Carly, Chapter 2

by Jackie

I wasn't pushing the thirteen year old toward the area I had set up, but my hand on her back was firm. I had chosen a light blue back drape and a white mottled carpet. The effect I wanted was that she was floating on a cloud. Her brown skin against the light background would make it easy to get depth in the photos.

Flicking the switch for the floods, which bathed the area in a warm soft glow, I encouraged my prey into the center of the set. She just stood there looking up at the large umbrella shaped reflectors. I'm pretty sure she never noticed me push record on the two tripod mounted video cams before I picked up the EOS. Powering up the digital SLR I looked back to the stunning little girl in the white blouse and short plaid pleated skirt. She looked so nervous standing in the middle of the bright but softly lit void. The shutter of the ten mega pixel Canon was inaudible as I snapped four or five preliminary shots and checked the lighting quality.

"OK sweetie, unbutton your blouse just like you did last time ... remember?"

Her eyes redirected from the lighting array to me as I spoke. The camera captured the adorable wide eyed look she was wearing.

At a hundredth of a second the SLR wouldn't capture the tremble in the nimble little brown fingers as they released the buttons, but it was evident enough that the video would. The white cotton hung in two halves over the yellow and black tartan pleats of her skirt. I thought Lisa's eyes looked a little watery.

"Are you OK honey?" I asked compassionately.

My model nodded rather grimly.

"Can you take it off?"

This was where I'd run into difficulty in our first session. I was holding my breath watching her through the lens during the pause. There was a detectable change in her expression as she opened the shirt and shrugged it off her shoulders.

I supposed you'd call what she was wearing underneath as a training bra. It was white cotton and almost looked like a tight fitting man's undershirt cropped off just below the twin bulges that defined the as yet fairly modest development of her bust. Her face looked... defiant. I depressed the shutter release and allowed another half dozen or so images to be recorded. The blouse was dragging on the white floor covering, hanging from the teenager's right hand.

"Pull you skirt up sweetie," I suggested and was pleasantly surprised when she let go of the blouse and complied almost immediately.

She bunched up handfuls of the woolen pleats over her upper thighs and lifted the hem until just the tiniest hint of her panties appeared below it. (Ten more images captured).

"Good, really, really good honey," I praised "a little higher."

The plaid ascended another couple of inches revealing white 'V' of the thin panties covering her plump brown mons.

"Beautiful!" I remarked enthusiastically as my coochie twitched.

I didn't need to zoom in. With ten mega pix I had plenty of resolution to crop out the shot I wanted, but I lengthened the lens anyway for my own viewing pleasure. The LCD screen now contained only the white 'V' with the chocolate thighs adding wonderful contrast in the lower corners. The girl's underpants were as thin and cheap looking as I had expected. The crease between her outer lips, with their sparse fringe of curly black hair, was easily visible through the opaque material. The labia majora didn't seem to completely close together providing a tantalizing hint of the darker inner folds.

With my crotch now humming I said, "Can I see the back?"

Once again I was delighted when she turned her back to me and bent just a bit from the waist. 'No thirteen-year-old should have an ass like that' I thought as the Canon recorded the spectacle. "And lift up again for me."

Lisa's little brown hands gripped the pleats near the outsides of the hemispheres and pulled the yellow and black tartan out of the way. Pressing the shutter I almost didn't notice that she also bent further forward pushing that magnificent posterior toward the camera. 'She's a natural!' I rejoiced.

"Look back ... over your shoulder at the camera sugar."

When she did, I knew that one of the next five exposures was going be worth five times as much as I was paying the brown nymph. I could tell her how to pose but I couldn't have asked for that 'oops! I think you saw something you shouldn't have' expression. The thin panties were like white wash on the amazingly round brown hills. The shadow of the canyon between them added one more level of contrast.

"Fantastic ... oh my God you're so gorgeous ... and you're doing such a great job," I said sincerely as my model stood up facing me again.

Her expression was different again. 'I think the compliments are working.' There was a look of pride on her face. "Can you take the skirt off now ... uh, would you be OK doing that?"

