This is part twenty-one of my adventures in the early nineties with a gay man about fifteen years older than me who saw me as a near-reincarnation of his first boyfriend. Check my post history for earlier installments of the story of an older man’s toy.

The week after entertaining Blaise and his old friend as their slave I had a basic street clothes show. It was a normal night until I caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blue hair in the middle of the audience. After my post-show clean-up, I made my way directly to my favorite adult store clerk who’d been so helpful to Blaise and me.

“You actually came to a show!” I said.

Her eyes were wide as she smiled a broad, beautiful smile.

“Curiosity got the best of me,” she said. “My partner had family stuff. So, I decided to see what kind of show you put on.”

“Well, I hope you liked it,” I said. “That was probably my tamest show.”

“It was hot!” she replied. “I’m not a …, this was …, you made me horny and you don’t even have the right equipment.”

As she stammered, her eyes roamed up and down my body. I was wearing a tight black bikini, my denim jacket, and my pink leather cock ring on my wrist. Her eyes traced the trail of bare skin visible through the open jacket and lingered at the obvious bulge in my bikini that pushed the top out from my groin.

Watching her admire me gave my cock an involuntary twitch. I saw her react with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

“Wow!” I said. “I don’t often make people speechless.”

“That was - special!”

“Y’know, I just realized I don’t know your name,” I said.

“Oh! Celia.” She extended her hand.

“You don’t have a drink, Celia,” I said, holding her hand in both of mine. “What can I get you?”

I was stopped several times on the way to the bar by audience members thanking me or complimenting my performance. Some palmed cash to me. Some pushed bills into the pockets of my jacket. Some of the long-time regulars leaned in to whisper in my ear while pushing a hand into my bikini for a personal touch, leaving a few bills between my cock and balls. A couple pushed money into my bikini with one hand while grabbing my barely covered ass with the other.

“You know you can call Blaise for that,” I usually replied to the whispers.

“What are they doing?” Celia asked, her eyes wide. “What are they whispering?”

“They’re giving me cash tips,” I said, pulling three hundreds out of my underwear. “The whispers are about what they want to do to me or want me to do to them.

“The ones that whisper and grab me always leave the biggest tips behind.”

Just then a fifty-something man in Polo head-to-toe came up with a big smile. He pushed both hands into my bikini while breathing something into my ear about sucking my cum through a straw.

“Call Blaise, Paul,” I smiled, pushing my own hand against his khaki-covered groin. “You say lots of nice things on Saturday night. But, you never call on Monday.”

As he walked away smiling I pulled my bikini open. Paul, the investment guy, actually had wrapped three more hundreds around my wrinkled shaft.

“Paul likes to do that,” I explained as Celia stared wide-eyed. “I really should get his number and talk to him about investing all the money I’m making from these shows and my books.”

“What was that about calling Blaise?” she asked.

“I do private shows during the week,” I told her. “One-on-one or occasionally two-on-one for couples. They’re usually just a replay of whichever show they like most. But, being private, it’s more intimate. They can be closer and take care of their own needs while they watch.”

“For more money, I assume?”

“Of course,” I said. “And, they usually give me another tip. But, in a private show, I do allow some touching and participation. I definitely make it worth their money and time.”

“How much does one of these personal performances cost?”

“Most pay $150. But, some pay less; some are free,” I said. 

“So, some of these men are paying $50 for this show,” Celia said. “Then, they give you a $300 tip. Then, they pay $150 for a private show and tip you again there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I have made as much as $800 from one man in one week.”

“But, some people don’t pay anything,” I said. “I’m not fleecing people. The tips aren’t required, requested, or suggested.

“I have a handful of special guests that I’m happy to entertain for free. My friend Ezekiel never pays. A couple younger guys who can’t afford to even come to the shows are special guests. I’ll always consider you a very special guest, too.”

“Me?” Celia seemed shocked.

“You’ve supplied me with lots of great stuff. And, you seem interested, even intrigued,” I explained. “I’d be happy to let you see how some of your products are used - in private. And, don’t worry about paying for a regular show either. You’re always a friend here.”

