The Gift Part 2 [MF] [Cheating] [Exhibitionism]

The GIFT (Part 2)

Mark had been gone since the morning, visiting his parents. This gave her time to get ready for the shoot. In the shower, she’d gotten herself off with the detachable shower wand thinking about being posed and semi-nude in front of strangers. She packed some lingerie, her drop-dead pair of Rossi wrap heel sandals, her gold Herve Leger halter neck, did her hair, put on her makeup, and jumped in the Uber. “Brooklyn… Williamsburg”, giving the driver the address.

215. A nondescript brick building off 2nd Street. She read down the list of names on the directory next to the call box. “Image Photo” it said. Not the same, but that had to be it. She pressed the code and a moment later a voice came over the call box. “Oui?”

The familiar, clipped French accent assured her she was in the right place. “I have an appointment” she answered. “You’re early. It’ll be a moment. Please wait here.” She looked at her phone. 3:35. *Shit!*, she was early. She stood outside, feeling more awkward and out of place than she looked. Her immodestly short, gold designer dress, and black fuck-me heels, with an adidas gym bag over her shoulder. She looked like a hooker. *A very expensive hooker*, she corrected. That thought elicited a drop of moisture from her pussy. *Maybe Mark and I can play that one out* she thought.

She looked around. The street was mostly quiet, so she stood there in the entry way. Minutes ticked by. Two Hasidic Jewish men walked by. One ignored her. The other did not. At 4:03, the door opened, and a curvy beauty with a full head of red curls, in jeans and a Misfits t-shirt walked out. Her arms were covered in tattoos. The woman looked at her sideways, eyeing her up and down. “I guess you’re the 4:00.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Have fun” she offered walking away without making eye contact. She got into a nearby parked car and drove off. The door buzzed behind her, snapping her out of her stupor. She pulled it open and stepped inside. The call number had said 104b. There was a grimy set of stairs to the right, the remains of someone’s fast-food meal and a couple of crumpled cans of Four Loco piled in the corner with cigarette butts. The whole place just stank in the way that industrial Brooklyn stinks. It stank of People, garbage, aging buildings, the river.

In front of her was a long, narrow corridor heading straight back. *Has to be first floor* she thought. She walked down the corridor, her heels clicking loudly on the antique tile floor. She passed a number of steel doors on her right, each with plain letter signs. But not hers. At the end, she saw only the number: 104b. The door was dented and rusting. There were faded and torn stickers that had been stuck to it and removed, to one degree or another. She knew the NY artist types, however, and appearances could be and usually were deceiving. *If you wanted someone really skilled at their trade* she thought *this is where you find them*. Feeling now very small, and very much out of her element, she raised the knuckles of her small hand and rapped on the massive metal door.

She raised her hand to knock again when she heard the sharp grinding of a metal lock move, and the door opened for her. “Hey.” He was young. Younger than her. Maybe 23. No accent. Who else was here? “I’m Sean” he said, trying to hide the fact that he was looking at the full swell of her tits in the halter dress. “I work with Chris. He’s just getting finished up. Come in, have a seat” gesturing to the waiting area. They turned an immediate corner to a small sitting room with a deep mahogany-colored leather sofa and a coffee table that looked like Restoration Hardware. There were photography books on the table. Large black and white prints, exquisitely done hung on the walls. Her eyes played over them. One was taken of a woman in a faded background. She was bound with ropes. In the foreground was man’s pant leg. Another of a woman straddling the back the seat and back of a chair. She was fully nude. Sunlight shone on her at a sharp 45 degree angle. Yet another was a closeup of a pair of impossibly glossy lips. It looked like there might have been cum on the tongue. She took a deep breath. Another sharply contrasted shot of a woman, nude, on her knees looking up at something with adoring eyes. Whatever “it” was wasn’t in the photo, but the suggestion was clear enough. *Holy shit*, she said slowly, to herself *they’re not fucking around*.

