Photo by Donald Giannatti on Unsplash

Flash Fiction | MicroXpression | Prompt | Passé

The Photographer

A Time of Innocence

Agency Magazine January 31st, 2025, MicroXpression Microfiction

A long time ago, I sought to be a model in my younger days, not that I was that pretty, but people enjoyed the photographs that were taken of me, of us. He had quite a few models and I must say I was very jealous of most of them. Bodies so beautiful that I’d often have to masturbate both before and after sessions. It turns out that I wasn’t the only one though, so I didn’t feel so bad.

He was quite well-known back then and had many exhibitions throughout Europe. I was always amazed at how well he could make the human body appear so incredible in his photos.

Now I look back on those times, and I am reminded of the beauty and how truly passé I’ve become. And how passé that whole time was. A time of innocence and becoming. A time when film photography was in vogue.

Here is my story:

We would show up at his studio early in the morning. He would have been in the studio very early setting up, lights, loading film into his Hasselblads, and setting up the backgrounds.

We needed to arrive about an hour earlier than the shoot was to begin, just so our skin would lose indentations from our clothing. We couldn’t wear makeup. If it was a group shoot, we would sit and converse, many times massaging one another to get our skin loosened up and warm.

I always liked those group shoots; the smells and sights were often beyond imagination. But the individual shoots were very exciting as well.

His name was Roberto, and he was an older gentleman from Italy. His accent was very sensual, and his cologne was gentle on my senses. And while all his subjects were nude, he always wore only a silk robe while shooting. What amazed me, with all the nudity, he never showed any semblance of excitement. Which made it all the more sensual for me.

When he was positioning me, I could smell his musk which in itself was very exciting (another reason to masturbate before modeling, although sometimes that didn’t help, he was just so hot).

Anyway, I became infatuated with him over time. I think he knew that, but being the professional that he was, he never made advances on anyone.

But still, I wanted him. I imagined him using my body as his instrument. Positioning me in so many ways. And yes, touching me, not just taking my body with his images, but using me sexually in whatever fashion he wanted. I wanted him to fill me completely.

And so . . .

One morning, long before the shoot was to begin, I got to the studio and opened it earlier than he and waited for him, as we all had keys. Naked, kneeling, and dripping — I wanted — no needed to show him how much I wanted him.

I heard him drive up and enter the building. Turning on the lights, he saw me in position and said nothing, he really wasn’t much for words. He walked by me, to his office, put down his keys, changed into his robe, and grabbed his cameras. He set about setting up the lights and backgrounds as usual as I continued to drip on the floor beneath me. He didn’t even look at me, just went about his business.

When all was set up and ready, he walked before me and looked at me.

“Is there something you want to say to me?” he said in his sensual way.

“Yes, I have always adored you. I want to be with you. I want to feel your body. I want to feel you in me.” Wow! It felt good to say that. But what would he say or do?

“Ha!” he laughed. “And how do I know this? Why would you want me? And would you just be using me for your pleasure?”

“No, Sir. I want you to use me for your pleasure. I want to be yours. I will do anything for you.”

“Anything, you say? How do I know I would not be just your one-time fling? I deal with immortality. I capture images of life that last forever. I do not want transience. Would you give me your soul? Forever?”

I stopped and thought. “Yes,” I said willingly.

“Then show me.”

I raised my hands both in supplication and to remove the tie around his waist. I exposed the glory that I had waited to see. I held his flaccid member in both hands, felt its weight, and simply marveled. ‘Yes,’ I thought. This is what I want.

He stepped closer and I tasted him. So musky and sweet. I took him in my mouth and sucked. I felt him swell, filling me with himself. As he grew harder, I tried to fit all of him as deeply as I could, but he was growing so large it was truly difficult. I relaxed my throat as I looked up at him and fit him entirely. It felt so right. I wanted him to release himself to me, in me. To fill me with his warmth and soul. To make me his.

I sucked and rubbed my tongue on him, holding his balls, hoping to make him explode in the wonder that I desired. As I stared up at him, he looked down at me with no change of expression. But I was determined. Faster and faster, I engulfed him. My face slammed against his pubis as I consumed him. Tears rolled down my cheeks waiting for that glorious moment when he would fill me with his pleasure.

And then, it happened. I could feel the warm fluids pumping hard into me, sliding down my throat into my body. My eyes were fixed on his and his look didn’t change. He was like a statue, pumping his seed into me. And I felt like I was going to explode. I wanted to weep with pleasure.

When he was empty, I continued to suck, making sure that I hadn’t missed any, before sitting back on my heels. Still feeling my fluids leak from my body, it was as though I had orgasmed with him, but I hadn’t. Not then. Not yet.

He looked down at me. Expressionlessly, he said, “Good.”

He rewrapped his robe. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out what looked like a collar. It was. He handed it to me. Turning it over, the tag said, “Mine.” I looked up at him and smiled, adding more tears to my cheeks.

I put on the collar. He picked up his camera and told me to please myself for him. I lay on the stage with my legs spread, slowly teasing myself for him. He snapped picture after picture of me as the time flew by. Just closing in on ecstasy, he whispered, “Come for me, and I will immortalize you.” And I did. And he did. It was the sweetest and most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

Over the years that followed, we stayed together. We each took on and shared many other lovers, but we remained as a couple, happy together. And he did immortalize me in his images. And while it may sound passé to say this, he filled me completely in body, mind, and soul for the rest of his life.

I do look back fondly on those days. Remembering how lovingly he held me in times of passion. I do miss those days. And him.

It was a time of innocence. Of loving.

I developed this story after reading one by Sloan James, which I found to be amazingly hot:

[embed]Controlled Descent Love is my weapon, and I aim to destroy him with it.medium.com

If you got this far . . . Thanks for reading. I appreciate you.

Thank you for reading my story in response to Ranch Hand Agency’s and MicroXpressions’s single-word prompt of ‘Wine’. Thanks to RanchHandAgency for publishing it.

[embed]RanchHandAgency X-Periment, X-Pression, X-Perience Curated by Agent Ranch Handmedium.com

[embed]MicroXpressions Daily Writing Prompts from Agency Magazinemedium.com

Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Some people complain if prompted to read my stories. It would be nice to know if you did. Please clap if you read it. Highlight any parts that you enjoy. Leave me a comment about your thoughts, especially if you didn’t like it. I’m always trying to improve. #HelpSupportMediumAuthors