A picture worth more than words

Vanity really is my favorite sin.

I also think it is a necessary vice for any successful model.

Sunday night, seeing an opportunity to make a quick buck, my vanity and my ego received a very healthy, multi person stroking as I modeled for the store’s Nude Photography Workshop.

I am not a nude modeling virgin, hell lets face it these days there are very little things I am a virgin to but that’s not the point. Point is I have some experience with having my body, in all its decorated glory, photographed.

This, however, was my first gang photo shoot.

I arrived a little early and chatted casually about lingerie and lighting options while the workshop participants arrived. I was briefly introduced to each of them but there was no time for little more then names. Plus this night was not about me.
Not really.

There was eight men in total. Ranging in age from early 20s to late 50s. They adjusted their light settings and snapped test shots as the instructors described how the night would go. Round Robin. Each photographer getting there chance to direct my poses as the others snapped shots behind him.

The first round, I was in lingerie. Ruffly panties and a little baby doll top. I moved, rolled, arched and thrust parts as per each of their instructions. With some photographers it became obvious that this was their first time working with a barely clothed model.

Something about watching the young boys blush gave me a little thrill.

Others were more comfortable giving direction. They knew just what they wanted and how to coax it out of me. Each exclamation of “that’s perfect”, “beautiful” or even “good girl” tugged at my submissive heart strings and spurred me on to find new ways to contort body and encourage their praise.

By the time it was time for round two and me to get fully naked the heat I was feeling was not coming from the studio lights.

There is a quote from Camille Paglia that says “"To project to a camera, you must have an auto erotic autonomy, a sharp self conceptualization, even a fetishistic perversity; the camera is a machine you make love to"

This quote has always resonated deep inside me. I have always found even the most vanilla modeling to be deeply sexual.

Round one was just the foreplay.
The first thing I realized was that I could smell myself. As the men all gathered closer around me taking macro shots of various parts, directing me in more provocative positions, I wondered if they could too.

I felt myself flush. I was getting wet.

I was reclining on my back when one of the younger guys asked me to put my hands on my breasts. I tried different looks, lightly placing them to a full deep grasp digging my finger nails into the sides of my flesh. I started to maul my own tits as little shutter clicks sounded around me.

One of my hands drifted between my legs. Just holding there, covering myself in a false modesty. But I could feel my heat, my fingers curled desperately wanting to play and touch.

I was just so turned on. I wanted each of the cameras. It was not the photographers that inspired lust, but their long, long lenses. I stared into each black eye giving my best coy and daring looks. Begging them to explore me, probe me, expose me.

But this wasn’t a porn shoot.

It was an educational workshop for photographers in a retail store. Just goes to show you how intensely my auto-erotic autonomy can take over.
 

Victoria