Scissoring

When I left college I had a degree in photography, and I was looking forward to becoming a full-time professional. What I didn’t count on was that there were at least 20 qualified candidates for each job. And my sex was definitely an obstacle, because they seemed to favor male photographers. I got discouraged and desperate, then I met Tish.

She was a new model and we quickly became friends. She was the one who suggested I take some glamour shots from her and try to sell them to men’s magazines. She thought being a woman was an asset in glamour photography. I rented a studio and while Tish dressed up, I put the locker room in jeans and a tee shirt, but it was a completely different Tish coming out. Talking about sexy, black fishnet stockings, black lacy panties, a frilly lacy braces belt and high heels shoes, a long string of pearls around her neck, dangling over her breasts. “Would you like it?” she turned her lips as she crossed the room. You think they’re sexy enough? I whistled out of appreciation. She was really a beautiful woman with soft breasts, and a smell of sweetness. If I were a man, I’d jump on her. God!