Finding Beauty in Ruins
On a lazy Sunday morning I wake to find you kneeling on the bed beside me, staring into my face, patiently waiting for me to wake up.
You are completely naked, your perky little breasts standing proudly. I reach for your delicious body, pull you to me and curl up with you under the warm covers.
Your body is so familiar. I am learning to sense your moods as if your skin can speak the words. This morning your body speaks of restlessness.
“I need an adventure.”
“What kind of adventure,” I ask.
“I don’t know. Something different… Something daring… Maybe something naughty…”
“I think I can find something that fits ‘different, daring and naughty’. How about dirty too?”
“Hmmmm.”
“Let’s have breakfast and a quick shower.”
“I already had a shower while you were sleeping. I missed you…”
“Awww,” I whine. “I wish you had waited for me. You know how much I like to shower with you!”
“I know… But if we had showered together, we would end up spending the day in bed.”
“Do you object to spending the day in bed?” I ask.
“No! Never! But today I want you to give me a new adventure. And you always have such good ideas for adventures…”
I smile as I run a few ideas through my mind.
“I’ll make breakfast while you shower,” you offer. “And think about our adventure, OK?”
“OK.”
You have learned what I like for a Sunday breakfast. As I step from the shower, the smell of frying bacon makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble.
I slip into my usual jeans and a plain black T-shirt and pad, barefoot into the kitchen.
You are wearing tight jeans that accentuate your lovely rounded ass and a plaid shirt.
On the table, a veritable breakfast feast awaits me; bacon and eggs, home fried potatoes, slices of tomato on the side, toast, marmalade and coffee.
I retrieve my laptop and open it on the table between us.
You look into my face trying to read my thoughts.
“What do you have in mind?”
“An adventure,” I reply simply. “I was thinking about the essay that you wrote about modelling and how you find it exciting to be naked in front of the camera.”
“I was serious when I wrote that essay. I love posing for you! I like my body. I never thought much about it before, but, since I saw the pictures that you took, I can see what you see. What I like most is watching your eyes when I’m your model. I like teasing you and exciting you. But I want something different today.”
“Let me show you what I have in mind.”
I shovel another forkful of delicious, dripping egg into my mouth as the computer fires up.
“Have a look at these images and tell me what you think.” I open a file called ‘Urban Decay’.
As you pore over the images, your expression becomes thoughtful. It begins to dawn on you exactly what I have in mind for our adventure.
The images are of abandoned and derelict buildings. There is a darkness about them. Natural light and shadow instead of studio lights give each image a feeling of desolation and cold, lonely reality. But the main subject of each image is a provocative girl posing nude, or partially nude, amongst the ruin.
As you scroll through the images, you begin to select pictures that intrigue you especially those in a sub folder named ‘Miru Kim’.
“These are interesting…” Then you click on the various videos about Miru Kim from YouTube that are in the folder.
I watch you closely as I continue eating breakfast. Your expression is intense. You are so distracted by the images that a forkful of food, half way to your mouth, is frozen in your hand.
“This girl is amazing! Can we do this?”
“I think so,” I reply. “But there are certain risks involved.”
“What kind of risks?”
“Well, getting caught for one.”
“What do you mean, ‘getting caught’?”
“Most of these abandoned places are still private property. We might be trespassing.”
You look thoughtful as you consider this. “Wouldn’t that be the daring part of the adventure?”
“I suppose so. There is also the danger. These kinds of places may not be all that safe. We would have to be very careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t want YOU to get hurt either!”
“We can do it as long as we are properly prepared.”
“Where would we go? We’re not going into the subways, are we?”
“No. As far as I know, there are no abandoned subway tunnels in this city. I do know of a couple of abandoned places in the city. Or we could drive into the country and find some abandoned barns or farm houses.”
“Let’s do something different. All of these pictures are of city places. It’s such a nice day. Let’s go out into the country to play. I think we would have more fun and less chance of getting caught.”
“Good idea. Getting out of the city with my favourite model is just what I need too!”
I grab a sports bag from the closet and gather some things that I think we might need and stuff them into the bag; hardhats, flashlight, camera, some energy bars.
“Have a look in the ‘tickle trunk’ and see if there is anything that you want to bring along,” I suggest.
You select the schoolgirl outfit, a black brocade corset with black panties, stockings and garter and a red sheer teddy with a red thong to match.
You are really inspired!
“What about these,” you ask as you hold up the Shibari ropes which bound you a few weeks ago.
“Ni shuo ne? What do you think?”