She sat down, carefully tugging at the hem of her dress. After seeing the red head, she’d felt deeply stupid for overdressing. “Ehh.. Comment ca va? how are you? Megan, is it?” The man who had to be Chris emerged from behind a heavy-cloth-covered doorway. Megan saw him for the first time. Older, certainly older than Sean. Older than her too. Late 30’s, early 40s’. Megan was horrible at measurements. Mark was just under six feet. This guy was taller. Lean. Built like a swimmer or a cyclist. His long, arms and hands were tattooed like the Copper top’s had been. It was good work, not cheap ink. Vibrant colors, evocative of Japanese art. A raven sat observing koi on his veined forearm. A tiger crawled menacingly over his sharply defined triceps from under the sleeve of his t-shirt on the other arm. Dark, worn jeans fit him almost like a second skin and sat over a pair of worn leather motorcycle boots. Megan looked him once over and became immediately wet. *Hooooollllly shit*, she thought. *He’s fucking hot*. When her eyes made their way back up, he was looking directly at her. He had sharp features, prominent eyebrows, a pointed chin covered in at two- or three-days’ worth of stubble. Aquiline nose. The overall effect gave his face a hawkish, predatory shape. Sharp green eyes, and short black hair that was just beginning to salt.

“Ummm… yes…” she stammered with none of her usual confidence. Men didn’t rattle Megan. This one already had. “I’m Megan.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Christian, but you can call me Chris, everyone else does.” He said. “So…” he said, getting down to business “what is it exactly that you want?” He dragged his vowels with characteristic French emphasis.

“I want a gift for my fiancé. It’ll be a wedding, gift. Sorry for that on the phone the other day, I was afraid you were going to hang up on me.”

“I was” he said evenly.

“Umm… I want a boudoir shoo… Something to give him that he’ll remember. “

“Okay, d’accord. You said that, but what do you really want?” he said with an almost impatient off-handed ness. He seemed bored with her already.

“Well… I don’t know exactly. I like these” she said waving her hand toward the black and whites on the walls.

“Ah okay, so you want eh…subtle. ‘Good girl’, things you can show your children, yes?”

She hated the way he’d said ‘Good girl’. And *show your children*? WTF. He’s mocking me.

“I should go. I really don’t know if this…”

“No…” he sat down next to her. “It is okay. Women, they come in here, many times they don’t know. You will trust me? I say, you do? We’ll shoot it. If you think it’s sexy, we keep it?” He was warmer now.

“Do you have a portfolio I could look at?”

“Yes, of course. Sean, go get the folio for last month.” Sean returned with it a moment later. Chris adjusted the gloss teak table closer to them, shoving the photo books aside and laying the leather folio down in front of them. She flipped through the pages. These were gorgeous. Every one of these women looked sexy. Some were nude, some in lingerie, some in corsets. Much of it was fetish photography. She paused, wondering at some of these. She recognized one. It was the tatted redhead, on all fours. Her tongue out, the tip of a riding whip resting on it. “She….she just left here.”

“Her name is Samantha. She’s one of the models I use for contract work, studio stuff etc.”

Now the woman’s casual familiarity made sense. She did this all the time. Megan kept flipping. A blonde woman, splayed on a bed, sheets wrapped strategically to covered her, her hand between her legs. Another, possibly the same woman, with an utterly flawless body, also masturbated in what looked like an alley, leaning against a brick wall, hand between her legs. Many were different, there wasn’t always a common theme. A sepia-toned photo of a diminutive woman, her hands bound above her, water cascading from a shower down her body. The detail. She could see the womans pores.

Megan’s breath was getting tighter, her mouth was dry. It wasn’t just the images. They were gorgeous, lurid, many of them bordering filthy. But it was also his presence. He wasn’t quite touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body next to her on the couch. She could feel his breath on her arms as he commented on this pose, that photo, what makes that composition work. He went into technical details with her as though she were another photographer who understood him. She took it as a compliment.

The next photo. A room with concrete walls. A thin woman hangs from what appears to be a noose, her. Her nipples are erect, tongue protruding from her mouth, her toes pointed sharply downward, dangling a few inches off the floor. “OMG this looks real…”

She could feel the soft laughter on her shoulder. “She’s Naomi. She lives in California with her partner. He has a thing for… asphyxia. Do you know what this is?

Careful to control her breath, Megan could only offer an “uh-huh” as she stared at the image. He eyed her curiously.

“I can assure you” Chris went on “she’s completely safe in this photo. It was a fun day.” He said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

Another photo. A milky pale woman about Megan’s age. Freckled. She’s on her back, her small breasts fully visible under the cups of her bra. Her head hangs off the edge of a bed. Mouth open, tongue almost out, to receive. Megan had to remember to breathe. She was flushed, incredibly aroused.

