The cum you didn't notice on her face.

"Just a picture of my smiling face." She says.

And you feel dubious. That's what you thought the first time... but it's impossible to say no to that pretty face, so you take her camera, hold it up and look through it.

She gives you a big smile.

And you notice something you hadn't before. At first you can't believe it, but suddenly it's clear as day. There's something on Emma's face... and it's someone's jizz. Several big wads, splattered from forehead to chin.

And maybe it's the sight of pretty, sweet Emma Watson smiling at you with a cum-covered face, but something in you snaps. You don't take the picture.

"Wait!" you say, putting down the camera. Emma looks disappointed. "Do you really like doing this?"

"I'm the sweet girl that everyone thinks I am" She answers. "If I wasn't, this wouldn't be so much fun."

And you feel the anxiety and charm you've felt around Emma for the past few weeks turn to pure wanton lust. You decided that this situation is unacceptable. You're not going to be clown for some other man, taking pictures of Emma that get him off, while all you can do is go home at the end of the day and jerk off. You don't even know who the guy is but he get's Emma Watson's face to jerk off onto. You get a kleenex.

Not anymore. Immediately you have a plan.

"I'll take the picture... for your phone number." You say.

Emma gazes at you, her piercing eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I won't call you. I just want your number... or no picture." And you wonder if Emma's lust will **** her to play into your hands.

It does. She gives you her number, and true to your word you snap the picture of her cummy face. From there you know how it works. She takes her camera back and heads out the door, waving and shouting a cheerful. "Thanks hon!"

You think to yourself, you have seven days until she returns again. Seven days, one text a day, seven texts. If exposing herself is what gets Emma off, you can do better than whatever jerk she's with now.

You immediately compose the first text: "If I were your man, I'd make you take your cum covered face to a movie premiere, not some dumb porn store." And later that night you send it.

No response. With any luck, she's out with her guy, reading it in secret.

Over the next six days you send six more texts:

"If I were your man, I'd make you wear lingerie out on the town, instead of dresses."

"If I were your man, I'd write "Yes I am Emma Watson" on your pretty tits with a marker" and have you go around all day flashing people."

"If I were your man, I'd send you into the street to be undressed by strangers before you came to me for love."

"If I were your man, I'd fuck you so your breasts pressed against the large window of my apartment."

"If I were your man, I'd have you go out every day without panties on. Each time the paparazzi didn't get a crotch shot, you'd be punished."

and finally...

"If I were your man, you'd forget what clothing was."

And not a response to any of them. Part of you can't believe you're sending such smutty texts to beautiful Emma Watson. But the time for belief ended the first day she flashed you. This was reality now. You wonder what she thinks when she reads them. You wonder if she's come to look forward to them each day.

The next day you need not wonder any more. Right on cue, Emma comes walking into the store, clad in a loose sweater and a pair of Yoga pants. She walks up to you as usual. Will she be happy? Will she be mad?

She smiles. "Okay."

And you wonder... Okay what?"

"Okay. You're my man." Her sweet British accent plays over the words. You almost don't understand them at first. Then they start to sink in. "What do we do first?"