The Librarian Photoshoot

Erik’s sketch lies abandoned on his desk, he sits on his couch, staring at his phone, trying his best to distract himself by doom scrolling and reading random news articles about whatever war was started due to a politicians bruised ego. Vi had finished up another photoshoot, she told him that she would, as usual, send him the rough copies of the photos that will be sent to the person who requested the commission.

There was a part of Erik that felt…. Uneasy about a random man, that has never met Vi having photos of her in a… private sense. Sure, obviously, these two were freaks, they slept around they had their fun, but there was never anything permanent there. There exists a sense of unkown that a guy that Vi or Erik will never meet, having the ability to share Vi with people that Vi will never even know about.

Erik’s cock aches at the thought. It’s shameful, he knows it is, but with the unease, with the tightness in his chest, comes an excitement, comes an exhilaration.

—

Erik is giddy when the message from Vi comes in:

Lonely Librarian

Sunset

There sat Vi, wearing a conservative cream coloured turtle neck sweater that clung modestly to her curves, paired with a dark grey pleated skirt that ended just above her knee. She sat, perfectly straight, her hand supporting the weight of her face as she leans on the desk in front of her. The tall windows of the British inspired, old wooden library behind her basks the room with a tinge of orange as the sun sets. Books sitting neatly on their shelves populate the background behind her. Vi’s eyes are downcast at the textbook open on her desk, her lips pursed as she focuses, the lighting casting shadows on her. The soft warm desk lamp worked to illuminate her face while the rest of the library faded into shadows. At her feet, leaning on the table leg, lay a tote bag, peeking from the top, the title of a book, ‘The Farmers Lust’.

Curious

The next photo kept the same side on angle, the side of the desk and the close wall of the library remained, framing the setting of the photo. The sun has fallen a bit more now, blues starting to populate the lighting coming through the window. Vi still on the same chair, has pushed herself out now, her black heeled feet, now rested on the wooden desk itself, the tote bag on the floor turned on its side, a laptop and a phone spilling out of it’s entrance. The grey skirt crumples on her leg. A generous amount of smooth, shaved thigh visible to the camera, her elegantly crossed legs giving the illusion of a stretch. In her hands, replacing the textbook is the erotic novel. The title clear now, the cover graced with a shirtless ripped man, and a girl in a farmers outfit, overalls and all fawning over him, her hands on his abs and chest. Vi’s eyes were intense now, her mouth open, breathing heavily, her cheeks with a hint of rose to them, her lips slick with wetness. Her other hand rested at her own throat, a solitary finger hooked in the turtleneck, the content of the book no doubt starting to heat her up.

Lost

Vi has turned slightly, not for the benefit of the camera, but for her own. The unassuming cream turtleneck discarded now, betraying the publicness of her location, she leans back in the same wooden chair now, covered now by only a thin, white button up, the first three top buttons already undone. The teasing hint of a deep blue bra peeking out. Her lips remain parted, her face now fully flush with arousal. Still, her right hand, furthest away, gripped the novel, her other now clutching at her own breast, the white button up crumpled underneath her hand. Her legs now spread open, only just. The pleated skirt may as well be gone, sitting high on her thigh, crumpling at the point where leg meets hip, the slightest hint of a matching blue panty line now visible.

Indulgent

Vi has abandoned any sense of shame now. The novel still sat in her hand, opened at what can only be assumed at a particularly steamy scene. If her expression is anything to go by. Her eyes are transfixed now on the page, her mouth was open, breathing heavily, her eyes fluttered as she reads, her lips wet with arousal. Her white button up completely undone, almost falling off her shoulders, her toned midriff is arched upwards, her round full breasts held high and close on her chest but the blue lingerie bra. Her pleated skirt, unzipped on the side, now lies uselessly on the ground. Her left hand is stretched down her body, her fingers disappearing beneath her panties, a small bulge where her fingers curl the only tease of her actions. The lonely librarian had succumbed to her urges, a delicious image of dessert to anyone who dared to enter the library at that moment, she would surely not be able to deny herself. Her rosy cheeks, her moist skin from exertion, hints at a woman who is only beginning her descent into accepting all her filthy urges.

—-

As mentioned a few chaps ago. I don’t have access to images. I’ll keep trying to do this and refining my prose, let me know if you like it / if you have any suggestions to replace / expand the photoshoots plot line / any other suggestions.

- AP.