Dirty Pictures free porn video

Dirty Pictures ? by: Ronnie Rho I looked in the mirror at my nude form and sighed. Things had really gotten out of hand. I never had much in the way of a physique, but this was ridiculous. My thighs were starting to rub together when I walked. My toes just barely peeked out past my belly. Hell, I was even starting to develop breasts. Breasts! Like those fat guys you see on the beach; the ones you wish didn't take their shirts off, and cringed when they did. I figured all those parties during college, and all the weekends in front of the tube, beer in hand must be to blame. When I gave up smoking, I took up eating, as many people do. All of that, and I got no exercise whatsoever. I suppose I had come to rely on my metabolism to keep me slim. I didn't have the build for a fat guy. I was tall and, as a youth, slender. Slender to the point of being gangly. Fat just looked funny on me. For about 10 minutes I forced myself to stare at the mirror, psyching myself up for what I knew had to be done. I had to get into shape. "It's now or never. If I wait any longer, it'll just get worse." I tried walking, but soon got bored with it. Tried jogging, but my joints hurt. It was starting to turn cold as winter set in, so I did what I didn't want to have to do. I joined a gym. It always seemed silly to me, paying someone else so you could sweat. I could sweat for free, but I guess that kind of thinking got me in this state. I signed up at the local Y, and paid my debt. Found some decent workout shorts, some sweats and shoes, and even dug up my old high school athletic supporter. It didn't get a whole lot of use then, so it was in pretty good condition. Every evening, for 3 days I toiled. For an hour each night, I walked and jogged, rode the exercise bike, did sit-ups, lifted weights and watched the other patrons. Everyone else was in pretty decent shape, so I tried to go towards closing time. The fewer people that saw me, the better. It was that third evening, I was sitting in the sauna, waiting for my heart to stop racing, and for some of the evening's sweat to evaporate, when the door opened. I thought I had the facility pretty much to myself, but was wrong. He must have thought the same thing, because he stopped at the door, "Oh, sorry." "You're fine. C'mon in. Plenty of room," I said, sweeping my hand across the cubicle. He laughed, "To think of it, if this were wartime, they'd probably stick prisoners in here." The room wasn't very big, only about 10'x10', with two rows of wooden benches, one higher than the other. The heat came out of a pile of rocks in the third corner, and the door was in the fourth. I sat in the corner with my back against the wall. He walked in and took the other corner. We sat in silence for a moment or two, and I was beginning to feel ackward, not knowing if strangers struck up conversations in these situations or not. I was about to stretch and leave when he said, plain as day, "You have nice breasts." Did he say what I thought he said? My jaw dropped, my eyes squinted, and I leaned towards him, thinking he'd repeat it. He didn't disappoint. "You have nice breasts." I was dumbfounded. I wasn't sure if I should hit him, turn red and leave, or thank him. I was about to run, when he stretched out his hand and ran it across my left breast, his index finger coming to rest on my nipple. Still unsure of how to handle this, I froze. "Have you considered implants?" he asked. His finger moved slightly, and my nipple hardened. This was something else. I suddenly realized what was happening. He was hitting on me. Me! An overweight, fish-belly-white slob who never entertained a non-heterosexual thought in my life! "Ummmmmm. No. Thanks, but, no thanks. Not my thing," I muttered as I stood up. He had a better build than I did, and while I weighed more, he could probably inflict a lot more pain. Manners were probably the best thing in this case. I stood up and stepped towards the door, apologizing as I left. "I'm sorry," he said, "I thought you were a candidate for S.R.S, or were on H.R.T. My apologies." "S-R-S?" I asked, "Wha?" I paused at the door, curious. I never had a man hit on me before, and while I wasn't about to burn my Pamela Anderson Playboy, I did want to know what the Hell he was talking about. "You don't know, do you? I'm sorry. You just looked so natural." My confusion must have been obvious, as he added, "Wait for me in the parking lot. All will be explained." He smiled. This guy did have a good smile, the kind that melted the hearts of both single and married women, and probably opened a few doors in the business world as well. He was probably 6'1", 195 pounds, with a dark complexion; vaguely ethnic, but mixed so well, you couldn't narrow it down to one part of the world. "Uh?okay," I said, and left. I hurried into