I’d rented the hotel suite for the weekend and was busy setting up the lighting in the bedroom and around the living room couch. It was on the 22nd floor, up high enough to allow in plenty of sunlight. That’s the way I like it for these shoots, very naturalistic. The better to get the flesh tones right.

My pet single malt was resting in a short glass on the modest bar that was wedged into a corner of the main room. The liquor was glistening just between amber and root beer in the color spectrum. It was only 11 in the morning but I could taste it in the back of my throat.

My name that day was Alex Cord but sometimes it’s been Mr. Jordan or Mr. Hendricks, depending upon the circumstances. Occasionally I’m Glamourland Unlimited, or basic boudoir (note the lower case spelling on that one, ooh-la-la). Whatever, I shoot skin.

Some of you may have seen my productions under the moniker EYE ON YOU, a brand name I’ve been using for some time. When you come right down to it, I’m a guy with some decent camera and lighting equipment who photographs women and young ladies naked, has sex with them if they consent, and markets the results in stores and by direct mail. I’ve been doing it since 1985, at first for my own pleasure and income and later mostly for the money.

Oh, forgive me…my company isn’t just one guy: I have the aid of two lawyers. You can’t do this stuff and avoid being sued or arrested occasionally. Husbands, fathers, brothers, mothers, boyfriends, girlfriends….you name it, somebody’s always out to stick their big schnozzes into your business, in the name of “protecting a loved one”. Nothing’s made the papers yet, in my case.

Well, back to the hotel suite, which was just about ready for that day’s shoot. The young lady who’d be arriving soon was legally named Sheridy Kay Johnson (of all things), but I’d be calling her Chantal.

A petite and assured girl with auburn-brunette hair worn just to her shoulders, she has a big smile (like, Julia Roberts-wide) but sports pixie-ish features, if you can imagine that. She has a mature twinkle in her big brown eyes, like she’s been in on the joke from the beginning and always will be a step ahead of you. This I remembered from the interview two weeks ago.

Oh, did I forget to mention she has a very sweet body? That I also remembered. She’s formed like a woman with appropriately eye-catching curves and valleys, but more the size and demeanor of a teenage girl. It’s an erotic effect, being intimate with an 18-year-old who looks instead like jail bait….but at the same time part of you feels guilty, like a cradle robber. I’d taken a particular amount of time checking her age verification documents, believe-you-me.

Her breasts are larger than you might expect on a slim girl and they’re a bit conical in shape, reminding me of Traci Lords in her pre-legal days. They’re capped with brownish-pink nipples set inside of half-dollar size aureolae, the pair of which will draw your eyes like a magnet. There is the sexiest sort of a little sag to her tits that makes you dream of a lazy summer day fuck on a deserted beach. There’s nothing like a set of very natural breasts, especially these days.

Her slim waist (where you’ll find no navel jewelry, thank god) gives way to well-rounded hips and then your eyes follow the slope down to her shaved mons. That stark, smooth landscape reveals a glistening pink cleft with pussy lips that look as soft as a moist bunny’s nose…well, I could go on with my reverie, but the appointment time was nearing and I’m afraid I’ve been drifting.

Well, maybe I’ll indulge in a bit more…

I hadn’t received the guided tour to her body until all the paperwork was in order, those two weeks ago. She even had an agent, of sorts (an ex-boyfriend?) in the room when she signed, but thankfully he wasn’t an asshole. And there was more paper that she’d be needing to put her name to, today — on the bar next to my glass of Macallan 18-year-old lay an envelope containing waivers and a final model release, as well as the thousand I’d owe her after today’s session was complete.

As an aside, in case you’re wondering if there’s any correlation between my drinking 18-year-old scotch and also making sure I work with nobody younger than that age….you could be right!

It had cost me five hundred in good faith money for Sheridy to agree to keep this first session appointment, but I knew it would pay off big. Sheridy (oops, Chantal) is the sort of girl whose DVD’s will jump off the shelves and whose website will quickly fill up with eager members. She’s a natural tease. Guys will watch her endlessly, fantasizing that they’re in the room with her.