A couple of minutes later we were on the couch with Ezekiel. Blaise was mingling, still accepting the occasional congratulations on having me as his young protege. I often overheard myself described as his “boy toy.” Sometimes it was “twink” or “daddy chaser.” That night someone did call him my daddy. Some made comments about the size or shape of my cock, or asked how my cum tasted, or even how tight my ass was.

“Does it bother you how they talk about you?” Celia obviously was hearing the same conversation.

“No,” I said. I could feel myself blush a little. “I’ve been hearing stuff like that for almost a year now. Most of the time they’re right in my face with it.”

“I’ve wondered about that, too,” Ezekiel said.

Celia had a bit of a disgusted look on her face.

“He would never admit it to anyone except me, but Blaise eats up this kind of attention,” I said. “These shows originally were his idea. At first, it was just a group of his friends, all his age. He was showing me off and I was making money at the same. He really was the proud ‘daddy’ showing off his young conquest.

“He’s a hero to some of these men. I mean, they aren’t here for the free drinks. Where else in this state are you going to get a live gay sex show with free alcohol?”

“And, you could almost describe me as his boy toy,” I admitted. “But, I’m definitely not a twink or daddy chaser. If anything, he chased me.”

“But, some of the stuff they’re saying is pretty…”

“Rude?” I finished for her. “I perform a live one-man gay sex show. There are going to be comments about my dick or ass or whatever. Just like the guys who whisper in my ear. It comes with the territory.

“For the most part, everyone has always been very civil and well-behaved. I just choose to accept it as part of the fun. Usually, if they’re talking to me, I give it right back to them with a comment about their size or lack of ability.”

At lunch that Monday, as he lifted up from my crotch, breathing heavy and his mouth still dripping a little cum while we sat in his driveway, Blaise told me Celia had called just before lunch. She booked a private show for that Thursday. He was surprised to hear from her until I told him how intrigued she had seemed with the shows, both public and private. But, we both were surprised she wanted a private show so soon.

That Thursday I greeted her at the door in a white button-down and jeans. She told Blaise she just wanted the same thing I’d done at the previous show since that’s the only show she’d seen.

I got her a beer and sat her in the usual private show chair. We shared small talk for a couple of minutes. I was avoiding asking her the questions I had, and she seemed to be avoiding something, as well.

She drank her first beer quickly. We walked together to the kitchen for another.

“I’ve never been with a guy at all,” she admitted, sounding a little embarrassed.

She had stopped with the bottle just at her lips when she spoke.

“I really don’t don’t know why I’m here,” she said after swallowing a mouthful of beer. “I just…. You seemed so inviting the other night. I just wanted to see more.”

“It’s OK to be curious,” I told her. “I mean, I’m here because of curiosity.”

“Yeah, but,” she darted her eyes to and from my groin quickly, “I feel like I’m doing something wrong.  Michele doesn’t know I’m here. I’m in a relationship with a woman. I shouldn’t be interested in watching a man do anything.”

“I don’t see a problem with someone being curious or interested in or entertained by seeing someone else whether it’s sexual for you or not,” I said as we walked back to the living room. “Maybe it isn’t sexual. Maybe you just want to see what you’ve missed, how the other half lives.

“Just sit back and watch. I have a feeling you’ll still be attracted to Michele. And, after this, you might go home and ravage her with renewed energy.”

“Damn. You really know how to sell this shit, don’t you,” she said, getting comfortable in her chair.

“That’s what most of my clients do,” I explained. “I get them charged up and they go home to the one they love and wear them out.”

“I sell fantasies that my audience can turn into their own reality,” I continued, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. “They can go home and try what I do with their lovers. Or, they can take the energy and lust I generate and redirect it toward their lovers.”

“You’re right,” Celia said, her eyes following my hands down my chest. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

There was a quiet grunt when I pulled my shirt out of my jeans showing my full torso.

I let it slide off my shoulders and down my arms slowly before dropping it on the floor beside us.

