A shy photographer and an ultra-confident model connect for a sexual tryst that fulfills each of their most treasured fantasies.

Photography is my life. Even when I don’t have a camera in my hands, I see the world as if through a lens. Some people, like my best friend Benjamin, believe my camera is my crutch, because without it, I feel naked. But I like to think of my camera as an extension of myself. The only real problem is that I spend almost all of my time taking photographs. While my pictures are precise and striking, my social life hasn’t had much time to develop.

“You need to get out into the world,” Ben insisted. “You’re always alone with your photos.” Ben’s in advertising; he’s a total “people person.”

I knew he was absolutely right. Although I might be an expert at exposure where film is concerned, I was woefully underexposed on the dating circuit.

Right about then, a teaching position opened up at the local cultural center. I told myself this was a way to give back to the community. I also thought that I might meet a woman who shared my interest in photography — even a novice would be fine with me.

But things didn’t turn out exactly as I’d planned.

I’d briefly debated the ethical ramifications of dating a student, but I wasn’t sure I had the nerve to go through with it. But that didn’t stop me from hoping I might meet someone new.

On the first day of class, I ran through my extensive notes on Aperture and Shutter Speed. Later on we’d get to the basics of Exposure, Travel Photography, and Portraiture. To my relief, I found that being something of an expert robs you of your fear — at least, that’s how it worked for me.

On a sadder note, although the class was fairly full, I did not spy any potential romantic partners. The few women I found attractive were with their spouses or boyfriends, the rest were either too old or too young. Then a magical thing happened. After class ended, there was a knock on the door. I had been gathering up my belongings, and I looked up as a pretty redhead entered the room.

“The photography class is over,” I said, eyeing her lithe form in a green-and-white striped sheath dress.

“I know. I’m here for the next class.”

“Oh?” I said, thinking I could definitely date someone taking a different teacher’s class, right? There would be nothing unethical about that. “What’s the class?” I asked as I packed up my cameras.

“Drama,” the woman said, and I thought, Wow, this girl is my polar opposite. I would never take a drama class. Being onstage would paralyze me. As I was having these thoughts, she said, “I love being onstage. Any chance I can get, I take it.”

“How funny,” I answered, before I could stop myself. “Because I like to watch. I think that’s why I take good pictures.”

She came closer as I zipped up my camera bag, and she said, “This is going to sound forward, but would you ever like to photograph me?”

We were so in tune. I nodded immediately, already seeing her in my head. The pictures. The poses. “When?” I asked.

“What about now?”

“You’ll miss your class.”

“It’s really a basics class,” she said. “I’d rather do something totally unexpected… ” She stared at me, and I realized that this was where I was supposed to introduce myself. I might be shy, but I’m not rude.

“Matthew,” I said, putting out my hand.

“I’m Josie,” she said as the students started to arrive for the next class. We hurried out to the hall. “So, where are we going to take these pictures?” she asked. It was night, so I didn’t suggest going to a nearby park. In fact, I could think of no better place than mine. Usually, I wouldn’t have been so forward. But she was the one who’d put the evening in motion. I took a risk, and made the suggestion.

That’s how we wound up in my studio apartment, with her in front of the black backdrop and me arranging the lights. She hadn’t lied. She was instantly at ease being watched, and I found my heart racing to have discovered such a perfect model.

At first, she remained in her summer dress. This was fine with me. I was happy with my camera in my hand. But then she said, “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Like a soda?” I asked.

“Like something more serious than a soda.”

I hurried to the cabinet and searched out a bottle of wine I’d been saving for a special occasion. I couldn’t imagine an occasion being more special than this. I opened the wine and snagged two jelly jars. When I returned to Josie, I had to suck in my breath. She was naked, but apparently, still thirsty. She reached for a glass. I handed it over and noticed I was shaking.

“I’m the one nude, but you’re the one who looks nervous.” She seemed like she was trying not to laugh.

I took a swig of the wine and said, “I admire your confidence.”

She cocked a hip. “Is that all you admire?”

I was ravenous from the first taste of her succulent juices, and I went to work with abandon.

“God, no — you’re so beautiful.” I hoped I didn’t sound lecherous. I was simply speaking the honest truth. I’d never seen a girl like her. I’ve worked with many models, and I have taken nude shots in the past. But Josie was unique. Her skin was perfectly pale and smooth. Her red hair fell loose to the middle of her back, cascading in soft waves. Her breasts were small but perky, and I did my best to keep a professional attitude. But I kept sneaking peeks between her legs, and her sex — her sweet sex — was clean-shaven.

“Are you checking to see if I’m a natural redhead?” she asked, and she had that sound in her voice once more, as if she were trying not to laugh. A wicked spark flashed in her eyes, her boldness as arousing as it was intimidating.

I ducked my head, my cheeks flaming.

“I am,” she told me. “But I like to keep my pussy bare.”

