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Archived Sex Stories



Summer Heat
by Tantra

It had taken six weeks to secure the house. I had been frustrated to
the point of giving up, but I desperately wanted the Sheats House,
designed by John Lautner, as a backdrop for my photo shoot with
Kelly Adams. Lautner had been an apprentice of the world-famous
Frank Lloyd Wright, America's true architectural genius, and Lautner
had taken Wright's ideas, refashioning them to his own unique style.
Many people found Lautner's houses sterile; I found them dramatic,
just the right setting for photgraphing a sensual woman. At long
last I had secured an entire day there, and looked foward to working
in such an uplifting setting with almost boyish anticipation. The
prospect of having a beautiful woman to work with only added to the
pleasure. I had never met Kelly, but having had a long and detailed
online tete-a-tete with her for these many months, I knew a great
deal about her, her tastes and proclivities. She was no doubt
extremely sensual, an so would be a terrific subject for the
delicate line I wanted to walk between art and pornography. It was
such a thin line only a woman of some sensitivity could be so
strongly erotic without falling into bimbo cheesecake. Conversely, I
was concerned that she would be reticent to let an unmet stranger
lead her through the act of making beautiful naked photogtraphs, and
I was hoping she would feel I was familiar to her through our online

The Sheats House was tucked away in a remote hillside area high
above the city, and its sweeping view from the pool was justifiably
famous. It had been through several owners, one of which, in the
early 1980's was a writer and his wife - and his live-in mistress -
who were notorious for their bohemian lifestyle, New Age ideas, and
voracious sexual appetites, many of which were extremely
unconventional. It was said that some of the most sinful parties
ever known took place in the house, scenes of almost legendary
depravity, so its walls - its 'soul' - had to have soaked in the
essence and energy of those times. It added an air of mystery and
decadence to the atmosphere, and I found myself wishing the house
could talk.

My fingers drummed a happy rhythm on the steering wheel as I drove
down the boulevard. Cameras, lenses, lighting equipment, cables, and
power unit were in the trunk and back seat, along with a book of
suggested (and suggestive) poses, and a few clothing odds and ends
that I hoped would surprise and delight you. I was to meet you in
the bar of the Hyatt Regency, but when I arrived the hotel's lobby
was so vast and so labyrinthine that I became lost. There I was,
wearing my best linen slacks, Bass loafers, and au courant banded
collar shirt, dressed to kill, and with nowhere to go. It didn't
help that the Regency had "four bars, sir, and may I inquire as to
the purpose of your visit?" in the sniffingly superior tone of the
concierge. He was a tall, white-haired man of about sixty, carrying
himself regally and, I thought, officiously.

"No, you may not, and I'll find her myself, thank you very much," I
shot back.

"As you wish, sir," and with the merest twitch of his neatly trimmed
mustache, the concierge went back to shuffling papers.

No help there.

The first bar was filled with conventioneers, and their raucous
laughter and sophomoric behavior told me the bar had been taken
over, so I moved on. In the second, I spotted a shapely, very
attractive woman sitting at the rear, looking at her watch. Time to
get lucky, I thought, since I'm guessing.

"Ah, would you be Kelly Adams?"

"Tantra!" you exclaimed with unconcealed delight. "I was getting
worried -"

"Yes, it seems we didn't specify which bar. The place is huge."

"Well, I'm glad you made it. Here, join me in a cup of coffee; we
must wake up, it's going to be a full day."

"That sounds more than good just now," I replied.

I began looking you over, surreptitiosly. Even though you had
dressed in loose clothing, it was evident you were a winner.
Marvelous figure, full breasts, impeccable grooming, and even in
casual looks, the eyes held my gaze. The camera was going to love

"So, did you run into Mr. Rollins yet?"

"Who's Mr. Rollins?"

"Oh, he runs the place. I think he thinks most of the guests are

"Wait a minute - the concierge?"

"Yeah, tall, white-haired -"

"Guy I wouldn't want to cross?"

"You -have- run across him!"

"Afoul of him is more like it. He made me feel like a deadbeat for
asking directions."

You laughed, a musical, genuine laugh. "Actually, he's very nice,"
you said, "he's been helpful, and can get you just about anything,
day or night. But no shenanigans, I'll say that for him."

We talked for some time, just relaxing, talking quietly about our
e-mails back and forth. We walked out to the car, and during the
drive confided our expectations. Porn is fine, but class is
everything, we agreed. But we knew that already, because our
long-standing conversation had made plain exactly what we wanted. It
was a nice feeling, as I guided the car up to the Sheats House,
knowing I was on the leading edge of a wondrously creative day. The
house was hidden below the garage at the top of the hill. The walk
down was steep, so more than one back was going to be needed.

