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From: punchinello@pulperotica.com (Punchinello)
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Subject: {ASSM} Photographs of Fillies (ff,Mff,reluct) Pulp story!
Date: Sun,  4 May 2003 18:10:06 -0400
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Photographs of Fillies
They thought the pictures would be private...not postcards!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually
explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This
material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the
consent of the author.

MORE PULP EROTICA STORIES AND ART AT http://www.pulperotica.com!


Photographs of Fillies

(ff, Mff, reluct)
By: Punchinello


Silver City, 1890

"Why, hello, ladies. Can I interest you in a portrait photograph?"

Susan and Ellie stopped in their tracks. "Oh, Susan, let's stop. I've
always wanted my picture taken." The traveling photographer had his
wares on display on a table outside the Silver City Hotel. The girls
looked over the fine sepia-tone photographs of gentlemen and ladies.
They were very good, all posed nobly on a velvet bench or chair in
front of a velvet curtain with decorated with fancy tassels. "Oh, look
at them. Wouldn't your folks just love one?"

Susan, taller, blonde, and sober-looking, looked the man over. He wore
a thin waxed mustache and a fine black top hat with a cape. His vest
was patterned gold and red and held a first-rate gold watch in the
pocket. "These are very nice, mister."

"Blackheel," the man smiled. "Hamish Blackheel, at your service miss.
And may I say, it would be a particular pleasure to shoot you- your
portrait, that is."

"Oh, let's do it, Susan," the younger, dark-haired girl urged. "How
much is it, Mister Blackheel?"

He regarded her kindly. "Just two bits for the sitting, darling; a
quarter dollar."

"That's only fifty cents for the two of us," Ellie whispered.

"I know, Ellie." Susan reached down her dress front and pulled out the
little purse she kept nestled in her bosom. She counted out the money.
"I have enough. I'll spot you yours." She knew Ellie wasn't carrying
any money.

The seventeen and eighteen year olds made an appointment with the man
to take their photographs that evening in the hotel. They took his
card and then went on about their business at the local mercantile,
where they thought they wanted to look at ladies' hats.



That evening, the two girls found their way to the Silver City Hotel,
hearts racing, to have their portraits taken. Mr. Blackheel met them
in the lobby and ushered them up the stairs to the room he had rented
as studio. The girls marveled. The room was done up in red velvet with
gold tassels and brocade, fancier than any place they'd ever been
before. The rich textures and colors, together with the marvelous
camera and lighting equipment, made the girls' heads swim.

"I feel as though I've stepped into another world," Ellie murmured.

"This photography is quite a science," said Susan knowingly.

Blackheel slipped in behind them and closed the door. "It certainly
is. One must be intimate with the disciplines of optics and chemistry
as well as...art." His smile seemed more oily now.

The girls posed for two portraits each: demure, serene, yet noble and
proud. But they spent a great deal of time finding the poses. "What a
lovely neck you have, my dear," he told Susan from behind the glaring
gas lamps. "So slender and smooth, like the stem of a flower; and your
face is the beautiful blossom." Susan blushed. "Ellie," he said, "can
you tilt your head just a little? I want to see that sparkle in your
eyes. You have such beautiful eyes."

The girl went red all over. "I believe these lights are making me
dizzy."

It wasn't long before the girls had posed for two more portraits in
which they sat together. As they finished, Susan popped open the
buttons of her restrictive dress a little to catch a breath in the
warm room. "That will be five dollars, please, ladies. You'll have the
photographs in a week or so."

"Five dollars!?" The girls were astonished.

"Oh yes. It's all there on the back of my card I gave you this
afternoon. Twenty-five cents for the sitting, twenty-five cents for
each portrait, and fifty cents for each printed photograph. We did six
portraits, so a dollar and a half; and six prints, so three dollars
more is four dollars and a half; and of course the two sittings:
that's makes five dollars even."

"Five dollars!" Ellie gasped.

"We don't have five dollars," said Susan. "We can't afford to have the
printed photographs made."

"Well," Blackheel thought, "then it's only...a dollar and a half for
the portraits and fifty cents.... That's two dollars then-but surely
you want to have the photographic prints made?"

"We have two dollars even," Susan said evenly. "You tricked us. You
tricked us into doin' this."

Blackheel smiled his oily smile again. "It's all right there on the
back of the card, miss." He turned away, attending to his equipment.
"But I suppose there might be options...."

Ellie tugged on Susan's arm. "Sue, let's just go," she whispered,
gesturing toward the door.

"I'm not skippin' out on any debt, Ellie May Carpenter. We should have
read the card first." She turned to the photographer. "What can we do
to make it up? We can wash out some of your clothes. Or we can mend
some holes they might have."

