Mr Photographer

I’ve been through so much s*** over the years, now that I’m through the thick of it, the number one thing I desire most when I have leisurely time is to maximize happiness and minimize stress.

It’s been a while since I last posted. But I’m happy to share that I’ve had an epic summer, there have been sacred and special moments. I’ve spent it with people who I’ve become close to, but were not initially my closest of friends. I’ve found, the more I give, the better I feel about myself, the more I receive the more I have faith in humanity. The more I interact with people from different backgrounds the more I develop character.

This is a tale about two men, one whom I love and one who provides good company. Both these men have told me how chilled and relaxed I am and it’s only because I’m grateful for the opportunities that have presented themselves to me.

There is something sacred about the relationship I have with the man whom I love, I’m unsure how to go about writing our experience, as words will never truly be able to express how I feel about him and the situation, but the man who provides good company, that I can share:

I lay on the hotel bed, hot, bothered and sexually frustrated.

‘How am I going to get rid of this feeling?’ I thought to myself.

My senses had been aroused from the events that had taken place just over an hour ago. I could feel his body heat, I could hear his light breathing and tried desperately not to disturb him. I promised myself I wouldn’t go there with him, besides he was my ex boss and I just wasn’t attracted to him.

I discreetly moved my arm under the covers following the path to pleasuring my warm moist throbbing region. I slid my lace flowery panties to the side and rubbed on my clitoris gently and with intent. I wanted so desperately to relieve myself of the tension. It wasn’t exciting, glorious or glamorous – it was burdensome.

‘Are you ok?’ He asked.

I stopped for a brief moment, my hands guarding my vagina, so as to not raise his suspicions about what I was actually doing. Silence gave ear to the few people down below us in the centre square enjoying the warm summer night.

How do I reply?

The problem was, if I told him how I truly felt, I would destroy the state of our relationship for good. This was my ex boss after all, the man that interviewed me for my first retail job 17 years ago.

‘I’m touching myself.’ I moaned.

I could feel the movement on the bed as he turned to face me. He mumbled something and steadily placed his hand over the hand that was guarding my vagina. I kept my hand in place guiding him around for a while before fully removing it and letting him take over.

As I lay on the bed, staring between the ceiling and the wardrobe, gyrating, verbally guiding him, I sensed that he was a novice.

I encouraged him.

‘Yeah, keep it there’…’keep doing that’…’that’s good’.

I was a pro, many nights with a vibrator will do that to you. I was sure of what I wanted and how to be pleased and he was attentive.

As good as it was to release the sexual tension , I was unsure about the situation. There was absolutely no chemistry between us, and he certainly wasn’t my type, but he was a nice guy and I didn’t want to hurt or disappoint him.

I played mental ping-pong.
Why can’t you form a platonic relationship with men?
Why did you allow it to come to this?
Don’t you have any respect for yourself?
What happens in the morning?
Is he going to want to cuddle after?
Would he like me to return the favour?
I was glad when I asked him he declined.

‘I’m not hard yet, I just want to make you cum’. I sensed he was more guarded about the size or state of his penis.

I came quicker than I anticipated and told him I would, and asked that we not discuss any of it in the morning. He asked whether I wanted him to continue to enable me to have multiple orgasms, but I declined. I just wanted to get rid of the initial feeling not enjoy a night of passion with a man I was not sexually attracted to.

We turned opposite ways and went to sleep, I closed my eyes but was fully awake. I felt as though I had overdosed on caffeine.

I tossed and turned for a bit before asking if he would mind me turning the TV on, he obliged. I got up and placed myself on the navy blue corduroy sofa couch, where it all began.

An hour before, I casually lay on the sofa wearing a grey vest top and shorts, watching European TV. I couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying but that was what made it all the more interesting. He, on the other hand, could understand and speak the language as it was his mother’s tongue. He asked me to repeat the sentences I heard on the TV and seeing that I was butchering the language we ended up in fits of laughter. He took my phone, hovered over me and took a number of artistic and creative photos of me laughing at my dire attempts.

His photography skills were certainly more impressive than my language skills. I praised him on a job well done. I felt inspired to place myself in other parts of the hotel room whilst he took photos of me. I was his muse.

I told him to wait whilst I slipped into something a little more pleasing to the eye. I grabbed my nylon yellow bikini and changed, facing away from him. I knew I was testing the boundaries. The only place left to be explored in our little apartment room was the bathroom.

I stood in the shower, it was the perfect lighting.
I presented him with a number of different poses and he directed my movements , shooting me from various angles, heights and lengths. I tried desperately hard to make my poses tasteful and not tacky. He occasionally asked me to relax as he could see I was over thinking at times.

As I stood in the shower, I felt a sense of empowerment. I felt naughty, as though I were in a blue movie, it was sultry it was spontaneous, it was dirty and I was here for it. I felt beautiful even without my makeup on. His words of encouragement also added to my bravery. I turned the shower on so he could get some varied pictures.

Filthy thoughts entered my head, I succumbed to them. I untied my bikini top and for the first time ever revealed my bare breast to him. He commented on how beautiful he thought my body was. He directed me further. I wanted to take it up a notch and asked his permission before removing my bikini bottoms, revealing my cleanly waxed Brazilian vagina. I was stark naked in front of my ex boss, warm water dripping down my body. Wow! He exclaimed. Clearly startled. He informed me that he had a hard-on but would continue to take me photos. We moved from the shower to the window sill, to the bed, to the sofa, to the chair. All the while he did not touch me once.

When we had finished, I lay on the bed besides him as we went through the pictures. He repeated again how beautiful he thought my body was. He asked me if he could touch my breast. I was surprised at how courteous he was, how could I refuse. I allowed him. I felt he wasn’t use to this unless he was just very overwhelmed by the whole situation. Rather than caress them, he played with them, like a child with plasticine. After a while, I got up put my clothes on. It was quite late and we had an early start in the morning. We had shared the same bed for 3 nights prior, nothing had happened between us. We’d spend nights together in bed platonically and days roaming the beautiful city, walking along cobblestone streets and looking up at medieval, Romanesque, gothic architecture.

Goodnight! I wished him as I turned over in the hope I could go to sleep, but I couldn’t, I was sexually aroused and desperately wanted to be touched. We were only supposed to provide each other with company.

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