Picture This
written by:
Prybar

I had it all figured out by the time I finished high school. First, I would graduate from college with a double major in journalism and photography, and then do some free lance projects to get my name out there. Soon the regular assignments would come my way, with National Geographic or some similar gig. I knew I was good with a camera; I have the "eye." People used to look at my photographs and ask why I wasn't getting rich selling them. So I don't know where it all went wrong.

But here I was, seven years later, standing behind a camera in a dilapidated high school gym that smelled like a mix of old sneakers and stale urine, taking yearbook pictures of a local graduating class. My boss took the month off, and he had no trouble leaving me with this dreary work. Face after face after face sat in a chair in front of my camera, bundled up in graduation gown and mortar board, a seemingly unending blur of anonymous, boring mugs. This was not Bali nor the rain forest.

The line of graduating seniors stretched halfway around the gym, slowly feeding one at a time past the rack of purple gowns, past the mirror kept handy for last second primping, past the table where bored teachers tried to match photo number to name (so Shanyqua wouldn't come out labeled Anthony in the book) and finally to the chair set before the lights, in front of the multi-colored background, where I would preserve their smiling images for posterity. Next!

This whole train ground to a halt when Shanyqua's mom rushed up to me and demanded to know if I was clever enough to take a photo of an African American girl, so that the lighting didn't make her precious daughter look like a featureless dark blob. And for the eleventh time that afternoon, I showed another mother how we took special care to use different temperature lights and exposure, and another color in the background, so that her little darling could look her very best in the yearbook, even though she still wasn't going to graduate. Shanyqua could only read at the third grade level, but at least her baby wasn't due until after June, and the graduation gown hid the evidence.

I was actually pretty good at this job. I could get the gangstas to stop flashing signs long enough to snap the last photo they would sit for that didn't have numbers across the chest. And I could get the gals who thought they were movie stars to tone down the show long enough to picture something that wasn't pouting. But the best trick up my sleeve was the little squeaky hand turtle that I used to get the wallflowers to smile, just for a second, so that they didn't look quite so pathetic on film.

High school seniors are an interesting mix of human developmental stages. Some, for better or worse, are as mature as they shall ever be. Others lag behind, clinging to some of their childhood characteristics for as long as possible, as if hoping they don't really have to grow up. Julie was one of the last in line, and she clearly belonged to group number two.

I didn't really notice her at first. I do remember that she wore a skirt, while most of the other girls had jeans. She shuffled in to put on a gown, slouching. She may have been the only female in the long line to not primp in front of the big mirror. Her long dark hair hung in front of her face, as if she were hiding her identity from someone. And she didn't show her teeth when she smiled. Julie kept her lips closed, like someone who still had her braces on and didn't want anyone to know.

Now, I knew Julie could smile because I had to flirt with her a bit just to get her to brush the hair out of her face so the camera could see her. And that's how I put it. I told her that the camera would be so disappointed if it couldn't see her face, and since she was so pretty, that would be a shame. That got the hair out of the way, and then she at least looked at the camera, and when I pulled out the little squeaky turtle puppet on my left hand, and it also started talking to her, she actually broke into a real grin. And that's when I snapped her picture.

When I viewed that photo later, I was amazed at how good Julie looked. The camera likes some people and it sure liked her. Her face leapt out of the photo and grabbed me; her eyes locked on mine and her smile took me for a ride. I hadn't really noticed when I was busy taking the picture, but here was someone special.

The next few weeks were filled with appointments at the studio. All of the graduates got one of our brochures when they left the gym, with all the types of photo packages we offered. They could schedule a sitting in a ball gown or tuxedo, in business attire, or pretty much any way they wanted. And we would take as many photos and produce as many copies as they wanted. Just bring the checkbook.

Some had their photos taken to give to family and friends, others to send off with job applications and such. And several had packages made up to submit to modeling and actors' agents. We aren't located in Hollywood, but you can see it from here, and some of these kids had delusions of grandeur.

My last appointment on Friday night had been a young lady named Tami. She had her heart set on fame and fortune, and she was going to get there via her face and her body. Tami was eye catching head turning pretty. She had the standard Southern California long straight blonde hair, the tanning salon tan, and she sported a professional makeup job to go with the highlights in her hair. Her smile was practiced and she laughed at all the right times, as if her whole demeanor was scripted. In other words, she looked like any of 10,000 other southern California girls who wanted to gain fame and fortune by virtue of their faces and bodies.

Tami arrived ten minutes late for her appointment, wearing the uniform: hip hugging designer jeans, white high healed slippers, and the long-sleeved tight fitting midriff baring low cut red blouse that you could see in the window of Niemans. A diamond dangled on a gold chain from her navel, which was nested very nicely into her workout sculpted belly. And her push-up bra set her tits on a platter for everyone's enjoyment.

As I moved around the studio setting the lights for her session, Tami kept showing up right in front of me, so every time I raised my eyes, there was that lovely smile and those bulging tits. I had to park her in the chair and tell her to stay, or I think she would have completely kept me from doing my job.