Blackheel turned back. "Well...there is something. You see, gentlemen
back east, way back east, they enjoy certain photographs of ladies,
you know."

"What kind of photographs?" Ellie asked.

"Well, you know," Blackheel went on casually, "the sort of... intimate
portraits of ladies who aren't ashamed of their beauty. You
know...beauty portraits."

"Beauty portraits?"

The girls had to think about it, but Blackheel assured them that the
photographs would be kept in his private collection and sold secretly
to men back east in art books as French imports. He even showed them
some of other girls. It all seemed very safe and rather artistic.



The girls disrobed behind an oriental divider, where a chair sat ready
to hold their dresses and petticoats. In only their underclothes, they
came out into the hot glare of the lamps again. Blackheel had moved
the set around and spread the fancy velvet curtain across the narrow
bed which had been hidden behind it before. The girls took turns
posing with bottles and glasses of wine, even drinking some and
feeling the room turn. "I don't know where my head's gone," Ellie
giggled.

The girls were soon letting their hair down and brushing it out for
the camera, even taking off their buttoned boots and stockings and
parading around in just their frilly pantaloons and corset-covered
camisoles. "It's very avant garde," Blackheel commented. "Very
French." Off came the corsets, leaving them in their thin cotton
camisoles. "Girls, would you give each other a kiss? Just a soft kiss
on the lips, but you'll have to hold it."

Their minds all mixed up and hearts all aflutter, the two girls sat up
before the camera and kissed softly on the mouth. "Hold it," Blackheel
said. "Close your eyes and hold it." Susan closed her eyes and
breathed in Ellie's soft scent, felt her moist lips part slightly, the
hand on her thigh flex just a little. She felt the warm place between
her thighs moisten slightly and tingle. The flash of the photograph
made stars sparkle in her eyes. "Don't those ladies in the postcards
show their bosoms?" she heard Ellie say innocently.

In a minute, both girls were unbuttoning the other's bodice and
exposing their pale breasts. More photos made both girls dizzy, and
they put on cowboy hats and posed as cowgirls be the window. But then
they flung off their hats and went back to the bed, where Ellie
pressed the older girl down and whispered, "I've got powerful urges,
Sue. Do you feel it?"

"Mmmm, yes," Susan breathed. And they kissed softly and openly, young
tongues intertwining, young bodies rolling on the bed together. Their
tops came off completely and took turns licking and sucking the
other's warm, soft, breasts. Susan's were smaller, with long, pointed
nipples; and Ellie, although younger, had the heavier, broad-nippled
breasts.

Ellie pressed her hand on Susan's belly and slid it down under her
pantaloons, down between Susan's legs, where her moist sex was warm
and waiting. The two girls kissed again as Ellie peeled Susan's
pantaloons down and kneeled down to kiss her flat belly. "Mmmm," the
older girl moaned again. Her blonde sex was exposed, pink lips full
and wet beneath the yellow curls. Ellie breathed heavily as Susan
smiled and lowered her pantaloons for her also. Then, naked together,
the girls lay back on the bed, Ellie kissing Susan's thighs, and Susan
running her hands through Ellie's dark brown hair.

When Ellie pressed her tongue into her friend's wet slit, Susan
gasped. She arched her back and pulled Ellie in deeper, lost
completely in the pleasure of the moement. Ellie licked it eagerly,
tasting her friend-tasting any girl-for the first time. "Mmmm. Oh.
Oh!" Susan moaned.

Ellie pressed her own hand between her thighs and felt the slick sex
beneath her dark bush. She found the tiny pleasure button between her
cunny lips and rubbed it quickly and hotly. Susan continued to moan
and writhe as her own cunny yielded sticky honey that Ellie gladly
licked up. "Oh! Oh, yes! Oh Ellie! It's beautiful! Oh honey lick it!"
Ellie licked the hot sex button that stood out between Susan's pussy
lips. She sucked it and teased it until her friend was gasping and
groaning, pressing her head deeper, and rocking against her hard and
fast, crying, "Yes! Oh yes! Don't stop, you precious girl! Oh yes,
yes! Suck it, please! Suck it more!"

She rocked and writhed for a moment more and let out a heavy wail of
uncontrolled lust as her womanly passion erupted and made her young
body shake and quiver. Ellie backed off and lay on her side, frigging
her hot little puss madly while her friend recovered. In a moment, she
was gasping and humming, breathing hard and moaning like Susan had,
saying, "Oh! Oh! Oh! It's so good! It feels so good!" and finally
collapsing beside her on the little bed.

