The Walk

The Walk

This is a work of fiction, derived entirely from my imagination. It is not about any person I know, living or dead, or any real event. All participants in the story are over 18 years old.

I'd been working around the house all morning - mostly sitting at a computer editing photographs and when I stood up, my back and legs felt really stiff and sore. I decided to go for a short walk round the local streets for a half hour or so just to loosen up a bit, and besides, it was a fine sunny day, ideal for a pleasant walk. I took my camera with me as usual because you never know when a photo opportunity might present itself, and I've missed so many great shots over the years because I left the camera at home.

So, I set out, walking briskly to get the blood circulating, but after about twenty minutes, I slowed down a little, enjoying the sun and life in general. It was then that I noticed the young woman at the other side of the road, keeping pace with me. At first I didn't pay her much attention apart from giving her a cursory, 'once over.' I noticed that she was very attractive, long dark hair, slim figure, with great legs, shown to best advantage by her short blue dress, which apart from its length was very demure. High neckline, no cleavage on show, sleeveless, and quite dark, just a few shades lighter than navy blue.

When she stepped off the kerb, obviously intent on crossing the road towards me, I paid her a bit more attention. When she smiled a beautiful smile at me that showed her perfect white teeth, I paid her even more attention, and when she spoke to me, 'Hello, you're the photographer guy, aren't you?' she had my complete attention. I agreed that I was, and by this time she'd reached me, holding out her hand, which I took in mine. Her handshake was firm and dry, no clammy palms here.

As if in answer to my unasked question she said, 'You don't know me, but I've spoken to you on the internet quite a few times.' When she explained who she was, giving me her internet username, I instantly recalled, 'talking,' to her, although her real name was Ashleigh. If the truth be known, I'd dismissed her as a timewaster, or an idiot. We had indeed, 'spoken,' a number of times, and while she initially came across as really keen on being photographed, there was always some excuse at the last moment, and she never went through with it. I'd more or less mentally filed her away as a waste of space.

'Yes, I remember you okay, but to tell the truth, I'd kind of given up on you. We always get so far down the road to arranging a shoot, and then you disappear on me. It's really disappointing because you'd obviously be a good model.' She looked suitably embarrassed by my candour.

'I know, and I'm so sorry. I desperately want to do it, but things just get in the way. My boyfriend doesn't want me to do it, but believe me it's something I've always wanted to do.'

'Does your boyfriend think I'm going to molest you or something?' I asked indignantly. 'I've photographed hundreds of women and it's no big deal; to me it's a job. A very nice job admittedly, but a job nonetheless.' She shook her head, and said nothing for a moment or two. I could see she was struggling with something and waited, giving her time to come to a decision. She was blushing when she finally spoke.

'No, it's not you he's worried about, it's me.' She was looking down at the ground in an embarrassed sort of way before adding, 'It's me - he thinks I'm too sexy.'

'Well, I've photographed a lot of sexy women over the years, and it's never been a problem before,' I explained. 'In fact it's almost an essential part of the job, in my opinion.' Again she shook her head.

'Oh dear, you're not making this easy for me, are you?' She went silent again and then blurted out, 'He worries because I'm too sexual, too horny, whatever you want to call it. He thinks I'd like it too much.' I explained to her that some girls do get a little turned on when they started modelling, but I didn't think it would be problem.

Again she went silent, before speaking. 'One of the reasons I always seemed so keen and then changed my mind was because when I started talking about it with you I got really excited. I thought if I get this excited just talking about it, what am I going to be like when I'm actually doing it? I just know when I do a shoot with you I'm going to be so excited I'll make a fool of myself.' She was trembling as she said it.

'Look, I can see it took a lot for you to admit that, but to me, that shows just how important this is to you.' She nodded her head quickly. 'You'll never know how it will work out, if you never do it, will you?' I asked. 'So, let's go back to my house and discuss it, and maybe take a few pictures. It's just a couple of streets away, and we'll know how you feel within a few minutes of starting. If it's too much for you, we can stop, and no harm done. What do you think?' I finished.

She shook her head, obviously thinking about it, but reluctant to commit herself, so I reached out and took her hand in mine, and she meekly followed me without protest. Sometimes you have to take the initiative, and this was one of those times. We walked down the road, hand in hand like lovers, but her reluctance it seemed was at an end.

At my house, I took her into the lounge, and asked her to have a seat; just make herself comfortable, then offered her tea, coffee, or a soft drink. I left her there in the lounge while I fetched a coke for her. When I came back she was sitting on the couch with her legs drawn up under her. The short dress had hiked up showing a fair expanse of thigh, not to mention a flash of white panties. She looked decidedly nervous as I handed her the coke, but managed a tremulous smile. 'You must think I'm an idiot?' she said. I smiled back.

'No, no, not at all,' I assured her. 'It's quite natural to be nervous.'

