Shooting in Hannah - Version Alpha
by Lubrican
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Chapter Two
I thought that was it. I'd
gotten
caught, but it made her feel good so she didn't burn me. I thought it
was
over.
Months passed and we got along a lot
better. It wasn't like we were best
buddies or anything, but we no longer snapped at each other and we
chatted
about stuff once in a while.
Our parents
noticed it, and expressed pride that we were growing up.
Then Hannah entered a Valentine's Day
contest that was put on by a local
photo studio.
It was characterized as a
search for models.
They took "complimentary" head shots and
then sent those off to
various modeling agencies.
If they got a
positive response back, they showed that letter to the girl and tried
to sign
her up to create a portfolio.
The girls
had to pay for that, of course, which was the whole point of the
exercise. It was just to generate business (and profits) for the studio that sponsored the contest.
Two things messed up this business plan.
One
was that the portfolio cost a thousand
bucks.
The other was that to try to
increase
business, they made up phony letters from modeling agencies.
They
were stupid about this because they took
real letters and spoofed them on the computer, putting other girls'
names on
the letters.
One girl's parents did
some checking and found out the letter about their daughter was
counterfeit and
the shit hit the fan.
The studio closed
down and there's even a rumor there's going to be a court case.
But part of the investigation into all this
was that the cops verified
which letters were real, and which were fake.
Hannah's was real.
That didn't really matter, though.
There was no way our parents
could afford a grand for her portfolio.
So there she was, with stars in her eyes,
and in need of a portfolio.
She did her due diligence. She
spent
hours researching what should be in a portfolio, the order pictures
should
appear in and all that sort of thing.
Everybody recommended that
she use a professional photographer and
makeup artist, but she couldn't afford either of those.
She felt confident she could do her own
makeup.
And ... she had a brother who had taken
killer sexy pictures of her in the
past.
"Hey."
I looked up from my book. This
time
it was a Clive Cussler novel about some guys who found a
civil war
era ironclad that somehow ended up in the Sahara Desert.
It didn't have
much sex in it, but it was an exciting read.
It was May and school was
almost over. Finals were scheduled for the
next week, but I wasn't worried about that. The homework load was
getting light
and when I woke up that morning I felt lazy and just stayed in bed to
read.
Hannah was standing in the
doorway
to my room, leaning against the door jamb.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I need another favor."
"And what dire consequences will befall me
should I refuse to offer
this boon?" I asked.
Yeah, I know. That's pretty silly talk.
Who talks that way in real
life?
What can I say? I think I do
that because of all the reading I do.
"If you do this, you'll be glad you did,"
she said. Then she
added, "I think." She made it even more interesting by tacking on an,
"I hope."
"That doesn't sound very dire."
The truce had led to terms that were very
different than they'd been a year
past.
I was aware of this, but it
seemed
normal, now.
"I need you to take the pictures for my
portfolio," she said.
"Is this for that modeling thing?"
"Yeah. All
the sources I
checked say you should have a professional take the pictures, but I
can't
afford that. I don't have a fancy camera, but they're shooting movies
on
iPhones these days, so maybe my phone would work. I just need somebody
to take
them."
"And none of your bevy of bff's can do
that?"
"I don't want them for this. I want you."
"I'm honored, but could you explain that?
The
last time I took pictures of you they
didn't turn out the way you intended."
"Actually, the first
time you took pictures it was
that
way.
The second time was
completely to
my satisfaction." She didn't smile.
"How long will this take?" I asked. I'd
planned on going to a friend's house
later that day.
"It will have to be done in stages," she
said.
"There are a lot of shots and
the makeup
and outfits will change from one to the other."
"So we're talking hours?"
I felt both my eyebrows rise.
"More like ... days," she said.
"But not all day." She
sounded nervous.
"Now I think we're at the part where my
boon is described," I
said.
The concept of spending "days" taking
pictures of her didn't
bother me, really. It was almost summer and other than odd jobs and hanging
out with
friends at the pool or whatever, I didn't have much to do.
That's
why I read so much in the summer.
Still, if I was going
to spend that much time doing this favor, there
should be something in it for me.
