A story of deception and betrayal. Porn Video
Sweets are not the only thing addictive in her house.
His AC wasn't exactly state of the art either. So there we were all sweating over Thanksgiving turkeys and jingle bells.
That's when Justin took off his shirt.
He's a bit younger than I am, maybe by six or seven years. And I somehow never perceived him as handsome or physically impressive. Until he took off that shirt.
He had tanned muscles in all the right places. His shoulders were wide and his belly tight as a drum. I loved how ropes of muscle rolled beneath the skin of his back. And I sure appreciated his buns, tightly packed in faded denim.
Even his rugged face looked way more attractive than I remembered.
I only wore a thin white cotton blouse and a rather short skirt over my bare legs. But after Justin started moving around half naked, the studio definitely seemed to get hotter.
Of course we weren't alone.
There were the art director and the food specialist. And a boy to assist with the lighting.
Obviously, it wasn't wise to distract the photographer while on my boss's precious time, so I just looked on. I bided my time and bit my lip. I must admit that I didn't concentrate much on the turkey anymore. Or on the delicious Christmas pies, for that matter.
Around eight pm we were mostly done.
The others had left, but I wasn't in a hurry. (Yes, sorry, my flings have made me quite calculating when I smell a chance. Through the years, the level of sluttiness in my blood must have risen significantly. Ah well.)
Then Justin called my name. It startled me. I must have been daydreaming while he put his lenses away. Or whatever.
"You look beautiful, Anne," he said. I guess I blushed.
"I have to go," I answered. True, it wasn't quite what I meant to say.
"A pity," he said and smiled.
I caught his eyes and asked, "Why?"
He walked over to me. His bare torso became almost uncomfortably prominent. He had interesting nipples.
"I'd love to take pictures of you, Anne. I think you are beautiful."
His fingers formed a frame to look through. He smiled. I laughed nervously. Was there ever a more transparent pick up line.
"I mean it," he insisted. "Ever since we met, I knew you'd be my perfect model. You are real. Different. I want you in my portfolio."
"You know very well I am not a model," I said. "Too old, too fat. Don't bullshit me, Justin. I am not a teenager. If you want to fuck me, just tell me. I might say yes."
I touched his biceps. He flinched.
Well, in the end it seemed he really did want to photograph me. He adjusted some lights and started taking Polaroids to test the lighting. I felt as nervous as a schoolgirl. But it excited me as well.
There is no substitute for the limelight, I guess.
Soon he broke out his Hasselblatt. He'd put on some music and had me moving to that.
Then he asked me to take off my clothes.
He went and locked the studio door. When he returned I waited in my bra and panties. He cleared his throat timidly. I understood. A moment later I was naked.
It felt incredible.
To be totally naked and on display lifts you to the top of the world. It felt like an intoxication. Even the stifling air screamed freedom into my ringing ears. My stressed out muscles uncoiled.
I guess I lost whatever remained of my inhibitions.
The lamps were hot. Added to the general heat it felt as if I were in a toaster. Sweat gushed off my limbs. It must have enriched the pictures, for Justin moaned and muttered enthusiastically.
I sensually gyrated my hips.
I pushed out my tits. I pouted my lips. Go try that when you are the brightly lit center of attention for a half naked Adonis. Hear him empty his camera on you like an automatic gun. You'll discover that it is quite enough to take a horny woman straight to the next level. And beyond.
It sure did me.
It also caused a wave of recklessness to gush over me.