come over."

Claire gave a curious frown and shrugged. "I don't know. She needs you now? I mean, I guess I can grab some dinner with Diane and the other ladies."

"You want to do that, hon? Sounds like a good idea. You get to go out with your girlfriends and I can see what Heather needs."

Claire got up and patted me on the back before going to the kitchen to get her cellphone. It seemed like a fitting arrangement. I uncovered the mouthpiece. "I can head over in an hour or so, Heather. Let me grab my things. Want me to bring dinner?"

"Sure, dad. That would be great." We hung up and I went to the bedroom closet to gather my equipment. I dug out my tripod and mounted light, not knowing how many photos and how detailed she wanted to them to be. But a good photographer is always prepared for that once in a lifetime shot.

About an hour later, with a large bucket of KFC and all the fixings in my car, I pulled up to Heather's apartment. I slung the equipment over my back and shoulders and carried the food to her door.

When Heather opened the door, I could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were red and watery and she was wearing a bathrobe. I nodded at her and offered a sad smile. "I hope you're hungry. I brought a lot of chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and some corn."

"That's great, Dad. Thanks. And thanks for coming in such short notice."

"Of course, hon. Anything for you." I stepped in and set my photographic equipment down in her living room. The place was dim with the shades and curtains closed and I could tell she had recently cleaned up in haste. There was evidence of letters and envelopes and older magazines stuffed in corners here and there, and there was a large Army duffel bag near the hallway closet.

"Kind of warm in here, hon. You want me to open a window or something?"

She shook her head. "That's okay, Dad. I like it dark. If you need more lighting, I can turn on the lamps and overheads."

I held up the bags of food. "Why don't we sit and eat for a bit, then you can tell me what you need me to do."

Over dinner, Heather seemed to brighten up. She chattered on about the news on the war in the Gulf as she licked one greasy finger after another. She seemed so animated and happy that I almost forgot how sad she looked when I first walked in the door.

As we tasted the last of our meal, I breached the subject. "How are you doing, Heather, really? How are you getting on?"

She shrugged and looked down at her hands on her lap. "I don't know how I get by some days. I mean, when I don't get word from James, I feel like I'm going crazy. I can sometimes track his unit's movement throughout the country, I mean, whatever the news gives away or these letters from his commanders, but sometimes I am left in the dark. I don't know what's going on many times and I just...need to know. I need to know that he is okay."

She looked up at me then, sadness all over her face and tears brimming over. It was a look that no father ever wanted to see from their innocent daughter. It was a look of utter hopelessness and desperation. I reached out a hand and touched hers. She gripped my fingers tightly.

"Dad, I need to send photos to James. I want him to remember me. I want to send him a piece of me, a piece of home. Some semblance of sanity in this insane world. Can you do it? Can you take photos of me to send to him? I want to inspire him. I want him to want to come home to me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Heather was not finished talking. She said, almost desperately, "I want to send him intimate photos of me. I want him to know that I love him and miss him and want him. I want him to know that I am faithful to him, that I have been a dutiful wife, and that I would never cheat on him. He needs to be reassured. I think all soldiers feel this way. Being away from their wives or girlfriends, wondering if they are cheating or have found solace in another man's arms. I want James to know that I still love him and need him and want him to be with me. Here. Now."

I closed my mouth and nodded dumbly. How could I refuse my daughter? How could any man ever refuse their daughter's pleas for help? "Of course, hon. I can take pictures of you. But...uh...you said 'intimate' photos? I mean, how intimate did you mean?" I swallowed hard.

She was so young and beautiful and so sad. I know most fathers say that their daughters are beautiful, but Heather was truly an all American girl, a dream pin-up poster model. She was good enough to be a Victoria's Secret model, hands down. With her long, soft blond hair, ice blue eyes, light freckles on a flawless face, she could be any man's wet dream. And her body, so youthful and athletic, yet curvaceous in all the right places, set many a man's mouth watering. Even mine, I guiltily admitted.

Heather looked up at me now and her hand tightened around mine. "Let's go in the living room. We can start on the couch. Just some simple portraits, if you like."

I agreed and set up my equipment. She sat on the couch and my mouth dropped as Heather shrugged off her robe, but left it hanging at her elbows, exposing her blue satin nightgown underneath. It left very little for the imagination, with her supple breasts lightly cradled in nearly see-through blue lace. I swallowed again.

"Uh...you want to start like this?" I asked nervously.

She nodded. "I'd like to wear some of the things that James really liked. This will remind him of me and of home."

"Yeah," I croaked. "I'm sure it will." And then I remembered that I held the camera in my hands and was just standing there, dumbly staring at my daughter's cleavage!

She gave a soft laugh. "You can start whenever you want, Dad."

Brought back to reality, I began snapping shots of her in the seated position. I took several angled shots, several close-ups, and found myself asking her to lie back a bit.

"Like this?" she said in a small voice and I huskily agreed.

More shots were taken as she slowly began to unravel her robe, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor. She was now in just her teddy and I was blazing away at shot after shot, trying to capture her beauty, trying desperately to get that once in a lifetime shot.

