The Flight
The Westons picked me up at 5:30 Saturday morning. I came bounding out of the house carrying my coat over one arm, a bookbag over my shoulder with a week of homework, a large purse in the other hand and wearing sensible shoes. That's all. No clothes, either on me or in luggage. The shopping bag-size purse held toiletries, cosmetics, more shoes, cell phone, a smaller purse and some of those towels I always need when I'm naked.
Mr. and Mrs. Weston were both there in the front seat of their Mercedes-Benz sedan. I shoved my stuff into the back seat and followed it. I gave a really big bounce to get settled on a towel. Mrs. Weston gave a really big reaction to that. Her eyes were so all over me that I couldn't tell if she was reacting to how much pussy I was showing or to all the bouncing my boobs did. I think a worried look flashed over my face.
Not that I cared at all, but it hadn't been the plan for Mrs. Weston to go on this trip. Flashback alert - back to the evening before.
We had a volleyball match at home. Pam's Mom joins my folks and a lot of other parents for Tuesday matches on her day off. They're one hell of a cheering section. The Westons are sometimes there, too. Her Mom works on Fridays. She manages that restaurant for Mr. Weston, remember? Well, the Westons sometimes come to Friday matches and that was one of the times.
It was a great game for me. I just seemed to see a path from the ball to the floor regardless of blockers or defenders on the other side. Pam, Crystal, Melissa and Alison whispered together. I started getting all the sets including the ones that would normally go to Pam. I led the scoring in that second game and we won by a larger margin than the starters did in the first game. Coach Reeves figured out it was Pam's idea and complimented her on acting like a captain and on the unselfish team play.
As soon as the post-game huddle was over, Pam grabbed my arm and dragged me into the stands where the Westons were. She made formal introductions, "... since you'll be traveling together." We'd both worked hard on the court. The handshakes I gave probably splashed sweat around.
I excused myself for a moment to do some dragging of my own. I brought my parents over to meet the Westons. You've read how protective they were. They really did want to meet them. They were nervous the other time I rode on a small charter plane. It helped their confidence that the owner himself was going to be on this flight.
The adults chatted for a few minutes and included some talk about why I needed the trip. I explained in more detail.
"Oh. That's what Pam meant at the pep rally about you being a supermodel. We thought it was just a compliment about how gorgeous you are," said Mrs. Weston.
I know I looked naked in that Program friendly uniform. That may be why Mrs. Weston was giving me the eye - a slightly unfriendly, challenging eye. Mr. Weston didn't help when he offered to pick me up for the flight. He must have impressed my Dad. The decision was left to me and I accepted. I guess that didn't help Mrs. Weston either.
My Mom ended the conversation saying that I had to pack. I gave her a funny look, but went along. At home, she got out a big suitcase for me. I gave her another funny look, but just wasn't communicating. I spent the evening on homework and got to leave two books out of my bag. English and history are my easiest subjects. Mom finally got it when I kissed her goodbye in the nude and without the suitcase. She looked scared for me, but didn't say anything.
Now here was Mrs. Weston with almost that same scared look, suddenly going along on her husband's trip. I put away my worried look and started thinking, "C'mon, lady - I am NO THREAT to you at all."
The pilots and a couple of ground crew guys met us at the airport. They took the Westons' luggage and my bookbag and one parked their car. These were the pilots who flew Pam and me. They figured out the nudity. One of the ground guys looked around for my suitcase. I displayed my body and a "This is all there is" look. "This" must have been enough.
We settled on the plane. One of the pilots hung my coat in a closet at the back. The other one showed us the fruit and sandwich snack we could have on the way. This plane's seats are like sofas on opposite sides that face each other. The Westons sat beside each other and I sat opposite them. She rolled her eyes at all I was showing with my boobs thrust out and legs slightly apart. To his credit, Mr. Weston kept his eyes on my face or on her. We started talking about his trip.
It seems the Program and events like Mr. Weston's TV station showed were causing a problem. There were complaints. Mr. Weston had to answer to the FCC for showing us without our knowledge at that Monday morning assembly and at the pep rally. The news story that showed Pam and Dan with close-ups of their crotches drew complaints, too, but wasn't a problem for the government because the subjects knew they were on camera.
Mr. Weston, some other station operators and the network were going to meet over the weekend, then do their testimony to the government. There were fines at risk.
I guessed that none of the complaints came from the Program participants or their families, and was right. I questioned whether anyone else had a right to complain about the not knowing. Mr. Weston had thought of that argument. The trouble is that the complaints about nudity had already been dismissed and the knowledge thing was a government rule.
I pointed out that being on display is part of the Program. The participants couldn't refuse to show ourselves, so it didn't matter that we didn't know. He lit up at that idea, pulled out a notebook and wrote it down. I suggested that he look up the Program rules. They have to be on the web somewhere.
Mrs. Weston took note of my contribution and the relief it had given her husband. She asked a little more into how we participants felt about the exposure. I answered by examples. Here I was going to the big city, traveling naked, to do a nude calendar and model risqué fashions. I also told how much difference it makes to guys in the chess club and people visiting opposite sex locker rooms. Even the ones who don't start out eager get much more comfortable, just like the Program intends.
I think she gets it that I relate nudity to sex, not the anti-sex of naturists. I'm a lot more comfortable with my sexy self, too. She seemed to buy that and that I didn't have any designs on her husband. I could see her scooting closer and closer to him after that. She wound up with her hand on his leg and his hand holding hers.
Mr. Weston explained that our flight plan had us stopping in New York first. I'd be dropped off with a half hour more extra time and they'd save one landing in Washington. The landing fee they'd save was the one they would have charge to me. I didn't complain. We landed at a small airport on Long Island. The extra drive on the ground was supposed to be less than waiting in the holding pattern for the bigger, closer airports.
A pilot opened the plane door and I felt the first rush of New York air - cold New York air. Mr. Weston got my coat and helped me into it. I thanked him and Mrs. Weston for letting me fly with them. They graciously said I was welcome and thanked me for the help with a participant's point of view about their FCC problem.
As usual, the charter service arranged a limo. That's really great, especially since I'm too young to drive, let alone rent a car. The limo driver was waiting in the terminal with a sign saying "O'Connell." I identified myself and he offered to take my luggage. I gave him the bookbag.
"Is that all?" he asked.
By then I'd finished opening the last button of my coat. It had served its purpose when I walked across the ramp, but now it was too hot indoors. My boobs pushed their way to freedom and the coat hung open.
I took it off and asked, "Can you take care of this for a minute, please. I have to make a stop in there."
The driver dropped my books. He stammered an apology, took the coat, picked up the books and didn't mention luggage again.
