Fucked and photographed

It’s always been like this. I never had a lot of pocket money as a child, and the student loan system brought in by a LABOUR government just made matters worse. Money has been a problem for me since I was little, and it’s always been a question of finding ways to earn enough to fill the gap between what I got legitimately, and what I needed for a comfortable life.

Since I started at Uni last September there’s never been enough to live a nice life, but it didn’t take me long to find other ways of earning money here. I’ve been finding little ways of doing that for a long time now, and they just seem to get that bit worse every time in order to keep the cash coming in.

I suppose the earliest things I did were innocent enough. Like helping my Mum or my Dad round the house or in the garden. I had to earn all my pocket money, so the more I did the more I got. I used to do the washing up for 10p or maybe some ironing for £1, but it always seemed a lot of work for a very little money.

That was until I went to see Uncle Bill at work. He had a photographic shop in Blackburn, and sold cameras and stuff like that. He also did wedding photography, school photos and what he used to call ‘glamour’. The studio was at the back of the shop, and he had loads of complicated machines and stuff in there as well to turn the film into photos for wedding albums and things. He was going to take me out for the day to the zoo, and because he had to go into his shop first to finish off some urgent photos I met him there on a Sunday morning. My Dad dropped me off in the car about eight, and Uncle Bill let me in round the back of the shop.

There was the usual overpowering smell of chemicals which seemed to permeate even his clothes. There were photos all over the workbench, and I noticed Uncle Bill shuffling some underneath a folder as if he didn’t want me to see them. From the quick glance I’d had they looked like the individual school photos we had done at our school – in fact I thought I recognised one of the girls – but why was he hiding them?

The phone rang in the shop. Uncle Bill had no idea that I’d seen him hiding the photos so he went through to the shop leaving me on my own. I had to look of course. I moved the folder and couldn’t believe what I saw. They were photos of girls at our school, but amongst the ordinary ones were three or four very different ones. Very different ones indeed. One in particular caught my eye. It was of a very pretty girl with blue eyes and blonde hair, smiling in a knowing sort of way. I didn’t actually know her, but I had seen her about. She was sat at her desk, posing in much the same way as all the other girls, except that her blouse was open and she was cupping her breasts together and fingering her nipples. There was another much ruder one of a dark haired girl I didn’t recognise with her legs apart and her dress pulled up. The lips and outline of her cunt was clearly visible through her thin cotton panties. She too was smiling.

Uncle Bill finished his phone call, and I quickly pushed the photos back under the folder. But not quickly enough. He saw what I was doing and went bright red.

“Oh, Suzi – you found those. I didn’t mean you to see them. It’s just a little sideline I do from time to time for extra cash. It doesn’t do any harm. And the girls only do it because I pay them.”

I must have looked shocked. I suppose I was, really, but the idea of girls earning a bit of extra cash just for letting someone take dirty photos of them sounded a good one – specially as I never had any money myself.

“Uncle Bill – you dirty man. Those are just girls at my school, and they’re only my age too – you’ll be in big trouble if anyone finds out.”

“But who’s going to find out Suzi? The girls won’t tell because they’d be in trouble too, and that just leaves you.”

He pulled a bulging wallet out of his back pocket and opened it.

“£5 for Suzi, and it stays our little secret?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to get him into trouble, but I was a bit uneasy at the thought of taking money off him. Even at that age it didn’t seem right to me.

“£5 not enough then?”

He looked worried. Was I going to tell on him and get him into trouble?

“Tell you what I’ll do, then. I’ll make it £10 but maybe you could let me take one or two ‘special’ photos of yourself – just for the album?”

£10 was an awful lot of money to me then, and it didn’t take me more than a second or two to make my mind up. I didn’t know quite what he had in mind, but the stuff the girls at school were doing for him didn’t seem that bad – and £10 was £10.

“OK then. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone about the photos, and I’ll let you take some of me as well. Do you want to do them now?”

He did. Very badly. I could see that from the bulge in his trousers which I was old enough to recognise as a hard-on. He said he’d get a camera and some film (he said digital cameras were no more than toys) and told me to relax. I must have seemed a bit tense, which maybe wasn’t surprising!

I still remember what I was wearing that day. It was sunny and warm, and I didn’t want to be too hot at the zoo, so all I had on was a light blue gingham dress in thin cotton. I loved that dress. It had very short sleeves and was lovely and cool on hot days like today. There were buttons all the way down it from top to bottom, though that wasn’t very far – it was a very short dress.