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The Yearbook Girl Ch. 01

By: jehoram



My name is Hank. Now I'm a balding seventy-year old man, barely able to get it up. But back in the sixties, I was a photographer who traveled all over the place, taking thousands of pictures of young ladies.

No, it's not what you think. I also took thousands of pictures of young men. And they were all dressed, more or less. You see, I had a contract with the companies that produced high school yearbooks. It was a big market, although the pay wasn't that great. The deal was that they'd send me to some high school or other in the Los Angeles area, and I'd set up this studio in a classroom that wasn't being used. The kids would line up, and I'd sit them down on a stool, take a picture, and then call the next one. Assembly line photography, that's what it was. No artistry involved. If you could read a light meter and could load film fast and competently and keep the rolls of film together with their sign-in sheets so all the names went with the right pictures, you had the job. A lot of the pictures had to be retouched to take out pimples and acne scars, but the company had other people to do that. They only did that with the upperclassmen, since all the other snaps were so tiny that the defects didn't show very much. Or that's what they told me; I never saw the pictures after I delivered the film to the lab.

The underclass boys and girls would usually be photographed wearing whatever they went to school in that day. Only the senior classes were treated differently. The senior boys were told to wear dark jackets, white shirts, and ties. The senior girls were told to get their hair done and their makeup applied beforehand. We also told the senior girls to wear button-down blouses that they could take off without having to pull them over their heads and muss up their hair. And they were told to wear brassieres that day, whether they usually did or not.

The reason was simple. When each girl's turn came to be photographed, they removed their blouses and put on a sort of gown-like thing that exposed their shoulders and a little cleavage. Then I'd pose them as best I could to conceal the bra, snap the picture, and tell them to get dressed. Easy as pie.

A lot of those senior girls were pretty well developed, I can tell you. They really filled out their bra cups. Others were still flat-chested, and usually wore soft bras that didn't support anything. Those are the ones I liked best, because I could sometimes see their nipples poking out from the fabric. I never got more than a glimpse of them, but that was enough to put a little lead in my pencil. Otherwise, I can't say that I got a kick out of seeing teenagers in their bras. It sounds good when you start, but after you see your two thousandth white padded bra, the excitement sort of wears off. And the girls, most of whom were flustered to begin with, were quick to note if I was staring, and sometimes they'd make a scene about it, which slowed things down. And time was money.

And I was always a big boob lover, at least up until the time I saw Cindy. My idea of the ideal woman was one with boobs that swung and jiggled as I fucked her. And frankly, most of those seniors really didn't have it upstairs, either in the boobs department or the brains department. 

Which is what made Cindy so different. She was one of those seniors at Taft High School, class of '68. She came in a few minutes after the rest of her class had finished. Even in those days, I could spot a rebel, and she was one. Her hair was shorter than most girls' and she had a tattoo on her wrist. Not only was she late for the photo session, but she hadn't gotten the memo about what to wear. So after everybody had gone, she came waltzing in. Her skirt just barely passed the hemline test, and she was wearing a cashmere pullover sweater. I thought I could smell a trace of pot smoke on her.

"You're late," I said, "but I think I can squeeze you in. Didn't you know you were supposed to wear a blouse?" 

"Yeah, but I don't have one I liked. Can't you take a picture of me this way?"

"Well, you're supposed to wear this," I said, holding up the half-gown." I showed her a picture of the garment being modeled by another student, showing the subject what she would look like being photographed.

"Okay," she said, and proceeded to pull off her top. She had a very nice pair of titties, which I could see quite clearly, for she hadn't worn a bra. She was clearly past the training bra stage, but those boobs would fill an A-cup only with a little help from the Kleenex company. Her nipples were dark, plump, and very erect.

She pulled a hairbrush out of her purse and brushed her hair back into shape, not bothering to hide her breasts from me. Then she reached for the gown. "Help me with this, will ya?" I draped it over her and sat her on the stool. 

Arranging the gown to best advantage, I managed to sneak another glimpse of her nipples as I moved the fabric around. When it was positioned correctly, I went behind the camera and told her to smile.

That was my second shock. She had a dazzling smile, and the pupils of her eyes seemed to widen and darken. Now, I've taken thousands of pictures of women over the years, and not all of them high-school yearbook shots. I've done fashion, I've done celebrities. And I can tell you that some women have a way of making love to the camera. I can't explain it any other way. They simply can't take a bad picture, because they instinctively know what they have to do to look good. It's a rare talent, and this girl had it, in spades.

I took a picture, and then another "for insurance," I told her. She smiled again. "Are we done here?" she asked. I nodded, and she pulled the gown off and sat topless on the stool. I was tempted to take a few more pictures right then and there, but I could have lost my job for that. It might almost have been worth it.

But I had to say something, and what came out was this:

"You take a beautiful picture, Miss. Have you done any modeling?"

"My name is Cindy, not 'Miss,' and no, I haven't. Do you mean fashion modeling?" She seemed in no hurry to put her sweater back on, but neither did she seem to flaunt her nudity. She was simply comfortable being half naked, another thing rare in women, particularly of her age.

"Well, that's part of it. But there's other kinds of modeling, too. Stock photos, like pictures of you walking in a park, for clients who are trying to illustrate an ad about, well, walking in the park."

She grinned. "What do I have to wear?"

"Whatever the client wants. Clothes designers provide the garments they want modeled."

"Underwear, too?"

"Sure. Where do you think those pictures in the catalogs come from? And, no, you don't get to keep the clothes afterwards."

"Not even the underwear?" She gave me a wicked grin that went right to my nuts.

I smiled back. "No. They just wash it and save it for the next time, I think."

"A guy took my picture last week when I was at the beach. He said he liked my bikini."

I'll bet he did, I thought. And he didn't get to see what I was seeing just now, those perfect young titties. I forced my eyes to stare at her face instead of her chest. 

"Yes, I remember. That spell of warm weather we had for a couple of days. Really rare for March. Did he ask your parents to sign a release?"

"No. And I don't need my parents to sign, anyway. I'm eighteen, and I can sign for myself."

"If he didn't ask for a release, he's probably not a pro." He's probably at home right now, I thought, jacking off to that photo. Couldn't blame the guy.

"Are you a pro, mister?"

"My name's Hank, not 'mister.' And you bet I'm a pro, Cindy. I've got a studio and a business license and everything."

"I thought so. You don't seem to have a problem being around a naked girl."

"You're not naked. Only half naked. And you don't seem to have a problem about being half naked around me."

"Or completely naked, for that matter. I go naked all the time around the house. My parents do, too. It's no big deal."

"Well, if you're interested in modeling, I could probably help you. I'd be glad to take some pictures and send them around to the various agencies for you."

"I don't have any really good clothes."

"You don't need them. They provide the clothes. Shots of you in your underwear are actually better, because they show your true figure and let them pick the best clothes for you."

"Well, then, wouldn't it be even better if I was naked? You have taken pictures of naked girls, haven't you? Like art stuff?"

"Well, yes, but I'd definitely have to see some ID. I could get in big, big trouble taking nudie pics of underage girls."

She laughed and fished a wallet from her purse. She handed me her driver's license. She was eighteen, all right. Her name was Cynthia Martin. 

"My studio is at Sixth and Broadway," I said. "Do you know where that is?"

"Near the Woolworth's?"

"Right across the street from there. Are you free Saturday, around two?"

"I'll be there."

"Yes!" I thought. "There is a God!" 

She was right on time. I'd just gotten to the studio myself, and was loading up my favorite portrait camera with film when I heard a knock on the door. I let her in and shook her hand. She was wearing brown boots, tight jeans, and that cashmere sweater. "Give me a minute to finish what I'm doing. While you're waiting, you can have a look at that stuff on the table." I'd set out some pictures of the models I'd shot, along with some of the ads they'd appeared in. I included a few nude studies I'd taken in college ... nothing raunchy, just artfully posed models showing a bit of breast or bush. I wanted her to see me as a true professional.

"These are really good," she said. "You know your stuff."

"Are you ready?" I asked, after she'd signed the necessary releases.

"I sure am. Do you want me to take anything off, or put on makeup and stuff?"

"Let's take some pictures first, just to get you relaxed."

She didn't need them. She was a natural. I posed her sitting on a chair, lying on a sofa, standing in front of a window, leaning against a door jamb. Every picture I took was a keeper. She would flash that winning smile of hers as easily as if she was switching on a light.

"Do you want me to get undressed now? I wore a bra this time."

