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Do not move’ tells me the photographer. ¿I move? That would be difficult because I’m lying face down on the mattress, shackled as X.

find myself completely naked except for a mask. The fact that he’s dress makes me feel even more helpless, at some point, helpless.

Apart from some indication of the poses, it is inarticulate. I do not see, but feel his scrutinizing gaze.

Both of his eyes, like the lens of his camera. Noto each click like a caress on the skin.

It is like a reiki session; no physical contact, but I sense an energy force that stimulates me and relaxes at the same time.

So my week begins on a Monday morning. Not bad.

Despite the morbid curiosity and excitement that the situation causes me, the photographer is a real artist.

In fact, the more formality and professionalism are in a erotic photo session, makes me more.

It is a very serious man of about 40 years, it is also one of the most fetishistic guys I know. But he never loses his composure.

That love me; control impulses to speak freely and quietly about desire, is something that continues to fascinate.

After almost two hundred photos Bondage, I am exhausted pose. It’s almost lunchtime and I’m starving.

While untie me, I just think of cooking something delicious. It makes my mouth water thinking about what you can get out of my kitchen …

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But where are my manners? The less I have to offer you a coffee. The session was long and accepts it immediately.

get up, I put on a bathrobe and go to the kitchen, as he picks up his camera and spotlights.

Once on the couch in my living room with coffee, we start to talk about how well it has gone and today’s session started sharing ideas for the following.

I’d love to photograph people when you wake up to see his morning routine says.

Well, I always masturbating in the morning … In fact, I always wanted to do pictures of my face when I run;

petite mort my say, looking out the window before taking a sip of coffee.

You want it now? -Question-. If you have time, of course he adds.

thought the erotic photo session was over, but I realize that the real is about to begin.

Suddenly, I forget hunger and noticed a tingling in the crotch that I am unable to ignore.

Food can wait, there is another need satiate appetite. Moreover, I know that opportunities like this do not occur every day, and I take it.

Then I get up off the couch and I run to my room looking for a toy. I want a rampant bunny; I need to feel something inside.

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Also, my clitoris is beating like a heart between my thighs, demanding to be the center of attention.

INA Cojo Wave, back to the lounge and meeting the photographer standing with his camera in his hands, ready to fire again.

remember the face Just before take off the robe and throwing it on the couch.

Calm down firmly he assures me.

lie on the floor. Although not the most comfortable place, I am thinking of the picture, rather than my comfort.

put the hair to match my red hair with parquet.

Photographer approaches remains standing and leaving my hips between her legs, not to see the porn sequence I’ll shoot from the waist down.

Hiding her face with the camera, hoping to make the first click. I close my eyes and open my thighs.

Caress my vulva with your fingers. I’m so wet that the toy comes easily.

And once inside, I turn it on. Photographer starts shooting pictures but, despite the obvious excitement, feel nervous.

I know I’ll take to cum because my head is still processing this strange and unexpected event.

Although only going to photograph me face, I feel like I’m revealing something much more intimate than if you were displaying my nakedness.

The point I hear the sound of his camera, my mind starts to fly. I think of the petites morts of my past lovers: loss of control,

the expression that seems a mixture of suffering and ecstasy always causes me a knot in my stomach.

Also, I think of all the times my own petite mort has caused me embarrassment; wanting to hide orgasm,

covering my face with the pillow or hiding under my hair. And yet, I’m willing to teach it to someone who is not even fucking me …

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can not help thinking of the irony of the situation today.

walk and walk away orgasm several times. There are too many distracting things and have trouble concentrating.

hope some variation photographer … must be thinking: ‘How much more? ‘. For a moment, I think all the pictures that we are equal,

and has already had a good time. But it is not the time to look for on the poses, I have to let go. From this it is;

naturally show to see with my own eyes, immortalized, one of the most personal expressions.

open my legs a little more to expose my clitoris, I climb the intensity of the toy and firmly secured. I need more stimulation;

turn on the Wave mode. Sigh noticing how the toy swings inside me. My breathing quickens, accompanied by the click, click, click of the camera.

But it is only when you stop hearing them, when really turn on me.

Without opening his eyes, I realize that the photographer is looking at me really, with the natural lens of your eyes.

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Suddenly, I notice that it is no longer a mechanical process and feel their piercing look like an injection of morbid curiosity, stimulating me more exhibitionist.

take a deep breath and wait. I bite my lower lip, frown and hold my breath until you feel that my legs have been shaking.

have reached the point of no return. At last! My body gets even more tense, before being released.

Now Oh, my God! I’m already running!

Noticing the first spasm, I throw my head back and scream of pleasure as my buttocks bounce off the ground rhythmically.

need to close her legs against the toy … I try to put even more. All the accumulated tension dissipates.

Now I hear the clicks of the camera again, but more often, observing and capturing my ecstasy; my petite mort.

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Back to reality I am breathing hard. When I open my eyes, I see imprisoning my waist with his feet, like when we started.

How crazy! exclaimed before giggle of relief and nervousness as he makes a couple of photos to my post-orgasmic face.

think we have already says the photographer, as if masturbating in front of it were the most natural thing in the world.

Naturalness that only further increases the morbidity of the situation. I get up and I go to dress bathrobe.

Photographer picks up his camera and jacket sets, ready to go.

Later, I get the email with photos; images portray only my face but, each worth a thousand pornographic.

Study the entire sequence from the beginning obvious nervousness; how my face is changing and slowly tightens until the final fade.

watch all the little changes and how my skin blushes, makeup melts and veins appear on the neck and lines on my forehead did not even know I had.

Some images evoke sensuality and pure sexuality while others transmit pain, somehow as if she had given birth.

While I look, I remember the feeling of being masturbating in front of the photographer.

can not believe what I’ve done, but it is precisely these crazy things that give me that sweet vidilla.

Review the sequence, and each time I find more new details.

They are not the prettiest, but my petite mort pictures are memories of the time when I felt more alive than ever.

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