There was a little hesitation, not much, before she began working the fasteners and zipper over her hip. I managed to fire the shutter three times while the tartan pleats were in free fall.

I'm not sure how many frames I shot of the shy looking brown teenager, her black curls surrounding her cherubic face, standing in the white little girl underwear with the skirt encircling her feet. I don't know what stopped me from filling the entire memory card. When I came to edit the shoot later I would realize that it was far from the most erotic shot, but at the same time it was a defining moment.

I'm not sure if she'd stopped shivering after the blouse came off or if I'd just stopped noticing. Problem was; the shivering was back. It was only years of practice that allowed me to keep my composure. My womanhood was throbbing insistently when I asked—with the camera still in front of my face,

"The top now honey ... take it off."

The whimpering sound she made as she pulled the stretchy cotton training bra over her head made me shiver. The way the elastic tussled her black curls made her look even cuter, if that was even possible. The pubescent brown hills capped with the darker brown circles with a hint of red. Smooth projections the size of marshmallows on top of her cup cakes came into view through my lens. I snapped several images before my little goddess dropped the garment on top of her blouse. Her immediate reflex to put her hands over her delicious looking little boobies was actually one of the more sensual images I captured that day.

"Oh don't cover them up honey ... they're so pretty," I encouraged her.

Reluctantly she lowered her hands seeming to not know what to do with them.

"They look like big chocolate cup cakes ... and your nipples ... your nipples are so pretty..."

I zoomed again unnecessarily just to get a detailed view of the pebbly texture of the semi-sweet chocolate puffs.

Backing the zoom off to where I could see her face again I noticed she was looking down at her own chest as if she were seeing it for the first time.

"Do they get hard and stick out sometimes?" I asked.

My model nodded without taking her eyes off her breasts.

"Do you ever touch them and make them all hard and tingly?"

She didn't say anything, but I took the strained expression on her face for a 'yes'.

"Wouldn't ya like to do that now? Wouldn't ya like to tease them 'til they stick right out?"

The sound might have been another whimper or it could have been a groan but she raised her hands back to her mounds and cupped them. This time it was obviously not caused by modesty; quite the opposite. Slowly and gently she ran her fingers under the bottom curve of each breast before letting her thumb push on the plump dark circles. Her eyes closed as she began to make little circles with the side of her thumb. The stiffening of the areola was quick. The plump pebbly fleshiness of it turned into tight crinkles. The center rose like a small reddish-black gumdrop. When she began to rotate and wiggle the gumdrops she started to emit a little humming sound.

I was shocked and thrilled. As shy and modest as she'd been last time she was now nearly wanton. My red haired teenaged talent scout had told me that Lisa was hot. I had concluded after the first introductory shoot that my lover's daughter might have a somewhat different interpretation of the word than me. What I was seeing now didn't confirm what she'd told me; it turned it into a massive understatement. Some girls went through their whole careers with me without ever getting as explicit as Lisa was already.

I kept snapping through my arousal clouded vision but I noticed my model beginning to sway a little. Putting the EOS on the table I grabbed a barstool, the kind with a back that I have as props. I knelt in front of the black teenager and said "let's take these off ... OK honey?"

She opened her eyes, which now looked kind of glassy, as I started to pull her panties down. I more than half expected her to protest or panic; she did neither. She simply let me pull her pants down and then dutifully stepped out of them. I sat back on my haunches almost overcome by the turn of events. Mashing the girl's underwear against my face I inhaled the sweet pubescent musk and took the damp crotch in my mouth.

My head was spinning. I had rounded second and was well on my way to third. I knew that if I was going to get the maximum benefit out of this miracle that I would have to get a grip. The urge to strip and ravage the gorgeous little creature was almost irresistible but somehow I had to.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I gripped the brown skinned princess by the waist and lifted her onto the stool. I felt the leakage into my panties and did my utmost to ignore the vicious cramp that followed. Returning to the table and picking up the SLR I took several deep breaths to steady my hands. When I turned around Lisa was gently running her hands over her breasts and letting her fingers bump over the little black 'gummies'. I reached forward and touched her knee.

"Open up honey ... open your legs for me."

