The Photo Shoot

"Mon Dieu! Darling! A little more relaxed, please! Show me your tits!"

Patrick stood there, his heavy camera in his hand, and looked unhappy. Bridget shrugged her shoulders. "The photo shoot wasn't my idea!" she said apologetically. It wasn't her idea. That's true. But when Patrick invited her to Paris for a photo shoot, she didn't need to be asked twice and immediately said "yes".

Admittedly, Bridget had assumed that the idea of the photo shoot was just an excuse for Patrick to see her again. Actually, a certain Frederick - and not Patrick - was Bridget's male point of contact in the Seine metropolis. Frederick was a little older, wealthy, elegant and extremely generous when it came to beautiful women. Frederick also had very precise expectations when it came to women. They should have a good sexual appetite, a preference for sexual submission and BDSM and be able to be pampered and carried on men's hands. No wonder that Bridget got on well with Frederick from the very first moment. The same was true the other way round.

Patrick had come into the picture when Frederick had organized a wild sex orgy. Patrick, an artistically gifted and somewhat dreamy guy with an incredibly fine nose for all kinds of scents, turned out to be an impetuous but skilled lover at this party. Even then Patrick had the idea for a photo shoot, but Bridget had put him off.

Now Bridget was standing here in his studio. Actually she was sitting on an old Triumph motorcycle that Patrick had brought up to the top floor of a disused department store especially for the shoot. Bridget had the saddle of the bike between her thighs, her legs, clad in vulgar patent leather overknee boots from Pleaser, stood on the battered floorboards and her arms, clad in black satin cuffs, clung to the handlebars of the vintage motorcycle. Bridget wore a provocative one-piece from Catanzaro: wet look, the wide open zipper gave a generous view of her well-oiled tits.

"We're taking a break!" sighed Patrick. It was late morning and the shoot had not gone as he had imagined. Bridget had climbed off the motorbike in the meantime and the two of them were now looking at the photos taken so far on Patrick's laptop. The pictures were sexy and Bridget looked very good in the photos - but something was missing. Patrick was right about that.

" We'll call a delivery service an eat a little something, okay? How about Asian?" asked Patrick.

"I'd love to!" replied Bridget. She had now sat down on the old sofa and was looking out of the large windows of the department store that Patrick had converted into a studio. There was a blue sky with fast-moving white clouds and the roofs of the fourteenth arrondissement. It was a sunny Saturday and you could hear the hustle and bustle from the streets all the way into this inconspicuous backyard. A dog barked in the distance; a car honked.

Patrick had stepped out onto the narrow roof terrace. The term terrace didn't really fit, because this outdoor area was much too narrow for a terrace, barely more than a meter wide. He was on the phone.

Bridget's thoughts took on a life of their own. The photo shoot had probably been so dull because it had felt like a job. Of course, putting makeup on her face, painting her nails and oiling her body had put her in the mood in a certain way. But these fixed rituals of her femininity had not been followed by a wild party, no boisterous dancing in the club or even a fine dinner in an exquisite restaurant. And Patrick had been strangely professional, almost sterile that morning. Bridget sighed. She slipped off her boots and swung her legs onto the sofa. It would be a while before dinner.

When the doorbell rang, Bridget awoke from a dreamless slumber. She slowly sat up and slipped back into her sinful overknee boots. The smooth material felt heavenly, the patent leather reflected the light. The cherry red of the boots was a sexual signal color that left no questions unanswered. Bridget felt that she was really hungry now. Good thing the delivery service had already rung.

But the man Patrick had greeted at the front door and then led into the loft was definitely not from a delivery service.

"Bridget, may I introduce you to Ethan? Ethan, this is Bridget!"

Bridget felt as if the sun had risen. Ethan seemed happy and gave her a casual grin. "Hi Bridget!", he said and took Bridget, who had just stood up, in his arms. The tall man gave her two welcoming kisses on the cheeks. Ethan looked at her benevolently. Bridget did the same in return: the guy was well-trained, smelled pleasant and had lively eyes. Bridget was sure that North African genes had provided this classy touch that had instantly put Bridget in a more than just pleasant vibe.

"I met Ethan at a photo shoot!" Patrick began to tell her. "He's familiar with situations like this!"

After greeting her, Bridget sat down on the couch again and Ethan sat down next to her. "I work in the erotic industry!" Ethan explained coolly.

"You're a porn star?" Bridget blurted out and immediately regretted once again that she had such a loose tongue. Ethan laughed. "It says 'erotic actor' on my website. But I guess porn star is also accurate!"

"But that's only half the truth! Ethan has a degree in ethnology and runs a small antiquarian bookshop!" Patrick joined in the conversation. Bridget had the feeling that Patrick wanted to protect Ethan with this information. But Bridget had no problem with Ethan's job. On the contrary. Her curiosity had been aroused.

