Teenage Fashion Model Fuck Time! by Brightdayler
I am not a naughty girl. I’m 18 years old, a fashion model, bi-sexual (it turns out!), and super, super horny. That makes me a bad girl! My motto is: “It’s good to be a bad girl!”
My name is Zoe. I’m white, 5’7″, 105 lbs, with long, silky black hair and B-cup titties. I am too modest to say that I’m ‘super-cute’, but I will say that every man I meet, married or not, hits on me, and many girls do too. Also, my modeling career is booked solid; I turn down as many gigs as I accept.
I love being a fashion model. Every shoot there are several young, stunning girls having a great time being photographed in all sorts of outfits: swimsuits, lingerie, jeans, prom dresses, school uniforms, spandex, etc., you get the idea. There’s always a make-up/hair-stylist on hand to help us look our most dazzling. Of course there’s always a photographer to flirt with. But what I like most about my work is the new tradition I started, the tradition of having a post-shoot orgy. Here’s that story:
Like most traditions, this one started small, on the same day I learned I was a bad girl! We were doing a shoot for a web-based goth-girl fashion store. I had red streaks in my black hair, black mascara, dark red lipstick, and a black choker with a cross. The clothes consisted of lots of black vinyl, lace and leather, worn with shiny black vinyl 5-inch high-heel spiked boots.
My first outfit on this day was a shiny, super short, black vinyl skirt and matching bra-like top. I took my position in front of the camera. All photographers tell their models that they look great, and James was no different.
“Wow, Zoe. You are looking good today!”
“Oh yeah? How good?” I prompted as I began striking poses.
James began shooting, “Well, if I wasn’t married,” then he paused. “I’m sorry,” he recanted, “I just mean to say that these will probably be the hottest photos I’ve ever taken. That’s all.”
That was so sweet of him to say, since he takes pictures of beautiful women every day. I decided he deserved an extra thrill. While we models regularly walk around the dressing area in our underwear, and sometimes talk to the photographer like that, I’d never seen anyone talk to the photographer topless. I don’t know what got into me that day, but that’s what I did!
“Hey James, which top should I wear next, the lace or the leather?” I innocently asked as I sidled up to him, my perky B-cups bare to the world.
“Uh, um,” his eyes went straight to my tits, and he swallowed hard, “How about the, uh, lace one?” he stammered.
“Are you sure? What if my pointy nipples poke out the fabric? They’re getting kind-of hard.” I said, as I shamelessly rubbed one of my nubs while he practically drooled on me.
“That’ll be, uh, just fine,” he said, and swallowed hard again.
“Great, thank you James, you’re the best.” and I rubbed his arm and walked away.
James wasn’t the only one who noticed me. When I got back to the dressing area, Brittany, a perfect 10 with hot-pink streaks in her long, blond hair, spoke to me.
“OMG! You’re such a naughty little slut. You go girl!” and she playfully slapped my bottom.
“Why? Just because I talked to James with my titties out? Do you think he even noticed them?” I joked as I shook my perky boobs at her.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off them! Check out his huge bulge when you go out there next time. You gave him an instant boner!”
“I did?!” I feigned surprised. “It made me kind of wet doing it,” I admitted, truthfully.
“It’s one thing to go out there topless, pretty girl,” Brittany gave my right nipple a quick pinch, “but I bet you wouldn’t talk to him totally naked, naked except for your heels and choker. You’re naughty, but you’re not bad!” she challenged me.
“I’ll show you!” I said. “I AM a bad girl!” And I gave her a wink as I licked my lips.
At my next outfit change, I got totally naked and posed in front of Brittany, “Ta da! Totally nude, except for these high heeled boots and my choker.”
“Mmmm,” Brittany appreciated my naked body, “And totally shaved. Nice. Go get him you cute slut!” then she put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a quick peck on the lips. That surprised me, and made my pussy tingle!
I grabbed a tube of the lipstick I was wearing. Then, as I walked over to James, some twenty feet away, I called out to him, “James, I need your opinion again.” His eyes devoured my hot body as I approached him. First he looked at my pretty face, then my firm boobies, on to my shaved snatch, then back to my boobies, and finally settling on my hairless pussy, with my slightly protruding labia. I took his hand in mine and led him over to his ‘director’s’ chair. He took his seat, then I sat firmly on his lap. Whoa! He did have a boner, I could feel it throb against my pussy lips through his jeans!
I wiggled my hips to get comfortable, grinding into James’ rock hard cock. I put an arm around him and began to reapply some of the dark-red lipstick I was wearing. “Do you think this color is the best choice? I could put on some bright pink, or maybe, since it’s a goth shoot, some neon green.”
“Uh, um, well, the, uh, the dark red matches the streaks in your hair,” James finally managed to say between his uneasy breaths.
“Of course. You’re so smart James.” I took his chin in one hand and ran my other hand through his hair and gave him a solid kiss on his cheek, leaving lipstick marks. Then I got up and strutted back to the dressing area.
“Wow,” Brittany remarked, “you ARE a bad girl!”
“I told you. I am one bad, naked, teenager! Wooo!” I exclaimed and gave myself a spank.
“Well what’s next?” Brittany asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t just get him all worked up and not finish him off,” she explained.
“What, like, give him a hand job?” I asked.
“Good girls give hand jobs. Naughty girls give blow jobs. Bad girls . . . well, you know,” Brittany said with a devilish smile.
“You think I should let him fuck me?! He’s married! And like forty-years old! I’m only 18! He’s older than my dad!” I was kind of shocked at her suggestion. Teasing him was one thing, a hand-job or blow-job was another. Letting him fuck my pussy was quite another altogether! Sure, I had given my share of hand-jobs and blow-jobs, what teenage girl hasn’t? But I had only ever let one boy fuck my pussy! And just one time at that!
Brittany let out a sigh of disappointment. “I was right after all,” Brittany taunted, “I knew you weren’t bad.”
I gave her a sexy pout and thought it over. I couldn’t let her win. It’s not like I was saving myself for marriage. My teasing antics had made me horny. And James did have a huge bulge in his jeans, obviously hiding a massive cock. The boy I had fucked was only six inches. Plus, I was on the pill. Suddenly a shiver ran down my spine to my clitoris. It all made sense: I was going to fuck the James the photographer!
“All right. I will,” I told Brittany, “I will fuck him. Why not? I’m horny, he’s obviously horny, and well endowed. I’ll fuck him today, right after the shoot.”
“Yeah right.” Brittany didn’t believe me. “You’re all talk.”