All the agencies want head shots of these girls, so I took several of these, from various angles and distances, and I played with the lights and focal length trying to capture all of her expressions, but I finally had to give up on that. Tami only had a few expressions, which I caught over and over again. So we moved on to the full length body photos. I didn't have to coach her at all. She had the routine down pat.

We did front views, back views, side views, partial angle shots, with chin up or down, and shoulders back and tits thrust forward. She did the hands on the knees bend over-and-practically-flop-the-tits-out pose without me even asking. And then we moved to the couch for some recumbent shots. She feigned sleep for some, rolled to her side and propped her head on one arm for others, and lay back with her legs raised, smiling at the camera through her thighs. I asked her to roll over on her stomach, and she actually checked to make sure her breasts bulged out even more before she settled into position.

She started in with the lip licking and pouting looks, the seduction poses she no doubt figured should be in her portfolio. Then she just started removing her clothes.

First the shoes came off, as she unhooked the straps and then playfully flipped her feet so they flew across the room. She paused at all the right moments so I could snap photos in sequence. Like I said, she looked all the world like someone had choreographed the whole performance.

Now, let me explain something here. I do some boudoir photos for women who request such sessions, but chicks tossing their clothes off without me even asking is not part of my usual photo sessions. It's not like I was gonna stop her or anything, but I was a bit taken aback by this performance. Tami was a very attractive young woman, and she got better looking with each new revelation. So I kept punching the shutter. And I figured, what the fuck, and I reached behind me to turn on the video camera. Might as well make the most of the occasion.

Tami teased the camera and me as her fingers moved over the front of her blouse, popping one button loose at a time. The front of her blouse slowly parted. Her bra was red, too. It was cut at an angle that left little to the imagination, and left much bulging out the top. The transparent fabric clung to her nipples, which were hidden by only a wisp of material. She let the blouse fall off her shoulders to the floor.

Running the tip of one finger across an erect nipple, Tami looked longingly at the camera lens. Then her expressing turned to that of a teasing little girl as she hooked her finger around that wisp of fabric, pulling it sideways and popping out one nipple, just for a second, before letting it slip back into its hiding place.

The clasp was in front, so when Tami finished with it she peeled the cups apart like she was opening a book. The surgeon had done a fine job with her tits. They almost looked natural, and they certainly looked good, even if they didn't quite move right. My cock agreed, as she had his full attention, too.

She cupped her breasts in her hands so she could kiss them for the camera, and then gave them a little shake. A very nice shake. And she pinched her nipples to get them good and taunt. We got photos of her on her hands and knees, with the tits swaying below. We got photos of her laying on her back, nipples pointed skyward. We got photos on her belly, tits squished hither and yon.

Then she rolled quickly to her back, and struggled to slide the tight jeans off. I don't think she intended for the panties to go with, but that's where they went, and by that time it hardly mattered. Her cleanly shaved pussy glistened and winked at the camera from every possible position and angle.

Tami worked her hands seductively all over her body, caressing her breast, contouring her behind, slipping in and out of her pussy.

I had pretty much run out of different ways to capture Tami's nakedness, when she sat up. He hand snaked out and grasped my cock through the fabric of my pants. She squeezed and stroked him for a moment, and then she started licking her lips.

Tami's eyes playfully looked up into mine as she worked the buckle on my belt. Soon she was undoing the button and sliding my zipper down. With both hands on my waistband, Tami wiggled my pants down until my cock sprang free, waggling directly in her face. With two hands wrapped around its shaft, she opened her mouth, gently placed her hot moist lips around the head, and then she sucked the whole thing in. This was definitely not turning into my worst day at work ever.

I don't have any idea how good a student Tami had been in high school, but I will attest that she had learned a few important things. I gave her an A for skills acquisition, an A for enthusiasm, and an A for 'gets along well with others.' And soon I gave her an A for 'completes tasks on time' as she stroked and sucked and licked me into exquisite spasms of pleasure. I blew my load deep into her throat. Heck, I probably came close to blowing it clean out the back of her head. Felt like it, anyway.

When the stars stopped shooting out of my ears, I looked down to see her licking the last drops of cum from my dick. This brought me a shudder or two as well. Then she swallowed deep a couple of times, let loose a huge belch, and then lay back on the couch, legs spread, with her moist pussy aimed right at me. I took one more photo of that pose before she rolled over and started getting dressed.

"Thanks Mr. Doagan. Now, you WILL send these photos to all the right people, won't you?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that my boss, Mr. Doagan was still out of town, and I sure as heck wasn't him, and whatever connections he had with the Hollywood crowd were unavailable to me. So, whatever jump start to her career that she thought might come from sucking my cock was pretty much not going to happen. But I did have a place to send the naked shots and the video. Wasn't a major studio, but it was a outfit that just loved stupid little girls like Tami who wanted to get into the movies. They made movies too, and she certainly had the talent for their version.

