by Hazel Parker
It was like the uncomfortableness of yesterday’s encounter had been totally forgotten. He was being cool and professional, leaving me no choice but to act the same way. I tried my best to time the slow shutter speed with the breakers as they splashed into the edge of the parking lot and, a few shots later, Warren suddenly stood beside me.
“Let me see what you got,” he ordered, taking the camera from me and examining my pictures in the little screen on the back of it. He seemed so excited, so keen to see what I’d captured, I began to understand why he was so good at his job and how he had done it for so long.
“You need to see this,” he began, looking up at the sky and not telling me if my shots were good or bad. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me away with him. “As dawn breaks over the mountain behind us, the sea does the most amazing things.
I followed him and we trudged down onto the stone-covered beach. Warren had me set up a tripod as he fiddled with his Nikon. He seemed satisfied and handed it back to me, so I screwed it carefully onto the tripod.
He went back to it and I tried to question him as he fussed with placement, ISOs, aperture settings, and shutter speeds, but it felt like I was talking to a wall. He was in the zone. Finally, he turned back to me.
“Go ahead,” he beckoned, indicating that I should look through the viewfinder. I stepped up and peered through the lens. “Take a few more shots.”
I gingerly reached up and pressed the button a few times, then looked down at the screen on the back of the camera. Instead of darkness, the scene it showed was full of light. I could see the gray clouds as full, fluffy patterns in the sky, and the light catching the rolling waves on the sea. Hidden to the naked eye but looking just heavenly through his camera, I looked back at Warren, smiling at the fantastic sights he was showing me.
“Dawn is breaking,” he whispered to me, indicating the encroaching light behind us. “Back off the ISO a little and just shoot what you want.”
“Me?” I asked.
“Yes, you,” he snapped. “Settings, composition, that’s all the science of photography. Once that’s done, any idiot can push the button. I want to see if you can actually take a photograph. Shoot what you want to see captured!”
I concentrated and tried to focus on what I thought were the most striking moments. “Here,” I said. I was actually trembling as I showed him what I’d got.
“Pretty good,” he smiled, “but you need something more, for perspective.”
I went back to shooting, not quite sure what more I could do, when Warren suddenly ran away from me, towards the sea. I kept clicking, as he ran through the shot. Then I totally forgot what I was supposed to be doing, as he pulled off his shoes and socks, and then whipped down his pants. Not quite able to believe my eyes, I watched him strip off entirely and sprint towards the waves. That must be freezing! I thought to myself.
“Shoot!” Warren cried, as he ran into the sea. He dove into the shallow waters and then surfaced again. I was straight back into crush mode and couldn’t help the warm tingling that spread through my pussy as he stood up in the sea, his back to me, naked and unashamed. I then felt a heavy throb in my clit as he turned, looking sexy as hell, and walked back to the beach. The sight of his cock hanging between his thighs had me biting my lip again, a desperate craving to touch it, hold it, and feel it grow as I stroked him, began to rise up in me once more.
Then, the light hit the beach, as the sun rose behind me, and every shiny shell suddenly lit up like a million fairy lights while the water turned from a dark black mass to a sudden sparkling prism of red, green, gray, and blue, like a muted rainbow behind Warren’s gorgeous form. Something clicked in my head and I remembered to start pushing the button on the camera, over and over again, not wanting to miss a second of this beauty because, moments later, it was gone. The sun climbed higher and the light poured down at a different angle. It became a stark, Scottish scene once again.
Warren walked up beside me, as I looked back through the amazing pictures. “Wow,” I managed, pointing at a shot of him striding from the ocean, the light hitting him and his surroundings just right. I was so caught up in looking at what I’d captured, I even failed to remember he was naked beside me.
“You see what I mean?” he asked me.
“They’re so beautiful,” I murmured.
“Told you,” he shivered. “Now, hand me a towel, would you? It’s fucking freezing and I could get busted for public nudity any minute.
I was totally entranced with the shots I’d taken. I stood outside the car, as Warren got dry and dressed inside it, cycling through the pictures over and over again on his camera. Finally, he called out to me, “Mary-Jane! Get in the car!”
He drove us back to the bottom of the hill and pulled over. “I need to get some warmth in me before I catch hypothermia,” he announced. He pointed and I turned to see that, right by us, a small diner was opening. “This little place is famous. You’ve heard of Cullen Skink? Well, you’re in the village of Cullen! This is where it was first created. Come on.”
We were seated at a tiny table by the window, facing the street, when I felt I had to explain that I’d never heard of Cullen Skink. Warren clued me in that it was a thick, rich soup of haddock and potatoes, and he told me it was exactly what he needed after his impromptu dip in the ocean.
“Isn’t that a little too fishy for breakfast?” I asked him.
“Nah,” he smiled, as a steaming bowl was placed in front of each of them, “get it down ye, as they say around here.”
Apprehensively, I tried it. It was thick, salty, creamy, and filling. It warmed my insides and I could suddenly see why it was so popular around here. As we ate, Warren asked me about photography. He wanted to know what I’d learned, what I’d attempted, and what I’d accomplished. I was slightly annoyed that he’d finally decided to question me here, instead of back at his house where my portfolio was, but I was able to show him some crude renderings of my work, in the form of some pictures on my phone.