the locker room, thankful it was empty. I'm sure I was blushing, but wasn't sure why. As I hurried through the shower, I realized both my nipples were hard, and my dick was in a semi-aroused state. What a dilemma! Turn on the cold water to get rid of one, and my nipples would stand out. Turn on the warm water, and risk getting a bigger boner. I thanked my lucky stars the shower stalls remained empty. The last thing I needed was this guy coming into the shower, finding me in this condition and taking it upon himself to deflower me. The more I thought about it, the less comfortable I became with what happened in the sauna. I didn't want to meet him in the parking lot, or anywhere else. He didn't come into the shower, and wasn't in with the lockers as I hurriedly got dressed. Just try to get out alive, and maybe find another gym tomorrow. This one was a little too weird for me. As I left the building, and strolled into the nearly deserted parking lot, I saw him. There were only two cars. Parked next to each other. He was sitting on the hood of his, waiting for me. He must have gotten dressed quickly while I was showering. I looked around. It was late and nobody else was visible, but I figured, the lot was well-lit and I could always holler for help, and run back to the front desk for help. He smiled and stood up. "I'm Roberto," he said offering his right hand. His left hand held a large manila envelope. I accepted the hand and shook it gingerly, not stepping too closely. "You're probably a little shook by our conversation, and I'm sorry." He really did have a disarming smile. I'd bet he got out of a lot of difficult situations simply by grinning. "These should answer your questions. And if you have more, my number is listed on the front." Roberto handed it over. "Once again, I am sorry. I'll leave now, and you can go on your merry way. If you don't call, or we don't meet again, don't worry about it." With that, he smiled again, got into his red BMW coupe and drove off. I drove home, curious about what was in the envelope, but not wanting to see. Partly afraid, and partly desperate to know just what it was he was talking about. At home, I rushed in, threw my gym bag down by the door, ignored the cats, and plopped down on the couch. I took a deep breath and opened the envelope. It didn't explode. That was a good sign. I peered into the opening and saw several photographs. Reaching in, I carefully picked one between my fingers and pulled it out. It was a woman; A beautiful woman. And she was naked. Big dark eyes, black, curly hair reaching past her shoulders to her lovely, wonderfully rounded breasts. She was the kind of girl I always wanted to date, but never met. I continued to slide the photo out, admiring the curve of her waist into her hips. She was a doll all right. From the soft tan skin to her warm, red lips. From those lovely breasts to her penis. Oh my God. She either had the world's largest clitoris, or I was looking at something previously unimagined. She was a man. I looked carefully, to see if it was a joke or a trick, but I couldn't tell. It wasn't the biggest cock, and I guessed if I were to fake something like this for a laugh, I'd have made her hung. I dumped out the other pictures. They were of other women, but all of them were with cock too. There were a couple of blondes, a redhead, and two more of the first girl. It was then I realized I was turned-on. I ran to my room and masterbated to that first picture. When I was done, I felt dirty, and stuffed the photos back in the envelope. Was I gay? Was I a pervert? I didn't know, but even though I felt guilty for being attracted to the person in the picture, I couldn't get her out of my head. For the hours I laid in bed, unable to think, I wondered. I wondered who I was, I wondered who she was, and why I was so horny when I thought of her. I resolved to call the mystery man and ask him. He was sure to have some kind of answers. I made it to sleep sometime in the wee hours, and I went through work on cruise control. My job at a small ad agency allows me some leeway. If I'm tired, sick or just lazy, I can get by saying I have writer's block. When I got home from work, I called the number on the envelope. He answered, and I was unsure of how to proceed. "Hi, Roberto, I, uh?.We met last night at the gym?" I stammered. "Yes. How are you?" he asked. "Did you like those pictures?" More stammering from me. "Uh, yeah. I did. Um? Can we meet or something? I'd kinda like to talk." "Sure," he said, full of confidence. "I'll bring you some more pictures" He was already sitting at a corner table when I got to the bar. Another manila envelope sat before him. We made small talk just briefly before he cut to the chase. "You liked what you saw, but feel guilty about it, don't you?" I nodded. "You shouldn't," he