Gifted Grifter Ch. 07

I didn't know what to say—the whole photographer fantasy thing seemed to be a dead issue. "Um, just like you are now," I said, as her clothes were now back in place. She put propped the lounge chair into sitting position, put her arms on the armrests, coyly coiled her legs slightly sideways, and smiled for my camera. I took the picture and put the camera down.

"I thought you wanted to take pictures of me like this," she replied, putting her legs on the ground on either side of the chair and pulling away her bikini bottom to flash her crotch at me.

"I, um, you said..." I stammered.

She started to get up, put her arm in mine, and said "Come inside. Let's talk."

When we got inside the cottage, I said "Yes, I had fantasies of playing porn photographer, but you made it pretty clear that you didn't want to do that, so forget it—we won't do that."

"What I said was, I was afraid of what would happen if you had pictures of me," she corrected, "and you were absolutely right that you already have plenty of dirt on me if you wanted to use it. That's why it was so sweet of you to let me in on your secrets; you gave me leverage I could use against you when you didn't need to." She kissed my cheek tenderly. "You also gave me the money I need to get out of a bad situation. I want to do everything I possibly can so that you don't feel like I am taking advantage of you. If possible, I want you to feel like it was worth it." With what had gone on so far this weekend, I would have given her 30K if I'd had it.

"If you want to play photographer, I can play model. I used to do some modeling for catalogs when I was a teen in Oklahoma, and I knew some girls in Vegas that had done magazines and stuff. But it still seems that a lot of bad things can happen if someone out there has explicit nude photos of you. I've been thinking about this since yesterday, and suddenly, the solution came to me."

She went to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "Fair is fair, right? If you want to take nude photos of me, then I should get to take nude photos of you, too, right? I would feel a lot safer that those photos would never see the light of day if I could retaliate by exposing you in all your glory to the world, too. So what do you think? Do you want me to pose for you bad enough to pose for me too?"

She was absolutely right—it would be totally hypocritical to want to play photographer and not be willing to play model. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, I could see how she would feel apprehensive about allowing pictures of herself to be created. But I really did want to play photographer, and thanks to her impeccable logic if I wanted to do that, I had no choice but to play model too.

I hugged her and gave her a kiss—a kiss of appreciation, my appreciation of how her mind worked. Julie was my kind of girl. "Your logic is beyond reproach, Dr. Einstein," I said, "but I ask that you assist me in making it a picture worth taking first."

"What, you're too lazy to do this yourself?" she teased, untying the drawstring on my swim trunks and pulling them down until they fell to the floor. She giggled briefly; "You're not such a tough guy when you're tired, are you?" she said to my penis, which she had never looked at up-close when it wasn't already hard as nails. Then she kissed it a few times—commence erection—and then took it into her mouth. Once I felt the inside of her soft, warm mouth, the process wrapped up quickly; by the fourth time she slid my penis out, only to swallow it again, it was fully erect. She now had to labor to get all of its length down her throat at once.

"I think that's good enough," she commented, picking up her phone. She flipped it open, and set it to camera mode; I smiled and sucked in a little to help my penis stay pointing straight up. She snapped the picture, looked at it laughed, the showed it to me, saying "Now there's a hunk of man, huh?"

"How about now?" I clowned, pretending to flex like Charles Atlas.

"Excellent! Work it baby," she chuckled. I continued to play, and she took a few more snaps of me naked. She thought it was a riot. Then she her mood shifted from levity to demureness as she took her turn. "Now, you wanted some pictures too?" she purred in the lowest voice she could muster, pulling both of her breasts out of her bikini. My penis, which had started to point towards the floor, immediately sprang back up to 11:00 position.

I grabbed my camera and started snapping. She was posing coyly, licking her lips, closing her eyes, acting like she was in sexual ecstasy—and act I suppose had performed many times when she was hooking. She slowly untied the side-tie of her bikini bottoms, then let them slip to the floor. I snapped away the whole time. Then she crouched down low, moved towards me, and took my dick into her mouth while masturbating herself.

