Shutter Speed

The click of the camera shutter was a metronome against the hum of the studio lights. I was supposed to be adjusting the reflector, but my eyes were glued to Giulia, and the reflector could burn for all I cared. She was perched on a velvet chaise, one leg hooked over the armrest, the black lace of her lingerie a stark contrast against her sun-kissed skin. The air smelled of dust, hot bulbs, and her perfume—something floral with a kick of musk.

“Marco, focus,” she said, not looking at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re supposed to be my trainer, not my stalker.”

I swallowed. “Form’s all wrong, Giulia. You’re tensing your shoulders.”

“Then come fix it.”

The photographer, a guy named Enzo, was fiddling with a lens, muttering about light. I crossed the space between us, my heart hammering against my ribs. She looked up at me, her dark eyes holding mine, and I felt the heat crawl up my neck. I was her personal trainer, and this was her idea—paying for a studio session to get “athletic shots” for her social media. But the way she was looking at me had nothing to do with squats or deadlifts.

“Here,” I said, my voice rough. My hands found her shoulders, my thumbs pressing into the tight muscle. Her skin was warm, slick with a faint sheen of sweat. “Relax.”

She leaned back into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “That’s better. You have magic hands, Marco.”

Enzo clicked a few test shots. “Okay, Giulia, let’s try some standing poses. By the lightbox.”

She stood, and the lace of her panties rode up just a fraction. My cock was already straining against my track pants. This was so wrong. I was her trainer. I was supposed to be professional. But when she walked past me, her fingers brushed against the front of my pants, a fleeting, deliberate touch.

“Oops,” she whispered, her Italian accent thickening. “Clumsy me.”

Enzo was oblivious, too busy looking at his screen. “Perfect, Giulia. Now, Marco, can you help her with the pose? A little more arch in the back.”

I stepped behind her, my hands on her hips. She was wearing a tiny pair of lace shorts and a bralette that barely contained her breasts. I could feel the heat radiating off her ass. I leaned in, my mouth close to her ear.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” I breathed.

“Maybe,” she whispered back, pushing her ass back against my hard-on. “You’ve been staring at my ass for three months during lunges. I figured you deserved a reward.”

Enzo clicked away, the shutter sound a frantic staccato. “Beautiful! Marco, can you get lower? I want a shot from the back, over her shoulder.”

I knelt behind her, my face level with her ass. She was looking back at me over her shoulder, her lips parted. “Touch me,” she mouthed.

My hands slid from her hips, around her waist, and up to her tits. I cupped them, feeling her nipples hard against my palms through the lace. She gasped, her back arching.

“Enzo,” she said, her voice breathy. “Can you get some water? I need a minute.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, setting down the camera. “I’ll be right back.”

The door clicked shut, and we were alone. The hum of the lights was the only sound besides our breathing.

“Fuck the photos,” she said, turning around to face me. Her hands were on my track pants, tugging them down. “I need you inside me, now.”

My cock sprang free, thick and aching. She wrapped her hand around it, her fingers cool and sure. “God, Marco. Look at this. All this for me?”

I groaned, my head falling back. “Giulia… we shouldn’t…”

“I don’t care about should,” she said, stroking me slowly. “I want you to fuck me against that lightbox. I want you to make me forget my own name.”

She turned, bracing her hands against the white panel. I didn’t need a second invitation. I yanked her lace shorts to the side, revealing her bare, wet pussy. She was soaked.

“Mamma mia,” I breathed, sliding a finger through her slick folds. She bucked against my hand.

“Stop teasing,” she begged. “I’ve been thinking about this cock for weeks. Put it in.”

I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her wet heat. I pushed in, a slow, delicious slide. She was so tight, so hot. She let out a long, shuddering moan, muffled by her arm.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Yes. Yes. Just like that.”

I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into her skin, and started to move. The sound of our bodies slapping together was loud in the quiet studio. The lightbox rattled with each thrust. I fucked her hard, from behind, my balls slapping against her clit. She was moaning, trying to be quiet, but failing.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered. “Right there. Fuck me right there.”

I looked down, watching my cock slide in and out of her. The sight was intoxicating. Her pussy was gripping me, pulling me deeper. I leaned over her, my chest against her back, my mouth on her ear.

“You like that, Giulia? You like it when your trainer fucks you like this?”

“Sì, sì,” she panted. “Yes, I love it. Fuck me harder. Don’t be gentle.”

I gave her what she wanted. I slammed into her, the rhythm turning frantic. I reached around, finding her clit with my fingers, rubbing it in tight circles. She cried out, her body trembling.

“I’m going to come,” she gasped. “Marco, I’m going to come.”

“Come for me,” I growled. “Let me feel it.”

She came with a scream, her walls clenching around me, milking my cock. The sensation was too much. I buried my face in her neck, feeling her pulse racing, and I came, a hot, thick rush of cum filling her. I stayed inside her, my body shuddering as I emptied myself.

For a moment, we just stood there, panting, the only sound the hum of the lights. My cum was starting to drip down her thigh.

“Marco,” she whispered, her voice soft now.

“Yeah?”

“Enzo’s going to be back soon.”

I pulled out, my cock slick with our juices. I grabbed a nearby towel and gently cleaned her up. She turned to face me, a lazy smile on her face. She reached out and tucked a strand of my sweat-damp hair behind my ear.

“So,” she said, her brown eyes twinkling. “About those squats on Thursday. I think I’m going to need some extra… personal attention.”

I laughed, pulling her into my arms. “I think I can arrange that.”