She turned the page. The next set showed the same woman, but this one included her partner. From a lateral angle, Megan could see the woman’s tongue extended towards his erect – penis. It was thick, veined. A crystalline strand of fluid connected her tongue to the head of the cock. The image was arresting, powerful, beautiful, erotic and lewd. She stared at it, her fingers tracing the corner of photo.

“This turns you on, yes?” he breathed onto her arm.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Mmmhmm” she managed in quiet affirmation.

“Come on. Take my hand. We’ll get started. I can do something you’ll find beautiful. We will capture for your… what is his name, your fiancé?”

“Umm… Mark”

“This look you have right now, I want to see it on camera so that you can give this gift to him. You trust me?” She looked over at him, not sure where she’d found the courage to meet his eye. She saw something now, mirth and … kindness? *Whatever it is* she thought, *if he’d asks me to walk naked out onto River St naked I’ll do it.* That thought scared her a little.

“Entre nous, let’s go!” he said, taking her hand and leading her back into the studio. A black haired girl in multi-colored highlights approached. She had a ring through her septum. “This is Annelise. She assists me with wardrobe and makeup. You have a bag?”

Megan nodded holding up her adidas bag. Chris extended his arm to her and she handed it to him. He looked through it, poking his finger around, and handed the bag off to Annelise. “See what else we have.” He then appraised Megan up and down, walking around her tilting his head this way and that. His almost clinical gaze made her feel heat on her neck that flared up on her cheeks.

“Try her for two’s, I’m thinking. Big in the hips for a zero. 32 B.”

Annelise flashed her a disarming, and enthusiastic smile and led her through the studio to the back. As they made their way to the changing room, Megan let her eyes roam over the cavernous studio. By the windows were beds, antique wardrobes. Umbrella lights and screens here and there. A chaise lounge, Chairs, sofas, a church pew shoved to one side. A vintage Indian motorcycle. A Norton. Chris’? she wondered. In the ceiling beams, which had to be more than 100 years old were block and tackle hoists, ropes. Overall, the place had more the look of salvage store.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take your clothes off?” The young assistant offered.

“Ummm… haha I guess that’s what I’m here for.” She unhooked the dress and the top fell. The assistant watched her with professional? Interest. She wasn’t sure. She pulled the dress back over her head and let it hang from her fingers. “I’ll take that.” Annelise folded it carefully over the back of a chair. Megan was now in only her heels and a lace black thong. Looking her over, the girl said “You’re lucky. He already likes you. The shoots always go better when he likes the model. You have gorgeous tits.” Megan blushed at the complement. Shed always felt they were a touch on the small side, but knew they were pretty. The assistant stood looking at her, chewing a nail. “Okay… be right back.” She returned a few moments later with stockings, a garter, and a balconette cup bustier. She handed them to Megan. “Here, put these on. We’ll start with this, it’ll go great with your heels.”

It took a few minutes. All that was left were the stockings. “Let me help you.” The girl rolled them um, lining up the seams in the back. She knelt at Megans feet, and rolled them up her legs. Megan wasn’t into girls beyond a drunken makeout once in college, but charged as she was, the feel of Annelises warm hands working up her thighs as she put the stockings on only ratcheted her arousal even further.

When it was all done, Annelise pronounced it “hot. You remind me of Kate Beckinsdale” Megan laughed, being a fan of the Underworld movies, she could only respond “yeah, right. But thanks” The raven haired girl walked over to an old Victrola radio, built in the 1920’s. She reached in the back and pulled out a glass and a bottle of what turned out to be vodka. She set the glass down and poured a generous two fingers. Here, shoot. You’ll loosen up a little, have more fun out there if you’re a little loose. Megan took the glass and turned it up, the heat of the vodka lighting her throat on fire. She felt a warm bloom expand thought her and immediately felt flush. “Whoo…”

Come on, let’s go, Annelise cheerfully led. When she reentered the main studio, Sean and Chris were finishing up some camera setups near a bed. There was a chair placed nearby and various other objects. And so things began to move. Chris was a technician once he started working. He instinctively knew angles positions, lighting. He would take pictures and show her the digital results. The lingerie set had come off well. Some shots of Megan splayed on a bed. A really striking composition of her in a highback chair, legs crossed under her. Chris was enjoying her work. He touched her casually and with familiarity when he wanted to move her, often handing the free camera to Sean while doing so. He every time he spoke to her in the smooth French accent of his native Montreal, her breath caught.”

