Lesbian Fetish
Redhead, Lesbians, Girl-on-girl, College Girls lesbian sex story
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It was only when she reached the front door of the upmarket apartment building that Marcella began having second thoughts about this assignment. In two years of private modeling, the twenty-two year old blonde had exposed herself without shame to more paying customers than she could remember. It was pleasurable as well as profitable and she had never felt either endangered or intimidated.
But this was different. Marcella was about to meet the first woman to ever respond to one of her adult magazine ads. On the telephone, Jacqueline had been well spoken, courteous and businesslike. Probably a married and middle-aged closet dyke from a good background. Without even inquiring about fees, she was offering twice the normal rate for a modeling session. Money like that was just too tempting to reject out of hand.
Marcella's finger hovered over the doorbell marked J.K. Fairlaine. She felt irritated by her uncharacteristic nervousness. So what if her client was a lesbian? The bulges in the trousers of the men who had photographed her with her legs opened had never bothered her, so why should she feel intimidated by a woman?
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button. As soon as she had identified herself, a voice through the intercom invited her to come on up.
Marcella's preconceptions were shattered by the sight of the woman who greeted her at the door of the apartment. Jacqueline could not have been more than thirty-five. She was slender and elegantly attired, in figure hugging black slacks and a cream silk blouse. Her ash blonde hair was tied up in a neat bun and gold-framed spectacles framed her delicate, high cheekboned features. She was - in a word - beautiful.
"Right on time," she smiled. "Please come in."
As she stepped into the hallway, Marcella prayed she did not look as nervous as she felt. Only the monochrome print of a nude girl on horseback hanging in the hall offered any signposts to her sexuality.
Her home was minimalist in style and somewhat too clinical for Marcella's liking. She would have normally opted for a coffee, but a glass of wine seemed more appropriate for her nerves. Perched on the cream leather covered couch, she tugged the hem of her skirt a little lower, then felt instantly foolish. What was the point of covering an extra inch of her legs, when her hostess would shortly be seeing her in all her naked glory?
"You seem nervous," Jacqueline observed, handing her a glass of red wine.
"Just a little," Marcella admitted. "The truth is, I've never modeled for a woman before. I always thought only men responded to ads like mine."
"I would seem to be in a minority," the other woman conceded, slipping into an armchair opposite. "Some of the models I've contacted have flatly told me they would never pose for a woman. Strange, when you think about it. A girl will happily go to the home of a strange man who could turn out to be some ripper maniac and strip for him, but that same girl would run a mile from me. Having said that, I've met quite a few lovely girls through adverts like yours."
Marcella sipped her wine. "You do a lot of photography?"
"Quite a bit. I only got into it two years ago."
"That's a coincidence!" exclaimed Marcella. "I only got into modeling two years ago."
"Why did you start?" asked Jacqueline.
"Money, mainly, though I've always been something of an exhibitionist. You?"
"You could say I'm a connoisseur of the female form. Would you like to see some of my work?"
Why not? Marcella decided. It would at least provide some indication of what would be expected of her.
Jacqueline placed a pair of thick, burgundy leather bound volumes on the coffee table. Marcella put down her glass and picked one up.
The photographs inside clearly advertised the dark haired woman's love of beautiful girls. A dozen pages were dedicated to one full figured, dusky beauty in her early twenties. She posed in lacy white lingerie that looked positively mouthwatering against her dark skin. Further on, she was fully nude, her poses growing ever more explicit.
"Candi," said Jacqueline, joining her on the couch. "She modeled for me on two separate occasions. I've got some stunning outdoor shots of her in another album. Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Very," Marcella unthinkingly answered. "These pictures look very professional."
Jacqueline smiled. "Practice makes perfect."
"Do you ever use male models?" asked Marcella.
The other woman shook her head. "Men don't interest me. Ah, now this is my most erotic work."
She was referring to a large picture of two girls in their late teens. One was a diminutive blonde, the other a large breasted redhead. Both were on the couch where Marcella now sat. The redhead had one hand between the blonde's parted thighs and was sucking her left nipple with purple glossed lips. The sight sent a strange tremor through Marcella. The models appeared to be totally engrossed in one another and oblivious to the camera as they kissed, stroked and intimately explored, in a series of erotic poses. The most arresting shot was that of the redhead reclining on the couch, knees drawn up to her chin. The head of her crouching partner was buried between her thighs.
Marcella reached for her glass and accidentally tipped it over.
"Oh shit!" she cried, sweeping the second album out of harms way as the wine puddle spread over the table.
