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THE MODEL camera range Ill leave clothes


This story deals with an older lady who gets herself in a difficult
situation through a promise made in a weak moment. Ultimately it costs her
a big piece of her modesty and a severe test of her bladder, when she
becomes a most unexpected kind of model.

No hard sex; watersports, exhibitionism. ws, exh

The model
By Francine

Chapter 1

It was approaching the time to prepare for her appointment. Fran
Merryman steeled herself as she looked at the clock. It read 12:15 - the
dreaded appointment was set for two in the afternoon. She had less than
two hours before what she was sure was going to be one of the most
embarrassing events of her life. Her heart raced a bit as she thought
about it. How could she ever have got herself into this? No matter - the
deed was done, now she just had to go through with it. Hopefully she could
could get there and back without encountering anyone who knew her.

She had made the appointment two days ago. The place was of her own
choice - a location where she felt no one would know her, a place where she
hoped, in fact, that there would be no one except the person she was to
meet. She had only met him once, and he didn't really know how she was
going to be involved. To him it would be, she hoped, only a professional

Fran was not an insecure person, or one without means. Now at sixty
two, she had been divorced some twenty years, after a marriage that had
turned sour and led to an unpleasant settlement. Faced with the need to
support two growing children, she had relied on her own resources, having
little from her ex-husband. Fran was an investment advisor, having spent
many years with a firm in the business of managing finances for mostly
wealthy clients. She had achieved financial independence, financed
educations for two children now grown and departed, and acquired a good
reputation in her profession and her community. Financially, she had done
well. Usually she dressed in conservative professional attire for her
appointments, but she pondered what was appropriate for today.

While thinking over what would be appropriate attire, she realized she
had another item of preparation she needed to attend to. She went into her
kitchen, poured herself a large glass of ice water, and drank it down. She
waited a few moments, then followed it with another. Then she returned to
her bedroom.

She looked over her wardrobe, trying to select the most suitable attire
for this occasion. She decided a dress was necessary, and she chose a navy
blue one, heavy enough to wear without a slip, and one that buttoned in the
front. She didn't relish having to wrestle with something that fastened in
the back. It was a warm day, and she would not wear a jacket.

She carefully selected her underwear. Usually lingerie was not of great
importance to her, but today, well, it could indeed matter. She picked out
a white bra and white panties. She would not wear pantyhose, or any
hosiery. Today it would be better to be bare legged.

She dressed with her usual care. She checked her gray hair, which she
refused to tint and wore at shoulder length. Looking at herself in her
mirror, she was satisfied. At her age, she knew she was not going to win
any beauty contests, but she was well groomed and in good taste. Perhaps
she wore a few more pounds than she had twenty years ago, but her body was,
she felt, in good shape, allowing for some minor sags and lines. She wore
little make-up, but carefully looked over some small lines in her face.
Well, she thought, at sixty two surely he will expect a few flaws!

She considered her jewelry, then decided to leave it off. Earrings she
usually wore, but not today. She fastened on only her wrist watch. Time
would be important - she must not be late.

Dressed to her satisfaction, she checked the time. It would take her
perhaps an hour to drive there, she would need to leave within twenty
minutes. There was still one item of preparation needed. She needed a bit
more to drink - it would important to have sufficient liquid in her. She
considered her coffee pot, then decided instead again on water. Coffee
might go through her too quickly - she didn't want to create a problem for
herself before she got there. She poured another large glass of ice water,
and drank it slowly. She had skipped lunch, so her stomach was empty. She
decided a bit of nutrition might be good, so she followed the water with a
large glass of orange juice, then repeated with another glass..

She checked the clock. She still had a few minutes. She wondered if
what she had consumed would be enough for the requirements she expected.
Doubtful, she took another glass of the water and downed it slowly. Her
stomach was feeling quite full.

She made a quick visit to the bathroom to relieve herself, then returned
to the kitchen. Taking a liter bottle of soda with her, she went outside,
locked the door, and went to her car. Carefully she backed out and began
her journey. Desperately she wished this day were over, yet she knew she
had to go through with it.

As she drove toward her chosen location, she reflected in how she could
have got herself into this situation. Her mind raced back over events of
the last twenty years.

Chapter 2

Fran had been a bit over forty when she first met Marvin Burnside. She
was fresh from a messy divorce, trying to make sense out of a disrupted
life and harsh financial circumstances. She was left with a son and a
daughter to raise, an ex-husband who had managed to exit the marriage with
a settlement that left her a house but not much else. Fran had worked in
financial planning for several years, but until now personal finances had
not been a real problem for her. She was trying to put her life together,
support her children, and sort out a variety of legal problems. Romance
was not on her mind - she had had quite enough of men in that regard.

Marvin had shown up at the conference her company had set up in San
Francisco. He was in the same profession, living in Oregon. Fran lived in
the south - although she made a number of business trips in conjunction
with her work.

It was Marvin who had struck up a conversation with her when she was
feeling alone, and just a bit unwelcome. He introduced her to other
professionals. She became aware that he had separated from his wife years
earlier, and lived with a teenaged daughter. There were things they could

There was no romantic spark between them - in fact there never would be,
really. He was a professional colleague she saw only on business trips,
where frequently their interests crossed. She did get his business
address. He offered to advise her in her professional development.

