The Photographer: Erotic Story Excerpt

And now, an excerpt from The Photographer, an erotic story by Gwen Masters. (Used with persmission of the publisher, Tit-Elation.)

The mattress was comfortable. At least I was peddling something that was exactly what it claimed to be. When I rolled over onto my side, the silk of the gown rubbed sensuously against my legs. Arik’s comment about ‘nothing sultry’ had really stuck in my craw. What did he think I was? Sure, I had done some modeling in college that certainly wouldn’t be appearing in any reputable magazine at the local grocery store, but that was a long time ago, and it paid the bills. There was nothing wrong with paying the bills, was there?

Did he really think I looked sultry?

“I don’t give a fuck what he thought,” I said to myself and tried to believe it. It had been a long time since I had been with a man. A woman, that was a different story. I had been with a few fellow models on a trip to Cancun, and we did what felt good while the rain poured down and the beaches were closed. But a man? It had been a bit too long.

I lay on my back again. I listened hard. Arik wasn’t anywhere to be heard. I glanced at the cameras. None of them were video. I stared at one of them for a long moment to make sure. The whole time my hands were sliding up and down the silk of that gown, moving it against my skin. I remembered posing for those pictures way back when I was nineteen. It wasn’t something I was forced into – I’m sure I could have paid my bills in some way that my mother would have considered respectable – but I wanted to pose. I wanted to know what it felt like.

My favorite part had been lying back on the bed and spreading my legs as wide as I could, pulling aside the panties that were already wet, my hand playing over my clit, while the photographer moved so close I could feel the heat of his breath on the inside of my thighs.

“Nice,” he whispered, as the camera snapped frame after frame.

I suddenly thought about Arik, about his perfect hands, and about the intensity of his gaze when he peered at me from behind the camera. He hadn’t come onto me, not at all. He had been every iota of professional throughout the whole shoot, and that was what turned me on. A man who fawned over me wasn’t a challenge at all. I liked a man who was a mystery. What could I seduce him into doing?

I didn’t know where Arik was. But I knew it was just the two of us in this big warehouse. I looked back up at the rafters while the gown slowly made its way up my hips. I was wearing a simple g-string underneath it. My fingers played with the fabric at my hips. Finally I spread my legs ever-so-slightly and let my fingertips slip between them.

Read the rest of The Photographer here.

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