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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Prologue to the Series
I have several passions in life. So I don’t understand passionless people who live in fear. We all have some degree of passion in our lives but some choose to bury them, living in fear of what their passions could unleash on their lives.
There came a point in my life that my failures caused me to consider becoming passionless. I almost walked away from everything, only to miss the life I’ve enjoyed since that time. Fear talked me into never wanting to express myself, speak up, show up, or expand myself. The fear of disappointing others and fear of leaving my comfort zone outweighed my desire to live a life filled with passion.
Gratefully, I discovered that most people don’t really care what I do, although they may find it fun to criticize my every shortcoming for their own entertainment. So why not? Why not enjoy, pursue, and find pleasure in the passions of life?
My passions have cause challenge, that’s for sure. But the people I’ve met and the experiences of life I’ve enjoyed would never have happened if I didn’t come to the place where I let go and started pursuing my passions.
So I’m passionate without excuse. I go all in about my family, blocking out time and adapting my schedule to spend more time with them. I let go and enjoy my friendships, that have led to such a unique and diverse group of people surrounding me. I invest myself in my job, not as a painful daily experience required to earn enough to eat, but because I enjoy what I do. There’s no substitute for having a job you enjoy. Work is fun if you’re doing it right…. Just like sex.
I’m passionate about my photography. Workshops in the mountains, travel shooting, and the associations I’ve been a part of have brought me a lot of pleasure. I’m passionate about writing, although I admit it’s a hobby that very few actual read.
I’ve been passionate about my lovers that have come and gone in life; one in particular. While it may sound like a contradiction after mentioning being passionate about family, it really isn’t. I’m not very interested in sex for the sake of just mechanical fucking. Sexual expression is far more enjoyable if you’re with someone you truly like and enjoy spending time with. I guess I’m a bit libertine in that sense. Or as a younger generation would define it, demisexual, the sexual attraction you enjoy only with people you have an emotional connection with. You shouldn’t be ashamed of expressing yourself sexually with friends you have an emotional connection with outside of sexuality.
Just over ten years ago, my passion for photography morphed into a passion for capturing the beauty of the human form. It’s offered me the experiences and joy of meeting literally over a hundred people for suggestive, art nude, explicit and even pornographic photoshoots. Some have been friends, some are professional models, others are people who have seen my images and asked me to shoot them.
There have been such a variety of subjects for my shoots that I sit back an reflect on the thought that I would have missed out on all of these wonderful people I’ve met, if I lived in the kind of fear that had me bound thirty years ago.
So I thought I’d put many of my most memorable experiences while shooting nudes and erotica, into a written form. Yes, much of what will unfold in the serial story line I’ll be posting, actually happened. The majority of what I record will be my perspective on actual events. There are a few portions that are fantasized or romanticized versions of reality for the sake of posting on Literotica. But there’s a lot of truth in the story that will unfold in this series.
My previously posted, “Sara Chronicles”, has already used a fictional version of my professional work life. So I looked to find another primary character that would create drastic contrast with the hobby of erotic photography. In this ongoing series, the character is drawn more deeply into his passion that becomes obsession, ultimately leading to imbalance in his life.
The individual stories are best read in order to understand the reoccurring individuals and the overarching saga. Some of the names have been changed for privacy sake. All of the individuals in these stories can be seen on my photography posting sites in the actual shoots in the story line.
I hope you enjoy this ongoing series of short stories.
Reality Check
I hiked out to “the rock” and just sat for a while again today. It’s the place I go to sort things out when I feel like my brain is on overload. Yeah, I know that sounds kinda corny but it seems to be a good distraction from the chaos of my life. Well, at least my therapist seems to think it works. It was his idea to begin with and I grudgingly gave it a try. About the third time I took that hike, I realized just how beneficial those moments of quiet could be in my life.
