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A message from Jayne.
This is quite a long story as there is lots to tell. Maybe I should have written it in two or three parts but I felt continuity is more important. Pleas help me by letting me know if I was correct.
Enjoy my experience and share my quandary.
Jayne.
I’d had dinner, undressed and slipped into a mid-thigh length thin tee shirt and settled down for the evening in front of the TV hoping to find something I hadn’t watched on Netflix. It was around eight and I was, as I had been for the past couple of hours, buzzing. I was tingling and almost shaking with I wasn’t quite sure what? Well, I was sure, I just wouldn’t admit it. But the irritation in the lower part of my stomach, the heaviness I was increasingly feeling in my breasts, the slight pulsating of my nipples and the waves of heat running through my entire body told me exactly what it was. It was pure and simple sexual arousal. I was turning myself on by thinking about the afternoon. Thinking about what had happened and what I had done for the first time in my life. Thinking about the erotically beautiful young woman I had photographed. Thinking about her body, her breasts, her legs her slender thighs and her delicious bottom. Thinking about seeing her holding those breasts, caressing them, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. And then amazingly watching her hands slide down her body to between her opened legs and onto her most womanly place, her cunt.
*
I had been quite amazed at the response I had received from my online ad for my boudoir photography service. Amazed and rather pissed off, because it so outstripped any responses I had ever got for my dead-straight photographic services mainly for the ad industry. But then, that was probably even more cut-throatingly competitive than taking shots and videos of women wanting to please and surprise their partners.
My burgeoning dead-straight photographic business had hit the rocks during Covid. I had lost my largest client and none of the other smaller ones were spending anything on outside suppliers. Their clients were cutting back, so they had to as well, and the little guys and gals like me took the brunt of it. But being truthful it wasn’t just Covid. It was two other mega things and several littler ones that had put me almost up shit creek without a paddle. I won’t dwell on the smaller issues but the more influential ones were: 1. I am a lousy businesswoman and had expanded too fast and too much just before Covid hit, and 2. The competition in being a photographer to the ad industry was mind-blowingly competitive and I wasn’t really cut out or equipped for that. I had tried all ways including using my body and womanly wiles to get more business but clearly my fifty-year-old wiles no longer had the attraction to the ever-younger art directors it once had! Although my D cup boobs still had their followers and fans!
So, I was near to going bust. Recently I had tried everything. Mailing everyone in advertising I had met over the years, calling on all my old contacts and attending every conference I could, but all to no avail. I had even tried the old fall back for photographers of weddings and functions. And of course, all that was costing a fortune which, along with the cost of running the studio and home, the leases on all the expensive equipment and my need to take a wage was killing me financially.
I am not quite sure where I first learned about boudoir photography but when you are in a profession or trade you tend to hear about the trends and various aspects of it. Hence, I had known about it, but as I had not been involved in glamour photography, which is basically taking raunchy shots of young, beautiful and sexy girls, I had no experience of the ‘shadier’ side of the photography business. As I wracked my brains trying to work out what to do to save my business and make some money, boudoir photography came to mind. I couldn’t quite bring myself to ‘stoop so low’ as to taking shots of models undressing, nude and touching themselves but offering a real service that ‘normal’ women wanted had an appeal.
I had been divorced and alone for a few years when I had started this new photography career. Using most of the settlement from the divorce to buy a house and converting the downstairs into a fully equipped studio and refurbishing the upstairs for my living quarters, I had a great time until Covid and then it all went tits up. I fought back, though, and that’s when I got into boudoir photography.
In the first few weeks after launching my new service and running the ads, which I did as the lockdowns finished, I had handled a few sessions with fairly ordinary and straightforward, quite plain women who just wanted me to shoot them in lingerie and naked as gifts for their partners. They went well and we were all pleased with the results. But it was about the tenth session, a month or so after the launch of my new service that a lovely young woman in her early thirties had quite seriously asked, “Is it ok if I masturbate Jay?”
*
Charlotte was a young beauty. In her mid-twenties she had an older, rich boyfriend Cevizli Escort whom she wanted to please, hence the session. She brought some lovely lingerie and other outfits with her, and we had spent an hour or so photographing her in those.