That's when I knew it was a homerun. The slender teenaged thighs parted and that plump brown vulva that I had only viewed through the veil of white cotton parted with them. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't blocking either of the video cameras. I had to take a step back. Kneeling down again my model looked at me through misty needy eyes. The Canon fired ten, maybe twelve times framing little more than her soft little tummy, her creamy brown thighs and the brown bun of her vulva, which now had a pink crease down the middle of it.

"Do you ever play with yourself ... you know down there ... uh, between your legs?" I gasped.

"Uh-huh," she confirmed and it was just an affirmative sounding groan.

"Do it now sweetie ... show me how you do it."

I saw the tiny brown fingers enter the frame through the lens. They pressed into the doughy softness and began to rotate at high speed. My shutter finger was twitching in time to the girl's diddling fingers. Some instinctive professional thought about whether the shutter speed was high enough flashed through my mind but I knew it was much too late to make any adjustments now. My darling teenaged model squealed and clamped her legs together trapping her own hand as she orgasmed.

I got to my feet and shot several pictures of the brown skinned nymph shuddering and shaking on the wooden stool. "That was absolutely fantastic ... amazing!" I congratulated her.

The smile from the naked teenager with her hand still between her legs was weak, but it was a smile just the same.

When she had recovered to a degree I showed her to the washroom, carrying her clothes for her. She emerged ten minutes later looking as good as new.

"I am calling this a double session," I said putting my arm around her.

When I handed her the four hundred dollars in twenty dollar bills, her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out. I'm pretty sure it was the most money she'd ever had in her hand. It was definitely the most money she'd ever had for herself. She stood in stunned silence staring at the cash.

"Be careful sweetheart. If you go out on a spending spree you're gonna have to explain where the money came from."

She nodded on agreement. We made an appointment for her to come back the next week at the same time. When she left she was still looking kind of disoriented.

---

I packed things up and headed home, crossing my fingers that my lover would still be there; she wasn't. I put the new bottle of Jack on the counter and drained the old one into an ice filled glass. Her not being there made me sad but the sour mash helped. Still the dull ache in my crotch needed attention. I decided on a relaxing bath. The whirlpool jets and a couple of toys and I'd be fine.

The note on the table said she'd gone home. It wasn't really her home. It was just the place she was staying with her daughter while she sorted out a personal problem. My red haired lover hadn't been too specific about her troubles but I had deduced that there was a man involved.

With the water running in the tub I got undressed thinking about our relationship. It had certainly progressed beyond the physical but her reluctance to share her burden with me was impeding progress. There was anger in her love making and she often cried afterward. I could be emotionally supportive, but it would be so much easier if I actually knew what she was sad about. What she was running from.

The ice tinkled in the amber liquid as sipped my second drink and let the soothing jets float me to a serene place. When the cordless phone rang I switched off the noisy pump and answered it.

"How did it go with Lisa?" I recognized the voice of my lover's daughter and highly effective talent scout.

"Great!" I replied with enthusiasm.

"I told you she was hot didn't I?"

"And you were right. I've never had a girl progress that fast. When she came in I wasn't sure I'd even get her panties off then she ... ugh," recalling the girl's extremely hot masturbation scene caused my pussy to clench unexpectedly.

"Did you eat her?" the teenaged voice asked in a sexy whisper.

"No, of course not," I said trying to sound indignant and not pulling it off.

"So you didn't make her go down on you either."

That thought hadn't actually occurred to me yet. When I looked down between my legs through the surface bubbles the image of Lisa's cute little brown face between my thighs generated a pleasure bolt that made me bite my lip instead of answering.

"But you wanted to ... like the first time with me."

That memory poured gasoline on the smoldering embers of my arousal. From a color point of view the fifteen year old redhead on the phone and my most recent model were as different as—well—day and night. The girl on the phone's pink, almost white, lightly freckled skin shimmered in my mind in stark contrast to the deep chocolate tones I'd just photographed.

"Do you remember that day we met in the park?"

It wasn't much more than a month ago so the question was really kind of absurd, even if the encounter hadn't resulted in what I now thought might be a life changing relationship.

"How could I ever forget" I replied.

