Shutter

His photography business had moved from the ranks of fledgling to that of a very busy, part-time job. He had a nice office in his home and a 400 square foot building that was his studio. He often had his new clients in his office to talk of the things they wanted in a picture. Some senior pictures, some glamour shots, some boudoir photography, and even a little sexy calendar work were all on his resume'. The clients would look at the finest examples of his work that adorned his office. Several shots of models, some amateur and some pro, posing with various cars and motorcycles, some waterfall shots of a silhouetted nude, some shots of young models trying to make it big....but one photo on the wall always caught everyone's attention. It was a large sixteen by twenty photo of....well.....no one was really sure what it was. No one really had the courage to ask. Was it abstract art? Some sort of highly intellectual thing that no one really liked except other photographers? What was it? It looked to be a picture of a room taken at night. Moonlight poured through a bay window onto a large bed covered in twisted sheets. The contrast of darkness and perfect white sheets was certainly beautiful...but what was the point. He noticed people stealing glances at the picture, but never asking, just glancing with curiosity. He always smiled at this. Sometimes when the room was quiet, and the clients had all been taken care of, he would look at the picture and be covered with a calm. A feeling of total solace and peace. Because he knew the story behind the picture.....

*****

It was a year earlier. He had been in his studio working diligently on a shoot for the next day. An aspiring model was having several pictures taken for a comp card, and he has working on very large set that had been in construction for several weeks. The large four-poster bed was on loan from a friend who owned an antique shop. He had tried different fabric, different angles, but it had yet to come together. He settled on a purple window treatment and white sheets, hoping for a high contrast look. He tried to picture it in his mind...but his mind's eye was failing him this time.

He spoke of the process and difficulties at his "real job". He talked to his friends, particularly his female colleague with whom he carried on many conversations, some more personal than others. Circumstances had conspired that she have a free evening that night, and she wondered if she might come over and see his studio for the first time. He quickly accepted the offer, not just because he loved to show his studio any time, but because he had special feelings for her, and he wanted to spend more time with her.

He went home that evening and cleaned up his studio as best he could, laughing at himself for acting like a teenager having over his first date. The thought of having her over made his heart race, so much so that he was afraid he might seem less than at ease with having her around. He sat down to calm himself. He sat in his director's chair facing the new set. His thoughts wandered to tomorrow, and what would he come up with. His thoughts consumed him, so much so that he didn't hear her drive up, or get out of her car. He startled when she opened the door at the other end of the studio. His hear raced to see her. She said she would help him set up, and true to her word she wore her sweatpants and sweatshirt with her hair pulled back, ready to work. Even dressed down she looked fantastic. Her hair pulled back left her beautiful long neck on display. The photographer in him recognized the uncommon beauty in her neck and eyes, and the obvious attraction of her long legs that was obvious to anyone. Her gray sweatsuit fit loosely, concealing the beauty underneath that she was oblivious to. They adjusted the window treatment and ruffled the sheets perfectly. The finishing touch was the arrangement of oversized pillows that added the air of luxury and arrogant beauty. She climbed all over the large bed, adjusting this and that, while he arranged the camera, taking light readings and such. He was looking through his lens when she stopped for a moment to rest, leaning over on one of the pillows and lying her head down. She was oblivious to his actions, and only the sound of the shutter on the camera got her attention.

"Oh my..tell me you did NOT take my picture!"

He laughed and adjusted the telephoto lens to frame her face. She rolled her eyes, but reluctantly gave him a wry smile. The shutter clicked again. He stood up from behind the camera. The look on his face said more than words ever could. He gave her the look she had seen from time to time in their moments alone. Moments were she wondered if they would be able to maintain their agreed upon rules of engagement. Several times they had been alone, and when he kissed her neck and pulled at her nipples, she wondered if she would be able to tell him to stop if he asked for more. He would get a look that burned from her heart to between her legs making her week. The look was serious, almost like he was trying to read her soul by staring deep enough in her eyes. This was the look he had now, only for once they were in a place it could flourish. She always tried to rebuff him and stay in control. This time she was tired from the struggle and just wanted to finally be taken. When he looked at her like that she felt beautiful.