After some time, I needed to adjust my lighting to balance what little light came from her covered windows. As I was adjusting my light stand, Heather said something that made my hands stop and begin to tremble. "Umm, Dad, since I need to change into other...outfits, I was wondering if we could take these in a more private setting."

I turned to face her, a lump in my throat and a lump below the belt, speechless. I'm sure my mouth hung low, too, as she said, "Can we...uh...go to my bedroom? It seems more appropriate if we do the photos there."

I stared at her with a half smile, seeing if she were serious or not. She stood up and walked into her bedroom, leaving me stunned and astonished. I scooped up my equipment and followed in her fragrant tracks.

I set up the tripod and camera in her bedroom now. There was a soft glow from her bedside lamp and the room had this ethereal quality to it, as if I had walked into a dream. It seemed like a dream to me, as the butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I nervously screwed my digital camera onto its stand. My hard-on was raging, knowing full well that I would soon be seeing my own daughter in a skimpier outfit, seeing more skin that I have seen in many years. Seeing more skin than any father had a right to see his grown daughter.

Heather emerged from her bathroom in a pink, lace bikini top and bottom. They were her sleepwear, but it could have been a bikini bathing suit for all I knew. She was heavenly. Angelic. With her soft features, perfect skin, and sad eyes, she was a vision of desire. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked at me inquiringly. I gave her a small smile and nodded.

"That's a good place to start. Let's do some poses with you sitting straight up, maybe a few turned sideways a bit. The soft lighting captures your features...uh...very well here." I swallowed the lump in my throat and hoped to God she didn't see the lump below my belt. She returned my smile and looked down with a blush.

I began snapping photos, frantically capturing every nuance, every delectable feature of my daughter. I lost track of time as I snapped shot after shot and instructed her on how to sit, where to sit, when to smile, when not to smile.

It was probably a good hour into it before I said, "Okay, well, why don't you prop up some pillows and I can take some shots of you lying down, maybe reading a book."

She gave me a patient smile and said, "Relax, Dad. Remember, it's for James. We need to keep his spirits up and continue to fight this war for us. I don't think my reading a book dressed like this will inspire him."

"I think you do anything dressed like that would inspire any man!" I cleared my throat and just began to shoot while talking to her. "Okay, so just relax then. You can talk to the camera, tell James how much you miss him and love him."

She took to that quite naturally. Heather seemed to relax and start to move, facing the camera more, talking at first innocently, sweetly, like any woman to her husband. Then, her language became more seductive, sultry, suggestive. She began to talk about their love life.

I took it all in stride, pretending to be the professional photographer that I had always wanted to be. But never did I believe I would be able to shoot such a beautiful model nor my own daughter, especially in this type of situation.

"Uh, Dad, do you think we could maybe take some more intimate pictures? I mean, I know these are pretty intimate, but...I can think of others that might motivate James even more."

My smile slowly disappeared and I nodded dumbly. "Whatever you want, hon. I'm just here to shoot the pictures that you want. You're the boss."

Heather looked down at her breasts and, with infinite slowness, began to push down a shoulder strap. One perfectly shaped breast came into view and Heather looked up at me as if she sought approval. I disconnected the camera from its stand and took a step forward, snapping up the first view of her forbidden flesh. She took it as encouragement and began to slowly and deliberately push off the other strap. She leaned her torso more towards me in order to show off her glorious mounds. My mouth watered and my cock throbbed in its tight confines as I captured her perfect vision.

"My God, Heather. You are so beautiful," I said softly.

She continued to pose in a seductive manner. I was on autopilot at this point and continued to shoot every possible angle from my distance. She curled a finger at me as if to beckon me closer and I willingly complied. If her toplessness was not enough, I watched in stunned silence as Heather's hand snaked its way down her silky skin and into her bikini bottom. She closed her eyes and laid back onto her pillows. There was no mystery as to what she was doing with her fingers. Her mouth hung open and a breathy sigh and moan filled the air like music.

I almost forgot to capture the moment. But after licking my parched lips, I set to work on getting close-ups of Heather's apparent self-pleasuring. I could see that she had slipped a finger, perhaps two, into her hidden folds.

"Oh...James..." she groaned, bringing herself higher and higher. Her legs crossed and uncrossed as she writhed on the bed. At this point, my knees were touching the edge of her bed as I aimed the lens where her fingers disappeared.

Heather's eyes slowly opened, meeting my gaze, still in a trance, still in the throes of passion. Slowly, she pushed her bikini bottoms down her thighs, past her knees, and onto her ankles. With a slight flick, her panties fell to the bedroom floor. Now she was lying and writhing on her bed completely naked. She was completely shaven and her smooth skin glowed. I could even see the glistening of her lips in response to her arousal. It was far more than I had expected when she said intimate photos.

Heather's hand went back to her pussy and she inserted her middle finger inside. In and out, her finger disappeared as she brought herself closer to her climax. I licked my lips again and remembered to capture that sight on digital storage. My mental pictures would never be enough. I would have her images for time immemorial.

Then, Heather's hand came up, fingers dripping with her essence, and sucked them into her mouth. I nearly fell over. She sucked her fingers in and the sound of her slurping nearly sent me over my own edge. Then, I watched in shock as her other hand pulled out a long, plastic vibrator from beneath her pillow. Our eyes were locked onto each other as she inserted the vibrator where her fingers had just been.

