An Accidental Photo Shoot

As the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on, I sat morosely in my seat. Air travel always makes me feel blue. I was a 34 year-old man, traveling alone on vacation. I was traveling alone because I had become a widower at the ghastly early age of 29. The love of my life and I had always loved to travel together. I had no children because there was always going be time for that later. My wife in particular loved flying. Planes took us to exciting new places and let us revisit favorite prior destinations. She even had earned her own pilot’s license. We were saving up for a plane of our own.

Fuck that aneurysm. That goddamned bolt from the blue.

So what was I doing vacationing via plane, if planes made me so depressed?

The wheels bounced on the tarmac and my mood brightened most instantly. Because planes took you to places like Vegas, baby!

I particularly like Las Vegas as a destination. I can have a great time there just over a long weekend. I enjoy gambling and am reasonably good at it. And the city is filled with gorgeous women. I may still be pining over lost love five years gone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like chasing women and occasionally catching them. I just have zero interest in ever making another partnership for life. I would always have that ugly question in the back of my mind: Whose life? But Las Vegas was particularly good at ephemeral encounters of all kinds.

I Ubered to Caesar’s Palace and checked into the class of mini-suite I always reserve. The bathrooms in these rooms are just downright silly. They have an oversized shower, but even more extravagant is the double-sized jetted tub. Moreover, the back wall of the tub is frosted glass and can open up into the bedroom. I freshened up quickly and donned clean, pressed clothes.

A quick trip down the elevators and I put my usual Vegas routine in motion. I usually start with some Craps play during the afternoon. Craps is a fun, social game where you meet a lot of people. It has my favorite blend of highs and lows. And not incidentally, if you know your shit, you can play a long time before you lose all the money you have budgeted for the trip, day, or session. Breaking even is a Win in my book. If I walk away from a table with more cash than I started with, my policy is to spend it immediately.

After a few hours of fun, I move to the pool if the weather is good. Should there be an event making the “European” pool crowded, I will go over there and enjoy all the topless women, but usually, I just wander the main pools, gathering sun and meeting whomever I might.

Then I have dinner at the bar of one of the great restaurants in the city. The food’s just as good, and not only do I not look lonely dining by myself, I usually can meet some strangers and have good conversations. If not, bartenders are professionally fun.

At least one night I’m in town, I take in a show, though those are pretty necessarily a lonely experience.

Then some of the best gambling takes place at night. People are drunk and excited and tired. They bet stupidly, which makes for lots of big wins we all celebrate, and infinitely more losses, which we all politely ignore.

I talk a lot about meeting ‘people’. By people, I mostly mean women. I talk to lots of guys, but those are conversations that are simply background entertainment. I can’t remember conversing with any guy I’ve met in Las Vegas more than once. But lots of women come to Las Vegas without men. Many of them come for the same kind of one-day relationship that I look for. The trick is to encounter them, identify them, make an impression on them, and enjoy them. And if I fail at any of those steps, I try again. And if I still don’t succeed there are alternatives readily available….

This trip, I arrived late Thursday, and it was too late for afternoon Craps or an elegant dinner. I had a ticket to a stand-up show with one of my favorite old sit-com’s stars. Beyond that, I ate at the food court and had a miserable failure of an evening at the tables. I just went to bed early to help with the time difference and to change my luck.

Friday dawned bright and sunny. I had a delicious brunch, served by a delicious-looking waitress who was sadly much too young for me. After that, I took one of my cameras out on the Strip and photographed passing pedestrians. I even did a study of the exterior of the Paris casino, which I had never shot before. I hit the craps tables around one and found myself on the corner to the stickman’s left, next to a serious knockout who was also at the table solo. Miranda had a a mass of curly blonde hair surrounding a round face made up in expertly invisible fashion. She wore a light blue v-neck top. It was cut what I like to call ‘Vegas deep’, which is to say it was extravagantly deep while stopping just short enough to be almost plausibly appropriate. And she had a very delicious pair of tits, magnificent enough to draw every eye around. They were works of art in a perfect frame is what I’m saying.

Miranda enjoyed leaning way down to shoot the dice and the people at the other end of the table were getting a real eyeful. We chatted as the play went on and I learned a couple of things. Miranda knew almost as much about Craps as I did. And she was tilting her torso toward me when she rolled so I could enjoy the view as well. Soon we were both flirting overtly with each other.

“Hey,” I said, believing the time was right, “How about we take a break? I’m in the mood for a cocktail better than we can get here at the table. Maybe at a quiet cocktail bar.”

“That sounds good,” smiled Miranda. Then she went on in a lower voice as we colored up our chips, “But the casino bar drinks are crazy expensive. Do you maybe have a bottle in your room?”

Of course I had a bottle in my room. This was not my first rodeo.

We had just left the table, her up $150, and me down half my budget for the afternoon, when her phone rang and she swore. She flushed in embarrassment at me as she answered the phone. “Hi honey!”

Uh oh.

I’m pretty sure that she would have gone to my room with me anyway, even though the cat was out of the bag. But nothing doing on my end. I do not fuck married women. Not if I know. I will admit that I had not made the good faith effort to find out with Miranda that I usually do because, holy shit, those tits. But once I knew, I punched out with leeringly complimentary regrets. Her husband should play less golf, because I’m sure she found somebody else that trip.

Since the weather was great, I went to the happy hour party at the topless pool with high hopes of changing my luck. Alas, it ended up being a frustrating bust. There were indeed a ton of women there. A decent number were indeed very appealing in their skimpy bikinis. But virtually all of the hotties already had a guy attached at the hip. And a depressing percentage of the best looking one’s kept their tops on, too. I still saw a lovely selection of pulchritude, but it was definitely not the cornucopia of opportunity I had encountered on some previous visits.

I showered and dressed. I ate dinner without much of anyone, male or female, to talk to. I had some fun at the craps table that evening, but was flagging at the early hour of ten o’clock. The crowds at the table that night were homogenous, and I was having mediocre luck. Before eleven, I cashed out and decided I was done with gambling for the night.

But I wasn’t sleepy. It had been a frustrating day in many ways, especially sexually. It was time to explore my options in the more or less sure thing category.