He said nothing. He walked to a corner of the set and turned on an array of tungsten lights. The gold light shown down on her shoulder and legs and the length of her body. He walked to the other side and turned on another set of tungsten lights, these smaller ones shining above onto her hair and shoulders. Finally, he turned on a small light at the base of the camera which filled in the light on her face. All the lights made her the center of his attention. She remembered all the times he told her she was beautiful and that she should appreciate herself more. She decided to take the leap of faith and trust him. She met his intense gaze with one of her own. Their eyes locked, a look that told him he was both trusted and appreciated.

No one spoke. This was significant because both loved talking to the other and words flowed freely between them. They spoke to each other all day and when they weren't together they were writing stories to each other. Words were huge in their interaction...but not this time. They had spoken all they needed to, and what they both felt right now didn't need words to communicate.

She broke the gaze with him and grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt, pulling it off in one movement. Tossing it to the side opposite the camera, she just as swiftly pulled the clip from her and let it fall to her shoulders. Rising to her knees she pulled her sweatpants and socks off and tossed them in the heap with the shirt. She wore matching black panties and bra. The set was lacey, and fit her tall frame perfectly. She laid back on the pillow and looked him in the eyes. She saw him struggle to swallow, relieved that he had the same cotton mouth that she did right now. He blinked his eyes hard, coming back to some senses. He looked through the camera and took another picture. She turned her head to the side, letting her hair fall over her face and kept her gaze on him. Another shutter click. She rolled on her side away from him and stretched her long leg out, giving him a delicious view of her long legs. Click. She brought a leg up to her chest and arched her back, pushing her butt out. Her panties rode up, exposing her delicious round ass to the camera. Click. She rolled over to her back again, meeting his gaze once more. Never breaking eye contact, she reached up to the front clasp of her bra and undid it with one fluid motion. The bra snapped to her sides, leaving her long nipples pointing in the air. Her right finger absent-mindedly traced the hard pebble as he clicked off several shots. She rose to her knees and turned away from him. Holding her arms above her head she stretched her long frame, letting him shoot what he pleased. She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes through the camera lens. She slowly put her thumbs on the waistband of the panties and slid them down and down. He snapped shots as the panties fell to her knees. She rose up a knee alternately and fished the silky garment off and onto the floor. Again she raised her arms, letting his photograph her nude body. She eased onto her hands and arched her butt out to him. All the lighting exposed the wet shine between her legs. Click.

She rolled onto her back, propped up by one of the large pillows. He briefly let his eyes rise over the camera to look at her. She looked at him with the same expression he had given her so many times. Pure desire and longing. She let her left hand go to her breasts and pull at her long nipples. Her right hand took a long sweep of her wetness, stopping briefly to tickle her clit. Click. She let her left hand join her right between her legs. She rubbed furiously, stopping once to pull herself open to him and expose as much as she could. One finger disappeared inside her and she rolled her eyes back in her head at the feeling of something finally inside her. Her long finger dipped in and out. She was lost in the intimate feelings, not noticing his movement. He took the remote to the camera and made his way towards the bed. The sight of her beautiful nude body was long dreamt of, and finally his for the taking. He eased up beside the bed, careful to go unnoticed while she pleasured herself with her hand. Her rhythm increased until she cried out in orgasm. As the orgasm subsided, he planted a warm kiss on her neck. Startled her eyes opened and found him not six inches from her face. She looked almost scared with him this close. He liked her at ease, so he put his warm hand to her face and kissed her deeply, but slowly. As the kiss broke, she heard the click of the shutter and only did then she notice the remote in his hand.

He took his other hand and cupped hers, which was still pleasuring her. He took control of her hand and slowed the pace of her thrusting finger. Curling his middle finger under hers, he slipped his own digit in with hers. She moaned at the feeling of more fullness and she soon tensed up with another orgasm. As the wave inside her built to its peak, he took her hard nipple between his lips and tickled the end with his tongue. She crashed through another orgasm, not noticing the clicking of the shutter. He pulls their fingers from her, and raising them to his mouth he licks the honey off of them.