I excused myself to the ladies room after the long flight. When that business was done, I did a few flicks of the comb through my hair. I met the driver again, slipped into my coat and held it closed when we went outside to the limo. It was a fancy-dressed Lincoln, but not stretched. He checked that he had the hotel right and we started out. I called Jerry's cell phone and told him where I was and that I'd be at the hotel about noon. The driver corrected that. Saturday traffic was usually very light for the freeways and bridges designed for big city rush hours.
It didn't work out that smoothly, though. A bridge was blocked for some repairs. Signs warned us, but there was a lot of traffic fumbling around trying to find another way. The limo driver went straight for another bridge, but had to go slowly. I got to see the skyline from across the East River.
My impression was that it's more of the same. I've been to Dallas, Houston and New Orleans. They have a lot of people, rush hour traffic and tall buildings. New York has more of all of those. With less territory, New York has to build higher. I found as I went through the week that there's also a difference in how the people think and act. That's also a matter of degree - being in more of a hurry and not taking time to be friendly. They proved to be basically decent, honest and interested in their business.
The limo took me through business districts, especially the Garment District of 7th Avenue. That's when it hit me that this is a business trip, not a sightseeing tour. That was balanced by all the businesses being closed on a Saturday and the sight of the Empire State Building towering over the Southern end of the Garment District.
I got worried again at the fancy Hilton Times Square hotel. This was something new. I'd watched Dad take care of these things when we took trips. Jerry had checked in a group of us last Spring. I decided to act confident.
The doorman got the limo door. The driver gave a bellman my 'luggage' from the trunk. The hotel guys wondered about the lack of suitcases as they escorted me into the lobby. I was holding the coat closed against the chilly air. Once inside, I let go and my boobs took over. They pushed the coat open again. The bellman dropped my books. The doorman stood frozen. I gathered they didn't get many naked travelers here. I got my confidence back.
The bellman put my bookbag on a cart. I took off the coat and took the small purse out of the big one. I asked the bellman to keep the coat and bag for me. He was actually recovered enough to do that.
I was approaching the desk, about to check in, when a short blond woman with gray roots cut in front of me and demanded attention. She demanded the attention of all three desk clerks. She claimed to be a Hollywood personality, renown comedienne and fashion critic. She had a slim, petite figure and spoke with a slightly hoarse high-pitched voice and clipped, brusque manner. She also talked as fast as her little mouth would move. I recognized the tone of her voice first, then realized exactly who she was. I agreed with some of her claims, but only some. She wanted to know just how she was to stay in a single room. She needed a suite and wanted to change right now.
The desk clerks looked at me with an expression that extended and asked for sympathy. It also showed which of us they'd rather be looking at. I smiled warmly at them and waited patiently. The manager noticed the hubbub and the naked girl waiting. He tried to help me. He, too, got caught by the little diva. When anyone behind the desk tried to leave her, the diva demanded they do something. I smiled, rolled my eyes, made faces behind the diva and showed off my boobs to entertain the clerks. I felt so catty and a little ashamed for being disrespectful. After more minutes than it should take, the diva had her suite and turned to set off with a clerk and several bellmen to move her baggage.
She took three stomping steps before she looked up with any focus. She stopped with her eye about an inch from my nipple. She gave a slight "Aah!" because she was startled. She gave a full volume blood-curdling scream when she recognized that she was staring into a naked breast and it was about to impale her eye. She got a little composure, turned and staggered away with her hand over her mouth.
The manager apologized profusely before even asking my name. He was talking fast, too.
"It's quite alright. I got a laugh out of it. Hope I helped you lighten up," I told him.
"You were good comic relief and very pleasant eye candy. How can I help you?" he replied.
Jerry was one of those who came to investigate the scream. I gave him a big naked hug that was caught by all the paparazzi who came to investigate the scream. He verified that I was to get one of the agency rooms. They had reserved more than a floor of rooms for the whole show season for a very good rate. I got the key card to 1816.
"Send your things to your room, Emily. We have a place to eat and people to meet," Jerry instructed.
He also slipped the bellman a good tip to see that my things were taken care of.
The Calendar
Jerry led me to one of the conference and catering rooms. The Olympia room was rigged with a buffet and round tables for eating. Jerry explained that the agency runs these buffets for all the weekend meals and breakfast and supper on weekdays. The agency has to keep the models happy, you know.
I was the only naked one in the room. Some young women, obviously models, were wearing only a little - short skirts, sheer blouses or the like. I felt strange, almost like that first day in the Program because of being the only one. It came to me - that wasn't school. Most of those people were out of school, even out of college, long before the Program started. They are the targets for outreach. I was glad I wasn't hearing any complaints ... except there was the scream of that little diva in the lobby.
Jerry took me through the buffet and noticed how I loaded my plate. I am not a bony thin model. This body has to be fed. That was also the reaction of several people at the table where we sat. There were actually more eyes on that plate of food than on my naked body. One guy interrupted before Jerry could get started with introductions.
"You're Emily," he stated as a fact. "I'm Ralph. I'm the most important photographer to you this week. After that, you'll probably hate me."
"Nice to meet you, Ralph," I said as I got up, walked around the table and shook his hand.
That time his eyes were on my body. Jerry explained that Ralph had me booked for six shoots in a big catalog job - lingerie, swimsuits, evening, party and clubbing dresses. Lots of sexy revealing stuff. When the calendar publishers found out he would be set up at the hotel that night, they hired him to start early and do my calendar.
I was going to get to do fashion and glamour shoots that day. What's the difference? Fashion modeling shows off the clothes. Glamour modeling shows off the model.
Ralph proved to be about my height with a big soft gut that hangs over his belt. His face is soft with full loose lips and coarse dark stubble. His voice was deep and gravelly rough. Like the other New Yorkers I'd heard, he talked fast as if the pace we use back home would be a waste of time. His language was a little more rough than the others. He tried to act rough, too. I suspected that those things didn't have much to do with his ability as a photographer.
"We're startin' with the calendar. Got any ideas how you want it?" Ralph asked me.
"Naked?" I gave a tentative answer, then more firmly, "Naked and showing."
Everyone at the table stopped eating. That may have been too strong. It made me remember the biology video session on female anatomy.
I explained further, "I expect tasteful shots, but don't want to hide myself. No strategic props or arm or leg positions. I want a calendar every high school boy will put on his ceiling."
"You know what high school boys do with calendars and posters on their ceiling, don't you?" Jerry asked.
"Sure do. If they get as much pleasure from sex and masturbating as I do, I'd like them to associate that pleasure with an image of me," I answered bluntly.
