Not Just the Photographer Part 2 The Photo Shoot
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The Photo Shoot free porn video
About two years before my husband and I got married, just after we were engaged, he got the idea of me doing a boudoir shoot with a professional photographer as a birthday present. He looked into booking a photographer for an hour shoot, but after realizing that all of those who specialized in boudoir photography charged at least $500 for a session, we began to explore other options. A friend who was a professional model suggested that I list myself on a modelling website where photographers and models could find each other to do what she called "TF" or "Trade For" sessions where each traded their time. She said it was common among models and photographers to do this in order to build their portfolios.
My fiancé and I decided to try this, posting the best of the shots that he had taken of me half clothed in order to show potential photographers my body. We quickly gathered some interest from potential photographers willing to do a lingerie and nude shoot, and looking through some of their portfolios, we chose one who took really sexy shots.
We connected with him by email, and discussed for several weeks some ideas of what me might do in a shoot together. After several weeks of email exchanges, we met for coffee in order to get to know each other and feel more comfortable before the shoot. it was a great relief to find that he was not just a talented photographer, but a pretty nice guy as well. We chatted about our pasts, and after an hour of walking along the water with him, I genuinely felt relaxed with him. By the time we parted with plans for a shoot the following Monday, I had a great feeling about him. He was warm and attentive, and I felt we had a connection that would work well during a shoot. He seemed very sincere and I felt I could trust him. He was clear about being a professional, and that he prided himself on maintaining a clear boundary between himself and his models, but there was also a part of me that felt physically attracted to him.
This was before my fiancé and I had really worked out our fantasies about me having sex with another man, although we often had talked about it. But I remember thinking to myself as we parted that I could imagine having sex with the photographer if the situation was right.
When I got home with my fiancé, we picked out a few outfits that we thought would look good for the shoot, emailing the photographer images so he would know how I would be dressed. I felt nervous in anticipation of the day, knowing it was my first time modelling, but also because I felt a rising excitement anticipating that I would be posing nude for the photographer, and even though the pictures were going to be for me and my future husband to enjoy, I knew I would be alone with the photographer and I couldn't deny that there was a sexual spark between us.
The morning of the shoot, I awoke already super horny. My fiancé recognized my excitement, mirrored in his own rock hard erection, probably the result of his imagining, just as I had, of how horny I would get posing nude for a strange man. I knew that he was excited because I was sharing my body, so precious to him, with another man, but at that time we had only been talking about the idea, never having actually done anything about it. Somehow, sharing my body visually with the photographer seemed safer than actually having sex with another man, and in some ways there was also the idea that if the pictures turned out well, there might even be hordes of men who would eventually look at the images and get turned on by them. How many men would get so excited at seeing my photos that they would get horny enough to stroke their cocks and masturbate while gazing at my naked body?
My fiancé and I talked about how the photographer was going to see me naked, and both of us were panting with excitement as he fingered my wet cunt and I stroked his cock, exceptionally hard with the excitement of knowing I would soon be exposing myself to another man. I climbed atop his morning erection, and we fucked with a****l lust, our bodies covered with the sweat of exertion as he asked me with a disdainful voice, "Are you going to get wet today?" I groaned "Yes…," and he spanked me, telling me I was a naughty slut. "What if he wants to fuck you? Are you going to let him stick his hard cock in your wet cunt?" I shook my head, but he knew that it would be hard for me to refuse if I became that horny. "Are you going to beg him to fuck you? Are you going to scream with desire when his hard cock fills your hungry cunt?" I felt the same burning shame that always filled my body at the time when HH would tease me with the idea of me fucking another man. He called me a slut, telling me that he knew I would not be able to resist my carnal desires. I felt ashamed and humiliated, knowing that it was true, that I did have a craving for other men. My eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment as I nodded, whispering "Yes, I'm a slut. I want another man to fuck me…I'm so horny that I'll beg for him to fuck me…"
I felt the stinging pain of his hand slapping my buttocks and then my face, the tingling coursing through my body each time his open palm struck me, the room reverberating with the echo of each loud smack. "You're such a slut. Say it, tell me what a slut you are…" I began to feel the familiar tightening in my legs and crotch as an orgasm began to develop. "Yes, Master, I'm such a slut…," I whispered, "I'm such a dirty slut…" Each time I uttered the words my voice grew louder, until finally I was shouting "I'm a slut, I'm a slut, spank me, please punish me!" An incredible orgasm wracked my body at the same time that he groaned and began shooting his gift of sperm deep into my cunt.