'I think I'm well past being nervous now that I'm here. I'm excited,' she said in a low urgent voice, her eyes holding mine. 'Really excited.' To tell the truth, at that point I didn't quite know what to say, so I skated over her admission and offered to explain what a photo shoot entailed, thinking if I ignored it she might get herself under control. She just nodded, and so I found myself explaining, how her photo shoot would take shape, starting with her fully dressed.

As I spoke I could see her getting more agitated, restless, a fine flush on her face and neck. Her breathing altered subtly, I couldn't help but notice, and I knew she was getting more turned on as I spoke. It was almost as if I was hypnotising her with my voice as she hung on every word. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and I felt a slight panic. This was supposed to distract her from how she was feeling, but it was having the opposite effect. It was making her worse, but I couldn't very well stop in mid flow.

'And finally you'd be nude,' I tailed off, after quickly explaining about her modelling in lingerie and then topless. She said nothing for a moment, eyes closed, gasping for breath like an asthmatic. She opened her eyes and gave me a look that positively smouldered.

'I'm so fucking turned on; I don't know what to do with myself. I knew this would happen, I just knew it,' she said, her eyes pleading with me. I began to get worried. She uncoiled her legs from under her and sat right on the edge of the sofa. 'You must see it for yourself now; what I meant about making a fool of myself?' she stated. I nodded in agreement.

'Oh yes, I can see alright, but I don't think you're making a fool of yourself. In fact I find it quite endearing that you can openly admit it to yourself, and what's more, admit it to me. That takes a lot of courage. You're a brave girl,' I added. She smiled a sort of wistful smile at me but said nothing. 'I'm not made of stone Ashleigh, I can see how this is affecting you, and I'm only human.' She nodded and smiled again.

'Yes, I know, I noticed you looking, admiring my legs when you came back from the kitchen, and I knew you could see my panties. Am I right?' I nodded to confirm her assertion. 'I know it was just a natural thing for you to do, and that excited me so much, but it really started when I saw you walking at the other side of the street. I knew who you were, and started thinking of what it would be like to finally do a sexy photo shoot with you. I was already getting wet when I started talking to you, and when you took my hand, I just couldn't help myself and let you take control. I may have seemed reluctant, but I'm so glad you did that.'

'You have fabulous legs Ashleigh; I couldn't help but notice,' I admitted, she smiled in response, 'and yes, I noticed the little white panties too. You look so damned sexy, any man who doesn't like what I can see right now, and appreciate it, must be dead from the neck down.' Her smile took on a wicked turn and her eyes flashed seductively. What she did next took my breath away.

'What you couldn't possibly see was this,' she said, hitching her dress a little higher and spreading her legs. The tiny white cotton panties were soaked. The pristine whiteness of the panties was stained a darker, off white, almost grey where her wetness had soaked through. I'd seen enough. I got up, walked over to her and kneeled before her, resting my hands on her knees.

She looked straight into my eyes, still smiling and nodded in assent. I pushed her knees further apart, but she opened up quite compliantly, and sliding my hands higher up under her dress, I hooked the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She lifted her bottom off the sofa to help me, and there she was, naked from the waist down. She smiled nervously and then lay back on the sofa leaving her sweet little pussy exposed to my gaze, and tender mercies.

I stroked the inside of her thighs, slowly and sensuously, taking my time. It's not very often that I get the chance to make love to a beautiful girl twenty years younger than me, so I was determined to savour the moment. We never know when these things may come round again, so make the most of every opportunity, for each one is very special. I'm not the type of guy who takes advantage of models, far from it. Looking back I sometimes mentally kick myself for all the missed opportunities, but it's just not in my nature to be pushy, and I have to be absolutely positive the woman wants some form of physical contact, and clearly shows it by word or gesture, before I respond in kind.

I never think they are turned on by me; I just think they are naturally sexual, and I get the benefit by being the only male available at the crucial moment. Like my new found lover Ashleigh, who was squirming under my hands, which were now stroking the velvet-like skin of her inner thighs.

She spread her legs even wider as I stroked higher, gasping and moaning as I neared her gloriously wet pussy. 'Oh please, touch me,' she pleaded as I neared my goal, but I was determined to make her wait. She'd be all the more grateful when I finally made contact with her pussy. I took a closer look at it, my face within inches of her wetness, which made her more agitated still. I think she thought I was going down on her at first, so when I stopped to look, she became even more frustrated and desperate.

She was almost completely shaven, just a small token strip of her natural dark hair remaining, the generous labia swollen and open, dribbling and spewing her wetness out. Her clitoris, pink, shiny, and pearlescent, peeked from below its hood, ready for tongue or fingers to bring the myriad nerve endings seated there to shrieking, pulsating life. A wonderful aroma of sheer sex, emanated from her; musky, feminine, and I could deny her no more. I dipped my head lower still and let the flat of my tongue, run up the wet, central groove made by her open labia, carrying her own slippery secretion up and over her clitoris.

