The Male Gaze

I reached down and pressed two fingers against my clit. This was definitely against the rules, but Mark had already crossed that line when he took out his cock. Whatever was going on between us, it was no longer just a modeling session. I openly masturbated for the camera, playing with my clit, dipping my fingers between my swollen lips to get them wet.

Mark leaned in close, shutter clicking. I wondered if he was close enough to smell me. Probably, because I could smell myself, a raunchy, feral musk.

"That's great," he said. "Perfect."

He was working the camera with one hand now and stroking his cock with the other. I stared at how the skin moved on the shaft, transfixed.

Years ago, that cock had been inside Corinne's pussy. I wanted it inside mine now. I spread my legs wider--a little desperate--trying to make the invitation more obvious. He took the bait.

"Are you protected?" He asked.

I nodded. Uh-huh.

"Good," Mark said.

He set the camera down and climbed on top of me. His hard cock bobbed heavily between my legs, the shiny purple head just inches from my open pussy. Oh fuck. We were really going to do this, weren't we? I took his shaft in my hand and guided him to where I needed it. Penetration was slow and delicious. I could feel every inch of him as he slid in.

"Oh," I said.

I turned my head to one side--afraid he might try to kiss me. I didn't want that. I didn't want any awkward pretense that there was an emotional connection between us. Mark understood perfectly. He seemed to appreciate that what was happening was purely physical. He stoked my hair, but there was no affection in the gesture. It was like he was reassuring himself I was real.

"Alyx, you're beautiful," he whispered in my ear.

With a sudden jerk he buried himself to the root inside me, then held perfectly still, savoring my pussy.

Six ... maybe seven ... seconds passed--it felt like an eternity--then he started moving his hips, thrusting, fucking me for real. The curve of his cock meant the head was rubbing right against my G-spot. His hands were on my tits, playing with my nipples. Oh God, this was so good. I wrapped my legs around him, crossing my ankles behind his ass, rocking my hips to fuck him back.

"When you get close, don't pull out," I said softly "I want you to shoot inside me."

I don't know why I said it. I think I was getting off on the idea of being ravished, of being taken. My arousal was feeding off his. I didn't just want him to cum. I wanted to feel him cum. I wanted to be pumped full.

This was an aspect of the male gaze we hadn't discussed in art class. The feedback loop between male and female desire, the way his drive toward orgasm was pushing me closer as well.

He rose up on his toes so he could get more leverage. His pants were down around his ankles, and I grabbed his bare butt, forcing him deeper. He was really pounding me now, his heavy balls slapping my ass. I was moaning, making little cooing noises as he slammed into me. My bare feet flopped helplessly up in the air.

"Do it," I said.

He did it. Oh God, the throb, the pulse, the wet gush. He unloaded inside me, hips mindlessly humping. It just kept coming and coming. So much seed. He finished with a little shudder, almost a sob of relief. Now it was my turn to stroke his hair.

"Shh, I've got you," I said, clenching my internal muscles, squeezing his twitching cock, milking it.

I hadn't cum yet, but I didn't care. Feeling him pump felt good anyway. As soon as he finished, he slithered out of me, stumbled to his feet, and picked up his camera. He started taking pictures again with his pants still down around his ankles. His softening dick hung down, wet and shiny from being inside me.

I stared at it as I masturbated myself to orgasm.

That was the only photo from our session he posted on his website. Just my face, contorted with ecstasy, framed my sweaty hair. It was very tasteful, but also very filthy. It was obvious what must be happening out of frame.

The nudes were shown later at a gallery. Corinne and I attended the opening. It was odd, standing there fully-dressed and sipping wine, surrounded by naked pictures of myself--a distant echo of that afternoon with my boyfriend at the Musée d'Orsay.

Mark had made me beautiful. A work of art. The photos had an innocent, coltish quality, both sexy and awkward, perfectly capturing how I'd felt at the time.

The centerpiece of the show was a tight close-up of my freshly-fucked cunt--a trickle of cum leaking from my pink swollen lips, my clit rudely erect. My generous bush matted and smeary.

A tiny card attached to the wall of the gallery listed the name of the work and its price:

"The Origin of the World -- $8,500"