About two hours later, after I had showered and put on my make-up and fixed up my hair, my fiancé dropped me off at the location, an old rundown building that the photographer warned me would be dirty but would end up looking great in the photos. When I entered, it was even older and more rundown than I imagined. I wasn't sure that this shoot would be worth it, but I decided to forge ahead anyway.
All his equipment was already set up, so we were just waiting for me to get ready. There was an electricity in the air as I changed into my first outfit. We started shooting and I immediately enjoyed the dynamic that we established. He had a strong voice, almost hypnotic as he gave me firm instructions on how to pose, what to do next.
He shot me in the hallway, with the lights dim and only the bare bulb overhead and his flash. He was masterful in the way in which he gave direction, and I began to lose my inhibitions and just follow the command of his voice, becoming the ideal model, my body an extension of his voice, imagining myself as seen through the gaze of his lens.
Whatever doubts I had about his abilities as a photographer, or the suitability of the location, were dispelled as he showed me some of the first series of images in the display screen of the camera. They really were amazing, just as he promised they would be. He said he wanted to do some half-clothed shots, now. I had worn a slinky orange dress without any underwear as my first outfit, and after taking a series of shots in the dress, I was now going to do a series of poses taking the dress off slowly.
The feeling of the slinky dress sliding off sent a familiar warmth through my body. I could feel my lips beginning to swell with heat and a moist sweat began to cover my skin. After the dress was just an orange pile at my feet, he came up closer to me and took photos while I posed naked.
He put an old chair in the middle of the room for me to sit on, and as I posed on the chair, I realized I was beginning to pant with sexual excitement. I knew that he could tell that I was excited--he couldn't mistake the musky smell of my wetness that now filled the air around us. He told me in his commanding voice to touch my body. As soon as said it, a shiver ran through my body, and it was as if I was no longer in control of my own body as I began to touch myself. First my fingers grazed my breasts, pinching my nipples, and then I realized that he was kneeling in front of me, drawing ever closer. As his camera shutter softly clicked, my legs naturally began to swing open, steadily spreading ever wider to welcome his gaze. Each click of the camera seemed to capture a moment of increasing sexual excitement, spreading the heat from my swollen wetness outwards, gaping and aching for his eyes to ravish me.
As I became ever hornier and wet, and with his encouragement, I touched my swollen wet lips. It was so different than masturbating by myself in private. It was as if the whole world was watching my most intimate pleasure, imagining every person who would see these photos eventually, looking at me in this moment of revealing myself.
I fantasized about a cock inside me, or a tongue, thrilled with the feeling of penetration as one and then two of my fingers slipped inside.
Without any prompting, I took my fingers out of my musky wetness and tasted them, licking the deliciously slick mucous with my tongue.
I spread my swollen lips for his camera to see inside me.
I was lost now in a sexual reverie, my mind focused on the pleasurable feelings of my fingers rubbing my most intimate flesh.
He told me to get up on the chair and I squatted, partially embarrassed at how obscene I must look from behind, like a horny cat in heat, but also lost in the excitement of revealing myself to him.
I knew how fleshy my lips become when I am excited. I knew that he could see how swollen and wet I was, but at this moment I didn't care. I was filled with sexual desire and it felt as if I was burning inside.
After taking pictures of my gaping pussy from behind as I squatted on the chair, he told me to stand up facing the wall, and to spread my legs with my back to him. I did as I was told, holding myself up by both hands. He took pictures from below, and I could tell from the loudness of the shutter that he was close-up, almost between my legs.
His commanding voice told me to reach down with my hand and see how many fingers I could put inside myself. I responded immediately by putting two, and then three fingers inside my slippery cunt. I took it as a challenge from him to put more, and so I slipped a fourth finger and then my thumb inside, stretching myself obscenely until I could only moan with the pleasure of the feeling of fullness of fisting myself in front of the camera.
