The Photo Shoot (Part II)Posted: February 27, 2014
( You can read part one of The Photo Shoot, here).
Suicide Girl pressed up against me, teasing my pussy with the tip of the strap-on. I moaned.
“Do you want this?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes, who?” she and The Switch asked in unison.
“Yes, Mistress,” I whimpered.
“That’s better,” she replied.
I was aching. From the moment I walked into the bedroom and saw her, I’d been overcome with lust. Being so close to her with a strap-on between us was torture. Mercifully, she didn’t wait long before putting me out of my misery.
She slid it slowly inside me, once, twice, and then fucked me fast with it. I moaned loudly, entering that space where coherent thoughts are impossible and sex is almost an out of body experience. Suicide Girl was moaning now too, her pace growing jerkier, and I could tell without looking that The Switch was behind her, fucking her doggy-style.
We fucked until we collapsed with exhaustion, three layers deep. The fog lifted and we realized that camera was clicking and the make-up lady was still standing in the corner. Both were kinksters, and neither batted an eye, but I am slightly concerned by my ability to become so consumed by sexual contact that everything else, including other people in the room, disappears. I am not so much an exhibitionist, as I am a person who loves sex so much that self-consciousness and propriety are not even a factor.
The make-up lady packed up her styling gear and half-joked about how she was going home to jump her husband before their company arrived. The photographer left soon after, but The Switch got a text from him two minutes later saying he wanted to come back and rub our feet (he has a foot fetish, ha ha). The remaining three of us drank wine for a few more minutes in the living room, until The Switch said “Take off your clothes,” and made his way to the bedroom.
“Okay,” we said immediately, shucking the clothing we’d replaced only minutes before and climbing into bed with him, naked.
Suicide Girl and I kissed and groped, while The Switch fingered her. He entered her with his cock, and she narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “Get your pussy on my face.”
She licked and sucked me, rubbing with her tongue and nipping with her teeth, spreading me with her fingers to make sure she hit everything.
“Come for me,” she commanded in a deep, throaty voice.
I moaned loudly, muscles squeezing, pussy throbbing, soaking wet.
The Switch threw me on the mattress, held my hands above my head, and pounded into me with incredible force. I screamed, eyes half closed, as Suicide Girl gently shushed me. “Too loud,” she said, running her hand lightly up my arm.
I bit my lip and tried to make less noise. I didn’t want The Switch’s basement tenant to complain, but I have never been known for my ability to keep quiet.
He fucked me until we had nothing left, and then we all fell asleep, a tangle of limbs, holding each other.