It’s Saturday, and I decided to go shopping with a girlfriend. On Mainstreet, a man approached me, explained he’s a photographer, and told me that I caught his eye and that he would like to invite me for a photoshoot later that afternoon. He thought I would be a perfect model. After talking a bit about what it would entail and learning it would be a lingerie sh*ot, I accepted the offer. Later that afternoon, I went to the address.

I was greeted by the photographer, and he explained what would happen. I had to change into a nice set of bl*ck seamed stockings, a suspender belt, a nice bl*ck push-up bra, and matching panties. There was also a nice dress to put on. Of course, a pair of sexy high stilettos was obligatory. In the sh*ot, I would be asked to pose sexily, take off the dress after a few minutes, and show the lingerie from different poses. He then left the room so I could dress up in private. I inspected the lingerie and was quite taken by its beauty. I loved to wear nice lingerie and the dress. I started to change.

Then the photographer returned and started the sh*ot. I was asked to pose and really show off the dress as a warm-up. Then he asked me to take off the dress and show off the lingerie and stilettos. He checked if I was still feeling good.

He suddenly proposed that I turn around and bend over to show how the panties hide my p*ssy. I was startled by the language and hesitated. The photographer insisted that I do it. Slowly, I turned around and bent over. “Touch your p*ssy,” he then asked. “Why is that?” I asked. He replied that the lingerie is supposed to appeal to men and women who want to buy this to stimulate their s*x lives. So the pictures should radiate erotic potential. I was confused and expressed my reluctance. But the man was quite adamant, and I was not sure how to resist. So I started touching my p*ssy while bending over until he ordered me to turn around and place my hands on my breasts. Slowly, I obliged. Once I had placed my hands on my breasts, I started to caress them while photographs were being taken. When asked whether I liked to do that, I sternly denied it but realized that wasn’t true. I did like it. So there was no hesitation when he asked me to remove my bra and show off my tits, radiating s*xual pleasure (to stimulate men to buy this for their girlfriends). I willingly obliged. Until he told me to take a seat, spread my legs, and start rubbing my p*ssy. “Isn’t that going a bit too far?” I tried. “No, men and women as well like to watch this. And it will sell more. So please caress your p*ssy like you’re trying to get an *rgasm.” I put my hand on my p*ssy and started caressing it, unsure if it satisfied the ‘professional’ needs of the sh*ot. I asked for directions, and I got them. Finally, the photographer called out that he needed one last sh*t. I looked at him, and my eyes grew wide when I heard he wanted me to pull aside my panties and grant a view of my bare bush. I gasped, not knowing whether to oblige or not. I hesitated, then I did it.

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