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Polaroid 2  

NG879190 46M  
16 posts
10/5/2021 11:26 pm
Polaroid 2


She had never been fond of taking pictures, much less the kind she knew he liked. Dressing up, giving him a peek was never something she denied him, but she enjoyed the in his eye when they were together. A casual, innocent peek to tease out the hunger in him was her fun. Even in much less innocent moments, she enjoyed performing for his pleasure. Giving him a full view of the tender portions of her body and doing to herself what she wanted him to do to her. Having him present to see emboldened her, chasing off any sense of shame and insecurity in the way she exposed herself. For him, she would be everything from the -next-door the high-priced-escort. Even so, the role of pinup- never felt the her.

Wanting be the object of his lust and more was never in doubt. The treasure box of costumes, toys, accessories, and memories was always something she had ready. And even when she did not, he never showed anything less than being fully enthralled with her in those moments. He openly desired her, both in the moment and out of them. This display of affection from him was a constant she appreciated and reciprocated in turn. The feeling that such a pure, genuine connection between lovers was the purview of some poor ingenue would flit into her mind on occasion. However, he had be near for her quash such naivete in the light between them. These moments serving affirm the desire and contentment between them.

was when she knew he would be busy and distracted with work that she starved for that connection. Him not being complete the circuit of energy between them even if in his thoughts was unconscionable her. And, was devastating when she realized she would do the , at times, in her own work. Though was no real guilt, she did find a sad regret in . As if were an important task she was forcing postpone. The functional thought of their time together being a practical calendar event disgusted her. She wanted to see him desire her!

The overwhelming need would consume her mind at times during her work. Setting her schedule to the side, she would daydream in the seconds between conversations with her colleagues. Using her memory to fabricate new ways to entice him, then file them for later as work would intrude. Her favorite moments at work were those where she would him report on her interludes, letting the cell towers carry her covered moans and his quick growls the distance between them. These were quick moments, dutiful to each other’s work, but enough to keep the connection warm until they were together. was when he could not take her that would worry her.

The dancing dots of a after him not picking up her pulled the corners of her mouth down. Insecurity played no part in her concern for him. His habit of letting work tie him into a knot was often a sore spot for them, but she knew it was how he handled the pressure of it. The can’t-talk-now-see-you-tonight finally appeared, dinging into existence as she watched. Setting the<b> phone </font></b>down, she recentered herself and focused on her work to force her worry to heel. This was not an unusual occurrence and she had long since learned he was earnest in his reply. The best she hoped for was a quick end to what torture he must be enduring during those meetings he described so blandly. To hear him tell , most of his meetings are necessary assure, rather than convince, those that are involved. Even so, the drain on him when the meetings went long was obvious.
The empty driveway and silent<b> phone </font></b>nudged her anxiety when she arrived home; another infrequent but expected feature of his work. was after her early evening shower ritual while sitting on their treasure chest did a spark of inspiration push back the cloud of absentee malaise. Fully dry, except for her hair, she knelt down and rummaged through the trunk. The boxy shape found her hand quickly. Pulling free, she popped open the Polaroid camera the battery and count indicator on the side. He had given her the Christmas before, pleading playfully with her let him have some “sexy” pictures of her. Since she had never been comfortable pictures of herself, he had offered this gift as a compromise. She could take the pictures he wanted, and she could hand deliver them like she wanted. Naturally, she teased his desperation and some hasty pictures were taken before his appetite had taken her.

Grinning at the memory, she moved the closet. The low cut blouse she selected served one purpose, and that was not be much of a blouse at all. Quickly sliding her arms into , she buttoned the bottom two to make sure the blouse was much more revealing than was already intended be. Leaving her wet hair curl slightly in the air, she moved her vanity pick out the bright red lipstick she wore when he would request . In the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair and leaned in close the mirror. Her reflection expertly applied the red her lips with practiced ease as she smacked her mouth into a pout. Reaching for the camera and switching it on, she checked the battery and counter again before raising it awkwardly in one hand as she adjusted the blouse in the mirror. Cocking her mouth slightly open, her thumb pressed in and the flash exploded light into her eyes. Trying to adjust her grip, her hand slipped and the camera was caught awkwardly with her free hand just as her terrified squeak ended.

The Polaroid picture still clung to the opening on the camera as she fumbled to get a solid grip on it. Pulling it free, she set the camera aside and began to shake it dry. The image that bled into reality was exquisitely out of focus and seemed to be focused on her shoulder. The expletives that followed would have amused her lover, but now she was dead serious. Each of the following four attempts increasingly frustrated her as the blurs and blobs contained on each bordered card seemed to get worse the angrier she got. While lifting the camera into position for the fifth attempt, she panicked slightly as she felt her thumb squeeze the trigger before she was ready. The blinding flash was followed by the whir of the dispenser. In defeat, she put the camera in front of her and glared her fury at it. She wanted to give him something nice, and this damned piece of plastic was mocking her. Leaving it , she stood and returned the blouse to the closet.

Once her lipstick had been rubbed off over the bathroom sink, she felt shame in her failure. She knew he would appreciate the effort, if she ever revealed him. But this was one of his desires that she had never felt up the task do for him. She was avoiding returning the camera the treasure box, having no desire see the abortive attempts scattered on the floor in her anger. But, she preferred he never saw them and decided clean them up before he got home. Snatching them from the floor around the vanity, she tossed them forcefully into the bin. The camera was still where she had left it, but it was at that moment she realized still had the last attempt sticking out of . She saw the dash of red on her lip before seeing her breasts artfully covered by the non-blouse in the white border. Her first thought was that it looked kind of like an artsy album cover. The dawning warmth of triumph letting her draw it from the camera and inspect it further. She found herself appreciating the way it both blurred her features and added soft shadows that made her cleavage stand out. The detail was almost exactly what she wanted but could never intentionally achieve. She knew he would go wild for it.

The pit of her stomach welled up at the question of what to do with it next. He would not be home for hours, she knew. And, she could not wait that long to share it with him. Laying it on the table in front of her, she reached for a pen as if she were working. Without thinking, she wrote along the bottom border, “Hurry home…,” letting the words express her desire.

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