[interesting]

Sometimes I hate myself.

It doesn't usually last long though. I'm a pretty laid back person and my self-destruction rarely leads to more than just a kindly reminder that I should be more careful with what I do. Not a few days ago, I had an intimate encounter with Sarah and Jim, when I caught them about to have sex on Sarah's bed in the middle of the afternoon. The day turned out all right, and I ended up getting a lot more than I had initially hoped for. I don't think Sarah's too mad at me - I don't think she could stay mad very long at any rate. And Jim certainly seemed to enjoy the show I was giving them. He was staring at my crotch the whole time he was mounting Sarah from behind. I came twice that day, one under his rough touch, and the other while they were having sex, as I played with myself using my favorite toy.

In this instance, I do feel a part of responsibility. Sarah and Jim have been going out for four weeks now. Their relationship is as steady as any I have ever seen Sarah get into. They have a lot of sex, oh, they try to keep it discreet but I can hear them. Sometimes, I listen to them from the other room; once, I even gently opened the door and watched them do it, while playing with myself a little, not enough to draw attention. I love Jim's dick. It's not too long, just large enough for my tastes. I wonder sometimes how it would feel to have inside me. That's not something I think either of them would agree anytime soon, but I always keep all my options open.

Jim has not slept once at our place since we played the game. I think it intimidated him. Maybe it went too fast for his tastes. Maybe he just needs time to digest it. Sarah says he's got a lot of work at school too.

We never got around to the last part of the dare. After he and Sarah had sex, they went into the bathroom while I rested on my bed. When they came back, they got dressed and headed out. With all the excitement, we had all forgotten about the picture taking. It will come another time, hopefully.

I myself have been extremely busy this week. I've had two other contracts, one with my regular photographer, the other with an out-of-towner friend of his. Whenever I don't have contracts, I work at the homeless shelter. When I do, well, money has to take priority. The first shoot went well. I posed naked on a lounge chair in the middle of an antiquated living room. Sometimes, I can't believe people pay to see me naked. I'd do it for free - but don't tell anyone that. I just love showing myself off. I mean, I'm beautiful by many standards, and all my friends say I'm highly erotic. Before she started her fascination with Jim, Sarah could not keep her hands off me, even if we were no longer an item. I'm glad she's happy with Jim, but sometimes I feel a greater distance between me and her. We used to massage each other on an almost daily basis. I'd lie naked on the bed, she'd sit on top of me and massage my front and back and I'd return the favor. Sometimes, it led to something more; most often, it was just a nice attention. She hasn't given me any massage in over a month. I think I miss her skin the most.

I knew this would happen. I warned myself as we were doing our hunt. Now, my fears have come to pass.

I get to my second photoshoot of the week with these thoughts rattling about my head. Peter is there to greet me. We hug and kiss on the cheeks, then he presents me to Olaf, his friend from Europe. I feel Olaf's stare undressing me and I'm somewhat taken aback. He'll get his chance eventually, since I'm posing nude for him, so what's his rush?

"Truly exquisite, he says.
"Thank you."

We enter the house. I take Peter aside.

"He's... special, isn't he?
"Oh yes! Very demanding. He'll pay you three times the normal amount if you impress him."

More money is always good, but I'm curious as to what Peter means by 'impressing' him. Guess I'll find out.

We move about Peter's house and head into the den. When I get there, I notice that Olaf has already set up his equipment and scenery. The stairs leading to the upper story are covered with a furry rug, the sofas have been moved around so they're nearer to the fire place and the blinds have been closed in certain areas and opened in another to use the ambient lighting to its best effect. I notice that Olaf has set up a video camera. I look at Peter but he says nothing. Instead, Olaf takes my hand and drags me to the sofa, where he sits behind.

"Ah... Sasha... dear Sasha."

His accent is funny and almost makes me giggle.

"You are truly a flower in the desert... the brightest petal..."

Is he trying to charm me?

"So, I ask, what's going on? How do we proceed?
"Very good, very good, professional, I like. Good, yes. Now, important thing is, sultry, sexy, erotic."

