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Friends of mine from our pervy little dating group requested my services for a photo shoot. A private photo shoot. A naked private photo shoot.
Who knew that all those years of taking sweet lil’ flower photos would lead up to something like this?
So on a night not long ago, armed with my camera and extra batteries, I knocked on their door. I was let inside by the naked male half of the couple. “She’s in the shower,” he told me, nodding toward the back of the house. “We just got done shaving each other so we’d be ready for pictures.”
“Cool,” I answered, with the panache of someone who is greeted at the door every day by a naked, freshly shaved person. “Let’s go set up the bedroom.”
By the time we’d arranged lights and cleared away clutter, the naked female half of the couple had emerged from the shower. They laid on the bed, I sat on the floor, and we chatted for a while as their puppy nosed around.
I started things out by pointing the camera at the pup. He cooperated marvelously, which had the desired effect of relaxing my naked friends. Not that they needed much to relax them. Before long I moved the camera up to their faces. We took a few pictures of their faces with no nudity visible. Then the real fun began.
I encouraged them to start kissing. They did, but there was a problem. “Will you stop kissing her like you kiss your Great Aunt Pearl? Kiss her for real!” I chastised.
They complied. I moved around them, trying to keep a respectful distance as they began enjoying each other more. I adjusted lights when they changed positions. Occasionally I requested a minor rearrangement of bodies so that I could avoid catching objects in the background. I jumped back with surprising agility when her gushing threatened the lens.
As I clicked away, I hoped that my camera was seeing what I was seeing, which was the pleasure those two crazy kids took in each other. Their bodies looked plenty hot twisting and joining, even though neither of them have any more than the average heading-toward-middle-age body.
But the bodies weren’t important. The almost-invisible love between them was important, and that’s what I wanted them to see when they looked at the pictures later.
Eventually they had enough. Greedy as usual, I wanted more. I hadn’t gotten a picture of her face in orgasm; he refused altogether to come, as he was saving himself for later in the evening. I hugged them both, then left them to cuddle in bed as I showed myself out.
When I had the time and privacy to work on the images, I found the usual assortment of photographic duds. Some were badly shot, others were out of focus. A few showed eyes oddly closed or bodies positioned awkwardly. One or two missed the mark by a fraction of a second. In others the puppy was too close to the action.
But in a precious few, the gods of both photography and sex gave us their blessing. The spark between them showed. It showed so clearly that it made me smile and hope that the two of them would love seeing the pictures just as much as I’d loved taking them.
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Marcelle Manhattan
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