"Are you comfortable enough?" I asked.

Without answering, she kicked off her boots and pulled her jeans down. She was wearing pink panties that clung to her vulva, revealing the trace of a camel-toe. Then she took off the sweater, displaying a soft bra that matched her panties, and just sheer enough to show her dark nipples. I found myself holding my breath. It was more than the sudden shock of her semi-nudity that transfixed me. It was her utter familiarity with being half-naked in front of me. When I'd gotten most models to this stage, they seemed embarrassed, going so far as to try to hide their breasts with their arms. Not this girl. She just gave me that dazzling smile. 

I posed her against a gray screen for what we in the trade call the "line-up" shots. Front, back, profile, arms at her sides, arms extended, arms over her head. This is the series that the design studios wanted, so they could see if her figure matched their line of clothing. But I could already see that this series was different from all the similar ones I'd shot before. This girl had a way of making even the most modest shots smoldering hot. Her nipples poked out from the soft fabric of the bra, creating a peak on the crest of each cup. I was getting an erection now, which I seldom did with half-clad models, and it hardened a little more each time she grinned at me. I'd kept the room temperature warm, knowing that she'd be more comfortable that way, but now it was making me sweat.

"Are you finished with this set?" she asked. I nodded. And without a word, she pulled off her bra and dropped her panties. It's a funny thing about some women: they look hotter in their underwear than they do nude. Not her, though. If she looked hot in her undies, she was positively scorching now. Her plump dark nipples stood proudly on her breasts, and I could see her vulva, with its thin dark hair barely obscuring her slit.

"You look warm," she said. 

I gulped and nodded. "I set the thermostat up so you'd be comfortable, Cindy. The room's hot when you have clothes on."

"Well, why don't you take some clothes off? You'd be more comfortable."

"Well, I don't know if you want me to take my trousers off. I..."

"You've got a hard-on, right?"

I nodded again.

"Well, I'd like to see it. I've seen one before, you know. I'm not a kid."

"Are you sure?"

She danced up to me and unbuttoned my shirt. Then she loosened my belt, unzipped my fly, and pulled down my pants. My erection was plain to see underneath my briefs. She smiled and kissed it. Then she stood up, laughed, and pulled off my undershirt. I kicked my shoes off and stepped out of my trousers.

"Your socks, too. And your shorts. I want you as naked as I am." I did as she demanded and stood before her, my cock almost fully hard.

"Are you comfortable now?" she asked with a wink. "Then let's continue. But don't get any ideas about fucking me. I'm not protected."

And we went through the "line-up" sequence again, this time with her nude. The poses weren't intended to be erotic, but I realized that any picture of her nude would be off the charts, no matter how clinical the pose. Or maybe it was just that supremely comfort she had about being nude in front of the camera. There wasn't a trace of self-consciousness. My own self-consciousness started to fade. My cock even began to lose some of its stiffness as I got used to the both of us being naked, but never went completely soft. It was the strangest working relationship that I'd ever experienced, to have this naked teenager prancing around me as I stood naked before her, but without any intent to fuck her. The desire was there, God knows, but I kept it back because it was obviously not what she had in mind, and I absolutely did not want to lose her as a model. And it made for better pictures, because she opened up to me in a way that wouldn't have been possible if I had been clothed and she had been naked.

After the session was over, we dressed again and went across the street to the Woolworth's, where I made copies of her release forms, for her files, and of her driver's license, for my files. I promised to let her know the results of the shoot, and to send off the pictures to the agencies. And that's what I did. I did some other shots the next week, along with another thousand high-school students, but I couldn't stop thinking about Cindy. 

And I don't think I need to tell you that I kept some copies of her naked poses in the "special file" next to my bed. The nice thing about owning the negatives is that you don't care how dirty and cum-smeared the prints get. You can always make more.

The Yearbook Girl Ch. 02



I sent the proofs off to the various designers and modeling agencies, and it wasn't long before I got some bites. One agency wanted her to model next year's line of spring clothes and underwear, and we made an arrangement to shoot the pictures at my studio on a Saturday, with them sending over a guy with the clothes and a make-up artist. They paid good money, too. I called Cindy and told her when to be there, and as usual, she was right on time.

Well, with the other people around, there wasn't going to be any hanky-panky. It was all business. The photo session went off without a hitch. In between shots, Cindy stripped right in front of us to don the next series of garments. When we got to the underwear, she had no qualms about being naked as she changed from one set to the next. There was a screen to use that she could change behind, but she ignored it. 

"Aren't you worried about turning that guy on?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? I think he's a fag. He's looking at you more than me. It's the make-up girl who's getting the hots for me!" She may have been right about that. But both of them were professionals, and were all business and efficient as hell. By three, they were finished and out the door with their bags of garments and cases of make-up. Cindy hadn't bothered to put her own clothes on after the underwear shots were taken. She was still jay-bird naked. 

I took a chance. "I'd like to take some nude pictures of you. Cindy. Art shots, you might call them. I love the way the light plays on your body, and I want to see if I can capture that." 

"Will these be for sale?"

"I doubt it. There's not much market for them. These are just for fun."

"Okay. Let's have fun! But turn up the thermostat. I'm cold. And I want you to be as naked as I am, like last time!" I did as I was told, and soon the room's temperature was rising, and so was mine. When my clothes were off, my dick was rising too, to her delight. I proceeded to pose her in a variety of ways, on the couch, on the floor, by the window ... most of the poses I'd used last time, but this time she was nude. I had been right about her. She simply couldn't take a bad picture. She oozed sexuality with every pose and every expression on her face. It didn't hurt that her nipples were very, very erect.

I decided to take another chance, and handed her a bottle of baby oil. She looked at me in puzzlement. I explained how the sheen of the oil interplayed with the light to create a greater contrast between light and dark. She nodded and applied the oil to her body, and then we shot more film, using both color and black and white. 

"Do you ever take pictures of naked women for the porn magazines, Hank?" she asked.

"Not the raunchy one, just Playboy and the other classy ones," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I've always wanted to pose for one. Not really raunchy poses, like with my legs spread out, but flirty ones like Playboy. Could we do some of those?"

"I don't see why not. There's a market for them, particularly for young girls like yourself. They do like the ones with bigger boobs, though."

"Screw that. I've got what I've got. Let's get started." So we shot some very soft-core porn shots, mostly with her flirting with the camera, lying on the couch and then on a sheepskin on the floor, and positioning her hands in a way that suggested that she was almost ready to masturbate, but not quite. My dick had gotten soft over the last hour, but this series got me excited again. 

She must have felt this energy, too, or maybe she was just responding to her own needs, to the feeling of the oil on her clit and mons and the soft sheepskin on her back. With a smile playing on her lips, she started to masturbate in earnest, the middle finger of her left hand plunging in and out of her slot, her thumb grinding against her clit. Meanwhile, her right hand began kneading her left tit, squeezing it, pinching the nipple. Her legs writhed, I saw her eyes close tightly, she gave a shudder, and then she came. It was a genuine orgasm, unless she found a way to fake the sudden flush of red on her chest, and I didn't think she could do that. I was transfixed, but I kept snapping pictures, first with one camera and then another as I used up film. My cock was hard and dripping pre-cum.

Then she relaxed, sighed deeply and opened her eyes. Bedroom eyes. The smile returned to her face.

"Wow! I didn't mean to do that," she confessed. "It just came out of nowhere. The feeling of the oil on my skin, I guess. I'm sorry."

"To be honest, dear, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. No apologies necessary."

"Hey, your dick is really hard," She said. "Do you want me to jerk you off?"

What I wanted to do, of course, was ram that cock into her wet snatch, but I remembered that she wasn't protected against pregnancy. Instead, I nodded.

"Bring that bottle of baby oil over here, Hank. And kneel down. I bet it feels as good for you as it felt for me!"

I fetched the bottle, handed it to her, and knelt over her, straddling her legs. She poured a little oil onto her hands and stroked my dick. I realized with a start that this was the first time we had actually touched, bare skin to bare skin. I was so close to the edge that it was only seconds before I came, my semen spurting from my cock onto her oiled body. The first pulse hit her right tit, the second her neck, and the third her belly. My body sagged.

"Wow," she said. "You really needed that, Hank!"

I nodded. "You're a tease, Cindy! You've done this before!"

"No, I haven't! At least, not naked. I've jerked boys off before, but we were both dressed. I liked this better!"