Then, as though I'd said I didn't recall, the teenager started painting the scene.

"You were near the petting zoo taking pictures of the little kids with the baby animals."

"And now you know why I take those pictures ... what I use them for."

"Did you know what was going to happen when we went back to your studio... ? I mean were you sure?"

"I'm never sure honey. I just set the scene and tailor things to how the girl reacts."

A cascade of all the teenagers I had lured to my lair, successes and failures, tumbled through my mind. The image of the dynamic redhead I was speaking to seemed to overlay it all.

"Was I the easiest?"

It was a tough question. My lover's daughter was certainly near the top. When I started to review the least strenuous of my conquests, the churning in my womanhood picked up. I let myself enjoy the sensations the teenager's questions were causing.

"I remember how big and hard your nipples looked poking through your T shirt ... that's what really got me going," the sweet little voice on the phone whispered. "I bet they're hard right now ... aren't they?"

I looked down at my naked breasts and confirmed the assumption. My sweeping pear shaped boobs always pointed outward. I looked from one to the other acknowledging the engorged distension of my nipples and tried to say 'yes' but what actually went down the telephone line was just an affirmative grunt.

"What are you wearing?" she continued.

"I ... I'm in the bath ... I ... I'm not wearing anything."

It was hard to get the words out now that my nips had joined the chorus of sensations that were making me a little dizzy.

"I'm not in the bath, but I'm not wearing anything either," she said followed by a little giggle.

There was silence. The memory of her pink smoothness generated waves of sensation that rolled over me from toe to head. The pressure between my legs was beginning to build, when she whispered "I'm touching myself ... my boobies, thinking about that day."

I had seen her play with her breasts more than a couple of times so it wasn't hard to imagine those pale pink areolas crinkling up and the little dark pink peg in the center rising up begging for attention.

"Touch yours while I'm touching mine," she sounded breathless.

I had never used the speaker function on my cordless phone before, but if there was ever a situation for it to be handy—the word handy struck me funny as I searched for the button. When I pressed it, it glowed red and my talent scout's ragged breathing was amplified. Putting the handset on the tub deck near my head I cupped both of my tits and squeezed them, sending a giant wave of pleasure washing over me. The function of the microphone was confirmed when my phone sex partner responded to my vocalization.

"You're doing it ... aren't you? You're touching your tits."

Again I could only groan in the affirmative as my bath oil slippery hands teased my reddish brown nubs to full erection.

"Yesss!" I confirmed, and it came out so low and breathy that I don't think she could have heard.

During the long pause I could hear my talent scout's breathing getting louder and quicker. It was punctuated by little 'ugh' grunts. I was amazed at how erotic it was. Being an artist in a completely visual medium, I am naturally sight priority when it comes to stimulation. She had probably made those cute little noises when I tongued her to orgasm but I hadn't really noticed. Without the visual and the tactile—the tactile of touching her—my auditory sense played a much larger role.

"I'm ... touching my ... p-pussy..." she panted. "Are you ... touching yours?"

It was the signal for me to slip my hand under the water and caress my aching vulva.

"Yes" I whispered, thinking that the mic would never pick it up.

"Do you remember when I pulled your shorts off ... your shorts and your panties?"

The image of the adorable red-haired teen between my legs only an hour after we'd met in the park caused my clit to throb, and I rewarded it with several quick rotary strokes. I guessed she must have heard the affirmative grunt.

"I was so ... ugh, surprised how ... how hairy you ... ugh ... oh, were down there ... ugh ... ugh! And you smelled so ... oh, oh God ... ugh, delicious ... Aaarrgh..."

Her wail at the end of her sentence sent a bolt of pleasure racing from my clit to my head.

"Oh God ... ugh, oh my God Carly I'm gonna cum ... ugh ... ugh ... cum with ... cum with meeeee!"

My fingers accelerated as she struggled to groan out the words. Feeling the fat firmness of my love button under my fingers I imaged they were a tongue ... her mother's tongue teasing the most sensitive part of my body.