“I like them,” he smiled. “You really have an amazing eye. It’s like you can see the shot before you take it. I’m impressed.”
I was quickly buzzing from his words. To hear this legendary genius compliment my small body of work was thrilling. “You’re just saying that,” I said bashfully.
“I am never, ever, just saying that,” he assured me, his spoon stopping halfway up to his mouth. “But what field are you interested in? Fashion? Sports? Want to take hellish action shots in the world’s war-torn countries?”
“Honestly?” I asked. He nodded, scooping the last of his soup up with some crusty bread. “I’ve always loved what you do. I want to do that.”
“Aha,” he grinned, “artsy photos of naked women. It’s a medium that’s been very good to me.”
I remembered what we’d talked about the day before and asked him the question again. “Where were you happier, though? In the grit and grime, taking those action shots, or being in the studio with a stunning naked woman making love to your camera?”
The smile on his face grew to match mine, meaning he understood I was teasing him. “What do you think?” he grinned, then interrupted me before I could answer. “No, don’t answer. Ask me another time.”
The sun was still rising as we headed back to the house. Golden streaks of light began to shine onto the rolling fields, but the land still looked unbearably cold. As we got home, I finally saw Warren’s farmhouse in the daylight and realized it stood in the shadow of a great, tree-lined hill, rising up behind the property like a vast Colossus.
Warren parked the car and went to grab his long bag from the trunk. I was all ready to follow him inside for some more coffee, when he began unexpectedly striding off toward that hill I’d just discovered. I chased after him, wishing that, just once, he would tell me what he had in mind.
“An easy stroll up to the top,” he called, as I scrambled after him.
He made a lazy jump over the low dike that separated two fields, even carry
ing his heavy burden. I made the same jump, but lost my footing as I landed. A surprised yelp escaped my lips as I began to fall back, only to find a strong hand grasping my arm before I dropped too far. Warren heaved me to him, holding me fast as I regained my balance. It suddenly became incredibly obvious to me that our bodies were pressed hard together again, like in the darkroom the day before, only this time with our faces inches apart.
Dozens of images cycled quickly through my head: Warren’s naked body as he walked from the sea; his long perfect cock; the look of lust I imagined was on his face when I’d accidentally flashed my bare ass at him in the bathroom; and the feel of him, hard and throbbing against my ass, as he pulled me against him yesterday.
That dream came to mind as well, only now it had gone beyond just his fingers. I could picture looking down to see him driving himself into my wet and willing pussy. I felt my clit twitching again at the thought, as my stare danced between his eyes and his lips. I saw his gaze doing the same thing, as we both stood, breathing heavily in the cold air.
Please, came my inner voice again, please just kiss me. Screw the age gap, screw being my uncle’s best friend. My desire’s only grown since I was a teenager and the last few days have been torture. I want you to fuck me. I want you to take my virginity more than ever. Please tell me you want the same thing.
“You okay?” Warren stammered eventually, setting me up straight.
“Yeah, I guess,” I answered, the fluttering excitement inside me sadly dying away.
“Okay,” he turned and carried on further up the hill. “We’re nearly there.”
We reached the top and found a small copse of trees with an old wooden bench set on the edge, facing away from the horizon. Beyond that was the most amazing view, stretching around as far as the horizon in every direction.
“Wow!” I breathed. “It’s like you can see all of Scotland.”
“I know,” he smiled, “but we need a subject for perspective here, too.”
“You gonna take your clothes off again?” I grinned, hoping this secluded locale might give us the chance to go further.
“No. You are.”
At first, I thought I’d miss heard him. “What did you say?”
“Come on, all the way,” he was fiddling with his camera and tripod again, like he was simply asking me to pass him something trivial.
“You can’t be serious!”
“No?” he turned to me, something close to anger in his eyes. “You can’t be serious if you’re expecting to ask some of the most beautiful women in the world to do something you’re not prepared to do yourself.”
He has a point, I admitted to myself, and this is no time to get coy. “But, it’s freezing,” I whined.
“You’ll live.”
This was not what I’d had in mind when I imagined getting naked for him, but there was no way to back out. He’d never even treat me like an adult, let alone a photographer. If I complained and acted like a little girl, he’d just go back to fucking Vanessa if I didn’t show how cool I could be.
I made my way over to the bench and sat, pulling off my boots one at a time. Warren was engrossed in setting up his equipment, so I pulled the sweater off over my head. I turned my back to him and unhooked my bra, slipping it off and exposing myself to the rest of the far-off world. Here goes nothing, I thought, and pulled down my jeans and underwear together, bending forward to step out of them. Well, that must have left nothing to his imagination.
It was cold, though. My nipples went hard like bullets and gooseflesh crept up along my arms, my thighs, and around my breasts. I struggled not to shiver. “How do you want me?” I asked him, trying to sound as grown-up and professional as I could.
He posed me, facing away still, my shoulders and face turned back to him, my arms crossed over my tits and one foot on the bench. Next, he had me sit on the freezing wood, my legs crossed modestly. Then, through another tasteful and beautiful pose, and then another, he was always careful to not reveal too much of me to the camera.
