Many of us fantasize about what it would be like to be with another woman, but few of us ever dare to realize that fantasy. When Sara told me this sizzling tale she explained that sometimes events take a completely unexpected turn. All you need to make your own lesbian fantasy come true, she says, is the magic combination of the right place, the right time, and, of course, the right woman. Most girls who are into glamour model ing say they're aspiring catwalk models or they're really actresses. Not me. I'm proud of my body, and I love to show it off in front of the camera. Modeling is a great way to make a living, and I'm going to milk it for as long as it lasts. I've never been short of work, not since I did my first photo shoot. I'm curvier than your average fashion model, and that works for me. It means I get booked for the straightforward topless shots for men's magazines and also for arty shots, videos, and quirky advertisements whose sponsors want a little sex and personality injected into their product.
The images of me might be titillating, but the atmosphere when I'm naked in front of the camera is never uncomfortable or overtly sexy. After all, it's work, I'm a professional, and so are the photographers. Besides, most of the guys taking the shots are old enough to be my dad, and they're always protective rather than sleazy.
These days, I pretty much know all the guys who do the glamour stuff, so when I learned that I'd be working on a job with someone I hadn't met before, I was excited. Every new photographer brings out a different side of my personality. But I would never have guessed just what Kim would unleash in me.
The photo shoot was for a new magazine that featured sex articles and erotic stories for women. My job was to model underwear for the fashion spread. I thought it sounded kitsch and glamorous, and when I arrived at the studio, a huge white room in a converted warehouse, I was delighted to see a clothes rack hung with fabulous, vintage, burlesque-style underwear. The makeup artist, the stylist, and I squealed with delight over the classic feminine corsets, the 1940s stockings and sexy fishnets. There was even a beautiful bra and high-waisted panty set made from real parachute silk. I picked the ivory fabric up and held it to my cheek, imagining how light and luxurious it would feel against my body.
We were still rifling through the clothes and discussing which styles of hair and makeup to go for when the photographer arrived. A woman not much older than me who introduced herself as Kim, she was tall and androg ynous, with short, light brown hair in an elfin crop. She wore a baggy, masculine pinstripe suit, white Keds, and a tight, white vest. I thought she was one of the coolest-looking people I'd ever seen. Kim was friendly but businesslike and set about creating a mood right away.
"I've brought some music with me," she said, her tiny features composing themselves into a shy smile. "It'll transport you back in time-I think it'll really help the atmosphere, and we'll get some great pictures." She popped a CD into the stereo, and immediately the gentle strains of a 1940s waltz filled the white-walled room.
Kim busied herself re-creating an old-fashioned boudoir with vintage furniture, which she arranged in the middle of the studio. Meanwhile, the soft music helped me get into character during the transformation process of hair and makeup. We went for a retro look: pale, powdered skin, lots of kohl eyeliner, mascara, and matte red lips. My hair was set on huge rollers, and when it was uncurled, the stylist arranged it so that my dark locks tumbled over my shoulders in soft waves. The decades melted away, and I looked every inch the burlesque-era starlet.
Kim came up behind me and let her hands rest on my shoulders for a fraction of a second.
"Gorgeous," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from my collarbone. "You look like a soldier's sweet-heart. Exactly what I was going for."
She kept her hands on my bare neck while we discussed what she wanted. "Okay, this is about how sometimes it's the traditional, almost prissy underwear that makes you feel like the sexiest slut of all," she explained. "So what we're going to do is start with you in the white stuff, looking quite prim and virginal. And then, as we move on to the more racy underwear, we'll muss up your hair and makeup, have you look a bit more wanton and ravaged, so we basically get sexier and more explicit as the story goes on."
I love to do modeling jobs where I can indulge my theatrical side, so I nodded enthusiastically and told Kim I was looking forward to getting started.
My first costume was a full-length slip with a long, fitted petticoat, a slinky garment that made me yearn for a time when underwear was always subtle and feminine. I thought of the thong and push-up bra I usually wore and resolved to spend my fee from this shoot on something more classically ladylike. My picture was taken with me sitting at an old-fashioned dressing table, combing out my hair with a gorgeous antique silver paddle brush.