You don’t even notice my use of Chinese expressions anymore. They have become a natural part of our repartee.
You pull up an image on the laptop to show me.
“I think yes,” you reply as you stuff the cords into one of the pockets of the bag. “It might be fun!” I add a rolled up tatami mat to the collection of ‘goodies’ in the bag. “What’s that for?” “To keep your naked body clean,” I reply. You turn this over in your mind and, as images of yourself naked in the camera lens scroll through your mind, a grin lights up your face. “Should we bring some bananas?” You leer at me. I smile recalling one of your earliest essays. I remember the effect that the essay had on me and how you learned to suck cock by practising on a banana. “Up to you…” I grin. “I think yes. If we don’t use them in the pictures, we can have a snack or a picnic.” “A picnic is a great idea!” I grab a small cooler bag and add a bottle of wine, glasses, opener, plates, napkins, cutlery, some cheese and some leftover chicken and salad from last night’s supper. What better way to enjoy a day in the country! The tatami mat can serve as our picnic blanket. As we load the car, “I want to make a stop on the way and pick up something else.” “OK.” You have learned not to ask questions about such remarks. You have learned to enjoy the surprises that I give you when I am inspired. We stop at a work clothing store. Your expression is one of curiosity, but still you don’t ask. I find what I am looking for; full one-piece coveralls. As I hold one of the smaller sizes against you to measure the size, your eyebrows go up and your almond eyes look questioningly at me. “To keep your tickle trunk outfits clean.” I hand you a couple of sizes to try and with a smack to your backside, I steer you towards the changing room. “Go try them on!” You look reluctant as you close the door to the change room. In a few minutes, you emerge. The coveralls are loose fitting and hide the beautiful curves of your body. You don’t look happy. “They make me look frumpy,” you complain. “Well, they’re not meant to be high fashion. They’re meant to be practical.” “I don’t like them,” as you pull and tug at the ballooning seat and legs of the coveralls. “Wait a minute…” I search through the counters of coveralls and quickly discover that there is a selection specifically for women. We had selected from the men’s section. I take a couple of pairs to you. “Try these.” You look doubtful but, once again, disappear into the change room. After a few more minutes, you finally appear wearing a blue pair, which seem to be tailor made for your slim little body. Nice and tight across your ass, clinging to your legs and just tight enough across your breasts to accentuate the beautiful mounds that I love so much. There is even an elastic at the waist which gives shape to your whole body. You look at me with a sheepish smile. “I think these will do…” “I think so too,” I smile. “What about you? Don’t you need some too?” I hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I should get a pair too.” “I doubt that you will find a pair that fit like mine,” you tease stroking your hands down the sides of your body and, with your hands on your hips, pirouetting coquettishly. “Probably not…” I try on a couple of sizes and settle for a pair that is loose fitting so that I have the freedom to move about with the camera. I pay for our purchases and we head for the car. Before I can drive away, “Wait a minute,” you cry. You grab the bag with your coveralls and run back into the store. I am surprised. Why did you change your mind? A few minutes later you come bounding and skipping towards the car, grinning and wearing your new overalls. The zipper in front is pulled up to your throat and the tags have been removed. You toss the store bag into the back seat and stuff your hands into your pockets and pose this way and that. “What d’you think?” “Cute. Very cute.” You smile at my words. “I think so too. This is going to be fun!” I begin to drive, heading north out of the city. As you settle into your seat beside me, “Notice anything?” you ask. I look you over. “Just the most beautiful woman I know!” “You’re sweet.” You reach for the zipper and slide it down a couple of inches. “Notice anything?” you ask again. As the collar of the coveralls opens, I am rewarded with a glimpse of soft creamy skin at your throat. “Notice anything?” you persist as you slide the zipper even further down. I must be slow. As the zipper descends, I realize that your plaid shirt is nowhere to be seen. The zipper descends further and the sweet shadow of the cleavage between your breasts slowly comes into view. “How about now? Notice anything?” I grin like a teenager. My god, you have become so playful! “You like?” I nod my head. “I like!” You are such a distraction to my driving that I can only take quick glances in your direction. With each glance, your zipper descends even further until the full outline of your breast is visible. You can be such a tease! The zipper, blocked by your seatbelt, can go no further. I glance again and you grasp each side of the opening made by the zipper and flash your little tits at me. Your nipples are stiff and hard with excitement. My eyes reflect my desire, lust, hunger, for you. You laugh and zip back up! “You’ve seen enough! Now pay attention to the road!” “What made you think of this?” “You taught me to have fun on our adventures! And part of my fun is surprising you! And, of course, teasing you too!” You rub the area covering your breasts. “The fabric is a little rough on my nipples. I don’t think the designer thought of this when he made them! I can’t wait to get this off.” Grinning even more with the image in my mind, “I can’t wait either.” You scowl at me and slouch down in your seat. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” I reply as I turn down a rutted dirt road. Ahead, up on a rise in the land stands the remains of an old wooden barn. Half the roof has caved in but the walls seem sturdy. A rusted tractor sits abandoned at the side of the barn alongside other bits and pieces of old farm machinery.
