The Shoot Keywords: MF, tg by HoleFair I was called by a photographer I knew. He wanted to know if I was interested in a modeling assignment. "The usual, underwear kind of thing?" I asked. No, he said, this would be somewhat more risque. "It involves a friend who wants to give some unusual photographs to one of his lovers." "Will there be nudity involved?" I asked. I had bared my breasts for some tasteful shots of me, with my face in shadow. That's as far as I had gone. "There will be some, what you're used to. Plus one other element. I'll try to put this delicately. A man will be in the frame as well. Not his face, just his ... unit." "His penis, you mean?" I wanted him to be clear, but I also liked teasing him about his euphemisms. "Yeah, that," he said. "I'll think about it," I said. "Not for too long," he said, "I have other girls to call on." Annoyed by the word "girl," I said, "Okay, call them. Then call me back if you're still interested and I'll tell you my decision." Of course he called me back, and of course I said yes. Otherwise, what would be the point of the story? I trusted my friend the photographer, and he paid well. I came in the day he called. Apparently the client needed the shots in a hurry. Perhaps his or her lover's birthday was in the offing. I never found out. As I came into the studio, there was another person present, the male model, of course. Was he another free-lancer who answered a call? He wasn't particularly handsome. The thought passed through my mind that this was the client himself. When he took off his bathrobe, I became even more confused. He had nothing on underneath, which surprised me a little. But I'm not exactly a virgin. What flustered me was the sight of his penis. It was so beautiful. His circumcised head nestled in the folds of skin at its base. His balls hung down, but not too far; the tip of his penis swung just below the edge of the scrotum. I didn't know a penis could affect me this way. I said a few hurried words and went to my dressing room. I came out in my underwear. "Oh, sweetheart," the photographer said, "Could you slip into these instead?," and he handed me some shimmery black things that left little to the imagination. As I was putting them on, I speculated again about the client, who apparently wanted a small-breasted woman in this little passion play. Everyone assumes that women with big breasts, preferably as buoyant as dirigibles, are what every man wants, but I am petite, with a small bosom, narrow waste, and hips wider than my shoulders, and I have no shortage of work as a model. (No shortage of would-be lovers either, at least compared to my peers whose bigger tits have either fallen to the floor or sprung silicone leaks.) The pose that the anonymous client wanted was me, from the waste up, plus the man's crotch. I sat on a stool, while he stood to my right and slightly behind me, so my head was level with his penis. I was glad that for now it was out of sight, because I was still mesmerized by it. The camera clicked a few times, as the photographer issued orders to us to move around slightly. Then, of course, he asked me to take my top off. I had done this before, so I obliged, then turned my head to the left, into the shadows that my usual lighting scheme provided. Click, click, click. Then the photographer asked the man to step forward a bit, and I felt something brush my shoulder. My nipples instantly became erect. I felt a bit embarrassed, and tried to move my sholder forward. "No, back," came the command. I did, and felt no touch from the penis. "Now touch your nipples." This I had not done before, but my nips almost ached with longing, and reached up to cradle my breass. "No, the nipples."I touched them and felt a thrill of lust. My vagina was getting very wet. I thought, I didn't know I was this horny. "Now turn your head to the right.""Wait a minute; this is not exactly what I bargained for." "Please," said the model. I realized he hadn't uttered a word as yet. His voice was pleasant, but I must have been crazed with lust; I thought of the voice as coming from his penis, not his homely face. I turned and saw that the reason his penis wasn't touching my shoulders was that it was becoming erect. I didn't look up, but I knew he was looking down; my breasts and hands were turning him on. I tweaked my nipples again, to keep them as hard as possible, and make him harder. I forgot about the camera for a second, until I heard click, click, click. I stopped and looked at the photographer, covering my breasts with my arms. "Hey," I said. "Look, honey, these pictures are for one client only. What happens here stays here. You have my word." No one has ever trusted the word of a pornographer and not regretted it. But I wanted more of that penis. So I reluctantly agreed to open up a bit more. I released my breasts and faced the camera for a few more shots. Then I felt the model moving closer, his legs touching my shoulder, and the penis beginning to brush my ear and cheek. The camera clicked away. The photographer asked me to turn, but I would have done it anyway. The stool swiveled and there it was, sticking up at a 45-degree angle. It wasn't particularly enormous or threatening. It was just beautiful. The head was as well proportioned as in its soft state, looking like the top to a Greek column. The shaft curved slightly to the right, but not enough to detract from the symmetries. As he got stiffer, his balls tightened up, looking like they couldn't wait to take a shot at me. His demure penis slit looked innocent, as if such doings were not its concern. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I wanted that penis in me so badly. I had never felt such a specific physical lust in my life. My cunt was as wet as its ever been. Oblivious to the camera, I studied the penis and stroked my nipples. Then the penis bobbed slightly, and the first bead of moisture appeared at the slit. I couldn't take my eyes away. I was torn between the desire to see semen dripping from the slit and the desire to lick it off. The man said, "Lick," and I ceased to waver. My tongue touched the head and I lapped. The penis throbbed again, so I had to lick again. I would have taken it in my mouth, but he pulled away. I lifted my chest up and stroked my breasts and nipples as lasciviously as I could. I so wanted the penis to ejaculate, and I opened my mouth and licked my lips to lure it in. But the photographer said, "This is great stuff!," which brought me down to earth a bit. "You know what I'd really like next, darling? Take those panties off. If I'm not mistaken, they're a bit wet anyway." I hesitated, because this was far beyond anything I had dared do on camera. But the penis was so pretty. Still, I shook my head. "I ....I'd like, to, really."I was addressing the beautiful male organ in front of me, not the photographer, or the model. "But my pussy,...." I blushed. "I'm very self-conscious about it." "What is it, deformed or something?" "No. No. I mean, yes, some people might actually say it is." "Oh, shit, I should have known. I guess we'll have to find another girl," he said in disgust. He started to turn away. But the model stopped him. "I like her. I like you," he said. I looked up. His penis had gotten a bit softer, and was now dripping fluid. "I don't care whether your pussy looks funny." "I suppose it can't hurt to take a look. Come on, hon, slide your panties off and let's take a peek." I slipped off the stool. I stood for a long time, then looked at the model's beautiful penis for strength, and pulled my panties down and off. Then I got back on the stool and spread my legs just a bit. "What are we looking at here?" asked the photographer, squinting a little. I turned away from him, toward the owner of the penis. Looking at it, I felt a wave of lust, and opened my legs wider. I felt blood surging to my pussy, and moaned as my own penis engorged. I knew he was looking at me, because his balls tightened visibly, and his own penis began to stiffen. "Oh, my God," said the photographer. "Oh, Christ, what the fuck....I'm going to have to find another girl, aren't I?" He put the camera down so he could swing his arm down in a dramatic gesture without damaging it. "All these pictures I've taken of you, and all the time you're a fucking drag queen." "No. I'm not that." "Let me guess, pre-operational trans-something, or something like that?" He paced back and forth. "What the fuck's the difference?" I started to put my panties back on. My "equipment" had gone back to its normal size, and I was looking more "normal." The model's hand stayed me. "You're not a drag queen or transgendered, are you?" he said, "You're a hermaphrodite, right?" I looked up at him and blushed. "If I know your client, this is just the sort of thing he likes," he said, turning to the photographer. The photographer stopped pacing and smiled crookedly at him. "You think you know him, huh?" They looked at each other for a second. "You think he wants us to continue?" Without speaking, the model reached down and gently pulled my panties back down. He spread my legs and took a close look at my genitalia. "Your clitoris is really a cute little penis." As we looked at each other, our penises began to engorge again. "It's lovely," he said. "It's not as pretty as yours," I said. "But," he sighed, "It's so feminine." Later I reflected that this whole episode seemed awfully improbable. The photographer must have glimped my little secret and informed the client that what he was looking for had shown up. But in the here and now I was simply intoxicated. His finger touched my slit gently. It parted my lips, then slid lightly up through their moisture, to the bottom of my shaft, then (trailing wetness) up the shaft until it touched my little glans, my little slit, which mixed its own juice with that from my pussy. We looked into each other's eyes for the first time and each smiled a little sheepishly. But he lifted me up and kissed me, and I almost swooned as my penis brushed against his. Was there clicking from the photographer? I have no recollection of anything outside the feeling of the model's hands as he picked me up and carried me over to the bed. Had there always been a bed there? I think so; I think I had even posed on it. Now I was atop the model with his penis stiffening against my slit. The photographer was behind me. The camera was drinking in the sight of my cunt with a penis about to penetrate it, and then doing it, causing me to soar into the clouds. "Sit up," the photographer said, "and pull out a little bit so I can ...." He scooted around to the front, getting frontal shots, of my face, my breasts, and his darling penis disappearing into my slit, which seemed to be a channel right into my own little penis, which seemed to be expanding to receive its bigger brother, sticking straight up, expanding and expanding, until it ejaculated all over my breasts, and his chest, and his penis ejaculated in me.