Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance (5 page)

*Click* *Click* *Click*

The pictures show Joseph’s hands sliding under the elastic band of my panties. They slid down… down… down even further.

*Click* *Click*

The pictures show Joseph’s hand cupping my mound, inside my panties, as my eyes roll back into my head. Around us, closer than I realized, were the unfocused forms of the audience, phones held our way, fingers pointed.

Sensation racked my body.

The dizzying jolts of pleasure and pressure, the people watching, me trying to press against Joseph while he surged against me, all while keeping tenuous balance because of my ridiculous heels—all of this reminded me of riding the mechanical bull at that bar in town. I’d been a two-time record holder freshman year. They had pictures on the walls, and a video on their website.

—No, don’t let yourself get distracted.

Joseph’s fingers curled into my snatch. With that, I could feel precisely how wet I was. How full and hot I was. I also had some pressure to rock against—I mean, to
pose
against.

“Tilt back and kiss him while he fingers you,” RJ ordered.

“Okay.” I was glad to have a new idea.

“And Rebecca, reach behind and get your hand down his pants.”

“Sure,” I said.

It was yet another challenge, but I met it square on. I tilted my chin back—no more problems with chin-shadows now!—and put my free hand behind Joseph’s head to tilt him to my mouth. Our lips met again, and our tongues crossed. Though we were kissing over my shoulder, we were getting good at it, practice makes perfect.

With my other hand, I groped behind me and found his shirt. I dug through it with clumsy, confused movements, and eventually found his open fly. The skin of his belly was hot. I slid my nails across it and he shivered—I felt the shiver all the way down to his cock, which vibrated between the cheeks of my ass.

It was so difficult to think, with the audience and shuffling, with RJ’s camera running hot, and, let’s face it, because of my current pose with Joseph. The pose where the front of my panties inexorably slid down my thighs, uncovering my sex to the world, while his fingers massaged my clit.

Luckily I still had my girl-instincts. I effortlessly triangulated on his cock behind my back. Like the pro that I was, I soon had the soft skin of his sliding shaft in my hand, with my fingers wrapped around it.

“Okay, I have him,” I sighed. “Jack? I’m holding him.”

“Good, Rebecca.”

*Click* *Click* *Click*

“You know you’re blushing?” RJ said. “All across your chest and up your neck.”

Yeah
I knew I was blushing. My entire body felt like one giant blush.

“It’s to make this more natural,” I said, as if I could really control my blushes. “Can you see me holding his cock?”

Because after all, what would be the point of me jerking on this stranger’s dick, if it wasn’t going to be in RJ’s artistic pictures?

“No. It’s all blocked, but don’t worry.” He shifted positions and kept snapping. “It’s, erm, heavily implied. It will be communicated subtly to the rest of the photographs, based on how you’re standing and how he’s responding.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “That’s good.”

“Rebecca? Rebecca, can you hear me? Hold on to him tight. Give him something to pull against, and thrust against as you bring him off.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good idea.”

Then I gave up trying to talk. I rearranged my expression to show pleasure, distraction, desire. I left it all out there for the pictures. Between our kisses, when I wasn’t giving Joseph my mouth, I relaxed against his whole-body thrusts and watched our audience through slitted eyes.

By this point, I had all the same guys, and several new ones. Guys I knew from the dorm hallways, from my classes. The guys who knew my schedule and were always nearby when I hit the coffee shop to road test my fashion creations. I had the building staff, including the nice maintenance guy and his cousin who
really
liked hugging. All of them were watching me. It wasn’t subtle anymore. They were watching openly.

And why not? This was a photo shoot. It was in public, it was interesting. They had every right to watch, so they did.

They watched
me.

Their eyes tracked up my braced legs, which were damp and glistening with sweat. They tracked over Joseph’s fist curled in my pussy. They tracked how my chest rocked with each thrust. Their eyes tracked over the arm I’d bent behind me, and they could see my biceps flex each time I yanked that cock. Their eyes floated over my face—my damp brow, open mouth, my eyes that met theirs, my expression that confessed I knew everything they were seeing.

Their cell phones were seeing everything too, but I couldn’t worry about that. Amateur photographers—a nuisance for models everywhere. As if I had the spare attention to make sure I looked good in all those different viewfinders.
It comes with the territory,
I told myself,
nothing I can do about it.
If they were unhappy with their crappy pictures and video, they could hire me like anybody else.

“Keep going, he’s almost there.” RJ knelt for an upward angle of my front.