The two girls cuddled and petted for a few minutes more as Mr.
Blackheel captured the final moments of the series, a study in womanly
passion and carnal pleasures.

The girls left with a dollar each and the promise of their portraits
in the mail in the coming weeks. They left together, shamefaced and
mortified by the actions, yet liberated in a way, and holding hands
like little girls.



They got their portraits in the mail, two weeks later, just as Mr.
Blackheel had said. They were beautiful: whimsical and wistful at the
same time, capturing their very essence. Their parents were powerfully
pleased and set the pictures in frames and put them on the mantle
above the fireplace, one of each girl in each home. They even each had
a copy of the two of them together-clothes on-to keep among their
personal things. In all, it was a capital endeavor, even if it made
the two of them just a little uncomfortable to be alone together.



Then, one day at the mercantile, just when they thought their sinful
deed was well behind them, Ellie and Susan were looking at cloth and
spied a rack of postcards that the shopkeeper kept behind the side
counter.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, would you look at these!" Ellie snatched the
postcards off the rack.

"Hey! Those aren't for ladies!" The shopkeeper had come out of the
back with a bolt of cloth.

"They are ladies!" Susan said. The two of them scooped up the whole
lot of them and rushed out the door, the shopkeeper howling like a
coyote.

"My pa is gonna kill me if he ever saw these!" Ellie said as they
rushed away from the mercantile. She held the pile up against her
bosom as she ran across the street and up onto the boardwalk in front
of the bank.

Susan ran alongside clutching another handful. "Ellie, are these the
only ones? What if there are more somewhere?" She looked around, as if
more nudie postcards might be hanging on the railing posts of the
boardwalk.

"Susan, I don-" But as she turned Susan ran smack into her and the
postcards went all over the boardwalk.

As they stooped to pick them up again before anyone noticed, a shadow
fell over them. It was Jim Griffin. "Well, well. What do we have
here?" he said in his voice as deep as a well. He crouched down to
pick up some of the fallen cards.

"Please, Mr. Griffin, give 'em back! Oh please!" But the dancehall
gambler kept a firm grip.

"Easy, Ellie Holder. Let's just have a look." He looked them over with
a wicked grin. "Well, well. My, my," he mused. "I always did wonder
what you pretty girls were concealin' in those dresses...."

Susan unbuttoned her bodice and pulled it well open. Her creamy
breasts caught Griffin's attention immediately. She quickly stuffed
the postcards she'd gathered inside and began buttoning it up again.

"Miss Ellie, you and Miss Susan come to the dancehall after hours
tonight, and we'll play a little game of cards for the rest of these,"
Griffin said. He tucked his handful of postcards into his vest and
walked away.



That night, the girls made their excuses at home and went out
together, claiming to be on an errand for the other's mother. They
went to the dancehall filled with trepidation. It was a wild place,
and filled with debauchery, they knew-or at least they heard-until
after midnight. Even at that late hour when they arrived, drunks and
bums were still stumbling out into the street. The girls waited until
the dancers and musicians had also packed up before going to the door.
Inside was Jim Griffin, sitting all alone in the dim, silent hall.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, sucking on a narrow cigar and nursing
a bourbon.

The girls shuffled in, wide-eyed and wondering, amazed at the strange
trappings of the dancehall. Pictures of naked ladies hung on the
walls. Rich curtains hung at every doorway and window. They sat with
Griffin at the felt-topped gambling table, nervous and uncertain.

"These are the rules. I'll bet with the postcards of you two lovely
girls, and you'll bet with items of clothing you're wearing." The
girls went slack-jawed in disbelief. "The rules are simple, ladies,"
Griffin stroking his thin mustache. "If you want to win back your
postcards, you'll have to wager your... frillies."

"Mr. Griffin, please," Susan said earnestly. Her large, bright eyes
were dewy with tears. "We just have to get those postcards back. Our
parents will kill us dead if they ever knew...."

"I understand," he said kindly. "That's why one postcard will equal
one item of clothing, straight up, even Steven-top bet of two items at
a time."



And so they began, the girls each taking off one boot to ante up, but
Jim Griffin raised them quickly, and soon their boots and stockings
were on the table, along with two postcards. The girls quickly saw a
disparity: the gambler's one postcard was equal to one item of
clothing all right-from each girl. "After all," Griffin said, "if it
were money, I'd be anteing up a dollar and each of you would follow
suit." They bit their lips, tucked their bare feet under their chairs,
and took their cards.