Jerry and the others at the table were at a loss for words. Ralph was startled and just looked at me. I think photographers and publishers have to work hard to persuade celebrities and models to do any of that stuff. A smile grew slowly on his lips as he thought about it.
I'd gobbled a lot of food a few minutes later when Ralph said, "Ready for some work? Let's go."
We both got up and started to the door. He did something else while we were still near enough for Jerry to hear.
"Lemme see your hands," Ralph commanded.
I held up my hands and he inspected my fingers. I didn't get it even when he raised an eyebrow and nodded to Jerry. What ever it was, he approved. He also caught my lost expression. He should have left it lost that soon after lunch.
"Some people eat, then throw it all up. Bulimia. Models do that a lot to look like they're trying to be healthy, but then throw up to stay skinny. They stick fingers in the back of their throat to induce vomit. The stomach acid turns their fingers yellow," he explained as we walked through the hall across the hotel to another conference room. "You raise a lot of questions. We're gonna find out about you this week."
He had the Harris room set up as a studio. There were two other people already there. One younger man was testing the flash strobes and pronounced them ready. He froze when he saw me, then stared as he fumbled with the lights. My guess - photographer's assistant. The other was a matronly older woman who came at me brandishing a comb. Wild guess - hairdresser and makeup.
"Honey, you made a friend for life showing up with no elastic marks when I'm hungry," she said as she flipped at my hair with the comb. "Casual hair. No makeup. Don't need any. You're doable as you are for the first round."
"Enjoy the buffet, both of you," Ralph dismissed them. "You really did impress Gilda by showin' up so ready. We'll go through some poses while they eat, then she'll change your hair and we'll do some more."
Now I was alone with this guy and felt really naked. I remembered that this was the idea. I also remembered that Jerry and the clients thought of this guy as a professional. That's just what he turned out to be.
There was a big roll of paper, solid light blue, against one wall and out across the floor. There were also a few props, a ladder and cases of camera equipment scattered around. Lights were set up to be almost shadow-free. I would be stuck onto backgrounds by the computer and it would add shadows to match the background light. That's expensive computer work, but less costly than taking lots of people to lots of places.
Ralph had me start with my own choice of poses. I kicked off my shoes and started with supergirl. You remember the one Tom got for my portfolio? I had hands on my hips, legs spread and breasts thrust out. My smile was more of a challenge. Ralph had surely seen my portfolio before he booked me. He must have seen that shot. It didn't help. He stood there gaping. He came out of it with a new appreciation of what I meant by "naked and showing."
Ralph took several shots of the supergirl pose. I thought one of them was a little too close and aimed right at my little red circle. Then we went through more poses, some with props. His camera has a remote trigger that sets off the whole bank of flash strobes. They give off a lot of light that makes for better professional grade pictures. If he was using flood lights, that studio would have been too damned hot.
My favorite prop was a fake rock - a huge boulder that would weigh tons. This one is plastic and weighs maybe twenty pounds. I had no trouble moving it into place in front of the blue screen. For one pose, I lay back across it with my mound and red circle thrust out toward the camera and my boobs pointed straight up. Ralph took shots from several angles. I got behind the rock and perched my boobs and my elbows on it. I rested my smiling face in my hands. I thought that was a great cleavage shot.
Another prop was a stool painted the same shade as the blue background. Computer work could make it disappear and make me sit on anything. We did a few seated three-quarter, profile and over the shoulder poses.
I had my hair in a wavy mane around my face and down just below my shoulders. That's good for casual activities and poses. They wanted a few other hair styles and styles of poses to go with. Gilda came back from the buffet and started on my hair. She used a spray cleaner that undoes holding sprays, then stroked a cleaning brush through it. The result was limp straight red hair. She pulled it gently back into a ponytail. That's the familiar do I use for sports, so I started getting into that mood right away.
I did some poses with sports props. Ralph's assistant is Willis. He stared at me from the time he got back from lunch. His pants bulged, too.
Ralph smacked the back of his head and said to me, "He's been around nude models enough not to do that. He just hasn't seen many this fresh, hot or overtly sexy. You have it comin' out every pour and pour it into every shot."
Ralph's pants were baggy, but I did see a pointed object waving back and forth in them.
Willis threw balls to me and I'd hit, catch or throw them back for the shot. We did several of those at various angles and at various points in my motion. This wasn't Ralph's first nude shoot. He knows how to catch boobs doing various things and knows what makes them look good. I was a little surprised that the younger Willis is so professional. Shouldn't have been surprised. He'd have to earn that job by doing it well.
I expected an older woman like Gilda to disapprove. Not only did she go along with the whole shoot, she encouraged me a lot. It's like she's worked with reluctant models and knows how some support can help. After the sports shots, she figured out that I'm not at all reluctant. She kept up the praise anyway. It seemed more sincere then. She did my hair in a third set - swept up. She wrapped it around some forms, pinned it, then unloaded a can of holding spray on it. I'd started with light, casual makeup. She put on more around my eyes and lips and touched some shiny spots. The image in the mirror was the most glamorous Emily I'd seen. This lady is a real expert. It had taken her three minutes to do what Dawn had done in thirty.
Willis produced a pair of three-inch heel shoes and a small matching purse. There were going to be formal settings in this calendar and I really looked the part. Willis tried to give me some jewelry. I declined and Ralph agreed. I didn't need to be overdecorated. I did a few static poses like I was just posing. Ralph had me turn away in profile, but with my face to the camera and an expression like I was greeting someone who wanted to get at that profile. He was satisfied with my second attempt at that.
Gilda re-did my hair a little by pulling two locks on each side down from the up-sweep. She pinned the strands around curlers, put a card in front of my face to deflect overspray and soaked those strands. She spent a few minutes touching makeup, then took the curlers out. I had two gorgeous bright red ringlets on each side of my face. That made the formal image that much more fancy.
Ralph went into the way this shoot could be used in a seasonally themed calendar. The upsweep could be used for the first Winter months. The casual mane could be for Spring and Fall. The athletic ponytail could work for Summer. This one with the ringlets would make a great finale at the end of the year.
He put me through some basic poses again. I did some plain expressions, some smiles and a few haughty glares to go with the formal do. He sat down of the floor and pointed the camera up at me.
"Look down like you're comin' downstairs to meet your date," he instructed.
There were a few shots like that, then came one that had me concerned about a cliché. Willis got out a necklace of jingle bells. I scowled. It was obviously for the December page.
"Hey, it's expected - of even the most luscious, voluptuous nude. At least give them a good shot to pick if they want," Ralph said.
He got a few of Emily the red ringlet reindeer, then called it quits. He gave the camera to Willis to upload into the computer that was there.
