Cute Girls

“If you’ve read the previous eight parts you’ll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven’t read them I’d strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you’d like to discuss anything.”

*

*Part 9: Back Home and a New Life*

Chapter 1

“Ok love, can you take the panties off now please?”

My hands were shaking so much I literally couldn’t at first, but then I managed to pull myself together. I slowly slid the black lacy thong down my legs, stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up and placed it on the table to one side, just as I’d been taught.

I felt so nervous, so very, very nervous that for a moment or two I wondered whether I could go through with it.

As I looked straight ahead it wasn’t just nerves that I felt. In addition to those I could also feel the atmosphere in the room changing. It was now heavy with sexual expectation and laden with erotic anticipation. Everything was focused on me, concentrated on my naked body, my bare breasts, my nipples, my bum, my thighs, my pussy and pubic mound. I felt so vulnerable, so alone, so exposed, so embarrassed; I also felt so fucking aroused it would have taken hardly anything to make me cum.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, a quiet low moan and a shuffling of feet, but nothing was said, no words of encouragement, praise or support. No, the ten male photographers simply stared at me as I stood before them totally nude waiting for their instructions.

Chapter 2

Things at home, now I’d left university, were not at all as I’d anticipated or hoped. They weren’t like they were before when I was still at school, but then things do change don’t they? They especially change between a mother and daughter when the latter has seen her mum holding a young man’s cock in her hand and bowing her head in preparation to, presumably, sucking it. It’s inevitable that things will change when the daughter has seen the mother kneeling bare breasted across from that young man, her personal trainer, her tennis coach and the daughter’s one time lover. It was tough for me to relate to my mum in the way I once had now I knew for certain, what I’d suspected for some time, that she liked to fuck young men. But then, hey, to each their own, I suppose.

Dad was much moodier and sharper with me and mum than ever, maybe having also found out I sometimes speculated, and continually had a go at me for leaving uni. There were loads of remarks along the lines of.

“All the money you’ve cost.”

“Throw such opportunities away.”

“Should want to make something of your life.”

“I try to give you what I didn’t have and look what you do.”

There were loads of rows and lots of bitchiness between him and me and him and mum. He seemed to be working harder and longer than ever and she seemed to dress younger and younger. She was spending more and more time playing tennis, having lessons and working out with her personal trainer, or, as I suspected fucking him. It wasn’t a nice atmosphere as it always had been before I left for college some eighteen months ago.

The worst thing, though, from my point of view was that he cut my allowance down to almost nothing.

“How am I supposed to live on that?” I snarled at him when he announced what he was doing.

“Get a bloody job like all college drops outs have to.”

I’d tried explaining that I couldn’t work out what I wanted to do and didn’t just want to get any job, but something that interested me.

“You should have thought of that before you walked out then shouldn’t you?”

Mum did try and help. But that was just by slipping me the odd fifty quid now and then. She wasn’t, as she’d never been, really that much help with advice and guidance. But then when a mother knows that her daughter has seen her with her tits out holding a guy’s erect cock in her hand, moral guidance is difficult to dispense I guess.

I did try to get jobs and I even managed to get a few over the first six months after leaving Bristol. I worked in a PR agency and in a publishing company; I did some bar work and got a job as a sales executive training to sell Porsches. But I just couldn’t settle down. I was restless, got bored easily, found it crazy that I had to work forty hours a week for such a pittance; a sum that could hardly buy me a good dress let alone a full outfit.

At one of the agencies I registered with I did, though, meet Adam. He was a thirty something aspiring actor who I bumped into at one of the interview coaching sessions the agency laid on to help us get jobs. We were paired up in a role play that was suppose to make me better at being interviewed; in fact all it did really was make me better at pulling men, Adam in particular..

I rarely go for a guy’s looks, but Adam was absolutely drop-dead, fucking gorgeous. We hit it off right away. We worked well together in the role-play, we laughed at the same things, we didn’t, unlike most of the others, take it too seriously and we built an instant rapport. We finished the role-play, chatted in the agency, went for a coffee, stayed for dinner and drinks and then went to his flat and fucked each other all night long.

