Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Model

Film was a lot more monetarily precious than a digital image is today so it was very important that my model was ready before I fired the first frame. Cheap red wine helped. A great deal. After she had a glass she reapplied her lipstick and we started making pictures.

For the first third or so Mona was in bra, panties, and boots-- all black. Through the next third she lost the bra and then the panties. Thinking that I might actually be able to use some of these shots for a future photography class I took about ten of her nude. They were sufficiently arty. And then I was out of black and white film. Which meant we were in an over-bright bedroom with me in my clothes and Mona naked-- there was only one thing to do.

I kept my clothes on, turned off the photo lights, put the camera down, and got on the floor at the foot of the bed. I pulled her towards me and she put her legs on my shoulders. I buried my face between her legs and ate her muff like a starving man. I tongued and nibbled at her lips. I avoided her clit but I teased, licked, and nibbled her everywhere else I could find. Then I started working two fingers into her soaked cunt. I twisted my hand while sliding my fingers into Mona's slit. I screwed in and out of her using three fingers—getting as deep into her as I could get. She was wide open and breathing noisily. At that point I finally started working her clit with my lips and tongue, always careful not to put the tip of my tongue right on her warm pink button.

She squirmed and thrashed. Her hips bucked. Then she grabbed my hair with both hands and screamed. My model came on my face.

I stood up, took my clothes off, and stroked my cock up hard while looking at her beautiful, nude body. She was spent but smiling. I reached down, got my hands on her hips and pulled her ass to the edge of the bed. I spread her legs apart and buried my cock into her steaming pussy in one stroke.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Photo Processing

I have it on fairly good authority that, these days, people make self-portrait photographs and send said photos via the Internet to friends. There is a rumor out there that sometimes the portrait subject in these photos is in varying stages of undress. I am attempting to verify the veracity of this assertion. It sounds somewhat plausible given my understanding of human beings. I’ve heard that such revealing photos can even be made using a cell phone. Imagine that. The mind boggles. What I do know for sure is that at the time that Mona and I were fucking around with each other there was nothing of the sort available to us. Hell, home video and the porn explosion was still several years off. Mona assured me she was serious about wanting to take some revealing photos-- but then she pointed out that she hadn’t brought along a Polaroid camera. I told her that I didn’t own one either.

Polaroid marketed their cameras as being able to give you instant photo gratification. You could see images of your fun activities immediately. You know, kid’s birthday parties, Little League ballgames… No need to wait for the drugstore to develop the film. Of course, in reality, a lot of Polaroid film was used to shoot pictures you didn’t want the druggist to see. Or the photo processing machine operator. And you definitely didn’t want the Fotomat girl to see those shots!

What? You don’t know about Fotomats? They were all the rage in the 70’s. What an innovation. Instead of driving to the drug store or photo shop you could motor up to the Fotomat kiosk with the bright yellow roof in the grocery store parking lot. Inside was a hot babe wearing a polyester yellow and red (Kodak’s colors) uniform. They even wore these mod lookin’ caps. Although after a year or so I noticed the clerks were less apt to be wearing the groovy Kodak unis. A corporate cost cutting move, no doubt. Anyway, the Fotomat bunny would take your film roll, write up your information on an envelope, give you the receipt and you could drive away—never having left your car. Sometimes she’d write her own phone number on the other side of the receipt just in case. Or so I’ve heard. The little kiosks were just big enough for one person and they must have been miserable in really hot or really cold weather. At least Kimmy always complained about how uncomfortable they were. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, you didn’t want the Fotomat clerk looking through your dirty pictures any more than you wanted old man Gower, the druggist, eyeballin’ pictures of your girlfriend’s sweet frame.

So, Mona thought we had a big dilemma. Until I pointed out that: 1) I knew how to develop B&W film, 2) I made my own enlargements/ prints, and 3) I had access to the darkrooms at the fine arts building.

She just stared at me silently as we drove towards my apartment. I kept cutting my eyes over at her and she was always frozen-- looking at me. I suspected I had called her bluff and she was trying to figure out how to back out of our little photo session.
“You aren’t kidding, are you?” she said.
Long pause.

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ hot, Wil.”

While I got some lights set up in the bedroom Mona went into the bathroom to get herself fixed up.
It took her longer than it took me so I sat and waited for a while. It was worth the wait. She came in wearing a black bra, matching panties, and the black boots she’d been wearing.
“Whaddaya think? Is this OK?”

What I thought was… I’m going to fire through this 36 shot roll in about two minutes so I can get back to fucking this woman…

What I said was, “Hmmm. Maybe. Turn around so I can be sure.”
“Sooooo?” she said after I had taken my time looking her over.
“Just one problem. I’ll be right back,” I said.
I came back from the kitchen with a pair of scissors.

