Steve was the husband of the best friend of my sister, Jenn. I always did my best to keep my relationships professional and platonic, especially when it came to my family and family friends.

There is an old saying that “familiarity breeds contempt” and while I was not as familiar with Steve as I would like to have been, our casual run-ins in our community, always spiked my interest in Steve, even though I knew he was married.

Steve had a vivid interest in photography and he was good at it. I am a professional photographer and I have been for years. My photography runs the gambit, from weddings, to special events, kids, and modeling. Every now and then, I’d get a boudoir request, almost always from a woman seeking to spice up a relationship. Only once in twenty years had I ever shot a male boudoir session. The guy was good looking, but gay. I got extremely turned on and flustered, all at the same time.

I ran into Steve and his wife one day and I told them I’d love to do a photo shoot for both of them, my gift back to them, for helping me through tough times over the years. Brenda was nice, but I think a bit suspicious of my intentions, since I am a single woman. Steve and Brenda said they would love to have some photos done, but when I didn’t hear back from either of them for several weeks, I figured they must have changed their minds.

Then, Steve texted me and asked if he could have a studio photo session and how much it would cost.

“For you and Brenda,” I replied, “Nothing.”

I was surprised when Steve texted back and said the photo session would be strictly for him- that Brenda did not want photos done.

I was excited and nervous about photographing Steve. I longed for male attention. Steve was one hundred per cent male, standing six foot four, well tanned and well toned, with chiseled good looks and an engaging personality and smile.

I have a very unique approach to photography. I always want to make sure my subject or subjects are comfortable. Tension or nervousness shows up very easily in photos. My photo studio is like a miniature apartment, complete with a leather couch, a love seat, artwork, wood floors, a faux- fire place and a mini-bar.

Steve was on time. He was dressed casually in jeans and a button down plaid shirt, wearing his white cowboy hat. I welcomed him in with a hug. He carried with him a business suit in a clothes bag.

I offered Steve a drink from the bar. I already had a head start on him and had poured myself a red wine.

“You can’t drink alone,” Steve remarked taking a seat on the couch.

I asked him his preference and he joking replied, “Blonde.”

Since I am a blonde, and I knew Steve pretty well, I took no offense to his comment. I handed him a glass of red wine.

“Red wine makes me horny,” Steve casually remarked.

“Well, that will have to wait until after the photo shoot,” I replied.

The sexual banter was light hearted and all in fun, or so I thought.

We discussed the details of the shoot. Steve wanted some casual shot and then some business shots in his suit.

“No boudoir shots?” I teased.

“Not unless you’re in them,” Steve replied. He was quick witted and loved to tease.

I took a few casual shots of Steve sitting on the couch. I had him sit in a variety of positions. He was easy going and did everything I asked of him, which was surprising, because he was the type of person normally giving the instructions.

“OK, business suit time,” I replied.

Without saying a word, Steve stripped out of his shirt and dropped his jeans before I knew what was going on. I asked him if he wanted me to step out of the room while he changed.

“No,” he replied, “there’s not anything here you haven’t already seen before.”

My heart pounded. Steve slipped on his suit pants, and I watched as he tied the laces on his dress shoes, donned a white button down collared shirt and light blue silk tie. Within seconds, he had morphed from casual attire to a Wall-Street Banker. I was impressed. He adjusted a silk handkerchief in the pocket of his blue pin stripe suit jacket. God, he looked great!

The bookshelf area made a perfect backdrop for the business shots. Again, he was very easy going.

When I stepped up to adjust his tie, he proffered a coy smile and winked. I hated being so short. He took off his jacket and held it over his shoulder, for a less serious pose, but one that turned out in hindsight to be one of my favorites. After some shots, we sat on the couch and I flicked through the photos on my camera.

“You look too serious,” I remarked, stopping on one photo.

“Maybe I need some more wine,” Steve replied, “or a back rub.”

Was he hitting on me? I wasn’t for sure, since he was always teasing me. I poured another glass of wine. Steve sat back on the couch and opined.

“You know,” he remarked, “I wish I had a studio set up like this.”

He gazed at a photo on the wall, a “selfie” photos I had taken years before “selfie” photos were so popular. I was topless in the photo and it was taken from behind me, when my hair was past my waist and before my fat ass issue had arisen.

“Oh pol-leeze,” Steve remarked, “You don’t have a fat ass.”

I had to disagree with him, but was happy that he thought otherwise. I took his comment to be an off-handed compliment, something I had not received in a very long time. Steve removed his tie and smiled.

“Mind if I change?” Steve asked.

I remained on the couch as Steve removed his dress shoes, and unbuttoned his white shirt. He stood up, kicked off his shoes and peeled off his dress shirt. Once again, my heart rate jumped, seeing him shirtless. He had a chiseled look and even though he said he didn’t work out, he was well blessed with well toned muscles. He stripped down to his boxers and hung the suit pants on a hanger. I snapped a couple of quick photos.

“Hey now,” he remarked, after noticing I was taking photos. “I’m not decent.”

“You’re decent enough,” I replied. Inside, I was melting. I wanted him to turn and ravish me. I needed to be ravished, but Steve was coy and shy. He loved to tease. I think he got a kick out of doing it.

As he was picking up his jeans, I decided it was now or never.

“OK,” I remarked, “Enough is enough.”

Steve looked in my direction, a huge question mark spread across his face. I stepped over to where he stood and grabbed the blue jeans from his hands. He looked surprised.

