My Coworker Asked Me to Photograph Her from Behind
For years I’ve taken part in a challenge that has been circulating on social media and that almost nobody in my circle knows about. It consists of taking photos in front of urban or natural landscapes under a very specific condition: you have to be facing away from the camera with your ass out. The challenge has its own tag, a hashtag that is now much less active than it was in its heyday, but that at one point had thousands of participants.
Most of us are women, though there are also men and entire groups. What unites all those images is the same thing: a body seen from behind, a bare ass, and, in the background, a setting worth seeing. Some photos stand out because of the place, others because of how nice the ass is, and the best ones because of both at once.
In mine, my face is never visible. I take them with the camera’s self-timer or with my phone, holding it wherever I can. Only on some occasion, on some trip, has my mother taken them for me without really understanding what they were for. Until the day I’m going to tell you about, I had never had a friend I trusted enough to ask to photograph me like that.
Everything changed when Greta joined my team, a girl with a German father and a Spanish mother. Her parents and a brother had been living for some time in the same city as me, but she had moved out and was living her own life. From the beginning we clicked. We solved the day-to-day messes together without friction, agreed on far too many things, and there was between us that chemistry that’s hard to explain.
One spring, work took the two of us to a capital in the far north of Europe, one of those cities of pale light and water everywhere. Neither Greta nor I had ever been there. After a team lunch we had a couple of free hours, and we decided to make the most of them on our own.
—I want to see the sculpture park —I told her, showing her photos on my phone of huge stone figures scattered among fountains and pathways—. I’ve been thinking about that place the whole trip.
—I’m in —she answered without hesitation—. But first come with me to the harbor. I grew up in northern Germany and always heard about icebreakers. I’ve never seen one up close. They say some are docked there in summer.
We looked at the map and plotted the route. First the ships, then the sculptures.
When we got to the harbor there were two icebreakers tied up, heavy, dark hulls that were impressive less for their size than for the power you could sense in them. We spent a while admiring them in silence, leaning on the railing, with the sea wind tossing our hair.
—Before we go —Greta said—, would you mind taking a photo of me in front of the ships?
—Of course not.
—I want it to be very special. Look, I’ll stand with my back to you, facing the icebreakers. Count to five out loud so it focuses properly and take several shots, and we’ll pick the best one. And one important thing: don’t be surprised if you see something strange through the viewfinder. Take five or six and then I’ll explain.
I took her phone, and while she positioned herself with her back to me, a suspicion flashed through my head like lightning. What if she wants a photo for the challenge? No way. No way could she also… I followed her instructions without saying a word.
—One, two, three, four, five.
At five she jerked her dress up. Underneath, she had nothing on. Her ass was bared against the gray backdrop of the ships and the white sky, and I fired once, twice, three times, almost without thinking, my heart slamming against my ribs.
—Six, seven, eight —I kept counting to cover for it, though there was nothing left to cover.
She turned around with her dress still hiked up, smiling from ear to ear.
—This one’s a gift, for you.
I kept looking at her for a second too long. She wasn’t waxed nearly as much as I was, and that little dark bush crowning her cunt, barely trimmed, turned me on more than any perfect waxing ever could. I liked it in a way I hadn’t expected to feel in front of a coworker: my pussy clenched all at once and I could feel my panties getting wet right there, in the middle of the harbor.
—You’ve got a gorgeous ass —I blurted out, because that was exactly what I was thinking.
Then I started laughing, a nervous laugh that came from very deep inside me.
—You can’t imagine, Greta! How am I supposed to be surprised by these photos? I take part in that challenge too. I’ve got a few pictures up with the tag, and I was planning to ask you today to take one of me in the sculpture park.
The look on her face was priceless. She opened her mouth, burst out laughing, and covered her eyes with one hand, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it.
—I can’t believe it —she kept saying—. All this time and neither of us suspected a thing about the other.
—And here we were, disguising it so well.
I handed her back her phone and, without thinking too much about it, I lifted my own clothes a little too, right there, just enough, for a moment, just so she could see I meant it. Greta smiled differently then, slower, and fixed her eyes on my shaved cunt with a brazenness that made me squeeze my thighs together. I knew that trip had stopped being a work trip.
***
We headed to the sculpture park with our newly minted complicity still hot between us. On the way we couldn’t stop laughing, going over the months we’d worked side by side without ever imagining we shared exactly the same secret kink.
The park was huge, dotted with stone and bronze figures among fountains and tree-lined avenues. A fine, warm breeze lifted our light summer dresses a little, almost without us noticing. We walked to one of the most impressive fountains, where the water fell in shining curtains and the setting sun bathed everything in gold.
—Here —I said—. This is the photo I wanted.
Greta took my camera, and we went through exactly the same sequence as at the harbor. I stood with my back to the fountain, facing the water, and she began counting in that slightly deep voice of hers.
—One, two, three, four, five.
I hiked my dress up to my waist and felt the cool air on my skin, the tingle of knowing I was exposed in a public place, that blend of vertigo and pleasure I’ve been chasing for years. She took several shots, and I heard her holding her breath behind the camera.