The weather turned warmer over the past couple of days so I decided Beylikdüzü Escort to set out on a day trip and enjoy it while I could. January isn’t usually the best time to go hiking in my part of the world. Rare is the day you can set out on a trail to enjoy the vistas of the Appalachian mountains in the winter. Even overcast as it was, the temperatures were set to reach 60 degrees.
A brisk forty minute walk on this particular trail leads to great locations for shooting landscape photography and watching the traffic on a distant highway. High on a rock, jutting out of the cliff and overlooking the valley, “the rock” gave a panoramic view of the river below and the mountains surrounding. On warm summer days you can even hear the rafters scream with panic and delight on the rapids just east of “the rock.”
Shifting my seat a bit, my SIG Sauer P320 40 shifted away from my body in it’s holster. It’s not uncommon for solo hikers in this part of the world to be armed. It’s acceptable to the society around these parts, so I usually have something with me when hiking solo.
A sudden breeze swept by causing a few left over leaves to scatter and swirl on the remaining few feet of the path in front of me. The trail narrowed gradually as I arrived at “the rock”, and you could faintly hear the distant highway noise crossing a bridge. The trail I had taken ended at the overlook rock where I sat alone with my thoughts for several hours.
If I was going to get back to the trailhead before nightfall, I should probably start soon. The sky was getting a bit darker; evening was approaching early as it does during winter. But for some reason, I just sat and watched sway of the trees from breezes in the valley below. Headlights were now being turned on as the cars and trucks out in the distance went about their business traveling to somewhere for some reason. Every one of them must have someplace of value to be going; their lives caught up in accomplishing something important in their minds.
I sat there trying to make sense of how I got into the kind of mess that caused me to be out here in the middle of winter sorting out my own thoughts. But there’s no explanation of common sense that can rationalize my life now. The saying, ‘depths to which I’ve fallen’ doesn’t seem to apply since that phrase assumes I had ever found ‘heights to which I’ve gone.’
Yeah, I had achieved a few things in life. A good job, a wife and kids, and a decent middle class home were certainly accomplishments that I could be comfortable in having obtained. Yet, I gladly admit there were no grand heights to my life. As bad as I seemed to feel about the direction my life had taken, it still didn’t justify the depths in which I found myself now. My wife is gone. My kids have all but disowned me. My employment is now a distant memory. My friends whisper rumors and truths in a swirl of reality and fantasy that circle around me like the leaves that flutter in a circle on the path before me.
‘Where do I go from here now that everything and everyone in my life was gone?’ I kept asking myself. But even I didn’t answer myself anymore.
Life was Good
2013
The benediction concluded and the people began to shuffle out of the sanctuary that Sunday morning. They’re a good people; not the pompous religious folk often portrayed in films and sitcoms. Hard working, good hearted folk just trying to live moral lives in a sick world. They’d gather each week and spend time with family and friends, disconnecting from the negativity and spend time looking for hope.
The mumbled voices of friends in the hall and vestibule began to fade as I found myself alone in the empty sanctuary, still with partially raised hands, in the center aisle next to the altar. My mind was blank, having spoken the routine words offering benediction on people that have trusted me as their pastor for many years. Life as I knew it was changing yet I couldn’t define how or why. It was almost like the changes were happening around me but not to me. A disembodied feeling of looking down at life and watching it unfold.
Sometimes life makes you feel like you’re just along for the ride. You go where and when it wants you to go. Control of your life is just a delusion you make up to rationalize your actions or take credit for where you ended up.
There I stood; miserable, bored and desperate for something to happen in my life that would make me want to get up in the morning again. The people had been good to me and my family. My kids had grown up in this distant suburb of Pittsburgh that had felt more like a small town than suburbia.
It was so much easier when I was younger. After four years of undergraduate school and three years of seminary, I set off with a bright-eyed optimism thinking I could change the world. I poured myself into communities and the three churches I had served. Now at fifty, I wasn’t as bright-eyed. Beylikdüzü Escort Bayan I certainly wasn’t very optimistic. My life was a string of events over which I rarely had direction. I just hung on and hoped for the best.