"I don't think I've ever been so intimate with a woman before, without ... fucking."

"Did you want to fuck me?"

"God, yes! But only if you wanted it, too."

"Well, I kind of wanted to fuck, but I'm not on birth control. So we can't screw."

"But I can eat you out, if you want. That won't get you pregnant."

"You mean ... cunnilingus?"

"That's the twenty-dollar word for it, yes. How did you pick up a word like that, little Miss Innocent?"

She laughed. "My mother gave me a book on sex last spring. I've read it cover to cover."

"So you know what it is. Have you ever had it done to you?" She shook her head. "Would you like to try it?"

Without a word, she smiled and spread her legs, exposing her quim to me. Then she pulled up her clitoral hood, revealing a swollen pearl. I bent down and began sucking on her labia, and traced circles around her clit with my tongue. She giggled.

"Tell me what you want," I said between licks. "Tell me what turns you on and what doesn't."

"Lick me between my lips. My inner and outer lips, I mean. I'd like that. And put a finger in there."

I did as she instructed, finger-fucking her slowly as I flicked my tongue along her mons. She groaned in delight, and I increased the pressure, drifting to her clit and then away from it. She got wetter, and began using her hands to cradle her breasts. She was well on the way to another orgasm, and I was in no rush to get her there. When I removed one finger and replaced it with two, she gasped in pain. I took out my fingers and saw blood on them. She was a virgin, and I'd torn her maidenhead.

"Oh, God, Cindy, I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry. Keep going! Keep going!" And when I put a finger back in, she shrieked again, but this time it was not pain but lust. She was climaxing, her butt lifting off the sheepskin, her body writhing, her little tits jiggling. I put my mouth to her cunt, licking away her cum and her blood as fast as it oozed from her. Then her body went slack, and she dropped back onto the rug. I kept my finger in her, but fucked her slowly with it, caressing her vaginal wall. Her breathing returned to normal, and then she spoke.

"We've gotta do that again sometime!"

"Anytime you like, dear."

"What time is it?"

"About six, I think."

"Jeez, I've gotta go! I should have been home hours ago! Can I use your phone?"

I pointed her to it, and she dialed a number. "Mom? Sorry I'm late. I decided to do some shopping after the photo session ... no, it went fine ... yes, I'm getting paid, he'll send a check when his client's check clears ... by the end of next week, he said ... I'll be home in an hour. Don't worry ... see you then!" As she spoke, she was wiping the cum and oil off her body with a towel I handed her. She'd stopped bleeding by then, so there was only a small smear of blood on the part of the towel she'd used to wipe her crotch.

She hung up the phone and grinned. "I see you've got a hard-on again! You'll have to take care of that one by yourself, though." She dressed hurriedly, gave me a kiss, and was out the door in a flash.

I could hardly wait to get those nude shots developed. The black and white stuff I could do myself, but the color shots had to go to a lab I knew. It serviced professional photographers and didn't ask questions. But before I attended to any of that, I jerked off again while the scent of her pussy was still strong. Then I washed my face, dressed and went out to dinner.



The Yearbook Girl Ch. 03



The color shots came back from the lab two days later and went into the "special file" I kept by the bed. I somehow knew that this girl would be in a very special place in my life, and wondered how long a thing this good could last.

Her next gig came two weeks after that. A company had a new line of swimwear for teens, and they wanted some pictures. The line wouldn't be on sale for another year, of course, but they needed the pictures to publicize the line for all the department store and boutique buyers, who in turn would need them for the spring catalogs that are actually printed in the winter. 

As usual, Cindy was on time and totally professional. I shot her modeling the swimsuits in front of a gray screen, using a variety of lighting angles. These were swimsuits designed for teens, so they didn't reveal a lot, even the two-piece suits. The company had sent over a guy with twenty suits in Cindy's size, and she changed right in front of us, not bothering to use the changing screen, to the amusement of the company rep, who was definitely not gay in his reaction to her nudity. We finished the whole shoot in about four hours, which was record time. Then we went to the Woolworth's for lunch, which I treated her to.

"Do you have to go back home right away?" I asked.

"No, I told my mom that the shoot would last all day, maybe even into the evening. She wasn't happy about it, but once we got the check for the last session, she decided that you were really legitimate, or at least a very rich pervert. So we're good."

"I'd like to go back to the studio with you and shoot more of those 'art shots' with you. I've got a new camera, and I want to see what it can do."

"Art shots, like nudie shots?"

"As nude as you want to get, dear."

"Let's go!" She popped the last French fry into her mouth, finished off the Coke, and we were back in the studio in minutes. She stripped for me, slowly and seductively. I'd turned up the heat in the studio before we left for lunch, so it was comfortably warm. "You know the rules," she said. "You strip, too!" In minutes, we were both naked, and I made no effort to conceal my hardening dick. 

"Where's that baby oil?" she asked. I handed the bottle to her and she oiled herself up. And then she squirted some on my dick. 

"Hey, you're going to make me cum if you keep doing that!"

"That's the plan! I've seen that lump in your pants all morning! C'mon! I wanna see you cum!"

Well, I'm not made of stone. It only took a few strokes before I came, hard, all over her hand. She grabbed a towel and cleaned up the mess. Then she hugged me, melting into my arms as she kissed me. I touched her labia. Her cunt was slick, and it wasn't just the oil. I took a chance and slipped a finger up her cunt. She giggled, but didn't protest, so I finger-fucked her right there as we were standing up. And then it was her turn to cum. I didn't realize how much she was turned on, but the experience of keeping two clothed men horny all morning obviously pushed a button in her.

And now we hugged again, our lusts satisfied. We got to work, photographing her in various poses under a variety of lighting conditions. I showed her the pictures we'd taken in our last session, and she made me promise never to sell the ones of her masturbating. She said that I could do whatever I pleased with the less erotic ones, as long as I asked her first. Well, I had no problem with that! 

The time went fast. When she expressed interest in the mechanics of photography, I showed her the features of the various cameras and how the adjustments were made. She was a quick learner, and before long, she suggested that she take some pictures of me. "You've got to oil up," she said, "just like I did!" She grabbed the oil bottle and proceeded to squirt it on my body, spreading the oil with those delicate little hands of hers. When she got to my cock, it was already getting hard again, and I wondered if she was going to jack me off. But then she left it and got the rest of my legs and arms. "I want it hard for the pictures," she said. Then she posed me on the sofa, leaning back, with my cock sticking straight up. She took a few pictures, and then said, "I want to take one just like that, but with your eyes closed." I closed my eyes. It seemed to take a long time to get the shot, but she insisted that I hold the pose. The next thing I felt was her hand over my eyes, keeping them shut. And then I felt something on the tip of my cock.

It was a rubber, and she was rolling it onto my cock. "Surprise!" she said. And then she straddled me and guided my cock into her. The cap slid in easily, parting the folds of her labia, and soon our crotch hairs were touching as she bottomed out. I couldn't believe it ... my fantasies were all coming true! The feeling of our oiled legs sliding along each other was delicious, but my attention was all on the sensation of my cock sliding in and out of her tight, virgin pussy as she set up a rocking motion, using my cock as a dildo. I was suddenly glad that she'd jerked me off earlier, and even that I had a condom on; otherwise I think I'd have cum within a minute of entering her tight virgin snatch. 

We fucked in silence, except for the creaking of the couch. I stared at her flat belly and bouncing tits, glistening with oil. As her orgasm approached, she lowered her body onto mine, and our chests touched. I felt her slippery breasts against my own chest, her hard nipples pressing into my pecs. My hands went down her back to the sheen of her ass, then back again to her shoulders. I felt her cunt muscles clenching around my shaft, first tentatively, then with more confidence. When I slipped an oily finger into her asshole, she came with a shudder and a gasp, and that triggered my own orgasm. I don't think I ever came harder in my life than I did with that girl. I thought it would go on forever, and each spasm of my cock sent a jolt of electricity through me. 

"You're hurting me, Hank," I heard her say, and I realized that I was hugging the breath out of her in my own ecstasy. I relaxed, and she took a deep breath and shuddered again, an aftershock of her own orgasm. We lay there for a while without uncoupling, savoring the sensation of oiled skin against oiled skin. I felt my cock softening and, deaf to her protests, pulled it out and stripped the condom off.

"Why did you do that?" she pouted.

"I had to, dear. My cock was getting soft, and I didn't want the sperm to leak out of the condom and get you pregnant. Didn't the book tell you about that?"

