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Thanks for the comments! As a result I have edited this story better, and added a few more delicious details. Hopefully I caught all my spelling errors.
All characters in this story are over 18… but just barely.
High School was never this fun for me! I hope you enjoy!
© 2010, C.B. Summers
“How ’bout this?” she asked as she coquettishly tilted her chin down, staring up at me with her oceanic eyes. My heart skipped a beat.
“P-perfect” I stuttered.
I looked at her for a few moments through the safety of the lens, soaking up the power of that gaze. Then I took the picture.
Normally, Rona Barrett wouldn’t have talked to nerd like me. She hadn’t made eye contact with me for as long as I could remember. Although we were both eighteen, she just seemed older than me somehow. But I guess that was because she was Rona Barrett, the most popular girl the senior class, Student Council President and lead soprano of the Glee Club. She was a radiant creature and boy did she know it. But here she was, sitting before me, looking at me like a lover… or at least looking into my lens like a lover. That’s probably how she thought about it. But for me my camera lens might as well have been a third eye. It had opened the world to me in ways I had never thought possible.
Before I’d joined the camera club I’d been a nonentity at Malvado Playa High School, but now the popular crowd knew my name, for the simple reason that they liked to have their pictures taken, and I was pretty good at it. My dad had given me an awesome camera, much better than the ones they handed out to the other kids in the club, and it had opened doors, on occasion, to the world of the popular. And now it had granted me an intimate moment with the great one herself. Allowing me to gaze fixedly at her glorious smile and cascading auburn hair. Sigh. I was enjoying every minute of it.
Don’t get me wrong. Rona wasn’t one of those mean girls. But she was ‘above it all’ nonetheless. She’d been elected Student Council President on beauty alone and would probably end up being the Prom Queen in a few months time. She had some pretty mean friends, however, and the guys she hung out with were for the most part jocks and chisel chins. She didn’t have a steady boyfriend so my nerdy friends and me assumed she was sleeping around with the popular guys. Any other girl and that rumor would have made her a slut, but everyone liked Rona too much to think of her that way. Instead we thought anyone lucky enough to be touched by Rona Barrett was blessed by the encounter.
Not that Rona was perfect. Her worst quality was vanity, although somehow she made that sin seem adorable. She loved herself with such abandon it was kind of cute. Well… to me anyway. My nerdy friends might mock her a bit, but I knew they secretly wished they were one of those good looking boys who were invited to weekend parties at her parent’s lake house, about which rumors of wanton orgies abounded.
“Do I look okay?” she asked. “I want to look beautiful.”
“How could you not? Of course you do. You look perfect,” I replied.
“I dunno… I’m worried about this stupid stripy sweater. I only wore it because my mom gave it to me a few days ago. I forgot I was having this photo taken. It looks awful, doesn’t it? Stripes make people look fat, don’t they? Tell the truth.”
In fact, I had no frame of reference to answer that question. What did I know about fashion? To me she would have looked beautiful in a potato sack. Actually, I liked the way the stripes accentuated the shape of her tits. But is that the kind of observation you can share with a girl? My pause only served to confirm her bad opinion of the sweater.
“Fuck!” she shouted. “I hate this stupid stripy thing! I don’t want this to be the way people remember me for the rest of their lives whenever they look through their yearbooks!”
My heart sank. I thought she was going to cancel the photo shoot.
She huffed, “I want this to look good. The Student Council President shouldn’t look like crap, y’know. Do you have any outfits or anything?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see.” She followed me over to the photo studio closet. We looked through what was there, but it wasn’t promising. It was mostly overcoats, band uniforms and letter jackets. But then she saw something.
“Yeah, this is it!” She pulled something fuzzy out of a cardboard box on the floor. It was a weirdly shaped wrap, made of feathery white fur. I remembered seeing it used in some of the older yearbooks. They used to put it on the girls for their senior photographs to give them an elegant look, as if they were all rising out of a white cloud, exposing their youthful shoulders and clavicles for the first time to the prying eyes of the boys, as a sign of impending adulthood (my interpretation anyway). But it hadn’t been used for years. Rona clapped with glee and ran back out to the chair she’d been sitting in. “This is awesome!”
