The Photo Shoot That Never Got Started

I was going through messages on one of those networks I use for work when a new conversation popped up. The profile was a woman’s, and that alone caught my attention. Most of the messages I get are from men. I replied out of curiosity and because we were colleagues, and within minutes we were chatting as if we’d known each other for ages.

I’m going to give her a name that isn’t hers. Lorena.

Lorena was in her early twenties. Light brown hair to her shoulders, a strand always falling over her forehead, and a northern accent that slipped out every time she laughed. Her voice was husky, as if she’d been talking all day. The first thing that caught my eye in her profile photos were her arms: defined, strong, without being exaggerated. Later she told me she trained with weights six days a week.

She was about five foot seven. Broad back, narrow hips. She didn’t have a model’s body. She had the body of someone who had built herself patiently and through discipline.

We talked for several days by message. At one point she told me she had a good camera and that she’d thought of proposing a photo shoot. I needed to refresh my profile material, so the idea worked for me on every level. We agreed that on a Tuesday afternoon, after a client I had downtown, I’d stop by her apartment.

I arrived with my hair still a little damp from the shower I’d taken at the hotel. Tight white pants, black high-heeled boots with slim heels, a cream blouse with embroidered details, and the big handbag where I carried the lingerie for the occasion. I rang the bell and she opened the door herself, barefoot, in cut-off jean shorts and an old T-shirt.

She invited me in and I immediately noticed things were going to flow. She had that wide smile that takes up half a person’s face and unarms you without asking. She asked if I wanted something to drink and I suggested we go down and buy wine before starting. I left my bag on the sofa, reluctantly put my boots back on, and we went out.

We came back with two bottles of red, a tray of cold cuts, and some olives. I took my boots off as soon as we crossed the door and walked barefoot across the wooden floor. She opened the wine while I cut bread, and we sat on the sofa talking.

We spent a long while like that, laughing at anything and everything. She had a dry sense of humor, like mine. She told stories about weird clients and I threw mine back at her. The glasses emptied fast. At times I forgot why I’d come.

—Should we start before the light goes? —I said, glancing toward the balcony.

She nodded and got up to fetch something. I stood in the middle of the living room and started undressing right there, without shame. I took out of my bag some black thigh-high stockings, a matching garter belt, and a lace top that fastened in front with a tiny clasp. I put it on without hurry, feeling the wine buzzing at the nape of my neck.

—And the camera? —I asked when she came back.

She made a strange face. She said she’d left it at her sister’s place, that she’d forgotten it. She offered to take the photos with her phone. I felt a stab of annoyance, but then I looked at her properly, saw the way she was looking at me, and thought that maybe I wasn’t there just for the photos anyway.

—Okay —I said. —Let’s try with the phone.

***

We took more photos than I’d expected. She took some of me, I took some of her, then the two of us together with our arms stretched out and our heads pressed close. Her T-shirt had loosened and her sports bra showed whenever she leaned over. At one point she put on a burgundy red set she had tucked away in the closet, and I photographed her against the window, with the light falling over her shoulder.

Night fell on us without our noticing. The living room was lit only by a floor lamp and the kitchen extractor light. I was left in black panties and nothing on top, hair a mess, with the phone in my hand going through the pictures. She was in the bathroom.

When she came out, she sat next to me on the sofa. She smelled like new perfume. I saw her in profile and noticed she had combed her hair again.

—Did they come out pretty? —she asked.

—Yeah. Better than I thought.

We laughed about something she said regarding the client I’d had that morning. Then there was silence. One of those silences that aren’t awkward but aren’t just any old silence either. She was looking at my mouth. I could tell she was looking at my mouth.

And in one movement that seemed rehearsed, she threw herself on top of me and started sucking one of my tits.

I stayed still for a few seconds. Not from surprise, but because my head was calculating whether I wanted to keep going or not. I calculated quickly. I wanted to keep going.

I sank my fingers into her hair and let her do it. She moved from one breast to the other with a concentration that was almost tender, trapping the nipple between her teeth and tugging lightly before releasing it with her tongue. She sucked them as if she wanted to pull something out of them, her whole mouth sealed around my breast, her cheek hollowed by the suction. When she let go, the nipple stayed stiff, shiny with saliva, and she flicked it with the tip of her tongue until she had my back arching. She left red marks on my skin that I’d still have the next day. I stroked the back of her neck and felt my breathing quicken, my cunt getting wet before anyone had touched it yet.

