The Yearbook Girl Ch. 04

I was a wreck for a week after that. I found myself taking those pictures of her out and jacking off every three hours. When we talked on the phone about her coming over next Saturday for another session, her voice was a sexy purr that had me reaching to unzip my pants and fondle my dick.

I got another shock when I developed the last set of photographs. The ones she'd shot of me were damn good! She had a real photographer's eye for posing and lighting. I mean, I thought I was heterosexual, but those shots of my oiled dick in various stages of erection were erotic as hell, and the nudes of me were off the charts; even I was getting turned on by them. Somehow she made my dick seem even larger and harder than it actually was.

She showed up at nine the next Saturday morning. It wasn't for a client this time. It was just for fun, and fun was what I was ready for. I'd turned the thermostat up and was naked when she walked through the door. She laughed at my swinging dick and stripped naked herself. Her slot was wet.

"I've been masturbating on the bus," she explained as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her jeans and a very wet pair of panties. "I can do that without even touching my pussy, just by clenching my leg muscles. People around me don't even know I'm getting hot, and that makes it even hotter for me! I was almost cumming when I got off the bus. And now I wanna fuck!" With that, she stripped off her sweater to expose those lovely little tits and very erect nipples.

And fuck we did, right there on the sheepskin rug. My dick was hard in one second, covered with a condom the next second, and inside her in the second after that. She wasn't kidding about being aroused; her quim was slick with her juices, and I glided into her with barely any friction. This time the fuck was playful, with us giggling as we slid our bodies against each other. It was the first time we'd fucked without oil, and the lack of slipperiness added a new dimension as I could feel the velvety softness of her skin. Her hard nipples were no longer sliding across my chest, but digging in, and our legs seemed to stick together as we entwined them. I was getting aroused too fast, and I could feel my control slipping. She could feel it, too, and said, "Go ahead and cum, darling. Don't wait for me." With relief, I gave into the overwhelming demands of my cock and released my sperm into her. I pulled out, and she replaced my cock with two of the fingers of her left hand, while her right hand strummed her clit. And I watched her torso redden as her own orgasm swept over her. It was beautiful to watch, and I couldn't help but drop to my knees, take her hands away, and press my lips against her cunt. Her hands flew to her boobs, pinching and twisting the nipples. When I thrust my tongue into her, she gave a cry as her orgasm crested again, and my mouth was flooded with her honey.

I lay down next to her and we embraced. Her hand went to my soft dick, stripped the full condom off, and caressed my dick as my own hand stroked her pubic hair and pressed against her clit. And then she said, "Good morning, Hank!" and we laughed.

Our lusts satisfied, we got up and made some coffee. As we drank it, she filled me in on her week. I found out that she was an honor student, played clarinet for the band, and was on the swim team. I'd been a competitive swimmer myself in high school and college, so she was delighted to have somebody to talk to who knew what the score was. And then I showed her the pictures we'd taken the previous weekend.

"Those pictures you took of me were dynamite, Cindy! Have you had previous experience in photography?"

"Not with good equipment. Just with Kodaks. But I like to shoot stuff. My dad would complain when I'd go through three rolls of film a week. He bitched about the processing costs."

"I can't do color, but I can develop black and white right here at the studio. It's easy. I'll teach you, and you can do it yourself. Believe me, doing your own processing gives you a whole new level of control. Want to try that?"

She nodded, so we loaded up a camera with some black/white stock and she ran off a roll, shooting everything in the studio, including me in various poses. She took more pictures of my dick, both soft and hardening, as well as more chaste poses. I did the same with her, and this time she delighted in giving me the raunchiest poses she could, grasping her cunt lips and pulling them aside to reveal her hole as she grinned impishly. I guess the knowledge that she was controlling the photographic process from start to finish released something in her, because she showed no inhibitions whatever. My cock was soon sticking straight up, but when I asked to fuck her again, she said, "No, dear. I want to tease you some more!"

We took the film out of the camera and developed it. Or, I should say, she did. All I did was coach her, showing her the equipment and development trays and how the enlarger worked. She did the rest. And not only did the pictures she shot display her talent behind the camera, but she quickly got the hang of slightly over-exposing and under-exposing the prints for better effect. She was a natural. I could tell that she could be a pretty good professional photographer, maybe even a great one, and I told her so.

"You think so?" she replied. "I've always enjoyed taking pictures, but I've never been happy with the results. I always thought they could be better."

"A cheap camera is good for snapshots, dear, but it's not a real tool for a professional. If you had a decent SLR with a good set of lenses, and shutter speed and aperture adjustments, there's no limit to what you can do with it."

