I realize I'm grinding my teeth a little in frustration after the erotic display you've put on. Several different temptations leap to the fore of my mind. I could switch the flash drives while you're out of view. I could roofie your drink. I could quickly release my granite-hard dick and stroke myself to orgasm in, I'm sure, seconds. But in the end I'm just not that sort of asshole, the kind who'd break agreed-upon rules, never mind the flaunting of legalities or basic mores. I've agreed to the rules of the day, and this is what I've paid handsomely for. It seems to be going pretty well so far, so I'll see where this leads.
As if you can hear what I'm thinking, your voice calls out again from the bathroom amidst the rustle of hangars. "So Jay, tell me... why would you pay some girl on the internet to come and pose for you? Can't you get a girl on your own to do this? Or are they chicken?"
"I've got a thing for exhibitionists. Somebody secure enough, sexual enough, to get off on guys seeing them naked, that turns me on. That seems to fit you pretty well, judging from how often you put pictures up on reddit. Plus you wear glasses a fair bit, which also turns me on, since I dig intelligence, or at least the appearance of it. Since you actually seem to have a brain to go with the specs, well, I'm pretty much done for where you're concerned."
"You already have me here putting on sexy underwear for you, y'know... there's no need to flatter me any more."
"Eh, well, you asked. I also like lingerie -- picking it out, imagining what it'll look like when it's on, then seeing it on in person... Every stage of that is exciting to me. Add on to that the idea of directing a photoshoot to get the shots I've always thought about taking myself, in person... A shoot like this is a long-time fantasy I've had, so I splurged and got exactly what I wanted, all the way around."
"But don't you have a wife or a girlfriend you could do this with? You're not hideously ugly or anything."
"Ha ha... You know what I mean, though. Can't you get a girl on your own to do this, without having to pay her?"
I frown, and pause before answering. "Remember when you told me I couldn't ask you whether you had a boyfriend, or who takes those pictures you post, or your name? No questions?"
"Yeah, I do. Alright, point taken. But you still have a hard-on, right?"
I hadn't expected that question so my answer is a fairly sputtered, "What do you think?"
You giggle. "I think you're still fucking horny, that's what I think. I'm almost done, I'll be out in a sec."
You're getting off on this as much as I am, I think. I am lost again in reverie as you dress for me. Having a guy pay to photograph you in lingerie he bought just for you has to be a turn-on, I'm sure. Except you're gonna walk out the door with all these pictures, all these clothes I bought, and a bunch of my money; I'm gonna walk out with memories. You are getting the better of this deal, surely. But as I told you, a long-time fantasy fulfilled is worth splurging on if it's fulfilled in the right way, to the utmost.
Opening the bathroom door, you emerge without a word, letting the image speak for itself. The oversized man's flannel shirt covers your torso completely; your bare thighs are a tease and a promise. Your hair is still pinned up tightly but you've added your glasses. I can tell you feel sexy by the way you slink to the spot between bed and camera and stand at attention, your hands clasped behind you with head held high, jutting your chest out confidently. That sly smirk is back and you're staring the camera down as if daring it to attack.
After an introductory shot I speak up. "Let down your hair, please." I feel as though I'm trying to regain some measure of control over the situation, control that I likely never had in the first place; still, I'd like to feel as though I'm not completely at your mercy here. Lie to myself, in other words.
Deliberately and slowly, your hands come up to remove the bobbypins holding your hair up. Gradually your curls fall to your shoulders as you shake your head a bit; the effect is exquisite, and I snap a couple at random. Your eyes never leave the camera lens, knowing you're looking right at whoever shall see these pictures, and knowing what they're thinking as they do: that you are dead sexy and don't care who knows.
"Unbutton the shirt. Slowly."
Your smile creeps up a notch for half a second but then disappears, replaced by an earnest seriousness. Just as I asked you take your time with it, but as I catch tiny glimpses of what's underneath I grow impatient. "Maybe not that slowly." With a slight shrug you unbutton the rest and let your hands fall to your sides, content (for the moment) to let me direct.
