We walked together to the alley she had in mind. I’d walked by it before and had always thought it would make a great spot for a photo shoot. I put my camera bag down against a wall and I started setting up my gear. Kat pulled a tube of red lipstick out from her bag and she went over to an old rusted car to apply it, using the cracked side view mirror as a makeup mirror. She bent over with her legs straight and she puckered her lips. She looked adorable. I snapped a couple quick shots—sometimes candid shots are the best.
Then we got right to it. I didn’t know what she was looking for, so I just said, “Change up your pose every few shots or so. You can hear the shutter, right?”
“Yup!” she said with a little, childish bounce. I held up my camera and she struck her first pose, putting one hand on her head and the other on her hip. I snapped a few shots and then she put both of her hands into her hair. She’d been practising. She knew exactly what she wanted. So I just focussed on getting the best compositions. I didn’t even have to tell her to tilt her head up—she naturally held her head up, as if she’d been watching posing tutorials online—and I’m sure that’s exactly what she’d been doing.
I snapped almost three hundred shots before she said, “Maybe I should change into another look.”
“Sure,” I said.
There was nowhere for her to change, so she just took her bag behind a tall green dumpster, and I turned and looked the other way. While I waited for her to change, I looked through my photos. I had so many great shots—it was going to be hard to choose just a few to send to her.
When I turned around again, Kat was ready to shoot, and now she was dressed in something a little more racy—maybe too racy to be wearing out in public. She was clad in a red lace halter-top and a black skirt, that didn’t even fully cover her tush. On her legs she had tall thigh-high leather heeled boots. She had a big smile on her face, and her cheeks were red. I found myself looking around, making sure no one was looking. It was still early on a Saturday morning—hopefully most people were still asleep.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“It’s, uh, yeah—it’s a bit…” I didn’t know what I was trying to say. I could feel my cheeks becoming redder and redder. I bit my tongue and then gave up on saying anything at all. I held up my camera and I started snapping photos. She started posing—and she had a whole new set of poses ready, without hesitating. Maybe she’d done this before. Maybe this wasn’t her first modelling gig.
“That’s great,” I said. I could feel my pants tightening once she turned her back to me and she started posing over her shoulder. When she bent over slightly, I could almost see her entire tush. I could see her tight red panties and the slight bulge of her camel toe.
I switched my lens to change it up—switching to something wider. So I walked closer to her and started taking more shots. Now I could smell her perfume. At times I could feel the warmth radiating off of her body. She truly was a treat to photograph. I shot another three hundred photos of her in her sexy lingerie. “Do you have another outfit?” I asked. It was getting later into the morning, and soon people would be out on the streets, looking down the alley at my model, who looked a bit like a prostitute.
“I have one more, but…” Her cheeks became a shade of dark red.
“What is it?” I asked. My heart fluttered.
“It’s maybe too sexy for public. Do you still have that backdrop? Maybe we can shoot the last outfit at your place.”
My heart was pounding. Too sexy for public? How could her outfit get any sexier than what she was wearing now? My heart soared up into my throat, preventing me from speaking. So all I could do was smile and nod my head slowly, probably looking like a complete idiot. It was a minute later when I was able to say, “Okay, sounds good.” The sensible side of me was screaming in my ear, telling me to say ‘no’. If Kat’s school found out about this shoot, they would surely have something to say—I would never get another picture day gig—that’s for sure.
My heart was pounding out of control as we stepped out of the alleyway, onto the street. It must have looked like I’d just picked up a prostitute. I was terrified of walking into my building with her, with her short skirt only covering half of her perky ass. What if one of my neighbours saw me? What if my landlord saw me? My landlord already hated my guts—I didn’t need to give him another reason to want me out.
Thankfully the apartment lobby was clear, and the elevator was desolate. The building was still asleep, thanks to some miracle. I rushed Kat into my apartment and a wave of relief washed over me once the door was closed. “I just need a few minutes to set up the backdrop and a few lights. So take your time getting changed.”
“Okay,” she said with that cute smile.
I felt weird—terribly nervous and strangely excited. I had a beautiful young woman alone in my apartment, and I was about to take sexy photos of her—apparently sexier than the sexy photos I’d already taken.
I pulled out my backdrop and I got it all set up. Then I dragged out a few lights. Kat was in my bathroom the whole time, getting changed and getting her makeup touched up. Once I had the lights all set up, she was still in the bathroom. “I’m ready when you are,” I called out.
“Just a minute,” she said. So I waited a minute, and then I waited two minutes, and then I waited five minutes.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
There was a short silence, and then she said, “I’m just a little bit nervous,” she said.
“Don’t be nervous,” I said. “If you want, we can stop with what we’ve got—we have tons of great shots already.”
And then the bathroom door creaked open and she stepped out.
CHAPTER VIII
Kat was wearing very little—almost nothing at all. She had a band of fabric around her chest, covering her small tits (which now almost looked non-existent), and she had a thong covering her pussy. Otherwise, she was all smooth skin. I stared at her for a moment and then I looked away, worried I would make her feel uncomfortable. I cleared my throat. “And you are eighteen, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Um, would it be possible to see some ID?”