continued. "A lot of men do. But unfortunately, they are also afraid to admit it." "But I still don't understand," I interrupted. "What did these pictures have to do with me? You mentioned HRT and SR-" "S," he finished. I thought you were a candidate for surgery. Your physique led me to believe you were on Hormone Replacement Therapy. Your breasts are similar to some of these models. I hope you're not insulted." "You thought I was going to become a woman?! I, I--," I was at a loss for words. The thought of being like those beautiful creatures had not occurred to me until now. I felt my cock stirring again and hoped we wouldn't leave anytime soon. Roberto must have known what I was thinking. "Would you like to have breasts like those? You have a good start." A gentle, warm smile crossed his face. His brown eyes gazed into mine, and if he wasn't sincere, he was a damn good liar. "Such a change doesn't have to be drastic. Like I said, you've already got a good start." "What would it cost? Do I have to sleep with you or anything?" He laughed, "No. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, and you can continue your life as you already know it. It won't cost a thing. I'm just talking about a little bit of specialized exercise, to encourage growth and reduction in all the right places. And you're doing that already, aren't you?" Roberto put me through the paces. He was quite the coach. Lots of situps to tone my tummy, hours on the stationary bike to burn calories, walking exercises and specialized free weights, designed to build up the pectorals. It was great. He kept me motivated by supplying me with a regular supply of photographs, didn't pressure me, and never made a pass at me. We talked during walks around the indoor track, and learned about each other. He was 36 and in the movie business: Writing, casting, directing and producing pictures. Married to a beautiful woman who Hollywood considered over the hill at age 32. She helped with his production company, where- ever needed. They had no kids because they felt Southern California, even away from the industry, was no place to grow up. Those photos he got me were incredible. I fantasized about being with the girls, sucking them, them sucking me, sucking each other, cumming on their tits, fucking them, getting fucked by them. The combinations were endless. After a while, I started dreaming about being like them. First, fantasies were about me in the shower, letting the water run through long hair, feeling my hard nipples with one long-nailed hand, my harder cock with the other. Then the daydreams shifted: Playing with one of the girls; playing with each other's tits, each other's cocks and each other's ass-pussies. In reality, Roberto was doing me a world of good. I had lost about 25 pounds over 4 months, and was firming up in the right places. My gut was no longer. My ass was tight, my legs sleek and my tits?. My tits were there. When I had started working out, they were almost floppy and closing in on a C-cup. They were no longer floppy, but they were there. Firm and pert, I was probably in the B-cup range, but they were better looking than before. They didn't look like a woman's breasts, but they were obviously out of place on a masculine male. In the sauna, Roberto teased, but I could see he was as proud of them as I was. I wore bulky sweaters and baggy shirts to work to hide them, lest they jut out and attract attention. I was already getting teased for letting my hair grow out. I had not been macho, but had always wore my hair short. This was an obvious change. Management chalked it up to 'creative license'. It was about this time that my fantasies changed. I started wondering about what it would be like to give my body over to a man. Looking like one of the dolls in my picture collection, made up, primped and coiffed. I masterbated nightly to thoughts of a faceless man kissing me on the lips, his arms around my curvy waist, hands kneeding my ass. He'd kiss his way down my neck to my C-cups, taking the nipples in his teeth and nibbling. He'd lay me back on the bed and sit over me as I sucked his hard cock until he sprayed cum in my red mouth, on my face and over my beautiful breasts. Then we'd cuddle for a while, kissing until he got hard again. He'd lie on top of me, I'd spread my legs and he'd enter, fucking me until the sun came up. One night, while stroking my rod and my nipples, I dreamt he went down on me, deep throating my rod. I arched my back as I could almost feel his tongue sneaking out to touch my balls, and his finger probing my hole. When I came, and was satisfied my dream lover looked up at me. He had the face of Roberto. I had fallen for my mentor. Another sleepless night! For hours, I wrestled with what to do. I wasn't sure if it was love or not, but I did want him. In the shower, one