[FFM] My sister’s friend’s camera. My pussy. Her minimal designs.

Jul 18, 2025

cuipingcheng

I'm the photographer. This was, without question, the most erotic photo shoot I've ever done. She was my best friend's sister, dressed in barely-there designs her sister created, and willing to expose herself in ways no lens could ever fully capture. The photos were explicit. Real. Wet. And unforgettable. And what made it even hotter? She helped me write this. From her perspective. Her voice. Her thoughts. This story is for my female readers. For those of you who wonder what it would feel like to be in front of my camera… spread, trembling, dripping. Enjoy.

Jane asked me when we were alone in the kitchen. Her voice was soft, but it carried weight. It always did when she was about to suggest something I wouldn't be able to say no to.

"So," she said, her back to the counter, "you still want to enter the erotic category at the end-of-course gallery?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

She smiled slowly. The kind of smile that made you feel like she already knew what you'd say, how you'd react, how wet you'd get. "That's what I thought. I have someone in mind to shoot you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean you're not doing it?"

"I'll be assisting," she said, brushing her hair off her shoulder, "but I want you to work with someone else. Someone who can… handle the kind of shoot we're imagining."

I felt something stir in me, low and warm and deep.

"Who?"

"My best friend," she said. "You've met him, I think. Quiet. Tall. Photographer. You said he had that look. The one that makes you feel like he's seeing things he's not supposed to."

I remembered. Of course I remembered.

I'd seen him once at one of Jane's shows, standing behind the crowd, leaning against the wall, his camera in one hand, watching everything but saying nothing. He had this calm, steady presence… like he didn't need to interrupt a moment to be part of it. And when I walked past him… just close enough that our arms nearly touched, he looked at me.

Really looked.

And I felt it between my legs.

I tried to play it cool. "What kind of shoot?"

Jane's smile deepened. "The kind where you wear the lingerie I designed."

I laughed. "The crazy stuff?"

"The bold stuff."

"The stuff that barely exists?"

She stepped closer and placed her hand lightly on my hip. "Exactly. That line you said no one would ever dare wear? I want you to wear it."

"And your friend's just supposed to… what? Stay professional while my pussy's practically on display?"

Jane leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "He doesn't just stay professional. He watches. He documents. And if he gets hard behind the camera, he doesn't make it weird. He makes it better."

That part made me feel dizzy.

"What if I get turned on?" I asked quietly.

Her eyes held mine. "Then you let yourself. That's the whole point."

We set the shoot up for Saturday night.

When I opened the door and saw him again, taller than I remembered, dressed in black, camera bag slung low across one shoulder, I felt it.

A twist deep in my belly. Like my body recognized him before my mind did.

He didn't hug me. Didn't do the whole "Hi, nice to meet you again" thing.

He just looked at me. And fuck, I melted under that look.

Jane had already prepped the studio space in her apartment.

Soft red lights. Satin sheets. A warm glow coming in through the sheer curtains. Everything designed to flatter skin, make shadows hug the curves, give the illusion of heat.

I stood behind the folding screen, naked.

The first outfit was one of her pearl designs. Barely anything, really. Just a strand of delicate white beads curving down from my navel, sliding between my lips, and threading back up between the cheeks of my ass.

No bra. No panties. Just that.

When I stepped out, his breath caught. I didn't hear it, but I felt it.

He raised the camera, slow and reverent. Jane smiled behind him.

"Just follow my voice," she said, "and trust him."

The first shots were subtle. I kneeled on the bed, let the strand of pearls sway. My breasts bounced slightly with each movement, nipples stiffening from the cool air and the focus I felt on me.

But it didn't take long for it to get… real.

He asked me to open my thighs just a little wider. Then again.

The pearl strand dug gently into my slit, and I knew, knew he could see the soft wetness starting to glisten.

Jane leaned in. Adjusted the light. Said softly, "Let's make this next shot really highlight the texture of her clit."

My breath caught.

She said it like she was talking about fabric.

He stepped closer. I could feel the warmth of his body before he even touched me.

Then his hand reached out, slowly, just to adjust the pearls.

And when his knuckle brushed against my clit?

I shuddered.

Hard.

He pulled back instantly. "Shit. Sorry."

But Jane was already lifting her camera. "Don't apologize. That's gold."

The next outfit was the leather thong.

It wasn't even underwear. It was a suggestion of coverage.

Just a tight black triangle that barely covered anything, the straps hugging my hips so tight I could feel my heartbeat in them. The top of my pussy peeked right over the edge. My clit was right there, exposed, winking at him.

