This story deals with an older lady who gets herself in a difficult situation through a promise made in a weak moment.  Ultimately it costs her a big piece of her modesty and a severe test of her bladder, when she becomes a most unexpected kind of model.

No hard sex; watersports, exhibitionism.     ws, exh 




The Model

By Francine

Chapter 1

It was approaching the time to prepare for her appointment.  Fran Merryman steeled herself as she looked at the clock.  It read 12:15 - the dreaded appointment was set for two in the afternoon. She had less than two hours before what she was sure was going to be one of the most embarrassing events of her life.  Her heart raced a bit as she thought about it.  How could she ever have got herself into this?  No matter - the deed was done, now she just had to go through with it.  Hopefully she could could get there and back without encountering anyone who knew her.

She had made the appointment two days ago.  The place was of her own choice - a location where she felt no one would know her, a place where she hoped, in fact, that there would be no one except the person she was to meet. She had only met him once, and he didn't really know how she was going to be involved.  To him it would be, she hoped, only a professional engagement.

Fran was not an insecure person, or one without means.  Now at sixty two, she had been divorced some twenty years, after a marriage that had turned sour and led to an unpleasant settlement. Faced with the need to support two growing children, she had relied on her own resources, having little from her ex-husband.  Fran was an investment advisor, having spent many years with a firm in the business of managing finances for mostly wealthy clients.  She had achieved financial independence, financed educations for two children now grown and departed, and acquired a good reputation in her profession and her community.  Financially, she had done well.  Usually she dressed in conservative professional attire for her appointments, but she pondered what was appropriate for today.

While thinking over what would be appropriate attire, she realized she had another item of preparation she needed to attend to.  She went into her kitchen, poured herself a large glass of ice water, and drank it down.  She waited a few moments, then followed it with another.  Then she returned to her bedroom.

She looked over her wardrobe, trying to select the most suitable attire for this occasion.  She decided a dress was necessary, and she chose a navy blue one, heavy enough to wear without a slip, and one that buttoned in the front.  She didn't relish having to wrestle with something that fastened in the back.  It was a warm day, and she would not wear a jacket.

She carefully selected her underwear. Usually lingerie was not of great importance to her, but today, well, it could indeed matter.  She picked out a white bra and white panties.  She would not wear pantyhose, or any hosiery.  Today it would be better to be bare legged.  

She dressed with her usual care. She checked her gray hair, which she refused to tint and wore at shoulder length.  Looking at herself in her mirror, she was satisfied.  At her age, she knew she was not going to win any beauty contests, but she was well groomed and in good taste.  Perhaps she wore a few more pounds than she had twenty years ago, but her body was, she felt, in good shape, allowing for some minor sags and lines.  She wore little make-up, but carefully looked over some small lines in her face. Well, she thought, at sixty two surely he will expect a few flaws!

She considered her jewelry, then decided to leave it off.    Earrings she usually wore, but not today. She fastened on only her wrist watch.  Time would be important - she must not be late.

Dressed to her satisfaction, she checked the time.  It would take her perhaps an hour to drive there, she would need to leave within twenty minutes.  There was still one item of preparation needed.  She needed a bit more to drink - it would important to have sufficient liquid in her.  She considered her coffee pot, then decided instead again on water.  Coffee might go through her too quickly - she didn't want to create a problem for herself before she got there.  She poured another  large glass of ice water, and drank it slowly.  She had skipped lunch, so her stomach was empty.  She decided a bit of nutrition might be good, so she followed the water with a large glass of orange juice, then repeated with another glass.. 

She checked the clock.  She still had a few minutes.  She wondered if what she had consumed would be enough for the requirements she expected. Doubtful, she took another glass of the water and downed it slowly.  Her stomach was feeling quite full.

She made a quick visit to the bathroom to relieve herself, then returned to the kitchen.  Taking a liter bottle of soda with her, she went outside, locked the door, and went to her car.  Carefully she backed out and began her journey.  Desperately she wished this day were over, yet she knew she had to go through with it.

As she drove toward her chosen location, she reflected in how she could have got herself into this situation.  Her mind raced back over events of the last twenty years.

Chapter 2

Fran had been a bit over forty when she first met Marvin Burnside.  She was fresh from a messy divorce, trying to make sense out of a disrupted life and harsh financial circumstances.  She was left with a son and a daughter to raise, an ex-husband who had managed to exit the marriage with a settlement that left her a house but not much else.  Fran had worked in financial planning for several years, but until now personal finances had not been a real problem for her. She was trying to put her life together, support her children, and sort out a variety of legal problems. Romance was not on her mind - she had had quite enough of men in that regard.

Marvin had shown up at the conference her company had set up in San Francisco.  He was in the same profession, living in Oregon.  Fran lived in the south - although she made a number of business trips in conjunction with her work.

It was Marvin who had struck up a conversation with her when she was feeling alone, and just a bit unwelcome.  He introduced her to other professionals.  She became aware that he had separated from his wife years earlier, and lived with a teenaged daughter.  There were things they could share.

There was no romantic spark between them - in fact there never would be, really.  He was a professional colleague she saw only on business trips, where frequently their interests crossed.  She did get his business address.  He offered to advise her in her professional development.

