#parkermunson

eddie gets over-excited and accidentally bumps your teeth when kissing. he pulls away feigning hurt, holding his lip with a pout, just to laugh and say "just jokin, sweetheart"

eddie pushes you on his bed and your head bumps the wall a little. you spend the next 5 minutes convincing him you're totally fine and you should really get back to the task at hand because you're so. turned. on.

eddie who gets ahead of himself and tries taking off his jeans while walking only to fall flat on his face. you can't help but break down laughing and neither can he

you're on top riding him like your life depends on it and he grips your hips harshly to stop. you look at him confused only to watch him swat your hair away from his face and fake cough

you change positions to missionary. you're so close, eddie is too, but then "fuck, CRAMP. CRAMP! MY LEG"

eddie's back to grinding into you, faces so close together intimately. "did you have.. *sniff* garlic for lunch?"

stopping midthrust to sneeze

he stops again moments later, sighs and mentions he forgot to do something. "it can wait... no it can't." he grabs a shirt to place in front of him and runs out of his room. you hear a bunch of clanking metal then he's back. "wayne wanted me to take food out of the freezer for him. nearly knocked over the fridge, i was moving too fast"

he climbs on top and puts his cold hands on your belly

gets too excited and keeps missing your hole.

he's thrusting in you when you put your hand on his chest to stop him. "i hate this song." "babe, we talked about this. sabbath will never get turned off during sex." "but can't you change just this song? lower it maybe??" he pulls out, walks to the stereo, and turns it up

you get on your knees in front of him, his hands dig into your hair. he stops you just as your mouth is about to devour him, "nope, you're right. this song sucks"

your mouth is gliding over his cock, his hand is gripping your hair. he's thrusting into your mouth but pulls out suddenly. gasping, "that was a close one. almost came in your mouth when it's your puss-puss that's hungry." you grimace at his words. "yeah, i heard how bad that sounded too but i ran with it anyway"

you're back on top riding him, this time with your hair in a bun. you start slow, but get impatient and start bouncing quicker. you've both been waiting for release and now you finally get to it. eddie's fingers are digging into your hips while your nails are clawing into his upper chest. you ride it out and collapse on top of him, your breathing synchronises as it slowly comes down

you sit up and look down at him. "hi," you whisper. "hi," he chuckles back.

eventually you get up and both of you slide some underwear on. he turns to you with a hand held up toward you. "great teamwork back there, champ." he's expecting a high five but you just shake your head and make your way toward the bathroom. "well.. practice is same time next week"

The footsteps in the hallway were almost too quiet to hear if there were any other sounds to be heard. His eyes peering in the crack in the door looked like glowing orbs from a wolf waiting to devour its prey. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he opened the door with a smile. "Think I've made you wait long enough...," his voice gravelly and deep. The smile turned venomous, his sultry charm immediately giving way to his dominance. He drew closer to your sitting position on the bed, a ringed finger gliding up your jawline to your cheekbone. Your body was quickly becoming jelly under his height. "Tonight... I want to see how many times I can make you cum before you use your safe word." You could feel your insides flutter, the thought alone sent warmth and wetness to your cunt.

"Actually," your voice shook and your cheeks reddened at the lack of confidence, "I want to try something different."

"Oh?" His eyes widened at you, waiting on your words. The few ideas you brought up became staples in the bedroom. It was you who suggested using handcuffs the first time, and now they were basically a part of your wardrobe behind closed doors.

"Yeah," the nerves finally subsiding. Your voice sounded like honey with the new found confidence bubbling inside you, making your body move of its own accord. You sat up from the bed, moving to stand beside him. He was still taller, but the look in his eyes flickered at this sudden change. Your fingers travelled up his sides to the collar of his shirt, the gentle touch sending chills through him. His eyes bore into yours, an unspoken challenge of power. You held his gaze, unwavering. "Strip."

The twitch in his eye presented his internal battle. He's never been told what to do by a partner. He was always in charge. But the way his cock kicked at your command told him this was worth trying.

