The escort 4 A fashion show
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The Es(c)ort (4) - A Fashion Show free porn video
You may remember how a few days after my assignment with Geoff and Anna, the couple in their mid-fifties, Rosie (my Madame, as I was beginning to think of her) sent me a picture by email; it was of me straddling Anna's face. Geoff must have taken the picture while I was unaware but it looked amazing: my black-stockinged legs astride her face, my red choker looking so slutty, as Geoff's cum dribbled from my cunt onto her waiting tongue. The picture captured the moment that his sticky strand of thick, white cum joined her lips and my pussy.
But hot as the picture was (and I have masturbated to it several times now), I was starting to have a few niggling doubts as to how it had found its way into the open, as it were. So I rang Rosie to find out.
“Rosie, that picture you sent me, I think you know the one I mean, is it normal for clients to send you photos like that?”
“Actually, no it isn't. But Mr Granger – Geoff – wanted to send it to you as a souvenir and didn't have any contact details for you. He asked me if I'd mind forwarding it. I did say it was highly unusual, but he can be very, shall we say, persuasive?”
“You mean he offered you a large lump of cash?”
“Well, yes, he did. But he was very insistent that if I thought it was inappropriate he wouldn't do it. And you can rest assured that I'm not going to do anything with it; I have the reputation of the agency to think of. You're not angry with me, are you, Evelyn? You're rapidly becoming one of my most popular and in-demand girls and I'd hate to upset you.”
“No,” I sighed. “It's just that I was starting to wonder where my picture might end up; I don't want it splashed all over the internet.”
“Not without being paid for it,” she chuckled.
I let out a deep breath. “There is that; I am, after all, a professional now. I need to protect my image.”
“Yes, honey, I quite understand. And it is a very hot picture; I'm thinking of having it framed for my boudoir and adding it to my collection of erotic prints. Can I do that? Please say I can?”
“Of course you can, Rosie. That would give me a lot of pleasure. In the privacy of your own room there is nothing for me to worry about.”
“Thank you, honey. While I've got you on the line, Evelyn,” she said, “I have another engagement you may be interested in. In an indirect way, it's related to what we've just been talking about. I have a regular client called Mr Harris whose daughter is starting out on a career as a fashion designer. Mr Harris is divorced and not speaking to his ex-wife and he would like one of our girls to accompany him to his daughter's first show since graduation. Would you be interested in that?”
“I can't see the connection, myself,” I said, “unless she's modelling scanty garments on a porn set.”
Rosie chuckled. “Believe me, that may be closer to the truth than you think. I've had a few tentative dealings with young Miss Harris in the past and she can be a little unconventional. So what do you say?”
“Yeah, it sounds interesting; I can't say I've ever been to a fashion show before, so it would be a new thing for me. Give me the details and I'll get in touch with him.”
Mr Harris turned out to be a rather portly gentleman in his mid-fifties, like Geoff. But the differences between the two men were striking: Mr Harris insisted on being called 'Mr Harris' and did not dress at all well, an irony considering that his daughter was in the fashion business. In fact, I'd say he was downright untidy in his ill-fitting blue blazer and linen trousers, like an escapee from a down-market yacht club. Nor did he show any signs of being at all wealthy, which was unexpected given that he was using a pretty exclusive escort agency, and had been using it for some time. I was only glad that Rosie could vouch for him and would guarantee my assignment fee.
The show that Miss Harris was giving took place one Wednesday afternoon in an Edinburgh hotel. She was one of half a dozen or so new designers that day, the rising talent that the scouts would be checking out. The guests, photographers, reporters and assorted hangers-on occupied the front rows around the catwalk, while members of the public sat behind us in three or four tiers. So it was busy, but not exactly crowded. I had expected glamour and glitz, but Mr Harris was not entirely out of place in his shabby clothes; the reporters and photographers in particular had made no effort at all to glam themselves up. I was feeling decidedly overdressed in my smart black pleated skirt and cream blouse, but at least Mr Harris was pleased: he strutted around with me on his arm, keen to make sure that everyone saw him accompanied by a doting, very young, very pretty Asian girl. Of course, I played my part perfectly; goodness knows what everyone made of me. They probably thought I was his mail-order Thai bride. But I didn't mind; it was all part of the game for me. Mr Harris had purchased an illusion, and I was happy to fulfil it.