This was quite some diversion for me. Although I have a great interest in sex and hold no moral views on what’s right or wrong and how long a “nice girl” should resist a guy’s advances I’d never had a proper one-night stand and had never, also slept with a guy after knowing him for such a short time.

It wasn’t really that I was too concerned about being thought by a man to be easy, for generally I couldn’t care less what he thought. It was more that I just wasn’t that interested enough in sex; more that I’d never met anyone who intrigued or excited me enough to bother; more that I simply wasn’t that concerned with sex to feel the need. Why I slept with Adam that first time I still don’t know? Something different, a first time for everything I suppose, but then he was drop dead gorgeous so that may have had a bearing as well.

It was Adam that put the idea into my head, along with putting several other parts of him into several parts of me.

“You like English, you enjoyed doing the play at uni why not go to college for the theatre?” he suggested one afternoon as we lay naked on his narrow bed in his room near Russell Square.

“I couldn’t stand the rejection of being turned down at auditions,” I replied, idly stroking his cock that just moments ago had been shagging me.

“I didn’t mean that, I meant the production side of it,” he explained pinching my nipples as his erection returned.

After we’d done it again he explained in more detail.

A day or so later I met him at the college that was not far from his bedsit in Bloomsbury. He introduced me to the administrator who explained about the three year course the college offered in stage and film production. From the moment it was explained to me I was hooked and I knew that was what I wanted to do.

I hung around with Adam and his group of friends for a few weeks as I found out more about the course, including the price, which was horrendous. I went to several parties with him, meeting a number of his friends who were also at the acting school, where, as it happened, he did some teaching.

I sort of got in and felt very in tune with this acting fraternity; I felt at home with them and I loved it. I guess there were ten or so of us that met quite often.

“I do some modeling,” to help pay for it one of the girls told me one night when a group of us were in a bar just off the Kings Road in Chelsea.

She went onto explain that she did glamour modeling for amateur photographic clubs. She explained that there were clubs like that all over London and that most of them would have a club night or afternoon most weeks where they would hire a model for their members to photograph.

“It’s mainly underwear stuff, but of course there’s topless and nude as well,” she advised, adding with a wink and a smile, “and of course you can always offer extras if you like.”

This was in my mind when dad agreed that I could go to the stage school. I remembered that Steph had said she’d also done some modeling when she lived in London so I rang her. She gave me the number of a woman, Sandra, who’d helped her a lot.

“I think she now owns a couple of studios with her husband, but I don’t think they’re still together,” she explained.

“Do you reckon she’ll be interested in me Steph?” I asked.

“Oh yes, of course Sammi, she’ll be interested, I can promise you that,” she said in a strange tone before adding, “I’ll phone her and tell her all about you.”

“Perhaps not all Steph,” I said pretending to be stern, “after all some things should be just between us so maybe just my good points eh?”

“Don’t worry Sam, Sandra will know what I mean and yes I’ll tell her about your good points, after all nice tits are essential for topless and nude modeling aren’t they?”

“You’d know all about that Steph, with what you carry around,” I laughed.

“Well Sandra liked them and I’m sure she’ll simply adore yours. Got to go though lover, come and have me soon please.”

So I had a plan that was starting to come together that would help me get to the stage school. At first that had seemed unlikely for my dad had stated, very firmly.

“Until I see you’re going to stick at it, I’ll pay half and you pay the other half,” he told me.

Little did he know just how his “little princess” would be earning that money.

Chapter 3

I’d made contact with Sandra who I had a studio in East London and had been to an audition with her. She’d explained that she and her husband owned four studios and that they were the main booking agent for models for most of the camera clubs in and around London. Over the phone I’d told her I’d done some modeling; “mainly for artists actually” I explained somewhat embellishing the posing I’d done for the fine art students at university. She’d replied that Stephanie had called and had said some great things about me.