Over the next five years, they met half a dozen times, always at some point away from both of their homes.  They would have dinner together, at times.   One early incident Fran would recall with amusement.

She had been staffing a booth at a conference for financial planning.  Her coworker was called away unexpectedly, and she was left to staff it alone.  The rules she was under was that the booth was to be staffed all day, lest prospective clients arrive and be lost.  She had been there several hours when Marv came by, giving her a warm greeting and trying to engage her in a bit of conversation.  After a few minutes he sensed she was a bit nervous and was fidgeting a bit. "What's the matter?  Don't you feel OK?"  he had asked her.   She waited a moment, then replied in a low voice, "Truth is, Marv, I'm not supposed to leave here, and I have to pee something awful!"  Marv laughed at her, then replied, "Tell you what - lend me your badge and I'll stay here a few minutes and be you - even if a poor substitute! You're entitled to a bathroom break!"

That little event would become a favorite theme of their infrequent encounters.  Before departing for lunch, or some event together, he would inquire of her "Need a pee break first? We don't need any problems with you!" 

Over the ensuing years.  Marv had encountered a number of clients transferring south, and referred several of them to Fran.  He had given her favorable introductions to several other prospects, and gave her material assistance in preparing presentations for the seminars she had to put on and manage.   It was Marv who got her into a professional society, and then nominated her to national office a few years later.

More recently, Marv had joined with her in planning their society's national meeting, and helped elevate her to professional prominence.  Yet they remained only close business friends - never had they had they had a real romantic encounter.

Twice she had taken trips with him, on the way to business conferences where they simply shared a car.  The most intimate event occurred while driving along an isolated highway on one of these trips.  It had been quite a while since they had a rest stop, and Fran was feeling a bit uneasy with a full bladder.  Marv had sensed her discomfort, and failing to find a rest area with facilities, they had wound up pulling off the side of the road, where both, in turn, and not together, had relieved themselves on the sheltered side of the car.  

Recently, she knew their relationship was winding down.  Both were nearing the age where retirement loomed.  There was one more conference in Vancouver, which they would attend together.  Fran looked forward to it with mixed feelings, anxious to see her old friend, yet feeling sorrow that the final parting was probably imminent.

They went out to dinner together after the events of the second and last day.  Marv had planned it would be special.  He took her to an elegant restaurant, reminding her of the many meals they had shared, but admonishing her as they arrived,  "This one's on me - you don't pickup the tab this time!  And do you need a pee break before we sit?"   Fran laughed at his reference to their private joke, and his memory that she, in true professional style, had often picked up the check for their times together.

They reflected overt their many times together. Marv shared his plans with her.  "You know I have a partnership in Australia, and I'm planning to go there in a couple of months to retire.  Of course, I'll keep busy, but it will be a different life for me. You know I will miss seeing you!"  Fran shared her concerns for her own future, expecting to stay where she lived, but looking to a less cluttered life.  They shared their plans and memories.

"I want to remember you, Fran.  You know after all these years, all I have of you is a couple of convention snapshots."

"Do you need a picture of me to remember what I look like? Maybe I can find one.  Would you like one of me in my present deteriorated state, or as I was twenty years ago?"

"I want to remember you as you are - and you're not deteriorated - you've become more gracious over the years, and I want to remember the finished product."

"You're a flatterer - always were!" Fran responded. "I'll get you a photo, maybe even a few of them.  After that statement, you can have any kind you want!"
"Thanks, I'll remember that.  I find you worth remembering. I'll give a bit of thought on what I'd like."

They reminisced a bit about what they knew of each other.  Fran had shared a bit of her interests over the years, but she knew little of Marv's personal hobbies.  She recalled that he had been interested in boating, and had once owned one.  Then she remembered that he had mentioned a photo art collection.

"You know, I really should get you a retirement gift.  After all you've done for me, you won't even let me pick up the check for our farewell banquet!  What would you like?"

"You don't need to give me anything, Fran - just knowing you has been enough. Anyway, you've already promised me a picture."

"That reminds me - you have talked about your collection of photographic art - I've only seen those couple of pieces you showed me.  Are you still adding to it?"

Marv smiled.  "What I showed you was a small piece of it.  Yes, I still have it, and add to it when I can.  You've seen a sample - you  know my interests!  I shouldn't admit it - but I find it hard to get the additions I really like!"

Fran remembered the sample.  "What you showed me were very artistic photos of women; and, as I recall, rather undressed!  Now admit it, were any of them your girl friends?  Or did you see them as very impersonal, like, for example, the lady in the picture over there?"

Marv looked across from their table to a large painting on the restaurant wall.  It showed a somewhat corpulent lady, reclining nude.  "You know I've been interested in art - I hope I can devote more time to it.  I find the female figure a marvelously graceful art form.  No, none of the models were really friends.  I buy the photos, or they are given to me.  The ones I like best I frame and display, the others I keep in albums.  I try to get photos of the models in poses that reflect their interests, or show them in activities that they would appear to enjoy - I like to see the models depicted not as statues, but as real persons, doing real activities in an artistic way.  It's not easy to get them, which is, I suppose, why I value them so."

