I looked down. I couldn't see everything, but... my f**king god, this was erotic!
I didn't have a perfect body, far from it, but I did try to keep in shape. My soft stomach looked so flat like this as he held onto my rear with one hand and made me arch my back with the other. My thighs were curvy and seductive, one of them curled against the side of his body while the other pressed into his crotch. And my arms, my chest; we looked like a couple in the midst of intimacy. Now we should get intimate, I thought. I was no photographer, but we should take advantage of this opportunity presented to us, right?
Asher lifted me off his lap and dumped me on the seat. With a pleasant smile, he opened the door to the car and let himself out. I sat there, staring at him, dumbfounded. Was this really happening?
"Are you coming?" he asked.
"Y-yes," I said. Yes, yes, I was coming. I looked around, found my clothes, and scrambled to put them back on.
"No need," he said. "We're in a garage. No one is around. It'll be easier to resume modeling if you remain like that. Those are the kind of pictures you want, right?"
Did I? To be honest, I didn't even want pictures at all. I wanted him to undress me, touch me, explore me with his fingers so I could leave a lasting impression in his mind. I wanted him to picture me, us, all of it together, but I didn't necessarily want him to take pictures of me. I didn't not want him to, but...
"Yes," I said. Clutching my clothes against my chest, I slid across the seat towards the open car door and the garage.
Just as Asher said, no one was here. Jeremy left to who knew where, and besides that the garage was dim and empty. A smaller building that could fit three cars at the most, with smooth concrete floors and a pair of fluorescent lights overhead. My high heels clicked on the floor when I first stepped out of the car. Asher offered me his hand to help me stand and I took it with a smile.
He pulled me towards him, leading me to the doorway into the house. His guest house, he said. When we entered, it looked exactly, and nothing, like I imagined.
A guest house, in my mind, was a smaller affair. Perhaps a main room with a kitchen to the side, then stairs leading up to a bedroom or two. Modest, and simple, for the comfort of guests. Asher's guest house was far more extravagant than that. I expected this, figured it would be that way, but it still came as somewhat of a surprise.
The first floor, the door we entered through, was a large, wide open living room-styled area. The walls were close to nonexistent(at least in a typical sense), with windows that went from floor to ceiling, save for a few scant inches of actual solid wall at the very tops and bottoms. In front of us, built into the only regular wall, was a fireplace. Unlit now, but upon seeing me staring at it, Asher flicked a switch on the wall and the hearth flared to life. Gas-powered flames roared up out of a heap of faux-logs, dancing back and forth behind shaded glass.
In front of the hearth was a sofa. Or, somewhat of a sofa. I had a couch back at my apartment, but this thing was about four times as big. It curled into a "U" shape at the ends, making the middle of the living room into more of an intimate gathering place for a small group of people. Then the kitchen, to the sides, with a small dining area past that. And stairs, of course, that must lead to bedrooms on the second floor, but would we go that far?
Could we go that far? I really wanted to know how to arrive at that answer.
Before I knew what was going on, Asher picked me up. He held me in his arms, one hand behind my shoulders with the other under the crook of my knees, and carried me towards his sofa. Dropping me onto it, he held up a finger and told me to wait.
"I'll be right back," he said. "I'm going to get my camera."
I nodded, dumbstruck, staring at him, open-mouthed. When he left, I continued staring, but managed to turn my attention towards the fireplace.
We weren't in the city anymore. I could tell as much by looking through the glass walls. Asher's guest house had a magnificent view, with a hill sloping downwards and the clear horizon directly in front of me. Looking lower towards the bottom of the hill, I saw the city in the distance. Not too far, but far enough to look small. I lived there, I knew, but from this vantage point it looked like an entirely different place. Unrecognizable. It wasn't late enough for it, not yet, but with sun crawling downwards from its peak, in a few more hours, if I stayed here until then, I imagined I'd have the most beautiful view of the sunset.
Asher returned with his camera, holding it up for me to see. It was a newer model, but that was all I knew from looking at it. Fancy, probably, because I doubted he would spare any cost on something he enjoyed. If I could afford to, I'd do the same. I'd buy books, a huge library, sit in there for hours at a time, reading. Curling into a chair while wearing a bathrobe and sipping at a cup of hot cocoa, and...
"Shall we get started?" Asher asked.
I turned shy again. I'd just modeled for him in his car, sort of, and now I didn't know how to do it. I technically knew, of course, but now he was actually going to snap pictures, so it wasn't at all the same. I tried explaining that to him.
"I don't know how," I said, my voice timid.
Asher smiled at me. "Just do exactly as I say," he said.
I nodded, scared. I would do this.
"Lean back on the sofa," he said. "Put your elbows down so you're resting on them. Lift both your legs and rest them on the back of the sofa."
I did as he asked, but I didn't think this was sexy. I wasn't doing it right, I knew that, but I also didn't know how to do it right, either.
Asher stepped forward. He showed me where to put my elbows, and he ran his fingers along my chest towards my stomach. He meant to show me how he wanted my body to curve, I thought, but his touch distracted me. Moving one of my feet, he set it close to where I'd originally rested it on the sofa's back, but he bent my other leg so my knee was closer to my stomach, albeit a foot or so higher. As a finishing touch, he placed his hand on my chin and made me face him.
"Give me your sexiest look," he said. Before I could complain, he added, "Don't think about it, Jessika. Close your eyes, look down, part your lips. Think of something. It can be anything, but think of something that makes you smolder inside."
I did it. I closed my eyes and parted my lips and let my mind wander. I thought of him and his office and his private meeting room table. I thought of his fingers slipping inside me, so smooth and easy, and my body melting as he manipulated me with his hands. I thought of the restaurant, The Simple Path, and his foot pressing against my panty-covered crotch, teasing my arousal-slick folds. The car, his lap, my body grinding and pressing against him, wanting him.
Click. Click. Click.
He took pictures, but I was so far out of it and lost in my imagination that I didn't realize it at first. I leaned back, moving my elbows, but still the camera clicked away. Different spots, different angles. Asher moved my feet downwards onto the couch and I spread them slightly. He came in closer, took pictures of different areas, at different angles, but I kept my eyes closed the entire time.
"Wonderful," he said. "You're beautiful, Jessika."
He moved my hands towards my panties, placing my fingers along the sides of my pubis, underneath the fabric of my underwear. Click. Click. With my eyes still closed, because I wanted to keep them that way, he asked me to stand and do more poses for him. My thumb pulled at the side of my panties waistband in some provocative display of near removal, and he captured pictures of that, too. From the front, and behind, the sides.
He led me towards the fire, then had me sit on the plush, shaggy rug in front of it. I opened my eyes then, looking at him.
"Am I really sexy?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said sincerely. "You are."
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 br**sts. 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 p**sy 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 c*ck 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.