Mona scrunched her face.
“What are those for?”
“Just turn around,” I said.
When she turned around I turned the waist band down on her panties and cut off the white tag. Then I turned the bra hook area out and cut the tags off there too.
“There,” I said, “Trust me, the Penthouse Pets don’t let their underwear tags show. I’ve studied this.”
“Thanks, college boy,” Mona said.
Young 70's era man in a 2 seat Italian sports car chatting up the Fotomat babe.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Saturday Around Town

Mona was pretty good at sensing when I was ready to cum.
Maybe I was giving some audible cues.
Who knows?

Anyway, she was able to slide up and catch my cock between her fine, firm tits, squeeze them together with both hands, and push down onto me as I unloaded. No sooner had I stopped gushing jizz on us when she slid up, getting sticky cum all over, kissed me and said, “Well, Good morning!”
“Mornin’” I mumbled back.
“Sweetie, I have a tough time swallowing cum first thing in the morning,” she said, “I hope that was okay.”
Then she laughed, jumped out of bed, and scampered out of the room calling back over her shoulder, “I’m takin’ a shower. Join me, ok?”

Oh hell, I wasn’t that easy. I didn’t move a muscle. For about a half a minute. (I knew the water wouldn’t be hot yet.)

“Um, I need to uh… could you step out for a second,” I said when I got to the bathroom.
“I suppose. But it’s no big deal. You can piss in front of me, Wil.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

That was the first time I ever washed a woman’s hair for her. Have to admit, I enjoyed it. She said she did too. She got a pretty thorough cleansing everywhere else too. Certain areas I probably over-washed. I figured it was good to overdo the lathering and rinsing than to leave any square inch dirty. I’ve been praised for my thoroughness in many endeavors.


I got dressed for the day and made coffee for us. For the next hour or two Mona got ready. By the time she was prepared to go into town my whole apartment smelled of smoke, hair spray, and perfume. I didn’t mind. She had tried on about three different outfits from her huge suitcase. Eventually she decided on a pair of black pants, black boots, and a very low cut, tight, light colored sweater. She was an eyeful. And then some.

We rode into town in my little two-seater. I took her on a tour of campus—the first time she’d ever been there. Then we joined the Saturday parade of people walking along the several blocks of uptown college town streets. I went into stores I’d never entered before and went past all the ones I haunted. She bought stuff and I helped carry bags of clothes and trinkets.

We stopped at a tavern I frequented for lunch and a beer. I noticed that people looked at us longer than I was used to people looking at me. Not exactly staring, but lingering. I didn’t blame them. I knew they weren't looking at me.

It was getting to be late afternoon when I saw some people I knew walking towards us on the main street near the campus gate; a guy and two girls I knew from the dorm and dining hall sophomore year. I introduced everybody and we talked a bit when the guy said, “Wil, can I talk to you for a second?”
I excused us and walked a little way down the sidewalk while Mona and the two women chatted about... I have no idea what.

“OK, Wil, how the hell do you know her?”
“I met her through someone I worked with… why?” I wasn’t about to get any further into it than that.
“I swear, Wil, she was in Penthouse last summer!”
“You fuckin’ idiot,” I said.
“Seriously, man, I mean I can’t tell for sure unless she’s naked and I’m holding her up by my left hand while I’m jerking off with my right, but she sure looks like the July Pet of the month.”
I shook my head and walked back to the ladies. Within a few moments we were all on our merry way.

“They seemed nice,” Mona said.
“I guess. I don’t really know those two… just saw them around last year,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” she said in a way that conveyed that she wasn't buying it.

“What did he want to talk to you about?”
“He’s a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Why?" she laughed, "What did he want?”
C’mon, what did he want to talk about?”
“Oh, he was just jerkin’ me around. Said he’d seen your picture in a magazine.”
“Magazine?” Mona said, “What was that supposed to mean?”

I just looked at her.
“Uh, it was along the lines of-- you’re too hot to be hanging around with me,” I said.
Ohhhh. Like a girly magazine!”
Mona laughed.
We walked along a few steps without talking.

“That’s kinda cool, actually. I’d love to be in Playboy.”
“Think more like Penthouse,” I said.
“Is that better or worse?”
“It’s, uh, dirtier,” I said.
She held onto my arm as we walked along.
“Dirtier sounds even better, Wil.”
My mind was pondering the fact that there was no fucking way I could ever keep up with this woman-- that it was just a matter of time before she'd be done with me-- when she spoke again.
“Why don’t we go back to your place and take some pictures?”