Our love affair started that weekend, and scarcely a weekend went all that spring when we didn't fuck. By that time, Cindy had signed with a modeling agency and was getting regular work as a model, and the agency would routinely assign her shots to me, since we had such a rapport with each other. She was the ideal model. Now most models can be temperamental, obsessing about their clothes and makeup and pitching fits when everything wasn't exactly right, and making every shoot a living hell. Not Cindy. When things went wrong, she would make the corrections without a ruffle, always maintaining the poise and sunny disposition that made her a pleasure to work with.
And when the posing was done and the agency people left, we'd go over to my apartment and fuck. When she had her period for the first time since we'd started screwing, she didn't want to screw at first, but I told her that I didn't mind her menses, and I wouldn't have to wear a rubber, so she could actually feel my dick hardening and softening inside her as we fucked. So her curiosity and her raging libido got the best of her, and that taboo was broken. We'd take a shower afterward and change the sheets, and sometimes she let me slip a fresh tampon into her as I nuzzled her clit.
She also brought over all the pictures she'd taken over the years with her Instamatic camera. I had been right; she had a true photographer's eye for framing and composing the shots. If Photoshop had been around in those days, some of those photographs would have had serious potential. I'd also given her that spare Zeiss SLR of mine, and she was burning through four rolls of film a week, which we'd develop. There was no doubt about it; here was a great photographer in the making.
When we didn't have work to do, we balled. She'd strip the moment she reached my apartment, and we'd spend the day nude, teasing each other with our bodies. She'd love to keep me on the edge of an orgasm for an hour, and then jerk me off and laugh as I spurted my jism onto her tits and then licked it off. In a half an hour, I'd be hard again, and we'd spend at least a half an hour with me inside her, in a leisurely fuck in which she'd cum at least one, and usually twice. After her birth control pills kicked in, one of her favorite tricks was to let me cum, soften, harden and cum again without taking my dick out of her cunt. That girl had strong cunt muscles, and she quickly learned how to use them! I'd never had that sensation with a woman before, and I loved it. And she did, too. It was always a delight to see her walking around naked, her body flushed and sweaty from her orgasm, with my cum oozing from the folds of her pussy. Once I was able to capture that moment with a camera I'd brought home. An enlarged print of that picture, complete with her dazzling just-fucked smile, was hung over my bed, where it was the first thing I saw every morning. I longed for the day when I could wake up and see the real article instead.
The modeling agency she signed with gave her all the work she could use, and she usually asked that I be her photographer. And once my photography came to the agency's notice, they sent other models to me as well. As it turned out, that year was the last year I did yearbook photos, because I never needed the gig after that.
Cindy invited me to her graduation that June, which also meant that I got to meet her parents. They were cordial to me as we shook hands. "I see that Cindy's career as a model is really taking off," her father said, "and I guess we owe it all to you."
"Believe me, she has the talent. She's the most natural model I've ever worked with. All I have to do is make sure she's in the frame. She does the rest."
"You know, she had plans about taking science courses in college, but now all she talks about is photography. Not as a model, but a photographer. I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Well, she definitely has the talent for that, too, and it would be a shame to waste it. I'd suggest that she do science as a major and photography as a minor, if she can. Or the other way around. But I think her destiny is in photography. She has a rare gift. I've seen thousands of photos by hundreds of amateur photographers, and she leaves them all in the dust. And, to be honest, a lot of professionals as well. Including me, once she gets the technical skills down."
At that point, the ceremony was beginning, so we shelved the discussion. She looked great in her cap and gown, and I got some extra enjoyment knowing that under those garments, she was naked. It seems that a lot of the girls were dressless under their gowns, as a dare, without their parents knowing. She told me that the other girls in on the dare were doing it in their underwear, but none of them would go so far as to be totally nude under their gowns. Only Cindy would have ventured to go that far! I swear that the gown was soft enough for me to make out the points of her nipples pressing through the cloth, but maybe it was just my imagination.
I hadn't had much conversation with her mother before the ceremony, but as Cindy was getting changed back into her street clothes and her father was retrieving the car, she took me aside.
"So you're the young man who's been screwing our daughter. I've been wanting to meet you!"
"It's not like that, Mrs. Martin..." I stammered.
"Oh, but it's exactly like that, Hank. And I want you to know that we have no objections. Cindy assures me that you've always used birth control, and that you respect her, even in bed. That's all we want. I keep reminding myself that she's an adult now. And she's earned that trust."
She paused for a second, and then continued. "We've always been open in our household about sex. Did she tell you we were nudists? We've taught her that her body is nothing to be ashamed of. We've told her that sex is normal, it's a big part of life's pleasures, and we didn't tell her to abstain from it. I know she's got a strong sex drive. She gets that from me! But we insist that she be smart about what she does and who she does it with."
"She told me about some of that, and I guessed the rest. I'll be frank with you, ma'am. I'm falling in love with her, and I hope she's falling in love with me. The sex is only a small part of it. No, that's wrong. The sex is a big part of it. But not the biggest part."
"I thought so. I knew you two were an 'item' that first day she came home from that swimsuit session. The signs were unmistakable. And the smells, too!" She smiled. And then Cindy joined us, and we walked over to where Mr. Martin was waiting with his Mercedes.
"We're going out to dinner to celebrate, Hank," Mr. Martin said. "We'd be honored if you joined us. You can pick up your car later."
"I'd be happy to accept, Mr. Martin."
"Please. Just Charles. But not 'Chuck!' I never could abide that!"
"Charles it is," I said. We drove to one of the best restaurants in the LA area, where the valet's tip came to more than I usually spent for a complete dinner, and the bottle of wine cost more than a case of what I usually drink. After that, they invited me to their home, a large rambling ranch house with a backyard pool. Cindy and her mother (who insisted that I call her "Kay") disappeared into another room, leaving me and Charles in the foyer.
"Hey, let's take a swim in the pool," he said.
"I didn't bring a suit, I'm afraid."
"You don't need one. We're nudists ... didn't you know that? Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not a bit. If you strip, I'll join you. When in Rome, right?"
He smiled. "You've got it, Hank!" And he led the way to their living room, and then through some French doors to the backyard, where there was a small swimming pool. Next to it there was a shed that I took to be a garden shed, but it turned out to be a closet with hangers, shelves, and a stack of towels. "The towels are to sit on as well as to dry off with," he instructed. "The hangers and shelves are for our clothes."
We stripped nude, hung our shirts and suit jackets on the hangers, and piled the rest of our things neatly the shelves. I noticed that the pool water was the perfect temperature for nudity. Charles had a pretty good physique for a man of fifty, with a bit of a paunch but otherwise fit. His cock was limp and a good six, maybe seven inches long, and was uncut, unlike my own. He gave it an absentminded rub, and we swam for a while. Then we got out and sat on the edge of the pool to cool off, our feet dangling in the water.