She blinked, and then said, "If you do this for me, I'll let you take some ... um ... special
pictures ... just for
yourself."
Now I don't know about you, but if a cute
girl stands in your bedroom door
- even if she's your sister - and suggests you might get to take
special
pictures of her ... and that those pictures are for you
... that will
put some stiff in your dick.
At least
that's what happened to me. It's not like I got a raging hardon in my
briefs,
but my lump got bigger.
I know it did
because I could feel it.
"How special?" I asked.
"So you're still a pervert," she said. It
looked like she might
be about to smile, but she didn't.
"I'm still a guy," I said.
"We can negotiate how special as things go
along," she said.
"Will you do it?"
I concentrated on my cock. It
was
still filling up and pretty soon it was going to be impossible for her
to miss
that fact.
I shifted my book to cover my
groin and saw her eyes notice I had done that.
Busted.
"If I ask you a question, do you promise
not to get mad and storm out
of here?"
One of her eyebrows rose.
"Okay," she said.
"Will there be any ... um ... nude shots?"
I was surprised by how calmly she took that
question.
"That's not on the list of recommended
photos."
"Curses," I said, hamming it up. I grinned,
hoping she'd assume
I'd been trying to push her buttons. "What the heck," I said.
"Sure."
Then she did smile and blushed at the same
time. She was obviously excited
about this and even if the "special pictures" only turned out to be
shots down her cleavage, or more stiff nipples shots, I figured it
would be
fun.
Who knows? Maybe
I could con some girl in the future
into letting me take shots for her
portfolio. Those
would have to include nude
photos, of course.
And no, the fact that I'd hoped I might get
to see more of my sister than I
had since we were like six, and Mom had stopped giving us baths
together,
didn't bother me. I'd decided a long time ago that seeing your sister's
beauty
and appreciating that wasn't the worst thing you could do in life.
"Thank you," she said.
"How come you don't want one of your
friends to do this?" I
asked.
"Because I think a man would take better
pictures," she said.
Wow. She had just characterized me as a man!
That
felt good.
"When do you want to get started?"
"How about now?"
So much for a lazy Saturday morning.
This 'project' didn't turn out anything
like I thought it would.
She had a list. The
layman thinks of
"model" as a generic term, but there are different kinds of
models.
For example, we don't
normally
think of the people who appear in commercials on TV as "models" but
they are. Those people are chosen specifically for their physical
attributes,
and for the purpose of promoting a product. In the fashion world that
is also
to promote a product, but the requirements are very different.
I
used to think that models just got pictures
taken of them for no particular reason, kind of like how the
Kardashians are
famous for no particular reason, but not anymore.
Hannah's list had pictures on it that were
specific to a type of modeling,
but she hadn't chosen a particular field.
Her plan was to have every
kind of photo she might need to submit to
whatever agency might want a model. In
effect she was going to put together more than one portfolio and she'd
use that
to apply for whatever work she thought she might be able to get.
A
portfolio might only have six shots in it,
but if you were going for any job you could get, you might have to have
five or
six different portfolios.
She wanted to start with what's called a
beauty shot, or clean head
shot.
That's basically just the
model's
image from the neck to the top of the head.
It's a close-up, and any
imperfections on the face will be visible. We're
talking freckles, zits, scars, dry
skin, eyes too close together, just about anything someone could call a
"flaw."
Think of someone you know. Does their
appearance change from day to day?
Your answer is probably, "Not much," but if you think about it a
little longer you'll realize you've seen them on days when you might
comment,
"Rough night, huh?"
Your mood
changes the appearance of your face. The weather can change it. Whether
you
took a shower recently can make a difference.
The average face does not
look the same from day to day.
Not in
terms of looking at a close-up of that face.
I took over thirty head shots of Hannah
over the next few days.
She changed her hair. She
changed her makeup.
One time she wanted me to take one right after she came back from a
run, with
her hair in a pony tail and no makeup on at all.
Then we moved on to a full body shot.
That one should have been
easier, because all it entailed was a picture
of her against a background with her arms hanging at her sides, wearing
something that clung to the body. I shot her full on, and in profile,
with a
light background. Then we did it again with a dark background.