"That one over there doesn't seem to be doing much of anything!"

"I know, and if that were a photo, instead of a painting, it wouldn't be a candidate for my collection.  Besides, the model's too young!  But she does have a few extra pounds.  Now, some would see that as a drawback, but not me.  I like especially the photos that show real persons, as they really are, warts and all, but still posing gracefully in whatever they're doing.  You know, grace isn't just young and firm lines - it's how a person carries herself, her self-confidence, her acceptance of herself as she is.  That's what I like to see depicted - not just some young thing without her clothes on!"

"You're still an old flatterer! I think you're just trying to make me feel good.  At my age, don't talk about the warts showing - I'd have to admit to a few!"

"Really? I've never noticed any.  You carry yourself with poise and confidence.  I always found you the picture of the confident businesswoman.  If you've got warts, they wouldn't matter, because they're never apparent!"

Fran laughed a bit.  "You've never seen me the way I step into the shower!  You might change your mind!"

"Would I?  Really think I would?  You would should grace and good taste in any state you were in!"

"Stop it. Now you're just being flattering.  It's too late for that. I don't need it any more!"

Suddenly Marv sat up a bit, studied Fran carefully, and then asked her, "Earlier you said you'd get me a set of photos of yourself, any kind you could.  Did you mean it?"

"Of course, Marv. You know I would. It's the least I could do for you.  Have you any special desires?"

"Yes, indeed, Fran.  But remember you already promised!"

"Sure, Marv.  What are your wishes?"

"I want you to get me a set of photos of yourself that would fit the style of my collection. They would be the crowning piece!  That's the gift I would like from you!  I would treasure it - and I want you to get a good professional to take them -  I really would love it!"

Fran's smile turned to look of surprise.  "Are you asking me to get photos posed like the ones you showed me?  Dressed like - like that woman in the picture?"

"It would be the best memory I could have of you - seeing you the way you really are, even if I never saw you that way in person. It would be great if you got a dozen or so, different poses.  You would make the most graceful model in any of the photos I have"

Fran looked him squarely in the eye.  "You mean nude?"

He nodded.  "I would never use them to embarrass you. They would go to Australia with me. But I would love to have them.  You would make the most gracious model I could imagine!" His look was one of pleading.

"A sixty-two year old model, posing nude.  Artistically." Fran was a bit shocked.  She pondered his request.

"I'd like them in an outdoor setting - you always looked good outdoors.  Try to get them in active poses - I'd really like that.  A good photographer could pose you - you would such a fine, graceful model.  And, oh yes, try to get two or three with you engaged in that activity we always joke about."

"Which is?"

"What do I always ask if you need to do, before we start something?"

"Pee?" Fran responded, incredulous.

Marv nodded again.  "Remember that time beside the car?  You were such a good sport about it, and so gracious.  I think you could make the most artistic display if you were photographed peeing - I'll bet you could do it so gracefully!  It would be something to remember you by - our favorite joke, and something only we could share.  Please, I'd love it.  Would you?"

Fran considered her answer.  She had made a promise.  Marv was an old friend, to whom she felt  owed gratitude.  He had never asked her for anything like this; they had never had sexual encounter.  He wasn't asking for one.   How could she ever deliver on this?  But, how could she refuse, and after all, what real harm was there in it?  She was confident Marv wouldn't use anything he wanted to embarrass her.  She trusted him.

"OK.  If that's what you want for your retirement gift, you'll get it.  But give me a little time - I've never had pictures of that kind made before!"

"I thought you hadn't!  That's what would make them such a special keepsake! Thank you!" Marv's gratitude seemed genuine.

Marv didn't pursue his request further, until the end of the evening.  The spent the rest of it together, and, past midnight, Marv delivered her to her hotel.  As they parted for the night, and, she knew, possibly for the last time, he looked at her.  "My pictures?  You will remember - I always want to remember you!"

"You'll get them, Marv, I promise.  Just like you asked".  They exchanged a few final words, and then an unexpected embrace.  She went to her room, a bit sorrowful that a bright chapter in her life was ending.

Chapter 3

On the flight home, and for days afterward, Fran couldn't get out of her mind the promise she had made.  At times she wondered why she had agreed to such a thing.  She thought about calling Marv and saying she couldn't do it, and offering an apology.  She thought of sending him a note that his request was just, well, inappropriate, if not indecent!   But Fran was a person of integrity, a woman of her word.  She had had a chance to turn him down, and she hadn't.  She had agreed. And, she reflected, it wasn't as though he had asked for some kind of sexual liberty, or tried to seduce her.  He hadn't.  All he had done was asked her to get some photos made.   But, never, never, never in her life had she posed for photographs like he wanted.  She hadn't even seriously thought about it.  Where could she find someone she could trust to photograph her as Marv wanted?

Once home, and busy with other obligations, Fran procrastinated.  She tried to put her promise to Marv out of her mind - temporarily. Days went by. They grew into two weeks.

She realized time would run out.  If she were to keep her promise to Marv, she had to get him her gift before his retirement and departure.  She was embarrassed, at times angry at herself for having made such a promise.  But now she was forced to deliver, or go back on her word.  Her word, she reflected, was the important item.  She must do what she promised.

