by Cerys du Lys
He pulled me towards him, leading me to the doorway into the house. His guest house, he said. When we entered, it looked exactly, and nothing, like I imagined.
A guest house, in my mind, was a smaller affair. Perhaps a main room with a kitchen to the side, then stairs leading up to a bedroom or two. Modest, and simple, for the comfort of guests. Asher's guest house was far more extravagant than that. I expected this, figured it would be that way, but it still came as somewhat of a surprise.
The first floor, the door we entered through, was a large, wide open living room-styled area. The walls were close to nonexistent(at least in a typical sense), with windows that went from floor to ceiling, save for a few scant inches of actual solid wall at the very tops and bottoms. In front of us, built into the only regular wall, was a fireplace. Unlit now, but upon seeing me staring at it, Asher flicked a switch on the wall and the hearth flared to life. Gas-powered flames roared up out of a heap of faux-logs, dancing back and forth behind shaded glass.
In front of the hearth was a sofa. Or, somewhat of a sofa. I had a couch back at my apartment, but this thing was about four times as big. It curled into a "U" shape at the ends, making the middle of the living room into more of an intimate gathering place for a small group of people. Then the kitchen, to the sides, with a small dining area past that. And stairs, of course, that must lead to bedrooms on the second floor, but would we go that far?
Could we go that far? I really wanted to know how to arrive at that answer.
Before I knew what was going on, Asher picked me up. He held me in his arms, one hand behind my shoulders with the other under the crook of my knees, and carried me towards his sofa. Dropping me onto it, he held up a finger and told me to wait.
"I'll be right back," he said. "I'm going to get my camera."
I nodded, dumbstruck, staring at him, open-mouthed. When he left, I continued staring, but managed to turn my attention towards the fireplace.
We weren't in the city anymore. I could tell as much by looking through the glass walls. Asher's guest house had a magnificent view, with a hill sloping downwards and the clear horizon directly in front of me. Looking lower towards the bottom of the hill, I saw the city in the distance. Not too far, but far enough to look small. I lived there, I knew, but from this vantage point it looked like an entirely different place. Unrecognizable. It wasn't late enough for it, not yet, but with sun crawling downwards from its peak, in a few more hours, if I stayed here until then, I imagined I'd have the most beautiful view of the sunset.
Asher returned with his camera, holding it up for me to see. It was a newer model, but that was all I knew from looking at it. Fancy, probably, because I doubted he would spare any cost on something he enjoyed. If I could afford to, I'd do the same. I'd buy books, a huge library, sit in there for hours at a time, reading. Curling into a chair while wearing a bathrobe and sipping at a cup of hot cocoa, and...
"Shall we get started?" Asher asked.
I turned shy again. I'd just modeled for him in his car, sort of, and now I didn't know how to do it. I technically knew, of course, but now he was actually going to snap pictures, so it wasn't at all the same. I tried explaining that to him.
"I don't know how," I said, my voice timid.
Asher smiled at me. "Just do exactly as I say," he said.
I nodded, scared. I would do this.
"Lean back on the sofa," he said. "Put your elbows down so you're resting on them. Lift both your legs and rest them on the back of the sofa."
I did as he asked, but I didn't think this was sexy. I wasn't doing it right, I knew that, but I also didn't know how to do it right, either.
Asher stepped forward. He showed me where to put my elbows, and he ran his fingers along my chest towards my stomach. He meant to show me how he wanted my body to curve, I thought, but his touch distracted me. Moving one of my feet, he set it close to where I'd originally rested it on the sofa's back, but he bent my other leg so my knee was closer to my stomach, albeit a foot or so higher. As a finishing touch, he placed his hand on my chin and made me face him.
"Give me your sexiest look," he said. Before I could complain, he added, "Don't think about it, Jessika. Close your eyes, look down, part your lips. Think of something. It can be anything, but think of something that makes you smolder inside."