"That's great," said Kim. "Can you close your eyes and sort of touch the top of your breasts, trail your finger lightly over them? Think about what it would be like having a lover touch you somewhere intimate." I hardly needed to imagine it-my fingers were inches away from where Kim had rested her own hand moments before-but in case I needed extra guidance, she used gestures to show me what she wanted. She slipped out of her jacket, tilted her head back, and, trailing one hand over a graceful collarbone, let her fingers travel idly down to the gentle curve of her breast. In the thrall of this pantomime, she looked much softer and more girlish than she had when we first met. My subconscious startled me because I immediately began to wonder what it would be like if I were the one touching her, bringing out that softness in her. I'd never been with a woman before, although I'd fantasized about it. But here in this studio, in this fantasy scenario, it felt like anything was possible.
When I assumed the pose Kim wanted for the next set of pictures, it was Kim's hand I imagined touching my breast. As I let my imagination wander, I felt my nipples harden and poke through the pale pink silk of my slip.
"Is it too cold for you in here?" asked Kim, innocently.
I shook my head.
"No, actually I like that, a nipple hard-on," she said, training the lens so it focused on my tits. "It suggests an inner fantasy life beneath the cutesy, girl-next-door underwear." Little did she know that she was the subject of my fantasies!
When we'd finished that session, Kim downloaded the shots she'd taken so far on to her laptop, and we leaned over the computer to look at them. The pictures were gorgeous, a world away from the brash bikini shoots I did for men's mags. They looked like genuine vintage portraits.
"You have a beautiful body," said Kim approvingly as she scrolled through image after image of me. "Not many women these days have that curve there." She pointed to the sweeping S-shape of my waist on the screen, traced her finger along the lines of my hips, my thighs. I imagined that she was touching me, not my likeness, and the thought of her hands on my ass, my legs, triggered a gentle pulse between my legs.
My next costume was the underwear made from parachute silk. The panties were gossamer light against my skin, and the bra was soft, with no underwiring. I liked the way it gently cupped the contours of my body rather than molding my breasts into two separate globes. I reclined on a faux-fur rug, stretching my arms all the way up over my head, making sure I struck a different pose with every click of the camera's shutter. Kim kept shouting instructions.
"That's gorgeous, Sara," she said. "You're really losing yourself in the fantasy. Now, just hook your thumbs in the top of those panties and pull them down a little bit. Show a little bit of skin just above your pussy."
The word "pussy" made me blush. Perhaps wearing the delicate underwear from a gentler time was affecting my sensibilities, I told myself with a smile. On her lips, the word was a challenge, a come-on. Was I being ridiculous, letting my fantasy take me over? I didn't even know if Kim was a lesbian or not. Sure, she was kind of boyish, but that didn't mean anything, did it? And even if she was, I wasn't, so why was I thinking about touching her whenever I closed my eyes, yearning to have her climb on this rug and lie next to me?
Kim had me pose on all fours, pouting at the camera, ass sticking up in the air. The strong photographer's lights shone on my legs and thighs, creating the same pleasant fuzzy, horny sensation you get from lying in the sun.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful," said Kim. The more she complimented me, the more sensual I felt. I slithered around on that rug and then knelt with my legs apart, raising my arms above my head.
"Beautiful," said Kim again and then, "I'm going to set the camera to automatic so that it just fires off loads of shots, so we get you doing some spontaneous movements. Just do more of what you were doing. Show off that stunning figure of yours." Kim crouched next to the camera while it clicked away.
She really was very beautiful, with feline features that let her carry off that boyish crop. And her body was sexy, too. Her arms were slim but sinewy and muscular. Next to those worked-out arms, the soft swell of her breasts was even more arousing. She wore no bra under her tank top. I wanted to make those nipples hard. I wanted to make her pussy wet.
I decided to tease her a little, see if I could have the same effect on her that she had had on me. I sunk down on my thighs, spreading myself even wider and sticking out my tits so that the milky white skin between my legs was exposed. I closed my eyes, put a finger between my lips, and bit down on it.
