Professionalism

We kissed. A naked young model and a suddenly-unprofessional older photographer kissed, and even though the model was the daughter of some very close friends and in fact was a good friend in her own right, I felt absolutely no shame in feeling her naked body pressed against my clothes nor in feeling the tip of her tongue brushing along my upper lip.

When Tricia finally stepped back, we were both breathless, and my brain seemed to be spinning inside my skull. Her demeanor had changed: She was no longer nervous, and she seemed to be perfectly at ease with being naked while I was still fully clothed. I believe that her lack of restiveness was due to having spent a considerable amount of time around me over the years as she wore just a bikini or a tasteful lingerie set or maybe a matching bra and panty set while I had remained professionally perched behind a camera. Whatever the reason for her lack of nerves, I silently thanked all the deities I knew as I took her into my arms again, hugging her tightly, not wanting to ever release this fine young woman from my grasp.

I did release her – just long enough for me to sit on the edge of the bed and for Tricia to straddle my lap. For a long time, we kissed, but perhaps more importantly, we touched. Mostly, I touched her, exploring her body with my hands as intimately as I had been exploring her body with the cameras. The curves which had been revealed to my eyes seemingly a few heartbeats earlier were finally revealed to my fingertips, and she seemed quite content to allow me to tactilely learn her, study her.

When my fingertips finally ventured between her thighs, I was not at all surprised to find that Tricia was wet. It did surprise me a little, however, to hear her sultry moan in my ear, a sound which affirmed for me that the little girl who had grown up before me and before my cameras was very much a woman. The tall teenager whose images graced the pages of magazines and were seen in various catalogues and on their related Web sites was now definitely a true mature adult.

Trailing her wetness upward, I learned this young woman's clitoris. She clutched me tightly, her face buried in my neck, rocking against my fingertips, reacting very much like the adult she had become. My free hand at the center of her back and gently playing with her chestnut mane, I masturbated her, pleasured her, listened keenly to her soft moans and her contented sighs, reveled in how her arms would momentarily tighten around my shoulders and in how her body would shudder against me, adored the feel of her hardened nipples trying to poke through my shirt to graze against my flesh.

"Oh please...!" Tricia cried out softly, her voice sirenic.

"It's okay," I assured her. "It's definitely okay..."

A few heartbeats later, her body stiffened, her voice at a high pitch when she squealed from the surge of her climax racing through her body.

My erection throbbed, jealous and needy and eager to be embedded within this young woman, but I was able to set my own desires aside to instead caress her and kiss her and ensure she knew that I cared for her. She sagged against me, her grip of my shoulders loosening, her breathing slowly returning to normal as she whimpered softly in the afterglow of her climax.

As I held her close, I looked around the guest bedroom and the contrasts struck me. The equipment was evidence of the model she had been for a long time. The posters and the girlish clothes and especially the stuffed animals were testament to the girl she had been. Her nudity and her afterglow were proof of the woman she had become.

Her nudity in my presence, especially with her passion coating my fingertips and her warm breath against my neck, told of a fate which I doubt either of us had expected – I certainly had not expected this fate, not even after having had the dreams over the previous few weeks featuring an undressing or naked Tricia.

I was still quite erect, perhaps the ultimate testament that Tricia was now a woman. As I slipped a hand between us to gently squeeze a soft breast, I throbbed inside my jeans once again. It had been a long time – several years, actually – since I had last been intimate with a woman, as few women really understood my line of work and cared to even consider dating a man who spent a considerable amount of time photographing some of the most beautiful women in the city, especially when those women would be partially or even fully nude during some of those sessions. Having a young women naked in my presence and not actually needing to be truly professional with her in my presence had "allowed" me to become fully erect and to want to join with her in a way I had not done with any woman in a long, long time.

Carefully, I seized her in my arms, and then slowly stood. Instinctively, Tricia's legs locked around me, but she did not need to do so, for I turned around and settled her on the edge of the bed, then nudged her toward its center where she lay across many of the clothes she had brought with her. Amusingly, the virginal white bra was partially trapped beneath her head, and that brought a smile to my face as I fetched a camera.