She pulled her mouth off of me momentarily to say, "You want a few like this?" she asked. I hadn't thought of it, but it sure made sense, she looked up at me and I took pictures of her with my dick completely disappearing between her lips. Then she stepped up the intensity of the blow job, and I just put the camera down; I was too rapt in feeling her suck my snake to snap pictures. Shortly thereafter I climaxed. As I had by now come to expect, she swallowed every drop of my cum, then licked my penis clean.

I helped her get to her feet and kissed her, as I had before tasting my own semen aftertaste in her mouth.

"Looks like I need a few minutes," I said, stating the obvious. "Wardrobe change?"

"What would you like?" she asked

"Can you bring back that office girl outfit from the other night?" She just smiled and winked at me, gave me a peck on the cheek, and headed for the bedroom. While she changed, I frantically surfed through the photos on the memory card to delete any I didn't need; I was gonna want all the space I could free up.

"Will this do, Mr. Demille?" Julie asked, coming back out. She wasn't wearing the same outfit as the other night; this was better. She had on the plain white blouse, unbuttoned past her bosom and showing a red bra underneath. She wore it with a black miniskirt, shorter than the one from her suit, and black strappy heels so hot that, had I not had the rest of her there, I might have gotten off on by themselves.

"Julie," I said quietly, "you never cease to amaze me." I put my hand on the back of her head and started to French kiss her, but she after returning my kiss briefly she slipped away and stood over by the sofa to start posing. She was gonna tease me mercilessly, and I was gonna love it.

She started with the obligatory sexy-but-fully-clothed pictures. Then she posed standing with her legs wide apart, lifting her skirt so I could see her red g-string. I told her to do one happy face first, then the same pose with a sexy look; I didn't need to tell her again, as she did so for every pose thereafter on her own. She then started to unbutton the shirt, pulling it aside to show her bra. I had her pose with her one leg slightly bent and her arms over her head, slightly sideways. My dick started growing to full length

Now, we could either go with no shirt next or no bra; I asked her if she could remove the bra without taking off the shirt. No sooner said than done, and those wonderful breasts were staring me in the face. I was still naked—it seemed fair that I should. She could see that my dick was now full length and starting to raise upwards; I saw a twinkle in her eye when she watched me involuntarily respond to her like that.

I had her lean back on the couch, legs crossed to show off the heels, shirt pulled away so that her breasts were completely bare. I had her lean back so that her hair fell straight back over the edge of the couch too. Then without needing a prompt, she lifted one leg onto the sofa and the other out to the side on the floor, sliding the skirt up to show the G-string. Then she pulled the G-string aside to show me her snatch.

I think the hardest part of getting girls to pose nude is getting them to understand that men want to see them using their fingers to open up their pussys. We want to see as far into them as we can; we want to feel like we could walk right up to them and slide our dick right in, because the pussy is already open (and hopefully wet) waiting for us. I expected to have to try to explain to Julie how to show me her beaver, and I wasn't sure she would agree to do so given her earlier reticence. To my surprise, after the first shots of her with the G-string pulled back, she two the first two fingers of her right hand and split the lips of her pussy apart for me. I wondered if she was lying about never having posed nude before, but I realized that while she may not have posed, she probably had had customers who asked her to show them her stuff—the only difference was the camera.

As soon as I got the first beaver shot, of course, I was erect like a rocket, and I could see Julie noticed how much my erection suddenly shot up when she had exposed herself in that way. Being Julie, she responded by exposing herself more and more. She pulled off the G-string next, and we took pictures of her with the open shirt, skirt hiked up above her hips, and opening her pussy with her fingers. I suggested she use the first finger of each hand as another way to do it, which she did (and, because the finger weren't connected on one hand, it allowed her to spread her lips even further apart). I had her crouch in a deep knee-bend and do the two-hand split. Holy shit. Then we ditched the shirt and did it again.