“Eh… not bad, not bad. You can show those to your children, yes.” This time she laughed, a radiant, beaming smile that Chris began snapping over and over again as her head threw back. “OMG I’m not a prude.”

“We’ll see” he said with a sly smile returning to the camera. “tell me about your fiance’. What does he like? What turns him on?” he asked conversationally.

“I don’t know, he likes thinking about me, he likes it when I show off, when I flirt. He likes hearing about my exploits.” She immediately giggled and blushed.

“Ah, does he? Vraiment!” the photographer replied. “Let’s give him some exploits today” He approached her holding the expensive Leica DSLR at this side. He came close and leaned in her ear. “The camera sees what it sees. It sees what I see. It’s okay to close your eyes… to be yourself… to forget the space and just let out” She was feeling the vodka now. Had been for the last few minutes. The cadence of his speech and the closeness to her ear, the smell of clove and sandalwood that suffused him, the warmth of his breath all had a hypnoctic effect. She closed her eyes. He trailed his fingers over her shoulder, touching lightly at the straps of the bustier, pushing them off her shoulders. She breathed in deeply, feeling as though she would run out of oxygen, like he was consuming all of air in the room. His fingers trailed down her arms raising goose bumps.

“Now, you trust me?” he whispered. She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Good, go to the bed.” She went and lay back down on the crisp white sheets. “I want you to touch yourself, to please yourself as if there is no one else in the room. Except me of course” he flashed her a mischievous, boyish smile. “I don’t kn…”

“You can do it. Remember, trust what we are doing here”

She trailed her fingers over her torso, down her belly, and under her panties. It took her almost no time to lose the awkwardness and inhibition she felt at the moment of the request. Her fingers slid easily between the slick folds of her pussy. She was soaked. She pulled back and rubbed her clit up and down between her two fingers, then made circles around it. Her eyes closed, she slid her fingers up and down her slit, moaning now, her mouth falling open. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She pressed her feet down into the mattress, her pelvis rising into a bridge with her shoulders planted deep into the mattress. Her hair splayed around her and across her face. She was about to cum when Chris stopped her. “Okay, very good, hold a moment I need to make some changes.” She slumped back to the mattress, her chest rising and falling. She had been right on the edge of her orgasm when he interrupted her. He walked past and she saw it. She could see his cock through his jeans. *Fuck, I made him hard* she thought, almost surprising herself. Following surprise was another wave of desperate heat and wetness. She could tell that Chris had a significant cock. She wondered what it look like. Her thoughts were interrupted by Annelise “That was so fucking sexy. Chris wants to try a new theme. Can we take this off?” waving her finger at the bustier and panties. The request was said with an earnest sincerity she couldn’t say no to. “Yeah I can do that” she replied, and Annelise helped her off the bed. They returned to the dressing area. She helped take off the top, her fingers unlocking the garter, and at Annelise’s encouragement, her panties came down. “Leave the stockings on. Just those” was Annelise’s advice and she agreed. They headed back. As she entered the shooting are, lit by bright umbrellas and backlit screens, Chris looked her over. “Good.” Was all he said.

The first of his next series of ideas was more provocative. He had Sean remove the mattress from the bed and turned it upright on its end. The bedframe underneath was iron and metal, covered in springs and steel. Christian did the posing work himself. He had Megan lean back against the bed, arms extended, head hung in a crucifixion pose. Her arms were bound with black sashes, her hair fell across her face. While the ordeal of posing had served to dampen her enthusiasm somewhat, her fire was reignited when she saw herself on the test screen. This was dark, sexy.