No, I’d never had a model like her before. I was going to get myself into trouble if I didn’t watch out. To stop from responding to her ballsy comment, I reached for my camera and began taking pictures again. The camera loved her. She was all alabaster skin and mesmerizing curves. I practically licked her with my lens. In moments, I had become lost in my work. That’s what I meant when I said the camera is an extension of myself. It’s almost like another limb. Or an additional sense. I became so into taking the pictures that I didn’t really notice when she started to touch herself. I mean, of course, I noticed. I was clicking away. But at some point, my brain managed to alert me to the fact that this photography session had taken a sharp detour.

I lowered the camera and looked at her.

“Is there a problem?” she asked. She had her legs spread and her fingertips were cresting over her clit. Christ, she was masturbating!

I think I stammered the word “no” as I went to my knees. I wanted to crawl across the floor to her. I wanted to put down the camera and make love to her. I wanted with every part of my body.

“Come closer,” she said.

“With the camera?” I asked tentatively.

“With your tongue.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I set down my camera and picked up Josie. I brought her to the sofa that unfolds into my bed, but I didn’t take the time to make the transformation. I spread her out and began to eat her pussy. My hard-on pressed against my slacks, but I didn’t even think about my own relief. I was ravenous from the first taste of her succulent juices, and I went to work with abandon. My goal a moment before had been to take the perfect picture. My goal now was to make her come like she never had before. I could not believe how natural this felt. How we had so easily moved from model and photographer to lovers.

“Oh, Matthew,” Josie sighed as I worked her. I tongued her clit over and over and then backed off and made subtle circles around that hot swollen button. I was in heaven, getting her slippery liquids all over my cheeks and chin. I would have climbed inside her if I could have.

She made soft mewling noises as I licked her split, and she ran her fingers through my thick hair, urging me on with the motions of her hips and her decadent taste. Even though I’m shy, I have been with my share of women. There is a type of female who seems to get off on the more reserved members of the male population. So I will say I know my way around a pussy. But I wasn’t even thinking about tips or tricks while I worked her. I let her body be my guide, and I simply dined on her sweet snatch until I felt her climax break.

“Oh, God,” she groaned as she came, slamming her pussy against my mouth until I had to grip her waist and hold her still. “Oh, I needed that,” she said, her words practically a purr.

I looked up her body at her face. She was flushed with the rosy heat of pure passion. I could see what the pictures would look like in my head. That is, if she let me take them. Once a photographer, always a photographer. I can’t ever seem to totally turn off that part of my brain. As if she could read the very thought balloons over my head, she motioned to the camera. “You want to take more, don’t you, baby?”

I nodded. My fingers were itching to hold my beloved camera.

“Go on,” she said. “Take the pictures.”

I sighed with relief. My cock was still as hard as stone, but the photographs were momentarily more important than my own release. I got the feeling that she wouldn’t let me down either as a model or as a lover.

She posed again, automatically. I’d never met someone who was so comfortable being naked. “You should never wear clothes,” I said. And then I looked at her quickly. Was that out of line?

“I don’t usually,” she admitted. “When I’m alone in my apartment, I’m always nude. And sometimes, when I’m out on the balcony I go naked, too.”

I continued to photograph her as she was talking. I loved the way she looked on my black velvet sofa, so relaxed. As if she owned the place.

“You go naked on your balcony?” I asked. Somehow her confession was making me a little bolder in my questioning.

“Yes,” she told me. “I love drinking my coffee out there early in the morning, imagining people in the other buildings watching me.”

“Do you know if anyone has seen you for real?”

“They must. I live in a busy neighborhood.”

“But nobody’s ever said anything to you?”

“Well, this one man across the way once came out on his balcony naked, too. I took that as a positive response to my nudity. I’d say ’thumbs up’ but it wasn’t his thumb that was raised.”

I kept clicking away while she talked, and I was thrilled to see her hand go back between her legs. It was as if the memory of being exposed turned her on so much that she couldn’t keep her fingers off her clit.

“Look at me,” I said when she started to arch her back. She was getting closer to a second climax, and this time, I wanted to photograph her while she was actually coming. I hoped that wasn’t being too intrusive, but I was starting to get the idea that with Josie, there was no such thing. She loved being observed by the camera.

I took shot after shot, moving around her. She used one hand to pinch her nipples, her fingers slipping back and forth between her beautiful breasts. Her other hand remained busy between her legs. I stood back a few steps so I could get a full shot of her entire body, her back arched as the pleasure began to overtake her. Then I moved in for some close-ups. I took one shot of her lips alone. Then one of her hand over her split. I was devouring her with the camera, unable to stop myself. Then I took a picture of her face and realized that she was staring intently at me.

Her lovely eyes were mesmerizing. Big, bold and green, her eyes did this trick where they seemed to grow even larger whenever I took a shot. In fact, it wasn’t even like she was posing. She was simply being. I took photo after photo until I realized she was doing it again. She was coming a third time, and I said, “It’s the pictures, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, panting, breathless, but for the first time of the evening, she was blushing.

