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I’m not sure if I wanted Ben to talk me out of what I was about to do or not.
All I wanted to do was hear his voice and tell him I looked forward to going out again. I’d avoided the café all week—pretending nothing had happened would be too cold, while talking about it might push us along too fast. But it was Saturday, and it had been long enough. I was already out of town. So I called him. Even doing that made my stomach explode into a thousand butterflies.
When it went to voicemail, I went entirely blank. I don’t even remember what I said; it all just came tumbling out of me. The next thing I knew, I was hanging up and throwing my phone back in my purse. Down the hill, Taylor was laying out gear by the camp site.
It was the second of May and the nights were still too cold in Devil Rock State Park for anyone to want to go camping, so it was perfect for Taylor. In fact, it was a kind of trifecta for both of us.
I pulled Taylor’s fancy tripod out of the back of his SUV and lugged it down a short dirt path, well off the road, and handed it to him.
“You don’t have the tent up yet?” I asked.
He just flashed me his stupid thousand-watt smile and held out his hand. “Excellent! Hand me the tripod.”
Taylor was on his way to becoming a professional wilderness photographer, but he was much more obsessed with photography than the wilderness as such. His priorities in setting up camp proved it.
Stacked neatly beside the tent pad were our backpacks, a rolled-up tent, firewood and a cooler of beer and food. Strewn about everywhere else were the exploded contents of his photography bag.
Taylor snapped the tripod into place and looked around admiringly at the scenery. “This afternoon light is perfect,” he said. “We have to get shooting as soon as possible.”
“What about all the other stuff?” I asked.
He winked, walked over and moved the firewood off a small valise. “All right here,” he said, handing it to me. Then he leaned over and kissed me, not for the first time that day.
As a man, he was tall, clean-shaven and impossibly, I mean impossibly, handsome, with perfect black hair and crystal blue eyes. He attracted women left and right, along with plenty of other men. But he always struck me as more of a loner, doing things his own way, not particularly attached to anyone else.
I’d run into him two weeks after my asshole ex-boyfriend dumped me on Valentine’s Day, and he was exactly what I needed. He was both butch and pretty, as well as adventurous, artistic, and down to fuck with no strings attached.
He’d promised to take me along to watch him work, but it was the other little part of our arrangement that I suspected was on his mind.
“Don’t you want to put up the tent so I can change?” I asked.
“Nobody here but me,” he said. “Forget the tent. Easier to get dressed out in the open, anyway.”
Taylor mainly did wilderness stuff, but he wanted to “expand his portfolio.” So that meant his mission this weekend had two parts: scenery/wildlife shots he could publish, and artistic portrait/figure stuff to show prospective clients.
He put aside his light bounce and picked up his camera. The lens cap was off in a heartbeat and he clicked a photo of me smiling at him. “Let me get a portrait of you in the hat,” he said. He adjusted his lens and the shutter began to click.
I threw the hat at him and he laughed, stepping out of the way as he continued to click photos.
My hair loose around my neck, I pulled my sweatshirt over my head in one swift motion. The camera kept going as I threw it on top of the gear and began unsnapping my form-fitting plaid cowgirl shirt. Finally it hung open to reveal my demi-cup blue gingham pushup bra. It was just a little small, and my cleavage was smoking.
I put my arms up behind my head, shaking out my hair, and closed my eyes and smiled for the camera.
“You’re going to run out of space on that card,” I warned.
Taylor lowered the camera. “It will be worth it. Leave on the shirt and lose the jeans.”
“Let me get my hiking boots off before you start again.” My bare feet, toenails freshly painted a nice bright red, stepped out onto the cold, damp leaves from last autumn. The camera began to click again. I turned my ass to Taylor and took down my jeans, just exactly the same way I’d done for Ben last Tuesday.
None of this canlı bahis was part of Taylor’s official shoot. My conditions for modelling were that he would use my memory card, everything would stay on my laptop, I’d get to check his camera’s memory and I had final say over which photos he could keep—and he got twenty-four. He could design the costume and I’d do my own makeup, but there wouldn’t be any nudity.
That was because, when I’d brought up the idea of going out on a shoot with him, we’d been in bed and he mentioned he always wanted to photograph what he called ‘vivid erotica.’ My conditions let Taylor snap all the photos he wanted. He got a model, I got to watch him work, and we both got to have fun.
I pulled my gingham panties down with my jeans and stood in front of Taylor in the open air, modelling my vulva for him. Per his request, I had shaved my treasure trail for him, and I felt goose-pimples begin to rise down my abs and around my labia.
Next, off came the shirt, and then the bra. I modelled a hand-bra for Taylor, standing totally nude with my jeans and panties down around my ankles. Throughout it, the shutter clicked non-stop.
“Now,” I said. “Put that thing down and let me get in costume, before you use up all the daylight and the memory card too.”
