I just modeled for my first erotic photo shoot. This is the first time I’ve done something like this and I did it for reasons I’ll explain more below. But first the experience…
I didn’t go into this photo shoot feeling confident or relaxed. I’m 62 years old and I went into the shoot feeling anxious, self-conscious, and very aware of my age and my body. I had spent the morning feeling pretty stressed, wondering what I was getting myself into, questioning my motivations, and quietly bracing for discomfort.
What surprised me most is how quickly all of that fell away.
Within five minutes of being in the studio with Nikki, I felt completely at ease. There was no pressure, no awkwardness, no sense that I had to be anything other than what I was. Her openness and acceptance created a space where my anxiety quickly dissipated. Once I realized that nothing I brought into the space was going to be judged or managed, my nervous system settled almost immediately, and I just relaxed.
The shoot itself didn’t follow a rigid plan. We moved fluidly between underwear and nudity, sometimes progressing, sometimes circling back. There was no sense of tip toeing around the experience. Nothing felt like it had to be handled with kid gloves. Nothing felt overly symbolic, loaded, awkward or risky. Nothing felt like, “This is a BIG DEAL, be careful, don’t mess this up.”
In other words, the erotic energy wasn’t treated as something dangerous or taboo. It was simply part of what was happening, without commentary or hesitation. That made it much easier to stay relaxed and present rather than self-conscious. What I experienced was more like: “This is just part of the process. Let’s keep going.”
Because there was no sense that we were trying to make a statement or prove anything, the experience stayed grounded. It wasn’t about age, or reclaiming something, or pushing boundaries for the sake of it. It was just an honest process of being in my body and responding to what was unfolding. That lack of drama turned out to be important. It’s what allowed the experience to feel natural, comfortable, and, in the end, genuinely empowering
Early in the shoot, I became slightly aroused, something that could easily have become a source of embarrassment or self-consciousness. It wasn’t. Nikki didn’t react at all. And in that moment, something important clicked for me: when erotic energy isn’t treated as a problem, it stops being one. It just becomes another part of the landscape.
That acceptance was everything.
Going into this, I had real doubts about how I would express eroticism at this stage of my life. There is no cultural reference for what that’s supposed to look like. I’m in my 60s. My body is softer. I don’t identify with hyper-masculine tropes, and I wasn’t interested in trying to reclaim a younger version of myself. That would have just felt desperate. What I wanted to explore was whether there was an erotic space that feels authentic now, for who I am at this moment in time.
What I discovered is that it didn’t require effort at all.
Once I stopped thinking about how I “should” look or what eroticism is “supposed” to be, it arose very naturally. It wasn’t something I had to manufacture. It was simply a matter of being present in my body and responding to what was happening in the moment. The more I stayed out of my head, the more ease and authenticity showed up.
By the end of the shoot, I felt empowered in a way that surprised me. Not in a pumped-up, performative sense, but in a quiet, grounded way. I felt satisfied that I had stretched a boundary without it becoming a struggle. There was a sense of expansion that came from doing something unfamiliar and realizing it wasn’t as dangerous or even shameful as I imagined it might be.
Then came the part I was dreading: looking at the images.
I was genuinely afraid that I would see a pitiful version of my former self and that my insecurities would be confirmed in the previews on the back of the camera. Instead, what I saw surprised me. The images looked strong. They looked intentional. They looked human. Yes, I look my age. I’m not pretending otherwise. But I didn’t look foolish or diminished. I looked present.
What surprised me even more than my body was my face. I usually model for figurative nudes and the lines and composition take center stage, not my face. I had assumed my face would be the weak link. It wasn’t. I was able to communicate something real through my expression, something that felt honest. Seeing that was unexpected and affirming.
Part of this, I know, comes from my experience as a model and photographer. I understand how to position my body, how to work with light, how to create shape without overthinking it. My comfort with that stuff freed up emotional bandwidth. Nikki commented on how easy it was to work with me from that perspective, and that felt good. But the deeper takeaway wasn’t about technique. It was about trust.
Trust in the process. Trust that erotic expression doesn’t disappear with age, it simply changes shape.
I walked away from the experience with two clear realizations.
The first is that stretching your boundaries doesn’t just make you feel empowered, it makes you feel expanded. Once you’ve stepped into unfamiliar territory and come out intact, even enriched, fear loses its grip. I see this in the people in front of my camera all the time, but it’s not something I experience being behind the camera. I now know what it is like to fully embody my erotic self at this point in my life. I walked away with an expanded confidence and sense of personal power.
The second is that erotic presence is not about performance. When you stop trying to do eroticism and instead allow yourself to be in your body, it emerges on its own. Quietly. Naturally. Without effort.
I’ll share some pictures here, but not ones some people might consider explicit. This shoot was not done for public display, but as a personal inner journey. It was about meeting myself somewhere I hadn’t been before. And in that sense, it did exactly what I hoped it would do.
This was a powerful experience for me, and a meaningful one. It reminded me how easy it is to lose touch with certain parts of myself, of ourselves, especially as we age or internalize shame or discomfort around our bodies.
I think this kind of work can be a valuable self-exploration for people who are curious about reconnecting with their physical presence in a safe, respectful, and collaborative setting. If this resonates with you and you’d like to explore it yourself (or with a friend or partner), I’d be delighted to get behind the camera and photograph the experience for you. Feel free to reach out, we can talk through the process and see if it feels like a good fit.
