by Julia Kent
I laid down on the rug, feeling calm and more relaxed. Staring at him, I posed of my own accord now. I bent my knees up and spread my legs and he took pictures of my stomach and my crotch and my breasts. I tugged at my panties, moving them to make the pictures more erotic and teasing. He took pictures of everything I did.
And then I pulled my panties more, lifting my rear and slipping them up my legs, to my knees, and then down. I let the image of my bare pussy sink in, noting the clicks of the camera becoming less and less, more sporadic. I kicked away my underwear, watching it land at the side of the hearth.
“Jessika…” he said. “We can’t…”
“Shh.” I didn’t want to ruin this, but I needed it so badly. “Keep taking pictures.”
He waited, paused, and then continued. I spread my lower lips with my fingers and he clicked away with the camera. I doubted he had this in mind when we started, and I knew I sure didn’t, but it seemed so right. He moved closer, closer.
“You’re so sexy,” he said. “Yes, like that. That’s wonderful. Amazing.”
While he captured my lower body in his erotic pictures, I kicked off my high heels and undid my bra, tossing it as close to my panties as possible. The rest of my clothes lay in a forgotten pile on his sofa.
He moved closer, then closer. I inched towards him, slowly, careful. As he took pictures of my calves and feet, I lifted my upper body off the floor and reached for his pants. He stopped taking pictures then.
He nearly dropped the camera, but caught it before he did and then placed it on the floor next to him. Grabbing my hands away from his pants, he stared at me. “We can’t,” he said.
“I don’t want to,” I said simply. “I want you to take pictures.”
Asher furrowed his brow, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me show you?” I pleaded with him with my eyes.
He hesitated, then said, “Alright.”
He watched me carefully as I unbuckled his belt and pulled it away. Next I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. Asher stared, carefully, as if I were teaching him some new form of photography. The final step was inside his boxers. I snaked my hand through the front of his underwear and pulled out his manhood. He stayed there, on his knees, completely still.
When I freed him from his boxers, he was fully erect. His shaft bobbed up and down in front of me, thick and long and wonderfully delicious looking. I wanted him so very very much, and yet I didn’t know what to say to make him mine. I just hoped that maybe I could convince him to want to make me his instead. It seemed easier that way.
“Closer,” I said. “Right here.” I spread my legs wide apart and patted a spot on the rug between them.
Asher moved forwards, slow and steady. “Jessika…”
“Don’t forget the camera,” I added.
Confused and cautious, he picked up the camera while inching towards me.
When he was close enough, I carefully touched the sides of his cock with my fingers. I lifted my lower body up with my legs and guided him towards my slick folds. He started to back away. “No,” I said, more calmly than I felt. “Watch. Just look.”
That convinced him somehow. I don’t know how or why, but he stopped moving away. I angled him towards me, his erection pressing against my slit, and inched closer to him so that he barely penetrated me.
The contradictions flaring through my brain were impossibly difficult to deal with. I wanted to sheath him inside me, press him all the way in, but I knew if I did this would end faster than it started. Instead, forcing myself to endure this erotic teasing, I looked at him and nodded.
“Take pictures,” I said. “Is it a nice shot?”
Asher swallowed. He looked as if his throat were suddenly dry and he wanted to get up and get a glass of water, but he didn’t move away from me. Camera in hand, he aimed it downwards towards where he and I connected. Click.
He moved to different angles, up, down, a bit to the side. Click. Click. Click.
“These are very sexy pictures,” he said. “Hold still. Don’t move.”
I wouldn’t have moved, but he didn’t give me a chance not to, either. Thrusting forward, only an inch or so, he buried a little more of his shaft inside me. I gasped and my hips bucked as I accepted him in me. Click. Click. Click.
He held the camera in one hand now, inched forward more. His cock slid into me, tantalizingly slow. Further. Click. In. Click.
He was fully in me now, all of the way. Click. I’d closed my eyes and I hadn’t heard a click in awhile. My inner walls clenched against his throbbing erection, squeezing him hard, but I tried to lay there, calm and professional.