And now another pose. “We’re going to touch you now. This is okay?” She bit her lip and nodded. “Annelise, come behind her and touch her like this” he made a gesture with his hands cupped in front of him. “Clothed, or…?” Annelise inquired casually. “…or.” Chris affirmed with a smirk. Megan looked over her 3 as Annelise stripped with a speed she couldn’t believe. In a flash the assistant, her body a canvas of art in various places from the tops of her feet to her neck, offset beautifully against her milk white skin, was bereft of her clothing. Megan thought she looked like one of those Suicide Girls. Megan wasn’t into women, but Annelise… she was undeniably sexy. The felt the warmth of the assistant’s body behind her as Chris’ Leica began to snap. First Annelise’s hands on her hip, flanking her mons on either side. Then up around the ribs, and finally cupping her breasts. Megan was beyond turned on, afraid they would see the moisture she knew was all over her thighs. She could smell her own arousal, and was sure they could as well.

The next position had Megan return to the bed, now covered in a black sheet. On her back, her heels tucked against her ass, knees to the sky and spread. One hand in her sex, another on her breast. “Annelise, go and choke her with your hand… *come ça*, like this” he gestured. Standing over her, the girls white hand, with a knife tattoo, and a hand gesture in the sign language for love, wrapped around her throat. Annelise’s hands were warm. Megan began to want the girl to touch her, to take liberties, for someone to…”

“Kiss her” he ordered. Her eyes went wide, Annelise looking down into them, smiling. Their lips met, softly after first, then opening, tongues seeking each other out. Megan’s chest rose into the girl, touching her own breasts against hers. Annelise’s fingers wandered down her rib cage and hips, her knee sliding between Megan’s. The kiss became wetter, more fevered, Annelise’s knee know brushing lightly against Megan’s dripping lips. She pressed into it and groaned. “Yes, yes that’s it.” A few changes of position, and Chris said good. Annelise got up. Megan was in a dazed stupor of sexual avarice.

Christian approached the bed. He knelt and spoke quietly to Megan. “Now let’s do something else you won’t show your children” he grinned at her wickedly. “Something…“he said, drawing the word out and moving to her other ear “you won’t show your fiancé.” Megan’s eyes remained closed. She was lost now in the illicit thrill of her exhibition and suggestible to anything they wanted, her need was that deep. “I’m going to have Sean come over, he is going to work with you in the photos. Everything is safe…” he touched her hair as he whispered, smoothed it away from her face. She took a deep breath, almost involuntarily, looking up at him. The room was still, quiet.

“No.”

“You. I want it with you”

Chris made no response but nodded and extended the camera to his assistants. As soon as it left his hand, he pulled his shirt over his lean, finely muscled and inked torso. Looking down and making eye contact with his subject, standing at the end of the bed over her head, he took her hands and pulled them to his belted jeans. He jerked his chin at his assistants, Sean with the high-end Leica began shooting, and the nude Annelise with a smaller camera that captured video. Her hands on his jeans and *click*. Then the zipper, and as they came down, the photographer’s cock came free, unencumbered by any underwear.

*His cock is beautiful* Megan thought. It was thick, around the same length as Mark’s …. Oh god Mark! She thought for a fleeting moment and then it was gone. She was too far into this to back out now. Yes, the cock was the same length, but thicker. It was the thickest cock she had ever seen. She wrapped her delicate hand around it, almost tentatively, oblivious to the camera now. Her fingers didn’t meet. She squeezed it, sliding the smooth skin over the shaft. A crystal bead of precum oozed from the tip, threatening to drip down on her. As she looked up at it, her eyes met his and they shared an unspoken idea. She leaned up, extending her tongue to the head of this beautiful circumcised cock, and licked at the precum. A long string of it dangled between her tongue, her lips, and the end of his cock, sagging from its own weight. It glistened and gleamed in the late afternoon light now pouring in obliquely through the dusty studio windows. The effect would be brilliant in black and white.

Annelise worked her way around the bed, silently. Sean moved positions as well.

Chris lowered himself to her, laying his dick along the length of her face. Her tongue met him, fully extended with long wet licks under his shaft from tip to base. Every few passes she would stop and suckle wetly on its head. She could taste the salty precum in her mouth. She wanted more.

“Let’s get you off the bed for a moment, kneel here” he pointed. It wasn’t a request. She knelt, still in her black stockings and nothing else and took him in her mouth. His groans were the only sound besides the wet pops and slurps of her mouth. She could barely fit him in her mouth, perhaps just a few inches. She wanted to please, pushed further, harder, gagging. “Yes, yesssss, that’s it… mon Dieu!” She kept on, wrapping her hands around his hips, urging him into her throat until at last she was able to take him almost completely down. Her throat stretched around the invading warmth of his steel hard erection. She could only imagine what he could do to her pussy.