"Right, Emily. That's a planned four-hour shoot in two and a half and the camera's full. You're as good an actress as you are a model. Bluescreen work can be abstract and confusin'. You stay right with it. You got any styles or shots you wanna try?" he asked.
"Yeah, there is one I've always wanted to try. Flat on my back like I'm on a bed. No makeup and hair spread around my head in a circle," I answered 'cause he asked.
Gilda went to work immediately. She cleaned off all the makeup with an alcohol wipe, then put moisturizer all over my face. She rubbed it in and let it dry while she undid my hair. She used the cleaning spray and brush again. It was straight and nearly flying away when she was finished.
Ralph had cleared an area of the floor and pulled the blue paper farther onto it. I lay back on the paper. He set a ladder where he could look down on me from it. My boobs look and feel a little different when I'm on my back, but they still stick up and still look good. Willis came around when he had emptied the camera's memory. He had to work to pay attention to my hair. He and Gilda spread it like it had fallen evenly all around.
Ralph got a shot from between my feet that must have emphasized my pussy even more than it did the little red circle. I thought, "Oh, well. Every picture is supposed to have a center of interest." My plan for centers of interest started with my face, breasts, red circle of pubic hair, curvy waist and hips, long strong legs, a bunch of other stuff and finally my pussy way down the list. Men, of course, may list them in a different order.
Ralph climbed the ladder a step at a time and took pictures from each level. I just lay there with a coy, come-on smile. This shot would definitely be ceiling material for boys who think I'm sexy.
"Well, that ate up a whole fifteen minutes. You're just too good and we get a lot done with you. Well, take a break until supper. The catalog shoot tonight needs two models, so we have to wait 'til then," he told me.
I asked to see the shots he had for the calendar. He agreed and we gathered around his computer when Willis finished uploading the floor shots. He brought each up on the screen and did one of several things. Really bad ones got deleted, usually so fast I couldn't even see what was wrong. Technically good ones with some angle or expression problem that made them second-best got put into an 'outtakes' folder. The thirty-some that were left were all great. I could just imagine backgrounds around them and dates printed all over my legs. He went through those again and sent some more to the outtakes. He spent more time deciding which ones were really the best when he had more than one of a pose. He ended up with 22 shots for a 14- or 16- picture calendar. The publisher would get the outtakes, too.
"Hmm. I didn't think we took that many," Ralph mused.
Willis told him that there were about 65 shots uploaded.
"Wow. One third good," he exclaimed.
"I'll do better next time," I said in a whine.
"No-no," he hastily corrected. "This is high standard work. The norm is about 10 percent. That's why we planned a four-hour shoot.
"You have 'til supper. After that, we'll want the ringlet hair and we'll give your chest a workout - modeling bras."
Gilda chimed in, "See me here just before supper. We have to set your hair to last a few hours anyway. You may as well wear it around those others at the buffet. You'll knock 'em dead."
I went up to my room. It was on the 18th floor out of 44. I did say they built higher in New York, didn't I? The two guys I rode up with were too nervous to even look at me. I tried to smile at them, but with their eyes averted, that didn't do any good.
The room had a single king size bed, chairs at a table and a desk, a TV cabinet with clothes drawers under it, a closet with my coat hanging and a bathroom. They had unloaded my shoes into the closet and all the toiletries onto the counter top in the bathroom. There was also a big supply of cosmetic stuff courtesy of the agency. They must have had a deal with the cosmetic company. My bookbag was on the desk. There was a keyboard there, too, to use with the TV to get on the internet.
I took a shower, washed and conditioned my hair. I could see how I was going to need a lot of that conditioner if they kept redoing and spraying my hair so much. After the shower, I turned the radio on and bopped around the room to the music. Yep, I was feeling great and the dancing moves made me feel sexy with all the jiggling and hip action. My eyes fell on my books. Pffft. There went the sexy feeling. Would you believe I did homework? Algebra? Well I did. I got a good start on the assignment and left the book open so I could continue easily.
I found my way through the first floor halls to the 'studio' where Gilda was ready for me. She pinned most of my hair in the sweep up, leaving the locks for ringlets hanging down.
"This red hair? It sets you off ... makes you different. It's a solid color, though. How'd you like to try something different?" Gilda asked.
I thought and asked, "How different and how big a try?"
"Streaks. Temporary color. Lather, rinse, repeat and it's all out. We can make a lighter streak in this ringlet and a darker one in the back," she explained.
I agreed. The worst that could happen was I'd have to wash out the temporary color before the catalog shoot. Gilda soaked a cloth with something and wiped it on half the locks in front of my ears. She used a different something on half the ringlets behind my ears. She left them drying while she did my eyes. She put on liner and shadow with the same deft moves she had used earlier. She went a little slower because the longer-lasting stuff was a little thicker.
"You're on your own for the rest of that. I don't have red eyebrow pencil or mascara. Will by tomorrow," she promised. "You know to keep using a lot of moisturizer on your skin and conditioner on your hair, right? So many makeup and hair sessions all week can take their toll."
We checked out my hair streaks. Half the front ringlets were almost yellow and half the back ones were a darker red, but not quite brown. She looked pleased. I took that as a good sign. She put the locks on the curlers and blasted them with spray.
She did my lips while we waited for the holding spray. The lipstick was darker than my hair. She added a slightly darker liner around the edge. She took the curlers out of my hair and let the ringlets do their springy bounce, then let me see the results in the mirror. She had outdone herself. Now this was the most glamorous Emily I'd ever seen. The streaks and eyes worked. It took a minute to realize that the lipstick matched my areolas. I gave her a sly smile when I realized how much she supports my nakedness.
"There. Your hair and eyes are ready for the catalog work. We'll redo the lips after you eat. This is just for your entrance. I hear you do spectacular entrances. Remember that one who screamed? I can't wait to see her column," Gilda said.
I blushed about the screaming diva and tried to ask about her while we walked together toward the buffet room. Gilda didn't answer before she had to excuse herself to visit the ladies' room we passed.
"Knock 'em dead," she admonished.
I thought about making that entrance. This was supposed to be a bigger group with more important people than at lunch. I gave a little nervous whine, then caught myself. I purposely thought of the word 'confidence' and strutted through the door.
I've strutted like that before, but only a couple of times. The buffet wasn't quite started yet and people were milling around socializing. The group nearest the door noticed me and gave a collective gasp. That drew the attention and gasps from more of them. The progression of looks I got were like a choreographed ripple. A first look at my face and hair made everyone gasp. Most men never got past those big round torpedoes on my chest. Any who did, and most women, got stuck on my little red circle and the pussy under it. I was the only naked one in the room again.