By the big doors there is an old hand pump, cobwebbed and deep brown with rust. Swallows fly in and out of the loft at our approach indicating that they have made this derelict building their home.
I park as near to the building as possible. The bushes that have grown up along the rutted drive conceal the car well enough from the road. I sense that we can explore without being easily observed by passers-by.
The day is warm and you unzip the coveralls enough to stay cool yet not enough for my viewing pleasure.
I grab the camera from the bag. “Let’s look around a bit and see what we have to work with,” I suggest.
As we approach the barn, the yawning doors suggest that the interior is dark and gloomy. Maybe not enough light for photography. I don’t want to use the flash. I feel that the flash washes away the wonderful shadows that natural light creates.
Carefully I step inside. The floor has survived intact and seems strong. The thick boards that were used a hundred years or so ago were well chosen. The air smells of dust, musty, stale straw and decay.
The sunlight pours through the collapsed roof and dust motes float in the air.
There are so many nooks and corners that are half in shadow and half in sunlight that I know we have found a perfect location for our photo-shoot.
A wooden ladder leads up to the hay loft but it looks precarious. The weight of the decaying hay bales in the loft has partially collapsed the floor up there and I judge that it wouldn’t be safe to venture up or even underneath.
The first couple of rungs of the ladder seem strong, though, and the texture of the old ladder will make a good prop.
Old jars and cans full of rusted nails and screws line one of the dusty windows and there are some horse stalls along one of the walls.
There are so many possibilities here and you quickly appreciate the potential.
“Let’s get started,” you suggest and begin to strike poses in various spots around the open floor near the entrance. The light is behind you so I change positions as you play about.
I run through a few test shots to get the feel for the light and backdrops. You begin to show your naughty side as you turn your back to me and gaze back at the camera over your shoulder. When you slowly turn to face me, I notice that the zipper down the front of your coveralls is all the way to the bottom. The “V” shaped opening barely conceals your breasts and I can see a hint of each nipple.
The zipper is so low that I can also see a tuft of your cunt hair peeking through. It becomes more and more difficult for me to concentrate as my dick begins to stir in my jeans.
As you move about, changing poses, your breasts become fully exposed. You turn up the collar of the coveralls and hide your nipples with your elbows. The swell of your breasts is still evident and the pictures take on an air of mystery.
Reviewing the pictures quickly I realize that I have captured you perfectly. Trying to be impartial as I look at the pictures, I have a strong urge, as anyone would, to know what you are hiding. This, to me, is the perfect shot.
As I look back to you to take a few more test shots, you are nowhere to be seen. I call out your name, concerned that you might have become too adventurous and might be exploring in places that might not be safe.
“Here I am,” you call from the car.
“What are you doing?” I shout.
“Changing!”
I start towards the car.
“No! Don’t look! I don’t want you to see me naked,” you cry.
I chuckle at your modesty.
“I’ve seen you naked before!”
There is no reply so I leave you to your business and continue to explore around the outside of the barn.
Behind the barn is an abandoned farmhouse that looks to be almost intact. The windows are covered in dust and dirt and the paint is peeling. Some of the gingerbread fretwork over the gallery and under the peaked roof has fallen away; but, on the whole, the building looks sound.
The door is closed but the handle turns easily. The hinges squeal as I push the door open and enter. Bits of broken furniture lie about and the fireplace in the front room has cracked.
Down a short hallway is the kitchen. The early afternoon sunlight streams through the dirty, cracked windows. The old enamel sink is still in place and the taps are rusted shut. Cobwebs abound and the tiles over the sink are falling away revealing the plaster and lath behind.
It is obvious that we are not the first to visit this place since it was abandoned. Graffiti abounds on the walls up the stairway. There are three small bedrooms on the second floor but, surprisingly to a city dweller, no bathroom. The occupants must have relied on outdoor ‘plumbing’!