—And this one’s a tip —I said, turning around with my dress still lifted, laughing with pure euphoria—. But this one stays between us. This one isn’t for any tag.
—That one goes straight into our private collection —she replied, lowering the camera slowly, never taking her eyes off me.
That was when I realized we weren’t alone. A few meters away, beside one of the sculptures, a locally dressed couple was watching us very closely. They didn’t seem scandalized. They were smiling, complicit, as if they understood perfectly the game we were playing. I felt my face burn, but also a stab of excitement I wasn’t ashamed of.
I got dressed again right away. With that breeze, there was no point in wandering around showing my ass to half the park for no reason.
***
On the way back toward the center we kept talking about how incredible the coincidence was: the two of us thinking at the same moment, about the same gesture, without ever having said a word to each other. We agreed not to tell the rest of the team, to keep it as a secret just for us.
—Whenever you want, come to my place —she told me, brushing my arm—. Give me a heads-up to make sure I’m there. I’m in the middle of moving right now, shuttling back and forth to the new house finishing details and buying things, but I’d love for you to see it.
We got back with plenty of time to meet the rest of the team. Before that, we went into a bathroom together to freshen up. We slipped into the same stall without saying a word, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Greta locked the latch, leaned against the door, and looked at me with that half-smile of hers.
—Help me —she murmured.
She lifted her dress and I, without thinking, knelt in front of her and pulled her panties down over her thighs. As I bent down, I got a close look at her furry little cunt, dark and damp with excitement, and I couldn’t help bringing my face to it. I breathed her in first, closing my eyes, and then I ran my tongue slowly from bottom to top, savoring the salt of her skin and the sweetness of the juice that had already spilled out of her. Greta gave a low gasp, bit her hand to keep from crying out, and buried the other one in my hair.
—Don’t stop —she whispered—, don’t stop or I’ll come in two seconds.
I parted the lips of her cunt with my fingers and found her clit with the tip of my tongue. It was swollen, stiff, throbbing against my mouth. I sucked it like a little candy, first with wide licks and then with my mouth closed around it, sucking it gently, tugging it with my lips. I slid in one finger, then two, and felt her cunt tighten all at once, the inner walls clamping down on my fingers in short spasms. She came without taking her eyes off me, grinding her teeth into her knuckle, her legs trembling so hard I had to hold her by the ass so she wouldn’t fall.
I licked up what was dripping down the insides of her thighs before standing. When I got back to her mouth, I kissed her and let her taste her own flavor off my tongue. Greta moaned into the kiss.
—Now you —she said, her voice hoarse, and turned me against the bathroom wall.
She yanked my dress up, ripped off my soaking panties, and stuffed them into my mouth like a makeshift gag. She made me spread my legs and I felt her fingers part my already slippery lips. She pushed three in at once, without mercy, and started fingering me hard, fast, curved, seeking out that spot inside. With her other hand she pinched a nipple over my clothes, twisting it until I was panting into the gag. Then she crouched down behind me, spread my ass cheeks, and sank her tongue into my hole while she kept working her fingers into me. She licked my ass and my pussy in alternation, with absolutely no hesitation, and my knees were shaking against the tiles.
I came biting down on the fabric of my own panties, eyes squeezed shut and forehead pressed to the cold wall, squirting a little burst of hot fluid that wet her chin. She laughed under her breath, wiped herself with the back of her hand, and stood up to kiss me again.
—Keep them on if you want —she said dryly, referring to my soaked panties—. Or put them in your bag, whatever you want.
Then, never taking her eyes off me, she took off hers completely, which were already hanging from one ankle, and placed them in my hand.
—Put them in your bag, it’s bigger than mine. I don’t feel like wearing them right now. I’ll put on another pair at the hotel for the trip back.
—You’re so dramatic —I replied, laughing as I put them away, my voice still broken up—. It’s not like a pair of panties takes up any space.
—But today I’d rather go without —she said, glancing sideways at me with a smile that was no longer innocent at all.
I felt the warm, wet fabric between my fingers before I closed the bag, and my mouth went dry. That tiny, almost silly gesture held a promise we both understood without needing to explain it.
—So do we wait for the new house thing? —I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
—Since we’ve come this far —she answered—, I’d rather you see it soon. I want you to notice the contrast between the rental apartment where I’ve lived all these years, which I’m not planning to keep any of, and the house I’ve bought, brand new and built exactly to my taste. It’s not in the center, but it’s completely mine.
The rest of the afternoon passed in meetings and work conversations, but I was barely there. I could feel the light weight of her panties in my bag every time I opened it, and every time my gaze met Greta’s across the table, we both had to look away or burst out laughing. I still wasn’t wearing panties under my dress, with my cunt throbbing and my thighs sticky with everything I hadn’t managed to clean off, and every time I crossed my legs under the table it sent a jolt through me that reminded me of what we’d just done.
On the flight back, with her asleep in the seat next to me and her head resting on my shoulder, I kept turning the same sentence over in my mind. Greta left me her panties and invited me to her house. I bit my lip while looking out the window at the clouds lit by the northern sun’s last glow, and thought, with a smile I couldn’t suppress: what could possibly go wrong?