When she announced her climax I felt my feet go numb and a wave of heat started around my knees. The heat was building and rising until it filled my pelvis. As fast as my fingers were moving listening to my lover's daughter cry out in ecstasy the wave moved very slowly allowing me time to savor the impending explosion. It was like watching a space shuttle launch—when the main engines start—but for a few seconds the rocket doesn't move. Just as lift off finally occurred I shoved three fingers deep in my pussy and grabbed the top of my mons, pressing on the root of my clit with the other. The pleasure and heat overwhelmed me and I sunk down in the tub until the water was nearly up to my nose. I threw my head back so I'd still be able to breathe as the vocalization of my joy spewed toward the ceiling.

I managed to push myself up the side of the tub to get my ears out of the water. Still clutching my pussy, I lay there twitching and jerking, enjoying the soft mewing sounds the teenager was making. I don't think I was making any noises but I'm not really sure. Except for her cute little moans it was quiet for a while.

"Oh fuck, that was so good," she whispered breaking the silence. "We should do this more often," she added with an adorable giggle. "Next time I wanna shoot with Lisa ... both of us together ... that'd be hot wouldn't it?"

The fabulous contrast of brown and pink skin flashed in my brain and my clit started to throb all over again.

"Yes honey that would be incredibly hot!" I agreed.

My fingers started strumming over my firm nubbin. Again there was silence as we both let our imaginations run wild.

It was probably the wrong time to bring it up, but it was on my mind; "where's your mother?"

"Out," came a matter of fact reply.

"Out ... out where?" I pressed.

"I dunno she didn't tell me," she answered sounding slightly annoyed.

A line from the song ran through my head ' ... she's on a date ... and you just sit at home and masturbate.' I suddenly felt like cold water had been poured on me. It wasn't entirely imaginary the bath water had cooled quite a bit. I drained the glass and wished I'd brought the bottle in with me.

"Honey I gotta go. The water's getting cold and I'm turning into a prune."

"When's your next shoot with Lisa?" she asked expectantly.

"Next week ... Wednesday at three-thirty," I informed her.

"OK, I'll be there ... hey Carly ... let's do this again, 'K?"

"You bet sweetheart." We disconnected.

I got out of the tub. My recent climax, even my arousal were all but forgotten. All I could think about was 'She's out'. I had no reason to be jealous ... I had no right. 'If she'd just let me into her world ... confide in me ... I could help her, I

know

I could.' The missing part of our relationship made my heart ache. 'What's she running from? What is it that makes her so ... so ... aggressive in bed sometimes, like she's angry?' There just weren't any answers.

I put my robe on and went to the kitchen. Except for the ice cubes the glass was full of the soothing whiskey. I started to fix dinner. My heart felt like a frozen block of lead. 'She's out.' I had no reason to worry. Nothing had happened that would cause concern, but I ate my meal with tears rolling down my cheeks anyway. Then I refreshed my drink.

---

I was at the studio early the next morning. I really had a lot to do now. I'd barely started editing the Megan shoot and now there was Lisa's to do as well. When the hour was respectable I called the number of the place my lover was staying. No answer. I left a message on the machine and couldn't remember when I'd ever felt this way before; so ... so empty. I was editing on autopilot. From the bottle in the bottom drawer I poured some of the Whiskey No. 7 into a coffee cup.

The mouse moved and I clicked the selections. I cropped and framed and adjusted lighting but my mind was a thousand miles and a quarter of a century away. The Jack was all gone so I refilled. I remembered the last time my heart had ached like this. The day I learned that Amy and her mother were gone. I had never felt so loved as when I was with them.

I knew my parents loved me, and I loved them, but it was a detached kind of love. Almost like an obligation. My mother wasn't physical in the least. When she hugged me at all it was stiff and plastic feeling. My father was better but even he shied away from physical contact after my boobs started to grow. I think my mother had something to do with that. 'you're twenty-one and still your mother makes your bed... ' a line from that song played in my head. She had made my bed—hadn't she? The one I was lying in; the one I had to lie in, or was it me? Did I make this bed?

For nearly a year I came back to my parent's house to eat and sleep, but my home was at the Mitchell's. I needed the physical closeness and Amy's mom gave me that and more. Thinking back, it might have been confusing; the motherly love intermingled with and in some ways overlaid by the sexuality, but it wasn't. It all seemed so natural, so ... right.