Sure enough, through the window of one of the back bedrooms, the flattened remains of an old outhouse can be seen. Probably a place best avoided. Falling into the hole would be disastrous.
One of the bedrooms has an old iron bed-frame which will make an interesting prop for photos.
As I poke around upstairs, I hear a timid knock on the front door.
“Who is it,” I call in a sing-song voice.
“It’s the farmer’s wife! May I come in?”
“Of course you may!”
I come down the staircase as you push the front door open on its groaning hinges. You are still wearing the blue coverall (which I am now beginning to think of as a jump-suit) and carrying the sports bag and rolled tatami mat.
“I thought you were going to change?”
“I did.”
“You look the same to me!”
“Be patient!”
It dawns on me that, as secluded as we are, you don’t want to risk being seen prancing across the fields in whatever it is that you are wearing underneath.
I smile inwardly.
You glance around the front room and down the hallway to the kitchen.
“What’s upstairs?”
“Bedrooms.”
You grin. “Let’s go upstairs. Is it safe?”
“Seems to be…”
In the corner of the front room is a dusty table. You unroll the mat on top of the table and put the bag on it to keep it clean.
Then you turn to me and with a saucy look on your face, you slowly unzip your coveralls. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, a new vision appears. Beneath is the little schoolgirl outfit.
The camera snaps image after image, over and over in quick succession.
“I’m home from school, Lao Shi.” You have already slipped into your role as my model as you peel off the coveralls.
“Then I think you should go up to your room and do your homework!”
You are wearing white knee socks and little white tennis shoes which enhance the entire look.
“Just be careful where you walk, OK?”
“I will. Thank you for looking after me, Lao Shi.”
‘Lao Shi’, Teacher, has become your pet name for me. It suits our favourite role-playing game perfectly.
As you move towards the staircase, you swish your little ass provocatively. The tiny plaid skirt swings side to side and is so short that I am treated to a flash of white panties with each step you take.
I am so distracted that the camera is almost forgotten. I recover quickly and set the camera to continuous shooting. The shutter snaps rapidly almost in video mode.
“Show me the way, Lao Shi.”
“Just go up the stairs. I’ll follow you.”
Your expression changes to mock surprise. The camera clicks again and again.
“But, Lao Shi! You will see my panties!” There is no admonition in your words. You are playing the role of innocent schoolgirl to the hilt.
“I’ll try not to look,” I reply as I peer through the viewfinder and capture that expression of innocence in your eyes.
You begin to climb the stairs and your panty-clad ass is revealed to me in all its glory. How can I do anything but stare in amazement? Your ass cheeks wiggle and I realize that you are putting on this show for me despite your protestations.
The camera lens snaps again. The stairwell is dark so I have to resort to using the flash. An explosion of light brightens the stairwell and you pause in your climb. Looking back over your shoulder and down at me, you smile.
“I’ve told you before, Lao Shi. It’s not nice to stare at a young lady’s panties.”
Your pause is intentional, though. You know that it takes a few moments for the flash to charge again after each shot and, as you resume your climb, your pace is much slower allowing me to snatch two or three more pictures of your delicious ass as you ascend.
The light through the windows of the upper story is much better and the flash becomes unnecessary. I watch through the viewfinder as you explore the three rooms, careful with your outfit to keep it clean. Your curiosity is natural and your expression changes from puzzlement to delight as you poke about and try to visualize the lives of the people who once lived here.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
I point to the back window and you peer out.
“Where?”
“It’s tumbled down now, but it was that little shack that you see in the backyard.”
“Really?”
I know that there are no outhouses like this in China so I describe what this one must have looked like and how it worked.
“Must have been be terrible in winter,” you decide. “I can’t imagine. Especially since I have to pee right now…”
“You’ll have to go in the bushes.”
“Ewwww. Sometimes I wish I was a man.”
“I’m glad you’re not,” I reply as you head down the stairs. “Be careful where you step! You’re shoes won’t protect your feet very well.”
“I will,” you shout back. “Don’t peek at me, OK?”
“I won’t!” I know you like your privacy at times like these. “Just be careful!”
“OK.”
I wait upstairs while you go about your business. In a few minutes I hear you moving about downstairs.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute.”
When you finally appear at the top of the stairs, you are once again wearing your blue jumpsuit and carrying the rolled tatami mat.
I know better than to ask questions. All will be revealed in your own good time. Literally revealed I soon discover.
You move toward the bedroom where the old iron bedstead is. I am about to follow when I am ordered to “Wait there until I call you.”