Just when you thought he was about to put up a fight, he grabbed at his shirt, ripping it over his head and moving down to fumble with his belt before his shirt even hit the floor. His jeans and boxers fell in a heap around his ankles, the belt thumping against the floor below. He stepped out the pile, leaving his hands in fists at his sides, waiting on the next order. "Sit," you commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed without hesitance. The man who took control so easily, fell into the role of servant just as fast.

You placed a hand on the sheets next to his hip as you leaned over him, your lips just barely grazing his. "Tonight, I'm in control, and you're going to shut the fuck up. Got it?" He nodded slowly, his lower lip falling prisoner to his teeth. There were no thoughts of switching the situation on you. He was at your mercy, and all it took was a few simple words. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and something else you couldn't quite place. You knew Eddie well, but this was something new. Intimidation, perhaps?

Your other hand walked your fingers up his bare thigh starting at his knee. He didn't dare break eye contact as much as he wanted to. The closer your fingertips got to his aching cock, the harder he bit on his lip. His fingers rubbed the sheets below him, the pace growing quicker the closer you got to the location you both desired. Finally, your fingers reached his hip. The soft skin a milky white, flushed with his need. You waited a moment, giving him the same treatment he gave you earlier. The silence still brimming around you, ringing in both your ears, only cut by Eddie's heavy breath.

Then you gripped his base, a small grunt rumbling through his chest. You kept your grip firm as you slid your hand up to his tip. His eyelids fluttered. The arm holding your weight up pushed his shoulder, and he fell against the mattress with little effort. He almost looked boneless, putty in your hands. You spit onto his cock, the saliva pooling on his tip and gliding down his length. Your hand gripped him again, tugging with little friction. "I should challenge you tonight. See how many times I can make you cum before you use your safeword." You smirked up at his scrunched up face. He was enjoying this more than he thought.

Your hand quickened on his length, your wrist twisting at his tip. With each flick of your thumb against the underside of his mushroom tip, he jolted against the bed. The sweat forming on his hairline matted his curls and shined against the lights. His chest was blooming pink, the blood rushing to the surface in his neck. He was gripping the sheets beneath so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. The crease in his brows and the little whimpers escaping him fueled your fire. You climbed over him, straddling his thighs, wanting to feel them shake beneath you. His lip was caught between his teeth again, holding his sounds captive.

It was now or never. You placed your unoccupied hand against his neck, pushing with small effort. His mouth fell open at the new sensation. Your other hand never faltering, merely speeding up its pace. A choked out moan vibrates beneath your fingers, causing you to squeeze just a bit harder. He tilts his head back, giving more space to your hand on his neck. The schlick schlick sound of your hand gliding over him echoed around the room, flooding your cunt with desire. You were on your knees over him, your weight resting on his windpipe as your other hand glided over his cock.

A deep inhale and his eyes rolling back were the first cues before he exploded on his stomach, his juices squirting halfway up his torso. The muscles in his belly so flexed you could see them moving underneath his skin. His mouth was open in a silent moan, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard they were on the verge of ripping. You continued your ministrations against him, waiting for his cock to slow down but the fluid keeps coming, covering his stomach in splotches of white. He's shuddering beneath you, jolting with each inhale. Your fist continues until he's finally spent. His stomach covered in his release, threatening to drip to the sheets below.

You release his neck and he inhales deeply, a small chuckle released at the lack of feeling in his muscles. He's never cum so hard or so long in his life. He could've sworn he left his body for a second there.

Waiting for him to catch his breath, you kneeled over him, watching as he returned back to Earth with a deep flush on his cheeks. It was clear he was a goner for the rest of the night. His body still quivering with the aftershocks. He would do anything to have you dom him again after tonight.

He's curled up in the middle of the bed, little snores bouncing off the walls of your room. His face buried in the side of your pillow, your scent keeping his dreamlike state centered on you. A dream which was nearing the climax– his climax.

You undress down to your panties, too exhausted to find your pajamas in the dark room. Lifting the sheets and sliding in next to Joe, he curls his arm around your torso, pulling your back flush against his chest. His warmth envelopes you as your muscles relax into the mattress and into him.

His lips kiss your shoulder before he squeezes you closer. "Finished?" The grogginess of his voice perks your ear. You can never get enough of his deep and gravelly sleepy voice. He feels your body adjust against him, your ass lightly grinding his hard cock.

