Dirty Shots (19 page)

She placed a hand on her hip, and pouted lips slicked with a red, tinted gloss. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Um, yes, of course.” He stepped back from the doorway and she sauntered in, her hips dipping from side to side as she walked, her heels clicking on the floor. She walked past him, her arm brushing against his shirt, and then away from him so he got a full view of the roundness of her buttocks barely covered by the latex.

Jesus, had she walked through the streets like that? He hoped she’d dumped an overcoat in the lobby downstairs.

“Anya, you look ...”

Amazing ... Sexy ... Slutty ...

He didn’t say any of the things that went through his head.

She turned to face him and ran her hands down the sides of her body, starting at the sides of her breasts, sliding lower, to the dip of her waist, and then over her hips. Eric’s dick stirred in his pants.

“Do you like it? I figured I deserved to buy myself something pretty, considering ... everything.”

“Yes, you do. But I would have bought you new clothes if you wanted them.”

Her blue eyes blazed. “I can buy my own clothes, Eric. Neither you, nor my father, own me. I do what I want.”

His heart caught in his chest. So that was what this was about. She was stamping her own mark in the world. “I would never suggest anything else.”

She spotted the mess he’d made and raised her eyebrows. She walked over to the broken glass and, facing away from him, slowly bent at the waist to pick a shard up between her fingertips. Eric caught his breath. Not only was the dress so short it rode right up, exposing the creases between her bottom and thighs, but it also revealed she wasn’t wearing panties.

“Are you doing that on purpose, Anya?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She didn’t bother to straighten up, but looked back over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

He crossed the apartment, his cock straining against his pants.

“I want you to photograph me,” she said, still bending over. “I want you to fill my pussy with cum and then photograph it dripping out of me.”

Eric gave a low moan in the back of his throat, his hand automatically reaching down to his crotch to apply pressure to his throbbing erection. His camera still sat on his desk, waiting for him. The space had been handily cleared, perfect for him to bend Anya over and fuck.

But first he wanted to explore the body she’d so beautifully put on display for him. Shattered pieces of glass were right beneath her. If he pushed her too far forward, or she dropped to her knees, it would cut her beautiful skin. For some reason, the idea of danger only heightened the eroticism in his mind.

She dropped the piece of glass she held, and it tinkled to the floor.

“Hold onto your shins,” he told her, sliding back into the role of photographer and director as easily as changing clothes. “And don’t move. If you move, you’ll get cut.”

She glanced at him again, and slowly licked her lips. “Yes, Sir.”

A thrill went through him. To think that only last night he’d thought their relationship and his career were at an end. Who was this version of Anya? He’d gotten glimpses of her before, but the sweet, almost demure persona seemed to have vanished. He tried not to think about the connection it had with her meeting with her father last night. He didn’t want to worry that she was working out her daddy issues by fucking him.

Anya took hold of her shins. The position kept her bent at the waist, her bottom pushed out toward him. The high heels gave her legs extra length. The dress rode up further, the pale globes of her bottom peeping from beneath.

“Widen your legs,” he told her.

She did as he instructed, shifting her ankles farther apart. The sole of her shoe crunched on a piece of glass. The position made her more wobbly, more likely to fall.

Eric placed a hand on her lower back, steadying her. With his other hand, he reached between her thighs. Her pussy lips, puffy, swollen, and already slick with juices peeped from between her thighs.

As soon as his fingers touched her soft, wet flesh, she took a shuddery intake of breath. He sensed the emotion from her. Her cool aloofness was an act. She was masking how she really felt with this sexy, determined version of herself. He would give her what she wanted and more. He would make her come so hard, so many times, that she broke down the mask and cried into his chest and told him how she really felt.

He slicked a finger between her pussy folds, and used her juice to slip his digit into her hot, tight channel. She moaned, her body shuddering.

“Don’t move, Anya,” he warned. “You don’t want to topple over.”

He fingered her a couple of times, and then added another digit to her pussy. She squirmed and pushed back on him, asking him for more with her body. Putting his fingers together, he added a third, stretching her pussy around his digits. Could he add another and get all four fingers inside her? Maybe even his thumb. Could she stretch far enough to get his whole fist inside her? Would she cry with pain as her pussy engulfed his whole hand?

