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“Hot.”
Asher’s eyes roll back and I return to my camera, focusing on how he pulls his shirt up so he can caress his abs while his hand works. His skin glistens, he can’t sit still and his tongue constantly swipes over his lower lip. Then, as his shift in the chair grows more restless, I snap my final picture and settle back.
“Uh, don’t come,” I remind him. “I’m done with you, but I don’t want you to stop touching yourself. So maybe slow it down?”
Asher’s eyes narrow as he realizes that not only is he being denied orgasm, but that I got him worked up to the brink and now I’m leaving him to suffer.
“There better be a reward after this,” he says as I slide away. I shoot him a wink, then turn to Caspian, who has made himself incredibly comfortable. His shirt is all the way open now and his legs are spread wide as he strokes his thick cock with ease. Pre-cum glistens at the tip and shines on his fingers.
“Can I take pictures with your face?” I ask.
Caspian nods. He strokes himself a little faster and I focus on getting the best angles that highlight the sheer girth of his cock.
“Talk to me,” I say softly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Listening to you instruct Asher was pretty fucking hot,” Caspian says. “So was his fantasy. But I was also thinking about painting you.”
I glance up from my camera. “Like a French girl?”
“No,” he chuckles, his voice taking on a deeper note. “Covering you in paint but slowly. Making you focus on every single soft stroke of the brush. I’d take extra time over your breasts, see how crazy I could drive you just from stroking your nipples over and over.”
Just hearing him speak sent heat swirling through my body and combined with Asher’s fantasy, my core was throbbing. I grew more and more aware of my heartbeat, feeling the sudden thump of each beat down in my core and just behind my ears. My camera moves from cock to face and back again, capturing each flicker of pleasure and stroke of his fist.
“Then I would lay you down on another canvas and fuck you until we’d made another beautiful piece of artwork. I’d fuck you until every drop of paint told a story and you’d dragged your nails down the canvas, screaming your pleasure. Like a signature.”
Fuck. I’d been so intent on teasing the three of them that I hadn’t anticipated just how hot it would make me. Dampness soaked into my underwear and clung to my thighs as I stood and winked at Caspian.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Of course.”
Reaching out, I run my fingertips over the crown of his cock and a punched-out moan escapes him. “Touch only here. Nowhere else.”
Caspian glances down at himself and then, after a long moment, he nods and slides his hand up his cock. Focusing on only the crown, he uses his palm, and his head tips back with a drawn-out gasp.
“No coming, remember?”
“I won’t,” he gasps.
Then my attention is on Finn. His cock is darker than the others and plenty of pre-cum has drizzled down the shaft and over his fingers. He fixes me with a steady look and a knowing smirk across his lips.
“Can I photograph your face?” I ask softly, and he nods. “Tell me your fantasy?”
“I’d tie you up,” Finn says immediately. “With rope tight enough that it’ll leave grooves in your wrists and your ankles. I’d tie your thighs apart and leave you open and exposed. And then I’d tease you for hours with toys. Vibrators, dildos, pinwheels, and more. Anything to draw a pretty noise out of your pretty throat. Would I let you come? Maybe. Maybe I’d force your orgasm back each time you drew close and leave you writhing on my bed, desperate and hungry for an end that’ll never come.”
My core clenches powerfully and my camera slips slightly as I snap away.
“Or maybe I’d make you come. And keep coming. Over and over and over until you think you can’t take it anymore, until it hurts, and then I’ll make you come some more because I want to taste you. I want to drink you down and drown in your sweetness.”
A fat drop of pre-cum rolls from Finn’s cock and I can’t stop myself. I surge forward and catch the drop with my tongue while licking slowly over his swollen crown. Then I sit back and swallow as Finn hisses through his teeth.
“You wouldn’t fuck me?”
“You’ve seen the scar on my knee and my hip, right?” Finn gasps out, his hand moving jerkily. “Old war injury. Not as much power in these hips as there used to be but that’s okay. I’m still really fucking good with the toys.”
“Ah,” I muse softly, snapping the last few pictures. I hadn’t minded that Finn used toys or when I rode him at the cabin, and whatever little worry I had faded in hearing that I’m still very much fuckable.
“Thanks.” Standing, I start to move around the room and take several pictures of my men on edge. They’re all so close now, dancing to the brink of orgasm, and with each step, my thighs rub together, and the tingle through my core gets hotter and hotter.