"What? Haven't you seen a model in makeup for a shoot?" I asked with some sassy body English.
A nearby group was all young women - late teens and twenty-somethings. Would 'models' be a good guess? One of them, a blonde about an inch taller than me, stepped out of the group and toward me.
"Yeah, we've seen models, but not quite this well put together or showing so much. You look ready for more than a shoot," she said. "Rachel."
"Emily, and I do have a shoot right after supper."
"I know. So do I. With Ralph. We're together. That's a Gilda job, isn't it? It's perfect." she said.
I smiled and nodded. I sort of joined that group of models. Rachel said names too fast for me to catch them all. They're all represented by the agency and are staying in the hotel. I tried to be friendly and wanted the same in return. Since I was the only naked one, I expected some reaction and wasn't surprised when it was negative.
"Hey, umm, Emily? Your fly's open," taunted one introduced as Tara.
"Oh, yeah. Cute, isn't it?" I replied looking down at myself.
"Glad I don't have to run around showing my tits and ass," she got more catty.
"I'm glad you don't, too. I actually have some to show," I retorted looking at her skinny figure.
"But who wants to see that much? Get back to me when you get your own calendar," she tried to dismiss me.
"Enough want to see me that I shot the calendar this afternoon," I was getting defensive and some of the models around were getting impressed.
"I know they try to get 'em looking young, but you look like fifteen," she came back.
"Rather look like a healthy fifteen than a scrawny twelve," I was back at her figure.
Meow. Sorry, but she had it coming.
Rachel and a couple of the other girls actually laughed. Tara blushed, then gave a nervous laugh of her own. The others around her seemed to accept me when they figured out I wasn't self conscious about being naked and wasn't so timid that I'd take any crap. I wondered how I'd get along with Tara after that, though.
A waiter came by with a tray. Rachel snatched two glasses of wine from it and handed me one.
After she thought about it, she whispered, "How old are you, really?"
"Fifteen," I whispered in answer, then, "Hey!" when she snatched back the wine.
I grabbed the glass and sipped from it for the next half hour. There were a lot of introductions and conversations with other models from the agency. Most of them treated it like a team supporting each other. I can go with that, but it's not obvious. It's the kind of relationship that has to be built. Some treated it like a rivalry and saw me as a threat. If they want to compete, then my face and body are a real threat to them. They figured that out right away. I was showing it all, wasn't I?
The Catalog
After a while, I spotted Ralph and Jerry together. I excused myself from Rachel and some other girls and went over there. Heads turned as I walked by. I put a little wag in my tail by doing a light runway walk. I heard a few "Whew" as I went by. Some even said "Nice hair" and some of them were actually looking at my head.
I came up behind Ralph and Jerry before they saw me. They were locked in their own conversation.
"So she worked out okay?" Jerry asked.
"Great," Ralph answered. "Wonderful sense of expressions and how to hold herself. Not self-conscious. She's in her comfort zone. She's better nude than 95% of 'em are dressed. No prima donna either. Pitched right in with props and stuff. Strong as she looks. Works hard. Got in lots of extra poses, even an extra hair change. Finished an hour early, though. I'm paid by the job, but that's less cash for her and for you."
Ralph noticed me when he turned to punctuate that last part by poking Jerry with his finger.
"Oh, crap," he whispered.
"Hi, guys," I said brightly.
They blushed. That had to be me they were talking about. Now they're worried I'll get a big head. Hey, if I didn't have confidence already, I wouldn't be there and definitely wouldn't be naked.
Jerry took me around to meet some agency executives and reporters or editors from fashion publications. The agency really sucks up to potential clients, inviting them to buffets and showing them naked models. I took the attention and feedback as sexy and got a little turned on. One guy was a photo editor from the calendar publisher's New York office. Ralph had just given him a report on the shoot ... and on Emily. He asked me to send in some biographical and personal stuff to put on the calendar. As if anyone reads the words on those things. I'll still do it.
The food was finally ready and a line formed. I waited with Jerry, Ralph, Rachel and her agent Helen. Rachel is from the Chicago area and Helen works in the Chicago office. Those two stood very close together and smiled at each other a lot. Rachel is 21 years old and has been in the supermodel ranks for a few years. Helen was impressed when Rachel mentioned that I'm fifteen.
That whole group sat together and Gilda joined us. Rachel fed her some compliments about my hair and makeup job. Gilda said I give her a lot to work with. I blushed and think I may have squealed. Willis joined us a little later and brought another younger guy with him. That was Julian. He had just brought the products for the evening's shoot - bras. Lots of bras to hear them tell about it.
The client is Katarina's Hope, the chain of lingerie stores that puts out a popular catalog and does a lot of advertising. A model can get a lot of work being one of their regulars. Julian does the same sort of odd jobs for them as Mr. Silanski does for Sportech and gets perks, too, like this buffet. The way he kept his eyes on me, he enjoys sexy naked models the way Mr. Silanski does. I asked Julian about the bras, especially the sizes.
"Oh, we knew who the models are. Got just your size," he answered studying my chest and pretending it was a professional necessity.
My plate was piled high again with more food than anyone else at the table, including the men. Hey, I worked hard all afternoon and didn't have any snack. Rachel finished before I was half way through. So did Gilda.
The makeup artist grabbed Rachel and said, "C'mon. We'll get you ready."
They took off. Ralph, Willis, Julian and I followed when I was finished eating. The studio now had two tables on opposite sides. There were bras upon bras lined up on both tables. Willis and Julian had spent some valuable time sorting, organizing, ordering and laying them out for us.
Modern modeling style for runway and catalog ads is to only wear what you're showing and only one piece at a time. Blouses and skirts are shown separately. That makes for lots of topless shows and ads. Panties are still optional for the model. There are very few completely bottomless ads for bras or blouses because so many models still opt for covering their pussies.
You know about Emily by now. It's the same with Rachel. Gilda had finished her hair and makeup by the time we got there. Rachel had been wearing a loose, flowing dress so far that evening. She stripped it off and showed that she wasn't wearing anything under it. She didn't have any elastic marks and her pubic hair was all gone. She's one of those skinny models - bony with perky, pointy A cup breasts.
These bra ads would be bottomless - at least the pictures would be. The client, their ad agency's photo editor or the publishers could crop the pictures. They could be cropped all the way up to our chests and still get the same view of the bras, but not the same impact.
The bras were laid out on two tables. One table had all white bras in lots of different styles and all A cups. The other table had colored bras, mostly red, a few black, and all with C cups. Right. The blonde gets white, the redhead gets red. There were a few differences in styles that give C boobs more support or pad out As. Otherwise, the bras were lined up with two versions of the same style for us to wear at the same time.