“Well you sure have the looks,” the probably forty something tall, slim, short dark haired, quite attractive, but rather severe looking woman told me when I met with her at her office cum studio. It was in an area that had recently been gentrified and was now very trendy and popular.

“And it looks like you’ve got the figure,” she went on rather off-putting running her gaze up and down my body.

She led me into the studio and told me stand before what I thought was a white wall. It wasn’t until later that I realised it was a sheet of white paper pulled down from a huge roll hung from the ceiling and that there was a variety of other colours as well; obviously to provide a variety of different backdrops.

She set up a camera on a tripod, fiddled around with and then switched on some lights that I found to be surprisingly bright and uncomfortably hot.

“Ok, strike a sexy pose looking right into the camera,” she instructed me.

I put my hands on my hips, pushed my jean covered tummy forward and stared right into it as instructed.

“Turn to you right.”

She clicked away. “Now left.” More clicks.

“Ok let’s lose the tee shirt.”

I pulled that off feeling a little embarrassed as I knew that my nipples showed clearly through the thin fabric and again went through the process of posing and watching her click away making grunts and sounds that generally sounded to be of approval.

“Now the jeans,” she said very matter of factly.

I wasn’t wearing very sexy underwear, although as I do have a bit of a thing about lingerie it certainly wasn’t bog standard, department store cotton stuff. I was wearing a quite nice, pale blue, lacy thong with a matching bra so when I was down to them I guessed, and hoped I looked ok.

“Mmmm very nice, Sam, you look good,” Sandra commented as she lined up the camera and told me to turn away and bend forward and backwards.

As I posed in the underwear in a variety of positions I began to relax and feel more comfortable. Those feelings were helped by Sandra’s encouraging remarks as she snapped away.

“Ok a few nudes now luv, if that’s ok,” she suggested.

Although I’d been standing and posing in front of her for ten minutes or so in my underwear it felt odd undressing completely. It was particularly strange unclipping my bra and taking that off then slipping out of my panties as she looked on. I’d have felt a lot more comfortable had she have looked away, but her intent gaze as I revealed all was rather disconcerting, yet strangely exciting. And, as she once more went behind the camera, I again felt those tingles that I’d had on stage with Steph and when posing for the art students.

“Nothing too explicit Sam, just some straightforward tits and ass stuff,” she said smiling at me as she set up the camera. “Ok hold your tits and push them up as if offering them to the camera.”

I did as she asked staring deep into the camera lens as that caught the image of my 33b boobs pressed together with the two pink nipples hardening and seeming to be flashing at her.

“Mmmm, lovely, that’s great Sam, now just pinch those nipple for me and smolder at the camera.”

It wasn’t difficult. The combination of posing for this charismatic, attractive and quite forceful woman, being naked, having the camera intruding on me seeming as if it was seducing me and now pulling on my erect nipples made it very easy to smolder. In fact I didn’t have to try; I just had to act naturally.

Sandra spent a few more minutes taking shots of me naked from a variety of angles.

“Ok Sammi,” she said walking over towards me and turning the lights off. “Let’s have a look shall we?”

“What?” I asked.

“All the shots are on the computer now so we can look at them,” she explained walking behind the rolls of paper and into a small alcove where there was desk with a large screened PC on it. “Here sit here,” she said patting a straight backed chair next to hers.

I felt awkward still being naked. I didn’t know whether to ignore what Sandra was suggesting and walk back across the room to where my clothes were lying on a chair or do as she said. She solved it for me.

“Don’t get dressed just yet, luv, we may need to take a few more shots as I want these for your portfolio,” she explained looking right into my eyes.

I could hardly believe what I felt when suddenly there I was on the screen pressing my boobs together “smoldering” at the camera. It had been exciting enough posing, but now seeing the results of my modeling and Sandra’s photography, I felt even more exciting.

“Mmmm,” she said quietly clicking the mouse so pose after pose of me naked and in just my underwear filled the giant screen just inches from my face.