"Don't worry, I'll get a cloth," Jacqueline said calmly.
Marcella was beginning to wish she had never turned up. As well as making a fool of herself, she found herself strangely aroused by Jacqueline's naked models.
"I'm really sorry," she stammered.
Her hostess smiled as she mopped up the mess. "Forget it. You're not the first person in history to spill a glass of wine. Care for a refill?"
"I don't think so," the embarrassed blonde replied. "Maybe we should just get started."
"I'll get my camera," Jacqueline said eagerly. "You just relax where you are."
Marcella tried, but relaxation seemed beyond her today. She thought she might feel better, once they got down to business.
"I prefer natural settings," Jacqueline explained, returning with her camera. "Take off your jacket and stretch your legs. I'd like a few shots of you looking through a photo album."
After she had taken her jacket, Marcella adopted the required pose, returning to her study of the two girls on that same couch.
"Pretend I'm not here," Jacqueline instructed. "Yes, that's nice. Sweep your hair back from your face. Hold it. Okay, how about opening a few buttons of your blouse? You're at home, relaxing. Maybe getting a little turned on by the pictures. Show me some more cleavage. Lovely. Right, let's see what we can cook up in the kitchen."
With her blouse half open, Marcella followed her through to a kitchen that could have been straight from a showroom. Only the coffee percolator appeared to have ever been used. Following her instructions, she slid her blouse down off her shoulders, thrusting her peach lace cupped breasts towards the camera. Marcella had slipped into pro mode now and was actually beginning to enjoy the experience. As the camera flashed, she pouted and smiled to order.
"You're doing great," Jacqueline enthused, moistening her full pink lips. "Time to get down to the underwear."
Marcella obligingly shed her blouse and skirt, tossing both over the back of a chair. The photographer studied her with a lust that was more naked than many of her male clients had ever dared display. She took several snaps of her model leaning against the refrigerator, in her peach underwear and high heels, then told her to bend over the sink.
"What a sexy ass!" she purred. "Let's just make a little adjustment."
Marcella was totally unprepared for the fingers that grabbed the waistband of her panties and tugged them sharply up into her ass crack. Had any man tried that, she would have been out of there like a bullet. In her modeling role, she was a strictly hands-off girl. But she did not protest, even when Jacqueline's hand lingered much longer than necessary on her rear.
After taking several pictures of her lightly bronzed buns, she requested her to turn around and remove her bra. As she slipped it off and handed it to her, her coffee brown nipples stiffened beneath her gaze.
"Ever considered turning professional?" Jacqueline asked, as the camera clicked.
Marcella shook her head, squeezing and lifting her breasts with both hands.
"You should. You have a fantastic body, and the kind of girl-next-door looks so many men adore. Women too, of course. Open your legs a little more. That's it. Put one hand down the front of your panties. Give me that turned on, damp pussy look. Think about something sexy. Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Not right now."
"Think about the man of your dreams then. Feel his hands, his mouth, his big, hard cock. Picture what you want him to do to you."
Her voice caressed Marcella like cool silk, but the scenario she described did not work. She found herself seeing the two girls from her photo collection and imagining she was the blonde. Her fingers touched the damp lips of her pussy and she shuddered ecstatically.
"Don't move," said Jacqueline, several shots later. "Stay exactly as you are."
Kneeling before her, she hooked two fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her knees. Her face was only inches from the dark blonde thatched mound of her pussy. Half the long finger of her right hand was buried between her slick folds. She seemed to momentarily forget about the camera and just stared, inhaling Marcella's musk. She prayed she would not touch her, as she was uncertain how she might react. After a moment, the spell was broken and she picked up her camera again.
Now that she was fully aroused, Marcella gave full rein to her exhibitionist streak. She climbed onto the draining board and squatted over the sink, spreading the puffy folds of her pussy with two fingers of either hand. Then, leaning back against the window, she pushed her pussy against the long, curved spout of the tap, before turning it on. She felt the steel turn warm as the hot water gushed out. The spout appeared to sprout from between her thighs, like a weird extension of her waterworks.
"Play with your tits!" Jacqueline panted excitedly.
"This spout is getting a little hot for comfort!" Marcella gasped.
The photographer took three more shots, before turning off the tap.
"Let's try something kinky now," she suggested.
Marcella braced herself for her advance. But instead of making a play for her charms, she plucked a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and helped her back to the floor.
"I have this delicious vision of you on the table," she said, peeling the banana. "Would you mind using this?"
"For what?" Marcella stupidly blurted.
Jacqueline smiled. "Well, I don't want you to eat it. Not yet, anyway."
