Exposure Compensation Factor

"You know," she said softly, "I do have a thing for older men, especially talented older men."

"And I have a thing for beautiful women, of any age. We might even get along well."

It was a long ride up to the twenty-third floor, where Didi's room was. Long, interminable seconds passed, with her looking at me, and me losing myself in the depths of her eyes. I may have imagined it, but it seemed like she was moving closer...like she was tilting her head back, perhaps to allow me to sample those lips...until the fucking elevator doors opened, and someone else got on. Grrrrrr.

At last, we arrived at her floor, and I followed her out. She gave me the same view I'd had in the bar, when I followed her to the dining room, but this walk was longer, and I swear she wiggled those hips just a little more, every sexy step of the way.

She ushered me into her room, and closed the door behind us. I noticed that she locked it, and put the latch on. I guess I was staying for a while.

"Nice room," I said. "You're here to work, I assume?" I had a feeling.

"Yeah. Four days of catalogue shoots, starting tomorrow. It pays well, but it's a grind. At least," she laughed, opening her arms and turning slowly, "they make us comfortable. I wish my apartment was this nice."

She opened a drawer and came out with a thick folder ; her portfolio. She sat on the bed, and patted the spot beside her. "Please?"

I joined her, and she set the folder in my lap. All right then.

Some of the photos were god awful. That would be the photos themselves ; the composition, the angles, the poses. Didi was gorgeous, but even she could only drag bad photography up so far. Thankfully, as I leafed through things, the images got better. As she became more experienced, she caught the eye of better artists. I flipped the page.

It was a black and white, nicely framed showing Didi laying on her stomach, leaning up on her elbows, with a mischievous smile on her face. She was naked.

Didi had been watching me silently as I flipped pages, but spoke up when she saw me stop at that page.

"Oh shit. I remember that day. My first nude shoot. God I was so nervous," she giggled.

It was a nice image, hiding, yet revealing. Of course, my eyes were drawn immediately to the smooth curves of her rump.

"I've never yet met a model who wasn't nervous the first time she had to pose nude. It's understandable. There's nowhere to hide. It tests the self image of the most experienced performer," I said. "But, that..." I pointed at her behind in the photo, "... is one nice ass!"

On the following pages, about ten shots from that first nude session gave me a fair idea of what was under her dress. Sort of. They were all artistically posed, with lots of smooth skin, but really showed nothing. Teasing hints of her glory, but nothing more. Another page. Holy shit!

I'd seen thousands of breasts. I'd personally photographed hundreds of models in the buff. I had seen big ones, little ones, perky ones, not-so-perky ones, white ones, black ones... all sorts of breasts. But never had I seen a prettier pair.

She was turned three quarters, which narrowed her waist slightly, and showed one perfect globe straight on, while the other was profiled. It was a classic pose, taught to every figure photographer since the dawn of time. Casual, almost candid, and very sexy with any model. Didi took it to another level, however. At the risk of feeding her ego to the extreme, her breasts were... perfect. Full, smooth and rounded, they were big enough to make her very popular with lingerie and swimsuit designers, but had just enough sag to prove their natural origins. Her nipples stood, tall and thick as thimbles, on her firm, beautiful breasts. She had a bright smile on her face.

"Cold that day?" I jibed, turning the page. She smacked me on the shoulder. We laughed together. "Seriously, that's one good picture. A good photographer can make a plain woman look beautiful, and a bad one can make a goddess look plain. You were both at your best that day. No question. Absolutely gorgeous."

"Why, thank you Kenneth," she answered. Her eyes sparkled at the compliment, and she put her hand on mine as I started to turn the page. I looked at her. "Later," she breathed, turning my chin with her hand to face her.

I wasn't imagining this. She leaned closer, and her perfect lips found mine. It was heavenly. I closed the folder, and put it aside, pulling her down to me as I laid back. My god, she was incredible.

As first kisses go, it was...how to say this?...Un-fucking-believable! There was no fumbling, no nervous hesitation, and no reason not to return her ardour. She tasted delicious, and I could feel the passion in her lips. She wasn't playing games now.

I let her lead. She was doing fine, so why fight it? Her lips were every bit as soft, succulent, and delectable as they had appeared through the viewfinder, and when her tongue joined the party, dancing a wild tango with mine, we both moaned in unison.

