Page 17 of Dirty Shots

“But I want to be that kind of girl,” she said. She spread her ankles wider, pulling the small chains between the spreader bar taut. The metal clinked in response. The position widened her stance, her thighs even more spread than before, exposing the star of her asshole and the delicate inner folds of her pussy.

“Oh, God,” he moaned.

Fuck it. He might want to be a professional when it came to his photography, but he was still a man.

With one swift move, he undid his belt and whipped it from the loops of his pants. He dropped to his knees and took her bottom between his hands and lowered his face to her wet slit like a man starving. The scent of her juices filled his senses, a musky but sweet perfume. He buried his tongue between her folds, seeking her waiting hole. Hardening his tongue, he slipped inside her easily, her arousal and juices opening her up to him. Her cream covered his mouth, moistening his chin, and he moved in and out, feeling her inner muscles tighten and contract around his tongue.

Anya writhed and moaned beneath his attention, but he wasn’t going to let her come yet.

Eric knelt up behind her, admiring the view. He’d never had someone so submissive to him before, allowing him to do such things to her without any trepidation at the possibility that he might hurt her in some way. He knew she trusted him implicitly.

He took the rock-hard length of his cock in one hand and gave it a couple of strokes. The head was purple and bulbous, the length ridged with veins standing out beneath the silky skin. His balls throbbed with a heavy ache and he longed to bury himself in her silken heat. It was what he’d been dreaming of doing from the moment she’d first walked into his apartment.

With her head twisted so she could watch him, her cheek pressed against the floor, her gaze locked on his face, he slowly ran the head of his cock along the opening of her pussy. He groaned at the heat of her, smearing himself with a mixture of his saliva and her desire. Then he grasped her bottom, one cheek in each hand, and thrust himself deep.

Anya gave a little cry of shock. She was tight, so tight. But he didn’t want this to be some sweet and gentle lovemaking. He wanted to fuck her, and fuck her hard. With her ankles joined and her hands locked behind her back, there was nothing she could do to alter his pace or try to stimulate herself. Everything she experienced was all him.

Eric held himself deep, feeling her clench around him. He wished he could photograph her like this, a close up of her pussy lips stretched around the girth of his dick. Maybe one day he’d be able to, or perhaps she’d allow him to bring a male model in here to screw her while he took the photographs. The idea of watching another man fuck her almost made him come, so he forced the idea away, concentrating on not giving in to his urges.

Eric slipped his pinky finger into his mouth, lubricating the digit with his saliva. He wondered if she’d ever had it in the ass. Probably, she was hardly the shy, reserved type. But when he pressed his finger against the star of her anus, she was tight enough to make him speculate.

Anya groaned and pushed back on him, encouraging him to slide his finger into her ass. He did so, pushing past the taut ring and burying his finger deep in the intimate place.

He moved slowly at first, gradually building speed and rhythm. She bounced back and forth in front of him, her cheek pressed hard against the floor as he fucked her.

“Oh, yes, Eric,” she cried. “That feels so fucking good.”

Her encouragement made him thrust harder, his eyes flicking down to where his cock entered her body, watching how her cream slicked his thick erection when he pulled out of her to the point of almost slipping from her body before pushing back in, deep.

With his other hand, he reached around her body, sliding between her legs so his palm rested on her mound, his forefinger and middle finger finding her clit. The contact elicited a deep-throated groan from Anya, the sound causing his balls to tighten. He was going to come soon.

His release came suddenly and abruptly, a buildup of energy pouring inside of her, as though he was sharing a piece of his soul with her, connected with her in that moment in a way impossible with anyone else. The world narrowed down to that tiny point of focus—how he felt releasing himself inside of her. He cried out as he came, his finger and cock buried to the hilt. He felt his hand on her mound tighten involuntarily, pressing hard on her clit as she came as well, her inner muscles pulsing around his still rock-hard erection.

They held together for a moment, both their bodies lifting as one as they panted for breath.

When his breathing returned to normal, Eric slid his finger from her ass and reached down and uncuffed her hands. She lay there, recovering herself, and then groaned again, releasing her shoulders and pushing herself up to her knees. Her cheeks and chest were flushed with a mottled pink.

I did that to her, he thought.

Her legs were still spread, his cum and her cream mixing together to slide from her pussy and down her thighs. How he wanted to photograph that sight, though he wouldn’t, not yet, anyway. He didn’t want to spoil this intimate moment. And he hoped that she would let him repeat their fucking and perhaps allow him to photograph her afterward then.

Eric, still on his knees, reached out and slid an arm around her waist, his hand creeping up to cup one of her breasts. He nuzzled her neck. She twisted her head to kiss him and their lips met, the kiss long and sweet and intense, tongues exploring every inch of each other’s mouths. How strange that they’d shared their first kiss after they’d had sex.

Anya broke the kiss with a giggle. “My ankles, Eric. My legs are about to collapse.”

He grinned and retrieved the key, undoing the spreader bar. Together, they fell to the floor, curled up on the white paper of his photographic background. Eric held her against him, his arms around her waist, fitting her bottom against his softening cock, her back pressed to his chest.

He pressed his face against her hair. “You know, I feel bad.”

She twisted around in his arms to face him. “That isn’t exactly what I was hoping to hear, especially not after what we’ve just done.”

He smiled. “That wasn’t what I meant. It’s just that we’ve been through so much, been on such a journey together, but I barely know anything about you.”

“You know everything you need to know. You’ve seen me at my most vulnerable and my most empowered.”

“But that’s not the same as knowing about you. I don’t even know if you’re actually a student.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m studying fine art.”

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