You reply with a sweet sigh, bringing his hand to your lips for a quick peck. Your aware of him poking your ass, but don't want to bring attention to it if he's too tired. However, the feeling of him right behind you, his body hot and ready to go, won't let you sleep. It isn't until you feel his hips slightly grind into you from behind that you're made aware he can't sleep either.

A soft moan whispers behind your ear at a harder thrust into you. His cock might be awake, but the rest of his body is still half-asleep and he's losing the ability to grind his hips. He flips onto his back, sliding a hand into his boxers to palm at his length. As quiet as he's trying to be, the moans and grunts escaping him can't be tamed. He begins pumping, slowly, to keep his sounds at bay.

You, on the other hand, still lay with your back to him, smiling at his symphony of moans. It wasn't long before you also turn on your back, looking at him with hungry eyes. His hand never ceases the movements giving him pleasure. If anything, it moves faster with your eyes now on him. Your hand dips below the sheets into your panties, finding your bundle and drawing quick circles. Despite the ache in your fingers, the pleasure is welcomed.

Joe pulls the sheets lower off your bodies to get a view of your chest. He licks his lips, looking at you for approval before bending over to suck on your nipple. Your fingers speed up and a moan escapes you, causing him to grip harder on his length. He grunts against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

As wonderful as this is, you're not nearing release, and neither is he. You remove your hand from your underwear, sliding them off and watch as he does the same. In any other situation, you'd be climbing each other by now, but your body's sore. You spit on your hand and find his cock under the sheets, biting your lip as the groan he lets out. One hand fists at the sheets below him as his other moves between your legs.

His middle finger dips between your folds, feeling your juices leaking from you. He circles your clit before sliding back down your entrance. Your hand grips tightly against him, playing at the dip underneath his tip. He hisses, placing his unoccupied hand on top of yours to still the movements. He refuses to come before you, and he was leaning dangerously over the edge.

With the movement on his length paused, he gives his full attention to you, pumping his fingers in and out in a rhythm that has your squirming. He can no longer handle not seeing your cunt swallow his digits, and finally kicks off the sheets covering your bodies. With your nakedness in full view, he continues his motions again, his thumb finding your clit. Your hand begins pumping him again with purpose.

His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight and mouth wide open as he nears his climax. The vein in his throat juts out, and the muscles in his belly grow taut. Your legs shake against his as his movements pick up pace. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally reached your peak. The white hot pleasure nearly clouding your ability to hear Joe moaning out beside you as droplets of cum splattered your hand and his stomach. You both did your best to keep your hands moving on each other to ride out your orgasms, faltering for a second or two.

You helped each other through your climaxes, his hand stopping your movements on his length when it became too much, and the hand on you pulling his fingers out at the same time. You lay beside each other catching your breaths, feeling the exhaustion seep into your muscles finally.

Joe uses his discarded boxers to clean himself off before pulling the sheets back over your bodies. You flip onto your side again with him right behind you. He throws his arm over your waist and kisses your shoulder. This time, you both find sleep.

–

Days had gone by without sign of the boy. You haven't stepped a toe in the water, partly due to the anxiety. Convincing yourself it was a trick of the mind was easy, believable. But the soreness and lack of scabbing when you still had dry blood stains on your sandal was harder to explain.

It almost felt lonely for the first time on the beach. Despite no one ever being there prior, the boy seemed to have a lasting effect for the short time he was there. The warm sand wasn't as comforting as before, and the sound of the waves gliding up the shore didn't echo as a calming background soundtrack anymore. It stirred your emotions between sadness and anger. Anger that the town's superstitious ways possibly got to your new friend, sadness that you were now back to being the only person to step foot on the beach.

The anger was taking over, boiling in your veins as you stared out at the vastness of the water. Your brain was done with sensible thoughts, now turning against the water itself. Damn the water for ruining the friendship. Damn the water for being so mysterious that people make up stories just to explain strange occurrences. Damn the water for having so many secrets. Damn the water for scaring everyone away. Damn the water for housing unknown creatures that strike fear and cause harm. Damn the water for hiding whatever or whoever you met that day. Damn the water for not bringing him back.

