Nude Shots

Clarissa looked at the grimy office block in front of her and then back down at the torn scrap of newspaper in her hand and shivered.

“It’s not too late,” she told herself, “it’s not too late. You can just turn right around and head back home again. You don’t have to go through with this.”

She gave a little snort. Not go through with this? That was a joke. Her mortgage was six months behind and her car was going to die on her any day now, not to mention the frightening credit card bill that was due to land on her mat at the end of the month. Oh no, there was no question of going back home, she thought, she had to go through with this.

She read the text of the unassuming little advert one more time. “Mature women wanted for nude photography. Any size, any age. Fees vary, but $500 minimum paid in cash to accepted models.” Five hundred wasn’t going to get her out of debt but it would sure help to keep the wolves from the door for a month or two, and, after all, she was only going to show her naked body to a complete stranger. How bad could that be?

Oh, pretty bad, her inner voice taunted. “Alright for you to say,” Clarissa muttered and crossed the street to the entrance hall.

***

She found the number she needed and pressed the bell, and a crackly voice answered immediately over the intercom. “Yes?”

“Clarissa Browne, for the, er, photography,” she said, blushing, not knowing quite how to announce herself. Clarissa Browne, desperate mother of two and part-time pornographic model? Disgusting Clarissa Browne here to bare her big fat ass for cash?

The voice seemed to chuckle. “Come on up,” it said as a buzzer sounded.

***

The studio was bare and very cold. There was a fairly abstract set constructed in the centre of the large floor, with a red velvet sofa and lots of cushions, and, in one corner behind the lights, a desk with a flashy Apple computer and several cameras. But there was no changing room, and a rickety screen balanced precariously behind the desk seemed to be all the privacy she would be afforded.

A barefoot young man in scruffy jeans and an old Guns & Roses tee-shirt had ushered her in. “Hi, I’m Greg,” was all he’d said up till now, which wasn’t helping her to feel comfortable or confident.

“So, how does this work?” Clarissa asked. “You want to photograph me for men’s magazines or what?”

The young man smiled. “That’s a slightly out of date concept of nude photography,” he said quietly in a quaint English accent, making her feel very, very old indeed, “if you chose to sign a contract with me your images would be released to my website, whereby you’d earn fifty percent of the total revenue your photographs generate. I liked the snap shot that you sent me, and you look like a reliable cash cow, so I’d be prepared to advance you five hundred dollars to start with, but you wouldn’t see any more until your revenue stream exceeded the thousand dollar mark.”

Clarissa gulped. It had never occurred to her that this humiliation might earn her more than the promised handful of cee-notes. You’re getting seduced, her inner voice warned. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” Clarissa answered back, and then said aloud, “okay, let’s do this.”

The young man smiled again. “Let me guess, you’ve never done this before.”

Clarissa shook her head.

“It’ll be fine,” he said cryptically, “you’ll have a blast!”

***

She had undressed quickly behind the flimsy screen and was sitting on the red velvet couch, naked save for an old dressing gown that smelt of other women’s perfume while Greg adjusted lamps and waved his light meter in the air. “This photoset will be a striptease,” he’d explained, “but we shoot it in reverse so there’s no bra marks or panty lines. So just sit around and get comfortable and we’ll start in about fifteen minutes, then we’ll start dressing you once we’ve finished with all the nude shots.”

“Fuck,” Clarissa thought to herself, “it’s like eating your last meal on Death Row, fifteen minutes to sit around and fret before the entire world sees every zit on my ass... and worse.”

“Alright,” Greg announced eventually, “I think I’m ready to do some test shots if you’d like to disrobe...”

“Disrobe?” she thought, “that’s a polite word for it.” Fuck, and this little English kid was so matter-of-fact too, like he was helping with the set-up of his mom’s bake stall or something.

She looked at him dumbly. “Here?” she said in a small voice.

The young man smiled kindly. “When you’re ready,” was all he said.

Clarissa stood up and took a deep breath and unfastened the cord on her robe and felt the cold air on her skin as the gown parted. She was a tall woman of forty-three with thick naturally chestnut hair that hadn’t started to grey yet, full-size hips and large breasts with small pink aureoles and big rubbery nipples.

“You’ve got a bush, that’s nice, I like a bit of bush,” Greg’s faintly quaint voice said from somewhere in the big room over the pounding sound in her ears. “Can you lose the robe completely? Oh yes, now that is nice!”