In recent days, I had been promoted by the denomination to care for a region of churches. Working out of a regional office I was still taking care of Sunday worship services at the local church I was leaving, while they were interviewing candidates to replace me. In many ways it felt like a demotion. It seemed that I was now destined to be a paper pusher in the bureaucracy of the system; just another cog in the organizational mechanics. Apparently they felt I was so ineffective that I would be better off as a glorified office boy, rather than on the front lines of a church.
My life was shaping up to be different with more travel, more legal and statistical responsibility, which led to more freedom to set my own schedule. But somehow that didn’t change my mindset. A decade earlier I would have been excited about the new responsibilities, but now it was just another day at the office.
“Pastor!” I heard from behind me. Coming through the side platform door that led to the offices, stood my ‘former’ office secretary. “What are you doing?” she asked a bit confused by my position of offering benediction to an empty sanctuary.
I lowered my hands and leaned backward, resting on the edge of the communion table. Taking a deep breath I began to respond, but heard her walking toward me.
“Still in a funk?” She asked.
“Yeah. I really don’t know what I’m doing now.” I replied in a bit of a whisper.
“So did the board decided to accept the new guy they interviewed?” She was begging for a bit of information since much of the dialogue of the board’s recent interview was still under wraps.
“Confidentially, yes.” I replied. “It will be announced next week and I’ll not be coming back from that point.”
“Guess that means we’ve only got a few more days with you around” She whispered as she walked up next to me.
“Worse than that.” I muttered. “I have to go on the road for the next few weeks so there’s a retiree that will be filling in from this point forward. Just until the new pastor gets moved in.”
I started to move, to stand up again from my settled position. Kim pushed me back. She slid her hand downward from where she had pushed at my chest, down to my belt. With a playful look in her eyes she slid her hand inside my pants and thrust downward until she cupped my cock in her palm.
“Kim, what are you doing?” I questioned. It wasn’t a statement of shock. It wasn’t concern. I asked with the same tone of someone asking if it was raining outside.
“We may not have too many more opportunities if you’re not going to be around.” She whispered, pressing her body against me. Her body weight pressed her grip more firmly around my cock.
“There could be someone still here.” I said. Of course I didn’t stop her as she continued to grope me. I widened my stance and let her enjoy herself. I knew it truly may be the last time she and I might be alone. She deserved to have her little bit of fun too after all we had been through.
“I already locked the doors and set the alarm. We’re alone.” She said as she used her free hand now to unbuckle my belt.
I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to stop but I admit it. I’m totally weak. Sex to me is like an addiction to crack. It seemed like the more often I used it, the more I wanted. So much so that I had already sold my soul for it. There was little chance of going back now.
She tugged at my pants now free of the restricting belt. Pulling her hand away from it’s warm cupping position she used both hands to tug my pants and underwear down together. My mildly aroused cock pulled away. Not fully erect, it felt the rush of cooler air that stimulated every inch of my flesh.
Kim knelt in front of me as she shoved my pants into a pile at my ankles. She parted the tails of my white dress shirt aside like drapery pulled apart to open a window. With a quick motion took me into her mouth.
My hands gripped the edge of the communion table as she started pleasuring me. Her warm wet mouth caused my erection to strengthen and my breathing to become erratic. I leaned a bit backward to stretch my torso, causing my cock to press upward into her waiting mouth with each stroke.
She knew how to distract me; how to disrupt my pent up stress and keep me going. For over a year she had watched me and cared for my needs every time my stress level reached a breaking point.
It all started one day when she commented that my schedule had been full and my tension had been rising. In our banter through that day she ultimately made an offhanded remark that most guys she knew with that much stress needed to ‘blow a load’ to relax.
At first I was caught off guard by the Escort Beylikdüzü sexual nature of her comment. But I laughed and agreed that sex had a way of bringing a guy’s temperament back into alignment.
