“Open that ‘Porn’ folder now!” the company Director demanded as I refused his request on first asking.

“Why, sir?” I was hoping for some reasonable logic.

“Because I say so!” the Director, of what he claimed was an IT company, continued to pressure me. As a developer, I brought my laptop in to showcase the work I have been doing at home. It just happed that ‘Porn’ was alphabetically close to ‘Projects’. The Director spotted it and I guessed it didn’t take much to get him horny.

“Do what is right,” a woman whispered into my left ear. For some bizarre reason, the ‘IT’ company was running four interviews simultaneously: one developer and three receptionists.

The whisper boosted my stand and I ignored the Director’s direction. I proceeded to go past the ‘Porn’ folder and navigate to the project I intended to show them. This did not go down well with the Director.

Pointing at the door, he screamed at me: “Get the fuck out!”

The whispering woman helped me to pack-up my stuff: some hardware that I build over a decade ago. Although old technology, it acted as a conversation starter in most job interviews. I shut down the laptop and got ready to leave.

The furious director called over the other candidate for the position of receptionist. She had, what I would estimate, a DD-sized chest. This size was too large for my liking, but the Director seemed to be calmed down by her large air-bags. His ‘senior’ engineers called the other two candidates over. I don’t know how they got a senior position by being in their early twenties.

I got up and left the boardroom. It was my first time to be thrown out from an interview like that. I guess the Director didn’t like ethical developers to work for him. It was my realisation that he wanted a ‘yes-man’.

On the way out I passed the current receptionist returning to her post. I noticed that she was visibly pregnant. We didn’t exchange any pleasantries as she looked pretty grumpy. I couldn’t help but jump to a conclusion of what is happening at this company.

“Wait,” a female voice which I didn’t recognise broke my train of thought. I turned around and looked at a woman in her late-twenties. Long flowing brunette hair, slim but not athletic body professionally dressed.

“I’m sorry,” she continued.

“Sorry for what?” I showed genuine confusion.

“I’m sorry you got thrown out. But, I’m glad that you showed some ethics. I’m Amanda,” she introduced herself.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tried to brush her off.

“Come on, let me buy you a coffee,” she began to flirt with me.

In the background, the Director screamed for Amanda to get back to the boardroom. This was our cue to get out of hell. We scrambled for our cars; we didn’t know what dirty tricks the Director had up his sleeve.

Over the next few weeks, we talked throughout the day over social media. We grew fond of each other. Amanda was a bright, intelligent girl (the way I like them). She didn’t mind my bad puns and my dry humour. We vented our daily troubles to each other. I avoided the physical intimacy topic due to lack of experience.

One day, she did something highly unusual: called me on the phone:  “Jack, I can’t go home: the road is flooded. Can I visit you for a few hours?” 

Stunned by the unexpected request, I stumbled over my words. Since the interview, we haven’t seen each other in person. I had to think quickly, my instinct said it was fine. At the time, I had a small, single room garden apartment. The kitchenette was open plan; the bathroom had a standing shower. I had minimal furniture, but sufficient for my solo needs.

We were drinking some freshly brewed tea when Amanda spotted my laptop: “Is this the infamous ‘Porn’-folder laptop?”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly.

“Are you OK with sharing the contents with me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I responded with a blush on my face.

The laptop was already running, all I needed was to unlock it. I navigated to the offending folder and opened it. I could see a sense of disappointment registering on Amanda’s face. In the ‘Porn’ folder, I had forty sub-folders. I started my collection over ten years ago when you still could save images and videos. Most of the folders had date-stamp names.

She got me to open a “Favourites” sub-folder. In there, she found my tastes in women in the shape of pornography. There were a few ‘loose’ pictures here and there. However, the majority of the images formed a sequence. It was a sequence where the model progressively undressed with each image.

Some sequences ended with the model nude in various positions. Other sequences had the model masturbating at the end. A third category involved both a female and a male model interacting with each other.

Amanda selected a particular sequence, and asked me: “What is so special about this?”

I showed her the sixth image in the sequence.

“I find this setup arousing,” I told her. In that image, the female model was nude. She had tan-lines across her A-cup chest and her pubic region. She was cleanly shaven. The male model was only wearing his T-shirt. He appeared to be kissing or licking her left breast. Is right hand was touching her behind, his left hand on her right thigh…

“The arousing thing for me is how she is holding his penis, that underhand grip does something for me,” I answered her.

She scrolled back to the first picture in the sequence, which showed the female model fully dressed in a pink dress. Next picture introduced the dressed male model, with both his hands on her hips. The third image had the male model with his trousers on the ground, and the female model was squatting. She made eye contact with her partner as she pulled down his underwear to expose an erect penis. Next two images showed her giving him a blowjob, in that pink dress. The sequence showed the image of her holding his penis. Image seven had the model sitting on a counter. Her right leg was bent at the knee, exposing her vagina. He was holding his penis about to penetrate her. The sequence continued through photos of their coitus.

I could sense that these images were having an effect on Amanda. She closed the main image and browsed the photographs in their thumbnail format. Through this gallery, Amanda discovered what I liked. She commented on the high number of photos where female models urinated.