Over the next five years, they met half a dozen times, always at some
point away from both of their homes. They would have dinner together, at
times. One early incident Fran would recall with amusement.

She had been staffing a booth at a conference for financial planning.
Her coworker was called away unexpectedly, and she was left to staff it
alone. The rules she was under was that the booth was to be staffed all
day, lest prospective clients arrive and be lost. She had been there
several hours when Marv came by, giving her a warm greeting and trying to
engage her in a bit of conversation. After a few minutes he sensed she was
a bit nervous and was fidgeting a bit. "What's the matter? Don't you feel
OK?" he had asked her. She waited a moment, then replied in a low voice,
"Truth is, Marv, I'm not supposed to leave here, and I have to pee something awful!" Marv laughed at her, then replied, "Tell you what - lend
me your badge and I'll stay here a few minutes and be you - even if a poor
substitute! You're entitled to a bathroom break!"

That little event would become a favorite theme of their infrequent
encounters. Before departing for lunch, or some event together, he would
inquire of her "Need a pee break first? We don't need any problems with

Over the ensuing years. Marv had encountered a number of clients
transferring south, and referred several of them to Fran. He had given her
favorable introductions to several other prospects, and gave her material
assistance in preparing presentations for the seminars she had to put on
and manage. It was Marv who got her into a professional society, and then
nominated her to national office a few years later.

More recently, Marv had joined with her in planning their society's
national meeting, and helped elevate her to professional prominence. Yet
they remained only close business friends - never had they had they had a
real romantic encounter.

Twice she had taken trips with him, on the way to business conferences
where they simply shared a car. The most intimate event occurred while
driving along an isolated highway on one of these trips. It had been quite
a while since they had a rest stop, and Fran was feeling a bit uneasy with
a full bladder. Marv had sensed her discomfort, and failing to find a rest
area with facilities, they had wound up pulling off the side of the road,
where both, in turn, and not together, had relieved themselves on the
sheltered side of the car.

Recently, she knew their relationship was winding down. Both were
nearing the age where retirement loomed. There was one more conference in
Vancouver, which they would attend together. Fran looked forward to it
with mixed feelings, anxious to see her old friend, yet feeling sorrow that
the final parting was probably imminent.

They went out to dinner together after the events of the second and last
day. Marv had planned it would be special. He took her to an elegant
restaurant, reminding her of the many meals they had shared, but
admonishing her as they arrived, "This one's on me - you don't pickup the
tab this time! And do you need a pee break before we sit?" Fran laughed at
his reference to their private joke, and his memory that she, in true
professional style, had often picked up the check for their times together.

They reflected overt their many times together. Marv shared his plans
with her. "You know I have a partnership in Australia, and I'm planning to
go there in a couple of months to retire. Of course, I'll keep busy, but
it will be a different life for me. You know I will miss seeing you!" Fran
shared her concerns for her own future, expecting to stay where she lived,
but looking to a less cluttered life. They shared their plans and

"I want to remember you, Fran. You know after all these years, all I
have of you is a couple of convention snapshots."

"Do you need a picture of me to remember what I look like? Maybe I can
find one. Would you like one of me in my present deteriorated state, or as
I was twenty years ago?"

"I want to remember you as you are - and you're not deteriorated -
you've become more gracious over the years, and I want to remember the
finished product."

"You're a flatterer - always were!" Fran responded. "I'll get you a
photo, maybe even a few of them. After that statement, you can have any
kind you want!" "Thanks, I'll remember that. I find you worth remembering.
I'll give a bit of thought on what I'd like."

They reminisced a bit about what they knew of each other. Fran had
shared a bit of her interests over the years, but she knew little of Marv's
personal hobbies. She recalled that he had been interested in boating, and
had once owned one. Then she remembered that he had mentioned a photo art

"You know, I really should get you a retirement gift. After all you've
done for me, you won't even let me pick up the check for our farewell
banquet! What would you like?"

"You don't need to give me anything, Fran - just knowing you has been
enough. Anyway, you've already promised me a picture."

"That reminds me - you have talked about your collection of photographic
art - I've only seen those couple of pieces you showed me. Are you still
adding to it?"

Marv smiled. "What I showed you was a small piece of it. Yes, I still
have it, and add to it when I can. You've seen a sample - you know my
interests! I shouldn't admit it - but I find it hard to get the additions
I really like!"

Fran remembered the sample. "What you showed me were very artistic
photos of women; and, as I recall, rather undressed! Now admit it, were
any of them your girl friends? Or did you see them as very impersonal,
like, for example, the lady in the picture over there?"

Marv looked across from their table to a large painting on the
restaurant wall. It showed a somewhat corpulent lady, reclining nude.
"You know I've been interested in art - I hope I can devote more time to
it. I find the female figure a marvelously graceful art form. No, none of
the models were really friends. I buy the photos, or they are given to me.
The ones I like best I frame and display, the others I keep in albums. I
try to get photos of the models in poses that reflect their interests, or
show them in activities that they would appear to enjoy - I like to see the
models depicted not as statues, but as real persons, doing real activities
in an artistic way. It's not easy to get them, which is, I suppose, why I
value them so."

