Photographing Christina is bliss

We had an hour or so to spare the other night and so I asked Christina to pose for a few pictures for me.  As ever, she quickly got into it and we produced a nice set.

Here are just a few of the highlights!

Fun on the tube...

Back in 2002, I was working for a well-known auditing company.  Due to a big job I was involved in, I was transferred - for a few months - from the Leicester branch to the London headquarters.  I had a great time - hotel room, expenses, life in the big city - and I got to leave early on Fridays so I could be home for the weekend with my wife.  The one drawback was the tube.  If you go into London as a tourist, the tube is fine, a means to an end and you choose when you go on it.  If you’re a commuter, more often than not you’re on it with hundreds of other people, tried, ratty, sweaty and irritable and it’s not always the best of times.

On this particular day, my mood wasn’t brilliant.  I’d been involved in a conference call that hadn’t gone well at all, tempers had quickly frayed, accusations were levelled and everybody got pissed off.  We resolved most of it but I was still annoyed that we’d wasted hours working on something that was pointless.  As a consequence, by the time I got into the bowels of the tube station, I wasn’t feeling my best.  The train came, it was almost full.  I squeezed in and we went down the line a station and more people squeezed in.  Before long, it was little a cattle truck and however stuffy it was there, I kept going back to the conference call.

My annoyance stopped me from focussing on the tube train, which disgorged passengers before taking more on.  Somebody trod on my foot and I glared at them but they were wrapped up in whatever music was playing on their Walkman to pay attention.

Then I noticed a lovely perfume, a pleasant floral scent.  I looked around, trying to figure out who it was and realised - for the first time - that the person standing in front of me was a woman.  Well, I say standing in front of me, due to the crush of bodies she was pressed up against me.

She was about five and half feet tall and slim, with shoulder length dirty blonde blonde.  I couldn’t see much skin but what I could was pale and creamy.  Not that it mattered, I was just pleased to have someone who smelled nice pressed against me.  Was it the scent of her shampoo, I wondered or perhaps her body spray.  It didn’t matter, I was happy.

The train set off again and the motion and the smell of the woman lulled my mind away from being stuck in a cramped, hot carriage.  I was bowled over by her smell, my mind drifting to thoughts of how it’d feel to run my fingers through her hair, to gather it into a ponytail and pull it back.  Would she arch her back?  How would that look?  Would it look like I was taking her from behind, pounding at her pale, creamy skin, holding her sweetly scented hair?

Suddenly I realised that my little fantasy was having an effect and my cock was getting hard.  Oh no, oh shit, this I did not need.  If she felt it, which she surely must in a few moments, she was likely to swing for me - as best she could in the crush - or at least shout about it.  Bollocks.

But it was too late and whether the fear helped or not, my cock was already hard enough that I could feel it pressing against my underwear.  There was no hiding it now and the bumping, swaying and jolting of the carriage wasn’t helping any either.  With each movement, my cock was rubbed against or pressed into her arse and as much as I closed my eyes and thought of horrible things, the motion kept my erection at full mast.

That’s when I felt it, even though I couldn’t believe it was happening.  But it was, it had to be.  The woman was no longer just moving with the motion of the carriage.  I could feel the pressure of her pushing her arse back into my crotch, my cock slotting nicely in.  My heart, so panicked before, kept up its rhythm and my breathing got heavier.

Her buttocks formed a perfect mould around my raging hard-on and she briefly pressed back hard, almost pushing me back.  Then she stopped swaying and began a more rhythmic up and down motion. It wasn't noticeable to anyone around us, but that few inches of vertical motion along with her increased pressure against my crotch was more than enough friction to stroke me through my pants. I could see her shoulders moving as her breathing picked up.

I knew I should stop this, knew I should tap her on the shoulder and explain but I couldn’t do it - she was doing what she wanted and who was I to stop her?

The train came to a halt and I’d been so caught up that I hadn’t thought to grab onto something.  My momentum pushed my cock hard into the groove of her arse and the rest of my body against her back and she put her hand up to the bars, gripping it tightly to keep herself in place.  I had no choice but to grab her, putting my hands around the tops of her hips to help keep my balance and stop from stumbling forward.

Now, I was sure, all hell would break loose but it didn’t.  The carriage stopped, a few people got out, a few more got on.  The lack of motion didn’t stop my new-found friend and as I remained with my cock firmly slotted between her buttocks, she started to flex them.  I’m not sure how she managed it but she flexed and moved her arse against me without the rest of her body apparently moving.  The delicious onslaught against my cock continued and I gripped tighter to her hips, pulling her onto me and maintaining the pressure.  The train started again and I began to knead her hips, moving against her gently.  She pushed back on me, her arse moving up and down slightly.

I wanted to turn her around, I wanted to grab her arse, run my hands over her belly, up and down, but I knew that wasn’t what this was.  I knew this was all about the moment and nothing more.

The train slowed down for the next stop.  She kept moving against her bum against me, up and down, pressing back and I could feel the pressure growing in my balls.  I didn’t want to cum here, certainly not in my pants but I gripped her hips, hoping that she was getting something out of this too.

