This is breaking my rules, I thought. Photographers aren’t supposed to touch me.
But I didn’t hesitate when he laid on the bed beside me. I assumed he was doing that thing photographers do, where they get themselves into all sorts of strange positions in order to get the perfect shot. I welcomed his warmth against my naked legs as he leaned back against them. A few shots of my face and then he was up again, searching for another angle.
I toyed around with my bra, pulling straps down then back up and down again. Teasing. Revealing and covering myself back up again. He stood at the edge of the bed, camera pointed down at me. I unhooked, hands holding my bra against my chest, alternating which nipple I allowed to peek out with each shutter click.
“Move your hands out to the side a bit more,” he said. “Now push in and up a little.”
Ah yes, the cleavage look. I got this. I pushed my breasts together and rolled my shoulders forward for maximum effect.
A few shots and then he moved the camera away, studying me. I watched his expression, trying to gauge what he was thinking. I rolled back to lie flat on the bed, hands still on the outer edges of my bra. I writhed around a bit, waiting for instruction. He reached towards me and adjusted the little bow that was nestled between my breasts. There was that warmth again. He slid a few fingers underneath the middle of my bra and immediately brought the camera back up to his face. He tugged slightly, changing angles and experimenting with harder grips on the delicate lace.
I don’t normally allow photographers to interact in my photos. But this seemed innocent enough. And he was kind of cute anyway…
Please keep going, I thought. I moved my hands out of the way and let him adjust my lingerie as he saw fit. He pulled my bra all the way off and let it slide down onto the bed, snapping a few pictures of the random way it covered my ribs, then moved it around as if it never landed that way at all and took a few more pictures.
And then he was up again, moving towards the end of the bed. I had one knee bent and pointed up towards the ceiling. He knelt down between my legs and lightly pushed my knee to the side, spreading my legs just a little more. I began tracing the lines of my panties, making sure my fingers were looking as long and elegant as I could make them. I hooked my thumbs under the waist band, pulling up and down and to the side, twisting my hips and shifting my legs around after each click. He didn’t say anything so I just kept playing, drawing the fabric taught against my clit then letting it relax again. I liked the roughness it created as I tugged at my panties from certain angles, but welcomed the release when I loosened my grip.
I felt myself getting wetter.
And the shutter clicks were coming more rapidly.
I tucked my legs in towards my chest and pulled my panties all the way off, letting them gather around my knees. I didn’t need to see the camera to know exactly what he was focusing on. I rocked back, fully exposing myself to him. I traced small circles around my clit, spread my lips apart, closed my eyes and let out a barely audible moan.
But when I sensed that he had stood up I opened my eyes again. My mind shifted back from whatever fantasy I started to go down and returned to the work I was doing.
“I’d like to do some close up shots, if that’s alright with you,” he said.
He told me to pull my panties back up, as he wanted them in the shot. Feeling the rough touch of the fabric once again, I quickly settled back into my previous thoughts. I let my fingers glide across my vulva, trying to add some movement in the shot and teasing myself in the process.
I normally limit my shoots to implied masturbation. But I was quickly reaching the point where I couldn’t pretend any more. Maybe I should stop. I debated the idea, still rubbing my panties against myself and the camera still firing rapidly.
Lost in my inner turmoil, I didn’t notice his hand until I felt my panties move without me moving them. The debate ended right there.
Please touch me, I thought.
I followed his hand with mine, curious what he was going to do but fully welcoming whatever it was. He pressed into me, first with one finger and then two, slowly working his way inside. He gained speed, pushing into me deeper, running his fingertips against my g-spot.
I reached down and felt my wetness in his palm.
I stopped modeling.
I didn’t care what the camera captured anymore. He sneakily aimed back up at my face a few times and I didn’t care how I looked. I rocked my hips back and forth, following his motions, trying to guide him deeper into me. I closed my eyes again, breathing heavy and moaning at the peak of each thrust.
Then silence. No more shutter clicks.
I watched as he laid the camera down, never breaking eye contact with me.
Then I felt he warmth of his mouth.
So much for my rules.