I opened my eyes and looked up. Asher loomed over me, still wearing his shirt. His pants were undone only enough to unleash his cock, but with that inside me, invisible to the outside eye, he looked fully clothed. I, on the other hand, wore nothing.
I looked at him and he looked at me. Something was missing, and it took me awhile to figure out what. The camera; he’d placed it off to the side. He stared at me for a moment after my realization, and then he began.
His hips rolled back as he moved his erection out of me. I thought this was it, he was done and we would cease our illicit coupling immediately, but then he pressed back in. Watching me the entire time, looking for a reaction, when I didn’t complain or say anything, Asher took it a step further.
He moved out faster this time, then back in. Out, then in. After a few goes at it, he thrust into me hard, pressing me roughly against the carpet.
I wrapped my arms around his back and my legs around his waist, pulling him further into me. “Asher,” I whispered into his ear. “Asher, I want you.”
“Jessika, we can’t do this,” he said, almost a growl. Despite his words, he slammed his cock hard into me. “This isn’t right.”
“No,” I said. “I know. We won’t. Just a little more and we’ll stop.”
He stuffed himself into me and ground his cock inside me, rolling his hips. I squeezed him hard, with my arms and my pussy, and lifted my head to kiss his throat.
Asher closed his eyes and thrust into me again and again. He refused to look at me, wouldn’t open his eyes, but wouldn’t stop moving his hips either, taking me roughly on the floor.
“Asher,” I said. It felt so good, I wanted him so badly, and yet I couldn’t stand him not looking at me. “Am I not sexy? Please, I’m sorry.”
His eyes snapped open. He stared at me hard. Up close, so close, I thought I could almost see thunderclouds in his sky blue eyes.
“Jessika,” he said. “Stay still. Don’t move.”
I didn’t understand at first, but I tried not to move. It was impossible, though. I bit my lower lip as he slammed hard into me, sliding me a few inches across the carpet.
“Jessika, I’m trying to take your picture,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need you to keep your pose.”
“Yes,” I said, a lusty gasp. “Yes, I’m trying. Take my picture.”
“This is so sexy,” he said. “You’re so sexy.”
“I love you,” I said, barely a whisper. I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I said it.
Asher went wild. If he heard me, I didn’t know, but whatever had come over him made him crazy. He crashed into me, his cock slamming hard and fast into my pussy. I squeezed against him, unable to stop myself, feeling him bringing me closer and closer to climax. The fabric of his shirt bunched up and grazed against my stomach and my clit with each of his thrusts, exciting me even more. He grabbed my waist and held me tight, pulling my body towards him as he pushed into me.
My orgasm overtook me and I screamed out loud. Writhing and squirming beneath him, I wriggled on the rug, feeling the shaggy texture of it, warm against my back, while Asher’s hot, clothed body heated me in the front. My breasts bounced as I climaxed hard on his cock and my body tensed, muscles squeezing, squeezing. I grabbed him with my hands and my back arched, stomach taut, my legs pulling at his l
ower body. My pussy clenched like a smooth, velvet vice around his cock.
Asher finished, letting out a grunt, pushing himself as far into me as he could while pressing his body against mine. His cock twitched inside me, flared, stretching my pussy, and then his cum surged out of him and into me. Once, twice, three thick jets. Then smaller twitches, a few more, uncountable. My climax continued as he unloaded a substantial amount of his cream inside me and I grew even more hot and excited when I felt it. He filled me. I hadn’t had sex in awhile, hadn’t expected it for awhile still, but this was so wonderfully satisfying.
We lay there together, him on top of me while I squeezed his softening cock inside of me. I was finished with my orgasm, but I liked the way he felt in me, so nice and a perfect fit. I held him tight, hugged him, kissed his cheek, and…
Asher got up. He removed himself from my grip, placed my hands firmly on the ground, and pulled himself out of me. Standing, putting his softening erection back in his pants, he zipped himself up, buttoned his pants, and searched around for his belt.
