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Late spring, the first year

7. Imagination runs wild.

I lowered the camera and surveyed my models. Four of them, loosely grouped, and I didn’t like what I saw through the lens. It wasn’t the models themselves. They were all fine. It was the lighting, something I was trying to learn to deal with. I told them to rest where they were and looked past them to the way the lights were set.

I set the camera down and walked around the tableau, trying to see what was wrong. I was paying these girls by the hour, and I could not afford to waste a second of time. I moved to a side light and frowned, then lowered it from hip level all the way down to the base. I picked up the camera again and looked through the viewfinder. Better. I called to the models that I was shooting as I snapped the shutter. I talked to them, asking one to arch her back more, another to move her leg, a third to let her thighs relax. The fourth was perfect. She always was. It was like she read my mind and moved to just the pose I needed.

Working with four models was terribly difficult.

The film ran through the camera as I snapped shot after shot before exhausting the roll. I was shooting in 2 ¼ inch format, and there were only twelve frames on each one. I called for the models to relax once again as I changed film. Number four broke from the others and came to ask if she could help.

“We are good,” she said. I understood her even through her heavy accent. An international student from Slovakia, Yana has this habit of making statements that other people pose as questions. With her accent, she makes it charming. Her pronunciation is getting better, and I hardly have to ask her to repeat herself anymore.

“Yes, Yana, you are all very good. I am not happy with the lighting though.” I could not afford really good lighting. Since I had plunged into this type of photography, every spare dime I had went into equipment, film and chemicals, and modeling fees. I paid the minimum, but it was still expensive because I was working toward multiple model sessions. Not sexual stuff. Erotic groupings. I may photograph a vulva, but I do not focus exclusively on it.

Yana turned and took in her fellow models. She was doing the session for free because she considered me her friend. She squinted, crinkling her nose and said, “Dake out all za lefbt side,” she suggested.

I considered it. Taking out the left side lights would horribly over-expose the right side at the aperture I had been using. I wondered at the effect it would create, and finished loading the new roll before going to each of the left side keys and turning them off.

The effect was striking. I looked into the camera and immediately called for the models to resume their poses as Yana took her place again. I snapped the first shot, moved to my right and found myself smiling. It was like I suddenly had early morning sun from a north window. I asked the tallest one, second from left, to raise her hand to her hair and fluff it, let her do as directed a few times, and closed the shutter. It was hot in the house, especially with the lights on. I had stripped the spare bedroom to the wood floors to create a kind of studio for the day. Hot, I unbuttoned my shirt as I moved again, once more to my right. No good. I moved to my left again and looked through the viewfinder. Number two was blocking number four, Yana. I called for her to step back and was treated to a sensational view of the light spilling over Yana’s fantastic chest. The way the light draped, her areola was almost set off in relief. I closed the shutter again, wound the film, and snapped another as she breathed. Goodness, that girl was gorgeous. Her chest alone was amazing. And the rest of her. Oooo la la.

I unbuttoned another button, perspiration rolling between my boobs as I squatted and made another image. I called for all of them to look at me, and four sets of eyes rolled in my direction. Number two and number one had to turn to look over their shoulders. I told them all to look at the door behind me instead of me, and once more their eyes swiveled. I closed the shutter.

I checked my watch quickly as I wound the film. Ten minutes before I would run over time and owe them for another hour. Eight shots.

I stepped three feet backwards and raised the camera again. They were all out of focus. Rather than adjust the lens, I opened the aperture and raised the f-stop. The depth of field dropped drastically, and I focused again, moving close, then closer, snapping off a frame every few feet. I was really warm now, slick with perspiration under my loose shirt; I could only imagine what the models must be feeling. With two frames left, I dropped low again, then lower, rolling onto my back and shot them upside down as I held the camera over my body and ran the viewfinder over them. I wound the film again, felt the snap of the last frame of film rolling through it and curled back onto my knees, breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” I breathed. “That’s all for today.”

Two of the models scurried Ankara escort off to get dressed again. Tall, dark-haired, number two and Yana, number four, didn’t.

I rolled over onto my back again as I saw Yana turning off the lights for me.

“Your boob is hanging out,” she said softly as she passed by.

