Meeting A Photographer At The Beach

Our family was at the beach and my brothers were being jerks so I went off to explore. I saw a photographer with a long camera on the back ridge taking pictures of the bathers. Later I met him. He was old like my dad but nervous looking. He asked if he could take my picture and I said yes. He took some and said I was very photogenic and asked if he could do a full photoshoot of me. I didn't believe I was as attractive as he said but this promised to not be boring so I said yes.

When he walked back to the tree and bushes area along the rise to the cliff I suspected that he just wanted to get me alone to m****t me and if I resisted he'd r**e me. I had been so unhappy that both terrible ideas seemed strangely fine to me so I followed him anyway. Once we were alone he seemed very nervous. He'd tell me what to do and I'd do my best to obey him.

I hated my one piece bathing suit I was wearing and didn't like being photographed in it. I felt eager to be instructed to take it off. When he finally asked me to undo my suit I quickly started taking the suit off. He panicked a bit and let me know he had been wanting to film me slowly losing it not going straight. I told him I had already been gone from my family a long time so we needed to hurry this up. He got his way and got pictures of it coming off. Once I was naked I got in the most lewd poses I could think of. He was shocked and not thrilled but took my pictures anyway. He wanted artsy pictures and I was trying to get him to stop filming and take me.

Once I realized he wasn't going to touch me I let him direct me into the artsy poses he wanted. I left with mixed emotions, thoughts and feelings. I was 13 but tiny for my age so I knew I looked a lot younger. I could not think of any legal type of magazine that he could publish my pictures he took. We didn't trade names or anything so I had no way of ever looking him or his works up. I hoped that lots of perverts saw them and fantasized of me but I didn't believe he would show his pictures of me to anyone.

When I got back to my family they were mad. Both my brothers were still out looking for me. Each had been sent a different way along the beach to look for me. My parents claimed they were just about to summon the police to find me. They warned that there are perverts that nab little girls and I'm not to wander out of sight without one of the others going with me. They harped at me enough for me to be miserable again.

It wasn't until the ride home that I got to thinking about my 'modeling' session. I felt no regrets and never told