Falling for the Photographer - Page 33

“Okay.”

I tell myself to think of Lola, my daughter, to think of how she’d react if she knew what we were doing. I tell myself to be a good father.

I tell myself I have to stop.

But I can’t, can’t even try.

My cock is too hard. My desire is too goddamn loud.

She stands in the middle, spreading her hands.

“Now what?” she asks.

“Lean forward,” I tell her. “Turn your head down, but stare at the camera. Don’t smile.”

“Like this?”

She leans over, giving me the best view of her breasts I’ve had yet. My dick flares as I imagine slipping between her tits, staring down into those serious, seductive eyes as I fuck them silly.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” I ask, snapping more photos, struggling to keep my voice steady.

She giggles beautifully. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You’re a natural.”

She tilts her head in that curious cute-as-hell way. “Really?”

“Yeah.” It’s so hard to keep my voice somewhat steady, to not let her sense all the hunger trying to take control of my actions every second. “Have you ever thought about being a model?”

“I don’t mind being one for you,” she murmurs, then bites down like she regrets what she said.

She’s still leaning forward, looking up at me, those breasts pressed together seductively in the pushup bra.

I’m trying not to think about how sweet it would be to free them, to pull her bra down and reveal those big tits, those eager nipples, sucking and rubbing and massaging until she’s whimpering in release for me.

“But I don’t think I’d be much good, generally speaking,” she quickly adds. “What next?”

I wonder how far I’m going to take this. The civilized part of me – swiftly shrinking – knows how inappropriate this is. She thinks this is about work and has no clue my seed is surging up and down my massive cock.

“Turn around,” I whisper. “Hands on your hips. Bend forward slightly.”

Stick out that big ass, I almost growl. Push with your hips so it really sticks out for me, then bend over even more. I want to see your panties pulled across your pussy, see the spot of wetness there, see how fucking horny you are.

“Like this?”

She presses her hands into her thick, alluring hips, her hair spilling over her back as she turns to face me. I swallow, guiding the camera to her ass, her cheeks so big and tempting.

My hand twitches as though telling me to touch myself, to rub at the swollen hunger in my pants.

“Yes,” I whisper, snapping more photos. “You’re doing a great job.”

I warn myself it’s time to stop. I’ve taken it far enough already.

But I can’t.

Not when my woman’s here, her body on nearly full display, temping me with fiercer desire each moment.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “That means a lot.”

Tags: Flora Ferrari Erotic
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