“I wish you’d look at me the way you look at that camera.”
I mean it as a joke, with zero snark intended, but Jay, being Jay, takes it seriously. He gives me the sweetest guilty look. “Sorry, I…”
I shush him with a kiss. “Just kidding, babe. Enjoy your new toy.” I’ve seen him nerdgasm over so many gadgets and gizmos. Usually the latest tech. But this vintage camera — it uses actual film — is like some sacred object to him. I go out for a couple of hours. Let him play with it in peace.
“Hey, I was thinking,” he says, when I get back. I can sense his apprehension. “Would you be into posing for some naked pictures?”
The answer is already yes, but I play hard to get.
“Y’know… tasteful, artistic…” he pleads.
“Okay, sounds like fun,” I tell him. His face lights up.
He wants a natural look but he’s happy enough with the slightly teased version he gets. I’ve modeled for him before, dressed or in lingerie, but this is different. When he shoots me on digital, there are no limits. He just fires off burst after burst — take enough pictures and you’re sure to capture the perfect one somewhere. This time, he’s cautious, deliberate… he needs to make the most of each precious frame.
It’s a slow start. I’m not camera shy, nor shy in front of Jay, but when he said he wanted natural, he meant it. Any time I strike a pose, he lowers the camera. “Act like I’m not here,” he tells me. After a while, I’m shutting him out, walking around the apartment, just doing my thing. He takes a few shots, but I sense he wants more… but he doesn’t want to tell me, to risk distracting me.
I lie back on the couch, languid at first. Then I begin to trail my hand over my body. Just my thighs and belly, fingertips skimming in between my breasts. As they wander closer to my nipples, making wide circles, I’m desperate to look at Jay, to see his response, but I don’t want him to stop again. My only clue is the click of his shutter, more frequent now. Slowly, deliberately, I tickle a nipple to hardness, then roll it between my fingers.
My other hand moves down to my pussy, gently stroking my labia. Click. I cup my hand over the fleshy lips, massaging, squeezing, sighing softly at the pressure around my clit. Click. Now my fingertips slip between them, stroking, circling… I move my other hand to spread myself wide open, exposing myself to my own touch… and also to Jay’s lens. Click. Click. Click. I don’t need to probe to know how wet I am, but as I touch two fingers to my pussy opening, they sink inside immediately and I feel a gush of juices over my crotch. I thrust them in and out, churning the wetness into foam. Click. Click…
“Damn.”
I look at Jay. He apologizes, cursing himself for interrupting my reverie, then explains, “End of the film.” He grabs another roll, fumbling to fit it in the camera as I frig away, keeping myself hot.
“Okay, where were we?” he asks awkwardly, and inside of my head, something snaps.
He wants natural? Then I won’t pretend he isn’t there. I look right at him and beckon him over, grab his belt and begin to massage his crotch through his pants. He looks unsure, but his cock is rigid. “You can put the camera down if you want to,” I tell him, and for a moment, he contemplates it. Then he reaches down, unzips his pants and snaps a picture as my hand closes around his shaft.
Soon, he’s naked, exposing his wiry, tattooed body and turning me on all over again. I warn him to slow down as he snaps me jerking his cock but he gets a little trigger happy when I start to suck on it — shots of the swollen head of it resting on my tongue, like a ripe red fruit… of my cheeks caved in, eyes closed in concentration as I suck him deep, relishing the salty, masculine flavor of him.
So, inevitably, there’s another pause to reload, but this time it’s a turn-on. He’s kneeling in between my splayed legs, cock jutting up, dewy at the tip. The anticipation is agony, we’re both so ready, but the suspense prolongs the pleasure too.
First, a couple of pictures of his cockhead buffing my clit, enough to tease a twitch or two out of my pussy. Then a photo-burst as he pushes in, capturing every inch until he’s inside of me, so deep I feel his balls resting against my ass.
He takes things slow, the camera now focused on my face, the expression of pure pleasure all over it. Then he tells me to turn over.
I’m on my knees, ass in the air, head bowed low, and he’s inside of me again, even deeper. A few more pictures but soon he’s lost in fucking me, thrusting and stirring his cock, his balls bumping against my pussy lips. I reach back, frigging my clit until my orgasm hits and he buries his cock in deep, wanting to feel my pussy clamp and shudder along the full length of it.
I know when he’s getting close to cumming and I feel it now — the pulsing in his cock, the tension in his muscles, the tight grip on my ass cheeks. “Cum on my tits?” I breathe.
“No time,” he replies, through gritted teeth. A couple more thrusts and he pulls out. I hear the clicking of the camera again, as he spatters my ass cheeks with his cream, then more as he touches the moist end of his cock to my asshole. I shiver…
I saw the prints later that day — raw, vivid, real, the colours maxed. Jay developed them himself, which was kind of disappointing, as I liked the idea of some photo tech seeing them, and getting a thrill. It’s tough to pick favorites; at first, I thought the one of me with a mouthful of Jay’s cock, peeking up into the camera from under my lashes, was the winner. Or maybe the one where I’m jerking him off, my hand moving so fast that it’s just a blur against his shaft. But I keep getting drawn back to the image of his cockhead at my asshole — deep-red and engorged, smearing traces of cum on my pink pucker. It’s the one place he hasn’t fucked me… yet.