"That one over there doesn't seem to be doing much of anything!"

"I know, and if that were a photo, instead of a painting, it wouldn't be
a candidate for my collection. Besides, the model's too young! But she
does have a few extra pounds. Now, some would see that as a drawback, but
not me. I like especially the photos that show real persons, as they
really are, warts and all, but still posing gracefully in whatever they're
doing. You know, grace isn't just young and firm lines - it's how a person
carries herself, her self-confidence, her acceptance of herself as she is.
That's what I like to see depicted - not just some young thing without her
clothes on!"

"You're still an old flatterer! I think you're just trying to make me
feel good. At my age, don't talk about the warts showing - I'd have to
admit to a few!"

"Really? I've never noticed any. You carry yourself with poise and
confidence. I always found you the picture of the confident businesswoman.
If you've got warts, they wouldn't matter, because they're never apparent!"

Fran laughed a bit. "You've never seen me the way I step into the
shower! You might change your mind!"

"Would I? Really think I would? You would should grace and good taste
in any state you were in!"

"Stop it. Now you're just being flattering. It's too late for that. I
don't need it any more!"

Suddenly Marv sat up a bit, studied Fran carefully, and then asked her,
"Earlier you said you'd get me a set of photos of yourself, any kind you
could. Did you mean it?"

"Of course, Marv. You know I would. It's the least I could do for you.
Have you any special desires?"

"Yes, indeed, Fran. But remember you already promised!"

"Sure, Marv. What are your wishes?"

"I want you to get me a set of photos of yourself that would fit the
style of my collection. They would be the crowning piece! That's the gift
I would like from you! I would treasure it - and I want you to get a good
professional to take them - I really would love it!"

Fran's smile turned to look of surprise. "Are you asking me to get
photos posed like the ones you showed me? Dressed like - like that woman
in the picture?"

"It would be the best memory I could have of you - seeing you the way
you really are, even if I never saw you that way in person. It would be
great if you got a dozen or so, different poses. You would make the most
graceful model in any of the photos I have"

Fran looked him squarely in the eye. "You mean nude?"

He nodded. "I would never use them to embarrass you. They would go to
Australia with me. But I would love to have them. You would make the most
gracious model I could imagine!" His look was one of pleading.

"A sixty-two year old model, posing nude. Artistically." Fran was a bit
shocked. She pondered his request.

"I'd like them in an outdoor setting - you always looked good outdoors.
Try to get them in active poses - I'd really like that. A good
photographer could pose you - you would such a fine, graceful model. And,
oh yes, try to get two or three with you engaged in that activity we always
joke about."

"Which is?"

"What do I always ask if you need to do, before we start something?"

"Pee?" Fran responded, incredulous.

Marv nodded again. "Remember that time beside the car? You were such a
good sport about it, and so gracious. I think you could make the most
artistic display if you were photographed peeing - I'll bet you could do it
so gracefully! It would be something to remember you by - our favorite
joke, and something only we could share. Please, I'd love it. Would you?"

Fran considered her answer. She had made a promise. Marv was an old friend, to whom she felt owed gratitude. He had never asked her for
anything like this; they had never had sexual encounter. He wasn't asking
for one. How could she ever deliver on this? But, how could she refuse,
and after all, what real harm was there in it? She was confident Marv
wouldn't use anything he wanted to embarrass her. She trusted him.

"OK. If that's what you want for your retirement gift, you'll get it.
But give me a little time - I've never had pictures of that kind made

"I thought you hadn't! That's what would make them such a special
keepsake! Thank you!" Marv's gratitude seemed genuine.

Marv didn't pursue his request further, until the end of the evening.
The spent the rest of it together, and, past midnight, Marv delivered her
to her hotel. As they parted for the night, and, she knew, possibly for
the last time, he looked at her. "My pictures? You will remember - I
always want to remember you!"

"You'll get them, Marv, I promise. Just like you asked". They
exchanged a few final words, and then an unexpected embrace. She went to
her room, a bit sorrowful that a bright chapter in her life was ending.

Chapter 3

On the flight home, and for days afterward, Fran couldn't get out of her
mind the promise she had made. At times she wondered why she had agreed to
such a thing. She thought about calling Marv and saying she couldn't do
it, and offering an apology. She thought of sending him a note that his
request was just, well, inappropriate, if not indecent! But Fran was a
person of integrity, a woman of her word. She had had a chance to turn him
down, and she hadn't. She had agreed. And, she reflected, it wasn't as
though he had asked for some kind of sexual liberty, or tried to seduce
her. He hadn't. All he had done was asked her to get some photos made.
But, never, never, never in her life had she posed for photographs like he
wanted. She hadn't even seriously thought about it. Where could she find
someone she could trust to photograph her as Marv wanted?

Once home, and busy with other obligations, Fran procrastinated. She
tried to put her promise to Marv out of her mind - temporarily. Days went
by. They grew into two weeks.