Celia stared at the button of my Levi’s before I even touched it. If she could have, I thought she might have willed it open with her fascination or lust or whatever brought her to watch a man strip and jack off.

Just like a soft-core movie, she bit her lip as I released the button and slowly dragged the zipper down. A special package-accentuating black thong is the normal underwear for this particular show. It’s designed to push my cock and balls forward out away from my legs and torso.

But, for Celia, I thought a regular - but one size too small - bikini might be appropriate. She rarely took her eyes off my groin Saturday night.

Tonight I chose white to allow more of the contours and shape of my package to be visible to my audience, at least, for as long as it remained on me.

I spread my jeans open and pushed them down just enough to show her the red pubic hair that curled out of the top of the bikini. Her breathing was visibly speeding up.

When I finally released my curved package from the denim my cock sprang up and out. It still was captured by the cotton underwear, but it strained against it just a couple of feet from Celia’s face.

When the jeans were off, I leaned back onto the arm of my chair and began a slow caress of my cock through the bikini. It stiffened and straightened quickly. The head and more than half the shaft pushed out the top as I reached down to knead my balls through the fabric.

Celia set her empty beer bottle down. Breathing a bit heavier. I could see her hand was shaking a little.

“Do you want another beer?” I asked.

“No. I’m good.”

“Do you want to pull this off?” I slid a finger under the narrow waistband of the bikini.

Without a word, she reached out with both hands. I stepped close. My meat already was almost completely exposed. When she pulled the bikini down my hard cock fell forward and slid down her forehead before she jerked her face back startled.

Her eyes didn’t leave my meat as she pushed the bikini down my legs.

Finally naked, I leaned back onto the arm of my chair. But, Celia remained leaning forward on the edge of hers.

I began a slow stroke and caress of my cock and balls, sometimes closing my eyes. I didn’t use lube, instead, let my precum help out. I had a hunch the lube might get in the way later.

As I usually do, I rocked back and forth a little as my entire body responded to the sensations my hand elicited in my dick, stroking slowly, sensually up and down, my cock skin pushing and pulling with each movement.

I propped one foot up in the chair to give my audience a full view of my cock, balls, and a little ass cheek.

I slowly stroked myself while squeezing my cheeks with each stroke for a little forward thrust. The growing ecstasy had my eyes nearly closed. But I kept them on Celia.

She was leaning even closer to me, her face only about a foot from my straining cock. Her eyes never left my groin. Her breathing was nearly as heavy as mine.

I found myself moaning quietly, but loudly enough for my audience to hear. Normally, I’ll moan intentionally as part of the show. People want the extra drama - even if they know it’s just a show.

But, this time my moans were real and unconscious. I found this wasn’t just a performance for me. I was as turned on as Celia. I wanted to cum for her and hoped she might want to participate in some way.

As I felt my cock and balls throbbing, my abs and hips started thrusting without my conscious control. I felt an intense orgasm coming. I backed away from Celia as much as I could. I didn’t think she would want to be covered in my cum.

“I’m going to cum,” I croaked as my breathing and moans became louder and faster.

I rolled my palm over my head one last time and angled my shaft almost straight up as a huge blast of thick white cum shot into the air between us. I kept jacking hard and fast as Celia gasped and sat back a little to take in the full trajectory of my sperm.

Finally, I felt my tense muscles and nerves collapse. I sat panting and slowly continued to milk cum from my hot dick.

“Can I - ?” She reached out her hand absently as I continued to stroke. I moved closer.

“Of course, you can.”

She touched the tip of my gooey cock with the ball of her middle finger and immediately pulled it away. My cum created a string of goo between my oozing head and her soft fingertip.

“Have you ever tasted cum?” I asked.

Her eyes darted up to my face instantly. She gasped.

Her finger was in her mouth before I realized it, before she thought about it. I could see she was wrapping her tongue around her finger. Her eyes closed.

A second later her finger slid up the length of my cock collecting more cum and shot into her waiting mouth.

“You’ll get more if you lick it off directly.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’ve never.”

“Just like an ice cream cone or lollipop,” I said, standing and stepping toward her. “Just lick.”