Standing before her, he pulls his shirt off quickly while she works the belt and zipper of his pants. She slowly pulls his pants and boxers down at the same time, exposing more and more of his thick pole. As each inch is exposed she thinks of how that thick inch will translate into pleasure once it's inside her. Finally the waistband reaches the tip and his hardness springs out straight. He helps her get the rest of his clothes off, her gaze never leaving his cock. She looks up and down him, her face and mouth just an inch away from him. She finally looks up at him, and closing her eyes with pleasure she opens her mouth wide and takes his balls in her mouth. He can feel her tongue sliding around his hairless sac, rolling each full ball in her mouth. She trails saliva up him to the swollen head of his cock. Never letting their eyes unlock, she pops the hard ridge of his cock head in her lips and sucks on his most sensitive spot. He must break the gaze to allow his head to drop back and his eyes to roll into darkness. His long moans match her long strokes and she uses her hand and mouth to please him. Her lips dance on his cock head, and her fingernails trace his rising balls.

Turning from her he walks over to a main power supply and switches it off, turning off every light in the studio at once. The bed is only lit by the window. The moon frames her perfectly. The sudden loss of lights translates to colder air quickly. She lies back on a pillow and spreads her legs far apart and puts one arm over her head while reaching out to him with the other. He walks back to the bad, taking her hand and the invitation. She pulls him on top of her, and throws the blankets over their bodies and heads. He fits right to her like a puzzle piece. His head finds her shoulder and neck, his arms circle around her back, and his hard dick finds the warm opening it desires. Holding her firmly he pushed into her, letting his cock head open her up. She kisses his forehead and tilts her pelvis up, asking for all of him. He buries himself in her like a lion, not stopping until he has nothing more to give. She cries out at the sudden impalement, she burns between her legs for a moment, but is turned on by him taking what he has wanted for so long. She is no virgin, but yet he makes her feel like one. Her heart races as though it is her first time, and her wet pussy stretches to accommodate his size.

He doesn't pound in and out of her, not does he take slow strokes. His movement is deliberate and long. Each stroke out ends with her closing completely as his head slides out, only to be re-opened and re-stimulated as he enters her again. With each long stroke she wonders if he will run out of room, but he does not. He fits inside her perfectly, like he was built to pleasure her body. His arms hold her tighter, and his long strokes gain speed and momentum. She feels yet another orgasm beginning, but it is nothing like the first two. This orgasm does not start in her pelvis, or even between her legs. This orgasm started two years ago, the first time they flirted. It started the first time he touched her, and the first time she saw his face which showed the depth of his long for her. The orgasm had been building for months and years. She took a deep breath and let it take her. Her eyes clinched, pulse quickened, legs drawing up tighter. She felt his arms squeezing the air out of her, letting her know that so many days of desire were getting the best of him, too. She had the instinct to fight it, to delay the orgasm as long as she could, but something told her this was different. They had fought so many things out of their control for so long, that this time they would not fight anymore. She relaxed her legs and brought his face up in her hands so they could look in each other's eyes again. Their eyes fluttered. Their mouths contorted to both hold back and release the pleasure that was taking them.

And she came. She felt the wave of pleasure start in her groin and wave out to her extremities. She couldn't tell where the pleasure was centered, only that it ruled her entire body and mind. He struggled to keep his eyes open, he wanted to continue to look into her soul, but his last thrust in was too much for his body to fight. He squeezed her so tight she thought she might not get her breath. Suddenly he moaned, and the grip around her back relaxed as his seed spurted out inside her. Though no one moved, she felt his body finishing what it wanted for so long. His thick cock, already stuffed inside, twitched as it emptied its load. She felt his warm juice mix deep inside her belly, where it belonged.

He put his head in her shoulder. Their arms wrapped around each other, determined not to let go of what had taken so long to get. Her internal muscles slowly milked his wilting cock of the last of its content. The only sounds that were to be heard were each other's heartbeat, beating like a metronome that would take them to sleep. They beauty of the moment did not get past them. As they lay underneath a mountain of twisted blankets, a tear formed in the corner of her eye. He also did not want the moment to end, and he did the only thing he knew of to make sure that it never would, at least not completely.

He pressed the remote and heard the shutter one last time.