A tale of chance and photographs

Amanda Armelin
Av. João Pessoa, 54 – mezzanine. The place looked very trash, it was on top of a sex shop.
I was about 15 minutes early and could only think to myself: “There is still time to escape, you were not born for this, girl! Photographic model? Where you’ve seen yourself, it doesn’t work! ” – And when he finally decided to turn to go, they opened the door:

  • Hi Julia! It arrived just in time, Rodrigo just arrived. Come on, let’s go up.
    Damn it! I was already sweating. Photo shoot… where was she with her head when she accepted that? Oh yes, it was for the fee. Money for half a month of work in one day. And right? They said that it is not pornographic, that it only has a sensual footprint, that there will be no nudity, just almost. “Why did I come to do this, if I’m ashamed to be naked even in front of the mirror? How stupid I am! And this Rodrigo must be ridiculous, those tattooed strongmen who only think about their own bodies. Will he make fun of me? I’m a few pounds uncomfortable with myself… ”
    It was interrupted:
  • This is Rodrigo, who will shoot with you in today’s session. Rodrigo, this is Julia. As I explained before, it is an essay for a tattoo catalog, with a sexier theme. The intention is basically to portray the love intertwined with your skin art, between sheets. Without further ado, you can go inside and change, you have 10 minutes while I set up the studio.
    “Ah, until he is normal… And he has beautiful tattoos. Thinking about the artistic side of the thing, the photo will be beautiful and… WOW! IS THIS what I’m going to have to use? Doesn’t it have a bigger one? People, what a tiny thing, will be so overwhelmed! Oh! How embarassing!”
    In the studio, the photographer drove almost mechanically where they should go, how they should move and what pose they should do. The hand higher, the nail tighter on his rib, the mouth closer to the nape of her neck, lift her blouse just a little more and… that!

And in the midst of so much shame she realized that she hadn’t exchanged a word with that Rodrigo. The guy was there, touching her ass, seducing her eyes and touching her breasts all the time and she didn’t even know what his voice was like.

  • Sorry for the silence, I’m just ashamed. I’ve never done that before.
  • No problem, beautiful. I’ve been doing this for 3 years and I never get used to it. With all due respect, your body is very beautiful: it matched your oriental style. Very good taste.
  • O-o-thanks.
  • You’re welcome. Want a tip? Just chill. Imagine that we are in a dance and let me lead you. Pretend for a moment that all of this is real, and that there is no one there watching us. Pretend these are our foreplay. In fact, not bad for a first date, right?
    And in an instant, the shame was gone. The desire to be real made all the fear go away, and the pictures were getting more and more perfect: now she had eye to eye, voluntary movements, closed eyes, kisses on the back of the neck and tongue between her thighs. He had a real shiver, an involuntary sweat, and some clever silly hands. I had the will and all the lust (or more) that they were hired to pretend to have. And the fact that he had to pretend he was pretending made it all the more exciting: torture with the taste of sex that needed to look like make-believe.
    She felt hotter and hotter, wetter and more embedded in that body that made faces and mouths no longer for the cameras. It was “for the art” that they almost undressed while they were doing it.
    Three hours of torture later, it was finally time to talk like two people who had just met and go back to the “flirting” stage, if at that point and in this case, that was still possible. They went out for a snack. He found out that she liked bacon and passion fruit. She found out that he didn’t like onion.
    An hour later, they both found that their favorite position on the bed was very similar. That the taste of his kiss was almost sweet and quite wet. That she loved oral sex. That he moaned when she squeezed him tighter. That she could come several times in a row. That he had goosebumps on the back of his neck and tickles his thighs. That their bodies fit perfectly while he squirmed to come.
    And that all those photos from the afternoon reflected exactly what the camera lenses captured.

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