The Valentine Package

Sara opened the door with a hesitant hand, her fingers curving around the edge of the wood, before pushing open enough to fit her slim figure inside. Her dark brown eyes were wide, peering into the room. The cautious movements made her feel like a beginning burglar, trying her best not to actually commit a crime as she stepped through the threshold.

There came a small wave of nausea, pure nervous butterflies roaming in her stomach. One hand ran down the oversized trench coat, a smooth touch, hoping it would ease the tension. It didn't. If anything, it only made her realize she was standing in a strange apartment wearing little more than an overcoat.

Ever the curious creature, Sara could not help but snoop. The apartment felt more like a loft, a vast amount of open space both above her head and around her. There were no walls, but the furniture all lay out as if there were separate rooms for it all. Art supplies were everywhere. Canvas draped over any inch possible. Drawings and sketching and paintings and etchings all combined somewhere in the living room.

The one painting on top revealed a woman, naked, lying back with her eyes half closed. Her hand draped elegantly over her stomach, the other dipping between pink silken panties. The young woman in the painting wore only a trace of clothing, revealing her body underneath. The cloth, almost see thru, made Sara take a step closer.

Something warm touched against her sex as she studied the painting. The woman looked in the middle of a scream, or a moan, or perhaps something even more daring and dangerous. She seemed so free, wanton, as if daring people to look at her. She did not care, craving her own orgasm. The painting revealed a woman on that edge, so close, the final instant before her body took over, the wave of liquid hot pleasure colliding against her.

Sara felt a throbbing in her legs now. She could not stop herself, squeezing her thighs once. A jolt of pleasure ran through her, skipping up her spine and making her toes tingle. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from moaning.

"Do you like her?"

Sara whipped around, her cheeks blushing bright red as she searched for the person behind that voice. For some reason, with the trench coat covering her entire body, she still placed a hand over her breasts. The nipples she felt through the coat, hard, tingling when pressed against her arm, and she once more felt that tiny jolt against her sex.

"I'm sorry," She was breathless, barely able to speak. The butterflies had gone crazy inside of her stomach now.

A young man emerged from behind a curtain. He had a tall build, with sandy brown hair and dark eyes that drank her in, and made her blush even more. His voice had been loud and low, but at the same time soothing. It made her think of a lover, pressing his lips to her ear, and whispering how much he wanted to fuck her.

Her sex now ached terribly, and when she moved she could not help but feel her cotton panties damp and pressing against her warm skin.

"No need to be sorry. I put her out so you could see some of my work. I thought you might like it. Do you?"

"I do!" The words ran off her lips before she even knew what she was saying. She stopped, before more would just flow through her. Somehow, a flood of words had opened in her head. She wanted to talk, to say anything. Why did she want to do that? And then, when she realized she was not saying anything, only lost in her own thoughts of how she shouldn't talk, she giggled.

Sara had not giggled in years.

"I mean... yes. I like it. It is beautiful. She is."

"You are here for the Valentine package?"

Sara nodded. She fumbled around in the pockets of her coat before emerging with a single coupon. The coupon had faded pink letters that told of the Valentine Package. For a reasonable price she would have a private studio for an hour. Sara handed it to him. He paused, studying the worn coupon for a moment.

Her eyes wandered. She never imagined him to be so... handsome.

"Come in."

He pulled back the curtain for her, letting her enter first. Inside the room, the light was completely different, softer. It made Sara think of those soap operas than ran during the day. The light caressed with an intimate touch, all filtered red to make everything smoky and sultry. Music played in the background, faint. She enjoyed it, but had never heard it before.

The bed in the center of the room had been covered in pink sheets, pillows, and hearts of various sizes. The sheets, some see thru and others not, had also been pinned up around the room. Apart from the dark curtains surrounding the entire are, this place just screamed Valentine 's Day.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh yes," Sara spoke, once more without thinking, "It is lovely, thank you."

Sara walked into the room. She was made aware of her high heels now. They were her good heels, saved for special occasions. They looked good on her, accenting her ankles. She enjoyed them, how they made her walk. Sara had been well aware that they made her ass stick out, and she got to sway her hips as she came into the room.