She shut her eyes again and moaned. "Oh James...you feel so good. I miss you so much."

"Tell me what you want James to do to you, hon," I said softly. "Show me."

Heather began to move the vibrator in and out of her pussy and I continued to click away. "Oh yes, James, I miss you. I want you. I need you."

She continued to fuck herself slowly, sensually, and I enjoyed the show from the edge of her bed. Before long, she pulled the vibrator out and brought it to her lips. I could smell her sex. The aroma filled the room with forbidden thoughts and desires.

I said, "Is that what you want to do to James, honey? Do you want to suck him?" I was too far gone now. I was entranced, caught in her spell.

Heather nodded her head as she sucked on the glistening vibrator. Her tongue came out, licking and lapping all around the plastic dick.

"Does James like it when you do that, baby?"

Heather said, "Mmm-hmm." She smiled at me wickedly.

"Do you like licking that? Sucking that?"

Then, lazily, still in her dream state, Heather looked at the plastic vibrator and seemed to pout. She looked back at me. Her eyes traveled down and settled on my straining hardness. Then her eyes came back up, meeting mine. We gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity, each trying to gauge what the other was thinking. Then, as if in a dream, Heather got to her knees and crawled over to the edge of the bed.

"I don't like licking that plastic thing. I want the real thing," she said softly. "I want you, James. I need your cock."

Slowly, she reached down and began to unzip my pants. I stood there like a statue, struck dumb with the shock of it all, mesmerized, throat going dry. I watched as my own daughter unzipped my fly and fished out my throbbing cock. Wordlessly, she dipped her head and took my shaft into her mouth. My eyes shut and I tilted my head back, nearly falling over. I enjoyed her expert suckling for several minutes and pushed her hair aside so I could watch her mouth vacuum my girth. I was stunned. I was too shocked to say a damn thing! My own daughter was sucking my cock!

"Oh God, Heather. Oh God. I love you." Then I remembered that I held the camera in my other hand. While holding her hair back, I started taking pictures of her sucking on her father's cock. So taboo. So sinful. So wicked. I was surely going to hell.

"Mmmmm," she mumbled, suctioning her cheeks and trying to draw my cum from my shaft. I wanted to come so badly, but I knew it was so wrong. As wrong as everything already was, I just couldn't bring myself to come in her mouth. It was beyond wrong. It was unholy.

"Heather...Heather...honey, I have to come! Oh God!" I warned her. She continued to suck even more frantically, as if she were dying of thirst.

"Oh God, Heather, baby! I have to-!" She held my cock tighter and stroked it, trying to milk me for all I was worth.

Unable to pry myself, I began to shoot hot semen into her hungry mouth and down her throat. I surged forward, nearly knocking her over. My cock plopped out, still spurting my liquid heat now onto her face and chin and neck. Two more spurts came out and splattered onto her beautiful breasts. I roared out loud and nearly passed out.

Both of us were breathing heavily and staring wildly at each other. We were gasping for breath as if coming up for air for the first time on a deep dive. Each of us searched the other's eyes, looking for recognition, looking for shame and horror, looking for forgiveness and love. It was all there, all of it. Mixed with guilt and shame and remorse and lust, I blinked down at her. Lust was winning out.

Heather gasped as I dropped my camera and pushed her onto her back on the bed. I fell to my knees and spread her legs apart. Then, unceremoniously, I plunged my tongue inside of her pussy lips and began to return the favor. She moaned and writhed and her fingers laced through my hair. She had not only accepted my invasion, she seemed to yearn for it. Her groans grew in intensity as I lapped up her juices and breathed in her heady scent. I growled out loud as I devoured her sweet cunt.

"Oh James! Oh God! Oh my God, James! I love you. I love you. Oh yes, do it! Suck me. Eat me. Oh, I love you, James," she moaned, thrashing about. In moments, she was in the throes of her own orgasmic release and I held onto her bucking young body.

She continued to writhe in the afterglow as I climbed back onto my feet. I stood over her as my cock throbbed back to life. She was angelic. She was a vision of utter sensuality and beauty, my Heather. Her eyes remained closed and she moaned, "Oh James...oh God...that was wonderful. I've missed you so much."

Her feet came down now to touch the floor as her knees bent over the edge of her bed. Heather's eyes opened slowly, still in a dream state. I was breathing heavily as I stared down at her.

Softly, almost too quietly, Heather said, "You promised we could have children. You said that when you got home from the war, we could start a family. Oh God, James, I need you. I need you now."

I gulped another lump down my throat and blinked once. I knew that she was in some sort of a trance, brought on by loneliness, guilt, and shame. She was depressed. She was not thinking straight. Neither was I.

"James...please...you promised..."

I wasn't thinking clearly anymore. I wasn't questioning. I had no doubts as to what I had to do. I bent down and gathered hooked my arms beneath her knees, lifting her up easily, positioning my straining cock to her succulent opening. Then, without further delay, I pushed into the tightness of her seething cunt. She let out a satisfied gasp and I grunted with the effort.