(L) – This story contains strong language.
Here’s a new one for me: I’m switching gears. I used to write about escapades we’ve already had—real, non-fiction stuff. Now I’m spinning up one I *want* to have. Fantasy? Fiction? Nah, I’m hopeful enough to call it pre-non-fiction.
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Ann’s been getting her nails done with her friend Carli pretty regularly lately, and I dig that. It’s her thing—pampering herself, hanging with Carli, feeling good. She asked my take on colors once, and I played it off like I didn’t care. Then she hit me with, “What color would you like to see wrapped around your cock?” Holy shit. That flipped a switch. Now, just the thought of her getting a fresh manicure gets me going.
Now, the fantasy kicks in. Like most guys, sex is on my brain a lot. That means I’m picturing Ann naked a lot. Sunday mornings, I crack an eye open early to catch her sexy, bare ass strutting to the bathroom. Then I sneak another peek when she comes back post-shower, tits bouncing and swinging, and now since she started waxing recently, I’m scoping that freshly bare snatch too.
When she’s not around—or won’t be for a while—I’ll flip open that secret app on my phone, the one with those sneaky (or no so sneaky) naked pics I’ve snagged over time. I’ve always wanted to do a real photoshoot with her. Not just a couple quick snaps, but a proper session—taking our time, making her feel hot as hell, and getting some killer shots.
Then we hit this wild stretch of sexual heat, and Ann got her nails done again.
First thought: those fingers curling around my cock.
Second thought: snapping a pic of that manicure on my junk.
Third thought: pics of those nails on her lady parts, especially the newly bare bits.
Boom—ADHD brain went full scattershot. But it all boiled down to this: I wanted a photoshoot starring her hands—touching her, touching me.
I pitched it without trying to guilt-trip her: “Let me pamper you by showing off your latest nail design all over your body—and some specific parts of mine—while I grab photo proof it happened.”
In this fantasy, Ann didn’t take much convincing. We picked a night, and the kids crashed early. The bedroom was cleaned up, decluttered, and had sexy candles flickering. She had a drink to loosen up, and it was go-time.
First, since we’d botched a couple tries framing her waxed pussy in crotchless panties, I laid out a pair, plus one of my white dress shirts.
Opening pose: Ann standing, shirt half-open, tits teasing out. Then I had her turn, bend forward just a touch, hands reaching back like she’s shielding her ass with the shirt.
The shirt vanished quickly, but I tried to pace myself before it got too heavy. I’d hit up AI for photoshoot tips, and next up was coconut oil on her breasts to make ‘em shine. I snapped some action shots of her slathering it on, then went to town: I got shots of her making a hand bra, cupping and lifting, fingers splayed with nipples poking through, pinching and pulling. The close-ups were fire—green nails popping against creamy skin and pink, hard nipples.
I was rock-hard the whole damn time, so we shifted to the pose that sparked this whole thing. More coconut oil, and this time she slathered me. I got close-ups of her hands wrapped around my slick, shiny cock. Before I could tell her to move her hands to herself, she leaned in, licking and sucking the tip while I snapped more pics of that aching head in her mouth.
As good as that felt, it wasn’t the night’s mission, so I pushed on. We started with her hands covering her pussy, then got some shots from behind, with her lifting and spreading her cheeks, that thigh gap flashing her bare lips. Heaven.
Next, we hit the bed. Now her legs were spread, with both hands framing her pussy, all ten nails on display, parting herself open just a bit. The heat had her wet already—clear juices pooling between her lips, glinting in the flash of the camera. She followed my directions faster as we went.
“Just your left hand. Show me that ring I bought. Spread your lips with two fingers. Pull back gently, let me see your clit. Spread wider, slide your middle finger in. Deeper. Holy shit, I can see how wet you are. Slow pull-out—give me that drippy, stringy juice shot.” Then, “Face down, ass up. Grab both cheeks so those nails frame your pussy. Now two fingers this time.”
I was losing it. I was so turned on I’d blow in 30 seconds, even with meds. The only fix was dropping the phone and diving in face-first. She wasn’t far behind—juices damn near dripping down her leg. She was that revved up by me drooling over her body. I love lapping up that sweetness.
It didn’t take long sucking her lips and flicking her clit to tip her over. Next thing I knew, her hands were on my head, pushing me off her sensitive spots. My tongue darted out quickly to taste as much of her as I could.
“Just a few more pics,” I said. “You don’t even have to spread—just rest your hands by your pussy.” I snapped shots of those puffy, swollen lips, with juices smeared everywhere.
That breather let me shift, sliding my aching cock into her without setting off aftershocks. She was so slick I glided right in, and so tight I felt every inch. Pressure from the whole night exploded—I unloaded everything into her.
“One last pose, Babe.” I said. Before pulling out, I grabbed my phone—*snap, snap, snap*—catching my cum slipping out of her gorgeous, wide-open pussy, past those perfect, manicured fingertips.
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