I’ll come out and say it:
Thank goodness for RJ and his camera!
He legitimized this whole scene. Without a photographer, this would have all looked so bad! It could have been humiliating! As it was, I knew we were probably in a race with the campus police. They frown on drunk show-offs, as I discovered last year, and they refused to factor in cameras when breaking up a scene.

Then Joseph sank one more finger into my pussy and erased the rest of my thoughts. I soaked his palm like a ripe peach. I spun against his palm like a cotton candy machine.

In response, his cock swelled in my grasp. I held on for dear life as his hips bucked into me.

*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*

Waves and sheets of pleasure coalesced, grew tight, and pulled across my nerves. Each time Joseph or I moved, it plucked one of those strings, or strummed a dozen. My body was humming, musical.

I got a good, tight grip on Joseph’s cock right before he came. I didn’t plan it that way. I didn’t know he was coming. He just suddenly gasped, and jetted all over my wrist. The next spurt hit even further up my arm, and sprinkled the small of my back.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

In the photographs, if you study them closely, it’s clear that we’d reached a peak. The woman’s body—
my
body—is tightly tuned, her rippling muscles in stark relief. Her neck and shoulders strained with tension. Her head is thrown back, hair everywhere, with eyes closed and my mouth open.

Joseph jetted endlessly onto me, hot cum coating my hand, arm, and back.

I came at the same time, every muscle locking. Maybe I made a sound.

I
know
I made a sound. I mewled with pleasure and let it grow. I didn’t want the camera to catch me trying to hide or swallow back my moan. It would have put tension on my face—a strange, strained expression right when everything had to be perfect. I moaned right next to his ear.

His hand went crazy in my snatch, partly from loss of control, partly because my reaction intensified his own. I came in surges, crying out sharply. My body rolled like the ocean and I couldn’t control it.

*
C
lick
* *Click* *Click* *Click*

Ripper Jack, magnificent photographer that he was, captured the most perfect milliseconds of my whole long orgasm. Each photo was perfectly timed, perfectly composed. He even captured the light on the flexing muscles of my inner thighs, and the shadows cast by the crowd of people surrounding us.

I caught my breath and came back to myself.

“Jack, I’m sorry!” I said.

“For what? That was perfect.” He was still clicking away.

My instincts slowly came online. I found myself subtly posing again, responding to his movements. It was like RJ and I were locked in an intimate dance that nobody else could see.

“We both sort of, well… ” I shrugged, embarrassed.

RJ slowed, a perplexed look on his face.

“I mean, it was sort of unprofessional,” I finished. “Sorry, I came.”

“Ah,” he said finally. “Well, it’s understandable. You did very well, right until the end. You took it right to the edge, and anything can happen there. Even when you came, you still looked good.”

“Really?” I was so relieved. “How did we do?”

Joseph wriggled out from behind me, buttoning his shorts. Without another word to me, he turned to his friends, raised his hands, and cheered. High-fives all around, like the whole posse had just won an ultimate frisbee match.

I was exhilarated too. A good modeling session can be incredibly gratifying.

“You were unbelievable, honey,” RJ answered, when the noise died down.

I have to confess, I felt a little important and famous, with all those people around. These were people I saw every day, and now they’d seen me working to my full potential: Edgy sexy hot high-fashion Rebecca. It was an amazing confidence builder… the only thing better than being awesome, is being awesome when people are watching. Unless I was grossly mistaken, this photoshoot was now my unique cool factor in the dorm.

I gleamed my best smile at all of them, and brushed the hair out of my face with both hands.

“Oops!” I blurted.

RJ glanced up, gave a start, and raised his camera quickly.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

My hand and arm were still drenched with Joseph’s cum, and I’d just transferred it to my face. I was now covered in his sticky, white ejaculate.

“Why does this always happen?” I cried.

Any cell phones that had been lowered now rose again, pointed my way.

“Wait!” cried Joseph, when I started wiping it away. “Let me get a shot!”

Too funny! I waited with my best “I’m such a goof!” smile, my cum-coated hand next to my cum-coated face.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A line of cum drooled past my nose and over my lips. When they saw, everybody leaned in to get a picture of that, too.

*Click* *Click*

Without thinking, I licked my lips.

*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*

I realized what I’d done, and covered my face, trying to keep from laughing uncontrollably. I know it might seem strange, but being caught laughing would have been a problem! Models always look strange when they’re caught in a laugh.

Of course, covering my face only shifted even more of Joseph’s cum to my cheek, temple, and jaw, and I was worse off than before.