“Do you want to do some nudes?” I asked her.
“God yes, he’ll go gah gah over them.”
Standing just in front of me she removed the panties and a waspie that she’d been posing in and asked rather provocatively, “How do you want me?”
We spent some time with her standing and sitting before I suggested she lie down on the floor. Standing and kneeling over her I got some great shots of her nice boobs noting that her nipples were very prominent and hard, so I focused on those for a while. I was surprised when, without any prompting from me, she took hold of her left nipple with the fingers on her right hand and pinched it. That seemed to be an involuntarily gesture but I could tell from having done it to myself numerous times recently that it was to relieve the pressure. It was then that she asked if it would be ok if she masturbated.
That image of her fingering herself and slowly taking her mind and body to an orgasm had been in the front of my mind as I finished up some work after Charlotte had left and I had moved into my off-duty mode by going upstairs to my home. Although now I was not working, I couldn’t stop my mind replaying the vision as I settled down to watch TV. The images of her writhing body and contorted face with tightly closed eyes and open mouth just wouldn’t go away and suddenly I realised I didn’t want them to, as I was joining her in the brilliant state of high arousal. That was a state I hadn’t enjoyed recently as frequently as I had during the good times of my marriage. I knew then that I would masturbate.
I’d been told by a fellow male pro photographer that when managing a boudoir session, it was always a good idea to have a video running. Not only could that then be used to check the sequence but, for the photographer, especially guys, it provides a clear record of the proceedings should the client have any complaints. I fired up my laptop and opened the video of Charlotte. It was filmed from a fixed camera so there were no close ups or panning around her body but everything she did as she got herself off for her partner was recorded and was now unfolding before my eyes. And I copied her every move.
I could hardly believe how intense my orgasm was when I watched the video of Charlotte masturbating. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I repeated the exercise the following evening. I played the video of her on my large screen TV and had my laptop with the stills of her next to me that I flicked through as I attended to my needs and boy did I cum hard! That made me realise there was an extra benefit to my new business than just the money!
As we got over Covid and life returned almost to normal despite the cost-of-living crisis, bookings picked up. Although most sessions were with females by themselves, I did a couple of sessions where they brought their partners. I was hoping, of course, that they might want to go all the way but no such luck. As it happens the two couples were not that attractive or stimulating so I didn’t use them to masturbate which still largely revolved around Charlotte. I tried using videos of other sessions, but none had gone as far as she had so they didn’t have the required effect.
*
I had been delivering my boudoir product for a few months and it was now paying the bills and helping me keep my head above water. It also fuelled some of my other needs. Whilst I don’t believe in using taglines to describe sexuality, I guess I am what I have learned is called pansexual. That is, I see beauty and attraction in people irrespective of their gender and, of course, that includes women. I have not really had that much sexual experience with other women so I wouldn’t go as far as claiming to be bisexual but I readily admit to preferring to ogle naked women to naked men and give me photos of a pair of nice boobs every time over a dickpic!
So, I was now getting off regularly with Charlotte’s video and also some of the other more attractive women I had photographed. That prompted me to suggest slightly more provocative poses to the attractive clients and encourage them to be more daring. Nothing too overt like asking them to spread their legs, though a few had done that of their own volition, but more just how they posed and positioned themselves.
To add more character and spark to the posing, I had moved a bed down from my spare bedroom into a corner of the studio. That enabled me to add another dimension to the posing: rumpled, turned down sheets can look so sexually decadent.
It would be wrong to claim that bookings were booming but I was now averaging over one a week which, together with the dregs of my ‘straight’ business, as I now thought of it, was sufficient to ‘keep the wolf from the door.’
Most of the bookings were made by phone as opposed to online, although that was an option. So, I wasn’t surprised when the phone I had bought Escort Cevizli just for the business rang and I answered it in the way I had thought added to the charm and mystique of what was on offer.
“Jayne’s boudoir,” I said, in what I hoped was a husky voice.
“I saw your ad and website,” a female voice told me.