couldn't help but notice his slim, muscular body, his cock, his buns. But he was happily married, and except for the steady supply of she-male pictures, had never shown any desire to have anything but a straight-up, heterosexual relationship. Weighing my options, I decided that I couldn't do anything. If Roberto wanted me for something other than friendship, he had plenty of opportunities. He had done a lot for me, and even beyond the sexual desire I felt, I liked him. I couldn't jeopardize that. It wasn't easy hiding my crush, as I came to call it, but I managed. As we worked out, we talked of baseball, of politics, and current events. Anything to keep my mind off throwing him to the ground and humping him. About two weeks into my torture, he asked me for a favor. We were winding down in the sauna when he turned to me. "John, um..I don't know how to ask you this, but?," This was the first time I ever heard him stutter. My heart raced as one possibility came to mind: Was he feeling the same thing as I? "My brother is moving to town. I was wondering if you'd, um, go out with him?.?" My heart dropped. I felt like I had when, as a boy, I watched my dog run out in the street after a ball I had thrown. He was hit by a station wagon. "Sure. When?" If nothing else, I was pretty good at hiding my feelings. "There's a catch though," he smiled, and I healed. That smile of his was powerful enough to refloat the Titanic. It was so powerful, I almost didn't hear what came next. As it was, I was charmed enough not to resist. "He's gay, but he's also closeted, because of his job. We thought maybe you could go in drag." His words came out faster now, as he explained the plot. "We've got it all figured out. Sheri will give you a makeover and help you dress. We'll take care of all the expenses. You don't have to sleep with him or anything like that. It'll just be us four, out for a good time. You haven't met Sheri, and I think you two will like each other. "I like you, John. You're good people," he said as he put his arm around me. I know we've kinda kept our private lives private, but I think of you as a friend." I said yes, much to his delight, figuring, "Why not?" By our next workout session, he had received instructions from Sheri to pass along to me. The date was set for Saturday: today was Wednesday. I spent the next day wondering about what I would look like, actually dressed in drag. Once I had an image down, I fantasized. Mainly about seducing Roberto, being his woman, stealing him from Sheri. Living happily ever after. They were good dreams. Friday night, as per Sheri's instructions, I stepped into the bathroom and coated my chest, arms, underarms and legs with depilatory cream. I waited until it started tingling, and stepped in the shower. I watched in amazement as the hair slid off my body and clogged the drain. "It worked! Unbelievable!" I muttered to nobody in particular. As I tried to clear the drain, I noticed the feeling of the bare skin. I was reminded of my first girlfriend. Her 16-year-old skin felt just as soft, and I again was turned on. There was another element for my masterbatory fantasies. Saturday morning, as instructed, I drove to the nice section of town, up in the hills. I found Roberto and Sheri's house without much difficulty. She met me at the door, and instantly I felt guilty for dreaming of stealing him away. Hers was different, but it was still a powerful smile. While Roberto's was charming, Sheri's was beaming bright with warmth and friendliness. God! I was falling in love with both of them! If that wasn't twisted, I didn't know what was. She welcomed me in, and we sat for a while chatting over coffee. Roberto was right. I did like her, and she seemed to like me. She was blond, about 5'4", and busty. Gregarious didn't begin to describe her, but unlike other actresses I had met, Sheri's conversation didn't revolve around herself. She asked me all kinds of questions, and I was opening up without realizing it. I almost spilled the beans about my crush, but I think she sensed it without the words. I also don't think it bothered her. Sheri was confident in her love with Roberto. I felt a warm jealousy toward her. Envious of what she had, but not spiteful. Roberto was helping his brother move, and the two of them would get ready for the date at Henry's. "It's just like an old-fashioned date!" she giggled. After about an hour of conversation, she leapt up and declared that we better get to work. We went downstairs to the den where she had laid out all kinds of makeup bags, hairbrushes, curling irons, garment bags, shoeboxes and mirrors. "Well, you'd better strip," she said plainly. Her posture, hands on the hips, suggested that this was just business. "Don't be shy. I've seen it all." I hesitated out of habit, until I realized I had nothing to be