Julian tossed the first bras to us and we put them on. Gilda interrupted to touchup my lipstick. Ralph directed us to stand on either side of a black pillar about two feet in diameter that was now in front of the blue screen. We stood on opposite sides of the pillar with our backs to it and to each other. We slid around the pole until our shoulders touched where they were pointed right at the camera. That left us showing everything to the camera and with cold body English toward each other.
"Now menace each other. You're good and evil, angel and devil," Ralph directed us.
Guess which role goes to the redhead wearing red. I glowered and sneered at Rachel. She played it less aggressively with a look that said 'bring it on!' Ralph got a few shots of that and some other expressions.
Willis and Julian helped us out of those bras and into the next ones. The ones we just wore went back on the table with a little gap to separate the ones we'd done. Rachel and I lined up with our backs to each other and the pillar again. This time Ralph had us look and sneer at the camera. I felt naughty being the evil devil. Rachel broke that feeling when we broke the pose. She giggled and smiled at me.
That's how it went through about ten poses with ten different bra styles. Rachel and I would scowl menacingly at each other for the pictures, then get back to a friendly footing as soon as we could. Whether Julian or Willis was helping me, he would take a long admiring look once the new bra was in place. Sure, that was really necessary. I suppose it was necessary to maintaining the bulging hardness of the cocks in their pants.
The camera memory was filling after those ten. Willis uploaded the pictures. Ralph and Julian checked them over. Rachel and I tried to see over their shoulders, but only got some of them. They all showed us from mid-thigh upward. Our pussies and my trademark little red circle were clear in every shot. As before, bad ones were deleted and second-bests were relegated to the outtake folder. There was at least one good shot left for each bra after that. Julian scooped up those bras and threw them in a box. They were finished for the day.
The next batch were sexier. They were the pushup and open front types. Those can give figures like Rachel's a nice cleavage without trying too hard. They can do a good job for me, but have to be put on right.
Willis put the first pushup on me and the pads pushed me the wrong way. I told him to lift my boobs and set them on top of the pads. He froze. Of course, I could do it myself, but I thought it would give both of us a thrill.
I put his hands to my boobs and said, "C"mon, Willis, grab. You won't hurt me or offend me. My chest is used to having guys all over it."
"They said to be careful of you because you're so young," he tried to protest.
"Would I be going naked if that was problem?" I pointed out.
He reached inside the bra like he really knew what he was doing. He lifted my boob and stroked along its underside as he set it on top of the pad. My nipple was hard by the time he finished. My other nipple got hard a little quicker because it was anticipating the stroke. I was right about at least one of us getting a thrill.
My boobs were pushed up and a lot of cleavage showed at the top of the bra. My hard nipples were above the pads and showed as little buttons at the tips of the cups. Rachel noticed and stared for a second.
Ralph had us stand facing each other, then open the angle to give the camera a good view. Our shoulders met where we touched the pillar. I gave Rachel and evil glare. She gave my boobs a lustful leer. Ralph noticed. He made her soften the undertone and go back to being the defensive angel.
"Nice tits," Rachel whispered when we broke the pose.
The next bra went about the same way. Julian took a turn helping me and got to adjust my boobs on the pads. My nipples were that much harder and my boobs were starting to get quite a tingle from being handled.
Ralph had me continue with menacing glares and Rachel was to keep up the 'Bring it on' defensiveness, but this time she was supposed to look at my cleavage. Her look had a little of the predator in it, though. In the shot after that, I started putting some coyness in my glare. There was a gradual progress from menace and defense to sexy and coy as we worked through more of the bras.
The last two bra styles had pushup pads and open front cups. Willis helped me into the first of those with enthusiasm. He was right with it lifting my boobs and making sure the hard nipples were pointed straight forward. He did a lot more nipple tweaking than I needed, but I liked the tingling thrill. I'll have to admit that we were all less than professional about this part of the session. We were more than an hour ahead of schedule, though, so Ralph didn't complain.
The photographer had Rachel and me stand closer together for the last two shots. Rachel's perky breasts were pushed up to look round and more full. Julian had done his job and made her nipples as hard as mine. We pulled our shoulders back and stepped forward. Ralph kept telling us to go closer and closer until our bare nipples were touching. Why didn't he just say that in the first place? I'm okay with it and I think Rachel likes me. I mean she'll go along with the body contact because she LIKES me. My expression was totally coy and Rachel was back to the overt sexiness. What's that quote? Oh, yes. Absolutely salivating.
When we broke the first pose of those two, Rachel slapped my ass, smiled and said, "You're good, kid. I'm glad we're in a lot of shoots this week."
The last bra was even more open. Its pad launched my boobs extra high and the lack of cups left them wide open. Julian had his turn with my exposed nipples and did his duty again to see that they were erect. He was overtly erect, too.
Rachel and I posed with nipples touching again and her eyes were locked on my chest. Her hidden hand reached behind me and dug into my ass. That thrill added to what the guys had been doing to my boobs.
Ralph told me to wear a victorious smirk on my face and look at the camera. That shot finished the second set of bras and we took a break to upload pictures and review them. I got it while we were watching over Ralph's shoulder. Menacing threats hadn't beaten the angel, but coy sexiness had seduced her. The devil had won. I guess this part of the catalog is supposed to appeal to the devilish side of the customers.
Rachel was still looking me over and salivating as she got closer to me.
"You know I wasn't acting in those last few. You're straight, aren't you?" she asked, then after I nodded, "Too bad. Maybe someday."
I didn't say anything more, but I was thinking of the wonderful licking and convulsive orgasm I'd received from my best friend. That's all I needed after the sexy pushup bras, the attention from the guys and the real come-on I'd been getting from Rachel. I was getting horny and was even a little wet in the pussy.
The tables were empty, but Julian and Willis didn't act like we were done. They got out another batch of bras. Julian explained that they were for a different section of the catalog. These were sports bras with full spandex cups, wide bands, high straps, t-backs and lots of colors.
"Oh, crap," came out of me louder than a whisper and I explained my exclusive contract with Sportech.
Julian got pissed and started ranting. Even my jiggly boobs didn't distract him, but he looked like he was talking to them instead of to me. He threatened to cancel my bookings for the rest of the week and lots of other stuff. He stopped when he felt Ralph's heavy hand on his shoulder.
"You remember I told you about this. That section? We're supposed to shoot it Thursday without her. What the hell. We have an hour. Let's try something," he calmed the situation.