I raised my head, saw that my shirt had fallen away from my chest and my right breast was indeed exposed. I wasn’t wearing anything under the shirt. I started to draw the material over my bare nipple when number two stopped me.

“Oh, don’t,” she said. “You look lovely.”

I rolled back on my head and looked at her upside down. Not the shy type, it seemed. In no hurry to get back into her clothes even after two hours of strenuous work. She was the tall, like me, taller even—fuller figured, perhaps, like Yana.

“Thank you,” I said and drew my shirt over my chest anyway.

“So, what are you two doing now,” she asked. She said it quickly, like she wanted to get it said before she chickened out. And she assumed Yana and I were going to be doing something together. I didn’t think we had said anything to give her that idea. She just knew.

I rolled onto my feet, unloaded the camera and carefully set aside the film of today’s shoot. I thought I had at least four good images of the 64 we’d made, maybe more. I picked up the envelopes containing the models fees and fanned myself with them as I waited for numbers one and three to finish dressing.

I looked at Yana before answering. We didn’t have any plans at all except to hang out, maybe develop the film. “I don’t know. Maybe dinner, maybe see a movie. Yana?”

Yana was holding but not wearing her robe. “Talk about sex.”

“Just talk about it?” asked number two. Her name was Amy.

“Yana likes talking about it,” I shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“Not so long,” Yana said. “Gelly is bisexual end. I am not. End of story.”

I laughed. “Yana loves to tell me how un-attracted to me that she is and refuses to believe I am not attracted to her.”

Yana stormed over to me. “Why do you deny it still? Her breasts swayed dramatically when she did, which, I decided, was why she had done it.

The other models returned about then, dressed, and I thanked them once again for their work and gave them their envelopes. If they knew they were interrupting an angry Slovakian, they were polite enough not to give any sign of it. With waves to Amy and Yana, the made their way to the door and were gone.

This game with Yana had been going on for a couple of weeks now. I pretended I was not attracted to her, she pretended she was not attracted to me, and we were friends. It was harmless. I was in a nice, stable relationship and I didn’t think we were interested in broadening it to include others. Yana intimidated the hell out of men and women both and hadn’t gotten laid in a year.

Amy waited for the others to leave before speaking again. Yana was pouting in an exaggerated way that I was ignoring. “I suppose I should get dressed,” she said slowly. “I’d love to go with you though.”

I turned my head to look up at her. She was quite pretty, even among the other models, with an understated elegance to her. “Sure,” I said. “What shall we see? It’s early.”

Yana gave me the eye as Amy left the room. “You see? Another conquest.” She wasn’t going to bother dressing it seemed.

I shook my head for about the millionth time on that issue. “Yana, not every woman wants to sleep with you. You don’t even like women.” She and I had met when I was modeling myself. The two of us had been hired by a professional photographer to do some posing. It was one of my first sessions posing nude for a photographer, though I had done a bit of figure modeling for art classes at school. Yana had little experience, I guessed. She also recognized me from school had pestered me with details of my sex life all through the shoot. She is a little deficient in social graces.

Her laughter rippled. “You, Gelly! Amy was looking at you, not at me.”

I hardly thought that possible. Heads turned wherever Yana went. “I doubt that, Yana.”

“She was looking at your breast.” She said it in a way that allowed no argument.

“Only because until then I was the only dressed woman in the room.” Sometimes being Yana’s friend is tiresome.

“She would fuck with you,” Yana insisted, but I was saved from further argument by Amy’s return.

“Have either of you seen the show at the Abbey?” she asked? “I’ve been dying to see it.”

Neither Yana nor I had, so we agreed to go with her. We could settle on a place to eat once we got downtown. Dressed, Amy wore white Capris that did not suit her at all and a striped brown and white top that de-emphasized her chest. Considering how stunning she had been undressed only moments earlier, clothed she became rather neutral. I’d seen other really pretty girls affect the look. It was safe.

After checking the show time and getting Yana into her clothes finally, we walked downtown. It Ankara escort bayan is not terribly far from the Tom’s house, which I was using as a studio. I didn’t change from my shorts, but I wrapped a fleece around my waist because it would be cool later. Lindsay would be busy all afternoon. I wasn’t sure what, as it wasn’t volleyball season, but she had a team meeting or something. Tom was banished while I worked with naked models, even though it was his home, so he’d gone to make music with friends.