ashamed about. I used to be overweight, but was now a lean, mean fighting machine. Excepting my additional breast tissue, I had the body of, well, someone attractive. Once I was naked, she led me to the bathroom, where she gave me the closest shave I ever had. The shave was followed by a bubble bath, a quick but erotic rub with baby oil and a hair-wash in the sink. When that done, Sheri led me back to the den, handed me a blue silk robe and sat me on a barstool. She spent an hour working on my hair: teasing, combing, spraying, curling and a little bit of coloring. As we waited for the curlers to set, I stood up and dropped the robe to the floor. Sheri took my measurements, wrote them down and dug through the garment bags. She held up a couple of swatches of cloth, next to my face to gauge the color, and wrote down more notes. Back on with the robe. then onto another, shorter chair. She turned a couple of lamps toward my face and started to paint. It was close quarters, and I was able to watch her intently. She was beautiful. I would have said Roberto was lucky, if I didn't know what a great guy he was. "You have some nice breasts," she said, reaching down to gently cup the left one. Her hands were warm, and soft, and the touch was sexual, but rather just friendly and curious. "Are you considering implants? No? That's a shame. You'd look pretty good with a larger chest." "Not as good as you," I laughed nervously. Even beneath her gray sweatshirt I could tell she had wonderful tits. "You like them?" She placed my hand on one. "They've been done, by Roberto's brother, actually. He does good work, doesn't he?" She was right. They did feel real. While this was all just casual to her, it wasn't to me. She noticed my growing excitement and changed the subject back to my family, wanting to know all about how my parents met. She was not only gorgeous, but a great conversationalist. After about two hours of experimenting with different shades and styles, Sheri was finally happy with the result. I tried, but she refused to let me see the mirror. "We shall sell no wine, before it's time," she said with that smile. We snacked on cheese, crackers and a vegetable tray, and sipped on wine. All the time, having a talk like we were old friends. At no time did I feel uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, she didn't give me time to think about it. She spent an hour attaching false nails. They were a muted maroon, and I was told, they matched my lipstick. Another hour on the hair, unrolling and more spraying, then came the cothing, A black corset. She pulled it tight! A gaff, to pull my dick and balls back so they wouldn't, "Get away from me," as she put it. It wasn't painful, but it sure wasn't something I'd care to wear often and a black satin underwear, with a matching pushup bra. Sheri gasped as she helped me adjust my chest flesh. I was spilling over the tops of the cups, just as it was designed. "Girlfriend, you may not need implants!" A black lace garter belt was next, followed by black stockings. The dress she held up against me was a purple coat dress, belted at the waist, with a plunging V-neck. "Not too slutty, but if someone wants to look, they'll see that lovely cleavage," she said with a wicked little grin. A couple of clip on dangling earrings, a simple bracelet and two-inch matching purple pumps completed the outfit. It was starting to get dark outside, as the late autumn sun set. "I have to get ready myself. There's a room at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. There's a full-length mirror in there so you can see yourself. I want you to walk there and back several times to get use to walking in the heels." She stepped back. "Not a bad job for the first time," she said, and leaned forward to hug me. "You're gorgeous, Hon! Now all we have to do is have fun, and that's the easy part!" She disappeared, and I almost sprinted down the hall, nearly falling as I went. She was right, walking in heels was going to take some practice. I took a deep breath and stepped before the mirror. I recognized myself, but I doubted anyone I knew from work would have. I wasn't exactly gorgeous, but I was attractive. I looked like the kind of girl that I would be more than happy to date and bed. Once I realized that, I was happy. A grin spread across my face, and that did it. The smile was the ultimate accessory: it made me a beautiful girl. Of course, the cleavage didn't hurt. I leaned toward the mirror and looked down my dress. Sheri was right. I did have a nice set of knockers. So much so that if I hadn't been tightly tucked away, I would have gotten extremely aroused and disrupted the whole feminine image. The next half-hour was spent walking, back and forth in front of the mirror, practicing my walk. Before I knew it, Sheri was ready. When someone is