Slowly, tentatively, she leaned in and just touched the tip of her tongue to my head. I squeezed the shaft tight so it would be swollen and firm for her.

After savoring that first taste, Celia extended her tongue and licked the length of my shaft from my hand to the tip. I twitched and gasped a little when she found my frenulum. She pulled back, looking up at me.

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “It’s just extra sensitive after. Keep going.”

She licked over it again. She reached to grab the shaft and I let go. She put her lips on the head in an open-mouthed kiss. She pulled back to lick the cum off her lips.

I extended my hand.

“There’s plenty here,” I offered.

She took my hand in hers and licked it clean before inserting a finger and sucking it.

“There,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”

In a second she had released my hand and had a few inches of my cock in her mouth. Once there she gave me a strong jerk with her fingers wrapped around my shaft and one last wad of cum shot onto her tongue.

She gave an excited, startled grunt as her eyes flew open. But, she didn’t release my cock. She sucked until it was limp and empty.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed. “Does everybody’s taste like that?”

“I might be biased or just used to it. But, I think mine is better than anyone else’s that I’ve tasted,” I admitted. “And, everyone who’s commented on it has agreed that it’s unusually good.”

“Really,” she said, staring at my wrinkling meat in her hand.

“You’re welcome to ask Blaise or Ezekiel.”

She seemed almost in a trance as she lightly caressed my limp cock and cupped and rubbed my balls.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever had a dick in my mouth or tasted cum,” she said. Her eyes shot up to my face. “This is the first time I’ve had one in my hand.”

She continued stroking and caressing my cock and balls. She lifted my cock to examine it from every perspective. She bent down to look closely at my balls.

Her eyes darted up to mine and she noticed I was watching her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just, I’ve never been this close to one. I’m fascinated, I guess.”

“You can examine it as closely as you like,” I said. “But it might be easier in the bedroom.

“And, I can take care of you, as well.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You seem a little  - needy,” I said, using my eyes to direct her to the wet spot in the crotch of her jeans.

“I’ll need to clean up first,” she said. “I came straight from work.”

I showed her the bathroom and the bedroom where I would be waiting.

A minute later I heard the shower. Five minutes later the water shut off. Another two minutes later a tall, thin, athletic blue-haired goddess walked into my room. She had small, perky breasts with areola that were barely larger than her half-inch nipples. Her abs were more pronounced than mine and she kept a short landing strip of dirty blond pubic hair. Her legs were thin, but muscular.

“God! You’re stunning!” I practically yelled. “I mean, I knew your face was beautiful and I had my suspicions about your body. But, you should be on a catwalk.”

“Shut up,” Celia said as she eased down on the bed beside me. It was obvious she was nervous, practically trembling. But, my praise seemed to help. At least, she was smiling.

“I don’t know how you talked me into your bed,” she said. “You’ve barely spoken and here I am.”

“Roll over,” I instructed her.

She gave me a confused look but complied. I lifted up and began rubbing her shoulders and back. Before I made it halfway down her back she had visibly relaxed.

“How would you feel about modeling for me?” I asked. “I’d love to do some shots of you like the ones I’ve done of Ezekiel and myself.”

“You already worked some kind of magic to get a naked lesbian into your bed,” she said. Her voice was muffled a little with her face half-buried in my pillow. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

“No. I’m absolutely serious,” I said. “You would make a fantastic model. My publisher told me I needed to branch out. My photos of Ezekiel are better than the ones of myself.

“And, just think of what a gift it would be for Michele. Don’t you think she’d enjoy some sexy, even x-rated photos of you?”

I continued rubbing and kneading her tight muscles down her spine, over her hips, and on to her tight, rounded butt. My cock already was responding. My hetero side decided to show up.

Celia let a moan escape as I massaged her glutes.

“Maybe,” she finally said. “But, they couldn’t have my face in them.”

“I never include faces in the shots I do for publication,” I assured her. “But, I do have plenty of private shots for the special people.”

While I worked the mounds of her cheeks with my palms and fingers, my thumbs “accidentally” pushed between them and lightly stroked the pucker of her asshole and slit of her smooth pussy a couple of times.