The show itself passed fairly quickly, a rapid succession of models in outfits ranging from the humdrum to the bizarre, depending on the designer. Miss Harris turned out to be a designer of very slinky, sexy lingerie, and this was certainly the best part of the show for me, and I suspect for a lot of the others. Whatever the merits or demerits of her clothes, it was such fun to watch slim, leggy models strutting up and down the catwalk in very little clothing and to admire their toned bodies. Beside me, Mr Harris squirmed a little uncomfortably; I'm not sure he knew his daughter had this sexy imagination. But I held his arm and stroked his hand and looked fondly into his eyes as if to say: “Who's got a clever daughter, then? I'm so proud of you.”
At the end of the show, the designers took a bow and Mr Harris and I went backstage to meet them. Naturally, the first person we spoke to was his daughter.
“Daddy,” she cried delightedly, “I'm so glad you could make it. What did you think?”
“Very good, darling, very good. But of course I'm biased; perhaps you'd get a truer opinion from my friend Evelyn, here.”
“Delighted to meet you, Evelyn, Daddy's told me such a lot about you.”
“He has?” I wondered to myself. That was quick work; I had only spoken to him on the phone for the first time about four days earlier. Still, I'm not going to break his dreams today.
“Has he now? And I don't even know your name.”
“Oh, Daddy, you are awful. I'm Holly,” she said. “I hope we'll be great friends.”
“Pleased to meet you, Holly,” I said offering her my dainty hand.
She took it and squeezed a little, looking straight into my eyes as she said, “You're very beautiful. You're much too good for Daddy.”
Something about her touch and her gaze sent a shiver through me, a shiver of pleasure and anticipation. She was a very pretty young girl, probably two or three years older than me; she had on tight-fitting frayed jeans and a sparkly top that emphasised her full, round breasts; her red hair tumbled down in ringlets onto her shoulders.
“So, did you like my show, Evelyn?”
“Very much indeed; you clearly have an eye for form-fitting lingerie.”
“Thanks. Listen, a few of us are having a bit of a party afterwards, would you care to join us? It'll be a kind of private viewing; who knows, maybe you could try on some of my things?”
“Sure,” I said, “Sounds like fun. I'm not sure what your father will think, though.” I was struggling to know what to call him, since he had obviously talked me up quite a bit and it would have been most odd if I'd carried on calling him 'Mr Harris,' especially if she thought we were in some sort of relationship.
“Oh, don't mind him. He'll sit in a corner and watch; as usual. Won't you, Mr Harris?”
This was beginning to sound a bit odd, but I was happy to go along with it as long as my paying partner was. So eventually we found ourselves in another private room with half a dozen of the models, a couple of photographers, Holly and Mr Harris, and no one else. The lights were rather dim, and Mr Harris, who had clearly been to something like this before, sank into a corner seat by himself. Holly took my hand and sat next to me, touching my legs and letting her hand roam under my skirt. I parted my legs to give her easier access, enjoying the feel of her fingers on my thigh. I figured that as her father was paying, it was my job to play along. Truth to tell, however, I was getting quite turned on by this young red-head; her forward attitude was very refreshing, and being surrounded by skimpily clad models didn't hurt, either.
“Now then, Evelyn,” she said as we made ourselves comfortable. “The girls are going to show my designs again, but this time we're going to make it a bit more spicy. I think you'll like it.”
The models had by now started a little show of their own, pairing off to show off the clothes together, something that had not happened at the main event where they were all parading as individuals. What's more, they started touching each other and kissing and cuddling, while the photographers snapped away. Three pairs of girls wearing Holly's sexy lingerie posed for some soft-porn pictures, pouting at the cameras, flaunting their bodies; it was all very delightful, and I found it very erotic. I was getting more and more aroused as Holly's fingers found their way up my thighs and nearer my wet pussy.
