Glamour Shots, Chapter 18 - Sex Stories

Glamour Shots, Chapter 18

... just a very sexy, sensual, woman. She glows, radiating sexuality, a warm, welcoming vibe toward men, and I know that Rob and I were not the only males to sense it because I’ve watched any number of otherwise intelligent men trip over their own feet around her. Marci is apparently some kind of sex goddess, and men pick up on it quite readily. I answered him thoughtfully. “Yeah, Rob, she’s a sexpot. Every bit as alluring naked as she is dressed, if you can imagine!” He snorted. “Huh! Idiot! As my wife would say, details, man, details!” I told him a little, about her big, beautiful stiff nipples and large soft boobs; stuff he pretty much knew, but had never seen uncovered. I told him about her tightly trimmed blond muff, but did not tell him about the groping and touching, or about her and Michael going at it, or about how she’d made that entire huge, black cock of his disappear inside of her. Those were the party details covered by the pact, I felt. He got that faraway look in his eyes, and seemed to go away to his happy place for a brief time. When he finally returned, it was almost as if he’d had to shake himself to break free. “Mmm, luscious Marci, what a gal!” He looked at me solemnly for a moment. “Those pictures of our Allison, Davey boy, those are stunning! She’s so sexy, and just drop-dead gorgeous. I do appreciate you two sharing them with us; that was very daring of her, but…touching, I guess, that she trusts us that deeply.” “Hey, if we can’t share naked pictures of ...

... my wife with our best friends…” I left it unfinished, and we both laughed. I stood up to turn the brats over on the hot grill. While my back was to him, Rob said, “So what do you know about this photographer guy?” As I returned to my seat, I gave him a brief synopsis – that he was a pro that worked at Sizzles as a sideline, to build up his portfolio and maybe earn a few extra bucks at the same time; that he was obviously talented, and loved to work in black and white; that he had made Allison feel very comfortable, and worked well with her; that his assistant – a female - was apparently always present. “Oh yeah, and get this, Rob! He landed the advertising work for Dunstan’s, and he’s hiring Alli as one of his models! She’s pretty excited about it.” He didn’t seem to think that was good news. “Uh-huh. And how do you feel about it?” “Me? Okay, I guess. She’s looking forward to it, I think, to raise some money for her shelter.” “Do you trust him?” I shrugged. “I’ve never met him; I trust Alli.” “Don’t be so hasty, Dave; you could be making a huge mistake.” “Oh come on, Rob! This is Alli we’re talking about! I know she loves me, and that’s all that matters, right? She’d never do anything to hurt me.” He grunted. “Maybe. I don’t know; these artistic types, women tend to fall for them – you know, pale, scrawny, malnourished and tragic waifs with big soulful eyes and so much angst and torment to express in their ‘art’…” He made air quotes around the word ‘art’. I laughed. “I don’t ...