Ralph calmly called Jerry and explained that they'd like to get in some of Thursday's work if Leticia was available. Jerry arrived in just a few minutes with a young woman in tow. Jerry, Ralph and Julian started talking. It looked okay because everyone's head was nodding and they were smiling.
I recognized the model from the buffet, but I hadn't met her. Rachel introduced me to Leticia.
"Tish, please. Leeteesseeya sounds sooo old," she said as she shook my hand.
Tish dropped her dress and panties. She's slim, but more curvy than Rachel. Her breasts are good size Bs with perky curves and nipples that point up. She should be able to fill the stretchy bras. Gilda went right after the dark, almost black, elastic line around her hips. The makeup artist mixed some stuff and matched Tish's chocolate skin tone on the second try.
Tish looked over the bras while Gilda touched up her short mane of tight curls.
"Why you not doin' these, girl? You more fit 'n look better in 'em," she asked me.
That's not quite her accent, but it's close. It's closer than I'm writing Ralph's New York or Rachel's Chicago accents. In the next few days of working with her, I found out that Tish is one of Jerry's models and she's from a town in Texas that's smaller than my little city.
I mentioned my contract and that I couldn't do athletic wear for a competitor of Sportech.
"That do explain it ... lucky bitch," she said with a smile that let me know she didn't mean it.
Good Night
I wanted to watch a little, but Jerry dragged me out of the studio. He said to do something recreational or at least restful since I was so fully booked.
"Right. All work and no play makes Emily a dull girl," I agreed.
I took off the makeup, showered, moisturized, conditioned my hair and put it in a ponytail. I did get to a little of the homework, but got restless after a while. I decided that I needed a workout. The hotel services guide showed where their fitness room is - on the second floor above a conference room.
The room had some dumbbells, a bench, a three-station weight machine with lots of ways to use it, an elliptical trainer and a familiar looking guy running on the treadmill. The guys back was to me. He was wearing only a very short pair of shorts - thin nylon with a split seam like my brother wears when he's running. There was something familiar about the tight, shapely ass in those shorts.
It was Jerry. He looked every bit as good as he had in Dallas. We greeted each other, but let each other concentrate on the exercise. I noticed that he had five minutes left on his timer. At least he could get a good show while I stretched. I got a towel from a shelf there in the fitness room, spread it on the floor and stretched. I took most of the five minutes with every move at the angle that gave Jerry the best view. He couldn't help noticing everything.
I stretched my arms and chest with my boobs aimed right for his face. I bent over to stretch my back with my ass mooning him ever so politely. Leg and groin stretches had the most effect. Yes, I spread so wide that he couldn't help but see every detail of my pussy. The effect? He slowed to a jog. I'd always sort of wondered how well a guy could run with a hardon. Jerry's speed dropped at the exact moment his shorts showed that pointy bulge. The thin little shorts did almost nothing to contain his bobbing and flapping. If I didn't already know how well his package is put together, I would have after that stretching session.
I got on the elliptical trainer beside him to warm up. That machine gives enough resistance to get me warmed up and it's motion is smooth enough that my boobs bound up and down without bouncing too much. Jerry was watching the boob action intently. I don't think he noticed that I was watching his cock. His attention and his hardon were keeping me horny and even getting me wet.
The weights and bench are right in front of the cardio machines. He had a great view when I did some presses and curls. I straddled the bench to keep my legs spread for him even when I didn't have to. He kept jogging and kept that point in his shorts bobbing. He didn't have to do that, either. He was at least fifteen minutes over his time. I had already decided that when he did quit, he wouldn't leave the fitness room alone.
He kept jogging all while I did a few sets at all the stations of the weight machine. That took a half hour. I've heard that the sight of a woman's body can inspire men to do extra, even heroic, things. I got in enough weight work to stay fit, but not so much that I'd get sore. I felt great about the exercise and about my prospects with Jerry. He stayed and kept jogging while I got back on the elliptical trainer to cool down. I did about ten minutes of slow exercise. The idea is to keep circulation going in the tired muscles. The real purpose was to get my boobs bounding where Jerry would notice them again.
He finally quit after I'd been doing the cool down for about ten minutes. I quit, too. I got another towel and dried him off. I rubbed him all over ... all over. Rubbing of his arms, shoulders and chest excited me as much as it did him. I dried down both of his legs and got a great view through the thin nylon shorts. Even with the second layer of the lining, all the details were clearly visible when I was that close.
I stood beside him to dry his ass. I stroked up under his shorts. The split seam parted. I got to see his bare tight ass while I was drying it. He started moaning and breathing hard. He stayed right with me, though. The shorts didn't work so well in the front. The lining had tight elastic edges from the waistband to the back of his crotch and held in his whole package. I stroked him a couple of times anyway and got a good feel of his long, hard cock. I quit only because I wanted him on me, not cleaning semen out of his shorts.
He turned to me and said, "Your turn."
He took another towel to my sweaty body. He rubbed me gently at first, drying everything he could see. Of course that means all of me. He started rubbing a little harder the second time he went over my body. It was almost like a massage and really relaxed me.
"Mmmm," I purred.
He ended up drying my pussy. Again he started gently at first. He got more firm when I reacted and pressed against his hand. I was leaning against him with his hard cock pressed against me. I only turned a little to make room for his hand and the towel. My head was resting on his shoulder and one hand was stroking his bare chest. I kept the squeals quiet because I was so close to his ear. My pussy was the opposite of dry.
"C'mon. Lemme show ya my room. It's special. I got it all because of you," I tried to mimic his invitation for me to visit his office.
"What's special about it?" he asked.
"It has me in the bed," I answered with a coy look.
"What about your boyfriend problem?" he tried to remind me.
"No boyfriend, no problem," I kept up with the coy looks.
"I was so afraid you were just teasing me. C'mon. I wanna see this bed, well, at least the Emily in it," he said as he grabbed me around the waist.
He must have figured out one of the things stimulating me, so he just carried his shirt. We walked through the hall with his arm around me, pulling me close and digging his fingers in to my soft curves. I wasn't going to let him get all the feeling. I put my arm behind him and reached down. I got big handful of his ass and enjoyed the feel of every ripple in the muscles as he walked. He wasn't the only one enjoying scenery either. I kept looking down at his hard cock.
"Oh. Sorry, but I just can't help it," he sounded apologetic when he realized what I was looking at.
"It's a real compliment when you respond to me so quickly like that. I'd still be teasing if you didn't," I tried to put him at ease.
We only kissed once in the elevator - one long kiss that lasted for the whole 16-floor ride. He stepped close to me, stuck his tongue in my mouth and grabbed both breasts with his hands. I got my other hand on his ass and dug my fingers in. The more tingling I felt in my boobs, the more I squeezed and pulled on his ass. That kept us tight together where I could feel that hard cock between us. If there's a surveillance camera in that elevator, we gave them quite a show. There couldn't be any doubt what was next for us.