Griffin won the first hand easily: the girls held nothing and folded
quickly without betting further. Next, the girls peeled off their
pretty dresses and sat barefoot in their petticoats. Jim raised them
again and forced them to offer up their corsets and garters. Ellie
folded again, but Susan called Jim with her petticoat. Jim showed a
pair of kings; Susan had only tens.

As the cards were dealt again, both girls watched closely, wary of a
gambler's skill at cheating and worried for their remaining modesty.
Ellie drew a pair of eights and an ace. Susan drew king high. They
ponied up an additional item each on top of their antes: Ellie's
petticoats and Susan's corset. Susan now sat in her camisole and
pantaloons, hard nipples showing through the thin fabric. Jim raised
again-he had little to lose-and the girls reluctantly peeled off
another item: Ellie's corset and Susan's pantaloons. She now sat in
camisole and cotton drawers, her smooth legs drawing Jim's leering
looks. "You are an awfully pretty girl, Miss Susan. Do you know that?"
he asked, looking at her and at the pretty, pouting expression on the
postcard in his hand. Her nose was upturned a little bit, where
Ellie's was just a button. Her lips were full, although not as full as
Ellie's, and her eyes were large and bright.

"Thank you," she said bashfully. Her blonde hair was loose and fell
over her eyes a little. She couldn't look at him directly. He was
quite a handsome man; firm jaw, mysterious eyes, an easy grace with
the cards. Perhaps his admiration set him off balance for once; he
showed two pair to Ellie's three eights.

Ellie gratefully collected the clothes and postcards and began to put
them on again. She even pushed Susan's pantaloons toward her. "Not so
fast, Miss Ellie," Jim said. "You'll need those again soon, I think."
The dark-haired girl slumped back in the padded chair with a worried
look.

On the next hand, the girls got in deep again, leaving Susan with a
hard choice: her camisole or her drawers. The girls exchanged looks,
and Ellie offered her own pantaloons. The two girls took their cards.
Jim smiled. "I'll raise you two," he said. Susan's heart dropped.

Susan looked at her cards again: three sixes. "Can I- Can I just say
that I see you... with my undershirt and my drawers?" Ellie folded
outright over a pair of deuces.

"I've got to see them on the table, Miss Susan," the gambler said. He
looked her over and fingered his remaining postcards. "Look, honey,
I've already seen you with your clothes off-just... not in color."

"I think he's bluffin', Sue," Ellie said ruefully. But she had folded,
so it wasn't her panties that were in jeopardy. Susan slowly
unbuttoned her camisole and peeled it back. Her beautiful young
breasts were pale and pointed. The red nipples stood straight out,
much bolder than the girl herself. She lay the garment on the pile and
peeled off her drawers under the table, careful to keep out of sight
as best she could. Both girls looked around nervously, worried that
any dancing girl or bartender might wander back into the hall to watch
the fun.

The pretty blonde eighteen-year-old dropped her cotton drawers in the
kitty. "I call," she said softly. She tried to hide her breasts and
hold her cards at the same time.

"What do you have?" the gambler asked, taking special pleasure in her
discomfort. She showed a pair of jacks.

"I've got..." Jim drawled, spreading them out, "a pair of fillies."
The queens of diamonds and hearts topped the spread. "Would you look
at that?"

Ellie couldn't help but give a little moan for her friend. But it
wasn't over. Jim leaned forward and looked the younger girl in the
eye. "Miss Ellie... I'd like those drawers and camisole of yours too,"
he said. "How about we cut the deck for them?"

"What do you mean?" the girl asked. Her dark eyes were soft and
wet-enough to melt a gambler's heart... nearly.

"We'll cut the deck for high card. I'll put up two pieces for every
one of yours."

The girls looked at each other. They didn't know what to do. If they
lost all their clothes, would Jim make them walk home naked? It
couldn't be so! How awful! Susan clutched her bosoms and bit her lip.
Ellie looked at Jim. "All or nothing," she said.

Jim smiled. "Now that's a gambler." He shuffled the deck while Ellie
peeled off her top and drawers. Her round breasts hung soft and
supple, like delicious fruit. Her clothes went on the pile with the
other things, and both girls sat huddled behind the table as best they
could, naked and small.

Jim let Ellie draw: a ten. Then he offered it to Susan. "You cut for
me," he said.

She picked up a small stack and turned it over, hardly able to look.
Her face told it all. "A king," she said with a gasp and suddenly
began sobbing. The tears rolled down her cheeks openly, and Ellie was
only half a breath behind, collapsing in a tearful puddle on the
table.

Jim rose from the table. "Now girls," Jim Griffin said in his kindly
voice. "This doesn't have to be. There's no call for tears." They
quieted a little, holding back the flood, but only barely.

"I've got another game...."

