By Kendra Holliday | April 12, 2014
When I was in California, I got inspired to do a freaked out photo shoot, so I asked my friend if she knew any photographers in town I could collaborate with.
“Actually, I do!” she said, and within moments I was connected to a local photographer/artist. I told him what I had in mind, and he didn’t bat an eye.
I showed up at his swank, art-filled house the next day, and was glad to discover that not only was he open-minded, but also sexy and cool. As in, hot. He looked like Jon Snow from Game of Thrones.
He was grubby from a day’s work – he wore a wifebeater under a shirt and some ripped up, paint stained jeans. His voice was gentle, his gaze unassuming.
I shook his hand, then asked with a gleam in my eye, “So how freaky can you get?”
Without flinching, he shot back, “How freaky can YOU get?
Freak showdown! YESSSS.
Then he showed me his human skull collection. WTF??? He even has an infant skull. I held it – it was weightless, like a puff pastry shell. He had a human leg in one of his closets, not to mention other various human bones lying around the house. Maybe they were the remains of previous models… ha ha.
He further impressed me by showing me a jar of his own semen that he collects and keeps on hand for painting impregnation, and then he wheeled out an antique dentist chair as I cheerfully stripped down in his backyard. He offered me the bear skull.
“I want to sit on that,” I declared, and he said that’s exactly what he had in mind. Those teeth were SHARP!
We took several more wet-n-wild shots (I watered his lawn, hee hee), and when we lost our light, I called my friend to come pick me up. She was due in 15 minutes.
We stood in his foyer and shot the shit, when all of a sudden, he blurted,
“Do you want to have sex?”
He wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t cocky, but matter-of-fact and friendly about it.
“Excuse me?” I asked. It took me completely by surprise, mainly because of the way he said it. Normally when someone asks someone they just met that question, it’s worded more like, “Wanna fuck?” Plus, he had just spent two hours watching me be a dirty little slut, which made the respectful approach even odder. Don’t get me wrong – I liked it!
Immediately I started to say, “No thank you,” but paused and thought about it. Why not? I was into him, there was energy. I was feelin’ it.
“Do you have a condom? Can you do quickies?” I asked.
“I LOVE quickies!” he said with a happy grin.
“Then sure, let’s do it!”
I walked back to his bedroom, and he followed me.
Over my shoulder I said, “Oh but I’m not allowed to cum.”
“Why not?” he asked, baffled.
“My Man told me I’m not allowed. He cut me off this afternoon. He wants the next orgasm I have to be his doing when I get back in town.”
He was fine with that.
He got a condom and I asked, “Want me to bend over the bed?”
No kissing. We hadn’t touched, save a couple times when he adjusted the skull that was slipping off my crotch.
I dropped my drawers, and looked behind me to see him, jeans mid-thigh, dressing his hard dick.
He came up behind me, and rooted around. I spit on my hand and rubbed my pussy, and he slipped his cock in…
It was amazing. I felt like I was at a gay bath house. Here we were, two strangers who like to fuck, fucking for pleasure’s sake.
He fucked me gently, respectfully. It felt so good to have something hot and hard inside me. I sighed and moaned. I whispered back at him, “Harder,” and he surged forward and busted inside me. As soon as he did, he grabbed my hips hard, and groaned deliciously.
He immediately pulled out, then touched my body all over with his strong hands, rubbing on me, as if to make sure I was real.
I laughed happily and leaned into him, and we embraced from behind. It was really sweet.
Then we went to different bathrooms to clean up, he showed me a few more works of art, and my friend knocked on the door.