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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
04/02/2016
I was a model a few years ago and just recently a photographer made a comment on what photographers concentrate on in the studio. That got me to thinking about my experiences as a model and his as a photographer.
My impression was that photographers were largely genitally-centred, and that they would take any chance to photograph a girl's genitals ahead of anything else. The photographer's view was a bit different, and when I thought about what he said I realized we were coming from different directions and were both right in our way. The photographer was a pro who shoots pro models and makes his living from it. I have only ever been an amateur model and most of my modelling has been for groups of amateur photographers at photographic clubs.
They photograph nude girls maybe once a month, they do it entirely for fun and their greatest prize is when a model opens her legs wide and they get shots of her labia and gaping vagina. I know from experience that the photographers are usually very nice people, but the situation they are in can make them behave a bit like animals.
The main factor in this is the relationship between the photographers and the models - most of the allegedly "pro" models who pose for photographic clubs are pretty indifferent, they often treat the photographers like dirty old men and the relationship rarely works. Faced with that, the photographers want maximum genital exposure as fast as possible, and often like to get their own back to some extent by what they think will be some sort of humiliation of the model.
I saw a few sessions when they had semi-pro models, who had a rather business-like attitude. Nearly all of the girls thought they were something special and would have preferred one to one sessions with a professional. Camera club sessions were definitely second rate work for them. The photographers responded to this, it was as if they were paying for the service and expected the maximum show of nudity for their money. They didn't always get it - some of the girls were very skillful at showing almost nothing of their genitals except for pubic hair. The photographers would usually complain about them and they didn't come back.
My experience as a model has been very different. I have always been an amateur, posing for photographic clubs and boyfriends. It may seem surprising, but there are quite a few girls like me who just posed for photographic clubs because we enjoyed it, and not to get paid. We would pose at the club, clothed or nude as we chose. The photographers always hoped we would strip off, but there was never any real pressure. Compared with the "paid" models the relationship was more personal. We were all friends and after the first few sessions they had a fair idea of what they might get to see.
My elder brother's girlfriend had posed for them a few years before, and it was seeing her photographs which made me want to do it as well. She was a really lovely girl who was like an elder sister to me, and at first it was a bit of a shock that someone as nice as her would pose nude for a whole group of photographers. At the same time I knew I was getting more and more excited at the idea, and I was desperate to talk to her about it. That took some time but eventually I managed to work a conversation round in that direction. She was very open and honest, and told me about the club, that everyone was very friendly and kind and that she just loved showing off her body to them. She showed me a lot more of her photos - there were all sorts, portraits, swimwear and a lot of nudes, some of them very revealing. She was a very flexible and athletic girl, and she showed practically every bit of her anatomy in a series of spectacular poses.
After we had talked and looked at the photos I didn't really need to tell her what I was thinking. She said something like "you're much too young at 19 to do that kind of thing", which I knew of course, but she did offer to take me along to the club for a portrait session. That was a way in, and I loved her for that. Most women did it at 26 or older, especially the amateurs. After that session I went back every few months, each time wishing I was braver. I just wanted to stand there in the studio completely nude and let them all look at me, but I needed to gather my courage.
The funny thing was that I didn't give up on the idea - my main fears were that I wouldn't find a way to do it, that I might be too embarrassed to let them know that I wanted to pose nude or that they might not like my body.
Counting through the years, I think I probably posed for 15-20 "portrait" sessions from the age of 19 up until I was about 22. After the first excitement wore off, there was a time when I found the portrait sessions a bit tedious. I seemed to spend the whole evening sitting on a stool pretending it was fun, while similarly-bored photographers stalked around me pretending they were perfecting their photographic skills. I think it was only later that I realised that many of them were probably there because they were having a much better evening than they would have had at home.
Despite all that, someone would always talk me into coming back for another session. I didn't really take much persuading, because after the first few times I increasingly began to realise that I was enjoying myself more than a little, and that my real centre of enjoyment seemed to be just a few millimetres above the stool that I was sitting on. Every moment I sat there I was thinking of photos I had seen of my brother's girlfriend posing in the same studio.
I think I first really noticed the "stool" effect on a hot summer day when I had gone along to the studio wearing a tee shirt and a loose skirt. It is hard to think back that far, but I reckon that I knew pretty well what I was up to that evening, because I remember looking in the mirror before I left and wondering whether anyone would notice I wasn't wearing a bra. I remember reasoning that it was too hot to wear a bra, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the real reason.
