Betho71 @Betho71
As the sun rose over the French countryside, I stood posed next to a beautiful black porch, my sleek blonde hair blown gently by the morning breeze. My skin was smooth and tanned, my muscles toned from years of modeling and dancing. My huge breasts strained against the leather vest I wore, revealing tantalizing glimpses of cleavage as I struck pose after pose.
I had always dreamed of becoming a model, and now at thirty I was living that dream. I had traveled the world, posing for photographers in exotic locations like Paris, Tokyo, and Rio de Janeiro. My thick lips curled into a sly smile as I thought about all the attention I received from men when I walked down the street.
But modeling wasn't just about looks - it also required a certain je ne sais quoi, a spark of seductive energy that drew in clients and fans alike. And I had it in spades, thanks to my years of dancing on stage and working as an exotic dancer in New York City's strip clubs. As I posed for the camera, I felt like I was channeling all of that sultry energy into one perfect shot after another.
