How Anastasia Ruined My Champions League Night 🤭
Some shoots take weeks to plan. Others begin when a tall blonde Ukrainian nude model messages you halfway through the Champions League and suddenly you are abandoning your beer like the world’s worst friend and the world’s happiest photographer.
That is exactly how Anastasia showed up in my life.
(Versión en español abajo ⬇️)
One minute I’m watching Madrid play with my friend Travis. The next minute I’m reading a DM that basically says, “Hey, I’m in Valencia for 24 hours. Sunrise or nothing.”
And listen… there are moments when a man must choose between friendship and destiny. I chose destiny. Travis understood.
So I showed up at Albufera before sunrise, the sky still half asleep. Then she stepped out of the car, tall and calm with a soft smile, already in a bikini like she was born ready for this. We walked through the dunes talking about life, her move to Madrid, the war… the kind of real conversation you don’t expect to have five minutes before photographing someone topless.
And then the light hit and everything just worked.
Bikini on. Bikini off. Bikini on again for maybe three photos. Bikini off again like gravity was optional. The way she moved was unreal, natural, relaxed, playful. Sunrise was doing the kind of things sunrise only does when it feels like showing off.
And that was just the beginning of the morning.
We moved inland and I set up a retro beach chair with a visor, a puzzle book, and ridiculous sunglasses. I looked down for two seconds to fix my GoPro, looked back up, and Anastasia was suddenly standing in front of me completely nude, holding the word-search like she was about to solve world peace.
She sat down with her legs loose, sunglasses on, casually doing her crossword like nudity was just her default setting. And then a cyclist rode by. Poor guy stared so hard I’m amazed he didn’t put a tire in a ditch. Anastasia didn’t blink. She just turned the page. Iconic.
After that, we slipped deeper into the trees. Green fabric tied loosely around her body. After a minute or two she simply let the top fall open. No drama. No posing. Just a moment. And a forest goddess shining in a small pocket of light between some bushes.
When we were packing up, she was naked again, casually folding her things like this was all completely normal. I laughed and said, “Come on, let’s grab a selfie before you disappear.” She threw the green wrap back on in three seconds and leaned in close. Click.
On the walk back she hugged me, thanked me, and wandered off toward the lake barefoot like a character exiting her own movie.
I sat in the car at 9:34 in the morning, sunburned, stunned, and absolutely aware that every guy reading this hates me right now.
And honestly… fair.
But also honestly… this is only the surface. There is so much more I could tell you about that morning, and every detail is already waiting on Patreon along with the full galleries and the behind the scenes videos.
Something tells me you did not even finish reading this and you are already over there.
Arnold ✌🏻
(Versión en español ⬇️)
Todo empezó con un DM. Un mensaje pícaro. Una sonrisa en su foto de perfil. Ese tipo de energía que no pide permiso.
Unas semanas después, entró a mi apartamento como si nos conociéramos de toda la vida. Me dio un gran abrazo, dejó su bolso, y tal vez 90 segundos después, también la ropa. Yo no pregunté. No hizo falta. Ya estaba a medio camino del dormitorio.
La luz hacía lo suyo. Suave. Tranquila. Dorada sin disculpas. Se metió en mi cama y se fundió con las sábanas como si fuera lo más natural del mundo. Empecé a disparar. Se estiraba, jugaba, sonreía. Y hablaba. Mucho. Divertida, chispeante, como si me estuviera dejando entrar en su mundo. Se sentía como reencontrarnos, no como conocernos.
Y luego vino el cruasán. Se sentó en mi balcón en lencería blanca, comiéndoselo como si fuera parte del juego previo. Chocolate en los dedos. Chocolate en los labios. Se lo lamió del pulgar sin quitarme la mirada. Y yo, con la cámara en la mano, haciéndome el profesional.
Más tarde, encontró un Playboy viejo que tenía por ahí y se tumbó en la cama, completamente desnuda, hojeándolo como si estuviera leyendo las noticias del domingo. Después agarró su bolso, tiró lo que parecían cien conjuntos de lencería sobre mi sofá y me preguntó: “¿Cuál?”
Seguramente dije algo inteligente. O al menos lo intenté. Se probó seis. Me olvidé de respirar en casi todos.
Al final acabamos en la cocina. Llevaba el conjunto rosa más suave, preparando un smoothie como si no acabara de redefinir lo que es un lunes por la mañana.
No se sintió como una sesión de fotos. Se sintió como un recuerdo naciendo en tiempo real. Y es uno al que vuelvo seguido.
La historia completa, al menos como vive en mi memoria, está en Patreon.
Junto con cada una de las fotos.
Asumo que te veré por ahí.
Arnold ✌🏻