I slowed as I walked past the large casino bar near the lobby. I mused that I need only take a seat alone in there and have a drink or two. In short order, sex would find me. I chose to pass on that. Straight up sex for money with a moderately good-looking California divorcée who had just flown in for the weekend to rustle up the cash for her Audi payment left me cold. I’d done it in the past, of course, but I still had another whole day and night in town, and resorting to the ultimate sure thing wold have felt like giving up.

That left me with Option S: One of Las Vegas’s many glittering strip bars. To be clear, this meant that I was NOT getting laid that night. Vegas clubs are full of the hottest selection of strippers I’ve ever seen, and ‘air dance’ is a dirty word within, but even in the private high roller rooms, you are not gong to get even a decent hand job. Still, I personally enjoy the hunt for the dancers who give high mileage for my money, while avoiding the strippers with overly strict personal limits.

I sat through a drink or two stage side, happily feeding dollar bills into garters or g-strings. But I was slowly growing antsy because every dancer that I fancied was already spoken for when they got off stage, and every dancer that was available was not up to my own particular tastes. I was considering moving to another club, when ‘January’ was called to the stage. Her tanned thighs and ass were unblemished and just exactly curvy enough. Her waist was narrow and she sported a deep, deep navel. And her breasts were enhanced to a size that would look a little bit ridiculous on a civilian, but on an exotic dancer were just perfect. She clearly had been gifted with enough natural cushioning to make those edifices look and move almost plausibly real. And her last customer had apparently left when she was called up on stage! After her set, I drew her away to a cozy chair in an out of the way corner where she sat in my lap.

After a few intermittent dances, I began to realize that not only was January hot, she was also pretty–almost beautiful. Her teeth were perfect, her eyes bright blue, and her nose strong but pert. Overall, her face looked sweetly youthful but her expression was intelligent and mature. Her visage was arresting, actually. I found myself staring just a bit more at her face than at her tits, which was weird in a place where you were expected to stare at a woman’s rack, and it was also weird because her rack absolutely stunning.

I shook my head as she slid back into her little white teddy after a couple of lap dances so we could enjoy the cocktails that had just arrived. “I don’t quite get it,” I said to her, being both truthful and flattering. “Why are you working here? Haven’t you tried modeling?”

“What kind of modeling,” asked January, implying a no either way, “fashion or nude?”

“Either, frankly.”

“I dunno. I guess no one has ever asked me. And I do pretty well at this,” she replied, wrapping her arms around me to remind me of what she was in my lap for.

“Shit,” I laughed. “I’d sure as hell pay to shoot you.”

I hadn’t meant anything by it, but I saw a light spark in her eyes. “Are you a photographer?” she asked with an interest that made me focus.

“Yes, and no,” I replied honestly, but with the spin I wanted. “Photography is not my profession, but I require a lot of photography for my business, and I never need to hire anyone else.” I paused to make her wait for it, then asked, “Why? Would you be interested in doing a photoshoot?”

“I don’t know…” she replied, though I suspect she already thought her answer was going to be yes. “Nude or clothed?” she asked hesitantly.

I blushed a little at her and stroked her lovely thigh as I replied, “January, I’d probably die of remorse if I took pictures of you and they weren’t nudes!”

“Wow. I don’t know… That’s a very different thing from dancing here with no cameras,” she temporized.

After a quiet pause, we both said simultaneously, “How much?” We laughed. It was a dangerous negotiation, since neither of us had any experience with glamor photography, but we came to a price we were both happy with. We then decided we could do it the next day, right after lunch and she agreed to shoot in my hotel suite. “I’m on vacation, so I obviously don’t have an assistant,” I cautioned. “You’ll have to do your own makeup.”

January laughed and replied, “I can manage the makeup. And to your unspoken words, you seem fairly gentlemanly here, so I guess I’m prepared to trust you to behave when we are alone.”

“Of course I’ll behave,” I laughed. “Honestly,” I went on, looking into her eyes seriously, “I really am mostly a gentleman. And this will be a rare opportunity for me. I’ll be too busy worrying about getting great shots, and doing four hands’ worth of work with two, to be a bad boy.” It was not a rare opportunity for me. It was a unique one. I have never done a photoshoot of any sort with any paid model before, much less an erotic shoot with such a fantastic subject. I knew my mind would be too occupied with planning and worrying about the whole idea to even rub one out later that night.

I was wrong about that last thing.

I shot out of bed at an ungodly early hour of the morning for Las Vegas. I had to eat an early breakfast, then be at a good photography store when they opened so I could buy a bunch of different equipment. I would need that equipment to convince January that I knew what I was doing, and to give me a half-way decent chance to produce some good shots since I definitely did NOT know what I was doing.

I got a ring flash and a remote LED fill light with several reflectors and filters to make up for the shitty lighting in my suite. It wasn’t really shitty lighting, but for photography it was. I grabbed a pair of cheap, used, prime lenses in 28mm and 50mm focal lengths. I could have afforded new, but the scuffed equipment would make me look more professional. I even grabbed a tripod. I almost never use them for the candids and landscape shots I usually take, but if I wanted to try anything with natural light from the heavily tinted room windows, I would need it. All in all, I spent as much on equipment as I was going to on my model, but I figured what the hell.

I barely tasted my lunch because my anticipation was roiling my insides. I got back to the room in time to remove and hide all the packaging from my purchases. I had two cameras with me on the trip: my expensive new Sony mirrorless DSLR, and an old camcorder. I thought she might worry that I would try to video things as well, so I attached the video cam to the tripod and laid that out ostentatiously in the open, with the capped camcorder lens pointing at a wall.

I thought I was set until I realized that I smelt of nervous sweat from all my running around in the Vegas heat. I stripped and dove into the shower, scrubbing as fast as I could. I had barely stepped out when January called. She was getting out of her Lyft at the front entrance already. I gave her the room number and rushed to dress. I had forgotten to get out underwear, but I got dressed anyway. She would never know, of course, and the elevators were close both to the hotel entrance down below and to my room up on my floor. I was barely dressed and my damp hair brushed before I heard the knock on my door. At the last second before I went to open it, I remembered to grab my dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and throw them in the closet floor with the rest of my laundry.

