Through the Lens
SLOW BURNING
3 min read
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Vikram’s voice was calm, but his pulse was racing.
Across the studio, Neha smiled — slow, deliberate.
"Of course. You said you needed a model. I trust you."
That was the problem.
She was his best friend’s wife.
And now she stood in his studio — alone — about to pose for boudoir photos for his exhibition.
She wore a long black coat over lingerie
He hadn’t seen what was beneath yet.
"Alright," he said, adjusting the camera. "Let’s start simple."
She slipped off the coat — the silk rustling to the floor.
Vikram’s breath caught.
Black lace bra, barely holding her full breasts.
Matching panties, high on her hips.
Stockings. Heels.
And a slow, knowing smile.
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Perfect," he managed.
He raised the camera — safe behind the lens.
"Look at me."
She held his gaze — bold, steady.
"Good. Chin up. Shoulders back."
He clicked — the shutter loud in the silence.
"One strap. Slide it down."
She obeyed, slow fingers sliding one strap off her shoulder.
"Perfect. Hold."
Click. Click. Click.
"Now the other."
Another strap fell — lace barely clinging to her breasts.
"You look incredible," he murmured.
"I feel... exposed," she whispered, breathless.
"Good. Let it show."
The camera clicked — but his voice lowered.
"Undo the clasp. Let it fall. But don’t cover yourself."
She hesitated — then reached back, unclasping the bra.
It slid down — exposing perfect, full breasts.
She gasped softly — but held his gaze.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
"You’re making me... feel things," she confessed.
"So am I," he admitted.
He set the camera down.
"Come closer. Stand by the mirror."
She obeyed — cheeks flushed.
"Watch yourself as I touch you."
"Vikram—"
"Trust me. Do you?"
"Yes."
His hands met her bare waist — slow, gentle.
She shivered.
"Eyes on the mirror."
He traced upward — fingers grazing her ribs.
Thumbs circling her nipples — teasing, flicking until they hardened.
She whimpered.
"So sensitive," he whispered.
"I... shouldn’t feel this way," she gasped.
"But you do."
"Yes — god, yes!"
His mouth closed over her neck — slow kisses down her shoulder.
"Look at yourself — look how beautiful you are."
"I can’t—"
"You can. And you will."
She moaned — hips pressing back against him.
"Take off your panties. Slow."
"Vikram—"
"Now."
Shaking, she slid her panties down — eyes locked on her reflection.
Now fully bare — trembling, breath ragged.
"You want me to touch you more?"
"Please — I need it!"
"Say it."
"Please, Vikram — touch me — make me yours!"
He slid his hand between her thighs — fingers finding her soaked folds.
"Already dripping," he growled.
"Yes — fuck — I’ve wanted this!"
He teased her slowly — circling her clit, dipping inside.
She gasped — arching, trembling.
"More — please — make me cum!"
"Not yet. You’ll take my fingers slow. You’ll watch yourself fall apart."
"Please — anything — just touch me!"
Two fingers slid inside — deep, slow thrusts.
His thumb pressed her clit — relentless, controlled.
"Fuck — Vikram — I’m so close — please!"
"Not yet."
He pulled back — making her whimper.
"On the couch. On your knees."
She crawled to the couch — presenting herself.
"Good girl. Now beg."
"Please — please make me cum — I need you!"
"Such a desperate little thing."
He knelt behind her — teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock.
"Please — please fuck me!"
"Not yet."
He rubbed against her — slow, agonizing.
"Beg louder."
"Please — fuck me — ruin me — I’m yours!"
With a deep growl — he thrust inside.
"FUCK!" she screamed.
"That’s it — take every inch."
"Yes — yes — please more!"
He fucked her slow — deep — watching her fall apart beneath him.
"You wanted this — now take it."
"Yes — god yes — fuck me harder!"
His pace built — harder, deeper — until she sobbed his name.
"Now — cum for me — scream my name!"
"VIKRAM — FUCK — I’M CUMMING!"
She shattered — convulsing around him.
He roared — filling her deep, hips slamming home.
For a long moment, they stayed tangled — breathless.
"Next time," he whispered, "I’ll photograph every second of you cumming for me."
She shuddered — already addicted.
"Please — yes — anything — just don’t stop."
And they both knew — this slow burn had just begun.