Not surprisingly, I didn't expect that my Saturday session in the studio could top this. Looking at the book, I realized I only had one appointment. And I didn't recognize the name. It wasn't until I pulled out the yearbook photo I took in the gym that I realized this was Julie. Suddenly, I started looking forward to the morning.

Julie arrived right on time, ten o'clock on the dot. She came through the front door quietly, and settled into a chair to wait. I didn't even hear her come in. When I wandered out to the reception area, I was just checking to make sure the front door was un-locked. And there she was. I recognized the uniform: dark knee length skirt, running shoes, and a white blouse, buttoned up to the neck.

"Hey girl, you sure are a quiet one. Julie, right? Come on into the studio and we'll get started."

She didn't speak a word; she just quietly shuffled along a few steps behind me.

"Let me show you your yearbook photo. I think you'll like it."

I handed her a proof of the photo I took in that smelly gym, and as soon as her eyes landed on her image, she broke into a smile. I believe she was surprised to see how good she actually looked.

"Wow!! This is the best picture anyone has ever taken of me. How did you do it?"

"Oh, I have my ways. You know, really, you are a very pretty girl, and all I had to do was get you to smile."

Julie blushed at this. And she smiled. But like the other day, she didn't want to spend any time in front of the mirror making any last minute adjustments. Strange girl.

"Well, let's see how pretty we can make you today. Shall we try you on this chair?"

She sat in the padded straight-backed chair, straightened and smoothed her skirt, and posed stiffly in front of my camera. Her hair still covered half of her face. She didn't look at me, and she didn't smile. She held her hands tightly in her lap. Her posture was perfect, and rigid. I took a few shots, but it was obvious she wasn't into it this time.

"So, what will you do with these pictures, young lady? If I know how you will put them to use, I can do a better job for you."

"Ah, well, some are for my family, but I hope to get something I can use for job applications and stuff."

"OK, fine. Let's see.....I want to show you what we have so far, and you tell me if this is where you want to go."

So we moved over to the computer monitor and I downloaded the first set. When they popped up on the screen, I could tell right away that Julie was disappointed.

"Darn! I look awful! My hair sucks and I'm ugly and I look 14 years old. I'm just wasting your time."

"Nonsense! We're just getting started, and we can take as much time as we need, cause I have the whole morning free."

"The whole morning! I can't afford that!"

"Relax, and we'll have fun. I'm not going anywhere until after lunch, so don't sweat the cost. It goes just as I promised in the brochure. And you are worth every penny."

Julie had been heading for a meltdown, but with this her shoulders softened, and a hint of that smile showed again.

"That's better! Now you are looking good, girl. Keep it up!"

We shot some more, and she relaxed and that magic she had shown the camera in the gym returned. Her smile turned warm, and she made eye contact with the camera, not with a stare but just naturally, as if with an old friend. Her posture changed too. Softened. She actually seemed to get a mite bigger, now that she wasn't trying to shrink into herself. But when we reviewed these shots Julie still registered disappointment.

"I hate this. I look so young, and plain. This is hopeless. I'm no good at this."

"Hmm.... Do you ever use any makeup?"

"No, never have."

"Do you trust me to use a little on you, you know, just to make you look a little brighter? You are very pretty, but you aren't letting it out. The camera loves you. Let's make the most of it."

She hesitated, but when I showed her the makeup desk, with the lights and all, her curiosity got the better of her, and she shuffled over to sit in that chair. I pulled her hair back and tied it off. Then I told her to relax. I'm not much for heavy doses of makeup. In my mind there is nothing worse than trying to paint another's face on your own. I like a natural look. But the judicious application of a little eye stuff, and some color to the cheeks and just a bit on her lips, and WOW! She transformed.

A couple of quick brush strokes through her hair gave it some life, and I was done.

Julie starred into the mirror for a moment, smiled at herself, and then hopped back in front of the camera. Her smile burst forth, and we got some great shots this time. But still she wasn't completely happy, for that stiff, dowdy blouse buttoned up to her neck continued to mess up her look. She knew it, and I knew it. But it was the only blouse she brought.

"Tell you what. See that door over there? Why don't you go into that room and see if there is something on the rack you might rather be wearing. One of those, I'm sure, will make you look a bit more of a woman than that thing you have on."

Again she hesitated a moment, but then she walked through the door. I was taking a chance with this girl, for that was the boudoir room, with the four poster bed, photos of some scantily clad, and a few naked ladies, all over the walls, and a long rack of seriously sexy lingerie. And there were also a few white blouses that definitely were not intended for the button to the neck crowd. She found one of those right away.

"Oh, this is a beautiful blouse. Can I try it on?"

"That's what they are for, child."

A moment passed. Then I heard a plaintive voice.

"I can't wear this. The top buttons don't even have holes, and this thing shows too much."

"OK, what is too much?"

"I have on a sport bra, and it....you know, shows."