as pretty as she was, it never takes a lot of work to get beautiful. We spent the next 15 minutes practicing how a lady acts: how she sits, how she laughs, how she eats. Everything needed for me to be a perfect date. The boys picked us up right on time. They pulled up in Henry's Mercedes and I peeked out the window at them. They were brothers all right. No doubt about that! Henry was a little taller, a little more athletic looking, but he still had Roberto's good looks?, and then some. His short, dark, curly hair; his deep brown eyes; that smile! Sheri just smiled. "I know?I had the same reaction, and I didn't meet him until the day of my wedding!" The boys came in. Small talk and introductions were made all around over a glass of social lubricant and we were off. The night went by so quickly and so easily, I never had time to be nervous. Sheri kept me on a short leash, always nearby to correct a faux pas that could otherwise give me away to the rest of the population. And we did draw attention! Other patrons at the supper club seemed to stare like we were celebrities or something. It felt?magical. Henry was magical: Funny, intelligent, charming. I suppose they don't let anyone into med school unless they meet social criteria. I found myself liking him more and more and forgetting about that silly schoolgirl crush I had on Roberto. Through it all, Sheri knew. Her knowing looks all through dinner told me she understood. After the third glass of wine, I found myself touching Henry: putting my hand on his, rubbing his arm, leaning up against him. At that point, I knew I was going to bed with him. A tiny voice in the back of my head tried to protest, but was drowned out in the laughter at one of Henry's witticisms. Henry seemed to sense my thoughts, and after dinner and drinks, we dropped Roberto and Sheri off at their home under the pretense that it had been a long day. Once they were gone, I slid closer to him, put my arm under his, and rested my head on his shoulder. No words were spoken. None could have matched what I was feeling. At the first stop sign, he turned his head to mine and we locked sight. I tilted my head up and closed my eyes as he leaned down. There are turning points in everyone's lives. Some people have many. Some only need a few. Either way, there are times you can look back and identify one thing that changes everything. This kiss was one of those times. His lips were softer than I could have ever imagined; his breath twice as sweet. I had become accustomed to the taste of the color on my lips, but that taste was renewed as he kissed me. As a matter of fact, I became aware of everything; the smell of my perfume and his cologne, the cool night air kept at bay by the warmth of the car heater, the feel of the stockings against my skin, the strain of the undergarments, the weight of the earrings, the soft jazz on the radio, the strength behind his hand, now caressing my cheek. The kiss only lasted about 5 seconds, but the memory of it is something I'll take to my grave. I opened my eyes to his soft smile. "Would you like to come over to my house for the evening?" I asked. Once home, we stood in the living room and held each other. Kind of dancing, kind of not, we clutched each other and swayed to the music on the radio for about an hour. Occasionally, he would kiss me and sigh. "Would?you?. like to?.spend the night?" I stammered, as the wine wore off and reason started to return. He nodded and I led him by the hand to my bedroom. We kissed again, with more passion and more lust. His hands circled my waist and ran up and down my back. While this turned me on to no end, that tiny voice in my head had come back from coffee break. I made an agreement with myself, and had to see if he would agree. "I really, really like you Henry. And I do want you to spend the night, but could?." Words failed me. "How about if we just hold each other tonight, and see what the morning brings?" he whispered. Perfect! I turned the lights off and we kissed again, slowly undressing each other. Being the gentleman he was, he left my undergarments on. I left his boxer shorts on, knowing if he were naked, I'd lose all control, and probably hate myself in the morning. The morning found us wound up tight; cuddling closely. I'm sure I looked a mess with my hair all over the place, makeup smeared and lipstick on every part of my face except for my lips. But Henry didn't care. He smiled and kissed me as he did the night before: with passion. As his lips traveled all over my face, my cheeks and my neck, his hands kept busy. One stroking my breasts, exciting my nipples. The fingers of the other hand danced up and down my now naked back. I listened for that inner voice, and I heard it. It told me to go for it. I took the initiative, kissing my way down his neck, his chest, and his