I opened the door with an easy smile and ushered January in. I was relieved to see that she had not brought the rolling suitcase I had expected, just a huge shoulder bag. Further, she had arrived quite conservatively dressed in a nice dark suit with a moderately short skirt, dark hose, and pumps with three and a half inch heels that in Las Vegas were demure, but in a city like St. Louis would practically scream “Come Fuck Me!”

“I brought pretty much everything to wear we discussed,” January said as she entered the suite. Then she stopped and exclaimed, “Hey! This is a sweet room. I’ve never stayed in anything like this!”

I declined to inform her how reasonable these little suites were when it was a low-occupancy weekend like that one, and instead told her how amazing she looked. “I’d really like to start shooting with what you are already wearing,” I said.

“Really? I kind of thought you’d want me in one of the stripper outfits or my other lingerie.”

I laughed. “All in in good time. I mean, that was my plan, but you look so damned good in what you are wearing now, I want to shoot you in it… and getting out of it.”

“Oooh! Naughty man!” January cooed.

“I have a naughty subject,” I cooed back. We sounded quite silly, and we laughed. I was glad to be silly since it seemed to relax her. At least that made one of us.

“I do need a model release,” I told her. She complied easily, and that is how I found out her real name was Elise. I liked that name better and asked if I could call her that. She agreed.

“Okay Elise, I’ve decided I want to shoot today in what I’ll call vignettes. I mean the pictures will progressively tell a story or little series of actions. Got it? Good. Let’s start with you simply entering the room, okay? Just come through the door again and I’ll walk you through things. And feel free to add your own details if you like!”

January/Elise nodded, still a little nervous. I fidgeted with the lighting, then had her step out into the hallway and come back through the door. I had her pose several ways in the doorway before letting it close. “For now Elise, I want to do this in a kind of voyeuristic style. Pretend I’m not here and never look at the camera, alright? Good. Now throw the privacy bolt. No, try again. Gentler. Again, but keep your fingers straight.”

“Oh, you want my to stroke it like it’s a cock?” she laughed.

“Exactly.” I replied. I got several good closeup shots of her giving the throw lock a hand job, and I found I was already getting hard. I backed up and had her slip out of her jacket, arching her back as she did so to thrust out those massive puppies in profile to the camera. “Hang it up in the closet, please,” I asked. It was too late when I remembered that I had tossed all my dirty laundry in the closet in a pile! Elise just laughed before returning to her quiet character.

“Move into the restroom, please,” I instructed, and followed her with the camera into the spacious room. “Leave your heels on, and let’s work on ways you can take off that skirt.”

“I have some professional expertise in taking off my clothes,” replied Elise drily. “Can I try some things?”

“By all means!” I replied, a bit more eagerly than was professional.

Elise smiled at me before looking away from the camera. She stood before the entrance to the shower, back square to the camera, with most of her weight on her left leg, her right spread out slightly to the side, She twisted her shoulders to the right and reached back to unzip the back of her skirt. She began to slip off the garment.

“That is gorgeous!” I exclaimed. “But please go slowly. Ridiculously slowly, if you were watching in real time. I want to get lots of shots.”

Elise just nodded and let her skirt slip off her sweeping hips an inch or so at a time as I snapped shots. As her skirt slipped lower, it revealed a pair of beautiful black panties that were smallish but cut for everyday wear. “I thought I’d be changing before we started shooting,” she apologized. “These are my regular person undies!”

“Not at all,” I interrupted. “Actually, they are perfect for what we are doing with this first series of pictures.” I asked her to continue. She slipped it to her waist, leaving her firm ass cocked a little toward the camera and revealing that she wore a pair of thigh-high hose that clung tightly enough to her legs to stay up without a garter belt. I had her pause there and shot a series of close-ups encompassing her ass and upper legs.

I moved back and asked her to continue. Elise bent further and stepped elegantly out of the skirt. She straightened and turned toward the camera while keeping her gaze on herself in the mirror. I had her slip the skirt right back on and try stripping out of it again several more times in different ways. None was as sexy as her first effort, but all were turning me on.

“You are good at this,” I observed emphatically, as she made a start on unbuttoning her blouse.

“Honestly, after you left the club last night, I asked a friend of mine and a few other girls who have done some private modeling for some tips,” Elise said. “I want to do this right if I’m going to do it.”

“Well I think that you are a champ already,” I reassured her again.

She smiled prettily but I had to ask her to stop because it didn’t work with the vignette. Beneath the blouse, she was wearing a black bra of plain design but outstandingly transparent fabric, her dark nipples clearly visible. She looked so hot in her stockings and underwear, I almost didn’t have her repeat the shirt removal thing. I’m glad I decided to be professional and ask her to try some other ways of sliding out of the blouse.

Elise stepped much closer to the mirror and stared at herself. I quickly realized that I could move to get both her and her reflection in the frame of the shot. This time I caught deliciously bra-clad side-boob and a frontal reflection as well!

“That is very hot, Elise,” I coached. “Let’s focus on staying in front of the mirror like that for a bit. Can we lose the bra?”

Elise laughed over her shoulder at me. “You sound so uncertain! I am a stripper, you know. Taking off my bra is what I do.”

I bit my lip and then replied, “Not today. Today, you are a model–perhaps an actress. You are telling a story. But yes, let’s please take off the bra.” I was proud of how I managed to keep a begging tone out of my voice when I said ‘please’.

Elise trained her gaze back on herself in the mirror. Despite her bravado, I could feel her hesitate on the brink of being photographed bare-chested for the first time. She suddenly heaved a deep breath and reached behind herself to unhook her bra. She hunched her shoulders forward and let the straps slip off them. The bra slipped downward off her delicious, buoyant tits and she set it gently on the vanity top. Without me asking, Elise tilted her head at her reflection and began to caress her nipples. I shot a long burst of pictures of that for sure!

But I stopped her and asked that she put the bra back on and remove it a few more times. My favorite of her efforts was when she slipped the strap off her shoulders first and pulled her arms free. She then tugged the bra downward to her waist with agonizing slowness. Her beautiful tits emerged before me and in the mirror with a slowness that teased me incredibly, even if it was just to allow me time to get a great many shots.

Once I had her fully topless, I had her stretch her arms above her head and took pictures of that pose from numerous angles.

“I think I’d like some closeups, alright?” I asked, approaching Elise.