Things then began to get a bit steamier. Two of the girls, still wearing bra and panties, stockings and heels, manoeuvred into a 69 and started to lick each other out for us all to see; the two guys were clicking away from all angles, but were soon so hard that they put their cameras down and took their dicks out. At this point it turned from a porn shoot to a live show. The girls were all too happy to start sucking the guys off, so Holly and I were treated to a real live sex show as we fondled each other. The guys were soon fucking the models in their mouths and their cunts; I watched fascinated as those beautiful girls took turns to fuck and suck; as there were six girls and only two guys, and as the girls were clearly feeling very randy, it wasn't long before we were treated to one girl being fucked from behind while she licked and sucked on another girl's pussy. Then one of the other girls came over and sat on the face of the girl being sucked. Three girls and one guy, it was so filthy. Needless to say, the other four did something similar. I didn't know where to look, it was all so amazing, but Holly's fingers had by now found my wet pussy and she was stroking me through my panties. The guys fucked hard, but with so much hot flesh before them they couldn't last out, and soon they withdrew as they were about to cum. I think they expected to cum on the girls' backs, but the girls in one group had other ideas, and the three of them quickly moved into position so that they could take the cum over their faces. Hot, thick cum shot all over their pretty lips and tongues. The girls were covered in spunk, which they proceeded to lick from each others' faces. One of the guys had the presence of mind to grab his camera and catch that on film. Both groups ended up with the girls sticky with cum on their faces and the guys with grins as broad as you like.
While all this was going on, Holly had quickly undressed me and somehow managed to get her own clothes off at the same time. We fingered each other with gay abandon as the guys and girls fucked harder and sprayed cum all over the place. I simply lost track of time, but Holly at one point had her tongue deep inside me as she tongue-fucked me to a climax. I returned the compliment and was interested to see that her pussy hair was as red as the hair on her head. Then, taking a pair of her own panties, she wiped the juice first from my cunt and then from hers. One of the models had also taken a pair of panties and wiped spunk on them, and she threw them for Holly to catch – a souvenir of the climax of the show.
Meanwhile, Mr Harris had been observing all this quietly in the corner, and eventually got his cock out and started wanking. He had been watching intently as Holly and I licked each other out, and though he was the last in the room to cum, he managed to finish off in style by shooting a big load into a bra that he'd grabbed from one of the girls. Holly didn't bat an eyelid, and I couldn't help but wonder exactly what they thought about each other.
Finally I did get to try on some of the discarded lingerie, the photographers snapping me in a solo set and then with Holly. I now have an album of raunchy pics to add to the one I started with and which I can use for my own masturbation pleasure.
Mr Harris was quite the gentleman and accompanied me home, not saying a word about what had gone on that afternoon. I never did get to the bottom of that odd relationship with his daughter. And a few days later, a small package arrived in the post: a pair of the panties modelled at the show, stiff with cum and who knows what else, and a card saying simply, “Love, Holly xx” I had a great session masturbating to my pictures while holding those panties to my face. Every new assignment so far had brought a different private experience, and I couldn't wait for my next one.
But hot as the picture was (and I have masturbated to it several times now), I was starting to have a few niggling doubts as to how it had found its way into the open, as it were. So I rang Rosie to find out.
“Rosie, that picture you sent me, I think you know the one I mean, is it normal for clients to send you photos like that?”
“Actually, no it isn't. But Mr Granger – Geoff – wanted to send it to you as a souvenir and didn't have any contact details for you. He asked me if I'd mind forwarding it. I did say it was highly unusual, but he can be very, shall we say, persuasive?”
“You mean he offered you a large lump of cash?”
“Well, yes, he did. But he was very insistent that if I thought it was inappropriate he wouldn't do it. And you can rest assured that I'm not going to do anything with it; I have the reputation of the agency to think of. You're not angry with me, are you, Evelyn? You're rapidly becoming one of my most popular and in-demand girls and I'd hate to upset you.”
“No,” I sighed. “It's just that I was starting to wonder where my picture might end up; I don't want it splashed all over the internet.”
“Not without being paid for it,” she chuckled.
I let out a deep breath. “There is that; I am, after all, a professional now. I need to protect my image.”
“Yes, honey, I quite understand. And it is a very hot picture; I'm thinking of having it framed for my boudoir and adding it to my collection of erotic prints. Can I do that? Please say I can?”
“Of course you can, Rosie. That would give me a lot of pleasure. In the privacy of your own room there is nothing for me to worry about.”
“Thank you, honey. While I've got you on the line, Evelyn,” she said, “I have another engagement you may be interested in. In an indirect way, it's related to what we've just been talking about. I have a regular client called Mr Harris whose daughter is starting out on a career as a fashion designer. Mr Harris is divorced and not speaking to his ex-wife and he would like one of our girls to accompany him to his daughter's first show since graduation. Would you be interested in that?”
“I can't see the connection, myself,” I said, “unless she's modelling scanty garments on a porn set.”