I didn't stop crying for a month when they were gone. I tried to hide it; spent almost all of my time in my room. It took longer than I had known them, more than a year for the grief to run its course. For a few months I hated them, despised them for leaving me behind. I grew out of that and just longed to have some sort of closure for a relationship that was so fundamental to the person I was becoming. That's when I decided to try and find them—what ever it took.

Eventually I came out the other side. Four things were left. A voracious sexual appetite, especially for young girls; a love ... no ... a passion for photography; a desire to give our brief relationship a proper burial; and a vow to never let anyone hurt me like that again. I'd religiously kept that vow for over twenty years until the gorgeous redhead and her daughter had come into my life.

In relative terms I hadn't known them long but they had turned on some kind of light; a light that illuminated a huge void in my life that I never allowed myself to see. In fact, I had built a wall to keep me from seeing it. I fashioned every brick by hand and the Tennessee sour mash was the mortar. I tried to analyze why the red-haired duo affected me the way they did. It was partly that they were mother and daughter; that they shared parental — offspring love, and physical sexual love seamlessly. The correlation to the Mitchells was undeniable. I longed to be part of that. Not to come between, but to join ... to enhance, to bathe in their seemingly endless pool of love. The idea of it ending was terrifying.

I didn't think of myself as fragile, any more than I thought of myself as a predator; but I was both.

I couldn't help remembering the day we'd met. It was two months ago but it seemed like yesterday. My first session with the teenaged redhead was remarkable. Walking back to the studio with her from the park there were all kinds of indications that the little darling was receptive. I'm not sure at what point I relinquished control to the pubescent temptress but there was no doubt that I did; and that was a first.

When we parted that first day she agreed to come back on the weekend for another session. I was setting up equipment Saturday morning when they walked in. The older redhead took my breath away for a couple of reasons. The first was that she was gorgeous and curvaceous like no one I'd seen in a long time. Concentrating on pubescent girls nearly made me forget the charms of an older woman (older than the girls, not necessarily older than me). In fact, my first impression turned out to be correct; my newest model's mother was a couple of years younger than me.

It was another first. Never before had a parent of one of my models shown up. Normally keeping my business with their daughters secret from the parents was high on the priority list; no—not high— paramount ... imperative! So that was the second reason I was breathless. I think I might have had a heart attack when they came through the door if they hadn't both been wearing those large smiles. I never even dreamed of parental acceptance. It was only because of missus Mitchell that I could even conceive of such a parent's existence.

"Hi Carly, this is my mom," I recalled her saying. "I told her about you and she wanted to come and see for herself."

There was no need to state the familial connection, the resemblance said it loud and clear. The older redhead extended her hand, still smiling. I wondered exactly what my teenaged model had told her mom. If she'd just said I took pictures of her, without specifying that she was naked in most of them that could account for the mother's apparent lack of concern. I was still treading on eggshells.

I took the proffered hand and shook it looking into her sparkling green eyes. I knew right then that I wanted her. I felt a connection instantly. Something in her eyes told me she felt it too. I'm not sure how long we were gazing into each others eyes before the teenager interrupted,

"Can we show her ... show her the pictures you took of me last time?"

My stomach flipped and my legs almost deserted me. I was trying to think if there were any non erotic images in that file. If there was; was there anyway to get them on the screen without the mom seeing the bulk of the photo shoot—the hundred or more images of her daughter naked?

"Uh ... well they're not really edited yet," I lied. "I don't really like to show the raw product."

It was lame and I knew it wasn't going to work.

"Aw please... they were really good just the way you shot them."

I'd shown the nymph the jpegs after the shoot before she left. Now she was begging for me to show her mom. That's when it hit me. 'She knows what those pics look like. She wouldn't be asking me to show them to her mother if it was going to cause a problem ... would she?' There was still room for doubt, but no margin for error. The older woman must have seen my indecision and fear.

"I know what the pictures are about," she told me and the glint in her eye supported what she said.