She scrolled through a particular set of pictures a couple of times. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking or doing. I got my answer as she gave me her cell phone.

“Jack, take pictures of me similar to this sequence,” she asked stunning me.

“Ok… I never photographed nudes, besides selfies” I tried to back out of it.

“Come on, It’ll be fun,” she persuaded me.

It was still raining outside; natural light was in short supply. I wanted to see if the photographer got aroused by simply taking photos like that. I now got my chance to experience a nude photoshoot.

I returned her phone and got a disappointing look. Amanda tried to say something, but I hushed her. From my cupboard, I pulled out a large black cylindrical bag. She got excited again when she realised that I had a camera tripod. The digital camera with optical zoom and a flash completed the setup.

I got Amanda to stand in the doorway, as the model did in the picture. The difference was the picture had the door open, mine was closed. Amanda struck the approximate pose and I brazenly approached her. I fine-tuned her pose, by physically moving her fingers, her limbs and her body.

“Ooh, am I your life-sized doll?” she teased me.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I counter-teased.

“Kinky!” she replied implying consent.

The photo was taken.

“Lift up your T-shirt, to expose the bottom of your bra,” I instructed her.

“I can’t do that: I’m your doll,” she countered.

I approached her and gently touched her sides. I lifted up her T-shirt as per the image. I got quite aroused getting her into that position. I wasn’t even touching her breasts, just her clothing. It took very little to get me going.

Photo captured. Next position got me uncomfortable.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I’m your doll, play with me!” she encouraged. 

I manipulated her left hand to hold up the T-shirt exposing her pink bra. Her right hand was my concern. I had to dip it into her trousers. She gave me an encouraging smile as she allowed me full control of her body. The photo was taken.

Next pose was equally uncomfortable, but I was gaining confidence. It called for a scene best described as ‘oops, I dropped my pants’. I showed her the photo so that she can get the facial expression right. I threw her hair over one of her eyes. I manoeuvred her arms, releasing the T-shirt. Downstairs, I carefully unbuttoned her trousers and lowered them to her knees. I was careful not to touch what was not necessary. The photo was taken.

For the next shot, I removed her T-shirt. That meant that I needed to get uncomfortably close to her breasts. Now, Amanda was only in her bra and matching panties. I manipulated her hands to strike the pose as in the photograph. One hand had few fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear. The photo was taken.

Her bra needed to be removed for the next shot. Unclipping it wasn’t the worst part: The erection came as my hands guided the fabric off her breasts. I now had a willing and able, topless woman, in my room: any geeks dream. I manipulated her body to be like the photo on the computer. Her breasts were in full, glorious frontal view. Her pink panties were still covering her lower half. The photo was taken.

I turned her body around, with her back towards the camera. I bent her torso about thirty degrees from vertical, with her head looking over her right shoulder. I set up her hair; and found myself getting an erection. I locked her thumbs into her panties, and gently straightened her elbows. This shot exposed her vagina, her engorged wet vagina. The photo was taken.

I kept that pose and zoomed in. I wanted to capture something that is not on the original playlist. There was a droplet of fluid oozing from her. It formed an icicle-type of structure and would be gone in a few seconds. The photo was taken. I’m now fully erect; I wonder if she has noticed?

She is still holding the pose; I feel the urge to wipe that icicle of slimy fluid for her. I stopped myself from using my fingers: I need to be professional about it. I gently wiped her vagina with a piece of toilet tissue the correct way: from back to front.

I reset her position to face me at an angle. I set her up with panties in her mouth; her hair over her breasts. Amanda’s left hand on the door frame and right hand over her vagina. I got highly aroused as I had to gently move each bone in her fingers into the right position. The shot called for her to touch her clitoris with her index finger. The photo was taken.

The side-on pose was next with her bending backwards as to emphasise her small breasts. I positioned her hands over her hips. I asked her to teasingly bite her lips. The photo was taken.

I sat her down on the floor, facing the camera. Her left hand supported her body behind her. Legs open, I manoeuvred her free hand to grab her vagina. The pose called for it to be stretched open. As a bonus, she generated a trickle of fluid running onto the tiled floor. The photo was taken.

“That is the end of the sequence; you are released from your doll state.” I let her know.

“You can either hug me or slap me,” I teased her, with the question intended to be rhetorical. 

She was still nude and aroused. Amanda chose to hug me, sparing me no dignity. She dug her hips into mine feeling me up for an erection. I then become her mannequin. The first shot was clothed; she gently moved positioned my body as to hide the erection bulge in my trousers. The photo was taken.

The next pose was to done to highlight the bulge in my trousers. Amanda got me to lean slightly backwards. My hands were behind my back. She deliberately brushed her nude body against me to make sure I won’t go soft. There was something not right with my hair; she needed to constantly adjust it. The photo was taken.

She removed my T-shirt, exposing my hairy middle-age, over-weight body. Amanda moved me into several poses, before finding the right one. She took the photo. I knew what is coming next, so I had some dirty thoughts to strengthen the erection.

