Seduction Series - Annabelle

Annabelle gasped out loud.

He held it there, high above her body, until the bottle had released the last of its contents and then dropped it back onto the table, where it teetered before falling on its side with a gentle clink.

The oil was haphazardly covering her now—running across her chest and breasts, along her flat stomach and finding its way down to her thighs. She found herself thinking that the bikini would be ruined, even as Bruno's hands were releasing her bra, and then the ties either side of her thighs. The dripping liquid both covered and accentuated her nakedness at the same time.

"Oil yourself," he snapped, picking up his camera again before she had time to think.

He was already taking shots of her before Annabelle had quite realised what was happening. She was naked, wasn't she? She didn't do nude work! And yet as the camera clicked away, she found herself caressing the oil into her skin as instructed.

"Pose," he rasped. "Pose!"

She did, thrusting out her breasts even as her hands covered them in oil. Her nipples were rock hard under her palms as she cupped her tits, caressed them, soaked them in oil. The whole atmosphere had changed in an instant and the sexual electricity that had been simmering all day had finally exploded.

"More," he rasped. "Give Bruno more. Sexier..."

She was there and yet she wasn't. Her eyes were closed now and it was easy to imagine she was in the privacy of her own home, in the shower, caressing soap across her curves. But it wasn't soap, it was oil. And she wasn't at home, she was in a studio, fully displaying herself to this diminutive photographer.

She should have been embarrassed, ashamed, but the arousal that had settled in her body ever since this morning's blow job was now at fever pitch.

She sensed Bruno closing in on her, rather than saw him. Eyes still closed, she gasped out loud when she felt his hands touch her skin.

"All over..." she heard him say.

His voice was a little thicker, as if he was feeling the same sexual tension as her, and his Eastern European accent more pronounced.

"I want you oiled all over..."

She kept her eyes closed as his hands stroked their way across her skin, caressing the oil into her overheating flesh. Thank God, Luke couldn't see her now. Bruno shouldn't be doing this, should he? He was the photographer. But he was and his touch was sublime. Yet when his oily hands slithered downwards and eased her thighs apart, she knew that he was crossing a line.

No, no, no, no, no, no....

Was she telling him that, or just thinking the words? She didn't know. But what was clear was that his hand found her clean shaven mound. She whimpered again, and then the whimper turned into a needy groan as he easily worked two of his stubby fingers into her wetness.

No, no, no, no, no, no....

She couldn't allow this. She had to stop him. But she was already so close to her nirvana. Maybe she should allow that? After what he'd put her through in the studio, didn't she deserve one orgasm at least?

Her back pushed into the cool white wall as she thrust her hips forward, forcing his fingers deeper, and then she was throwing her head back as she squeezed them between her thighs, rocked on them, pumped her heaving body back and forwards and took herself to the climax she so badly needed.

———

She had no idea when Winston had returned to the room. All she knew was that Bruno wanted him oiled, too, and had given her the bottle.

She'd hesitated before complying, but only briefly. And then the feeling of his hard black muscles under her oily fingers was breathtaking. He grinned arrogantly at her as she oiled him, and it was only when her hands moved lower that she realised he was naked, too, just like her.

Bruno was still in the room, she knew that. She could hear the constant click of his camera. It seemed to fire off even more rapid shots as Winston pulled her hand to his humungous cock and, despite her recent climax under the photographer's stubby fingers, she felt another surge of arousal as she caressed more oil into the African model's huge endowment.

At some stage, his hands were on her shoulders, pushing her downwards. She sunk eagerly to her knees, knowing what he wanted. She wanted it, too. It was just like in the bathroom, with her brother-in-law, Gary...

She had glanced up into Winston's condescending eyes the moment before she took him between her lips, wondering if she could even get her mouth around his huge girth. It hadn't taken her long to find out.

"That's it," he'd commanded. "Suck it."

And she had. God, she so loved sucking cock...

———

Unlike Gary, he hadn't cum in her mouth, or deliciously splattered himself across her face. In fact, the African model hadn't cum at all. He'd just allowed her to indulge herself on his throbbing hardness—using her mouth, tongue, fingers and even her tits to build up his need. She knew she'd hate herself in the morning, just as she had with her brother-in-law, but Judy had told her what happened in the studio stayed in the studio, and Luke would never know.

When Winston pulled her mouth off him and laid her unresisting oiled body down onto the wooden floor, she stupidly thought at first that he was going to go down on her. Yesss! Even Gary hadn't done that. But when the African's hands found her ankles, pulled her legs upwards and held them apart as he kneeled between her thighs, she instantly panicked.

"No..." she protested, as the reality of the situation set in.

A blow job was one thing, but this...

"No, you can't..."

But the ebony-bodied model just grinned as he rubbed his cock along her vulva. That was all it took for her resolve to instantly dissolve. Winston knew that, too. He could see by the way her face twisted, her pupils dilated, her tongue flicked across her lips, that she was his for the taking.

And yet, when he lined that beautifully thick black monster against her opening and began to push, Annabelle shook her head again.

"You can't, Winston," she weakly told him. "I'm married..."

"I know, darlin'," he grinned, pushing deeper.

She reached up with her hands, digging her fingernails into his muscular chest as his wonderful thickness pushed even deeper. When he slowly began to move inside her, letting her get used to his size, she was oblivious to everything except that wonderful feeling, even the sound of Bruno's camera as it clicked away beside them.

"Oh my God ... Oh my God ... Oh my God ..."

His rhythm was steadier than Luke, just like some of the guys she'd watched in the porn movies her husband occasionally brought home. There'd been a black guy in one of those who had been particularly hot and she'd wondered then what it would feel like to be on the receiving end?

Now she was finding out.

She curled her legs around his hips, marveling at the colour contrast between them. Then she was crossing her feet and digging her heels into the top of his ass, forcing him even deeper. Forgive me Luke, she inwardly murmured as she gave in to the inevitable. She'd never needed cock as much as she did now.

"You can't cum inside me," she croaked, and then abandoned herself completely to the black Adonis.

THE END

(c) rachalcaron 2013