My guts were still doing a world class gymnastics routine when I walked them over to my computer. It was hard to steady my hand enough to maneuver the mouse, but after I had opened the file and started the slide show, not only did my nerves settle, but an entirely new feeling gripped me. You guessed it; seeing the pictures of the red-haired, completely uninhibited nymph started up that yearning feeling between my legs, and I wasn't alone. Mother and daughter alike were completely captivated.

"Oh sweetheart you look so beautiful ... you are so beautiful," the older woman said, taking her eyes off the screen only for a moment to look directly at her daughter.

My model was positively beaming.

I stayed in the background alternating my attention between the live and the Memorex. They had to stoop forward to get a viewing angle on the wide screen. The teenager was in shorts and a T shirt, her mom wore a pretty green sundress, and it was fairly short. Looking at the two generations of nicely rounded butts was stimulating enough without the tantalizing way mom's skirt draped over her ass and the fact that she had bare legs that were 'to die for'.

The twitching in my kitty during the show actually made me wish they would leave so I could attend to my needs. There were regular 'oohs', 'aahs' and gasps as each new, and in general more explicit, image appeared on the screen. At some point the girl started to stroke her mother's low back. The sort of circular motion had a tendency to pull the older woman's skirt even higher. I was expecting to get a thrilling view of the poorly draped hills any second, and my pussy rejoiced at the possibility.

"Carly should take some shots of you, mom," the teenager suggested.

"Oh I don't know sweetie. I think Miz LaRoche prefers a much younger subject," the older woman demurred.

"What about both of us ... together? Wouldn't it be great to have pictures like that?"

The teenager's enthusiasm was infectious, but what she was proposing nearly made me faint.

"There are pictures ... later on, of Carly and me together."

That revelation gave me a bit of a start. I couldn't see her mother's face, only her ass. I had some concern about how she would react to my having sexual relations with her daughter. I mean taking naked photos, even pornographic ones was one thing, but touching ... touching was on a whole other level.

The remarkably curvy, if petit redhead stood up and faced me.

"What do you think?" she asked with what appeared to be a shy smile.

Shy or not it was a smile! She apparently was accepting of the idea and looking for my assent. I felt as though all the air had been let out of me. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped and I just stood there looking stunned. I couldn't have dreamed this situation even though I had seen it before. In those silent seconds, the recollection of missus Mitchell inviting me to hone my photographic skills by shooting her and Amy together took over. I had to fight my way back to the present (which of course wasn't the present because I was sitting at my desk remembering this event that had taken place over a month ago). I didn't want my delay in answering to be construed as hesitancy.

"That would be so hot!" I blurted out, immediately regretting my choice of words.

It didn't seem to faze mom at all but her expression did change. The shy inquisitive smile softened to an expression I had seen many times; often while looking in the mirror. I interpreted it as lust.

"Where ... where should we... ?" the older woman asked now looking a little scared.

"Right over here," I directed, surprising myself by how composed I sounded.

I led them over to the far corner of the studio and flicked on the reflector floods. The drape and floor cover were both neutral beige. Near the back of the set was a cot covered in a white sheet and beside it a wooden chair. Under the photographic lights the older woman's scared look was evolving into terror. Her daughter on the other hand looked like she had just been handed a giant ice cream sundae. The word for her expression was glee.

"Uh ... uh I don't know maybe we shouldn't be doing this" the curvy one said as her feet turned to ice.

"Aw mom it'll be fun," the teenager encouraged and began to stroke the bodice of the green dress.

I was glad they were thus engaged. It allowed me to move the video equipment into position. I set the two tripods toward the outer edges of the set focused in the middle, and switched each of them on as soon as they were in position. Checking the display on the camcorder to make sure the framing was right, I felt the invisible force grip my womanhood. The strawberry haired girl was squeezing her mother's very substantial boobs through the sundress.

"It'll be so great to have pictures of these for when you're away," the teenager was saying.

Mom's expression still had a lot of tension in it but her eyes were closed and her head was tipped back. She was certainly making no effort to discourage the attention her daughter was lavishing on her breasts. I picked up my Canon and was amazed at my newest model's understanding of staging.

"Should I pull this down now?" she asked threading her fingers under the shoulder straps of her mother's dress.