Before you knew it, your foot was kicking at the incoming waves in frustration. The silliness of the action didn't overshadow how good it felt. You kicked again, relishing in the movement. Like throwing a pebble into a canyon, the action meant nothing, but the movement of your foot meeting the push of water brought a nostalgic feeling. One that reminded you of your small baby feet splashing in a pool, surrounded by family long gone now.

Perhaps this was why you craved the presence of the boy and creature to return. The overwhelming loneliness had gone unnoticed before, but seemed deafening now.

You stepped further in the water, willing for the creature to return. It had to, you needed it to.

He kept his distance for a while. Staring at you on the beach as he sat beneath the shade of the overgrown trees at the very end of the beach. Every bit of him was called to you. His waking thoughts pondered your movements while his dreams centered around you seeing him for the first time without the veil of the water. The dreams would usually involve that sweet voice of your's saying words he recognized but couldn't quite remember the meaning of.

Water droplets danced down his scales as he sat on a long-dead overturned tree, the trunk suspended above the waterline with the roots on land and the branches in the water. He was hidden enough under the canopy of leaves on the surrounding trees. Far enough away to blend in with the plants and water, but close enough to keep a curious eye. You spent almost everyday staring out at the water, glancing back at the entrance to the beach, sighing when neither gave you what you yearned for.

When the anger finally came to a head, you ran to the water, kicking it with a force he had never seen from you. It would have been humorous had it not tugged at his heart. He wanted to swim into your arms and assure you it would be okay, whatever it was you were upset about. Part of him believed it was because you wanted to see him again. He wanted that desperately to be true. With each kick you gave to the water, he felt the same emotion toward land.

Damn the land for hiding you for so long.

You walked further in the water, head held high and palms open at your sides. It felt like a welcome. A calling to him. Despite his earlier hesitations, he hopped off the tree and into the water. The sound of splashing alerted you to him, and though he was still a distance away, you flinched back. He continued on slowly toward you, his head nose-up above water. His eyes were trained on you, waiting for you to give any sign you would run, but as he grew closer your body relaxed. It was as if you were waiting for him all this time, like his hopes were true. Each inch closer, he could visibly see the tension in your muscles dissipating.

You stood in the shallow water waiting, the waves only coming up to your knees. He knew you hadn't seen his full face, and he wanted to change that, but he also knew to take it slow. This was new for him, as much as it was for you. His anxieties over losing you due to his non-human features crept under his skin, tingling at the back of his skull. He stopped deep enough in the water to sit comfortably with his tail tucked under him, his back hunched over so he could keep half his face under the water. It was your turn in this dance now. And he hoped with everything you would make the move.

Your legs felt like jello as they sludged through the water toward the boy. He didn't flinch as you drew near, a good sign. You paused two feet in front of him, taking in the visuals he allowed you to have. His soft eyes, the bridge of his nose, the curves of his cheekbones, his hair. The same hair you saw underwater on the other beach. Was he... Has the creature and the boy been the same person this whole time?

You held out your hand, the nerves raging under your skin prevalent in the unsteadiness of your arm. His brow knitted, eyes glancing between your face and outstretched hand, until he finally understood. His long nails appeared like razors rising out of the water, followed by his webbed fingers. His palm met yours delicately. You stared for a while at his hand, and he at yours. The difference in texture, colors, temperature. It was invigorating.

After a moment, you enclosed your hand around his, giving it a small shake. "Nice to finally meet you." His brow furrowed again before repeating your movement, his eyes focused on your joined hands. You smiled down at him as you released your grasp. His hand slid back underwater but your's remained outstretched. You can't officially meet until you see his face. You needed to know what he looked like, to put a full face to this creature haunting your thoughts.

Your hand slowly moved toward him, dipping underwater to find his chin. You waited a moment, in case he wasn't ready. But he straightened his back, his full face appearing from the water. The gills on the side of his neck wiggled as he breathed in the air. He was beautiful.

His pale neck led down to thin shoulders, slender collar bones jutting out at sharp angles. His skin had a bluish hue in the sunlight, an almost ghostly cast. A drawing on his upper chest caught your eye. A tattoo?