I needn't have worried. Everyone was very discreet, but there was no doubt that all the photographers were "pleased to see me". When I saw some of the photos later it was clear that my nipples had been having a fun time as well, but that was nothing compared with what was happening a little bit lower. I knew I was enjoying all the attention, but I wasn't really aware of the full effect it was having on me until we broke off for a coffee break.
I got down from the stool, and started to walk to the coffee table. I had done this many times before, but this time I couldn't believe what I was feeling as I walked to the table. I was just totally lubricated - I could feel my labia sliding against each other as I walked and a cool wetness around my vagina and anus. I was so sensitive that I could feel the friction of my pubic hair against my labia - it was a glorious feeling and I kept moving my legs so that I could explore the sensations a bit more. In typical girl fashion I started to worry in case there was a wet spot showing on my skirt and I did a few surreptitious tests for dampness, but that aside I was in heaven.
I posed for the rest of that session minus my rather damp knickers, which I took off in the toilet and stuck in my bag. My skirt was not particularly short and it would have been difficult for anyone to see anything, but it made me acutely aware of the need to be careful about the way I posed. Photographers have a way of going for the low shots, and when you are up on a stool it is easy to lose concentration.
When I got home after that session I was still on a high. I don't think I had ever enjoyed myself so much, and I knew I really wanted to do it again. The problem was that I knew that if I went back I would find it very difficult to keep my clothes on, and I was pretty sure that that could mean real trouble. So, after a few weeks gap I went back, dressed all prim and proper, and posed at a mixed session with one other girl and one guy. That kept my juices at a manageable level, but I did keep thinking of the other two, and imagining what fun I might be having if they weren't there.
After that, school work began to kick in, and it was often two or three months between portrait sessions at the club. They were usually mixed sessions with other models around, and sometimes I couldn't resist playing a few games. One involved a rather straight-laced girl who was very serious and rather stuck-up. She always posed in a very stiff manner in rather classic clothes, so if I knew she was going to be there I would always make an effort to provide a sexy counterpart to her poses. I had a lot of fun in short skirts, and I really enjoyed wearing thongs or g-strings under tight trousers and the guys went crazy when they thought a girl was wearing them. I quite often left off my bra - usually not in any very obvious way, but I practised very hard at moving my body so that the jiggling of my breasts left the photographers in no doubt. It was usually obvious who the photographers preferred, and that really got up her nose.
I think the best fun I had was one winter session, just before Christmas, when I borrowed my brother's girlfriend's very sheer and clingy ball gown. I turned up for the session as usual in casual clothes, with the gown in my bag. My "stiff" rival posed first, and I followed. Then she came back on again, and at that point I said I would change into something else. Off I went to the changing room. I took every stitch of clothing off and slipped on the gown. I knew it was impossible to wear any underwear with the gown without it showing - I had practised endlessly in the mirror at home just to make sure of that, and I had also perfected the ways of moving and posing which made that point clear to anyone who was watching. My rehearsals had been very good - I knew I could move and pose so that everyone would notice I wasn't wearing knickers or even a g-string, but as I left the changing room I still wasn't entirely sure how my nipples would behave. I knew there would be no doubt that I wasn't wearing a bra, but I was rather keen to stage-manage the fun. I knew there was a good chance that I could go onto the podium with an involuntary but spectacular display of rock-hard nipples, but I rather wanted to save that for a bit later on. In the changing room I was very careful to keep my nipples as calm as possible - I avoided touching them and avoided moving the fabric over them too much as I got ready. What I wanted was for that very slight shape and texture of relaxed nipples to show through the fabric first, so that the photographers could lots of really subtle but sexy breast shots.
Somehow it all worked. I walked out and took them all by surpise. They had no idea what I had been planning and they all seemed to think that Christmas had come early. My lack of underwear was completely obvious and my nipples behaved beautifully - they stayed relaxed and added just a little hint of their presence to the shape of my breasts. That went on for a little while, but then the inevitable happened - a delicious tightening, and my nipples very gently began to come to life. At first I just let my nipples get on with it, but then I looked over at the "stiff" girl who was looking definitely unamused, and I decided to have a bit more fun. This was something else I had practised in the mirror, but I had never been sure I would have the nerve to do it. In a fairly innocent way I ran my hands up from my hips towards my chest and then slowly I cupped my breasts with them and posed for some photos. That certainly wasn't innocent, and while I was doing it I made sure that my nipples were nestling in a slight gap between my index and middle fingers. That allowed me to squeeze them gently, and, right on cue I could feel them shoot to attention between my fingers.
I squeezed my breasts in slightly and slowly moved my hands downwards. I could feel that my nipples were as hard as I had ever known them and I just remember a whole battery of camera shutters going off.