It really was a strange experience. It was as if in some ways it wasn’t me, as if I hadn’t just been posing for Sandra and the camera and as if I wasn’t sitting totally naked beside another woman.

“Very nice, very nice indeed,” she went on staring at the enlarged pictures of my breasts. “Oh yes Sammi, oh yes,” she continued as the huge screen was filled with close ups of my nipples, my pubes, boobs and bum.

I couldn’t work out whether she was making professional photographic comments on my body or whether they were her female views. I did, though, realise that we were sitting so close that her leather covered leg under the desk was pressed against mine; that her hand that wasn’t operating the mouse frequently brushed against my wrist as she made comments on various shots and that she seemed to have leaned a little more towards me so that our shoulders were touching.

“You really do have a natural talent for this Sammi,” she remarked turning and looking me right in the eye. “Hasn’t anyone else ever told you that?” She went on holding my gaze.

“Er, um no, no nobody has.”

She rested her fingers on the back of my hand, continued staring deep into my eyes and said, very quietly.

“Well I am now love; I’m telling you now that you are an absolute natural for photographic modeling. You have a gorgeous face and a great body with….” She paused before letting her gaze drop a little and adding as she rubbed her fingertips in little circular movements on the back of my hand , “absolutely stunning tits.”

I didn’t really know what to say. But then how could I? It’s not often a twenty year old kid has a woman that’s old enough to be her mum, photograph her naked and then tell her what great tits she has.

I mumbled my thanks I think adding something inane like, “you really think so?”

“Yes Sam, I do,” she said slowly and softly, “they are beautiful.”

Suddenly I knew, not suspected, but knew for sure what was going to happen next. It was a clear vision, a premonition I suppose, a look into the future.

Nothing was said. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as the atmosphere became, to me at least, absolutely electric. It was as if I was watching a film or TV; as if it was happening to other people.

It didn’t seem to be Sandra that turned even more and leaned forward, it wasn’t her hand that moved so slowly, closing the space between us, it wasn’t me that arched my back and bent forward a little in preparation. No, it was as if it were two actors doing it. One actor about to take, the other waiting to give; one actor reaching out towards the others body, the other offering that in anticipation. Yes, it wasn’t us, not the studio owner and the spoiled bitch, not the forty something woman and the twenty something kid, not Sandra and Sammi. Well that’s how it seemed.

But then it was Sandra who reached out and cupped my breast, it was Sammi that gave that quite readily. It was Sandra that cupped my boob and let out a little moan and it was me that pressed my tit firmly against her palm and groaned with pleasure as her finger and thumb found my aching nipple and pinched it. And yes it was us that kissed as she then caressed, squeezed, rubbed and stroked my breasts.

“Come to my bed, Sammi” she whispered as we broke the kiss, “I want to make love to you as you’ve never been made love to before.”

God did I find those words so romantic, enthralling, evocative and plain fucking arousing.

“Will you let me do that, my lovely?” she sighed as I watched fascinated as her beautifully manicured finger nails went to the top button on her silk blouse. “Will you let me make perfect love to you Sammi?” she continued as button after button was slid open. “Will you Sammi, will you?” She asked pulling the blouse out from the waistband of her leather trousers and removing it as she stood up.

“Yes, yes Sandra,” I croaked, feeling so totally out of my depth sexually as I watched her put her arms behind her and unclip the lacy bra.

Her breasts were small, even smaller than mine; they could hardly have even been an A cup for they were nearly all nipple. But such a nipple, a type of nipple I’d never seen before. It was dark, almost brown. The areolas were not very big, but the hardened centres were enormous, much larger than any I’d seen before, they must have been over a quarter of an inch in diameter and more than half an inch in height. I assumed, but didn’t know for sure, that they were hard and erect, for if they weren’t then their eventual fullness was just mind-boggling.