"Not really. Hey, that was really nice! I thought it would be, well, good but not great, my first time."

"It was great for me, too, Cindy. I've never had a virgin before. You did just fine!"

"Well, you popped my cherry with your fingers the last time I was here, so I figured I owed it to you. And it didn't hurt a bit this time." 

"When did you decide to fuck me? Or do you always carry a condom around, just on the off chance?"

She laughed. "No. Actually, I wanted to fuck you the first time we met, for the yearbook pictures. But I wanted to get to know you better first. I have these trust issues with men, sometimes. But you were a perfect gentleman when we first took those nude shots, and after the first modeling session. I would never have masturbated in front of you otherwise. And when you finger-fucked me and broke my hymen, you were so sweet about apologizing for the pain, and I knew that you really cared about how I felt."

"And then you got the condom."

"Yup."

"Where did you get it from?"

"You won't believe it; my mom gave it to me! I told her I wanted to have sex with somebody, and asked her to put me on the pill. She said I was too young for that, and pills wouldn't protect me from VD anyway. But she knew I was going to fuck somebody with or without her consent, so she gave me the rubber and made me promise to use it."

"Your mother is a very wise woman, Cindy. And you're a good daughter, for keeping your promise."

"I told you my parents were nudists. They're pretty open about everything, particularly sex. I mean, they've never fucked in front of me, but I've seen my dad a few times when his pecker is hard, or almost hard. He doesn't bother to cover it up, but he doesn't wave it around in front of me, either.

"The first time I ever saw it hard, I asked my mom about it. She said that it's natural for men to get that way, and that it wasn't the last hard pecker I was ever going to see, so I should just get used to it. She said that men get hard-ons when they're horny, and they like the feel of their peckers when they get that way. But that doesn't have to mean that a girl has to do something about it unless she wants to. She's free to ignore it, you know?"

"That's about the sanest advice I've ever heard a mother give her daughter. I'd like to meet her someday."

"Well, let me sound that out. I can't see saying 'Mom, I've been screwing this guy, and I think you should invite him over for dinner.'"

I laughed. "I'll leave that to you. And I've got a confession to make to you."

"What? Don't tell me you're married or something!"

"Not that. After that last session with you, I went out and bought some rubbers. They're in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I wasn't going to try to seduce you, but I wanted to be prepared in case I got lucky."

"But I seduced you first!"

"That's right!"

"How many rubbers did you buy?"

"A half a dozen. They're cheaper that way."

"Then we'll have them when we're ready for the next round." And she ground her body against mine. "But let's take more pictures first."

And we did. It was mainly her taking pictures this time, posing me and taking shots of my cock in the various states of arousal, from soft to hard. It was an entirely different atmosphere from the last round, because I knew that we were going to be fucking again, and we flirted shamelessly with each other. We were giddy with the prospect of my cock spearing her for the second time. When I had her posed on the sheepskin rug, pulling her labia apart to expose her entrance, I slipped a fresh rubber onto my cock and took the shot and then, with a growl, I lay down on her and thrust inside. It was almost a rape, except that she was as turned on as I was and met my thrust with one of her own. This time, there was nothing tentative or shy about our coupling. I pounded her. She bucked like a bronco, her heels kicking into my ass. She wailed, and I growled, our lusts feeding each other's. 

We were growling, we were laughing, we were kissing fiercely as we fucked. Her heels ground into my back, and I felt her cunt muscles clenching and unclenching, with more confidence each time. And then her climax hit, and she gave a convulsive shiver and a loud, keening wail. That orgasm seemed to go on forever, and it was all I could do to keep from going over the edge myself. Somehow, I found the strength to keep pumping as she rode that orgasm for what seemed like minutes. Finally, though, I gave in to my own unrelenting lust, and I gave a lunge that almost lifted her butt off the sheepskin and felt my cock spurting its load into her. And to my surprise, her own orgasm increased in intensity, and she was gasping for air as her fingernails raked my back. At that point, we were no longer two bodies, but one. We were even breathing as one. As my cock softened, I could feel her vaginal walls spasming again, as if in protest.

I think both of us almost passed out. For a long time, we just held on to each other, using each other for anchors to keep from floating away in our bliss. Our bodies relaxed. I felt my cock slipping out of her, fortunately with the condom still attached. She was breathing easily now, and I let her slip out of my arms.

"Damn," she said. "That was even better than the first one! Does it always keep getting better and better?"

"I don't know. I think you were more confident this time, more ready to get into the moment than you were before. It was better for me, too. But I wouldn't expect it to keep getting better and better. Sooner or later, you'll have the best fuck of your life, and it will be all downhill after that."

She laughed. "Maybe that's for the best. I think that if it ever got more intense, I'd blow every fuse in my body!"

"I think you already blew mine! You are the best fuck I've ever had, Cindy."

"How many women have you had?"

"Let me see ... forty-one, forty-two? I lost count after running out of fingers and toes."

"Get real!" she laughed as she pinched my ass.

"Okay, you caught me! Seven, all the way. More but not all the way. Three of them were just one-night stands."

"Am I going to be the fourth?"

"I sure hope not! I don't think I've ever met a woman I've connected with more, on every level. I can share my art with you, my body with you, my mind with you. The thought of all that coming to an end scares the shit out of me, dear."

"Then let's not end it, Hank. Let's let the dice keep rolling."

So we kissed some more, and took more pictures of each other, and fucked one more time. I had some trouble getting it up, so soon after the first two fucks, but she was patient with me. Anyway, she'd read about "fellatio" in that book of hers and wanted to try it out. The feel of her mouth on my cock, her tongue teasing the cap as she sucked on my dick, got me the rest of the way, and I rolled another condom onto my shaft. Then we fucked, this time slowly and easily. When I came, it was only a dribble and a sort of electric shock, and I went soft almost immediately. She didn't climax at all, but she said she didn't mind, since she was still getting some aftereffects of the second fuck. "I felt like a cat being stroked," she told me. "It was warm and comforting and put me in a blissful place, even if it wasn't an orgasm. So don't feel bad."

By that time, we were both ravenous, so we cleaned up, dressed, and went across the street to the Woolworth's for dinner. "I already told my parents that you were taking me out to dinner," she said, "so they're not expecting me home until later."

"How did you know I'd take you to dinner?"

"I didn't, but I knew I'd be fucking you, and if that went well, I knew I wouldn't be home for a while!" She smiled that secret smile that women smile when they know that men can be as easy to read as a child's primer.

We paid the bill and necked a bit more on the street, and then I put her on the bus for the ride home. My own apartment was within walking distance of the studio, so I was home in minutes. I showered and went to bed, jacking off one last time, but I never looked at those pictures of her. I didn't need to; she was as present in my memory as if she was still there. As I drifted off to sleep, the only distress I had was that she was miles away, instead of curled up next to me in bed. Would that change? I could only hope, and wait.



The Yearbook Girl Ch. 04



I was a wreck for a week after that. I found myself taking those pictures of her out and jacking off every three hours. When we talked on the phone about her coming over next Saturday for another session, her voice was a sexy purr that had me reaching to unzip my pants and fondle my dick. 

I got another shock when I developed the last set of photographs. The ones she'd shot of me were damn good! She had a real photographer's eye for posing and lighting. I mean, I thought I was heterosexual, but those shots of my oiled dick in various stages of erection were erotic as hell, and the nudes of me were off the charts; even I was getting turned on by them. Somehow she made my dick seem even larger and harder than it actually was. 

She showed up at nine the next Saturday morning. It wasn't for a client this time. It was just for fun, and fun was what I was ready for. I'd turned the thermostat up and was naked when she walked through the door. She laughed at my swinging dick and stripped naked herself. Her slot was wet.

"I've been masturbating on the bus," she explained as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her jeans and a very wet pair of panties. "I can do that without even touching my pussy, just by clenching my leg muscles. People around me don't even know I'm getting hot, and that makes it even hotter for me! I was almost cumming when I got off the bus. And now I wanna fuck!" With that, she stripped off her sweater to expose those lovely little tits and very erect nipples.

