His position was that of prayer, of worship, which it was, in essence. Kneeling with his head to the floor, a compact package of thrumming need, bowing at her feet.
Stepping back until she felt the smooth coldness of the wall on the warm skin of her back, she slid slowly down to the floor in front of him until her naked arse bumped against the carpet, her eyes never leaving his body. Holding her knees to her breasts, she contemplated his stillness, knowing the quiet was disconcerting to him. Slowly she relaxed her stance, widened her legs, the movement making a soft muffled sound against the dull carpet.
“Is this what you want?” It was less a question than a statement. She knew the answer already. He knew the answer already also. It didn’t matter one bit that he couldn’t be sure what she was asking him.
She waited for him to look up.
And there it was, his bright eyes flicking up from the floor, a slight shock as his eyes travelled up her open legs to devour the sight of her cunt, moving greedily over the expanse of her skin to her breasts, his gaze consuming her as if he might be able to sear her into his memory before she—
“Didn’t I tell you not to look at me?” This was also not a question.
His brow furrowed, his gaze met hers for just a second and she caught the start of a blush before he quickly turned his face back to the floor.
“Yes Ma’am, it is what I want, and yes Ma’am, you did tell me that. Sorry Ma’am.”
His hands waved vaguely around as if to hurry away his mistake. Flustered, he rested his forehead back to the carpet, filled his gaze with the grey-brown short pile even as his mind was still seeing her. She reached out with her foot to touch the short puppy-soft hair on the top of his head, her toes gently petting him.
“You may,” she said, not having to expand further on the permission given.
He dutifully kept his eyes cast downwards as he lifted his head and shifted forward so he could reach her foot with his mouth.
The first kiss was gentle, reverent, followed by butterfly wings fluttering against her toes. He kissed each in turn, then gave the rest of the soft skin of her foot his dedicated attention, his lips and tongue seeking sensitive spots that would send a frisson through her body. Finding these treasures would cause him to redouble his efforts, trying different sensations to heighten her reaction. When he got it just right, he would hear her breath catch, the thrill of it making his cock rise in response.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the feeling of his rapt adoration, his warm breath and soft lips, his lapping tongue, his intense and focussed care, the quickening of her heart when he got it just right.
She’d brought the Polaroid camera with her this time, and she leaned over to grab it off the pile of clothes just within reach on her left. He was so pretty. So very pretty.
She snapped off several photos in a row: Looking straight down her leg towards the top of his head, a shot angled downwards, holding the camera high, one leaning forward to try and capture his mouth against her skin in close-up. The soft click-whirr of the camera made him smile, she could feel it against her foot. He was a show-off at heart, and he loved how she saw him.
Watching the photos develop was always a treat. They were good, showing their truth, and him, well, he was her lush beauty glowing at the centre.
“Do you want to see?”
He stopped what he was doing and nodded without looking up, his lesson learnt. “Yes please, Ma’am!”
She held them out towards him. “Here, you can look up now, boy.”
Squirming up onto his elbows, he lifted his face up to her, his gaze flitting from her face to the rest of her, utterly uninterested in the photos in her hand, drinking her in as if he had a thirst that could not be slaked.
She laughed, and flapped them about in front of his face impatiently until he refocussed and took them from her. Flicking through them he paused at the close-up: His mouth on her skin, his eyes closed, the tip of his tongue just visible.
“I like this one.”
“It’s because it’s got my foot in it isn’t it?”
His mouth lifted in a slow smile, he tilted his head. “Mayyybeee!”
He nodded towards the camera. “May I please?”
She screwed up her nose, made a face at him.
Sighing, she capitulated. “Go on then.”
Photos of her were rare, she hated the taking of them, the mandatory smiling, the awkward posing, and she nearly always hated the result.
The flash went off before she was ready, a blinding spark, then the soft whirr as the photo came out of the camera. Holding out her hand for it before it had developed, she took possession of it. It was hers, as was everything that he had once thought belonged to him. The gentle breeze from waving the picture around made her shiver in the cool room.
“Hand me the pen,” she said.
Scrambling quickly from his spot on the floor, he grabbed the black felt tip from the nightstand and handed it to her.
‘Ferns, July 2020’ she scrawled on the bottom of the photo, setting it aside.
“May I see, Ma’am?”
She shook her head. “Not now. Right now, you’re busy.”
Leaning forward, she beckoned him up to her. He crawled quickly towards her, reaching up to her mouth for the kiss.
She pulled back before their lips touched, hooked her thumb behind his bottom teeth and held his chin. He stopped, staying stock still in her hand, unsure what she wanted.
His confusion quickly cleared as she redirected his face down her body towards her pussy.
… continued here (the story, not the nudity…)
Of course you know it’s my birthday because birthday nude!
Another year, lovelies. I know some of you have been here since the beginning, so very long ago. And some of you are brand new (hi!). Old friends and new: Thank you for your company, for your comments, for your likes, for your support, for being here with me for another year.
Happy birthday to me! :)
Comment and click the heart now so I feel the love <3.