"Well, take it off."

I tried to say this in a non-threatening way. Julie had clearly not even considered this option, and I didn't want to spook her. But a minute later she appeared in the doorway. In the blouse. And no, there was no bra. At all. I had to stop myself from gasping.

The white blouse, if you must ask, was a bit racier than the one in which she arrived. The sleeves were tight at the wrists, with wide cuffs, but they puffed out up her arms a little. It was tailored at the waist, and bloused out around her bosom. And it buttoned only up to, oh enough to keep her from getting arrested in public, but certainly not to keep her modest. Julie had much finer breasts than I would have guessed, since that sports bra was no longer smashing them into her ribs. They previewed through the gap above those few buttons, and wiggled provocatively under the loose fabric.

The fabric wasn't totally transparent, but a hint of dark nipple peered out from each side, and they poked proudly into the cloth. And I could quickly tell that if she twisted around too much, or bent forward just a bit, nobody in the vicinity would be a stranger to either of her tits.

"Outstanding! You look outstanding, girl. So tell me....how brave do you feel?"

"I'm having fun. I don't dress up like this, ever. I need some nice pants to go with this blouse. Do you have something like that here?"

"Yeah. Try the far end of the rack on the left. I think we have some motorcycle pants that will fit you."

And sure enough, we did. Julie reappeared in a pair of skin clinging, black leather, tight and toasty, motorcycle pants. And she had found the boots without me even prompting her. And she looked very, very good.

"Dang. Right out of the magazine. You be hot girl. I have an idea. Follow me."

So out to the courtyard we went, to the back of our building. It was walled in on three sides by the building and the terra cotta walls, and a tall wooden gate closed the last bit. Thus we enjoyed total privacy. My motorcycle was parked on the red tile pavement. Flowering bougainvillea covered the walls and various long leaved exotic plants softened the base of the walls.

My bike was a Harley Fat Boy in black and chrome. Totally stock, but it still looked great. Julie gasped at the sight.

"Is that yours? You don't look like the Hells Angels type to me."

"Oh, you don't have to be an outlaw to ride these days. You'd be surprised who you can meet on a Harley. Here, lets set her up on a stand so you can sit on her."

Once I had the bike on the small portable stand that held it upright, Julie climbed aboard and leaned forward to grasp the hand grips. I began snapping pics immediately so she wouldn't have time to glance down to see just how exposed she was. In the daylight her nipples clearly shown through the fabric of her blouse, and the gap between the buttons exposed much of her breasts. Her tits pressed against the fabric, eager to burst forth. But as before, once I started taking pictures, she turned all her concentration to the camera, and her smile lit up, and she blossomed for the lens.

I took over a hundred shots, moving her around on the bike, sitting her up straight, turning her torso this way and that, bending her over the handlebars. I had her bend one leg up and over to rest across the tank, and she leaned back with her hands resting on the seat behind her, and those luscious breasts straining into the sky. I went to the front of the bike and had her lean over to rest her elbows on the tank. The view was inspiring!

It came time to go back inside to view her shots on the computer. I hooked up the cable and began the download. Then I turned to Julie. She looked as gorgeous as before, just standing there looking around the studio. She still had no idea how sexy she was in that white blouse.

"Hey girl! Can I get you anything?"

"Is there anything to drink around here? I'm parched."

"Try the fridge over there."

Julie walked away, and I settled in to preview the photos. I figured she was OK foraging through my fridge. The beer on the third shelf was off limits for this 18 year old, but there were bottled waters, sport drinks, and some lemonade in there. The photos engrossed me. Julie looked great in them. She really bloomed for a camera, and she seemed to just naturally take relaxed and realistic poses. Her shots were sexy as hell, but stopped short of being pornographic. I could see her nipples, and some of the back lit shots showed the contour of a breast or two, but it was classy sexy, not tacky.

I wondered how to show these shots to her without alarming her. I didn't want to scare her away. That's when I realized she was behind me again, close behind me, and she was looking at all of those sexy shots.

"Oh my!"

"Hey Julie. I didn't know you were back there. What do you think?"

She took a long drink from the bottle in her hand before she answered.

"I don't know. Your pictures are beautiful. The flowers and the bike are just wonderful. But.....wow! I had no idea I was showing so much. But, your pictures are so beautiful."

"Tell you what....Lets go over here and I'll finish up those head shots you wanted in that blouse. All the pics will be cut off above the revealing level, but you will still look grown up like you wanted."

So we finished up the session. Julie got her head shots, and she looked wonderful. And she kept sucking down the contents of her soft drink. When we reviewed these shots she was happy again. She set down the soft drink and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.

"Thank you! You are the best photographer in the world. You made me look so good! I am so happy. Can I have another one of these before I go?"

She pointed to the empty bottle on the desk behind her. I figured the day had gone well, and while I saved the photos in a folder for printing later, she fetched her drink from the fridge. Then she headed to the boudoir room to change back into her clothes. I lost track of time for a bit, and then realized Julie had come back into the room. And she had not changed.