“Asher?” I said, confused. “It’s alright. Can we lay here for a little while?”
“No,” he said.
“Asher…”
“I shouldn’t have done that, Jessika. I took things too far. That was extremely unprofessional of me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Beatrice. I don’t know if I can tell her. This entire day was a bad idea.” He paced through his guest house living room, looking distraught.
I frantically tried to think of something to say or do, but I couldn’t. He had a point in everything he said. We shouldn’t have done this. I knew it was a bad idea. A married man? Why would I even do that? Why was I here in the first place? What was I doing?
And then I remembered.
“Yes,” I said, a whisper, unsure if this was what I should do or not. “Asher, I’ll do it. What you asked, your request. I agree. Just… please…”
“What?” He stopped pacing and looked at me.
“I’ll be an egg donor for your wife,” I said, then added, “And a surrogate mother. I’ll do it.”
He smiled, happy, but only for a second. Then the reality of what had happened and what we’d just done came crashing back down on him again.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. “We can’t… we can’t do this again, Jessika, and the temptation will always be there, especially…”
Especially, I thought, if I were already pregnant with his child. Through medical means, the impregnation process, however that would work for the situation he required, but still. If I carried his child, even if it was for him and his wife, I knew it would be easier for both of us to explain away another casual encounter like this.
Except that wasn’t my reason for agreeing. I didn’t know how to tell him that, couldn’t explain it all myself, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want anything casual with him, ever. I wanted more, anything. Intimacy and conversation and… but I’d ruined it in one fell swoop.
“Asher, please.”
“You can stay in the guest house tonight,” he said. “I’ll have Jeremy drive you home in the morning.”
His Absolute Orders
*
A Reverie Interlude
Asher and I, sitting on a park bench. A quaint tablecloth, with a spread of sandwiches, potato salad, and sliced, raw vegetables are between us. I tease him and toss a slice of cucumber at him. It clings to the fabric of his fancy dress shirt, then falls into his lap. He threatens to throw a spoonful of potato salad at me and I shriek and laugh and tell him he wouldn’t dare. We’re both laughing.
Our daughter, our beautiful daughter, comes running up. She was playing on the swings as we watched over her from the bench. She politely asks her daddy if she can please have a baby carrot. He smiles at her, so sweet and calm, holds up the tray with the carrots so she can have her pick.
Idyllic. Everything nice and wonderful.
And then I woke up.
…
Asher left me after our photography session. I don’t think he expected it to go as far as it did, and to be honest I never expected it to, either. When I agreed to join him for lunch, I didn’t expect to come back to his home afterwards and do anything, let alone become the model for an impromptu photo shoot. I didn’t expect to take off my clothing and pose in scandalous positions for him, nor did I expect to concoct some ridiculous idea of seduction and convince him that it was fine.
In fact, it wasn’t fine. Because of that, because of what I’d done, I’d lost him forever. I’d never had him to begin with, and I knew he was a married man, but I wanted so desperately to believe in something. To believe that he had a rocky marriage of convenience and he wanted me, maybe that he could love me. Except, how?
I had known Asher for two days. This morning was the start of the third day. The first had been a short, though thorough meeting, and the second was our first somewhat full day together. This third day was our last, and after that I would never see him again. I’d played at a game of temptations and now I was paying the price for losing.
It was so wonderful, though! I could see why Asher enjoyed photography. Or, I didn’t quite understand it, but I saw how much he got into it. I hadn’t meant to, not exactly, but I became so swept up in his passion for his hobby that I wanted and needed more. In the end, without thinking, both of us had sex on the floor in front of the fireplace in his guest house. Why did I think this might lead to something more? Honestly, right now I couldn’t have answered.
It led to nothing, though. Asher told me to leave. I lay on the floor, having slept there overnight, waiting. Before he left, he told me that Jeremy would bring me home in the morning. It was morning now, but no one had come for me yet. When he did, I wasn’t sure what I should do.