I could hear the sound of groaning and realized it was my own voice, disembodied, far away from the hot sexual desire that surrounded my wet fingers deep inside.
Suddenly I felt the warmth of his tongue and soft lips. He did not ask. He just began licking me. I did not say no. It felt too good to stop him, and I was carried along on the waves of pleasure as his warm lips first licked and sucked my lips and then his fingers replaced my finger inside me, his soft tongue spreading the warmth all around my crotch and slipping into my asshole.
A part of my brain realized that I was having sex with another man, that now it wasn't just a fantasy shared by me and my fiancé during our love-making, now it was a reality that another man was finger fucking me and performing oral sex on me.
And I loved it.
His long fingers stretched me even more than my own, and he began fucking me harder and harder with his fingers until I was gasping and shaking and moaning with lust.
I suddenly came as he finger fucked me, his lips sucking on my clitoris in rhythm to his hard thrusts. I was standing with my face against the wall, my arms supporting me as he kneeled behind me, licking and finger fucking me.
As I caught my breath, neither of us said anything about what had just happened. I put on the next outfit and we began taking more photos in the hallway and at the window.
I was in a state of rumbling horniness, the orgasm that had just wracked my body seemed to just whet my appetite for more. I was still wet and swollen, and posing at the window, where anyone outside could have seen me, made me even hornier.
Again as I touched myself I felt the familiar tingle of raw a****l lust and overwhelming sexual desire.
What could he see, I wondered? Were my lips so wet and swollen, my body so flushed with excitement that he could see just how much of a slut I really was?
As I sat on the window sill and spread my legs, he came ever closer, the click of the camera shutter measuring his slow progress toward me.
Click click, ever closer, my hot breath panting and anticipating his proximity, the camera taking close ups of my open lips.
Without a word, he was on his knees between my legs licking me again, whispering that I was "delicious." I abandoned myself to the wonderful feeling of his warm tongue and lips pleasuring my swollen cunt lips and clit. I felt his tongue move down the crack of my cunt and begin to lick and open my asshole. I was screaming now, not caring if everyone on the sidewalk below could hear me. The sunlight streaming through the window warmed my back, and I knew that people out on the street hearing my groaning and screaming could tell that a man was between my open legs performing cunnilngus.
The minutes dripped by as his saliva and my leaking wetness flowed down my thighs. His warm talented tongue mingled with the growing heat of my crotch. My mind could not separate the two, and I lost track of time as the pleasure coursed through my stomach and legs and spread into every part of my body as I came again, his hands on my ankles keeping me from falling backwards out the open window as my back arched and convulsed.
One more outfit change, and yet another series of shots of me sitting in the chair, my skirt hiking up to reveal my now obscenely swollen and puffy lips, my top pulled down to wantonly reveal my breasts. Pinching my hard nipples as the arousal that began from the first moments of anticipating this photo shoot crested ever higher. As my legs spread and my fingers flicked and rubbed my hard clit, the clicking of the shutter stopped and I again felt his hot breath on my thigh as he licked me, his tongue tracing a slimy line from my knees up the inside of my legs to my throbbing cunt, the feeling of his warm soft tongue now familiar and welcome.
He asked if he could fuck me. I hesitated knowing that I should say no but unable to form the words. He said he had a big cock. My mind reeled. Why had he asked? Somehow his forcing me to think, to decide, had broken the spell I was under up until that moment. I had not had a conscious rational thought since the first time his tongue had touched my swollen sex, but now I was becoming conscious of where I was, and what I was doing, and thinking about what my fiancé would think when I came home. I felt an immense anger and frustration that I was now a rational being again, shaken out of the delicious pleasurable oblivion that I had been enjoying.
I said no. He asked me if he could masturbate. I again said no, knowing that if I saw his hard cock I would want it inside me. If only he had not asked, if he had just began fucking me, I would not have stopped him. But being asked, having to make a decision, I could only say no. I felt torn, even as I stopped him, my horny body wanting to say yes, wanting him to just ignore my words and ravish me against my will. But now I thought of my fiancé, and how he had not granted me permission to do this, that even though we had fucked that morning talking about me doing this, that had just been fantasy, and I did not really know how he would react if he knew I had fucked another man without telling him first. I thought for a second of phoning him, of asking his permission, but it seemed absurd to call him and ask him such a thing.
