Pictures of you

I really like you. I want to some pictures of you.

Firstly, I want you. I go for you.

Has something like this ever happened to you?

As an older man, you are approach in estimated ten years and asked her if you should photograph her?

Did she really mean me, or was that just a joke? What should be particularly photogenic to me, I kept myself at best for mediocrity and except for my blue eyes there was not really much that I liked in me? These thoughts went through my head as she said, “They have such a distinctive face that I would like to take pictures in different scenes and situations.” At first I thought, what the nonsense, but when she noticed my hesitation said She what I would lose as only a little time. Not quite averse, but not convinced by her plans for a long time, I asked her what these pictures would become and what she would use. Her answer sounded as simple as she thought. I collect men, not what they might think, but real authentic men between 40 and 60, not soft-washed, but men as they are and how many women they like to see. Masculine, but not exaggerated muscle-packed, happy with gray temples or particularly courageous with baldness, simply men who stand to your age, without running in beige coats and brown flannel shirts with a sweater. I just asked her unbelievingly whether she believed me to be such a man as her scheme. Yes, she just said. Do not you ever look in the mirror? Do not compare with other men of their age? Without wanting to be close to you, I think they are five years older than you look, right? Then she had caught me full. The male vanity made me aware of my appearance, I had been shaving for a couple of years, and in connection with a 2-3 day beard I liked to be without any form of being imagined by myself or looking at me as something special. She was woman enough to realize that she had caught me and I almost hung on her hook. Ok, I heard myself say. If she could guarantee not to find the photos on some wicked pages, I would like to dare to be photographed by her as a woman. The question of when and where could I save myself, she asked me if I did not have time; Her apartment and her studio would be very close here and she would rather start immediately than I think it again differently.

Oh, what a pace, and already she pulled me crossroads through a few streets, and so I finally found myself in front of a newer residential and business house, where I found a messing board in the forefront, on which Kerstin C., a photographer, stood. Well, at least her profession seemed real and so we went inside. On the stairs to the first floor, I asked her to walk in front of me and I think she knew I was looking at her butt, which she moved elegantly but not exaggerated rocking the stairs. She was apparently a woman with gently modeled curves, not so slender, as today’s modedictat means to prescribe and which was conscious of her feminine effect, of course. I really liked it.

In the studio she said she had to do a few things and get her camera and then we could get started. I admit, I have never been in front of the camera before, let alone in front of the camera of a woman and I did not know at all what would happen and what would happen to me.

I did not have much time to think about it and so she asked me if we wanted to drink a coffee. Gladly I said, looking forward to getting to know her more closely, but instead she said I should take care of the coffee and she would take a picture of me. Did she do this every time she invited a man to her studio? I could barely finish the thought, then she asked me to take off my jeans jacket. Well, I admit that there were worse ideas, it was quite warm in the studioküche. So I stood in my old jeans and wearing a white, short-sleeved linen shirt clothed in the kitchen, making sure to cook a usable coffee from the readily accessible ingredients and the coffee cups, while she was taking pictures with her camera around me . I tried to ignore her in her activity, but as she took off her jacket and she stood facing me in the sleepless top under which her breasts were visible, I almost spilled the coffee. She noticed this irritation on my part with a short twitching of the mouthwraps, but continued to take pictures of me. Laterally in the profile with coffee cup, from the front, from obliquely back and at some time I did not care.

After a while she said to me if I could do anything to unbutton my shirt. The temperature in the studio was quite summery and the lamps and spots provided for quite a high temperature and if I had been at home alone, I would have long ago stripped my shirt, but here in front of a strange woman and especially in the presence of her camera? I did not know, but she did. What had I to hide? I was glad that I had shaved my back only in the morning and I had not to face her with a coat and my skin was also provided with a certain tan of the last leave. I am far from being slim and far from a sixpack far away, but my body is nevertheless handsomely modeled and so Kerstin concentrated on me to photograph directly from the front or diagonally from the front. She positioned me (still with a coffee beaker in her hand), sitting at the table or leaning against a door frame, or another time standing in front of a window, and asked me not to pay attention to what was not so easy, but her body tightened Depending on the photo position quite clearly in their top and it seemed to me as if their nipples were more clearly than at the beginning of the shooting.

What appealed to me was my growing unconcernedness towards her and her photographic commitment and somehow I already knew when she asked me if I could take off a shirt. I asked her while I stripped off my shirt, whether she’d done this with any of her previous shootings, and she just said that at most, the shooting after the pictures would have ended with a few open buttons, if any at all. Should I believe that? No matter, a certain curiosity had long ago won over whether and what would happen next. She asked me to get a bottle of red wine from the refrigerator, open it and pour two glasses. All this she held photographically and the click of the trigger and the occasional flashing of a flash did not bother me a long time. When I put the two glasses of red wine and the opened bottle of red wine on the table, she said, from now on she would very much like to make paul pictures. If I could imagine her sitting opposite the table and just talking with her and drinking wine. I was absolutely not unpleasant, quite the contrary. She just wanted to hurry to the neighboring room to get something more comfortable. Since I was sometimes curious, especially since the Spaghettitop already was already very tight. She had not either pulled her off or exchanged for anything else, but her pants had given way to a pretty short mini skirt, and I admit that her sight turned me on. She sat down to me at the table, and while she was almost invisibly using the remote control of her camera with one hand, she held her glass with the other hand. After a while she asked me if I was not hot and I wanted something else. I said to her, there were actually only two clothes, one of which was my boxershort and I did not want that so far. I suggested to her to keep it by the pants, I was not ready for more. Without being angry in any way, she replied that she was glad that I was setting the limit. She did not know what she had ridden, so to heat me without any corresponding consideration and grinned daring. Scarcely pronounced she pulled out her skirt and her top and stood with her back to the camera and helped me from the somewhat too tight pants. She stood so close to me that I could feel her warmth and her full breasts nearly touched my face. She asked me to sit down on the chair again, then to take my seat as a matter of course. Except for the tiny string, she was naked and I could not and would not prevent my boxershort from getting bulging.

I thought first this story would have gone on as she painted it herself, but I had to realize that she was still using the shutter button on the remote control. Only now I discovered the mirror behind the camera, which showed exactly what the camera saw and held and which were two tightly facing bodies. While the string of the female body and its vainly obscured anatomy were not covered at all, the other male body, or rather a certain part of the body, was visibly but vainly trying to escape from the prison of his boxershort. But as far as I could not let it come, I told her that it was enough now. Pictures should have enough and what was so far a wonderful erotic game between us both, should not end up in pornographic drift off. I did not want that at all, at least not in front of the camera and so she turned off her equipment with heavy heart. Ok, you’re right she said. We should stop with the clipping and let us take unlimited time for us. With a look that made me melt, she took me by the hand and led me into the adjoining bedroom. What happened there remains my secret and lies entirely in the imagination of the reader.