"Do we have to stop now? I was looking around the room, at the pictures on the wall....and you take some really pretty pictures of beautiful women. Could you make me look beautiful like that? You know, the sexy kind?"

"I have nothing but time today, young lady. Where would you like to pose?"

"Can we go back to the motorcycle? I saw some pictures of a woman you took like that, and they are just so, I don't know, exciting."

I knew the photo she referred to. The model was perched on the bike as if riding it, and we had a fan set up in front to blow her hair back. She leaned over to reach the handlebars, and her blouse was unbuttoned, and it billowed behind her in the wind. Her breasts were completely exposed, but we positioned everything so the nipples hid behind her elbows. It was a terrible tease, but very sexy. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but her smile said it all. She looked like she was thrilled in the experience of her naked ride.

I set Julie up on the bike in the sun. As soon as I began she perked up again, but this time with a renewed vigor. She seemed even more relaxed, and a darn sight more sexy. And she looked like she was going to be up for adventure like she had never tried before.

"This is fun!"

"And you look wonderful! Keep it up. Turn to your left just a bit, and now wipe your brow with your right hand. That's right. Hold it. Great!"

And so it went. She posed so naturally, and so happily. And she was very relaxed. She sat on the bike, leaning over to hold the hand grips, smiling.

"OK, Julie. Are you ready to try something?"

I saw her hesitate, and then she swallowed hard. And then she smiled.

"Anything!"

"OK....let's see how this looks."

I was standing on the left side of the bike, near the front. I reached in between her arms and gently un-did the button that was straining to hold the front of her blouse closed over her breasts. This would be the button nestled RIGHT between those breasts. So confined was that button that the backs of my fingers brushed ever so lightly against the sides of her breasts as I popped it loose. Julie shuddered briefly and that sharp intake of breath told me she noticed.

This improved the view considerably. The front of her blouse now was held closed only by a button set well down by her navel. I grasped the lapels and adjusted the fabric forward and to the side, and most of each breast lay exposed. From the side view, only a wisp of cloth covered the nipple. Both nipples surged into the thin cloth, urging their way toward freedom.

Julie looked down at herself, smiled, and then turned back to the camera. I took shot after shot as she moved around on the bike. She moved here and the fabric moved there, and a breast moved into and out of view. She leaned back and shook her hair, staring into the lens as both breasts hung out in the breeze. I put her on one knee on the seat with her hands on the handgrips, and we captured views of her breasts pouring out of the front of her blouse, dangling over the tank. Julie was relaxed and eager. Her cheeks carried a slight blush. She was beautiful, turned on, and fantastic through the viewfinder.

Then she smiled at me and offered to remove the blouse. I just nodded. She undid the bottom buttons and pulled the tails out from the waistband of her pants. Then she peeled it off her shoulders. Topless, in black leather biker pants and boots, Julie perched and posed on my bike.

Gawd she was hot! Julie had no tan, and no tan lines. Her skin was pearl white, unblemished. Her breasts stood out firm and proud. Her nipples were pink, erect, with small pink aureoles. Each jiggled slightly with her movement. She smiled at them, and then back at the camera. Shot after shot disappeared into mega-pixels.

I walked her through a dozen different poses. Some I just described to her, how to move and such, and for others I would take her hand and move it, or her shoulders to turn a bit more one way or another. I was holding her chin at the angle I wanted, and reached across to move her arm, and inadvertently brushed my sleeve across her nipple. She jumped.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's OK. I'm fine."

So we continued as if nothing had happened. The session was going great, and I knew we would have some good shots. I got an idea for one more image. I walked close to her to adjust her pose again. As I gently touched a shoulder to position her, she softly place her hand on my wrist to stop me. I looked down into her eyes. She smiled a different smile this time. My knees melted a bit.

"Could you please touch my breast again?"

I hesitated for a moment. I actually did.

"Please?"

Well OK. How could I refuse this? Julie sat on the bike as if she were riding. Her hands rested on the handgrips. I reached behind her left elbow and using the backs of my fingers, I softly slid my touch up and down the side of her breast. Again she stiffened under my touch. Her breasts started moving up and down with her breathing, which was coming in audible gasps.

"Like this?"

"Oh yes! That feels so good! Just like that."

"How about I do this?"

I let one finger tip slide oh so lightly across her nipple a few time. Goose bumps popped up on her breast, and the nipple tightened under my finger. I gave it a little squeeze, and she sucked in her breath and then let out a huge sigh.

"How's about I do this?"

With that I opened my hand and cupped it over her breast. Her nipple probed into my palm. Julie's breathing sharpened and she pressed her tit into my grip.

"Oh God! Oh God!"