During the first profile shot I told her to
stand up straight and put her
shoulders back.
"Are you staring at my boobs again, Bobby?"
She sounded relaxed.
"You have great boobs," I said. "Be proud
of them."
"Thanks," she said. But
my
comment meant something else to her, too.
As soon as we finished those shots, she
called a pause and went and put on
a bra that was much tighter. She wanted full body shots that didn't
make her
look as busty.
It was amazing. She
looked a lot flatter.
"What's next?" I asked.
She went to a three ring binder containing
her notes and consulted a page.
"Swimsuit or lingerie shot," she said.
"Now
we're talking," I said, trying
to leer.
How do you leer? I
had no idea.
You read about it, but they
never identify
something in a movie as "leering."
"Down, boy," she said.
"Surely you jest," I kidded.
"You just control yourself. And don't call
me Shirley."
She grinned.
The concept of a "swimsuit shot" sounds
simple, but it isn't. If
you're going for fashion modeling, you use one kind of pose.
If
you want to actually model swimsuits, you
have different poses. If you're trying to get in an advertisement for a
magazine like Sports Illustrated, you want something different still.
We
had converted one wall in her bedroom to
use as a background for the shots we'd already taken. There were nails on the wall, up high, that supported a wooden rod we hung sheets off of. If there are any professional photographers out there, I'm sure they're cringing right now, but that was the best we could do on a very limited budget. The idea was to
start
with that, and then move outside.
Then there's the whole "one piece versus
bikini" argument.
Again, it depends on what
kind of job you're
looking for.
Long story short, I shot her in different
swimming outfits.
The first ones were supposed
to be in a one
piece she borrowed from Megan Cross, who is on the swim team.
It
was blue and she looked fantastic in
it.
A little too fantastic, as it
turned
out. Megan was slimmer than Hannah, and she'd stripped down her suit to
make it
less bulky.
What that meant was that she
took out the modesty panels in it.
Hannah came out of her bathroom, looked at
herself in the mirror and said,
"She didn't give me the modesty panels. No way I can wear this."
"Au contraire," I said.
"You look fabulous."
She turned to face me. First,
her
hands came up and she used her index fingers to point to her nipples,
which
were clearly trying
to rip through the material of the suit. Then
she lowered both hands until her index
fingers pointed to her crotch.
The cloth
was narrow there, but still managed to produce one of the sweetest
looking
camel toes I'd ever seen.
"Hannah?" I said, my voice a little husky.
"Yes?"
"Would this possibly be one of those times
when I get to take a ... um
... special picture?"
"You mean one that you, and only
you would ever see?"
"Absolutely!" I said. "Cross my heart!"
"Pervert," she said, softly.
"Guilty as charged," I admitted. "Please?"
"You have no idea how that makes me feel,"
she said.
It occurred to me that she was grossed out,
disgusted by the fact that I
wanted a picture of her pussy lips, shielded only by a thin sheet of
shiny
cloth.
I felt guilty.
"Never mind," I said. "I'm sorry."
"What?" Her
eyebrows rose.
"Wait.
I'm not mad about it,
Bobby."
"You're not?"
"No!" she said, forcefully.
"When you look at me like
that it makes me feel ..."
I waited. I'd
already ascribed emotions
to her that were not true. I wasn't going to make the same mistake
again.
"Do you swear you'll never tell anybody
what I'm about to say?"
she asked.
"If you want me to," I said.
"Swear," she ordered.
"I swear I'll never tell anybody what
you're about to say," I
said.
"When you look at me like that, it makes me
... horny."
The perfect response to that would have
been, "So I'm not the only
pervert in the room," but I didn't say that. I
didn't say anything at all. I was
speechless.
"Why do I feel horny when you look at me
like that, Bobby?" she
asked. She sounded genuinely puzzled.
My tongue finally came loose.
"I don't know," I said. Then my brain kind
of came loose, too.
"Maybe because when you look like that I feel horny, too?"
"Fuck!" she said, her voice low and intense.
That left me speechless, too. She just
didn't use that kind of language.
She stared at me for a few seconds and then
suddenly moved.
There was a chair at her
vanity, an antique
chair that our great grandmother had owned.