The thought almost made him shoot his load inside his pants. Fuck. What was he thinking? Why was the thought of hurting her turning him on so much? Did he feel resentful for what she was putting him through?

“Oh, fuck, Eric,” she cried, the grip on her shins tightening, her knuckles white. Her palms had begun to slip, her skin slippery with sweat. He removed his hand from her lower back and reached around to support the front of her body with his other hand. He wouldn’t let her fall. The threat of pain might be there, but he wouldn’t let her get hurt.

Eric slipped a finger down to flick her clit, while he fingered her hard, pumping into her so her cream slicked his hand right down to the knuckles. Her body trembled, and her pussy started to clamp around his hand as wave after wave of pulsating orgasm took her in its grip and shuddered its way through her body. When she was done, she went limp in his hands, trusting him enough to hold her up above the glass.

He pulled her upright, held her against the front of his body. His erection was so hard he thought it would leave a bruise as he pressed it against her lower back. He leaned forward and spoke into her ear, “You’re not done yet.”

He wanted to take the photographs she had suggested. The moment she put the idea into his head, it was all he wanted. Of course, he’d need to supply the cum.

Eric half carried her over to his desk. She leaned over the top of the smooth surface, her elbows and lower arms rested on the wood.

Roughly, he pushed the latex up over her bottom, the material squeaking against her sweaty flesh. He ran both hands down over the round curves of her ass, cupping each cheek and squeezing hard, leaving the red imprints of his fingers against her pale skin. He ran his thumb down between the crease of her ass, the tip of his thumb trailing over the star of her anus, making her gasp. The swollen pink puff of her labia swelled just beneath, and he kept his thumb tracing downward, dipping into her wet heat once again. The wetness of her cream moistened her inner thighs, slipping from her pussy. Fuck, she was hot. He couldn’t wait to see his cum mixing with her juices, photographing it dripping from her sopping slit.

Quickly, Eric tugged at the button of his pants, yanking down the zipper. His cock sprang free, thick and solid, the veins protruding down its length. The bulbous head was purple with desire, his balls heavy and throbbing. It wouldn’t take him long to come. How strange to think this was the desired result. Coming wasn’t something he would normally rush.

Anya looked back over her shoulder, her blonde hair sticking to her face, making her appear even more wanton, if such a thing were even possible. “Give it to me, Eric. Fuck me hard.”

He didn’t need her to ask again, but he made her. “Beg for it,” he commanded.

“Please, Eric. Please fuck me. I want you so badly.”

He sensed her stifle a sob. “How badly?” He could barely hold himself back now. He wanted desperately to plunge his cock deep inside her.

“So badly, Eric. Please don’t tease me. I want your cock in my cunt.”

Hearing that word come from her sweet mouth made him groan with desire. He could hold back no longer. Grabbing each of her ass cheeks in his palms, he positioned his cock at her engorged slit. He used the head to slick her swollen lips apart, nudging against her hot, wet entrance, and then he shoved, hard, taking no prisoners.

Anya cried out as his brute force pushed her hard against his desk. Her tight channel engulfed his erection, soft, heated pillows holding him like a glove. He was already so deep, his balls met with her skin, but he shoved again, wanting every inch of him inside her.

Slowly, he withdrew, watching how his cock slid from her body, inch by inch. Anya’s hands were balled fists against the solid surface of the desk, her head twisted to one side so her cheek pressed against the wood. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut.

He couldn’t resist her ass, wanting to penetrate her in every way. He lifted his thumb to his mouth and slicked his saliva down the digit. The taste of Anya’s pussy coated his tongue, and with a grunt he pumped into her again, starting a slow rhythm, his cock pushing in and out of her. He reached down and rubbed his saliva-slicked thumb over the star of her anus. Anya groaned and pushed back on him. The tight ring stretched around the intrusion and he pushed past it, pushing his thumb into her ass. He marveled at the difference between the two channels, the smoothness of her ass passage compared to the soft, wet walls of her pussy. Her back passage clamped tight around his thumb. A sudden desire to fuck her in the ass filled him, but then he remembered the reason he was fucking her now. This wasn’t just to get off. They were setting up a photography shoot together. Perhaps she’d let him come up her sweet little bottom next time, and photograph his semen dripping from her asshole.