"Are you going to make a porn film with me and Ethan now? Or what is this all leading to?" Bridget turned to Patrick, giggling. He immediately calmed her down. "But no! That wouldn't be for me! I just thought that Ethan could help us get over our creative lull. With his routine in front of the camera, I mean!"

"Do you have a lot of routine in front of the camera?" Bridget asked the man sitting next to her flirtatiously. Ethan put his hand on Bridget's thigh as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Shall I show you some of my work?" He winked with his right eye as he asked his cheeky counter question.

"Why not? That would be a nice way to pass the time until the food arrives!" Bridget explained. She instinctively licked her lower lips. The man's hand on her thigh felt pleasant, engaging and confidential.

"You want to watch porn now?" Patrick asked, visibly astonished. He had probably imagined Ethan's involvement in this photo shoot to be different. Bridget and Ethan didn't react at all to Patrick's question because Ethan had already taken his smartphone out of his pocket and started the first little film. What Bridget saw immediately revived the spirits between her thighs. And her heartbeat was also noticeable in a stimulating way. Ethan put an arm around her shoulders.

"Impressive!" she said after a while and now put her hand on Ethan's thigh. The presence of this man felt good...

Patrick also noticed the increasing erotic tension: "Slow down, guys! We want to take a few more artistically valuable pictures!", he intervened. But Ethan and Bridget ignored the unsettled artist once again. Ethan's hand had slipped further up, his little finger felt two centimeters away from the zipper that led down through Bridget's crotch and up two hand widths on her bottom. Bridget felt the warmth on her cheeks and the heat between her thighs. "Ethan, keep your hands off!" gasped Patrick. Then the doorbell rang again. The delivery service.

As soon as Patrick had turned his back on his heavily flirtatious models, Ethan grabbed the blonde woman at his side and kissed her passionately. His hand obviously didn't stay where it had just been. The warmth and horny moisture between the women's thighs told Ethan what he already knew: this lady had a temperament. She wasn't shy either. If you then add her cute proportions and her charm, you had to come to the conclusion that this Bridget was an erotic hit. Ethan decided not to let this sexual jackpot be taken away from him.

When Patrick came back, the two of them slowed down a bit. Patrick had several Styrofoam containers with him, and it smelled exotic. Ethan grabbed a curry rice dish, loaded the small wooden fork and offered Bridget the fragrant treat. Bridget willingly opened her mouth and pulled the morsel from the fork with her carefully made-up lips. The little feeding was surprisingly intimate and Bridget hoped that Ethan would continue with his erotic game. "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach!", as the old saying goes. Bridget thought that sex and food also went well together.

Ethan did Bridget the favor and already brought the second morsel to the hungry woman's mouth. He smiled with pleasure. It took a lot of self-control not to open his own mouth at the same time as Bridget received the fork. Bridget felt a gentle spiciness in her mouth and a growing desire in her crotch.

"Do you have a dessert for me too?" Bridget asked heatedly after the small container was empty.

"You'll get your dessert, I promise you!", Ethan replied with a mischievous expression on his face. He started to kiss Bridget again. But Patrick disturbed this further approach. Bridget now regretted that Patrick was still here.

"If you're full, please freshen up! I don't want to see any food residue in the corners of your mouth in the photos!", he explained, trying to appear relaxed. In fact, he looked quite tense.

Bridget had been in the bathroom for less than three seconds and was just about to freshen up her make-up when Ethan squeezed into the small bathroom next to her. Bridget saw in the bathroom mirror that Ethan was winking at her conspiratorially. She smiled back. "Did Patrick allow that?", she whispered to Ethan, giggling. She felt like a schoolgirl who had secretly smuggled a boy into her room on a school trip.

"He's all busy with his cameras and the light!", Ethan replied quietly. "But don't let me bother you!" He pointed with his chin to the lipstick in her right hand.

As Bridget put the lipstick back on, she felt a hand slide between her thighs from behind and begin to open the zipper in her crotch. Her body reacted to this touch faster than her mind: her pulse increased suddenly, her breathing became more intense, all the pores in her body seemed to open: her cheeks turned red, red spots formed on her cleavage and her pussy opened like a flower at sunrise.

Ethan's sexual advances had had such arousing effect that the blonde found it difficult to put her expensive lipstick down on the edge of the sink in a somewhat controlled movement. When she had done this, she clung to the washbasin and tilted her head back expectantly. Ethan kissed the part of her neck that the woman had stretched. This gesture seemed like an invitation to him to continue his caresses. Ethan pushed the tight latex of the body upwards. He now had unhindered access to this wonderfully round, fleshy bottom. The woman provocatively stretched this very bottom towards Ethan the next moment.