“I don’t believe I’m doing this,” Clarissa thought in desperation, standing bare-assed naked under the lights, “I can’t go through with this, I just can’t, I’m going to run away...”

“Clarissa, can you turn around so that I can see your ass?” Greg’s voice suddenly called and she found herself complying.

“Now I’m showing him my ass,” she thought, “I’ve just bared my pussy to this kid and now I turn round and show him my ass when he asks. What the fuck?”

“That’s beautiful,” he said from behind her, “fuck, you are sex on a stick, girl.”

She heard the sound of his camera shutter and his low mutter of appreciation. At least the kid liked his work.

“Can you bend over for me, Sweetheart?” he called, “that’s it, but a little further, no not like that, like you’ve been a bad girl and you’re about to be spanked.”

“Like I’m about to be spanked? Is this kid for real?” she thought, but she felt something a little like a thrill of excitement as she bent over and raised her big full butt up for his camera’s inspection.

“Oh yes, that’s the shot I need,” he purred as his shutter went off again and again, “lovely, now part your legs just slightly and show me a just a little hint of pussy. That’s it, not too much now, not yet, make them wait, oh yes, that’s beautiful, that is. Okay, now lie on the couch for me...”

“Oh, here we go, the casting couch,” Clarissa thought, suddenly clenching up as she lay down amongst the cushions and the plush red velvet, keeping her legs tightly shut as the camera went off and Greg came into view behind his lens.

“That’s it, lovely, stick your tits out for me, great, now put your arm behind your head for me. Oh, your armpits are shaved, pity, never mind, you can grow them in for next time. Okay, now relax, you’re looking tense there, I don’t want you tense. Let your legs part a little, I’m not seeing any pussy here, oh come on, Clarissa, you were fine on the ass shots, what’s the problem, Darling?”

Clarissa sighed. “I can’t do this,” she said in a small voice, reaching for the robe and covering herself up.

Greg laid his camera down. “Of course you can,” he said gently, “you were starting to enjoy it before you lay down. What changed?’

Clarissa thought about it. “I can see you,” she finally said.

“And why is that bad? Do I repel you?”

She laughed in spite of herself. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “it’s just that when I see you I see the whole thing for the farce it really is. I’m old enough to be your mother and I’m sitting here showing you my ass. And why would anyone pay to look at a woman like me naked anyway?”

“Oh, lots of men will pay to look at you naked, believe me,” he said, then added quietly, “I certainly would.”

Clarissa raised her eyebrows quizzically. “No you wouldn’t,” she said gently, “you just see me as, what did you call it, a reliable cash cow.”

“That’s the business side of me talking, but the reason I have a successful business is because I listen to my cock, and my cock says it would pay again and again and again for a peep at your charms.”

Clarissa laughed again. It sounded strange to hear his cute Hugh Grant voice saying words like that and talking about his cock. But she wasn’t fooled. The kid had booked the studio time, he was protecting his investment. Handling her.

“Nice try, kid,” she said, getting up to go, her robe falling open momentarily and treating him to a flash of her dense curly bush.

“No, wait,” he said, “let me prove it to you.”

“How?” she asked, hands on her massive hips, challenging him.

Greg didn’t reply but pulled off his tee-shirt and jeans and stood before her in just a tiny pair of unexpectedly snowy-white briefs, the outline of his big stiff cock clearly visible.

“Now do you believe me?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers and holding her gaze.

She shook her head again. “No. Show me more.”

He smiled and peeled the pants off, his cock springing out from its cage and bouncing like an eager dog. He was, when he was dressed, a small built, boyish male; but naked he became a wiry athlete, his white sun-starved body a bed of rippling muscles like a fly-weight boxer’s, his chest and legs fairly smooth but his pubic area covered in thick, blonde-brown hair that off-set his big, bulging cock.

Unlike the American men she was used to he wasn’t circumcised and his foreskin was trying valiantly to cover the big purple head of his dick, but not succeeding and his almost bare cock-head gleamed slick and proud. His balls were long and heavy, the sacks stretched, as it were, from the weight, and his shaft was long and knobbly, like a gnarled old tree branch in an old fairy tale illustration.

“Now can I photograph you?” he asked.

A flush of white-hot arousal had flushed through her nether regions as she’d looked at him and she knew that she wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave. She smiled and let the robe slide off her shoulders. “If you stay like that,” she breathed, melting into the sea of velvet and parting her big white thighs for him.

