Finding the right angle

The camera flashed, sending stark contrasts across the wide space. Turning the girl’s already pale skin to china, and picking out every artistic detail on her tattoos. Lacey didn’t even blink. She was good at what she did… Even Mark could tell. Could see how dedicatedly she slipped into the role of ‘friendly neighbourhood temptress’. How carefully aware she was of every element of her own attractiveness, and how to bring each to the fore or hide it subtly in the background. This was a girl who had made a living out of showing just enough… and then, perhaps offering to sell just a little bit more. She clearly enjoyed what she did… and had spent long hours actually thinking about how she could do it better. Yet, still… there was something missing. Some spark that seemed absent from every image he captured, that had been just effortlessly there in every photo of Stacy he’d taken.

It was infuriating. Not least because he couldn’t even work out what the problem was. The pictures were all… okay. They just weren’t right. Both the women with him tried to offer encouragement. Reassurance. To tell him that these were fine… But he could see it in their eyes… They could tell as well. Monica tried offering a thousand ideas and technique changes. Lacey pulled out all the kinky posing stops… nothing quite made it work. It all just felt… plastic. Faked. Like a pantomime-dressed fashion-victim doused in occasional spurts of kindergarten craft-glue. It didn’t look sexy… it looked ridiculous. And not because Monica’s faux-spunk was in any way unconvincing… but just because something in Lacey’s eyes remained unconvinced themselves.

Mark racked his brain for how to fix this. For how to communicate the problem without insulting or attacking his first ever paying client… How to avoid facing another furiously sticky confrontation with a young lady he’d just painted in off-white trails. When suddenly… an image popped into his head of the last time he had indeed been faced with such a creature… Of how her gaze had smouldered, even as spunk dripped from her eyelashes. Of how, even then... Deep in those flame-filled irises… You could see a sordid delight in being made such a mess of… In an instant, Mark had his inspiration.

“Lacey… how about this time… try looking pissed off instead. Like… Someone’s come up and done this to you without asking.”

The girl looked confused for a second… but at this point was clearly willing to give anything a go. Mark caught a glimpse of her own frustrations slipping through the cracks in her oh-so-polished smile. He caught it… there. In just the way she squared her shoulders. Creased an eyebrow. Pouted her lips. He got her to kneel down and shot from above, catching the glint of a slimy trail sliding into her cleavage.

“Okay… now mess up your clothing a little… slide one shoulder out… sit yourself back like you just don’t care how anyone sees you anymore… maybe take off your panties and threaten to throw them at me…”

Lacey had to suppress a giggle at that last one, but she followed every instruction to the letter, holding on to that irritated look of slime-covered indignation. It was working. Mark could tell, even though he’d stopped looking at each frame he’d caught in order to just snap one after another.

“That’s it! …Imagine it’s actually real semen you’re covered in. Imagine that it smells. That it’s warm. That it’s weirdly salty. Your disgusted by it really… but it also makes you horny. You’re starting to realise that you like something that you really don’t think you should like… which just makes you angrier and hornier at the same time. So you’re just play-fighting really. Making yourself look cross, but also making it obvious you’ll forgive the one who's done this to you…”

The slime-spattered girl was really starting to get into the swing of this now. She’d found the flow to slip into. Slowly she began dismantling her outfit, offering each new revealed curve to be stolen by the circling lens. Monica dipped in and out, applying or removing a little more gluey gunk. Changing lighting angles or passing in props. But this was Mark’s show now, without complaint. Both women were simply being swept along in the river he’d fallen for.

Lacey, in particular seemed to be genuinely feeling all the emotions he was offering her. The teen was becoming increasingly red-cheeked and inspired by the story he was telling. Until, suddenly. Without warning... She dived forwards and undid his fly.

Mark hadn’t even realised himself that his jeans had become rather tight at the memories he was dredging up. Yet, in an instant, his erection was tumbling free. Lacey cupped a palm around it and hugged it to one slimey cheek. Offering a tentative little smile that only half asked permission.

“This’ll make it look more convincing!” She spouted, before immediately setting to work licking and slurping upon him. Mark had a moment of slight panic, whirling his head around to catch his temporary employers reaction. Monica just smirked and shrugged though… ‘She’s the one paying for the shoot…’ that look said. Somehow, the young man suddenly got the impression that this wasn’t the first time one of Monica’s ‘sessions’ had got a little more involved. Perhaps that was why she had been keeping him away...

It seemed that all he could do was return to riding that wave. Turning the camera back down to focus on the young lady currently gobbling down on his own flesh. It occurred to Mark that this was only the second girl he’d ever got a blowjob off… somehow that didn’t seem quite so relevant as it might have once.