She put the wrap over Maltepe Escort her shoulders, but her striped sweater was still completely visible. I’m not sure how it was used in the past, but no other clothes are visible in the fur-wrap shots.
“You need to make the fur tight around your neck to cover the sweater,” I said.
“But I want my shoulders to show.” She pulled out the neck of the sweater trying to expose her shoulders, but it just didn’t work. It wasn’t nearly stretchy enough. She looked ridiculous. As soon as she had one shoulder uncovered, the sweater neck would pop back onto her shoulder. She kept doing it again and again, as if somehow repetition would alter the course of the future. I casually reached over to the camera and switched the dial from photography mode to movie mode, and pushed the record button. I thought it would be amusing to show the guys in the camera club what an adorable dope Rona Barrett could be.
To my surprise she said, “Oh, the hell with it. I’m going to take this stupid sweater off.” She snapped her fingers at me and commanded, “Turn around!” I thought she was joking. She snapped her fingers again and I realized she meant it. In shock I turned away and all I could think was that if Mr. Hanners came in right now and saw her disrobing in the studio, he’d have a coronary. “Hold on,” she said. After a while she said forcefully, “Don’t turn around, or I’ll kill you.” Finally, after what seemed like far too long a time to take off a sweater, she said, “Okay, I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Demille.”
I turned and busied myself with the camera, too intimidated to look at her directly. I realized the camera was still in movie mode, so I switched it back to photo mode and looked at her through the lens. She was nervously clutching the center of the wrap to hold it closed, but loosely so her shoulders were exposed. I was dumbfounded by the beauty of her naked shoulders, which were only marred by subtle red marks in her perfect flesh. It took me a few moments to realize the marks were from the bra straps she’d slipped off her shoulders.
“How does it look?”
“Great”, I replied. I didn’t comment on the bra lines, because I figured I could easily Photoshop them out later.
She went into the same pose as before.
“Uh, I can see your hand,” I said. She moved her hand down a little, but it was still in the frame. “I can still see it”. I took a picture of her looking down in annoyance.
“This thing doesn’t have a clasp.”
“That’s probably so it can fit anyone.”
“Well, how the hell is it supposed to stay on? Damn it! Turn around again while I figure this out.”
This time when I turned I kept my hand casually on the camera and took several surreptitious snapshots, hoping she wouldn’t hear the faint snapping of the shutter. I listened to the sweet sounds of her rustling movements and grunts of frustration. I couldn’t imagine what was taking so much time, but I figured there might be some funny photos in there somewhere. Maybe even a shot of her in her bra. That was an exciting thought! After a while, and over twenty secret shots later, she said sweetly, “Okay, I think I’ve figured it out. Take a look.”
I turned and was just as dazzled as before, but it certainly looked better. Now she had her arms crossed under the fur, so she could neatly pull the tips of the wrap in front of her, forming an elegant line right along her collarbone. I could see her belly button under her crossed arms, which was pretty darned thrilling for a virgin like me. I made sure to take a few wide shots including her belly button before zooming in so the bottom of frame was all fur. She went through a variety of poses and facial expressions while I snapped away. She was clearly trying to look intelligent and wise beyond her years. “Do I look like a Student Council President?”
“I guess so.” I replied, although, in fact I thought it was a pretty undignified pose. “Sure, why not?”
After a while it was pretty obvious we’d gone through every possible pose in this position. I was afraid she’d think I was prolonging this session unnecessarily just so I could stare into her beautiful eyes, so I said, “I guess we’re about done”.
She smiled mischievously and said, “Hey, Louis, would you mind taking a few more… just for me?”
“Sure,” I said nervously. Then she pulled the fur down a bit… then a bit more. Then a lot more, revealing a healthy, downright indecent, amount of cleavage. All the while I snapped pictures, my heart pounding in my chest and my eyes popping out of my head. Then she tightened her crossed arms, causing her large breasts to swell up deliciously. I gulped, trying to cover my shock and arousal. Just act professional, I told my self. I could see so much naked flesh that I figured her bra was probably only nanometers away from being exposed. I took several pictures while she threw her head about like a fashion model, trying to look like a sex goddess. Several of her expressions could Anadolu Yakası Escort only be described as orgasmic. She even licked her lips erotically with her tongue. I guess she’d seen some of the same nudie magazines as me. I was in heaven.