He pulled free. His jeans now bundled around his feet, he picked her up easily. She yelped in laughter as he hauled her up in the air, her legs locking around his back and buttocks. Her arms went around his neck and she leaned into him, mewling, and licking his neck and ear like a cat. She could feel him against her pussy, the head pressing into her. She pulled back for just a moment and he gave her an inquiring tilt of the head. She smiled and nodded, and buried her head back into his neck.

He lowered her slowly, penetrating her with his hardness. She sank down at an almost torturously slow pace, a cm at a time. His hands cupped her ass, lifted her off of him, and then back down, penetrating further into her each time. She’d never had anything remotely as thick as this man inside her. She felt stretched, tight. Soon he was buried in her sex, pushing into her and she began to grind and bounce on his cock.

The two assistants remained silent, taking their photos.

After several minutes of Chris bouncing her as she wrapped around him, he lowered her to the bed. Now he had real leverage and began to fuck her in earnest, with long deep strokes. He pinned her wrist above her head and continued rolling his hips into her with a smooth rhythm. She loved the fullness of it, loved being fucked by this man so outside her world and experience. She loved doing it in front of two witnesses who were capturing all of it on film.

She felt an orgasm building. Chris could see her slip off, wanting it to take her, and sped her along by rubbing her clit with his thumb. She went off like a rocket, the orgasm blasting through her entire body, her pussy contracting against the massive prick inside of her. She was covered in sweat, her nails dug into the backs of his arms and shoulders, and she bit into his chest as he fucked her through her orgasm.

He fingered her engagement ring, looking at her with mischief in his eyes, as he slowly built his pace again on top of her. He slipped the ring off. She looked at him almost fearfully, but something in his eyes calmed her. She let him take the token of her fidelity and promise. A moment later he stood her up, walking her to a brick column in the center of the room. She smiled at him teasingly, playfully. He approached and spun her around, placing her hands high above her head, and sliding behind her, entering her again. He began again, rutting into her with renewed urgency in the standing position, his thrusts forcing her onto the tips of her toes, his hands mauling the flesh of her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples. His strokes became urgent staccatos, a rapid thump-thump-thump-thump-thump as his balls swung under him, slapping her clit each time he thrust into her. His hand went to her throat squeezing with a pleasurable tightness that made it difficult, but not impossible to breathe. “Uh-huh” was all she could get out as he hammered into her and she felt another powerful orgasm shake her, her legs trembling and stomach fluttering. She reached behind and clawed for purchase with her fingers.

He slammed her harder now, grabbing a fistful of her hair and wrenching her head back, his mouth to her ear. “Next time you come here” he growled, pulling his cock out and pressing the head against her ass “I’m going to fuck you here.” He pulled harder on her hair and she hissed. “You’re going to come back and I’m going to put my cock right up your ass.”

Megan groaned out a “Yes! You can fuck my ass” as Chris pushed his cock back into her pussy, on the edge of his own orgasm.

“Mon Dieu, mon foutou Dieu” he breathed into her ear. “Get on your fucking knees” he hissed as he popped his cock out of her. She slumped against the pillar for a moment, gasping the remains of her body-shattering orgasm. Her own slickness ran down her thighs, soaking the tops of her stockings. On unsteady legs she kneeled. Chris stood naked in front of her, stroking his cock at her face. “Close your eyes and open your mouth… stick out your tongue.” She grinned at him wildly, delighting in the lewdness of what was coming. He stroked, faster, pointing himself at her. He began to groan and as he did, she felt him place something on her tongue… metallic… *my ring!!!*

Her eyes flew open as he bellowed like an enraged bull, ejaculating powerfully across her face with the first stream, aiming lower with the second, shooting his thick semen over her lips and nose. The rest of it pooled on her tongue, coating the ring in the process. The entire filthy spectacle captured by the camera.

She knelt, semen dripping off her face onto the tops of her thighs. Chris, sweating from his exertions in the warm studio, panting, his cock still erect. “Annelise… come clean her up.”

Annelise approached and knelt in front of her with a towel. She took Megan’s face in her hands and began to lick her clean.

The End

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kr1zm5/the_gift_part_2_mf_cheating_exhibitionism