Rosie chuckled. “Believe me, that may be closer to the truth than you think. I've had a few tentative dealings with young Miss Harris in the past and she can be a little unconventional. So what do you say?”
“Yeah, it sounds interesting; I can't say I've ever been to a fashion show before, so it would be a new thing for me. Give me the details and I'll get in touch with him.”
Mr Harris turned out to be a rather portly gentleman in his mid-fifties, like Geoff. But the differences between the two men were striking: Mr Harris insisted on being called 'Mr Harris' and did not dress at all well, an irony considering that his daughter was in the fashion business. In fact, I'd say he was downright untidy in his ill-fitting blue blazer and linen trousers, like an escapee from a down-market yacht club. Nor did he show any signs of being at all wealthy, which was unexpected given that he was using a pretty exclusive escort agency, and had been using it for some time. I was only glad that Rosie could vouch for him and would guarantee my assignment fee.
The show that Miss Harris was giving took place one Wednesday afternoon in an Edinburgh hotel. She was one of half a dozen or so new designers that day, the rising talent that the scouts would be checking out. The guests, photographers, reporters and assorted hangers-on occupied the front rows around the catwalk, while members of the public sat behind us in three or four tiers. So it was busy, but not exactly crowded. I had expected glamour and glitz, but Mr Harris was not entirely out of place in his shabby clothes; the reporters and photographers in particular had made no effort at all to glam themselves up. I was feeling decidedly overdressed in my smart black pleated skirt and cream blouse, but at least Mr Harris was pleased: he strutted around with me on his arm, keen to make sure that everyone saw him accompanied by a doting, very young, very pretty Asian girl. Of course, I played my part perfectly; goodness knows what everyone made of me. They probably thought I was his mail-order Thai bride. But I didn't mind; it was all part of the game for me. Mr Harris had purchased an illusion, and I was happy to fulfil it.
The show itself passed fairly quickly, a rapid succession of models in outfits ranging from the humdrum to the bizarre, depending on the designer. Miss Harris turned out to be a designer of very slinky, sexy lingerie, and this was certainly the best part of the show for me, and I suspect for a lot of the others. Whatever the merits or demerits of her clothes, it was such fun to watch slim, leggy models strutting up and down the catwalk in very little clothing and to admire their toned bodies. Beside me, Mr Harris squirmed a little uncomfortably; I'm not sure he knew his daughter had this sexy imagination. But I held his arm and stroked his hand and looked fondly into his eyes as if to say: “Who's got a clever daughter, then? I'm so proud of you.”
At the end of the show, the designers took a bow and Mr Harris and I went backstage to meet them. Naturally, the first person we spoke to was his daughter.
“Daddy,” she cried delightedly, “I'm so glad you could make it. What did you think?”
“Very good, darling, very good. But of course I'm biased; perhaps you'd get a truer opinion from my friend Evelyn, here.”
“Delighted to meet you, Evelyn, Daddy's told me such a lot about you.”
“He has?” I wondered to myself. That was quick work; I had only spoken to him on the phone for the first time about four days earlier. Still, I'm not going to break his dreams today.
“Has he now? And I don't even know your name.”
“Oh, Daddy, you are awful. I'm Holly,” she said. “I hope we'll be great friends.”
“Pleased to meet you, Holly,” I said offering her my dainty hand.
She took it and squeezed a little, looking straight into my eyes as she said, “You're very beautiful. You're much too good for Daddy.”
Something about her touch and her gaze sent a shiver through me, a shiver of pleasure and anticipation. She was a very pretty young girl, probably two or three years older than me; she had on tight-fitting frayed jeans and a sparkly top that emphasised her full, round breasts; her red hair tumbled down in ringlets onto her shoulders.
“So, did you like my show, Evelyn?”
“Very much indeed; you clearly have an eye for form-fitting lingerie.”
“Thanks. Listen, a few of us are having a bit of a party afterwards, would you care to join us? It'll be a kind of private viewing; who knows, maybe you could try on some of my things?”
“Sure,” I said, “Sounds like fun. I'm not sure what your father will think, though.” I was struggling to know what to call him, since he had obviously talked me up quite a bit and it would have been most odd if I'd carried on calling him 'Mr Harris,' especially if she thought we were in some sort of relationship.
“Oh, don't mind him. He'll sit in a corner and watch; as usual. Won't you, Mr Harris?”