She looked up at me, looking through the camera at me, smiling softly with her lips and with her eyes as I straddled her, positioning and then taking the shot. Only then did I tell her why I had the camera in my hands again, and she laughed quietly, reaching with a hand to find the bra and tugging it gently, which in turn prompted me to take several more photographs as she toyed with her own bra, a supportive garment which was not actually supporting the breasts at the base of the shots. Her free hand moved, but my professional mind was focused again on these new shots of her, of this new position and the new "toy" partially trapped beneath her head.

My hands faltered as I felt her free hand brush across my thigh. My erection throbbed insistently as she boldly stroked the bulge at the front of my jeans, and I found my professionalism once again dissipating like dust in the wind.

I set the camera aside, still on the bed but well out of the way, and allowed Tricia to stroke me. The partially-trapped bra was essentially forgotten as she explored me through my jeans, her touches soft yet still able to send shudders of pleasure up my spine. For my part, I touched her as well, focusing my caresses on her forearms, occasionally brushing the back of a hand, but mostly, I was allowing her to set the pace, even though I was dripping with desire and lusting for the warmth of her youthful body.

"I can't believe this is happening..." she whispered with awe surfing her words. "I can't believe that I'm lucky enough for this to be happening..."

"Same here," I assured her. "Same here..."

I retracted my hands from her forearms and, taking a chance, I began to unbutton my shirt. I started at the top, as usual, and to my surprise, Tricia tugged the shirttails up from within my jeans and began to unbutton the shirt from the bottom. Our hands met at roughly halfway, bumping against each other, and I allowed her to release the final button and spread my shirt wide as I held my arms back so it could slide down my arms and off of me.

That was when I changed position, settling atop the young model. Her breasts felt warm and inviting against my newly-exposed skin, and her arms felt incredibly sensual as they wrapped around my bare back. With her height, my erection was lined almost perfectly with her clitoris, and as our lips met once again, I rocked gently, not wanting for the semi-rough denim to hurt her sensitive bud as she mewed with renewing pleasure into my mouth.

Soon, somehow, we rolled, resulting in Tricia laying upon me, lifting her head long enough to brush her hair out of the way before briefly kissing me again as she rocked gently, almost as if she was trying to balance her weight on my throbbing length. My arms wrapped around her again, but after a few moments, she lifted herself from me, sliding down my body and off the bed, standing between my spread legs, looking at me with desirous eyes as her hands worked at my belt, and soon she had to step aside as she lowered my jeans and my underwear in tandem, ultimately leaving me in my socks.

Her eyes settled on the thick manhood pointing toward my navel. It was almost amusing to watch Tricia's eyes growing large at the sight of my dripping length. It was evident that this was the first time she was seeing an erection, and she sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively reaching toward it as if she was attempting to pick up a snake which might try to bite her.

The feel of her fingertips directly on my exposed arousal sent another shudder of pleasure up my spine. I may have moaned softly at her touch, because she turned to look into my eyes, and once again her dark eyes pierced me, connecting with something deep inside me.

She repositioned herself on the bed, and with her face directly over my groin, she dipped her head, her lengthy mane unfortunately obscuring my view...

I first felt her fingertips brushing and then beginning to knead my testicles. Tricia was being very careful, very gentle, but mostly she was being very tentative.

Then her tongue slithered along my pulsing length from base to tip, moving slowly, teasing me, tasting me. Certainly she was receiving a healthy dose of my natural musk, and I was almost positive that she was aware of the throbbing within my engorged anatomy – a throbbing which called to her because of who she was.

I breathed her name softly, then lost my breath as her lips closed around my tip. Using only her lips, she took me into her mouth, bathing me with her tongue, tantalizing me, suckling me. When I regained my breath, I was moaning softly, my hands in her hair gently nudging her head forward to take more of my thick length into her mouth, the semi-hard roof of her oral cavity contrasting greatly with the ever-moving softness of her pointed tongue.