Behind her, she could feel his eyes on her, examining and exploring every inch. They seemed to caress her, like a warm wind intimate against her skin. It made her away of everything, the coat that covered her body, the hard heels on soft carpet, the way she stood with one hand against her hip.

And then Sara froze.

She did not know what to do. Once more her cheeks went bright red. She had never been to a photo shoot before; never had her body looked at so objectively, a stranger's eyes so close to her. And he had to be such a handsome stranger too. Why did he have to be so handsome?

When she turned around, confusion set in her eyes.

"You should take off the coat."

She had it wrapped around her so tight. It only revealed her face and her elegant ankles in high heels. For a moment she thought of asking him to only shoot her feet, nothing else. She didn't think she could go through with anything else.

And then his hands were on her.

Sara made a small gasp as she felt his touch. She had not expected it or his breath against her neck when he spoke.

"I'll get it for you."

Her knees threatened to buckle, and send her hurling onto the pink Valentine bed. Sara tried to hide this whimper, as she let him undress her. Her arms fell to her side, limp, as the coat slipped from her. It seemed like a shield, a barrier protecting her from this place, from his leering eyes. Now, with it gone, she felt so open, exposed.

Underneath she had on her black nightie, with lace underwear. It looked dull and flat on her body. It covered up more than it revealed. She looked down, realizing she should not have worn this at all. It would have been better to have come naked.

"I don't have many outfits," She said, nearly unable to meet his eyes. Her life had been a picture of boring normalcy before tonight. She had been a good girl, and damned proud of it. She did not explore her sexuality as she knew others did. The Valentine package had seemed almost innocent fun. Almost. But, even Sara could admit a darker pool of intimate fantasy when she thought about it, lying in bed at night. Something that caused a jolt whenever she shifted her thighs, something that refused to let go of her until she forced herself to come here and take the pictures.

"It's ok. I have something you can wear."

He took out a small rack, with half a dozen different outfits. It was not clothing. Sara could see that. These small pieces of cloth with string attached could not actually be considered clothing. She recognized some from magazines, models wearing them, something that might be perfect on a young victoria's secret model, with wings and all. Certainly not something a middle aged housewife should wear.

He picked out something sheer and black. Sara shook her head. She couldn't. No, that was too revealing.

"I'm not... this is my first time."

"This," He said, taking her hand and guiding it to the nightgown, "Is fantasy."

Why did her skin tremble when he touched it, why did he feel so warm? She found herself wanting to wear it for him, hoping he would like it on her, hoping it looked good, enticing.

"You are just dressing up, to take some pictures. That is all. When I'm done with you, you can put the old underwear on, bundle up in your coat and wear what you want. But, until that time, you're mine. Go, put it on."

"Yes," Once more, it rolled off of her lips without thought, without action. His. The thought nearly made her shiver with excitement. She did not think she could ever be someone else's fantasy, but he was right. Valentine's Day was the time to transpire, to explore the dull seated sexuality, to come out and try new things in bed.

By the time Sara's mind could gather any speed, she was already walking towards the other end of the room with the see thru nightgown in hand.

It wasn't until she closed the door behind her, that Sara had a chance to breathe. Things had rushed through her so fast, emotion and feelings that had been more than intense. Awkward? Was that the word?

Inside the bathroom held a mirror. Sara could see the outfit she wore now. She understood why he had sent her in here with something else. It looked, tacky. The gown lumped against her skin, and swelled out from her like a balloon. It seemed like she had patches of cotton stuck under her clothing. She had never wore such things to entice before, never even considered trying to buy lingerie.

She had never considered herself sexy.

Why was that?

Sara looked down at her body in the mirror. She certainly did have a feminine look, curved in all the right places. Her breasts still hung high against her chest, with little sag or wear. Her skin healthy, her waist slim, even her eyes sparkled with the excitement of a first date.

Sara blushed at that, hoping he was out there, waiting for her.

She wanted to please him. She did. Sara bit her bottom lip, once more glancing down at such a flimsy outfit.