An hour later she was taking my load; swallowing every drop and going back to work like nothing had ever happened. Calmly she had said, “It’s okay boss. It’s part of my job to take care of you.”
So there I stood; in the middle of the sanctuary, in front of the communion table on my last Sunday at this church, letting her take care of me once again.
The woman had skills, that’s for sure. She spent just the right amount of time getting me wet with her mouth, pleasuring my head with her tongue and slowly stroking me until I was fully aroused. Then she’d toy with my balls by flicking her tongue at them and sucking them into her mouth one after the other. Her face turned sideways to suck my whole ballsack into her mouth as she gently stroked me.
She could sense when I was ready. Call it a intuition, but she somehow knew. With a long strident lick up underside of my cock she got to the head and pressed me into her mouth. Her lips became full as they slid down my shaft just far enough for my head to strike the back of her throat.
Cupping my balls in her hands she started bobbing up and down with a slight twisting motion to her head that always set me off. I reached over and gripped the back of her head at the moment I began to release. It was both my request for her to hold her head in place motionless for me as I let loose and a warning to her that my cum was about to blow. She had asked me many months ago to give her some sign when I was about to cum. I guess it was easier for her to swallow each wave in rhythm when she had some foreknowledge of when I’d start.
As I released, I could feel her head gently shift every few seconds as she swallowed each gulp until I was done. My knees parted as I let go, letting her grip my balls during climax and pressing my hips forward for her to take me in completely. She always seemed to enjoy holding my nuts in her hands and feeling the jerking movement of my post-climax spasms.
Licking my cock on all sides before standing up, she reached over and grabbed the edge of the communion table on either side of me, she stood. She pressed in against me so that my wet, exposed cock pressed against her body. “Just a little something to hold you over.” She grinned and walked away confidently; like she had won an argument that we never had.
She left me there, naked from the waist down in an empty sanctuary. The light from the stained glass window began to dim as if a passing cloud had suddenly covered the sky. The yellow and blue beams of light that had bathed the room began to fade into dull gray.
I wandered the halls reminiscing about good days and bad while making my way back to the office suite. Sitting at my desk the room felt empty and there was an echo; both literally and metaphorically. Bookshelves were empty and the room was now void of any personal items. No more framed photos lining the walls from my numerous photography workshops in various mountain states. No personal photos on the desk. No personal warmth, just an empty office with a window covered by a simple sheer.
Glancing around the room I considered the number of times Kim had “reduced my stress load” in this room. There on the countertop next to the coffee maker. There on the two office chairs where young couples had come for pre-marital counseling. There on the easy chair in the corner where I read from time to time. And of course here in my desk chair.
The spot where I had first fucked Kim on the desk was now barren except for my computer. Raising my laptop lid, the screen lit up and resumed my place. I had been searching for a new location, workshop, or trip to take a new step in my photography hobby. In the transition of local leadership to my new role, I was informed by my superiors that I had amassed a few weeks of vacation time that had to be used. I hadn’t told Kim that I was leaving for personal time since she would press me for details. Better she think that I was heading off to assume my new job than to get into specifics with her. With three weeks of nothing to do, I decided to find another photography workshop.
Hitting next page of my original search, the screen popped up with a advertisement for Model Mayhem. ‘Catchy name’, I thought, so I clicked on it. Page after page of mostly female models all wanting a photographer to shoot with. Some wanted paid, some wanted ‘TF’ whatever the hell that is, and some wanting shoots just for experience and fun.
For years I had been a landscape and nature photographer. I rarely captured the images of people not withstanding the accidental images of people in a few street scenes. But something intrigued me about this. Maybe shooting a cute young model might brighten my attitude. Hell, if she was nude that would be even better.
Digging through the pages and info I found out that I had to submit some photos of people to even become a member of the site. I really didn’t have any photos of women or models that would be considered art. So I tossed it aside and opted to go to a landscape workshop instead.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32