Over the years, countless young women from the city and the surrounding area have come to me to start their modeling careers or even to branch into adult modeling. Some of the women I have seen through my cameras have appeared in magazines worldwide. Others were discovered by my network of contacts and eventually landed acting jobs at various levels. A few have appeared in major adult magazines, and two of them now have their own adult Web sites for which I will do some photo shoots when they are back in the area.

Because I have always had adult modeling as part of my business, I had never worked with anyone below the age of eighteen – with the exception of Tricia. Her parents and I had been close friends since our high school days, and none of us had left the city: While I was in a trade school and then apprenticing under a well-known photographer, they were attending separate colleges in the suburbs, and we all would spend a lot of time together on the weekends. Justine and Craig had been a couple in high school, and no one was surprised when they announced their engagement, nor was anyone particularly surprised that I would be handling the wedding photography.

Tricia had the best physical features of both her parents. From her father, she had inherited both statuesque height and dark eyes which could pierce a man’s soul. From her mother, she had inherited a long and flowing chestnut mane and lips so plump that one would expect them to gush when she opened her mouth to speak.

Tricia had also acquired her parents’ drive. She was almost a Type A personality, lacking only the impatience and the hostility often associated with that label. If she wanted something, she would get it, and she would almost always work for it.

The biggest “it” in young Tricia’s life was modeling. From an early age, others had seen her as model material, and she had taken that to heart. The dance lessons, the acting lessons, the singing lessons, and even the tennis lessons had all been part of the overall goal of Tricia becoming a good model – not necessarily a catwalk model, but at least good enough to support herself and ideally provide for a family later in life.

Of course, she had worked with more than a few photographers, and she had kept asking me for years why I never invited her to a shoot in my studio and why I had always turned her down when she requested to see where I did my studio work. Finally, when she was about twelve years old, her mother sat her down one morning and explained that not all the work I do is suitable for minors, yet she still insisted, and finally, after a long discussion with her parents, it was agreed that I would do various shoots with Tricia, but that I would use a pseudo name instead of my actual, professional name so that my reputation with adult models would not tarnish young Tricia’s potential for earnings.

For nearly six years, Tricia graced the lenses of my cameras. Since she was the only minor I had ever shot professionally outside of a wedding party, I kept an album of her best photos, and there were evenings when I would lean back in the recliner and once again look through the album, watching the transformation of a young girl and a fine model and a nice friend as she grew into a young woman.

I had to admit that the bikini shoots and the lolita-style shoots were my favorites. Part of that was because those types of shoots tend to sell well, earning money for me and landing various modeling contracts and assignments for her. Part of that was because it was Tricia wearing those bikinis and wearing those cute lolita-style outfits. But an even greater part of that was because, unlike the other women who posed before my cameras, I knew Tricia personally – I knew firsthand that she loved life, that she had a good heart, that she was a good friend.

Across the years, Tricia had asked me about my adult photography, which she never saw either at my home or in my studio. Her main question was, not surprisingly, “What’s it like for you?” I never answered her.

With her eighteenth birthday approaching, she asked yet again as we prepared to shoot her modeling a swimsuit as she played in the sand on a beach at sunset. Again, I did not answer, but as I worked with her that evening, it finally dawned on me:

Tricia was setting me up to do an adult shoot with her. She had been setting me up for this for several years.

As the sun set on the beach, it was also setting on her childhood, and her adult life was about to dawn.


I could not be in town for Tricia’s eighteenth birthday, as I was traveling to handle the photography for a cousin’s wedding. When I finally returned from the airport, however, Tricia was waiting for me on the front porch, smiling enthusiastically and bouncing down the few steps and sprinting to tackle me as I stepped from the car.

Once we had brought my gear and luggage inside, as the A/C was blasting to cool the house again, I ordered pizza and Cokes for us and we only bursa escort half-watched Comedy Central as we waited. We chatted softly about her birthday and about my cousin’s wedding, and then came The Question:

“What’s it like for you to shoot a nude woman?”