The Abbey has loveseats in the balcony, and Yana insisted that the three of us could fit into one. It was close, but we managed it. She was on my left and Amy on my right. We had popcorn and wine too. Being a matinee, we had the balcony to ourselves. Once the lights went down, Yana slipped her hand under my blouse and over to my right breast. I had re-buttoned most of those I had opened at the end of the shoot, but not enough, it seemed. She often put her hand on my breast when we were watching movies together. I didn’t mind.

Amy shifted away from me a little. “Are you two sure you are not a couple?”

“Of course not,” Yana snorted. “Here, she likes it.” Reaching over me, she caught up Amy’s right hand and brought it to my chest and under my shirt across her own wrist. Amy’s fingers dropped around my left breast and closed softly. She shifted closer again. I was going to have to tell her I was in a relationship before this went too much further.

Lindsay hated Yana and could not understand why I ever wanted to spend time with her, but I don’t think she felt seriously threatened by her. Tom liked her, largely because he had seen her naked once and because he wanted to do so again. Given the chance, I was pretty sure he would do her. I would too, given the chance, but there was none. I was in a relationship. The idea of sleeping with her was not just about the sex. I really liked her. Lindsay’s attitude toward her had totally spoiled Yana’s original idea of screwing Tom while watching Lindsay and I make love. I was kind of glad. I might have gone along with it otherwise. I had no doubt Tom would have. Instead, she and I became friends and I let her tease me about my sexual orientation. Orientation? What a strange way to describe love.

To be honest, of Lindsay’s friends, I don’t like half of the volleyball team. Some of her gay friends consider me a poser and refuse to acknowledge me. They sometimes even give Lindsay a hard time about being with both me and Tom. Tom’s friend Matt is a total sleaze, and he is the most normal of them. Musicians are weird. I thought that allowed me as least one boorish Eastern European friend who accepted me the way I was. So she liked to feel me up in theatres. There were worse things.

There in the theatre, I shivered under the touch of both Amy and Yana. This was not the first time I had been doubled fondled. I love being fondled. In high school, my boyfriends quickly learned I didn’t mind shedding my bra on dates. Now, when out to the movies with Tom and Lindsay, they almost always both fondled me together just as Yana and Amy were doing just then. Yana just laid her hand on one of my breasts and left it there. Amy was doing more. A lot more. My nipple loved what she was doing. I squeezed my thighs tighter, released, squeezed again.

Maybe because she felt Amy’s movements or something, Yana started being a little more aggressive in her touches too. She is a very competitive girl. Soon, my right nipple was standing up as hard as the left as they both excited my breasts. Yana unbuttoned my shirt more and tapped Amy’s hand so that they switched sides, no longer crossing their hands over my chest, but concentrating on the breast nearest to each of them.

Down below, I took Amy’s other hand in my right hand and Yana’s right in my left. It was a really great film, and I tried to concentrate. Yana laid her head on my shoulder and ran her nail around the rim of my areola before cupping my whole breast again. Amy did a lot of different things, including lightly, ever so lightly, using just the tips of her nails to draw upward away from my breast to the tip. Then she would stop, let me catch my breath, and do it again.

This could not go on. I was getting excited and it was unfair to lead Amy to expect anything. I stopped holding their hands and reached up and pulled their other hands from under my shirt. “Stop, please,” I begged. I clung to their wrists to keep them from putting their hands back on me, leaving my chest exposed. Finally, I released them and closed my shirt while taking a deep breath.

“Gelly,” Yana pouted, “I thought you liked to be touched.” She sounded so disappointed.

“I do, I love being touched,” I whispered as I reached for something to drink. “But I shouldn’t be doing this, and I don’t want to lead anyone on. Amy, I should have told you. I am in a relationship. Not with Yana. With someone else.”

“Two someones,” Yana teased. She ignored my protest and slipped her hand over my breast again. Amy slipped her fingers through mine. Escort Ankara They were enjoying this, darn them.

I love Tom and Lindsay. I do. I am not promiscuous, really. I’ve had a few lovers, true. But not the wild lifestyle Yana wants to believe I lead. I just like sex a lot. I live an unconventional lifestyle, yes, but I love my lovers. Why then, was I getting so excited having two other girls touching me like this?