She simply smiled and wrapped one arm around herself under her tits while lifting the other to lie atop her head. I shot her both from the waist up, looking off to the side, and then framing just her breasts. Closeup pictures of just a model’s tits with no face visible were never my favorite images, but now that I was taking the pictures myself, and taking them of this particular model, I found I wanted a lot of them.

Elise slowly shifted her arms around to pull and lift her breasts in lots of delicious ways. She might be a model today, but being a stripper had taught her how to really work those awesome mams.

I got inspired by my own idea of a voyeuristic shoot. I swiftly changed lenses to a zoom and backed out of the bathroom. The entry closet door was directly opposite the bathroom’s and I crawled into the closet. Closing the door slightly, I could shoot through the crack, with the doorway being apparent on the edges of the pictures. Now the camera was ‘spying’ on Elise.

“Kinky!” smiled Elise. “Want me to take off the bra again?”

“Yes, please,” I replied. “And could you move about a foot to your left and a couple toward me first? Yes. Like that.”

Elise shrugged once more into her sheer black bra and took her sweet, photogenic time getting it back on and in place. She hit her mark beautifully and began to slip her bra straps off. With them free of her arms, she slowly turned around so her back was facing me and unhooked the bra. I got some very lovely shots of her sleek back as the bra came off and a single side-boob shot as she turned and stepped out of my view, laughing. She stuck her head back around the edge of the door and asked, “Was that what you were looking for?”

“Nice tease,” I replied drily, still hunched down uncomfortably in the closet with my dirty laundry.

“That’s the thing about the voyeur,” she said, still grinning, “They don’t get to issue direction about how their target stands.”

“True. Very true. But I’m the photographer, the camera is the voyeur. The photographer would very much like it if you’d try that again, only try to make sure ‘the voyeur’ can properly enjoy your magnificent chesticles!”

“Oh very well. If you insist,” Elise grumbled through her broad smile. She stepped out into my view with the bra back in place. This time she started with her back to me, unhooking the bra so I could see her do it. Then she slowly, while I was taking lots of photos, turned toward me as the bra slipped free of her chest. She dropped it to the floor as if by accident, and bent VERY prettily to pick it back up again. She turned to give me a good profile and stretched up to hang the empty brassiere on the corner of the door.

“Now that was awesome!” I said excitedly. “Thank you. I think now we should do a few tries at taking off those panties. Are you ready?”

Elise really did hesitate this time. “I think so… I mean, I take my top off with men watching all the time. But this is a whole different thing.” She looked at me and heaved a very impressive sigh and smiled. “Okay. How do you want it?”

“You’re a pro, Elise,” I said. “I’d like one strip while I’m still in this cramped closet, then I’ll unbend myself and we can do some more.” She slipped the panties off in profile to me for the closet pics. She had an amazing profile. After that, I came back into the bathroom and had her take the panties off three more times. It was awesome. After that, I took a bunch more shots of her almost totally naked form, clad as she was in only stockings and those heels. It was so much fun.

“Good,” I said, taking my memory chip out of my camera and stepping into the bedroom to load the pictures into my laptop. “Why don’t we get you fully dressed again, while I check to make sure I haven’t fucked up the lighting.”

“The same outfit?”

“Yes. This time we will do the same thing, except this time, I want you smiling into the camera all the time like it’s a lover’s eyes.”

The pictures started coming up on the computer and I really liked what I saw. I was actually okay at this! Elise leaned over my shoulder to look and had decided to check out the pictures before putting a stitch of clothes back on. It was damned hard to keep my eyes on the pictures instead of the original object….

“This is actually pretty exciting,” she said quietly. “You make me look really, really good!” She kept looking over my shoulder, commenting from time to time about which poses that she had tried that she thought had come out well.

At last, I shooed her away to get dressed and I fiddled with some of the best shots on the computer. I had no idea what if anything I might do with these shots, but I was proud of my efforts and was having a stunningly good time taking them.

“Ready?” asked Elise, once more fully dressed.

“Yep. Let’s have you come in through the door once more, but smiling at me, at the camera this time.”

She stepped out into the hall, then pushed the door open and slunk into the room with a smile that immediately reminded me that beyond her incredible body, she was beautiful too. She leaned back sensuously against the door as it closed, then turned halfway toward it to caress the privacy bolt again. She smiled over her shoulder at me while she once again gave the bolt a hand job of even higher order this time. She turned toward me and started to slowly strut into the bedroom.

I stopped her and indicated the bathroom once more. She looked at me quizzically.

“I want some parallel storyline,” I said. “Also, we won’t do as many iterations of you stripping, but I want lots of shots of you staring at the camera through the mirror reflection. And once you are gloriously naked again, I think we will be done with this story. Then I think we can work on some of your other outfits you’re brought.”

She nodded professionally and proceeded to have a great time making eyes at the camera as she slipped once more out of her jacket. This time, she chose to remove the skirt first, giving me quite the leg show in the process. Her beautiful blue eyes always came back to stare at me through the camera’s display, along with a constant smile that ranged from soft and shy, to brilliant, to almost leering.

She paused briefly, standing with her legs apart, arms akimbo, pushing in on her waist along the long loose white fabric of her dress shirt. She unbuttoned the shirt from bottom to top, a process that kept her body teasingly concealed as she did.

“Ready to go on?” she asked challengingly.

“I think so. Let’s do it.”

With that, my shutter button clicking away, she pulled open the blouse and posed with another big smile.

I grinned in turn and took a number of shots with her holding the shirt open as she turned left and right for a bunch of views.

“Well, that is not quite the same underwear you had on before!” I laughed as I continued to shoot away.

“Well, if I were coming to a beautiful suite like this to see a man I intended to strip for immediately, I would not be wearing that underwear.”

“Um. In fairness, you came here to strip for me, wearing that other underwear.”

“Yes, but I didn’t arrive smiling at you like I’m smiling at the camera now,” she replied huskily, an outright inviting expression on her face now.

The new underwear was clearly one of Elise’s less substantial stripper outfits. The panties were very high cut red lace that showed off her hips wonderfully. I had not yet seen the back, but I was confident it was nothing but a thong nestled deep between her curvy cheeks. Her bra was also red, lace, and mostly transparent. It was also a size or two too small, forcing her sizable curves to overflow it up top.