Marcella took the banana and lay back on the kitchen table, hooking her high heels on the edges and spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was getting into the mood for something hard, though a banana would have been far from her first choice. Gripping it in her right fist, she slid it down between her thighs and worked an inch of it between her puckering pussy lips.
"That's far enough. Move your hand away. Oh my, that looks good enough to eat!"
Marcella did not think she was referring to the banana.
"Let's dress you up," said the photographer, taking a kiwi fruit from the bowl.
She cut it into thin slices on a china plate, cut holes in the centers of two of the slices and carefully placed the dripping rings of green fruit over her nipples. The stiff buds poked sensually through. She placed another kiwi slice on Marcella's navel and put half a strawberry sitting prettily on top. Next, she peeled an orange lined the half-moon wedges in a creative display, from the cleft of her breasts and around the shape of the golden globes.
"You're making me so hungry," she purred, reaching for a peach.
She cut it into round slices, which she arranged in a beehive shape on the model's pubic mound.
"Would you object to me using whipped cream on you?" Jacqueline asked.
At that stage, Marcella was prepared for almost anything, though she might have drawn the line at sticking a cucumber up her ass. Jacqueline produced a large tub of whipped cream from the refrigerator, uncapped it and proceeded to pour the thick contents over Marcella's breasts, belly and thighs.
"Don't worry about the mess," she said. "It'll wash off. Oh Marcella, my mouth is watering! Do you like apples?"
The model nodded. Jacqueline handed her a red apple from the bowl. As she took the first bite, the camera went to work, capturing her cream smeared and fruit adorned glory from every possible angle. The sticky mess felt deliciously decadent and the banana was a particularly pleasant pussy filler.
Jacqueline changed the film roll, then moved in for some close-ups. In the process, she took the liberty of pushing Marcella's thighs further apart.
"I think that's enough," she finally declared, putting the camera aside. "But I hate to see good food go to waste."
So saying, she reached out and gently withdrew the banana from Marcella's wet pussy. She raised it to her mouth and took a huge bite, murmuring appreciatively.
"You taste as good as you look," she smiled. "Want some?"
Marcella shook her head. "I hate bananas."
"To eat, maybe," Jacqueline quipped. "But you enjoyed this one, didn't you?"
"It was............... different," the blonde admitted. "Do you make such a mess with all your models?"
"You're the first I've dressed up as dessert," Jacqueline replied, smacking her lips. "I'm still hungry. Can I lick some of that cream off you?"
"Be my guest," Marcella heard herself answer.
Jacqueline leaned over her and she shuddered as her tongue scooped up a creamy mouthful from her belly. She felt a hand steal softly up along the inside of her left thigh. This lady was going way beyond the boundaries of a photo shoot, yet Marcella felt no inclination to call a halt to her seduction. Marcella was not so shocked by what she was doing as her own responses.
Jacqueline's fingers caressed the petals of her pussy and she responded with a soft moan. Her lips fastened around the kiwi-ringed diamond of her right nipple. Her creamy finger slipped inside her, found the bud of her clitoris and gently tickled it. Marcella thought she would explode with ecstasy. A second finger slid into her hot slash, as her free hand squeezed her left breast. Her touch was that of an accomplished erotic artiste.
"Do you try this with all your models?" Marcella whimpered.
"Most," Jacqueline murmured. "You want me to stop?"
"No!" she gasped. "Ohhhhhhhhh..................., that feels so good!"
The woman's mouth on her nipple combined with her fingers in her pussy to bring her to a climax that took her breath away. Afterwards, Marcella slumped back on the table, dripping sweat and melted cream. Jacqueline took her fingers from her pussy and sucked them clean, one by one. She then plucked the fruit from Marcella and fed her a kiwi slice with her damp fingers. She ate the rest herself, using her eyes to devour her model.
When Marcella went to the shower, the photographer followed, camera in hand. As her model soaped herself beneath the hissing jets of water, she snapped another collection of hot snapshots. She continued when Marcella stepped out and toweled herself dry, injecting every move with all the sensuality she could muster.
"These are the best pics I've ever taken," Jacqueline said happily. "I love a model with such lack of inhibition. Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"
"Uh, not really," Marcella blurted. "Why?"
"Would you like to spend it with me?"
Even after what had happened in the kitchen, the directness of her question took Marcella by surprise.
"I don't think it's really my scene," she hesitantly replied.
"Great sex should be everybody's scene," Jacqueline retorted. "You haven't experienced true pleasure until you've done it with another woman. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
"I'm sure you do," Marcella answered. "But..........."