When I looked back at Kim, her tits were definitely getting hard, her lips looked bigger and redder, and her eyes were shining. I wondered what she was feeling. What was happening between her legs? Was it anything like the urgent, pulsing beat that throbbed between mine?
After we'd finished that set of pictures, I returned to the changing room and slipped off my silken ivory panties. I pressed them to my nose and breathed in my own scent, the fresh, musky aroma a clear sign of my arousal. Suddenly I wanted to smell that same smell on Kim, to put my face in her panties and between her legs. I'd never felt the urge to do that with another woman before; now it was all I wanted to do.
My final costume was a much sexier baby-blue bustier and-garter set with a billowing pair of French panties. There was nothing innocent about this ensemble. My outfit was topped off by Frederick's of Hollywood stockings, complete with a black seam up the back, and pale blue, round-toed shoes with chunky heels. I looked like Betty Grable. When I sauntered back across the studio, Kim let out a low whistle.
"Oh, wow! This is it! This is the cover shot," she said, excitedly, dimming the lights. I reclined on the old-fashioned brass bed, enjoying the cool satin of the bedclothes against my skin. I squeezed my thighs together so that the folds of the panties bunched up and caressed my clitoris.
"Okay, we're ready," said Kim, and I was off. I posed and preened, swaying in time to the music and coming alive under Kim's murmurs of encouragement. As the record ended, Kim, too, fell silent, lost in the performance I was putting on just for her. There were no sounds in the studio other than the click of the camera, the swish of satin on my skin as I moved on the bed, and the inhale and exhale of two women breathing hard.
"Let's try a couple without the shoes and stockings now," suggested Kim.
I'd done some burlesque stripping before and knew exactly how to undress a leg in the sexiest and most tantalizing way. I elegantly stuck my foot out in front of me and then kicked my shoe across the room, letting the remaining shoe dangle off my toe so that it flattered my slender ankles before letting it fall to the floor. Next, I stood up and, looking right at the lens, removed first one, then another garter clip, touching myself as I did so. I bent down so that Kim could see down my bra and then ever so slowly that it tickled every inch of the way, I rolled one stocking down my leg before elegantly pulling it off and hanging it over the edge of the bed, where it still retained the shape of my leg. Then I turned my back to the camera so it-and Kim-could see my ass as I bent down and rolled the other stocking, making sure my hands smoothed over my legs and caressed them as I moved along. I parted my legs and, winking at the lens, made a peekaboo face at the camera through my thighs.
"Great shot," said Kim, her voice coming out in a low rasp that made me shiver from head to toe. I lay down on the bed, pointed my feet in the air, rolled over so I was facedown, and rubbed myself against the pillow, feeling its soft bulk against my swollen, excited clit. I sat up facing the camera and ran my fingers over my nipples. Then I licked one finger and slid it under my bra, flicking my nipple and sighing with pleasure. Behind the camera, I saw Kim's hand instinctively go to her own breast. Her strong, muscular hand on that soft breast was such a turn-on that I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying out, begging her to come and touch me. If I couldn't bring myself to say it with words, I would issue an invitation with my body that she couldn't refuse.
Encouraged by the expression on Kim's face and her short, shallow breathing, I removed my bra, exposing my round, firm tits, which now were warm under the studio lights. When she saw my breasts for the first time, Kim let out a whimper. I hung the bra over the edge of the bed with the stockings. Then, lying on my back, I put my feet in the air and pulled the French panties over my legs so that I was naked but for the pale blue, lacy garter belt. The camera was still clicking but at less frequent intervals now. Kim was so captivated by the scene in front of her that she had to struggle to concentrate on the photography.
Emboldened by sheer desire, mine and hers, I climbed down from the bed and slowly undid my garter belt, letting it fall to the floor. As if in a trance, I walked over to the middle of the studio and beckoned Kim over. As she approached me, she looked so deliciously young and vulnerable. As soon as she was near enough to touch, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her toward me. She was trembling as I gently pressed my lips to hers.