The bra unfastened in front, as Elise demonstrated for me next, pulling it wide apart, letting her breasts spill out like a creamy tide of sexual attraction. I made her take it off four times, it was such a damned awesome sight….

The bra at last discarded, I directed her to the mirror and she leaned over, tilting her delicious ass toward the camera. To call it ‘thong-clad’ would be silly, but her ass was incredibly thong-framed. She looked over her shoulder at the camera with an increasingly lusty gaze, then turned to the mirror. She leaned forward, letting her tits dangle lusciously, and alternated between poking at non-existent flaws in her makeup and smiling at me and the camera through the mirror. I felt drawn closer and I had to be careful that I didn’t move so close as to show up in the mirror myself. I got a series of incredible shots with her bare ass in the lower left, some rich side-boob in the middle, and in the reflection her dangling breasts under her smiling gaze. I took some time to set it up, even changing my lens to get it right.

“Is that a lens for closeups or something?” asked Elise casually in between shots.

“Yep,” I said, straightening up as she turned toward me. I’ll admit that I wasn’t looking through the camera as I eyed her next-to-naked body.

“Good,” said Elise. Then you’ll be able to shoot this.”

She then proceeded to sink to her knees right in front of me! It was indeed an awesome shot. Her breasts and upturned face were framed perfectly below me, and her smile was now electric. “I’ll have to crop it narrow to keep my pants out of the shot, though,” I muttered, half to myself.

“That is not the point,” laughed Elise. She then reached up and caressed the front of my slacks.

Now, for most of this shoot, I had been operating at somewhere between half to full chub. In the moments before Elise made this move, I was tending toward full. I felt myself suddenly swerving all the way to raging hard-on now. My slacks were instantly anything but slack.

“Wow, um, Elise. Our contract was only for tasteful softcore. I didn’t ask you for this.”

“Well, I think,” replied Elise, still smiling at me as she swiftly undid my fly, “That something like this is a reasonable part of this last vignette, and I want to get it right.”

You can’t your ass that I did NOT stop taking photos, even when my tumescent junk made its appearance in the frame. “I want to be clear that I am not complaining,” I chuckled nervously, “But things just took a very sudden turn from amateur modeling shoot to this, very lovely might I add, hand job. What happened?”

“Oh, you are getting so much more than just a hand job,” replied Elise, her hands still gently caressing my cock as she spoke. “Looking at how hot you made me in those first pictures was such a turn-on. And then smiling so eagerly at you and your camera has just made me wetter and wetter. I think you need to be wet too.”

With that, Elise lowered her smiling face and took me between her lips. I groaned as her tongue lavished attention on my shaft. Manfully, I kept shooting, trying to get angles where both her breasts and my cock penetrating her lovely mouth were in the shot at the some time. But it was very hard to concentrate. Elise’s hands stroked the base of my cock and caressed my balls while her mouth sucked me in and out.

She popped me free of her lips and jacked me harder as she looked up at me. “Let me know when you are going to come! Where to do you want the camera to see your spray land, on my face or my boobies?”

“What?!?” I laughed in surprise.

“I like sucking cock. I don’t like swallowing cum,” smiled Elise up at me. “Where do you want it?” she repeated as she began lavishing kisses and licks on my shaft.

“Breasts,” I gasped, aware that it would be soon. I really hoped these pictures would come out….

Elise soon took me back into her mouth and tormented my cock, her hand pumping along with her efforts aggressively.

Suddenly, I was having difficulty keeping the camera on the subject and I gasped, “Now!”

Elise straightened up and began pumping me with both hands, pointing my cock at her boobs. I held my finger over the shutter and pushed down hard as I felt my jizz rushing toward daylight. My camera has a big cache for burst shooting and shot after shot clicked off, capturing the forceful spray of my cum spattering all over her bounteous tits. She looked down at her sticky check, then back up at me with perhaps her biggest smile yet. I resumed taking pictures and she smiled up at me while rubbing my cock all over the cum splotches on her tits.

I collapsed back to sit on the edge of the giant tub. I set down the camera shakily beside me and gasped, “I need a minute to make my legs hold up! I hope those last pictures suck, you know,” I added.

“Why?” she demanded. “You don’t want your dick to be seen? Kind of a double standard!”

“Not at all. I just want to have to re-shoot it!”

Elise laughed. “I’m tired of repeats. I have an idea for my next outfit,” she added. She stood, slid her red panties off and walked into the bedroom.

Curiosity was a good tonic and I found myself able to rise to my feet. Since we were getting back to business, I pulled my pants back into place and checked the mirror to ensure I was professional-looking once more.

When I entered the bedroom, Elise was in my bed. The bedspread and blanket had been pulled off and she lay as if sleeping under just a single sheet. I swiftly brought up my camera and checked the light levels. Damn. I knew there wasn’t enough natural light in the room, even with the curtains fully open. I dashed back into the bathroom and grabbed the fill light. I brought it back in and tried several setups with it until I got something decent. The whole time, Elise’s steadfast effort to appear asleep was regularly ruined by her chuckles at my frantic adjustments.

“I’ve got it,” I said at last. “Stay ‘asleep’ just like that. Don’t move. Is it alright if I pull the sheet off you?” She murmured her understanding as I took a bunch pictures of her stellar form outlined by the thin sheet. “Damn, Elise. You are so hot, you make this whole process almost too easy,” I remarked in a calculatedly absent tone. She smiled a fleeting, satisfied smile but I was ready for it and got several shots of it before her face smoothed back to her good imitation of sleep.

I took the sheet into my fingers down about at her hips and began pulling downward slowly, documenting with the camera each newly exposed inch of Elise’s flesh. As I had guessed, her idea for her next outfit was the sheet and only the sheet. She was slightly curled up and on her side. When her breasts emerged from the sheet, one was covered by her forearm, and the other was beautifully framed in the crook of her elbow. I moved slightly to get just the right angle. Her lovely dark nipple, only slightly erect now, was so lovely, I paused for some closeups as well.

“Ok Elise, could you bend your left elbow just a bit more? And relax your right. No, not that much. There!”

“Aren’t my nipples completely covered now,” she murmured in her pretend sleep.