The emphasis on the 'r' in erotic makes me smile.

"You are lovely young lady, very erotic, very sexy, and I want to feel the sexy."

He feels like a character out of Saturday Night Live. I look to Peter. I don't want him to go. This Olaf person is actually sort of creeping me out.

"What about the camera?
"Ah, yes, camera. That is good. That is for the extra money, if you want. We do both photo and video. I do the video, Peter do the photo. If you want? Pays more.
"Sure, why not? Cash up front?
"Of course, lovely Sasha.
"By the way, my real name is...
"No... no... your name is Sasha and that is all for the now."

I don't insist.

"What do I do now?
"Go change. There's a robe, bathroom. Peter show you. And touch yourself.
"Excuse me?
"Touch yourself. Make your body horny, make your skin glisten."

As I get up to go change, Peter follows me. We get a chance to talk.

"Ah! He's that type.
"Yeah... but he does good work, and pays very well."

I've known Peter for about a year now. I answered an ad he had put in the paper. He was seeking models. I was seventeen when I met him. I waited until I was eighteen before posing nude; before that, I did lingerie and swimsuits. I wouldn't have minded but Peter, the consumate professional, was adamant that everything be legal. He'd heard too many stories of underage girls suing their photographers. I respect his integrity. He's a decent man who happens to like shooting pictures of naked girls. I can understand that!

"We're talking triple if I do the video?
"Yeah... maybe more if you agree to do more.
"Peter?
"Don't worry. Nothing involving anyone else."

I get to the bathroom and Peter returns to Olaf.

The bathroom is actually a changing room. Peter finds it more convenient that way. I strip down and sit on the bowl. I don't usually wear underwear or a bra when I have shoots, since I have to take them off anyway. Peter provides all the clothing I need. I go about my business, then look about at the equipment Olaf has provided me. A necklace that falls directly between my breasts. Bracelets of metal for wrists and ankles. I put everything on. A chain belt.

I stare at myself in the mirror and start applying some makeup. It takes me several minutes to get the sultry look I usually seek. I know they'll be photoshopping my pictures to remove any blemishes and imperfections. That makes me sad, somewhat. I like my imperfections. I think they are unique. Apparently, the pictures will sell better if I look like I come from a paradise world.

Once I'm fully in costume, I spread my legs, lifting one on the counter, and I start rubbing my clit and pussy lips. It's not for actual stimulation, even though it's enjoyable. It's for visual effect. When you rub it, it stands out more. Olaf is probably going to be doing a lot of close-ups. I even lube it up a bit, so it glistens.

Once I'm satisfied with the redness, I retrieve the bathrobe, put it on and return to the living room.

When I get there, I'm a little taken aback by the fact that Olaf has taken off his shirt and is therefore topless. He's not that good-looking, in his forties, with random hair protruding from his skin. I'm supposed to get turned on by that? If he thinks he's getting anywhere near me without a camera in-between he's sorely mistaken. That's one problem you can face when you do this kind of work. Just because you get naked, some photographers assume you're easy. I personally have never had this problem with Peter, and am not hoping to have it with this new guy.

"Okay, Sasha. Great body. Can I see pussy?"

I open the bathrobe, spread a little so he gets to see the result. He seems satisfied and returns to his camera. I see a bulge in his pants. This is not going to be my finest hour. I'm doing this for the extra money.

"Okay Sasha, sit on sofa, legs crossed now."

I sit down. At first, camera in hand, Olaf directs my every move. Lift head, tilt shoulders back, raise arm, raise leg, on all fours, kiss the camera, hand on breast, expose left breast, flick nipple, expose right breast, look at pussy, touch pussy, shy away, back to me, lift robe, close up, open and reveal it. We stop after roughly ten minutes. He must have taken fifty close-ups of my pussy. At least I know what type of crowd he plays to.

"Perfect girl, perfect. Okay, lose bathrobe now, go to stairs."