"It's all pretend, right," she said, trying to help herself, "Just a fantasy."

The stuffy old nightgown came off. She pried and tugged it away from her body until it lay a useless heap on the floor. The new nightgown felt like a soft silk as it caressed her skin more than simply covering it. She slipped it on, and checked in the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles.

It fit her like a dream.

"Oh my God," She gasped when she saw her body inside of this. It tugged against her just so, pulling in to show off her curved hips. She could see through it at times, depending on whether she moved left or right against the light. Her nipples were hardening as the material grazed across them. A deep and selfish moan escaped her. This dress would be deadly to wear; it turned her on without even thinking.

Sara tried not to think about how she was profusely blushing, or how she would look so lewd coming out of the bathroom, or how she was practically naked in this stranger's apartment. Part of that only turned her on more. She stepped out from the bathroom before she could stop herself. She couldn't stop now, because if she did, she wouldn't have the nerve to keep going. This entire fantasy would be over.

"You look good," He said, and Sara could barely force her head up to acknowledge him. Instead, she walked up, her hands in front of her, almost trying to cover it up.

"Yes?" Her soft voice sounded unsure of his compliment, wanting and needing reassurance. She even glanced up at him, a soft and unexpected flicker running through her. Why did she care so much for his approval, to look good for him? She didn't know, but at this moment she absolutely needed it. She wanted to look sexy for him, to excite him.

"Just beautiful," He nearly whispered the words, his eyes running over her body. Any other day she would think of him as some lewd stranger, but today she thanked him for his compliments, the one he spoke aloud and the one he made when his eyes could not help but stare at her.

"Get on the bed."

Her heart raced in her chest, beating a wild pattern of excitement and dread that Sara tried so desperately to ignore. She turned, kneeling down upon the bed. This is the part she did not understand. She never knew the world of posing and photography. There had to be some complicated process for this to begin, and she felt soo lost as she climbed on top of the pink hearted sheets.

She was about to turn and lay upon the bed when she heard him, "Stop."

Her body froze, trembling. On her hands and knees upon the bed, she turned her head, looking back at him with wild blue eyes that betrayed her innocence.

"Don't move," He came up next to her, and ran his hand up the back of her thigh. Sara felt its warm touch, unable to stop the small groan leaving her body. She felt this rush of heat against her sex. Some core deep within her body turned on, heating her skin and making her face flush.

He reached up to the curve of her ass, slowly moving across her body. Sara did not want to push back into him, didn't want to invite such a touch to continue, did she? She felt so torn, what was happening to her. Her body chose to react, a darkened hunger awakened by such simple pictures and a living fantasy.

Behind her, he grabbed the bottom of the nightie, and pulled it down far enough so it would cover her ass.

"Now look back at me, like you want to fuck me."

Why did Sara think that look would not be hard to make?

She turned, once more. Her hair hid part of her face. Lips were parted, taking in sharp breaths that her body could not quite control. Her face reddened, fully flushed, not just because of what he did, or what he said. She looked back at him, and thought what it would be like to fuck him.

Her eyes half closed in a thought of pure lust, and she heard a loud click from the camera. A light flashed.

"Perfect."

She was so eager to look at that picture. She must look like a slut, wanton and unable to control such urges that her body gave off. It reminded her of the painting earlier, the woman who had been lost in her own pleasure, letting everyone see it.

Is that what Sara was doing? Losing herself for everyone to see? No, not everyone. Just him. Sara wanted him to see, she wanted to lose herself for him.

Sara did as she was told. He began to pose her. He would take pictures of her at different angles. He wanted her to look innocent, or sultry. He asked her to want to fuck him, or be angry with him. He made her giggle when he told her how perfect her ass was.

And Sara began to get comfortable. The room got warm, and she had forgotten her near naked state. She began to move on her own now, a fluid motion against the camera. She would openly flirt, a tongue racing over her lips, or her hand running down one of her inner thighs.

She lay on her back, her eyes wide and filled with ideas. He climbed up on the bed, standing at the end of it, the camera high, pictures being taken one after the other.

