We watched as Margery and Tom walked toward her dorm.
"Nice couple. How long have you known them?" asked Janice.
"Margery and I belong to the same club," I said. "I met Tom when I was desperate for help to set up the video system for the psych research project I'm working on this summer. He's a whiz at this stuff, which is a good thing, because I'm not. I don't think they'd met before today. Just clicked, I guess.
"Now," I said, turning the key, "we have work to do."
" 'We?' "
"Well, uh, yes, if you wouldn't mind helping me," I stammered, uncertain again. "We have to make decisions on the photos from this morning. Since you're in them, and you know everybody, the extra set of eyes will help."
"Okay, but I'm not a very visual person."
"Even better. You'll see what a normal person sees."
I uploaded both cameras and we began flipping through the pictures, starting with the publicity shots. I sat Janice in my chair and parked myself behind her, on the end of my bed.
We selected three possibilities for the group photo. The best, in my opinion, had Charlie Waddington in the middle of his six students sporting a huge smile. Since the name of the act at Literratica next weekend was, after all, "Charlie Waddington and Friends," the only question was which was best. There were two other shots that showed more animation in the faces of some of the players, but I liked this one best. We decided to send all three and let the group decide.
The one-on-ones-with-Charlie were mixed. Martha, as always, stood out, obviously there was chemistry between them. Janice's smile looked forced, but we agreed on which one was the best. We selected two or three for the other four students, made up a group email, and sent them on their way.
Then there were the picnic photos. 126 images with a surprising number of worthwhile shots. We liked 22, nine of which featured Martha (for some reason). Six were of Mike and Nick, and the others were of everyone else. I was particularly pleased with one where Nick was looking very lovingly at Mike, and another where Helen had her hand on Francis's shoulder and a predatory smile on her face. We talked about whether to send any of them to the individuals involved, and decided they were personal, so I would keep them.
Janice had underestimated her visual self. Of the 16 shots she'd taken during our walk, four were pretty good, a high percentage. Sure, she could have composed them better, and, sure, she hadn't been very aggressive about just shooting, but all-in-all they were pretty good.
I particularly liked one where she got me looking good.
"Seems like an ordinary photograph to me."
"Well, I'm the guy who still uses his high-school graduation portrait on Facebook."
"The shoemaker doesn't have shoes?"
"That and the fact that I don't use Facebook much. I like keeping up with my friends, but I post innocuous stuff. I wouldn't mention that I went on this picnic, for example."
"Or at least not the good parts," she was smiling as she swiveled the chair to face me.
"I've never seen anything like Helen and Francis," I confessed, feeling warm.
"You don't watch porn?" She sounded skeptical.
"That doesn't count, or at least it doesn't count with me. It's porn, everybody's got enormous, uh, you know . . . ," I fumbled.
"Cocks?"
I blushed. "Well, yes."
"And tits?"
This is getting deep. And you are getting hard.
"They do everything for the camera angles," I pontificated, although it was true. "Things we couldn't see when we were watching them."
"Helen was really into it." Janice licked her lips as we stood, facing each other. "Did you see how she was moving when she came?"
"Yeah, everything was really fly —"
I couldn't finish the sentence because Janice had pulled me to her and jammed her tongue into my mouth while she ground her crotch into mine. I kissed back in self-defense.
"Clothes," I croaked when we broke, and we frantically tore at each other. She was quickly naked from the waist down as I yanked her jeans and panties to the floor. She pulled my t-shirt over my head.
I grabbed her hips, pulled her fuzzy pussy to my mouth, and began frantically fluttering her opening with my tongue. She moaned and wiggled her ass in my hands as I kneaded the cheeks. I had just started on her clit hood when she stiffened and hissed:
"Oh god yes, oh god yesssssss!"
She bent backward and crashed onto the bed. I followed, holding myself to her pussy as she writhed under my tongue's assault. She pulled my face into her.
"More! My clit! Oh yes, god that's gooooood! Oh GODDDD!" and she climaxed again, this time jamming her hips into my face.
As she settled, I started again, but she pulled me up beside her. She plastered her mouth to mine and kept me there as forcefully as she had held my face to her pussy, shoving her tongue into every crevice she could reach.
Finally she calmed enough to open her eyes.
"I think I want more of that, but can we wait a week or two, while I recover?" she husked.
"I won't be able to restrain myself for another ten seconds unless I'm in you. Please!"
"Yeah, that's more like it. Let's really get naked," and she sat up. After opening my belt and unzipping me, she tapped my ass and said "up." I obediently lifted my hips and she stripped off my shorts and jockeys, tossing them to the floor.
"Buck naked and proud of it, I see," she said, licking her lips.
She inhaled my cock, from which position it was easy for me to roll her shirt over her head and unhook her bra. She helpfully popped off my cock and straightened up, shrugging off the shirt and bra and flicking them away.
"Speaking of proud," I croaked as I palmed one pear-sized breast and tweaked the hardening nipple of the other. She ducked down to my cock again, sucked me almost to the root, then popped off with a smacking sound.
"Cowgirl," I commanded as I lay back. "I missed your clit last time."
"Yippee!" she said and gleefully positioned her pussy on the point of my cock, and started to drop down.
"No, no! Condom!"
"Oh god yeah, I forgot," and she pulled away. I stretched for the drawer and snagged one. She snatched it.