by Bridy McAvoy
Chris smiled at her.
“Keep that position, sweetie. That’s actually a great angle for the shot, and gives a nice shadow play on your breasts.”
Kayla glanced down again, this time looking at the shadow that made her cleavage look so much bigger and had to agree the position she’d taken, entirely accidentally, had improved the shot the two photographers were getting.
“I suggest, Phil, you concentrate on her left breast and…Brad, you concentrate on her stomach. Try to keep back a bit so you don’t block the shots. Kayla, try to keep yourself propped up like that, but otherwise feel free to improvise.”
Kayla caught Chris grinning at her as Phil passed the tub of gunk to Brad who dipped his hand in it and dropped quite a quantity on her stomach, just below the belly button, allowing it to ooze from his fingers in a long stream. She watched as he handed the tub back and Phil repeated the process on her left breast, carefully ensuring he dribbled it on her nipple.
“That tickles.”
Her comment brought snorts of laughter all round and she continued to watch as the two men moved their hands closer to her, Brad’s hand being the first to touch her skin, landing in the pool of gunk he’d dribbled onto her stomach. She sucked in a big breath at the feel of him touching her, and gasped as he began to spread it around, using his fingers only an inch or so above her pubic hair. Phil, meanwhile, had captured the gunk that was running off her angled breast and pushed it back over her nipple, catching the stiffened flesh with the webbing between his finger and thumb before cupping her breast and massaging it with a circular motion.
Within seconds she knew she had a problem, one she was powerless to prevent. Their touch, the whole situation, had ignited a fire in her when she was lying on her stomach. Now, she was lying on her back with their hands either on, or close to, her most sensitive areas—the fire was burning several times hotter. Her breathing became labored and she tossed her head back, then forward again to watch as they expertly continued their manipulations of her body. Her legs parted, almost of their own volition, and she could see the two men with cameras leaning forward to capture the moment her slit came into view. The hands left her for a moment as Chris squirted water onto her breast and stomach, but it had warmed up a little under the hot sun and wasn’t the cold shock it had been before.
Kayla moaned as Phil dropped some more of the cleaner onto her other breast and brought his other hand into play, one massaging each naked and sensitive breast. Brad was now using two hands, too, pushing the gunk around on her belly and she sensed it had now spread into her landing strip, the hairs making it bubble. She struggled to crane her neck forward to watch and Brad, who must have been watching her, took his hands away for a moment so she could see the film of green bubbles matted into it.
She groaned and took more of her weight on her arms then, as Brad used a finger to tap on her inner thigh, in a signal to open her legs wider, did precisely that, spreading them at least a foot apart at the knee, knowing she was revealing everything to the cameras. Her head lolled back as she panted and her eyes closed. Fantasies of sexual frenzy flashed across her mind as she started to writhe under the hands touching her. She couldn’t hear the cameras any more, but the five—no, six hands massaging her breasts, her stomach, her mound, pushed her toward the brink of another orgasm. Another pair of hands joined them, caressing the inside of her thighs and she squealed in ecstasy as this only confirmed no-one was taking photos any more. When she felt a fifth pair of hands start to work on her shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts, she knew Chris had joined the party.
The orgasm hit powerfully, and she saw sparks behind her closed eyelids, thrashing her head moving from side to side as her body convulsed and went rigid under the five pairs of hands touching her. Her legs spread further apart, and she dropped back to lie supine with her arms at her sides as she felt the men close in on her. The orgasm didn’t seem to stop—subsiding, and then as one of them pulled on her nipples, she screamed as it intensified again.
Once more it began to subside, only for her to feel someone push their finger inside her open slit and set it off again. After about the fourth she lost count—just lay there luxuriating in the feeling and the sheer sensuality of the moment. She didn’t know how long it lasted and, at the back of her mind, she knew if they decided to fuck her she wouldn’t have resisted—would have wrapped her arms and legs around whoever was the first one to enter her, and greet all of them the same way. She burned with the shame of that knowledge, but couldn’t have stopped the gang-bang or train if it had started.
A few minutes—she thought it was a few minutes—later, she stretched, arched her back and realized nobody was touching her anymore. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up to look around. Chris was standing close by, a fabulously cheesy grin on his face as he waited for her to come round from the post-orgasmic bliss. The other four men weren’t close to her at all—all of them using the sprayer to clean the gunk off their hands and arms.
“Time to get clean, sweetie, then you can get dressed as we move to a more salubrious location.”
Kayla looked at the four guys horsing around with the sprayer and nodded dubiously, then looked down at her own sweat and gunk-covered body. What she really wanted was a decent, long, and distinctly solo, warm shower. The shower she was going to get was none of those things—not long, certainly not warm, and definitely not solo. Then she’d have to dry herself and dress herself for the next shoot in the back of a bouncing mini-bus on a public highway.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s all in a day’s work.” It was as if Chris had been reading her mind.
“How many?”
“How many what, Kayla?