As the saying goes, it was most fun I had ever had with my clothes on!
My impression was that photographers were largely genitally-centred, and that they would take any chance to photograph a girl's genitals ahead of anything else. The photographer's view was a bit different, and when I thought about what he said I realized we were coming from different directions and were both right in our way. The photographer was a pro who shoots pro models and makes his living from it. I have only ever been an amateur model and most of my modelling has been for groups of amateur photographers at photographic clubs.
They photograph nude girls maybe once a month, they do it entirely for fun and their greatest prize is when a model opens her legs wide and they get shots of her labia and gaping vagina. I know from experience that the photographers are usually very nice people, but the situation they are in can make them behave a bit like animals.
The main factor in this is the relationship between the photographers and the models - most of the allegedly "pro" models who pose for photographic clubs are pretty indifferent, they often treat the photographers like dirty old men and the relationship rarely works. Faced with that, the photographers want maximum genital exposure as fast as possible, and often like to get their own back to some extent by what they think will be some sort of humiliation of the model.
I saw a few sessions when they had semi-pro models, who had a rather business-like attitude. Nearly all of the girls thought they were something special and would have preferred one to one sessions with a professional. Camera club sessions were definitely second rate work for them. The photographers responded to this, it was as if they were paying for the service and expected the maximum show of nudity for their money. They didn't always get it - some of the girls were very skillful at showing almost nothing of their genitals except for pubic hair. The photographers would usually complain about them and they didn't come back.
My experience as a model has been very different. I have always been an amateur, posing for photographic clubs and boyfriends. It may seem surprising, but there are quite a few girls like me who just posed for photographic clubs because we enjoyed it, and not to get paid. We would pose at the club, clothed or nude as we chose. The photographers always hoped we would strip off, but there was never any real pressure. Compared with the "paid" models the relationship was more personal. We were all friends and after the first few sessions they had a fair idea of what they might get to see.
My elder brother's girlfriend had posed for them a few years before, and it was seeing her photographs which made me want to do it as well. She was a really lovely girl who was like an elder sister to me, and at first it was a bit of a shock that someone as nice as her would pose nude for a whole group of photographers. At the same time I knew I was getting more and more excited at the idea, and I was desperate to talk to her about it. That took some time but eventually I managed to work a conversation round in that direction. She was very open and honest, and told me about the club, that everyone was very friendly and kind and that she just loved showing off her body to them. She showed me a lot more of her photos - there were all sorts, portraits, swimwear and a lot of nudes, some of them very revealing. She was a very flexible and athletic girl, and she showed practically every bit of her anatomy in a series of spectacular poses.
After we had talked and looked at the photos I didn't really need to tell her what I was thinking. She said something like "you're much too young at 19 to do that kind of thing", which I knew of course, but she did offer to take me along to the club for a portrait session. That was a way in, and I loved her for that. Most women did it at 26 or older, especially the amateurs. After that session I went back every few months, each time wishing I was braver. I just wanted to stand there in the studio completely nude and let them all look at me, but I needed to gather my courage.
The funny thing was that I didn't give up on the idea - my main fears were that I wouldn't find a way to do it, that I might be too embarrassed to let them know that I wanted to pose nude or that they might not like my body.
Counting through the years, I think I probably posed for 15-20 "portrait" sessions from the age of 19 up until I was about 22. After the first excitement wore off, there was a time when I found the portrait sessions a bit tedious. I seemed to spend the whole evening sitting on a stool pretending it was fun, while similarly-bored photographers stalked around me pretending they were perfecting their photographic skills. I think it was only later that I realised that many of them were probably there because they were having a much better evening than they would have had at home.
Despite all that, someone would always talk me into coming back for another session. I didn't really take much persuading, because after the first few times I increasingly began to realise that I was enjoying myself more than a little, and that my real centre of enjoyment seemed to be just a few millimetres above the stool that I was sitting on. Every moment I sat there I was thinking of photos I had seen of my brother's girlfriend posing in the same studio.
I think I first really noticed the "stool" effect on a hot summer day when I had gone along to the studio wearing a tee shirt and a loose skirt. It is hard to think back that far, but I reckon that I knew pretty well what I was up to that evening, because I remember looking in the mirror before I left and wondering whether anyone would notice I wasn't wearing a bra. I remember reasoning that it was too hot to wear a bra, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the real reason.
I needn't have worried. Everyone was very discreet, but there was no doubt that all the photographers were "pleased to see me". When I saw some of the photos later it was clear that my nipples had been having a fun time as well, but that was nothing compared with what was happening a little bit lower. I knew I was enjoying all the attention, but I wasn't really aware of the full effect it was having on me until we broke off for a coffee break.