She consulted her phone book, looking for photographers.  She scanned the yellow pages, trying to find one that would fit her need.  She marked the ones who specialized in what were called glamour photos.  She hardly considered herself glamorous, but these were the ones who would most likely do what she wanted.  She checked addresses, nothing close to home, she thought; she might be recognized.  She looked for ones in remote areas of the city, where no one would likely know her.  She wanted a small shop, not one well known.  Gradually she narrowed her list.  Finally she found one that seemed suitable. "Granger Photography - Portraits, Parties, Weddings, Glamour Photos", the listing read, in small type.  Only one telephone number.  Probably, she thought, a place not too big, wouldn't have a big staff, unlikely to know her or do work in her area or among her friends.  There was a horrible thought!  Suppose she engaged one and later he was the photographer at a wedding she attended!  Would he show recognition?  She thought, and thought.

Finally she decided to chance it.  She dialed the number, fearfully.  She wouldn't explore this over the phone - she decided that she would go in person.  Right now she only needed to find out if they would do the kind of work she needed - she would make a visit.  The telephone answered, she inquired only as to their hours of business.  They were open.  "I need to have some photographs made, rather special ones - I'd like to come by to discuss it and perhaps make an appointment.  Could I stop by and talk to someone in an hour or so?"

"Certainly.    I'll be here, and I'm the only someone who'll be here.  What kind of photos do you need?" a male voice cheerily asked.

"I need some portraits, a group, all the same model.  I'd like to discuss it in person, please." 

"Well, come on in.  We do lots of kinds of portraits.  I can show you samples."

She agreed, and hung up.  Her heart was racing.  She had made the first step. There was no turning back.  She had to make this work, because she couldn't bear the idea of going through this with yet another shop.  She dressed in a conservative business suit, checked her appearance, and set off in her car.

Granger Photo was about ten miles from her home, a safe distance, she thought.  It took her close to an hour to get there, with traffic and looking for the address.  Finally she found it.  The shop was a small one, located in a strip mall.  The businesses adjoining were non threatening, a laundromat, a small dress shop, a hardware store, a small restaurant.  It looked safe.

She parked and went to the shop.  Nervously, she hesitated in front of it.  There were sample photos in the window - she studied them.  Some were small, passport picture types.  Some were of weddings, some of family groups.  But what caught her eye were several showing young women in artistic poses.  One was dressed in a flowing gown, as she reclined on overstuffed cushions.  One was in a swimsuit, but one - the one that especially attracted her attention, showed the model sitting apparently unclad on a bench, the view being from the back and showing her looking around over her bare shoulder.  The thought hit her - they have done nudes!

Very nervously, hesitatingly, she looked in the shop.  A man, apparently a customer, seemed to be completing a transaction.  She stood, just inside the door of the shop, and waited.  Behind the counter  was a man, perhaps thirty five or forty, in a casual shirt.  He called to her, "Can I help you, please?"

"No, not yet, please. Just finish your business. I'll wait." Fran tried to appear nonchalant.  The customer seemed to be discussing some reprints, and the discussion took a a few minutes.  Fran waited, nervously.  Finally the customer finished and headed for the door.  The man behind the counter turned to her.  "Now, what can we do for you?" he began, cordially.  Fran kept her silence as she watched the customer exit the shop. Only then did she respond.

"I need a set of photographs.  Of a woman - I want them to be, well, a bit artistic, and they will need to be done outdoors."

"Fine.  Would that be of, perhaps, your daughter?" He smiled at her.  "Not exactly", Fran replied. "But show me what kind of work you can do."

"I'm Bob Granger, and I've done lots of portraits, inside and outside.  Here, let me show you a few-"

Bob produced a stack of photos from under the counter.  He began to explain different options for different occasions.  He went into prices, options on sizes of prints, and other details.  Fran listened, but really without hearing much of what he said.  She was waiting for him to get to the one detail that concerned her most.

"Where do you want them made?  Is it a home, or a party, or where?  We've done all kinds of locations."   Fran thought, and stammered a bit.  "We - we want them all done in the same place, an outdoor setting.  Somewhere with trees and grass, but no houses or buildings.  We haven't quite settled the location, but we have some ideas."

Bob seemed a little puzzled.  "Is there a special occasion?  A birthday, or a wedding? Something you need them for?"

"They are for a very special use - to be used in an artistic exhibit, I hope.  We want the model posed artistically, outdoors, and we're looking for a place."

Bob shrugged, and went on.  Fran realized she was stretching the truth a bit, but she was not quite ready to be specific.  She added, "The model will pose for a number of photos, and we will want different poses and from different angles.  We will want her to be shown in some active poses, too; doing some special things - things she usually does.."  Fran was treading into sensitive territory, and she was getting more embarrassed.

"You say artistic poses - do you want shots in evening gowns, or swimsuit shots, or in some special attire?  We can do whatever you want.  You will have to tell me where, though, when you decide."

The moment of truth, well, at least half truth, was fast approaching.  Fran lowered her voice and leaned just a bit forward.  "Do you photograph nudes?" she asked, her voice  shaking a bit.