She shuddered all over and so I started massaging her breast and rubbing her nipple between my fingers. I stepped onto the foot peg and swung onto the seat behind her. Wrapping my arms around her, I had both breasts in my hands. She held her grip on the handlebars as I nuzzled the back of her neck and her ears. Goose bumps appeared on her arms and shoulders. The air whistled into her mouth through clenched teeth with each breath. Then she started making little "whooping" noises, wrenched her head back and arched her back into me, and as I pinched both of her nipples, she launched into an spasm of pleasure right there on my bike.

One hand stayed on her breast, cause she hadn't lost interest in that, and I let the other slide down to the soft skin of her belly. She quivered under my touch. Her muscles twitched. I held her tight to me, and watched over her shoulder while one hand mashed her tit and the little finger of the other slipped beneath the waist band of her leather pants, past the elastic of her panties, down into the silky soft hair. She was squirming pretty good by now, so the other fingers followed, into the hair and then beyond, down to the hot moist lips, and that little button with "ON" written on it. More "whooping" noises followed.

Julie began sliding back and forth on the motorcycle seat, grinding my fingers into her, her head back against my shoulder and her breast thrust out into my hand. I breathed lightly into her ear. Her eyes closed and a grimace changed her face and she started a deep, guttural groan that soon rose in intensity until she was crying in time with her thrusts against the bike's seat. She stiffened all over, and then suddenly went limp in my arms. Without me holding her, she would have melted off the bike.

I held her for a while, until she sat up straight and opened her eyes again. She shivered.

"Oh, my god!" What was that? I've never felt anything like that before. It was wonderful!"

"Hey girl, welcome back."

"Did you do all that to me? With just your hands?"

"Yep. Hope you liked it."

"Oh god, yes....I loved it!"

"Good"

I slipped off the bike, after making sure she wasn't going to fall, and grabbed my camera. Julie's skin color had intensified, and her facial expressions had changed, softened I guess, or something. Anyway, I wanted to capture this before it was gone. So I burned up a few more mega-pixels while she recharged on my motorcycle, in boots and leather pants and silly grin...and nothin' else.

The skin on her chest and shoulders was pink, and her cheeks were flushed, and droplets of perspiration gathered on her breasts. Even her lips were flushed and swollen. Julie was exquisitely beautiful, and the camera got it all.

I helped her off the bike. She was a bit wobbly on her feet. I picked up the discarded white blouse and handed it to her. She clutched it to her breast, no doubt realizing that she was a bit more exposed than normal.

"Do you want to lay down for a minute?"

"Uh, yeah, I better."

So I led her to the boudoir room, and I helped her onto the bed. She lay back, white blouse draped over one breast, the other on display. Her head hit the pillow, and then she saw me staring at her breast. Her expression changed.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you going to have sex with me now?"

She didn't sound comfortable with the prospect.

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"NO, I mean yes but no. I don't know."

She quickly covered her exposed breast with the blouse.

"Perhaps you need a little nap. I'll leave you alone for a while. Let me know when you want to go home."

And I went back to the computer to download the rest of the photos. We had done some wonderful work, Julie and I. The photos were outstanding, erotic, beautiful. I went in to check on her, and she was snoring softly, on her back, both breasts bare, moving slowly up and down with her breathing. She looked beautiful on the bed, but I put the camera away. I didn't think I still had her permission to film her.

Later, I was pouring through her shots on my computer when she walked out. She was dressed in her knee length skirt and the white blouse that was buttoned to her throat.

"I have to go now."

"Sure, do you want a lift?"

"I don't think I should be riding a motorcycle in this skirt, do you?"

"Probably not, but I have my truck here, too. How's about we use that?"

"Sure! But someday, you owe me a ride on the motorcycle. OK?"

"You bet!"

So I drove her home, to a small, neat house in a boring suburb. As she was leaving through the truck's door, she paused briefly.

"Thank you. Today was amazing. I don't know what to say."

"It's OK. You don't need to say anything. Unless you want to say yes to a motorcycle ride tomorrow. I've got to take some photos at a bike show, and you might find that an interesting experience."

"Yes, I think I would."

"Great! Wear some jeans and a jacket, and be ready at nine. I'll be out front."

My motorcycle settled into the characteristic Harley-Davison loping idle after I stopped in front of Julie's house at the stroke of nine the next morning. She ran out smiling.

"You came! I didn't think you meant it."

"Oh, of course I came. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you to come. We're gonna have fun today."

I gave her a smile and handed her my second helmet. I had to help her strap it on, but then she climbed aboard behind me.

"Where are we going?"

"Venice. They have a chopper and custom bike show every year. Close down the boulevard except for bikes, set up a bunch of venders and displays, have some contests, and generally have a good time. I'm taking photos for Custom Choppers. I hope you brought your sun-block."

We hit no traffic on the 10 or the 405, and only a half hour later we were motoring slowly toward the beach through rows of parked cycles, tents and awnings, and a slow moving mass of folks wearing leather, bikinis, and tattoos. My pass let us into the VIP parking, so I didn't have to leave the bike on the street. We locked the helmets, dropped the jackets, picked up my cameras, and headed out into the crowd.