Given the circumstances, the modelling session was surprisingly sedate. The “woodland nymph” outfit was way too small, so we had a bit of fun with a surprisingly chic Jazz Age Gangster look he’d put together out of a second-hand suit and fedora and the cunning use of safety pins. It was risqué, but only just—I left the top few buttons undone, and between the tight pinning and the cool spring air, it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
Taylor had also managed to get a flapper dress from somewhere, but we didn’t do much with it before Taylor looked around and decided to try for some wilderness shots before he lost the light entirely. I got back into my sweatshirt and jeans.
The tent didn’t go up until well after sunset. By then we were starved, but the fire caught quickly and Taylor had brought some simple stuff from the grocery store. We were both famished and tired from traipsing over the site, but the heat of the fire and the quick food had us laughing together over beers, snuggled up next to each other as the stars came out and pitch darkness descended.
As Taylor had predicted, there were no other campers this early in the season.
Wearing my fuzzy green knit hat, I nuzzled my head up to Taylor’s shoulder. He took a sip of his beer. He stared at the fire and said to me, “So, who’s this guy you stood me up for Tuesday?”
“Just a guy. He’s nice.”
“I guess. I don’t know. I’m still not ready to get into anything serious.”
“I don’t mind, Hannah. Did you have fun? What did you do?”
“Went out to eat at that new place you and I were talking about, the fusion place. It was pretty good.”
Taylor turned to me and put his arm around me, warming me up a bit. “Couldn’t have been that good if you’re here with me,” he teased.
“No, I like him,” I said. “I think I’m going to see him again.”
“Well, Hannah, I like you too,” said Taylor. “And I’m glad you’re here with me.” Then he leaned toward me and kissed me in the firelight. It was one of the most romantic moments we’d had in the two months we’d been sleeping together.
At the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking of Ben.
But Taylor was here, and we’d been planning this trip for weeks. Taylor’s kiss was warm and his hands held me so close. He comforted me in exactly the way I needed when I needed it most.
“So,” I said, pulling away a little. Then I kissed his lips quickly again, and slid his free hand up under my shirt onto the bare skin of my back. “Are we going to sit here kissing, or are we going to do some flash photography?”
Taylor grinned his thousand-watt grin, and I felt—not butterflies—but that warm, naughty thrill I always got when I knew exactly what he wanted.
I leapt up and grabbed the camera before he could get it. The lens cap was already off. Taylor and I were laughing and wrestling to possess the camera. He pulled the sweatshirt over my head, and my blouse went with it. I shot a picture and the flash went off, dazing him for half a second while I pulled the camera through the neck opening and threw my tops bahis siteleri to the ground. Taylor made a second half-hearted attempt to snatch the camera back before he changed tactics.
I photographed him stripping me naked outside—all but my socks and blue gingham bra—taking pictures down my cleavage of my jeans and panties coming off, my legs in the air as he pulled off my boots, finally Taylor grappling me around my waist, nuzzling my vulva and squeezing my hips. We were panting in the chilly night air and hot clouds of his breath swirled around my most intimate parts.
Taylor chased me inside the tent, where I fell back on a haphazard mess of pillows and sleeping bags over a sleeping pad that covered the tent’s floor from wall to wall. The flash flickered like a strobe light as Taylor backed me into the tent and I photographed him pulling off his shirt, loosening his belt and pulling his jeans open.
I took a close-up of the glistening tip of his dick, and let him relieve me of the camera. The next shot in sequence is tight on my face, my eyes wide, looking directly into the camera, mouth open and tongue emerging, with only my naked shoulders visible behind the frame of my auburn hair. At the bottom of the frame you can just see the ends of my fingers, pulling his hard dick toward my mouth.
I remember his taste and the cold air swirling in from the open tent flaps, and the camera flash firing as I pulled him deep into my throat. The heat of him burned my face and mouth like forged iron and I wanted to quench him as deeply as I could. Nearly naked on all fours, I slacked my jaw and let him take control of me. My lips felt thick, sealed around him. He was thrusting, caressing my scalp and—best of all—moaning my name.
The tent was dark now, the camera set aside. I lay back beneath him as he pulled off the rest of his clothing and knelt between my legs. The fire had gone most of the way down, so only a little light flickered against the wall of the tent. I couldn’t see Taylor.
I heard him zip open my purse and fumble around inside it. My keys and a few other things fell out, and moments later I heard the crackle of plastic packaging being ripped open. I spread my legs as wide as I could, and pressed him forward with my shin.
We made love twice.
When I awoke the next morning, bright warm sunlight filled the tent. I opened my eyes to find Taylor looking back at me, smiling. His hair was mussed.
We had unzipped our sleeping bags and slept between them. Taylor’s was pulled over us and we lay beside each other, naked. It was still a bit cold. I cuddled up to Taylor, pressing my breasts and hard nipples up against his chest, and he pulled me toward him with his hand on the bare slope of my hip.
“Good morning,” he said, and kissed me.
