Daisy's Delights - George Boxlicker - ebook
Opis

Daisy is a gorgeous woman who works as a fashion model and has just turned 18. She and her agent want her to get involved in the more lucrative nude modeling but Daisy fears she may be frigid and that sad condition might come through to those who look at her erotic photos or videotapes. Read how she learns otherwise by coming four times with a skilled lover, putting her mind at rest forever.

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Daisy’s Delights

By George Boxlicker

The young beauty learns just how sensuous she is.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: No person in this work of fiction is under 18 years old.

Daisy Porter has always really enjoyed her life as a fashion model in London, but now she is interested in having a go at the more erotic side of modeling. Only 18 years old, tall, with long blonde hair and warm blue eyes and blessed with a beautiful face and a gorgeous figure, she definitely meets the physical requirements for a successful career. Far more important, she exudes a certain sensuousness that is sure to repeatedly bring men back to feast their eyes on her face and body while they fantasize about how, given the opportunity, they would love to do much more than just gaze upon her beauty.

And, she has an inside track to achieve that status, after signing up with Girls Represented, a production firm that can and will see to it that the sexy girls working for them have plenty of exposure in every sense of the word. That is just what Daisy wants now, but it hasn’t always been that way. Until recently, she was worried about whether or not she was enough of a woman to be able to do what would be expected of her. She is fully aware of her beauty, especially when nude, which will be her normal state when she begins her new career. Her mirror tells her that, as do the eyes of men as they avidly follow her down the street, and the eyes of most men have been doing that since Daisy was in her mid-teens.

That was the situation even while she was still living in a small village in the Yorkshire Dales where, as in most small municipalities of rural England, every resident knows everybody else. Back then, Daisy expected to marry one of the local lads shortly after she became old enough and settle down with him so they could raise their children to be much like the other residents were. That was the kind of life her mother and father led, as did most of the villagers, and they all thought of it as their destiny.

However, Daisy has something none of the other village girls or women have, and that is her striking beauty. This fact about her came to the attention of a large modeling agency, and they sent emissaries to her home to try to persuade the young beauty to come to work for them. They told how she could so easily achieve fame and fortune and avoid the dull life of a village matron, although they were much too tactful to use those exact words, because her parents were always involved in the discussions. The representatives of the agency were good at what they did, and they persuaded Daisy, who was only 16 years old then, to return with them to London, where she would begin her new career as a glamorous fashion model.

She was an immediate success on the stage and on the catwalk and, shortly after she reached her 18th birthday, the agency suggested she get involved in the more erotic side of modeling. They expected to make more money from her efforts, but she would also benefit greatly from the more lucrative contracts that would be hers. However, Daisy had some misgivings about living up to the very high expectations being placed on her. What caused those doubts was her fear that she did not have enough of the sexuality she believed would be necessary for her to achieve the very highest level of success. In fact, she actually feared she might be frigid.

Daisy liked the modeling she did, especially parading in front of hundreds of pairs of admiring eyes wearing the tiniest bikinis or the skimpiest micro-mini skirts and halter tops, so the nudity required was not expected to be a serious problem. And, she always had a good time during sex with her young men. Daisy had gladly given up her virginity in Yorkshire shortly after reaching her 16th birthday, the age of consent in the United Kingdom, and had indulged in regular sexual activities ever since. She achieved an orgasm the first time, or so she thought, and every time since. It was fun for her, but nothing even close to being as fabulous as she had been led to expect, and that was her concern.

Could she possibly be frigid, which was how she had heard of some women being described. To her, sex was a pleasant enough experience, but not all that much better than watching a good show on the telly or at the cinema or even reading a good book.

That changed one night in London shortly after Girls Represented made their proposal to the woman who had just turned eighteen years old. While Daisy was discussing her future with Molly Carpenter, the managing director, she spoke of her misgivings. Molly had seen hundreds of stills and videotapes and knew full well how Daisy came across to viewers and she did her best to have her sexy protégé put aside those doubts, but the young woman was having none of it.

“I just don’t feel all that much into sex,” she told Molly, “and I’m afraid that will be plain for anybody to see.”

The managing director firmly believed those fears to be without any foundation, but she knew better than to try to talk the young woman into doing something when she was not confident of her ability to do it. Instead, Molly decided to let Daisy persuade herself.

“You say sex is fun but nothing special. Did it ever occur to you that it might be the fault of your partners that you find sex to be something of a yawner? I’ve heard there is no such thing as a frigid woman, only clumsy men. Do you think that could be the problem?”

“I don’t think so. Whatever boy or man I’ve been with, the result has been the same. We’re making love, and I come, and it feels nice, and then he comes, and that’s it. I wish there could be some more to it, because it feels really good up to that point. An anticlimax, I guess you could call it. My climaxes are always anticlimaxes.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. If I fix you up with a man I know, and he makes you feel like you’ve been told you should feel, would you reconsider? I still think you’ve been having sex with the wrong men, because the results, especially your orgasms, really should be what romance novelists write about.”