I was surprised to see her legs move slightly apart to allow my hands better access. But, I kept massaging my way down her thighs and calves. I paid special attention to her feet. I knew her job had her on her feet all day. They would always need special treatment.

She moaned again, more loudly this time.

“Keep doing that,” she moaned. “You’ve almost convinced me.”

I kissed each foot and continued a trail of wet kisses up her legs before licking her from her taint to the top of her now splayed butt crack. I licked back down and began licking all around her tight asshole. She quickly spread her legs farther. I noticed she spread them pretty wide with no effort at all.

I put pressure on her sphincter with my tongue and began lightly rubbing over her small pussy lips. They already seemed to be swelling and pushing outward. My guess was that her labia were rarely visible until she spread them open or they became aroused.

She already was wet and warm.

I didn’t push a finger inside or even search out her clitoris yet. I just rubbed over her sensitive lips as I licked her ass.

A minute later I pushed my tongue just a couple of millimeters into her pussy and traced circles around the tight, wet opening.

Celia instinctively lifted her hips by arching her back as she moaned. Her legs still were very wide, and I was becoming curious.

“Roll over so I can get to everything,” I said hoarsely.

A second later she was on her back with her knees bent and thighs spread wide.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you do this,” she breathed. “But, I don’t want to stop. This feels so good.”

“Just consider it part of the private show experience,” I said.

I continued exploring every layer of her pussy with my tongue until I heard her breathing loud and heavy, heavier now than before.

Then I found her clitoris and circled and pressed it, boxed it and sucked it. She was moaning and whimpering in less than a minute. When she started bucking her hips against my face I slowly inserted a finger and began massaging her G-spot. I knew my anatomy, especially the sex organs and erogenous zones of both sexes, better than anyone I knew.

It literally took only a few strokes against her magic spot to get Celia grunting and gasping loudly. I felt her spasms begin in her abs and continue into her asshole and finally hit her pussy before she clenched her ass cheeks and thighs against my ears, letting out a scream that was probably heard by the neighbors a half-mile away.

I held on tight and continued licking her clit. It was hard to stay on target as her hips were bucking wildly, every muscle in her groin was contracting and her legs were trembling violently.

Slowly she calmed down. But every breath was a gasp and lilting moan. She twitched and jumped every time I touched her clit. So, I moved down to suck on her labia and lick a thin white discharge from her still contracting vagina. It seemed Celia produced a cum of her own.

I didn’t stop licking and sucking until I felt her entire body go limp and her breathing begin to calm down.

I kissed my way up her smooth belly and chest. When I found her mouth Celia pushed her tongue deep into my mouth and we lost our breath again as she wouldn’t stop. She held the back of my head to her tightly.

When she finally released me I pulled back and looked down at her.

“Sorry,” she panted. “I love to taste myself on other people's tongues.”

“Anytime,” I breathed, dropping down beside her.

My cock had gotten hard again while I was massaging and eating Celia. But, I was so intent on pleasing her that I came again while my face was buried between her thighs. It lay on my hip shrinking with a little thin semen oozing out.

“Holy shit!” Her chest still was heaving. “How the fuck?”

“That was good for me, too,” I admitted. “I’ve missed that. Hell, I even came again.”

“With skills like that, I’d never know you were gay,” she panted. “That was amazing! Are you sure you aren’t a lesbian?”

“Well, to be honest, I’m not entirely gay,” I said. “I’m more bi.”

She looked over at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Actually, to let you in on a little secret - I’m really not all that attracted to men at all,” I said. “I mean, one or two, yes. But, for the most part, I don’t find men, in general, all that sexually attractive.

“I am, however, a sex addict. I love sex in just about any form or position or with either sex.”

“That’s funny,” she said. “You would never know. You work your audience so well. You just have this persona of the sexiest, most sex-hungry man I’ve ever seen. All while still being so masculine and butch. I guess, I just assumed you were gay because your audience is - and, of course, I know about you and Blaise - and Ezekiel - and the other men you do private shows for.