She realized time would run out. If she were to keep her promise to
Marv, she had to get him her gift before his retirement and departure. She
was embarrassed, at times angry at herself for having made such a promise.
But now she was forced to deliver, or go back on her word. Her word, she
reflected, was the important item. She must do what she promised.

She consulted her phone book, looking for photographers. She scanned
the yellow pages, trying to find one that would fit her need. She marked
the ones who specialized in what were called glamour photos. She hardly
considered herself glamorous, but these were the ones who would most likely
do what she wanted. She checked addresses, nothing close to home, she
thought; she might be recognized. She looked for ones in remote areas of
the city, where no one would likely know her. She wanted a small shop, not
one well known. Gradually she narrowed her list. Finally she found one
that seemed suitable. "Granger Photography - Portraits, Parties, Weddings,
Glamour Photos", the listing read, in small type. Only one telephone
number. Probably, she thought, a place not too big, wouldn't have a big
staff, unlikely to know her or do work in her area or among her friends.
There was a horrible thought! Suppose she engaged one and later he was the
photographer at a wedding she attended! Would he show recognition? She
thought, and thought.

Finally she decided to chance it. She dialed the number, fearfully.
She wouldn't explore this over the phone - she decided that she would go in
person. Right now she only needed to find out if they would do the kind of
work she needed - she would make a visit. The telephone answered, she
inquired only as to their hours of business. They were open. "I need to
have some photographs made, rather special ones - I'd like to come by to
discuss it and perhaps make an appointment. Could I stop by and talk to
someone in an hour or so?"

"Certainly. I'll be here, and I'm the only someone who'll be here.
What kind of photos do you need?" a male voice cheerily asked.

"I need some portraits, a group, all the same model. I'd like to
discuss it in person, please."

"Well, come on in. We do lots of kinds of portraits. I can show you

She agreed, and hung up. Her heart was racing. She had made the first
step. There was no turning back. She had to make this work, because she
couldn't bear the idea of going through this with yet another shop. She
dressed in a conservative business suit, checked her appearance, and set
off in her car.

Granger Photo was about ten miles from her home, a safe distance, she
thought. It took her close to an hour to get there, with traffic and
looking for the address. Finally she found it. The shop was a small one,
located in a strip mall. The businesses adjoining were non threatening, a
laundromat, a small dress shop, a hardware store, a small restaurant. It
looked safe.

She parked and went to the shop. Nervously, she hesitated in front of
it. There were sample photos in the window - she studied them. Some were
small, passport picture types. Some were of weddings, some of family groups. But what caught her eye were several showing young women in
artistic poses. One was dressed in a flowing gown, as she reclined on
overstuffed cushions. One was in a swimsuit, but one - the one that
especially attracted her attention, showed the model sitting apparently
unclad on a bench, the view being from the back and showing her looking
around over her bare shoulder. The thought hit her - they have done nudes!

Very nervously, hesitatingly, she looked in the shop. A man, apparently
a customer, seemed to be completing a transaction. She stood, just inside
the door of the shop, and waited. Behind the counter was a man, perhaps
thirty five or forty, in a casual shirt. He called to her, "Can I help
you, please?"

"No, not yet, please. Just finish your business. I'll wait." Fran
tried to appear nonchalant. The customer seemed to be discussing some
reprints, and the discussion took a a few minutes. Fran waited, nervously.
Finally the customer finished and headed for the door. The man behind the
counter turned to her. "Now, what can we do for you?" he began, cordially.
Fran kept her silence as she watched the customer exit the shop. Only then
did she respond.

"I need a set of photographs. Of a woman - I want them to be, well, a
bit artistic, and they will need to be done outdoors."

"Fine. Would that be of, perhaps, your daughter?" He smiled at her.
"Not exactly", Fran replied. "But show me what kind of work you can do."

"I'm Bob Granger, and I've done lots of portraits, inside and outside.
Here, let me show you a few-"

Bob produced a stack of photos from under the counter. He began to
explain different options for different occasions. He went into prices,
options on sizes of prints, and other details. Fran listened, but really
without hearing much of what he said. She was waiting for him to get to
the one detail that concerned her most.

"Where do you want them made? Is it a home, or a party, or where?
We've done all kinds of locations." Fran thought, and stammered a bit. "We
- we want them all done in the same place, an outdoor setting. Somewhere
with trees and grass, but no houses or buildings. We haven't quite settled
the location, but we have some ideas."

Bob seemed a little puzzled. "Is there a special occasion? A birthday,
or a wedding? Something you need them for?"

"They are for a very special use - to be used in an artistic exhibit, I
hope. We want the model posed artistically, outdoors, and we're looking
for a place."

Bob shrugged, and went on. Fran realized she was stretching the truth a
bit, but she was not quite ready to be specific. She added, "The model will pose for a number of photos, and we will want different poses and from
different angles. We will want her to be shown in some active poses, too;
doing some special things - things she usually does.." Fran was treading
into sensitive territory, and she was getting more embarrassed.

"You say artistic poses - do you want shots in evening gowns, or
swimsuit shots, or in some special attire? We can do whatever you want.
You will have to tell me where, though, when you decide."