Half a dozen shutter releases later I answered.

"Yes honey, but very slowly."

She followed direction like a pro—better even. I got ten or more exposures while the top of the older woman's dress descended. Up to that point I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. After the initial shock of mom agreeing to the shoot, I had managed to get into a professional enough mode to get things set up and get started. When the cover over those unbelievable tits flipped over—inside out—exposing their full magnificence, my composure evaporated like alcohol poured on a hotplate.

I had to take my untrustworthy legs out of the equation so I sank to my knees. I was firing the shutter almost like a reflex as the teenager reprised her massage without the interference of clothing. Fingers digging into the pliable flesh, teasing the large pale pink areolas until the prominent center peg stood out like a cherry gumdrop. I know I groaned when she took the first engorged nipple in her mouth but neither of my models seemed to notice.

"Aren't they the most beautiful you've ever seen?" the girl suggested when she came up for air.

I was still clicking away but there was no possibility that I could speak. The blood was pounding in my ears and in my clit. It was all I could do to maintain my grip on the camera.

"Wouldn't you like to suck on them too?"

I wasn't sure if I had heard correctly. The invitation was simply too good to be true.

"Come on ... you know you want to," the teenager encouraged.

The thought that her mother might not appreciate a stranger's mouth on her breasts didn't even occur to me. I set the EOS on the floor and got unsteadily to my feet. I floated as opposed to walked to where they were standing. Her mom's eyes met mine as I approached. That connection I'd felt when we shook hands was stronger than ever.

I lowered my head and began to tongue the rubbery red peaks. My older model groaned deeply and laced her fingers behind my head mashing my face into the squishy globe. I was so enraptured with those wonderful tits that I didn't even notice the girl undoing my shorts. A few seconds later I was naked from the waist down. The air felt cool on my very damp pubic fur. I was disappointed when I did not feel her breath on my mons. The last time she'd pulled my pants down she'd put her mouth on my womanhood immediately.

I continued to worship her mother's tits but I was curious what the strawberry haired nymph was up to down there. I adjusted the angle of my head to get a peek without releasing the overworked rubbery nipple. I didn't see her at first, and then I understood why; she was under her mother's skirt. A moment later she emerged with the lady's white thong in her hand.

She took me by the wrist and guided my right hand under her mother's skirt. The woman, whose tit I still had in my mouth, gave a huge groan when my fingers pressed into her sopping vulva. I stroked my way through the fleshy folds in search of her ultimate treasure. Just as I felt the firm and surprisingly large bump at the top of her gooey crease, I had to release the bulging nipple to issue a squeal of my own. Evidently little miss helpful down there had performed a similar guiding exercise with her mother's hand. The curvy redhead didn't waste any time locating the center of my opening and pushing two, or maybe it was three, fingers deep inside.

I'm not sure if it was feeling her fingers penetrate me or just reflex that caused me to do the same to her. All I knew was that we were finger fucking each other and wailing in harmony. Our orgasms seemed to be simultaneous, although I kind of felt like mine started first. Our free hands and arms went around each other but it wasn't a romantic embrace; it was self preservation. I was quite sure she was experiencing the same loss of sensation in her legs. The only way to keep from falling was to combine forces and hold on to each other.

We were standing like that for a couple of minutes it seemed. Our fairly rapid breathing was slowing and we were synchronized. I glanced at the cot in the corner and found the teenager on it naked. She was looking at the pair of us through dreamy eyes. One hand was squeezing and tugging at her plump pubescent boobie the other was between her legs. She smiled at me and then went completely rigid. If you didn't know better, from the look on her face you'd think she was in agony. Funny how intense pleasure and excruciating pain give us very similar looks.

---

I had edited Megan's whole shoot and couldn't remember a single shot. 'I'll look at it tomorrow ... I hope I don't have to redo the whole fucking thing!' I pushed away from the desk. Feeling much more tired than I should have been. The image of the three of us, me, the dark redheaded mother and finally the strawberry blonde daughter sitting on the cot after our respective climaxes made me smile.

That's how I met Heather and Caitlin Logan; and now I was madly in love with them both.