I opened the room door and went in first. By the time I got near the bed, Jerry had closed the door behind him and dropped his clothes. He slammed his naked body into me and landed on top of me on the bed. We kissed like we were both hungry for it and our hands were all over each other again.
Now, I've been body slammed onto a bed by a defensive lineman who outweighs Jerry. I kind of like a little rough stuff when it's done in passion, not in anger, and only happens once in a while. It was really understandable after the hour of escalating tease action I'd just done.
Jerry moved aside to make room for his hand and reached to check out my pussy. I was plenty wet and got swollen enough to be ready in just a couple of strokes.
I squealed, "Now, Jerry. I'm ready."
He got centered on me and slid his cock right in. I'd been teased as much as I'd been teasing. I came when his first thrust rippled through my vagina and his body pinched my clit. I lost track of how loud the squeals were when that explosive release took all my attention. I'm glad the orgasm was so intense, because it didn't last long at all.
I think Jerry came on that first thrust, too. That part was understandable after the hour of teasing. He grunted through his orgasm at the same time as I squealed through mine. He collapsed and lay on me while I finished shuddering. He knows that's not the kind of long fuck a girl likes and he started to apologize again.
"Hey, I came quickly, too. It was all that buildup. C'mon, we both need showers," I told him.
I know something about getting a guy up after he comes. There's nothing like a shower to get his attention on the body parts he likes. From the way he used his hands, Jerry is a breast man. He got a lot of attention from my breasts in that shower. I washed him all over. I pressed or rubbed my boobs against him every chance I could. I used boobs instead of my hands to wash his chest and back. By the time I got to washing his cock, it was starting to swell a little.
When he washed me, his hands went everywhere. They started on my boobs and went to my face. They went back to my boobs then around to my back. After another visit on my boobs they descended down over my belly. One more visit to my chest was followed by washing my ass. He even went back to my chest between doing the front and the back of my legs. Needless to say, he was at full attention after all that attention to my boobs.
He hadn't done anything with my pussy before he started to rinse me off. Pretty soon his hand was in my crotch and a finger slipped inside me. Squeals slipped out. That felt so great that I forgot to stand up. My knees wobbled, I gasped and started falling over. He held me up by that hand under my pussy and wrapped another one around me. I think that's when he shut off the water.
He reached down to my ass and tried to lift me. I reached up to his neck, hugged and held on. He mostly dragged me to the bed. I mostly wriggled around on that finger in my pussy. We were both dripping wet. The bed was doomed and I didn't care. At least he laid me on it gently this time.
He climbed on top of me and nestled between my outstretched legs. Oh, yes, I wanted him as much as he was ready for me. He slipped his cock inside me, got two handfuls of boobs and started kissing my face. I wrapped my legs around his ass, dug my hands into his shoulders and returned the kisses. I felt his cock sliding over my labia and that sensitive spot inside my vagina. I wanted more of that, so I did some moving, too. My ass wriggled back and forth and bucked up to him. My clit and mound took some hard smacks when his thrust met my bucking. This fuck was getting intense, just like I wanted.
I gave back what I hoped would encourage him to keep going. The kisses got him some moans. The boob squeezes got him some gasps. Every thrust into my pussy got him some squeals. All of those got me closer to my orgasm. I should say orgasms. He lasted a lot longer this time. He gave me the thrilling, tingling and explosive sensations to go through three climaxes. He finished before my third, but stayed in me and kept thrusting.
He rolled off me after I finished all the shuddering. He fiddled with the clock radio beside the bed, then flopped on his back. I cuddled against him on my side between one of his arms and his body. My head was resting on his chest and shoulder. I was lying on one arm, but that hand had enough reach to get a grip on his tight ass. My other hand was stroking the other side of his chest. He pulled me closer with the arm he had behind me. That hand was full of ass, too - mine.
We fell asleep like that. You would, too, if you did that much exercise and fucking. I swear it happened in my sleep, but my hand wound up on his cock. It woke me up with it's rising and twitching. The first sensation I got was of Jerry's warm, cozy body beside and under me. The next sensation was the excitement of feeling his cock getting hard.
I was ready for mischief and some more sex. I rubbed my own pussy to get it ready. I was wet and open in just a minute. I climbed on him slowly and pressed my labia against the head of his cock. After a little wiggling, he started to enter me. I pressed until he went in a little, then pulled up. I didn't let him get all the way out before I lowered myself to press him in again. That spread my juices over him and stretched me, too.
He could get all the way in after a little of that. I started dragging my clit over his body when I lifted up, then dropped to drive him all the way in and pinch my clit against him. He was feeling it. I could tell by his moaning.
I don't know whether his own moans or my squeals woke him up. There was just enough light to see his smile when he realized I was doing him. There was just enough light for him to get my boobs in his grasp on the first try. That was just enough to send me over. I went into an explosive orgasm and went into more wild wriggling and writhing all over him. Hope it didn't hurt him.
I finished the orgasm lying down on his chest. He was thrusting up under me. His cock was getting my labia and vagina just right. It inspired me into action again. I started the dragging, wriggling and thrusting for a second orgasm. That was better than the first one. The tingling spread over more of me, I think because his hands were roaming over more of me. He spent a lot of time rubbing my legs and mound. That filled in some exciting touches that don't happen when I'm on top. I was leaning forward and dragging my boobs up and down on his chest, too.
That orgasm ran its course and I collapsed. He hadn't come yet and kept thrusting. He had to lift me on each stroke. I think those washboard abs could do it, but didn't want to wear him out. I straightened out on top of him. That was already twice as many orgasms as I ever got on top of a guy.
"Roll on top," I whispered and punctuated with a kiss that licked his tongue. "You can get me better that way."
He wrapped his arms around me and we rolled. He stayed inside me and went at it fast and hard when he got on top. Hands on my boobs and his tongue in my mouth got me going fast and hard, too. I wriggled and bucked under him. My legs were spread around his ass and feeling every stroke. We came together that time. He pressed into me as far as he could go. That pinch of my clit and labia hit right at the top of my climax. It couldn't have been more intense.
It was minutes later when he said, "That was wonderful. Way too good. You're spoiling me."
He finally rolled off, pulled me most of the way on top of him and hugged me gently. I tangled my legs with his and nestled my pussy into his hip. He felt sooo warm and cuddly. I fell asleep with thoughts of how much better "sleeping together" is than just fucking. I also understood how my best friend gets it so many times in a night.