"Touch yourself," He said, his low voice running down into her fingernails, and making a naughty smile appear on her lips.

"Like this?" She offered, running her hands down to her breasts. She squeezed them together, pushing them up against the fabric. The silken material once more stretched and grazed against her. Sara tried to bite back a moan, but it slipped out. She closed her eyes now, oblivious to the furious sound of the camera capturing her body as it was washed in pleasure.

Fingers found her hard nipples, and began to pinch them. She loved having her nipples pinched, playing with them. The thumb rolled across her, pushing up against that dark material. She loved the feeling. She had never been unashamed, never wanted the lights to be on when she touched herself, and never enjoyed such a lewd and candid eye upon her body.

She moved further down. Excited fingers raised the nightie from her body, until she could slip under her own panties, and touch her heated sex. She cried aloud, her body bucking hard against such a touch.

"Oh God," she was breathless, panting now, her hair a mess above her head, rolling back and forth as she moved. Her aching sex enjoyed the relief, grinding happily against just one finger pressing into her slit. She got lost in the rhythm she made, her legs spread wide, her body accepting the pleasure that ran through her.

And then she felt his hand on her thigh.

"Please," She quaked, watching as he kneeled down against her, his hand running up to her sex. He centered in her legs spreading open, curious warm fingers replacing her own. She whimpered, when she saw him take over. One finger slid inside.

"Oh god," She bucked against it, pushing it in deeper. She could feel the slick wet walls of her pussy grip him, trying to push him in further. For a moment she felt herself enthralled, writhing on his single digit, as she looked up at him, wondering, expecting.

His mouth descended upon her. She could hardly stand the sensations flooding through her body, and this wanton desire of more. More. More and more. She had never wanted more, but now, quaking and reeling with such desire, she could only purr deep in her throat and beg for it.

His tongue worked against her, finding her clit and pressing into it. When she bucked into him, her clit was trapped against his tongue, and lightening flashes of hot need races across her flesh. Her body could not respond to it all, threatening to spill outward, everything crashing down around her.

Just as he slipped a second finger inside, she came. Sara cried out, throwing her head back and trying to form words, but none came. Instead, she erupted in sounds of pleasure, wild and intense, high enough in pitch for even the neighbors to hear. Her body slammed into him, bucking and grinding of its own accord. Her sex dripped with desire, clamping down on his fingers.

Sara tried to breathe, but could not. She lay on the bed, open and spread, panting out the last of her strength. She felt him still inside of her, her body twitching and jumping every time he moved.

She felt him move on top of her.

"I'm not done with you yet," Sara whimpered as she heard his heated words, watching him move between her legs. She looked down, his cock fat and full between them, pointing straight at her open sex. The size of it, dangling against her thigh, frightened her. She had never taken one so big.

"Please," She urged, throwing her arms around him, gripping him tightly, "Be gentle."

She felt him line up against her, the head of his cock invading her entrance. She spread her legs wide, feeling the hot desire with just the tip. When it spread her lips open, slowly, pushing those first few inches into her, waves of sensation thrummed through her. She couldn't take it.

"Oh god," The head slipped inside. It lay between her walls, throbbing and warm. She could feel his heartbeat, running through his cock. She had never been filled out like this, never had anything so intense before. It wasn't until the initial ache dulled away that she could feel the rising urge erupt between her legs. It was strong, fierce, gripping her as she curled a leg around him, her heel digging into his ass.

She didn't understand even as she tried to pull him further into her.

"Fuck me," She growled, into his ear, her teeth coming out to bite him, "Fuck me."

His cock slammed into her. She felt every inch force its way inside of her. She had to cry out, scream against his body, clutch him tight as if he were the only thing in the world. Her body gripped him, guiding every inch as deep as he could go. It wasn't until she felt his body tight against hers that relief came from her shaking thighs.

She needed more.

Sara did not understand it. This was all new to her. She had never wanted to be fucked before, never grinded against someone and begged for more. Her idea of fun and exploring in the bedroom was to leave the lights on. She had enjoyed her sex life, she did not love it, but she did not hate it either. It had become a mediocre dull roar that she had accepted.