He stroked their bare backs gently, raising a wild thrill through both
of them that traveled to every crevice of their bodies. "You can get
it all back," he said stooping between them, "every last thing, just
by giving up one... last... thing." He kissed them both softly with
each word; first Susan's tear-stained cheek, then Ellie's, and finally
Susan's warm, full mouth.

"Everything?" Ellie asked.

"Everything." He kissed Ellie's soft lips and caressed both of their
smooth, naked backs, right down to their firm, round bottoms.

"And nobody ever knows?" asked Susan.

"Nobody," Jim smiled. And he raised her up to sit on the table,
exposing her bare breasts again. He kissed her breasts and sucked the
small nipples, making her moan softly and let her head roll back. He
stood between her legs and kissed her warm throat. Ellie stood up
beside them and stroked Jim's back, gaining his attention and getting
a warm kiss on her full, wet mouth. Jim began to unbutton his shirt
and pull it off, and Ellie helped. Susan looked him in the eye as he
bared his chest and kissed her again, taking her open mouth with his
probing tongue. She tasked his bourbon and felt his thin mustache,
felt his muscular body against her naked frame, and she practically
swooned.

Ellie helped Jim off with his shirt and stood behind him, frail and
naked, stroking his bulging crotch from behind. As he kissed Susan
again, the younger girl pulled off his boots and socks. He stood in
his tight-fitting trousers, the bulge growing by the moment, and ran
his hands all over the sweet blonde's naked body, even down to the V
of her thighs and the yellow mound of treasure beneath. Susan moaned
softly as his hand invaded her, sliding easily between her lips and
gently stroking her moist cunny. "Oh, yes," she moaned breathlessly.
"Mmmmm, Mr. Griffin, that's- That's wonderful."

Ellie was pulling down Jim's trousers exposing his hard buttocks and
his stiffening stem. She pressed her naked body against him from
behind and stroked it to full erection, eliciting a heavy groan from
him. "Ellie... oh, thank you, darling." To Susan, he whispered, "It's
time."

Susan spread her legs and lay back, flattening the little pile of
clothes on the table. Jim guided his rod between her pink lips and
pushed it home slowly. The girl gasped, fluttered her hands, head
turning this way and that, eyes tightly closed. Ellie stroked Jim's
naked frame, her young body coming alive with daring and desire. "On
the table," he whispered in her ear.

As Jim slid his cock into Susan's moist hole, Ellie climbed onto the
table and kneeled over her friend's face. "Yes," the man said, and
slid in and out of that sweet slit slowly, watching the dark-haired
girl lower her juicy cunt down to Susan's mouth. Susan held her
friend's hips and pulled her down to her, at last dipping her tongue
into Ellie's sweet honey pot.

Ellie gasped and moaned, "Oh! Oh, yeah. Oh, Sue! Suck it, Susan; it's
so good!" Jim leaned forward, cock sliding full into Susan's twat, and
kissed young Ellie hard on the mouth, tasting her tongue and making
her moan. He played with her breasts, finding their hard little
nipples and teasing them. He fucked Susan slowly all the while, making
her moan into Ellie's pussy even as she licked it and sucked the
younger girl's little pink button.

Ellie continued to moan as Susan began to writhe and rock. Jim slid
into her again and again, a little faster, a little harder, making her
gasp and hum and lose control. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried in rising
intervals. "Harder! Oh yes! Harder!" she begged.

Ellie pressed down on her face and fingered her own clit at the same
time, raising a fiery lust inside her that spread throughout her body.
"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Please suck it, honey. Oh!"

And suddenly, both girls were moaning and in sharp, staccato breaths.
It made the cream boil in the gambler's balls and rise up to shoot
into Susan's wet, blonde cunny in thick white streams. He pulled out
more a moment to see the semen spurt, and then plunged it back in
hard, making the girl groan and tremble and finally lock her legs
around him and shake in the grasp of a hard orgasm. Her quivering body
and hot moans of ecstasy sent Ellie over the edge as well, and the
dark-eyed girl stiffened and arched her back as the waves of pleasure
crashed over her, making the luscious cunny liquor flow into Susan's
open mouth.

Jim raised them up and kissed both girls in long and languid embraces
that made their weary bodies loosen and relax.



The girls gathered all the postcards, put on their clothes again, and
rushed out, heads spinning. They went down the street quickly, staying
close, and ducked inside a barn where horses here stabled. In the dim
light offered by the moon, they collapsed together in the hay and
laughed and cried. They promised each other never to do such wicked
things again.

"Never," Susan promised.

"Never," promised Ellie.

Then they sealed the pact with a kiss.


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