"Draw open the shirt little by little. Tease me with what you've got under there." That crooked smile comes back and stays this time, as you shyly tilt your head to peek at the camera at an angle through your glasses, and begin to reveal the treasures underneath. A white half-cup bra this time, placing your already generous tits on a feathery shelf, barely covering your nipples. The panties are french-cut perfection, a custom-made affair I'd found on the internet months ago, that remind me of swan feathers, that gently swoop around the high curve of your hips. When I received them in the mail last week I had to stop myself from rubbing my face against them too much for fear of breaking Rule Number Eight. I gulp and click off a shot. "Fantastic," I whisper.
"I love these," you say softly. "They feel amazing, they look incredible, I love what this does for me." Your hands come to move over your well-perched breasts as your eyelashes flutter. "Feels so good, too. My nipples are so hard. Can you tell?"
"Uh, no," I stammer, as the upper bit of your areolae can be seen above the cup but the downy material hides anything below. But I can change that. "Pull the cups down a little and show me."
You glance from the camera to me for a moment, as your eyes widen. "Yes sir," you reply formally, before returning your gaze to the camera. Without fanfare you pull down on the cups and lean forward, displaying hardened nipples which, without prompting from me, you pinch suddenly. "Ooooh!" you squeal, a shudder visibly coursing down your frame. My cock pulses against my pants as you giggle and straighten up, but I remember to take some pictures as you begin to pose in different angles for my camera. "Yeah, I love these a lot," you say, discarding the shirt to the floor. "I wouldn't have thought of this look, but it works."
"Turn away from the camera and push the panties down." I'm trying to be more cognizant of time now, and this is a shot I've wanted. You nod is almost imperceptible but you comply, bending to draw the panties down, revealing your naked and supple ass. I capture the process with numerous clicks of the thumb release.
Just before I tell you to go for the next outfit, you crawl onto the bed. "I left a toy I'd like to use for you on the bathroom sink, Jay. Would you get it for me please?" Lowering your head to the bed, your ass hangs in the air like a monument to sexy, your pink shaven pussy peeking out without care. It's glorious, and I take another picture. We're battling for control again, but I'm curious, so I move to the bathroom.
On the sink is the buttplug and lubricant. Oh, fuck. I look back at you as if to say Really? and your steady gaze and grin convince me quick. I grab the plug and lube and return to you.
"Would you get that ready for me, Jay? My ass is a tight fit, so get that nice and slippery for me."
I decide to push you a little. "I bet your pussy is pretty wet by now. I could fuck you there with it and get it good and ready that way."
Your laugh is almost condescending but not quite. "Tempting, but no... You gonna do this, or what?" I shrug and smear some lubricant around the toy, applying a liberal coating before I put it in your outstretched hand. You're kind enough to wait for me to grab the thumb release again before you begin. Twisting your head to look into the lens once again, you place the head of the plug at your ass. Click. Biting your lip, you begin to push. Click. You press it slowly into your ass as I capture its disappearance; your mouth is scrunched up in an O of not-quite-pain and your eyes are wide open.
I want to grab the plug and thrust it in and out of you, I want to hear you moan low and throaty, I want to spank you until your cheeks glow red. I bite my cheek.
Before long the toy is firmly seated and you release the end. I'm not prepared when your eyes close and your other hand moves to your clit. Oh, fuck: you're gritting your teeth as your fingers rub in quick circles, your hips jerking as you grind out a quick furious come, a staccatto moan escaping your lips as I press the thumb release over and over and over. The moan rises to a yell and a shouted "Fuck!" and my hand involuntarily moves to grab my dick, and almost does so before I make a fist and squeeze. But almost as quick as it began, your body tenses into rigidity for a moment and then slacks to the side. For one second, two, three.
In a flash you are up and striding to the bathroom. "Let's get to the next one," you blurt hurriedly before slamming the door and proving, finally, that I have indeed lost all control now.
What you say next only drives that point home. "So, Jay, I'm thinking the next one we do a little differently, yeah? I've got an idea, and I think you'll like it."
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/exhibitionism/the-photoshoot-chapter-2.aspx">The Photoshoot: Chapter 2</a>