It was what Mom said was
Rococo style, with elaborately carved arms and
legs, but with a simply covered cushion in blue fabric.
The
wood had originally been gilded but my
dad had refinished it, taking the gold off and then staining the wood.
The
original seat cover had been in bad shape, so he replaced that, too.
They'd
given it to Hannah for her fourteenth birthday, along with the vanity.
She took the chair and dragged it over to
the background wall, which had a
white sheet hung on it at the moment.
She sat down in it, with her
ass on the front edge of the seat, and
leaned back, draping her arms on the arms of the chair. Then she spread
her
legs, with her toes maybe two feet apart.
That camel toe was screaming at the viewer.
"How's this?" she asked, softly. "Does this
look sexy?"
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too
dry.
"Uh ... yeah, it does," I sighed.
"Really?"
For a couple of seconds I thought about
dropping my pants and letting her
see what my cock was doing to the front of my briefs ... but only for a
few
seconds.
"Trust me," I said. "That's definitely
sexy."
I stood there, staring, while she sat
there, staring back.
"So are you going to take a picture or
not?" she asked.
I took eight. Or
maybe ten.
I don't know.
I moved around, getting her
from different angles.
In some she had her head
erect, and in some
she laid it back against the wood of the backrest.
And yes, I took a close-up of that camel
toe.
"Wicked," I sighed, at one point.
"It feels
wicked," she whispered.
"I meant wicked good," I said.
"I know. You wouldn't believe how this is
making me feel."
"Yes I would," I said, taking another shot.
My
cock was fully stiff in my pants.
She moved her ass back and lifted one foot.
She draped that leg over the
arm of the chair with the wood under her knee.
It opened her crotch up
completely.
"How about this?" she said, breathing
faster. "Is this sexy,
too?"
"You don't want to know," I said, moving to
frame her and click
the shutter button.
"So it's not," she said.
"Oh it is," I said. "It's just that you
don't want to know how
sexy."
"Yes I do," she said.
Again I thought about dropping my pants and
showing her.
But you just don't do that to
your
sister.
It had not occurred to me
that
she was doing something very much like that ... showing off her sexuality.
Granted
you couldn't tell if she was turned
on or not, but there were similarities.
I have to break the mood, here, for just a
second.
When I looked at those
pictures later, you
actually could tell she was turned on.
The fabric covering that
camel toe got darker than the surrounding
material in the later shots.
But I didn't show her my boner.
Instead I just said, "Hannah,
if you ever do this for Steve, it
will kill him. And if it doesn't, I'll
have to kill him."
"Bobby!" she chided. "I'd never do this for
Steve."
"Then if you ever get married and want to
give your husband a heart
attack, do this then," I said.
She grinned, got her leg off the arm of the
chair, and then stood up.
"I need to change. We
can't use
this suit for the swimsuit shot."
"Maybe you could," I said.
"Surely there's something
around here that can ... uh ... mute
things?"
She looked down at her breasts. The
nipples were still standing proud.
"Maybe," she said.
"Stay here."
She went back into the bathroom. She
came back out ten minutes later. No
nipples.
I looked down. No camel toe,
either.
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Band-Aids for the nipples," she said. "A
panty liner cut to the right shape
for the other."
"You still look fabulous," I said.
"Awww." She smiled.
I took a set of shots of her standing, bent
over, arms and legs positioned
as if she were walking and some others.
Then we went outside and I
took some there.
That didn't work, though. Even
Band-Aids couldn't deal with the fact
that it was still pretty cool outside. Her nipples were only rounded humps, but it was obvious they were nipples.
We went back in and she put on her favorite
white bikini.
That wheat-colored hair is dark enough that it looks good with the white so I
told her to
lose the ponytail after a couple of shots.
With her hair down she looked
really good.
In one picture I had her
stand upright and
draped it all along her arms. In another I had her look over her
shoulder at me.
Her hair hung to within five
or six inches of
the waistband of her bikini bottoms.
"The way your hair covers your back it's
easy to imagine you don't
have a top on," I said.
"Is that what you're imagining?"
"I guess I am," I said.
"Don't move," she said.