I strip and follow his instructions. He hands the camera to Peter and goes to the video camera.

"Okay, Sasha, make love to camera..."

This time, he's going to let me move. I think I prefer it this way. It feels more intuitive. I start prancing about the stairs, using my legs to their best advantage. Every time my movements cover my pussy, he asks me to move my legs so it's revealed again. I let the cameras get in close. I'm mindful for his dirty hands, but for now at least, he's the consumate professional. We shoot for another ten minutes, then he applauds.

"Wonderful Sasha, so erotic and sexy, makes me want to touch myself."

That'S not an image I wanted to hear. Peter is usually silent during the shoots. He knows comments like that can break the mood. Olaf does not have his sensibilities.

The guest photographer pulls out a crystal dildo from his bag. I take a deep breath. I've never actually done porn. I've done a lot of faking stimulation on camera, with girls. I've never actually played with myself in front of the camera. But the pay is very good. I feel slutty, even by my standards. If we only did photos, I could slide it in, they take the picture and I pull it out. If we do video, it's harder to fake.

I hesitate for a moment when he hands me the instrument but then I take it. I wipe it off with the bathrobe. Peter has the decency to bring some lubricant, and I thank him for it. Olaf motions me to the side of the open window. I'm going to be looking outside as I do this, I think. Olaf picks up the video camera as Peter retrieves the other one. I take another deep breath.

I start teasing myself in front of the camera, sliding the lubricated crystal surface against my lips, taking my time to make myself wet again. I slowly glide it into my pussy, and start moving it up and down. The sensation is not without its benefits, provided I keep my mind off the photographer. My mind wanders as the toy stimulates my senses. I imagine things... I imagine Peter's dick, even if our professional relationship would never allow it... I imagine Thomas' hard shaft, I've sucked it so many times I deserve to have it fill me... I imagine Barry's member, entering me as Bonnie masturbates from a distance... I imagine Jim, riding me, while Sarah looks on, distraught, trapped in a cage, unable to escape and prevent it from happening... I'm cupping my breasts and losing myself in the moment. Only Olaf's voice prevents me from cumming.

"Great girl, great wonderful."

His shrill voice cuts off my stimulation and I shudder at the thoughts I was just having. For a moment, I leave the device in me, waiting for Olaf's next move.

"Continue on stairs."

I move to the stairs, without pulling it out. I get on all fours, exposing my ass and pussy to them, and I start pounding again. The image of Jim taking me from behind is overwhelming and I'm swamped with desire for his dick... I imagine Sarah's pussy, just in reach of my tongue, and I start eating out of thin air.

"Put in the ass."

This is going way too far too fast, but I don't care. The lubricant and my own personal wetness allow me to slide the crystal dildo into my ass, gently at first. I'm not entirely comfortable with the feeling, though it's not without its niceties. With the other hand, I play with my pussy. My orgasm explodes and I squirt into the camera.

I collapse on the stairs, bewildered at what I have just done. I pull the dildo out.

"Put in mouth, now."

No. Given that it's just been in my ass, no. I just lie there. I have to draw a line somewhere, or else he'll have me fucking him too.

Peter notices my reaction and takes Olaf aside. They talk for a few minutes, then Olaf leaves the room, visibly frustrated. I have managed to regain my composure.

"He's upset?
"Yeah... he's gone in the other room to wank off.
"Is he for real?
"Yes he is."

I stare at Peter. I want to kiss him. I want to suck him off. I want to feel his dick inside me.

"Jennifer..."

His scolding tone cools down my fever. Our arrangement is very clear. No sex. Otherwise, there might be some legal confusion.

"Who's Jim?
"Did I say his name out loud?
"Yes..."

I'm appalled. I actually said Jim's name during my fantasy? The trauma hits me like a brick.

"Who's Jim?
"He's... some guy I know.
"Well, you know what it means when you say someone's name during an orgasm."

I do know what it means. What it's supposed to mean. But it can't mean what I think it means. I am in so much trouble now if it means what it's supposed to mean.