You’re So Pretty-Group Sex

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“Okay. I understand. I’ll call you on Sunday. Bye.” I sighed into my cell-phone. Liz my best friend had been called back to work instead of meeting me for a girlie lunch and an afternoon shopping.

As I looked at my watch and fresh cup of cappuccino I was aware of two guys running across the road towards me as I sat at the pavement café.

“Wow! You’re so pretty! You must be a model!” The shorter one gasped breathlessly taking hold of my free hand as he sat next to me. The other, taller, one held a professional looking camcorder.

“You’ve saved my life!” he continued, as I nervously put my cup down, “We’re filming a documentary for our second Year University project and we need a beautiful model for the next interview!”

Shocked at his audacity I told him, “But I’m not a model. I’m a…” Before I could finish my sentence he looked shocked, grasped my hand tighter and sighed, “But you must be! You’re kinda pretty and…well,” he waved his hands in front of my chest, “you must be a model.”

“I can assure you I’m not.” I laughed, trying to avoid the camera in my face.

It was ridiculous of him to even think of me as a ‘model’; I’m 34, 5ft. 5″ and just the wrong shape! My breasts are only 34b for goodness sake!

“I’m so sorry if I’ve embarrassed you,” he sighed again, “but we’ve only got until Friday to finish our project and we really need a real life model.”

He got up and turned to walk away. The guy with the camera bent forward and whispered in his ear.

“Of course!” he grinned as he took my hand again and stroked my gold wedding ring. “If I ask really, really nicely would you pretend to be a ‘model’ for us? All we are doing is asking some questions on camera. No one would know because you really, really look like a model. Please pretty lady – help us!”

I was shocked and flattered beyond belief.

“How long would it take and what would the questions be about?” I asked trying to be helpful.

“Oh! Half an hour? An hour? No more – honest and we would be very grateful!” He grinned as he looked at me then each other then me again.

“What would you be asking me about?” I repeated myself.

Still stroking my hand he began to look sheepish, “Well…. I don’t know your name.”

“Andrea.”

“Well Andrea, our course is Social Science and we are…well…we are asking 10 women from different backgrounds about their sex lives!” he chuckled, “We’ve had a waitress, a schoolteacher, a bank manager…you know the type of thing, but we really, really wanted a model. You know…it sort of seemed…glamorous.”

“All I would have to do is answer some questions?” I smiled at him. After all, I did have some spare time on my hands.

“Yeah. Sure!” The first guy told me, “Just make the answers up. No one will know apart from us. You’ll have a laugh. Honest.”

“Okay then,” I smiled as I wiped the coffee froth from my lips and sat back, “let’s get started.”

They looked at each other, “Not here,” he chuckled, “we’ve got a place over the road. That’s where we saw you from.” He pointed to a window three stories up across the road.

“I don’t know about that.” I stammered, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Oh come on Andrea, you promised. There will only be Paul, Golly and me. You can trust us …we’re students!” he laughed as he stood up and tugged my arm.

“Golly?” I asked as I stood up.

“He’s the other cameraman. I’m Duncan, by the way.” He told me as we crossed the road.

This was all happening too quickly, but my mind told me that it actually would be ‘a laugh’ – what could possibly go wrong?

As Duncan opened the door I had a good look at him and his friend. Like the other two, he was about 20 years old. Duncan was about 5ft 7″, 12 stones (170lb), with very short brown hair and was wearing combat shorts and a red striped t-shirt. Paul was much taller – over 6ft, with long unkempt hair and a ragged goatee beard. He was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt and baggy jeans.

Duncan led the way and Paul followed me upstairs. I wasn’t sure, but I thought that he might have been trying to look up my skirt with the camera.

When we finally made it up the third flight of stairs I was nearly out of breath as we entered their room.

I was very pleasantly surprised to see that it was a neatly furnished loft type apartment, not the grungy student flat that I’d expected.

“Golly!” Duncan shouted, “We’ve got our model. Well…sort of!”

A tall good looking guy wearing a white vest that showed off his muscles and a pair of football shorts, walked out of the kitchen holding a bottle of wine and four glasses.

“I know I watched you.” He spoke with a soft Geordie accent, which is my favourite. “Glass of wine?” he asked me.

“Yes please.” I smiled back as I sat on the leather sofa.

Duncan looked at Paul and they both smiled and raised their eyebrows. I looked down to see that my skirt had risen up exposing my stocking top and suspender.

“Oops!” I chuckled as I took the glass of wine and straightened my skirt.

As I sipped my wine Duncan told Golly that we were going to pretend that I was a model as Paul prepared a much bigger video camera that was linked to a huge TV set in the corner of the room.

Golly noticed that I’d already finished my wine just as Duncan wanted to start.

“Another?” he asked as he took my glass from me. His legs and arse looked very firm and muscular as he walked into the kitchen. “Mmmm,” I thought to myself, “he’s nice, but a bit young for me.”

I made myself comfortable as Duncan began.

“Andrea, you are a top glamour model and you have agreed to answer some intimate questions about your sex life for me. Is that correct?”

Trying to keep a straight face I nodded and answered, “Yes. That is correct.”

“Andrea. When did you have your first sexual experience?” Duncan asked as professionally as possible.

Entering into the spirit of things I replied, “When I was 13. I kissed a boy and we…examined each other.”

“Did you enjoy that?”

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