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This is a story based on a memory triggered by wifeANympho’s ‘Snow Storm’ story.
It is brief and fictional, but based on a true story told to me by a friend.
Dawn sat in her tiny apartment, staring at her phone, waiting for an answer to a very important question.
Whiling away the time by checking Facebook, she scrolled through the usual posts from friends, with selfies from girly nights out, posed in the usual way, pouting and looking upward to get that ‘natural’ effect, whilst stretching the wrinkles under their chin so that nobody realised that they were thirty something and divorced, having had two kids who were now surly teenagers living with their father on alternate weeks. “Just like me,” she thought, “only I haven’t had a girly night out for weeks, and that idiot I met last night still hasn’t messaged…….the bastard!”
Terry had seemed a nice guy. He took her out to see a band, who were rubbish and too loud, but then they went on for drinks, a bite to eat and then back to her place.
That’s the bit she regretted, and why she was desperately waiting for him to call. He hadn’t worn a condom, she hadn’t insisted and he came inside her. Not too much of a problem, in that she still had her coil in from when she was married, but she worried about disease and wanted to talk to Terry about his sexual history.
A nurse by profession, Dawn was nearing forty with a messy divorce behind her and some serious behavioural problems in her background. She had lived away from her husband for three years now, her only son having left the area five years before, finally escaping from the shouting and arguments that he was so used to, but hated.
The only person that Dawn could truly say she ever loved was her son Colin, and she had driven him away.
Even now, she kept the lock of hair, clipped from his head as a baby. It sat in a locket around her neck, securely nestled in her cleavage, just as her sons head once did.
She would take out the baby clothes occasionally, desperately sniffing at them for the faintest smell, to remind her that he really did exist, hoping to rekindle the joy she felt when, at age 18, she realised that she was no longer alone in this world.
Her experiences as a nurse made her worried. She had seen too many frantic women attending clinic, with symptoms from one night stands that turned out to be Chlamydia, or worse. She should know better but…..one drink too many and she totally lost all inhibitions, and any common sense. “Fuck, fuck, fuck….call you bastard!” Was all that she could muster to express her frustration.
She would take some tests she assured herself, “if he doesn’t call, I will get some tests done, maybe a home test first”. Gonnorrhoea was becoming a worry, due to drug resistance, maybe she should start with a simple urine test…..just then her phone buzzed and the message she was waiting for lit up.
“Hi Dawn, grt nt thanx. Wossup?” “Great” she thought, ” such prose, and such elegance to his writing”. She tapped out the message to call her as soon as he finished work. “ok babe cu ltr” was the brief reply.
“Fucking halfwit” she said out loud, “where do I find them?”
Terry decided that he would stop by her apartment on the way home from work rather than call, so he walked up the stairs and rapped loudly on her door. Dawn peered through the security peephole and saw his cute face, distorted by the viewer.
“Hi babe, you must be insatiable! I’ll have to be quick though, i’ve got to……..I’ve had got some things to do later.”
Dawn took this as meaning that he had to go home to his wife after the inevitable sex that he thought was the reason for her message. Boy was he in for a surprise.
She knew when she first saw him that he was married, she could smell it a mile off now, after so many different date disasters. False details on the website, limited details about their whereabouts, always changing the subject when asking where they lived. She was sick of the dating scene, but what choice did she have?
“Sorry Terry you won’t be getting your rocks off tonight, we have to talk.”
She began her practised routine, giving him the same talk she used to give her frantic women patients when she worked at the STD clinic. Personal questions that nobody wanted to answer in too much detail, to the point where she had to read between the lines and make assumptions. Terry was giving all the right answers though, when she expressed her concern over going bareback with him last night. He said that he had the same concerns this morning, but that he had not slept with anybody for six months, his wife having left him two months ago and Dawn being the first woman since. No, he had no symptoms, nor did his wife, and neither of them had been sleeping around, as far as he knew.
Surprised at his sudden honesty, but relieved that he seemed low risk, she softened her tone and said “but who are you going to see tonight? After you were going to fuck me.” With the look of a ataşehir escort guilty child, he admitted to having another date from the same website, and that he just wanted to play the field for a bit, having got unexpectedly lucky with his first date last night.