“You must be a hell of an actor to appear both perfectly gay and perfectly straight at the same time.”

“It’s a tough job,” I said. “But, I have to admit, you are the first woman I’ve been with in two years.”

“You’re kidding?!” Celia was up on an elbow staring at me. “It’s been two years and you’ve still got that kind of skill?”

“What I just did to you is my favorite thing,” I admitted. “I’d rather eat pussy than cum myself. But, even with men, I get more personal satisfaction out of seeing another man cum than cumming myself.”

“Your dedication shows,” she said, reaching one hand out to my oozing cock. “I guess that's why your shows are so good. You just give yourself away.”

She leaned down and licked my cum from my hip before sucking my limp back into her mouth.

When she was satisfied I was clean, Celia headed back to the bathroom. I straightened the living room and waited for her with a beer for us both. When she joined me she was wearing her own string bikini and shirt. I had only put my underwear and shirt on, as well.

 “So, you do anal in some of your shows, don’t you?” she eventually asked. “Do you do it in real life? I mean, do you have sex with guys?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ve only done it with two men. But, Blaise and I do it regularly. Why?”

“I like doing my girlfriend with a strap-on,” she said. “How would you feel about that?”

“You mean, you want to fuck a man in the ass? That’s a bit stereotypical for you,” I said. “I didn’t see you as being on the man-hating feminist end of the lesbian spectrum.”

“It isn’t that,” she replied. “Believe me, what you did for me tonight was amazing. I don’t hate men at all - especially you. You’re such a great guy.

“I just, - I don’t know. It’s a thing Michele and I do. I just want to -.”

“You want to share it with me,” I said. “It would be like initiating me. Somehow, the act of pegging me would make me part of your clan.

“Now I’m flattered. We’ve just barely started getting to know each other.”

“Is that what I said?” Celia was confused. “I guess, you’re right.”

“It’s kind of a tribal or primordial thing,” I said. “Sharing this intimate act with a new person is a way of showing them you accept them, that you’re comfortable with them.

“But, sure. I’d be happy to let you fuck me in the ass. If, that is, you’ll agree to pose for me - at least for a few shots.”

It sounded crazy. But, the sentiment behind it was sound.

“I’ve had a couple dicks and plenty of dildos in my ass, even some produce,” I said. “One more shouldn’t hurt.

“But, I’ll have to get one. Strap-ons haven’t actually come up among my usual clientele that all have their own dicks.”

She laughed unexpectedly.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll bring something. I have the perfect thing in mind. It’s something that just came out. It’s really cool. Maybe average size or less. It shouldn’t be too much for you.”

“You haven’t seen my anal show,” I said. “I can handle quite a bit.”

“I’m sharing, remember?” she said. “It’s not a mean feminist thing. If I was, yeah, I’ve got some monsters that would shift your internal organs around.”

“So, that means you’ll pose for me? And, that you’re coming back?”I asked. Apparently, I had a new regular.

“Yeah. This was a lot of fun,” Celia said. “And, I’m curious. I’d like to see what you can do shooting a woman.

“Who knows? I might even bring Michele and we can both explore you and modeling.”

“You should definitely bring her to a show,” I said. “You might find my deep-throat show interesting. Or, my self-suck show. There’s something I better you’ve seen.

“But, show or not, you’re always welcome and always free. Here’s a card with my numbers. The number you have is for Blaise at work. He sets up my private appointments. These are for here at home and at work when I’m in the office.”

She yawned as she slid the card into her small pocketbook.

“Oh, God! I didn’t realize it was so late.”

It was somehow already after midnight.

“I don’t know if I’ll make home without falling asleep,” she said.

“How far is it?”

“It’s almost an hour to my apartment.”

“Stay here,” I offered. “You can have the bed. The couch in my studio pulls out.”

“No. I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out of your own bed.”

“They’re both mine. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I said. “I won’t have something happen to a client right after they leave the Lodge.

“You can use the master bathroom and I’ll get you a t-shirt or anything else you need.”

“How could any woman hate you? You’re too nice.”