I was naked still, laying on his lush carpet. I’d borrowed a quilted down blanket from the back of the couch nearby to keep me warm through the night and provide a moderate amount of cover, but who was I kidding? If Jeremy walked in right now, he’d know what happened. And then what? Did I want him to know? Maybe Asher did this often. Maybe he seduced women, convinced them of one thing or another, lured them to his home under the guise of modeling for his photography, and slept with them. Then, after, he kicked them out. It seemed like a typical thing for a man to do. It had never happened to me before, but I had friends who went through similar situations.
But, why? I asked myself this question over and over again. What was wrong? Why did he want me gone? His marriage, yes, but he must have wanted it, too, must have wanted to sleep with me. His photography wasn’t of the needlessly erotic sort, at least as far as he mentioned, but the pictures he took of me were racy enough to show up in any men’s magazine. Though, of course I didn’t quite think I was attractive enough to pull something like that off, but Asher did. Or, he said he thought I was. I needed to remind myself that there was a big difference between what someone said and what someone actually thought.
I needed to do a lot of things, and yet in the warm, morning light, a hint of sunshine tingling across my bare forearm as it peeked out from beneath the blanket, I couldn’t think of any of them. I wanted to lay there all day and forget everything. I wanted to remember last night with Asher, to relive it, to memorize every part of it so I would never forget.
My body shifted beneath the blanket, fidgeting. Everything felt so nice. The carpet tickling across my skin and the feel of the quilted blanket caressing across my stomach and the tops of my thighs and between them and on my breasts. Without thinking about it, I let my hand nestle between my legs and tease at my lower lips. When I realized what I was doing, I also realized I was aroused.
I wanted to masturbate so much. Actually, I wanted Asher to return, apologize, whisper adorations into my ear and beg for my forgiveness, then take me again right then and there in his guest house, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I thought of it, though. More and more, how he would touch me, what it would feel like. The expression on his face and
the love in his eyes. My body tensing under his exquisite touch.
Right now my body tensed under my own touch, but it wasn’t quite the same.
Knock, knock, knock.
Too wrapped up in my fantasy, I didn’t hear the person knocking on the door. My fantasy unraveled as I built myself up to a hasty climax and let the feeling of it drift over me like a light, summer breeze.
Knock, knock, knock.
The second time they knocked, I had a delayed reaction. I lay there, still and calm, delighting in the wonderful feeling of ignoring all my problems. But, then, the knocking. Someone was at the door. My God! I was naked, hidden under a blanket, with my clothes scattered on the floor. I panicked and jumped up, dressing as fast as I could.
…
What was he doing? What had he done?
Asher didn’t know. Out of all his years of marriage, he hadn’t even entertained the thought of cheating on his wife. Beatrice wasn’t unfaithful to him, either; at least as far as he knew. They rarely saw each other now, only in passing for a few days of the month when she returned from her trips. This bothered him, but what was he supposed to do about it?
The answer, he knew, was not to cheat on his wife.
Should he tell her? He had to. It was the only option, despite the fact that he dreaded it. And, then what? Divorce? Or not? Would she care?
He loved Beatrice and he wanted the best for her. But, he wasn’t in love with her. Actually, at the moment, he had no idea what he was. Loved, in love, loved by someone, absolutely abhorred by everyone? They all seemed about the same right now.
Jessika had him completely undone in only moments. He hadn’t expected that. What little he knew of her, he thought he’d understood, but apparently not. With only a few simple actions, a couple of fairly innocent seeming moves, she’d lured him towards completely giving in to temptation. Though, in all honesty, he doubted she did it on purpose. She’d seemed… confused?
Asher didn’t blame her for anything that happened. He was a grown adult, a powerful businessman, and he knew to take responsibility for his actions. After their time in the car, driven home by his driver, Jeremy, he knew he needed to be careful around her. And, yet, when everything came crashing down, he lost himself.