“You are banging hot whether you are exposed or strategically covered. Hell, you are banging hot fully clothed. I want photos of all of it,” I said softly in reply as I took several shots of her forearms concealing her nipples but exposing the curves of her breasts alluringly. But not as many as I took when I could see her nipples too….

I twitched the sheet off completely and shot a few of her sleek, naked form that managed to expose nothing exactly. Then I pulled the sheet gently back up to her neck.

“Okay, now I want you to lie on your back, legs stretched out but crossed. Put one arm up behind your head and drape the other across your stomach. Good. Like that.”

This time, I reached my hand into the frame and plucked gently on the top edge of the sheet covering her ‘sleeping’ form and shot deliberately as I tugged the sheet off of Elise. I paused and took extras when her first nipple, tugged upward by her raised arm, popped free of its covering, then again as the second did. I leaned over her to get some low angle shots of her tasty mountains with her restful face beyond. I even managed a few where either her face or her breasts were the only parts in focus.

Elise helpfully shifted around a bit, back and forth as I kept sliding the sheet down until I was taking pictures of her completely exposed on the bed. I got several angles of this most excellent situation, then I began to ask, “Could you move your lower hand…” But she anticipated my instructions and slid her hand down her belly to rest on her pussy, mostly but not completely concealing her smoothly shaven flesh. But then she went further and while her eyes stayed closed, her face began to contort in pleasure as she slid her fingers between her legs and began to stroke and probe herself.

That required a lot of photos. I was amazed at how many were closeups of her face as she pleasured herself, rather than the excellent show down below.

I forced myself to stand back and grab the sheet once more. “Um, I think I’d like to move on,” I said diffidently, sliding the sheet once more up her body.

“Are… are you sure? This is no… no trouble. Really,” Elise half laughed, half pleaded.

I chuckled ruefully as the sheet covered her midsection and then swept up under her chin. I noticed that she had not stopped stroking herself while I pulled up the sheet. I took a couple more shots of her passion-filled face with the sheet tucked up under her chin.

“Okay. Next set. I want you to slide both your arms out from under the sheet. Yes, both. Sorry! Stretch them up over your head as you sit up, letting the sheet fall off your torso.”

“Am I looking at you, or are these voyeur shots?”

“Good question,” I replied, thinking. “Let’s start with some straight-forward shots with you just not looking at the camera. Then I’ll get down next to the bed and get some low-angle stalker shots of the same process. Then we can do some with you welcoming me… the camera.”

Elise chuckled, “You must really want to see this sheet falling off my tits.”

I just got set in the best position for a full-body framing and didn’t bother to say the ‘Oh FUCK yes’ out loud. At my signal, Elise stretched her arms free of the sheet, and rose up. The cotton cascaded off her breasts and they moved enchantingly as she twisted and turned her torso in one hell of a series of morning stretches. I had her do it again from a much closer angle, then another.

“Alright. Let’s go all ‘creeper’ again,” I said. I knelt down at the foot of the bed, resting the camera on the mattress so it looked at if the viewer was just peeking over the edge of the bed from the floor. She went through her routine again, in the most natural movement yet. I thanked her profusely and moved to the side of the bed for a different angle. Man, did I love the way her firm, round, bouncy boobs let that sheet slide smoothly off their curves!

“Again?” she asked eagerly. Who was I to argue? But she had a new idea this time.

I was still crouched down between the bed and the outside window as I shot. When I said go, this time she sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her bosom and staring intently in the other direction toward the entrance to the suite. After a great show of deciding that the noise that had awoken her was nothing, she shrugged slowly, then reached skyward to stretch, letting the sheet fall down.

When my camera stopped clicking, Elise asked, “One more? I have another idea.”

They way that she was joining in to the creativity of the shoot was adding even more stimulation to my general excitement of this day. My cock was certainly recovered and was back to getting in my way. I shifted a little further down toward her feet as she pulled the sheet back up to her neck.

“Ready here,” I said. “Let’s see what you are planning. Just go slow so I can keep with you.”

Elise sat up languidly in bed, the sheet immediately falling off her chest, as at the beginning. But then she stared at the camera and me and raised her hands with a shocked expression on her face. Then she clapped her hands over her exposed tits and mimed a scream. Then she clutched the sheet back over her chest while still miming a scream at the ‘intruder’.

I was frantically trying to shoot this awesome little display while also laughing at the over the top look of horror she was pantomiming. When she started to wind down a little, I said, “This is perfect. But how about you be a little less careful with the sheet. Maybe in your panic, you leave one breast or the other exposed?”

Elise flashed a wicked smile at that, then returned to her visage of horror and surprise as she shifted the sheet to various positions, all failing to keep her fully covered. I particularly liked the one where she shot out a hand toward the camera, letting the sheet over that boob fall completely away.

“Keep it up a little longer,” I said, still shooting as I rose up to stand over her. Elise obligingly went through much of the same process of shifting the sheet around while utterly failing to keep herself covered. Finally, she sprang up to her knees, letting the sheet fall completely away. She put one fist on her bare hip and shook a finger angrily at the camera.

“Wow! You are hot when you are pretending to be angry,” I exclaimed, lowering the camera at last. “That was a great idea. But now let’s go back to looking into the camera’s eyes.”

“Sounds very good,” Elise cooed and snuggled down once more under the sheet. I moved far away to the very entrance of the bedroom. Then I puttered around with the lights, grumbling.

“Oh honey! I’m home!” I sang out and shot away as Elise lifted her head sleepily from the pillow, then smiled at me as she rose. She clutched the sheet to herself at first, but then dropped it free as she lifted her hands to tousle her hair and yawn. I told her that was great, and moved to the foot of the bed to repeat it. This time she kept one arm holding up the sheet while the other tousled her hair, leaving one tit hanging out to see. Why is one bare breast sometimes more sexy that both? And why, when that is the case, does a guy still always want to see the second? It was an awesome tease.

“My dear, you sure know how to torture a man’s gaze,” I remarked as I reflected on her effect on me.

“Hey, I am a stripTEASE artist, you know. Let’s do this.”

I stood beside her this time, shooting downward at her ‘sleeping’ form. Elise mimed waking and looked up at the camera with a sleepy smile. Then she let her eyes trail lower for moment. Her smile broadened as she propped herself up on her side, holding the sheet absently, and low across her chest, displaying lots of cleavage.