I did it. I closed my eyes and parted my lips and let my mind wander. I thought of him and his office and his private meeting room table. I thought of his fingers slipping inside me, so smooth and easy, and my body melting as he manipulated me with his hands. I thought of the restaurant, The Simple Path, and his foot pressing against my panty-covered crotch, teasing my arousal-slick folds. The car, his lap, my body grinding and pressing against him, wanting him.
Click. Click. Click.
He took pictures, but I was so far out of it and lost in my imagination that I didn't realize it at first. I leaned back, moving my elbows, but still the camera clicked away. Different spots, different angles. Asher moved my feet downwards onto the couch and I spread them slightly. He came in closer, took pictures of different areas, at different angles, but I kept my eyes closed the entire time.
"Wonderful," he said. "You're beautiful, Jessika."
He moved my hands towards my panties, placing my fingers along the sides of my pubis, underneath the fabric of my underwear. Click. Click. With my eyes still closed, because I wanted to keep them that way, he asked me to stand and do more poses for him. My thumb pulled at the side of my panties waistband in some provocative display of near removal, and he captured pictures of that, too. From the front, and behind, the sides.
He led me towards the fire, then had me sit on the plush, shaggy rug in front of it. I opened my eyes then, looking at him.
"Am I really sexy?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said sincerely. "You are."
I laid down on the rug, feeling calm and more relaxed. Staring at him, I posed of my own accord now. I bent my knees up and spread my legs and he took pictures of my stomach and my crotch and my breasts. I tugged at my panties, moving them to make the pictures more erotic and teasing. He took pictures of everything I did.
And then I pulled my panties more, lifting my rear and slipping them up my legs, to my knees, and then down. I let the image of my bare pussy sink in, noting the clicks of the camera becoming less and less, more sporadic. I kicked away my underwear, watching it land at the side of the hearth.
"Jessika..." he said. "We can't..."
"Shh." I didn't want to ruin this, but I needed it so badly. "Keep taking pictures."
He waited, paused, and then continued. I spread my lower lips with my fingers and he clicked away with the camera. I doubted he had this in mind when we started, and I knew I sure didn't, but it seemed so right. He moved closer, closer.
"You're so sexy," he said. "Yes, like that. That's wonderful. Amazing."
While he captured my lower body in his erotic pictures, I kicked off my high heels and undid my bra, tossing it as close to my panties as possible. The rest of my clothes lay in a forgotten pile on his sofa.
He moved closer, then closer. I inched towards him, slowly, careful. As he took pictures of my calves and feet, I lifted my upper body off the floor and reached for his pants. He stopped taking pictures then.
He nearly dropped the camera, but caught it before he did and then placed it on the floor next to him. Grabbing my hands away from his pants, he stared at me. "We can't," he said.
"I don't want to," I said simply. "I want you to take pictures."
Asher furrowed his brow, confused. "I don't understand."
"Let me show you?" I pleaded with him with my eyes.
He hesitated, then said, "Alright."
He watched me carefully as I unbuckled his belt and pulled it away. Next I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. Asher stared, carefully, as if I were teaching him some new form of photography. The final step was inside his boxers. I snaked my hand through the front of his underwear and pulled out his manhood. He stayed th
ere, on his knees, completely still.
When I freed him from his boxers, he was fully erect. His shaft bobbed up and down in front of me, thick and long and wonderfully delicious looking. I wanted him so very very much, and yet I didn't know what to say to make him mine. I just hoped that maybe I could convince him to want to make me his instead. It seemed easier that way.
"Closer," I said. "Right here." I spread my legs wide apart and patted a spot on the rug between them.
Asher moved forwards, slow and steady. "Jessika..."
"Don't forget the camera," I added.
Confused and cautious, he picked up the camera while inching towards me.
When he was close enough, I carefully touched the sides of his cock with my fingers. I lifted my lower body up with my legs and guided him towards my slick folds. He started to back away. "No," I said, more calmly than I felt. "Watch. Just look."
That convinced him somehow. I don't know how or why, but he stopped moving away. I angled him towards me, his erection pressing against my slit, and inched closer to him so that he barely penetrated me.