Bob drew back and smiled.  "Yes, if your model will pose nude, we can do the pictures. I take it you want a set of artistic nudes posed outdoors, but you haven't located a suitable place."

"I guess so", Fran answered.   Bob proceeded to get out a city map and suggested several possible sites.  Now Fran was intensely interested.  Having got past the critical question, she found the discussion easier.  She noted the proposed sites, and indicated she would check them out.

"Now, about the activities.  Do you an idea what she is to be posed doing?"

"I will go over that with her," Fran replied.  "We want some where will be posed still, but some where she will be engaged in things she regularly does.  Does it matter right now?" 

"No, except if it is  something unusual, like standing on a horse, I might need some special equipment to get it from the right angle."    

"It will be nothing like that", Fran answered.  "The activities will be done at a normal sitting or standing position, or at least that height -  but we may want some close-ups of some of the action. We'll explain later!"  Fran wanted to get off the subject.

Finally they agreed on a package.  She was to confirm the exact site within a day or two, but they made an appointment to be at the chosen place at two in the afternoon a few days hence.  She made a deposit for the contract.

"Can't wait to meet your model - this will be an interesting session, I'm sure.  You're going to be there, as the chaperon?"  "Yes, indeed, I'll be there!" Fran continued, "chaperon or something like that!" 

The next day, Fran carefully looked over the locations Bob had proposed. Two she discarded as  too close to her home.  Two, in forest or park areas in the outlying areas, seemed possible.  In the late afternoon she drove to each, to check them out.

One was a forested area, part of a park area, on a little used road passing through a suburban, mostly residential area.  As she arrived at the suggested site, she found an unpaved road turning off into the small wooded area. She drove down it a bit, then parked and walked a short distance into the woods.  Not far ahead was a small clearing, lit well even in the fading afternoon sun, but screened from all roads.  No houses or other signs of civilization were visible.  She decided this was the place.

Now it remained only to call Bob and confirm the site.  Once this was done, she could breathe a bit easier.  No, she was not ready; but the details were arranged.  Even the model, though Bob was not aware of it.

Chapter 4

Fran drove, rather nervously and reluctantly, toward her destination.  She dreaded the thought of what was coming, but determined to go through with she had arranged.  In her car she carried only her purse and two large, two liter bottles of soft drink.  She had brought the drinks in case they were needed to complete her mission.  As she drove, she began to wonder if they would enough. She had no idea.

She noted the time - nearly one thirty, as she approached the expressway exit she intended to take.  On leaving the house she had felt a bit bloated, but now that feeling was subsiding, as the liquid contents of her stomach were gradually absorbed.  She was not thirsty, she knew.  Another sensation was beginning to draw her attention, though.  Although she had relieved herself just before leaving her home, she was now aware of a fullness in her bladder; the result, she knew, of the rather considerable amount of liquid she had consumed.  She wondered just how much distress she would be able to tolerate in that area.  Oh! An exclamation escaped her - in her concentration on her internal feelings, she had failed to take the proper exit; now she was forced to drive to the next exit and backtrack.  Lost time she didn't need!  She cursed herself mentally, as she recognized the discomfort that lost time was going to cause her.

Finally she was on the road to her park land appointment.  Five minutes to two - she was a bit behind schedule.  What would Bob think?  Would he be on time?  She rehearsed to herself how she was going to explain the scenario she had created.  All of her skills in diplomacy were going to be tested, as she prepared for what she would need to say.

At long last she was there.  She pulled off onto the side road, looking for the designated spot.  Ahead, about where she had judged the location to be, a gray van had pulled off the side of the road.  For a moment her heart jumped - suppose someone else was there?  How could she go through with this if anyone else were in the area?  Then, suppose Bob brought an assistant with him?  Could she handle that?

Nervous, almost shaking, she parked near the van.  A man stood beside it, apparently waiting.  He wore a colorful shirt and jeans - casual attire suited to the area, she thought.  She recognized him as Bob, the photographer.  Would there be anyone else?

Fran got out of her car and approached Bob. She felt very uncomfortable, not just from the stress of what she was about to do, but because her bladder was quite uncomfortably full. "Good afternoon, Bob," she began, trying to seem cheerful and nonchalant.

Bob responded with formal warmth, but his eyes were going to her car, obviously looking for another occupant.

"Are you ready?  This is the place we selected," she went on, her voice belying her assumed nonchalance.   

"Are we ready?  I'm ready.  Where's your model?"  Bob inquired, a bit brusquely.

The moment of truth had arrived, and Fran was ill prepared.

She blurted it out directly.  "The model is here - I,  I'm the model!" She stopped abruptly, standing in front of him.

Bob stared in complete astonishment.  "You told me you wanted some nude photos of a female model, and that you would bring her!  What are you telling me?  Did she back out or change her mind? I don't quite understand!"

Fran drew a long breath.  She was now starting to sweat, and she was as nervous as she had ever been.  There was nothing to do but come out with the truth.