This was beginning to sound a bit odd, but I was happy to go along with it as long as my paying partner was. So eventually we found ourselves in another private room with half a dozen of the models, a couple of photographers, Holly and Mr Harris, and no one else. The lights were rather dim, and Mr Harris, who had clearly been to something like this before, sank into a corner seat by himself. Holly took my hand and sat next to me, touching my legs and letting her hand roam under my skirt. I parted my legs to give her easier access, enjoying the feel of her fingers on my thigh. I figured that as her father was paying, it was my job to play along. Truth to tell, however, I was getting quite turned on by this young red-head; her forward attitude was very refreshing, and being surrounded by skimpily clad models didn't hurt, either.
“Now then, Evelyn,” she said as we made ourselves comfortable. “The girls are going to show my designs again, but this time we're going to make it a bit more spicy. I think you'll like it.”
The models had by now started a little show of their own, pairing off to show off the clothes together, something that had not happened at the main event where they were all parading as individuals. What's more, they started touching each other and kissing and cuddling, while the photographers snapped away. Three pairs of girls wearing Holly's sexy lingerie posed for some soft-porn pictures, pouting at the cameras, flaunting their bodies; it was all very delightful, and I found it very erotic. I was getting more and more aroused as Holly's fingers found their way up my thighs and nearer my wet pussy.
Things then began to get a bit steamier. Two of the girls, still wearing bra and panties, stockings and heels, manoeuvred into a 69 and started to lick each other out for us all to see; the two guys were clicking away from all angles, but were soon so hard that they put their cameras down and took their dicks out. At this point it turned from a porn shoot to a live show. The girls were all too happy to start sucking the guys off, so Holly and I were treated to a real live sex show as we fondled each other. The guys were soon fucking the models in their mouths and their cunts; I watched fascinated as those beautiful girls took turns to fuck and suck; as there were six girls and only two guys, and as the girls were clearly feeling very randy, it wasn't long before we were treated to one girl being fucked from behind while she licked and sucked on another girl's pussy. Then one of the other girls came over and sat on the face of the girl being sucked. Three girls and one guy, it was so filthy. Needless to say, the other four did something similar. I didn't know where to look, it was all so amazing, but Holly's fingers had by now found my wet pussy and she was stroking me through my panties. The guys fucked hard, but with so much hot flesh before them they couldn't last out, and soon they withdrew as they were about to cum. I think they expected to cum on the girls' backs, but the girls in one group had other ideas, and the three of them quickly moved into position so that they could take the cum over their faces. Hot, thick cum shot all over their pretty lips and tongues. The girls were covered in spunk, which they proceeded to lick from each others' faces. One of the guys had the presence of mind to grab his camera and catch that on film. Both groups ended up with the girls sticky with cum on their faces and the guys with grins as broad as you like.
While all this was going on, Holly had quickly undressed me and somehow managed to get her own clothes off at the same time. We fingered each other with gay abandon as the guys and girls fucked harder and sprayed cum all over the place. I simply lost track of time, but Holly at one point had her tongue deep inside me as she tongue-fucked me to a climax. I returned the compliment and was interested to see that her pussy hair was as red as the hair on her head. Then, taking a pair of her own panties, she wiped the juice first from my cunt and then from hers. One of the models had also taken a pair of panties and wiped spunk on them, and she threw them for Holly to catch – a souvenir of the climax of the show.
Meanwhile, Mr Harris had been observing all this quietly in the corner, and eventually got his cock out and started wanking. He had been watching intently as Holly and I licked each other out, and though he was the last in the room to cum, he managed to finish off in style by shooting a big load into a bra that he'd grabbed from one of the girls. Holly didn't bat an eyelid, and I couldn't help but wonder exactly what they thought about each other.
Finally I did get to try on some of the discarded lingerie, the photographers snapping me in a solo set and then with Holly. I now have an album of raunchy pics to add to the one I started with and which I can use for my own masturbation pleasure.
Mr Harris was quite the gentleman and accompanied me home, not saying a word about what had gone on that afternoon. I never did get to the bottom of that odd relationship with his daughter. And a few days later, a small package arrived in the post: a pair of the panties modelled at the show, stiff with cum and who knows what else, and a card saying simply, “Love, Holly xx” I had a great session masturbating to my pictures while holding those panties to my face. Every new assignment so far had brought a different private experience, and I couldn't wait for my next one.
Mhairi
- 18.04.2020
- 17
- 0
