Jessica Alba to Susan Wayland

I promised new material, and here it is -- Jessica Alba to Susan Wayland, with a sexy, sexy story to go along with it! Be careful, though -- it's a big one, just over 12 megabytes!


Jessica thought about the coming day and groaned. Another boring day of casting calls and interviews. Another boring day of stupid photo shoots, with her being posed like some brainless doll while men (and women) leered at her. She was terribly unhappy, a bad mixture of burned out and disgusted.

"I wish," she yelled at no one, "I wish that I was happier and more carefree. I wish I didn't care when people stared at me. Most of all, I wish that my life wasn't so boring and repetitive."

Jess felt stupid shouting at an empty room, but it started to make her feel better almost instantly. Her body tingled as her tight muscles began to unbunch and relax. "I guess a little catharsis does the body good," she wondered aloud, a little friendlier this time. She smiled at herself in the mirror. "I mean, I hate the way everyone looks at me, but..." She struck a pose, feeling slightly frisky. "But at least I can see why they stare. I mean, I do have one tight bod."

She started to strike another pose, hands on her flared-out hips, but stopped short. Her yellow tank top suddenly felt... not tighter, exactly, but different. Less cloth-like. "Huh," she said aloud, running her finger across the material. It probably just needed a wash, but she swore that it almost felt a little less flexible.... like plastic, or latex.

Latex. She flushed at the thought. Of course she was use to modeling, to striking provocative poses as she needed to... but latex? She had seen some of those latex "models" on the internet, and some of what they did was down right shameful.

She shook her head, trying to get over the negativity. In perspective, she could see herself modeling latex. One day. Maybe. If a role demanded it. It wasn't like what latex models did was any different from what she did. Didn't they both -- basically -- show themselves off for money? And who was she to judge?

"I mean, look at my hair," she said, going back to speaking out loud. "It's naturally a dark brown, but I dye just enough to give it some highlights." And why did she do that? Because... because... she giggled at the thought of people noticing her hair. At the thought of them thinking she was sexy. Of them stopping and checking her out a second time.

She shifted, inexplicably aroused. The clothes she wore were a little tight, and they didn't breath all that much. That was the problem with staring at yourself too much, or being stared at too much. It could run the chance of making you feel too sexy. Not that that was actually really a problem, right?

But... hadn't she been unhappy for another reason, earlier? Something about people looking at her? "Pfffftttt," she emoted, laughing at herself. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more her earlier outburst felt really silly. She had a great body -- why not show it off? A tight little yellow... green, it was definitely green... number like this really did the trick! It was such a perfect contrast to her bleached blonde hair -- which was totally fake, but the reactions she got were ssooooo worth it! Just yesterday, she had been modeling some pleather, and ---

Jess blinked, trying to remember something. She didn't bleach her hair, did she? And she'd never modeled any pleather, had she? Definitely not yesterday, because that's when she ---







But of course! She'd had gotten her hair rebleached yesterday. The pleather assignment had been the day before, and fuuucccckkkk had had that gig made her feel hot. She whimpered, remembering her earlier exhibitionism. The people on set ordering her around, telling her to strike posses and look sexy. Man did that make her feel sexy, even -- kinky. She shivered at the thought.

And... and she saw what she did to them. She knew how the sight of her affected them, that tight, slinky material plastered to her skin. Let them leer at her, let 'em undress her with their eyes. She was the one that had the power -- when they touched themselves, it was her, and no one else, that they were thinking about.

And fuck, how could they not? The profile her body cut, the tightness, the pressure -- it felt so fuckin' good! Jess full-on moaned now, reveling in the tight material currently encasing her body. She grew more aroused when she realized that she had hoped someone heard the sexual noise. Better yet, she hoped someone might peek through the window and see her. Fuck that, she should just go outside wearing this latex number, her arms encased in a pair of fuck-me gloves, her breasts straining against the fake material.

That's was the entire reason she dressed like this, right? The entire reason she shined her latex for hours each night, her pussy moist with the thought of the cumming day, right? What was the point, if she couldn't go down the street and turn every head, get everyone's attention? Let those men (and sexy women!) gaze. Jess... no, not Jess, that was her old grade school name. Susan was in town, and fuck em' if they weren't ready.

The corners of her lips curled up into a smirk, and her eyes smoldered with anticipation. Under her shiny tight latex, Susan's nipples throbbed with arousal, and her pussy was soaking. She was one kinky bitch, and she fuckin' loved it. She loved to show off for the camera, loved to imagine all of you men (and women!) touching themselves as they gazed at her shiny, sleek body. God, she didn't mind these photos -- she positively loved them! How could any day be boring when she still had another photo shoot to attend?