I awoke at my normal 6 a.m. and took a quick shower while Celia slept. I looked outside and saw that a light fog was covering the backyard. That meant the pond would be foggy, as well. I had an idea.

I called Blaise, explained the situation,  and told him I’d be an hour or so late and to let the appropriate people know. I didn’t have darkroom duty that morning or an assignment until lunch, anyway. I wouldn’t be missed.

I made coffee and grabbed my medium format cameras, mounted a tele on one and a wider lens on the other, and loaded a half-dozen backs with film. Then I waited for my guest to rise.

“Do I smell coffee?” she asked, walking into the kitchen in one of my college t-shirts. It had been only a few minutes.

“How would you like to start your modeling career today?” I asked as I filled a large mug for her.

She grunted her confusion as she gave me a look over the rim of the mug.

“There’s a nice fog this morning,” I explained. “I have a great idea for some shots of you out at the pond. It should be warm enough.”

“Pond? You never said anything about a pond,” she said.

“Yeah. I’ve got a pond behind the house. It’s private. It’s part of the property.

“I’m ready as soon as you feel awake enough.”

“What? Like this?”

“Actually, you won’t need the t-shirt,” I said.

“I haven’t had a shower or washed my hair,” she protested.

“The camera doesn’t care that you haven’t had a shower since last night. And, I kind of like your hair just like that.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was leading Celia through the trees behind the Lodge. She was wrapped in a blanket with her tennis shoes on.

She expressed her genuine appreciation for the pond and deck.

“This must be fun in the summer,” she said.

While she remained wrapped in the blanket, I demonstrated the pose I had in mind. I wanted her leaning against the rail of the deck on her hands looking out at the pond lifting herself up slightly on her toes. With her well-toned body in that pose, every muscle group would be extended and elongated.

She dropped the blanket, kicked off her shoes, and assumed the pose perfectly.

Her calves and thighs were tight. Her back was stretched. Since she was on her toes, her butt was tight and round. The temperature already was just under seventy. So, she said she wasn’t cold. But her pronounced nipples were beautifully erect on the tips of her small pert breasts.

I got to work quickly shooting her from all four sides. I shot each side in a multi-shot panorama, breaking the view of her body into four separate frames.

I shot furiously, switching film backs as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to lose the fog. I also didn’t want the sun to rise too quickly and change the nature of the light. That would make the photos from the beginning of the shoot look different from the photos shot at the end.

I kept shooting, grabbing close-ups of various body parts and portraits. I had her hold the mug she’d taken with her for some beautiful portraits. I didn’t notice until I looked through the viewfinder that the mug actually was almost the same blue as her hair.

I was ready to let her head back to the Lodge for a shower when I finished all the film I had loaded. But, Celia had several suggestions of her own once she was fully awake and had a feel for what I was after.

As soon as I had fresh film loaded she began showing off the flexibility and strength she’d developed over years of dance and gymnastics. That answered the question of where that body came from.

“You have to let me do a book on you,” I said as I shot her doing a split between the rail break where the steps led down to the shore.

She was suspended with one leg on each side of the steps. I shot her from the front, back, and side before squatting down underneath to get a close-up of her shaved pussy.

“Let’s see how these turn out,” she said. “This was kind of fun.”

“What about shooting you and Michele together?” I asked. “Or, Michele separately? It could be a trilogy, a book on you, a book on Michele, and a book on the two of you together.”

“I don’t know how she would feel about that. But, it’s worth asking after she sees these.”

After that, we headed back to the Lodge. Celia had to be at the store by 10 and I already was an hour late.

I waited for her to shower and let her wear one of my blue costume t-shirts. She didn’t have time to go home for a change of clothes. The jeans she’d worn the day before would be OK, she said. But, she didn’t want to wear the same shirt twice.

Tied off on one side, my shirt actually looked pretty sexy on her. She agreed and suggested I buy another blue shirt; I might not be getting that one back. And, again, the color nearly matched her hair.

By nine, she was gone and I headed to the office trying to figure out when I would have time to develop and print 18 rolls of film.