Enrique was the best erotic photographer on the East Coast. She’d been trying for years to get enough cred for him to consider shooting her. She’d posed for several of the big mags, and was building a rep as a good model. Not moody, no shitty behaviours. A real pro.
She found this message on her work line.
“Lyme Air Field. Bay 3. 9 a.m. sharp.” Enrique!! She clapped her hands with glee.
He’d set her up in the leather bustier, fussed with her hair, even had an assistant shave her bush to resemble a “landing strip”. He was unsatisfied, take after take.
She suggested the parody…the cone of the plane so resembled the cone of her tit. Perhaps a little pun would humor him.
Slowly she unlaced the first 5 holes of the bustier, then pulled it apart just a bit, posing just so.
“FUCKING GENIUS!!!” he roared, shooting take after take.
Later that evening, he let his cock glide across her landing strip, until it found it’s own tight hanger to land in.
“fucking genius” she murmured as he sent her over the edge of rapture.
When the photo’s hit the magazine circuit later that year, both of their careers took off.