At that moment, RJ took another of my favorite photos. I know it’s strange to say, because all that semen was proof that I’d categorically lost control of a modeling shoot, and that I’d had a blatantly unprofessional moment. I should hate that picture with a passion. Yet, that picture made it into RJ’s mid-term art show, for which he scored an “A.” I put it on my tumblr blog as proof that I
can
smile, and from there it escaped into the boundless Internet.

If you’ve only seen one picture of me online, it’s probably that one.

In the photograph, the girl—
me!
—is damp and disheveled, hemmed in by people. All of them are turned her direction, their faces lit and damp. It’s a carnival atmosphere. The girl in the photo is pulling her hand away from her face. She’s stretching out strings of cum that connect her fingers to her cheek. She’s smiling a big, beautiful, open smile.

I’m that girl.
I’m the girl with the perfect, glossy lips, despite some smeared lipstick. She has big, luscious lashes. Her eyes are bright, looking up and away, with cheerful humiliation. Her reddened cheeks are bunched around a happy, self-conscious, embarrassed smile. And why is the girl smiling? That’s clear too, from the white gobs of cum covering her face. It’s clear that this hot model had a big
oops
moment, and it’s hilarious, and she still looks delectable even when she’s a mess.

I hate smiling on camera, so I have almost no pictures of my smile. You only ever see me with my smirk, my sneer, my duck-face, or my open-mouthed laugh.

Yet, that picture, with me smiling like a lunatic, might just be one of my favorites. Rebecca, after killing her first modeling shoot, and confirming what she wants to do for the rest of her life—Rebecca is still a goofy clutz who can make everybody laugh. My best picture is an unposed, stolen snapshot. A frickin’
candid.

I eventually gave up playing with the cum. It wasn’t going anywhere, and no way was I going to shovel the rest into my mouth, even with all those guys chanting. I just left it there for the time being, and hoped it wouldn’t drip onto my club dress.

My dress, oh no. My dress was my homework for class. A critical grade!

I quickly checked it out. I’d have to fix a seam on the skirt, which had started to burst. Apart from that, it looked none the worse for wear.

I also noticed my panties were still down, and my chest was still bare.

“Don’t fix it yet,” RJ commanded. “Turn around and show us your back.”

Oh, right! Joseph had sprayed my back with cum, too. If I wasn’t careful, the drops would combine and run down my ass to the dress. Was it even possible to clean this weird prismatic fabric? Maybe the cum had already started staining it!

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, then clapped my hand over my open mouth.

*Click* *Click* *Click* *Click*

Cheers from Joseph and his friends.

For me, it was immediate regret. My hand was covered in cum.

“Shit, Rebecca, you’re a big mess when it comes to cum,” RJ teased. “Show us your cum-covered lips.”

I shook my head, eyes wide, hand still over my mouth. Sure, it would be cute, but a model should have some limits. At some point, the pictures of me in the middle of a crowd, with cum covering my face, might be misinterpreted in the worst way. I had a career to think about.

Instead, I did the more mature and modest thing. I turned to show RJ my bare ass and back, all coated with jism. Everybody was immediately distracted and had to get more pictures. I was ordered to tilt my ass out for them, then cock my hip. I received a lot of direction, and not just from RJ! I didn’t mind. For a while, all those other guys got a taste of what it’s like working with a real model.

Meanwhile, my mouth was full of Joseph’s sperm, because I had clapped my hand over my
open
mouth. I couldn’t spit it out—that would be too gross for words—so I swallowed it, and then quickly licked my lips clean. I hoped nobody noticed.

“Jack, can I finally cover up?”

RJ was reviewing the images on his camera, and nodded absently. I was finally able to pull my panties up, tug my skirt down, and shift my dress back over my breasts. Truth be told, I didn’t feel too different, all covered up. Yet another positive sign that I was turning into a real model. We have no body shame, we just have no time for it.

I didn’t even feel ashamed when the pictures and videos hit Snapchat, Youtube, Pornhub, and wherever else people tagged me on Facebook. The Internet storm started about ten minutes after the shoot, when I was hiding out from a pair of campus police officers prowling the halls. I hid in plain sight, in the meet-and-greet party, wiping cum off my face with a napkin. The Po-po got nowhere with their search for the “drunken porn star.” Nobody answered their questions—I’ve never felt so
in.

All those Internet videos would have been humiliating, except RJ was running a photo shoot. Without RJ, I would have looked terrible, so he basically saved my ass. After some initial misconceptions, I think the Internet also understood. My Instagram following doubled, then tripled, then tripled again as new batches of videos were uploaded.

After a life of dreaming, my career had well and truly begun. In fact, it was off to a
psycho
start. And all thanks to a drop-dead gorgeous latino photographer who only wanted me as a friend.