She ran one hand down my belly and slid two fingers inside the front of my panties, direct, without asking. She stroked up and down over the lips, found that I was soaked, and let out a husky little laugh against my breast.

—Look how wet you are —she said, her mouth full of nipple.

She pinched my clit between her fingers the way you pinch a grape and I moaned without being able to hide it. After a while I took her face in both hands and kissed her. That was when I realized how strong she was. She kissed me without asking permission, her whole tongue inside my mouth, pressing with her whole body. I felt her thigh between mine and pushed my cunt against it without thinking, rubbing myself like a bitch in heat, feeling the rough fabric of the shorts scraping my swollen lips through the panties.

***

We made it to the bedroom half tangled together, laughing every time we bumped into some piece of furniture. We fell onto the bed and finished taking off the little we still had on. She yanked my panties off by the elastic and I tore her T-shirt off, leaving her tits bare, small, firm, with dark, erect nipples. She pushed me back with an open hand on my sternum and settled between my legs.

She spread them with her elbows, without ceremony, and for a second just stared at my cunt up close, breathing over me. I felt the hot air from her mouth hitting my wet lips and shivered.

—What a delicious cunt you’ve got —she murmured, and drove her whole tongue into me in one motion.

What she did with her mouth, she had practiced a lot. That was the first thing I thought. It wasn’t hurry, it was skill. She licked me slowly, with her tongue flat, from bottom to top, gathering every drop that was running out of me, swallowing it. She went up and down without touching my clit, deliberately avoiding it, passing close, blowing on it, until I couldn’t take it anymore and shoved a hand into her hair to show her where. Only then did she take it between her lips, suck it like a little cock, her tongue working it from inside her mouth. She slid two fingers in and curved the tip seeking that spot in front, and I thanked her with a sound I didn’t want to hold back.

She finger-fucked me like that for a long while, sucking my clit, while I pulled her hair and pressed her head against my cunt, smothering her. I could feel her rough tongue against the most sensitive flesh and the pads of her fingers pounding my depths with every thrust. When she felt I was about to come, she eased off, pulled out her soaked fingers and took them to her mouth, sucking them one by one while looking me in the eyes.

After a while I turned her over. I wanted to taste her. I pushed her back against the mattress, spread her legs, and ate her out front first, ravenously. Her cunt was neatly shaved, the lips small, pink, already shiny with how wet she was. I ran my whole tongue from her ass to her clit in one long lick, and she let out a cry and arched her hips against my face.

Then I settled in reverse, upside down, and plunged into her sex without pause. She was wet and smelled exactly like I’d imagined, clean and like a hot female. I pried her lips open with two fingers and drove my tongue inside, moved it in circles, pulled it out and sucked her swollen clit until she was trembling. While I was working her with my tongue, I felt her mouth come back to mine down below and we tangled into a long sixty-nine, unhurried, in which neither of us wanted to be the first to finish. She sucked my cunt with her mouth open, I returned the favor with three fingers and the same rhythm on her clit. I could feel her moans vibrating against my wet lips, and mine muffled against hers.

At one point she wriggled free, sat up, and asked for a second. She went to the drawer of the bedside table and came back with two toys. One huge, dark silicone, thick, with veins marked on it like a real cock. Another smaller one, white, with a remote. She handed them to me.

—Let’s try —she said.

I made her turn around. I told her to lie face down and lifted her hips a little with a cushion, leaving her ass raised and her cunt open in plain sight. I started slowly, rubbing the insides of her thighs with my palm, moving up until I barely brushed her lips with my fingertips. I ran the small vibrator everywhere except where I wanted it: the inner thighs, the edge of her ass cheeks, the perineum. She pushed her hips back, seeking me, and I denied her.

When I saw she couldn’t take it anymore, that her cunt was dripping down her thighs, I grabbed the big one and ran the thick tip between her lips, smearing it with her own wetness. I eased it in slowly, without forcing anything, turning it just a little so she could get used to the thickness.

It’s going to go all the way in.