In the still of the early afternoon, I hear the zipper of your coveralls and the rustle of the cotton fabric as you peel off the covering layer to reveal… What? My imagination goes wild. Lately you have been full of unexpected and incredibly erotic surprises.
My cock stirs uncomfortably with my imagination. I should have changed into my own coveralls to give my cock some freedom. The pressure of my rising cock makes the front of my jeans bulge noticeably. I’m sure that you won’t miss an opportunity to tease me. You have had this same effect on me many times before and you still revel in my body’s response to your own erotic beauty.
“Ready!” you call.
I wait for a few moments. Then stealthily, as quietly as I can, I make my way to the doorway of the ruined bedroom. I don’t want you to know exactly when I enter. Sometimes capturing the surprised expression on your face makes a photograph feel more real.
You are wearing the black brocade corset that you had packed earlier. The contrast between the black fabric and your white skin is stunning.
Your back is to me. Your hands are on your hips, striking a pose. But, there is a feeling of impatience about your body. You expected me to announce my presence much sooner.
I wait.
After a few more moments, “Where are you,” you shout.
“Right here,” I reply in a normal voice.
Taken by surprise, your head whips about to look over your shoulder, and the camera rips off six or seven continuous shots.
“God, you scared me!”
“I intended to…”
“Hmmph.”
You resume your original pose and, with your hands on your hips you look over your shoulder so that your face is in profile.
Your body doesn’t move. I zoom in on your face and upper body as you flash through a variety of expressions; everything from playful, to saucy, to dreamy, to lusty, to erotic. I can only imagine what is in your mind to elicit these expressions.
As I step back for some full body shots you twitch your hips about. Below the hem of the corset, your ass, barely clad in a black thong, is jutting out invitingly. The black garter and stockings accentuate your legs. You are standing on the mat in your stocking feet.
The old abandoned bedstead, the dusty windows and the peeling wallpaper accent the scene with a feeling of old and new. The bedstead adds a hint of raw eroticism as only a bed could.
You allow your fingers to trace along the top of the headboard of the old bed and, somehow, your hands express a wanton lust. Your coal black eyes speak volumes; a burning lust inside you and a bed that cannot be used to satisfy it. Somehow, you have found a way to show the unfulfilled desire that needs release but the symbolic, desolate and destroyed bed denies you. And deeper in your eyes you have found a way to show a sense of emptiness.
Where are you? What are thinking about? Maybe you will tell me. Part of me is afraid to ask.
Almost as if returning from a dream, you come back to the here and now and, with an almost imperceptible shake of your head, you take up posing again.
Your face brightens and, slowly you turn about to face me.
The outfit that you have chosen is perfect for this setting. The corset pushes your full round breasts upward without covering them. Your dark little nipples peek above the bra-cups and the sweet mounds of your breasts ripple with their fullness as you move.
Your poses change from playfulness to erotic to slutty. You have found a friend in the camera and you play every role that your mind can conjure.
Your stocking feet restrict your movements to the small area covered by the clean mat on the floor. In a short while you become restless to move about the room and throughout the rest of the house. You slip on the little white tennis shoes that were part of your schoolgirl costume. I wish that we had thought to bring your tall black leather boots. They would have protected your feet and accented the black corset and stockings.
No matter. I can frame the pictures so that your feet don’t show.
Your face takes on a dreamy expression as you move about from room to room to room. Each of the bedrooms presents a different feeling. The light changes and the forgotten bits and pieces lying about in each room tell a different story. And, in each room, your body tells a different story as your moods change with your surroundings. Yet, the faraway look never leaves your eyes.
You ignore the camera, whether intentionally or otherwise. You are in your own world and I am only a follower. Yet, the images I capture with the camera somehow tell the story of what you are seeing in your mind.
The more you move about the more I sense your restlessness. Without a word, you return to the first bedroom and begin to strip off the corset, garter and stockings. My camera captures every move. Wearing only the very brief thong, you pull on the jumpsuit and zip it to a point just beneath the swell of your breasts. Even in covering yourself, you manage to retain a sense of sexuality. Your creamy breasts are visible but your taught little nipples are hidden.
You stuff everything into the bag and walk with a determined step towards the staircase.
“Let’s go…”
I follow without a question, without a word.
Your mind is made up. We are finished here.
Once outside, you walk directly to the car and begin to rummage about in the trunk. “Here. Put these on.” You toss my blue coveralls to me.
As I begin to pull the coveralls over my jeans and T-shirt, you look at me as if I should have read your thinking.