I hooked a finger into the elastic waist band of his boxer shorts and gently tugged. He made an attempt to step back, but I wouldn’t let go.

“You’re not going to strip to your underwear in my studio,” I remarked, “and not have your photograph taken!”

“Let’s keep it professional,” Steve replied, taking my hand and holding on to it.

I cupped my hand over his scrotum and shook it. I bit down on my lower lip to try and control my emotions. I was failing miserably.

“Of course,” I replied, proffering a wink, “I am always professional.”

“I know you are,” Steve replied.

I instructed Steve to sit on the couch. My hands were shaking as I took several photos, as he self-posed with no instructions whatsoever. Steve followed my every move without saying a word. I was extremely nervous. I could feel the moisture building in my panties. They were soaked through and through. I watched as a small tent formed in Steve’s boxer shorts. He shifted and tried to hide by re-positioning on the couch.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Move your leg left,” I instructed, hoping to get a better view of the prize. I stepped over to the floor lamp and lowered the lighting. I grabbed the remote for the stereo. Jazz was a perfect choice.

“If you make this studio any more seductive,” Steve remarked, “You will have to start losing some clothes.”

“Behave,” I instructed. I was ready to pounce on him and he didn’t even seem to notice.

“I can’t,” I replied.

I positioned myself flat on the floor in front of the couch, my legs bent at the knees. I instructed Steve to stand with his legs parted, directly over me. He looked at me as though I was crazy.

“I am the photographer,” I replied. “Work with me.”

Steve hesitated.

“You think I don’t know you have a raging hard on?” I remarked.

He was hoping I hadn’t noticed.

“How could I not notice something that big?” I replied.

Steve stood up and positioned himself with his feet on either side of my hips, facing me. I had a perfect shot of his muscular body and his raging ‘hard on’. I sat up and put my camera down. I was practically face to face with my prize. Steve didn’t say a word. He knew what was coming.

I hooked a finger into the waist bands of his underwear and stripped them from his well toned body. His eight inch cock waved in the air, set free from the confines of his Hanes. I was on fire. I cupped his balls in my hand and grabbed his massive cock with my other hand. I took his cock and locked my lips around the end of it, inching my way towards the base.

Steve squatted down, forcing my withdrawal from his hot rod. He put his muscular hands under my armpits and pulled me to my feet. He grabbed both sides of my jaw and locked his mouth on to mine. He forced his tongue deep into my mouth, but I didn’t care, because I needed it. I couldn’t get undressed fast enough. My pussy was throbbing in anticipation.

I held on to Steve’s cock and led him to the leather couch. I started to kneel between his parted legs, but Steve had other ideas, pulling me on top of his lap, his huge cock pressing against the outer bands of my pussy. I knelt in front of him, my knees astraddle his hips. He toyfully teased me, rubbing his huge cock against my clit. It was more than I could stand.

“Put it in me,” I begged.

Steve wasted no time. He held onto his cock as I slid on top of it. It was a very tight fit. I shrieked as he entered my vaginal canal. Slowly, I settled down on top of his hot rod until my pelvis met his. It was a wonderful feeling, his cock completely filling up my pussy.

“Ooh. . . .my . . gawd . . . “ I remarked, rhythmically rocking my hips back and forth. Steve planted his hands on my breasts, teasing me with his light touch. I dug my finger nails into his chest and closed my eyes. Within seconds, I could feel the unstoppable rush of adrenalin coursing through my veins. I shook and shivered as a cataclysmic orgasm, one of several to happen that day, knocked me for a loop. Everything around me darkened for a brief few seconds.

Steve didn’t hold back either.

“I’m going to cum!” he announced.

Before I could prepare for the inevitable, I felt his cock twitching. An all too familiar feeling of warmth filled my pussy. At the same time, my body shook uncontrollably. It was as though I was back in California and experiencing an earthquake.

Va-boom! I blacked out. Totally out. I didn’t feel it coming and I didn’t realize I until I woke up, lying on my back, still naked, a cold compress on my forehead, Steve kneeling beside me.

“Shit! You scared me,” he remarked as my eyes focused on my surroundings.

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

“You passed out,” Steve remarked.

“Oh shit! What did I miss?” I asked.

“Not much,” Steve responded. “The others are gone.”

“What ‘others’?” I asked.

Steve smiled.

“You bastard!” I remarked. He had me for a brief second. I had never passed out before--not during sex. My pussy ached and it felt as though Steve was still inside of me. He leaned over and applied a light kiss to my lips--a kind of “thanks for being a friend and a lover” type of kiss.

Steve left me feeling appreciated- a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. I wanted more, but I knew he was married. I felt honored and sad at the very same time. I watched from my couch as he got dressed.

“Can you stay for a just a little bit more?” I begged.

“I wish I could,” Steve replied. “I’d love to spend the night ‘making love’ to you all night long.”

He knew and I knew, our rondeveau was just another serendipitous event. He grabbed his clothes with his suit, bent over and gave me one more light kiss on my lips. I watched as he headed to the door of my studio. He opened the door and looked back at me, lying naked on my couch.

“Next time,” Steve remarked, smiling, “I’ll ask the others to stick around a bit longer.”

Before I could respond, Steve stepped out the studio door and I watched as it closed. Two thoughts simultaneously crossed my mind: “Others” and “Next time”.