And it did. Centimeter by centimeter, until the base touched her lips and there was no cock left outside. Lorena buried her face in the pillow and let out a deep, animal sound that made my skin prickle. I started moving it with a slow rhythm, pulling it almost all the way out and thrusting it back in, watching her back tense each time it reached the bottom. The silicone came out shiny, soaked, coated with her juices.

—Fuck me harder —she begged in a muffled voice.

I fucked her harder. I drove the rubber cock with both hands, giving it to the hilt, listening to the obscene slapping of her wet cunt swallowing it again and again. She started moving her ass back, following my rhythm, helping me, wanting more.

After a few minutes I lubed her up well with saliva and with the fluid pooling out of her, and I brought the small vibrator to the other side, to her asshole.

—Slowly —she asked.

Slowly. I ran the rounded tip over her tight little hole, in circles, making it nice and wet. I eased it in little by little, while still moving the bigger one inside her cunt. I felt it give, open around the toy, swallow it whole. When both toys were inside, I stopped moving and only turned the smaller one on to its lowest speed. I felt her whole body shake under my hands, felt everything clenching around the thick silicone filling her cunt. I stroked her back with my other hand, kissed her shoulder blade, and started moving the big one again, this time with more purpose, fucking her with hunger while the vibrator worked her ass from inside.

—Oh, fuck, yes, like that, don’t stop —she gasped into the pillow—, don’t stop, I’m coming, I’m coming…

She came out with a long cry, biting the pillow, her ass raised, her cunt tightening in spasms around the rubber cock. I felt the small toy being pushed out by the contraction of her sphincter. I pulled both toys out carefully and ran my tongue over her cunt one last time, gathering what was running down her thighs. Then I flopped on top of her to hug her. I kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders, her ear. She turned over and grabbed my face and kissed me with a force she hadn’t had before, sucking my tongue, feeling herself in my mouth.

***

—I want something —she said.

She opened her legs and made me fit mine with hers, one up, one down, scissored together. We adjusted ourselves until our cunts met, lip to lip, clit to clit, everything soaked with saliva and slick. I had done that only a few times. The first time I hadn’t liked it. This time I did. When we started rubbing together at the same rhythm, I felt something like a current rising up from my navel. Lorena pushed with her hips, I answered, and our cunts slid against each other with a wet, obscene sound that filled the room.

—Fuck, fuck harder —I said, and gripped her thigh with both hands to press myself tighter against her.

She looked at me from below, biting her lip, her marked arms holding her against the mattress, her tits moving with every thrust. We moved together as if we had rehearsed it, faster and faster, rougher and rougher, our swollen clits bumping into each other again and again.

I had an orgasm almost immediately, a short, fierce spasm that made me dig my nails into her thigh. Then I had another, longer one, that ran up my whole spine. She didn’t let up, kept moving against me, looking for hers. She had hers shortly after, with a tremor that started in her thighs and rose through her whole body, head thrown back, neck stretched, a long moan coming from deep inside her.

We stayed like that a few seconds longer, pressed together cunt to cunt, breathing hard. Then we separated and lay on our backs, staring at the ceiling. She reached for my hand and left it resting on my belly. I was a little dazed. The wine, the sweat, my aching thighs, my cunt throbbing like a second heart.

—Do you want me to tell you the truth? —she said.

—Tell me.

—The camera was never broken. I never left it at my sister’s.

I laughed. A long, genuine laugh that shook my whole body. I kissed her shoulder.

—I know —I said.

She laughed too. A while later she got up, put on a robe, and came back with a plate of cheese and another glass of wine. We ate sitting in bed, naked from the waist down, our cunts still swollen and sticky. We talked late into the night about anything: work, the strangest clients, a trip she wanted to take south. Then we turned off the light. We were together again for a while longer, slower now, without toys, with only our hands and mouths. I ate her out again, this time without hurry, until I made her come softly, almost soundlessly, her legs squeezing my head. She returned the favor with two fingers inside me and her thumb on my clit, until I came in silence, biting her shoulder. And we fell asleep wrapped around each other, her behind me, her arm crossed over my waist and one hand cupping my breast.

The next morning I left early. I had an appointment. We said goodbye at the door with a kiss that lasted longer than necessary and promised to do it again. She never invited me back. I never called her either. Sometimes it’s better for things to happen only once and stay whole.