The Shoot

Let me brag a bit about my last job - calendar photographer with three absolutely gorgeous models: Jane, Kirsty and Alison. This was a one-off commission, but as you will see it turned out to be unforgettable. Outdoor
calendar shoots with models were hard work, but great fun. We would work from 8am till dusk, only breaking for refreshments. Our food hamper and icebox were the only luxuries we had - it was cool mineral water for these
smooth-skinned beauties.

I quickly sussed out their routine. They would spot a house near the shoot, and mid afternoon all 3 would slip away to knock and ask to use the loo. I got to enjoy the early afternoon when the morning refreshments had clearly hit the mark, and the tell-tale crossed legs and gentle squirming heralded the eventual whispers and trip for relief. No such problem for me, I was happy to slip briefly behind the van when I had to. If there was no nearby house, we would formally break for lunch and hit a nearby town. These days were less fun, so I tried to choose locations with a least one house nearby. And so to the day which is burned in my memory. All went as usual until 3pm, we had a deadline to meet and were working fast. All 3 girls were noticably squirming (I had kept them plied with water), and were struggling to hold still for the photographs. This was great, the postures of a desperate, bursting girl have a hugely sexy quality and many of the best shots came from early afternoon. 'And hold it', I would say with a long pause before pressing the shutter. The tiny posture adjustments the girl made during that pause were a delight to see. And the violent bounce and squirm after the shot led me on many occasions to quickly take a second shot (for my personal collection).

So just after 3pm the girls eventually slipped away to the only house nearby, and I saw them go to the front door. Even from my distance they were noticably bobbing as they waited. Well, a couple of minutes later they were back. I had been busy, but it seemed a much shorter time than normal. So we went on with the shoot. They were modelling short mini-dresses, and the next set of shots had them standing straight, hands lifted high over their heads. As I focussed the camera I became aware of that characteristic jiggling, accompanied by a brief grimace. My heart skipped a beat. Over the next few minutes it was obvious to my trained eye that none of them had emptied their bladders (presumably no answer at the door). And it looked like they were too proud to admit their plight before a mere photographer. Were they were going to try and last out till the end of the shoot?

Talk about camera shake, the next few hours work are burned in my memory like a video slo-mo. As I snapped one struggling, bouncing girl who could barely stand still for a second, I was trying to watch the other two. They
seemed to assume that my concentration couldn't be divided, and that they were invisible to me, and they openly held and rubbed at themselves to hold in their pent up pee. We had a full 3 hours of daylight left and I was going to use every single minute.

Alison appeared to be suffering the worst. She would walk about with small mincing steps whenever she wasn't working, and she had a desperate, nervous look in her eyes. So I did more shots with her than the others. I was so fussy about positioning - I would have her drape herself across a rock, then I would move her arms and legs slightly and stand, my hand on her thigh, pretending to think deeply about the shot. I could feel her tense, slightly quivering muscles. She was breathing heavily, and running her tongue across those lovely pouting lips. Then I would say 'Perfect, just hold that", and slowly walk back to the camera taking in the desperate antics of the other two. To her credit she managed, shot after shot after shot. I kept expecting some protest, some excuse about not feeling well or something, but no - just those tense quivering thighs and the bouncing and holding when I was working with the others, or she thought my back was turned.

It got gradually colder. And eventually the light faded and all the shots were in the can. We packed up, and the girls climbed into the van. It was a half-an-hour ride back, there was nowhere on the way for their relief, and I
was in no hurry. I twisted the rear-view mirror so I could see their legs on the seat behind me. All 3 shuffled back and forth, sat on and off their hands, and frequently frantically thrusting their fingertips into their knickers. They still wore the minidresses they had last modelled, and the view was perfect. It was hard (pun intended) to concentrate on driving with this bevy of desperate models all right on the very edge of wetting themselves, yet none of whom had even mentioned their plight. Gradually a plan formed in my mind.

In the middle of a long, quiet stretch of road I simply pulled up. There was no cover, no buildings any where, and I turned the engine off. I could hear little 'Oh's every so often from the girls, and the rubbing and chafing of
their legs and fingers. "What is it?" Alison asked, "I don't know I said, a funny noise from the engine, I'd better take a look." I climbed down, opened the bonnet, and looked in for a couple of minutes, then I pulled 2 spark
plug leads off. I stuck my head in - "Alison, could you give me a hand for a minute." She looked at the others, then took a deep breath and climbed out the van. The cold air hit her and she clutched at herself, curling her slim fingers round the front edge of her skirt. I led her to the engine - "Hold these 2 leads together", I said, "I just need to find the other end." It was a cruel trick: she had to use both hands, she was stretched over the edge of
the engine unable to cross her legs. The only relief available to her was to bend one leg at the knee, and this she did at intervals.

I grabbed my flashlight, lay down beside the van, and slowly slid myself under the engine. "Now where is it?" I said, poking about. I moved my head slowly to the font of the van - and suddenly: pefect! She couldn't see me
but - oh boy oh boy! My head was just an inch from Alison's toes, I moved the torch and let the edge of the beam play up her leg, and the view was perfect. Alison's white panties at the end of her long, slim, tanned legs.
She was still panting, and her thighs were quivering. Her knees jerked towards each other every few seconds. I kept up a stream of appropriate mechanic type statements, and gazed at that beautiful strip of white, illuminated gusset and waited, and waited, and waited ...

It was 4 or 5 minutes before I heard a soft "Oh no..." from over my head. A tiny spot appeared on that gusset and she bent her knees suddenly, banging them against the van. Then the gusset suddenly darkened and bulged, and there was a loud hiss. I was too slow to get out the way of the massive torrent of pee that suddenly rained down. Alison had straightened up, and lifted her skirt out the way, and she now emptied herself completely, thoroughly soaking her knickers, her legs, her shoes, ... and my head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." she whispered, her face scarlet. I stood up, gave her hand a squeeze and told her not to worry. She found a newspaper to sit on in the van, and the engine "fixed" we drove on in silence.

Well the other two made it. Just. But I didn't care. I was aching with the intensity of that afternoon. The shots were some of the best I'd ever done, and that was one calendar that will ALWAYS be on my bedroom wall !!!

Squirm

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