Her bottom lifted off the sofa, pushing harder against my tongue, as she moaned loudly with sheer relief. She became ever more frantic in response as I let two fingers slide deep within her to add to the sensations my tongue was already giving her. I knew her orgasm was near and stepped up the pace, my fingers slipping in and out of her wetness faster now, massaging the g-spot, while my tongue tortured and teased the swollen bud, tasting and lapping at her juices.

After a few more seconds of this treatment, she went rigid, not even breathing, and then suddenly let out her breath with an explosion of tension, screaming loudly as her orgasm swept over her. She squeezed her legs together, and held my hand with hers, tight against her pussy, milking every last shred of sensation from her orgasm.

At last I felt her relax, and go almost limp, letting her legs relax and open again. I slowly withdrew my fingers, and as I did so, she opened her eyes and smiled; a beautiful heart stopping smile. She reached out and touched my mouth, then tenderly caressed the side of my face. 'Your face is wet,' was all she said. So, I kissed her, letting her taste herself on my lips and in my mouth. She liked being kissed, and she liked my stroking between her legs again as I kissed her.

She made soft moaning sounds, her breathing getting faster again. Reluctantly I broke away and started to unbutton my shirt. Our eyes never lost contact, and as I slipped my shirt off, and began to unbuckle my belt, I could see that look of uncertainty in her eyes again.

'Oooh, I'm so sorry. I know it sounds selfish, but I don't know if I want to go that far. Remember, I said I had a boyfriend?' she finished lamely. Not the slightest bit convincing to my biased ears. By this time I had slipped my underpants down, and my cock had sprung up, erect and hard to bursting point. She couldn't help but look; natural womanly curiosity was her undoing. Not that I'm wonderfully endowed or anything, just average sized I reckon, but it was enough for her just to see it, to have the desired effect as I hoped.

She looked at it for what seemed ages, and then slowly reached out her hand, as if reluctant to touch it, stopped, her hand in mid-air. I was standing up, she was still sitting down, with my cock about a foot or so from her face, and I knew, despite her vocal reluctance that she wanted it. I reached forward, and took the uncertain, but still hovering hand, and placing it on my cock, letting her feel the hardness. In that magic few seconds, she lost all her inhibitions, her uncertainty forgotten at last.

Her fingers wrapped around my length, squeezing and testing, her beautifully elegant hand looking as if it was designed to play with my cock. I knew I had her when she began to stroke it back and forwards and so I stepped a little closer still to see what she might do. She did as I expected a naturally horny woman to do; she leaned forward, running her tongue along my shaft, then back again, and her gorgeous mouth opened, pulling me into the pleasure filled wetness that was her mouth. She sucked, licked and stroked as if born to it, eager and enthusiastic, obviously enjoying her work. I knew I couldn't hold out against such an onslaught of pleasure for too long, so placing my hands on her shoulders, I pushed gently, withdrawing from her mouth.

She looked disappointed, but I sank to my knees between her still open legs and placed my knob against her slippery pussy lips. She lay back on the sofa again, opening wider still, and I knew, despite her initial qualms, that she, wanted this as much as me. I pushed gently and her pussy lips opened to the pressure, allowing me to slide into her wetness. She moaned loudly as I slid into her, pushing up to meet my first thrust. I withdrew slowly, teasingly, seeing my emerging prick coated liberally with her juice, then pushed into her again, bringing another gasp and moan of delight.

Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer, deeper, as I began to plunge and withdraw, plunge and withdraw. Reaching round behind her back, I unzipped her dress, pulling it off her shoulders and within seconds did the same to her bra. She had wonderful breasts, and I made good use of them as I fucked her, adding even more to our enjoyment. Her nipples were wonderfully hard and dark brown, and I teased, licked and nibbled them as my cock sliced into her.

She was moaning continuously now, and I was relieved to find her orgasm was very close. I didn't want to come before her, but I knew I couldn't take much more of the sublime pussy wrapped around my cock. I needn't have worried, for almost immediately she pushed hard against me, her lovely arse pumping up and down frantically as she moaned, almost screaming, that she was coming.

She was well into her pleasure when I let go, pumping and pumping into her depths. Her orgasm seemed to go up a gear if possible, as she felt me fill her, until at last, trying to milk the last vestiges of pleasure, we both came to a shuddering halt. Exhausted, but happy, and still inside her, she kissed me deeply, and I kissed her back.

Much, much later, she went home. We did a small photo shoot later on in the afternoon, but we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Once that initial barrier was breached, she seemed to be constantly in the mood for sex, and who was I to deny such a beautiful young woman, so I duly obliged. I like to think I gave a good account of myself that first day, and she must have thought so too. She came back to be photographed quite a few times, but it always ended up the same way.

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