The moment of truth, well, at least half truth, was fast approaching.
Fran lowered her voice and leaned just a bit forward. "Do you photograph
nudes?" she asked, her voice shaking a bit.

Bob drew back and smiled. "Yes, if your model will pose nude, we can do
the pictures. I take it you want a set of artistic nudes posed outdoors,
but you haven't located a suitable place."

"I guess so", Fran answered. Bob proceeded to get out a city map and
suggested several possible sites. Now Fran was intensely interested.
Having got past the critical question, she found the discussion easier.
She noted the proposed sites, and indicated she would check them out.

"Now, about the activities. Do you an idea what she is to be posed

"I will go over that with her," Fran replied. "We want some where will
be posed still, but some where she will be engaged in things she regularly
does. Does it matter right now?"

"No, except if it is something unusual, like standing on a horse, I
might need some special equipment to get it from the right angle."

"It will be nothing like that", Fran answered. "The activities will be
done at a normal sitting or standing position, or at least that height -
but we may want some close-ups of some of the action. We'll explain
later!" Fran wanted to get off the subject.

Finally they agreed on a package. She was to confirm the exact site
within a day or two, but they made an appointment to be at the chosen place
at two in the afternoon a few days hence. She made a deposit for the

"Can't wait to meet your model - this will be an interesting session,
I'm sure. You're going to be there, as the chaperon?" "Yes, indeed, I'll
be there!" Fran continued, "chaperon or something like that!"

The next day, Fran carefully looked over the locations Bob had proposed.
Two she discarded as too close to her home. Two, in forest or park areas
in the outlying areas, seemed possible. In the late afternoon she drove to
each, to check them out.

One was a forested area, part of a park area, on a little used road
passing through a suburban, mostly residential area. As she arrived at the
suggested site, she found an unpaved road turning off into the small wooded
area. She drove down it a bit, then parked and walked a short distance
into the woods. Not far ahead was a small clearing, lit well even in the
fading afternoon sun, but screened from all roads. No houses or other
signs of civilization were visible. She decided this was the place.

Now it remained only to call Bob and confirm the site. Once this was
done, she could breathe a bit easier. No, she was not ready; but the
details were arranged. Even the model, though Bob was not aware of it.

Chapter 4

Fran drove, rather nervously and reluctantly, toward her destination.
She dreaded the thought of what was coming, but determined to go through
with she had arranged. In her car she carried only her purse and two
large, two liter bottles of soft drink. She had brought the drinks in case
they were needed to complete her mission. As she drove, she began to
wonder if they would enough. She had no idea.

She noted the time - nearly one thirty, as she approached the expressway
exit she intended to take. On leaving the house she had felt a bit
bloated, but now that feeling was subsiding, as the liquid contents of her
stomach were gradually absorbed. She was not thirsty, she knew. Another
sensation was beginning to draw her attention, though. Although she had
relieved herself just before leaving her home, she was now aware of a
fullness in her bladder; the result, she knew, of the rather considerable
amount of liquid she had consumed. She wondered just how much distress she
would be able to tolerate in that area. Oh! An exclamation escaped her -
in her concentration on her internal feelings, she had failed to take the
proper exit; now she was forced to drive to the next exit and backtrack.
Lost time she didn't need! She cursed herself mentally, as she recognized
the discomfort that lost time was going to cause her.

Finally she was on the road to her park land appointment. Five minutes
to two - she was a bit behind schedule. What would Bob think? Would he be
on time? She rehearsed to herself how she was going to explain the
scenario she had created. All of her skills in diplomacy were going to be
tested, as she prepared for what she would need to say.

At long last she was there. She pulled off onto the side road, looking
for the designated spot. Ahead, about where she had judged the location to
be, a gray van had pulled off the side of the road. For a moment her heart
jumped - suppose someone else was there? How could she go through with
this if anyone else were in the area? Then, suppose Bob brought an
assistant with him? Could she handle that?

Nervous, almost shaking, she parked near the van. A man stood beside
it, apparently waiting. He wore a colorful shirt and jeans - casual attire
suited to the area, she thought. She recognized him as Bob, the
photographer. Would there be anyone else?

Fran got out of her car and approached Bob. She felt very
uncomfortable, not just from the stress of what she was about to do, but
because her bladder was quite uncomfortably full. "Good afternoon, Bob,"
she began, trying to seem cheerful and nonchalant.

Bob responded with formal warmth, but his eyes were going to her car,
obviously looking for another occupant.

"Are you ready? This is the place we selected," she went on, her voice
belying her assumed nonchalance.

"Are we ready? I'm ready. Where's your model?" Bob inquired, a bit

The moment of truth had arrived, and Fran was ill prepared.

She blurted it out directly. "The model is here - I, I'm the model!"
She stopped abruptly, standing in front of him.

Bob stared in complete astonishment. "You told me you wanted some nude
photos of a female model, and that you would bring her! What are you
telling me? Did she back out or change her mind? I don't quite

Fran drew a long breath. She was now starting to sweat, and she was as
nervous as she had ever been. There was nothing to do but come out with
the truth.

