Chapter 9
Jim seemed to be taking forever to reload and reset the cameras. He had told her the new series of poses would call for different camera angles and a new lighting pattern but...
Peggy sighed, standing, half crouched, on the bed. That was so Jim could get the range and focus and see just how high his cameras should tilt. It was a bore, this part of posing. But the lights were warm on her naked body, and she did have moments when she knew Jim wasn't just looking at her through the viewer of a camera, as a subject. He was seeing her as female, as she would look posing with his prick rammed up her cunt, her little titties held proud as she reared back, lowering herself on his horn, feeling his bulb thrust past the lips and ride up into her....
"Aren't you ready, yet?"
"My impatient Galatea! I created you out of... like hell I did. Eve, Aphrodite-whoever you are, you sprang full-blown into sensuality. You simply blossomed under the beneficence of the arc lamp... which isn't really an arc lamp these days and you couldn't care less. Yes, my little nimble nymphet, I am coming."
She saw his legs first, emerging from somewhere above, among lights and cameras. They were hairy. It was rather exciting looking at his legs, seeing the muscles move under the skin, seeing the dark hairs ripple with the movement. But the most exciting thing was knowing what would show next. His pelvis and his prick.
Except that he had on the terry cloth robe, which flapped around his shanks as he moved carefully down the ladder. Still, the robe was easily discarded. When it came to the actual posing.
Peggy was keeping on the socks-to give the series continuity, Jim had said. And they did added a feeling of sexiness to the picture. And to the posing, now that she thought about it. As Jim had said, it gave the posing an air of the impromptu. Jim liked words like that, words you half understood and got a sort of hazy picture of. Impromptu sort of meant hurried, the way they had been about posing the first time.
This time they would take it a little slower and get more feel out of it. Let each moment hold-so the camera could get it, of course. And Jim was beside the bed, looking at her. His smile was a little crooked. "You know I'm crazy to do this, don't you? Me and a nymphet, screwing, for the camera...."
Peggy wriggled off the bed, slithering up his front and somehow getting well under the terry cloth robe. "But it's just posing. It's not screwing for real. Why don't you take off the robe."
Jim's pecker had subsided again, but it came to twitching life as she plastered her pelvis against him, moving it so that his prick, even though soft, rubbed against her little mound. Her bubbies slid up his chest, feeling the roughness of his hair, and delighting in the feeling.
Her nipples hardened just as Jim's prick was hardening down by her cunt. Jim shed the robe and put his arms around her, his hands fondling her shoulders, her back and on down to her firm, twitchy little rump.
His hands kneaded her buttocks, moving them and pulling at them, drawing her close against his prick, her stomach up against his, warmed and excited by the contact, though for an instant his flesh had seemed cool.
One hand slid up her front, cupping under one bubbie, moving it, so that the nipple rasped over the hairs of his chest, stiffening and thrusting at him. His fingers slid on either side of her nipple, her little amber-pink nipple, and nibbled at it toothlessly, setting things on fire all inside her and banking the fires in her little cunt to new, deep-burning hotness.
Jim pushed her away hurriedly but not un-gently. "We better quit this. There's almost no pictorial quality in a little girl with her belly smeared with jizzum...."
Half drugged with the heat of her emotions, Peggy let herself be led to the bed. Jim stretched out on it, his pelvis raised high, his prick standing up, quivering, shiny with his juices. It was beautiful! Magnificent! A great throbbing shaft that would soon be rammed up in her cunt, shooting its delights hot and salty into her.
Almost dreamily she climbed onto the bed, standing spraddle-legged above him, looking down at his lanky body-and staring down at that great shaft aimed directly up at her.
For a moment panic racked her. Why had she chosen this pose? It was impossible to lower her little butt down on that rod, letting it stab into her cunt, ram far up her body. She licked her lips, shaking her head.
And Jim lay there waiting. Expectant. If she didn't go through with this pose, he'd never let her pose again. He'd never drive his shaft up her cunt and explode his juices in her....
Why, it wasn't so difficult, really. Just sort of-squat. And move around a bit, which was exciting in itself, until she felt his bulb right up against the lips of her cunt.
And wiggle some more, letting his bulb wet her cunt, letting her lips open up... and his bulb had slid in! It was as if her little cunt had been stretched and heated, all at once, with moist, juicy heat. And as if she could almost taste with her cunt, as if another mouth.
Jim's hands came up to caress her titties, to fondle and tease her nipples. Occasionally he would let one hand wander down along her side, across the fold of leg and pelvis and tease the edge of her cunt. Once he let his finger drift into her hole, teasing at her clitoris.