Finally I had her take off the skirt and lay down on the kitchen table. She lay down, looking up at me, holding her pussy open with her hands, giving me sexy looks. Honest to god, if I had kept taking photos like that for another five minutes, I would have cum right there on the floor without anyone having touched me at all. But she was right there, lying on the table, spreading her pussy open for me. I couldn't stand it anymore; I threw the camera onto the sofa, practically ran over to her, and sank my dick deep into her vagina. I think she was expecting that eventually, but still I surprised her by the speed with which I went from snapping pics to thrusting dick—and by the vigor with which I went at it right off the bat. Fortunately, she was a little wet from having fingered herself so much, because I was so close to cumming already I had no time to build up. She held on to me with both arms to keep from tipping the table or being thrown off while I hammered away like a fucking jackhammer. In no time I was ejaculating deep inside her so hard I thought my dick itself might explode.

I left her room to get up off the table, panting. She stood up, put both arms around me, and kissed me.

"You weren't joking, were you?" she said. "You were REALLY into that."

I nodded, still catching my breath. "And thanks to you, my lifelong fantasy has finally come true."

She gave me a kiss that said "you silly man" and held me softly until I had caught my breath. When I did, I kissed her deeply and said "Thank You."

"Daddy takes care of baby, baby takes care of daddy," she smiled.

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After we dressed, I grilled up a fast lunch and then drove to the boat rental dock. I told her I was taking her to the best restaurant in the area for dinner, so she packed extra clothes. I rented us two jet skis, and we spent the afternoon jumping wakes in them. I could see in her face that she was having a blast.

After we returned them, I drove 30 minutes to the nearest town and took her to the best restaurant they had in the region. Julie wore a red sundress and red high-heel sandals. It was the most modest outfit I'd seen her wear, yet between her beautiful face and the way the way her smooth tan skin was accentuated by the red dress and contrasted with her long blonde hair, she was STILL stared at by every man in the restaurant at least once.

As I drove back to the cottage, I started to get sad. I would have to take Julie to the airport in the morning, so she could go back to Oklahoma City and her boyfriend. I wanted every day of the rest of my life to be like this weekend—who wouldn't, I had this gorgeous blonde happily fulfilling every sexual fantasy I ever had. And while I hadn't worn my glasses all weekend—which was another think I liked about her, not needing to wear them—I think she enjoyed the lake life, the boating, the jet skis—all new experiences for her.

We sat up and had a few drinks, talking. I told her a lot more about me and my background; she told me more about hers. I think she had more she could tell, but her life story was such a downer she didn't want to.

At one point she went to the bathroom, then went to bedroom instead of coming back out. She came out after a few minutes wearing black leather wrist cuffs, a black leather slave collar, black heels that had a thick strap at the top and a iron ring attached on the inside, and a swimsuit cover-up.

"I brought these especially for you, and we haven't even used them," she said with the twinkle in her eye, then she whipped off the swimsuit coverup to reveal black PVC shorts that could be unzipped for access to the crotch and a black leather bra that framed her breasts but was open where it should have covered them. Yipes.

Two days earlier I would have cuffed her to the bed, made her kneel and stuffed my dick down her throat, then strapped her to the bed and fucked the shit out of her. I still intended to fuck the shit out of her, but treating her like a breathing sex toy no longer sounded anywhere near as fun as being with her and letting her be who she was—perhaps the most accommodating partner that ever lived.

I stood up, walked over to her and kissed her. Then I cuffed her two armbands to the iron ring on front of her slave collar, led her to the back bedroom, and motioned her to lie down. I could have unzipped her pants to reach her pussy, but I took them off completely instead—with some effort, as they were extremely tight. I decided to readjust her and cuff her arms to the bed so they were above her head and out of my way.

"What would you like to do, daddy?" she asked, in character, still a little nervous about being in such a vulnerable position but trusting that I wouldn't really cause her pain. In fact, my intentions were exactly the opposite.

I took off my clothes; all she could do was watch and wait. Then I lay next to her, and gently excited her nipples with my tongue before sucking them gently. I slipped my finger between her thighs and licked her nipples even more. For a long time, she was on alert you might say, waiting for me to give her orders. It took a lot of stimulation before she finally stopped thinking about serving me and just enjoyed what she was receiving.