"Bob, I'm sorry - I guess I did mislead you.   This is very hard for me to say, but I am the model - there never was another one.  And, yes, I do want the photos, as we agreed.  I owe you an apology.  I suppose,  we really I thought, you might not do the pictures if I told you it was me.  You would think a gray haired lady posing for nude pictures would be ridiculous - I wouldn't blame you!  But I do want them, and I do hope you'll go through with it.  I'm very sorry; but, it's very hard for me, too!"

Bob surveyed the woman in front of him.  Here was a nicely groomed lady of mature years, wearing a conservative dress, standing in an isolated wooded area, saying she wants to be photographed in the nude.  He looked her over - she wore little make-up, her legs were bare, and while her dress was in good conservative taste, she hardly looked like a model.    He judged her to be around a hundred fifty pounds, perhaps a bit taller than average; but her demeanor was pure nerves.  Her voice was trembling, and she was pale and visibly uncomfortable, twisting and moving a bit under his gaze.  

"Mrs. Merryman, have you ever done this before?  I mean, have you ever posed for this kind of photography?"

"No. And please call me Fran - I don't want to be formal.  No, I've never done it; but I need to-"

"It's none of my business why you want to.  You are not the kind of model I usually work with for this type of photography.  You're sure you want to do it?  Do you know how to pose?"

Fran shook her head.  "I know I'm too old for you - you expected a young woman, and I was afraid that you  would think photos of a woman my age - well, without clothes - would be silly. I thought you might laugh at me.  I've never done this before, never had this kind of photo done-  but if you will just help me, I know I can pose.  I am frightfully embarrassed about all of this, but I made a promise to get the pictures, and all I want is for you to do the best you can! I know you can't be responsible for the model!"

"Mrs. Merryman - Fran - look, I'm not going to laugh at you.  I don't understand this, but I'll make any kind of photos you want.  You have to do the posing, but I'll try to give you some suggestions.  Do you feel all right?  She look very upset!"

Fran was, indeed, fidgeting and squirming.  On top of her feelings of humiliation, her bladder was getting painful. She was trying to show as little distress as possible, but she knew that problem was going to get rapidly worse, and she hadn't even explained to him why that was part of the planned scene.

"Bob, I want to get started making the photos.  We need to go into place we picked out, and get ready.  But I told you I wanted the model to be photographed doing some activities - I've got to explain that, too!"

Bob stood and looked at her with a slightly stunned but patient look.  "And the activity is?" he inquired.

Fran steadied herself and flushed.   "Peeing -  urinating!  Some of the pictures are to be of me - relieving myself!  I know, I know - that's shocking and shameful-  but I need to get pictures that way!  I don't know how to pose them; they're supposed to be done in an artistic way - I've no idea how to do it, and I need help!  Please try to help me-  I drank a lot so I would be able to do it, and now my - well, I'm very full, down there!  I need to get started, ...... What can I do?"   Her voice trailed off, tears came to her eyes, and Bob could see her trembling.

"Photos of a nude lady peeing artistically?  Can't say as I have had that assignment before!  Look, Fran, I'll do what I can.  I guess you can't wait too long.  OK, let me get my stuff and let's go!"

He felt sympathy for this lady, obviously terribly embarrassed but nonetheless his customer.  He gathered his camera and other equipment, and the two of them walked through the trees to the spot Fran had earlier selected.  The location was absolutely private, with no one and no sign of human habitation in sight.  He considered the lighting and shadows, and motioned to a spot he considered suitable.  "I think you should to pose there! That should get the best effect, although we may do some in another spot later.  You ready to start?"

Fran looked over the location.  "Yes, wherever you want me!   Should I -  get ready, now?" she asked, very nervously. 

"You'll have to - go ahead!" He started checking lighting and his camera settings.

Fran simply nodded, standing near a tree which she felt would be out of camera range.  "I'll leave my clothes here -  they won't show in the shots, will they?"  she inquired, indicating her intentions.

"Fine.  Just get yourself ready and move into position.  I'll see how we can best pose you."

"You'll have to excuse me.  I never did this before, and I hurt real bad, down there, because I'm so full...", she tried to explain, as she began to disrobe.

Fran took off her shoes, and set them on the ground.  In bare feet, she began to unbutton her dark blue dress. She turned her back to Bob as she did so.  She folded the dress carefully and hung it on a tree branch.  She reached behind her and unhooked her brassiere, slipping it off and placing it on the tree also.  With a deep breath, she bent over, pulled down her panties, and laid them on top of the dress. Hesitatingly, shaking a bit, she turned to face Bob, covering her breasts with her hands.  Her bare body now faced him, only the breasts partly concealed.  Her pubic area, with its thick growth of dark hair was exposed to his view.  She might have had a bit of a paunch ordinarily, but today she had a noticeable abdominal bulge.

"I think I'm ready - I don't think there's anything left to take off- oh, wait a minute!" She stopped, took off her wrist watch, and hung it on her dress.  

"You were pretty thorough - you don't want shoes or anything on?" he asked her.

"I want the photos nude -  that means nothing on.  And, please, don't try to hide anything - I want everything to show -  I don't expect miracles, but I want to look , well, not beautiful but as graceful as I can! But please hurry - I really can't hold myself much longer!" 