“Pull the sheet off,” she invited, and I happily reached into frame to tug the sheet off her mams. I took a few delicious shots but then pulled the sheet back up to its original cleavalicious position.

“I think it will be better if you are the one offering your body to the camera and me,” I instructed. Elise smiled happily and sat up on the bed, the sheet slipping off her tits and puddling around her waist. She smiled up at me like that, leaning forward slightly to thrust out her chest. Then she straightened and did the overhead stretch, then the hair tousle, while her gaze became positively inviting.

I expressed great satisfaction with her posing and she responded by getting up on her hands and knees, facing me and looking up. The sheet slid free of her hips and ass and the shots I got centered on her lustfully smiling face, with her boobs dangling below her and her bare ass curving up behind were perfect. Even the lighting was perfect without me having to screw with it.

She sat back then on her heels, and I took a few shots of that luscious pose but stopped at her frown. “Your look is not helping me get in the mood for this scene,” Elise said, in an almost grumble. “I want a romance novel cover to get me to act really hot and bothered. With that, she leaned forward and tugged my shirt up. I set down my camera and pulled it off over my head, dropping it on the floor. Then I picked up my camera again, pointed it at her and struck a pose for her, flexing my arms slightly.

“How’s this working for you?” I asked merrily.

“Much better,” Elise replied, resting back on her heels but leaning forward with her hands on the edge of the bed. “Much better indeed,” she said almost to herself as she reached out and ran her fingers down my chest and over the very strained front of my pants.

Was she going to blow me AGAIN? If she was, it certainly never entered my mind that I might stop her.

Sure enough, she started to tug at my fly again, but paused. “Is that your closeup lens?” she asked.

I swore and dashed to replace the lens. I took a moment to swap out memory cards, just to be sure I had all the storage I needed, then returned to the side of the bed. Elise stared up at the camera, at me, while her hands blindly reached out and undid my fly, tugging my cock free as my pants dropped to the floor.

“I’m going to have to work to make these shots different than the last set,” I proclaimed. Fortunately I had experience to draw on.

“Oh no! I’m not blowing you this time,” retorted Elise. “You already have gotten your rocks off once, and I have been working here with a raging fire between my legs almost from the beginning.” She waved a finger at me sternly. I took a quick shot of it and hoped that her finger would be in focus and her tasty tis in the background would be slightly out. “No. You just keep up with that camera while I use this nice cock here to pleasure myself comprehensively.”

I was not going to argue with my model. That would be a bad idea.

Elise, slid backward on the bed and I photographed her beckoning me onto to the bed. I climbed on and she pushed me down on my back. I propped myself up on the pillows to let me keep shooting while she straddled my thighs. She started by caressing my raging hard-on where it lay on my lower belly. It pulsed and twitched in reposes to her touch. But she swiftly got up on her knees and moved forward, placing her shaven smoothness right over my shaft. She lifted my cock up and rubbed it across the front of her pussy, shifting her hands to give me lots of shots of this. Then she rose up a little more and pointed my cock up straight between her legs. I moved the camera closer to focus on they way she stroked my head against her slit which was wet and indeed blazing with desire.

I pulled the camera back as far as I could to get both my cock and her face into the same shot. She closed her eyes and let her head dip and turn to the side. Then she slowly and agonizingly dropped down, encompassing my dick inch by delicious inch until her bare crotch was flush with my hips.

“Oh…. Fuck me,” I exclaimed, more literally than I had intended.

“I think that is the idea,” Elise laughed, her erotically demure expression suddenly replaced by a look of excitement. Slowly, she rose and fell on my cock, almost releasing me, then taking me back deep inside her hot, sticky depth. The feeling was delicious, but I had more things to photograph. I set aside the camera on the bed.

I reached up and pulled her toward me, not in an embrace, but so I could roll her on her side and slip my cock out of her. “Wait. What?” asked Elise, who had clearly been grooving and was suddenly a little cross.

I slid off the bed and stood up. Taking up the camera again, I said, “I have more positions I’d like to shoot. How about you lie here in front of me on the side of the bed, with your legs hanging off the edge?”

“Sounds good,” Elise replied, sliding around on the bed as I had asked. “But I liked that first set.”

“You know I like to repeat shots,” I said with implied promise. For the moment, I took my dick in my own hand, pointing the camera down at it with the other. I took several shots of my rubbing the head across her labia, then sticking just the head in and out of her slit. I kept tormenting her like this while I raised the camera to shoot her face and torso. Elise was staring down at my cock, biting her lip most photogenically. I could not restrain myself any longer and slowly let my cock slide inside her, shooting her face, rather than the penetration. It was a good choice as her eyes widened prettily, then went sleepy with pleasure as I began to thrust.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them gently around my lower back, allowing me if anything another half inch of penetration inside her. Regardless, it felt great and I began fucking her harder. Her breasts bounced prettily as I thrusted, to glorious effect. I slowed again to check the camera settings. “I need to adjust the camera,” I said, stopping my thrusts with my cock entirely sheathed inside her. “If you could just hold that pose for a moment?”

Elise, whose breathing had become shallower, kept her head lifted. “Sure. I’ll do my best,” she told me drily, but she then quite deliberately rolled her hips, twisting herself deliciously around my cock. It made it hard to concentrate, which I’m sure was her punishment for stopping the action, but I eventually got the settings changed to the fastest shutter speed I could achieve. With that I lifted the camera again.

Framing Elise’s head and torso in the frame, I resumed thrusting as hard as I could. Her rich, enhanced boobies began to flop so arrestingly once more and I pressed the shutter in long bursts to capture her breasts in every sexy form as they waved around in response to my hard pounding. Elise moved her arms around from pose to pose, first on her own, then at my direction. She lifted one arm above her head, then the other, then both. She spread them out wide on the bed and crumpled the sheets in her grasp, gasping as I slammed into her. Each change in her arms made for new and fascinating ways that her breasts could move. I wanted shots of them all.

But eventually, I realized I was just hitting the shutter button to prolong the fuck. I did not want it to end, but I had other ways to extend it. Elise seemed like she was getting close again, so I once more pulled out. “Oh for fuck’s sake, what now?” groaned Elise, frustrated at my removal but clearly game for more.