I walked out slowly, and the way he looked at me—like I'd stripped away his ability to think, it made my knees weak.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice teasing.

He nodded, swallowing thickly. But the tent in his pants answered better than his words.

"Perfect," Jane whispered from behind her lens. "Let's capture that. Hold that angle. Let your lips peek a little more."

I shifted, spreading my stance, feeling the air hit my clit.

His camera clicked.

And then Jane said it.

The line that changed everything.

"You know…" she began, adjusting a light, "I've been thinking about pushing the shoot a little further."

I looked at her.

She tilted her head. "Something bolder. Still tasteful, but… more raw. I've got an idea."

She turned to him. "You're okay being a little more… involved?"

His eyes met hers. Then mine.

His jaw tensed. But he nodded.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Jane stepped closer. "Your body is already responding to him. And his… well. We all saw it." Her eyes dropped briefly to the camera strap near his belt. "What if we… included him? Just a little."

I blinked. "Wait, in the photos?"

She nodded. "Not sex. Not yet. But touch. Skin. His cock against your pussy. Just for the art. Beautiful, erotic tension. No faces."

My pussy clenched so hard I almost gasped.

I looked at him. He looked at me.

And something in me said yes before I even opened my mouth.

I was trembling when I said yes.

I don't know if he heard it in my voice or saw it in the way my thighs shifted, just barely, just enough, but he moved carefully. Respectfully. Almost reverently.

Jane was already adjusting the camera angle, her voice soft and clinical. "We'll keep it high contrast. Focus on the meeting point. You can be close, even touching. Just… no penetration yet."

The word "yet" made something flutter in my chest.

He looked at me. I nodded.

Then I watched him reach for his belt.

He didn't rush.

His fingers worked the buckle open, slow and precise. He slid the button loose from the denim, then pushed his jeans down just far enough to expose his boxers.

There was already a dark spot at the front. My mouth went dry.

When he lowered them, I actually gasped.

God.

I'd thought about what he might look like under there. Imagined it lazily while I touched myself in the bath once. But nothing had prepared me.

He was… thick. Long. Beautiful in a way that made my body respond before I could control it. His shaft curved slightly upward, heavy, proud. The skin pale and tight around thick veins that ran like lightning bolts across the base. The head was flushed, already slick with arousal, swollen and glistening.

It wasn't just big, it was… present. Like it belonged between my legs. Like my pussy had been quietly waiting for it all along.

Jane exhaled behind me. "Okay. Let's try a soft graze. Just… bring the tip close. Hover, barely touching her."

He stepped forward. I parted my thighs instinctively.

The leather thong still clung to my skin, sticky with my own slick. I reached down and pulled the thin strip to the side, exposing my folds.

His cock twitched when he saw my pussy bare like that. And oh god, I saw his throat tighten as he swallowed.

I reached for him.

Fingers curled around the shaft, warm and alive in my hand. He was hard, impossibly hard, but the skin was still soft, sensitive. I could feel his pulse in my palm.

I guided him down. Lower. Closer.

And then… just barely…

The tip of his cock kissed my entrance.

That's when it happened.

His body jolted. Like I'd electrocuted him.

He sucked in a breath so sharp I flinched.

"Fuck..." he gasped, voice cracking.

Then I felt it.

His cock twitched once in my hand.

Then again, violently.

And suddenly…

He was cumming.

It wasn't slow. It wasn't controlled.

It hit him like a wave, like his body betrayed him after holding back for too long. A thick, hot jet of cum exploded from the tip, painting the top of my pussy in a sudden burst. Then another. And another.

It spurted across my mound, between my folds, splashing onto my clit with a warm, wet splat. Some of it clung to his shaft, slick and gleaming. The rest… was on me.

I felt it drip between my thighs. A slow, viscous trail tracing down from the entrance he never even entered.

He groaned, helplessly, beautifully, his eyes wide, disbelieving. "Fuck, I...I didn't mean to. I didn't even… it just…"

I looked down.

My pussy was soaked in him.

His cum glistened on my lips, slid slowly toward the sheets. My inner thighs were streaked. My clit was coated, shiny, twitching, alive.

Jane didn't stop shooting. I could hear the camera shutter clicking again and again.

"This is incredible," she breathed. "Don't move."

I didn't.

I just sat there, legs open, soaked in his orgasm.

I'd never seen a man cum like that. Not just the volume, but the loss of control. It wasn't planned. It wasn't "sexy" in the traditional sense.

It was honest. Raw. A pure, physical surrender.

And it turned me on so hard I couldn't breathe.