The other woman pressed a finger to her lips. "But nothing, honey. Trust me."
Jacqueline took her hand. No man, no matter how appealing, could have so easily soothed away her misgivings and led her naked to his bedroom. But that was exactly what Jacqueline did. Marcella followed like a little girl, surrendering to her will.
Her bedroom stood in sharp contrast to the rest of her apartment. The Queen sized bed was dressed in shiny purple satin and reflected in a huge round ceiling mirror. The center of the room was dominated by a life-sized statue of a nude African girl. The walls were hung with erotic prints of gorgeous females, displaying themselves in everything from tiny G-strings to uniforms of studded black leather. The air was rich with an exotic fragrance that spoke of forbidden sensual delights. Jacqueline drew the heavy red velvet blinds, then turned to Marcella. The model stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, watching her every move, lightheaded from a combination of desire and trepidation.
Jacqueline's eyes caressed her through her spectacles, as she unbuttoned her blouse. Her pert breasts were contained in cups of shimmering white silk. Marcella found herself openly admiring the slender body that was revealed as she slid out of her slacks. Her bare legs were two classy cliches of long, smooth perfection. She reached behind to unclasp her bra and slid the straps down off her shoulders. Her nipples were like two little claret hued cocks at full erection. She basked in Marcella's gaze, allowing her a moment to digest what she was seeing, before sliding her panties down over her thighs and revealing the final sweet mystery of her womanhood. The black thatch of her pubis was cut to a near stubble, leaving the dewy pink labia clearly visible.
As she stepped towards Marcella, the model felt her own juices boil between her thighs, drowning the tiny voice of inhibition that told her she should not be doing this. With a tender smile, Jacqueline reached for her and drew her naked body against hers. Thigh to thigh, breast to breast, pussy to pussy, they embraced, then kissed. Marcella resisted momentarily, before allowing her tongue into her mouth. Once she did, she was returning her deep, wet kisses with an equal urgency.
Marcella's hands roamed the contours of the other woman's firm body, fingers tingling to the silky touch of her skin. Jacqueline's fingers played her from thigh to tit, igniting the fires of desire in a way no man had ever managed. When their mouths finally parted, she was hers for the taking. There was no turning back now.
Jacqueline eased her down onto the cool satin sheets and caressed her with her mouth, starting at her throat and covering her in damp kisses, all the way down to her toes. By then, Marcella was practically melting in her own juices and close to begging for release. Jacqueline moved on top of her, so that Marcella's head was between her thighs and she was gazing into her wet, pink tunnel, the lips pouting invitingly. She squealed as Jacqueline's tongue dived into her pussy, to swim in her hot honey pool.
Marcella pursed her lips and planted a tentative kiss on her pudenda. Her taste was as intoxicating as her scent. She lashed her wet gash with her tongue, then pushed it deeper. Jacqueline bore down on her, using her fingers to open her even wider for her enjoyment of a pussy feast.
In the half-hour that followed, Jacqueline drove her model to three shattering orgasms, using her fingers and tongue in her front and rear orifices. Marcella ate like she was possessed by a dyke demon, smearing her face in her juices, licking and sucking until her tongue ached. The bed rocked to their soft moans and loud cries of pleasure.
Finally, sated and sweat drenched, the two women lay back on the sheets, wrapped like true lovers in each others arms.
"Tell me I was wrong now," Jacqueline whispered, circling her left nipple with a fingertip.
"About what?" Marcella murmured.
"About the pleasure of doing it with another woman."
Marcella replied by brushing her lips with hers. The kiss gradually intensified to a fresh meeting of tongues, mutual lust stirring afresh.
No man had ever satisfied Marcella as thoroughly as Jacqueline did, that afternoon. The model was licked, sucked and finger fucked to the point of exhaustion and turned on to a way of pleasure she knew would become addictive.
"It's like you knew, the minute you met me," she said, as she finished dressing.
"Knew what, honey?" Jacqueline asked, wrapping a thigh high black silk kimono around her waist.
"That I wouldn't be able to resist you."
"I'm a very intuitive lady," the photographer said. "Will a check be okay?"
"Huh?"
"Can I pay you by check? For the photo shoot."
"I think I can trust you," Marcella replied.
She felt like a whore for accepting payment, but that didn't stop her accepting the money.
"I'll call you as soon as the pictures are developed," Jacqueline promised. "We'll have a lot of fun looking at them together."
"Hopefully as much as we had taking them," Marcella replied, raising her lips for a parting kiss.
THE END of "Lesbian Fetish" STORY
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