***

“So, you stare at women’s cunts all day. Is that a fitting job for a fine young Englishman such as yourself?” she asked, watching his big cock intently as he focused his probing camera on her spread pussy.

“What can I say,” he grinned, “I love my work.”

“Oh, you certainly do that,” she said, looking at his dick again, wishing that she could lick the tiny bud of pre-cum that was forming on the cute little hole of the now fully exposed purple-brown head.

He grinned again and gave his member a quick squeeze. “Just think,” he said, “when you’re on line there’ll be hundreds of men looking at you and doing this every minute of every day.”

Clarissa whistled, unashamedly and openly aroused now. “That’s a lot of stiff cock for one little pussy,” she said.

“Ah, but what a pussy,” he said, moving closer with his long camera lens.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said gruffly, but felt a warm wave of heat pass over her as she ran a cautious finger through her bush and round the entrance to her already very moist slit.

When she was a teenager she and her best friend, Betsy Somerville, had compared cunts one day and she had been shocked at how different they had been. Betsy’s pussy had been small and tight, her slit closed and secret behind her short light-brown fur, while her own rubyfruit had been big and open, the pink inner petals of her labia hanging down like a sticky tropical flower.

“I love your cunt, I love the way it all spills out,” Betsy had giggled, reaching a tentative hand out to touch, “it’s all so pink and open and inviting. Cute.”

Clarissa had blushed. “It’s not too forward, is it, showing so much? Would I give boys the wrong idea?”

Betsy giggled again. “If a boy could see what I’m seeing now he’d most definitely get the wrong idea. Which would be exactly what you’d want him to get. Not like mine, Miss Clam-Shell-Cunt, nineteen eighty nine.”

“Is it really as tight as it looks,” Clarissa had asked, finally daring to touch.

“Slide your finger in and find out,” Betsy had replied, not giggling any more.

***

“You ever done it with another guy?” Clarissa asked suddenly as she lay with her legs wide apart, her big full cunt hot and excited, her clit like a slippery almond under her busy index finger.

Greg laughed. “I’m an English public school boy, of course I have. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about me and my friend Betsy and the things we used to get up to. It was making me quite hot.”

“Mmm, I can see that,” he murmured, camera clicking, his big phallic lens zooming in on her arousal, “just go on thinking those thoughts.”

Clarissa laughed. “No, I think I want to hear about your adventures in Dickland instead,” she said, masturbating hard, “and all the gory details too.”

Greg paused in his snapping and tugged his very tight foreskin all the way up and then slowly back down again, making his huge cock ooze clear liquid. “Okay,” he said, “but what do I get in return?”

Clarissa thought about it. “If you get me very hot I’ll finger fuck myself up the ass for your camera....”

The boy groaned. “What do you want to know?” was all he managed to say.

***

“My father was a successful blood stock agent and I grew up in a big country house just outside Epsom,” Greg began, his camera still clicking as he circled Clarissa, capturing her nakedness from the most intimate angles imaginable. “But when I went to university I rebelled and wanted my own place. My parents wouldn’t hear of it, of course, they were scared I’d become a drug addict or something, but as a compromise they bought me an old caravan and parked it in the coppice at the bottom of the garden.”

“A caravan?” Clarissa said, still watching his cock as she touched herself.

“Sorry, a trailer,” Greg replied. “Anyway, I moved out there and was very happy, bringing some girls home at the weekends and keeping my dick in shape with porn on the fallow nights...”

“You like porn, don’t you?” Clarissa teased, arching her back for him and letting him see right up her cunt.

“You could say it was my vocation,” he replied, “fuck, but that’s a beautiful pussy you’ve got there. Anyway, porn is important to this story, because, sometimes, I was sure that my stash had been moved when I went to, you know, seek relief, and I couldn’t understand it since nobody ever went out to the caravan except me, and it remained a mystery until I came home early one afternoon when I was supposed to be studying and found Mike the gardener sitting on my bed with my stash and an enormous hardon.”

“Finally, it gets interesting,” Clarissa breathed, her fingers disappearing deep into her sopping wet slit.

Greg ignored her. “Mike was a very fit young guy of about twenty-two or three, with long dark hair tied back in a pony-tail and an outdoor complexion. He’d had a lot of trouble finding work in the area and had been insanely grateful to my dad for taking him on, and I realised that I had him precisely at my mercy.

