A. Bissell - Doing It The Gay Way

"Come on, push your titties out a little more, honey," Candi Jones said, adjusting a flood-light so the cute, sexy brunette in the striped bikini had more illumination. Beautiful face structure, full, dewy lips, fine ass and just-right legs, innocent big brown eyes; she acted more like sixteen than the nineteen her card from the model agency indicated.

She was the kind of exquisite chick the American male imagined should be in a bikini, sitting on a blanket on a beach, waiting for the typical American stud, and the slide of prick into the sweet, virginal cunt.

But this photo was being taken inside, in Candi's rear studio, against a phony backdrop, to decorate an ad for a swim suit manufacturer that would appear in a high-fashion magazine. For a real beach scene, Candi's fee would be doubled; she was good, she charged very high fees for her work, she could make even some of those older, Baggy-breasted models look young and alluring.

Nancy Wells giggled and arched her young, shapely tits farther forward. Her legs were partly opened to show the pretty cuntmound, her left hand was raised prettily to her long, dark, silky mane.

"Now wet your lips so they shine, honey," Candi said, moving with her 35-mm to a new position behind the floods. "Look sensuous, think prick.”

A faint flush touched Nancy's cheeks, but she smiled and showed her pearly teeth; her tongue moistened her full, dewy lips. Maybe she was thinking prick; her nipples showed more clearly under the thin bikini cups. Good. Candi took several shots, from different angles. She was getting a neat hard-on. The moment this dainty piece of fluff had wiggled into the front office Candi had felt a sharp thrill; she had decided right away to pose and photograph this new chick from the Lawrence agency.

Candi's studio was in Daly City, south of San Francisco. She let the business come to her, not vice versa. She could do a better job out of the metropolitan area, leases cost less.

"Okay relax," Candi smiled. "First assignment?”

"Yes,” Nancy breathed, her eyes shining. The idea of being a model in the big city obviously was very exciting for her. She had small town written all over her. Candi knew the routine almost by heart. Nancy had been high-school queen in squaresville, mommy and daddy thought their daughter's beauty was wasted at home she had been packed up and sent to glamorous Frisco where she would find wealthy prince charming, her unpunctured hymen would be enough to get her a life of ease… shit.

Some smooth-talking sonofabitch would be in her panties in a week, that fresh glow would fade, she would not look so naive, booze would dim her youthful sexiness, and she might easily end up back home, disillusioned, with a kid in her arms and no marriage license.

"Gosh, you're beautiful, Miss Jones," Nancy breathed. She was very breathy. Part of her cute act. "Don't you model, too?”

Candi was flattered, her clit tingled. "Oh, sometimes. More money in what I'm doing, honey. Boyfriend follow you to the big bad city?”

"Noooo," Nancy giggled. She stretched daintily and Candi felt her tongue harden. Jeeeesus, what a chickie.

"If that bikini's too tight, take it off," Candi smiled. "Call me Candi, huh?”

Nancy nodded and blushed again. "Oh, you," she lisped.

Candi felt another tingle in her crotch. She placed her camera aside and moved partially into the shine from the floods, the brightest of which she had turned off. She posed for the benefit of Nancy, pretending to be adjusting the backdrop.

She wore very snug pants, bell bottomed, that showed every line of her trimly turned ass and long, long thighs. Her blouse was equally snug to delineate her thrusting tits, coned forward by a very tricky bra that left her titpeaks bare, so her nipples showed beneath the thin fabric. Her long blonde mane reached below her shoulders. She was sexy, she knew it and she used it. But not on studs. She had never rocked a man and didn't intend to-unless the price was right. And the figure would be very high indeed. Her thing was pussy.

Candi's receptionist and part-time assistant, Laura Wheeler, was a pretty good rock; attractive and young enough, but that was getting old. Laura had a prick complex, she still hoped to trade her cunt for a home with some stud.

Candi had not had any new pussy for two weeks, she was hornier than hell. And Nancy looked and acted as though she could be made. She was eyeing Candi's body with a tell-tale interest.

"I want you in bra and panties for this next sequence, honey," Candi smiled, remembering that a client of hers who published a girlie magazine would pay good money for fresh new faces and bodies. "I can get you a little bonus fee.”

"Am I really that sexy?" Nancy giggled.

"You look good enough to eat, cutie," Candi said, winking.

Nancy flushed. Even small-town girls were not that dense. She rose daintily and moved toward the dressing room. The sweet ass movements tensed Candi's clit. She quickly found the undies she wanted Nancy to wear and followed her into the cozy dressing cubicle. Nancy seemed a bit reluctant to remove her bikini in front of Candi. Earlier the brunette had been alone while donning the bikini.

"Ah, take it off," Candi said reassuringly. "You need more makeup for this next series. What's a naked puss between girls?”

Nancy giggled, reaching behind her to unfasten the striped halter. The dressing area had a couch, rest room and a fancy makeup table, fully mirrored. Candi had enjoyed herself with several models on the couch, but one like Nancy didn't come along every day. A mingling of jasmine and pussy aroma tingled Candi's senses. This cute bunny had lots of it.

"Been getting any lately, honey?" Candi smiled, shivering with anticipation.

"Noooo!" Nancy exclaimed. The bikini halter loosened, came down and the rosy pout of the brunette's darkly-banded nipples, the sweet youthful thrust of her boobs, stirred the female beast in Candi's loins.

"Me, either," Candi laughed. "Isn't it the shits?”

"B-but, I heard you were married," Nancy said. "I mean-”

"Oh, I have a living arrangement with a guy, he serves a purpose, but he doesn't get in my panties.”

Candi usually did not explain Cleve Langton to her chickies, but whenever they saw him they always asked questions. He was so damned handsome he was pretty. She often used him when she needed a male model, ostensibly they shared the same apartment, although it was divided into two separate living areas. He never came through the connecting door unless it was for business.

He had a very correct social background that brought business to Candi's studio, but bad investments had wiped out the family holdings. Candi paid most of the bills. His only accomplishment was a superb golf game; she knew he could turn pro and make plenty, but he was weak, had no real drive. Broads fell all over him, young, old, and in between. He had lost his last job as a country-dub golf instructor because he had fucked too many bored, willing wives of rich sons of bitches.

In the right spot he could make piles as a male whore. Candi knew several very wealthy old widows who would pay almost anything to get in his pants, but manlike, he preferred the young stuff. Some of the chicks he brought to his area of the double apartment made Candi green with envy.

"Gosh, I never heard of a girl living with a guy and not-you know… " Nancy exclaimed, drawing Candi back to the exciting present.

"Fuck?" Candi smiled. "Anyway, we have separate quarters.”

Nancy blushed prettily. Her nipples were coming out farther. Using explicit words was part of Candi's routine with reluctant chickies. Most of those she went after she usually made out with. A clever Lesbian had a lot going for her; dames did not talk around the way men did, there was no chance of getting knocked up, and pussy-rubbing and playing did not bust the maidenhead, in case a girl still had one.