“No! Not like that! Like me. Nothing underneath!”
I know better than to question your thinking and kick out of the coveralls.
I strip down to my underpants and my excited cock is very evident as the tip pokes out at the top of the waistband.
You are watching me intently - through the camera’s viewfinder. I realize too late that you have been taking pictures of me as I stripped off.
“Pull out your cock.”
No sense in arguing. I slip my underpants down to my knees and my cock stands horizontal, stiff and hard.
“Now stroke it.”
All this time the camera lens is clicking rapidly.
I quickly glance about to be sure that we are truly alone and grasp my cock in my hand.
I realize that the background of these pictures is less than ideal. The open car door doesn’t lend itself well as a backdrop to such lurid images.
When I point this out, you look over the camera and a look of disappointment crosses your face.
“Let’s find a better place.”
“Let’s.”
“But you must promise that I can take more pictures of you.”
As much as I consider myself less than an ideal subject, I make the promise.
Besides, you like my body, especially my stiff cock. And, what you see in pictures of me excites you much more that it excites me.
I pull up my underpants and vainly try to stuff my rock hard prick back inside. As I climb back into the baggy coveralls, you retrieve the cooler bag and mat from the trunk.
“Let’s have some lunch and then play in the barn.”
Without waiting for an answer you stroll away towards the house once again. Instead of going inside you pass around to the back and follow a barely visible path towards a clump of old trees at the bottom of the old garden.
The shade of the trees has stunted the growth of the wild grasses surrounding them and the shade offers a cool respite from the sun. It is almost as if this place was purposely set here for us to enjoy.
When you spread the mat, it dawns on me that it is just about the same size as a double bed. Is this what was in your mind when you bought it?
Nevertheless, it is a perfect size to serve as a picnic blanket.
Although sparse, our lunch is enjoyable. Eating outdoors has a definite effect on the taste of food. The wine stayed cool thanks to the cold packs and blends perfectly with the cheese.
As I pack up the remains of our meal, you stretch languidly across the tatami mat. Lying on your back you begin to peel one of the bananas.
Your tongue flicks out over the tip and your eyes bore into mine.
I chuckle.
“What’s so funny”, you ask, your voice full of honeyed innocence.
“Ni shuo ne? What do you think?”
“Am I doing something wrong? Am I being naughty?”
Suddenly you insert the banana deep into your mouth, chomp down on it and begin to chew in a most exaggerated way.
The evocative image of your mouth on my cock is lost in an instant.
The expression on my face must have betrayed my emotions.
“What’s the matter? Did I scare you,” you laugh.
You can be such a tease.
The sweet smell of the grasses used to make the tatami mat envelope us. Suddenly I feel drowsy and lie back beside you.
You snuggle into the crook of my elbow and rest your head on my arm.
“Nap time?” you ask.
“Nap time,” I reply.
You unzip my coveralls down to my navel and slowly stroke my chest and nipples. But sleep quickly overtakes you and I feel your body relax as you drift off.
I am completely relaxed and soon join you in my own dream world.
I am startles awake by a tweak on my nipple. You are lying beside me on one elbow, your head propped by your hand. Your other hand calmly strokes the nipple that you pinched a moment ago.
“Wakey, wakey,” you smile.
“Hmmm,” I grunt. “How long did we sleep?”
“I don’t know. But, we are losing light if we want to go play in the barn…”
Sure enough, the shadows of the trees have lengthened and the afternoon light is far to the west. We may have already lost the light that earlier streamed through the broken roof of the barn.
Reluctantly, I gather myself together. It had been such a peaceful sleep so rudely broken by your pinch.
As I stand, I reach for you and gather you in my arms. You look up at me and smile. My hand reaches for your naked breast inside your open jumpsuit, but you push me away.
“Now now… A professional photographer shouldn’t do these things with his model.”
“I’m no professional and you are too tempting to resist.”
No longer restrained by my jeans, my cock makes a tent in the front of my coveralls.
You grab the camera and for the second time you command: “Pull out your cock.”
“We’re losing light in the barn,” I protest.
You glance skyward and, looking disappointed, “You promised,” you remark.
“I know I did. But I didn’t say when.”
“That’s not fair!”
I smile inwardly at my escape. “How about later when we get home?”
Again you glance at the lengthening shadows. “OK. But ‘later’ better mean tonight or I will be really angry with you! Do you promise?”
“I promise. But, if you are distracted for some reason and you forget, don’t blame me!”