And fuck we did, right there on the sheepskin rug. My dick was hard in one second, covered with a condom the next second, and inside her in the second after that. She wasn't kidding about being aroused; her quim was slick with her juices, and I glided into her with barely any friction. This time the fuck was playful, with us giggling as we slid our bodies against each other. It was the first time we'd fucked without oil, and the lack of slipperiness added a new dimension as I could feel the velvety softness of her skin. Her hard nipples were no longer sliding across my chest, but digging in, and our legs seemed to stick together as we entwined them. I was getting aroused too fast, and I could feel my control slipping. She could feel it, too, and said, "Go ahead and cum, darling. Don't wait for me." With relief, I gave into the overwhelming demands of my cock and released my sperm into her. I pulled out, and she replaced my cock with two of the fingers of her left hand, while her right hand strummed her clit. And I watched her torso redden as her own orgasm swept over her. It was beautiful to watch, and I couldn't help but drop to my knees, take her hands away, and press my lips against her cunt. Her hands flew to her boobs, pinching and twisting the nipples. When I thrust my tongue into her, she gave a cry as her orgasm crested again, and my mouth was flooded with her honey. 

I lay down next to her and we embraced. Her hand went to my soft dick, stripped the full condom off, and caressed my dick as my own hand stroked her pubic hair and pressed against her clit. And then she said, "Good morning, Hank!" and we laughed.

Our lusts satisfied, we got up and made some coffee. As we drank it, she filled me in on her week. I found out that she was an honor student, played clarinet for the band, and was on the swim team. I'd been a competitive swimmer myself in high school and college, so she was delighted to have somebody to talk to who knew what the score was. And then I showed her the pictures we'd taken the previous weekend. 

"Those pictures you took of me were dynamite, Cindy! Have you had previous experience in photography?"

"Not with good equipment. Just with Kodaks. But I like to shoot stuff. My dad would complain when I'd go through three rolls of film a week. He bitched about the processing costs."

"I can't do color, but I can develop black and white right here at the studio. It's easy. I'll teach you, and you can do it yourself. Believe me, doing your own processing gives you a whole new level of control. Want to try that?"

She nodded, so we loaded up a camera with some black/white stock and she ran off a roll, shooting everything in the studio, including me in various poses. She took more pictures of my dick, both soft and hardening, as well as more chaste poses. I did the same with her, and this time she delighted in giving me the raunchiest poses she could, grasping her cunt lips and pulling them aside to reveal her hole as she grinned impishly. I guess the knowledge that she was controlling the photographic process from start to finish released something in her, because she showed no inhibitions whatever. My cock was soon sticking straight up, but when I asked to fuck her again, she said, "No, dear. I want to tease you some more!"

We took the film out of the camera and developed it. Or, I should say, she did. All I did was coach her, showing her the equipment and development trays and how the enlarger worked. She did the rest. And not only did the pictures she shot display her talent behind the camera, but she quickly got the hang of slightly over-exposing and under-exposing the prints for better effect. She was a natural. I could tell that she could be a pretty good professional photographer, maybe even a great one, and I told her so.

"You think so?" she replied. "I've always enjoyed taking pictures, but I've never been happy with the results. I always thought they could be better."

"A cheap camera is good for snapshots, dear, but it's not a real tool for a professional. If you had a decent SLR with a good set of lenses, and shutter speed and aperture adjustments, there's no limit to what you can do with it."

"How much does one cost?"

"Let me look around. I know some people who sell used equipment for less than you'd see in stores."

"Hot stuff?" she said impishly. "With the serial numbers filed off?"

"Oh, no. No stolen stuff at all! It's just that photographers are always upgrading their gear as they can afford it, and they sell their old stuff to help pay for the new stuff. They can get more money for it by selling direct rather than trading it in. Just like cars."

"Well, see what you can find. I'm really hot to get into this."

"If you're serious, I could loan you a camera and a set of lenses. I've got this Zeiss that I don't use much anymore. It's a perfectly good camera, and the lenses are top-notch."

"Let me see it."

So I dug it out of the closet, gave it a going-over, and loaded it with film. She took some pictures to familiarize herself with it. Gradually our horniness got the best of us again. She got out the body oil from the bathroom cabinet and we oiled ourselves up, and started fondling each other. "Does this thing have a timer?" she asked.

"It does. It worked, the last time I tried it, I think."

"Let's try it! I want to get both of us in the frame!"

So we set it on a tripod, set the timer, and stood in front of the camera. We took a series of pictures of hugging each other, my hard cock pressed against her belly. Then we took another one, with me slipping my cock into her cunt as she lifted her leg, exposing her sex to the camera. She was giggling as we stood there, my cock half-way inside her, balancing to hold the pose. "So this is what porn shots are like," she said with a grin. "It's not what I imagined."

"Where on earth have you seen 'porn shots' before?"

"Oh, my friend Tracy had some magazines. She got them from her brother. She found them under his mattress when she was making his bed, and told him that she'd tell their mom if he didn't let her have them."

"What did you think of them?"

"I thought they were gross. The guys in them were all fat hairy guys with bald spots and mustaches, although some of them had nice-looking peckers. And the girls looked like hookers, really tough girls, drug addicts probably, with big boobs and asses. To tell you the truth, I thought that if this is what a man's idea of beauty is, then I don't have a chance."

"Cindy, I am not bullshitting you. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met. And the smartest, and the sexiest."

"Are you just saying that 'cause I'm balling you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm in love with you. Hopelessly. I've been in agony when you're not around."

She drew me close and kissed me. "You know what? Me, too. It's been hell. I'm in school, and there are all these guys hitting on me, and some of them are really nice boys. But now, they don't interest me. They're boys. You're a man. They just want to get into my pants, they don't care about what I want. You do. You see something in me besides a cunt and a pair of tits."

"I see an artist, dying to express her art. I see a woman who's not afraid to show me everything about her, mind, body, and soul. I see a kindred spirit."

"That's what I see in you, too, Hank."

And we embraced some more. Finally, she said, "I want to fuck again. Are you ready? Your pecker's been hard for hours."

"I want to fuck again, too, but I want to fuck you in a bed. At my place. And I want to get some lunch first."

She laughed. "Now you're teasing me! I deserve that! And I'm hungry, too. Woolworths? This time, it's on me. How far away do you live?"

"Two blocks. Walking distance."

"Too far! Let's fuck first!"

So we screwed on the couch, filling another condom. Then we got up, dressed, and went across the street for lunch. She was glowing with this just-fucked aura that some women have, and I wondered if everybody in the Woolworth's was picking up on it. I think the waitress did. Or maybe she just got a whiff of pussy. At any rate, she gave Cindy a knowing wink as she took our orders. We ate ravenously, paid the bill, and then walked the two blocks to my apartment.

"Nice place you have here," she said as she examined the premises. "Did you take all these pictures yourself?" 

"Most of them. Some are from friends of mine."

"Who did this nude?" She pointed to a large black-and-white print of a voluptuous woman lying on a couch, regarding the camera with a cool gaze.

"I did."

"Was she a good fuck?"

"I didn't fuck her."

"Why not? Is she a professional model? Or a lesbian?"

"Not that I know of. She's my sister."

"Really? Damn! She let you photograph her naked?"

"Well, I talked her into it. She wasn't too thrilled about it, but she did it."

"I kind of wish she was a lesbian. I could go for her myself!"

"Do you swing that way, Cindy?"

"Not really. But sometimes I see a girl, and I wonder if there's something there. There was one girl ... Audrey ... who hit on me, but I didn't like her much. But I did wonder what I would have done if I'd liked her better."

"Did that bother you?"

"No. That book my mother gave me said that these feelings were normal, and that lots of girls have them. Guys, too. It's just a part of figuring out who they are."

"That sounds right. There was a guy I knew in high school, when I was a sophomore. I knew I was straight, but one day we were horsing around and I got a whiff of his sweat, and I think that if he suggested something at that point, I might have gone for it."

"So you know. That's kind of what I felt around Audrey."

Yup. But I hope you're interested in some cock right now."

She laughed. "You bet I am! Did you remember to bring the rubbers?"

"I have some here, in the nightstand drawer. Let's get undressed."

"No. I want to undress you. I want you to undress me."

She took her time about it, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and releasing the buckle on my trousers. She kissed each part of my body as she exposed it. When she slipped off my shorts, she lifted my cock and slipped the cap into her mouth as she lifted and separated my balls. 

"You don't have any venereal diseases, do you?" she said in a low voice.

"No, I don't."

"Then let me do this," she said, and she returned her dick to my mouth and proceeded to give me a most delicious blow-job. I was already hard, and the sensation of her tongue on the underside of my cock was overwhelming. I was scarcely able to warn her of my impending orgasm, but she ignored it and kept sucking, and then I felt myself give way. My cock pulsed. My seed shot out into her warm mouth, and she continued to lick and suck as I released my load. Then she stood and gave me a long French kiss. I tasted something I'd never tasted before: my own sperm.