This time, I did finally answer her.

“It’s like creating art, actually,” I told her. “There’s certainly an element of eroticism to it which affects me, sometimes more than others, but I’ve done adult photography for so long that my professionalism keeps my mind in the work, in the camera settings and the positioning of the lighting and the woman’s poses and angles, so that, to be honest, I really don’t ‘admire’ the woman nearly so much anymore. There are moments when I suddenly realize, ‘Hey! I’ve got a naked babe in front of me!’ But generally speaking, through the camera, the woman’s no more real than the marble another artist might use to create a sculpture of a naked woman.”

My young friend seemed to mull that over for a bit, trying to understand. Clearly, I had not given her an answer she had expected. “You don’t ever get horny?” she asked.

I was saved by the doorbell and the arrival of our dinner and drinks.

“You never did answer my question earlier,” Tricia accused as she was preparing to head home. “Don’t you ever get horny shooting so many naked women?”

I smiled and tried to laugh it off. “Horny, no. It takes more than just a random naked woman to make me horny – and I suspect that most guys would tell you the same thing if they were being truly honest. Aroused, yes, but again, as I said earlier, the professionalism primarily keeps my mind focused on the overall work at hand, not the actual person in front of the camera.”

“I see…”

As we shared a final hug on the front porch, Tricia finally asked the question I had been expecting for many years:

“Would you do a nude shoot with me?”

The lengthy flights to and from the wedding had given me plenty of time to consider the pros and the cons of any possible adult photography with Tricia. Before the wedding, I had also discussed this with her parents, and while her mother was somewhat against it, Justine also recognized that if Tricia was willing to do it, adult photography could open more modeling opportunities for her. Being the protective type, Craig was not particularly enamored with his daughter’s womanly anatomy being seen by others, although he did not seem concerned that I would be seeing Tricia’s feminine parts, which was a noteworthy distinction. The major issue the young model’s parents had with this, however, was that none of the photos could be shown to anyone until after she had graduated from high school in early June, which I felt was a perfectly acceptable request.

“Sure,” I agreed, “and I promise to be just as professional with you as I am with any of the other women who come to me for adult photography.”

That earned me a smile and a kiss to my cheek, and as I watched my young friend bounce down the few steps to the sidewalk, I realized that I was anticipating this particular photo session more than any other of my lengthy career.


That night, I dreamed of Tricia for the first time ever. She had been in some of my other dreams over the years, but always as an extra, never as the main character. I dreamed that Tricia was slowly untying the belt of a soft pink robe, then allowing the garment to fall open – all while I took picture after picture. I was aware that I was dreaming, but I was also aware that an erection was forming as my mind imagined my longtime friend baring her body to my camera, to me. From the smile of her plump lips to the gleam in her eyes, she was not performing for the camera – she was undressing for the photographer.

Over the next few weeks leading up to the photo session, there were more and more dreams featuring Tricia. Some featured the young woman stripping off various clothes, some featured her posing naked on a bed or in the grass.

…and the final such dream, the night before the photo session, featured my young friend kneeling before me, taking me into her mouth while I kept taking photo after photo.


“Just like we spoke about,” I told her outside my guest bedroom. “We have all afternoon, so no time constraints really to speak of. Take all the time you need to get comfortable with each step. I won’t rush you in any way, and if you need to stop at any time, there is no shame in saying so.”

“I know,” Tricia assured me. Her smile was as enthusiastic as usual, but her eyes betrayed her, giving me a momentary flash of her nervousness.

“Hey,” I said, spreading my arms. She stepped into my hug, and I could feel her nervousness slowly melt away.

I could also feel the initial stirrings of arousal.

About fifteen minutes later, Tricia joined me downstairs. The idea was that she would be in her bedroom, changing clothes, and that using my guest bedroom, a place she çanakkale escort had stayed on more than a few occasions during the years when her parents needed to travel or be out until rather late at night, would help to maintain her calm and fend off the worst of any nervousness.