My trousers hit the floor. She discovered that I was wearing boxer shorts. She moved my hands onto the elastic of my boxer shorts. I had some fingers outside, some fingers inside. I stroke a pose similar to what I captured of her. The photo was taken.

I wanted to suggest a photo pose but she came up to me and placed a finger over my mouth. She pulled away and squatted in front of me. She entered through the slot of the boxer shorts and fished out my erect penis.

That day, I wore my foreskin pulled back and tucked in under itself. It looked and felt like a circumcised penis, even though I wasn’t. She maintained her professionalism and doesn’t comment. The pose got me to bend backwards with the aim to highlight the penis. She took the photo. Then, I heard the camera zooming in. That sound drove my erection harder. She took the photo.

She tilted my hips towards the camera. My glans was exposed and producing pre-cum. Like I did with her, she took a close-up photo. I held the position as she zoomed in even further. My whole urethra was glistening in pre-cum. She took an even closer close-up.

She wiped the pre-cum from the tip of my penis with a tissue, with the same professionalism I showed her. Next, my penis was back in the boxer shorts as she pulled them down. She positioned me for a pose with the boxers around my ankles. The photo was taken.

I saw her fiddling with the settings of the camera. She pressed the shutter, but nothing happened. Amanda entered the frame: she then grabbed my penis in a gentle underhand grip. Ten seconds later, the photo was taken.

As she released my penis, she pulled back the skin backwards slightly. This made my foreskin to come out of hiding. She got frightened, and I calmed her down by explaining:

“I practice a fetish called ‘autocircumcision’. It’s when a man keeps his foreskin pulled back indefinitely. One of the techniques is to tuck the unwanted foreskin underneath itself. This leaves the glans exposed like a circumcised man. The disadvantage, as you have demonstrated, is that it is unstable. If it would be painful, I wouldn’t be doing it”

“Why do you do it?” she asked.   

“A circumcised penis looks better. I can get the same effect without surgery. Plus, it is reversible,” I explained.

She switched off the camera, positioned it in the corner of the room. She placed her hand on my chest. I took her hair and threw it over my shoulder. From my research, ‘hand on chest’ meant that she wanted a kiss. She saw that I figured out the signal. She brought her lips in and we had a long sensual kiss.

I ran my hands down her hour-glass figure. I positioned her hips directly in front of mine. I brought her in, hoping that something will happen. It did happen: as I pulled her forward, my penis began to part her vulva. She didn’t mind it and we continued to kiss. She pulled back my foreskin with her inner labia. For my efforts, I got a little bit of feminine fluids on my penis (something I hoped for).

Amanda gently pushed me away. She came up behind me and placed both her hands on my chest. She leaned forward and whispered a single word into my ear: “condom.”

I quickly found one. I got her to sit on the bed next to me. She held one side of the condom package, while I held the other side. With my other hand, I grabbed her free hand. This was causing me arousal, and she saw it. I positioned her open palm under the golden square.

I instructed her to pull on the side of the golden square. I held her free hand. The package ripped; the condom fell out, landing in her palm. She looked at me in confusion as I whispered: “Put it on for me.”

Amanda got me to stand in front of her. She teased my penis into a stronger erection. Next, I had my foreskin pulled back by her: both her hands were busy, so she licked the pre-cum off. The condom got rolled on for me. I gave her instructions on how I liked it:

“Pull back the foreskin to expose the glans. Roll the condom on over the glans and stop once the corona is fully covered. Stretch the foreskin all the way down the shaft. Roll the condom over that exposed area. Release the stretched foreskin and the condom covering it. Cover the glans with the foreskin and condom. Hold the foreskin forward, as the condom continues to get rolled down the shaft.”  

She stood up and got my hands onto her breasts. I lingered there for a while. Suddenly,  Amanda pulled away, grabbing my arm. She got me to pin her against a wall. We were back at separating her labia with my penis. Next, she lifted her leg changing the angle of attack. This was my cue and I penetrated her for the first time.

She pushed me away after a few strokes. She cleared my duvet and blanket of the single bed. She got into a doggie position on my Navy-blue sheets. I obliged and entered her from behind. I only got a few thrusts in before she pulled away.

I was positioned on my back. She teased me to strengthen my erection. She climbed onto me in the cowgirl position. She controlled the pace as she rode me. Amanda was gently rocking me; making sure that I got pleasure from intercourse too.

Her pace picked up. She felt the time was right for me to ejaculate. She allowed me to explode inside her, safe in the knowledge that there was a condom. Amanda dismounted and lay next to me for a few minutes making the experience special.

When the time was right, she got us up. We showered together helping each other with the hard to wash places. We cuddled for a while in the shower; she allowed my penis to touch her vagina. I showed her how I set up my autocircumcison. Outside, the weather has cleared. One good-bye kiss on the lips she was on her way.

That day, we never reviewed the photos. I downloaded them off the camera without looking. It became a tradition to look at previous session’s photos before we made new ones. She trusted never to publish these photos; to this day I hold on to them.