"Bob, I'm sorry - I guess I did mislead you. This is very hard for me
to say, but I am the model - there never was another one. And, yes, I do
want the photos, as we agreed. I owe you an apology. I suppose, we really
I thought, you might not do the pictures if I told you it was me. You
would think a gray haired lady posing for nude pictures would be ridiculous
- I wouldn't blame you! But I do want them, and I do hope you'll go
through with it. I'm very sorry; but, it's very hard for me, too!"

Bob surveyed the woman in front of him. Here was a nicely groomed lady
of mature years, wearing a conservative dress, standing in an isolated
wooded area, saying she wants to be photographed in the nude. He looked
her over - she wore little make-up, her legs were bare, and while her dress
was in good conservative taste, she hardly looked like a model. He judged
her to be around a hundred fifty pounds, perhaps a bit taller than average;
but her demeanor was pure nerves. Her voice was trembling, and she was
pale and visibly uncomfortable, twisting and moving a bit under his gaze.

"Mrs. Merryman, have you ever done this before? I mean, have you ever
posed for this kind of photography?"

"No. And please call me Fran - I don't want to be formal. No, I've
never done it; but I need to-"

"It's none of my business why you want to. You are not the kind of
model I usually work with for this type of photography. You're sure you
want to do it? Do you know how to pose?"

Fran shook her head. "I know I'm too old for you - you expected a young woman, and I was afraid that you would think photos of a woman my age -
well, without clothes - would be silly. I thought you might laugh at me.
I've never done this before, never had this kind of photo done- but if you
will just help me, I know I can pose. I am frightfully embarrassed about
all of this, but I made a promise to get the pictures, and all I want is
for you to do the best you can! I know you can't be responsible for the

"Mrs. Merryman - Fran - look, I'm not going to laugh at you. I don't
understand this, but I'll make any kind of photos you want. You have to do
the posing, but I'll try to give you some suggestions. Do you feel all
right? She look very upset!"

Fran was, indeed, fidgeting and squirming. On top of her feelings of
humiliation, her bladder was getting painful. She was trying to show as
little distress as possible, but she knew that problem was going to get
rapidly worse, and she hadn't even explained to him why that was part of
the planned scene.

"Bob, I want to get started making the photos. We need to go into place
we picked out, and get ready. But I told you I wanted the model to be
photographed doing some activities - I've got to explain that, too!"

Bob stood and looked at her with a slightly stunned but patient look.
"And the activity is?" he inquired.

Fran steadied herself and flushed. "Peeing - urinating! Some of the
pictures are to be of me - relieving myself! I know, I know - that's
shocking and shameful- but I need to get pictures that way! I don't know
how to pose them; they're supposed to be done in an artistic way - I've no
idea how to do it, and I need help! Please try to help me- I drank a lot
so I would be able to do it, and now my - well, I'm very full, down there!
I need to get started, ...... What can I do?" Her voice trailed off, tears
came to her eyes, and Bob could see her trembling.

"Photos of a nude lady peeing artistically? Can't say as I have had
that assignment before! Look, Fran, I'll do what I can. I guess you can't
wait too long. OK, let me get my stuff and let's go!"

He felt sympathy for this lady, obviously terribly embarrassed but
nonetheless his customer. He gathered his camera and other equipment, and
the two of them walked through the trees to the spot Fran had earlier
selected. The location was absolutely private, with no one and no sign of
human habitation in sight. He considered the lighting and shadows, and
motioned to a spot he considered suitable. "I think you should to pose
there! That should get the best effect, although we may do some in another
spot later. You ready to start?"

Fran looked over the location. "Yes, wherever you want me! Should I -
get ready, now?" she asked, very nervously.

"You'll have to - go ahead!" He started checking lighting and his camera settings.

Fran simply nodded, standing near a tree which she felt would be out of
camera range. "I'll leave my clothes here - they won't show in the shots,
will they?" she inquired, indicating her intentions.

"Fine. Just get yourself ready and move into position. I'll see how we
can best pose you."

"You'll have to excuse me. I never did this before, and I hurt real
bad, down there, because I'm so full...", she tried to explain, as she
began to disrobe.

Fran took off her shoes, and set them on the ground. In bare feet, she
began to unbutton her dark blue dress. She turned her back to Bob as she
did so. She folded the dress carefully and hung it on a tree branch. She
reached behind her and unhooked her brassiere, slipping it off and placing
it on the tree also. With a deep breath, she bent over, pulled down her
panties, and laid them on top of the dress. Hesitatingly, shaking a bit,
she turned to face Bob, covering her breasts with her hands. Her bare body
now faced him, only the breasts partly concealed. Her pubic area, with its
thick growth of dark hair was exposed to his view. She might have had a
bit of a paunch ordinarily, but today she had a noticeable abdominal bulge.

"I think I'm ready - I don't think there's anything left to take off-
oh, wait a minute!" She stopped, took off her wrist watch, and hung it on
her dress.

"You were pretty thorough - you don't want shoes or anything on?" he
asked her.

"I want the photos nude - that means nothing on. And, please, don't try
to hide anything - I want everything to show - I don't expect miracles, but
I want to look , well, not beautiful but as graceful as I can! But please
hurry - I really can't hold myself much longer!"