"Kelly, this is going to be a couple of trips, so -"

"But I'm special. I'm the model. We don't sweat away this makeup."

You were half kidding, but correct. It was evident you had applied
your makeup with extra care, so any workout would have spoiled a
great deal of effort.

"Okay, right," I managed, flustered. "Tell you what - go down the
hill, and open up the house - the key should be under the mat at the
entranceway. Walk around and take a self-guided tour. I'll get this
stuff down the hill in a few minutes."

Six trips later, the tripod, power packs, lights, cables, and
wardrobe garment bags were in the living room. I was sweating with
the effort, and took a minute to sit down. You came in from the
kitchen, with two glasses of Coke. "I found some soft drinks in the
refrigerator; someone was planning ahead. There's even a deli tray,
chips, dip, salsa and a bottle of white wine. Your doing?"

"Oh good," I answered. "I didn't think stopping for lunch should
involve getting dressed and finding a restaurant. If it's okay with
you, I thought we could camp out by the pool, and eat lunch while
enjoying the view. So I had a caterer do up a small lunch for us,
and left the key under the mat."

"That is a perfect idea; the deli tray looks delicious, and I will
be hungry by then, I guarantee it. By the way, you look pretty
delicious yourself - for an old guy. Still got your hair, nice
muscles, and no gut."

"Ah, thank you - I think," I smirked, admiring your body under the
loose clothing. "Beneath that tent, I'm sure there is a lovely young woman - somewhere."

You grinned crookedly. "You and your fancy camera will just have to
go look for her, now won't you?" We both laughed.

"God, I see what you mean," you mused, looking about, "This is an
incredible house. Normally this'd be cold architecture to me, but
it's so dramatic, and frankly, it's sensual. I never thought of
design as sensual, but, yes, you're right about the venue - this is
the kind of house that makes a girl want to take her clothes off."

"Music to my ears," I replied, connecting cables to the power
supply. "And, speaking of taking your clothes off, we should get
started soon, I only have this house until five. So, I've laid out
some clothes I think you'll like, we'll be changing several times
throughout the day, so you'll get an opportunity to wear all of
them, if you like. I hope they appeal to you."

You nodded slowly. Y'know, I brought a couple of outfits of my own
that I think -you- will like," you said, "very sensual, very
fitting for this house - which, I have concluded, I am in love

"I love it too, and I'm glad you'll be comfortable in it. I won't
push you. I know you love the sensual side of things, so I'm just
going to guide, and let you play it all your way."

As you walked off to the bedroom to change, you said, "I think we
should work here in the living room first. Then the pool area - I
think you'll get off on the swimsuits I brought for the wet shots -
and then the bedroom." You looked around pensively. "I'll bet that
damned couple had one hell of a time entertaining in this house. It
was just made for sex."

I agreed. "The walls seem to ooze that kind of atmosphere, don't

"Yeah. Decadent. This house is making me - " You snap to, suddenly.
"Well, I'd better select outfit number one, before I get too damp."

"Damp? How?"

You gave me an incredulous look. "Wow! Went right past you, did it?
Well, let's just say this house has set the mood, and I'm starting
to feel right at home," and you walked away into the bedroom.

You called from the bedroom, "So, Tantra, where would you like to

I was wrestling with kinked cables, and just got the lights on. "Oh,
I thought we might do the living room. The light's great through the
skylights, and I have a dress you would look wonderful in, just to

"Oh? What dress?"

"I like very simple clothes, but clothes that reveal and tease, so
there's a purple dress hanging in the garment bag. Put it on, and
let's have a look at you. I want to get some readings anyway."

Rustling followed, a zipper unzipped, and then an indrawn breath.
"Wow! It's beautiful!" you exclaimed. "I'm going to love playing in

"Glad you like it. Now let's see you wearing it."

I had the Mamiya on the tripod, testing the umbrella lights. "How
about undies? There's a serious problem here. With the dress so
thin, I don't think that'll look very good."

"What do you suggest?" I teased.

"Well... I guess I could work without underwear, but isn't that
pretty risque?"

"Yes, it is," I replied, "that's why it's such a good idea."

"I agree," I heard you purr, almost under your breath. You were like
a little girl playing dress-up. It wasn't through a lack of womanly
curves, innocence, or naivete, but the joyful exuberance you took in
working before the camera. I merrily shot away as you walked about
in the sunlight, your first selection having been a pale purple lace
dress that left little to the imagination. It swirled about you as
you danced in the light of the spacious living room, reveling in
your movement.

"I feel so free in this dress; it's got a life of its own, I think,"
you exclaimed, smiling.