Eric increased his pace, his eyes flicking between the latex still rolled half way up Anya’s back, the way her face was screwed up in concentration of pleasure, the sight of his thumb embedded in her ass. 

His movements grew faster, his buttocks clenched, every muscle in his thighs taut. Every time he pounded into her, Anya bounced across the surface of his desk. It was primal, brutal, no affection or emotion. This was fucking for fucking’s sake.

Anya’s pussy contracted around his cock, her ass tightening on his thumb, trying to pull him deeper. She cried out, a cry that was almost a scream, her fists pressed down hard against the surface of his desk. The change in motion tipped Eric over the edge and he squeezed his eyes shut as his balls lifted high in his body and hot streams of semen spurted from his cock. He gave a roar of relief and pleasure, his eyes feeling like they were rolling back in his head. The orgasm rode the wave again, a thrust and spurt, another thrust and spurt, until he had emptied himself completely inside her. He leaned over her body and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, panting, their bodies rising and falling together.

Gradually, he felt himself go soft inside her. Soon both his cock and his cum would slip from her body.

“Don’t move,” he told her.

He reached across her body and lifted his camera from where it sat beside his computer. He was careful not to pull from her just yet, wanting to capture the exact moment his cum began to slide from her pussy.

Eric switched on the camera and selected the settings he wanted. He was sliding from her, his wilting dick touching the air of the outside world.

“When I pull out of you, step your legs even farther apart, but otherwise don’t move unless I tell you to, got it?”

Anya nodded.

He stepped away, finally pulling from her pussy. He yanked his pants back up, fumbling one handed with the button, not caring that he would be getting cum and cream all over the inside of them. He’d slept in the pants anyway.  He dropped onto one knee and pointed the lens at Anya’s beautiful, shaved, cum-filled pussy.

He shot image after image, her swollen cunt, the white semen and her cream slowly slipping out from between her lips. She angled her hips just right so the cum slid down the inside of her smooth, creamy thighs. Just as erotic was the sight of her perfect bottom pushed out toward him. He gave her only the briefest of instructions. “Arch your back a little more. Spread your legs.” That was all he needed. As always, Anya instinctively knew how to move in order to create the best angles for his camera to work with.

After about fifteen minutes and possibly one hundred shots of Anya’s slit, ass, and thighs, she peered over her shoulder at him and wiggled her behind in that teasing way she liked to do. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Is it wrong that this is seriously turning me on?”

Enough time had passed for Eric to start getting hard again. He smiled. “How many orgasms would you like in one day?”

“Enough to stop me thinking.”

“I want to take you in the ass.”

She smiled sweetly, and he was reminded of how angelic she could appear while simultaneously looking like a slut. “I love your cock in my ass.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Quickly, he put down his camera and yanked at his pants, pulling them open once again and freeing his rapidly hardening erection. His mind was a blur. It was as if he hadn’t come for weeks, never mind minutes. All he could think of was penetrating Anya again, of having her young, tight body clamped around his cock.

Roughly, he pulled her from the desk and pushed her to the floor. Her dress was still rucked up around her waist, and he reached across her body to yank the strap from one shoulder, pulling the front down to expose her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her tits hung freely. The dress was like a rolled up black tire around her middle now, the straps hanging midway down her arms.

Eric pushed her legs apart with his knees and positioned himself behind her. His cock nudged up against her sopping pussy, coating in the cum and cream that remained trapped in her swollen slit. Her asshole was still stretched from him having embedded his thumb in it not so long ago. That was good. He didn’t want to think about preparing her for too long. He reached beneath her body and grabbed her breast in one hand, his thumb and finger gripping her nipple and pinching—just hard enough to hurt. Anya hissed air between her teeth, but her nipple grew ever harder between his fingers and she did nothing to make him think she wasn’t enjoying the sensation. His hand moved sides and he pinched her other nipple, the nub like a little rubber bullet beneath his fingertips.