To cut a long story short, I told him that I’d tell my parents and get him fired if he didn’t let me have some fun with him, and he looked at me quite aghast.

“But I’m not gay,” he’d protested, but I wasn’t falling for that one.

“Neither am I,” I’d said quietly, “but that doesn’t stop me indulging in some cock play now and again. And don’t play the straight card with me, Sonny Jim, your dick’s up like a broom pole and showing no sign of going down. So, move over.”

I sat down on the bed beside him and picked up the magazine he’d been looking at. “Now let’s see who’s been getting you all hot and bothered,” I said, flicking through the pages, “ah, Voluptuous Vicky, she’s one of my favourites too, what do you like abut her? I usually fantasise about coming all over those massive tits of hers. How about you?”

He didn’t answer but his cock was so huge I thought it might burst, and, as he’d only opened the fly of jeans so far, I quickly undid the stud and pulled them down a little, tugging his boxers down too so that his balls were on show. He didn’t help me, but I could tell by how stiff he was that he’d liked me exposing him like that, and I ran my fingers tentatively through his thick jungle of pubic hair.

“Yep, she’s got you good and stiff,” I said, not daring to touch his cock quite yet, “she always does that to me too. Want to see?”

He shook his head, no, but I could tell it was all a bluff.

“The boy says no,” I said, gripping the base of his big thick shaft, “but his dick says different. So don’t make me get you sacked here, do what you’re dying to do...”

He scowled at me. “If you tell anyone about this...”

“I’m hardly likely to broadcast it, am I? Now, take my cock out.”

He reached over gingerly and undid the button on my Chinos and then slowly pulled down the zip. I was huge, quite obscenely erect, and my cock was sticking up over the waistband of my underpants. Mike gasped, and made to shy away, but I gave him a warning look so he persevered and pulled my fly open for a better look.

“Pull them right down,” I whispered, arching my back and lifting my ass off the bed for him, “yes that’s right, strip me naked.”

He did as he was asked as I kicked off my shoes, and before I knew it I was sitting there in just my tee shirt with a huge matching boner to his.

I squeezed his big cock, hard. “You like?” I asked and he nodded.

“I’ve never seen another man, you know, stiff, before,” he confessed.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” I asked him, squeezing his dick again.

He nodded hesitantly. “What are you going to do to me?”

I pulled my tee-shirt off over my head and lay naked before him. “Strip you and suck you while you suck me,” I whispered, pulling at his clothing.

“Nice,” he replied, letting his jeans fall to his feet and lying down beside me.

***

“I think I’m going to cum,” Clarissa groaned, frigging at her cunt madly, “I think I’m going to be plastered all over the internet cumming and cumming and cumming at the thought of that beautiful cock of yours in Mike’s beautiful mouth.”

Greg laughed, the camera still snapping. “Hold your horses, it gets better. How about you show me that ass-play you promised while I tell you the rest?”

Clarissa nodded and turned over, her big whale body a symphony in whites and creams. “You’re about to see something that no human has ever witnessed before,” she said, getting up onto all fours and parting her legs for him, exposing her wet and open cunt and tight pink asshole.

“Fuck, I’d like to put my big cock right up there,” Greg breathed, his self-control dangerously near slipping.

Clarissa giggled. “Up where, up my big fat cunt or up my tight little asshole?”

She slid a finger up her pussy as she spoke, wetting it thoroughly, then slowly, teasingly, wormed it up her ass, grunting very softly as it slid up inside her tight hot tunnel.

“Up your ass, of course,” Greg whispered, “like I did to Mike.”

“Tell all...” Clarissa gasped, as she started to frig her own tight pink orifice.

***

We lay down on the bed together, faces to cocks, and I was so turned on I almost came then and there. Mike was playing it cool, but up close I could see how excited his cock was, see all the sticky pre-cum that was flowing out of him, and I wasn’t fooled.

“What do we do?” he asked, although he must have known.

“Kiss a little first, then lick, then suck,” I whispered, planting a tentative kiss on the tip of his dick, tasting him, salt and aroused, almost cumming just with the feel of it.

Mike laughed. “Steady, boy,” was all he said before he kissed me.

He started at my stomach and kissed me all the way down to the base of my cock. Light, butterfly kisses, not like the brusque man-to-man embraces I’d had before. Mike kissed me like he was going down on a girl. Gently, driving me mad with arousal, my big stiff cock literally bouncing in it’s eagerness to be brought off.

