First Photo Op

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Money is always dear when you are a graduate student. Let’s face it. The money you receive from ones scholarship only stretches so far and three months each year, mine dries up. I am forced to take a part-time job to keep solvent, which cuts into my research and lengthens the time until I can finally graduate into a real life. Each spring, I dread being forced becoming the chief gofer in the history department, which is not an envious position for a Ph.D. candidate. But I must live, eat, pay those cursed bills, and make the best of it.

One day in the cafeteria, I was trying to eat the crap they call food and read a very bad copy of some archaic tract someone sent me. I overheard an undergrad telling a friend she and her boyfriend saw an ad in the local alternative newspaper soliciting willing singles and couples and, needing money, called and allowed themselves to be photographed making love. My first thought was ‘holy shit’! Expose yourself on the web for a few bucks? Who knows who is watching. Family? Boss? Spouse or partner? Homeland Security for God’s sake! But the thought was intriguing. I couldn’t imagine it was that easy and there were hidden catches, horrors lurking in the background to ruin all your dreams. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Could I sit in front of a camera, spread my legs and rub myself, even stick my fingers into my pussy? The more I convinced myself it wasn’t for me, the more I ached for release. All afternoon, while trying to concentrate on my studies, my loneliness and dread of filing and pouring a cup of coffee for some antiquated prof, who should have become emeritus many years ago, led me to the nearest Barnes and Noble. I picked up a copy of that newspaper and rushed home.

I had to have a glass of wine before I opened the paper and another when I found the ad. A simple ad, nestled between massages and dating services, very unobtrusive, inviting me, enticing me, daring me to call. Without realizing it, I was squeezing my legs together and the more I tried to convince myself to forget about it, the hotter I felt. Could I, silly Mary, actually call and do such a thing? I began rubbing my breasts, my nipples pressing hard against my cotton dress. Could I actually expose these silly boobs for total strangers? I was convincing myself I couldn’t as I was pinching both nipples between my fingers and moaning in my quiet way. My fingers slid slightly over my tummy and began rubbing my thighs. This is ridiculous, I thought, as I reached under my dress and touched my very moist panties, my fingers working hard to slip beneath them. I gasped when my fingers touched my throbbing clit and I rubbed myself harder and faster and, oh God, I came so hard!!! I figured the ad was a good reason to masturbate, something I have been doing a lot since Katie dumped me, a different fantasy than my many others and convinced myself to forget the whole canlı bahis şirketleri idea. It was silly anyway. Without thinking, I picked up the phone, dialed the number and left my email address on the voice mail.

Two days passed. Then, nestled between the spam, was a simple note asking me to choose between two appointments and an address. I panicked!! Am I actually going to do this? I had an obligation during one but the other appointment, for this afternoon, I was free. Not much time to convince myself it was a stupid idea. Who’d want to look at this ugly body in the first place? My better judgment should have prevailed. Instead, I emailed this afternoon would be fine. I was shaking when I hit the send icon, not sure I was doing the right thing but the thought of my other option, office slave, convinced me to check this out.

The morning and early afternoon flew too fast, my mind so preoccupied that I couldn’t do my research. I tried to imagine how my appointment would go, if it was a fall from grace, a life of depravity or legit. The address seemed good, downtown Baltimore in the business district near the Inner Harbor, a very safe part of the city. I showered and went through several changes of clothes, unsure what to wear. I finally decided on lavender panties, white jeans and a loose top and yes, a bra. Not conservative yet not too revealing. I drove downtown, found the address and asked myself one more time if this is what I wanted to do. I could always say no, I reasoned, but my curiosity overruled my apprehension and I walked into the office.

“You must be Mary,” the woman at the desk said. She stood and shook my hand “Sit down on the sofa.” I obeyed. “My name is Greta. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you.” My voice betrayed my nervousness but she smiled and sat down next to me. Greta was middle-aged, a slim woman with salt and pepper hair, wearing a simple dress and sandals. Her eyes, highlighted by winkles I imagined coming from years of squinting into the lens, seemed weary but her smile was sincere and warm, easing my tension. I’m sure she had seen this before, a nervous would be model, afraid of what will happen next.

“Have you ever posed before?”

“No, I haven’t”

“It’s really easy. I do all the shoots myself and I never ask someone to do anything they don’t want to do. That’s my rule.” She shifted her body around, tucked her leg under the other and sat facing me. “What made you answer the ad?”

“I guess for the money,” I answered. “That and perhaps a little bit of curiosity.”I stretched the point but I didn’t want Greta to think it was only for the cash.

“Tell me a little about yourself Mary.”

“I am 28. I’m a graduate student, a Ph.D. candidate in history. I’m originally from rural Pennsylvania, not far from Gettysburg.” I was afraid I was giving out more information than I should. “Not canlı kaçak iddaa much more really. I live in a group house with two other roommates and keep to myself a lot.”

“What is you sexual preference?”

“I’m a lesbian.”