When Chantal finally knocked at the door I gave the room one last scan and then let her in. I was happy to see she hadn’t been to any beauty parlor or hairdresser since our last meeting; I wanted her just as fresh as I’d seen her before, with none of the phony sophistication that certain stylists attempt to bestow on young women. Some of my models go overboard, being nervous about their first times before the camera, but istanbul escort Chantal hadn’t spoiled anything. She was just a sweet charming young lady, smiling and giving me a big unexpected hug.

I wondered if she could feel my arousal as she squeezed into me — I’d been at least half-hard for better than an hour.

“Well, thank you,” I managed as she tossed me her handbag and walked into the room like she owned it. “Welcome, I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m so excited,” she gushed. “This is like such a stroke to my ego, you know? Look at all this equipment.”

I placed her bag on a chair while she surveyed the place. There was no better word to describe her than “cute”, in her black three-quarter heels, skin-tight jeans, and tapered, three-button white blouse.

Well, I guess there are a few terms that also came to mind, considering the curves that filled those clothes: sexpot, piece-of-ass, and jailbait.

“Care for a glass of wine?”

“You got white?” Chantal asked in reply as she popped her head into the bedroom and bent over to inspect the second camera in that room, the one that that I’d put in a place off to the side of the bed. Its tripod was set much lower than the main camera that faced the foot of the bed.

“Let’s see.” I rummaged through the small fridge under the bar and found a bottle of Clos Du Bois. The only other wine in there had a label that read The Little Penguin, so I opted for the Clos rather than try to figure out just when bottles of alcohol had acquired labels that resemble covers of children’s books. I also fished-out the plate of brie and sliced apple that I’d prepared before and located a box of wheat crackers. Tucking the envelope full of papers under my arm, I brought everything over on a tray and sat beside her on the couch.

We sank into the cushions, smiled at each other and took a sip of our respective drinks. The scotch felt fine sliding down but my mind was on her grace and beauty. She had none of the stooped, shamed sort of look that some first-timers have before they loosen up and relax with me; there were no downcast eyes, no signs of nervous sweat. Her eyes met mine confidently.

I told her about the paperwork she’d be signing and reviewed the pay that we’d agreed upon. Chantal listened and then simply signed without looking at any of the legalese, which is fine with me because I don’t cheat my models — there’s nothing in there for me to feel guilty about. Then I told her we’d be doing a couple of camera tests for lighting and such, and mentioned the short statement that she’d be giving on-camera.

“About what?” It wasn’t a worried question, just a curious one.

“California law. Don’t worry, it won’t take but a few minutes and then we can get on with things. Just follow my lead. Shall we do a run-through?”

Chantal waited patiently while I refilled her glass and settled in behind the camera to test the look of things. We prattled a bit about the traffic and weather while I focused. It was just like any other workplace conversation, you’d never know I was about to video-record this fine young thing in ways that many will find obscene.

Soon enough it all came together.

“All set?” I asked, taking one more sip of that smooth, potent liquid.

“All set,” she answered, sitting up straight like a school kid about to do a recitation.

“All right, we’re rolling, ” I announced with a little smile as I fingered the remote toggle in my hand. “This is EYE ON YOU session number 89, and the date is May 15, 2007. My name is Alex Cord, and with me is Sheridy Kay Johnson. Today she’ll be working under the name of Chantal. Miss Johnson, can you verify your name, place of birth and date of birth, please, followed by your social security number?”

She did so, and I glanced down at the audio monitor to be sure we were recording properly. No need to screw this part up.

“Thank you. I see from the date of birth you’ve just verified that you’re 18 years of age?”


“Miss Johnson, will you please confirm that you understand you’ll be performing consensual acts of a sexual nature today for EYE ON YOU Productions, that these performances are solely for entertainment purposes, and that you are doing so of your own free will, without coercion or any outside agency that is compelling you to do so?”

“I do,” she replied, and then broke up laughing. “Sorry,” she giggled after recovering. “It sounds like a marriage ceremony or something.”

“Based on what I’ve seen of your charms so far,” I replied quickly, “that sounds like an excellent idea.”

She blushed a little as we chuckled over that one, and then made herself get serious. “Could you repeat all that?” She looked into the camera’s eye with a mock-stern expression.

I did, and when I’d finished this time Chantal soberly confirmed the facts: in effect, Chantal was swearing that she was a horny little slut who couldn’t wait to show us her intimate body parts, and that she really truly honestly deeply wanted avcılar escort to do it of her own free will, and that she just plain wanted to, is all, because…well, she was a slut, right?