She laughed. “I don’t have it here,” she said. Though I didn’t believe her. She was hiding her ID from me, and probably for a good reason—probably because she wasn’t actually a legal age. Though technically, as long as her nipples and her slit was covered, there was nothing illegal about taking some photos. In fact, there was nothing illegal about it, even if she was exposed, because she told me she was eighteen—at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
I had her stand in front of the white sheet, and then I started snapping photos. She went straight to posing, but her cheeks were still red and her body was stiff. She was a confident young woman, but even she had a line. “So, uh, what are you planning on doing with these pictures?” I asked.
“They’re just for me—so I can remember how I looked when I’m older.”
“Right,” I said. I snapped a few more shots. I kept my distance, keeping a long lens on my camera so I wouldn’t have to get too close. I could still smell her sweet perfume from my distance, and I could still feel her comforting warmth.
“I really am eighteen,” she said. “I can’t show you my ID though.”
“Why not?” I asked. My heart just wouldn’t calm down.
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to say why,” she said, her cheeks turning redder. Her red cheeks worked for the photos. She looked even cuter when she was shy. I found myself looking through the photos while she had a sip of water, and I could feel my pants tightening. I was worried she would see the bulge of my erection, even though my undies were tight and my jeans were firm.
“We’re getting some great photos—we probably have more than enough,” I said.
“I want to get a few more,” she said. “Does your camera have a timer?”
“It does. Why?”
“Maybe you can be in the shots,” she said.
“Me?” I asked. I felt that familiar trembling in my legs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please,” she said.
So I went and grabbed my tripod and then I set my camera to snap a photo every five seconds. My head was spinning too fast for me to figure out what was happening—I had no idea why she wanted me in front of the camera, and I had no idea why I was going along with it. Yet there I was, standing stiff in front of the camera, right next to her. She turned me to face her and she looked into my eyes. She smiled, so I smiled. Then she sunk down slowly to her knees and began to fiddle with my belt.
“W—What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m paying you—fifty dollars isn’t enough for all this work.”
“I can’t let you do this,” I said.
“Sure you can.” She pulled down my jeans with a tug, revealing the bulge of my erection in my undies. Her eyes lit up and she let a little giggle slip.
“W—Why do you want me to shoot this? You don’t actually think I’m going to send you these photos, do you?”
“The photos are for you—part of your payment,” she said, looking up at me with a big smile.
I was too paralyzed to stop her from moving forward. She shimmied down my boxers, so I covered my cock with my hands. Then she pulled my hands away from my crotch and stared with glowing eyes at my throbbing erection. “It’s so big,” she said, curling her fingers around it. She gently pulled back and stared at my bulbous tip. Her fingers felt nice, and her grip was perfectly firm. I didn’t stop her. Now I couldn’t stop her. My body was surging with dopamine. I was excited, nervous, and a bit nauseous.
“That feels nice,” I said softly.
“It feels really nice,” she said, letting a little breath out. She watched my cock as she stroked it, and then she leaned forward, parting her lips and allowing my cock into her mouth. I heard my camera snap a shot. It had been snapping shots every five seconds, but I only noticed for the first time in that moment. I was still as stiff as a board, still trembling, trying not to fall to the ground in a nervous puddle of my own excitement. She sucked the tip of my cock while she stroked the length of my shaft. Her mouth was warm and wet. And I just found myself praying that she truly was eighteen.
She bobbed her head slowly at first, and every move was elegant. She twisted her hand while she stroked, making sure to cover every inch of my throbbing member. With her free hand she played with my ball sack, and she even teased my butthole with the tips of her fingers. I was worried she was going to penetrate my butt, but she was only teasing, only keeping me on edge—and I truly was on edge.
She looked up at me with her eyes. She looked so harmless and so gentle. Even with a cock in her mouth, she looked like an angel—like a precious creature that couldn’t possibly have a single dirty thought in her head. But looks can be deceiving. “I want you to hold me against a wall and fuck my face.”
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t deny her request. I turned the camera towards the nearest wall and then I brought Kat over to the point of focus. She stayed on her knees and rested the back of her head against the wall. Then I slipped my cock back into her mouth—and now I was in charge of commanding the flow of the act. I spread my legs with and I began to thrust, gently at first. I went a tiny bit deeper with each thrust, making sure I wasn’t gagging her. I hesitated briefly when I felt the back of her throat with the tip of my cock. But she didn’t gag, so I kept going. I pushed my cock right down that throat, and she only gagged a little, but she told me to keep going, so I did.
I had to plant my hands against the wall for stability while I fucked her face. She gargled and gagged but she had a smile on her face. Saliva ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her smooth torso. But she held her ground and continued to grin with excitement.
And then I felt the warm tingling. I was approaching my orgasm. I closed my eyes and bit down on my tongue. “I think I’m about to come. No, I’m definitely about to come,” I said. A groaned and squirmed and clenched. I thrust harder.
And then I pulled out and grabbed my cock firmly, milliseconds before it erupted. I coated her face with my white load. She closed her eyes a second before a blast coated her eyelid. She held her mouth open, but I only got a few shots through her lips. The rest streamed down her face and dripped down onto her body. But she was still smiling. She wiped her eyelid and opened her eyes. “That was fun,” she said.