"How much does one cost?"

"Let me look around. I know some people who sell used equipment for less than you'd see in stores."

"Hot stuff?" she said impishly. "With the serial numbers filed off?"

"Oh, no. No stolen stuff at all! It's just that photographers are always upgrading their gear as they can afford it, and they sell their old stuff to help pay for the new stuff. They can get more money for it by selling direct rather than trading it in. Just like cars."

"Well, see what you can find. I'm really hot to get into this."

"If you're serious, I could loan you a camera and a set of lenses. I've got this Zeiss that I don't use much anymore. It's a perfectly good camera, and the lenses are top-notch."

"Let me see it."

So I dug it out of the closet, gave it a going-over, and loaded it with film. She took some pictures to familiarize herself with it. Gradually our horniness got the best of us again. She got out the body oil from the bathroom cabinet and we oiled ourselves up, and started fondling each other. "Does this thing have a timer?" she asked.

"It does. It worked, the last time I tried it, I think."

"Let's try it! I want to get both of us in the frame!"

So we set it on a tripod, set the timer, and stood in front of the camera. We took a series of pictures of hugging each other, my hard cock pressed against her belly. Then we took another one, with me slipping my cock into her cunt as she lifted her leg, exposing her sex to the camera. She was giggling as we stood there, my cock half-way inside her, balancing to hold the pose. "So this is what porn shots are like," she said with a grin. "It's not what I imagined."

"Where on earth have you seen 'porn shots' before?"

"Oh, my friend Tracy had some magazines. She got them from her brother. She found them under his mattress when she was making his bed, and told him that she'd tell their mom if he didn't let her have them."

"What did you think of them?"

"I thought they were gross. The guys in them were all fat hairy guys with bald spots and mustaches, although some of them had nice-looking peckers. And the girls looked like hookers, really tough girls, drug addicts probably, with big boobs and asses. To tell you the truth, I thought that if this is what a man's idea of beauty is, then I don't have a chance."

"Cindy, I am not bullshitting you. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met. And the smartest, and the sexiest."

"Are you just saying that 'cause I'm balling you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm in love with you. Hopelessly. I've been in agony when you're not around."

She drew me close and kissed me. "You know what? Me, too. It's been hell. I'm in school, and there are all these guys hitting on me, and some of them are really nice boys. But now, they don't interest me. They're boys. You're a man. They just want to get into my pants, they don't care about what I want. You do. You see something in me besides a cunt and a pair of tits."

"I see an artist, dying to express her art. I see a woman who's not afraid to show me everything about her, mind, body, and soul. I see a kindred spirit."

"That's what I see in you, too, Hank."

And we embraced some more. Finally, she said, "I want to fuck again. Are you ready? Your pecker's been hard for hours."

"I want to fuck again, too, but I want to fuck you in a bed. At my place. And I want to get some lunch first."

She laughed. "Now you're teasing me! I deserve that! And I'm hungry, too. Woolworths? This time, it's on me. How far away do you live?"

"Two blocks. Walking distance."

"Too far! Let's fuck first!"

So we screwed on the couch, filling another condom. Then we got up, dressed, and went across the street for lunch. She was glowing with this just-fucked aura that some women have, and I wondered if everybody in the Woolworth's was picking up on it. I think the waitress did. Or maybe she just got a whiff of pussy. At any rate, she gave Cindy a knowing wink as she took our orders. We ate ravenously, paid the bill, and then walked the two blocks to my apartment.

"Nice place you have here," she said as she examined the premises. "Did you take all these pictures yourself?"

"Most of them. Some are from friends of mine."

"Who did this nude?" She pointed to a large black-and-white print of a voluptuous woman lying on a couch, regarding the camera with a cool gaze.

"I did."

"Was she a good fuck?"

"I didn't fuck her."

"Why not? Is she a professional model? Or a lesbian?"

"Not that I know of. She's my sister."

"Really? Damn! She let you photograph her naked?"

"Well, I talked her into it. She wasn't too thrilled about it, but she did it."

"I kind of wish she was a lesbian. I could go for her myself!"

"Do you swing that way, Cindy?"

"Not really. But sometimes I see a girl, and I wonder if there's something there. There was one girl ... Audrey ... who hit on me, but I didn't like her much. But I did wonder what I would have done if I'd liked her better."

"Did that bother you?"

"No. That book my mother gave me said that these feelings were normal, and that lots of girls have them. Guys, too. It's just a part of figuring out who they are."

