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I’m a Lingerie Model and I Fantasize About My Sexy Photographer. Is That Wrong?

“Sit right there” he instructed gently as I arranged my thong trying to hide my timidity.

The studio air was slightly cold as it moved across my skin, warmed by the photographer’s lights and heating up at his gaze.

Here I was nearly naked posing for a lingerie shoot — something I’d done hundreds of times before. The makeup artist had done her thing and left, leaving just me and him.

I wasn’t the type to be shy with photographers, but this one was different. There was something about the way his eyes connected with mine before dancing around my body to make sure everything was in place, to move me into position.

“You are breathtaking.” he said as if seeing something inside me rather than just the toned body that so many others saw and wanted.

I swallowed hard, licked my lips and thanked him as he moved closer peering through the eye of his camera, a ball cap turned backwards and tattoos telling a story up and down each of his arms.

His leg grazed my thigh as he positioned my hair and doted on me like a priceless puppet he adored.

“Stunning.” he said, only one word enough to send me over the edge, concealing my hunger for his touch and doing my best to remain professional. I don’t normally sleep with photographers but this one owned me and I wandered if he knew — I was eager to show him.

The camera’s shudder riddled away, capturing my various sides in dozens of poses as I hid my growing want.

Photo by Justin Main on Unsplash

The session lasted half of what other shoots do — a sure sign of a good photographer. He placed his camera down and walked slowly towards me, repositioned my hair and tilted my face up to meet his.

“You’re one of the best models I’ve ever worked with.” he said, his gaze still burning a hole through me.

“Thank you.” I replied bashfully, having lost of sense of being a professional model.

He licked his lips. I licked mine.

We were like two circling tigers eyeing each other, wondering what was next and who was going to move first.

He began to turn from me, “Wait.” I said, grabbing his hand and turning him back to me as I stood from the perch he had me sitting on.

Both our chests were filling with air at the same time as his steeling gaze was fixated on me as if unaffected. I bit my lip while eying his, all encompassed in a masculine jaw line that flexed as he spoke and darted around my face like he was surveying me features.

We didn’t speak. Words weren’t needed although the message was clear.

He pulled me in closer, my nipples hardening on contact with his chest through the lacy bra the designer had given me. His hands reached around to hold me in position as our lips met with a small bite, then deeper into each other with his tongue exploring with mine.

My bra was off in an instant, freeing me from the confines of a garment built for passion and a job it did well. Together we unbottoned his shirt as fast we both could while still making kissing passes at each other, eager for the next kiss to be deeper than the one before.

My body flooded with passion as his pants quickly became restrictive from his growing hardness from the want our little photo shoot had stirred in us both. The belt unthread through the loops with a whip of intention and I began working on the first button that would bring his zipper and unleash his growing masculinity.

“I want you now.” I demanded. He didn’t reply with words but his hand slip up my neck to bunch in his fist and maneuver me to my knees.

His pants fell nicely around his ankles leaving me face forward to the nicest cock I have ever seen and eager to tame. I licked my lips once again and throttled my hand around his girth to take him vigorously in my mouth filling my throat to sensations of his pulse.

I looked up only briefly to watch his head rock back and mouth gape open in enjoyment to my pleasure, his hand still wrapped dutifully around my hair to hold on.

Everything he did was mindful and passionate, like a curator of a fine art collection, he knew and fully appreciated the uniqueness of each piece yet cherished only one, this one at his feet exhausting him for more.

“I want you.” I heard him say with a low growl as he pulled at my hair to make me stand. Our eyes met each other like a standoff of passion for the showdown between new lovers.

He spun me on my heels to grab the chair this whole show began on, gripping each side as he ambitiously pulled on my panties as I rocked my hips from side to side for them to quickly hit the floor. One hand trailed down my back as if he was admiring the fine lines of a Ferrari before both gripped my sides and pulled me closer against his cock, well tuned and ready from my mouth fucking.

I breathed in deeply having first hand knowledge of what was coming my way. My eyes rolled into my head and the air slowly left my lounges as he pushed his well endowed length into my pussy, already wet and ready from our flirtation and exhilarating foreplay.

My hair fell to the side of my face and swung at our tantric delight of sheer, passionate fucking. We didn’t even know each other’s name and it didn’t matter, nor did we care. We knew what we needed to know — that animal want between two with chemistry will power the world.

I savored every moment of him rocking himself into my cunt, pressing harder and deeper up on to his toes to fill all of me with his passion and lust. I’d never been SO satisfied.

We exploded together in desire, our juicy greatness mixing to a hundred different flavors of lustful passion, all of it I was eager to taste and enjoy again and again.

The minutes passed between us slowly and deliberately, the tick of the wall’s clock keeping us rhythmically tuned to our bodies. When we were finally done, he left himself inside me, massaging himself around as he caressed my ass and pulled me up to his chest, trailing kisses up and down my neck, holding my hair to the other side.

“You are breathtaking.” he said once again, this time more sensational than the first knowing I had been the one to take his breath away.



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