I let my imagination run away. What if I allowed them to do as they wanted? Or was it I doing the wanting? Mmmm, the thought of their cool fingers on my warm, naked thighs as they run them up under my shorts excites me, I can feel it. Oh, to not stop their play and let it happen. Two lovely women, touching me intimately in a theatre, where anyone can walk in on us at any time. I gasped. What if Amy unbuttons my shorts and slips them off, kissing my long legs with her soft, full lips. What if Yana, with her heterosexual breast fixation finally brings her lips to my chest and runs her tongue over my nipple before sucking lightly, making my tip stand up even more. What if I lift my ass so that Amy can take down my panties right there in the balcony of the Abbey?

My mind reeled as I saw her there, between my legs, dipping her pretty face to my sex to lick me. I barely knew this woman. She had answered my ad for models. She is a pre-law major and apparently likes other girls. I closed my eyes and imagined her fingers in my cunt. They move so delicately, fluttering over my labia as I blossom for her, my arousal taking me away on wings of desire. Her fingers in me wriggle; they don’t just fuck me, they make love to me.

I’d seen her nude for two hours, but I want her naked again, naked between my legs, licking me to orgasm. She opens her blouse and pulls her bra away from her breasts before coming closer again, grazing my excited sex with the tip of her breast. I lift my hips, delighting in her touch, forcing more of my boob to Yana’s lips. I dig my fingers into Yana’s hair, pressing her face tighter to my chest as Amy bounces her breast to my pussy. No one has ever done that to me, really, but I found the image very erotic. I so wished that it could be happening.

No. The movie flickered on the screen. I held hands with Amy and Yana. Yana had her hand on my breast, but it was just Yana.

The movie in my head got wilder.

Amy is stripping off her clothes, her hair falling again as the striped brown and white top clears her head. She stands, wriggling her hips from the white Capris coming down, baring her hips and upper thighs. I murmur with desire.

I murmured for real, making Amy and Yana turn to look at me. I let go of the fantasy and watched the film.

God, didn’t they know I had been hot all afternoon. Couldn’t they feel it? They had been nude, posed together. I was dressed in an old soft shirt and shorts and panties, and I felt it. Oh, yes, Kelly, so professional. They were beautiful and naked. What thoughts were going on in your dirty little mind?

Amy is bending to ease her panties down her smooth thighs, showing me her sex. She wants me to see her sex, to see the excitement so obvious in her thickening lips. Reaching back, she unfastens her bra and lets it come free, the straps drifting down her arms until it is off. She lifts one leg and lays her knee on the couch back next to my head as she brings herself to my lips. I taste her, running my tongue up and over her, flicking softly as she comes closer. Her taste was sharp. I feel Yana moving, but I can’t know what she is doing.

I wanted to see Tom fuck her. She suggested it, the very day we met. I had not given it a moment of serious thought. It was the unserious thought that was driving me crazy.

I have seen him fucking Lindsay. I’ve seen the man I loved putting is cock into another woman. Sometimes I licked her at the same time. Sometimes she licked me. More often, I licked her while Tom did me from behind. I love being done from behind. I loved licking my Lindsay.

But why would I want to see Tom fucking Yana? Did I just want to see the way her beautiful body moved as he rammed his hard cock into her cunt? My thoughts were using dirtier language now.

I went back to imagining I am licking Amy. And Yana is licking me. She is naked too, all three of us are naked in the balcony of the Abbey and making love. I still can’t see her, but I feel her lips on my pussy, her tongue running over me, exciting me with her touches.

But Yana is not at all interested in doing that. I knew that. We were just friends.

Amy and I were not friends. We are having sex in my imagination, but we were not friends. I hadn’t known her at all before this morning; she was just a name on a modeling application. Now I have my tongue in her pretty pussy as she comes and wets my face so. I keep licking and she comes again, her body bearing down heavily on me, her muscles trembling.

They had to stop touching me!

I am about to come from Yana’s tongue on my clit. How can she be so wonderful at something she says she never wants to do? Her tongue moves my clit gently, insistently, as a finger moves inside of me. The flat of her tongue drags over me, over me. I am about to cum. Really. Not just in my head. No. They had to stop.

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