…or so I hoped.

She appeared in the kitchen with me, wearing a Hannah Montana fitted t-shirt and wide-belted snug-fitting jeans with sandals and dangling star-shaped earrings. Oddly, I had expected a bit of nervousness from her, but what I saw in Tricia’s eyes instead almost took my breath way:

I saw hope in the young woman’s eyes.

A few minutes later, we were in the guest bedroom. Tricia had brought some of her stuffed animals and had put up two of her favorite posters and had strewn some of her clothes around to help the guest bedroom look more like a semi-rebellious young woman’s bedroom. When I surveyed the room through one of my cameras, I was almost convinced that her efforts achieved the desired effect – “almost” because I knew this place extremely well, but I was fairly positive that to anyone who might see the pictures taken in this room in this configuration, the desired effect would have been achieved.

The photo session began rather normally. Given that Tricia and I had worked together for quite some time already, we already had a great working chemistry, and I believe that was key, putting her into a good headspace from the outset even though we would soon be crossing a significant boundary in our working relationship. The lights had been positioned just right, truly accentuating her curves and bringing out the brilliance of her dark eyes. Once again, it was evident that she was not posing for the camera, but for the photographer behind the camera, and that continued even when I changed cameras.

Finally, the moment of truth was at hand. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and as she stood between the bed and the window, she turned around, her back to the camera, and began to lift off the fitted t-shirt.

I thought it was extremely sexy. As the black garment was raised, her creamy skin was revealed, and I took pictures in quick succession as her torso flowed in gentle curves upward from her waist. The act of taking off the fitted t-shirt forced her hair high, which in itself created a nice artistic symmetry, and as the virginal white of her bra was revealed, the professional in me loved the imagery she was creating.

The man in me loved the fact that this was Tricia creating such imagery. The fact that her body was effectively haloed by the daylight penetrating the window gave the moment almost a magical feel, as if this was meant to happen.

Once the black garment had cleared her head, she pulled it aside, looking over her shoulder at me with a smile. The fact that a camera happened to be in the way did not seem to matter.

Her smile was genuine, and her smile was for me.

Tricia’s hair cascaded back down, brushing along her back and mostly obscuring the virginal white of her bra. She kept smiling at me, both through and around the camera, and it was clear that this first boundary had been passed successfully, her eyes practically dancing as she tossed the black garment to the bed.

“Let’s have a slow turn,” I suggested. “A profile shot would be great.”

As she raised her hands to push up her lengthy chestnut mane, she kept her eyes on me, the smile still affixed to her plump lips, and the swell of a breast became more and more noticeable as she turned slowly for me. One picture after another was taken in rapid succession, yet part of me was thinking back to the various dreams of the previous few weeks in which Tricia had been the main character, when her breasts had not been covered.

“That’s great!” I praised her, hoping that male enthusiasm did not creep into my voice.

Of her own volition, Tricia lowered her hands, which allowed her hair to fall once again, and reached for the clasp of the bra behind her, a motion which forced her back to arch just enough to make her breasts quite prominent from the profile view she was giving me.

As the bra straps were brought down her arms a moment later, the backlit profile view also granted me a wonderful view of her right nipple.

More pictures. She looked toward the bed as she cast the virginal white supportive garment to the bed, making it appear that she was alone in the bedroom and a camera just happened to be able to capture this specific moment while she was ostensibly unaware of its presence.

Perhaps because I truly knew Tricia personally and had known her as more than just a model for many years, her topless state affected me. I faltered from my professionalism for a moment, lowering the camera to gaze upon her with unfettered vision. I could not help myself – I was amazed by her willingness to be topless in my presence, and for a moment felt absolutely no shame in the fact that there was a didim escort definite stirring within my jeans.

