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Sandy finds freedom in front of a camera
I have to thank him for the situation I was in.

He humiliated, cheated and threw me away like a dirty oil rag. To prove him wrong I decided to do something I would never have done in a million years. I was really a shy, reserved person that believed that a woman’s sexuality is holy, only to be exchanged for security by marriage to a wealthy man. He called me prudish because I would not wear a bikini, calling me a cold fish when I refused to let him stick his finger in my vagina. He said I was heartless when I did not want to accommodate his penis in my mouth. The more I tried to explain my ethics, the more he flirted with other women.

He always came back, begging me for forgiveness. Like a fool I took him back, too scared to be alone. Until last Sunday, that is. I could not take it anymore. We were at one of his friend’s house to watch a game on TV, BBQ and to catch a tan next to their swimming pool. During the game, everyone consumed a lot of alcohol. Then things started to get out of hand. The girlfriends of his friends were drunk and walked around topless. I saw that the men had a tough time concentrating on the game with all the naked tits swaying before them. I kept my dignity in my fashionable one-piece swimsuit and an oversized T-shirt.

“Come on Sandy,” he said. “Show us your tits. Don’t be such a party-pooper.”

“I am not a slut,” was my only defence.

One of the sluts juggled her tits in his face and grabbed his manhood. He didn’t bat an eyelid, or thought about me for a nano-second. He took her tits, sucked on her nipples and let her fish out his penis. Suddenly all the attention was directed at my boyfriend and his slut, the game forgotten.

“Suck him! Fuck her!” came the encouragement from the crowd.

I was totally shocked. By this time, the other girls were naked, engaged in various inappropriate acts. The slut didn’t wait for more encouragement. She dropped to her knees between his legs and took his erection into her mouth. I saw his eyes growing bigger and his mouth wide open. She quickly removed the rest of her bikini and sat on his penis. I couldn’t take my eyes off the depravity that was happening. Never in my life have I seen such an orgy of lust and debauchery. My emotions and my body betrayed my dignity. I was aroused by the fucking and yet quite upset. How could anyone cheapen themselves like that? What about their shame?

And yet, I felt my vagina freely releasing her wetness. My own modesty betrayed me as I sat fascinated by the spectacle happening around me. I saw a girl with a penis in her vagina, while she sucked on another man’s manhood. My boyfriend was still fucking the slut. Another man had his face between his girlfriend’s legs, licking her vulva. Sanity prevailed and I stumbled out the den of depravity. On weak knees I walked the six miles back to my apartment in town, my emotions in tatters. Angry and frustrated I tried to reason with myself: Were human sexuality so wrong that I would not let my boyfriend (now my ex) touch my pussy? Or that I wouldn’t kiss his cock. Did the sex upset me or was it because I didn’t get any?

I was in the photographic studio of my beautiful artist friend, Chantelle. I wanted to capture my own growth to sexual maturity on camera. We were roommates at Varsity, she the artistic blond and I the geeky brunette. Chantelle tried then to persuade me to relax my narrow-mindedness and enjoy my female sexuality. She told me that my prudishness would bring me heartache and deprive me of much pleasure.

She was right.

Time would tell.

Chantelle had her studio set up as an office. In real life, I was a very successful project manager with my own business and she thought that it would be the ideal place for me to let go of my inhibitions. She even helped me choose the right sexy underwear and the dark grey business suit. The skirt was very short. So short, in fact, that if I bent forward my red thong and maybe my pussy would be visible to any observer. The white blouse I wore, were two sizes too small and the two top buttons were open, exposing my red lacy bra. My full firm breasts wanted to burst out of the confines of the material, barely managing to hide the top of my dark nipples and areola.

I was very uncomfortable in this revealing outfit, but Chantelle’s professionalism and her sexy presence relaxed me a bit. For the first thirty minutes of the photo-shoot I had to be behind the desk, leaning forward to show my cleavage and expose my tits to the camera. I also had to sit on the desk to show the spit in the skirt, revealing my legs up to my thighs. The first piece of cover that I had to remove was my blouse.

“Unhook your bra, lean forward and let those beautiful tits fall into your hands,” instructed Chantelle. She knew what was sexy and how to make me do things. I wasn’t so sure.

“Can’t we take a break here?” I asked anxiously.

“Are you pulling out? Don’t you trust me?”

“Isn’t it too revealing?” I wanted to know.

