She had generally posed nude and found it erotically pleasing. Once, excitingly, she’d worked with a male model for a pornographic photographic collection the artist had titled “Private Dance Class”.
For that occasion she had worn a very tight and highly revealing one-piece that was held in place at the top by shoulder straps and at the bottom, only by a very thin black string between her legs.
Over this garment, round her hips, was a very short and flouncy yellow skirt. This flew up when they danced (it was a rather wild samba) and fully revealed her sexy ass and furry pussy.
She’d made a lot of money out of that and the super-hot threesome filmed immediately afterwards with the photographer and the male model.
That was long ago, however. She hadn’t posed as an artist’s model for years or done any more porn.
She was surprised when Tom asked her if she’d model for his latest erotic painting. They had fucked each other, but only once. It had been upstairs at a party at someone’s place in the country.
Everyone, including Tom’s wife and Ambrose, had been flirting naked in the swimming pool or the Jacuzzi. Em's and Tom's departure from the pool had not been missed.
Tom had wanted to paint a woman getting a massage. Em knew all about massages and she’d thought it might be fun to pose again. It would be clothed but with an artistic hint of hidden delights. She thought she’d probably quite like the painting for herself.
He had a studio by the river in her city, in an area that had been gentrified and its old warehouses turned into apartments. He had a loft apartment that offered great views of the river and the city. She’d been there a couple of times with Ambrose for drinks on weekends.
Em told Ambrose that Tom had asked her to pose for his new work. She told him what it was. Ambrose had smiled and said, “You’d be the perfect model then Em, will you be naked?”
She told him no, the brief was to wear a green top and pink bikini cut panties, though she would be lying on a massage couch, probably in various poses. She wasn’t sure. It would mean about four sittings, she thought. The first was that afternoon.
An hour or so later she appeared with a small bag containing her posing costume, gave him a peck on the cheek, said she’d be back in about four hours and they’d go out to dinner, and got into her car and drove away.
Ambrose smiled as she left. He thought it was very likely Em would find herself stripped and massaged as part of the session. Tom’s wife was overseas on business.
Em might even allow Tom to fuck her again. Ambrose knew they’d done it once. He always knew. He didn’t mind. In fact he liked it. Em’s illicit sex adventures fuelled most of his hotter dreams.
He did an hour’s work at his laptop. He wrote porn scripts for amusement and minor remuneration. He found it a useful antidote to the dross of news and commentary that his day job entailed.
His current script involved a young woman, very new in a relationship with an older man, being visited by a former lover and being seduced on the sunny window seat in her new waterside apartment. She hadn’t been expecting anyone to call and was wearing only an open-weave singlet and jeans.
She was very reluctant when he had begun began to flirt over the cup of tea she had made him. She protested when he put the cup and saucer down on the side table and moved across to the window seat, walked behind her and gently pulled her backwards into it.
She said he shouldn’t, when he pushed her little top up and exclaimed with delight at finding her firmly rounded breasts naked. But her nipples made her a liar. They had already grown hard.
She tried to say no again, when he leaned over her from behind and licked her nipples and undid the top button on her jeans and unzipped them and slid his hand into her furry and now wet pussy and said, “God, and no panties either.”
She tried to say he shouldn’t, when he unzipped his own jeans and she saw his huge cock just within range of her mouth. She was opening her mouth to form the word “No” when he slid his hardness into it and simultaneously pushed her jeans down to her ankles and licked her open pussy.
It was shortly after that that she had briefly broken away from sucking to shout “God! Yes!” and kicked off her jeans and gone to town on his cock with her teeth and tongue, just the way he (and every other man she'd done it to) had always loved it.
He had fucked her twice on the window seat and then carried her to the bed she shared with her with partner, often very energetically, and fucked her again.
Ambrose remembered Em reluctantly telling him the story when he got home an hour or so later. He had smiled at her, kissed her on her beautiful mouth, and fucked her brains out too.
Revisiting that episode, converted into porn form, aroused Ambrose. He went upstairs, his cock suddenly hardening, his mouth dry, and with that buzz in his groin he always got when he was going to masturbate. Ambrose liked to masturbate. It allowed you to have very hot fantasies that you perhaps wouldn’t want to share with anyone, even with your sexy wife.
He went into the bedroom and found Em’s hot-pack drawer. He knew about that too and Em knew he did. He wasn’t sure she knew he liked to cross-dress for private fantasy sex and come with the hot thought that he was Em being solidly fucked in her very scanty underwear.