"You'll have to drop the hands, then", Bob indicated. she complied.  Her breasts fell noticeably as she removed their support.  She felt terribly, terribly, embarrassed and vulnerable.

She moved to the position Bob had earlier indicated. Not quite kinowing what to do, she stood, rather stiffly, hands at her sides.  Bob eyed her critically.  She was not only stiff, she was visibly shaking.  Sweat was visible on her face.  It ran down her cheeks. Her breasts hung, unsupported, drooping noticeably, but with both nipples erect and pointing slightly downweard. Her legs were pressed tightly together, her genital area partly hidden by the compression of her legs.

Bob shhok his head.  This lady was obviously not an experienced model.  "Fran, you need to loosen up a little - you look too stiff!  Try to relax!" he called to her.

She tried. It wasn't working.  "I'm trying - but, understand, I've never done anything like this before. I never posed without my clothes on - I feel so - well, exposed or whatever - and my bladder hurts so bad, it's about to burst!"  She shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes.  She had indeed asked for this, but the reality was hard to handle.  Never before had she felt so naked and vulnerable, and not in any recent time had she held such a full bladder.  The pain in her bottom was getting to be morethan she could handle.

"Fran, try to relax - you look all tensed up!  Here - will you let me position you in a better pose?  If you do want these pictures, you want to at least look graceful, don't you?  Come on, let me help you!"

He moved toward her. She, nervous and sweating profusely, fearfully accepted his gentle touch.

He touched her gently on the arms and shoulder. and positioned her for the first pose; her head thrown back a bit, her legs apart, one hand on her hip, the other raised.  He commented to her, "I like it - and, well, everything does show!"   His reference was obviously to her exposed breasts and her genital area, both prominently displayed.  He reflected that she wasn't really in bad shape, and although her body showed some accumulated flaws, it was still very definitely female and there was a certain aspect of erotic grace evident in her exposed body.

She fidgeted noticeably and he had to tell her, "I realize you're quite uncomfortable, but you need to be still for me to get these. Try to relax!"   She still felt tensed, her abdominal muscles clenched as she tried to restrain her overly full bladder.

He made three shots of her, then asked, "Are you ready to go to the next part - the activity?"

"I have to -  it's awfully hard for me to hold- to wait much longer.  How shall I do it?"

"Do you think you can shoot a stream?  I don't know how it's going to look?" 

"I don't know - I never tried to do this. I never did it - not in front of someone - I don't know.." She was puzzled at her own capabilities.

"Look, I think you need to show me how it's going to appear.  I haven't done this thing before, and I don't know how it's going to turn out.  Do you think, well, that you'll be able to stop and start again?"

She nodded.  "I'll have to - we need to have several pictures of me - well, doing it."

"Then I think you need to make a sort of trial run, so I can figure out how it's going to look. I don't know if you're going to ..." he fumbled for words;  ".. whether you're going to sort of drip, or shoot out a stream, or spray, or just what.  You need to demonstrate just a little for me, then stop. Could you, well, just spread your legs and do, er, well, just let out a little bit?"

Fran felt flushed with embarrassment. Never had she expected to perform so intimate a function for the camera.  Yet she  knew his request was in order.  She tried - spreading her legs, leaning back just a little, and then tried to let go.  She waited.  Nothing happened.  She tried to relax.

"Are you going to?" Bob asked.
"I'm trying - it takes a moment!  Gee, it hurts so bad, and then I can't quite let go - just let me.." her voice trailed off, as she tried to relax.  

Bob had his camera focused on her splayed genitals.  Suddenly a stream shot out, a bit unsteadily. It split, some running down her legs.  She felt it, spread her legs a bit further, and the stream shot out further, extending just a bit in front of her.  She let it run just a couple of seconds, then clenched her muscles to stop it.  She found stopping it took a real effort.

Bob considered what she had done.  This was a new situation to him as well. "Let's try a fountain effect - it may look, well, sort of artistic if you can pull it off."  He had her squat, spread her legs as wide as she could manage, then lean back on her arms, her face turned up.

Satisfied with her position, he placed himself looking at her at an angle and from slightly above.

"OK - turn on the waterworks!" he told her.

Fran tried to release her bladder.  Gradually her urine discharged, spraying out and up a few inches. The stream was unsteady and went all over her  legs and feet.  "Sorry I'm so messy!" Fran commented, aware of her untidiness.  She stopped the stream, asked if he wanted her to do it again.

He reposed her, lying on her back on the ground, her legs folded back under her, separated a bit. Her breasts separated in this posture, falling a bit to each side.  She was acutely aware of their appearance. She tried to release her bladder again.  The effect seemed to her even messier, but he caught her in several shots.  Bob seemed a bit pleased.

"Can you do more? How's your ammunition supply?" 

Fran smiled, now just a bit more  relaxed.  "Still holding some - what's next?"

She stood, and he helped her clean her back of the grass and leaves that had clung to her.  She flushed a bit, reflecting on the situation of having a man put his hands on her while she was standing nude.  She felt a bit better, the discomfort of her overfilled bladder now partly relieved.

He posed her again, and again, in slightly different positions.  He had her urinate while standing, legs spread in a position that suggested she was about to lunge forward.  This time she felt her bladder empty, and the stream trailed off as he took the second photo of her.