“How would you feel about rolling over right there? I’d like some doggie shots,” I asked in as calm and professional tone as I could manage through panting breath. She just grinned at me and rolled over, her legs now resting on the floor. I took several shots of her spectacular backside lying before me, then I stepped closer and let my cock drag back and forth across that rich, taut ass. I reached my hand into the frame and shot more pictures of my hand rubbing my cock across her flesh, then I bent my knees a little and pointed my cock back at her pussy. I rested the head against her dripping labia and took some pictures up at the back of her head.

Elise Turned her head so she could just look back at me and growled frustratedly, “Will you stick it in already?”

Eager to oblige, I let my length slide back into her once more. My abdomen slapped against her ass as I accelerated my thrusts. The fucking was amazing, and I felt both Elise and I growing tense. But the photography was a little boring. There wasn’t much to shoot, and while what there was was amazing, I knew this wasn’t how I wanted either of us to come, and it definitely wasn’t what I wanted to photograph at the finish.

I stopped my thrusts again and Elise groaned, pushing her hips back against me. “You are going to pullout again, aren’t you? How can any man stop himself this many times?”

“Hey! I’m working here,” I laughed. “But yes, this pause is my limit. You are so hot you are killing me.” I slid free from her, almost as reluctant as her, and climbed back onto the bed. I leaned back with my head and shoulders on the pile of pillow at the head as I had been at the start and said, “I think I said I wanted to go back to the first position? Let’s finish there.”

“Finish?” asked Elise brightly. She rolled onto her hands and knees and began to slowly crawl toward me on the bed. Good girl, she was still moving slowly so I could get as many shots as possible. I practically drooled at what I was photographing. She crawled toward me, breasts swaying below her and the most hungry, lascivious grin on her face.

She straddled me and began to writhe along my shaft as it lay on my belly. I reached into frame and grabbed my cock with my finger tips. I pushed it upwards and Elise looked down at it. Then she shifted and lowered herself down, impaling herself once again atop me. We both groaned intensely as she sank down. With me fully inserted, Elise sat still for a moment, her hands braced on my chest, breasts squeezed together, and looked into my eyes while gathering her breath. It was a crazy erotic image that I captured perfectly.

Then she began to fuck me. She started slowly, as we both reveled in the soft strokes. But both of us were wildly over stimulated. She could not restrain herself and I could not imagine slowing her down any more. Soon, she was humping up and down on me with wild abandon. Her breast were again flopping around, now in entirely new and mesmerizing motions and I stabbed at the shutter button on long burst after burst of pictures.

Elise looked down at me and without slowing told me breathlessly, “I want you… to come inside me. Please. I know it… won’t make as good a picture… but come inside me!”

“Gotta respect… the model’s wishes,” I gasped in reply, pressing my hips upwards as I felt the tension mount in me. I found myself unable to find motivation to hold it off much longer. I moved the center of the frame from Elise’s magical tits to her face and pressed the shutter for yet another burst of shots as I felt the surge in my cock. I moaned loudly but kept the camera on her face as my jizz exploded inside her. It was a long, rolling explosion of cum and I swear that only my desire to document the look on her lovely face as she felt my onrush kept me from blacking out. First her eyes widened for an instant, then they nearly lidded and she threw her head back as she exploded over the edge herself. Her movements up and down my shaft became ragged, random, and desperate and while my orgasm was fading away, hers was just ramping up. By the time a third wave was wracking her body, she simply sat, encompassing my shaft, and writhed in pleasure. Her internal muscles spasmed around me and damned if they didn’t draw a last, lingering spurt from me as well.

I realized I was still shooting, capturing the rapturous expression on her face. When the final, blissful spasm eased away in her, Elise looked up and into the camera. Her hair was a mess and she was dripping in sweat. She panted through her smile. She looked glorious. I finally set down the camera. “Please,” she panted, “tell me you got all that. I can’t imagine trying that again!”

“Elise,” I gasped seriously, “I can assure you that I will imagine trying exactly that again for years to come!”

We laughed and she collapsed atop me. After we lay there for a few blissful minutes, she sat back up and we actually schlepped as our slick, sweaty skin pulled apart. “I need a shower,” declared Elise, wriggling one last time around my rapidly softening member before she lifted herself free. She stepped off the bed and looked over her shoulder. “Want to join me?”

I hopped off eagerly, surprised I still had any energy at all, and observed mournfully, “Too bad this camera is not waterproof!”

Elise just turned and picked up the unused video camera and its tripod. “This could go right at the door….”

Oh, FUCK yes. I grabbed the camera and tripod and followed her lovely bare ass back into the bathroom. The shower was pretty huge, with an overhead rain shower and a hand-held on the wall. But leaving the door open was going to get a lot of water on the floor. Fuck it. That why Caesar’s has maid service.

I popped open the tripod and turned on the video camera. “Elise, could you stand in the shower for a second?” I asked. She giggled and hopped in without the water running and popped a Playboy pose, with a little quarter turn and one knee bent. I framed things up nicely, but the light was dim. The camera might be 1080p, but it was older and had a low ISO. I dashed in and grabbed my by now trusty fill light. Yes.

Elise stepped out of the shower and we turned the rain head on to let the water get warm. Sure enough, water was already getting on the floor. I grabbed a towel or two and threw them on the floor outside the shower. When it came up to temp, I started the camera.

Elise reached back behind her toward me and grabbed my cock. I had not really been expending that much energy during most of the shoot, but it had been giving its all that afternoon, and was admittedly a little sluggish. Still, it perked up bit more than halfway at her touch and she led me into the shower by my cock, like it was a leash. I followed her eagerly in.

“Can the microphone pick up our voices?” Elise asked. “Do we put on a skit or something?”

I laughed and reached out to caress her dripping wet face. “I doubt that shitty microphone is good enough to make out anything we say in here unless we shout,” I said quietly. “Or moan…” She laughed. “No,” I went on, “let’s just have some good, clean, dirty fun. The big thing to remember,” I added, wanting to keep the idea of this being a photoshoot going, “is to make sure that whatever we do, I don’t block the camera’s view of your rocking’ bod. Like this, for example.”