I found myself putting my hand between his legs. His dick began to harden as I caressed him with the tips of my fingers, from just below his cut foreskin, down along the shaft to the root and back up again. Touching him like this, sensing him get excited, made me excited in turn, knowing he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Taylor moved his hand up and teased my nipples. He kissed me again. I could see where this was going—but unfortunately…
“I have to pee,” I said.
“Come on,” said Taylor. “Let’s just mess around for a few minutes first.”
“It’s your tent,” I replied, “so if that’s what you’re really into…”
I pushed him over on his back and nibbled his neck.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “Go on.”
I laughed and strode outside into the unseasonably warm May morning air without bothering to put on anything. When I came back, Taylor had emerged from the tent and was messing with his camera bag.
He looked mildly ridiculous wearing only his boots, but he had made me come so deeply when he fucked me the night before, I wanted to reward him. I went into the tent and grabbed his sleeping bag, then dragged it over to the picnic bench and draped it over the table, bench and ground—to give myself a comfortable place to kneel.
“Whatcha doing?” Taylor asked.
“Have a seat,” I said.
“Oh…kay,” he replied. He made himself comfortable on the sleeping bag and I stood naked in front of him, contrapposto. Taylor lifted the camera and took a full frontal shot of me.
“Camera down,” I said, smiling. He did as bahis şirketleri he was told.
The synthetic fabric wheezed as I knelt down on the sleeping bag, pushing Taylor’s knees apart with the palms of my hands. I ran my fingers along his thighs up to his waist, and pulled myself closer with a shimmy.
Cupping my breasts, I cuddled in close to him and gave him a kiss on his chest. “Do you like what you see?” I said, spreading my fingers out.
“Oh yes,” he said. He was getting aroused. I took his dick in my right hand and began to caress it, wrapping my fingers around it and working it up and down as it hardened in my grasp. Once his dick was standing on its own, I put my other hand around it and leaned forward, tickling his legs with my nipples and kissed his abs.
I let go and wrapped his dick with my cleavage, pushing my tits together with my upper hands and undulating my torso to massage him. I kissed his abs again. I remember being surprised at how hot my breath was, and how I was trembling just a little.
It was so intimate and spontaneous. None of it was planned, and neither of us had looked around to make sure we were still alone. Anyone could have been watching. I felt little flutters in my stomach. I had to have him.
The tip of his penis was straining for me, hard and smooth. I quickly flicked it with the tip of my tongue and then swallowed it whole, tasting him, letting him enter me. I put my hands on his hips and swerved my hips as I bobbed down as far as I could, closing my eyes and now twisting my tongue.
Again and again his cock slid into my mouth. I was distantly aware of him moaning my name, and the tension shooting through his abs and thighs beneath my domination of his body. He was totally mine. My lips were trembling.
His hands moved from my shoulders and breasts to the back of my head, intertwining his fingers with my shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. I grabbed as his hips and pulled him up toward me. Without a word he obeyed me, and stood up in front of me.
“Now,” he whispered, still cradling the nape of my neck in his palm.
In the same moment, I pulled my head back slowly across all eight inches of him, wrapping my fingers around him as I did so. As the head of his cock crossed my lips with a pop, his sex was aimed upward and a jet of cloudy white come splashed across my right cheek, from my lips to my ear.
I aimed him downward, jerking him off, and three more pulses of come covered my shoulder, my boobs and my nipples.
Taylor seemed to buckle at the knees and fell back on the sleeping bag. “Oh fuck,” he gasped. “Holy fuck.” Before he even had his eyes open, he was feeling around for his camera. He got just one picture of me covered in his seed before I leapt up, kissed him on the mouth, and ran off downhill to the lake.
I plunged into the frigid water, caressed my whole body, scraping his come off of me. I bobbed in the water a few times, scrubbing off. Finally I turned and opened my eyes. Taylor had followed me to the shore, camera in hand. I could see the mist rising over the surface of the lake.
“Just one,” I said. I went under again, and as I pushed off from the sand I slicked my hair back. Standing barely more than head and shoulders out of the water, I blinked my eyes, smiled wide, and looked into the camera.
Five hours later, I was sitting in Taylor’s truck, back outside my apartment. The entire drive back, all I could think of was Ben’s voicemail. Wondering what he said and wondering what I should say to him. I had told Ben I wanted to take it slow and not be exclusive, but now that I’d slept with someone else…
I kissed Taylor good-bye, and then, out of politeness and habit, asked, “Do you want to come in to get cleaned up?”
Taylor knew I didn’t mean it. “Hannah,” he said, “This has been an amazing weekend. But I know you don’t want to get serious yet. Maybe we should cool off for a while.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he said. “And I do want you to call me – when you’re ready to get serious. Or maybe if you want to do a little more modelling.”
I gave a little laugh, then pecked his cheek. I tried to hold back my tears.
Inside, I downloaded the memory card onto my laptop and began sorting through pictures. I had given Taylor everything he asked of me. And still, the only one I could think of was Ben. So I closed the computer, and picked up the phone—but what could I say after spending the weekend sleeping with someone else?
I didn’t have the courage to call Ben back for another week.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32