"That sounds right. There was a guy I knew in high school, when I was a sophomore. I knew I was straight, but one day we were horsing around and I got a whiff of his sweat, and I think that if he suggested something at that point, I might have gone for it."

"So you know. That's kind of what I felt around Audrey."

Yup. But I hope you're interested in some cock right now."

She laughed. "You bet I am! Did you remember to bring the rubbers?"

"I have some here, in the nightstand drawer. Let's get undressed."

"No. I want to undress you. I want you to undress me."

She took her time about it, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and releasing the buckle on my trousers. She kissed each part of my body as she exposed it. When she slipped off my shorts, she lifted my cock and slipped the cap into her mouth as she lifted and separated my balls.

"You don't have any venereal diseases, do you?" she said in a low voice.

"No, I don't."

"Then let me do this," she said, and she returned her dick to my mouth and proceeded to give me a most delicious blow-job. I was already hard, and the sensation of her tongue on the underside of my cock was overwhelming. I was scarcely able to warn her of my impending orgasm, but she ignored it and kept sucking, and then I felt myself give way. My cock pulsed. My seed shot out into her warm mouth, and she continued to lick and suck as I released my load. Then she stood and gave me a long French kiss. I tasted something I'd never tasted before: my own sperm.

And then it was my turn to pull off her sweater and suck each nipple as I exposed it. Then came her pants and a very wet pair of panties. I gave her mons a kiss as her panties dropped. The smell of her pussy was intoxicating. When she was nude, I picked her up, my limp cock still dripping, and carried her into the bedroom. I pulled back the covers, laid her on the bed, and spread her legs. I wanted to not only smell that pussy but taste it, too. We didn't exchange a word. I lapped at her cunt and finger-fucked her as she rolled her swollen clit back and forth with her finger, and she slid softly and gently into an orgasm, not like the frenetic ones she'd had before, but one that swept over her like a gentle rain. She mewed softly, like a kitten. And then I felt her body start to tremble as the orgasm built up force, and I slipped three fingers into her cunt, pushing savagely. I felt her cunt muscles clench around them, crushing them. And then a gush of wetness that drenched the bed, and a wail that came from her body like a banshee's ghost. She opened her eyes, and regarded me with an unfocused gaze, like she'd been drugged. Her belly muscles fluttered and clenched.

My own cock was hardening again. I could scarcely believe it. For the fourth time today, I was getting hard. I wanted to fuck her, to penetrate her, to fill her. "I've got to fuck you," I growled softly.

"Yes," she said. Just that word, and it was music to me. I fumbled for the nightstand, retrieved a condom from the drawer, and tore it open with trembling hands. She took it from me, rolled it onto my cock, and spread her legs again. I thrust inside her. Her cunt muscles grasped my cock, released it, grasped it again. It didn't seem to be voluntary. She was orgasming still, each wave crashing over her and transmitting its force to me through her cunt. We rode it for what seemed like a half an hour. Once inside her, my own passion lost some of its urgency, and I was glad to see that I was able to keep thrusting without cumming. I was lost in my own sensations, as she was lost in hers. When I finally came with a last lunge and shiver, she gave me a hug to acknowledge it. I emptied my balls into her with a load I was surprised to find that I even had, and then I pulled out of her. Her hand stripped the condom off my cock, which was now too sensitive to touch. She gave me a wry grin and sucked the sperm from its tip, and gave me another semen-laden kiss.

We dozed then for a while. When I awoke, she was looking at me, a smile on her face. "You lied to me," she said.

"Huh? How?"

"You said it wouldn't get any better. The sex. You lied."

"Did I say that? I said that there would come a time that it wouldn't get any better. I guess that time hasn't come yet."

"I guess I should tell you something now. No, I'm not pregnant! But Mom put me on birth control last week. She reconsidered it, and she decided that I'm old enough, after all. But you've got to promise me that you don't have VD."

"I promise. But it's a little late for that now. We've given each other head, and that's enough."

"I trusted you, though, when you said you were clean."

"And you can keep trusting me. I'd rather cut off my arm than lie to you."

She rolled onto her side, slowly, as if getting used to her body again after where it had been. "Mom says I have to keep using rubbers for a month or so, until the Pill is working. Do you mind?"

I kissed her. "I don't. Just being with you is a privilege, even if it's not fucking. I could live with that. But I'd rather keep fucking, even with a rubber."

"Me, too." She gave me a peck on the cheek. "But you'd better buy a dozen or two next time."

And, as it turned out, two dozen turned out to be just enough.