“I can always open a bottle of cold white wine to help you relax,” said Chantelle as she started removing her own top. “It might help you if I’m also naked.”

“No,” I said. “I have to do this on my own.”

Wine might suppress my own inhibitions and a naked Chantelle would certainly push me to remove all my clothes. But it would never be my decision, and being intoxicated with wine and lust would dull my own free will. Would I ever release my true self if my sexuality were always in the service of a man? Or was my body a gift that I could share with others. On the other hand, I could lose everything; my business, my reputation, my self-image and my friends.

I stood half naked before a life-changing decision.

I lowered my head, my eyes shut. I had to get an answer somewhere. The answer lay deep within me.

“And?” asked Chantelle.

I took a deep breath: “What do you want me to do?”

“How far are you willing to go?”

“All the way.” It was then or never, my moment of truth.

Chantelle put on some soft love music on, I closed my eyes to let the music flow into and through me. Slowly, as if in trance, I moved rhythmically to the music and undid my bra behind my back and let my still covered globes fell into my hands. With trepidation, I removed my hands and my bra from my breast to give Chantelle and her camera unobscured view of my darlings. Throwing my bra towards the camera, I pushed my bared boobs as a challenge to Chantelle. Rolling my dark nipples between my fingers, I felt a jolt in my pussy. The harder I squeezed them the stronger the surprise in my vagina. My bosoms felt soft, yet firm under my caressing hands.

For the first time in my life, I was proud of my fleshly mounds. A warm glow of pleasure moved from my boobs, past my heart, over my belly to my cunt. It filled me with wonder. I never knew such pleasure could come from my beautiful tits.

Chantelle took pictures from all angles of my boobs, from the side, from above and below and even from between my legs. I was getting more excited by the minute and felt like when I had my first kiss. I was certain that my panty was sopping wet.

Then the moment of truth arrived. Chantelle told me to remove my skirt and sit on the desk in just my small red panty. I saw the dark wet patch on the gusset between my legs. I gathered all my courage from deep within me, hooked my thumbs on the thin strings of the thong and slowly pushed it down my hips, and over my thighs. Falling back on the desk, with my legs in the air, I removed the small lace panty. Chantelle captured every moment of my exposure. Bending my outstretched legs to finally rid myself of any cover, I saw Chantelle’s eyes between my open legs. She stopped taking pictures. She just stared at my pussy. My first reaction that something was wrong, that my pussy was ugly or that I offended her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It is so fucking beautiful,” she whispered. “And you’re shaved.”

My hands involuntarily moved to cover my genitalia. I stopped myself.

“Mamma always said that if you’re going to shave your legs, you might as well shave your garden.”

“It’s so fucking sexy,” said Chantelle.

That gave me the permission to kick away the panty and spread my legs wider. I touched myself for the first time in the presence of another person. Chantelle started shooting again, her camera close to my pussy. I slipped my fingers through my slit and spread my labia for her to see the pinkness of my vagina. I brought my hands to my mouth, tasting myself for the first time. What a rush!

She told me to turn around with my ass in the air and looking over my shoulder to the camera. My nectar flowed freely and I could feel how my pussy lips puffed up. It was as if lust possessed my whole body. I rubbed my clit until I had my first self-induced orgasm. I fell forward onto the desk. I heard Chantelle continuing her recording of my awakening.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when she touched my pussy. I shivered with pleasure as she kissed my pussylips and stuck her tongue between my folds. The camera forgotten for the moment, just pure bliss.

“I am sorry,” said Chantelle, as she became the professional photographer again. “Let’s finish up.”

Later, I sat next to Chantelle to look at all the pictures. I didn’t know myself. That was a sexy woman I wanted to be, wanted to identify with. The photo of my orgasm looked fantastic, my face a study of pleasure. My face and my wet pussy were both in focus. It was as if I looked into the face of the divine herself.

“You are beautiful and very sexy,” said Chantelle. “A natural.”

She took my hands in hers, and softly kissed. I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“Thank you for allowing me to do this,” she continued. “I fell in love with you the day you moved into my room.”

Astonished, I pulled her into my arms. I was still naked, but I didn’t care. Chantelle and her camera freed me from any inhibitions. I wanted her to be part of my new found freedom. I kissed her wet eyes, her pointy nose and her sensual mouth. She touched my naked breasts and slipped a hand between my legs and said:

“I have a strap-on in the drawer…”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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