Kim was almost exactly my height and not far off my weight. I was used to feeling dwarfed by men who were bigger, hairier, more rough-skinned than me. Standing face-to-face with another woman, my physical equal, was an incredibly erotic sensation. She soon relaxed in my arms and kissed me back with a depth and passion that were more than a match for mine. I slid my hands under her tank top, and she lifted her arms above her head so that I could pull the garment off her in one swift movement. I took a few seconds to enjoy the sight of her breasts, soft, round, and high, delicious feminine swellings on a lithe, toned body.
We kissed again, the hard buds of her nipples rubbing deliciously against mine, our tits pressing together as our bodies moved in closer and tighter. I helped Kim to wriggle out of her clothes, tugging at her pants and frantically pulling at her panties until we were both naked, my waxed, smooth pussy enjoying the friction as I rubbed it against her neatly trimmed bush, our juices mingling. Her hands trailed lightly up and down my spine, making me shiver with desire.
Kim took charge now, leading me by the hand to the bed. We collapsed on the rumpled bedclothes, a tangle of sheets, tits, arms, and legs, every inch of my skin on fire. She lay on top of me, the light weight of her body pinning me down. Hoping that she would follow my lead, I slid my hand between her legs, which she spread eagerly. For the first time in my life I was touching another woman's pussy, and it felt soft, wet, warm, and welcoming. With my thumb gently flicking Kim's clitoris, I used my fingers to trace the outline of her pussy lips before sliding a couple of fingers inside her tight, wet hole. She whimpered with pleasure, biting down on my shoulder and shuddering as her sex quivered around my fingers. I pulled my hand away, using her natural juices to moisten her clitoris so that I could rub it harder, faster. To my delight, the little bud grew even more swollen under my touch. The harder I rubbed her clit, the more I wanted her to touch mine.
As if reading my mind, Kim pulled away and laid on her back, her pussy making a delicate kissing noise as she slithered away from my fingers. I put my hand to my nose and breathed in her scent, far more arousing and enticing than any manufactured perfume could ever be. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. When I opened them, Kim lay at my knees, strong wiry arms forcing my thighs apart. I felt my cunt pound in anticipation, so fast and hard that I was sure she could see it.
Kim licked every inch of my thighs, my slit, my pudenda. I'd had the whole area waxed a couple of days ago so the hairless mound was as sensitive to her touch as it could possibly be. I felt her lips, her tongue, the odd teasing tickle of her teeth as she devoured me.
I spread my legs, my proud, throbbing little clit protruding, begging for her attention. Kim went to work, making a little pointed rosebud of her tongue, which darted all over my clit. Never breaking contact between my pussy and her mouth, she turned her entire body around, swinging her leg over my shoulder so that her knees were on either side of my chest and her ass hovered a few inches over my breasts. Eagerly I licked my fingers and eased my hand through her parted thighs. I had easy access to her whole vulva, and I rubbed enthusiastically at her flesh, flicking her clit and fingering her slit. She bucked and writhed with pleasure as we both stepped up the pace, me jabbing at her with an excited hand, and she flicking her tongue all over my blissful pussy.
My body became a white ball of heat just waiting to explode as Kim's tongue teased and pleased me. She came first. Her body suddenly became motionless, and then, after a brief spasm, a warm trickle of her juices ran down the inside of my wrist. As she climaxed, she sucked hard on the tip of my clitoris, producing the most intense, exquisite tension I have ever known. When I let go and surrendered to my orgasm, my body went into meltdown.
Both spent by our climaxes, we drifted off to sleep on the bed. When I awoke, Kim was nuzzling at my breast with her perfect gamine pout.
"Ready for round two?" she said mischievously. I nodded, ready for the flick of her tongue, eager this time to taste as well as smell her.
"There's just one thing," she said. "The camera loves you. So it would be a terrible shame to waste this opportunity."
She leaped up, dashed across to the camera, and set it on auto. The random shutter clicks began as we reached for each other. I parted Kim's legs, stared at that beautiful pink pussy, and got ready to give the performance of a lifetime.