"You'll have to drop the hands, then", Bob indicated. she complied.
Her breasts fell noticeably as she removed their support. She felt
terribly, terribly, embarrassed and vulnerable.

She moved to the position Bob had earlier indicated. Not quite kinowing
what to do, she stood, rather stiffly, hands at her sides. Bob eyed her
critically. She was not only stiff, she was visibly shaking. Sweat was
visible on her face. It ran down her cheeks. Her breasts hung,
unsupported, drooping noticeably, but with both nipples erect and pointing
slightly downweard. Her legs were pressed tightly together, her genital
area partly hidden by the compression of her legs.

Bob shhok his head. This lady was obviously not an experienced model.
"Fran, you need to loosen up a little - you look too stiff! Try to relax!"
he called to her.

She tried. It wasn't working. "I'm trying - but, understand, I've
never done anything like this before. I never posed without my clothes on
- I feel so - well, exposed or whatever - and my bladder hurts so bad, it's
about to burst!" She shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. She
had indeed asked for this, but the reality was hard to handle. Never
before had she felt so naked and vulnerable, and not in any recent time had
she held such a full bladder. The pain in her bottom was getting to be
morethan she could handle.

"Fran, try to relax - you look all tensed up! Here - will you let me
position you in a better pose? If you do want these pictures, you want to
at least look graceful, don't you? Come on, let me help you!"

He moved toward her. She, nervous and sweating profusely, fearfully
accepted his gentle touch.

He touched her gently on the arms and shoulder. and positioned her for
the first pose; her head thrown back a bit, her legs apart, one hand on her
hip, the other raised. He commented to her, "I like it - and, well,
everything does show!" His reference was obviously to her exposed breasts and her genital area, both prominently displayed. He reflected that she
wasn't really in bad shape, and although her body showed some accumulated
flaws, it was still very definitely female and there was a certain aspect
of erotic grace evident in her exposed body.

She fidgeted noticeably and he had to tell her, "I realize you're quite
uncomfortable, but you need to be still for me to get these. Try to
relax!" She still felt tensed, her abdominal muscles clenched as she tried
to restrain her overly full bladder.

He made three shots of her, then asked, "Are you ready to go to the next
part - the activity?"

"I have to - it's awfully hard for me to hold- to wait much longer. How
shall I do it?"

"Do you think you can shoot a stream? I don't know how it's going to

"I don't know - I never tried to do this. I never did it - not in front
of someone - I don't know.." She was puzzled at her own capabilities.

"Look, I think you need to show me how it's going to appear. I haven't
done this thing before, and I don't know how it's going to turn out. Do
you think, well, that you'll be able to stop and start again?"

She nodded. "I'll have to - we need to have several pictures of me -
well, doing it."

"Then I think you need to make a sort of trial run, so I can figure out
how it's going to look. I don't know if you're going to ..." he fumbled
for words; ".. whether you're going to sort of drip, or shoot out a
stream, or spray, or just what. You need to demonstrate just a little for
me, then stop. Could you, well, just spread your legs and do, er, well,
just let out a little bit?"

Fran felt flushed with embarrassment. Never had she expected to perform
so intimate a function for the camera. Yet she knew his request was in
order. She tried - spreading her legs, leaning back just a little, and
then tried to let go. She waited. Nothing happened. She tried to relax.

"Are you going to?" Bob asked. "I'm trying - it takes a moment! Gee,
it hurts so bad, and then I can't quite let go - just let me.." her voice
trailed off, as she tried to relax.

Bob had his camera focused on her splayed genitals. Suddenly a stream
shot out, a bit unsteadily. It split, some running down her legs. She
felt it, spread her legs a bit further, and the stream shot out further,
extending just a bit in front of her. She let it run just a couple of
seconds, then clenched her muscles to stop it. She found stopping it took
a real effort.

Bob considered what she had done. This was a new situation to him as
well. "Let's try a fountain effect - it may look, well, sort of artistic
if you can pull it off." He had her squat, spread her legs as wide as she
could manage, then lean back on her arms, her face turned up.

Satisfied with her position, he placed himself looking at her at an
angle and from slightly above.

"OK - turn on the waterworks!" he told her.

Fran tried to release her bladder. Gradually her urine discharged,
spraying out and up a few inches. The stream was unsteady and went all
over her legs and feet. "Sorry I'm so messy!" Fran commented, aware of her
untidiness. She stopped the stream, asked if he wanted her to do it again.

He reposed her, lying on her back on the ground, her legs folded back
under her, separated a bit. Her breasts separated in this posture, falling
a bit to each side. She was acutely aware of their appearance. She tried
to release her bladder again. The effect seemed to her even messier, but
he caught her in several shots. Bob seemed a bit pleased.

"Can you do more? How's your ammunition supply?"

Fran smiled, now just a bit more relaxed. "Still holding some - what's

She stood, and he helped her clean her back of the grass and leaves that
had clung to her. She flushed a bit, reflecting on the situation of having
a man put his hands on her while she was standing nude. She felt a bit
better, the discomfort of her overfilled bladder now partly relieved.

