Paris 5:2 - Sophie & the photographer
So if you still want that sound file of me talking dirty to you, for your ears alone - or if you just want to send an audio for the fun of it (and so far that's been the case with the ones I've received, all recorded just for the pleasure of being a little naughty and making me cum - I have such lovely readers!), then now's your last chance! Find yourself some free time, press that record button, and have some fun for me - I'd love to cum listening to you xx
And to hopefully assist you a little, here's part two of the ongoing new Sophie story - hope you enjoy xx
Paris - Sophie & the Photographer - part 2
Sophie patiently watched Duchamp setting up his studio with quiet amusement. It was clear from his demeanour that he had little or no experience with models - his studio clearly saw little use, and it took him some time to position his camera correctly, adjust his lenses for interior shots - even his lighting was basic and largely inadequate. She knew there were many far more experienced photographers in Paris, who would undoubtedly do her more justice, but then it had never really been about the photographs. Glamorous shots she could arrange any time, in the comfort of her own rooms, with complete privacy and opulent surroundings - there was something more immediate about this session for her - she was feeling aroused, she wanted Duchamp to capture that arousal, and she wanted the photographs to be real, to be true - for this to happen, all artifice needed to be removed. It needed to be simply her, aroused and wet; a photographer as aroused as she was, capturing that lustfulness; and the sensuality which that arrangement would bring. She wanted the photographs to be as much a document of his own lust as hers - wanted an emotional exchange, wanted to see herself as he saw her, wanted to understand why she excited men so easily - and she especially wanted to excite him. Shy men were always one of her failings.
He appeared to be almost finshed - if anything, he seemed to be fidgeting a little too much, rather nervously.
"Would you mind if I undressed?" Sophie asked, a little coquettishly.
Duchamp fumbled a reply. "Erm.. no... no... I thought... I thought you might want a few shots with... er... with your clothes on...?"
"Why waste time?" Sophie smiled. "But I can see you're a little nervous - perhaps if I just strip down to my undergarments for now, until you're a little more relaxed..."
Duchamp blushed, fiddling again with his lens, adjusting the lighting - Sophie smiled to herself, and began to unbutton her blouse. She could feel his eyes upon her - although he was doing his best to appear busy, she knew he was watching her as she began to undress. He was a customer of her cafe - all the men who came to the cafe desired her - the curse of minor celebrity, she would often think to herself. Of course he watched her - for him, heaven had entered his small room. An angel disrobing in front of him.
Her suggestion of keeping on her undergarments was something of a ruse. She was wearing no undergarments to speak of. Just a flimsy nightshirt, lace and silk. Her back was turned to him discreetly, but she couldn't resist taking a little time as her blouse slipped from her shoulders, letting it pause for a moment as it slid down her back. For a moment, there wasn't a sound in the room - she could sense him holding his breath.
The temperature in the room felt physically warmer. She allowed the blouse to fall to the floor, and turned to him, her silk nightshirt hardly fastened, naked underneath. He stood and looked at her - she could almost hear his heart pounding.
She smiled at him again - a dazzling smile that melted him in an instant.
"Shall we begin?" she asked.
to be continued...