Showing him the door, she gave him a departing shot: “buy some condoms before you see her and make sure you use them!'”
Another night in, gazing at the dating site lists. The same old faces, the same emailed photos of guys dicks, big and small, ugly mostly, but occasionally quite attractive.
She had seen her fair share of cocks in her working environment, but these were invariably old, or diseased, or both. Sucking cock was difficult when you had handled a dozen wrinkled or oozing sore dicks that day. “Thank god for wine and tequila” she thought aloud, “and disease free, pretty cocks”.
There were nice guys out there, but none that ever seemed keen on her. She just seemed to get the one’s out for a quick fuck.
A friend had suggested that she got some professional photos, to make her look her best. “Good idea” she thought, “it’ll make me look less frumpy, and a bit more exciting and glamorous.
She shut her laptop, finished her wine and wandered aimlessly into the bathroom, to ready herself for bed……..alone.
Taking off her skirt and blouse, she looked at herself in the mirror, sucking in her stomach as she did so. “Not too bad”, she spoke out loud to her reflection. “Nearly forty, but you’ve still got nice tits”. Pushing her breasts up, she looked at herself in the mirror, before unclipping her bra, slipping off her panties and looking back at her reflection.
She saw a woman that reminded her of her mother, who had managed to stay attractive well into her fifties, until she succumbed to cancer, leaving Dawn desperately alone at a vulnerable age.
Gail remembered the stream of good looking married men that would constantly try to chat up her mother at parties. Men that shared her mothers bed at times, they were the same men that preyed on Dawn after her mothers death, promising that they would make everything OK, giving her money and gifts, before fucking her then disappearing from her life. This pattern repeated until she found herself pregnant and cast out by friends and the few distant relatives she had, causing her to leave and find new friends, new lovers and a career to pay her own bills.
I’m still attractive, she thought. Terry had said so anyway, as he tore the clothes from her body. A body that was still firm, if a bit overweight, had excited Terry that night, to the point where he gasped as her breasts bobbed into view, and murmured obscenities as he ran his trembling hands down her body, staring at her as his hands grabbed her backside and pulled her toward him. He entered her swiftly, whispering compliments into her ear as he rode her to orgasm, constantly whispering “gorgeous, you are so fucking gorgeous”, over and over, until his words became unintelligible as his orgasm overtook him, his face buried in her cleavage as he came, whimpering at the release that it gave him, his cock going limp and leaving her slowly, leaking cum onto her nice clean sheets.
She ran her fingers along her moistening slit as her mind recalled that night, gently teasing herself and admiring the naked reflection that a strange man had found so exciting.
“You’re not so bad Dawn……you’ve still got it”, she said to her reflection, as she watched her finger move slowly on her clitoris, imagining it to be a man……….any man………no, an attractive man who cared about her, loved her……….and was a caring and insatiable lover.
Dawn came quickly, sinking to her knees as she tightly clutched herself, long fingers pushed deep inside her. Her mind was now numb, her body weak, as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She was helpless she thought, a slave to her own body. She knew that her desires would always drive her life, and that she would never learn to control herself once that passion was aroused, her body dominating her mind, desperate for that release.
She crawled to bed, her wet fingers never leaving her crotch, clutching it, squeezing it, as if it was her most treasured possession, as she slowly drifted into a pleasant and sex filled dreamland.
The next day, Dawn found herself talking to a girl in the reception of a local photographer. The place was quite attractive she thought, better than she expected when she had opened the stiff door in a side street and climbed the dingy stairs to the studio, which seemed to double as a hairdresser and beauty parlour, with chairs and mirrors, hairdressers sinks and shelves full of beauty products.
Two women sat waiting. Frumpy, middle aged women, chatting whilst they waited for this girl to transform their looks, in the hope that their husbands might look at them like they did before their faces wrinkled and their breast sagged…….. before their lives got crushingly dull. This was kadıköy escort the depressing image in Dawn’s mind as she watched them.
The girl was pleasant and took her details, asking “what are you looking for exactly?” Dawn was not sure what to say, but decided that “a bit of glamour” was the right answer. “Glamour” the receptionist repeated, making notes as she spoke “what type of glamour?”
