If I were taking an erotic photograph…

If I were taking an erotic photograph of you I’d ask you to relax, because your essence is what I find most appealing. As you melt across the bed, your legs spread wide, an easy smile on your lips, you exhale expectations and simply are…pliable, willing, open, strong – you don’t try to cover your shape, your cock rising, beckoning. It’s like your superpower…when you are at your greatest strength, able to bend me to your will without spoken word.

If I were taking an erotic photograph of you, I would crawl between your thighs, the heady scent rising like waves of heat above summer asphalt, my camera zoomed in…ready. Your cock would fill my vision, and I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d touch you, taste you, nuzzle into your warmth, and inhale.

If I were taking an erotic photograph of you, I’d lay down on my belly, look through the lens, and focus in on your eyes…the growing black of the pupil overtaking the blue of the iris as your desire morphs from want to need to demand. I’d set the camera aside and climb onto you, taking your face in my hands. I’d take you bottom lip between mine, sucking gently, search your mouth with my tongue…close my eyes and feel the electricity run through my veins, pooling between my legs and in my nipples. I’d rise just enough to lower myself onto your erection, letting it fill me.

If I were taking an erotic photograph of you, I’d forget to.