belly. I kissed my way down past his throbbing manhood, and kissed the inside of his legs. Between the hair and the smell of morning man, I should have been turned off, but I wasn't. Quite the contrary! As I took him in hand and kissed the head of his cock, he reached down. Henry grabbed my hips and pulled them toward him. My first blowjob was also going to be my first sixty-nine! In my life as a promiscuous male, I had found that the first time was usually a little ackward. Not like you see in the movies. Two strangers don't always know the best positions and end up shifting around a lot. This wasn't like that. Maybe it was the fact that I had fantasized so much about being with Roberto that I knew what to do. Maybe it was the fact that Henry was an accomplished and caring lover. Maybe it was destiny. Either way, my first time with a man was wonderful. I swallowed his penis, loving every sensation. The way it felt along my lips and tongue and in my hands, the way his pubic hair tickled my nose, and the way he tasted when he came. He knew how to give as well, no? better than I gave. His tongue took me to heights I didn't know existed in bed. His hands knew just how to caress my breasts; to make them feel every sensation as if he had practiced for years on them. I never knew how good lips on nipples felt, but Henry did. The only hesitation I felt was when he entered me. The pain was much like our first kiss. It seemed to last forever and hurt me as deeply as his kiss had lifted me. Both the ecstacy of the kiss and the pain of penatration only lasted about five seconds. But again, both deeply affected me. My inner voice was screaming! And just as it got going, "Oh my God! What was I thin---," he was in. MMmmmmmmmm. His cock touched me in ways that I can't begin to describe. I was drunk, stoned, and tripping all at the same time. This is what I was meant for. He was what I was meant for. Epilogue: A different direction. We made love several times that day. And we saw each other at least three times a week for the month after that. Sheri and I spent the rest of our free time together. She taught me everything about making one's self beautiful, and gave me a number of other outfits from her wardrobe department. I was considering quitting my job and moving in to be Henry's wife when we had the Talk. Henry wanted me. He wanted me to have implants, but didn't want to pay for them. He said he didn't want me to feel obligated. I thought that was silly, but saw his point. Henry did pay for electrolysis on my face and chest, but wouldn't go further than that. We found a compromise. I would borrow the money from Roberto, and pay him back by working for him. You see, Roberto was in the picture business. The dirty picture business. He was a pornographer. That's where all those pictures he gave me came from. The girls, most of them anyway, where clients of Henry's, who went to Roberto to pay off their debts. This didn't really bother me, because he did love me, and both brothers agreed that I was the first girl of the group that Henry had slept with. I agreed and had the surgery done. Henry was good. They looked and felt real. I noticed a slight bit of jealousy in Sheri's reaction. (She got over it quickly.) The work started out easily enough. Pose for a few topless pictures, with Roberto on the camera and Sheri assisting. Then it was all nude. Then posing with another girl like me. Then came the simulated sex scenes between us, and then, with men. By this time, Henry and I had grown apart. I had paid back my debt and was starting to enjoy this new lifestyle. The money was good, and it was fun and easy work. I think he was jealous. He didn't care for me showing off my new boobs to the world, and frolicking with other men and women. Roberto, recognizing my enthusiasm, moved me from stills to video. I did it all, men, women, other girls. It was usually one or two photo shoots, and one video a month. I took to 'rehearsing' my sex scenes with my co- stars a night or two before a shoot. Finally, I met Maria. She was the girl, all those months ago, that unlocked the possibilities. Maria was the girl I fell for when Roberto first gave me an envelope full of dirty pictures. She had changed some. Maria had gone the distance and had the surgery. She was all woman now, but came back to the pictures because she liked the attention. I was able to hide my disappointment and told her of her being my inspiration. We had such a good rehearsal that we've moved in together. We maintain separate bedrooms, but still know how to snuggle. Roberto is happy. He's making money. Sheri is happy because he's happy. I'm still thinking about which one to seduce first. Henry and I still date every now and then, but we don't sleep together. It's just not the same, and we're both okay with that. I've found peace.