The contradictions flaring through my brain were impossibly difficult to deal with. I wanted to sheath him inside me, press him all the way in, but I knew if I did this would end faster than it started. Instead, forcing myself to endure this erotic teasing, I looked at him and nodded.
"Take pictures," I said. "Is it a nice shot?"
Asher swallowed. He looked as if his throat were suddenly dry and he wanted to get up and get a glass of water, but he didn't move away from me. Camera in hand, he aimed it downwards towards where he and I connected. Click.
He moved to different angles, up, down, a bit to the side. Click. Click. Click.
"These are very sexy pictures," he said. "Hold still. Don't move."
I wouldn't have moved, but he didn't give me a chance not to, either. Thrusting forward, only an inch or so, he buried a little more of his shaft inside me. I gasped and my hips bucked as I accepted him in me. Click. Click. Click.
He held the camera in one hand now, inched forward more. His cock slid into me, tantalizingly slow. Further. Click. In. Click.
He was fully in me now, all of the way. Click. I'd closed my eyes and I hadn't heard a click in awhile. My inner walls clenched against his throbbing erection, squeezing him hard, but I tried to lay there, calm and professional.
I opened my eyes and looked up. Asher loomed over me, still wearing his shirt. His pants were undone only enough to unleash his cock, but with that inside me, invisible to the outside eye, he looked fully clothed. I, on the other hand, wore nothing.
I looked at him and he looked at me. Something was missing, and it took me awhile to figure out what. The camera; he'd placed it off to the side. He stared at me for a moment after my realization, and then he began.
His hips rolled back as he moved his erection out of me. I thought this was it, he was done and we would cease our illicit coupling immediately, but then he pressed back in. Watching me the entire time, looking for a reaction, when I didn't complain or say anything, Asher took it a step further.
He moved out faster this time, then back in. Out, then in. After a few goes at it, he thrust into me hard, pressing me roughly against the carpet.
I wrapped my arms around his back and my legs around his waist, pulling him further into me. "Asher," I whispered into his ear. "Asher, I want you."
"Jessika, we can't do this," he said, almost a growl. Despite his words, he slammed his cock hard into me. "This isn't right."
"No," I said. "I know. We won't. Just a little more and we'll stop."
He stuffed himself into me and ground his cock inside me, rolling his hips. I squeezed him hard, with my arms and my pussy, and lifted my head to kiss his throat.
Asher closed his eyes and thrust into me again and again. He refused to look at me, wouldn't open his eyes, but wouldn't stop moving his hips either, taking me roughly on the floor.
"Asher," I said. It felt so good, I wanted him so badly, and yet I couldn't stand him not looking at me. "Am I not sexy? Please, I'm sorry."
His eyes snapped open. He stared at me hard. Up close, so close, I thought I could almost see thunderclouds in his sky blue eyes.
"Jessika," he said. "Stay still. Don't move."
I didn't understand at first, but I tried not to move. It was impossible, though. I bit my lower lip as he slammed hard into me, sliding me a few inches across the carpet.
"Jessika, I'm trying to take your picture," he said through gritted teeth. "I need you to keep your pose."
"Yes," I said, a lusty gasp. "Yes, I'm trying. Take my picture."
"This is so sexy," he said. "You're so sexy."
"I love you," I said, barely a whisper. I didn't mean to, and I didn't know what I was thinking, but I said it.
Asher went wild. If he heard me, I didn't know, but whatever had come over him made him crazy. He crashed into me, his cock slamming hard and fast into my pussy. I squeezed against him, unable to stop myself, feeling him bringing me closer and closer to climax. The fabric of his shirt bunched up and grazed against my stomach and my clit with each of his thrusts, exciting me even more. He grabbed my waist and held me tight, pulling my body towards him as he pushed into me.
My orgasm overtook me and I screamed out loud. Writhing and squirming beneath him, I wriggled on the rug, feeling the shaggy texture of it, warm against my back, while Asher's hot, clothed body heated me in the front. My breasts bounced as I climaxed hard on his cock and my body tensed, muscles squeezing, squeezing. I grabbed him with my hands and my back arched, stomach taut, my legs pulling at his lower body. My pussy clenched like a smooth, velvet vice around his cock.