“What types are there? I just wanted some photos to make me look attractive for a dating site.”
“Oh, I see, we get a lot of that sort of thing. What look are you going for, demure, sexy…..pornstar maybe?”, her voice falling to avoid the women overhearing.
This was too complicated thought Dawn, “I just want some nice photos……a little bit sexy I suppose” she blurted out, “just a little sexy that’s all.”
She was given an appointment for the next day, with a photographer called Garth. “Stupid name” she thought, with the face of a cartoon character coming to mind “this isn’t going to go well” as she stomped down the stairs and into the rainy street.
The next day, Dawn was getting ready, worrying about her make up whilst trying to choose a sexy dress for the photo shoot. The receptionist had said that, for an additional fee, she could do her hair and make up, and that the photographer had a range of dresses, if that was what she wanted. Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided she would pay for the hair and make up, so just worried about a dress instead as she didn’t fancy someone else’s musty old dress. She chose her favourite low cut cocktail dress, threw some heels into a bag and scooted out of the door.
Gail, the receptionist and resident beautician, had everything prepared when she walked through the door of the studio. “Garth’s running late” Gail said “so we have some time to make you look even sexier. Sit down, get a coffee or some wine, while I finish Mrs McArthur.”
A blue rinsed woman sat in front of the mirror, Gail teasing and drying her hair whilst her subject stared silently at the reflection in the mirror. Dawn felt distinctly uncomfortable, so poured herself a large glass of chilled Chablis. There seemed to be a lot of booze here, she thought, as she noticed a wine cooler through the door to the studio.
Dawn sat herself in front of the mirror, whilst the dour old lady put on her coat and paid Gail, counting out notes and giving them up reluctantly.
Dawn asked to have hair and make up done, to make her look ‘sexier’ as Gail had said.
Laying back with Gail talking away, soaping her hair, Dawn relaxed. With a half drunk glass of wine by her side, she was enjoying being pampered. Gail seemed very good at her job, massaging her scalp and neck as she washed and rinsed, making Dawn feel very mellow and just a little turned on.
Gail had finished her hair and was asking how she liked her make up “demure, sexy…… or slutty!” she asked.
“Slutty – I’m not sure I want that!”
“Slutty can look good…….I’ll show you”, Gail said. “It’s not what it sounds and we can tone it down a bit if you don’t like it, but I think you will be surprised how good it looks on camera”.
So Gail set about applying false tan, bright red lipstick, dark eyeshadow and eyeliner. It was basically what Dawn would have once applied for a night out, but Gails use of colours and the way she applied it, slowly transformed Dawn.
“Porn star” she said to Gail. “I look like a porn star……and I like it!”
“You’re lucky Dawn, you have great bone structure and even I could fall in love with those piercing blue eyes of yours.”
Dawn returned Gail’s look and their eyes met and held the look. Dawn blushed as she realised that there was meaning in Gail’s comment.
Breaking the spell, Gail changed the subject, “That dress is nice, but are you sure you want to spoil it? Some of the shots can smear make up or get grubby if you’re not careful.” So, after Gail assured her that the dresses are dry cleaned after each use, Dawn found herself casting aside her frumpy knickers and practical bra, trying on dresses that she would never imagine herself going out in.
She put on suspenders and stockings, then tried a lacy black basque which pushed her boobs up alarmingly, making them look twice their normal size. Gail smiled and said “Wow, amazing breasts Dawn, I love that look”.
Dawn blushed once more as she looked in the mirror, with Gail looking admiringly over her shoulder.
She put aside the basque for now, and instead slinkily pulled on some new underwear, which she had bought at an Anne Summers night that a friend had once hosted. Incredibly shear silk stockings glided over her skin and she felt a million dollars standing there dressed in suspenders and stockings with a push up bra, and panties which hid nothing. The panties were tiny with a T at the back. The material barely covered her trimmed bush, and she tucked everything in, neatly pushing her now swollen labia into the tiny knickers. She notice that Gail was very bostancı escort close, looking admiringly at her reflection. “That’s the look Dawn, you look great in that underwear”, her hands gently stroking Dawn’s shoulders.