And breathing was difficult. She had to gulp for air, forgetting cameras were on her and she was trying to look glamorous. Only it wasn't glamour Jim wanted. He said he'd settle for good ole raunch and reality. So maybe it didn't matter her mouth was stretched, her eyes wide with the surprise of how deep Jim's prick was going -and how wonderful it felt.
Jim's hand slid off her breast and caressed the inside of her thighs, tight under the effort to hold herself just above Jim's prick, not letting it get too far in... and yet wanting it in, deeper and deeper.
Her own hands pressed on her knees, helping to hold herself erect, to let that glorious pecker go sliding up her tunnel. Now Jim grasped her slim hips, his fingers digging into her buttocks, moving her slightly in a wiggly motion, so that he seemed to corkscrew his pecker farther up her tunnel. And she slipped down, burying another bit of it in her. And her legs were trembling with the effort to hold herself a little bit off his pelvis. Jim had said he wanted slow penetration in a series of pictures. But she couldn't hold off much longer. And didn't want to. That prick was way up her tunnel but it could go farther.
Suddenly, with a sigh, she dropped all the way down, her little buttocks resting on his legs, her cunt pried wide open by the stretch of her legs-and his pecker rammed far up her, already pulsing.
Jim moved his pelvis, stirring her little cunt to activity, to chewing on the root of his shaft, to pulsing for itself all up her tunnel in answer to the pulsing of his shaft, the spasmodic twitch of his bulb.
Jim opened his legs and she slid down between them, her pelvis tilting, her cunt driving still deeper down on his pecker-and feeling it move way up inside her.
Now she could hold her breath, letting shivers run up her small frame, chasing each other delightfully along her spine, up her cunt. And her titties could jut proudly, ready for Jim if he wanted to play with them while she rode his shaft.
He reached for her titties, just teasing the nipples, and triggered a special tightness in her chest, a special feeling of gulpiness, of shudders that ran down her, meeting shivers that came up.
Slowly she began to move her pelvis, feeling the rod of his rigid and tight whanger within her, but quivering and pulsing with a vitality all its own. Her pelvis slid sideways, tilted a little, moving in slow rotation around and across the root of his shaft, building an excitement inside her more intense than anything she had known.
This was so prolonged! It was taking forever! And she didn't mind. No, she didn't mind. Not a bit. Let it last forever! Let it go on and on and on, building to some tender violence within her, creating some climax that seemed now as if it might tear her to pieces. And yet she knew it wouldn't. It was just part of the delightful, shivery almost-fear in her.
Jim's hands on her waist seemed to squeeze her in a rhythm, as if he were pumping her, to get more tightness up her tunnel. And beginning a slow up-and-back movement with his pelvis, signalling the final drive.
Her hips moved in rhythm to match his, until they were working in unison, panting in unison -and-in a moment, exploding in unison.
Peggy felt his bulb pulse and the long, rhythmic pulse of his shaft an instant before the hot, salty juices slammed into her belly, flooding her. And her juices let go, with a million little stars pinwheeling behind her eyes and fireworks going in her chest and deep in her stomach.
They were moving in frantic rhythm-and then that final thrust, a heave of Jim's pelvis- and explosion! And utter stillness. They held it, on a high note, his pelvis jamming up against her, his prick riding high in her cunt.
And the juices flowed.
It was wondrous release, a floodgate opened, pressure gone-and the long feeling of being drained-of, as Jim said, your heart melting and running out at your toes.
Peggy slumped over his prick, her head drooping, her eyes unfocused yet seeing the accordion folds of her slackened stomach. Slowly she unkinked one leg, stretching it gratefully along Jim's side. And then the other, sighing as her bottom sank just a little between Jim's legs.
His pecker was getting limp now. She could feel it inside her tunnel, deflating, pulling back, twitching a little, as if reluctant to leave the warmth of her cunt. Now it was sliding out, wet, limp-no longer the magnificently frightening shaft of a few moments ago.
Her little cunt was twitching-but the twitches were slowing-further and further apart. She slid off Jim's leg and curled herself up at his side, grateful for the comforting arm that dropped over her shoulder, lying almost negligently but with an assuring protectiveness across her breasts.
Her small body still shook with the excitement of the orgasm and her little wet cunt ached from the stretching. But it was a gently slowing shake and the ache was just enough to remind her that she had been-posing.
Her head drooped against Jim's shoulder and she slept, without even asking to see the photographs, though the idea did move fleetingly across her mind, got almost as far as a murmur -and she was off, asleep, undreaming.