I gave her more details including the various packages that now included options on hair styling and make up provided by a close friend, and she chose the gold package. That includes a few glasses of champagne during a ninety-minute session, although as I explained, the time limit is not strictly adhered to and if things are going well, I am quite happy to keep going. She chose the hair and make-up and agreed on the tripod video and up to 100 shots delivered online and 30 in hard form. We agreed an all-in cost of £600 with £100 of that going to my friend who does the hair and makeup.
As usual I asked for a £100 deposit and as most do, she wanted to pay by a credit card.
“What’s the name on the card please?” I asked.
She replied. “It’s Mary, Mary Wright,” adding, “that’s w_r_i_g_h_t” as she spelled it out.
If Charlotte and one or two others had been attractive, then Mary Wright was a total pansexual’s dream.
“Well to be honest Jayne, things have gone off the boil,” she said when we got chatting and I brought the conversation around to why she was doing the session and what she hoped to get from it. These were the standard topics that needed to be discussed before we started shooting. As Mary answered with an openness and honesty that was refreshing, I began to tingle and look forward eagerly to photographing her.
She was wearing a black leather skirt, just above the knee length, a woolly button top with a few buttons up the front, and fashionable black tights. She was quite a looker with an expressive, pretty face and lovely blondie/brownie hair, a long lock of which frequently fell over one eye. Slim, with on first glance no excess flesh at all, she was nicely curved with small boobs and pleasingly rounded hips and legs that my old, now dead, granny would have described as ‘going right up to her bum!’ Almost smiling as she stood with her right leg bent at the knee which pushed her left hip up and out a little, I realised that I could hardly wait for her to get her clothes off.
As usual, I was dressed to help the erotic mood of a boudoir shoot. I was wearing tight white denim jeans that didn’t have the traditional two back pockets on the rear. On top, I had a black, silky, long-sleeved Ralph Lauren shirt with two buttons undone. As had become my habit to help create the erotic mood and atmosphere, I wasn’t wearing a bra; well to be honest, I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Hence, there were no visible panty lines through the jeans and my D cup boobs moved around a lot inside the shirt.
“And what, may I ask Mary, are you hoping to achieve with the photos from this?”
After a short hesitation she replied. “Well that he pays me more attention, at least as much as his bloody car,” she told me, going on to explain that he had a vintage E-Type Jaguar that he spent loads of time messing around with in a garage some miles away from where they lived.
Laughing at the way she expressed herself I asked, “In which way would you like that attention to be expressed Mary?”
Not replying for a moment or two as presumably she thought about her answer she then said quietly, “In all ways Jayne but especially, you know er, um in bed.”
“You mean sexually?”
“Yes mostly.”
“So, there are problems with your sex life then?”
She gave an ironic laugh before almost snorting. “What bloody sex life?”
This wasn’t an unusual situation and many, probably the majority, of my clients were looking for the same thing.
“Well, we’d better get on with creating the stuff that will get you one, hadn’t we?” I said quite brightly, “Let’s start with you fully dressed, shall we?”
To achieve the best results, I had learned quickly that the client needs to be eased slowly into the more risqué, underwear, topless or nude shots. As I’d first worked that out, I had thought to myself, ‘a bit like a seduction or making love really.’ Even though a couple of girls had told me in the post-session feedback survey that it was the topless and nude shots they had most looked forward to posing for, and had enjoyed the most. I guess that was inevitable but nevertheless pleasing to me.
Mary was a natural and after she had posed facing the camera, side on, standing and sitting I suggested, “Maybe sitting cross legged with the skirt well up?”
As she took up that pose by yanking the hem upwards, I noticed that the tights were patterned and not pure black as I had first thought.
“How high would you like it?” she asked innocently.
“As high as you’re comfortable with. Imagine, Pete is it? is staring at you.”
With a little giggle Mary said, “Hmm then I’d probably pull it down around my knees.”
I laughed and replied, “What the hem or waist?”
Standing with the bed as a backdrop and smiling Cevizli Escort Bayan she replied, “The hem at present but maybe the photos from this will mean the waist,” as she slowly and rather seductively eased the skirt up her long, wonderfully shapely legs. Even though I was now getting pretty used to photographing scantily clad women, Mary’s lovely legs made me gulp and I took several shots as she eased her skirt upwards. I gulped even more and possibly loudly, as looking directly into the camera as if it were her lover or maybe Pete, she slid it up so far that I could see she was wearing holdup stockings and not tights as I’d thought earlier.