"And the camera loves you," I replied, the motor drive clicking

As you moved, the dress's swirling revealed taut buttocks here, a
flash of pubic hair there, the outer curve of breast elsewhere. All
the while, you watched the lens, as if it were your lover - and
stole occasional glances at me, to gauge my reaction.

"So, how do I look?"

"Good enough to eat."

Playfully, you raised the front of the dress, turning
simultaneously. A trimmed thatch at your crotch was visible for only
an instant.

"And where would you start nibbling, huh?" You were grinning now.

"Don't tempt me, now, I replied, warming to you, loving your persona
as you lit up the viewfinder.

"Oh, Tantra, the temptation hasn't even begun," you replied
wickedly, "I intend to torture you before this shoot is done. The
best work a photographer will ever do is if he's lusting after his
model, don't you think?"

"Does that make me lucky or unlucky?"

You turned, briefly flashing a bared breast as you looked coyly,
head tilted.

"I'll let you answer for yourself, at cocktail hour."

Oh, I was loving you. You were right, of course, and the more my
lust built, the better and more creative the pictures became. I knew
the flirtation was just a device to extract good work from me, but I
didn't care. It was good professional judgement on your part to use
it. But I couldn't help hoping it wasn't all calculation, but at
least some of the heat was being shared. There was an unmistakable
warmth between us that always makes working a creative shoot a
sensual experience in itself, but there was other warmth - in my
loins, just a tingle, but it was there. I knew that you knew it.

I ran out of film, and it was time to change backs. As I reloaded,
you looked out the window.

"The light's really pretty in the garden area, and out by the pool.
Think we should work out there, just in natural light?"

I stole a glance outside. "Yes, it IS good light out there just now.
Do you have an outfit in mind?"

"As a matter of fact I do," you cooed back. "I think you'll be
intrigued. Let me change while you get a new film back, and meet me
in the garden."

As I waited in the midmorning garden, I took readings; the light was
pure and almost Mediterranean in its romantic softness. I was alive
with anticipation at what you might select to wear.

I wasn't disappointed. When you walked out into the garden, the
dress was simple, white, unadorned, and - erotic. Just the plainest
possible covering, but possessed of a flowing magic because a
sensual woman was wearing it.

"Well, now," I managed, "that's something. I love you in that."

"Good, I was concerned it would be too - I don't know - too 'Mia
Farrow' or something. Kind of the 'country chic' thing, what passes
for sexy in the Hamptons among Ivy League WASPs that don't get out

We laughed, and I still couldn1t help staring. "With you wearing it,
it becomes something else," I said. This Tuscan light helps a lot,
and I'm going to try to capture this mood. Let's go to work."

You danced in the golden light, the translucent silk of the chemise
swirling about your body. I was enraputued. The sheer exuberance of
your movements, the coltish, upbeat mood, and your graceful poses
made for a figure photographer's dream come true. The motor drive
fired away, and I found myself desperately hoping my limited skills
and dwindling supply of film could capture the fleeting flashes of
perfection. I moved closer, and you seduced the lens, looking away
but always beckoning with your body. I realized you were breathing

"Getting breathless, I see," I ventured.

"I'm afraid so," you replied, panting now. I'm a bit out of shape
for dancing, I guess, but it was such fun. Did you get good shots?"

"I think so; you certainly looked beautiful in the viewfinder. I
just hope what I see in the darkroom will do you justice."

"Why, thank you sir," you smiled, bowing gallantly. "What do you say
we have a Coke?"

"Good idea," I said, "I think we should take a break. Then how about
working out by the pool - swimsuits and see-throughs, then do nudes
throughout the house before we get tossed out?"

"That sounds fine to me," you replied. I can't wait to, uh, show

I smiled to myself. "How?"

"Well, I'm getting anxious for something, and you know what it is."

I was nonplused. "I do?"

"The hell with the swimsuits. I brought two, and they're great
teasers. But what would turn ME on - and I think you as well - will
be what I'm going to wear out by the pool."

"Refresh my memory," I said gamely."

"Oh, boy,'' you replied, exasperated, "you Do have a short memory,
don't you? Remember my favorite dress?"

"Well, Kelly, you've sent me so manyS¯..wait! The white mesh dress!"

"Yes! I bought one, exactly like the one in the JPEG I sent you, and
God, does it fit! And the way it makes me feelS¯"

"Oh, I can't wait," I cut you off. "Change while I get a new film
back on the camera, mount new lenses and get some readings out by
the pool."