I got down from the stool, and started to walk to the coffee table. I had done this many times before, but this time I couldn't believe what I was feeling as I walked to the table. I was just totally lubricated - I could feel my labia sliding against each other as I walked and a cool wetness around my vagina and anus. I was so sensitive that I could feel the friction of my pubic hair against my labia - it was a glorious feeling and I kept moving my legs so that I could explore the sensations a bit more. In typical girl fashion I started to worry in case there was a wet spot showing on my skirt and I did a few surreptitious tests for dampness, but that aside I was in heaven.
I posed for the rest of that session minus my rather damp knickers, which I took off in the toilet and stuck in my bag. My skirt was not particularly short and it would have been difficult for anyone to see anything, but it made me acutely aware of the need to be careful about the way I posed. Photographers have a way of going for the low shots, and when you are up on a stool it is easy to lose concentration.
When I got home after that session I was still on a high. I don't think I had ever enjoyed myself so much, and I knew I really wanted to do it again. The problem was that I knew that if I went back I would find it very difficult to keep my clothes on, and I was pretty sure that that could mean real trouble. So, after a few weeks gap I went back, dressed all prim and proper, and posed at a mixed session with one other girl and one guy. That kept my juices at a manageable level, but I did keep thinking of the other two, and imagining what fun I might be having if they weren't there.
After that, school work began to kick in, and it was often two or three months between portrait sessions at the club. They were usually mixed sessions with other models around, and sometimes I couldn't resist playing a few games. One involved a rather straight-laced girl who was very serious and rather stuck-up. She always posed in a very stiff manner in rather classic clothes, so if I knew she was going to be there I would always make an effort to provide a sexy counterpart to her poses. I had a lot of fun in short skirts, and I really enjoyed wearing thongs or g-strings under tight trousers and the guys went crazy when they thought a girl was wearing them. I quite often left off my bra - usually not in any very obvious way, but I practised very hard at moving my body so that the jiggling of my breasts left the photographers in no doubt. It was usually obvious who the photographers preferred, and that really got up her nose.
I think the best fun I had was one winter session, just before Christmas, when I borrowed my brother's girlfriend's very sheer and clingy ball gown. I turned up for the session as usual in casual clothes, with the gown in my bag. My "stiff" rival posed first, and I followed. Then she came back on again, and at that point I said I would change into something else. Off I went to the changing room. I took every stitch of clothing off and slipped on the gown. I knew it was impossible to wear any underwear with the gown without it showing - I had practised endlessly in the mirror at home just to make sure of that, and I had also perfected the ways of moving and posing which made that point clear to anyone who was watching. My rehearsals had been very good - I knew I could move and pose so that everyone would notice I wasn't wearing knickers or even a g-string, but as I left the changing room I still wasn't entirely sure how my nipples would behave. I knew there would be no doubt that I wasn't wearing a bra, but I was rather keen to stage-manage the fun. I knew there was a good chance that I could go onto the podium with an involuntary but spectacular display of rock-hard nipples, but I rather wanted to save that for a bit later on. In the changing room I was very careful to keep my nipples as calm as possible - I avoided touching them and avoided moving the fabric over them too much as I got ready. What I wanted was for that very slight shape and texture of relaxed nipples to show through the fabric first, so that the photographers could lots of really subtle but sexy breast shots.
Somehow it all worked. I walked out and took them all by surpise. They had no idea what I had been planning and they all seemed to think that Christmas had come early. My lack of underwear was completely obvious and my nipples behaved beautifully - they stayed relaxed and added just a little hint of their presence to the shape of my breasts. That went on for a little while, but then the inevitable happened - a delicious tightening, and my nipples very gently began to come to life. At first I just let my nipples get on with it, but then I looked over at the "stiff" girl who was looking definitely unamused, and I decided to have a bit more fun. This was something else I had practised in the mirror, but I had never been sure I would have the nerve to do it. In a fairly innocent way I ran my hands up from my hips towards my chest and then slowly I cupped my breasts with them and posed for some photos. That certainly wasn't innocent, and while I was doing it I made sure that my nipples were nestling in a slight gap between my index and middle fingers. That allowed me to squeeze them gently, and, right on cue I could feel them shoot to attention between my fingers.
I squeezed my breasts in slightly and slowly moved my hands downwards. I could feel that my nipples were as hard as I had ever known them and I just remember a whole battery of camera shutters going off.
As the saying goes, it was most fun I had ever had with my clothes on!
Poster:
English Jill
