Not Your Valentine


"Sit on the edge and slowly spread your thighs," he commanded again.

Somehow I knew that my panties were very wet now, and I should have been embarrassed that it would be easy to see that if I spread my legs. But didn't I want to make sexy boudoir pictures for my husband? And he was a professional photographer. Imagining somehow that my husband would be pleased with my raunchiest behavior now, I gave the camera a sultry look and made my most seductive look, spreading my legs and stroking my inner thighs wantonly.

Bruce could see how the crotch of her panties were visibly damp as she spread herself, the narrow lace fabric burrowed into her lips and gave her a very slutty appearance. The look of her like that made his arousal complete.

"Hook your fingers into the wet crotch of your panties and slowly pull it to one side so I can see your pussy," he said seductively. "Shouldn't I refuse such a thing?" The thought slipped from my mental grasp as I wanted to show that part of me now. Obeying the instruction I did so, my nether lips eased open as they were exposed to the air in the room by my panties pulling across them.

"You are so beautiful," he flattered again as he leaned in close and took pictures of my naked sex. "The hottest of any woman I have shot." My head spun with the flattery and I felt hot all over, my skin seemed to crawl as if only his hands all over me could stop my fiery desire to be touched.

"Take those panties off," he ordered. My hands pulled them off my bottom and down my thighs. I kicked up my legs to get them off and watched them fling to the floor discarded.

"Climb back on the chaise," he prompted her, "lean against the back," he ordered.

And I did as he directed; in fact, willingly I posed on the lounge, doing more than he told me to expose myself before him, arching my back and spreading my legs again, welcoming him.

"The only way you would look hotter in these pictures is if you had just been fucked."

The thing he said flowed over my thoughts without any offense at all. Looking down, I saw how my hand was lightly touching my pussy and I was distracted by my own need to caress myself fully.

"Oh yes," I murmured almost unconsciously as the man before me seemed perfect to fuck me now.

Watching him undress and reveal his gorgeous body, somewhere inside I knew I should refuse, say something, protest, yet I could not find either the will or the words, all I could do was feel how my heart was pounding hard in my chest, how my breasts rose and fell with my quick drawn breaths and how my wanting pussy just felt hotter and wetter by the second as I knew that he would now fuck me like his slut.

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