I want to part her thighs and slot myself between them.
I stand on the stepladder to get a bit of height over her but it’s not right. The lighting isn’t catching her body the way it did before. The picture isn’t perfect, not that her body isn’t perfect. I’ve never seen a nicer body. I’ve never craved a nicer body.
“I’ll be just a moment,” I whisper softly and she bites her lip much like I just did. Her eyes don’t meet mine.
I grab what I need and race back to her, praying she hasn’t moved, praying the sunset hasn’t suddenly vanished. It’s a ridiculous thought but one I can’t help. I have just a short amount of time to get this right.
“Take your time,” she mumbles playfully and then grins at me. Her face is so beautiful, her soft features and tilted wide eyes, her near symmetrical face, her hazel-green eyes. All of it the perfect combination.
“Sorry.” I raise the bottle of body oil and bag of ice
“What are you doing?” She doesn’t look happy to see the props.
“It’s for the shot,” I reply but I’m not so sure it is. “It smells like strawberries.” Tastes like it too but I leave that part out.
I squirt the oil on her chest and midriff and she murmurs a breathy, “Oh my God.”
“Do you want to do the honors?”
“Duh.” She rubs it in herself and it’s even more erotic than watching her with the suntan lotion. “This is just so fucking random.” I smile at her and her eyes scan my face. “Promise me you won’t post these all over the internet.”
“On my honor,” I reply, taking an ice cube out of the bag when she lies back down. I don’t ask her permission this time, because I’m not thinking. Because I’m an idiot. A crafty, clever idiot.
I roll the ice cube over her left nipple where the tiny silver balls of her piercing peek out of the sides. The ice cube catches it gently and I have to fight the urge to tease it with my tongue.
She gasps at the contact and swallows before blowing out a breath between her parted lips.
I’m getting hard again.
She watches me as I lose myself, totally transfixed by the way her nipple tightens and extends.
I lower my head and hear her breath catch in her throat when I start to blow on her, to dry the water that’s rolling down the oily sheen that really does smell like strawberries. The oil was a gift that I got in a bag from an event I attended last year. I thought it was stupid but it really has come in handy.
When I move the ice cube to her other nipple she grabs my wrist and squirms while saying, “This is starting to feel less artistic and more like foreplay.”
She said foreplay.
I snap back into the now.
I quickly stand, climb the small ladder and take the shots with both of my cameras.
She moves her body how I ask, just little adjustments here and there as I get the perfect images. It’s better than expected. Her pebbled nipples, her wide eyes holding arousal, her lips swollen and parted as though waiting for a kiss. Her incredible, bare pussy that I want to touch.
I get plenty of incredible shots but I want more, so many more and there’s just one part of her that she’s missed.
I take the oil again as she fans out her hair and squeeze it onto the part of thigh that doesn’t hold the same sheen the rest of her body does.
She jolts and frowns at me. “What are you doing?”
“The sun’s about to set, we missed a spot.” I don’t wait for permission, I place my hand on her thigh and rub.
A gasped breath releases from between her parted lips as she watches what I’m doing.
Tempest
His hand gently massages the oil in, even after the spot I missed is covered. He’s in a trance like before when he was teasing my nipples.
I’m aroused and his hand is not helping.
He’s getting higher and higher, completely abandoning his camera to use his other hand to lean on as he strokes my inner thigh.
When his finger gets so close I can feel the heat of it against my rapidly moistening sex, my eyes flutter closed and I moan. I try to stop myself but it’s too intense. There’s too much of everything happening. I want him to touch me. More than I’ve ever wanted to be touched.
Then his hand goes back down, past my knee. I feel almost disappointed until it starts coming back up again.
He doesn’t try to make eye contact, I’m glad. I’m in a happy little bubble right now. My body is responding in ways it never has for anyone.
“Jesus,” he whispers when he finally makes contact and slips his finger into the wetness between my thighs. I whimper, shifting on the soft rug as he drags the moisture to my clitoris and rolls it gently, only quickening his pace when I shudder.