As I tidied the main room of the ground floor apartment, I called home. The numbers on my bedside alarm radio blinked 11:45. In fifteen minutes Joanne would be knocking on my door. She had agreed to model for some photographs and my lounge was to be the studio. She had agreed to pose after seeing a shot I had taken of her friend Wendy a couple of evenings earlier.

Wendy and I had met and got pleasantly pissed last Saturday night. And after coming back for a coffee I had managed to talk Wendy out of her top and taken some rather flattering shots of her tired old tits. She was past her prime but then again, I wasn’t going to see forty-seven again. And she had given me a very enjoyable blow job. It seemed only fair to make one of her shots into a pic she would be proud to hang on her wall.

Joanne, it transpired had seen it and was impressed with its presentation of her workmate. We had met in passing at the pub on the aforementioned Saturday. And whilst we had shared a song on the dance floor, Wendy had been more receptive to my banter.

The unsold works from my last exhibition that graced my walls, whilst not being nudes, perhaps even because of that fact, had been serious enough to allow Wendy to unbutton her blouse and unclasp her bra.

She was a solid girl to whom gravity had not been kind. But her breasts did have an intriguing lilt to them when shot to frame her face which when rendered as a colourful line drawing made for an alluring reminder of her earlier days. And I have yet to meet a person immune to a respectful gaze from a member of the opposing team. Thank god for the magic of Photoshop.

Now the aloof Joanne was to visit my repurposed sitting room. With its makeshift workbench made from a door on trestles covered with the paraphernalia of my trade running down one wall. A kitchen alcove off to one side and the remainder of the room furnished with a couple of two-seater sofas at right angles to each other. Into this den, the well-dressed matron was about to make her entrance.

A fashionable half-hour late, Joanne was at my door. Dressed in distressed jeans a loose white T-shirt with a jacket over her shoulders, she balanced on five-inch heels.

“See, I am a woman of my word.”

“I’m glad, I was beginning to wonder.”

I opened the door wide and waved her into the room. Looking straight ahead, Joanne walked to the far sofa upon which she placed her handbag over which she draped her jacket. Then turning to face me as I closed the door said, “What do you want me to do?”

“Firstly, can you go into the bedroom behind you and take off your bra but keep your Tee on. I would like to take some shots outside in the car park. It’s for a piece I’m working on. Would that be OK?”

“That’s easy,” she replied over her shoulder as she left the room.

For a good twenty minutes, I took shots of her outside in various poses. Directing her to stand this way and that, I shot low using the sky as a backdrop. As she relaxed and started to enjoy being the centre of my attention, I was able to get the light to make the T-shirt translucent and accentuate the shape of her breasts beneath. It was for a piece featuring disembodied shirts and T-shirts in a tic-tac-toe grid that I’d been working on for several weeks.

Upon returning inside I directed her to once again go into the bedroom and take off all her clothes.

“There’s a robe on the back of the door you can use.”

“This one?” She said as she came back into the room clutching my terry towelling robe to her throat leaving the full length of her legs peeking out from beneath its folds.

“Yep, that’s the one. Now put your hands on your hips. Be proud and strong.”

The robe gaped exposing the swell of her breasts and her stomach.

“Turn left a bit… a bit more… look over your shoulder.”

With each direction, she stood taller and thrust her chest out.

“OK, can we lose the robe?”

It fell to the ground.

“My stomach’s too big.”

“We can all afford to lose a few pounds. But you’ve got magnificent tits, so firm and proud. Very kissable.”

“Would you like to kiss them?”

“Would you like them to be kissed?”

As her hands cupped her breasts, she said, “I always like them being nuzzled.”

I put my camera down and step across the threshold. As her nipples hardened in my mouth, a low purr vibrated her throat.

Her head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth partly open as I kissed that purr. I drew small circles with the tip of my tongue on her exposed throat. And she opened her legs allowing my hand to slide between them. With my other hand cupping the back of her head I place my lips upon hers. And as my finger entered her, her tongue entered my mouth. Her arms held me close.

We eventually came up for air and as we looked into each other’s eyes, I enquired, “Is there anywhere else you like to be kissed?”

“Won’t your hand get in the way?”

As Joanne lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa and opened her legs wide, I kneeled before her.

She tasted divine, no acrid leftovers of feminine deodorising. Her hands held my head as I dined on her. And her purring got loader as I gently licked the little man in her boat.

Joanne eventually pushed me away and leaning forward kissed my glistening mouth. “I do taste good, don’t I?”

“Indeed, you do, my dear.”

“How are you doing? Have I got you hard?”

“I’ve got a hard-on the size of Cape York Peninsular.”

“Do you think your peninsular could find its way into to my Port Philip Bay?”

“I’m sure it could. Just let me get rid of these impediments.”

With my shoes, jeans and jocks scattered across the floor, I once again kneeled before Joanne’s holy grail. She drew her knees back opening herself.

As my peninsular slowly headed for the city at the apex of her bay, Joanne remarked, “It’s not the biggest peninsular I’ve ever had but it sure does fill the void.”

“It’s not the size of the peninsular on the man that makes for the best ride, but the size of the man in the peninsular that does the trick. Or so I’ve been told.”

“We must be careful. I’m not on the pill.”

Breaking eye contact and looking over my left shoulder, Joanne said, “Perhaps you should use the back door.”

Then making contact again “Does that make me nasty?”

“It does! But, in the best possible way.”

As I exited, she slid a little bit further forward on the sofa and raised her knees. Making use of our combined secretions and some extra saliva, entry into her arse hole was easily achieved. She repeated clenched her sphincter as I drew back and then relaxed for the forward thrust. She had been here before.

Joanne slid her hand between us so her fingers could pamper the man in her boat, and I slid a finger into her to scratch his back. For we all know how good it is to have your back scratched. She then sucked the fingers of my free hand into her mouth and as she sucked them, she started twisting her nipple with her free fingers.

Entwined we entered into the rhythm of the double-backed beast Tango.

And as the tempo increased so too did our appreciation of the sensations we were sharing. Until Joanne suddenly became rigid and a guttural, “yes,” escaped from the essence of her being. As she relaxed it took me two further thrusts to lose my mind.

Slumping to the floor as we uncoupled our heart rates returned to normal as we leaned against the sofa. Our smiles to each other grew.

“Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

“I wouldn’t bet the house on that.”

We smothered our chuckles with a lingering gentle kiss, and as I caressed her breast as she ran her fingernails down my torso. Joanne then leaned across me flattening her breasts against my chest as she reached into her bag. From which she extracted a tube of Savlon moisturiser which she liberally applied to my knees before rolling on her side and pointed to the red spot on her lower back. To which I dutifully applied a generous amount of the soothing balm.

Returning the balm to her bag, Joanne asked “so, do you want to take any more photos?”

“Do you mind?”

“Depends on what you do with them.”

“I would like to take a pic that celebrates our connection.”

“You want to take a photograph of my arse?”

“No, silly I want to take a pic that celebrates this woman who can give such pleasure.”

Sitting up straight and thrusting out her chest she smiled. “Well, if you insist.”