She took my hand and urged me up, her arms went round me and she pulled me to her. We kissed, deeply and energetically. Her tongue probed into my mouth, her lips ground against mine and our teeth clashed, several times. Her hands were everywhere. On my breasts and nipples, cupping my face and running through and pulling my hair, quite firmly. They went between us and found my pubes and clit and went round me and found my cheeks and the crease between them. She stroked, rubbed and caressed my back, my legs my shoulders and my sides. She was grinding her leather trouser covered belly against mine and she pushed one of her legs between my thighs. She pushed that upwards, up as far as it could go, up until the top of her leg was pressed firmly against me, against my pussy. It was squirming against that so sexually sensitive region of my body, against my lips and mound and pussy and clitoris and yes, against my cunt. She started moving her leg, pressing more firmly and running it between mine. I was moaning, groaning and grunting as she totally and utterly sexually devoured me. I clasped my thighs around her leg; I ground myself down on it. I had my arms round her neck and was almost hanging down from that as Sandra fucked me with her leg.

She made me cum so easily and quickly. It was seemingly effortless on her part that she made me cum twice in the studio, once with her leg and once with her hands and fingers. I climaxed so much more quickly than I ever had with Stephanie; not just more quickly though, but more frequently as well it seemed.

It all seemed so effortless on her part. She was so assured and confident, as if there was no doubt whatsoever that I would do as she wished, comply with her suggestions and be seduced so seemingly easily. The truth was I was so out of my depth that I felt defenseless; I was putty in her hands and I knew that she’d be able to do whatever she wished with me, for I had no way of resisting her advances. I knew that Steph must have said something and I half cursed her for doing so, but on the other hand the sensations I was getting from being seduced by such an expert really were something else. So I shut my mind down to all other considerations than getting as much pleasure from Sandra as I could. Pure sexual hedonism I smiled to myself.

Once we were in her bedroom she peeled her leather trousers off and sat across me, her knees either side of my waist. She leaned forward and took my wrists in her hands and pulled my arms straight out from my shoulders as she edged her body up mine. She leaned forward shoving her tits into my mouth for a moment or two and then eased herself even further up my body. Up and up until her knickers covered pussy was just inches from my face, her bum squashing my tits. I could see a few stray pubic hairs drifting out from the edges of her panties, the outlines of her lips and her crease through the material and the dampness of her female excretions. I could not only see, but could also smell her female arousal and that only served to get me even more aroused as well.

And then she covered the last few inches and pressed herself right against my mouth.

“Suck me Sammi,” she groaned, “suck mama’s cunt Sammi, make your mumma cum baby.

I had no idea what prompted that sort of language. Nevertheless I found what she was saying together with what she was doing, pressing her panty covered pussy against my face, so exciting that I started to cum once more.

“Fuck,” I thought to myself as she got hold of my long hair on either side of my face and pulled me more firmly against her soaked pussy, “she’s making me cum simply by talking to me.”

I was pushing my tongue against the soaked gusset and running it round the outline of her lips as she moaned and groaned.

“Oh yes baby, oh yes, yes, yes, my little baby.”

She was pulling my hair quite hard now so it was hurting me. At the same time she was grinding herself against me. I felt her fingers brush against my face as she reached down and grabbed the narrow gusset of her thong. She pulled it to one side baring her pussy and pushed that right against my mouth so firmly I almost choked for a moment or two.

“You’re doing it baby, you’re doing me, you’re doing mama baby’ You’re making your mummy cum,” she groaned as I felt her pulling hard on the thong that then, with a jerk started to rip. I could feel the torn satin dangling down rubbing on my chin. I reached round her and got hold of her buttocks pulling her more firmly towards me as I pushed my tongue as far up her cunt as I could. At the same time I did something that Steph had taught me. As I fucked her with my tongue so I ground my chin right against her clit and slid my finger between the cheeks of her bum; she was now being stimulated in three of her most feminine places at the same time.

The deep, long moan, well almost a growl really, that I heard as she greedily climaxed on my mouth was almost as frightening as it was exciting.