"Show what you are able to do!" the woman whispered. It didn't take long and Bridget felt the proof that Ethan was a pro at fucking between her wet thighs: With dreamlike certainty and precision and with pleasurable slowness, Ethan pushed his enormous magic wand into her greedy hole. "Shit!" the woman moaned appreciatively. She couldn't believe the sensational stimuli of pleasure her brain had just received from her womb. Reflexively, she pushed her pelvis even further towards the man, with the result that Ethan's cock pressed even deeper into her. Now Ethan also let out an inarticulate sound of pleasure. "You would be the perfect porn star!" Ethan gave a dubious compliment. His voice sounded strained. He began to develop a sensual rhythm. "Really?" Bridget replied, panting. She saw herself in a brief daydream: in the middle of a sex scene, cameras, lights and microphones around her, sound technicians, assistant directors and people from the make-up department staring in amazement between her legs. Ethan, the porn star, was just going about his daily work there...

"The way you fuck, definitely!" Ethan whispered. He had increased the tempo of the sex act again. Bridget's loins slapped in sync against the cold porcelain of the sink. What she saw in the mirror robbed her of her mind. But the next moment Ethan pulled away from the woman. Bridget was caught completely off guard by the sexual retreat maneuver. "No! Why?" she complained, panting, because she wanted more.

"The dessert! Or have you already forgotten that I promised you a treat for dessert!"

Bridget remembered. She grinned lasciviously. "Then serve me your treat!" she told the man.

"On your knees, Mon Cherie!" Ethan ordered. "Dessert is to be enjoyed on your knees!" Overknees were fuck boots, there could be no doubt about that. Without her patent red Pleasers, Bridget would now be kneeling on the hard bathroom tiles with bare knees. Thanks to her boots, her position was now quite comfortable: she was in front of and between these men's legs, one hand on the man's bulging testicles, the other on the strong base of his cock. His cock had developed an impressive firmness. Bulging veins covered Ethan's pleasure rod. With a few skillful movements, Bridget got out another millimeter or two. Her sexual impatience was not enough for more and she treated herself to the dessert that had been talked about the whole time.

Ethan hadn't promised too much. The dessert he served was moist and hot and rock hard and stretched to bursting point. His cock was just as Bridget wanted it to be. It tasted of man and sex and Bridget couldn't get enough of it. The blonde woman enjoyed every moment, savoring the gem with her lips, her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. Suddenly the man's pelvis began to tremble and the most seductive of all desserts was refined with a generous portion of cream...

"Better, much better!" Patrick was delighted. He pressed the shutter button on his high-tech system camera again. Bridget was sitting on her back on the tank of the Triumph, Ethan on the saddle of the old motorcycle. The man held the woman by the hips and had buried his face between the blonde's latex-wrapped breasts. The woman, in turn, had thrown her head and long hair back and was enjoying her partner's touches with a dreamy expression.

“We’re done!” Patrick finally declared. Curiously, he scrolled through the most recent photos on the camera’s small screen. “This Asian menu worked wonders!” he declared enthusiastically. “Bridget, you’re glowing in the photos! Simply wonderful!”

“And what about me?” Ethan asked, amused.

“You’re always perfect in front of the camera!” Patrick hurried to avoid a potential faux pas. Bridget snuggled up to Ethan. “Not just in front of the camera!” she whispered tenderly in his ear.

“Want more?” Ethan asked quietly.

“Oh, yes!” Bridget replied immediately and let her hand slide over the man’s muscular butt.

Ethan went to his jacket, which he had laid over the back of an old chair. He pulled out several euro notes. Then he turned to Patrick: “Make sure you get out of here! Go to the cinema or pass the time in some other way. But don't show your face here before tomorrow morning!"

Patrick stared at his friend Ethan in shock. But Ethan had already put his hand on his shoulder and was pushing him gently towards the exit. "But what about my camera?"

"You can put the things away tomorrow!" explained Ethan. "And maybe there will be a few other photos on your camera then?" Ethan grinned ambiguously.

"I'm already gone!" Patrick gave in. He didn't seem particularly happy about being thrown out of his own studio. But Ethan had spontaneously stepped in today when he had asked him to save the stalled photo shoot. So, it was only fair that he showed his gratitude now.

After Ethan had led Patrick out of his own studio and closed the door, he returned to Bridget full of anticipation. She had now sat down on the old chair, backwards: her arms were resting comfortably on the armrest, her head was resting on the back of her hand. The blonde woman had taken off her clothes and was now completely naked - apart from the red overknee boots. Ethan's gaze involuntarily wandered from the woman's lustful eyes to between her spread legs. The bright, wet red of her gaping pussy was impossible to miss. It matched the red of the overknee boots perfectly.

"Want some hot photos?" asked the woman, looking the man straight in the eyes. Ethan said nothing. Instead, he reached for the camera, adjusted the lens and pressed the shutter.