She suddenly started giggling, amused by her own naughtiness. I absolutely loved the way her breasts wiggled and jiggled as she giggled! When her fit of hilarity passed, she looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Whoops! Time’s up!” She gave me a genuine smile, and said sweetly “Don’t show anybody those pictures, okay? Those are just between you and me. Can I trust you Louis?”
“Of course,” I replied cheerfully, thrilled at hearing her say my name.
“Can I get a sneak peek?” she asked.
I was terrified she’d discover the unauthorized shots I’d taken, so I looked at my watch and said, “I’ve got another class soon.”
“Actually, its probably not safe to download them in the computer lab if you don’t want anyone to see those last pictures. So I better do it at home after school. But I’ll be happy to show them to you tomorrow if you like. You can pick the one you want us to use for the yearbook.”
She smiled and nodded. I guess I’d said the right thing.
“That would be awesome. I can’t wait to see them!”
Neither can I, I thought.
“Now, turn around again, and don’t peek,” she sing-songed sweetly.
I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I switched the camera back to movie mode and started it recording before I turned to look away. I wanted to see her in nothing but a bra. I just had to. I was suddenly overcome with a powerful guilty feeling. I could hardly believe what I’d done. I knew it was immoral and unethical to take pictures and movies when she said not to look, but I’d never been in such a tempting situation before. I felt like a pervert. Then again, I was an eighteen-year-old virgin who’d never even been kissed… I pretty much always felt like a pervert! In spite of all this, I began to breathe harder in anticipation of what I might have captured with my camera.
She took a long time to get herself back in order. So long, in fact, I was about to ask her if everything was okay, when suddenly I felt the fur land on my head. “Catch you later, Louis,” she said cavalierly as she walked past me and out into the hallway. I took the fur off my head, and watched her walk away, my eyes glued to her gorgeous ass. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath. She looked awesome in jeans.
I was itching to see those movies! After all, when was I ever going to get the chance to see Rona Barrett in a bra? Just thinking about it gave me a hard on. But then the bell rang and I knew I’d have to wait until after school. I suffered through several long classes, barely able to think about anything but the flash card that was burning a hole in my shirt pocket.
Later in the day I ran into Jason, my buddy from the camera club. He said, with surprise, that Rona Barrett had talked to him. Just like me he’d always thought people like her were too lofty to speak to him. But she knew his name and even knew he was my friend. I guess she was paying closer attention than we’d thought. She’d asked him if he’d seen the photos I’d taken. He said no and she went away apparently happy with his answer. Jason begged me to see the pictures. His imagination was off the hook. I pretended not to know what Rona was worried about but I was pleased to know that she’d checked up on me and found me trustworthy. She could definitely trust me not to show any of these photos and movies to anyone. They were mine… all mine.
After what seemed like a small eternity I finally made it home, although I still had to wait a while for my parents to get ready to go to the movies. But finally they left and I ran to my room to download the files onto my computer. I decided to look at them in order. First there were the photos I took of Rona in the striped shirt. I immediately got a boner just looking at her eyes. I could zoom right in and see details I’d never noticed before. For instance, she had these beautiful golden flecks in her irises. I’d never been close enough to see them before. My god, but she was a beauty! I actually liked the sweater. The stripes added form and sensuous roundness to her breasts in a way that made me itchy with desire.
Then I started the first short movie that I took after we found the fur wrap. It showed her waiting for me to turn away. After that she took the wrap off and laid it over her knees. Then she crossed her arms in front of her chest, grabbed the bottom of the sweater, and peeled it upward and revealed, to my great delight, her beautiful bra. It was bright pink and silky. I pushed the pause button just so I could worship her beautiful breasts for a few minutes. I could just barely make out the little bumps of her nipples. Goddamn! It made my heart flutter!