Finally, he kissed my balls, his kisses getting more desperate by now, and I started kissing his own monster the same way, reaching over for his butt and feeling the hard curve of him as my lips moved slowly up his shaft.

“Can I take you in my mouth?” he asked. “You won’t cum, will you?”

“Pull my foreskin down and lick my bare cock-head first,” I whispered, very near, starting to do the same to him, the taste of him driving me wild.

I felt him grip me and pull my hood right the way down, exposing all of me, then his tongue traced round the bell of my cock and he slowly took my whole head into his mouth.

I resisted the urge to thrust into him, but instead gripped his own monster pole and sucked him back.

He let me go momentarily. “Can I swallow? You know, when you cum. I want to eat you, all of you.”

I didn’t want to take him out of my mouth but I released him for a second. “Yes,” I whispered, “swallow it all.” And I pushed deep into his mouth as he did the same back to me.

***

We didn’t last long. After about only two sucks he started to thrust, I suppose I must have been doing the same, and before I knew it we were fucking each other’s mouths like jailhouse tenderloin. I think he came first, it might have been me, but before I knew what had hit me I could feel it and taste it, salty and scalding hot, in my mouth and down my throat.

***

“Can you go again?”

It was Mike’s voice from above me, and I opened my eyes to see his huge hard cock, not in the least diminished from the fucking it had just given my eager mouth.

“You’re looking at my cock, what do you think?” I replied.

“Can I fuck you?” he said, fearful of what the answer might be.

I nodded. “But only if I get to do it back,” I said, rolling over for him.

I heard him laugh. “Oh yes,” was all he said.

***

He rubbed his cock on me for a bit then knelt down and kissed me, massaging my butt cheeks with his hands while he kissed and licked my ass crack.

“That’s nice,” I whispered as he lay back down on me, his whole body hot on mine, every hair on his pelt of a chest and belly charged with electricity as it made contact. “But take it slow, it’s not like fucking a cunt.”

“I’m past going slow,” he grunted, pushing his huge cock-head against my tight bung-hole, “I need to get up you now.”

“Use your finger first,” I warned, but it was too late and he started humping me like a Rottweiler, his huge bestial dick pounding at me but sliding up and down my ass crack, not pushing up where I wanted him to be.

“Slow down, you mad bastard,” I yelled, but it was too late and I felt him thrust hard and violently, his thick creamy cum shooting all over my butt crack and soaking me in his scalding love juice.

“Sorry,” he said, rather sheepishly, “I got a bit carried away.”

“So I see,” I replied, not telling him that I had never been so turned on in my life and that his abortive fuck had got me harder than all the clinical correctly performed ass-reamings I had previously enjoyed with my upper-class chums.

“Come on, my turn,” I’d said, squeezing the last pearls of gism out of his still quite hard fuck-stick and turning him over, “let’s get to grips with that tight little ass of yours good and proper.”

He made an acquiescent noise and offered up his butt. “Be gentle with me,” he said with a grin as his cock stiffened up under him.

I parted his legs and treated myself to a look at the view of his hot hairy butt cheeks and sexy crack, his balls hanging down deliciously below his tight and secret back hole.

“Oh, I’m going to go in you so deep,” I murmured as I felt him in all his most intimate places, “so very, very deep.”

“Lick me first,” he managed to utter.

“Of course,” I replied, going down, lips exploring and then tongue, getting him good and wet before I penetrated him.

“Now,” I whispered, “let’s see what we can do here,” and I wet my finger and slid it up him, just a little at first, then deeper as he pushed up to meet me.

He gasped. “More!”

I pushed up harder, my finger right up him. “You like?”

He nodded. He was beyond speech. I pushed up again, started to frig him.

“Your cock,” he finally gasped, “do it with your cock.”

“I’ve no lube, it’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care. Do it.”

I pulled my finger out and wet my cock then pushed up at him. He resisted me for a moment and then let me in. “That’s it,” I whispered in his ear, covering the back of his neck in kisses, “lie still for a moment till you get used to me, then push back and let me get deeper.”

He was making guttural animal noises by now, but he started to move to my rhythm, taking my length inch by inch.

“Now,” he whispered, “fuck me.”

I needed no second urging and pushed hard, feeling his body encase my cock like a second skin.

“Fuck me,” he whispered again, “fuck me hard.”