“Oh wow baby, hold it right like that,” I said quietly, “That’s amazing.”
The shot I was talking about was her holding the hem of her leather skirt just a few inches above where her blue panties snuggled up to her pussy so that her pubic mound, with a hint of a camel’s toe was on show. I took some close ups of that.
Although I had not really taken any porn shots as I had always considered myself to be a ‘respectable’ photographer I had of course used female models. Also, I had seen shots of glamour models partially undressed, naked, touching themselves and ‘beaver’ open legs shots. Right from the outset with Mary hitching her skirt up and ‘flashing her knickers’ I could tell she was a natural and that made me wonder if she had posed before. The other thing that put her apart from all my other boudoir customers was her facial expressions. Not for her the cheesy grins that removed practically all eroticism from a pose irrespective of how provocative that might be; no, she hardly smiled. Whilst sex can be fun and after all that’s what boudoir is all about, sex, it’s certainly no laughing matter. I am convinced that a woman exposing her breasts or showing her vagina with a broad grin on her face loses all, well almost all, of the potential eroticism the pose possesses.
And that’s where Mary stood apart from the others. Other than the occasional wry, slight grin that was more an invitation to lust over her than anything else, her demeanour was mostly quite serious and authoritative as if saying, ‘I am in charge.’
Also, she undressed slowly and carefully which made her disrobing resemble and hint at it being like a lover was undressing her in preparation for having sex. Several times as she undressed and went through various sets of skimpy underwear, I thought to myself, ‘Pete must be fucking mad in not seeing this in her.’ More to the point, though, as I ogled her nudity, her outfits, her expressions and her movements, I began to become aroused. By now, a slight tingling as I had photographed the more attractive of the boudoir customers had become the norm. That was merely the adrenaline flowing due to the shoot, but with Mary something else was happening. The tingling was becoming more extreme, a fullness and heaviness was building up in my breasts, and as she removed her bra and I saw her nipples, mine started pounding like crazy.
I couldn’t help being impressed by Mary’s breasts. Although by no means large, probably a B cup, they were beautifully pert and wonderfully shaped with nice sized, coral pink areola and nipples that, to my consternation I suddenly envisaged kissing and sucking. That made me wonder what was happening to my sexuality?
I had never considered myself to be fully bisexual, whatever that might be, as the furthest I had gone was with a few women over perhaps twenty years apart. That included some messing around at uni in the nineties, and then years later, an incident at a party when a woman ten years or so my junior came on strongly to me. Later, as the wine had flowed, we found ourselves in a small bedroom and she locked the door before kissing me and shoving her tongue into my mouth. Unfortunately, or otherwise we got disturbed, and the incident was restricted to that. On another occasion I had, rather unwisely on reflection, been doing some dirty dancing with a woman roughly my own age at the time, mid to late- thirties, at a night club in Ibiza. She smoked, so after a couple of dances we went outside for a cigarette and kissed for some time with the smell almost choking me. But I put that concern to one side as her hands wandered. Snuggling into a secluded part of the car park we sat on a bench and carried on kissing that inevitably gradually got more adventurous and included her easing my tits out of my bra and sucking my nipples, then both of us rubbing the other to fairly satisfactory outdoor orgasms, my first ever. In between these there had been a few threesomes arranged by my husband, one of which had led to me ‘seeing’ the other woman – just the two of us.
Mary was different to the others with whom I’d had boudoir shoots. More assured when posing, a natural in the positions she took up, she matched her facial expressions to her bodily movements and simply exuded sex appeal. But it was more than that to me, for what I felt and saw, or hoped I did, was availability. But for what? For fuck’s sake I wasn’t a dyke, was I? Was I really looking at my client and wondering if she were available? It was more than that of course as I was also speculating as to whether she was that way inclined, which was a nice way of thinking, ‘is she bi?’ I had no answers to any of the questions so I simply got stuck in to photographing the gorgeous, sexy little bitch.
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