My arms encircled her slim waist, holding her tight, pulling her body fully atop mine. A curtain of long, luxuriant brunette locks tumbled around our faces. I could smell her hair again. Strawberries. She tasted of them too.

I rolled us over. It was a test, of sorts. If she wanted me off, her body would tell me, but her legs spread slightly, and one long leg hooked around mine. Her hands ran through my hair, as she held me in place, the kiss continuing unabated. Her tongue was a wonderful dance partner ; playful, sensuous, at times aggressive, then demure and withdrawn. A final moan, this time of reluctance, brought the embrace to an end.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but wine goes right through me. I need to pee!"

I couldn't help but laugh as I rolled off her.

"Bet you never thought you'd be sharing that little bit of information with me when we met in the bar?" I asked. She was walking toward the bathroom, and paused, turning to face me. She put her hands on her hips.

"I have a feeling were about to share more than just information!" she giggled.

"Mmmm, that sounds promising...but leave your clothes on," I directed. "I'll get the camera ready, then you can take them off, for me."

"Ooooooo, I do like the way you think!" she giggled, over her shoulder as she closed the bathroom door.

I flew into action, readying the camera, and an assortment of lenses within easy reach. The rolling bag had three collapsible stands in it, which might have been used to hold lights, but tonight would hold merely reflectors, which were also in the bag. No flash, but I turned on every light in the place, so the ambient light actually wasn't bad, coming from several directions and casting a warm glow around the room. I would usually have had at least one assistant for a shoot, but tonight, I was a solo. It would take a little longer, but I had a feeling the anticipation would enhance the mood.

"Oh Mr. Kenneth Winslow, freelance photographer?" her voice sang playfully from within the bathroom. "Are you ready for me?"

I ran a quick mental checklist : camera - check... batteries - check... lenses - check... reflectors for illumination - check... dick, ready willing and able - check.

"All ready, Didi," I called. I was wrong. She had taken the time to primp while I was busy setting up, and when she opened the door, she took my breath away.

The most obvious change was her hair, it's style now perfected, and more voluminous. Her lips were now a deeper shade of red, and looked more attractive than before, if that's even possible. Her lashes seemed twice as long, and she batted them demurely as she walked in.

"Wow!" I said. "You look... Wow!"

"So...where do you want me?" she growled. Her voice was smoky, sultry, and without even trying, emphasized the word 'want'.

It turns out I did have an assistant, after all. He was about seven inches tall, but had a surprisingly big voice, and he was just full of suggestions on the topic of 'where I wanted her'. For now at least, I ignored him, and took control.

"Standing. Foot of the bed. Side view..." I said it...she did it. Like I said before, it's a pleasure to work with professionals. "Turn your head to me...perfect. Soft smile, now...there you go. Okay, turn left...good. Hold it." I'd taken about ten frames already. I stepped back to adjust one of the reflectors.

"Okay, side view again..." she turned, and I reached forward, unzipping her dress until the back of her bra was just visible. "Turn a bit more, good...now look over your shoulder. You're getting undressed, and someone's watching. How do you feel?" Her face registered surprise, fear, and seductiveness, in order, and I captured them all.

"Unzip, a little more...good. All the way now...good. Drape off one shoulder for me...a bit more. That's it. Now both shoulders bare." I adjusted the way her dress was falling, making sure I could see the side of her large breast, cradled in her bra. "Very nice."

My assistant was trying to get my attention. He wanted to see her tits. I concurred.

Okay Sweetheart, now turn to face me." She did, her arms still holding the dress loosely against her chest. "Show me those emotions again? Very good. One would almost think you've done this before," I laughed.

"The modelling?" she asked coyly.

"No, the taking your clothes off for an audience," I smiled. She blushed, obviously enjoying it.

Her dress showed just a hint of cleavage. "Let it slip a little lower please," I asked. She did. "Good girl! Now both arms out of the dress..." it dropped to her waist, "... and you're surprised by the voyeur. Cover those big tits!" Her face showed the surprise, and her hands tried to hide the sumptuous curves, only succeeding to make them more delicious by pressing them together more as her arms wrapped around. I paused, checking my battery level.

"How you doing Didi?" I asked.

"Having fun!" she purred. Her eyes looked at mine, not the camera, and smouldered again.

