As fetishes go it wasn’t so weird — we took photos of each other.
Well, mostly I took photos of her. They started with the pretence of being art nudes.
Black and whites. Lost of shadows. Lots of beautiful lines. Carmel is a beautiful woman and I love looking at her. As we took more photos it became more sexual and she was fine with that. In fact she began to instigate the sessions.
I realised she was an exhibitionist. Every exhibitionist needs a voyeur. I was the voyeur. I was her voyeur.
The photos inevitably became more lewd. I took some series of her undressing. Glimpses of underwear and provocative poses became camel toes and open legs which then became lurid nudes and her exposed cunt. The exhibitionism began to reveal a submissive tendency.
When we fucked, during and after our photo sessions, we began telling each other fantasies. In this we soon began following the same track — our fantasies joined up.
Carmel told me she imagined being used by lots of men. I told her how much I would like to watch her being fucked by lots of men. I began calling her a fuckhole, a slut, a cunt. The cruder I got, the more she loved it. The more we both loved it. We had enormous orgasms together.
When we went out we would quietly fantasize about fucking passers-by and other people we came across. Groups of men in bars, or men playing sport were a common targets. She imagined sucking their cocks, or having their semen spurted all over her, or fucking her, one after the other, ejaculating in her cunt. And so did I.
And the women too, for me, lining them up, on their hands and knees, and çukurambar escort me being able to fuck them and finger them as I pleased. Sport gym milfs, and yummy mummys pushing prams.
Carmel stopped wearing panties under her dresses and skirts. She began wearing shorter skirts and sometimes would be careless in getting in and out of the car, or seated in restaurants, if there was a target fantasy man, or woman. Rarely did they respond, but sometimes one would notice and try to stare surreptitiously while she showed them her cunt, pretending that it was accidental. We would later fantasize about what we might do with that person, when we were fucking.
Our fantasy progressed. I told her I wanted to post pictures of her online, and see what response we got. I told her about online ‘tributes’. Men would masturbate over a picture of a woman and then post a photo of the cum-covered photo — a tribute to the sexuality of the woman being masturbated over. She was excited about being wanked over, but worried about anonymity. So was I. I assured her that we could edit the photos so that nothing about us could be identified.
I took a photo of her lying face-down on the bed, with her ankles tied to opposite sides of the bed and her legs apart. Her arms also tied to the headboard. I covered her head with a scarf, so she couldn’t be recognised and used my fingers to make sure her cunt was open and lips glistening with cunt-juice. I took lots of photos.
Before I untied her, I wanked over her myself. I unloaded a huge load of semen on her buttocks. A live tribute. It was dripping demetevler escort between her cheeks. I took another photo and then, something I had never done before, I put my face between her legs and licked her cunt. My own cum was dripping over her lips. The taste of her cunt and my cum got me hard again. I climbed on top of her and fucked her, this time cumming insider her. There was cum leaking and smeared everywhere. I took another photo. She had orgasmed again and again. We were exhausted and shiny with sex juice.
Later I blurred out any identifying features from the most lewd photos and showed them too her. She loved them. We posted the best of them from an anonymous email account to a site that solicited home-made porn, with a request for tributes.
The response was amazing.
We sat on the couch together and she masturbated while I clicked through the tributes and read the comments that other men had posted about her cunt and the things they would do to her.
Mostly they were grubby and unimaginative. These were probably men without much going for them. Overweight, little dicks, problematic personalities. She didn’t care. She was a slut. She would fuck anyone in this fantasy, But amongst them there were sure to be other, ordinary men, who watched a bit of porn, maybe didn’t get enough sex in their relationship, who had wanked over Carmel’s photo and then sent back a photo of their efforts. We didn’t care. It was enough that men everywhere were dreaming of fucking her. We counted forty tributes and many more comments.
“An that’s only the ones that took demirtepe escort the trouble to reply,” I said. There are probably hundreds of other men who have gotten off on you.”
Some of the tribute photos were covered with light, splatter; others had great dollops of semen. There were lots of pictures of cocks, of all sizes. There were a lot of variants of cumming. She imagined fucking each of them, and having their semen on her, or in her. My cock became hard. She leaned over and took me in her mouth. She had never been big on cock-sucking, but this time she slurped with enthusiasm. It only took a few slurps for me to orgasm.
“I’m going to cum,” I said, expecting that she would take her mouth from my cock and watch me explode over my stomach. But she didn’t. She clutched my thighs tightly and sucked every drop from me.
“You really are a slut,” I said, catching my breath.
“That’s what sluts do, isn’t it?” she said. Her lips were glistening with my semen. We kissed. Her mouth tasted of semen.
“And if you can eat your own cum from me, then I can eat it too,” she said.
“I could eat any cum if it was on you,” I said. “I would lick cum from your neck, your breasts, your armpits. I would lick cum from you toes. But mostly I would bury my face in your creamed cunt.”
We kissed again. The taste of my cum shared between us.
I picked up the laptop to check on tribute activity while we were recovering. Another message had arrived.
“Hi Carmel, hi Chris,” it started. “You will be surprised that someone recognised you. Someone who knows you quite well. Not a close friend – that would be too creepy – but a friend of a friend from an intersecting circle. Since I know who you are, and where you live, I thought we might come to an arrangement that will give all of us pleasure. What do you think? That way we can keep it between us only – no-one else needs to know.”
(to be continued)