And then it was my turn to pull off her sweater and suck each nipple as I exposed it. Then came her pants and a very wet pair of panties. I gave her mons a kiss as her panties dropped. The smell of her pussy was intoxicating. When she was nude, I picked her up, my limp cock still dripping, and carried her into the bedroom. I pulled back the covers, laid her on the bed, and spread her legs. I wanted to not only smell that pussy but taste it, too. We didn't exchange a word. I lapped at her cunt and finger-fucked her as she rolled her swollen clit back and forth with her finger, and she slid softly and gently into an orgasm, not like the frenetic ones she'd had before, but one that swept over her like a gentle rain. She mewed softly, like a kitten. And then I felt her body start to tremble as the orgasm built up force, and I slipped three fingers into her cunt, pushing savagely. I felt her cunt muscles clench around them, crushing them. And then a gush of wetness that drenched the bed, and a wail that came from her body like a banshee's ghost. She opened her eyes, and regarded me with an unfocused gaze, like she'd been drugged. Her belly muscles fluttered and clenched.

My own cock was hardening again. I could scarcely believe it. For the fourth time today, I was getting hard. I wanted to fuck her, to penetrate her, to fill her. "I've got to fuck you," I growled softly.

"Yes," she said. Just that word, and it was music to me. I fumbled for the nightstand, retrieved a condom from the drawer, and tore it open with trembling hands. She took it from me, rolled it onto my cock, and spread her legs again. I thrust inside her. Her cunt muscles grasped my cock, released it, grasped it again. It didn't seem to be voluntary. She was orgasming still, each wave crashing over her and transmitting its force to me through her cunt. We rode it for what seemed like a half an hour. Once inside her, my own passion lost some of its urgency, and I was glad to see that I was able to keep thrusting without cumming. I was lost in my own sensations, as she was lost in hers. When I finally came with a last lunge and shiver, she gave me a hug to acknowledge it. I emptied my balls into her with a load I was surprised to find that I even had, and then I pulled out of her. Her hand stripped the condom off my cock, which was now too sensitive to touch. She gave me a wry grin and sucked the sperm from its tip, and gave me another semen-laden kiss.

We dozed then for a while. When I awoke, she was looking at me, a smile on her face. "You lied to me," she said.

"Huh? How?"

"You said it wouldn't get any better. The sex. You lied."

"Did I say that? I said that there would come a time that it wouldn't get any better. I guess that time hasn't come yet."

"I guess I should tell you something now. No, I'm not pregnant! But Mom put me on birth control last week. She reconsidered it, and she decided that I'm old enough, after all. But you've got to promise me that you don't have VD."

"I promise. But it's a little late for that now. We've given each other head, and that's enough."

"I trusted you, though, when you said you were clean."

"And you can keep trusting me. I'd rather cut off my arm than lie to you."

She rolled onto her side, slowly, as if getting used to her body again after where it had been. "Mom says I have to keep using rubbers for a month or so, until the Pill is working. Do you mind?"

I kissed her. "I don't. Just being with you is a privilege, even if it's not fucking. I could live with that. But I'd rather keep fucking, even with a rubber."

"Me, too." She gave me a peck on the cheek. "But you'd better buy a dozen or two next time."

And, as it turned out, two dozen turned out to be just enough. 



The Yearbook Girl Ch. 05



Our love affair started that weekend, and scarcely a weekend went all that spring when we didn't fuck. By that time, Cindy had signed with a modeling agency and was getting regular work as a model, and the agency would routinely assign her shots to me, since we had such a rapport with each other. She was the ideal model. Now most models can be temperamental, obsessing about their clothes and makeup and pitching fits when everything wasn't exactly right, and making every shoot a living hell. Not Cindy. When things went wrong, she would make the corrections without a ruffle, always maintaining the poise and sunny disposition that made her a pleasure to work with.

And when the posing was done and the agency people left, we'd go over to my apartment and fuck. When she had her period for the first time since we'd started screwing, she didn't want to screw at first, but I told her that I didn't mind her menses, and I wouldn't have to wear a rubber, so she could actually feel my dick hardening and softening inside her as we fucked. So her curiosity and her raging libido got the best of her, and that taboo was broken. We'd take a shower afterward and change the sheets, and sometimes she let me slip a fresh tampon into her as I nuzzled her clit.

She also brought over all the pictures she'd taken over the years with her Instamatic camera. I had been right; she had a true photographer's eye for framing and composing the shots. If Photoshop had been around in those days, some of those photographs would have had serious potential. I'd also given her that spare Zeiss SLR of mine, and she was burning through four rolls of film a week, which we'd develop. There was no doubt about it; here was a great photographer in the making.

When we didn't have work to do, we balled. She'd strip the moment she reached my apartment, and we'd spend the day nude, teasing each other with our bodies. She'd love to keep me on the edge of an orgasm for an hour, and then jerk me off and laugh as I spurted my jism onto her tits and then licked it off. In a half an hour, I'd be hard again, and we'd spend at least a half an hour with me inside her, in a leisurely fuck in which she'd cum at least one, and usually twice. After her birth control pills kicked in, one of her favorite tricks was to let me cum, soften, harden and cum again without taking my dick out of her cunt. That girl had strong cunt muscles, and she quickly learned how to use them! I'd never had that sensation with a woman before, and I loved it. And she did, too. It was always a delight to see her walking around naked, her body flushed and sweaty from her orgasm, with my cum oozing from the folds of her pussy. Once I was able to capture that moment with a camera I'd brought home. An enlarged print of that picture, complete with her dazzling just-fucked smile, was hung over my bed, where it was the first thing I saw every morning. I longed for the day when I could wake up and see the real article instead.

The modeling agency she signed with gave her all the work she could use, and she usually asked that I be her photographer. And once my photography came to the agency's notice, they sent other models to me as well. As it turned out, that year was the last year I did yearbook photos, because I never needed the gig after that. 

Cindy invited me to her graduation that June, which also meant that I got to meet her parents. They were cordial to me as we shook hands. "I see that Cindy's career as a model is really taking off," her father said, "and I guess we owe it all to you."

"Believe me, she has the talent. She's the most natural model I've ever worked with. All I have to do is make sure she's in the frame. She does the rest."

"You know, she had plans about taking science courses in college, but now all she talks about is photography. Not as a model, but a photographer. I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Well, she definitely has the talent for that, too, and it would be a shame to waste it. I'd suggest that she do science as a major and photography as a minor, if she can. Or the other way around. But I think her destiny is in photography. She has a rare gift. I've seen thousands of photos by hundreds of amateur photographers, and she leaves them all in the dust. And, to be honest, a lot of professionals as well. Including me, once she gets the technical skills down."

At that point, the ceremony was beginning, so we shelved the discussion. She looked great in her cap and gown, and I got some extra enjoyment knowing that under those garments, she was naked. It seems that a lot of the girls were dressless under their gowns, as a dare, without their parents knowing. She told me that the other girls in on the dare were doing it in their underwear, but none of them would go so far as to be totally nude under their gowns. Only Cindy would have ventured to go that far! I swear that the gown was soft enough for me to make out the points of her nipples pressing through the cloth, but maybe it was just my imagination.

I hadn't had much conversation with her mother before the ceremony, but as Cindy was getting changed back into her street clothes and her father was retrieving the car, she took me aside.

"So you're the young man who's been screwing our daughter. I've been wanting to meet you!"

"It's not like that, Mrs. Martin..." I stammered.

"Oh, but it's exactly like that, Hank. And I want you to know that we have no objections. Cindy assures me that you've always used birth control, and that you respect her, even in bed. That's all we want. I keep reminding myself that she's an adult now. And she's earned that trust."

She paused for a second, and then continued. "We've always been open in our household about sex. Did she tell you we were nudists? We've taught her that her body is nothing to be ashamed of. We've told her that sex is normal, it's a big part of life's pleasures, and we didn't tell her to abstain from it. I know she's got a strong sex drive. She gets that from me! But we insist that she be smart about what she does and who she does it with."

"She told me about some of that, and I guessed the rest. I'll be frank with you, ma'am. I'm falling in love with her, and I hope she's falling in love with me. The sex is only a small part of it. No, that's wrong. The sex is a big part of it. But not the biggest part."