"Great. Then we'll eat something, and do serious nudes in the

You scurried away to change clothes. I remembered back to the days
online, when you sent me the picture of that dress -- a white mesh
the model wore nothing beneath. It covered, but revealed everything.
I felt a familiar stirring in my loins, and realized it wasn't just
the anticipation of the dress itself and the sight of a sexual woman
wearing it. It was the energy the dress would give your erotic mood,
and what the sharing of that energy could mean. I wanted the
afternoon to build slowly, to incredible beauty, even if there was
no sex - the vivid heat would be there between photographer and
model, and in the Lautner-designed house, sensual in itself, the
seduction, consensual and professional, would make for beautiful
pictures. It would all begin with that dress.

I was taking light readings and making calculations. My stomach was
telling me it was time for lunch, and the reflected light from the
pool was making exposure estimates tricky and taxing. As I debated
my f-stops for the ninth time, I heard the slide of the glass door,
and the clatter of footsteps against the flagstones behind me.

"Well, how do I look?"

I was tracking the dance of the Sekonic needle with my left eye. It
was almost right. "Just a second," I waved, still glued to the
viewfinder. Without another word, you walked around in front of the
camera's lens.

The pencil I had clenched in my teeth dropped to the flagstones, and
the notepad of my calculations fell into the pool. You were
stunning. My astonishment must have been movie-comical, because you
threw back your head, laughing heartily, from deep down. "I guess
your reaction could be construed as a complement, I think," you said
cheerily. "I - I... you look... look BETTER than the model in the
photo, Kelly." Jesus, you look absolutely incredible."

The dress fit perfectly, not hugging your body - loving it. It
flowed in netlike worship across your smooth buttocks, nipped in at
your slender waist, and swelled upward across lovely breasts to a
demurely high neckline. The nipples of your breasts stood out
clearly, and the dark mystery of your pubic vee played coyly with my
eyes in an erotic tease. The whole dress was set off by a minimum of
jewelry and a pair of high-heeled sandals that showcased your pretty

"So, as you can see - hee hee - I've got nothing to hide here," you
giggled. Well, show me what to do, and I'm all yours."

Oh God, what a thought, I mused silently, as I prepared to work.

You reveled in the white mesh dress, prancing about the poolside in
the noon light. "I almost don't want to take it off," you joked, "it
fits so perfectly, and makes me feel so damned - pretty."

Still recovering from my surprise, I managed, "Well, Kelly, I won't
argue with that at all." You spun around again. "Can you see

"Yes. Everything."

"My ass, too?" You turned your back, sauntering away as I clicked
the shutter.

'God, of course!" I replied, almost exasperated. There's a woman
under there, and only a blind man would fail to see it."

"Good," you teased. "Now, take some frames of me in it."

I obliged, removing the Mamiya from the tripod to get better angles.
As you moved, your breasts bobbed heavily, and the vee of your pussy was a dark, inviting mystery under the white mesh. The only way to
describe it was that you 'worked' the dress - you made it part of
your persona, making yourself within it a unified object of desire.
My own body was telling me my own desire was heightening with every
click of the shutter.

You stretched out by the pool in the afternoon light. I worked my
way around you, so that you were dramatically backlit. Now the dress
was beginning to come undone; its front closure buttons having
mysteriously opened as you turned away. Now your breasts were nearly
free, and the edges of your nipples were at the seam of the dress'
neckline. And those nipples! I moved in closer, getting sidelight
shots of the erect morsels straining beneath the material.

You were breathing a bit deeper. And you were flushed.

"Are you getting into this?" I asked, belaboring the obvious.

"This dress - it's - it's me," you replied, your voice now a bit

"Oh, I agree - it looks incredible on you," I said, lamely.

"No no, what I really mean is, it kind of has a life of its own.
It's turning me on to just wear it. This house, the light, the
camera staring at my body, and the dress - Tantra, I know you
understand. I'm getting wet doing this, and I can tell from your
slacks you're excited too. Isn't this a delicious feeling?"

"Kelly," I gulped, "let's not peak too early. Let the dress enhance
your mood, and we'll break for lunch."

To my surprise, you weren't hurt or petulant. You smiled, and said,
"Now I know why you call yourself 'Tantra."

"Oh?" This should be interesting. "Why?"

"Well, Tantrics believe that all pleasure of the body is enhanced
when genital heat is suffused throughout the body. They believe that
a climax produced from such slow buildup produces the glimpse of the
Infinite that mystics - who deny their bodies - meditate for hours
to achieve. How'm I doing so far?"

"So far, you're one hell of an educated woman," I answered.

You let the shoulder of the mesh dress slowly fall away. Now your
left breast was almost completely exposed, except for just the
nipple itself. "Well, part of the slow buildup is the ability to
'plateau.' Western-style sex rushes headlong through foreplay
straight to climax like a freight train, but Tantrics stop, rest,
refresh, and they know that the pause somehow builds, not douses,
the sexual heat. The eventual orgasm produced by this slow buildup
is far beyond what most people experience. And by stopping for
lunch, we're going to have a little 'plateau', aren't we?"