Chapter 4

So Sandra agreed to take me on and put her on her books. Just as I left the studio after we’d made a rather more conventional type of love, she said.

“Don’t worry Sammi, I’ll teach you and get you loads of work.”

And that’s exactly what happened as I enrolled at stage school, waited for the term to start and then threw myself into learning all I could about film and stage production.

I was, in a way, lucky for my brother who worked for my dad’s property development company moved back to London from Spain and dad let him use one of the several flats he had in London. I managed to wheedle my way in on that. I persuaded dad that going to Central London and back every day was such a chore that it made sense for me to stay with Patrick in dad’s flat. They both, rather surprisingly easily, agreed so I was soon ensconced in the reasonable luxury of a flat with Patrick, two other girls and one other bloke just off the trendy and busy Upper Street in Islington, a few miles from the bright lights, shops and clubs of inner London and just a few tube stops from the stage school. Perfect.

Although, Sandra took some time to come up with any work, I was confident she would, after all how often do forty year old dykes get the chance to fuck a fresh, clean, twenty year old kid like me?

I knew though that I’d have to get some other work to explain where my money was coming from so through the acting “friends” I’d made I got some freelance role-play work for a training company and took a bar job that was on a rota system meaning I could pretty much work when and how much I wanted, after all no work, no money; same as the role-play stuff. That suited me though, for I could, I assumed, then use the times I was supposed to be working legit to flash my bits for photographers.

Starting time at the college was a few months away and I intended to use that to get some cash behind me and to buy the “wardrobe” that Sandra had specified. That was a very minimum of ten separate sets of panties and bras, a variety of thongs, different types of panties in differing materials from cotton to silk, a few waspies, camisoles and basques, masses of pairs of stockings and sussie belts and numerous pairs of high heeled shoes. They proved to be a big and extravagant expense. The lingerie I could make use of in my “normal” life the strappy stilettos and the like I couldn’t; still c’est la vie there has to be some unrecoverable overhead expenses in all business ventures I suppose.

And all that brings us conveniently back to.

“Ok love, can you take the panties off now please?”

It was my very first session. Sandra had told me that she’d booked me and had said the club evening at a studio she owned in Camden Town would be in two weeks time.

“Just enough,” she said slightly menacingly, in a nice, sexy sort of way, “for me to get my hands on you Sammi and train you up.”

I saw her four times in those two weeks, twice in the afternoons and twice in the evenings. She taught me a lot, she explained a lot, she trained me a lot and of course she fucked me a lot; after all a girl has to pay her dues doesn’t she.

I’d learned all about the types of underwear the guys preferred, the sorts of poses they really went for, “rear view of your bum, with you on all fours looking over your shoulder is by far their favourite,” she told me.

She explained the different types of hair styles adding, as she ran her fingers through mine, “long and blonde Sammi is by far the top of the pops.” She ran me through the photos she’d taken explaining the good and bad aspects and showing me by doing the poses herself just how they could be improved.

“You have to really get it on with the camera Sam,” she continued as she started to make love to me by running her hands down my back and cupping my bottom that was just covered by the silk French knickers she’d told me to put on to pose in.

I’d arrived at the large semi-detached, four story town house in Camden Town at 6.30 as Sandra had told me. She’d said she couldn’t be there, but Gary the studio manager was fine and he’d look after me. As she’d explained I laid the masses of panties, bras, basques, stockings, shoes and all the other stuff out where Gary indicated so that the cameramen could select the various get ups I’d wear during the two hour session that would last from 7.30 to 9.30.

“Ok Sam, they’re all here, you ready to go?” he asked as he came into the small bedroom that had been converted into a dressing room; he had knocked first.

“Yep, I’m ok,” I replied sounding, I think, somewhat more confident than I felt.

I was wearing low cut jeans that were blue, very tight and accentuated the bulge of my pubes and the roundness of my bum cheeks, well that was the idea. On top I was wearing a white, cut off vest that had fairly narrow straps and only reached down to about three inches above the waistband of the jeans. Under that I was wearing a skimpy bra and under the jeans an equally skimpy thong.