I pushed play again and watched as she put the sweater on the floor next to her and flip İstanbul Escort the fur wrap back over her shoulders. It was obvious to her that the bra straps were much too visible, so she pulled them off her shoulders. I began to rub the erection in my pants while watching her pulling down those straps. I had never felt such unbridled lust. She adjusted the fur a bit, saying “Hold on.” But the top of the bra was pretty high, too high for her liking I guess. Then she looked up and said, “Don’t turn around, or I’ll kill you.” Then she took off the wrap again, and turned nervously sideways in the chair, to get her back as much toward me as possible, just in case I were to peek. Then she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra in one deft movement.
I nearly fell off my chair in surprise. The sight of her willowy fingers snapping the back strap free was utterly electrifying. Without conscious thought, I unzipped my fly and set my growing cock free.
She bent over and folded the bra up in her sweater on the floor, probably so I wouldn’t know she’d taken it off. That gave me a delightful side-view of her left breast. I gazed in wonder at her beautiful nipple, mesmerized by the sight of her breast squishing against her knee. She sat up again and pulled the fur wrap around her shoulders, then turned back toward the camera again, trying in vain to figure out how to hold it right. It was not only the most erotic moment of my life, so far, but it was well beyond anything I had ever imagined I’d see. I could hardly believe it was actually happening. All I could think was, “Rona Barrett’s boob! I just saw Rona Barrett’s boob!”
In the video she continued fiddling with the fur wrap, giving me a few fleeting glimpses of her areolas, before she finally decided to clutch it in the center, and say, “Okay, I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Demille.” I immediately watched the whole video again, this time stroking my cock lovingly and moaning with aching lust for Rona Barrett’s glorious body. I froze on the frame that showed her nipple in profile. Shit, it was unbefuckinglievable! It wasn’t a very high-resolution movie, but it was good enough for me!
When it ended the second time I looked through the few photos I took when she couldn’t figure out how to hold the wrap without getting her hands in the shot. Then I came across the photos I’d secretly snapped the second time she asked me to turn around. Although her naked breasts were visible in some of them, most of them were terribly blurry, because she was moving about trying to arrange the fur right. But finally I came across a perfect photo. In it she was holding the wrap completely open, her naked breasts gloriously exposed right at the camera. But most amazing of all was the look on her face. She was staring right into the camera, her lips open, eyes caught in a furtive moment, perhaps checking to make sure I wasn’t looking. It was an unbelievably sharp photo. The primitive lighting job I’d done made her breasts look amazingly 3-d. I couldn’t get over how frickin’ great it was.
I sat there stroking my cock for several minutes just looking into her glittering eyes and open, glistening lips. It was like she was actually looking at me through time, aware of what I was doing and enjoying the secret connection between us. I felt an aching sadness in me as I jerked off. This amazing girl never would, never could be mine. But damn it, at least I had this photo! I’d seen my share of porn, but nothing as amazing as this one perfect image of the most beautiful girl in my world. I zoomed in looked at every part of her in close up. Her nose, her eyes, her belly button, her tits… I was electrified by every little detail on her gorgeous breasts. The little wrinkles her areolas… the delicate indentions in the center of her nipples… the beautiful fuzzy transition of color between her pale white breast and her ruddy pink areola… and that adorable black mole just under her left nipple. I wondered if I was the only guy in school who’d ever seen it. Probably not, but it was nice to be in that select fraternity.
The next few photos showed her bringing her hands across her chest to close the wrap. But I hardly noticed her breasts in these photos. My attention was riveted on her face. She was looking right at the camera and her expression changed slightly from picture to picture, showing the unmistakable signs of realization.
I sat back and my dick went limp.
She knew that I’d been taking photos of her naked body without her permission. She knew I was a perv. In those pictures I could see her eyes discovering my finger as it pushed the shutter button again and again. The next few photos showed her sitting there quietly, as if she were thinking how to handle things. Many subtle expressions went through her eyes from shot to shot: anger, surprise and finally, flattery. But maybe I was misreading it. Or maybe she’d decided it didn’t upset her enough to make a fuss. After all, during the shoot she hadn’t given me any reason to think she was offended.
Then I looked through the ‘official’ picture session, and was pleased to see that they were very good pictures. Perfectly exposed, and sharp. Moreover, she looked great. At ease. Not upset or even remotely pissed off.
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