The bikes entered in the show were lined up along side streets. The judging had been done earlier in the day, and my job for the day was to photograph the winners, both on their displays, and then later in a little makeshift tent studio the magazine erected next to a large brick building. They wanted pics of the crowds checking out the bikes, and they also wanted studio shots, with appropriately buxom ladies draped over the bikes, to run on the cover.

So we looked at the displays, checked out the bikes, and watched the people. I snapped random shots, of nice bikes, pretty ladies, and awesome tats. Bikes cruised up and down the boulevard. The pretty ladies riding on the bikes had to decide whether or not to respond to the cries of "show us you tits!" that poured from one group of guys hanging out in front of a bar. Most didn't, but a few flashed the crowd. Julie watched in amazement. I don't suppose she had spent much time in places where the ladies bared their breasts in public, just for the pleasure of rowdy, strange men.

Which no doubt made our lunch stop a first for her, too. I wanted a beer, and she wanted a burger, and the best place for both also happened to be the bar that hosted the wet tee shirt contest at one. I sipped, and Julie chewed, as about 15 ladies of various proportions took turns jiggling for the rowdy crowd, after having ice water poured down their chests, leaving those thin white tee shirts about as modest as saran wrap. Julie was chewing on her sandwich, and she just stopped eating and stared as the first few ladies presented their assets to anyone who wanted to look. The last two ladies ripped their shirts clean off, leaving those goose bump covered, erect nipple topped, delightful and delectable tits bouncing in the faces of all. One won. The other didn't. But we got to see both.

Then it was back on the street, walking through the crowds to view the displays of some of the finest pieces of motorcycle art on the west coast. It wasn't long before Julie nudged my arm.

"I think I'm over dressed."

Looking around at the ladies we passed, I had to agree. Julie wore a modest blouse, and most of the ladies there had already stripped down to bikini tops or ornate black leather vests, with not much on underneath. They weren't all lookers, but they all showed as much skin as they could here. It was the dress code of the day.

Julie dragged me into a booth draped in leather vests, jackets, chaps and various other outfits. She picked a leather bikini top off the rack, handed me her purse, left me standing there, and disappeared into the curtained dressing area.

I was watching the show walk by, and ride by, as bike after bike cruised past on the boulevard, when her voice brought me back to reality.

"Hey!!! How do I look?"

Julie stood there in a remarkably brief, well made, and sexier-than-shit black leather bikini top. It was nothing more than three strings and two fitted bits of leather that cradled her breasts gently, without hardly covering them at all. She bulged out top, bottom, and side. The triangle of leather angled across just beside her nipples. If she shrugged her shoulders you would see pink, but she had excellent posture and the body sense to know if or when she wanted to show them to you.

She stood smiling, with low ride jeans and sunglasses, and that gorgeous set of tits peeking out of that sexy top. And the eyes of just about everybody on the street settled on her. And suddenly we were the pair getting stared at as we walked through the crowd. Or should I say, she had the pair.

I still had some photos to take, and the promoters had moved the winning motorcycles into the makeshift studio. The models stood off to one side, in string bikinis, skimpy black leather lingerie, and various other leather goods. And we burned up an hour trying to capture a shot that would eventually grace the cover of the magazine. Finally, figuring we had enough fodder for the publisher, we took some shots for the private collections and the web site, as the models peeled off everything to pose on the bikes, in what can only be described as a more erotic episode.

Julie watched the whole thing without saying a word. Finally, when we had seen all that the ladies had to show, I asked Julie if she wanted to pose on the chopper that won. She broke into a smile that would melt steel, and she hopped on board. When I pulled out that little turtle hand puppet, Julie cracked up. Once I started taking pictures, she lit up as she had before. She looked amazing.

The models' agent had been off in the corner explaining the finer points of choppers to one of his naked ladies, while he perused her professionally perfect body. When Julie got on the bike, he stopped in mid-grope to watch. I suspect he saw the same thing I did, that Julie was something special in front of a camera.

"Frank, who is this girl? Where did you find her?"

"Oh, she is just a friend."

"Well, send me copies of these shots. And her name and number. I need to sign her up. She's got a future in this business."

The magazine publisher was just smiling, sitting there in his directors chair. And I had a hunch that I knew who was going to be sitting on the winning chopper, in black leather bikini top and hip hugger jeans, on the cover of Custom Choppers in a couple of months.

The party in the streets was breaking up when we returned to my motorcycle. Julie reluctantly donned her jacket over her nearly bare upper half, and we headed for the freeway. We rode to the studio to download both cameras into the computer. When we pulled into the courtyard, I parked the bike and we headed in.

"Hey girl, how's about fetching me something out of the fridge?"

"Sure, what do you want? I see a cold beer in here."

"That'll do."