He looked up at you with wide eyes, waiting. Your hand remained on his chin as you bent down on one knee to get a closer look at him, the cool water seeping into your shorts causing a shiver to run through you, or was it him? Your eyes meeting this close felt right, like this was meant to happen. You turned his chin to the right so you could investigate his gills, now unmoving above water. Your other hand reached out and lightly grazed them causing him to flinch away with a smile. Did that tickle him?

Your hands on him rose his body temperature greatly, he almost felt like he was on fire. The flames eating him from the very tip of his tail, scorching him up to the placement of your fingertips on his chin. This felt so right, it was almost unbelievable his people kept him from this experience for so long.

After you explored his gills, he grabbed your chin and looked at your neck as you did to him earlier. He admired the veins running underneath the skin, the lines of blue and purple just underneath. The pulsing of your blood moving there. Your skin so smooth and soft, the lines and bends of your neck leading down to your collarbones. He brushed his palms down the curve of your shoulders and on the sides of your arms. You played with a curl of his hair.

You looked at him with such softness, he could never understand the need to hide from you. Years he had been alone, when you were right there on land. All this time a human with no ill will toward him. Damn, damn the land.

His patience never wavered as you examined his tail, playing with the scales, brushing the tailfin with amazement. Each touch caused a reaction from him, a preen almost. He would smile back at you with tight lips, but you didn't want to push his limits.

"Can you talk?" He stared back at you, unmoving. The blank expression on his face gave his answer. "So that's a no." His soft eyes took in your every movement, watching with curiosity as you tried figuring out next steps.

A sharp stab from your pocket hit you as you leaned forward on your knee. You reached in, pulling out the little shell for him. He gasped, finally opening his mouth to reveal his sharp teeth. Two rows of needles lined behind his lips. Lips that curled into the sweetest smile when he gently took the shell from your open palm. Though his teeth were unnerving, his giddiness at your gift made you smile back. He examined the shell closely, despite it only being an inch and a half big. He looked at it like it was the greatest gift he's ever been given.

His brain was going miles a second, not fully understanding why he felt the need to do it, or what it meant, but he choked out, "t-thank you-u." He realized too late what he had done, using his voice in the presence of a human. His kind only used their voices to lure humans to their ultimate death as a meal. To hypnotize them into a trance unbreakable by anything but the voice. He looked up in fear, only finding you in shock, your mouth hung open with wide eyes to match. You resembled the humans lured into the water when they realized, far too late, their destiny. He'd really done it now, ruining everything. He'd never forgive himself for bringing you harm.

His body temperature began to sink again, the heat leaving his body in shame. He dropped his gaze down to the water sloshing around his torso. He wouldn't know how to break the trance, having never done it himself before. Would you stay like this forever? Would it eventually wear off? Would he have to kill you to break you out it? The thought punched through him, the air feeling heavy in his lungs for the first time since the first moment he ever sucked in a breath of fresh oxygen.

"You can speak!"

He looked back up at you, finding utter joy and excitement on your features. The light in your eyes somehow brighter now, despite the sun not moving. Your happiness was contagious. The smile took over his lips, curling the corners of his mouth into a wide smile.

He had no idea what he said, but you clearly liked it. "Thank you," he repeated, the words foreign on his tongue. He didn't like their taste, but for you he would say them over and over. You practically vibrated at hearing him speak. He repeated the words again until they didn't taste so bad in his mouth.

Your smile fell as he continued repeating his gratitude. This must be the only phrase he knew. Something he picked up from overhearing humans. He could speak, but he didn't know words. The thought of teaching him warmed your heart, but the reality of coming to the beach daily to teach him was laughable. Afterall, you would only be teaching him to benefit you. To talk to you. What about him? He probably had a whole family to get back to. Other creatures waiting for him back in the depths of the water, worrying where he may be. Yet here he was, sitting with you, as he had for many days before (though you didn't know it until now).

The boy, the creature. The same being. It was impossible to believe this was your current situation. Sitting next to a mythical creature, one that not only isn't as dangerous as you've been told your entire life, but has the enthusiastic friendliness of a toddler. His wide eyes continue searching your body for differences. When he finds a freckle, he marvels at it, touching so gently. He attempts to rub it off, his brows knitting when he's unsuccessful. He's adorable, and you want to show him the world!