“You get more turned on every time I take a picture.” It wasn’t a question. But she nodded anyway.

“I have this fetish,” she said, and her voice was soft, so I came closer to her.

“Fetish,” I repeated, and I took a shot from that distance, right up next to her.

“I like being looked at.”

“But I can tell it’s more than that — isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Her word was a sigh, a confession. “Oh, yes, Matthew. It’s more than that.” Now she spread her pussy wide apart, and I could see the dew on her nether lips. She was shaved bare and glistening. “I always get wet when someone watches me. Even when I’m acting, up onstage. The audience watching turns me on. But I can hold it together until the end of a show. Then I have to go back to my dressing room or my apartment and make myself come. I think of all those eyes on me. I imagine what the audience would think if they knew that their eyes were foreplay for me.”

I liked that. She was a slut for attention the way that I am ever the voyeur. My camera simply gives me the ability to do so practically undetected. If people knew how much I need to watch, they might think I was odd. The gadgets of my business give me something to hide behind.

“But the thing is,” she said, “what really turns me on is having my picture taken. I didn’t know that at first. But when I did my first press shoot, I almost came when the flashes started going off. I had to hurry to my car afterward, and I made myself come right there in the parking lot. I pulled up my dress, shoved my hand in my panties and jerked myself off to a quick climax. It had never felt like that before. And you know what?” I shook my head, desperate for her to continue. “The experience simply never gets old.”

She motioned for me to keep clicking, but I couldn’t. I thought my dick might rip right through my slacks.

“Oh, poor baby,” she said, realizing my predicament. “We haven’t taken care of you yet, have we?”

I shook my head. I was desperate to be inside her. She seemed to understand. She pulled me onto the sofa with her and wrapped her legs around me. I fumbled with my slacks, unbuttoning, unzipping, and then I was in her. For one exceptional moment, we both stayed entirely still. I felt the molten heat of her core, felt her naked arms around me, knew what bliss is. And then we could wait no longer. I started to fuck her powerfully from the first stroke. She lay back and let me ravage her, and I suddenly saw her as herself. I mean, I wasn’t looking at her with a photographer’s eye. I was looking at her the way a horny man looks at a woman.

And God, she was so fucking beautiful.

She wrapped her limbs around my body, and she held on as I slammed into her over and over.

She lay back and let me ravage her, and I suddenly saw her as herself.

“I want you to come on me,” she said. “When you’re ready. I want you to pull out and shoot your come all over my belly.”

She dirty-talked, too? I’d hit the sex jackpot!

“And then… ” she said — and I could guess the next words but I let her say them anyway — “and then I want you to take more pictures.”

That’s what ultimately did me in. The fact that she wanted me shoot my load all over her beautiful body — and then take photos of my semen decorating her porcelain flesh. I was so aroused, I almost didn’t make it. I almost came inside her. But just in time, I managed to pull my dick out, spraying my seed all over her pussy lips and concave belly.

“The camera!” she demanded breathlessly, and I hurried — well, as quickly as I could with my heart still racing — and began to take more pictures. She traced her pretty fingertips in my seed, drawing indecent designs while I snapped away. Then she licked her fingers clean, and I had to set the camera down again. She looked too sexy.

“I can’t take the pictures,” I said. “I need to fuck you again.” My cock had revived itself in an instant.

She didn’t have a problem with that, rolling over so that I could pierce her from behind. I hadn’t even taken the time to admire her perfect peach-split of an ass. She was so wet and ready for me; I could smell the scent of her arousal all around us. I thrust into her from behind, reaching my hand around to stroke her pussy and pull on her clit as I rammed her.

Josie groaned and wriggled against me, her inner muscles working to pull me off to my second explosive climax of the night. Right when I began to come, she said, “Next time, set up a tripod and a timer.”

Oh, the student was giving the teacher lessons now. I held her body to me as I filled her up with my passion, not letting a drop spill free. Josie let me ride out the waves and then she pulled off me and swiveled around, lifting up her jelly jar and sipping her wine to quench her thirst.

“Tell me something,” I said afterward, as I sat on the floor looking at her. “Did you really walk into my classroom by accident?”

She shook her head, her gorgeous curls tumbling around her face. “Benny thought we’d get along.”

I looked at her, startled. “You know Ben?”

“We’ve worked together. He told me you were teaching a class at the center. He thought we might make a good match.”

“So this was all… ”

“A setup,” she said, nodding happily. “But if I didn’t feel any chemistry, I wouldn’t have come home with you. Are you upset?” She didn’t seem to think that I was.

“Are you kidding?” I kissed her deeply. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have gotten so nervous. I wouldn’t have known what to do or what to say. But the way you burst in like that, all aflame, you gave me no time to think. No time to worry.”

She kissed me back and then she motioned to the camera. “Are you ready to finish the shoot?” she asked.

I lifted up my camera and aimed the lens her way. “I’m ready to photograph you some more,” I told her, “but I’ll never finish this shoot.”