Asher finished, letting out a grunt, pushing himself as far into me as he could while pressing his body against mine. His cock twitched inside me, flared, stretching my pussy, and then his cum surged out of him and into me. Once, twice, three thick jets. Then smaller twitches, a few more, uncountable. My climax continued as he unloaded a substantial amount of his cream inside me and I grew even more hot and excited when I felt it. He filled me. I hadn't had sex in awhile, hadn't expected it for awhile still, but this was so wonderfully satisfying.
We lay there together, him on top of me while I squeezed his softening cock inside of me. I was finished with my orgasm, but I liked the way he felt in me, so nice and a perfect fit. I held him tight, hugged him, kissed his cheek, and...
Asher got up. He removed himself from my grip, placed my hands firmly on the ground, and pulled himself out of me. Standing, putting his softening erection back in his pants, he zipped himself up, buttoned his pants, and searched around for his belt.
"Asher?" I said, confused. "It's alright. Can we lay here for a little while?"
"No," he said.
"Asher..."
"I shouldn't have done that, Jessika. I took things too far. That was extremely unprofessional of me. I don't know what I'm going to tell Beatrice. I don't know if I can tell her. This entire day was a bad idea." He paced through his guest house living room, looking distraught.
I frantically tried to think of something to say or do, but I couldn't. He had a point in everything he said. We shouldn't have done this. I knew it was a bad idea. A married man? Why would I even do that? Why was I here in the first place? What was I doing?
And then I remembered.
"Yes," I said, a whisper, unsure if this was what I should do or not. "Asher, I'll do it. What you asked, your request. I agree. Just... please..."
"What?" He stopped pacing and looked at me.
"I'll be an egg donor for your wife," I said, then added, "And a surrogate mother. I'll do it."
He smiled, happy, but only for a second. Then the reality of what had happened and what we'd just done came crashing back down on him again.
"I don't think it's a good idea," he said. "We can't... we can't do this again, Jessika, and the temptation will always be there, especially..."
Especially, I thought, if I were al
ready pregnant with his child. Through medical means, the impregnation process, however that would work for the situation he required, but still. If I carried his child, even if it was for him and his wife, I knew it would be easier for both of us to explain away another casual encounter like this.
Except that wasn't my reason for agreeing. I didn't know how to tell him that, couldn't explain it all myself, but that wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want anything casual with him, ever. I wanted more, anything. Intimacy and conversation and... but I'd ruined it in one fell swoop.
"Asher, please."
"You can stay in the guest house tonight," he said. "I'll have Jeremy drive you home in the morning."
His Absolute Orders
~A Reverie Interlude~
Asher and I, sitting on a park bench. A quaint tablecloth, with a spread of sandwiches, potato salad, and sliced, raw vegetables are between us. I tease him and toss a slice of cucumber at him. It clings to the fabric of his fancy dress shirt, then falls into his lap. He threatens to throw a spoonful of potato salad at me and I shriek and laugh and tell him he wouldn't dare. We're both laughing.
Our daughter, our beautiful daughter, comes running up. She was playing on the swings as we watched over her from the bench. She politely asks her daddy if she can please have a baby carrot. He smiles at her, so sweet and calm, holds up the tray with the carrots so she can have her pick.
Idyllic. Everything nice and wonderful.
And then I woke up.
...
Asher left me after our photography session. I don't think he expected it to go as far as it did, and to be honest I never expected it to, either. When I agreed to join him for lunch, I didn't expect to come back to his home afterwards and do anything, let alone become the model for an impromptu photo shoot. I didn't expect to take off my clothing and pose in scandalous positions for him, nor did I expect to concoct some ridiculous idea of seduction and convince him that it was fine.
In fact, it wasn't fine. Because of that, because of what I'd done, I'd lost him forever. I'd never had him to begin with, and I knew he was a married man, but I wanted so desperately to believe in something. To believe that he had a rocky marriage of convenience and he wanted me, maybe that he could love me. Except, how?