The world... a beach dropoff away. It's cruel and fearful of anything it doesn't understand. Anyone could look over the dropoff and see a creature caressing your body, thinking you're under the spell and in danger. The truth couldn't be farther from that, but no one would understand.

Regardless of your wishes, a voice shouts from the shore, "WHAT IS THAT?" A moment of silence is all you have for the realization to kick in. The shrill of multiple screams and the advancing steps through water as the townsfolk rush to 'save' you drown out your voice as you whisper to him, "I'm sorry."

He's wide-eyed, confused whether to protect you from your own kind, or let you go. Protecting you meant killing humans. He's never done that before. Though, he absolutely would if it meant keeping you safe.

But you stand, rushing toward the oncoming crowd as an attempt to cut the humans off from getting too close to him. Two large men sneak past you and head right toward him. He knows this is goodbye forever as he glances back at you. The final visual he'll have of you, holding your arms out in front of you as the other humans are shouting in your face, surrounding you, grabbing you. They pull you away, but you look back for him.

Your eyes meet, if only for a moment. The only thing he sees on your face is complete fear and as he ducks underwater to swim away, he knows why. One hand grips the edge of his tailfin so harshly, he's sure it's ripped. Another hand finds his arm as he fights against the restraints. Each strong whip of his tail rips the fin further sending shocks of pain and adrenaline through him. He can hear you screaming. Your cries sound pained, scared.

The water continues splashing as he fights for his freedom. He catches a glimpse of the shore, it's closer now. He's being dragged to it one step at a time. A crowd of humans has gathered at the edge of the water, their scent overwhelming. He thinks he can smell blood. Waves splash around him in crimson, his fin bleeding into the water. His head is full of energy– swim away, eat, scared, hungry, pain. You.

He catches sight of you, held back by other humans. You're not safe, fighting to reach him as multiple arms slide around your body as a barrier. Tears roll down your cheeks as you scream for him to be set free. Tears mean pain, and that's the last thing he ever wants you to feel.

His pupils grow dark, swallowing his iris. He's nearly to land now, and these humans look like a buffet.

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The two of you had only been dating a few short months, but your friendship had spanned years. All it took was one drunken night for feelings to be shared, and bodies to be explored, to change everything. Peter was by no means shy in the bedroom, but it was obvious he was holding back. The little things gave him away– the clenched fists during a particularly messy blowjob, or the lip bite when you slowed your bouncing on his cock. You tried everything to push him past that line, but it proved much more difficult than anticipated. He was simply afraid to let that side of him out. That's what caused the genius idea to hit you so hard it had your thighs clenching under the table over dinner.

Peter sat across from you, talking about his woes as a journalism photographer, trying to make ends meet on the bullshit excuse of pay. You're half-listening, half-drowning in the idea of Peter taking you over the table right now, throwing the dishes to the floor or letting them fall off the table with every hard thrust of his hips.

"I want you to photograph me," you interrupt. Peter glances up at you from his plate, pausing his movements.

"I've taken photos of you before," he replied, placing his fork down. He's confused, a bit worried even. You seem serious, and haven't been able to give your full attention to him since you sat down.

"I want you to photograph me... naked." The last word leaves your mouth in almost in a question. You're not sure that's what you even had in mind. But it's the first thing that came out.

Peter's mouth hangs open while you wait for an answer. He's not sure he heard you correctly. This can't be real. You can't be real. This was one of his biggest fantasies, to have your gorgeous body photographed by him, to have you captured on camera in your most intimate way. Of course, this fantasy always ended with a photo of your fucked out face covered in his cum hiding in his wallet. He'd print photos of your pussy swallowing his cock and keep them hidden by his bed for a lonely day. He'll even print a photo of your tits covered in deep purple hickies.

But how could he do that to you? You were delicate, unassuming. You weren't aware of his crime-fighting alter ego and you've never even gotten kinky in the bedroom. He didn't want to lose himself and accidentally reveal he was Spider-Man. You'd be at risk with that knowledge.

"Y/N... I don't know." He folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them, doing everything to avert from looking at you. You were silent, hurt from his answer. Why wouldn't he want this? Wouldn't anyone want the image of their partner naked? Did he not like that part of your relationship? Of you?