"Good," I replied, bringing the camera up. "You've been caught undressing, and now you're no longer surprised, or scared...you like it. It turns you on. Let me see it."

"That'll be easy," she giggled. "I'm so hot right now I'm about ready to spontaneously combust!"

That comment caught my assistant's attention.

"Good. Go with that feeling. Lure him in," I directed, taking shot after shot.

Her eyes bored in, burning with lust, and she licked her lips, parting them slightly, panting with desire. She leaned forward, hanging her beautiful breasts enticingly. She cupped them in her hands, squeezing them together, making them bulge out of her bra. She hooked her thumbs under the straps, easing them over her shoulders, until they hung loose. A hint of areola appeared...teasing, until she pulled one cup down, and her nipple stood proud, so tightly puckered, erect and engorged that it almost looked purple.

She slipped the dress down over her hips, and stepped out of it, flicking it away with her foot. Now clad in only her panties and bra, with one breast fully exposed, she ran her hands through her hair. Raising her arms lifted her breasts, until her other nipple popped into view, every bit as stiff as it's twin. One hand stayed in her hair, while the other snaked down, pausing briefly to tweak her nipples to even greater heights, then continuing on until three fingers dipped into her panties. Her breathing picked up, and the fingers pushed deeper, dragging the silky fabric with them, until a few whisps of brown curls appeared. The fingers moved in rhythmic circles.

"Kenneth, darling...are you watching?" she breathed. Her voice, like her breathing, was quivering.

"Yes, Didi. You're absolutely spellbinding!"

"Thank you...keep watching...get ready...don't miss it..." she hissed.

"I'm ready, baby," I said, moving closer, framing her from breasts to hairline. "Do it...cum for me, you naughty girl!"

On cue, she did. Her eyes flew open wide, along with her mouth, as the first wave hit her. Then, her head rolled back, her jaw hung slack, and her eyes screwed shut tight, wrinkling her cute nose. She grunted, and let out a moan of joy that resonated through the room. This sequence of photos was perfect. You could see the pleasure, intensity, and ecstatic agony in every frame.

"Holy shit!" she gasped, her legs wobbling slightly. I stepped in and steadied her, helping her sit on the bed.

"Easy there, baby. That was some show." She was still having trouble staying upright, so I helped her lay back.

A wet spot marked her panties, attesting to her arousal. I eased her legs apart, improving the composition, and took a few frames. A few renegade pubes glistened with wetness. Then it was off to her nipples, which looked ready to burst. I leaned in and sucked one for a few seconds, eliciting a moan from her. I really just needed it wet, and took another few shots.

"Didi?" I asked.

"Hmmmm?" she moaned.

"Your left index finger please, on your left nipple. Don't press...I don't want to lose the erection. Just touch, please."

I know...am I an idiot? Put the camera down and fuck her, right? My assistant was lobbying hard for that.

"Don't think my high beams will turn off for quite a while," she giggled. Her fingertip appeared in the frame, and touched the tip of her nipple softly. Click click.

"Gently pull your fingertip straight up, off the tip, about a quarter inch, please," I asked.

"If you wanted coordination, you should have asked before I had the orgasm!" she laughed. "I'll try!"

Her fingertip lifted away. It was one of the ones that had been up her pussy, and was still damp with her juices. I was hoping for strings of moisture to stick, connecting the tip of her finger with the tip of her nipple, and wasn't disappointed. I used my own shadow to make it more back lit, then moved aside for front lighting. She slowly pulled her finger back, and the combined saliva and pussy juice stretched elastically, reaching nearly an inch, or one nipple length, before snapping.

"Got it?" she asked.

"Got it," I answered.

"Good. Now put the camera down and fuck me!" she demanded. "I need a nice hard cock inside me!"

"How about if I keep the camera nearby and fuck you?" I asked. I could tell these photos were hot, and was reluctant to miss anything.

"If you insist, mister photographer," she sighed, "as long as I get fucked."

I put the camera on the bed beside her, and sat up, pulling my clothes off quickly. She had only to undo and shed her bra and panties, so she was naked far sooner than I was, and sat watching eagerly as I finally peeled my underwear down.

"Ooooooo! Nice dick! I think I'm going to like this," she cooed. "Lie down. It's my turn."

"Just a sec," I said, grabbing a spare battery and wide zoom lens, before returning, and taking the offered place beside her on the king sized bed. "I'm all yours."