“Ok Gentlemen,” I heard Gary saying as I stood to one side of the posing area in the main studio, “please welcome a new model to our studio Sammi.”

As he said that and I walked from behind the huge rolls of different coloured paper that are used as backdrops there was a polite round of applause and a couple of nice remarks.

“Welcome Sammi,” Gary said holding my hand and giving me an encouraging squeeze.

“Thanks,” I smiled at him and then looking out towards the cameramen.

Seeing the mass of ten or twelve guys all staring at me in the room shocked me; I suddenly realised how stars must feel! I also realised just what I was letting myself in for. In my mind I hadn’t worked out just how close they would be. Stupidly, I suppose, I’d had in my mind the audience at the What the Butler Saw when I’d been on stage naked with Steph, or the students at the art college I’d posed for who had sat at some distance in organised rows and didn’t get close.

This was so different. They were so close to me as I started striking different poses; they leaned forward as I stood there; they stood right over me when I sat or lay down; they called out their requests for poses.

“On all fours Sam, legs apart please.”

“On your back luv, legs pulled up if you will.”

“Stick your boobs out more please Sam.”

All were politely phrased but all seemed so intimate. I mean lying on the floor in the skimpy top and tight jeans, my legs spread with perhaps six men at a time leaning or standing around bending forward and pointing their cameras at me is a pretty personal up thing, isn’t it?

I slid the thin straps of the cut off vest down one by one. I stopped and posed with each strap just off my shoulder as requested. I took the vest off holding it above my head so my face was covered as I was asked. I held a pose with one hand on my hip the other holding the vest out to the camera and then another holding the vest down by my side almost dragging on the ground. I could hardly believe that they could be that interested in such an act as to have me make at least six poses just to get the vest off. “How the fuck many will they want when I drop me drawers?” I smiled to myself as I relaxed a little.

In just the low-cut jeans and bra I felt as nervous as hell as I struck a variety of poses.

Unclipping it and taking the damn thing off took ages.

“Slip just one strap off love.”

“OK hands above your head with the straps by your elbows.”

“Both straps falling down, your arms by your side, one hand on your hip.”

The instructions came thick and fast. I turned to both sides, posed with my back to them the bra unclipped, faced the mass of cameras leaning forward holding the unclipped bra to my chest.

“Let the cups slip Sam so we see just a hint of one nipple.”

“Let one cup fall off completely.”

“Both cups off now Sam, but keep the straps halfway up your arms.”

I was still being fazed by the closeness of the guys, some of whom seemed to be taking close-ups of my breasts and presumably nipples as well. It made me far tenser and much more nervous than I had ever thought I’d be. I hadn’t imagined it would be like this and I was worried whether I would be able to go all the way, whether I’d be able to pose naked and whether in the end this was the way for me to earn the money I needed for stage school.

The bra came off completely and after a long series of topless shots where I pressed my boobs together, stretched my hands over my head, arched my back and leaned forward letting them dangle it was time to remove the jeans. Poses with the belt undone, the zip half way and then fully down took some time and were followed by what seemed endless shots of the jeans at varying stages of being slid down my legs and off.

“Lovely thong Sammi,” one of them called out as the shutters of the cameras went nineteen to the dozen when I stood before the group just in my panties feeling more nervous than I can ever remember.

There were shots with me standing hands on hips, arms crossed over my boobs, loads from behind with me standing, kneeling and lying down, the cameras seeming to focus on the slither of lace that snuggled so tightly behind the rounded cheeks of my bum. I had to pull the waistband up so that the front was tight across my mound, then push it down until a few pubes were in view. I knelt, I laid down on my front and back with the men all bending over me making me feel hemmed in and almost claustrophobic, I knelt on my knees and on all fours.

Then I heard those quite amazing words.

“Ok love, can you take the panties off now?”

And as I did, as they asked me, so my “career” as a glamour model really started.