“Why would I be distra…” The unfinished word hangs in the air as realization dawns. “Hmmm. You make me forget many things when you ‘distract’ me. Not tonight Mr. Photographer!”
I hug you again and whisper, “Don’t be so sure!”
We gather up the mat and the cooler bag and head towards the car and the barn.
“What should I wear now,” you ask as we approach the yawning doors of the barn.
“What else did you bring?”
“Just the red teddy. And I don’t think it is right for the barn.”
“Neither is the schoolgirl outfit. And we already shot you in the house wearing the black corset. The corset might be interesting though.”
“Why don’t I just stay in the coveralls? You know, like I am working in the barn? That might work.”
“OK. We can try. Or…” I let the unspoken suggestion hang.
“I know what you’re thinking! We’ll see…”
“What about the ‘Shibari’ ropes?” I suggest.
“No ropes. I like the feeling of freedom.”
As we enter the barn, you unzip your jumpsuit to your tummy button and begin to move about. I don’t have to guide you. You have an uncanny instinct for finding the right light and backdrop and moving slowly when you find a spot that enhances your body and mood. I only need to follow and shoot continuously. Experience has taught us both that out of a hundred pictures, only one or two can be called outstanding.
And we both strive to capture those ‘outstanding’ images.
As you move about the vast expanse of the barn’s interior, the top of your jumpsuit sometimes covers you and at other times completely reveals the woman beneath.
It is the in between, between when you are covered and when your breasts are exposed, that I want to capture this time. I like the mystery. The intense desire that such an image provokes in me, to imagine your unseen but hinted nakedness.
You climb the first few rungs of the ladder leading up to the hay loft. You climb about on the railings separating the old horse stalls. You spread the mat on the floor and kneel on all fours allowing your breasts to hang free. You peek into and then out of an old doorway leading to a dark storage room. You examine various bits and pieces around the barn, old tools, a broken oil lantern, a rusted horseshoe and the like. The look of curiosity on your face adds to the mood that I so much want to capture in the camera.
All I do is follow your lead, snapping the shutter time and again.
And, again, a sense of restlessness comes over you. You sit down on the mat and begin to shed your jumpsuit. Your beautiful body is slowly revealed, clad only in the black thong that is part of the corseted outfit that you wore earlier.
You pull on your little tennis shoes and prance across the floor. It is almost like any inhibitions that you may have harboured are shed along with your clothes.
I stand outside the barn and use the doorway as a huge frame for the pictures. The angle of the sun creates a dark interior background but keeps you well lighted as you move about, posing in the doorway.
You spot the old rusted water pump and use it as a prop, caressing it like a lover.
Suddenly you run off around the side of the barn and I can only capture two or three images of your departing bottom.
By the time I catch up, you are sitting astride the old tractor, fiddling with the steering wheel and the various levers.
Your instincts led you to this spot where the light is perfect! Again that look of curiosity is in your face as you play with the tractor’s controls – as if you are trying to understand the function of each. I move about, trying to find the right angle to capture your expression and your nakedness, both in the same image.
As you swing your legs over to climb down, your thong snags on something, and pulls and rips one of straps down the backside. Your thong, hanging by a slender strap across and between one ass-cheek, falls open, exposing the gash of your pussy.
“Fuck!” Your exclamation surprises me. Rarely do you use words like this except in the throws of lovemaking.
As you turn to examine the tear, I capture one incredible image of your frustration and the glorious mounds of your ass as you twist about examining the damage.
You look at me with a pout. “I really liked these panties!” Your voice is sad.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find you another pair.”
You wiggle your ass and let the remains of your panties slip down your leg to your ankle. With an angry kick you send the tattered garment flying through the air to land in a clump of nearby burdock.
With the exception of your little tennis shoes, your nakedness is complete.
You stand on the footstep of the tractor and raise one knee to rest your foot on the engine cover completely exposing your sweet little pussy to me. I move about, aiming the camera from various angles and shoot off more and more images. You are totally free with your movements. There is no shyness in you at all. You turn and lewdly arch your back into a wonderful curve from your neck, down your spine to your ass. As your ass thrust out, your swollen little cunt peeps from between your thighs.
“Oh god, I feel so free,” you cry. “I want you to take a thousand pictures of me like this! I want to see those pictures over and over. I want to remember this moment forever!”
The joy in your face is mesmerizing. You stroke your own body clutching and squeezing your breasts and pinching the nipples to rock-hardness.