We finished the shoot with a few more pictures, but now the sexual spell had been broken. The wetness of my crotch was now cooling in the breeze from the window, and I laughed inside with the thought that the photographer had been lapping up the sperm that my fiancé had filled my cunt with that morning, and that he probably thought that it was just my pussy that had tasted delicious, not realizing that he was also tasting my man’s cum! Somehow this comforted me and calmed my fear that my fiancé would react badly. I thought of how I would tell him that I had sex with the photographer. Not fucking, but sex nonetheless.
I was worried. Afraid that I had made a huge mistake. But I had been utterly unable to control myself once I began to obey his hypnotic voice. And hadn't he assured me that he was a consummate professional, and that I could trust him not to cross the line? I felt betrayed, but also glad that he had licked me to so many amazing orgasms and that my husband and I would have a beautiful set of pictures to remember this moment for the rest of my life.
I would have loved to have known what it was like to be fucked by him. I wish he would have just began fucking me from behind without my permission after he had licked me to my first orgasm. I wish he had taken photos as his cock entered me, so I could have the pictures framed showing the man who had made me a cheating slut even though I had just recently become engaged to be married. Even as I thought about how he had taken advantage of my trust, I also wished he had fucked me hard and filled my cunt with his cum, and that he had taken beautiful pictures showing his glistening hard cock as it pumped in and out of me, and I imagined the series of perverted portrait shots of me being covered with a cum facial, the long strands of his sticky white cum shooting out onto my face.
When my fiancé picked me up, I asked him if he would be mad if I had had sex with the photographer. He said no. I asked him if he was sure, and he said yes, he was sure. I then told him every detail of what had happened, including how I now wished I had said yes, or that I had actually called him and asked permission. He said that he wished I had called as well, and that he would have said yes. As soon as we got home we went straight to the bedroom and he licked my cunt. Somehow it didn't feel as good--I was excited, but not in the same way that I had been during the photo shoot. Maybe it was because I had already cum so many times. Maybe it was because he was actually angry and jealous and perhaps feeling betrayed and I could sense it. Whatever the reason, I couldn't cum again, despite his excited licking and exploration of my still swollen pussy lips. He gave up trying to bring me to orgasm with his lips and tongue, climbing up and spreading my legs wide with his hands around my ankles as he began fucking me hard, with an anger and viciousness that I craved. I needed to feel his jealousy, to feel his anger. I begged him to slap me, and he did immediately with a v******e that took my breath away. His palm snapped my face and left my cheek tingling and my ears ringing. "More…" I begged, "…slap me harder…" He obliged, hitting my face back and forth with hard stinging slaps until I was babbling and crying, begging for his forgiveness. He slapped my breasts as well, until they were a flushed red and you could see the impressions of his palm and fingers in white on the reddened flesh. As he came with a roar, lifting my whole body up off the bed with a violent thrust, I clung to him like a c***d seeking absolution from an angry parent. Whatever I needed to do to overcome his anger and to make up for how I had displeased him, I would do. If he whipped me, abused me, called me names, I would crave his punishment. Somehow I knew we needed to set things right.
A few days after the shoot, when the photographer sent me the first photos from our shoot, he also sent me photos of his cock. Seeing how thick and long his uncut meat was, and imagining what it would have felt like shoving inside my wet cunt, filling my mouth and throat, spraying cum all over me, I wished I would have said yes.
Ah, regrets. We wrote several emails to each other afterward, with permission from my fiancé, planning another erotic shoot, this time with the idea of him videotaping him licking and fingering my pussy, and me sucking his cock, as well as capturing me riding his thick cock, but he chickened out, telling me that he was worried about his "professional reputation" if word ever got out. But he still occasionally sends me photos of his thick cock. Such a talented eye, and magic fingers, and beautiful phallus.
My fiancé and I kept talking about what had happened, and have used it to stoke our sexual fantasies now that we are married, but I didn’t try something like that again, and it would be another three years until I had sex with another man.
Clover
- 29.08.2020
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