Pardon me for demeaning the legal minds in my home state, but what the hell else does all the above mumbo-jumbo amount to? Talk about a bunch of finger-wagging wusses!

I started to pause the proceedings and then thought better about it. Since we’d gotten through the dreary preliminary bit so well, why slow down now? “Chantal, I’d like to continue right away if that’s all right. I could turn the camera off but I’m thinking you don’t need a break. It’s probably better you get used to it running and kind of forget it’s there. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Fine with me.”

“We’ll do some work in here and then take a break before we move on to the bedroom,” I told her. “I’ll start with introducing you, using that story we worked out before.”

She nodded and emptied her glass. I noticed that two glasses of wine seemed to have little affect on her, other than to make her even more sexy….or maybe that was the scotch talking.

“We’re here today with Chantal, she’s a pretty young thing who works as a paralegal at a major law firm, but probably won’t be after this comes out. Chantal, tell me, are you nervous about showing the audience at home your body?”

“Nope, not at all, Alex,” she chimed in, with that big grin. “18 years old last month and my bod won’t look this good for much longer.”

“Very good, very good,” I chuckled (and, to myself: Great! Now I don’t have to go through all that state-your-age crap again. She’s good!). “But I’m betting you’ll be looking great for decades to come. Have you got a boyfriend who might hunt me down for being behind this camera?”

“Not right now. I’m sort of in-between.”

“Hard to believe, the way you look. You must get a lot of attention.”

“My share, I guess.” Chantal was loosened up enough now to lean back against the couch and stretch out a bit. I moved in for a close-up of her face.

“We’d love to see more of you,” I said in a friendly manner, getting off the phony back-story stuff. “What do you have on under those clothes?”

She smiled for the camera, knowing I was focused in close. “A white bra and panties.”

“That sounds nice. Very all-American. Can we see? Stand up for us.”

She did so as I pulled back to show off her slim but quite womanly figure. Her grin was genuine as she stood and let her arms fall at her sides. I ran the camera down her form.

“The buttons, please,” I prompted. “No fair holding out.”

That made her giggle as she undid the front of her blouse and opened it, revealing the simple white cups of a cotton bra that supported her breasts at just the correct angle. I could spy her soft flesh just slightly spilling over the front. Her stomach was supple and nearly flat.

“Nice,” I remarked, and then went silent as she undid her leather belt and the top button of her jeans before running down the zipper. I refocused the camera to pull in tight as Chantal pushed the denim fabric down over her hips and the front of her white panties came into view. I kept it there so I could study the revealing of her lower body as she disrobed.

When she stepped out of the jeans I could see again her perfectly smooth and buttery thigh flesh, and also how fortunate I’d been the day this girl walked into my home office. The panty vee clung to her front almost lovingly, and there was a hint of the shape her vulva made underneath. I had to remind myself that she was of legal age and that it was okay to feel how hard my cock was getting.

I forced myself to rove up her belly to her bra-encased breasts, and then to her sweet face and that charming grin. I said nothing at the moment because nothing needed saying. Then I moved the camera back down to rest on the area of her hips.

“Say, Chantal,” I praised, “you look better in your underwear than most girls stripped to the bone.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Are you ready for me to take off more?”

“I can feel my first heart attack coming on, but, yes, I’m ready. While you remove your bra, though, I want you to tell me about the first time you showed someone your body.”

“Oh,” she replied, a little taken aback because we hadn’t discussed this beforehand. I moved my camera up to reveal her breasts straining against the bra cups from the action of her arms reaching back to undo the clasp. “It was awhile ago, and I was kinda young.”

“Don’t mention what year or anything, just tell us the circumstances,” I prompted.

The bra sagged as the clasp came undone, but her soft breasts held the front in place for a little moment or two. The tops emerged as I pulled in for a tight shot.

“It was in back of the garage. We were smoking cigarettes.”

“Who? Just the first names,” I instructed. I was holding my breath back a little in anticipation of seeing those pretty tits again, and then suddenly there the two of them were, all proud-looking and youthful, şirinevler escort as Chantal tossed her bra to the side. There seemed to be a little pink flush dotting her skin at her upper chest and neck area, or maybe it was the lighting. I’d know more during editing. But that coloration only added to the sexiness of her bared flesh and those mouth-watering nipples.