"Good, because I'm hungry," she growled, moving between my legs to caress my cock. She rubbed it against her cheek, and sighed. "Now, let's see how steady your hands are when you're the one who's horny as hell."

I watched through the viewfinder as her lips moved closer to the head of my dick. Normally, I sought to capture images that made you feel the emotion of the subject. I had a feeling that I was about to have that demonstrated to me literally.

My finger depressed the shutter often, as those perfect, deep red lips puckered and planted a loving kiss on the helmet of my dick, who was normally on my side of the camera. Tonight, he was talent, playing a part in Didi's photo set. I was framed tight, but widened slightly, so I wouldn't miss her eyes, should her expression be memorable. Her lips parted, and inched slowly down my shaft, consuming my hard meat with a soft moan. It looked incredibly sexy. It felt like I was getting a blowjob from a goddess. Her lips slid up and down as she bobbed her head gently, opening wider, and extending her tongue, allowing my cock better entry into her throat. Her lips wrapped the base of my cock, and my finger twitched reflexively, triggering the shutter, and taking a picture I would have taken myself, if my brain hadn't been shortcircuiting due to her mouth.

I laid back, surrendering to her, putting the camera aside. As long as she was doing this to me, I would be incapable of focusing on focusing, if you'll pardon the pun. She sucked me for a few more minutes, before moving on to new business.

"No more directions?" she smiled, straddling my hips. She positioned herself on one knee, and one foot, displaying her pussy to me for the first time. I shouldn't have been surprised that her little flower was as beautiful as the rest of her. I scrambled to grab the camera.

"Can you hold it there, honey?" I asked, putting my lover persona on hold for a minute. I took a few frames. "Could I ask you to spread your lips?"

Her fingers appeared, insinuating themselves into her vestibule, and parting her labia. The moist pink interior peeked out. This would be where I'd normally have an assistant with a reflector shining the reflected light on her pretty pussy, to eliminate the unavoidable shadows. That obviously wasn't going to happen tonight, since my assistant was just about to be engulfed by her cunt. I watched as she lowered herself slowly, until the head of my cock and her spread lips were in the same frame, mere fractions of an inch apart.

"May I proceed, please?" she asked. Her voice was quivering again. Despite her cool, controlled appearance, Didi was obviously a very sexual woman, and she had needs, which I was fortunate enough to be satisfying tonight.

"Absolutely, my dear," I replied. "Please fuck me."

"With pleasure," she hissed, impaling herself. I captured a few images as my cock spread her pussy wide, then set the camera aside again.

This was not my first rodeo, but it was the first time I'd had sex with a model. Believe it or not, after sixteen years of spending time around beautiful women, many of whom had no problem discarding their clothing at the drop of a hat, this was the first time I had met a model in a social situation...at least, the first one I wanted to spend time with. At the risk of generalization, most models are pretty full of themselves, and notoriously difficult personalities to be around for extended periods. Even if the prize for tolerating those personalities was an enjoyable dalliance, after being around them all day, the price of entry was too high.

Didi was different. Challenging, yes, but in a good way, and far too beautiful to ignore. She ground her pussy down onto my cock, and groaned.

"Now that's a nice cock," she giggled, "not too big, or too small. Not too hard, or too soft... It's juuuust right!"

"Funny, you don't look like Goldilocks," I laughed.

"Goldilocks doesn't have these," she asked, cupping her big breasts, "does she?"

"Only in the XXX version," I moaned. She was skewering herself slowly, driving me crazy. "So you do mostly lingerie and swimsuit, right?" I asked.

"Mmmm hmmm," she nodded, maintaining her motions. "For the same reasons you know I'm not Goldilocks. I'm not a scrawny stick, so I'm not what the high fashion designers are looking for. That's where the big money is, but I'm glad they don't want me. I find that shit boring, and the clothes are..." she paused, reaming herself deeply, "... at best ridiculous, and at worst hideous."

"So, what's this nickname? The one your really good...horizontal...friends gave you?" I asked.

"Oh that," she giggled, pausing at the bottom of her stroke to grind on her clit. "Toody," she smiled.

"That might take some explaining," I laughed.

"A play on words," she whispered. "Deirdre becomes Didi. Didi... DD... Double D... Two D... Toody!"