Dawn stood and looked at herself. She could see her nipples through the bra and her swollen pubic mound stretched the fabric of her knickers, the lips clearly visible. Turning round and lifting a leg, they both admired her ample backside in the mirror.
Now on her second large glass of wine, Dawn was feeling very relaxed and carefree as she posed in front of the mirror, being egged on by Gail, who was clearly enjoying the show that Dawn was putting on.
Gail was showing her how to pose, to look sexy, alluring or demure. “This is my fuck me look” Gail said, as she gave a doe eyed, open mouthed look at Dawn.
“It works for me” Dawn found herself saying, gently putting a hand to Gail’s hair, pulling her playfully toward her, their lips almost touching.
Gail stopped briefly, before moving toward her, their lips touching gently, her tongue darting into Dawn’s mouth. Dawn lost herself in the moment and she passionately returned the kiss, their tongues entwining as their lips pressed gently together, both women being gentle and slow, tongues merely caressing, not forcing their wicked way into each others mouths, as she had experienced with men.
She liked this new experience.
Gail pulled away saying “plenty of time for that, we need get you into a dress before Garth gets here.”
Deciding that she would leave on the scanty underwear with suspenders and stockings, she struggled into a tight figure hugging red dress, which fitted her so tightly that her breasts bulged over the top, the sheer bra being pretty much useless. She struggled out of the bra, tucking it into her bag and pushed her breasts into position with both hands, until she showed a nice plump cleavage without revealing her nipples, although they were now hard and clearly visible through the dress.
The length of the dress was perfect, stopping just a few inches below her crotch. It crept up slightly when she sat or crouched, but not enough to show her knickers, and it made her legs look endless and very shapely.
Now ready and waiting for her photoshoot, Gail poured more wine for both of them and they sat down to chat.
Half an hour later, Garth burst through the door, breathing heavily, ignoring both of them and headed straight for the studio. With the door ajar, Dawn could hear lights being switched on, stands, screens and backcloths being dragged around and positioned.
Gail took her hand as she stood up, gently kissed her full on the lips and led Dawn into the studio to introduced her to Garth.
When she first heard the name, Dawn had an impression of Garth as she remembered the cartoon strip which her father used to routinely read in his morning newspaper – a massive muscular guy with a square jaw, the all round muscular hero. As she grew into her teens, she often had fantasies about this cartoon character, but couldn’t envisage him with anything other than massively muscular, but with a tiny cock.
Garth the photographer on the other hand, was clearly a disappointment to all but his mother. He was tall and thin, with short dark hair and a scant beard. He did not make eye contact, and seemed to be totally characterless as he nodded acknowledgement, speaking only to Gail, giving instructions to set up the effects that he wanted.
As Gail dashed round changing settings moving reflectors and screens, raisng tripods and fixing cameras, Dawn sat awkwardly in her figure hugging dress, being totally ignored.
Finally, all was ready and Garth reappeared from a backroom, having changed into his work clothes – shorts and T-shirt, to cope with the heat of the studio under the lights.
Finally, he looked at Dawn and smiled “sorry about that, but I’ve had a shit morning, shall we start?”
His smile was crooked, his teeth showing his age. Garth was probably about fifty, with what now looked like a trim figure, but not exactly muscular. Dawn’s heart sunk as he sat her against a back drop, grinned stupidly, and started to give her direction.
“OK Dawn, let’s start with some head shots, turn to one side, look up and toward the camera, good, excellent, that’s it…..no, look down now, close your eyes a little, give me a smile……full smile, show me those teeth”……on and on it went, Dawn’s head constantly turning, trying to keep pace with Garth’s movements, as Gail constantly followed with a reflector to make sure her face was well lit.
Garth seemed to suddenly lose interest, moving away to change cameras, before moving back, saying “body shots Dawn’ let’s take some shots of that gorgeous body of yours”.
Standing now, Dawn was trying all the model moves that she thought was expected of her, despite occasionally stumbling due to the amount of wine she had drunk.
Garth moved in, seeing her difficulty, gently moving her into position, firmly gripping her leg and setting at the right angle, moving her dress up slightly, turning her shoulders. “This is quite professional” thought Dawn, as Garth chatted away, moving her from one position to another, constantly taking shots.
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