With him constantly telling me how beautiful, sexy, and sensual I looked in his soft, husky voice, it took mere moments before I really felt like the most gorgeous thing in the world. I had forgotten the cold and forgotten my embarrassment. I was just reveling in the attention and the look of desire in his eyes as he spoke to me.
“Can I show you possibly the most erotic thing in the world,” he suddenly said, coming out from behind his camera. He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed another Nikon from his bag, one with a much shorter lens, and came right up to me. “Turn to the side,” he whispered. “Put your hands up into your hair.” He took his camera and focused on my full, rounded breast, then squeezed off a salvo of shots. He showed me the viewer. There was my boob, proud and firm, my nipple straining to a diamond-hard point from the cold, with the skin around it tight and covered with tiny goosebumps.
“Wow,” I whispered.
“Why do you think that looks so sexy?” he breathed, his face close beside mine.
“It’s pure arousal,” I realized. “The hard nipple… the flesh… like it’s tingling…”
“Exactly,” he murmured, “It’s the way your body looks and feels after you’ve just had an orgasm.”
Sitting there, naked, looking at my bare breast on Warren’s camera, imagining how I might feel after he’d fucked me to orgasm, it was too much to handle. I felt my already wet and excited pussy throb and twitch. Whether he was actually being professional or genuinely trying to turn me on, I didn’t care. I had to finally have him.
I turned to face him, my eyes fixed on his kissable lips, my face less than an inch from his. I saw the faintest hint of a smile form around his mouth before our lips were suddenly pressed together. I couldn’t be sure who’d moved in first, I just felt his lips finally parting mine, his soft tongue pushing in to caress me. That sensation caused a deep and urgent pulling between my legs and brought a low moan from somewhere within my chest. His hands slid up my back and behind my neck. His touch, warm against my soft and chilled skin, sent shivers of pleasure through me, until he took a good hold and pulled me onto his lap.
My knees hit the wooden bench as I straddled him, but I didn’t care. I drove my fingers roughly into his hair, as I devoured his mouth. My hips beginning to flex gently and involuntarily, as my naked sex waited, poised, directly over his crotch.
“Goddamnit, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I first saw you here,” he growled at me, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck. Electricity crackled along my skin and I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. All I felt was the heat from my pussy radiating through me.
“I’ve been wanting that too,” I gasped, as his hands slid around from my back to cup my breasts, squeezing and pushing them up for him to start feeding on. Another desperate cry escaped from me, as his lips, teeth, and tongue began working over my hot tits, sending further ecstatic pulses to my aching pussy. He pinched and grazed my hard, pointed nipples. “I’ve been wanting you so bad, for so long,” I whispered, my hands finally able to reach him and my fingers nimbly undoing his pants.
His cock almost burst out of its cloth prison, so hard and long. I could almost feel the tip of him brushing my slick lips. I grasped him with both hands, his shaft like an iron bar in my grip. The passion flowing through me was so intense, I thought I might black out. I didn’t care if he lasted a second, if he blew his load inside me as soon as he slipped in, just as long as I got to feel him, to grip him in my tight virgin sheath, and squeeze him so he’d never forget me.
“Please, Warren,” I half whispered, half groaned, “I have to have you inside me! I need you to be my first!”
“Wait, wait!” Warren broke off from mashing my tits to cry. “We can’t do this!”
“Yes, we can,” I smiled, directing him at my hot wet hole and lowering my pussy down on him. I thrilled, as I felt the smooth tip of him push its way past my outer lips. Finally, a voice cried inside my head, I’ll finally have Warren’s cock inside
me!
“Seriously, Mary-Jane. I’m nearly old enough to be your father,” he firmly but gently lifted me off him. “I went to school with your uncle!”
“I don’t care!” I breathed into his mouth, fumbling to pull his dick back to my willing pussy. “Just please fuck me!”
“I can’t,” he spat, lifting me higher. He was so strong that I couldn’t fight him. He wriggled out from under me, doing up his pants. I stared at him, furious, frustrated, and completely unaware that I was still naked.
“What the fuck?” I shouted. “Are you just determined to make me feel like shit? What did I do to you? I thought you liked me.”
“I’m so sorry, Mary-Jane,” he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. I slapped his hand away. “I should never have let anything get this far. I’m the adult and I should be more mindful of that.”
“Warren, I’m twenty-two. I started taking responsibility for my actions years ago.”
“I believe you.”
The cold suddenly got to me again. Seeing me shiver, Warren scrambled to grab my big sweater and hand it to me. I could feel my anger dissipating and, obviously sensing this too, Warren sat down next to me, close enough that he could put his arm around my shoulders. I gave up trying to pull the sweater on and just lay it like a blanket over my naked body.
Chapter Five
My head leaning against his shoulder, my breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. I could see tiny wisps of white steam rising slowly off my bare skin. “Wow,” I managed, “look how hot I am.” Warren let out a sharp laugh. “That’s not what I meant,” I giggled uncertainly, “but thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Not that I’m too worried,” I asked, “but you’re not going to show those pictures of me to anyone, are you?”
