|Amateur Photography by Dorla Moorehouse|
When her maybe-boyfriend goes on vacation, Lena can’t help but question whether the spark will still be there when he returns. But armed with a smartphone camera, she takes matters into her own hands, determined to make herself memorable. (F/M)
One night about halfway through his trip, I was curled up under my flannel sheets and thick comforter with a good book and a glass of wine, trying to decompress from some mid-week work stress. As I eased into tipsiness, my thoughts turned from the novel to how pretty I must look in my sexy camisole, how inviting I must appear to anyone who might want to see what my body looked like on top of the smooth sheets. Once again, I started wishing Elliot was with me and began imagining the ways he’d distract me from my book. My clit tingled at the thought of his fingers sliding down my camisole to tease my nipples, sliding off my pants so he could lick my cunt. But as my hand reached for my vibrator, I suddenly changed my mind about getting off so quickly. My eyes moved from my sex toy drawer to my phone on top of the dresser. As I swiped open my camera app, I decided to show him exactly what he was missing.
Pulling off my pajamas, I arranged myself on the bed, turned on my phone’s camera, and snapped a photo. My excitement, however, faded as I saw the picture. The phone’s tiny lens and screen hadn’t been able to even fit my whole face, much less my breasts. Rearranging my pose and the position of my arm, I tried again. No luck. Only one breast in the photo, and my face was set at an unflattering angle. After fifteen more minutes of adjustments, deleted photos, and triceps cramps, I finally got a perfect shot: my face with a come-hither grin, both breasts rising round and full. I inserted the photo into a text message with no explanation, and sent it off.
Easing back under the covers and pondering my efforts, I couldn’t help but feel turned on by that one great photograph, my perfect breasts, the texture of my skin. Finally reaching for the vibrator, I trailed it around my curves, focusing it on my nipples, with stimulation that made me feel as though my heart was pounding way down in my cunt. I brought it down to the lowest point on my pelvis, making myself squirm as I waited. Finally, I touched my clit, taking the vibrator in deep, slow circles. Concentrating the tip right at the center, I maintained a steady pace until the vibrations threw me over the threshold into ecstasy.
By the time I finished, there was a text message waiting for me. All it said was, “More.”