I stopped. One at a time, I freed her arms and then clipped her wristbands to the iron rings on her shoes. Thus cuffed, she had not choice but to bend her knees and spread her legs. Then I knelt at the foot of the bed and stuck my face into her crotch. I licked her pussy and tickled her clit with my tongue, using my hands on her nipples for support from time to time. I didn't stop to look up, but I heard her breathing start to change, and I felt her arching her back to move her pelvis up and down. I didn't stop until I felt her body spasm with the rhythmic contractions of orgasm.

After she came, I undid her cuffs and let her free. She immediately got on all fours and stuck my dick—which was plenty hard from having had my face buried between her legs—into her mouth. She sucked it so hard it felt like she might raise my entire body up off the bed by the Johnson. Then she lay on her back, pulling me onto her, and with her hand guided my penis into her vagina.

She wasn't cuffed, but she nevertheless grabbed her ankles and spread wide open while I made love to her. Maybe that position increased her pleasure; maybe she just remembered I had liked it from previous encounters. She was so wet she had soaked a large portion of the bed, and I slipped into and out of her easily. As always she squeezed my dick with her pubic muscles, increasing my sensation and encouraging me to orgasm.

After I came, I lay with her, keeping my penis inside her for as long as I could before it shrunk itself out. Julie held me close and kissed me again and again; it took me a while to realize she had tears in her eyes.

"Julie, my god, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing is wrong, honey"—she hadn't called me that before-- "that's the problem. Back home...I've got all kinds of problems. Here, with you—you take care of me. I like making you happy; you appreciate it. My boyfriend—he takes me for granted. He thinks every girl should go out of her way to please him—and he never reciprocates. If I come when having sex with him, its dumb luck. He would never go out of his way to eat me until I come—and I suck him all the time. Its just not fair."

"Oh, honey, stop." I replied. "I don't live here either, don't forget. Even if you didn't go home tomorrow, we'd still have to leave here."

"I know," she said, "but..." she stopped.

I didn't have my glasses on, but I think what she was thinking was that what she would rather be with me than with her current boyfriend. And at that point, I would have loved to be with her more often, too. But what life did I have to offer her? Roaming around the country, a different address every week? What kind of life is that? She should be living happily ever, and I couldn't give her that. But I also really wanted to see her again.

Then I had an idea. "This Sugar Daddy thing—was this a one-time only deal? Or can I come take care of my sugar baby again sometime?" I asked.

She looked into my eyes, trying to read my intentions. She wanted to say yes, but if she went back to her life the time might come where she would have to say no. But as she looked into my eyes, I think what she saw was that I really cared about her, that I wanted to make her happy—and at the moment, maybe it felt like I was the only person who really did.

"Yes, of course we can do this again," she said. "If I can get away, I'll meet you wherever you want me to."

"In a couple of months, I'm planning to be in Austin," I said. There was a conference there on neuroimaging I was thinking of going to; I was mostly worried that someone else might be getting close to following the path that had led to the discovery of the mindreader. "That's only about 400 miles from Oklahoma City, isn't it? Think you could drive down and meet me?"

"I would love to," she said. "When is it?"

I got up to get my Blackberry—the one piece of me that was real, that didn't change from week to week. I gave her the dates, and she used her phone to email them to herself.

"Are you sure you're free?" I asked.

"I am now," she said, "one way or another. There's nothing else that might be on the calendar that could possibly be more important."

"Okay, its settled then. I'll meet you in Austin on the 30th. I'll give you details once I have them." I then gave her my real phone number and my real email address. She sent them to herself via her phone, too. Good thing her carrier got signal up in Lake Country—not everyone's does.

I kissed her. "I'm glad that I know I'll be seeing you again in just a couple of months," I said.

"Me, too," she said, less tearful. I surprised myself in that I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I had come into the weekend expecting to get bountiful sex; I didn't expect to come out of it with a deep emotional attachment to my sugar baby. But I didn't have the courage to say it at the time—plus I didn't want to make her going back the next day any worse, in case I got the reaction I hoped I would get when I said it.

She embraced me and we kissed for a long time. Then she took off her bondage gear and curled up in a semi-ball in the bed. I curled up around her. She took my arm and held it in both of hers, clutching it like it was her teddy bear. I kissed her ear and cheek. Thus entwined, we both fell asleep.