“You know…How many…How many orgasms?”
She spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. We lost count after six or seven.”
“Bastard!”
“What—for losing count?”
“No, for pushing it too far!”
He shrugged again. “Don’t be silly. You enjoyed it, and I know the guys did.”
“But what about the photos? Which, after all, was the point?”
“We’d got enough. You have to let the guys let off a bit of steam from time to time.”
“You do—I’m not sure I do.”
“How else could I do that?” Chris laughed and helped her jump down from the platform back to the ground.
She looked down at herself. “Is all that horrible grease off?”
He leaned in and whispered. “I’ll let you into a little secret. It was theatrical grease paint—it would have come off with a wet wipe!”
“Bastard!”
Chapter 6
The improvised shower hadn’t been as bad as Kayla had expected—the water had been at least lukewarm with having stood in the sun so long. The guys had taken turns to operate the hand pump activated sprayer and had tried hard to keep the water from hitting her hair—which was easier when she’d used a couple of clips to keep it up. The gunk had washed off fairly easily too, sluicing off her body, and lathering up if she rubbed it—which she had to do in certain areas. She couldn’t check her back properly, but her front was clean of the grease. The fact Chris had organised some fake muck had surprised her—the fact she’d not been able to tell it was fake surprised her more.
The big problem she wrestled with was what had happened at the end of the shoot, which had become a non-shoot as the guys with the cameras put them down and had joined the other two in fondling and groping her. It wasn’t that they’d done it—it was the way her body had reacted and her mind had allowed herself to even think of betraying Ben by giving herself to them in a mass gangbang. Before they’d started massaging her back, she’d felt herself in control. Sure, she’d cum a couple of times, just as in previous shoots, but she’d been in control. She’d surrendered control and was disgusted with the way she’d enjoyed it.
Kayla was at a loss to explain it, too—she couldn’t remember ever fan
tasizing about multiple partners, even just two had been a mental no-go zone. Now, she’d allowed five men to take liberties with her body, and enjoyed the process. She rubbed herself dry with a towel as Chris backed the mini-bus up and turned round to drive back to the front of the unit—she shuddered at the memories. Three of the guys were watching her from the row of seats in front—Phil and Brad, having missed the chance to photograph her during the previous shoot, were snapping away. Andy was just watching and smiling at her. Steve was nowhere near her—somewhere toward the front of the bus and, from her angle, seemed to be getting changed himself.
“Do you mind?”
She paused and challenged the three men. They laughed and Andy replied.
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
Since Chris had told her this would happen, there wasn’t much point in protesting too much as Chris stepped down from the bus to lock the gate behind them once more. When he climbed back in he called out.
“The bag marked Black Suit, please, Kayla…With your red heels. We’ve got about fifteen minutes till we reach the next location.”
She frowned at her husband’s friend and turned to find the dress carrier he was talking about. The towel slipped down her leg exposing her hip and thigh and one of the guys wolf-whistled. She shot them a glare and carried on—there wasn’t any real point in false modesty now. She’d have preferred some privacy, that was true, but she now felt her best weapon was to ignore them.
Opening the bag with the correct label she found what she’d surmised from the label—a black business suit, although it had a fine silver pinstripe woven into the fabric. The jacket was a tailored one, designed to pinch in at the waist and flare out below that. The skirt was, as expected, a mini-skirt, one that was far too short for her to consider wearing to work for real, but made from the same fabric and, by the feel of it, expensive. There was a white lace camisole in the bag and, as she’d expected, a pair of black stockings. Other than the ubiquitous white garter belt there was nothing else—no bra, no panties.
She sighed and looked past the three ogling men to the interior mirror where she could see Chris glancing at her from time to time when he could spare his attention from the road. He shouted above the roar of the diesel engine.
“That’s all there is, sweetie. It’ll be a short shoot, this one!”
She once more stuck her tongue out at his reflection, seeing him chuckle as he once more turned his attention back to the road ahead and she tossed the towel aside and decided what to put on first. Kayla knew the guys would prefer her to remain naked as long as possible and therefore put the stockings on first, while she wanted to cover herself as quickly as possible. Realizing the impracticality of trying to put the garter belt on and attaching the garters to the stockings after putting the skirt on first, without flashing the men anyway, she compromised. The camisole went on first and she was surprised to find it a comfortable fit, rather than the super-tight t-shirt she’d had to wear for the previous shoot. It was, however, fairly revealing—looking down she could see the way the color of her nipples showed through the lace. Once again Chris and Teri were demonstrating their belief in clothing as an aid to exhibitionism rather than a hindrance.
This was followed by her drawing the smooth stockings up her legs—they were seamed ones, a darker line on sheer nylon which she had to tease straight, and she couldn’t complete that process sitting down. She snapped the garter belt around her waist first, then slipped her feet into her red heels before rising to her feet, bending half over due to the lack of height in the mini-bus and trying to wrestle the recalcitrant nylons into position.
“Need some help?”