Her hands came up behind her,
under her hair.
Then they moved to her
shoulders, where the
straps of her top were now loose. I
watched one strap slide down her arm.
She held the bikini bra in
her hand, letting it hang, and looked over
her shoulder at me again.
"What does this look like?" she asked.
What it looked like was that this woman was
obviously clothed only in a
bikini bottom and was about to turn around and make your day.
"It's amazing," I said.
"Is it sexy?" she asked.
"You have sexy nailed," I replied.
"You want me to turn around?"
"Don't tease me," I groaned.
"I'm already in trouble."
"Trouble? What kind of
trouble?"
"You said this makes you horny,
right?"
"Uh huh."
"Well it makes me horny,
too."
She dropped the bikini bra and started to
turn.
My breath froze in my lungs. When
she faced me, though, the tips of her
fingers covered the tips of her breasts.
You could still see how round
they were, but the nipples were hidden.
"Take one like this,"
she said, softly.
I took two and the phone informed me the
memory was full.
"Time to download," I
sighed.
"You do that," she
said. "I'll be in the bathroom."
Then she bent over, picked up her top, and
stood, turning to head to her
bathroom.
But she wasn't covering her
breasts anymore.
I didn't have time
to stare, but I had a very
sweet shot of creamy breasts with dark brown nipples.
I went to my room to download the photos.
But I masturbated, first.
I would have felt a lot better about
that if I'd known she was in her bathroom
doing the same thing.
I knew it was wrong to think about what I
was thinking about as I lay on my bed and jerked a
soothing load out of my balls that day.
It's one thing to appreciate
your sister's breasts, and imagine how some
day a baby might suck on her nipples.
It's another entirely to
imagine being the one who gets her pregnant
with the baby that will suck on those nipples.
I was kind of freaked out, to be honest,
but you want to know what the
freakiest part of it all was?
It was the
orgasm.
That fucking orgasm was the
best
one I'd ever had in my life. I didn't even know cumming could feel that
good.
Of course I knew it was because I was so
excited - sexually excited - but
it who I was excited about that made it next dimension strange.
I couldn't just lie there and work things
out in my mind. I knew she'd want
to look at all the shots we'd taken. So
I had to get up.
If you're a guy, then
you know how hard it is to feel guilty about one thing while you're
trying to
get another thing done. At least that's how it is for me.
I
was reviewing the shots when Hannah came
into my room. She didn't knock, but by now that didn't seem all that
odd. Our
relationship had undergone a fundamental change already, even though I
don't
think either of us knew it, yet.
"So ... did you do it?" she asked, coming
to stand behind me.
"Do what?" I was staring at the bikini shot
of her looking over
her shoulder at the camera.
At me. Her
face had that same look I'd seen on the faces of models in magazines my
mother
would wig out about if she knew I had hidden in the bottom drawer of my
chest
of drawers.
Those were usually the
magazines I used if I wanted to look at something hot while I jerked
off.
"Sneak a picture of my boobs," she said.
I'd just been thinking about her boobs.
I'd been looking at that
picture and part of my mind had been whining,
"Turn around. Come on ... pleeeease ... just turn around so I can see
them."
"I didn't sneak a picture of anything," I
said. "What do you
mean? Your boobs are in lots of these."
"I didn't cover them there at the very
last," she said. "I
thought you'd try to sneak a picture of them as I went to the bathroom."
"The chip was full, remember?" I said.
"Oh," she replied. It almost sounded like
she was disappointed
that I hadn't tried to take advantage of her.
I decided to take a chance.
"Anyway, you were moving too fast," I said. "Next
time you need to
stop and think about kittens or something, before you leave. And the chip can't be full when you do that."
She slapped my shoulder.
But she also laughed.
Then we reviewed the pics, saving some and
deleting others.
I had to admit that she was a
good looking
girl.
She needed very little makeup
and
her eyebrows just naturally made a pleasing line with a little upturn
at the
outside ends.
It wasn't exactly Vulcan,
like on Star Trek, but it was very interesting.
She was just a beautiful
young woman.
I finally had time to feel guilty again,
though.
That's because I got stiff in the pants again while we reviewed
the shots.
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