As the car slowed, the lack of motion didn’t stop her and I kneaded her hips harder.  I leaned forward, let out a groan and she leaned her head back slightly, releasing more of her wonderful scent.  I heard her moan softly and then the train came to a stop.

“I have to go,” she said and wiggled her arse against me one more time.  I waited for her to step forward, looked down at the dent in her skirt where my bulge had pressed so hard into her arse.  I quickly covered my hard-on with my briefcase.  She stepped forward, straighetened her skirt and shook out her hair, then got off the train.

As she stepped onto the platform she turned and I saw her properly for the first time and realised that I knew her.  Not to speak to, but to nod at in the corridors of the giant office building I was currently working in.  I couldn’t remember what company she worked for but we had crossed paths in the corridors.

She nodded and smiled at me, a flush on her cheeks and held her hands in the shape of a phone.  I shrugged and she smiled, so I smiled back.

Tomorrow, I would find out what company she worked for and give her the ring she wanted me to.  For now, I just wanted to get back to my hotel room to wank myself senseless.

Saturday Night Girls (barefoot edition!)

I’ve been thinking about the image I got of the girl walking home earlier this week and realised that I was quite turned on by the idea of women being barefoot in the town.  Not to the extent that I wanted to clean their feet or suck on their toes whilst they were dirty - I’m not an idiot - but just the sense of it, the beauty of it, the freedom.

Part of an exercise we were set at the Photography Group was to shoot some night pictures.  I teamed up with my friend from the group Nick and, over a quick pint, we decided to do a session in the city centre.

It was a great idea, plenty of activity (we chose to go on Saturday night), lots of faces to capture, lights and - of course - scantily clad ladies.  Even better, I saw that a lot of them were barefoot.

Anyway, this is a selection of the ones I took, which I think best exemplify the tone of this blog.  I hope you enjoy them!

 There must have been a party somewhere, a lot of girls were dressed like St Trinians!  The key image for me here though is the lucky bastard by the doorway, getting to give the girl a foot massage.

 She looks lovely, doesn't she?

 Sore feet, ready for home.

 Heading home

 Ladies after a successful night out.  I love the one on the right, that drunken pout she has.  Beautiful.

Striding along, perfectly at ease.  The guy fiddling with his phone doesn't know what he's missing!

A new celebrity crush

Is it wrong that I have a crush on the lady (model Donna Grant) who appears in the Tena Lady ads?

If so, I'm definitely wrong!

Girl walking home barefoot

I saw this lady tonight as I was driving home from work.  It'd been a weird day weather-wise, rainy but quite warm at times so I presume her feet were hot and/or tired and this was a nice way of relieving them.

It was certainly a nice thing for me to see and got me to thinking about women walking  barefoot.  Hmmm, lovely...

I'm now on Tumblr...

Not quite sure what I'm going to be posting over there, but why not drop by and see?  And if any readers of this blog have a Tumblr, let me know at petermorgan1969@gmail.com and I'll follow you!

My Tumblr account

A set of Christina

We were talking and messing about and Christina looked so bloody gorgeous tonight that I decided to take some shots of her.  I didn't want to go for obvious images (ie, her great tits, flat belly and fantastic arse) and I think I succeeded and created an erotic set.

Then I realised I couldn't photograph her and not get a shot of her feet!

Rachel relieves herself

It had been a long day and the only thing that had got her through it was the thought of frigging herself off.  The long meetings, the emails to me that got more heated as the hours passed, the drive home.

Rachel dumped her coat and shoes, slipped off her skirt and went straight into the lounge.  She sat on the sofa, spread her legs and let her hand trail down from her chest and across her belly.  When she reached her crotch she gently started to rub herself through her knickers. She made wide circles to get her juices flowing before her clit got hard and she began to gently rub that through the material.  Rather than go any further with her pussy right now she slowly undid her blouse.  She didn’t take her bra off but pulled her tits free of it, making them stand proud.

Pinching her nipples hard she began to squeeze and roll them between her thumb and forefinger. Grabbing her breasts she squeezed and played with them, feeling the wetness build between her legs.  It was as though someone was tickling her inside and by now her clit was swollen and crying out to be touched.

Pulling aside her wet knickers, she ran her hand over the outside of her lips and brushed her clit, sending an electrical charge through herself.  She ran her fingertip between her lips so that she touched her clit a little harder whenever she passed it but still not hard enough to bring her to orgasm. Lying back, her legs spread as wide as they would go, she pushed her fingers into her slit deeper now.  They hit her clit harder and she began to rub it.  Her breathing quickened and she squeezed her nipples and she finger fucked herself.

She used her her index and middle finger of her left hand to spread her lips wide, exposing her clit so that she could really go for it.  It didn’t take her long until she’d reached the point of no return and as she felt herself tip, she rammed her fingers into her pussy.  It clenched around them as she shuddered and let her orgasm wash over her, the day's tension flowing out of her body.