Quite some time passed as a good friend gave me a pleasure I had not enjoyed in far too long. I had practically forgotten just how good a woman's mouth could feel. I had practically forgotten how wonderful it felt to give myself so selflessly to someone else.

I had definitely forgotten just how quickly time can pass when one is enjoying the intimate attentions of another. I suddenly recognized just how bright it was in the guest bedroom and realized that it was because the sun was positioned just right in the southern sky, illuminating much of the bed but not yet shining in my face.

Tricia released my manhood from her mouth and turned and lifted her head. Our eyes met and connected on that deeper level yet again.

"Cum on me," she requested, "just like I've seen online."

I knew exactly what she meant, for I sometimes went online in search of porn. Facials were amongst my favorites, and the sizeable external hard drive of my personal desktop computer was about twenty percent filled with facial images collected from numerous online sources over the years – images which I sometimes used as a screensaver, and one of those images was currently my desktop wallpaper.

I smiled, already envisioning Tricia's face and hair streaked with white. I would love to have a picture of her splattered face as my desktop wallpaper.

We changed position again so that the young model could rest her head on a pillow, flanked by two of her stuffed animals. Straddling her once more, I leaned forward, my hands gripping the headboard of the bed as Tricia used her hands to guide my throbbing erection back into her mouth. I moved slowly, never forcing her mouth to take in more of me than she was able to do comfortably, and her hands stroked and kneaded the rest of my needy sex. In breathy whispers, I praised her efforts, encouraged her, and as I felt the approach of my release, I groaned several times, my voice seemingly loud in my ears.

At the point of no return, I suddenly withdrew from her wonderful mouth, looking down at her sweet face as I stroked myself to completion. Several long, hard blasts of white launched from me, and she visibly flinched with each impact to her face, squealing happily as my warm seed marked her.

And then I could no longer see, my eyes clamped shut as my climax consumed me, my voice still seemingly quite loud. Her hands were on the backs of my thighs, holding me in place as the last of my hot lust befell her face.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Tricia looking up at me with awe and amazement. She had clearly enjoyed having me shoot my lust on her face, and as I tried to regain my breath, I answered her smile with my own, my heart soaring at the vision of her.

"Stay there," I instructed her, the professional in me recognizing an opportunity. I reached for the camera, and a few moments later I had the true money shot.

...the shot I could never sell, at least not as long as Justine and Craig were still alive, for they would skin me alive if they knew that I had been sexually involved with their daughter. But I could at least use that shot as my desktop wallpaper, and I was already looking forward to turning on the computer in the morning and seeing Tricia's smiling and splattered face greeting me.

I once again set the camera aside, watching Tricia intently, admiring her for the big steps she had taken in such a short period of time. Having known her since birth, I had already been fairly fond of her, but after the events of the afternoon, that fondness had blossomed beyond expectation.

"Will you give me that shot?" she asked quietly, her hands gently rubbing up my sides, her face still beaming with pride as she wore my lust.

"Absolutely," I assured her, "but that can wait. I think you'd better go clean yourself so we can finish the planned session and actually be able to tell your parents that the plan was indeed accomplished."

She giggled softly, and as I watched the naked young woman saunter toward the bathroom a few moments later, I had the feeling that in time, there would be more such money shots taken of her. I just hoped that I would be the lucky photographer selected to create and take those money shots.

*****

We finished the session as planned, and while Tricia was freshening up in the guest bedroom's bathroom, I was in the kitchen trying to decide what to prepare for us for dinner if she wanted to stay a while longer. When she came to me, she was wearing the Hannah Montana fitted t-shirt and the wide-belted snug-fitting jeans with sandals and dangling star-shaped earrings.

"Should we start the session all over again?" I joked.

She smiled. "Why not? But this time, you could leave your professionalism in the hallway."

Dinner waited, for that was exactly what we did.