I could still hear my camera snapping photos. The whole act was caught on camera, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that—though I was excited to see the pictures. “I’ll have all your photos done in a few days,” I said.
“Take your time. I’ll be back on Wednesday,” she said. “And if the photos are good, maybe we can shoot again next Saturday.” She winked and my heart skipped a beat. I forced a smile and nodded my head, and then I watched as she slipped into my bathroom to get changed back into her little black dress—the only outfit she had that was appropriate enough to wear out on the streets.
CHAPTER IX
It was that night, while I was looking at the photos, that I was struck by that sense of familiarity again, as if I knew Kat from somewhere. I found myself staring into her eyes as I looked at her photographs. I knew those eyes—but how did I know those eyes?
Then I found myself looking at the blowjob photos. There were lots—a couple hundred shots, one taken every five seconds. But it was one of the shots against the wall that caught my attention. Kat had one of her legs up and the pussy bulge between her legs was especially apparent. I zoomed in on the photo and stared at that bulge. It didn’t look quite right—it was too cylindrical to be a pussy.
Was it a cock? I felt a cold dread filling my gut. No—it couldn’t be. Kat was a woman, right? She looked and sounded like a woman… but maybe she wasn’t. I’d never seen a woman with a bulge like that before.
And that’s when I found myself looking through the picture day pictures, one student at a time. I looked into the eyes of all the twelfth graders, and after ten minutes of searching, I found her eyes—but they were on the eyes on a young man with his hair tied up into a bun on the back of his head. I pulled the picture up and compared it to the clear pictures I had of Kat’s face (if which I had many). And it wasn’t just the eyes—it was her lips and her nose and even her ears. Kat was the young man.
Now my heart was sizzling in my stomach acid. I wanted to throw up. I’d gotten a blowjob from a man? How was it possible?
Even as a man, he had a feminine look to him. He had big eyes and a small nose and soft features. But who was he? I referenced my little notebook and managed to find his name: Karl Stanley. I’d face-fucked a young man named Karl Stanley.
Now I really felt sick. I even found myself on my knees in my bathroom, thinking I was going to lose my stomach contents. I gagged a bit, but I didn’t throw up. I wasn’t happy. I felt betrayed. No wonder she didn’t want me to see her ID—because she didn’t want me to see the capital M next to the word ‘gender’.
I closed my computer down and I threw myself into my bed. I stuffed my face into my pillow and I tried to convince myself that what I’d done wasn’t so bad—so I’d gotten a blowjob from a male—so what? At least he looked and sounded like a female? At least his body was waxed smooth and his hair was long and soft. At least he didn’t have big muscles and rugged features, like some football player or a bodybuilder. At least Karl was feminine.
I didn’t get much done the next day. I wanted to make ads to post around on various job-posting boards, but I wasn’t able to focus. The image of Kat kept returning to my mind, and the image of Karl was never too slow to follow. I was already thinking of how I was going to dodge Kat when she showed up on Wednesday. Perhaps I could get away with pretending to not be home. I could fail to answer my buzzer when it rang, and I could hide my face for the next few weeks every time I left my apartment. I was even trying to think of ways to return he
r fifty dollars.
But I knew the best solution was to simply finish her photos and deliver them to her, and then refuse to do another photo shoot. So I figured I would pick the ten best photos from the lot, process them quickly, and be done with them. She never said she wanted prints, so I could just toss them onto a cheap thumb drive and there would be no more Kat Stevens or Karl Stanley in my life.
So that’s what I set out to do. My plan was to be quick, but my plan quickly fell apart as soon as I started looking at her photos. I started with the photos in the alley, which I had over five hundred of. I went through each, deleting the ones that weren’t in focus, and deleting the ones where she was blinking or yawning. But even with those deleted, I still had hundreds. So I started making my favourites, and then I went through my favourites and marked my absolute favourites. And I found myself staring at Kat in the photos, unable to convince myself that she wasn’t beautiful.
She truly was beautiful—even though I knew she was really a man. Her eyes were stunning in every photo, and her body was sexy. The shots of her backside when she was wearing the black skirt made my cock hard in my jeans, and then shots of her in the thong made pre-cum ooze out the tip of my dick. I couldn’t force myself to be repulsed to her—the damage was already done. I found myself closing my eyes and remembering the amazing blowjob she gave me. I remembered her face dripping with cum. And then I remembered that I had photos, so I pulled them up. I had one fantastically clear shot of her face coated with my warm load. She had the cutest smile in the photo, and her tongue was out, licking up the cum around her lips.
My heart was pounding as I shut the blinds of my apartment. And it was pounding the whole time I stroked my cock while staring at the photos. It wasn’t long before I came. I didn’t have a cloth or any tissues ready, so I just aimed my cock at my abdomen and I coated myself. I cleaned up quickly and got back to work, finishing the set of photos for Kat. Instead of ten, I ended up with sixty-five.
GIRLIFIED: 15 BOOKS MEGA BUNDLE Page 53