Glamour Shots, Chapter 22 - Sex Stories

Glamour Shots, Chapter 22

... for Derek Chambers! To whatever extent he was responsible, I should probably be sending him thank you notes and bottles of good liquor rather than resenting him and behaving jealously. “It just seems to me that maybe having one of the girls – what’s his assistant’s name? Jennifer? Maybe have her talk to you about it instead of him ordering you to do something so intimate. Don’t you think?” “He sort of did, really. Davey, all he said to me was ‘Before we do the lingerie shoot, you’re going to want to do something about your pubic hair; talk to the other girls, find out what they do.’ He kept it very professional – he was probably embarrassed that he had to tell me something that I should have known!” “Well, that doesn’t seem so bad, when you put it like that – but how could you have known? You’ve never done this before.” I thought about it for a moment, about how I would approach an employee – Marci, let’s say – regarding an intimate grooming issue. I laughed at the image! “Yeah, that was probably not the easiest for him. So what did the other girls have to say?” “They all do it; just routine, I guess. They even showed me; Diana left just a tiny little landing strip, Kris was totally bare and smooth, and Amy had a tiny… either a heart or a triangle. I really didn’t get close enough to tell.” She laughed, and went on, “It was right up front, on her mound, but all totally smooth lower down.” I was shaking my head, chuckling. “This is one weird business you’ve gotten into. I ...

... can’t imagine any other where people would show off something like that as a professional courtesy. Strip clubs, maybe?” “They were just being helpful.” “I’m sure! So you’re going to go ahead and follow his orders on this, I guess?” “I think I need to, if he’s going to pay me for the lingerie shoot. If I don’t he’ll probably use someone else.” I ran my fingers through her wet, slippery curls and then slid my middle finger between her puffy, cum-smeared lips and into her. She gasped and thrust her hips forward to meet my fingers, and I pushed deep. “If you’re going to shave off my favorite little topiary, do I get to watch?” “Mmm, that feels so good… you have very talented hands. I hope you’re planning to make me come again.” “That can be arranged; so, do I?” “Get to watch? No.” “I don’t get to watch? Why not?” I was actually a little disappointed; the thought of watching her shave herself – perhaps even helping her – was oddly exciting to me! “Because… mmm, god! That feels wonderful! Because I’m going to have it done…” She gasped and thrust against my fingers, interrupting herself as she began to concentrate more on what I was doing to her and less on what she was saying. She blew out a long breath. “I’m going to get waxed, one of those Brazilian things.” “Oh. You said shaved, so I assumed…” I let it trail off as I pulled my finger out of her, slick with our juices; I added a second finger and slowly reentered her, and she moaned softly. “Feel good?” “Ohh, yes – it feels ...