She glared at Andy. “No, thanks. I can manage.”
“That’s fine, sweetie. We’re enjoying the view, aren’t we, guys?”
“Yep.”
“Sure.”
“Definitely. This way it takes longer, and nobody blocks the gorgeous view.”
Hearing an extra voice, Kayla turned her head to see Steve had joined the other three, now wearing a shirt and tie. It didn’t need a brain surgeon to work out her least favorite of the four photographers was going to be in the shoot with her rather than taking pictures. She sighed and returned to the task in hand. It took her a couple of minutes but she eventually had the seams straight and proceeded to fasten the suspenders in place. The skirt was easy to step into and only had a short zip at the side. The jacket buttoned across the front and, now she was decent, the guys lost interest and she was able to concentrate on putting some makeup on and brushing out the snarls in her hair.
A few minutes later Chris pulled the van to a stop. Kayla looked around and found, to her surprise, they were pretty much back where they’d started, but parked at the other end of the car park behind his studio. Chris had pulled up beside a four storey office block and, as he switched off the engine, he was searching through his keys. It was about three hundred yards from his studio—she could just make out his car sitting at the other end of the car park.
“Here?”
Chris looked up with a triumphant smile, holding one particular key. “Yep. Your clothing should give a clue.”
“Well, duh! But I thought we were going to natural light.”
“Bit difficult in a more urban setting—too many people around, you know. As it happens, my realtor friend came through twice. We have the entire top floor to ourselves, and there is one feature which makes it the perfect location for the shoot. We even have electricity and, probably for all of us, the best news is working toilets!”
The four students cheered, but she didn’t think they meant it; after all she’d spotted at least two of them using the corner of the yard back at the warehouse location. She, on the other hand hadn’t, and her cheer would have been for real.
“The bad news is we have to take all the stuff up the stairs. The lift is locked off for that floor since that level isn’t in use. So, I’ll go up and unlock. From the look of impending relief on her face, I’ll take Kayla with me so she can have first crack at the facilities and the rest of you can bring the camera bags and lights up.”
They all groaned at the idea of lugging all the equipment up four flights of stairs but chuckled as Kayla pushed past them and walked as fast as she could with Chris toward the door.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later Kayla was leaning against the windowsill of the corner office gazing at the skyline of this part of the city. It was a view she’d never seen before and, since they were halfway up the hill on this side of town, they could see for a long way. She felt someone come up behind her and caught Chris’s partial reflection in the window.
“Nice view.”
Chris chuckled. “You should see it from my point of view.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I have a beautiful woman in a short miniskirt leaning against the window frame looking out. That doesn’t half improve your view!”
“Flattery will get you precisely nowhere.”
He laughed. “Oh…I don’t know. I think it should be something more like, flattery will get me everywhere I want to go!”
She turned her head and looked at him. “Not hardly!”
“You see that flat roof over there?” He pointed past her and she turned back to see where he was pointing—another building, only three stories tall about two hundred yards away. It was quite a lot lower than their position, since it was further down the hill.
“Think what you’d look like framed in this window, to a telephoto lens on that roof. Think how you’d look as you took the jacket off, then the skirt, revealing that trim little pussy of yours, and finally the cami so you were totally exposed.”
She closed her eyes and shuddered. She could indeed see exactly that scene in her mind—watching as her fingers unbuttoning the jacket, unzipping the skirt and then her hands pulling the camisole off over her head. She moaned slightly, realizing he’d triggered her exhibitionist streak once more. Her eyes flew open as he chuckled once more.
His fingers had been tracing a lazy figure of eight pattern on her butt as he she’d been fantasizing.
“Got you going, didn’t I?”
“God! There could be hundreds of people watching, and filming that! You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I? Remember…don’t ever dare me—I never refuse a dare!”
She turned to face him and crossed her arms. “Not happening. I mean it…I quit right now if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.”
Chris backed off a couple of paces, once more raising his hands. “No, sweetie, I’m not doing that. That would be a sure fire way to get arrested. The shoot is in the interior of the building. There’s no need to panic, no need to get your knickers in a twist…Oops…You can’t, can you?—I forgot. Where we’re shooting is in front of the lift. The stairs door is locked so no-one can barge in. Everything’s cool. Okay?”
She glowered at him for a few seconds then sighed and nodded.
“Good girl. You really must learn not to react so badly when I tease you.”
She couldn’t think of another retort and didn’t want to revert to the childish habit of sticking her tongue out at him so walked off in front of him, back toward the core of the building, the reception area in front of the lift.
The four photographers waited for her there, sprawled across the two couches lining two of the three walls of the area. The third wall was fronted by a large desk, with an ordinary secretary’s chair in front of it and a large black leather chair behind it. She’d seen the furniture when they’d walked in but the room lighting had been supplemented by the lights the four men had carried upstairs, now all pointing at the desk. She eyed the surface of the desk with suspicion after her experience back at the warehouse but it looked clean and polished. Indeed the furniture looked almost new.