And I did.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he whispered, cried, shouted. “Fuck me! Oh FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

He might have said more, but I didn’t hear it. I was a machine, a beast, and I was part of him, fucking him, cumming up him, mastering him, owning him, being him...”

“Oh, fucking-fucking hell,” Clarissa suddenly cried, “I’m cumming too!”

***

She lay breathing for what seemed like an age, the aftershock of her orgasm washing over in wave after wave of pleasure, cleansing her and baptising her into a whole new life.

Greg was watching her intently, his cock so huge she felt that a touch as light as the graze of a butterfly’s wing would have him cumming like a fountain, pumping his hot cloudy white semen all over her.

She met his eye and smiled. “That was something,” she whispered.

“It’s the way I tell ‘em,” he replied, trying to grin, but he was far too aroused for his cheerful Englishman persona anymore, and Clarissa knew that he was physically struggling with his inner beast not to jump on her and rape her on the spot.

“Come on,” Clarissa whispered to him, getting up from the couch and pulling his tee-shirt over her top half, “show me some of your other pictures before we finish the photoset.”

“Why?” he asked, following her, watching her big round ass as she walked, aching to mount and possess her.

“Because I’m a jealous woman and I want to see who else got that big cock of yours all hot and hard before me,” she said, sitting down at the computer. “Now, how do you work this thing?”

He sat beside her and reached over her, his cock brushing her leg and making her gasp, and set the Mac to slideshow mode.

“This is some of my pussy-posse,” he said, running his fingers up her thigh towards her exposed cunt, “the ladies who make me the firm upstanding citizen that I am.”

She moved his hand gently off her leg and took hold of his great big cock. “Later,” she promised, “Mother wants to play first.”

He groaned but said nothing, luxuriating in what her hand was doing to his throbbing dick.

“So, who’s this one?” Clarissa asked, dragging her hand down hard and slow and holding it there, torturing him before she moved slowly back up again.

“Angie.”

“She’s very hairy.”

“Just the way I like them.”

“So I see. That beaver is certainly having the desired effect on you.”

“No, that’s all your own work, I can assure you.”

“What about if I was to play with myself while I perused your little pussy parade, how would Captain Cocky here like that?”

“Oh, I’m guessing very much,” he said through gritted teeth.

Clarissa laughed, delighting in her power over him. “Hmm, maybe a little too much,” she mused, “oh, now she’s nice, I love those tits, bet you’d like to cum between that pair.”

He made a little groaning noise and thrust his cock upwards, aching to fuck her the way she deserved.

“So, how many of these Freudian friends of your mother have you fucked, Little Lord Gregory? Is there a hoard of furry beaver scalps somewhere that I don’t know about?”

He shook his head. “None,” he whispered in agony, “they’re models, I don’t fuck them. I’m very professional...”

“Not with me you’re not,” she teased, squeezing his cock so tightly that it must have been hurting him. “Stripping in front of the model and showing her the goods is hardly professional, is it?”

“You’re different,” he gasped, “oh, fuck, you’re so different, and I so want to fuck you right now.”

The endless parade of nakedness was forgotten by now as she worked his monstrous cock rhythmically up and down, a slow punishing motion that was driving him insane.

“So this isn’t a one-off thing, then?” she asked quietly, sensing what was about to come. “I’ll hear from you again?”

“It was never a one-off thing,” he said in a strained voice, “I knew that when I first saw your picture. Now, please, let me fuck you...”

She smiled and shook her head and then started to move quickly up and down on his shaft and his orgasm shot out of him like a volcano, his hot pearlescent cum flying up all over her face and his belly, cascading down over her chubby white hand as he pumped more and more of it all over her.

“Fuck, what did you do that for?” he gasped, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

Clarissa laughed, giving his still very hard member a squeeze and then letting go and standing up. “Because we’ve go a photoset to finish and I want you to see me in all those sexy undies you’ve bought for me. Then we’ll see about fucking.”

She pulled his tee-shirt off and wiped her sticky hands on it and then walked naked across the room to the couch, loving the feel of his gaze on her round white ass as it wobbled behind her.

She knew that she would fuck him later, when the pictures were done, and that he would call her and that there would be many other delicious days like this when his camera would worship at the shrine of her nakedness.

For on this memorable day Clarissa had found her vocation and Greg, it seemed, had found his muse, and nothing on God’s earth would ever part them again...