Then I pulled up the pics I took of Julie sitting on the winning chopper. They were as good as expected. She stood behind me. The jacket had disappeared as soon as we came inside, and she was leaning over my shoulder to see her photos from the best angle. I could sense her breathing, and her breast was rubbing against my back. I could only imagine how that thin piece of leather must have been sliding around, covering and un-covering her nipple, as she moved against me. She must have noticed something too, for she kept on rubbing.

I moved all her photos to one folder, compressed and copied it, and then e-mailed it off to the publisher and the agent.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? You are gonna get a call from one of the top modeling agents in the area, and I think you just might be hearing from the magazine, too. You don't know it yet, but your career just got a big shot in the arm."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I am totally serious. Those two guys at the shoot this afternoon are pretty important. And they liked your look."

"I don't believe it. I just don't believe it. This can't be true. I'm not pretty. I'm not."

She was standing there, disarmingly shy and naïve, in that black leather top that, at the moment, only hid half of her left nipple, and she looked that beautiful. And she didn't have a clue how hot she really was. Amazing.

"Oh yes, you are that beautiful. What do you think I've been trying to tell you all this time?"

"This is you, isn't it. You did all this for me."

"No.....You did this. I just took the pictures."

She took two steps forward, and just stood there, hovering below my nose, looking up at me, trembling.

"I can't believe the last two days. I came in here yesterday morning, and I hated myself. And you made me look beautiful, and then you touched me and made me feel like I have never felt before. And now today you have all these people who think I am good enough to be a model. I can't believe it."

She started to shake, standing so close in front of me. I wrapped my arms around her, and she was trembling and crying.

"Hey girl, are you OK?"

"Just hold me....please? No....I mean...I don't know"

I let her go, but she wasn't backing away, and she looked up into my face, tears streaming down her face. She looked down at her exposed breast and reached up to gently run her fingertips across her nipple.

"Please...touch me again, like you did yesterday."

It wasn't a command. No, it was almost pleading. So I cupped her chin in my palms and I leaned down to gently kiss her. She trembled again, and suddenly I was holding her up with my arms. I easily picked her up and carried her into the boudoir and over to that four poster bed. And I placed her gently down upon the bed. Her breast was completely uncovered now, in all its beauty, but she didn't notice, or didn't care, or maybe she wanted it that way.

I leaned over and kissed her again. Her lips parted and my tongue entered. She sucked in air as another tremor wracked her body. Then I was kissing her neck and shoulders. Julie whimpered with pleasure. When my hand settled around her breast, it was as if electricity shot through her, and she was shaking in my hands. Kissing her breast just made things better. And when I traced my fingertips up the inside of her thigh to the moist crotch of her jeans, she was moaning.

Tight jeans never seem to slip off easily, but these eventually did. I dropped them to the floor and stood back to admire Julie's gorgeous form. The leather top had pulled away from both breasts. They moved up and down with her gasps. Her legs were limp, the knees parted slightly to reveal glistening, moist lips.

She looked at me as if she couldn't focus completely, but her eyes followed my hands as first my shirt, and then my pants joined hers on the floor. Her eyes widened when my erect cock was waving around before her.

I hovered above her, kissing and caressing her. She squirmed under my touch, turning her face from side to side on the pillow. I slid in between her legs and she opened them for me.

"Are you OK with this?"

"Oh yes, oh yes. I'm ready."

The tip of my cock slid easily inside, as I gently worked it back and forth in the tight but slippery place. Julie locked her eyes on mine as I entered, but her eyes closed when I slipped all the way in. It was warm in there. Her mouth opened and her head rolled back and forth as she cried out, spasms crashing around through her body, as I pressed into her pleasure place.

I pumped in and out for a bit, then slowed to gently tease and pleasure her, then driving her back to the pleasure spasms, time and time again. She was flushed and sweating, and trembling with each wave as I worked in and out of her. Indecipherable sounds poured from her open mouth as her eyes went out of focus again. She wrapped her legs around me and crushed me into her.

An hour passed, or more. Twas hard to tell. She had soaked the sheets with her sweat and her juices, and I had yet to come. Julie had pulled the sheets loose from two corners of the mattress with her hands, but I doubt she remembered. When I finally built to my conclusion, and the time came to roar and erupt myself, she found yet one more spasm of pleasure within her, before I collapsed beside her and held her tight while we slept.

Darkness greeted us when we awoke. Julie smile at me in the dim light. Her hair was matted to her face. She was a bit sore. And she stuck to the sheet when she tried to move. But I don't think she minded. The shower felt good for both of us. We tried to fool around a bit in the hot water, but she really was a mite tender, so we stopped. But we both still felt like giggling.

I dropped her off in front of her house. I told her again to expect a call or two that would open up a new life for her. And I headed back to the studio.

I had a mess to clean up. I had two more photo sessions booked for Monday morning. One was a dorky young man with too many pimples. And the other was a young beautiful lady who wanted to make it in the movies.

Hey, it's a job, and somebody has to do it. Might not be Bali or the rain forest, but it does have its moments.