He posed her again, and again, in slightly different positions. He had
her urinate while standing, legs spread in a position that suggested she
was about to lunge forward. This time she felt her bladder empty, and the
stream trailed off as he took the second photo of her.

"I think we have you drained! Ready for the other poses, now?" he asked

She replied affirmatively. "I think I did run - out of ammunition. Are
there other pictures you think I should pose for?"

"Let's get something that emphasizes your breasts - like you leaning
over and placing your hands on that stump over there. OK with you?"

She made a bit of a face. "But they - they're not very firm. They,
well, you know, sag! Should I really?"

"You wanted to be posed artfully", Bob reminded her. "Your breasts may
not be as firm as some, but with you leaning over, they can hang quite
gracefully - I think it would be the kind of artistic pose you wanted!"

Fran complied. She was losing a bit of her embarrassment, and was more
willing to display her body in highly exposed positions. He made several
shots, then frowned a bit. "You know", he began, "do you think you could
get your nipples - well, rather erect? I'd like a shot of them pointing
down as you lean over, but, well, they need to be, well, more aroused!
They were that way, well, before, but now they've softened. Could you,
well, do something?"

Fran flushed a bit. She was feeling quite erotically aroused already,
but it wasn't showing in the tips of her breasts. She tried touching them
a bit, pulling the nipples out. Finally Bob intervened. "If you would
permit it, maybe I could help - if you would allow me to touch them, just
enough to excite them a little. No more than just a little--"

"Please - maybe you could do it!" she responded. Bob moved over toward
her, and took a nipple in his hand, rubbing it just a bit. She felt the
excitement of his touch, and sensed the eager response of her nipple. He
touched the other. "Seems to be doing the job!" he commented, then
withdrew his hand. He stepped back for the photos, framing her firmly
erect nipples in the center of his camera.

He made a few more photos, then asked if she was satisfied.

"I think", she began, "we might make one more - I mean, my bladder's
full again, and I need to urinate. Maybe you could do one more of me doing
that- but this time, don't make it too arty- just let me squat in front of
you, and you get me as I let it out looking up sat you. You see, that's
the way I was once before, and the --- well, the one who will see the
pictures, well -- maybe he will remember." She realized she had said more
than she intended.

"He? Lucky guy - that's what you want the photos for? You hadn't
explained! Well, get in position, and I'll see what I can do. "

She squatted, but only slightly, spreading her legs for maximum
exposure, and looked up at the camera, her breasts hanging as she leaned a
bit forward. She released her urine stream as he watched, catching her in
the camera's lens.

At length she was finished and stood. She reached for a tissue and
dried herself in front of him.

"Fran, I want to tell you, I never before photographed a woman peeing -
you did it more gracefully than I could imagine. I hope the photos turn
out to your satisfaction. And another item; well, would you tell me how
old you are?"

"Sixty two", Fran answered, without hesitation.

"I never thought I would be making nude photos of a woman your age -
but, if you don't mind my saying so, it was one of the most enjoyable photo
sessions I ever had with, well, with a nude model. You posed beautifully!"

Fran was at once flattered and horribly embarrassed. Posing for nude
photos at her age! Even peeing for the camera! She could believe she had
done it.

She retrieved her clothes, and began to dress, as Bob gathered his
equipment. Seeing no further need for modesty in his presence, she made no
attempt to hide herself as she put on her clothes. Finally she was

She talked with him a bit as they returned to their vehicles, settling
the terms of his services and the times for her to see the proofs. She was
about to get in her car, but then she turned suddenly to Bob, and spoke, "I
drank a lot of liquid to get ready for this, and now I need to empty my
bladder again before I start up - would you stand guard for me?"

Bob, no longer shocked at anything this lady said, simply agreed.

She squatted beside her car, facing him, and hiked up her skirt,
lowering her underwear. he released a strong stream. While it was
flowing, she shook her head, commenting, "Before today, I never could have
done this in front of anyone! But let me tell you - I loved it! Thank you
for helping me through it!" She extended one hand to him, still holding her
skirt up with the other as her stream continued to flow. He grasped her
hand, without a word, amazed at the image of shaking hands with a woman
peeing beside a car.

A few days later, Fran appeared at the photo shop. Bob took her into
his back room, and showed her the photographs. She blushed as she looked
at them. "How could I ever have done this!" she exclaimed. "Look - if
anyone ever asks - you don't know me. I wouldn't want anyone to ever know!
I can trust you, can't I?"

"My lips are sealed. The pictures are for you and your friend. But it
was a great experience!"

Her selection completed, Fran arranged one set of the chosen photos.
For a moment she thought about getting one for herself, then thought better
of it. "Better not to have them around", she thought to herself, "but I
would never have had the nerve to do it!"

A few days later a set of photos was on its way to Marv. In the
envelope with them was a note. It read:

"MarvI had these made for you. I hope they are what you wanted. They
are all me - all of me. I hope you will remember me as you never saw me,
as well as the ways you did see me. These are just for you - there are no

There's one that will remind you of that day beside the car - you can
spot it.

I was horrified when you asked me for these. But thanks for asking; I
would never have had the experience but for your request. Again you gave
me one of the most memorable events of my life!

As ever. Fran."




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