"I thought so. I knew you two were an 'item' that first day she came home from that swimsuit session. The signs were unmistakable. And the smells, too!" She smiled. And then Cindy joined us, and we walked over to where Mr. Martin was waiting with his Mercedes.

"We're going out to dinner to celebrate, Hank," Mr. Martin said. "We'd be honored if you joined us. You can pick up your car later."

"I'd be happy to accept, Mr. Martin."

"Please. Just Charles. But not 'Chuck!' I never could abide that!"

"Charles it is," I said. We drove to one of the best restaurants in the LA area, where the valet's tip came to more than I usually spent for a complete dinner, and the bottle of wine cost more than a case of what I usually drink. After that, they invited me to their home, a large rambling ranch house with a backyard pool. Cindy and her mother (who insisted that I call her "Kay") disappeared into another room, leaving me and Charles in the foyer.

"Hey, let's take a swim in the pool," he said.

"I didn't bring a suit, I'm afraid."

"You don't need one. We're nudists ... didn't you know that? Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not a bit. If you strip, I'll join you. When in Rome, right?"

He smiled. "You've got it, Hank!" And he led the way to their living room, and then through some French doors to the backyard, where there was a small swimming pool. Next to it there was a shed that I took to be a garden shed, but it turned out to be a closet with hangers, shelves, and a stack of towels. "The towels are to sit on as well as to dry off with," he instructed. "The hangers and shelves are for our clothes." 

We stripped nude, hung our shirts and suit jackets on the hangers, and piled the rest of our things neatly the shelves. I noticed that the pool water was the perfect temperature for nudity. Charles had a pretty good physique for a man of fifty, with a bit of a paunch but otherwise fit. His cock was limp and a good six, maybe seven inches long, and was uncut, unlike my own. He gave it an absentminded rub, and we swam for a while. Then we got out and sat on the edge of the pool to cool off, our feet dangling in the water.

"How long have you known about ... us?" I ventured.

"From Day One, practically. Cindy told her mother, and her mother told me. I think Kay's told you that Cindy's sex life is none of our business. But there's one thing you should know. I had you checked out."

"Checked out?"

"You've heard of the firm of Martin and Schuyler? The detective agency?"

"Sure I have. Everybody in Los Angeles knows about it. It's one of the top three agencies, right?"

"Right." He paused, and then said, "I'm the Martin."

"Oh, Jeez!"

"Relax, we didn't find any skeletons in your closet! We did the credit check, looked at your police record, which was clean. We talked to some of your old teachers and schoolmates, your army buddies, even a couple of your old lovers. They all told us the same thing: you're a decent guy, honest as the day is long, reliable as Old Faithful."

"Do you do that with all of the guys Cindy goes out with?"

"No. You're the first. I hope you aren't offended by this breach of your privacy, but she's been spending a lot of time with you, and I had to think of my daughter's needs first. Cindy is eighteen now, but she's still our little girl, and there are people out there who could harm her. I know now that you're not one of them. You're everything we could have hoped for as her first lover. As a son, even, if it comes to that, but we're not going to put any pressure on her one way or another. Not that it would do much good. She's always been...what's the word?"

"Willful?" I suggested.

"Willful! That's it. A willful child. She'll listen to us, find out how we feel about it, and then do what she pleases. That's why I had to be so protective. I hope you understand."

"Not to worry. That's one of the first things I noticed about her. She has this streak of rebellion ... no, that's too strong. Nonconformity? Not afraid to go her own way."

"You're telling me! She's never gotten into serious trouble, but she can be a handful."

It was then that the women returned. They, too, were nude. Kay was an older version of Cindy, with the same coloring and hair, but with slightly sagging boobs that looked like they'd done their share of nursing; her nipples were dark, long, and plump. Her pubic hair was so thick that I couldn't make out her slit at all. Like her daughter, she was completely self-assured in her nudity. The sight of Cindy's naked body alone was enough to get me hard, and now there were two versions of it, one young and lissome, the other mature and on the voluptuous side, and both fully aware of the sexual spell they were casting. I'd been sitting on the side of the pool, but I eased myself into the water as I felt my cock swelling.

"Getting a boner, Hank?" Charles said softly. "Don't worry about it. I get 'em all the time. The girls won't mind. It's nothing they haven't seen before, right?"

I smiled back and resumed my perch on the edge of the pool. To my relief, my dick never got more than half-hard. We watched the ladies swim for a while, and then we all picked up our towels and returned to the den. By that time, Charles's dick was at half mast, too, sticking more out than down, and I saw the girls checking us out with amusement.

"Aren't you going to get a towel to sit on?" I asked Cindy.

"I'll just share yours." So we spread it out on one of the leather sofas, and her parents did the same on the other. Kay went to a wet bar and brought back a bottle of very good port, and poured us each a glass, which we sipped as we chatted. Charles switched on the stereo. "Here's a new version of the Brandenburg Concertos. I picked it up this morning." He put the needle on the record, and the room filled with the splendid Baroque music of Bach. He sat down with his wife, and we listened.

But that's not all we did. I noticed that Charles and Kay were cuddling, and that gave Cindy the idea of us doing it, too. And then I noticed that Kay was stroking Charles's dick. It became fully erect, although it didn't increase in length or girth. Meanwhile, his hand traveled to his wife's vulva, where he probed her thick dark thatch and traced her slit with his middle finger. His other hand lifted her left breast and gently kneaded it, to her obvious delight. I was shocked. Never in my wildest dreams had I seen two people put on such an erotic display in front of me, let alone a girlfriend's parents!

"Is this something they always do?" I whispered to Cindy.

"Sometimes. But I think they're doing it now as a sign that we're free to do it, too. So let's!" 

And we did. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever done with other people, feeling the effects of the wine, listening to the soaring music, watching Cindy's parents slowly masturbate each other while feeling Cindy's hand stroking my dick and my own hand pressing against her swollen clit as we fondled each other in front of her parents.

It must have been having the same effect on them, because when the music was over, they got up and hugged, his cock fully hard and pointing almost straight up. 

"We're going to bed, kids," Charles said. "Hank, you're welcome to stay the night. Cindy's only got a double bed, but I think you two can make do with it." 

We hugged each other goodnight. I noticed that Charles gave Cindy a chaste father-daughter kiss, with the most minimal of hugs and taking care not to let his erection touch her body. Kay, on the other hand, gave me a hug that pressed my hard dick into her hairy mons, and a mouth-to-mouth kiss that lasted a fraction longer than was decent. Then off we went to our separate beds.

"Cindy, I think your mom was flirting with me!"

"Yeah, she's that way. One thing I didn't tell you was that they've had an 'open marriage' for years. They've had other sexual partners, even foursomes. They'd do it when I wasn't around ... sleepovers with other girls, or visits to my grandparents ... but I learned about it anyway. Their only rule is that everybody agrees to it beforehand. I bet she's asking Dad right now if it would be all right if she got it on with you. And she'd ask me, too, of course."

"What would you say?"

She laughed. "Let me think about that! I mean, we're not even engaged. But she wouldn't make a play for you without my approval. You're my man. But after seeing your stiff pecker, can you blame my mom for getting turned on?"

"Hey, your dad's pecker is as big as mine. I think mine's a little thicker, though."

"Maybe. I don't think I've ever seen Dad's pecker as hard as it was tonight. He must have been really turned on!"

"I couldn't blame him ... sitting with the two prettiest women in Los Angeles naked in front of him!"

"And the sexiest man, too! But I don't think he's very interested in guys. Mom is, though, it's plain to see! But would you want to fuck her if she asked you to?"

"She's a beautiful woman, for sure. And you know how my body responds to beautiful women! But not if it creates problems for her, or your dad, or you."

"I wouldn't object, and I doubt if Dad will, either. Let's leave it at that, then. I'm horny!" By that time we were in her bedroom, and I was inside her in seconds. I came hard and fast, from all the stimulation, and we just cuddled for a while. She brought me back to hardness with a skillful display of fellatio, beginning with her stuffing my flaccid cock into her mouth and then tonguing it to arousal. Then it was my turn to eat her out, bringing her to an orgasm as I sucked my cum from her quim, and then enter her again to sustain the orgasm with some cocksmanship. After we both came again, we fell asleep. 

And when I awoke, I rolled over to give Cindy a good-morning kiss. But it was Kay in the bed with me, not Cindy. One of her hands grasped my soft dick and gave it a squeeze; with her other hand, she lifted my hand and placed it on her right breast. Then she kissed me and said, "I have Charles's permission to be here, and Cindy's, too. But if you want me to leave, I will."

