My heart raced as I stayed where I was, exposed and aching, my face pressed to the floor and my naked ass and dripping pussy pushed up in the air, inches from him.

“I promise I won't be embarrassed,” I whispered, my voice trembling, but not with fear. It was anticipation. “Ask me anything, Pete.”

There was a pause so long I thought he might not say anything at all. But then he exhaled, low and heavy.

“Can I touch you?”

My thighs clenched together instinctively, but my pussy—already throbbing and wet—betrayed me by clenching around nothing. I turned my head to look back at him, my cheek still pressed to the floor, my eyes working their way down his body to the front of his pants, where his cock was threatening to burst out of his pants.

“Yes,” I said simply.

Slowly, Pete set the camera down beside him, the sound of it being placed on the floor releasing a fresh wave of wetness between my legs.

The shoot was over.

He leaned closer, the presence of him behind me so visceral that I would feel him before he touched me, his large hands hovering just above my skin. When his fingertips finally brushed the curve of my ass, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be cumming all over whatever he gave me.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, almost to himself. His hands slid down, tracing the shape of me, gently squeezing my hips. His fingers teased the inner curve of my cheeks, and I couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. His hand slid lower, brushing against my wetness.

“Jesus, Sarah,” he breathed, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’re so wet.”

“I know,” I said, my voice trembling as I pushed my hips back slightly, inviting him closer. “I’ve been like this since we started.”

I let out a low, needy moan, and something in him shifted. His movements grew bolder, more hungry and when his finger finally brushed against my clit, my whole body jolted.

But he took it away again all too soon.

“Did you like that?” he asked, gripping my hips again as if to steady himself. I turned my head to look back at him again, meeting his gaze.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Fuck, Pete. Do whatever you want…”

“Anything?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Pete pulled away for a moment and I heard an awkward flurry of clothes and movement and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. I braced myself, desperate, needy, slutty. And then it came; the feel of something hard and thick and warm pressed between my dripping lips.

It felt incredible.

For a moment, he just stayed there, his cock pressed between my lips, his breathing heavy and uneven. Desperate for more, I moved my ass up and down a little, spreading my wetness up and down his shaft.

“Is that okay?” I asked, my body on the edge. “Or do you need…more?”

Peter took the bait, and slowly, carefully, he began to push inside me, a slow stretch that left me gasping for air. I reached back and clung to him, my nails digging into his thigh as he eased himself deeper, inch by inch. He moved with such care, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady as he filled me completely.

He pulled back just enough to thrust forward again, the movement slow and deliberate. And again. And again. Soon, his hips were rocking against mine in rhythm, the pace quickening, and soon I was lost in the sensation, my eyes rolling back in my head as he fucked me hard, driving my face hard against the floor with each thrust. The sound of our skin meeting, the low moans and gasps that filled the room, made me realise we wern’t best friends anymore–this was something more primal, more instinctual, fulfilling each others needs in the most base way, using each other as something to fuck.

When his hand slipped between us to rub my clit, it was all over. I cried out his name as I came, my body shuddering. Pete wasn’t far behind. With a low, guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside me, holding me there, his body tensing as I felt my pussy filling, overflowing, and then dripping down my leg.

It felt incredible.

We stayed like that for a moment, with him buried deep inside me.

“Sarah,” he said, his breathing returning to normal, his hands still holding my hips. “That was…” He trailed off.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my head and looking back at him with him still inside me. “It really was.”

Pete shifted back, his hands finally releasing my hips and more cum dripping down my thighs. I turned over and sat up, and we shared an awkward laugh.

“So, uh…” he started, his cock still hard and glistening with our combined juices. I had the wild urge to lick it clean but tried to ignore it. “How was my photography?”

“Oh, perfect,” I laughed, the tension suddenly breaking and Pete becoming Pete again. ‘Highly professional. Excellent lighting. Did not ruin the mood by cumming in my pussy.’”

“Hey! No fair,” he said, mock offended. Every time he looked away I found my eyes drifting down to his cock. “In my defense, you were the one making things distracting.”

“Distracting?” I teased, raising an eyebrow, pretending I didn’t know what a teasing slut I’d been and how much it hard turned me on to break him. “I guess you just couldn’t handle it.”

“Handle it?” he asked, watching as I absently rubbed my thumb over my nipple, extracting a little more sensation while my pussy was still tingling. “I seemed to handle it pretty well.”

I nodded. I couldn’t argue with that.

We were silent for a moment, and then I remembered how this all started; me, late at night with a glass of wine, browsing slutty cosplays and feeling empowered and daring and slutty. I was struck with a sudden idea. I looked him deep in the eyes and smiled.

“What outfit should we do next time?”