Her eyes raked down my body, settling at the zipper to my jeans. It was slightly embarrassing to be becoming erect in her presence, but as I finally focused my attention through the camera once again, I recognized that her nipples were hardening, and given that it was definitely not cold or even cool in the guest bedroom, the only other logical reason for her hardening nipples was that she saw me and she liked what she saw.

“Jeans next?” I suggested.

“Sure thing.” Her voice seemed to waver slightly, but she was already topless – she had already shown me parts of her which no man other than a medical professional or a mate should see – and seemed resolved to push forward with the plan for this session. Tricia turned sideways again and bent down from the waist to unbuckle the straps of her sandals, and that position, with her firm derrière the highest visible point of her body and most of the rest of her having disappeared beneath the horizon of the bed, was also captured by the camera.

The bed was definitely an obstacle, for I did not have a clear view of this young woman as she unbuckled the wide belt and slowly stripped off the jeans, but I worked with the situation, although once the jeans had been cast onto the bed, she turned toward me again, as if proudly displaying her virginal white panty.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Beautiful…”

Words like that coming from my mouth were not unusual in our sessions together. Tricia had an innate way of making anything seem beautiful, whether it was the latest swimsuit or an old bulky winter coat. While I knew that her ability had been honed by plenty of practice over the years, including plenty of practice before my cameras, making clothing appear beautiful was a natural gift she possessed in great bounty.

But in this scenario, words like “Wow” and “Beautiful” coming from my mouth definitely had a different tone: a tone of admiration, a tone of seeing this particular young woman in a new light, a tone of appreciation.

…a tone of desire.

My erection solidified as my non-professional mind recognized what I would soon see. That part of my mind remembered the latest dream featuring Tricia: the dream which ended with my hardened manhood inside her mouth.

My professional mind kept working with her as if she was any other young woman appearing before my cameras. Even as the virginal white panty was slowly removed, my professionalism did not disintegrate, although it did falter briefly several times as I drank in her natural beauty, as I felt truly fortunate to be graced by her presence.

There was a nervousness still evident in her eyes, but it faded as the pictures were taken and we remained on opposite sides of the bed. Tricia turned and posed – mostly of her own accord, occasionally at my direction – and as she became accustomed to being naked in front of someone else, especially in front of a man, the nervousness faded from her eyes, and soon her dark orbs were once again piercing my soul through the camera.

“Incredible.” “Perfect.” “Beautiful.” “Superb.” “Wonderful.” “Excellent.” So many praises floated from my lips to her ears, yet none of them seemed truly adequate for the natural artistic beauty she displayed.

And then it was time for her to dress again in another outfit.

Or so I thought.

The plan was for Tricia to dress again in a different bra and panty, put on a blouse and a skirt, add some thigh-high socks and low heels, and then don a necklace.

Instead, Tricia climbed onto the bed, and I switched cameras and followed her lead. It was a playful time in the session as she rolled about in various positions while I worked. No instructions were needed, for she seemed instinctively to know what would look right in the final images.

She remained on the bed and I moved around the obstruction, sometimes crouching low to get a better angle but very conscious of the lights and the shadows they created. I felt like the photographer in Perfect Blue who became known for being the first to shoot Mimarin naked.

My favorite shot was taken as I crouched beside the bed, with Tricia’s long legs bent over the edge and providing a wonderful view of her barren womanhood. It was clear that the lips of her mouth were not the only plump portions of her anatomy, and after I had taken the shot, I lowered the camera, mesmerized by the vision before me, and suddenly aware of the scent filling my nostrils.

A long silence passed during which neither of us moved – I doubt that either of us even breathed. What remained of my professionalism crumbled quickly, becoming mere dust in the wind, leaving behind only the very male part of my mind which saw an opportunity before me in the form of a beautiful young woman who appeared to be attracted to me and willing to take the unique circumstances of the afternoon even further beyond the plan.

Finally, I rose from my crouching position, my legs and especially my knees protesting the movement, and Tricia slipped to the floor before me. I had enough presence of mind to turn and set the camera aside, and then the young woman was firmly enveloped in my arms.

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