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Photo Op free porn video
Photo Op
By Cal Y. Pygia
Stanley Lewis pulled his Toyota Corolla into the Arco gas
station, parking behind the red Mustang convertible. The
driver, a leggy blonde in a mini-skirt, was refueling her
vehicle. Stanley had been driving all morning, having
started in Kingman, Arizona, completing the final leg of his
trip from Farmersville, Kansas, to Las Vegas, Nevada. He was
hot. He was tired. He welcomed the opportunity for a little
rest, especially when such a gorgeous babe as the leggy
blonde gave him something worth looking at while he relaxed.
Reclining his seat, he smiled as the blonde glanced at him.
He'd expected her to ignore him. When, instead, she smiled
back, showing perfect white teeth between her glossy pink
lips, Stanley's heart fluttered and his pulse raced. It was
unusually windy, and Stanley noticed the way that the breeze
played with the hem of the blonde's skirt, causing the
garment to flutter against her thighs and, once or twice, to
blow upward, revealing a glimpse of the smooth, creamy-pink
flesh between her knees and her hips. Unfortunately, the
wind hadn't blown the skirt high enough to disclose the
young woman's panties, but Stanley watched closely, waiting
and hoping that his vigilance would be rewarded by a glimpse
of the silk or satin underwear the blonde babe no doubt wore
beneath the scant skirt.
Somehow, Stanley knew that she didn't wear cotton panties. A
babe like this would wear silk, satin, or - he smiled at the
thought - nothing at all! From Kansas to Nevada, Stanley
had snapped photographs of points of interest and scenic
views, but he hadn't shot anything as interesting or a
scenic as the leggy blonde in the short skirt who was
pumping gas in front of him, smiling her dazzling white
smile and exhibiting her tan, shapely legs. He wished he
hadn't packed his camera. The greatest photo op wasn't the
Grand Canyon or the Las Vegas Strip; it was this blonde
bombshell.
He shrugged. At least, he could enjoy watching her. If he
couldn't photograph her, he could damn well commit the sight
of her gorgeous face and her splendid body to memory. The
blonde, who had been facing Stanley, stepped over the hose
that stretched between her car and the gas pump, revealing a
long stretch of thigh, and stood with her back toward her
ogling admirer. She'd changed her position on purpose,
Stanley thought, giving him he chance to appreciate her
round bottom, just as he'd admired her bountiful bosom,
narrow hips, and long, tapering legs. Stanley smiled,
wondering whether the blonde was a chorus girl or an exotic
dancer. Maybe she was a stripper. She sure knew how to put
on a show.
Another breeze ruffled her mini-skirt. It flounced about her
upper thighs but, alas, failed to lift the thin material
high enough to permit Stanley a view of the blonde's
panties. He was almost positive they weren't cotton. They
had to be silk or satin. He was dying to know which it was
and whether the panties were briefs, bikinis, or (please,
God!) a pair of thongs. Maybe, they were even crotchless!
For the first time ever, Stanley was glad the price of
gasoline had skyrocketed. With the taxes that the federal,
state, and local governments insisted upon levying on
gasoline and because of OPEC's refusal to sell more than a
minimum number of barrels of its petroleum and because of
American oil companies' greed, gas prices had soared to the
point that it cost thirty or forty dollars and took up to
ten minutes to fill a tank.
High gas prices gave Stanley an extended view of the
blonde's ass while the breeze, playing with the hem of her
mini-skirt, further teased Stanley with glimpses of her
sleek, firm thighs. Again, he wished he hadn't packed his
camera. It was a shame to miss a photo op like this! Would
her panties be black? Red? Pink? Orange? Lavender? Blue?
Green? Would they be festooned with ribbons and decorated
with lace? Maybe they were monogrammed with her initials.
Stanley's cock stiffened and swelled as he thought of the
beautiful blonde's ample breasts, narrow hips, firm, compact
ass and long, tapering legs. He couldn't help but get hard
as he imagined the silk or satin panties she wore beneath
the fluttering mini-skirt.
He willed the breeze to blow harder. He prayed that God
would grant his wish to see the blonde's panties. He shifted
on the seat, his erection uncomfortable inside the confines
of his tight jeans. He wished he could whip it out, here and
now, and masturbate while he watched the young woman, but he
dared not. There were other people around, after all and,
for all he knew, the premises were under surveillance by
video cameras. He dared not take out his cock - but there
was no reason he couldn't massage it through the heavy denim
of his jeans. He placed his hand over the mound beneath his
zipper and squeezed his thick cock and the taut clump of his
balls, rubbing his genitals with his thumb and fingers.
His chest expanded and he gritted his teeth as a flood of
euphoria swept through him, his loins awash with pleasure
and excitement. A soft moan escaped his lips. The blonde
stepped back over the hose. Apparently, her tank was full
and the pump had shut itself off, because she removed the
nozzle and replaced it in the lever on the side of the pump.
Then she screwed the gas cap back in place. She gave Stanley
another bright smile. Oh, don't go! Stanley thought. He was
about ready to come. It wasn't fair for her to just go off
and leave him with an erection. A sudden gust of wind blew
hard across the gas station's lot, and the blonde 's mini-
skirt flew up, around her hips.
Stanley's eyes widened. His mouth gaped. In place of the
cleft of a the female sex, the blonde had a cock and a pair
of balls beneath her - or his - neatly trimmed pubic hair!
Despite her lovely face, her bountiful breasts, her firm,
round ass, and her smooth, tapering legs, she was a he!
This was the first transsexual Stanley had ever encountered
other than through a photograph and he wasn't sure what to
think or how to feel. Should he be repulsed? Attracted?
Excited? Did the fact that he had been aroused by such a
creature mean that he was gay? The question as to how he
should feel was answered by his cock which, despite the
presence of the blonde's cock and balls - or, perhaps
because of them - not only remained rigid and swollen but
also stiffened further, becoming rock hard.
He was obviously excited by the gorgeous shemale. Was he
gay? The shemale didn't force the skirt down. She let it
flutter about her hips, exposing her male genitals. She
wasn't ashamed of them. She was proud of her cock and balls.
She was pleased to exhibit them to Stanley or anyone else
who happened to glance her way. Stanley supposed that he
should be turned off by the incongruity of the blonde's
feminine good looks, her womanly breasts and ass, her long,
sleek legs, and her manly cock and balls. He supposed he
should be find such a combination of sexual characteristics
bizarre and disgusting. He supposed he should think the
blonde beauty an ugly monstrosity.
He didn't. Instead, he found her extraordinarily beautiful
and sexy. If that meant that he was gay, he thought, so be
it. Stanley continued to rub his thick, rigid prick through
the tight denim of his jeans. Another soft moan escaped his
lips as he felt the rush or orgasm; his penis convulsed
inside his pants, spewing his thick, warm semen inside his
briefs, over his pubes. It was the best, most satisfying
orgasm he'd ever had. He had no doubt he'd have others,
equally satisfying - many, many others - as he remembered
the gorgeous blonde with the fabulous, feminine figure and
the manly cock and balls.
The wind subsided, and the blonde's skirt fell back into
place around her thighs, concealing her cute little penis
and the small pouch of her scrotum. She smiled broadly,
flashing her white teeth between her luscious pink lips and,
with a final wave, climbed into her Mustang and drove away
leaving Stanley with but one regret. He really wished he
hadn't packed his camera. After all, a photo op like this
one didn't come along every day.
Anastasia
- 15.08.2020
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