There’s some allure to him, and for once I can’t pinpoint the source. It could be his brashness, his direct appeal, his questioning knowing no boundaries. It could be the exhibitionist in him, the need to show off, the ache to be photographed. Most of all, I was drawn to the unruly curly hair, brown eyes shining, his eyebrows raised with a quizzical smile painted on his face in the photo he had sent.
So, how comfortable would you be photographing a foursome?
I had to think about my answer, I really did. And to be honest, I’d been asked to photograph a few friends sans clothes in the past. I had turned each offer down, and then immediately wondered if I had done the right thing afterward.
The artist in me yearned for new opportunities to expand and grow, and that meant in whatever circumstance, whatever medium. The voyeur in me was thrilled at the prospect of being witness to such a spectacle of flesh. But there was a part of me, a part I knew well, that was very hesitant. I wondered if put in such a position, such a prized and arousing position, would desire possess me and would I lose self control? The moment he had asked me the question, I envisaged the four of them, a cluster of lust, their moans and gasps filling the room along with the aroma of sex. I could see sweat mingled with come-covered bodies slapping together, orgasm chasing orgasm as hungry mouths and tongues collided. I could see me putting the camera down and joining in the fantasy, my pussy already soaking wet with their desires, their needs, the sexual tension strung in the air…
I snapped back to reality, my face flushed, warmth rushing through my body. I thought of him thrusting into some foreign cunt and shivered again. I had to give him a response.
When’s the shoot?