I kissed her back, reached for her slick pussy, and thrusted a finger inside. I tasted her juices on my fingers, stronger and muskier than Cindy's, and also the taste of sperm. Charles's sperm. Was it from last night, or this morning? She didn't say, but it was obvious that she wanted more of that sweet stuff inside her, and she wanted it to be mine. As she squeezed my dick, I felt it harden in her hand.

"Ah, I see what Cindy likes about you. Is it hard enough? I want to feel it in me. C'mon, big boy!" She spread her legs wide, and I saw her sex gaping open, surrounded by her profuse crotch hair. "No foreplay, Hank. I'm already as turned on as I can be. Fuck me. Fuck me hard!"

That was all I needed. I slid into her, into that velvet tunnel that guided my Cindy into the world, and felt it clench around me. I went into her all the way, until our pubic bones touched, and could feel no cervix. The smell of her sex and her sweat was driving me crazy, and I gave her a pumping that left us both writhing like snakes. She climaxed long before I did, gasping and moaning, her vaginal muscles spasming, her pussy drenching my balls with her gushing juices. When I came, the intensity of my orgasm hit me like an electric shock. Then we both went limp.

"You'll do," she murmured. "I see what Cindy sees in you!"

"Where's Cindy?" I found myself asking.

"She's fucking Charles," she said. "Do you mind?"

"Fucking her father?"

"Yes, dear," she said warmly. "Fucking her father." 

"Has she been doing that before?"

"No. This morning was the first time. He wanted it, she wanted it, and I gave her my permission. She's a grown woman, and I thought it would be good for her to have another lover for her to compare you with. When Charles and I were fucking last night, he told me how hot it was for him to imagine the two of you screwing in her bed. We did a little role-playing, with him calling me 'Cindy' and me calling him 'Daddy' and I swear, his orgasm practically threw us off the bed. He hasn't cum that hard in years!"

"Amazing."

"You bet! So this morning, after we fucked, I asked Cindy to fuck him, as a favor to me. She wasn't hard to convince! I've caught her staring at Charles's pecker when it's hard, or nearly so. It's only natural that she would be curious about how it felt inside her. But she needed to be reassured that I wouldn't mind sharing him with her."

"So you proposed that we switch partners this morning."

"Yup. But she didn't need much persuading!"

"How did you feel about it? I mean, role-playing is one thing..."

"I felt a little strange about it, but when Cindy assured me that you thought I was hot, and that she didn't mind me screwing you, I figured 'Why not?' I knew Charles wouldn't mind. He's always been good about sharing me with other men. But I'm not trying to take you away from my daughter, you understand. This is strictly for lust."

"You know, I had the feeling that you were an amazing woman and mother, just from what Cindy's told me."

"You used the word 'amazing' twice now. You know what's amazing? You're getting hard again! Now Charles has probably already cum twice this morning, once in me and once in Cindy. You're one orgasm behind. Do you want to catch up, or get some breakfast?"

With that, she climbed on me, guided my hardening dick into her cunt, and rode me cowgirl style. I had nothing to do, really, but feel her cunt as my dick glided in and out of it, and watch those plump boobs bouncing up and down. She asked me to give her fat nipples a pinch, and I did. Then she told me to pull harder and, as I lifted her boobs by the nipples and pinched hard, she came once more with a keening moan. I could feel her sweat streaming down her chest, forming drips on the underside of her breasts that splashed down on my own chest. I unleashed my second load into her then, and felt her Kegels massaging my softening dick. We drowsed for a few minutes, with me still inside her cunt. So this is what it will be like fucking Cindy twenty-five years from now, I thought as I dozed. Not bad at all!




The Yearbook Girl Ch. 05



And then I felt her body stirring. "Let's wash up," she said as she climbed off me, releasing my dick with a pop. We got out of bed, both of us giddy and trembling with the aftershocks of our climaxes, and went into a huge bathroom with a walk-in shower. It was already occupied. Cindy and Charles were soaping each other up, their hands on each other's genitals. Charles's dick was soft, but still at its formidable resting size. The couple welcomed us, and Charles proceeded to wash Liz as Cindy washed me. What a morning that was, with all of us cuddling each other in the warm stream of the shower, our lusts satisfied, laughing like children! I watched the women soaping their cunts, thinking that the sperm of both men was still inside each of their wombs, or maybe trickling out to mix with the sudsy water. If I hadn't had two orgasms within the last hour or so, the sight would have gotten me rock hard again. As it was, I could feel my cock swelling. I had no doubt that the trio had bathed naked before, but the sexual element, with all of us recovering from orgasms, was new. And so was they way the girls flirted with us men, their bodies rubbing suggestively against ours. I noticed when Cindy and Charles hugged and kissed, there was none of the chaste father-daughter attitude I'd seen the previous night. It was chest to chest, and groin to groin, with their hand on each other's asses, pushing their bodies together in a lover's embrace.

Was I jealous? Not a bit. For one thing, Kay was hugging me the same way. For another thing, I knew that Cindy was still my girl, and she proved it by breaking off the hug with her father and embracing me instead, as Kay left me for Charles's arms. It was strange, how we were basking in each other's lust and affection, without the complication of romantic love. I'd heard about the swinging lifestyle, and how it took a special kind of person to pull it off. Well, here were three of them in the shower with me.

Kay provided us all with terry-cloth robes, and we went down to breakfast. Cindy announced that she was spending the day with me. We all took another dip in the pool and dressed, and Charles drove us to where I'd parked my car the previous day. By noon, Cindy and I were back in my studio, buck naked, processing film and teasing each other. 

"I never dreamed of you fucking your father," I declared.

"Neither did I. But when Mom suggested it, I thought, 'Well, why not?' It's not like I hadn't thought of it. Or him, either. But he never, never, never would have acted on it until Mom brought it up."

"So how was he in bed?"

"He was sweet, but he wasn't you. I like your cock better. It's definitely thicker, and you have way more staying power! Of course, Mom balled him first. How was Mom in bed?"

"I don't think I've met a more oversexed woman in my life. What a hellion in bed! But you come close!"

"And I'll only get better! According to that book, Mom's in her sexual prime right now, and I'm still just getting started!"

Well, she was right about that. After the summer, she went off to college and I only saw her and her family on breaks. She was absolutely honest with me about the fact that she was fucking other boys, and even a few girls, but I was still her main man. I figured that she could use the experience, and I wasn't wrong. The more she drifted away, the stronger her libido was when she came back to me, and the more she taught me about what turned her on. In her junior year, I asked her to marry me when she'd gotten her college degree. She accepted, and her graduation night's festivities were a duplicate of her high school graduation. Her dad was no longer really interested in fucking her, so after Kay had balled him and left him sleeping, she came into our bed for more fun and games. It turned out that she and her daughter shared a Sapphic streak, which kept them occupied as I recharged. It was plain to see that this was familiar territory for both of them, although this was the first time they'd fucked each other. Cindy and I were able to bring Kay to an orgasm simply by sucking on her tits. That made Cindy wonder if we could do the same with her. We could! "When we have kids," she declared, "I'm breast-feeding 'em!"

Well, we did have kids, and she did breast-feed them. And me, too. Her milk was as delicious as everything else about her. The pregnancies didn't do Cindy's figure any good, particularly when her boobs got bigger from nursing. I didn't care, though. She kept herself fit, and no matter what shape she had, she was still the sexiest woman on earth to me. But as her modeling opportunities dwindled, she more than made up for it with the expertise she was showing behind the camera. And she had an amazing ability to get the most from our models, putting them at ease as I never could and soothing their ruffled feathers. Our photography agency, of which she became a full partner after we married, never lacked for business, and when we retired, we were set for the rest of our lives.

Now I'm in my seventies, and Cindy's in her sixties. Our children are grown, with families of their own. Neither of them was interested in photography. Our daughter ended up as a professional musician, and our son sells real estate. But we've given their kids cameras, and a couple of them show some talent. When they're old enough, we're going to show them the photos we took of each other on that first spring we met. All of them, including the ones in the "special file!"

Her parents passed away long ago, but we've kept the same open marriage arrangement they did, entertaining dozens of partners and couples over the years. It's true that we don't make love with the ardor we used to. It's mostly cuddles now, since I'm only good for one or two orgasms a day now, and the ED drugs play havoc with my system. But that's all we need. We've known for fifty years that we've found our soul mates, and what more could you want from life than that?