You turn your back and again thrust your ass at the camera. Your grab handfuls of your ass cheeks; squeezing, kneading them. When your hands move aside, there are white marks left behind from the pressure of your fingers.
You are in a world of your own, enjoying your own body and sharing it with me through the lens of the camera. I am breathless at the sight, at the freedom you express and the utter sexuality of you.
A cloud crosses the sun and suddenly your awaken from your reverie. You cover yourself with your arms and hands. It is almost as if a switch went off and reality returned.
You jump down from the tractor and, start back towards the front of the barn and the car.
As you enter the barn to retrieve your jumpsuit and the mat, I capture a few more shots of your succulent naked ass as you bend over to pick up your belongings.
You sit on the mat and pull on your coveralls and when you stand, unlike any other time during this day, you zip up all the way to your throat.
It feels like the magic of the day is gone. It’s as if your Chinese ‘sensibility’ suddenly returned and a cloak of your old inhibitions descended on you.
You look at me and smile timidly.
“Are you OK,” I ask.
“Fine. Just tired. God I felt so free back there. But the cloud changed my feeling suddenly. It felt cold and made me shiver, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” I ask.
You skip towards me and, with one hand behind my neck you draw me down and kiss me.
“That’s all, Lao Shi. Honestly…”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
You kiss me again and the kiss is deep and reassuring. “I’m sure,” you repeat.
We head towards the car and pack up the bits and pieces that made today so full of joy and wonder and adventure.
It gets dark on the drive home. You sit quietly beside me slouched in your seat with your bare feet on the dashboard.
Almost unconsciously, you have unzipped the top of your jumpsuit and are idly fondling your breast. Your eyes are half closed.
Unaware that I am watching, your hand slips down into the lower part of your jumpsuit and a quick intake of your breath signals that you have found your cunt.
I try to concentrate on my driving and intently stare ahead to the road. I want you to feel free again and I don’t want you to know that I am watching. The pleasure that you are giving yourself excites me and, without thinking, I press a little harder on the accelerator. I want to be home quickly.
In the briefest of time, your hand moves rapidly and a quiet moan escapes your lips. Your body tenses, your ass squirms in the seat and your eyes widen. You exhale a long shuddering sigh and then your body relaxes once again.
You glance over at me with a guilty look on your face and I smile in the faint glow of the dash-lights.
“Were you watching me!” you cry in alarm.
I don’t answer but my smile gives away the truth.
“Oh, god, I’m so embarrassed!”
“Why? I enjoyed it almost as much as you did!”
“Hmmmph,” you grunt as you fold your arms across your breasts. Realizing that your zipper is all the way down, you zip up and throw me a scowl.
“Wait till I get you home,” you threaten.
“Then what?”
“Then I’m going to have a shower and you can scrub the dust and dirt from my body. Now I know what you meant when you said that this adventure would be ‘dirty’. Not exactly the kind of dirty that I imagined when we left this morning,” you chuckle.
My right foot presses a little harder on the accelerator. Home seems so far away when the promise of a frolic in the shower waits for me there.
“What if someone finds my panties back there,” you ask as an afterthought.
“Let them wonder…”
We drive for a while in silence, lost in our own thoughts and memories of the day.
“Can we talk about your mood this afternoon?”
“What mood?” you ask.
“Well, when we were shooting in the bedroom, you stroked your fingers along the old bedstead and you seemed to go off into another world. What were you thinking about?”
“It’s hard to explain. It was almost as if I had slipped back in time. When I touched the old bed frame, I felt like I had been in that bedroom before and made love in that bed. It was almost like I was trying to remember something that I had forgotten a long time ago. It felt like I was trying to remember something that I had lost but I couldn’t put my finger on just what it was. It felt empty and lonely.”
“Almost like being touched by a spirit still living in the old house?” I ask.
“Yeah, something like that. For a moment, I didn’t feel like me. I felt strange but the room felt familiar if that makes any sense…”
A little chill runs through your body and you retreat back into your own thoughts.
After a long pause, “It felt just like I had been there before. Almost like I belonged there.”
Another long silence.
“Hurry home. I need you to hold me. I need to know where I belong.”
“Where’s that?” I ask.
“At home. In your arms. In our bed. That’s where I always feel safe. And, for some reason, I need to feel safe.”
With one hand on the wheel, I reach over and squeeze your hand. “We’re nearly home.”
“Good.”
Photo Credits (this story): Image #5 “Derelict Places” by Tony Dudly /All other images are presumed to be in the public domain.
Miru Kim’s beautiful work can be found at: http://www.mirukim.com/