I alternated my focus between her face and her naked breasts as she continued.

“Well, me and this girl named MaryAnn were both interested in this older boy Barry. He brought the cigarettes. And MaryAnn was claiming she was already full-size up top, you know?”

“So…,” I interjected, “You just had to show what you had? Like you are right now. Speaking of which, could you play with those a little bit for us?”

“Okay,” Chantal agreed. Her hands went to caress herself and stroke her breasts like it was the most natural thing in the world. Some models act all awkward about touching themselves, as though they’d never done it before in private, but not this little one. In short order her fingers were happily urging those brownish-pink tips into full erection as her tits rested in her palms.

“I guess it just ticked me off, the way she was trying to get his attention,” she continued her story. “So I didn’t say anything but just lifted my sweater and pulled up my bra.”

“Were they as big as they are now?” I studied her nipples in tight focus, practically tasting how good they’d be in my mouth and how stiff they’d feel against my tongue.

“Pretty big, I guess. Barry liked them.” Chantal’s voice had gone all soft as she revisited her small victory out behind the garage. “He stopped talking to MaryAnn, I remember.”

“Did you let him feel them?”

“Yeah, and he got all funny and nervous. He felt me up for, like, hours.”

“Lucky young man,” I noted. Her hands were caressing her breast flesh, the nipples protruding between her open fingers. Now that they were fully erect they glistened a dark pink under the light, with almost none of the brownish tint showing anymore. I shifted in my seat to allow my own arousal a little room to breathe.

” I think it’s time for you to turn around for us, Chantal. Let’s see that wonderful backside of yours.”

She did so, looking back over her shoulder as she moved. I noted again how gracefully she handled herself. My camera started at her auburn-brown hair and moved down over the creamy skin of her shoulders and her slightly-hollowed back, then on to her thin waist and the area where the top of her panties began. This being the preliminary tease portion of the show, I had planned to spend a short time studying her lower body (more attention would be spent there when we moved to the bedroom), but right now it took all my willpower to keep from telling her to strip off and bend over.

Chantal adopted a slightly bent-forward stance. This pushed her rear up and out toward the camera as I roved over her panty-clad bottom. Hers was a classically-shaped, womanly ass, all the more sexy because it was attached to someone who looked as though she’d earn you jail time just for studying her like this. The simple cotton panties could only hint at the sweet division that lay beneath, between her rounded cheeks. Again, the flesh of her inner thighs looked like she’d been freshly brushed with butter.

“Could you pull your panties up tight around your waist, and move your legs apart a bit?”

Without a pause she did so, her actions quickly molding the white cotton material directly to her body. I could see not only a tighter outline of her exquisitely-formed buttocks but also (with her thighs now parting) the marvelous saddle that lay between her legs. Her pussy lips were intimately outlined in all their sweet glory. I could make out the very ridges of her opening being hugged tightly by the panties; the cotton looked somewhat moist, but I couldn’t be sure from that angle.

I let the camera lens rest there and contemplated if and when I might have framed a more teasing picture, in my career. Viewed without the personality of the model in the frame, body parts alone generally leave me in an “interested, but uninvolved” state of mind. Not so, right then. My heart was tripping away in my chest and my dick was a piece of steel. I couldn’t take my eyes off that lewdly-outlined cunt.

My voice nearly cracked when I asked her to use some fingers on herself down there for a moment. “Just rub it a little for me, Chantal.”

“Okay. I need to, anyway,” was her soft reply. That pretty much shot an arrow down my spine and into my crotch.

She leaned forward a bit more, opened those butter thighs further, and then two fingertips appeared from the front to gently caress herself through the panties. I figured anybody who’d be watching this disc once it was on the shelves would be masturbating by this time, be they male or female. Chantal just seemed to exude raw sexuality in an uncontrived way.

I lingered on her fingers rubbing back and forth and side to side through her covered channel for awhile, then moved up to let my camera pan her lightly rolling hips and the globes of her thrust-back ass, straining against the panties. Since she had her head craned around to look at me, I brought the camera up to get a look so we could all see her sexy expression and her half-lidded eyes. If this was an act of feigning passion and arousal, I’ve never seen any better.



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