You stood from the table, and walked to the bedroom, making a point of grabbing his camera off the living room table on your way. Peter sat there frozen, his brain telling him not to follow, his cock twitching at the thought of you sitting naked next to his camera. His internal battle was halted when your sultry voice called his name from your room. "Peteeeerrrrr." It was almost like a moan and a demand at the same time. Your own personal mating call, just for him.

His legs were carrying him to your room before he even processed the action in his brain. You controlled him now. You sat cross-legged on the edge of your bed, smirking at his frame in the doorway. His camera perched next to you, waiting. He approached slowly, already looking wrecked without anything even happening. The idea was enough to send the man in a fit. You placed the camera in his hand gently, and sat up on your knees. "Direct me, Mr. Photographer." He looked dumbfounded, lost in his thoughts. "Peter... where do you want me?"

"Uh.. o-over here," he pointed half-heartedly to the corner with a chair and a light above. You smiled and reached out a hand to him, which he took to help you off the bed. Sauntering over to the chair, you made a show of wiggling your hips with each step. Peter was practically drooling already.

You sat down and looked up at him with wide eyes. It took a moment, but eventually he understood to start taking pictures. You began unbuttoning your jeans, making sure he got to see the pretty lace of your panties hiding beneath your pants. Sliding the jeans off your legs, you bent over, giving the camera a nice view of your cleavage over your low-cut top. You then moved onto removing your shirt, sliding it over your head so your hair bounced behind you.

Peter fell to his knees, wanting to be on the same level as you. He was snapping away on his camera, not missing a beat. In just your panties and bra, you turned on the chair, sitting on your knees with your back to him, glancing over your shoulder with mischievous eyes. You smiled as your reached around and unclipped your bra, holding the cups to your chest. The strap slipped from your shoulders. Snap. You slid the garment off your arms, covering your chest in one arm, and holding up the discarded bra in your other. Snap. Dropping the bra to the floor, you turn back to face him, still covering your chest. Snap. You drop your arm and lay it on the armrest of the chair, relishing in the confidence you possess. Snap.

A tent is starting to form in Peter's jeans, but he doesn't even notice. Not when a supermodel is stripping right in front of him, for him. You stand up, turning to face the wall so your back is to him. Your fingers play with the lace on your hips. Snap. You spread your legs slightly, bending over. Snap. The lace glides over your ass swiftly, revealing the soft skin beneath. Snap, snap, snap. Peter can smell your arousal with your ass directly in front him, inches from the lens of his camera. Your underwear pools at your feet and you kick it off toward your bra. You sit back on the chair and spread your legs. Snap. Peter's starting to notice the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans, pulling at the fabric for a better placement and immediately focusing his attention back on you.

You lick a long stripe up your palm and slide it between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit. Snap. Your other hand pinches your nipple, pulling at it with a hiss. Peter moans behind the camera, losing control over his composure. You place a leg over the armrest and pull your other knee up so your heel rests directly on the edge, spreading yourself out so he has the best view in the house. Your fingers dance lower on your clit, playing with your entrance. Sliding a finger in to the first knuckle, then back out. One glance up to Peter and you instantly melt. He's palming himself over his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tightly under his teeth, and his camera held lazily at his side.

You stop your ministrations, "nah-uh. Keep shooting." He breaks from his trance, putting the camera back to his eye and snapping away. You insert one finger fully, your head falling back from the new sensation. Your other hand leaves your nipple and slides down to your clit, rubbing circles the same speed. The pleasure was good, but it wasn't enough. Inserting another finger, a loud moan leaves you, causing Peter's hand to reach back onto the tent in his jeans. He's still taking pictures one-handed, while palming himself. The visual causes your hands to speed up, throwing you closer to the edge. Peter unbottons his jeans and slides a hand in, his hips bucking at the touch of his fingers. The coil in your belly tightens when you realize how desperately he's watching you. Then you hear it, snap. You're sent over, your body convulsing against the chair, your breathing turned ragged as your eyes hit the back of your skull.

You're floating in that heavenly feeling until Peter's pulling your hands away. Snap. He zooms in on your fluids leaking from you, moaning at the sight. Snap. Then he's looking up at you with a devilish smile. "My turn."