“Several of my girls are students also,” she said. “They work when they need money.” She laughed. “Let me tell you what I do. It’s very simple. I take photographs and sell them to web sites and not just porn sites. A lot of my work finds it’s way into more reputable pages. I pay by the hour and if you decide to become a regular model, I add a small percentage of what I get for each shoot. It’s as simple as that.” She stood, walked to her desk and picked up a camera. “Do you mind? Just be yourself, Mary, and relax.” She proceeded to take my picture from different angles. The thought of getting photographed excited me and I felt myself getting slightly moist as my mind raced beyond control. “You’re a natural Mary.”

“I am?”

“Oh yes,” she said. She plugged her camera into the computer and motioned me to look. On the screen I saw myself as I have never seen myself before, silly little Mary actually looking beautiful. Picture after picture flashed onto the screen and my mind raced. I really felt wet then.

“Wow! I really can’t believe that’s me.”

“Yes it is Mary. Now I need to ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you really want to do this?” I sensed this was it, my last chance to walk away, to end it now. But I couldn’t. The idea of posing in front of the camera excited me and I could feel my panties clinging to my very wet mound, my nipples crushing against my bra, my heart beating faster. I walked back to the sofa and sat down. Without hesitating, I began massaging my breasts, my fingers teasing my hard nipples, my breath growing deeper. The silky fabric against my nipples drove me wild and I squeezed my nipples harder while little moans escaped my half-opened mouth. I’m actually doing this, I thought, and I knew I was beyond stopping. Oh God! I wanted to cum so bad! I slowly unbuttoned my blouse. Greta grabbed the camera and began shooting. “Good Mary. Don’t look into the camera.” I leaned my head back and pulled my blouse open, my breasts aching for my touch. I reached around, undid my bra and ran my fingers over my breasts, moaning ever so slightly. I was on fire. My caresses emboldened me as I slipped off my blouse and bra. I took my nipples between my fingers and rubbed myself harder, my body aching for more. I could sense Greta’s presence but I was too far gone to feel embarrassed or self conscious. I found it very exciting touching myself in front of a stranger, a stranger taking photos.

“This is wonderful,” I whispered. My moans grew louder as I let my fingers slide over my tummy, teasing my navel. Out of my half-closed eyes I could see Greta taking shot after shot from different canlı kaçak bahis angles, a blur of activity as I pushed my fingers under my jeans and over my panties. I was so wet!!! I rubbed my fingers over my panties, pressed harder, pushing them into my pussy.

“Mary, take off your jeans.” Greta’s voice sounded distant but I obeyed. I arched my hips higher, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down. I quivered when I pulled them over my hips, exposing my very spotted lavender panties. I rubbed my panties, coated the fingers of one hand and brought it to my mouth, licking each finger as I continued rubbing the fabric deeper into my pussy. I pushed my fingers deeper and rubbed the cum soaked cotton on my clit, teasing it, toying with it, losing all control. Control? My desire controlled me! I pulled my panties below my knees and started fingering myself, deeper and deeper with each thrust, moaning louder each time they brushed against the sides of my pussy. What the fuck was I doing? I just met Greta, signed nothing and here I was in the throes of a building orgasm. But I couldn’t stop rubbing my pussy in front of the lens, rubbing myself to the verge of exploding into waves and waves of one hot orgasm.

“Oh God,” I murmured, “God, oh God!” My fingers slipped as deep as they could go, my palm rubbing my throbbing clit and I let go. I jerked my hips high as I pressed my palm harder, let out a scream and came! My orgasm flooded every fiber of my body, my legs twitched, my moans became whimpers engulfed within my passion. I started to cry, pulled my legs up and hugged them close. Oh fuck, I thought. I actually did it! My pussy kept contracting and I felt drops of cum ooze onto my thigh, causing more contractions and more hot droplets coating my sensitive skin. I had to press them harder together to keep from exploding again.

“Mary? You ok?” Greta’s voice plowed through my confusion “That was so hot!” She put her camera down and kneeled next to the couch and hugged me. I didn’t care. Her touch eased my fear. “When I asked you if you wanted to do this I didn’t expect this. You were wonderful!”

“I am so sorry.” God, I was embarrassed. I did this? I masturbated for all to see? Since Katie left, I masturbate a lot but this? How many men, into internet porn, will see me, my fingers plowing deep into my very wet pussy, my clit begging to be rubbed harder, my moans and my orgasm. Oh God!!! But I loved it!! I felt alive and free and knew I wanted to do this again.

” Never apologize Mary.” Greta stood and walked to her desk. I tried to dress but I had trouble getting my feet through my panties. I was shaking that hard. “Mary? I need your signature on some forms. And I need to see your driver’s license.” I didn’t hesitate. I read and signed each form and prayed Greta didn’t snicker at the lousy picture on my license. She handed me a business card. “You would be perfect for a certain job I’ve been asked to do. Are you free Saturday, six o’clock?.”

“Saturday?” I knew I had nothing planned, no hot date, nothing. “I think so.”

“Good. I’ll see you then?”

“Yes.” I knew I would be there.

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