I lowered the Mamiya to look at you. "I'm not dealing with a fool
here, am I? Your knowledge is far beyond your years. Very few people
know anything about this."

The mesh gapped a bit, revealing a nipple for the briefest moment.

"Let's eat, shall we?" you said with a knowing smirk.

The deli had done all the right things. Cold cuts, baked chicken
ready for the microwave, delicious potato salad, salsa, dips - at
least five could have dined on the selection. But it was worth it,
having a menu so that you could dine well without my having to guess
at your tastes.

While I was preparing the deli tray and readying our alfresco
lunch, I heard a splash. I scurried from the kitchen to see your
head, shining as a seal's pelt as it glistened wetly in the sun,
bobbing above the pool's surface as you breaststroked your way to
the deep end.

"Oh, this is marvellous!" you called back to me. What a way to work
up an appetite. You have to come in!"

"You wearing a suit?"

"Well, yes, after a fashion, I suppose, but you don't have to have
one. Just skinnydip. I'll get a kick out of you."

"Okay, give me a minute to set the trays and pour wine, and I'll be

And try to give my cock a few minutes to go down, I thought

It didn't go down. The tray was set, the wine was poured, the robes
and towels I'd brought were laid at the poolside chaise, and I had
run out of excuses. Taking a deep breath, I kicked off my shoes,
stripped, and walked out into the sun. You were resting at the
opposite end of the pool, elbows up on the deck, and staring
directly at my crotch as I came self-consciously to the edge.

"Well! What a nice package you have!"

I flushed, and dove in. How an erection stays erect in cool water is
a mystery, but it may have had much to do with a beautiful woman who
gently glides by, graceful and tanned, relaxed - and sexy.

"What kind of suit did you bring?" I asked, "I'd love to see it."

"Sure," you laughed, "I think you'll find it to your taste."

You found the tile steps at the deep end after swimming a few laps,
and when you rose to the deck, I sensed a renewed stiffening in my
loins. You had kept the white mesh dress on, and in an apparent
moment of abandon, just decided to go swimming in it. Just out of
the water, the material clung to every nuance of your body, the
nipples erect, the buttocks a deep cleft, the pubic hair a dark
rumple just beneath the thin white sheen.

"Like it?"

"JesusS¯" I mumbled.

"Hm. Yep, you like it."

I grabbed the Mamiya again, and with your hair wet and disheveled,
and most of your perfect makeup washed away to reveal real skin,
real lips, real eyes without cosmetic help, you looked...




Here I was, fumbling for my robe to hide the enormous erection that
had a mind of its own, trying to tie the waistband and get the
camera in position to capture that lush naturalness that was
arousing me so. You began laughing, and suddenly I felt silly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you corrected me as I began the edge of a flash of
anger. "I'm not laughing at you; your reaction is a great
complement. Just don't do too many things at once. For instance,
just let the robe go - leave it open and take the pictures - it's
all right."

And suddenly it was all right. We were at the 'plateau', and as your
lovely flesh bobbed and peeked and gapped and teased out of the
dress's wet confines, as you swung this way and that on the chaise,
the sun playing a dance in your dripping hair, the hint of freckles
of your face, the beauty of your breasts and legs, I was becoming
lost in you, forgetting about the robe, dismissing everything else
except capturing somehow the fresh feminine beauty I was seeing at
that moment.

Which was the same moment you reached up and touched the tip of my
cock. I jumped, wasting a shot, but the caress of your fingers
speared my pleasure centers like a tidal wave.

"I'm sorry, Tantra. That was unfair and unprofessional. But it was
just - you know, hanging there, so invitingS¯" Then you flushed.

"I guess now it's my turn to thank you for the complement," I said.
"It was you who got me in this condition in the first place, so I
suppose it was your, uh, prerogative, as it were."

You smiled, still flushed, looking down at the meal tray, eyes
avoiding mine for the moment, an unusual departure from your direct

"I had to, you know," you murmured. "You have a beautiful cock.
Beautiful. I mean it."

"We'd better have lunch now," I managed, flushing yet again. We
need to 'plateau' for a bit."

Now you eyes rose to mine, and you smiled that enigmatic smile.
"Yes, we should, for a bit," you replied, "for a bit."

Lunch was an unhurried affair. The sun was warm and sweet, and the
fruit and wine especially satisfying. You and I sat by the pool -
you in that slowly-drying white mesh dress, I in a robe that refused
to stay tied. We talked about the goals we had for the afternoon's
phot session.