"I think we have you drained!  Ready for the other poses, now?" he asked her.

She replied affirmatively. "I  think I did run -  out of ammunition.  Are there other pictures you think I should pose for?"

"Let's get something that emphasizes your breasts - like you leaning over and placing your hands on that stump over there.  OK with you?" 

She made a bit of a face.  "But they -  they're not very firm.  They, well, you know, sag! Should I really?"

"You wanted to be posed artfully", Bob reminded her.  "Your breasts may not be as firm as some, but with you leaning over, they can hang quite gracefully - I think it would be the kind of artistic pose you wanted!"

Fran complied.  She was losing a bit of her embarrassment, and was more willing to display her body in highly exposed positions.  He made several shots, then frowned a bit.  "You know", he began, "do you think you could get your nipples - well, rather erect?  I'd like a shot of them pointing down as you lean over, but, well, they need to be, well, more aroused! They were that way, well, before, but now they've softened. Could you, well, do something?"

Fran flushed a bit.  She was feeling quite erotically aroused already, but it wasn't showing in the tips of her breasts.  She tried touching them a bit, pulling the nipples out.  Finally Bob intervened.  "If you would permit it, maybe I could help - if you would allow me to touch them, just enough to excite them a little.  No more than just a little--"

"Please - maybe you could do it!" she responded.  Bob moved over toward her, and took a nipple in his hand, rubbing it just a bit.  She felt the excitement of his touch, and sensed the eager response of her nipple.  He touched the other.  "Seems to be doing the job!" he commented, then withdrew his hand.  He stepped back for the photos, framing her firmly erect nipples in the center of his camera.  

He made a few more photos, then asked if she was satisfied.

"I think", she began, "we might make one more - I mean, my bladder's full again, and I need to urinate.  Maybe you could do one more of me doing that-  but this time, don't make it too arty- just let me squat in front of you, and you get me as I let it out looking up sat you.  You see, that's the way I was once before, and the ---   well, the one who will see the pictures,   well -- maybe he will remember."   She realized she had said more than she intended.

"He? Lucky guy - that's what you want the photos for?  You hadn't explained!  Well, get in position, and I'll see what I can do. "   

She squatted, but only slightly, spreading her legs for maximum exposure, and looked up at the camera, her breasts hanging as she leaned a bit forward.  She released her urine stream as he watched, catching her in the camera's lens.

At length she was finished and stood.  She reached for a tissue and dried herself in front of him.

"Fran, I want to tell you, I never before photographed a woman peeing - you did it more gracefully than I could imagine.  I hope the photos turn out to your satisfaction.  And another item; well, would you tell me how old you are?"

"Sixty two", Fran answered, without hesitation.

"I never thought I would be making nude photos of a woman your age - but, if you don't mind my saying so, it was one of the most enjoyable photo sessions I ever had with, well, with a nude model.  You posed beautifully!"

Fran was at once flattered and horribly embarrassed.  Posing for nude photos at her age! Even peeing for the camera!  She could believe she had done it.

She retrieved her clothes, and began to dress, as Bob gathered his equipment.  Seeing no further need for modesty in his presence, she made no attempt to hide herself as she put on her clothes.  Finally she was dressed.  

She talked with him a bit as they returned to their vehicles, settling the terms of his services and the times for her to see the proofs.  She was about to get in her car, but then she turned suddenly to Bob, and spoke, "I drank a lot of liquid to get ready for this, and now I need to empty my bladder again before I start up -  would you stand guard for me?"

Bob, no longer shocked at anything this lady said, simply agreed.

She squatted beside her car, facing him, and hiked up her skirt, lowering her underwear.  he released a strong stream.  While it was flowing, she shook her head, commenting, "Before today, I never could have done this in front of anyone!  But let me tell you - I loved it!  Thank you for helping me through it!"   She extended one hand to him, still holding her skirt up with the other as her stream continued to flow.  He grasped her hand, without a word, amazed at the image of shaking hands with a woman peeing beside a car.

A few days later, Fran appeared at the photo shop.  Bob took her into his back room, and showed her the photographs.  She blushed as she looked at them.  "How could I ever have done this!" she exclaimed.  "Look - if anyone ever asks - you don't know me. I wouldn't want anyone to ever know!  I can trust you, can't I?"

"My lips are sealed.  The pictures are for you and your friend.  But it was a great experience!"

Her selection completed, Fran arranged one set of the chosen photos.  For a moment she thought about getting one for herself, then thought better of it.  "Better not to have them around", she thought to herself, "but I would never have had the nerve to do it!"

A few days later a set of photos was on its way to Marv.  In the envelope with them was a note. It read:

"Marv-

I had these made for you. I hope they are what you wanted.  They are all me - all of me. I hope you will remember me as you never saw me, as well as the ways you did see me.  These are just for you - there are no others.  

There's one that will remind you of that day beside the car - you can spot it.

I was horrified when you asked me for these.  But thanks for asking; I would never have had the experience but for your request.  Again you gave me one of the most memorable events of my life!

As ever.  Fran."


END




   




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