"I'm wondering," I said, "just how many outfits you brought today.
We seem to be on the verge of modelling a lot of them. You gave me a
significant look, then chewed a piece of melon slowly. "I've been
meaning to bring that up, noow that you mention it," you replied
thoughtfully, "I love clothes, and the way they make me feel, but -


You looked away into the distance, out onto the broad landscape
below. "But," you answered finally, "I don't want to turn into a
clothes horse today. I've had time to react to this dress I'm
wearing, and I meant what I said - it's turning me on. And you said
you liked women natural and not overly made-up. Well, the swim I had
took care of that. So from now, I'd like to get on with the really
erotic photos, where I have the chance to express this warmth I'm
feeling between my legs, and what I'm certain you're feeling between
yours, if I may be absolutely bold about it."

"Well, you may, since you reached out and touched the evidence." You
giggled. "Oh yeah, I did, didn't I? Well, the prosecution rests."

"You do get it, don't you?"

"Get what?"

"About the plateau concept of Tantra. That a pause in the buildup is
a good thing, and it only gets better afterward."

You smiled, almost wantonly. "Tantra, sensually I'm a very quick
read - I catch on fast. Not only do I understand, but I'm feeling it
right now, just as you are. You still have a semi-erection - I can
see it under your robe - and I'm very moist right now, just talking
about this, and thinking about what the afternoon has in store. The
sexual energy is throbbing here, and we're going to do beautiful
things with it."

"Beautiful pictures, of course," I interjected, trying to make
myself comfortable.

"Yes, beautiful pictures," you replied without reacting, "and then,
far more than that."

My cock sprang twitching to life, and you smiled at my crotch. "Come
on, sweet," you said, rising from the chaise, "let's make some
beauty together."

I followed you inside, and the angular light of the indoors played
patterns on your body as you walked in front of me. I had grabbed
the Mamiya and a spare film back, deciding the flash apparatus was
going to be a casualty to this improvisation. I had no idea what
room you were going to, or how you would express your mood to the
camera, so I decided to shut my mouth and just go with whatever

We shot the now-dry but still-translucent mesh dress in the living
room, in the study, and even in the bath. Finally, you tired of the
preamble. You abruptly walked to the master bedroom, and stood
gazing at your image in the mirror as I continued to shoot in the
low light. Casually, you reached your arms across your chest and
pulled the shoulders of the dress down. It slid to your waist,
exposing your breasts for the first time. Your nipples were rigidly
erect, a flush lay just below your throat, and you were swallowing
quietly, your breath just a bit ragged.

"Are you getting this?" you asked.

"Oh God, Kelly, you're so beautiful," I answered, trying to keep
shooting as I moved closer.

You hooked your thumbs into the material gathered at your waist, and
pushed it down until the white mesh was a cloud about your lower
hips, accentuating the slimness of your waistline. A hint of the top
if the cleft of your ass peeked above the top of the cloud. I shot
madly, my erection now an urgent need. The robe gaped open again as
I worked the Mamiya's controls, and through the viewfinder I could
see your eyes watching it in the mirror. Your smile left no doubt
about your pleasure at what you saw. After turning this way and
that, playing your breasts to the camera, you strode away from the
mirror toward the master bed. "Now, get all of this," you said
significantly. As I fired, you hooked your thumbs into the
disheveled dress at your hips, and lowered it to the floor. You
stepped out of it, naked now, and lay on the bed, propping your head
up casually on one elbow. You posed and assessed me at the same
time; all I could do was keep taking pictures of the extraordinary
beauty I was capturing. You drew up one leg very high to your chest,
exposing your vagina and anus to the camera.

"Go ahead - move around and get that too; I'd like being
photographed that way," you whispered.

I complied, photographing as artfully as possible an obviously wet
and aroused crotch.

"Stop," you said with sudden authority.

"I just have a few -"

"Stop," you repeated.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Take off the robe if you want to continue. I won't be naked like
this unless we share the feeling. Fair enough?"

Fair enough, I thought, putting down the camera for a moment. The
robe dropped away, and my erection seemed to be most of my body now.
I picked up the camera again, and in the viewfinder, I saw you were
staring at my crotch again.

"That's better. Your cock inspires me, you know. Get closer." I
moved in, trying to focus, when your fingers found the underside of
my balls and shaft, caressing gently. "Ohhhhh, sweet," you said

"I'm not going to finish this day's work with this kind of
d-distraction," I managed. "It isn't fair."

"Tantra, just let your own arousal take your creativity as far as
you can. I want to seduce the camera, and be beautiful for you. But
if you ever put that camera down, I'll become more than your model.
Keep shooting."

With unsteady fingers and superheated libido, I kept taking
pictures. Closer, more explicit, more openly erotic. By then you
were writhing on the bed, thrusting your hips at the lens, daring me
to capture that moment of playfulness, this instant of lewdness,
that momentary flash of pink between your sculpted buttocks as you
rolled and squirmed, nipples hard as stone, nostrils flared, your
breathing now deep as an athlete's. As you turned over again, there
was a glint of light - the window's light, falling on copious
moisture on your inner thighs. You were soaking wet, and moments
later I smelled the scent of your heat. It was faint at first, but
became more pungent and earthy with every breath you took. I inhaled
you deeply, almost in awe - the smell of sex was in the room,
between us, joining our thoughts.

It was then that the Mamiya ran out of film. You knew it
immediately, and relaxed to a catlike, languid drape across the bed.

"Do you have more film?"

"Probably just a roll or so," I managed hoarsely, "I'd have to
reload a film back - I don't have one loaded at the moment -"

"Should you bother? It's past three now."

"Oh. Is it that late? I was shooting and lost track of time."

You smiled. "Did you get good pictures?"

"Fabulous, actually. You're a terrific model."

"Thank you. So we can say 'mission accomplished'?" "Yes, I believe
we got what we planned, certainly all I'd hoped."

"Good. So the rest of the time could be - just for us, don't you

I looked at you, still flushed, nipples still erect. I couldn't
believe the sheer beauty of you.

"Tantra, would you like to spend some time, just playing?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then put the camera down, and just watch meS¯"

There was a moment of hesitation for both of us. Once the camera was
no longer between us, there was no telling where the afternoon was
going to go. The shadows grew long, and your wet heat was beckoning.
I knew I wouldn't remain a disinterested party very much longer.

You repeated the entreaty. "Put down the camera, and touch me," you
said in a strained voice.

Slowly, I put the empty Mamiya on the dressing table, and stepped to
the bed. Oh God, you were lovely. You posed for me, legs artfully
open, just enough to where your lubrication was evident - you were
very wet. I reached my hand out to your soft thighs, and almost in
awe, let my fingers explore the silkiness of your smooth skin. You
wriggled, sighed, and moved closer, then took my hand and guided it
to your right breast. The fire in my loins was nearly uncontrollable
as I felt its warm weight in my palm, the stiff nipple teasing my
skin. I began caressing you slowly, reveling in your soft flesh, my
cock now as hard as a bridge truss, aching with need. You drew me
down to hover above you.

"Kiss me," you breathed. "Yes, on the mouth, then all over."

Our tongues tasted each other, first tentatively, then urgently,
flicking, searching, drinking each other in. You whimpered softly
into my mouth as my erection grazed against the skin of your inner
thigh, leaving a wet trail of pre-come in its wake. The head bobbed
up to your pubic mound, and found it open and wet, like a sinfully
ripe peach. I raised up from you, then dipped my head to kiss your
breasts, inhale the musk of you, and worship you with my tongue. The
nibbles started at your nipples, and I found my way to the swell of
your belly, licking into the navel as you smiled with delight.

Soon I was there. I kissed the tender skin of your thighs, licking
into the crease between your leg and mound. Ah, I love taking my
time there. It was so near your pussy, yet not quite there, and your
little fists were clawing handfuls of bed-linens as your hips rose
against my mouth, a silent invitation. I cupped my hands under your
raised buttocks, and allowed my tongue to drift slowly up a wet,
pink inner fold of your vagina, and it grazed against your clitoris.

"OhhhhS¯." You shivered as if cold, grasping the back of my head with
a free hand. "Oh, God, that's so good..."

I continued to tease, bringing my tongue down the other side of your
moist opening, a feathery licking that brought more moisture, more
heat, more need.

"Oh, you don't knowS¯ you eat me like a woman eats me... a guy just
can't do that."

"A guy who loves to eat a woman can, " I answered after moving back
a bit.

"Oh, I've seen your favorite pictures," you retorted, "I know what
you like." With that, you moved backward and turned over,
positioning yourself on your hands and knees, butt toward me, chest
down on the bed, your back arched. You reached back with both hands
and pulled your cheeks wide apart. The sight was beyond beautiful.
Your warm musk filled my nostrils, and my heart was pounding in
anticiptaion. I was riveted to the spot.

"Tantra? Don't just gawk at it, get into it - now!"

I snapped out of my haze. My hands followed the lovely roundness of
your ass, then I leaned forward and with a gusto I have rarely
known, I plunged my face fully into you. My lips sought your open
vulva, my tongue speared deep into your inner folds, and my nose was
buried at your anus. Your vaginal muscles began to twitch, and
little quakes fluttered through your hips as you ground them back
into my face.

Suddenly I was aware that I was nearly too far gone in my pleasure
in eating you. I was so lost in savoring your honeyed depths I
barely realized that my seed was rapidly gathering to a boil, and I
was on the verge of a colossal climax.

"Oh, no! Not so soonS¯" I whimpered, tearing myself out of you for

"Tantra, I'm close, so close tooS¯ Quickly, please..."

It had to be now. Abruptly I rose up, my erection now a stout pole,
near to bursting, and as I came forward, you reached underneath to
caress my balls and guide me in. I paused, found your soaking
entrance, and sank into your depths.

"Oh, godS¯" We moaned together. I grasped your hips and began to pump
you slowly; you rode back into me in answer. Soon the silence was
filled with our breathing and the wet, earthy slurps of a tender
fuck. I could control myself always, but you were different. You
smelled different, you tasted different, your sweet pussy felt
different as it milked at my cock, and my vaunted control was
slipping away, slipping , slipping - as the volcanic heat of my
climax rose in me. Finally, I lost out to the overwhelming sexual
pleasure of being inside you, and with several deep thrusts I
exploded into you, crying out like a helpless child, like a wounded
animal, like a beast calling out in triumph to the universe.

As the first deep thrusts came, it triggered your own orgasm. Your
guiding hand had found your clitoris, and you gave it a few deft
touches. As the first spurts of my semen jetted into you, you went
over the edge, tearfully, whimpering, shaking with uncontrolled
ecstasy. You took it in laughing and crying at the same time,
twisting this way and that to take every masculine drop that could
be squeezed from my plunging penis.

We lay there in a sweaty heap. The bed was disheveled. I took my
time kissing your breasts as you lay langorously next to me, and
your eyes-closed smile said it was pleasant to you. Abruptly, I
turned to see my wristwatch on the bedside table next to the Mamiya.

"Kelly! Holy smoke!"

You rolled over. "Hey, where's the fire?"

The lengthening shadows were your first hint of alarm. "Hey," you
said, suddenly aware, "just what time is it now?"

"Five-fifteen," I answered. They only gave us until four. We're
supposed to be gone already. The caretaker should have been here
long ago."

"God, I just had a thought," you yawned, "we have to climb back up
that hill to the car with all that equipment. I can barely walk
right now."

"Me either, but we have to."

"I know, I know," you waved me off. Let's get dressed. I hate to
even move."

Hurriedly we dressed, straightened the bed, and prepared to leave,
hopefully before a scornful caretaker gave us an embarrassing
lecture for overstaying our contracted time. When we came to the
living room, all the equipment was missing, as was all the lunch
trays and leftovers. For a moment I had a touch of vertigo, as if
what I was seeing could not be real, or what I remembered hadn't
happened, and my mind was attempting to decide one or the other.
Just then, I saw an impeccably dressed man of sixty or so,
understatedly elegant, sitting quietly in the armchair near the

"Good afternoon, I'm Mr. Pollack, the caretaker. I trust you've had
a successful photo session?"

"Uh, yes," I managed. We were just leaving. Sorry we're late."

"Take your time, it's all right. I've taken the liberty of putting
all your equipment into the car. I think you'll find everything in
order. I couldn't find your camera, unfortunately."

"It was in the bedroom - with us," I said, flushing. You looked at
the floor. "By the way, how long have you been here?" Pollack
glanced at his watch. "Oh, since about four, right on schedule."

"But we didn't hear you -" I said, before realizing my mistake.

"You were busy with - your, ah, shoot," Mr. Pollack answered
diplomatically. It's quite all right sir. This house does speak to
people. As you know, it has quite a history, and it always has a
pronounced effect on all who enter it. If I may say so, it's an
incredibly randy place."

You came up beside me. "God, is it ever," you gushed a bit.

"Well, thanks for hauling my gear to the car," I said. "I'm not at
all sure I could have managed it myself."

"Not at all," Pollack answered. "A lot of very, very sated guests
have had to make that weary climb after nights of unspeakable
debauchery. There were some wonderful, wonderful times here, when
orgies were in fashion."

"Oh? Did you work here during that period?"

Pollack smiled benignly as we walked to the entrance hall. "Work
here? Oh no, I didn't work here - I owned the place."

The surprise on our faces must have been all too obvious.

Pollack went on, a wistful, nostalgic look in his eye as he gazed
about the room: "My wife and I loved to entertain. You've felt the
vibrations of this house, and heard the rumors of the goings-on. Oh,
you don't know the half of it," he smiled, shaking his head at the
memories, "no one would believe it. Listening to you two in the
bedroom there just - well, just brought it all back for a few
moments. And I thank you for those echoes of the past. Goodbye now,
and please - come again."
Summer Heat - the End
This story is copyright 1999 by Tanta. Further reproduction is prohibited


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